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lrissa · 3 years

Text

Save Humanity For me

summary: the expedition to take back wall Maria doesn’t go as Levi hoped when he saves his battered lover.

warnings: angst

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

There you were, standing on Wall Maria as you stared off into the horizon. The sun was still coming up from its slumber as it spilled hues of orange and red over the sky. You stood beside Erwin, Levi, and Eren as the rest of the scouts clanked their blades against the stone to find our enemies. Thinking it was a waste of time you persisted on staying standing on the wall.

From the corner of your eye you saw Levi, his raven hair swayed in the morning gust of wind as he stood broadly, his shoulders rolled back into place as always.

You have known Levi for what felt like eternity, you both equaled each other in the perfect ways, you were the brains he was brawns despite him already being intelligent and witty. There even sparked a romance between you two that began when you both went together to take back Eren.

Turning your posture to face him, you raised you hand and set it on his forearm. His gaze flickered to you in an instant. As you were about to speak a loud shot rang through the air as red smoke flew through the sky. Right below you.

A gust of wind flew past you as the last thing you saw go down the wall was a dark green cape and raven hair. Unsheathing your own blades you took hastily step forward until Erwin put his arm out to stop you.

When you looked down you saw Reiner and a blade jammed through his neck, along with an angry Levi that stuck another blade through his chest. Your face contorted into one of disgust and shock.

You saw Levi retreat back to the wall as Reiner began to arch his back in the ground.

"Levi!" You yelled just as a large beam of yellow lightning crashed onto the ground and erupted snakes of yellow electricity and large gusts of wind.

There laid the armored titan, your eyes hyper fixed on the titan as Erwin began to spew orders at the scouts.

"Keep on the lookout! Locate his allies!"

Yellow beams of light and dirt shot up from the ground surrounding the outer village immediately. Breath hitched in your throat as you quickly realized you were trapped, by hundreds of titans and a monkey.

Levi swung up from the wall and landed neatly behind you, putting a protective hand on your back as he himself analyzed the danger we just got ourselves into.

Erwin stood dumbstruck as the scouts began to shout worries and yells for Erwins next plan. You and Levi stood quietly behind him as you felt Levi rubbing your back softly, a gesture he does often.

"Are you finally ready to say something. I could've had breakfast during the wait." Levi remarked with a monotonous voice.

Erwin turned around and began giving distinct orders. Levi and Hanji's squad were meant to be taking down Reiner.

"...Give your hearts!" Was the last thing you caught from his speech as everyone began to departure, Levi's hand leaving your back.

"Wait, Armin, Levi, Y/N" Erwin commanded as you halted in your steps, turning around.

"I did say Levi's squad but I need you and Y/N to stay."

"To protect the horses and not Eren?" Levi shot back

"Yes, and strike him down when the time comes." Erwin unsheathed his blade and pointed at the beast titan, shivers ran down your spine.

"Understood" Levi cooly spoke "Since I failed to kill that armored brat earlier."

"Y/N." Erwin stated as Levi was nearing the edge of the wall, curious as to where you were assigned to so if needed he could help aid you.

"Do not let a single titan near those horses." You nodded "Of course." Pulling the hood over your head you ran to the edge of the wall beside Levi and jumped off together.

Nearing the separation time you and Levi looked at one another, exchanging nods that held the words 'please, be safe'. Taking off in separate directions you flew forwards as Levi spun around on his ODM gear, spinning in the air as he unsheathed his blades to take down the titan below him.

Racing forwards you stared at the beast titan, it looked as if it was staring daggers at you. Shaking your head you gazed down and found a titan running.

Unsheathing your blades you stared down at the demon as you unleashed your ODM on it, the slight nick in its shoulder made it spin its head at you. It had huge blue eyes and a small frown on its features, if only you cared was all you could think when you diverged its hand and spun around it, spinning backwards to fixate yourself back on your target. Releasing your ODM on its nape as you readied to strike, tearing your blades through its nape and exiting hastily.

This carried on for only about 15 minutes until you landed on a rooftop, titan blood finding itself on your clothes and face, steam fluttering into the air.

Looking around the rooftops you spotted a certain raven haired man, a slight smile plastering on your features. You released an ODM and began to race towards him.

Until, bits of rock flew past your eyes. Time began to slow as you turned your head at the cause. The beast titan.

A rock nicked your arm as you let out grunt and shot your ODM behind a building, hiding in the small alley as blood cascaded down your arm.

"What the fuck.." you muttered

Seeing the rocks stopped you shot your ODM at the top of the building and flew up, as you soared above the buildings momentarily all you saw was red. Corpses were stuffed under rocks, faces half missing, blood and guts stained scout uniforms.

"Levi!" you yelled once you landed on a roof, noticing the beast titan reach for a new rock.

"Levi!" you yelled louder this time, just as you see a raven head fly past you. His eyes caught yours for a moment and they widened a fraction.

He was going straight for the titan, why is he going straight for it. These thoughts screamed at you in your mind as you shot to follow him.

When he heard the shot of ODM gear he never expected you to follow him, why would this brat girl follow him into a clear death zone.

The beast titan threw a new round of its rocks, you had still been mid air when he sent off this blow. Considering your chances of survival you shut your eyes, small tears had formed at the corners of your eyes. You released your ODM and tried your best to maneuver into a small ball.

As you awakened your new demise you couldn't help but hear screaming, screaming from the scouts who had lived up until now to die, everything they've done in their live to die in this moment. But one scream stood out, it wasn't screaming to scream but rather at someone. Ah, Levi, my new romance would have to come to an end. It's sad, being the last thing you hear are the curdled screams from your blossoming lover. Tears were streaming down your face now, it's time, isn't it.

Just as you predicted you felt a stone shard rip right through your uniform and flesh, lodging itself into your stomach region. This time you screamed.

You lost control of your ball formation and fell straight for the ground below you, turning in the air so your stomach laid up as you clutched it tightly, screams still emitting from your mouth.

The hard ground never met you, but instead arms, shaking arms.

"Brat... idiot.. why, Y/N" You groaned and lifted a hand off your stomach, clasping his white shirt with your bloody hands.

"Levi.." You eventually mustered as he found a safe spot, leaning you against the wall comfortably as he crouched down in front of you.

"Brat, what were you thinking." He almost yelled, but it never faltered your smile as you stared at him, taking in his features one last time for your keeping. He had tears cascading down his cheeks, dirt covering his face and his hair was disheveled.

You slowly raised your hand and planted it onto his wet cheek.

"Levi.. live.. for me" You gave him a smile, before wrenching over and coughing up blood, you furrowed your brows in pain and leaned back once more.

"No.. shut up, shut the fuck up brat" He cried out as he his went to his belt, you watched with sad eyes until you realized what he'd grabbed. The case.

You shook your head, it was the liquid to make you into a titan. "No-.. Levi." You said as clearly as you could, pushing the case back to his chest as he stared at you with a look of pain.

He even knew it was a waste of a liquid, but still, he would still do it if she had agreed. Levi placed the case onto the ground and brought his hand up to caress your face.

"I'm sorry...." He spoke with a cracked voice, his usual personality faltering as he stared into your eyes. He knew he would never get you back and it hurt him, bad.

"Save.. humanity.." you felt your grip on his cheek falling but Levi raised his hand and kept it there, he didn't want you to leave yet, not ever.

"I will." He nodded sadly as he watched the life leave your glistening eyes.

"I love you Y/N" He got out before tears fell freely and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he sobbed into your shoulder, gripping you tightly, just to feel the last of your living and breathing touch.

"I love you.... Levi." You said slowly, your last breath being his sweet name, it's all you could've hoped for as you finally left this hell.

Everything was still, Levi knew you were gone now, he knew he was holding the corpse of the woman he loved and entrusted with his life. But yet he couldn't let go as he continued to cry, his eyes were red with tears.

"I love you so much.." Was all he could whisper to himself before pulling away from the corpse, it's head falling limp once it left his shoulder.

He picked your body up gently, the tears were gone now. Leaving the small alley his heart clenched, surveying the broken town. He shot his ODM gear up to the wall were Levi assumed he'd find Erwin.

Reaching the top he stood staring at Erwin, the commander turned to look at Levi, his eyes widening when he found the body of Y/N.

No words were spoken between the two as Erwin looked up at Levi again to study his facial expressions, his eyes shadowed and his cold and stoic expression was back.

"Let's murder that fucking titan."

#levi ackerman #levi heichou #levi aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #i’m so sad #levi x reader #levi x y/n #angst #levi angst

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marnz · 3 years

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what was the starting point/inspiration for stay close to me? also I'm so curious about the Esen pov fix-it, what was the general plot?

Ahhh thank you for these great questions, because stay close to me actually arose out of me unable to figure out how to make the Esen pov fix it (a longing that's killing me) work. I find Esen so hard to write because he is such an asshole lmao, and I also find mirroring SPC's prose super difficult because our prose styles are opposites.

The Esen Fix It was basically me trying to fix the almost kiss. It starts off after the almost kiss and basically is about Esen realizing he's been a huge dick and trying to be better/less offensive so he can be with Ouyang while also trying to figure out how it's physically possible to be with Ouyang...but I was concerned it was very OOC. Esen never apologizes in the book, even when he knows he's very wrong, and the way I had Esen justify his own behavior to himself felt weak. I have almost 7k of this fic but due to my concerns about characterization I abandoned it. It's unfortunate, the dramatic irony was delicious. I would love to figure out how to finish it :( Later I started what would become stay close to me from Esen's pov but ran into the same problems.

For stay close to me's inspiration, 1) I love horses 2) I think what makes Ouyang such a complex character is not just the gender stuff but also his identity as a disabled person, and I wanted to explore his relationship with his body 3) I think the opening scene in stay close to me is the part of the novel where Ouyang would be most compelled to turn back or deviate from the path he must walk, and the perfect opportunity for Esen to realize Ouyang is actually not happy. 4) when I was rereading I was struck by Esen's dialogue...almost every time he talks to Ouyang he's hinting at having feelings for Ouyang, it's insane. I can't decide if Ouyang subconsciously knows this and is not acknowledging it because of his duty to his family or if he seriously missed Esen's blatant flirting attempts. Like the first time we meet Esen he's literally staring at Ouyang and playing with his hair. Give me a break! The text supports both theories, unfortunately.

But not all is lost, as I am cribbing my fav elements from this fix it and adding them to my ouyang pov fix it, which has turned into a monster :(

I've added a snippet of the Esen pov fix it below the read more for funsies.

That night it rained. The cold crept in through the window paper and Esen, thinking of Ouyang, ordered a fire lit, and then had to strip off some of his layers. The fire hissed and recoiled when Ouyang entered his quarters, as it always did. Ouyang had never commented on it so Esen never had either, but now Ouyang looked at the fire and then at Esen.

“I was cold,” Esen said. He was sweating.

Ouyang, who wore his usual surfeit of layers, said nothing. A servant brought airag; Esen dismissed him and all other servants, as was custom for any military briefings. Ouyang settled in and gave his report on the replacement cavalry, their integration, and how the army was utilizing the extra funds. Esen, playing absently with his jade hair beads, let Ouyang’s low, raspy voice wash over him. It all felt normal, absurdly normal. Yet everything had changed.

“My thanks, General. I’m not surprised training the replacement forces is going well despite Altan’s absence. I knew you would not fail me.”

Ouyang gave a thin smile. “Shao has chosen Zhao Man for Altan’s replacement.”

“Not Jurgaghan?” Esen asked, wrinkling his nose. His third wife would be displeased.

“As his father is not the father of the Empress, no. Shao likes Zhao Man.”

“I don’t care about Shao,” Esen said impatiently. Truthfully he didn’t like Shao, who always seemed contemptuous no matter who he spoke to. But he trusted Ouyang to have good reason for promoting Shao to Senior Commander. “Do you not like Jurgaghan?”

Ouyang’s look was sardonic. “I do not know him well.”

Yes; Ouyang had always avoided Esen’s wives for some reason. “He is a strong fighter. His archery is good; he rides well.”

“Would he be related to you if he did not?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“There is nowhere else I want to be,” Ouyang said quietly.

A tender ache spread through Esen’s chest. It felt like it was pressing up against his lungs and heart, overwhelming them. He felt, as he often did, a longing to keep Ouyang close, but now he wanted Ouyang physically close. It wasn’t enough for Ouyang to sit next to him. He wanted Ouyang in his arms. He wanted them skin to skin. Whenever he had felt such an unmannish sentiment before he had buried it or, if it were particularly strong, imagined what Chaghan would say if such a thing got back to him. But now his longing for Ouyang was so powerful that it was as unending as the steppes.

Ouyang was watching Esen’s face closely. He was very still, his hand clenched around his cup of airag. It was exactly like the night when Esen had horribly insulted him, except this time Ouyang had sought him out. Esen felt the pull of fate again, a pull that seemed determined to bring them into contact. What sort of contact, he could not say. For a moment, him being impaled by Ouyang’s sword or undone by the slow press of Ouyang’s mouth seemed to be equally possible. But Esen knew Ouyang would never hurt him.

“Ouyang,” Esen murmured. Again came the thought that Ouyang was beautiful, but it was a proud and remote beauty, a beauty that was forbidding. And so Esen dared not reach for him.

A shadow passed across Ouyang’s face. He bowed his head and let go of the cup. “My Prince?”

“Do not call me that. Please.”

Ouyang’s throat bobbed. “Why not?”

“I have asked you a thousand times not to.”

“And I have told you a thousand times that I must. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” said Esen.

Ouyang did look up at that. He held himself with the high, wavering tension that preceded a lightning strike. It was dread. The pain of knowing how badly he had failed Ouyang over and over again made Esen speak slowly.

“I can never apologize enough for your family’s death--”

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

“Then at least let me apologize for being an unrepentant ass. Please.” There seemed no other apology he could make that was not insipid.

Here came that close gaze again. “Apology accepted,” Ouyang said at length.

Esen looked down at the table, at his abandoned cup, and chose his words carefully. “For a long time all I cared about was making my father proud.” Again, that tension. Perhaps Ouyang was right to worry; Esen did run a risk of offending him with his next statement. “I made certain sacrifices to that end. It is the job of a son to do so.”

“Yes,” Ouyang’s voice was almost soundless.

“But my father is dead.”

“Your duty to him remains.”

“Of course it does, but I don’t--” Flustered, Esen forced himself to stop and think. How like a woman he felt, unable to be forthright. “The ways I must make him proud have shifted since I became Prince of Henan. Given that, given that--everything has changed--I am not willing to continue making this sacrifice. It would be unbearable to do so.”

Ouyang hardly seemed to be breathing. When Esen finally gathered the courage to look at him, Ouyang was staring at him with such intensity that Esen felt himself flush.

“Esen,” Ouyang whispered.

The deep pleasure of hearing Ouyang say his name made Esen temporarily shut his eyes. He knew immediately they could never go back. But words seemed particularly treacherous, so instead of speaking he held out a hand to Ouyang.

#answered #fey-dancer #she who became the sun #ouyang/esen #my fic #long post #thank you for this ask it was delightful #i am over caffeinated and stressed about deadlines (terrible combination) so i was very happy to think about SWBTS on my lunch break #i DID read a scientific paper on the health effects of castration for stay close to me and it was. grim.#i did a lot of research! both on anatomy and the yuan dynasty! this will all help me out for INTWFY.#stay close to me #sorry for any typos #edit this is so long i am SO sorry

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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

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The Adventures of Shota Jaune, Ep II

Chapter Two

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Two Months have passed.

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The last couple of months had been absolutely wild for Vernal.

First, the woman she respected the most and thought was the strongest in the world was beaten by three children... and Vernal, after it turned out Raven was a complete psycho bitch. In a moment of sheer panic she had just swore allegiance to the strongest thing in the vicinity. The little aura monster that had knocked her old boss's teeth out.

Jaune Arc aka The Boss

It had been a whirlwind of a week, getting her own room with new clothes and an actual bed, people who seemed to care about her, three meals a day and a completely stocked kitchen and someone to follow that wasn’t a complete psycho.

That was the good stuff, that was what kept her going. That and if she wanted to be the world's strongest Huntress it was probably a good idea to train under a actual huntsman, and who was training the human equivalent of a Fire Dust Bomb. While Vernal didn’t consider herself Branwen anymore, the ideals didn’t fade.

‘Nature has only one rule; The Strong owns the Weak.’ Her old mentor’s words came to her again.

Vernal scowled. ‘So much for being the strongest huntress there is.’

Her time at the Arc House had really opened her eyes toward how big the world actually is.

Raven was strong, really strong. She was a former Huntress and Beacon Alumni, she was fast, strong, high aura levels and control, along with a versatile semblance that made long distance travel her bitch. All of that, to top of all that, to just further put herself outside of the realms of warriors and huntress and huntsman she had Maiden Powers, fucking magic.

But, she lost, not just, because there's always either a hard counter, or a bigger fish, that wasn’t the only reason. Despite her power, despite her being the most notorious criminal in Mistral, despite her experience, she lost...

Because... because...’ Vernal thought. ‘She’s a coward.’

Vernal had seen her kill before, huntsman, brave civilian, or Grimm, or even other tribes. But, never from anything other than a position of power, she always waited till there was a moment of weakness to strike, less warrior more assassin, and if things got too tough she’d whip out her Maiden Powers.

More often than not, when more than one hunter came after them, Raven would have them move out. Saying, “They're too weak for us to bother with.” Now, Vernal was sure it was just her cowardice… Like her inability to stick around with her real family.

Why she took Vernal in to begin with.

‘Because, she’s a coward… I’m just a replacement, so she doesn’t have to think about…’

The time with the Arcs had definitely taught her that there was more to strength than fighting ability, and Raven was lacking in conviction, the thing Mr. Arc and The Boss had spades.

The Boss was way stronger than anyone she’d ever met, in terms of Aura and physical strength, yet his sisters, mother, those two lackeys of his, and his own father weren’t the least bit afraid of him.

They had conviction, that they knew their family.

Darkness be damned, those two lackeys could even put up a decent fight with him.

The oldest Arc child, Gris could even match her little brother in raw strength for a little while and even hold him down, even if he got up right afterwards.

Then there was Mr. Arc, if his son was a dust bomb, an all direction and all consuming blast of destruction, then he was a high powered, high precision plasma beam. Not as powerful, sure, but no less dangerous or devastating when used correctly.

Mr. Arc was still teaching his son and his two lackeys… and Vernal even. His skill, aura manipulation, and physical conditioning was insane. Sure, he didn’t have even a tenth of her Boss’s reserves, but he had more than twice Ravens, and he had the skills to manipulate it like it was just another limb of his body.

He could probably beat Raven if he wanted to, and didn’t lack the courage to stand his ground.

Actually, Vernal was entirely sure he could, considering he was fighting her little monster of a Boss right now, and controlling the fight handily.

Mr. Arc practically danced around his son, as the boy tried to land a hit on him, swinging wildly and kicking up small windstorms as he did so. The boy got nowhere close to landing a hit on his father, as the man anticipated blow after blow, stepping out of his son’s range and enduring the shock-waves his son released with practiced ease.

He stepped into his son’s range and stuck his leg out between his son’s moving feet, tripping him, then shield bashing him in the back and sending him flying into the ground. The Boss bounced off the ground, leaving an indent where he hit it, and landed on his back.

The Boss got back up, his face red, and smashed his practice sword into the ground, breaking the ground where it landed, sending boulder sized clumps of earth into the air, Arthur Arc deflected and evaded the earth as it flew at him. Redirecting the earthen shrapnel back at his son with small controlled bursts of Aura Deflection.

The stones and dirt clumps being flung back at the speed of bullets and pelting The Boss, making a show of light when they hit his aura, the light bursting from his aura and creating ripples on top of it.

Mr. Arc was fast too, he moved from one position to the next like he was teleporting, Vernal couldn’t track his movements, his sword striking precisely into The Boss’s chest faster than Vernal could see, Vernal only being able to track his movement based on how The Boss was being knocked backed and where his Aura was flashing, and then with one last lightning quick slash The Boss was knocked onto his back, Arthur stomping his foot onto The Boss’s chest, putting his blade on the boys neck.

“Another victory for me, son,” Arthur said, smirking. “If you had less aura than you did, I could take your head off.”

Jaune pouted, struggling fiercely under his fathers boot, his own strength only barely lifting his father’s foot. Showing off the man’s immense strength as he barely budged, the strength of a real Hunter, and despite how much strength his son had, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t get any leverage to take advantage of it.

“I’ll beat you one day.” The Boss said, red faced and sweating.

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” Mr. Arc smiled. “But, first you got to land a hit on me.”

Vernal wasn’t sure if that was normal father-son conversation, but her definition of normal had long since been warped.

Arthur took his foot off his son and pulled him up. “Good for another spar, son?”

The blonde boy nodded, and then tried to pull his father into a headbutt, but Arthur didn’t budge and then flipped The Boss over his shoulder into the earth.

Vernal would watch late into the evening as the father-son sparred, taking notes mentally on what worked against The Boss for when she’d have to spar with her boss again. He may be her boss, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t give it her all in trying to surpass him, he deserved nothing less than a subordinate who was useful.

The Arcs told her she was priceless, but the only way Vernal knew that she had value was by proving it, and the only way she could was by fighting.

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Three Months later.

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Three Arcs step off of a bullhead, all immediately throwing up their lunches on the ground.

“The family curse, haaah, it strikes again.” Arthur said, being the first one to recover.

“That it does, that it does father.” A platinum blonde who was nearly as tall as her father said putting her hand on her father’s shoulder for support.

The father and daughter watched as Jaune continued to puke his guts out all over the ground, the curse was particularly bad on the youngest, and it truly was a curse, as neither aura manipulation, meditation, or medication helped in the slightest. It was as though the sky’s and heaven’s had a grudge against the Arcs.

Eventually though, they all recovered.

Arthur grabbed both children by the shoulder. “Alright, I trust you two to remember, why, I brought you two with me on a mission.”

The platinum blonde nodded. “You said, I needed more field experience, especially in foreign environments and learning in person was worth more per hour than a day in class could ever teach…. also I forgot father’s day and this is my way of making up for it.”

“That’s right, Gris.” Arthur said with a smug smile.

Gris looked at her only brother. “Why’s he here?” Pointing at the blonde boy next to her.

Arthur smiled nervously. “Because, if neither of us is home to watch him, we won’t have a home when we get back.”

Jaune was fast asleep on his feet, a small stream of drool leaking from his mouth, and loudly snoring.

Arthur pulled his son into his arms, holding him securely and tossing Gris the boy’s luggage.

Gris nodded. “That is a fair point, but why not take his groupies too?”

“Because, I already have enough to worry about with Jaune, who is more than likely going to put someone else in our family by force before we head home, and those two are enough trouble by themselves and I don’t want them picking fights or causing trouble on a mission. Your mom, with her semblance, can handle them no problem, even less so with Vernal.”

“Fair enough, let's get going… What’s it called again?” Gris said with a tilt of the head.

Arthur hummed. “I think it’s called Kuroyuri, apparently rumors of an abnormal grimm have appeared. Something more than the local Hunter can handle.”

===

It had taken a couple hours of walking, through exotic forests and mountainous trails, but the Arc trio managed to make it to Kuroyuri a little after lunch. The Arc boy still sound asleep during the trip, being swapped between his father and elder sister as the situation demand, even when being carried up sheer cliffs, when they were fording through shallow rivers, or the many fights between the Grimm, Bandits, and Aura Animals on the way to Kuroyuri, nothing of which way enough to prompt his Aura sense that there was enough danger to wake him up.

The Father and Daughter duo were thoroughly famished, and immediately beelined it to the first restaurant they could see, ending up running over to have lunch at a local tea house, Kazehana or something to that effect, The Arc duo were many things, linguist is not one of them.

The Arc’s sudden entrance to the Tea-house was quite sudden, the waitress quite shocked to see two hunters and a sleeping child look at her with a terrifying hungry expression. Needless to say they were quickly seated and served.

Arthur and Gris finished their meal, several plates of local noodles, boar meat, and some local plants, letting out a satisfied groan of fullness, looking up while stretching and Arthur making eye contact with one Li Ren, the local hunter who requested a seasoned Huntsman investigate the rumors of an abnormal grimm.

There was a moment of eye contact, Arthur’s mind slowly grinding out the details, before realization sets in. His eyes widen and waves the man over with highly animated gestures, pointing down at an empty seat on the floor.

Li Ren stoically processed the actions before calmly making his way over to the table, taking the empty seat. In a matter of moments they were sitting, discussing the details of the contracts, over a cup of steaming tea, while Gris watched and observed, noting important details her father might miss and studying how her father negotiated and asked questions, weaning information out.

“So how long ago was this Grimm sighted?”

“Two or three months ago, It was sighted in the aftermath of a fallen village to the southeast with a horde of Grimm making its way out of the ruins.”

“Hmm, any possible thoughts on it’s species or is it a aberrant?”

“I have talked with those who have observed it from closer, they have described it as being around fifteen meters tall, with a equine bottom half, resembling a fully formed Uma Sama and Elder Imp like grimm’s torso growing from it’s mid back, the sight being quite… disturbing, it seems quite old having many battle scars and weapons stuck inside of it…. I do not know of any species it might belong too, but its too familiar to be a aberrant, Sir Huntsman.”

Arthur frowned, wrinkles creasing his forehead. “This is quite concerning, have you reported this to Haven?”

Li Ren scowled. “We of Kuroyuri, founded it in an attempt to escape Mistrals… less than savory nature, this did not make many friends or allies when we left, any attempts to have contacted Haven have been met with silence.”

“I’ll contact Beacon when I return, this behavior is unethical and unbecoming of a Huntsman institution.” Arthur said, his facing taking on a dark and stormy expression.

The talks between the two men then fade into the background as two children walk into the establishment, an orange hair girl and a black haired boy walk in, only to see their father talking with a blonde headed man, the orange hair girl sighs then spotting a sleeping blonde next to him her father and zips over to him and starts poking his cheek.

Ren sighs and goes to try and stop her from causing trouble, only for the blonde boy to casually wake up and slap her across the room and outside into the street.

The room goes silent in shock, as Jaune rises up yawning, Ren just stands there horrified, Arthur, Gris and Li all looking shocked for different reasons.

‘Did he do it? Did my son just kill a girl by accident?’

‘If he killed that girl, that means we’re probably going to have to waive the fee, and it’ll probably go on Jaune’s record,’

‘Damn-it Nora, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself!?’

Ren though, while horrified, was also quite awed. Nora was the strongest kid in town, he had never even seen her winded outside of training with dad, and she hit him hard enough to break his aura in just two to three hits, and it took him dozens of hits to just bring her down.

This blonde boy just socked her out of the room!

Nora laid on her back, a manic smile on her face. A tingly numb feeling all across her body, with some kind of scratchy feeling beneath the numbness. Awesome. Her aura never felt so low before, outside of Papa Ren fighting her in training. Nora’s aura felt like it was more than half gone!

Nora's smile didn’t fade as she contemplated the sheer strength behind, it didn’t just knock her around, it sent her flying! How far could he make her fly?

“Jaune,” Arthur said to his son. “Please go make sure she’s alive?”

Jaune yawns, and rubs his eyes. “Who? Did I hit someone?”

“Yes.”

He nods “Ok.” Then he walks to the person with a damaged aura signature outside.

Nora looks at the boy in awe, as he looks down at her. He knees down and puts a hand on her cheek where he hit her. “Pain pain, go away.” Then a surge of light overtakes Nora, and her aura is completely restored and then some.

“Who are you!” Nora says, grabbing Jaune by the shoulders and putting her faces really close to his making intense eye contact.

“I’m Jaune.” The boy says pushing her away, her breath smelled like syrup, and it was making him hungry.

“I’m Nora and this is my brother Ren!” She said dragging the boy over to her brother who still was processing the fact that his sister had just got slapped out of a building.

Jaune thought they didn’t look anything alike, but then thought about his new adopted sisters. Realizing that Nora must have adopted Ren, he nodded.

“Oh cool, he’s like my sisters.”

Nora nodded. “Yeahs my brother, but not my brother-brother, but we’re blood-brother and sister, because we cut our hands and shook hands!”

Jaune’s eyes widen, and made note of what to do when he got home. He had to make sure his sister were has much of his sisters as possible.

“You’re really strong! Want to be friends? Wait, wait, I have a better idea, you want to be me and Ren’s new blood brother?”

“Sure!” Jaune didn’t really have any friends outside his family, he looked at Ren. “Can we be friends too? I mean blood-brother?”

Who needs friends when you have family!

Ren looked at his feet nervously, the idea of cutting his hand again didn’t appeal to him, but nodded anyway. Nora hugged them both. “That’s his way of saying, yes!”

The three adults looked at the children in amusement, Li and Arthur sharing a knowing look.

“Feel welcome to stay in my home for the duration of your contract.”

“That would be great.”

Gris couldn’t stop smiling at her little brother and his new friends. “They're so cute!” Taking out her scroll and snatching several photos as Jaune and Nora, plus Ren got to know each other.

Only for the adults to scream once Nora brought out the knife and tried to cut their hands.

------

After the knife incident, and Nora finding out she couldn’t open Jaune’s hand no matter how hard she tried, they finally managed to settle down.

An Ren immediately took a shine to her children’s new friend and easily welcomed the Arcs into her home. Despite the fact the two other Arcs and her husband were scarcely in the house as they went out looking for the abnormal Grimm. Taking the time to spoil Jaune and her children, eventually managing to slip them all into matching Yukuta before letting them slip out to play for the afternoon.

Arthur and Li took several days to locate the Grimm, traveling around Kuroyuri looking for tracks and trails to indicate where it was, Gris traveling on the further outskirts acting as a scout.

During that time Jaune had spent all his time playing with Nora and Ren, investigating all over town, now that they’re dads were gone they were going to explore a mountain near the town.

“Be careful in the mountains. Also don’t stray too far into the forest or the lord of the mountain will eat you!” The old man said as Jaune walked into the forest, Nora and Ren followed him.

Ren and Nora followed behind Jaune, grabbing his long kimono sleeves. The kimono was something his eldest sister and Mrs. Ren and the Village girls managed to force on him in his sleep last night.

“What’s the lord of the mountain?” Jaune said, swinging his practice sword in front of him crushing through the brush and tearing up anything in front of him, but also creating a cool breeze behind him that Nora and Ren took advantage of.

Nora laughed. “It’s just a stupid folktale, beside I heard there’s really tasty peaches out in the forest.”

Ren sighed, tugging on Jaune’s sleeves. “Actually it’s a tale about a dangerous animal that lived on the Mountain centuries ago, long ago a there a enormous wild boar that lived on the mountain, the king of a nearby city wanted to take the mountain, but no matter how many solider he sent none ever came back, so the king himself went, and came back wounded, he declared no man may ever rule over the mountain, as it had its own Lord. The Lord of the Mountain.

An electric look went through Jaune’s eyes, “Awesome, do you think we can find it?”

Ren looked nervous though. ‘This isn’t going to end well…’

A couple hours passed, as the trio totally wandered around the mountain before somehow ending up at the top of the mountain, which instead of peak it hosted a large depression that sunk several dozen feet into the width of the mountains top, home to only wild grass, boulders, some bushes, a large grove of peach trees.

Nora elbows Jaune, smirking. “See I told you there were peaches at the top.”

Jaune snorts. “Yeah, but you haven’t proven that they were tasty yet!”

Nora frowns. “Fine, I’ll race you over there, and I’ll show you how tasty they are!”

“Fine!” Jaune said as he sprinted towards the peach trees, with Nora hot on his trail.

Ren however, felt quite nervous, as something was making his Aura sense crawl. This place was weird to him. He walked around, trying to find the source of the weirdness here.

He wadded through the waist high grass, noting the grass that had some large passage through it that neither Jaune or Nora caused. Nature trails all over the top.

Then he found it as he walked over to the grove.

Skulls and bones, all over the ground, shattered into pieces and fragments, and the roots were all over them. The tree had been eating the bones.

Ren felt his blood turn cold, as he noticed the rusted and shattered weapons all over the top now that he looked closely.

He quickly looked around for Jaune and Nora, seeing them eating peaches from the tree in the center. Despite how happy they were, they had to leave now.

Calmly as he could, somehow managing to make himself feel numb, the world taking on a slightly muted color, he walked over only to feel the ground shake behind him. Dust and dirt falling behind him, and the warm breath of air on his neck, on the high mountain top. His calm disappeared.

“Jaune! Nora! This is the Lord of the Mountain’s lair!”

A scream from behind him, pulled Jaune and Nora out from their fun to see Ren on the ground before a huge boar.

Jaune and Nora stood in awe of it for a moment, before Nora realized the danger and ran to protect Ren, Jaune close behind her.

However, he couldn’t help but be awestruck by the big piggy behind Ren that was absolutely leaking aura, it almost had as much as his dad did!

It was also so cool looking! It’s fur was black and thick and hairy! Like it was made of black iron. With one blood red eye and one milky one with a scar going over it. It had a bunch of scar actually, over its sides and on its neck. Jaune bet it fought a bunch of strong guys and piggies too. And it’s tusks were ginormous! Like instead of growing tusks it grew two clay-mores instead!

Jaune put his hand under his chin. Could he tame it? Only for him to scowl as the foul smell of the boar fell over to him. ‘It needs a bath. Otherwise, mom won’t let me keep him.’

“SQUUUUUEEEELLL!!!” The Lord of the Mountain bellowed at the three children who invaded it’s lair as it stomped the ground and got ready to charge.

Only for it to take notice of Jaune, it’s eyes further narrowed in rage, it was the one who had been stinking up it’s mountain with his aura, now dared come into its home! The Lord of the mountain bellowed out of rage and challenged the boy in front of it, then charged forward intent on brutalizing the boy who dared leaked it’s smelly aura all over his mountain. The one who dared to wake him with his offensive smell. It’s beady eye then saw the discarded peach pits on the ground.

It snorted in pure wrath, they dared to eat it’s sacred peach! The one’s that granted The Lord his longevity?! He would grind their bones into dust for his grove and rend their flesh off their muscle and have the rain’s dance with their blood!

The pitch black boar’s singular working eye glowed with a diabolical spirit, as then blood-crimson lightning sparked over it’s black fur, as it galloped it legs forward in blinding speed, going ahead like a black missile, barreling at the seven year old with all the force of a runaway train. Jaune in a split second decision grabbed Ren and Nora, tossing them into some nearby bushes as he was hit hard enough to be sent flying away, the impact turning making the sky around them shake, the light exploding around them nearly blinding them as Jaune disappeared.

Nora and Lie Ren watch in horror, shivering silently as the boy they just befriended, their new brother flew into the mountainside impacting it with a blood-chilling crunch. The pair’s eyes went wide as they went into shock.

The rock-face shook, and the pig squealed in triumph as Jaune seemed to have been defeated.

“That was mean mister piggy, I don’t like mean people.” Jaune walked out from the dust and shattered rocks falling around him surrounding his impact sight, the rocks bouncing off his aura, and looking no worse for wear, if anything he looked incredibly angry.

His golden aura burned around him causing his clothes to float on etheric currents. The boar snorted at him and bellowed again, unimpressed, in it’s long, long life, it had defeated many opponents, from aura users, to soldiers and bandits, to warriors and huntsmen, and even centuries ago the king of this valley and his army, what was one child to his many fallen foes?

The Lord of the Mountain snorted again, summoning it’s lightning to coat him, and then shot it at the insolent child.

Jaune saw it all though, the sneer in the animals eyes, and the hostility riding it’s aura, and the deathly intent in the creature's semblance. It was all too easy to read it and step aside from where the red lightning hit next to him.

With a flourish Jaune then unsheathes his training sword holding it defensively, ready to fight the old boar.

The Lord of Mountain’s tusks glimmered menacingly in the evening light.

Nora and Ren held their breaths hoping not to give away their positions.

Clank! Klink! Crack!

The boar charged into Jaune, with Jaune blocking the beast with the flat of his sword, being pushed back several feet. The boar lashing out with it hooves that almost knocked Jaune flat before deflecting the blow, it’s tusks swiping at him only to be ducked under, and finally it tried to bite him in half, only for Jaune to hit’s teeth with his sword in a silver flash.

Bzzzzt!

The boar’s fur began to stick up on end as currents of electricity gathered across its body, collecting between its tusks briefly, then exploded in a blast of lightning at Jaune.

Jaune’s eyes went wide as a column wide blast of lightning was shot at him knocking him onto his back spasming, mere feet from Nora and Ren.

The boar saw an opening and charged at him coated in auric lightning power, Nora saw it all in slow-motion, Ren’s heart seized with fear and tried to stop Nora, but she moved faster than she ever moved before grabbed Jaune to pull him out of the way, the boar only grazing him, but still blasting bolts of electricity as it brushed them, a wayward zap hit Nora, knocking her onto her back, Ren quickly running to her side as his sister was laid out on the ground smoke drifting off of her.

The boar gave a evil look at the children as it turn around and charged at them, only for the boar to be punched in the nose before it could run them over. The huge animal reeling back, as it was knocked back, Jaune then rose up, smoke rising off of him, then he jumped up and socked it. Anger in his eyes, as he grabbed the blade of his sword and hit the boar in it’s head with the hilt, sending it rolling across the ground and into the trees, destroying several in the process, Jaune then chasing fast behind it.

As the Lord of the Mountain and Jaune continued to fight, Ren was trying his best to tend to Nora, only he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her as she kept laughing. “It tickles Ren! It Tickles!” Then jumping up onto her feet, grabbing the largest branch see could find then running at Jaune and the Lord of the Mountain.

The Lord of the Mountain and Jaune had fought from the forest line back into it’s den, leaving a trail of destruction and broken rocks behind them, the boar discharging lightning at him and Jaune summoning orbs of Aura to take the blows instead of him, several bright aura orbs orbiting around him at high speeds.

Lightning collects on the boar again, making the boar too bright to look at, wayward bolt striking everywhere blasting Nora back again, as it disappears behind a veil of electricity, then faster than the children’s eyes could follow, the boar flashes out towards Jaune in a series of brutal hits, only for him to deflect every blow in a shining silver strikes, with is Aura taking the blows he couldn’t deflect.

Then in a matter of moments the fighters became invisible, until an ear-splitting shriek cut the air in two, as a shock-wave cut the air in two, razor sharp winds shearing across the air, cutting all the around in a twenty foot circle in half.

The Lord of the Mountain was breathing heavily, blood-seeping from it’s mouth and nose, mighty as it was, boar weren’t built for this kind of fighting, while Jaune staggered around erratically as electricity stilled flashed over him, his hair standing on end and smoke waffering off of him. Jaune with as much aura as he has, was just as vulnerable to electricity as any aura-user, especially to one such as the Lord of the Mountain, who had honed it’s semblance in many battles, he could heal yes, but the effects on the body were noticeable and quite damaging.

The fighters met eyes with each other, a brief contact, but one that conveyed the tangible amount of respect they had for another.

The Lord of the Mountain scraped the ground with it’s hooves, gathering more of it’s semblance than it had ever before, collecting the red power into its prized tusks, turning them into glowing red and white sabers of energy that zapped with lightning around them.

Jaune held his sword with both hands in low stance, his sword’s tip pointing at the ground behind him, four aura orbs floating around him then one after the other they circled around the blade faster and smaller, till the blade was obscure in white and gold colors.

The two fighters charged, they met, they clashed.

All was still, all was silent, they froze meeting like a still frame image, the small blonde boy wielding an equally small sword meeting a building sized boar in a charge, clashing together, it would look comical if not for the serious look on boys face and the obvious power being thrown around, and the wrecked environment around them.

The clash held for a scarce moment, then the world caught up, as light overtook the senses, followed by an all encompassing boom that echoed across the providence like thunder, that nearly deafened Ren and Nora. Finally was the bone-cracking snap, as the victor was decided.

For a brief moment Jaune and The Lord of the Mountain became visible, the sword biting into the fangs, the rotating sheath of aura diverting the condensed semblance back into lightning bolts around Jaune digging a foot deep furrow for tens of yards behind him. Then,

KA-CRACK!

As the Lord of the Mountain’s tusks were broken in two. The two ivory natural weapons spun in the air and then stabbed into the earth, still crackling with its power, and blood leaking at the base of the shattered ivory.

The Lord of the Mountain thrashed about wildly as it’s mind was overloaded with pain and phantom sensations.

Jaune frowned sadly at it. His dad’s voice then echoed in his head. ‘Never disrespect your opponent with mercy if they come to kill you, give them the warrior’s end. Its the end they deserve.’

Ren and Nora could only watch in awe as Jaune then ran at the Lord of the Mountain, stopping it’s wildly flailing with a running sideswipe at it’s head, knocking it onto its side. Quickly he grabbed a broken tusk holding it firmly, holding the beast still he aligned his blunt sword with it’s eye with a lightning quick motion he plunged his sword, followed by his entire arm, and then part of his shoulder deep into through its eye into it’s head. Completely obliterating it’s brain, and the top of its spine.

In an instant, he broke its aura, cutting’s life away in one ending move.

The beast shutters weakly in pain, once, twice, and then never again.

Jaune frowns as he puts his foot against the head and kicks off, pulling his arm out in a spray of gore, showering the forest floor in red, pink and grey. He then swipes his sword through the air, in an attempt to remove the boar viscera off the blunt sword.

Nora and Ren looked on at Jaune, unable to take their eyes off of him. HIs movements were like nothing they had ever seen, powerful, without mercy, terrifying, and awe-inspiring. They fell to their knees without hesitation, bowing before the great one before them.

“Teach me, oh great one!” Nora said, suddenly latching onto Jaune’s leg. “Show me the way, so that I might break enemies! Those that would be unworthy of you!”

Ren hugged Jaune’s waist. “Show me the ways to manhood, Great Master!” Looked up at him. “Allow this one to have the power to serve you, and protect those I care for.”

With a casual pat to their heads. “Sure, you’re my brother and sister, right?” He said, with a bright smile and face dripping with blood.

Ren and Nora could only hug tighter in excitement, this would be the beginning of a long, long, and deep bond.

--------

It had taken most of a day to get to the creature’s lair, but it was well worth it.

Arthur had Gris play interception, leaving her to fight any Grimm that tried to attack Arthur and Li as they fought the Nuckaleeve as they found it was called.

Gris watched in amazement, as she finished the last of the fodder grimm, cutting a deathstalker in half with her zweihander, as her father and Mr. Li Ren fought the Nuckaleeve.

While Li Ren did not have much power behind strikes, he could shoot dozens of arrows near instantly, laced with some type of dust or another, and could easily dodge the blows that the Nuckaleeve tried to hit him with.

Her father just kept proving why he was the patriarch of the house, as he matched the monster blow for blow, overpowering it and laying it back as Li Ren froze, burned, and electrocuted it’s limb.

Till Arthur finally knocked it to the ground and sawed off the horse like head off the abomination as Li sniped the head off the top of the thing they called a Nuckaleeve.

Arthur stretched as he popped his body. “What a work out, haven’t fought something that strong in years, even if it was a little disappointing.”

“A little much for me,” Li said, taking a seat. “I would prefer it if I never had to see something like this ever again.”

Arthur shrugs. “To each their own,” He then smiles at the man. “How does it feel to longer have that monster hanging over your head?”

Li gave a wide smile. “Like a boulder has been lifted from my shoulders, ah, it feels like I just regained ten years of my life back. My Ren and Nora, will now be able to grow up in relative peace, hopefully.”

Arthur gave him a pat on the back, nearly knocking the man onto his face. “They will grow up in peace, if you ever have any other trouble, do not hesitate to call the Arcs.”

Li’s eyes started to water, but he quickly rubbed them away. “Then, I suppose there is one thing I have concerns about, in your time here in Kuroyuri, have you heard of the Lord of the Mountain?”

--------

Arthur couldn’t be prouder of his son if he tried as he lugged a two story tall boar through the town square whilst that little girl Nora shouted out a story that would probably fit right in with a Mistralwood movie, the boy Ren giving out details to smooth the story along.

“The Lord is dead, the Lord of the Mountain has died!” An old man shouted.

“It was real?”

“I thought for sure, that the old man was full of shit!”

“I’m not that old! I'm forty five, I just smoke a lot!”

“You should really quit, it’s bad for your health.”

“If I wanted your opinion I’d bloody well ask for it! Anyway the Lord of the Mountain is dead!”

Arthur gave his new friend a sly look. “So, about that problem… I don’t think you need to worry about it.”

Li grabbed his head and shook his head from side to side, a tears of happiness running down his face. “I suppose I do not.”

He rubbed his face dry, then grabbed Arthur by shoulder. “Tonight we party! Kuroyuri is safe again, and these are our champions! Tell the mayor we are celebrating tonight!”

Cheers erupted around the plaza.

--------

The party lasted for several days, as the news made its way around the neighboring villages who went to join and congratulate the Arc’s and the Ren Family.

Positivity at an all time high, fun was had, merriment too, but all good things come to an end.

A Bullhead sat on the outskirts of the village, which was being loaded up with gifts, and some of the remains of the Lord of the Mountain.

Nora and Ren clung fiercely to Jaune, tears running freely down the trios face.

“I don’t want you to leave!” Nora dug onto him tightly

“You’re our brother, don't leave us!” Ren buried his head into the blonde boys shoulder.

Jaune was silent, despite his teary eyes, then he flicked them both on the head. “Quiet! You’re my brother and sister, aren't you going to be strong?”

The two shut up filled with shame.

“This isn’t me leaving, this is me going somewhere else, I’m going to be back and stronger than ever, so don’t think I won’t be back! I would never abandon by brother or sister, so don’t insult me by saying I would leave you forever. So, promise me you two will get stronger, so when I come back we can go on more adventures, promise me!” Jaune looked at them firmly, his eyes still red and puffy.

Nora dried her eyes, and Ren blinked away the tears.

“Yeah! I’m going to get stronger than ever, if you don’t come back I’ll break your legs and bring you back!”

“I’m going to be a real man, Jaune! I’ll show you how strong I can be, so you better come back, or we’ll track you down and bring you back with us for good.”

Jaune looked strong for a moment, then broke down in tears again and hugged them tightly. “I’ll miss you guys.”

Gris looked at them through her scroll, recording the whole thing.

“Couldn’t we, you know, take them with us? We already got the other three groupies, what are two more?”

Arthur swatted her head, “I’m a serial adopter, not serial kidnapper. Anyway, I like Li enough, but not enough to steal his kids, so no, I’m not taking his kids.”

Li gave him a narrowed eye glance. “I’d prefer to keep my children,”

An Ren then carefully puts away a kitchen knife. “I’d cut a bitch, if you tried.” An Ren then smiles. “Anyway, the Arcs are always welcome in our home, you three better come back soon with the rest of your family.”

Arthur gulps, but nods. “Yeah, the misses wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t take her here. So, will come once I get the children settled.”

Gris smiles. “We’ll be back for the junior Mistral Regional Tournament, Dad wants to put Jaune in it. Thinks it’ll be funny.”

Arthur looks off into the distance. “Damn right it will.”

It took some effort, but they separated the children, and loaded up the Bullhead flying home.

------

The three Arc got off the Bullhead onto the Arc Estate, then promptly emptied their stomachs.

The curse striking hard, the one thing the Arc will never defeat.

Airsickness.

#The Adventures of Shota Jaune #Jaune Arc #Lie Ren #Papa Arc #Nora Valkyrie #Li Ren #An Ren #Arc Sisters

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Note

“You said you’d let them go” for Fenders with past Handers or FenHawke?

Aaaaaah I had too much fun with this one, I hope you like it!!!

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: You said you would let them go

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Evil/Red Garrett Hawke

Warnings: Implied Abuse, Physical Abuse, Graphic Depiction of Injury

Additional Tags: Angst with a Bittersweet Ending, post DA2

Fenris is trekking through the Vimmark Mountains when he’s ambushed by Hawke, his pet mage and a group of nearly fifty mercenaries. Rain is falling, heavy and grey around them, and the trees on the slopes are tugged so violently by the wind that they move fluidly, like kelp in the sea. Fenris draws his sword, stepping back in the muddy path as he tries to spot a weak point in the mercenary’s formation. Nothing is immediately apparent but then, he supposes it wouldn’t be. Garrett Hawke didn’t go in for second rate hirelings.

Hawke steps forward, and Fenris hates the part of himself that quails when he does so - the part that knows with a terrible, dreadful finality that he is unlikely to win a swordfight with Garrett Hawke. Behind Hawke, Anders looks thin and exhausted as he ever has, his coat hanging even looser than usual over his shoulders. But his expression of resigned boredom transmutes into sudden, painful shock when he makes eye contact with Fenris.

Fenris can’t help it, he stares.

Above them, thunder booms in the sky as clouds embrace the mountain. Anders grabs at Hawke’s arm, ignoring the shorter, stronger man when he shakes him off. “You said you’d let him go.” Fenris stares, ears twitching as cold rain drops fall from the tips to his neck, unable to believe he’d heard correctly. But Anders grabs at Hawke again, pulling him off balance, and Fenris knows he should be making his move, now, whilst he still can, but he feels as if his feet are rooted in place. Anders speaks again, face pale and taut with lines of stress. “Garrett, you promised me you’d let him go.”

Hawke’s lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl a split second before he wheels and punches Anders in the face. Anders stumbles backwards, spitting blood into the long, thick, dark green grass. But he doesn’t straighten and tumble into the punch in return in the way that Fenris expects him to - the way he’d seen him do more than a dozen times in The Hanged Man after starting a barfight by shouting too loudly about the plight of the mages.

Instead, Anders hunches as Hawke turns to him - and again, Fenris should leave, he could easily fell any of the remaining mercenaries, he should go now whilst he still can. But he stares, instead, as Garrett grabs a fistful of Anders’ wet hair, the colour of old gold in the rain, and shakes him, hard. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, mage. Understand?”

Anders says nothing, and the rain falls around them, and Fenris stares, transfixed by this strange tableau. But then, eventually, the apostate’s body eases in a submission that Fenris can feel with aching familiarity in his own shoulders. “Yes, ser.”

Garrett grins, and uses his fist in Anders’ hair to press a punch of a kiss to his lips. Anders’ body is stiff and limp in his arms - not pulling away, but not responding, either. Rain drips cold down Fenris’ nose, and plasters his hair to his forehead. Then Garrett lets go of Anders, and turns and claps his hands, and the sound is loud even in the rain and growing thunder, and Anders flinches, hard.

Fenris adjusts his grip on the cloth wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and stares warily up at the human man in front of him. Garrett smiles, wolfish and bright and terribly handsome. “Now, where were we?”

Fenris braces himself, thinking - at least if I die now, I go down fighting. He thinks at least if I die now, I die free.

But then there’s a sudden flash of blue light, and Hawke collapses into the grass. Everything after this happens very fast. Anders draws a paralysis glyph with his finger in the air above Hawke’s body, and the glyph erupts with golden light. The mercenaries charge forward - half of them going for Fenris, the rest heading for Anders. Anders flings himself down to the thick grass, slamming his hands into the earth, and a crescent of ice erupts from the ground, skewering half a dozen of them. Then he turns, hair flinging rain drops around his head like crystals hanging on golden chains. “Fenris, GO!”

Fenris stares and wonders whether he’s dreaming. But then one of the mercenaries gets close enough to hit him with their warhammer, and Fenris is parrying without thinking, slicing straight through the wooden shaft of their weapon and taking their head off with it. Blood sprays, hot and salty across his face, and Fenris falls into the familiar rhythm of battle, heels slipping through the mud and wet grass. Below them, way below, Nevarra is a cradle of distant cities and wide, dark plains.

At some point in the fight, Fenris’ back slams up against someone else’s, and he whirls and barely stops himself from splitting Anders in two - Anders, who now that he’s this close he can see has a new scar on his cheek. Anders, who grins at him despite the pink blood on his teeth and the way his body’s shaking. “Just like old times!”

Fenris wants to ask whether he’s lost his mind, but then a mercenary comes at him with two swords drawn, and he has to focus.

When they’re done, panting and exhausted, both of them are covered in blood and viscera. Anders’ staff is splintered and one of his fingers is hanging crooked. Fenris is blessedly, miraculously unscathed, saved for a few scrapes and bruises which he doubts he’ll notice in the time they take to heal. Hawke is still unconscious, and Anders has renewed his paralysis glyph twice. Fenris doesn’t hesitate, marching across the slope of corpses towards the man he’d once considered a friend. Anders yelps, and runs across the grass towards him, feet slipping in the mud.

“Fenris, wait!”

Despite his better judgement, Fenris stops, lyrium bleeding white at the edges of his vision like a lightning spell. “You cannot tell me that you wish him to live.”

Anders stops and stares, jaw tightening, eyes clouded as he looks down at Hawke. When he looks up at Fenris, there’s a terribly familiar grief in his face. “I love him.”

Fenris ignores the way his stomach lurches. “No. You don’t.”

Then he bends, and plunges his hand into Hawke’s chest, and crushes his heart. By the time his fingers have found the warm meat of it, Anders is shouting, but the action is done when Anders tackles him, throwing him into the grass and swinging a fist at his face. Fenris grits his teeth and takes the blow, expecting more. But Anders stops, frozen and sobbing over him as the storm continues to grow, lightning striking the mountains above them and Nevarra below them. “You. You killed him.” Anders manages to say through quick, choked breaths.

Fenris meets his eyes. “I did.” He says, firmly. Anders chokes and reels back and away from him, scrambling backwards in the grass, eyes wide and half-crazed. With a grunt, Fenris sits up, rubbing his jaw. The mage did, at least, still know how to throw a punch. There’s something reassuring about that.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

Fenris shakes his head, and reaches into his belt for a flask of wine. He ought to have water on his belt and wine in his pack, he supposes. But he finds himself often in need of a stiffer drink. “No.” Fenris drinks, gulping down the sweet drink without giving himself a chance to taste it, only wanting to brutalise enough of his brain cells that the thorny mess of grief and anger and hurt and betrayal in his chest will fade into something he can live through. He tosses the flask to Anders, who stares at it as if it’s a brick from the golden city itself. “Why did you say, before, that he had promised you he would let me go? Why would he promise that to you?”

Instead of looking at Fenris’ face, Anders unscrews the flask and sniffs it suspiciously before drinking, deeply. His entire body is facing away from Garrett Hawke’s corpse, still frozen in the golden light of his paralysis spell. Eventually, Anders stops drinking, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tossing the flask back to Fenris. Fenris catches it, though the leather slips in the rain, and scowls when he notices that it’s empty. Sighing, he reaches into his pack for a bottle, mentally calculating where he can next resupply. Eventually, Anders speaks, so quietly it’s snatched away on the wind. “It’s not important.”

Fenris pauses in his attempts to pour wine into his flask. The wind is so strong that it keeps snatching it away, and he thinks both of them should probably find shelter, but he also just killed his best friend and right now he doesn’t want to do anything except sit down and get drunk. He gives up on the flask, and presses the bottle to his lips, drinking until his throat hurts. Lightning cracks down the mountain above them so brightly that for a moment Fenris thinks it’s going to split in two. Anders gets to his feet.

“I should go.”

Fenris gets up, and blood rushes to his head in a dizzying flood. He picks himself up, slinging his greatsword over his back, and moves to grab Anders’ arm before the mental image of Garrett manhandling him flashes, unwelcome into his mind. He stops, dropping his hand between them over the sea of rippling grass, glossy with rain. “We should go. You will not get far alone.” Anders scoffs, and Fenris sighs, cutting him off before he can protest. “That is not a criticism. It’s pragmatism.” Then he begins the arduous process of hiking further up the slope.

Anders waits a while, with Garrett’s body. But Fenris doesn’t hear what he says. The wind snatches the words away in the opposite direction. He does look back at a flood of sudden heat, and sees Garrett and the other corpses burning against the storm in a sea of impossible fire.

It doesn’t take Fenris too long to find a usable cave, or set up a fire after that, though he refuses the wiggle of fingers in the direction of the firewood that constitutes Anders’ offer of help. Once they’re both drying off, and warmer - though hardly warm, with the wind ripping in against the stone and a gale blowing outside - Fenris asks the question again. “Why would he promise you that he’d let me go?”

Anders stares at the flames, his face haggard and far older, now, with the shadows exaggerating his wrinkles. “Because I asked him to.”

Fenris had eaten a rudimentary meal of jerky and nuts earlier, but Anders had refused anything. The flames dance reflected in his eyes and make him look ethereal. Ghostly. Fenris inclines his head, and bites down on his own frustration. “I gathered that. Why would you ask?”

Anders shrugs, and winces at the way it jostles his injured and now bandaged hand. “He wanted to hand you back to Danarius.” He looks at Fenris with a shadow of old humour when he adds, “Despite what some people might think, I’m against slavery.”

Fenris digests this, watching the flickering shadows dance across the floor like a Rivaini puppet show. Eventually he asks, quietly. “What did he ask in return?”

Anders says nothing, but something in his expression shutters and he moves to lie down, turning so that he’s facing the wall, away from the fire. Away from Fenris. Between them, echoing in the dark, the fire pops and spits. “Good night, Fenris.”

Fenris stares at the mage’s back, listening to his regular, uneven breaths, well aware that he’s awake. He considers prodding him further, answering the curiosity nagging at him like a loose tooth. But outside thunder cracks the sky open, and Anders jumps, and Fenris feels abruptly very old and very tired. So instead he sits back, resting his head against the cave wall, and stretching his legs beside the warmth of the fire. “Good night, Anders.”

#bad things happen bingo #dragon age 2 #fenris #anders da2 #my fic #midnightprelude

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 3 years

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God of War (PS4) Review: Kratos’ Postal Grief Beard Versus Norse Mythology

Once upon a time, a man was born by the name of Cory Barlog and thus a coin was flipped. Would he become a videogame developer or would he take up guarding the Mines of Moria by pulling wizards into a precipice? Those really are the only two options with a name like Barlog. Anyway, apparently the Mines of Moria were a bit of a commute, so the world gained a talented Auteur developer with a unique vision for a game series about going postal in ancient Greece. Fast-foward a number of years specifically calculated to make you feel old and ancient Greece is a distant memory. Norse mythology is where all the cool kids hang out nowadays, and that’s where we’re going in today’s review.

As you might have guessed, I’ve just finished playing God of War (PS4), which is fun to say because it rhymes. It’s a very good game that should be a very bad game. When considering modern media artefacts, I’m often prompted to ask the question ‘what went so wrong?’, but this may be the first time I’ve had to ask the question ‘what went so right?’.

Let me explain: God of War 4 (I don’t care that they don’t put the number on the box art, that’s what it fucking is) makes a single, monumentally stupid creative decision that should ruin the entire enterprise, but doesn’t. And that creative decision was- wait for it- a stab at maturity.

The last time we saw Kratos- the world’s angriest mythical being- he was finishing his battle with the Greek gods in God of War 3. There was a moment in that game which, to me, typified what was so great about the series. If I recall the sequence of events correctly, you kill your way through an ocean of expendable goons and critters who are just trying to defend their home on Mount Olympus, dripping with blood and screaming furiously, then wander into the bedroom of one of ancient Greece’s sauciest goddesses and play a sex minigame that you win by fucking her so well that her handmaids orgasm too. Then you toddle outside again and, head cleared, solve an incredibly complex and cerebral puzzle involving non-Euclidean geometry and perspective manipulation that takes bloody ages. That, in a nutshell, was the core identity of the original God of War: a gleefully unrestrained and immature approach to sex and violence coupled with a grouchy willingness to make unsuspecting players feel like fucking idiots for no reason whatsoever. It was awesome. In contrast, God of War 4 picks up many, many years later with Kratos hiding out in Midgard of the Norse mythos and, for once, he hasn’t got a nark on and he’s not trying to stick his cock in someone with cartoonishly huge knockers. He’s just sad because his missus has passed away, leaving him and their young, impressionable son alone in a big, scary world full of trolls and ginger psychopaths. ‘Sad’ isn’t a completely new emotion for Kratos, but, up until this point, he was usually sad in a way that resulted in five hundred people getting their spines broken in a very colourful manner. Now he just wants to cremate the remains of the woman he loved and carry her ashes to the tallest peak in the nine realms so he can scatter her in accordance with her final wishes. And that’s what he does, with son- Atreus- in tow. It’s a twenty-plus hour game in which the objective is very simply to honour someone’s preferred funeral rites- nothing more, nothing less. It’s very modest by Kratos usual standards. Remember that his stated goal in the previous game was to punch freakin’ Zeus so hard that his face would go all concave and then repeatedly stamp on his corpse.

We never actually find out much about what Kratos was up to between games or how he met his wife. However, he’s a bit thiccer than in previous instalments and seems to have lost the use of the ‘jump’ button outside of context-sensitive environments. On that evidence, I choose to believe he’s been running a small but successful family restaurant called ‘Kratos’ Potatoes’ and enjoying it all a bit much. And why not? He beat up Zeus- if he just wants to create and sample homely yet exotic Greco-Norse fusion cuisine while growing a ridiculous straggly dad-beard, I say let him crack on. Actually, is it a ‘dad beard’ or is it a ‘grief beard’? I think they send them to videogame characters in the post whenever a loved one dies so they can signal to the world how sad they are through the medium of angsty facial hair. But where was? Oh yeah: cracking on with it.

Y’see this is where the plot comes in: the Norse gods won’t let Kratos crack on. They’re determined to make him bow before Odin- especially Baldur, who is way too invested in having a fight with Kratos for reasons that won’t become apparent until very late in the game. They just keep turning up and trying to break Kratos and his increasingly like-him-but-not-as-good-at-it son Atreus. This time around, our heroes commit heinous acts of violence to defend themselves, not enact revenge, as they travel, inexorably, to the top of a lonely mountain through landscapes of stunning natural beauty and many, many hostile creatures.

Of course, Kratos taking his son on a hiking holiday with added troll-murder and the occasional slap-fight with Norse mythology’s biggest killjoys doesn’t sound as interesting as the original games. After all, those were basically a production of Kill Bill in which the part of Bill was played by a guy with the power to summon lightning bolts and access to a seemingly unstoppable army of monsters and demigods. The ‘fun factor’ even seems to have taken another downgrade, in that Kratos no longer operates with the entertainingly demented passion of the insane: he has been tempered by time and love and managed to turn himself into a paragon of serious self control. So why is God of War 4 so bloody good? Partly, I suspect, the answer lies in the constantly evolving relationship between Kratos and Atreus, which gives the story an unbelievable amount of heart and always manages to feel very organic. Kratos never learned how to be a parent, and we essentially watch him do it in real time, forming a bond with his son that seems impossible at the start of the game and inevitable by the end. Partly, the games greatness lies in the characters you meet along the way, who range from bickering dwarves to talking, decapitated heads who prattle on like laid-back tour-guides. Partly, it’s in the beautiful, epic landscapes that make the journey across the Realms to the highest peak feel epic and significant, even while it is small and personal.

But a videogame is nothing without gameplay, and it is here that God of War 4 really shines. I loved the original God of War trilogy (especially the third instalment), but I rarely felt like I was playing as, y’know, a god of war. Kratos might not be an uncontrollable whirlwind of fury any more, but he feels truly powerful for the first time in the ongoing series. In fights, every punch feels like it could crack stone; every axe-throw like it could rend the sky; every chain-whip like it could legitimately start a forest-fire. Out of combat, Kratos moves around the environment with the stolid grace of a man who knows his movements are inevitable; irresistible; an imposition on the environment that can’t be denied. You climb and complete elaborate, complex traversals knowing that the satisfaction you feel isn’t just the satisfaction of finding the correct route or solving an obstacle, but the satisfaction of a being forcing his way through a landscape that resists him at every turn but cannot stop him. The puzzles- of which there are many- strike the perfect balance between conceptual trickiness and ease of execution to remind you that Kratos is smart as well as determined; that his mind is as indomitable as his body. Then there are the little touches involving heaving huge stone pillars and similar unnecessarily over-the-top efforts. In short, the gameplay is interwoven with who Kratos is- with what he is in way that seems completely unprecedented. Even the RPG elements feel appropriate: they reflect the protagonist’s growing confidence in a skillet he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

Do I miss the uniquely juvenile, over the top identity of the old games? Absolutely: I’m a great fan of gratuitous gore and scantily clad women with big fuck-off swords. Usually, I find the desire for maturity in games to be a silly, pretentious trend that foolishly eschews anything obviously ‘fun’ for no reason other than courting the respect of people whose respect isn’t worth having. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here- at least, not entirely. The developers of the God of War games are clearly artisans and craftsmen of extreme talent: their attention to detail is superb and their ability to weave a good tale from a simple premise is actually a little daunting for someone who considers himself a bloody good story-teller. It’s worth remembering that the de facto head of the studio, Barlog, became a father himself before commencing work on this game about a father learning to bond with his son. It feels personal and meant because it is. Other games might reach for superficially mature themes like family and redemption for altogether cynical reasons. God of War 4 does it because such thoughts are clearly much on the developer’s mind. I asked already ‘Do I miss the identity of the old games?’ and the answer is still yes. But that question deserves a follow-up: am I willing to embrace the identity of this new, quieter God of War anyway? And yes, yes I am.

But if we could have a few more women with enormous knockers and Kratos going properly batshit just once or twice in the next sequel, that would also be welcome. I mean, let’s try to strike a balance here, people, for pity’s sake.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #God of War #God of War 4 #god of war sequel #Kratos #Zeus #norse mythology #greek mythology #videogames #game review #games

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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Yugioh Ep 34 S4: The Boys (and Mai) are Back in Town

OK, back to the writing table! It’s been a while! So I made the mistake of like...scrolling down on the playlist when I realized...

This duel is like 6 episodes long (7 even? It’s a lot) and like...yo I have no idea if we’ll finish this season in 2020! Damn you 2020. Damn you.

But wtv, what I like about this side project of mine is that I don’t have to rush things, and I can really spend the time with each episode and just...enjoy the moment. So often I watch a whole series in like half a week and then it’s like...I don’t get to enjoy it. This series I’ve enjoyed for years now. That’s kinda neat. So...we’re gonna be slow...but lets just enjoy this weird ass anime moment together. 2020 deadlines are all fake anyway. I’m not even sure if 2020 was a real thing that happened or like...an alternate universe opening a door and letting through just so many terrible ghosts. We might never know.

Last we left off, everyone has decided to hallucinate Dartz’ terrible backstory.

Unfortunately we have NO darts in the past. Was really hoping to see at least one darts reference in this entire season, just one darts board on his wall. But alas, we will not have a Season Zero death darts match with Dartz. (Man I need to get back to Season Zero. And FMA. And a lot of things)

I feel like if I watched the original version there would have been some things different. First off...what ocean? Second off...well, we’ll get to that. There’s some things I think were changed for English TV.

Including censoring the nude people like it’s James Cameron’s Avatar.

Fun fact did you know that James Cameron’s Avatar was supposed to be ass naked and that they were supposed to have like 8 cat nipples? Yeah.

Man, that movie was a mistake. I’m so glad we all decided to collectively forget James Cameron’s Avatar.

(read more under the cut)

The actual locations of anything in Atlantis does not match up with it when it’s zoomed out. We have giant cities, we have sprawling wheat fields, and we have...THIS situation. This active volcano next to...pine trees?

I feel like they wanted it to feel vaguely Pompeii, since I know people like to put Atlantis in the Mediterranean. Maybe? Maybe that’s what they were going for here?

One of my top ten favorite Yugioh plot twists ever was finding out this episode that this snake who has no limbs somehow created these...rocks...that all of our main characters have been wearing and obsessing over this entire time.

And so this is my theory, this is the thesis of my Yugioh college paper. These rocks are turds. There’s no way these rocks aren’t turds. There’s no way this snake didn’t poop out a bunch of glowy magic stones and then stuff them into a volcano.

THE ROCKS WERE TURDS THE WHOLE TIME.

God bless, Yugioh.

Seto spends this entire episode groveling that he isn’t playing cards that will absolutely kill him. Like Mokuba, Seto isn’t happy until he’s cheating death.

(I really wish we got more super past future tech. I love that type of concept art. Instead, we just got a lot of flying boats--the same boat that I think the team flew on in S1 when they went to Seto’s video game universe.

So those boats are 10,000 years old? They existed in the 10,000 year old Pangea, huh?

Neat.)

Anyway, lets take a gander at Princess Zelda circa Ocarina of Time.

SUPER princess Zelda, and I know it’s not 1:1 but damn it feels so much like a late 90′s Princess Zelda outfit to me. Check out that PURPLE. That low poly circlet. The random ass sword. The thick ass belt.

Also check out this super dead family.

Yo so this is a 00′s thing, a period of time where we liked to tell stories like LOST, with just a bunch of random ass plot twists in flashbacks instead of just...telling a story from start to finish. And can be a great and fun way to do it--but at the sacrifice of actually making me care about these characters while they were still alive.

Like I would have maybe cared about Chris and Ironheart dying if I had known that Dartz was killing his whole family? With...lightning strikes? But alas, these dumbasses decided NOT to tell us they were royal. It’s so strange both from a logical perspective and a storytelling perspective.

Man...missed opportunity, IMO, but I can see why they did it. The wanted the ‘Gotcha!’ I feel ambivalent about it, honestly.

And who am I kidding, people are still doing unpredictable plot twists this. It’s a way to tell a story. Is it the most impactful way? No. It’s...it’s a gotcha!

It’s at this point in the story that things start ramping up, but it’s not clear if it takes place over years or just a couple hours. People just start going a little cray and turning into Monsters.

Straight up, though--did they turn into monsters that already existed and are modern Duel Monster cards, or are the monsters from modern Duel Monsters cards actually descendants of Atlantis who were once human?

They don’t say, actually. Maybe...maybe every card was a human once. That would be a freakin weird Yugioh twist if Kuriboh was like a 45 year old dude.

PS Dartz was married...soak that in.

ROMANCE ON YUGIOH ALERT.

Love it every time. She was there for like...half a second, and Dartz was like throwing so much shade about how “only the people with evil in their hearts were turned” and it’s like...

...dude that’s your wife? OK then. I can see you guys got along real well.

Anyway, so long to the ship of IonaxDartz, you were here for even less than the amount of time that Seto dated Blue Eyes White Dragon in a hallucination, which kind of sets a new record for us.

This might be the shortest-lived ship in all of Yugioh and they have a 12 year old daughter and what I assume was a 12 year marriage for that entire time.

that is if they...HAD the concept of marriage 10,000 years ago on Atlantis Pangea island. Maybe?

I mean they might have not had the concept of dating and marriage yet because he gets over this like immediately. The show will never hover back to that time Dartz watched his own wife turn into a creature. We have no idea if he was like “OK honey lets uh...let just get you a haircut and maybe no one will notice?” We have no idea how long he was desperately trying to remain married to the beast that was no longer human and was also trying to eat everyone else in his court. We just don’t know.

Dartz just had a lot of other things to think about. He’s been King for like...a year...he’s only 21...he’s just doing a bad job at everything.

(Biden opens Pres Trumps bedroom in the White House come January and it’s juts full of glowing green evil golf balls) (OK that was my last 2020 joke I swear to you)

Anyway, Dad is here, but it’s a little too late to really do anything with the situation. Everyone is worshiping little snake turds. What can you really do about that?

One eye golden, the other eye, the color of a glistening Leviathan turd.

After the rest of the surviving royal family was chased out of the castle, Dartz decides to just wave his hands around a lot.

I’m not entirely sure what Kings do...never really had one...but I think they’re supposed to do more than wave their hands at a crowd like the Pope. Like...everyone’s dead right? Like everyone?

Who’s he talking to?

Meanwhile, Chris and Ironheart decide to revive some monster tablets to get some real actual duel monsters to do their bidding.

So apparently some monsters are in the tablets, and other’s have just always been here...and...

They didn’t know violence but they did have the cards?

There’s a lot of vague stuff they didn’t feel like ever writing, because it would have probably been boring to write about. I guess we’ll just let our imagination fill in the rest and ignore all the inconsistencies. It’s a kid’s anime. well........kind of a kid’s anime. A lot of people have died this episode and I don’t even know how to add it to the death count.

How many people live in Atlantis? I dunno.

Are the inhabitants of Atlantis even dead, or are they just turned into Monster cards? I dunno. Clearly the Great Leviathan wasn’t awoken this first battle so...did all those souls get returned? I dunno.

Either way I’m not gonna bother the death count about it because I just do not know if they died, and since it was neither an implied death or an on screen death...I dunno.

Just feels like a bit of a translation snafu--where maybe they couldn’t kill that many people on English TV, so they were like “AND IT’S A DRAW!” but also...it could be canon to both versions. The leviathan didn’t work the first time, maybe no one died? I dunno.

In this shot, PS, Raphael just gently backs up out of this flying plane, and it looked really funny to me. I probs won’t cap it because it’s split between two other cuts, but just...they just kind of moved that sprite to the right really slowly, no animation, it was great.

Dartz decides to end the backstory hallucination, and we get introduced to a new twist--a better twist than that last one, that’s right, all our boys are cards!

Including this asshole!

Been a while since our boys have been cards! Man, I miss Bakura!

Yes, I looked back to earlier episodes this season to see what was going on with Pegasus’ new look. I think what happened is that it’s always been this shade of gray purple--but when you put purple next to it’s opposing color (which is yellow colors) it looks even MORE purple. It’s just how color works. Love color theory. mm. Good stuff. Good purple hair.

I can’t wait until Yami kills Yugi for the 3rd time in one season.

Anyway, that’s all for now, and like always, here’s a link to read these in chrono order.

#ygo #yugioh #yu-gi-oh #recap #photo recap #episode recap #yami yugi #seto kaiba #Dartz #I don't know if he has a last name or if they were invented yet #Dartz' hot wife #Yugi muto #Joey Wheeler #Mai Valentine #maxamillion pegasus #Raphael #s4 #ep 34

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the-darklings · 4 years

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—𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒖𝒔;

pairing: john wick x f!reader

word count: 7.2k+

summary: You want him to fear you. And he will.

warnings: STRONG VIOLENCE, blood, emotional distress/trauma, mentions of torture, swearing, angst.

notes: Thank you so much for the feedback on Part 1!!! Ngl, I got carried away again but there’s something deeply enjoyable about these two so here we are. Fair warning, this one is gonna get messy.

children of ares series: 01 | . . | 03 |

“I’m surprised you’re alone.”

Your head lifts at the sound of his voice over the music.

John stands behind you in that familiar, overly calm manner of his that never seems to waver. The dark suit he wears seems to make him blend in with the darkness of the club as he nods his head towards the empty seat opposite to you in a silent question.

Your lips twitch upwards slightly, and you lean back in your own seat. “You don’t need to ask.”

John slides smoothly into the booth, and his obsidian eyes sweep over you once but the action is hardly sexual or makes you feel uncomfortable in any way. It’s a warming gesture, a protective one, and it makes something pleasant bloom in the pit of your stomach.

You’ve only been back in the great game for two months, and in that time Tarasov has only allowed you and John to work together once. He seems hellbent on breaking you in on solo missions. You aren’t sure if it’s his version of additional punishment but you find any thoughts of your boss beginning to fade as John gazes at you silently.

The singer on stage transitions into another song, her sultry voice dipping as a slower number begins. Winston, at least, knows how to choose his entertainment.

I give him all my love, that's all I do.

“How’s Venice?” you ask eventually, and John blinks as if he’s been lost in thought. “Any trouble?”

John doesn’t miss the tinge of sarcasm in your voice and his mouth twitches into one of his almost-smiles. “No trouble. I’ve been back for a week.”

Your eyebrows jump and you shift in your seat. “And you didn’t drop by for a visit? Why I’m hurt.”

Something changes in John’s eyes then; it’s a subtle shift you only pick up on because you’re starting to know his tells, and your nerves prickle at the silent intensity of his gaze.

And if you saw my love, you'd love him too.

“You seem to be making new friends,” he states, at last, a touch flatly, and this time your eyebrows rise in genuine surprise.

“The Italians,” you offer offhandedly, tapping your fingernails against the smooth wood beneath your hand. “They’re hardly my friends. The old man is even more unpleasant than Tarasov. His kids are promising though. Gianna likes you at least. Couldn’t shut up about you when she learned who I was. I think it made Cassian jealous.”

You don’t bother hiding the sardonic bite in your words, but John is not one to indulge in petty gossip so you don’t expect him to comment. He listens to you patiently though; the same way he always does, no matter how inconsequential the topic is, and it suddenly hits you just how much you’ve missed him.

It’s only been a week but the ache is like a dull throb that quakes your bones every time you move. Too often you have caught yourself wondering what John was doing or how his missions have been going. His presence here, now, is like a soothing balm you haven’t even realised you needed.

A love like ours could never die.

Before you can change the topic, however, John speaks, “Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

The seriousness of his voice only makes his morose expression even more severe, and your teasing half-smile crumbles away. “Are they that dangerous?”

John’s expression gives nothing away but he does lean closer, his eyes sweeping over the other patrons in a knowing manner. “Everyone in our world is dangerous,” he states gruffly, his words soft.

“And so are we,” you comment lightly, your lips curving playfully, dangerously. “It would be unwise for people to forget that.”

The singer on stage leans closer into the microphone, her words hushed and sensual while the song progresses and you blink, leaning back in your seat.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” you speak up, finding it hard to talk all of a sudden. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you but…”

“It’s your birthday.”

He says it so simply and in that blunt manner of his, it’s like that fact somehow explains everything in the universe and you stare at him, uncomprehending.

“I—I didn’t realise you knew when my birthday even was,” you whisper over the growing lump in your throat. You can’t recall the last time you celebrated your birthday, or when anyone even bothered to remember it. So even though you have never taken much interest in celebrating it before, this feels different. Somehow, John knowing and coming to see you because it is your birthday feels… “Was it Winston? I swear that man knows everything.”

He gives me everything, and tenderly the kiss my lover brings, he brings to me.

But John doesn’t indulge in your line of inquiry. Instead, he reaches inside his jacket and takes out a black velvet box, placing it in front of you.

For a second, you feel your heart seize.

Your suddenly clammy fingers squeeze tightly before you forcefully relax them and calmly reach across the table, taking the box into your hand.

Much to your surprise, it is a ring. Just not the type most women would hope for.

It’s a viper. A silver, coiling thing that has beautiful detail engraved across its entire, curling length. The head sits slightly bent to the side, exposing the little gems in its eyes that reflect the exact same shade of your own.

For a long moment, you’re speechless, adrift. You stare at the ring in your hand as something warm simmers in your gut.

“Happy birthday.”

Your eyes lift to him. His expression has softened a touch, just slightly, but you imprint it in your mind. You hoard these moments—these rare, precious minutes with him when his and your guards are both down, and it truly does feel like it’s just the two of you against the world.

One day, inevitably, when something goes wrong—and it always does—you will miss him so terribly. You will miss him like one misses the feeling of the sun on their skin, or how gentle breeze feels kissing your skin on a warm summer’s day.

You will miss him the way the sun misses the moon.

You will miss him because you love him.

And it makes you so very sad that you do.

I know this love of mine will never die. And I love him, ooh.

“So then he says to me, he says—hey, are you listening to me?”

“Always.”

You bob your head happily, your arms still linked as John unlocks the hotel room door. You sway on your feet slightly and his grip on your tightens. The main reason you don’t drink is because you don’t trust the world you’re in nor the people in it. But you allowed yourself this indulgence tonight, and you wonder what it says about you that there’s a part of you that trusts John so completely that you don’t even hesitate.

It’s a simple truth to you.

John will keep you safe.

It’s not like you’re drunk, either. Yes, perhaps a bit tipsy but it’s been a while. These last few months have been soaked in blood and poison, not alcohol. A viper strikes without mercy or prejudice. They only leave devastation behind.

And that’s what you want. Devastation.

If only because you never want to give Tarasov a reason to lay a hand on you again. In fact, you want that same wariness he regards John with to be directed at you. You want him to hesitate, to shift in discomfort every time he thinks you will not be happy with what he has to say.

You want him to fear you.

And he will.

He will.

The room is dark when you enter and John reaches for the light switch, kicking the door closed with the back of his foot. You lean against him for a moment—a purely selfish and self-indulgent few seconds in which you savour his warmth and unyielding strength before letting go. The world tilts to the right without John’s steadying grip on you but you still make it to the couch, falling onto it with a bounce and a loud giggle.

It feels good to laugh. You haven’t in a while and it feels almost foreign.

John is right behind you. Your dark, silent shadow. He doesn’t speak but his eyes gleam with amusement when you squint at him.

“I’m not drunk,” you grumble and John’s eyebrows rise.

“Uhu,” he grunts, watching your pathetic and clumsy attempt to take off your shoes.

Why is it easier to kill a man than take off these stupid things?

A moment later, another pair of hands join yours, carefully peeling your fingers away. Your breath hitches in your throat and the pleasant warmth in your blood turns into an inferno when your head lifts to see John kneeling before you. The slopes of his face are relaxed—almost gentle—while he patiently works on unclasping your shoes. His touch is featherlight, and yet it still manages to shoot bolts of lightning up your leg.

You stare at him wordlessly, caught in the moment. The ring on your hand gleams in the low light, and you bite your tongue to control the sudden urge to say something you know you will regret the moment you open your mouth.

Instead, you focus on the few rebellious strands of hair that brush against his forehead whenever he moves. You should tease him about it. His hair is getting long. Except you don’t mind it, at all. Biting back a shiver when his fingers grasp the back of your heel, you stare at his partially hidden eyes. They look so dark in this light. Merciless. A monster’s eyes that swallow every shred of light in the room.

Except they aren’t. Not to you.

In sunlight, they’re more golden brown than obsidian. You know because you’ve caught yourself looking one too many times, and they always struck you as beautiful.

God. When did you become so—

So soft.

“When—” you start, and stop. Your tongue feels clumsy but you force yourself to say something. “When I was eight my parents they, uh, they moved us to Italy. I didn’t know what for back then. But we were on the run. I knew that much. We lived in Bulgaria before that, and I don’t think whatever my parents were involved in went that well. But, well, before my parents managed to make anything of themselves in Italy they really struggled. Most days we barely had anything to eat. My father stole often.”

John’s hands pause briefly, but he resumes his work without interrupting you. You’re grateful. Now that you’ve started talking, it feels like you can’t stop.

“That summer I went through a bit of a growth spurt. Well, of course, we didn’t have money for new clothes so my Mama stole for me,” you continue, your voice hitching in places. “And—and this one time I needed new shoes so badly because my old ones were falling apart. So she stole this beautiful blue pair for me. They had jewelled clasps and this pretty floral pattern and—it was the nicest thing I’ve ever owned. I loved them immediately. That is until I put them on. They were too small. And I, uh, I can recall it even now, my Mama’s face when she asked me if they fit. I could have told her the truth. But we had scraps for food and people in town were starting to whisper about our family. So I smiled at her and told her that they fit perfectly. She gave me this look…it was so sad. She hugged me tightly and neither of us spoke after that because we both knew that I was lying.”

John is looking at you now, listening intently. He looks both older and sadder all at once but you don’t point that out.

Instead, you wiggle your free toes and smile through the sting prickling your eyes. Your smile feels brittle when your eyes meet but you only stretch your lips further.

“All I can remember is the feeling of those beautiful shoes squeezing my toes till they were numb,” you whisper softly and chuckle harshly immediately after. A tear escapes and you wipe it off angrily. “My feet were bloody but I said nothing. My parents were keeping us alive, and the least I could do is keep my mouth shut and wait. But I swore to myself that one day I will never have to worry about being forced to wear shoes that are too small for me. Never feel trapped again. Tarasov thinks he knows me, thinks he understands me. But he doesn’t. I’m scared of him, that’s true. But one day…one day he will be the one to fear me.”

“I know.”

The laugh that escapes you sounds harsh, perhaps a touch shrill, but you love him so much at that moment. Love his easy, unwavering faith in you.

The nameless thing between you finally has a name and you shudder in both happiness and fear.

John rises to his feet with the elegance of someone who is in complete control of his body and extends his hand towards you. There is no hesitation when you grasp it in yours. He helps you stand but when he moves to let go, your own grip tightens. His hand is so warm that a selfish part of you doesn’t want to let go.

The Boogeyman. The monster you’re supposed to hide your children from.

You reach for his tie, pull harshly, and kiss him.

It’s a slow thing; shy and fragile, much like your feelings for him. At first, John doesn’t move. He remains still and silent, but when he finally does move, it’s equally as careful. Slow. His free hand comes to rest lightly against the small of your back and you shiver.

The kiss is only a simmering, slow joining of you and him that last no more than thirty seconds before he pulls away.

You’re gasping. Breathless. Suddenly hot all over. No amount of alcohol could ever make you feel like this. Shivering from such simple contact.

You’ve kissed people before, but they’re not John.

No one could be John.

His fingers brush against the curve of your jaw, always so delicate and slow. You know how easily these hands can take lives. Which only makes his careful touch that much more thrilling.

It’s pathetic. How weak he makes you.

“We can’t,” he breathes, his voice hoarse and low, and his words slice through you like a hot knife. Your eyes snap open, and you haven’t realised that you’ve closed them till the exact moment you have to meet his regretful gaze. He looks conflicted, a deep frown twisting his features. His lips part and you hold your breath. “Maybe if things were…different.”

“Different?” you echo numbly, blinking, and pull away slowly, your eyes dropping to the floor. Your lips still tingle, the taste of him on your tongue, and you can’t inhale without remembering what it felt like to share oxygen with him. “Okay.”

“(Name)—”

“Don’t.”

Your eyes lift to his, hard and unblinking. “I always knew nothing could ever happen between us. Not while Tarasov holds us tied to him. You don’t have to explain yourself. It was stupid of me to except anything from you.”

But it still stings. God does it sting.

John takes a step towards you but your hand snaps out, pressing against his chest and stopping him in his tracks. Against the black of his shirt, the ring on your finger gleams even brighter.

“Please,” you plead and hate yourself for being reduced to this, again. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he says firmly, and his hand comes to gently rest on top of yours.

Shaking your head, you jerk your hand away and—for the first time since you met him—you turn your back to him.

That foolish, naive girl that still lives deep down begs for him to say something, to turn you around and kiss you again. Tarasov and consequences be damned.

But John is a man of discipline, of honour, so when a few minutes later you hear his retreating footsteps and the soft closing of your hotel room door, you don’t react.

The pain, as always, comes later.

You don’t sleep.

You can’t.

It’s almost like your body sobered up in a span of softly whispered “we can’t” and John walking out of the door.

He wakes up at the crack of dawn. You leave long before that.

The shower you take is barely lukewarm but you can’t bring yourself to adjust it. Instead, you allow few silent tears to join the water going down the drain, and try your hardest to control the sob that tickles the back of your throat.

Down, down, down.

Getting changed is a dull blur, as is gathering your clothes and walking out of the door. John is only next door. A part of you considers stopping and letting him know that you’re leaving. But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you immediately crush it to nothing.

The truth is that you’re not made of marble.

Seeing him now would just be torture.

So you walk past his door.

Charon, ever the professional concierge, doesn’t let his surprise show upon seeing you up so early.

He takes your details, takes your room key. He wants to ask, you know he does. You certainly look like a mess but you can’t force yourself to speak even when you usually would.

“We look forward to seeing you again very soon, Miss Vipress.”

You pause for a brief moment, contemplating.

But don’t reply before walking away.

Tokyo is, frankly, freezing for this time of year.

The cold nips at your nose and you shift in your spot on the floor, your joints creaking in protest. As time continues to pass without your mark making an appearance, your focus starts to waver.

If John were here he would tell you to never relax on a job.

John.

The mere thought of the name coils your stomach into an uncomfortable ball of bitter emotion. Perhaps you took the coward’s way out when you left without saying a word but who can blame you? It’s too hard. Too hard knowing that even if he feels something—he didn’t push you away immediately, he even kissed you back—he still can’t be with you. Your world is not made for silly daydreams of love and happiness.

That’s why you have stayed away.

Why you haven’t seen him in weeks, maybe even months. Time tends to blur when you go from one job to another and you’re glad for the distraction.

It’s better this way. Distance will do you good.

Last you’ve heard, John was back in New York because Tarasov has been planning something big for a while. Frankly, you’re just glad he gave you free rein for the time being.

That’s how you’ve ended up in Tokyo. Your rather handsome 1 million contract has been set up to take out some Yakuza boss that’s causing trouble to his competitors in Kyoto. One power-hungry man going after another. Some things never change.

But the pay is good and it’s a pretty clear cut mission so in hindsight, you can’t complain too much.

Except, your target is almost thirty minutes late now.

Unease prickles down your spine the longer you wait.

Something creaks behind you.

The first man drops dead before he comes anywhere near you, a poisoned needle making him twitch on the floor in agony.

But there’s more.

They appear like a swarm from every darkened corner of the alleyway. Somehow they know your exact location.

And they have come prepared.

Never before have you been as thankful for the foresight to bring enough poison to take down a small army as you are then. You let the suppressed gas canister do its work first, the dispersing poison inside making men and women alike drop dead to the floor. Their skin blisters and eyes haemorrhage from their blood vessels rupturing upon contact. The next stage is their lungs collapsing and you hope they die before that.

Despite your hope, most of them choke on air and blood, dying in agony.

The rest is a hail of bullets and blades.

You have the advantage of being immune to your own poison and dance through the carnage easily, knowing full well that on a windy night like this one the gas will only stay in the air for another few minutes at most. Then, it will disperse into a milder irritant. A pesky distraction at best.

A blade slices across your arm and you snarl low in your throat, your muscles aching from the strain of trying to hold back another assailant aiming for your jugular.

Give yourself space.

A poisoned blade is slick in your hand. Wet from all the blood you’ve coated it in and you stumble back, slicing viciously. The figures in black have to climb over their dead comrades to reach you now, and you try to keep them back by releasing blade after blade, needle after needle of poisoned metal at them. Those that get close enough meet their end at the end of your fists and gun.

Focus.

Shoot, duck, reload, aim, throw, exhale.

Deep breaths. Control the pain tearing through your split knuckles.

You focus on breathing, on alertness that makes your body tense so much your muscles—even well trained and strong—still strain under the pressure.

Shoot, left, drop, slice, reload now.

The figures keep coming.

And coming.

Despair ceases your mind when you realise that if you stay in the alleyway, your chances of making it dwindle to nothing.

John’s stern voice goes devastatingly quiet in your head.

Whoever sent these people after you clearly didn’t underestimate your abilities like so many have in the past.

Knees hitting the floor, you roll, slicing through the tendons on the man who just tried to gut you with his sword. The man crumbles, shouting in pain, and you grasp him by the neck, your knife sinking deep into the unguarded flesh. You drag a line, blood spilling and hug him to you, letting the hail of bullets hit his body instead. The man squirms before stilling, his gasps of pain ceasing forever.

In the dim light, you catch the look in his eyes.

He looks scared.

They always look scared.

There’s movement behind you and you turn sharply, but too late to stop the knock on your temple.

Your head spins as you drop to the side, kicking blindly. Your vision swims and you grasp your gun before firing. The first two shots miss but the third finally hits and you groan, scrambling to your feet.

Disorientated, you don’t react fast enough.

A bullet tears through your leg and you scream, crumbling to the floor. Then comes a kick to your stomach, making you curl into a ball and roll on the floor.

Your vision is white from agony.

Fingers covered in blood and shaking, you attempt to curl them into fists—attempt to reach for your leg and ebb the blood-flow.

Footsteps draw closer and you snarl, trying to open your eyes and see the face of the one who did this to you.

A kick to your side hits brutally and you roll onto your stomach, gasping for air. God, it’s so hard to breathe through the agony travelling from up your leg and sides.

“Stop your squirming, bitch.”

The words are acidic in their bite, spoken in clear Japanese but twisted by an accent you can’t pinpoint.

You don’t listen, trying to regain your senses, knowing full well that it’s a matter of seconds before they put a bullet in your head.

But before you can do anything pain pierces through your shoulder, and you choke on your scream.

A blade.

A blade that has gone clean through your right shoulder, and currently creaking against the dirty pavement underneath you. Your blood looks black in this light and your head swims.

Blackness takes you before you can form another coherent thought.

You live.

But the following days make you wish you hadn’t.

The man grins widely as he talks.

His name is Kishi. Or at least that’s what others call him.

He likes visiting you. Likes seeing you weak and beat, likes spinning tales about all the wonderful things they were still eager to try on you. Whenever he suspects you’re not listening to him closely enough, he has others beat you till you lose consciousness.

That’s the best scenario you can now hope for. When compared to their other methods, being beaten is like being tickled.

But you’re so thirsty it’s getting hard to focus on anything he’s saying.

A scream echoes from somewhere in the far distance, and your eyes flutter closed for a second.

Figuring out that you’re not the only one being kept here was the easy part. But realising that you’re in a remote location far from any urban activity that at least gives you a sliver of hope someone may stumble upon you has been a whole other mental blow.

Torture is a wicked, ugly thing.

Human bodies are resilient though, and according to Kishi you’re their “guest of honour” which meant that after the pain came some deranged form of care.

They have decided to keep you alive for now, but you doubt that’s going to be a permanent arrangement. Eventually, they will either grow bored or the reason they’re keeping you here will expire. After that…

After that, there are a great many things that can happen to you. None of them pleasant. Most of them horrifyingly terrible and painful in fact.

Effectively, your continuous existence depends on getting out of here before that happens.

Easier said than done, of course. You’ve been bound from head to toe. You couldn’t so much as twitch without catching someone’s attention. Your muscles have long since cramped and gone numb from disuse as well as blunt trauma.

The only chance—if any—you have of getting out is…

You force your treacherous mind to quieten. Force yourself to banish the thought of the one person you could imagine missing you, perhaps even looking for you.

But that hateful voice in the back of your mind reminds you that there’s no reason why anyone would care enough to look.

You are, as you’ve always been, alone.

“Enough.”

Kishi speaks in English which is rare.

Apparently, he finds the language ugly. Some delirious, pain-riddled part of you can’t blame him for thinking that despite the fact that he’s responsible for your torture.

Your teeth clatter loudly in the now quiet room, and your lungs rattle with every deep inhale of air.

It hurts to breathe. Things blur in front of you and you try to blink the droplets of water still stinging your eyes.

It’s cold. It’s so, so cold.

“Still fighting, aren’t we?” Kishi mutters thoughtfully, this time in Japanese, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Didn’t know bitches came this tough.”

Few men chuckle but Kishi doesn’t laugh. Kishi only stares.

His eyes are dark.

So dark that if you focus on just them you can almost imagine that—

A shaky breath escapes you but you don’t speak. You’ve lost the ability for sarcasm and humour days ago. Especially after you’ve been shown just how much more severe these sessions can get if you show disrespect.

“Leave us.”

The men shift; surprised, wary. “Master?”

Kishi’s eyes leave yours, and his face twists into a sneer when he faces his men. He’s in his late forties at least, and you can tell from the lines etched deep into his face that this is a familiar expression. His face knows this hatred, this cruelty, as if it’s second nature.

“I said fuck off!”

The men obey because they’re afraid, not because they respect him. In fact, they can’t leave fast enough as the metal door groans shut and you stay slumped in your spot.

Your hands are still bound, wrists raw and blistered, but your feet aren’t. They simply dumped you in this creaky chair after they were finished. Your soaked clothes cling to your skin and you shiver again, your body trembling from the effort to hold yourself together.

Kishi stares.

Your throat bobs when you swallow, waiting for him to say something. He always speaks first. That’s a fact you learned early on. After you spoke first once—sarcasm flowing free and your mocking tone making others cringe—Kishi punched you so hard that your teeth rattled upon contact, one of your back molars breaking free. Blood dribbled down your chin after, the impact still vibrating through your skull and neck.

A rough, warm hand touches your jaw and you jerk back to reality.

A phantom memory of another warm hand touching you in exactly the same manner mangles your heart to pieces, leaving a fresh bleeding wound in its place.

“John.”

It’s a strangled, weak whisper but this time more than your physical body aches. Longing and terror mix dangerously till for the first time in days—maybe weeks, months for all you know—you feel tears fill your eyes.

The fingers against your jaw tighten till you whimper in pain.

“Who is this John you long for?” Kishi questions curiously, his hand jerking your head from side to side while he inspects you like one would a slab of meat. Clinical, indifferent. “You plead for him in your dreams. Whisper his name when the pain gets too much. Do you hope this John will save you? He won’t. You’re dead to the world. You’re nothing but a piece of meat for me to do with whatever I please. I’ve been keeping my men away from you. But perhaps…”

He makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat before he throws his half-smoked cigarette to the floor. His rough fingers slide away from your jaw and down the slope of your neck, causing you to jerk in your seat. Kishi laughs at that; a cruel, empty sound as his eyes lift to you.

“What’s the matter, huh?” he mocks, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you going to plead for your John? Some weak, pathetic nobody? Did he give you this? Is that why you fight so hard, eh?”

Kishi grabs something from his inner jacket pocket, and awareness slams into you when your foggy mind registers what you’re looking at.

Your ring. John’s ring.

A small breath escapes you, and your swollen fingers twitch.

Kishi’s smug sneer sparks something in your gut—something hard and cold and furious. When you reach for the familiar coil of the viper, his other hand slaps yours away harshly. Your teeth grit from the shooting burn but you stay silent, obedient. Being reckless now will not do you any good.

But you’re grateful for the pain too because for the first time in days you feel awake. Your body is weak and broken in so many ways but—

Your hands are bound tightly, but your feet aren’t.

And more importantly, you’re alone. For the first time since you’ve been taken, you’re alone in the room with this man.

I don’t need anyone. Not when I’m the most dangerous one here.

Biting back a smile, you let your head to loll back and stare at him.

He notices your expression and his features darken.

“Closer.”

You don’t recognise your own voice; it’s faint and frayed around the edges but that doesn’t surprise you. Your cracked lips hurt from simply speaking but you don’t regret that either. You stopped talking a long time ago, and Kishi hates it. He wants you to engage in his sick little game.

That’s why he leans closer.

Because he believes that you are weak—or perhaps he doesn’t think that you’re weak at all, but that he’s managed to somehow strip away your killer instincts instead.

His breath stinks of tobacco and you force your expression to relax when you come face to face.

“Closer, please.”

Kishi’s hand presses against your waist suddenly, eager, his breaths growing more shallow with every second. Sickness squeezes your already cramped stomach but you hold your breath to calm down.

Just a little bit more.

Kishi’s hand is rough as he explores, his lips eagerly pressing against the shell of your ear and you smile.

“That nobody is called John Wick.”

Kishi freezes as if struck by lightning.

And that’s all the time you need.

The kick you deliver to his knee makes him slump against you but you don’t register the moment your teeth sink into his neck.

You don’t register the agonising pain as he tries to free himself by jerking you back by your hair.

There’s just the sensation of hot blood in your mouth as you rip.

Kishi stumbles back, gasping, helplessly grasping onto his neck where his life force is leaking far quicker than he can stop it. Your ring falls to the floor with a sharp cling! and you follow its path with your eyes.

A knife appears in Kishi’s hand and you jerk to the side, the chair crashing with you as the man topples over to the floor behind you.

Your legs don’t obey you at first but with a scream of frustrated pain, you still manage to kick him in the head. Scrambling on your knees, you hurry towards the fallen knife. Your fingers skim over it but a weight falls on top of you, pulling you back.

Everything cries with agony as you squirm wildly, screaming into the dirt as Kishi tries to push your face into the ground. Your bound hands feel like a deadweight but you only fight harder, trying to throw him off. He punches your barely healed right shoulder and you scream again. Your fingers—

Jerking, you slam the back of your head into his face. Kishi shouts something you can’t make out but it gives you just enough time to turn around and bury the knife into his neck. His movements cease as he stares down at you blankly. Shocked.

You jerk the knife out, blood pouring, and stab him again, deeper. With all the hate and hurt roaring in your ears, you barely hear his chuckle before he slumps over you. The weight of his body makes you cry out and breathing heavily, you awkwardly push him off. Kishi, now eternally still, collapses beside you with a heavy thud.

For a while, you lay there unmoving, staring up at the ceiling, convulsing from both adrenaline and terror.

There’s blood all over your mouth, inside your mouth.

There’s just enough time to forcefully turn around before you throw up. The lumpy rice from last night looks as pathetic as you feel, and your fingers sink into the cold dirt beneath you, tears stinging your eyes. Some still escape and you scream again, this time in frustration and rage.

You want to get up, but you can’t.

You’re too weak, too exhausted.

So weak, so pathetic, you couldn’t save your family and now you can’t even save yourself.

Tears come even harder, prickling your already bruised skin even more.

A glint of silver suddenly catches your eye and you still.

Your ring. John.

“Master, sorry to disturb you but everything went so quiet—”

The man halts in his tracks, stricken by the scene before him. Of his master laying in a pool of dirty blood.

Your mind goes crystal, terrifying sort of still.

The bloody knife in your hands leaves them so fast the newcomer doesn’t have enough time to even react. It doesn’t stick like you wanted though—it’s too heavy, your hands are bound and you’re too exhausted and disorientated to throw accurately. Despite all that, luck is on your side, and it slices against one side of the newcomer’s throat, cutting through the fragile skin like soft butter. Blood rains freely, almost like its been eager to escape its host, and you fall back onto the dirt, gasping in pain. Cold sweat covers your forehead and you ghost your fingers gingerly over your ribs.

It’s too hard to breathe, but broken ribs would leave you in mind-numbing sort of agony. Cracked, then? Or bruised?

Inhale, exhale.

The newcomer continues choking on his blood. Kishi is still.

Ferocious, savage sort of satisfaction blooms when you hear the man finally fall silent. You have never—not once—taken joy in taking lives before. You always made light of your job because you had to. Because too often it felt like if you didn’t make a joke or tried to lighten the situation, you would drive yourself mad with the cruelty of it all.

Digging your fingers into the dirt, you turn onto your stomach.

Your legs feel like jelly but if you can’t walk, then you’ll crawl to freedom.

First though—

First, between muffled curses of discomfort and even more tears, you craw your way towards the silver ring laying on the ground.

It’s covered in dirt and blood.

You grab it in a fist of dirt and it feels like a victory, like your love for John. Because it’s both sweet and painful all at once and you blink rapidly. Dirt crumbles from beneath your fingers and you put the ring on.

Or try to.

Your bruised, swollen digits are not what they were when John first gave you this ring.

They shake so badly that for a moment you can’t help but think that it’s useless to even try. Helplessness swells inside your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, gnashing your teeth till you feel your gums starting to hurt.

Then one centimetre at the time, you force the ring onto your finger.

It hurts.

But everything is hurting so you don’t open your eyes till it’s done and when it is you stare at your hand in low light. Seeing the ring back where it belongs fills you with the energy you needed to crawl back onto your knees. Digging your fingers in, you half-crawl, half-stumble towards the now dead guard. You don’t bother to look at him because you need to get out of here first. Sooner or later someone else is bound to come looking and you have no time to waste.

It takes considerable effort to unhook the small, well-fashioned blade from the guard’s belt with your hands still tied. But eventually, it comes loose, and you grapple for the handle, awkwardly twisting your hands till the blade kisses your bindings delicately. It takes almost five minutes of painful hacking until the binds finally come loose. Your wrists look mangled; angry, red lines cutting deep into the delicate flesh.

You throw up again. Or try to, at least. Your empty stomach cramps painfully, jerking your whole body from its central gravitational point. Forehead pressed deep into the dirt, you calm yourself and gather strength in your core.

Then, sticking the short blade deep into the ground, you use it as a crutch.

Your knees give out almost immediately, making you fall face-first into the dirt again. Your still healing leg aches terribly and you feel more tears in your eyes.

Weak.

“Stop crying,” you croak to yourself, bitter and angry about your own inability. “Stop crying.”

Your hand curls into a tentative fist, John’s ring pressing into your worn skin and gritting your teeth once more, you force yourself to rise to your knees.

Kishi’s knife is the first priority after the small sword. It makes you feel better, more like yourself, to be armed once again.

Free.

For now.

Blades you know intimately well. A part of you wishes you could grab the poison they took from you but there’s no time for that.

Swiping your forearm over your eyes, you inhale deeply, ignoring the crackling in your lungs. Then, you rise.

Your knees wobble again, every muscle straining.

Short, wheezy breaths slip free but you don’t care about the fact that you sound like you’ve just ran a marathon.

There’s only the end goal.

Get out, get out now.

One foot in front of another. It’s hard to breathe and it’s even harder to walk.

But you keep walking.

Step by step.

You want to see John again. Even if—

Stumbling out of the door, you stare at the dark corridor to either side of you. They always bring you from the left side which leads deeper into the underground facility. Surely that means that going right will lead you to some semblance of safety.

Hope is a dangerous thing. But right now it’s all you have. Because without it you might as well go back and lay down beside Kishi and wait for your own death.

Every step is a varying degree of agonising, but your shoulder presses against the wall as you continue moving. It’s a slog and your head spins with every clumsy step. The taste of blood lingers too and you heave once more. Nothing comes up. Small mercy.

Commotion.

You almost fall over again in your hurried attempt to stop.

Have they figured out you’re gone already?

There are no cameras in the “fun room” as Kishi used to call it. But no—no, you realise in dazed confusion, the commotion isn’t coming from behind you but from the direction you’re heading towards.

It’s so close you can hear the sounds of a struggle from just around the corner. Both the blade and the knife tremble in your hands but you wait for your chance, listening intently.

The telltale sound of what has to be a body hitting the ground reaches your ears, and light footsteps move in your direction. The moment whoever it is rounds the corner and makes themselves visible, you’re going to slice their arteries open.

The person draws closer, closer, closer.

Now.

You lunge the moment a silhouette rounds the steep corner, your knife and sword raised.

But the figure reacts faster, slamming your body back against the wall, excruciating grip on your sore wrists. You feel the blades slip free from your hands and fall to the floor.

You stare.

The figure stares, too.

Then, a raspy, hysterical giggle forces itself from out of you.

It seems like you’re wrong and you never did make it out of the fun room. Maybe you died during the torture or Kishi gutted you like a pig during your fight. Or perhaps the guard did move fast enough and you’re now long dead.

It would certainly make more sense than seeing John right in front of you.

Here. After all this time.

The thought makes you laugh again; a bubbling, hysterical sound and you don’t realise you’re crying till John’s horrified features begin to blur.

That’s funny, too. After all he’s done, after all you’ve seen together, it’s hilarious to think that it’s here—now—that he looks so horrified. This is hardly the worst thing he’s seen.

His hands drop away. “(Name)—”

He sounds hoarse, and so terribly sad.

For some reason, something odd sticks out about him. Your shaking hand reaches out and tugs on a loose strand of his raven hair. “Your hair has gotten long,” you whisper and laugh again, choked. “It looks really g-good.”

You don’t remember losing consciousness.

. . .

an: there’s more where that came from~ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #keanu reeves #john wick fic #fic: children of ares

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thelordstears · 3 years

Text

I can’t possibly stop writing. I fear I’d cease to exist and crumble into ashes (And that’d suck)

“ People don't need to drop a single drop of blood from their own kind to make it in this world, but unfortunately, we call ourselves animal to excuse such animalistic acts.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ We are no wolves, we are no sheep, we're people. But I don't see us acting as such. We act as if we were beasts, sent here to destroy. Odin, lives in honor, we do not reflect that. There's no honor in unnecessary bloodshed. We aren't human, anymore.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ Who cares if the knights worship one Lord? For all we know there could be nothing in the skies but clouds and stars.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ This is a land of war, not a land of honor. We poisoned the garden and asked why it withered." - Brooke Woodwarde

"Your mind is not so sympathetic, your mind is the greatest torture device in your arsenal. It works against you, just as a shattered clock ticks in the wrong direction, your mind thinks all wrong, wicked deeds plague you, but once you learn to accept you're no decent human being you learn, perhaps broken never meant bad.” - Elton Sederfault

“ I have been through many a torment, many a tragedy, so much so that I believe I became one.” - Elton Sederfault

“ My heart has been torn from my chest so horrifically, you wouldn't believe what beats inside my chest. Oh it's such an ugly creature, wrought with sin and hatred, but once upon a time a love for the world. But this gem inside my chest, this beautiful diamond lost it's glimmer. And now, it's nothing but coals, and the fire shalt only burn other's." - Elton Sederfault

“ Tom is broken, in some ways. But da most beautiful of things always are. 'E's stronger den 'e could eva' know, he's me damn son, and I love 'im, and if 'e ever needed a shield against da bullet's the world sends 'is way, I'll stand in front'a him and make sure 'e knew, I's got 'is damn back, always.” - Cleopatra Peterson

“ Look, ya could act as if yer past were chains that drag ya down, or ya could realize ya hold the key, and it's a little bit 'a faith.” - Cleopatra Peterson

"Perfection is an abnormality we can't achieve, who ever says they're perfect is either a liar or extremely lost in their very own delusion.” - Cruz Santinos

“ Reality is much, much, stranger than fiction. Because what I see, it's real, perhaps not to you, but I see it, and by God, does it scare me.” - Cruz Santinos

“ Here I am, lost in a world unraveled travelling these lands, wishing I was alone. But with a plague such as mine? I ain't never alone. By God do I wish I could be lonely, for once. These voices don't leave, and with a world devoid of medicine, there ain't no cure no more.” - Cruz Santinos

“ People don't give a fuck, they'll tear into you, and say you were the one serving the platter. What's a rabbit to a wolf but a means to an end?” - Cas Holts

“ Ya know, the sun always rises but that don't mean the days always warm. There's morning dew, the frost that lays against the damn trees, and snow that cuts against your damn cheek. The sun rising don't bring warmth it just brings a little bit of damn hope.” - Cas Holts

“ Welcome, welcome, come round, gather to watch the greatest show of all time. The fall of Ellsworth Davis, the showman, the mad man, the tyrant of the circus! He's watched you all suffer, so why not make him suffer huh? Suffering leads to hatred, and hatred leads to villainy.” - Ellsworth Davis

“ I watch the lion leap through the ring of fire and let his mane burn simply for my pleasure, the one whom tames the animals gets eaten alive by the wolves he though family, the strongman is crushed beneath his own weights, and the clown puts on a smile for all, but deep inside knows, a painted smile is all he could ever manage. You might as well call me P.T Barnum, because I am a cruel being, using humans as my very own freak show attraction! The elephant man would snap his own neck because all he ever wanted to do, was be normal. But no, he was a freak of nature they said! An atrocity! A circus act only to be displayed but never sympathized for! We are all freakish in nature, knowing normality is something we can't achieve.” - Ellsworth Davis

“ I run the sinners circus, I let lions leap through flames and trapeze artists swing through the air with no net. And I suppose, the joke was always on me." - Ellsworth Davis

"If this is life, and all I ever was is a perpetrator of evil deeds, than give me the very thing I've given so many other's. Besides, death is the only thing that could save me.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I got some devils ta slay and some damn debts ta pay. Ya listenin', devil who broke me so? Cause if ya thought Hell was bad, let me introduce ya ta vengeance.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I coulda been a saint long 'go, but now I'm nothin' but an angry bull, ready ta charge at the matador who provoked me. Show me the color 'a red, and I'll show you a darker hue.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I'd pray ta bring back my wings, but where has prayer ever gotten me? An echo of silence and my thoughts, so right where I began.” - Dylan Huffers

“ My mother is a memory, she was a hero, maybe not in the world's eyes, but my own. I guess, we get what we fucking get and don't throw a fit. So save me, or don't. I can deal with both salvation and damnation, so long as I get peace." - Dylan Huffers

"They say fear is a survival mechanism, it keeps you alive, but from what I've seen first hand fear is no survival mechanism, it is in fact the very opposite. Fear is what gets you killed, and he who lives without it, pulls the trigger.” Redacted

“ I am a God, a dynasty, a ruler. They say all rulers fall, but here I am, opposing that rule. I could sweep down and cut anyone I please down, because I'm feared. The key to ruling a kingdom is fear, your subjects fear the consequence of their actions, whether it be death or suffering they'll never know.” Redacted

“ All you need to appease the crowd is a jacket of good deeds.” Redacted

“ If you live life in sorrow, that is no life at all, perhaps you're past is a sorrowful tale, but don't let that define your future.” - Lacey Rose

“ Family can be anyone, people you met while you held onto Hell, or people who dragged you into the light, even if you kicked, screamed and resisted. We are all of us beautiful, and we deserve the chance to know it.” - Lacey Rose

"I think the path we're given is often one to follow, and if you go astray, just listen to your heart, it'll usually lead you in the right direction. Sure, it might break every once in awhile, but who said a little love can't fix the heart? It's the only remedy known to cure a broken heart.” - Gideon Rose

“ My mother has always said, "Son, don't let the world kill ya. You're stronger than the image the world wants to paint you as." And isn't that just beautiful? You don't have to be the canvas someone has made you out to be. You hold your own brush, and though your canvas may be filled with scars, paint over them. Yes, they'll remain upon the surface, but they'll be hidden from the present, and you don't have to face them unless you're ready.” - Gideon Rose

“ You look at me as you would a homeless man, "Oh he's just another drug addict, lost to the world's poison." But alas, society has never been a caring one, they say, "Look! Look at this poor mistreated fool! Watch him suffer! It's all he can do these days!" Isn't it amusing, how we damn what we don't understand because it'd be too much of a burden to understand it?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ We're all broken these days, wishing we could fix what we can never have, but we were never given the tools, so how do you expect us to create?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ I have a daughter, but surely she couldn't be proud of me, because I'm not even proud of myself, these days. So how can another claim a lie the truth when I already know it's heresy rolling of their tongue?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ No one man can withstand the storm forever. Eventually he chokes on the rain, it scalds his flesh and lightning strikes him down because all he ever was, is another casualty of a naturality.” - Arthur Wellburn

“ Ya might as well call me young Icarus, because I've put up my defenses and I'm damn well ready ta fly into the sun ta get what I seek. I may plummet from the sky on burnin' wings and hit the damn concrete face first, but if I can find myself after all these years, I'd rather be ashes then who I ain't.” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ Ya know, my life's been filled with scars that I wear on my damn sleeve, but I'm battle ready and unafraid of the god damn night. Because I've been through the dark before, and he who knows his own shadow, don't gotta fear what it'll do when the sun sinks and it ain't visible no more.” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ I've learned a helluva lot in this life of mine, most of all a bullet is the only thing that'll save a sinful man from himself. A threat or a reality, either way he'll be free from his actions, and so will the world.” - Delana Whinrich

“ When you stand in the midst of the option to save the world or yourself, choose the world for God's sake, don't make the same mistake I did.” - Delana Whinrich

“ Ya know, a man once told me, it was me pulling the trigger, whilst he held a gun to my father's head. But I've come to realize, whoever holds the gun has a choice, and thus is the one letting the damn bullet fly. Perhaps I pulled the trigger and pressed the detonator, but ya know what? I'm still a damn soldier. I fight for myself, the ones I love and the freedom of a shackled world. I'm a killer, but at least I can benefit the damn world huh?" - Delana Whinrich

"The world doesn't miss anybody, it's the people who grieve, not the earth." - Delana Whinrich

"The Queen's gambit, the act of moving a pawn upon your board as a means to sacrifice him but give the opponent a disadvantage. I think if one is to proceed with the Queen's gambit, the pawn should always be oneself.” - Romiro Smilowitz

“ People say God don't speak, but I think his actions speak a helluva lot louder than his words. We're still alive, and isn't that proof that he still has something in store for us? We may not have an instruction manual to fix the world, but all we need is our hearts and each other.” - Romiro Smilowitz

“ I'd rather be remembered as a man who did what was right, then a man who did what would keep him kicking. Survival is about how far you'll go, but life? It's about where you cross the damn line." - Romiro Smilowitz

"I'm brave, but not in the traditional sense. I block off my emotion in a battle, because I've found all it'll do is hurt me. I've let emotion control me in life before, all it resulted in was loss of life. I'm a blank slate of empty emotion.” - Cosmina Winchester

“ Everything I am is often associated with the vultures, because death hovers around me, it's as if I'm to be picked clean of good intentions and left out to rot with nothing but an ill mind.” - Cosmina Winchester

“ This cell of myself is constricting, because I fear myself, but I won't let that fear consume me. Because if I fear myself well and truly, I can't pick up a blade and show others, I am too be feared.” - Cosmina Winchester

"The roots of my family tree are wicked, but, as am I. I hang from this blackened tree, my body three feet above ground, I swing from my very own wickedness, choking on the feeble distraught of my very own sin. I look at the hands that put me in this noose, and I recognize them, the rings and the scars, the bruises and the callouses, because by God, they're my own.” - Mike Duster

“ I'm sinful down to my very core, because I was born a monster, my father has always told me, "If ya can't sin, you can't survive." But my mother has always said, "When ya get bucked off the path, you get back on the saddle." How am I to do both? Because I fear I am the very horse who bucked me off a cliffside and careened my way towards a safer clearing.” - Mike Duster

“ How is one to breathe in existence, if she doesn't even know the definition?” - Cathletta Mason

“ The hands of my father can't touch me in death.” - Cathletta Mason

“ I'm a demon in human form, a demon princess as Zargrod would say. He's sinful to his very core, and one day, he'll be my King of scorched intentions and wicked deeds. I'll be his Queen of bloodied gown and sinful lust, because what am I to do but let this love burn me to ash?” - Cathletta Mason

“ Life don't last forever honey, but my story will." - Cathletta Mason

"I look inside my chest and find my heart is a blood moon the shade of black.” - Idian Witson

“ I have claws made of sin and bone, all they do is rip into saints, its as if I'm a cheetah, because these claws don't retract, they tear into the soil as I bound and leap through the fields to pounce on the unaware gazelle who only ever wanted to graze in the grass, but would learn it was a hunting grounds.” - Idian Witson

“ I suppose I'm out of my mind, my heart is as pitch black as the nebula and as far away from warmth as Pluto.” - Idian Witson

“ They say we're all sinners, I just wish I hadn't taken it ta a higher degree.” - Greg Metals

“ I've lived my life on the highway, the revving of engines and the roar of motorcycles. But if only I hadn't become the damn crash everyone looks upon in horror. My bones broke, my heart cracked and scattered across the damn highway, but it wasn't me who was killed by the horrific accident, by God it was other's, and by God it haunts me.” - Greg Metals

“ So raise a damn glass for the tired biker, or poison the glass and finally let 'im drop. Cheers, am I right?" - Greg Metals

“ Sluzmink says it's about time someone told the damn truth. So you know what? He'll find the truth isn't bloodstained, it isn't glorified sin and bone, it's me and my six shooter with nothing but my fucking rage.” - Vivian McDermot

“ Life don't gotta be bloodstained, but Sluzmink's will be.” - Vivian McDermot

“ When someone loses everything, she's free to do whatever she pleases so long as it's in sorrow. And this vengeance of mine is a sorrowful tale. Because by the end I'll hold the broken corpse of Sluzmink fucking Jones, but I'll also hold the corpse of me.” - Vivian McDermot

“ Vengeance is a slippery slope, and I'm gonna tumble down this cliffside and take Sluzmink with me.” - Vivian Mcdermot

"You want injustice you have to get through law, and these days that wall is thin as a sheet of paper.” - Alberto Newhill

“ I've got my badge of honor and my pistol, but God, how can one man face a thousand and come out the other side of the battle alive?” - Alberto Newhill

“ One man can bury a secret, but a whole town can unbury it with integrity and will power.” - Alberto Newhill

“ The runt of the littler is the least likely to survive it's a sad fact, but true. You can't be a sheep when wolves have taken over the world, monsters hide in plain sight and I suppose I'm one of em.” - Redacted (Different one from before)

“ The street lights shine light on me only because they fear what I'd do in the dark.” - Redacted

“ A wolf in sheep's clothing is deadlier than a wolf in fur." - Redacted

"They called me sadistic killer, countess of blood, a reincarnation of Countess Bathory, the story upon the News naming me Countess of death. I'm nothing more than sin and divinity wrapped in barbed wire and glory.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ 'm so wrapped in flames it's become my dress, I twirl through this stage, embers and sparks alighting a blaze so magnificent that even the bug burning in the firepit would call it beauty.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ Most live in a single moment, and forget that their life is made of up many little moments that define who they are. We all live ruled by fate, but what if, fate, betrayed you? The roll of the dice land on snake eyes and you end up in debt, or worse, in a coffin.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ How is it I am to survive in a world that's already damned me? Am I to cast myself into the flame so another can not?” - Shandalar Belrie

“ I fled from the place I found pain, but still it follows me.” - Shandalar Belrie

“ I wish such cruel harms on the King, but if I were to kill him, I would in turn stab myself in the back and leave myself bleeding on his floor.” - Shandalar Belrie

“ How am I to live in the moment when all I can remember is the past?” - Shandalar Belrie

“ Forgive me, Gods, for I have sinned. And I only wish to survive so long as I have a path to follow that leads me to you." - Shandalar Belrie

"I haven't lost faith in God, only myself.” - Jack Samson

“ I brandish a pistol and a badge, but do I brandish a heart?” - Jack Samson

"Heroes aren't remembered, but that don't mean they're lost in the soils of history. A hero don't gotta go down in history, just up in flames for a good cause.” - Miella Fang

“ I'm a hero, not because I pull a trigger but because I don't. A bullet won't save someone who wishes to be better, sometimes all ya need to do is put that gun back in your damn holster and offer your hand to the broken soul in front of ya.” - Miella Fang

“ He says no one can kill the idea of him, that he'll go down in history, then I'll give him his damn wish. But to go down in history, first he's gotta go down.” - Miella Fang

"You first have to light a match to feel the flame, but who said it's gotta scald your heart? Why not let it melt instead? In love, in another's heart, in joy to be alive. Not every flame is lethal.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I used to weep because I thought love was a lost cause, but when Lillian holds my hand and tells me I'm hers, I feel truly, alive. And isn't it beautiful, to live for another while still living for yourself?” - Lorelei Metals

“ I could let my thoughts be bullets, or I could let them be flowers that'll blossom into the most beautiful and prospering ideas.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I love who I am, I've evolved so much, and.. I think my sister would be proud of that. God, how I miss her. She was always my hero, in all her tattooed bisexual glory.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I've been wild all my life, been caught in the riptide 'a all my pretty lil sins, but I had ta do those things ta stay topside the soil, so is it a crime ta wanna live? If it's a crime ta defend myself, give me a death sentence and call it justice” - Ivy Felinmote

“ I ain't the best woman, but I do try my best. I ain't no hero, never have been, I'm just a girl with a baseball bat and some elbow grease.” - Ivy Felinmote

“ I miss pops, he didn't deserve the fate 'e got. But now he's in the soil, and I suppose I got myself ta blame for that. I can spin the tale a thousand different ways, but it always ends with a bullet and tears.” - Ivy Felinmote

"I am the singular black rose in the garden.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“A gardener would cut me from his garden of silk red roses and yellow poppies because I don't fit the aura in all my darkness and thorns. Not even my petals are beautiful, they reek of death and corruption.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“ But now she's a wisp in my mind, a ghost haunting the halls of my mind, because she's gone, by the Gods she's gone and there's nothing I can do to bring her back. I've looked in every spell book, prayed to every God, but you need a body to bring back the dead, and I have nothing of her but memories.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“ I could step into a garden and every rose would wilt and whither away into nothing but dust. I'm such a sinful creature that even nature can't accept me. As I said, I am the singular black rose in the garden, my thorns dig into my heart and the pitch of my heart becomes dark, the flowing of my blood in my veins becomes venomous and the petals I brandish whither and wilt and turn to dust before my eyes.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

"I'm a shootin' star hurtlin' towards greatness as if it were the got damn dinosaurs. I know greatness is a relative term, but all it takes ta be a great man is ta help other's with your actions, eh?” - Church Godsel

“ I'd rather be alone with my thoughts than surrounded in people who don't know what it is ta live.” - Church Godsel

“ I'd step inta the frontlines ta save an innocent man, my father don't like bloodshed, he wonders how we made such an egregious deed honorable, but I think so long as you got good intentions with that rifle 'a yours you gotta save who you can with the bullets you got.” - Church Godsel

"I am woven in the most beautiful of horrors, and the most delusional mystique.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I met evil when I was only a child, he was my father, after all. In all his delusions and all his horrors, he was my father, and I only wish for him to see one thing. My revolver before his final moments flash before my eyes.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I am the thing that goes bump in the night, I am the boogeyman and one of the thirty six murderers you will pass in your lifetime.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I drowned myself and people expect me to be my past self. But he's dead, isn't he? That scared little boy is gone, buried somewhere deep inside the woods behind his childhood home. I could look myself in the eye, and I'd stab myself in the back just to get ahead. Perhaps this is why I bleed so heavily, because I betrayed myself in a sense. But I won't stop, there's something therapeutic about all this madness.” - Alviro Conritz

"Ya know, I thought history was cruel. And then I lived it." - Marv Callemritz

"Sometimes, the monsters are the ones we trust the most, even if we don't wanna believe it." - Mathias Gonvable

"Oh I have long since learned that when it rains, it pours heavy on your beaten and tattered soul. Hold a dollar to the sky, the wind will pick up, and take it away in one gust, the wind, blows, blows, blows, and in its wake, trouble comes, but oh it surely doesn't go, friend." - Shawn Werdelstein

"I am the dark, and where I go trouble follows, so tread lightly, this territory is protected with fangs and old scars." - Shawn Werdelstein

"Livin' in reality, it gets dark, twisted. I suppose that's the nature of all things." - Shawn Werdelstein

"Zachary ya ain't so much a God, you hold the power 'a one, there's a difference in that. The statue of a God can be toppled, a God himself can not." - Klaus Van Velk

"When the world is at it's all time low, I am at my all time high." - Klaus Van Velk

"We already were fuckin' free mate, do you fink your politicians fought for freedom? Dey fight for bloodlust and bloodlust alone. Dey fight for demselves, if dey cared bout da cause, dey'd pick up da rifle demselves." - Winfield Coleman

"I could look into my soul, but all I'd find is desolation." - Scarletta Bonewhistle

“I'd say you deserve mercy, my brother. But that'd make both of us liars." - Violetta Gursoch

"Sometimes you have to realize the only way to win, is to own a black heart." - Ares Malstone

"Blame God all ya want Wes, but c'mon, give me a lil credit." - Gunther Mirowick

"I am but a wolf, feasting on his own wool." - Drake Chains

"Salvation holds no price too heavy to pay." - Shilo Downsworth

"I've learned justice and mercy can not, and will not, live side by side. I've watched as people tried, to show mercy to the wicked, yet in turn, they shoved a blade in their back, and the cycle of evil only continued." - Shilo Dowsnworth

"The element 'a surprise will be enough ta take out more than a few soldiers. Trust me, when guns go'a blazin' and the echo of mortality falterin' starts ringin' through the damn sky, even soldiers cower." - Davy Blight

"You could call me a saint, but I'd prove you wrong for a single gold coin." - Lugarn the Shadow

"I can't call myself a hero when I've never saved a life." - Grifold Hangers

"Life will pass you by if you don't live it." - Leonard Bakers

"I found living the wild side of life will only end in a wild way. There's no peace when you're living in chaos." - Moon Crimsonburn

"We're all saints in a world that forces us to be sinners." - Terrance Possematto

"People born into a bad life will think that's what it means to live." - Sarkelus Johnson

"I've found if it is darkness you seek, it is darkness you shall find. Seek out the light between the shadows, and you'll find it." - Victor Da Ville

"In that house of God, in that holy church, all I found was darkness and secrets no one would ever wish to see in the light." - Samina Gelbrook

"We're far from Heaven, close ta Hell, burnin' in our sins as if we were nothin' more but the trees in a forest." - Fallows Diamond

"I think, in every bad situation, there's something to be learned. Don't let the people who hurt you become imbedded so deep into your skin that they become a part of you." - Quinn Greaves

"Sometimes life kicks ya down. Just dust yourself off, and roll your die again, based on pure statistic, one day, you'll get that twenty, and find everything you never knew you needed." - Quinn Greaves

"Sometimes the world is a prison and we're the convicts polluting her atmosphere in our darkness but other times the sun shines our beaten souls." - Issac Abernathy

"He may not give two fucks about the pain he's caused, but when I'm standing before him, a gun at his damn head, he'll hear me loud and fucking clear." - Brandon Killovitch

"No one guns a man down and calls it peace except for he who tells the soldier to pull the trigger." - Messiah Morrington

"Revenge is immoral. So call me unholy." - Leola Jenefine

“If your demons are silent, listen for your angels.” - Caramel Pettagrew

"I'm covered in the blood of everything I was, I'm dancing in the ashes of me, but I held the very match that lit the damn flame.” - Sostias Hoffman

“ If my footsteps lead me inta the dark, then let me light a candle ta guide the way, and if my candle snuffs may my feet lead the way, and find the light that waits at the end 'a the tunnel.” - Alonzo Graves

"Most days my demons are silent, but on the days they speak, they break the sound barrier and leave it difficult to find any peace and quiet.” - Veronica Villenwicker

"It is in my darkest hour, in the hottest flame, the coldest ice, I have found everything I thought I had lost.” - George Stinson

“ I've lost a helluva bloody lot in life, I lost my innocence when I was thirteen, my 'ome when I was sixteen, and my will ta fuckin' live at twenty god damn one.” - Saria Romiro

"If you've seen hell, in all it's unholy flame and damnation, tell me, what does the welcome sign to Evergreen's bay look like? It's rusted around the edges, it's been weathered down by time as all things. It's hell in all it's darkness.” - Remo Gonvable

“ I don't know how the world twisted and turned in such a dark direction, but if I can't find light in the day, I'll create my damn own.” - Sheila Gonvable

#writing #oneliners #characterwriting #characters #author #books

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Into the Darkness and Unknown: Ch 5. A Blink into the Void

Bonegrinder woke and was quite concerned when he could not find Leere. He moved all his pillows and even checked near the river. Then the snake went to where Malik was sleeping, snoring rather loudly. Repeatedly, he poked the man with his tail.

"Hey. Hey. Wake up. Tiny princess is gone. Where is she?"

“What the hell are you doing?” Malik grumbled, slapping the snakes tail away. He was so intolerable.

"Tiny princess is gone. Where is she?" Bonegrinder asked him yet again. "She is not in the hut."

“We investigated the origins of Malus on our own. Afterwards, we discussed the origins of your heathen gods and the demon Teufel. I left for the night, but she remained behind.”

"... you let her research Malus? After all she's been through?!"

“Yes. Because she’s not a fragile little girl. She’s her own woman. I respect that.” Malik rose from his bed, grabbing his armour to strap on.

"Malus is dangerous, she doesn't know what horrors it holds! He is trying to protect her from what those fiends would do to her, use her for! Don't you know why Leere's back has that horrid tattoo upon it?!" Bonegrinder was worried and actually looked panicked. "He is going to find her! Stay here!" And with that, he slithered off in the direction of the Temple of Ruin.

“Wait a damn minute!” Malik grabbed him by the tip of his tail, having just barely finished getting into uniform. Holding on, he was dragged by the back as if he were on water skis.

Bonegrinder was old, but he was still damn fast when he wanted to be. When he tried to go through the opening corridor for the temple, the Anagari nearly lost his balance and released a loud 'OOF'. Looking back, the young lord had grabbed onto the side of the stone, halting the shaman's slithering. Lifting his tail, Bonegrinder watched as Malik still held on dangling there. "... why are you covered in mud and leaves? You have to be presentable for Mother---wait... did you hold onto Bonegrinder's tail?"

Malik arm muscles were pulsing as he held onto the stone to stop Bonegrinder’s advance. “You stupid, ugly mother fucker.” Malik was glad he wore armour, but being splashed through mud, smacked by branches, and over all being dragged about was a completely unpleasant experience. Letting go of his tail, the only thing he could do was strip out of his armour, magically summon a different set of armour, and get changed into it. “You just had to run off like a child. Didn’t you. Your fat ass didn’t even know I was holding onto you.”

"Bonegrinder has little to no feeling in certain areas of his body, too much nerve damage." He wiggled the tip of his tail. "And you're just jealous that Bonegrinder has all the looks and you have none."

“Oh, don’t get me started on that topic you bastard.” Malik slapped his helmet angrily down onto his head. “Let’s go, I can see storm clouds forming. However, if I’m honest, I’d love to see god strike lightning down upon you.”

"Heheheh, you're just angry cause you know he is right." Bonegrinder had that smug grin on his face. "Come. Leere is this way..." He followed her scent into the library... then out of the library... and... "Huh? Oh. OH. We... might not want to interrupt this."

“Why? Where is she?”

"In Mother's bed."

"Nothing. Leere knows a fine piece of ass when she sees it." Bonegrinder then said, poking Malik's helmet with his claw. "You went after Asakonigei, so you know a lovely lady when you see one too."

“Don’t you dare bring up my wife. I’m not fucking the Queen of Danjur, Zarazu, or anyone else when I’m on diplomatic missions.” Malik growled deeply through graded teeth.

"Mother is not a queen, Malik. Mother is many, Mother is all, and Mother is a guardian." Bonegrinder truly did not see the problem. "This will not influence her decisions. Besides, he doesn't smell any arousal... they might just be sleeping."

Bonegrinder felt a punch in the back. “Open with that. God, you really are crazy.”

Inside the temple, Leere steered awake, yawning loudly. Seemed she was being held like a little stuffed bear.

Mother was still sleeping soundly until Leere started to stir.

"No bad dreams?"

“None. Yourself?”

"No, I don't dream very often now." Mother told the princess. "When I do, it's often visions of the future to come, the past which haunts me, or what will happen in the present."

“Well, it was nice.” Close enough, Leere snuck a quick peck in. “We should probably get back to the-” Before she could finish her sentence, there was a sound of lightning outside. “That’s odd. I don’t remember signs of a storm forming yesterday.”

"... you are brave to kiss an Echidnan of many like me, Leere." Mother then heard the rumble of thunder. "Hmm..."

A feeling, a shiver, was felt. To Leere, it was small. A coldness. To the Mother, something wrong was taking place in her homeland. “Do you feel something?”

"... something evil has made its way into my land." Mother had a dark frown on her face. "I must handle this situation. I cannot have it harming my children."

Leere stood up, immediately concerned. “I’ll go investigate.”

When Leere descended from Mother's nest, Bonegrinder was there with his arms crossed. "Bonegrinder would like to know why you were up there."

“I was researching the Mortuus. Your mother let me see the remains of your brother and father. Afterwards, I was very tired, so I offered to sleep beside Mother in her nest for the night. Why are you so concerned?”

"They are not his brother nor father, he is not of Mother, Mother considers us all her 'children'. Her people." Bonegrinder was... uncomfortable, being compared to Mother. It showed on his face. "You are in a strange land and trust others too easily here. While Mother said for you not to be harmed, that does not mean you are completely safe. You should have stayed in the hut. The library holds nothing but pain for you."

Leere knew that Bonegrinder was getting under her skin. Did all his people keep secrets? As a way to calm herself, she remembered an old lesson from her mother. ‘Take a deep breath Leere. Don’t let him get under your skin. Just count down. 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1, deep breaths.’ Clasping her hands, she felt ready to confront her feelings. “Bonegrinder. I’m going to tell you now that you are pushing my boundaries. I can make choices for myself.”

"He knows you can make choices, but there are some issues you are best left in blissful ignorance." Bonegrinder told the princess. "He does not keep this knowledge from you because he does not think you cannot handle it. He keeps it from you because he does not want you hurt further."

“You want me to stay ignorant!? Are you joking me?!” That certainly cut deep into Leere, with the voice of her reassuring mother shattering from her mind. “You’re contradicting yourself! It would hurt if I couldn’t handle it! You can’t keep information about my past from me! What kind of friend does that? What kind of friend are you if you’d actively deny the truth from me?”

"He does not mean mental hurt, Leere, he means physical hurt. The more you know, the more susceptible you are." Bonegrinder did not know how to explain more without revealing too much to the princess. "There is a reason he removed what he did from your tattoo those years ago. He is trying to keep evil from being drawn to you once more. He wants you to be safe and far from harm. Please believe him, tiny princess, he is trying to help you."

“Physically harmed? On that you couldn’t be more foolish. I’m one of the most committed fighters you’ll ever know, you better believe that.” Leere was going to say something else when she paused. Her face slowly changed to clear and focused attention. “Bonegrinder, Mother. There’s a cart of dead bodies out east not to far from here.”

Malik was the only one who couldn’t pick out the sense of undeath from so far away. “Are you saying Omisha is under attack?”

"Leere, Modoc, you two will have to finish your conversation later." Mother felt the dark magic on the exterior of her lands. Someone was using Mortuus magic and... there was something else. A mixture of rage, hate, and... unbalance. Chaotic magic. This was unsettling. "Modoc, go with the guards to investigate."

Bonegrinder was not going to argue. He nodded his head in agreement and then slithered off to gather some of Mother's most precious treasures; the deadliest of the deadly. These would aid him if there should be any trouble.

Then Mother turned to Leere, "My dear, please do not get too upset over Modoc's intentions. I do believe they are pure, yet at the same time, you do deserve your answers. I ask for only your patience."

“He should have more faith.” Leere turned her attention to Malik, who was already getting prepared to leave. “I’ll need my scythe back Lord Malik.”

The Gerudo chuckled, excited to see how the princess would fight with a weapon. He’d never had the chance before. Handing the hilt to her he kept for safe keeping, he pointed out to the east. “We shouldn’t spare an extra moment if innocents can be in the crossfire.”

"Perhaps when one needs more faith, he must first see the faith others have him. Give Modoc time, Leere." Mother then waited for her precious ones to gather before heading out with the humans. "We must be cautious."

The area was a flat plain that made a patch in the jungle’s of Omisha. Fresh green grass whistled with the wind from the storm brewing. Down at an old, crumbling sanctuary near the center of the plain, a Mortuus was channeling a ritual. The sky darkened with the blanket of a storm. Rain fell and thunder boomed after flashes of lightning. From the jungle growth, she saw two figures approach. She needed more time to fulfil her magic. “Kill them.”

As Leere and Malik approached, bodies that sprinkled off the cart and onto the ground came to life. Some shambled towards them with snarling teeth and claws. Other held weapons, brandishing spears and swords.

Malik drew his sword, cleaving through rows of zombies, hurling flesh into the air. With his shield he cracked some skulls open with merely the flick of his arm. He was a wrecking ball that obliterated the fragile bodies of the dead. The princess couldn’t help but remember how brutal he was when she first laid eyes on him as a child. Even amongst the living, she felt very little soul from the man when he was engaged in combat.

Leere could sense the sway of the Necromancer over these victims. These bodies were flesh, as well as human. On the clothing she recognized symbols and styles from Al-Daida. Raising a hand into the air next to three, she squeezed her fist. The heads squashed inward like a crumbled paper ball. Focusing her energy, she over took the will of five others to turn on other undead, chomping at the bits to devour one another. The other Necromancer must have caught on quick, because like a door shut in her face, Leere felt herself unable to enforce her will on more undead. With more time she could break down that door, but she needed to fight immediately. Activating her scythe, the staff extended outwards, a blue blade of energy shimmering with ancient technology. Spinning around she surgically cut down various zombies’ limb by limb. With her hilt, she’d push any that tried to grab her, giving them a lashing of her blade to rip their heads from their body.

When the time came to fight, Mother was going to ensure no one escaped. Trespassers would die. Her precious deadly ones ripped into the zombies easily, flanking the humans that led the charge. Most of the undead could never hope to penetrate the flesh of an Echidnan. It was too easy. What was coming next?

The Mortuus felt she had found the time she needed. These Echidnan’s would be trouble, but that’s what the ritual was for.

All the fighters on the battlefield saw a red glow pierce the sky, and on the ground next to the caster a pentagram pulsed wicked energy. From out of the earth hellfire spat out, and, with the smell of brimstone staining the air, demons set foot on earth. Many were vile, disturbing creatures. Some were humanoid, with edged weapons, but that’s the tamest they were in appearance. Some didn’t have eye sockets. Others had exposed craniums. Most were the size of Echidnan’s. Three had crab like lower bodies with bizarre hooked sails and jagged claws. Worst of all, a few sprouted wings and choose to fly off and cause havoc in the rest of Omisha.

Leere and Malik certainly felt fear, pausing in their advance. However, in a moment of reflection separate to both of them, they dug deep and found their courage to move onward.

Leere broke her promise to Mother. With her own magic, she summonsed forth her Dead Hand. An undead pale monstrosity burst from the earth, with dozens of bloody hands shooting from the ground to pull a demon towards the mark of its jaws. Other demons quickly jumped the undead, clawing and biting back at the creature.

Malik gave into his rage, fuelling his physical strength as he parried the strike of a sword-demon, plunging his blade into the gut of the abomination, and pulling upwards to cleave it in half.

A particular demon with its eyes sewn shut held a staff with an orb on top. With the storm brewing in the sky, it spun its staff around before thrusting it toward an Echidnan. Lightning crackled and snapped down at the pointed target, tearing apart an old warrior. Between that caster and the two humans needing to put a stop to it, a demon with no skin on its muscly arms bounded its chest at Malik and roared.

The Gerudo Lord tapped his shield at Leere, hoping she’d understand what would need to be done. “Catapult maneuver!”

Leere nodded, already running towards the man. She had witnessed her siblings practice the technique enough times as well as watch Rinku perform it in live combat to know what she needed to do. Jumping on his shield, the princess was thrown over the muscular demon straight towards the blind lightning caster. The demon hissed at her as she flew towards it. With a glare in her eyes, she struck downwards, cutting its head open like a cantaloupe down in vertical swing of her scythe. Landing on her feet, she quickly spun around to snap its staff in half, cleaving its body in good measure.

The other demon threw a punch at Malik, who in the motion of throwing Leere, swung his shield arm down at his opponent. The shield stabbed in between the knuckles of the demon, causing blood to squirt out onto Malik’s armour, as well as rewarding his ears with scream of pain. Least Malik could only hope it was pain; damn things roars sounded nearly identical. Under its screaming, Malik plunged upwards into the demon’s mouth, his blade piercing outwards the back of its skull. With a jerk, he pulled with his sword and shield out from its body, quickly moving with Leere to enter the grounds of the old sanctuary.

The land was full of blood now. The dark magic was tainting the ground and Mother was using her magic to push all of the demonic nature backwards. The leader of her people even used the storm of the enemy to sway lightning to crash upon demons that dared believe they could fly out to cause chaos. She had held the barrier separating Malus and Omisha. Now, she was using a shield to part her children from the demons. This foul magic would not hurt anymore, would not take hold of anyone, would never risk the lives of her people again! As Leere used her necromancy magic, Mother was very incensed. She would speak to the girl about the usage of such dark forces in her kingdom later. For now, she had a job to do; push back the intruder.

Bonegrinder was as deadly as ever, fighting beside of his brothers and sisters. Yet, he was more so experienced with these fiends. It sickened the Anagari to see the destruction, though he was more so worried. These demons were smarter than a zombie puppet. Once or twice, he used his long tail to swat a smaller demon from Leere or Malik, before being engaged by more of the larger abominations.

As Leere and Malik entered the grounds of the sanctuary, the intruder magically constructed a ring of fire around the area to keep anyone out who didn’t want to risk being burned, as well as to keep the two of them in her company. When she dropped her hood, Malik steadied his sword. “I know you.”

Leere felt an odd sense of curiosity towards this woman. She was taller than her, but still had the same red eyes and a similar shade of hair colour as her. This didn’t diminish her caution, however.

The woman raised a finger to Malik, frowning at first. Quickly, she shook off her frown with a light laugh. “Look at that. No longer able to be my puppet. No matter. When you die all over again you shall be a slave to my will once again, Dio!”

“The woman who tried to kill Zarazu.” Malik’s grip on his sword tightened. Leere felt this information was shared to give her clarity, but was also the man giving himself a reminder of why she was a serious threat.

“Indeed. She does not deserve to be the Goddess of Death. I will become the God of Death with her death.”

Malik didn’t take the threat to Zarazu’s life lightly. His hatred of the gods was deep enough, no need for this bitch to have grand dreams of ascending to godhood by taking the life of his friend, especially since Zarazu wasn’t an actual god. “You won’t touch her.”

“You’re right. I’ll probably have someone else rip out her intestines and snuff the breath out of her. Perhaps her husband.”

Leere readied her scythe, familiar with the madness of cultists enough from her travels. She knew there would be no reasoning with this woman. “The first Mortuus I met since my adoption, and you’re revolting. There’s a small hope that the people of Omisha are wrong about those that come from Malus, but I can see in your expression and wordplay that you’re a monster they fear.”

Dio turned her attention to Leere, a glow of examination filling her. “So… you’re the target. Heard stories about you. The Mortuus who escaped alive. You’ve made friends in high places. From what I understand, even a snake who can’t keep himself from destroying everything he loves.”

Leere and Malik knew she was speaking of Bonegrinder, but before they could ponder on this more, a flash of lightning was shot towards them both from a demon that made itself know behind Dio. It’s form Malik raised his shield to defend himself, but Leere had to throw herself to the ground to avoid the attack.

The woman laughed, a mad glee in her eyes. “My master is going to make me a god. I’ll use you both as slaves to build a temple in my honour on this very land.”

Mother knew not of the past incident with this Mortuus, but could put together enough pieces to realize that there was most definitely bad blood between the her and Malik. This demonic magic made her feel uneasy. It was the same kind of magic which was used to torment the souls of her mate and her child. Bad memories were there to help her, the Echidnan ruler reminded herself. She had to be cautious. She had to be faster. She had to be the smart one. With a slam of her tail, the Mother separated the earth between her children and the demons, a rift appearing in-between them.

The demons hissed; their attention being drawn to the Mother now that they were cut off from the rest of Omisha. One flashed frilled quills at the Echidnan. “The souls of your children will be our nourishment. But first, let us embrace you.”

Inside the sanctuary, Dio commanded her demon to attack Malik. It had the appearance of a flying eyeball with flower peddles surrounding the body. With a glow, black lightning shot towards the Gerudo, forcing him to take cover behind his shield and retreat amongst the rubble as the demon gave chase.

Dio herself locked eyes with Leere, her hands glowing with magic ready to destroy her enemies. There was a presence that felt familiar to Dio about this woman. Why? “A pampered princess can’t kill a god to be.”

“You are just another mad cultist.” Leere ran forward with her scythe to strike down Dio. Her blade met the empty air as the devilish woman danced around her strikes. Finally, she retaliated by snapping her fingers. At both of Leere’s sides, two Floormasters, man sized sentient hands, flew towards her to grab her. They were nearly identical to her Wallmaster, simply having a different function. She found herself being squeezed tight together in their grip. Dio snorted in amusement at her conjuration working out flawlessly. “Looks like the Destroyer is going to lose one of her friends.”

Leere felt her skin being torn into, blood leaking out onto the Floormasters. Good. Blood magic made the hands lose their grip, and before Dio could react, Leere threw the two hands together to make an icky battering ram of monster flesh. Both monsters forced together and hurled into Dio had the effectiveness of a giant fist punching her whole body. The woman was flung backwards into ground, blood flying from her now broken nose. Rising to her feet, her mood was soured to see Leere’s hands glowing red with cursed blood magic.

“You dare strike me?”

“I’m going to drain the life from you is what I’m going to do.”

Dio couldn’t imagine how a Mortuus who left the capital of Malus could have so much power. “Ha. We’ll see about-HCK!!!”

Suddenly, Dio wasn’t laughing. Due to Leere’s blood making contact with her skin thanks to the battering ram the princess threw at Dio, she was now able to levitate the body of the other necromancer. Taking her time, she started to squeeze the oxygen out of Dio’s lungs with her magic. This startled the intruder to Omisha greatly. She could taste the thick amount of iron in her mouth as her breath was being taken away.

As Leere stepped forward into Dio’s shadow to get a closer look at bitch she was about to kill, the woman cocked her head to the right at the princess and thrust her arm upwards with all the strength she could to get through Leere’s blood magic. Leere felt her rib cage be violently stabbed as a shadow pierced into her. Taking a few steps back, Leere struggled for breath as Dio rose from the ground. With a cruel smile, Dio made another slash with her shadow. The bladed arm cut into Leere’s back, spinning her around with the force of the impact.

The princess breathed heavily from her injuries. The only thing that felt good was the smell of the rain that started to fall down. Every drop that hit her lacerations stung like hellfire instead of cooling water.

As Dio approached from behind, she paused, her expression being frozen on Leere’s back. “That tattoo… I didn’t think it plausible. But it is it. Schwanz des Teufels: Tyrannin.”

“What?” When the woman spoke to her, there was frightening chill in her voice, as if two people were speaking at once, viewing her body with nefarious intent.

“Rejoice Leere Dragmire. You have a purpose now, a reason to stay alive.” It was defiantly a different voice coming from Dio now, however, when she spoke again, Leere heard the smugness of the woman return. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get to cut you apart so thy can keep still forever.”

Tendrils of darkness lifted from Dio’s shadow, shooting towards Leere with the precision of whips. They crackled through the air as the Princess drew the knife as her side to repel them the best she could.

Mother was able to contain the fiends easily with the help of her deadly children. Most of the demons were massive mounds of flesh without proper training. It was easy to rip into the fiends and dispose of them. Once Bonegrinder had completed his duty to Mother, using his own dark magic to contain the demons where they stood, he turned his attention to Malik and Leere. He had seen the two duel opponents before, yet, this was different. Malik was struggling to obtain an offense with his foe. Leere was holding her own against the Mortuus bitch, yet there was... shadow magic being used. Too much darkness...

When Dio attacked Leere with her assault of shadow whips, Bonegrinder shot forward through the fire. His body smelled of burnt flesh for only a moment before regenerating. It was time to end this now before anymore lives could be lost. Lunging forward, he tackled Dio and had his jaws opened wide. His coils wrapped around Dio's body and his fangs were ready to clamp down on her head.

The eye demon that had Malik pinned behind cover flew in to assist Dio. Before Bonegrinder could kill the woman, the shadow fired a powerful stream of dark lightning into the back of his head. As his coils unfurled, Dio scuttled on her back away from the freak of nature that nearly devoured her.

Leere was quick to try and stop her, claiming and swinging her scythe at the bitch’s head. Dio barely escaped death once again, returning the attempt on her life with a kick to Leere’s wounded stomach.

The pain Leere felt was unbearable, and her scream was shrill and high as she stumbled back. She even dropped her weapon from the kick. Looking up, Leere quickly was electrocuted by a stream of red lightning launched from the fingertips of Dio’s raised right hand. Leere had been electrocuted before, but this felt different. It was of her life force was being drained from her, the very soul being stolen. And its agony she felt from it was unreal.

Malik saw the demon firing a continuous stream of electricity at Bonegrinder. It wouldn’t stop firing down upon him, shredding flesh right down to the bone. Looking the lightning storm above, he quickly thought of a plan. Raising a metal sword to the sky, Malik put just enough of his own energy that the blade started sparking. The sizzling increased volume, until finally, Malik felt it was ready to throw. Launching the blade right under the shadowy demon like a boomerang, a lightning bolt from the heavens struck downwards in a path towards the metal blade, piercing the demon through its entire body to reach it. Its form crumbled into the earth, turning into black goo.

Dio channeled her masters magic. Magic was his domain, so it was only natural he could take it away. He taught her his ways. It hurt like hell to use, but she knew it hurt her enemies even more. Seeing Bonegrinder get up, she fired her other hand of magic draining bolts towards the monster. “Come now. Transform. I know who you are. My master told me. It also so happens you are the enemy of all Mortuus.”

Malik ran forward, throwing himself in front of Dio’s bolts towards Leere with his shield. It gave her a moments recovery to breathe as Malik struggled against the anti-life magic. If he was going to protect anyone, it would be the princess over that bratty snake.

"MODOC!!!" Mother shouted when she saw him being attacked by the life draining magic. If he was unstable... if he lashed out, he could hurt them too. She yelled at the pair, motioning with her tail for them to get behind her barrier. "Malik! Leere!!! Get away!!! Get away from Modoc!!!"

Bonegrinder's body twisted and contorted, his coils seemingly ready to break. His mind was jumbled. Nothing was clear. Where was he? When was he? Why was he fighting? Who was he with? These questions, he knew he had an answer, but could not formulate one. Groaning, he held his head. The Anagari's body was starting to form... particles. Floating particles surrounded him. Ironically, not of dark magic, but of pure energy. Light energy. His eyes were glowing a solid white, and he spoke in a language that no one understand.

"You will not hurt them! You are done hurting innocents! We banished you once and we will banish you again!" Bonegrinder simply shot his hand through Dio's fiendish magic and grasped her by the throat. "You serve a false god who takes pleasure in the torment of others. I will wipe you from existence for your crimes against this world!" With a blast of pure energy, the celestial magic exploded... and threw everyone backwards. Even Mother was knocked off her many centipede legs. All the demons either were obliterated by the magic, or retreated back into the portal that returned them to the deepest pits of the underworld and Hell.

In Bonegrinder’s grasp, Dio tried to speak. Her face was turning dark purple from the tight iron grip around her tiny neck. Celestial magic had burned her body from head to toe. She’d have died outright if something inside her watching deemed her ready for death.

To be completely honest with herself, she was terrified. If her body still had the capacity, she might have been pissing herself from fear, at least, if there hadn’t been a nugget of confidence in returning from the dead. Dio didn’t like the idea of dying regardless, but she’d serve one last purpose first. “My master will r-resurrect me. He will-”

Her eyes suddenly rolled back, and the air grew bitterly cold. The voice that left her mouth was clearly not her own. What’s more, it was the only one that could communicate with the being that inhabited Bonegrinder. “I found you at last. I don’t think you were the brother I expected though.”

Leere’s back was burning with pain and her magic sizzled from Bonegrinder’s explosion. She was flown far away, and when she tried to stand, she found her left leg was broken from the blast. It was hard to tell at sight, but she knew something was terribly wrong with both Bonegrinder and Dio. The air was phased around them like a mirage, the ground crackling with sparks.

Malik was lucky enough to be thrown into some rubble, so he wasn’t launched far. Closer than Leere, he could hear the voice that escaped the Mortuus. “Teufel.”

Teufel simply ignored Malik, as one would ignore an ant on a mountain hike. “I am God. I have subjects in all corners of this realm and others. This dear girl, played her part admirably. I will consider resurrecting her. Your God has one last task for you Dio. The Mother of Omisha insulted me by saying your pathetic tribe of life worshipers could ever control me. Deal with the matter.”

The Mortuus’ voice spoke out in the same tone as a broken note of a recorder. “Yes, my lord...”

Dio’s hand rose, and with magic not her own, a beam of celestial magic shot from her finger towards the Mother of Omisha as a way to pierce her heart. The magic already started to disintegrate Dio’s body as it left her being, too much for a mere mortal to handle such power.

"You will never win. Not as long as Kaksa is here. Not as long as I am here." Bonegrinder, no... an ancient god snarled at the voice of Chaos coming through Dio's body. It was a brother of Creation or Destruction who was in control of his host now. The celestial god of creation had laid dormant in his Echidnan host for a long while. Rarely did he surface. "You became greedy and tried to disrupt her beloved world. Now, you will never be at her side again. The Mother Goddess has wiped her hands of betraying filth like you---!!!"

When Dio shot magic at Mother, Bonegrinder reacted. He could only deflect it. Using a huge blast of his own celestial power, he knocked the beam sideways and it slammed into the side of a hill, exploding the earth. Hunks of grass, rock, and dirt flew through the air and the sudden force of casting his own magic caused the Anagari to sail through multiple trees, breaking the plants in half, before settling into the mud.

"MODOC!!!" Mother rushed to Bonegrinder's side and collected him into her arms. His body was disintegrated in some areas, but was slowly starting to repair itself. "Modoc? Modoc!!! I command you to open your eyes! Modoc!"

“Your goddess, Hylia, and the other gods have already failed. Already have I dominated a few myself. Join Ponca, Osage, and Akihara in Hell Modoc. I look forward to killing the last of your people Malik… Mother… Leere…. Hehe… Hehehe. HahahahaHAHAHAHA!!!” With a final defiant laugh, Dio’s body disintegrated into earth, her masters taunt being heard by all. The silhouette of her body left a black stain in the earth of Omisha.

Malik made his way to Mother, concerned about Bonegrinder’s condition. The last time he’d seen his body so damaged was when he himself detonated a highly volatile powder keg in his face. “Is he alive?”

"He is alive, but he's going to need some time to recover." Mother looked... worried. A huge, intimidating being like her being anxious was surely not a good sign. There was still a bit of celestial magic floating around Bonegrinder's body, yet now, it was harmless. As it sunk to the jungle floor, it actually rejuvenated the tainted parts of the ground. "He took a direct hit from Chaos... that stupid fool." The Echidan of many took a deep breath, fighting back tears. "You've been around as long as I have, yet have suffered more torment. Why do you continue to do such idiotic things when you know we all will need you?" She told Bonegrinder in his comatose state. "I fear that one day your body will not repair and what will we do then?" The other children of Mother made a makeshift stretcher and began to carry Bonegrinder back to the Temple of Ruin.

She then finally looked at Malik, and said, "... you have questions. I will answer. But not here."

Malik looked to Leere in the not too far distance, seeing her still on the ground writhing in pain. “Questions can come at a later time. Let us attend to our wounded first.” Malik walked past the bodies of demons and undead to reach Leere. Seeing the condition the princess was in, he winced behind his helmet. However, he respected her tenacity as a warrior for not complaining from the physical pain. “That leg doesn’t look good.”

“No... shit...” Leere was breathing as steady as she could to get through the pain. “I think my femur is broken.”

The Gerudo lord looked down to see some bone poking out of Leere’s skin. Between that and the gut wound, he wondered how she was still breathing. “You need a Doctor.”

“No... shit...”

Carefully, but not enterally painlessly, Malik scooped Leere into his arms and carried her back to the rest of the Echidans. “I think a Bonegrinder is this Destroyer god we have heard so much about.”

“We can’t know for sure.”

“We both saw the magic he possessed. He tore through demons and Dio like they were nothing.”

Leere pondered on this theory, noting the facts. Bonegrinder surrounded himself with those that eroded the will of people. He was rather ravenous in his hunger, seemingly having no sight in his growth. Leere was read a tale that one of the known symbols of the end of the world was a giant snake. His own people held rumours about him. And given his powers, it wasn’t hard to imagine the type of destruction he could bring to the world. But he was still her friend, wasn’t he?

“Let’s... save that thought for later. I need rest for now.”

"Bring the princess into the infirmary. My healers will care for her." Mother instructed Malik. "And if you have any injuries that need tending, please tell my children. The Tlanuhwas will be sure to care for you and the princess tonight. Though if you rather have a Kokyangwuti, please tell me. There are many options to treat you, whatever you feel more comfortable." She then said, "I will visit after I ensure the barriers are stable."

“Understood.” With great haste, Malik took off with Leere in his arms. The battlefield they left behind had a remarkable effect. With the rain fall, life started to come back to land, all except marked by the hell and chaos left behind directly by Dio. Her death bed sizzled, whispering promises of more suffering and discord to be pulled in Omisha. Far, far away, a primordial evil was still laughing. The Devil found out the identity of one of its greatest enemies, as well as part of their very being thought forever lost. And if Teufel knew where and who they were, it would be all the easier to control the threads of fate for when its time would come. All in due time…

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Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/190705569511/into-the-dark-and-unknown-ch-4-forbidden

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/190828059731/into-the-darkness-and-unknown-ch-6-poking-the

#Crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Starts off fun #Battle Sequence #Leere #Malik #Bonegrinder #Ancient Gods #The mother #Mother #Dio the Mortuus #Teufel #Demons #Echidans #Omisha #Malus

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rahmakapala · 6 years

Text

This One – Epilogue

Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin

Pairings: Kenshin Himura / Kaoru Kamiya, past Kenshin/Tomoe

Characters: Kenshin Himura, Kaoru Kamiya

Word count: 2149

Read the chapter in AO3, FF.net or below the cut!

Notes and thanks: That's it. It took five years... but now it's done. I hope you enjoyed my story. :)

I would love to thank my dear friends for all of their help: beta reading my ESL dyslexic writings, listening me ramble... and being there for me. I would also extend my sincere thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. It means a lot and has given me the strength to keep writing and working on this story.

Lastly, I would like to thank Alekssi, who has done a humongous job and translated the whole saga into Russian. You can find their translations here.

AN: This chapter has not been beta-read, so be prepared for grammar issues and typos.

This one – Epilogue

”And that’s how this one became a wanderer,” Kenshin said quietly, looking up at the clear night sky. The stars were bright tonight, much brighter than they had been all those years ago.

Warm arms sneaked around his chest, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, for telling me,” his beloved wife for four years, Himura Kaoru whispered. “I know it wasn’t easy for you, to keep speaking of your past for all these evenings during this past year, to delve into your private memories, both terrible ones… and tender ones.”

“It wasn’t,” Kenshin agreed. He looked at her softly, “But you were curious, that you were. And… you, you have given this one so much already, that it was only fair to–“

“No,” Kaoru cut him off. “You didn’t owe me a single thing. If that was the reason, then you should have told me and I would have never–“

“Maa, maa–“ Kenshin raised his hands in surrender, to stave off her burst of temper. “Forgive this one, one said it badly. It wasn’t an obligation to tell you these things, that it wasn’t. You didn’t pressure one to do so. No, what one was trying to say was… this one never dared to speak up, tell more than the absolute basics of ki, of his feelings and thoughts to Tomoe, that he didn’t. It was something one always regretted, that it was. If one had been braver, had dared to trust her more, maybe we could have avoided the disaster that struck us.”

The spark of temperament in his wife’s eyes wilted and she bit her lip, before agreeing quietly, “I guess so.”

Kenshin could have cursed himself, for his badly chosen words. This was not what he had been trying to achieve! He reached for her hand and stroked her palm. “Kaoru, love – one can’t change the past. Even if this one could, he wouldn’t. No, there was a reason for everything that happened, and without of those bad things, the disasters and terrible things… this one wouldn’t be the man he is now. He wouldn’t have become a man you dared to fall in love and marry. He wouldn’t be the father of our beautiful son. Without all those bad things, this one wouldn’t have this happiness with you.”

“You, you…” She bit off, blinking the mist away from her eyes. She shook her head then decisively rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and looked at him, her eyes shining with her fierce emotions. “Kenshin, you idiot! You don’t need to tell me that! I know! I wasn’t jealous or thinking I was the second prize, just for having met and married you after her.”

“Oro?” Kenshin blinked, “But you…”

She surged to his arms, hugging him with all her strength. “I love you,” she said. “I want the best for you and I am so, so thankful that you faced your demons once more and told me about your past, about ki, about the spirit. About the people in your life, about your private happinesses and worst terrors. Now I don’t have to guess why you are feeling blue on Obon Matsuri, on the winter morning when it’s snowing… or why you stop to look at a garish kimono in the shop window with a smile on your lips. I honestly thought that you wanted to buy that yellow kimono and was trying to figure out a nice way of telling you it was the ugliest garment I had ever seen!”

“Ah.” Kenshin exhaled softly, his tension melting. “Well, yes – it was quite similar to the one Lady Ikumatsu bought this one but for the color. That one was purple, not yellow with blue prints.”

"It would have clashed terribly with your hair." Miss Kaoru shuddered at his arms. “Everyone would have laughed at me if you had decided to buy it.”

“A terrible fate indeed,” Kenshin laughed, stroking at her back gently.

“Mmm,” Miss Kaoru mumbled her agreement, squeezed him once more before pulling back and settling to sit one veranda again. She swept her longer bangs behind her ear. “I meant to ask you before, but this ki – did you ever figure out why it was paining you so?”

Kenshin paused, looking down at his kimono sleeves and fiddling with the magenta fabric there. “Not as such. One did take time to find monks who knew about ki, but one couldn’t say if he learned anything new or worthwhile. They told this one that ki is something most people have, but the talent to sense it well enough to learn to manipulate is rare, very rare. It’s dangerous. Used wrong, it can cripple or kill. But if one is careful and knows exactly how to do it, one can use it to perform impossible tasks.”

“I see.” Miss Kaoru said. “But your pains…”

Kenshin shook his head. “One used it too much, too often – for years. It’s no wonder such misuse left its marks on this one.”

“Marks? But… “ Kaoru blinked, the dots connecting at lightning speed. She screeched, “You liar! You said to Megumi that you didn’t know why you felt such pain and stiffness in your limbs that you couldn’t use Hiten Hitsurugi’s strikes anymore!”

Kenshin gave her his blandest look. “Miss Megumi is a wonderful doctor, so she is. But she is also a woman of medicine. Of reason, and logic. Explain ki to her, and she assumes you have listened to old wives ghost stories for too long.”

“Don’t even try!” Kaoru growled, pointing her finger at him. “You… You went to Hiko, asking him to teach the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu’s final moves to you, knowing perfectly well how badly it would go for you whether you won or lost against Shishio.”

“Yes,“ Kenshin agreed. “This one doesn’t regret it. Shishio had to be stopped.”

Miss Kaoru buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know why I am surprised. You have always sacrificed yourself for the sake of others. I just…” She looked up, eyes red and her lower lip quivering. “I just hate when you make those choices. Why can’t you think of yourself, of your own happiness?

Kenshin's heart ached for her. He reached to sweep an errant lock of her hair behind her eyes. “T-this… I, I… I don’t know.”

“I know." She smiled at him – a sad, heartbreaking smile. "I have known why from the moment you rescued me from those Hiruma bastards and I hope that one day, my husband, I can teach it to you too.”

She swept her face to her sleeve and laughed. “Gosh, we are a mess, aren’t we? But one last question. This ki – Kenji has it, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Kenshin said. “He is easy to sense. He has a very distinct presence, that he has. Free flowing and active. He gets it from you,” he added, absently.

“Me?” Kaoru asked, surprised. "I have ki?"

“Yes, of course,” Kenshin said. “It shines brightly in you when you fight.”

“But I have never used it, I don’t think –”

Kenshin shrugged, apologetic. “Maybe once, you could have learned. Now, it would be too risky.”

“It’s okay.” She exhaled softly. “I have done well without it. So you can feel me and Kenji? Is that how you always know where to find Kenji whenever he decides to play hide and seek? I bet it is. You cheater,” She said fondly. “But if he has such a presence, do you think he can learn to manipulate ki? Like you did?”

Kenshin sighed. “It would be better if he didn't, that it would.”

“I agree.” She paused, hesitating. “But what if it’s not up to us to decide? What if the talent runs so strongly in him that he starts to use it on his own, intuitively? He already has his imaginary friend. What if he ends up experimenting like you did as a child?”

“Oro!“ Kenshin frowned, baffled – like this was the first time the scenario occurred to him. “Then... we need to keep an eye on him, that we must. If he achieves something impossible that only could be done with ki, then he needs training.”

“In that case, can you train him?”

“The way this one used ki was odd, even backward. It would be dangerous for anyone to try to mimic that, so it would.” Kenshin said, thoughtful. “You know, out of all ki-user this one ever met, the closest to this one’s odd approach would be…”

“Hiko?” Miss Kaoru guessed.

“No, not Master.” Kenshin denied instantly. “Master’s style is very defined, structured. It’s as close to perfect as internal ki use could ever be. It’s why Master can still utilize it with little to no risk, even at his age. No, if this one had ever properly learned Hiko’s style to use ki, one wouldn’t have even half of the problems he had over the years. ”

“Ah.”

Kenshin turned at her, shrugging awkwardly. “We were very different, Master and this one. He taught this one the best he could... but this one can be stubborn.”

“I am aware.” Miss Kaoru agreed blandly. “In your own way, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

Kenshin rubbed the back of his head, acknowledging her point sheepishly. Then he smiled, “It was Sanosuke that one was thinking.”

“Eh?” Miss Kaoru blinked. “As a teacher?”

“No, no.” Kenshin denied. “Sano uses ki. You have seen him break boulders, haven’t you? He enhances his fists before he strikes. Obviously, he doesn’t know he is utilizing something that typically only samurai or monks have managed to use – but he uses it very intuitively, based on the feeling. It’s quite similar to how this one learned to use ki as a child.”

“Except that he is not a child.” Miss Kaoru murmured. She frowned thoughtfully, “but his hands, they are always…”

“He does himself quite a bit of harm with the trick, that he does.” Kenshin agreed. “This one told Sano, the last time we saw him, that he should utilize the skill carefully.”

“Good,” Miss Kaoru nodded. Then she jumped off the veranda and straightened to her full height. She looked at him calmly, as if she had just come to a decision. “If Kenji needs help or he wants to learn, we can visit Kyoto. That’s good to know.”

“Oro?”

Kaoru gave him a look. “Hiko.”

“What about Hiko?” Kenshin asked.

“You said that out of all ki-users you have ever met, Hiko’s way to use of ki is the safest, the least risky one.” She explained to him. “So if Kenji needs guidance, or if he wants to learn… our son will have the best. It’s our duty as his parents to provide him with the best changes for the happiness he can get.”

“Oh.” Kenshin paused, suddenly thinking back to his son’s ideas of fun – climbing to the rooftop or any high places he could get to. If someone stopped him or carried him down before he wanted to come, god, his son had lungs to spare. Even the errant thought back to this morning’s screaming session was enough to bring a twinge of pain to his ear. Kenshin rubbed his ear absently. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea. Master seemed quite taken with Kenji the last time we visited, that he did.”

“I knew you would see it my way.” Miss Kaoru smiled at him. “Besides… whatever we could do, having a couple weeks to ourselves, eh?”

“Oro!” He protested, heat rising to his cheek.

She grinned. “And some time… you could tell me about your wandering days. I would love to hear what you got up with during those years on the road.”

“It’s not much of a tale.” He mumbled.

“Rubbish.” She said fondly. “That’s what you said about your years in the revolution and I loved those stories. But I won’t push you, if you truly don’t want to tell.”

“Well, maybe.” He hesitated. “There could be some bits and pieces that could make a story… when there is a good moment for it.”

#Rurouni Kenshin #Kenshin Himura #Kaoru Kamiya #Samurai X #ruroken #this one #fic:ThisOne #Rahmakapala's fics

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pjarox-journey · 4 years

Text

Breath of the Wild - Session #10

Into the Woods!

Hey there! I am back from my family, where i had played a bit more!

Sooo... the last time i had reached the stable of the mountain, were i got Fiona back. The next destination on my journey was the big forest west of the mountains, so thats were i headed now!

It love riding with the horse, kinda. It’s relaxing, and i love the subtle music in the background.

I met a traveling Goron on my way, and smashed some rocks nearby the road. You can always use the minerals, either for upgrading or some rupees.

Also, i punched a bat with my HAMMER!

Following the road besides the river, i found another shrine. Surrounded by spikes. Which was a bit annoying, and i didn’t know how to remove them. The last time i found some, my fire sword didn’t help.

BURN! BURN EVERYTHING!!!

...but fire arrows DID help. A bit. So now, time for shrine #19, the Sem-Rat-Shrine (still german!). I had to play around with the height of the water, but it wasn’t too difficult. Took me a few minutes, though, because of waiting.

Day 19 dawned after leaving the shrine, welcoming me with... a thunderstorm. I can tell you, rain sucks in Hyrule. Climbing is incredible annoying, because every few meter you loose some stamina and sliding down the wall as well. But thunder... lightnings strike everything that is made out of metal. And if you carry a piece of metal with you, like a sword, maybe, you’ll get hit. And boy, does that hurt. So i had to remove all metal objects from myself, so i don’t get hit. Yaaay... .-.

On my way i found two guys with a... kinda strange marketing idea - shieldsliding. On top of the hill, a merchant waits for travelers, so he can sell some shields to them, so they can slide down the hill. I didn’t buy a shield there, though. I carried enough with me, thank you.

Did you see what i am carrying on my back?!

But... i found another two Korogs nearby - #52 and #53. The first one really like the idea of shieldsliding, so i had to do that to reach the ring he spawned fast enough. The other one lived down the hill, where he loved running in circles.

Another Korok was living by a nearby bridge. After looting the Octoplattform there, i tried to get him!

...i tried. Really. D:

After throwing rock for rock, i finally managed to hit the spot. Also, the stones are... strange. I’m pretty sure stones normally don’t bounce like bouncing balls.

Anyway, hello #54!

After traveling a bit further, i reach the stable of the woods, at the start of day 20! Which... i didn’t remember, to be honest, but i don’t mind! I also found Hestu there, who did not know how to reach the forest, and... i... Hestu. The forest is like two steps away, and you don’t know how to...?!

He HAS the moves, though!

Lucky for him, he did remember the way after dancing 5 times (and taking my hard earned Korok-Seeds).

As always, i explored the stable a bit, and found some intersting stuff!

WHO IS A GOOD BOY?! YES, YOU ARE!

I was also able to give Fiona a new haircut, and... what? Why didn’t i remember that?! THAT’S AWESOME!

Flowers for Fiona!!

As always, there was a shrine nearby the stable, so you could teleport here (or to any other stable/village) at will. If you want to teleport, though. But this shrine... i remember it far too well.

My 20th shrine, the Miiro-Tsuhi-shrine (german!) is one of the most annoying shrines in this games. It’s... golf. You have to stop a ball, hit it a few times, and hope it hits the goal. The first challenge is okay, and i finished it in no time. But the second one, for the bonus chest... it took me a while, and i hate it so much. You get a giant core from that, though, but still... urgh.

After finishing the shrine, i found another Korok in the pond nearby.

Hello, cube-loving little guy #55!

I also did a quest for a little child at the stable. They wanted to see a flying barrel, which i showed them, so they gave me a starshard - a very very rare material. When the barrel fell to the ground, Fiona went a bit mad, though. But who can blame her?

On my way to the forest, i also visited the nearby tower. Revealing the map is my top priority for every new area, but it’s always such a pain to reach them. In this case, it was in the middle of a swamp, filled with enemies. Why did all the towers have to rise in such areas? Whyyyy? D:

After some sneaking, killing and exploding, i somehow managed to climb it, before the rain started. Thanks, weather!

Tower activated!

Now, on to the forest! If you know a bit of the world of the legend of Zelda, the big forest is often called “The lost woods”. Why? Because everyone who tries to go into the forest, is lost. You need to go the right way to be able to enter, and Breath of the Wild is not different to the other games.

You ready, Fiona?

In this case, the fire will give you a hint how to reach the other side. Follow the wind, follow the particles of the fire. At first, there are some big torches on the ground, until you have to carry a torch yourself. An advise from me: don’t do it on your horse. You’ll burn the gras under you, if you are not careful, and it takes waaaay to long.

Dont burn the ground dont burn the ground dont burn the ground dont bur-

...but did that stop me? Nope!

See, Fiona? We did it!

On the other side of the forest, there waits...

The Master Sword!

...and a talking tree. The Deku tree, to give him a name. He told me a bit about the past, and that only a person on peak of their power can pull out the Master Sword. Which this means, is: you need a certain amount of hearts to be able to use the Master Sword. 13, to give you the required amount. As you can see, i have only 6 right now, and could have 8, whith the spirit orbs i had collected.

To help me, the Koroks that lives here want me to do some challenges, each rewarded by a shrine.

First of all... i did the shrine right besides the Deku tree. My 21st shrine, the Kiyo-Uh-Shrine. If you can count, the shrine is easy. Just count the amount of star constellations, and you’re good.

After that, i did my first trial - the pilgrimage. One Korok wanted to go to the forest to the shrine, all by himself. And i should follow him, without being seen. It’s a bit annoying, but after a few tries, i managed to follow him.

Sneaky sneak sneak!

As the trials are challenging enough, the shrine, the Du-Chokahi-Shrine (still german!), was a free one, as well as the other two in the forest.

The next trial is the trial of attraction? That would be the translation, i guess, but it really means magnetism. Follow the treas with iron in their mouth. Not too hard, yes, but i had a hard time to see some of the right trees. At the end, there was also a small pond, where i kinda used a raft. As intended.

Rafts work this way, i promise!

Shrine 23, the Kun-Shidaji-Shrine (german!!), got! Yay \o/

The last trial was the trial of fire. The task: reach the shrine with a forest sword, bow and shield equiped, which aren’t allowed to burn or get destroyed or whatever. I know i needed multiple tries the first time i did this, but this time, i managed pretty well, as i tried to use them as rarely as possible.

I really like the design of the forest equipment!

At the end, the Mahmu-Ranos-Shrine (german!) waited for me. Now i had finished my 24th shrine, which means i already finished 20% of the shrines! Yay!

A good time to finish the session, don’t you think? With this, i am able to get three more hearts, and i was also able to get even more inventory slots now, as Hestu has finally returned home. So... maybe i’ll take down the first Titan soon? I don’t know. I still don’t know where i want to go next, but... maybe the Gorons? Death Mountain? Fire everywhere? Or the Zora... hm...

Well, you’ll see the next time! So stay tuned! And i hope you enjoyed the summary of this session! I also started Pokemon Sword, so i might post some stuff about that, too! :D

Anyway, i hope you had a wonderful christmas, and that you can enjoy the last days of this year~ See ya o/

#journey of the wild #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild #the legend of zelda: breath of the wild

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choicestrash · 7 years

Text

Utopia

"We are made of all those who have built and broken us.” – Atticus

Rated: T for dark themes.

Word Count: 2023

A/N: This is my entry for Round 18 of Choices Create, hosted by @kittenmusicals and @hollyashton! I kinda deviated from the prompt (and overwrote which is why this is kinda late) but hopefully not too much oops hahaha. Set in the trilogy of The Crown and the Flame and focuses on the dynamic between Hex and Whitlock.

Hex had never seen such a crude prosthetic in her life. Scraps of metals were being held by wires that looked as if they would be snapped by the smallest of strains, pulling the barely hand-like contraption together. Devious handiwork must have been behind the design, since it had survived the labyrinth (perhaps with the aid of prayer).

The fact that it had been put together by a boy no more than fifteen astonished her. It seemed to still be receptive to touch, given the almost indistinguishable flex of pain made after one of the other Technocrats clasped the shoulder of the young boy in pride. Yes, this boy was indeed a wonder, positively brimming with potential that had yet been realised.

Even aside from the raw spectacle of his prosthetic, the boy had proved himself well worthy of citizenship at the Foundry, having managed to survive the dozens of traps laid around the Foundry. Without outside help too, it seemed, assuming from the fact that the boy had nothing on his back aside from his own clothes. And the marvellous prosthetic.

For the entire time Hex had stood there, the boy had made no attempt to move, a lost expression on his face. That confirmed her hypothesis: the boy was indeed truly alone, unaccompanied on the journey he had undertaken. For all the accomplishments the boy had made today, he was still a young boy who had been desperate enough to walk through a deathtrap in search for sanctuary.

What horrors had he faced outside to drive him so?

Hex narrowed her eyes at the gathering crowd, glancing daggers at her fellow Technocrats. “I understand that this boy had done something quite, remarkable, but I will take him from here.”

The boy met her glance, fear creeping in his gaze as Hex marched over to him, parting the crowd that had come to observe. Shrank against her outstretched arm, an attempt at gaining his trust. He was so young.

Hex softened her gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?”

He paused, as if weighing the options in his mind. Oh, he definitely was bright. “Whitlock,” he said, after a beat.

“Whitlock, that’s an impressive prosthetic who’ve got there. I’ve never seen such spectacular work on the wiring.”

“Really?” a bright smile made its way on Whitlock’s face, who had unconsciously scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, wow! One of the legendary Technocrats actually impressed! It’s just, I never expected it since the wiring is a little faulty on the index finger, and—“

“Slow down, Whitlock, or you’ll trip over your own tongue.”

“Oh! Sorry, uh,”

“Hex, and you don’t have to apologise. What would you say to becoming my apprentice?”

“Yes!”

She’d keep her word. She’d take him in, let him flourish in a world even if the outside had let him down, keep him from the evils the world offered. Including her own.

Whitlock had indeed flourished, under her care and guidance. She’d become quite taken with him, and he had returned the same. Hex often found herself filling in the role of a mother, his building block to the glory that she was certain he was heading for.

“I’m home!” said boy called from the front door, lugging some gears for their stash.

Hex smiled and called him over. “Whitlock! Your timing couldn’t have been better, my most astute apprentice. I have something I want to show you.”

He moved forward, dropping the bag in front of the table. “Is that another device for the Labyrinth? What does it do?”

“I’ll show you!” grasping Whitlock’s shoulder, Hex steered him to the opposite end of the table. “Come here, yes, this side of the table. Wouldn’t want you in the line of fire.”

Hex could feel Whitlock’s eyes boring into her, watching her every move with an unbidden curiousity. Sweet boy, never change. Lightning strikes across the room, bathing the room in an electric blue, stopping just short of the opposite end. A mini heatwave, if you may.

“Whoa! How did you get it to store that much charge? What material did you use for the wires? Mine are always overheating!” He bounded over towards the contraption, observing the wires with admiration.

“I’m glad I can still impress you! This will be a fine addition to Labyrinth section 11. Though,” Hex paused, taking in the somewhat singed air, “can you imagine what this would do to a fully-armoured knight? You could strike down armies, easy as swatting flies.”

Whitlock went rigid, his face clouded with conflict.

“Oh dear, I know that look on your face. Speak your mind, Whitlock. You know I value everything you say.”

“It’s just… It’s just that it shouldn’t be so easy to kill.” Whitlock looked at the floor, eyes downcast.

“I, see. So how easy should it be?”

He talked of fairness and equality, of how both lives should be in equal danger. For all the talent he has, the naiveté was ever present. How he still retained it was beyond Hex. Hadn't he learnt that the outside world was cruel and vicious?

He was the walking embodiment of reality, an orphan spat out by the harshness of conquering kingdoms, left less whole than before. He'd seen it with his own two eyes, the destruction curling up from his own town, extinguished as if it were a mere blight in its glory. How could he still carry those wonderful visions of a peaceful utopia?

I wish it could be true, sweet boy.

"Tell me it isn't true, tell me–"

"Are you really trying to explain away evidence because you don't like what it's pointing to? I taught you better than that."

She should've been more careful, should've stashed the plans deeper within the cabinets, should've shredded the notes of praise from the kingdoms. For Whitlock has now seen, seen the monster she had tried in vain to cloak in secrecy.

She didn't want this. All she ever wanted was for him to see the utopia he had so desperately dreamt for, and for that, she was willing to go behind his back to make way for his dream. So as long as he does not see.

But now he's standing in front of her, chin locked as he stares her down, his eyes staring at anything but her.

"Hex, I'm sorry, but by the authority given to me by the people of the Foundry, I hereby revoke your citizenship."

Fitting. The one she raised is the one throwing her out. Survival of the fittest.

Hex doesn't know what she said, in the fit of fury and simple confusion over what had transpired, but Whitlock's now backing away, his prosthetic – the very same she'd help him to make – grazing the walls of the foundry as a metal creature bounded in front of him.

"Oh!" The Mechataur loomed over her, nostrils slightly flaring as it raised an arm between them. He'd thought she was going to hurt him. "Oh, Whitlock, you know I'd never hurt you."

Whitlock, the very same boy who had looked at her with rapt wonder as she demonstrated one of her inventions, the same sweet boy who had stayed up late telling her of all his big dreams for a better world, was scared of her.

"Please, Hex, just go."

He still wasn't looking at her.

She turned around. "I hope you're right, sweet boy, about everything."

The door slammed shut between them.

One more down. King Luther will most definitely be pleased. One more to the peaceful reign.

After this waste area is demolished, there'll be more room for conquest, more room for the people to live in safety, without the oppression of the brutes who simply wanted to rule for power. More space for the utopia.

A safer world, a better world for–

"Hex?"

She snapped around, dagger at ready, until she lands on the broken boy.

"Whitlock?"

Crimson stained his clothes, his prosthetic chipped near the wrist. She blinked, once, twice.

"You said he wouldn't be here!"

Feral rage flooded her entire being, fueled by the blood that flowed from Whitlock's one good arm. The guard beside her didn't even have time to blink as she rammed the device into his neck, his body jolting with less pain and anguish that swirled around her.

Whitlock was hurt, on the account of her. He'd seen everything, the pain and the death and the destruction that lay beneath her. The winter before the spring, the dystopia before utopia.

He'd seen it all.

"Whitlock! Wait!"

He'd started running, blood splattering the wreckage-filled ground that was once his home. Their home. Smoke rose between them as she gave chase, never quite reaching him as he shut door after door between them.

He was so far away, metal and cogs barricading them when it had brought them together.

"Whitlock!" her voice was raised, earning her another flinch from his already weakened body. His back was facing her, wrecked fingers scrambling to pull more walls between them.

"You... weren't supposed to see this. They told me you were away, still following that Rys girl around the Five Kingdoms."

He didn't listen, mumbled something that sounded faintly like a threat. The inferno raged on behind them, crackling wood and clattering metal crashing around them.

A door slammed hard in her face, missing her by centimetres. "Whitlock... Whitlock! Come back here! Do you have any idea what I've done for you, for the world?"

He didn't reply. Didn't he know that she valued everything he said?

The howling winds answered her, the empty space that stretched between the two.

"Whitlock..." she tore her nails on the wall, metal unforgiving.

One obstacle brought down for peace. One obstacle brought up between her and her sweet boy.

Whitlock's aiming a crossbow at her, hands wavering with the weight.

Her sweet, precious boy preparing to kill. Everything he's ever been against.

"All I ever... wanted was to protect you from the evils of the world."

She built him up, nurtured him and let him flourish, a young boy who could only comprehend the good in people. Even after he had lost all he held dear.

His aim didn't waver.

"I should n-never have taken you in... but you were so brave, and so bright! I thought– I thought maybe if you never saw who I really was..."

Neither did his expression.

Her actions had driven him to kill. Oh gods, what had she done? Whitlock, who wouldn't even harm a measly fly, begging her to wait for the insect to fly away before testing. And he was now poised to end a human life. With his own hands.

No.

She's not going take that away from him.

Not his last wisp of innocence.

She ripped her dagger out of its hilt, silver flashing in the dim light.

"Hex, stop, I'm warning you! I'll... I'll pull this trigger, I–"

"No. You won't."

The blade felt cool against her skin.

"I won't let my sweet boy become a murderer."

Hundreds upon thousands of Luther's forces killed. On the account of Whitlock's inventions, the wires and circuits he'd put together personally. All because of her.

All the souls that haunted him, made present in his weary eyes that burned with hate and surprise.

She'd do this one thing for him, even when she knew it was not enough.

"Just promise me... promise that you won't follow the same path I did."

Whitlock will succeed where she had failed. Whitlock will rise above the broken pieces of his past, the pieces she herself had unknowingly destroyed, and build the world she had failed to make. He'd be better than her, kindness and empathy the leading force.

The utopia he'd always wanted. Forged from his actions. The right ones.

"Promise me that you'll stay my sweet boy–"

"No!"

After all that, he's saving her. After he had pointed a crossbow at her.

He still wanted to save the same soul that had broken the very one she built.

Hex had never seen a purer soul.

#playchoices #ChoicesCreates #the crown and the flame #whitlock #hex #playchoices fanfiction #product of a trashy brain

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avengerdragoness · 7 years

Text

Children of The Gods Ch. 3 - Demigod AU [Jason Todd x Reader]

A/n: Chapter 3!!! Since you guys said you didn’t really care if it was long, I just went with this one and it’s a bit lengthy. Sorry I’m posting it late, I just couldn’t stop lol. I really enjoyed writing this chapter!! I hope you guys love it and I’d love to know if you love it!

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6

Tagging: @memento-scribet @cherryignacio @queen-of-all-the-fandoms @annoyed-kitten11 @4evahevah @crazyfangirl1810 @aworldwideapart @shortycraft13 @nerdy-and-ginger @bat-lakota @left-boob-chris @tim-help @zuni21798 @hamsterforlive @books-netflix-and-pizza @sad-horchata @star-wars-5555 @abluepenguinlove @so-little-time-to-many-fandoms @ultralillylove @holywinchesterness @miraisnotavailable @marvelsimaginess @axa-vega @heyitsilverwolf @elysiannostalgia @kazuha159

________

It’s early in the morning, the sun hasn’t even come over the horizon yet. As there were about a thousand things running through your head as you walked through the camp. This trip was going to take nearly all five days if your calculations were correct. You don’t know where the adamantine itself is, but have knowledge of where a map that leads to it is. Though, the map is guarded by the Drakon Kholkikos. An ancient dragon that used to guard the Golden Fleece. It’s no easy feat, and it would not be easy to retrieve everything else you needed before actually going after the adamantine.

You were lost in strategizing and thinking of anything else you might need, you never even felt the eyes of all the half-bloods on you. Usually you were upbeat and aware of the people around you. Always shooting smiles their way or stopping to talk and check up on the younger demigods. But you were so focused and serious, no one had the guts to come up to you today. Especially after last night’s display, some of them never realized how powerful you actually are. They’re not scared of you, but they’re definitely intimidated.

No one dared come up to you until you entered the stables. Finding Kaldur leaning against your pegasus’ stall. “[F/n] we need to talk.” Making eye contact, you ignored his order and went into the stall. Leading the animal out before mounting and continuing on as you were. Though Kaldur wasn’t letting you off that easy. “[F/n] Stop!” he yelled after you before retrieving his own steed.

Following you all the way up to the cabin dedicated to your father, your cabin. “[F/n], you’re not getting out of this conversation.” He said while following you inside. “Kaldur, is this necessary?” asking with an annoyed tone. “Yes. I’m not going to let you go out there and get yourself killed. [F/n] I understand your reasoning behind this, you feel responsible for what happened to Garfield. You feel like you have an obligation to M’gann. However, you and I both know this is a dangerous mission. I wish the two of us could handle it ourselves but this exceeds us both.”

“I will not put anyone else in danger for damage I caused. If I’m going to live up to the expectations that come with being Zeus’ daughter, I must be able to fix my own mistakes.” You whipped around to face him. Frustration in your tone. “You’re not your father [F/n]! Yes, there are expectations that come with being a child of the Big Three, I know, but we are still mortal. We aren’t gods.” He told you sternly, knowing when you’re frustrated and stressed it’s the only way to get through to you. He knows you know these things, but he must bring out your rational side once more. You’ve always been a warrior who relies on instinct before all else, so when you’re worked up, Kaldur is a good person to have around.

“We can bring along warriors we both feel are trained and strong enough for this. I suggest Dick and Conner, Conner is the lead guard and Dick was trained by Bruce. They both can handle themselves.” Kaldur suggested as you leaned against a desk. Thinking. “Fine, but make sure they know the risks. These trials are life or death, the monsters don’t show mercy. They have two purposes, protect and kill.”

He nodded before turning and exiting the cabin hurriedly.

As soon as he left you felt a presence. “You disagree with my decision.” Asking while turning to the lightning bolt as it lay in it’s case. It was left for you for two reasons. One being, the daughter of Zeus should learn to wield her father’s weapon. The second, being a way for your father to communicate with you, it acting as a phone of sorts.

“You could handle this yourself.” A low voice rumbled through the room. “You are my daughter, you have the makings to become a goddess.” You sneered at the comment, “You mistake me for another.”

“I do not.” The voice rumbled again. “I would not have left you such a weapon if I did not believe it so. You are better than this. Your abilities exceed those of these friends of yours”

Scoffing you turned away. It wasn’t often your father talked to you, he only did it if there was purpose. “What do you want father? You don’t normally pop in just to say ‘hi,’ what have I done wrong this time?”

“Other than thinking lesser of yourself. You grow affections for one of the new half-bloods. This son of Athena.” You shook your head, “I hardly know him.” For some reason your father always had troubles with the Goddess or any of her offspring. Not that you knew why, it was ‘olympus matters’ after all. “I know these things my daughter. Such affections are but a distraction.”

“Coming from you, that’s a bit hypocritical.” Rolling your eyes. “Your actions are that of a child.” He growled. You clenched your jaw, turning to the open case “And yours are one of a god not a father! I am no goddess, I’m not immortal like you! I am not you! My life is fragile and I must remain cautious, you wish for me to be this immortal being of which I am not! If you want me to stay out of your brother’s grasp then I suggest you don’t doubt me or my friend’s abilities. They are fine warriors and I trust them with my life!”

“Were you not just the one needing persuasion to bring your friends?” He questioned angrily. “I was but not because I think them weak, I actually care for their safety and know the perils ahead. I don’t want them hurt no matter their skill.” Snapping back.

“No matter, they will hold you back [F/n].” You shook your head, “You’ve said your peace now leave me to mine.”

“So be it.”

After those words you felt the presence leave the room. Sitting down in a chair near the desk, the case sitting open. Looking over at it, you slammed it shut and flipped the clasps closed. Running your hands through your hair, resting your head in your hands. Feeling rage rush through you system, you soon had stood and swiped everything to the left off the case clear off the table. Leaning against it on your hands, seething. “Hold me back, what does he know? ‘Almighty’ my ass.”

Picking up your backpack that has your supplies and the case with the bolt in it, sliding your sword into the scabbard your hip. Heading out the door to leave this place behind for a good while. Once mounting the pegasus you gave the cabin one last glance before clicking your tongue, signalling for the animal to go.

Flying you found Kaldur with a group of the veterans of the camp and the new recruits. After landing you dismounted. “[F/n], good morning” M’gann greeted you. “Good morning” Eyes trailing over the rather large group. Kaldur, Conner, Dick, Jason, Kori, Roy, Wally, Tim, Barbara, Cass, Steph, M’gann, and Zatanna. Turning to the veterans you began, “Okay, so as you all know Dick, Conner, Kaldur, and I are leaving this morning. While we’re away, I need you guys to pick up the slack from our absence. Wally, I need you to keep up on communications, be ready if we need you out there. Zatanna, we need to figure out how the Sirens got through the barrier and get it back to full capacity. Tim, I’d appreciate if you could assist her with research. Cass, while we’re away you’re lead guard. Steph, you’ll take over Dick’s position in helping any new recruits. Barbara I need you to fill in for Kaldur as second in command around here. Finally, M’gann I’m trusting you to keep this place in line. You’re a great leader and the half bloods trust you. I know I’m asking a lot but I need this from you.” Placing your hand on your shoulder.

She smiled, “You can count on me. Bring Garfield home.” Returning her smile you nodded.

“[F/n], we wish to accompany you. We know the real world well and could be of use to you.” Kori stepped up, drawing your attention to her. “I appreciate the offer but I refuse to put anyone else in harms way.” Shaking your head at her.

“I don’t know. [F/n] she could be right. They were strong assets in the siege last night.” Conner spoke up, calling your attention there. “My answer is no.”

“Why?” Roy asked. You turned to him, “Do you know what this mission entails? These monsters we will face will be nothing like the ones from the siege. They have but two purposes, to protect what they’re guarding and to do so by killing. They won’t show you mercy of any sorts and they will never let their guard down. You let yours down and you’ll spend the rest of eternity in the company of Hades. Are you willing to risk that?”

The three exchanged a look before looking back to you, “Absolutely” Jason answered sternly. Looking at his back you noticed the hilt of the sword you had given him the other day. Getting an idea your hand shot to the hilt of your own sword, drawing it you went to strike Jason. His instincts and reflexes kicked in, drawing his own he blocked the attack. “What the hell [F/n]!?” Wally yelled.

You only smirked, not breaking eye contact with Jason. Pulling your sword back you put it back on your hip. “A test, you passed. If you’re willing to put your lives on the line I can’t stop you.” Hearing that they smiled at each other, “But! You do so, you follow my command. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal” they said in unison. “Well, we’re losing daylight. We should get moving.” Turning to the three others joining you. They nodded, and you turned to your veterans again. “Keep the place in one piece while we’re away.” Wally gave you a thumbs up, “You can count on us.”

However you walked over to your pegasus, “Keep an eye on them beauty” whispering before handing her over to M’gann. “Alright, let’s get moving.” Saying while picking up the case with your weapon in it.

“We are to head to a place called the Lost Sea Caverns. They are a series underground caverns with lakes. That is where we can find the map.” Kaldur instructed and you nodded. “Alright, that should be around a day of travel. We need to go.”

After that your group moved to step outside the gate, though when you passed Jason you called his attention, “And Jason. Nice sword.” Smirking while passing him. He chuckled before putting it on his back once more.

While traveling Jason and the other Outlaws began to talk to Conner and Kaldur more. Getting to know the people they were going to be fighting beside. Roy and Kori adding Dick to the mix. However they were all a bit disappointed you didn’t join in on any conversation.

Kaldur thought this strange, usually you were all for getting to know new demigods. Crisis or not. Sometimes you like to think he knows you too well. There are some things you just want to keep to yourself, your relationship with your father being one of them. Everyone at camp thinks you have the strongest bond when it comes to immortal parents, however you two barely see eye to eye. That’s what’s clouding your mind right now, and keeping you from conversating.

“Is [F/n] alright?” Kori asked leaning toward Kaldur. He sighed, “She has a lot on her shoulders. Being a child of the Big Three adds a lot of extra pressure. [F/n] and I are the only ones to be children of the Big Three. My father is not as harsh as Zeus though, things like this take a toll on her.” He explained, not going into much detail.

“What is Poseidon like Kaldur, does he speak to you?” Roy asked, peering around Kori. “Sometimes, through the water. He can be as calm as a stream to as harsh as a raging sea. Though he is often understanding.” Kaldur answered sincerely. Honestly you thought he has the best relationship with his immortal parent.

“Conner, Dick, what about you?” Kori looked at the two other men. They shook their head, “It’s not often because they have multiple children instead of just one. In a fight or battle we may hear from them but it’s a different set of circumstances.” Conner explained as Dick agreed.

“So we will most likely not hear from our parents.” Kori said sadly, looking over at Roy. “I wouldn’t say that.” You interrupted from in front of them all, “It doesn’t just depend on skill, but dedication to your training and willingness to help people. Conner and Dick are being modest, I know they are often communicated with. Apollo and Ares are proud of them. Along with Poseidon with Kaldur. Doing something like this, it will make you parents proud as well.” Glancing back at them, a caring look in your eyes.

“Thank you [F/n]” Kori thanked you smiling. Jason watched as you turned back forward, throwing back up any walls you had just put down.

Kaldur noticed his watching you. “You are curious about her.” He more stated than asked. Jason looked at him, noticing the others caught up in conversation. He nodded. “[F/n] is reserved in situations such as these. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, being the one in charge so she takes full force of any mishaps. She won’t ever even let me take some of the weight off her. However, she trusts you. When she lunged at you at the camp, she knew you would block it. Perhaps you are different, maybe she will let you carry some of that weight.”

Jason shook his head, “I’m nothing special. Just someone who was given a second chance.”

“Maybe, that’s what makes you different.” Kaldur said keeping his eyes on Jason. Jason shrugged sighing, “Maybe.”

You had all traveled quite aways when it began to become too dark to go any farther. You announced that you’d set up camp, still being a good ways in the forest. Everyone seemed to sigh in relief. After building camp everyone basically passed out immediately.

Though you didn’t find sleep as easily. Thinking everyone was asleep you rose and headed to where you had seen a stream on the map. However you didn’t realize Jason was still up. When he noticed you leaving he decided to tail you.

Though coming upon the stream you were nowhere in sight. He looked around confused until something fell beside him. Looking down he noticed a branch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Up here” someone called. Looking toward the source of the voice he saw you sitting on a branch, your back leaning against the trunk of the tree while one leg was dangling and the other was bent. “So, you like trees.” he joked.

You laughed, “Closer to the sky.” He nodded in understanding, watching as you motioned for him to come up. He grabbed onto a branch and began to climb. Making his way to you. Once on the same branch as you he noticed you staring at an opening in the trees, looking to see the stars.

“Do you know the constellations?” You asked looking at him. “A few”

“Do you know that one?” Pointing to a certain cluster of stars. He shook his head. “It’s Sagittarius, the Archer. Sagittarius is a Centar. He draws his bow pointing it at Antares, which is the red heart of Scorpius. It��s said he’s avenging Orion who was slain by the sting of a scorpion.” You explained, not looking away from the night sky. Jason smiled, “Who taught you that?”

Your expression turned somber, “My mother used to be an astronomer. She taught me all of them and the stories behind them before she died.” “I’m sorry” You shook your head, “You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s in the past.”

“Maybe but the past can hurt.” You chuckled, “you can either run from it, or learn from it.”

“Wise words of Rafiki.” You laughed. Making Jason smile. “Thank you by the way.” He caught your attention. “For what?”

“Opening my mind up to all of this. The camp I mean, embracing being a half blood.” Your spirits perked back up a bit, “My pleasure.”

A comfortable silence fell between the both of you. “So, what’s it like being the daughter of Zeus?” Jason questioned curiously. You shrugged, “Not as glamorous as one might think. How about you, son of Athena?” He chuckled, “Not bad”

“Care to elaborate?” You rose an eyebrow curiously, swinging your leg mindlessly. “You really want to hear my sob story?” He laughed making eye contact. “Well you’ve already heard about something in my past, it’s only fair.”

Chuckling he began, “Let me start from the beginning. Before I knew about all of this, I lost my parents at a young age. Not that they were necessarily good parents. Like Garfield I never knew of my true heritage until my so called father was arrested then died in prison, and my mother overdosed. I turned into a street kid until one of those monsters put me on their radar. That’s when Bruce saved me and I became one of his wards. He trained me and I did some good, having refused to go to the camp. But there was this certain villain that just kept coming back. The Joker. He ended up setting me up in a trap, using my not so dead mother as bait. I fell into his trap, and well he killed me. I remember being in the underworld, it’s vivid. But my mother, my real mother, Athena apparently made a deal with Hades. That gave me a second chance at life, but Zeus was against it I guess. Though my mother didn’t care, she wanted me to live. So when I came back I met Roy and Kori, and we formed the Outlaws, determined to help people. Working outside of Bruce’s moral code. Then long story short, we were brought to the camp after a mishap on a mission.” Jason explained. His story cleared up a lot of things to you, but you couldn’t help but feel awful. He just poured it all out to you.

“Wow, that’s terrible. I’m sorry you had to go through that, and that my father was against it. It kind of explains why he seems to butt heads with Athena now.” You sighed, remembering what he had said about your ‘affections.’

He shrugged, “Like you said, it’s in the past.” Nodding as another silence fell, “My mother, she was killed by one of the villains. I don’t know which one, the League refuses to tell me. She died in my arms, her last words were telling me about the lightning bolt and my true heritage. After that I was targeted by multiple villains and had some close calls, that was until the League found me and brought me to the camp. That’s where I grew up.”

“I guess we both have some pretty fucked up pasts.” He chuckled as you laughed, “Yeah I guess so. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to just talk to someone like this.”

“Me too” Jason smiled and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, luckily it’s dark. “Um, we should get back. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Yeah, maybe we can make a habit of this. Plus I’d love if you could teach me the rest of the constellations.” Jason smirked while climbing down. You laughed, “I might just take you up on that.”

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craske · 7 years

Text

The last Guardian fanfic pt.1

The story takes place years after Boy’s adventure in the Nest, when he is all grown up and finds the Mirror from the Valley.

It’s a short fanfic, might have max 4 parts, first part is mostly what happened in epiloge.

[FIRST] > [NEXT]

MAJOR SPOILERS MENTION!!

Village children were playing together, being loud, chasing eachother, that is what children should do while they can. They were running around, playing the game of tag on the glade in the center of the Village, one or two of children tripped over, ran into few adults who were busy, doing things they had to do. One lady yelled, but children didn’t bother. They were too much involved in their game.

The late summer sun was setting down, so most of torches were already lit, but the villagers were still running around. They had to prepare for incoming winter, which still seemed to be a distant thing. But a lot of things had to be done, so the sooner you start the better. Wood was being brought from the forest, additional fruits were being collected, more animals were being skinned, not to mention women sewing special clothes, men improving cottage’s walls and roof. Children also had their responsibilities, though some decided to have a little break.

One boy was being chased by another one, who was chosen to catch other children as fast as he could. But when the chasen was sure he lost the pursuit and slowed down, something green caught his eye. The sunshine was reflecting in something small sticking out from the ground in midde of one of few patches of dirt. He stopped running, and after a moment of watching at the misterious object the boy walked up to it and kneeled down. It was simmilar to the plate, or small round shield. But it was green, and not made out of grass, wood or leather. It was more like a metal, though more smooth and shiny. And green. The misterious object was covered in dirt, but when child wiped off some of it, he saw the reflection of himself. It was a mirror! Very wierd one though. In the meantime other children noticed that their friend found something and came closer to see what was it.

-What is it?-

-What did you find?-

The boy didn’t know, he only shrugged. -I have no idea, it looks like a mirror, but it’s green… and has some wierd markings here, see?-

He pointed at said markings, which created some sort of a circle, though these markings were really small and in fact looked like some kind of writing or simply symbols. But what do these mean?

-You’re right!-

-What are these things?-

Children came even closer, everyone of tchem wanted to look closer at the Mirror or even touch it. But none of them tried to pull it out from the ground.

And then the group heared footsteps from behind. Ready to be scold they all looked up, but it wasn’t Nanny, it was the middle-aged man with a short beard. He looked like typical villager, but one thing made him stand out. His whole body exept face was covered in wierd tatoos, robes the Man was wearing were typical for people of important rank. Everybody knew that these marking on his skin weren’t actual tatoos, but nobody knew why and how they were created. But there were stories. About the Nest, ancient ruins located inside the moutain, alive suits of armour, glass eyes and flying feathered man-eating beasts. They often came to the villages at night, captured children and ate them alive. This Man though, he was brought back by one of these feathered beasts back. But children didn’t think it’s true, not now anyway. No more feathered beast have been seen for many years now.

Children stood up when the Man came, but he didn’t say a thing, because he didn’t seem to be mad. He looked at the Mirror in the ground, and despite not seing this for years, it looked exactly as he remembered it. But it was smaller, though the reason was clear.

-We found it just a moment ago- one child said, while others nodded. The true finder made an offended face, but nobody noticed, or at least didn’t pay attention.

-Do you know what it is?- Asked another child. The Man didn’t reply, instead he came closer and grabbed the Mirror. It was warm thanks to the sun, which was also reflecting on the shiny surface, but despite this green markings slighly gleaming with green light. He pulled i tour from the ground and started rubbing mud off.

-You know these stories which Nanny tells you sometimes?- he finnaly spoke, not looking at children around. They all nodded, some hummed in confirmation.

-Yes, about the Nest and flying beasts- one boy said.

-And about them taking children out from cabins. But that’s not true!- another child added. Man finnaly looked at this one, an older boy. In fact he seemed to be the oldest of the group.

-How so?- Asked the Man. Child got a bit confused, but bulled himself back together quickly. He was sure that it was all just tales to scare little kids.

-Nothing like this happened in years, nobody saw even a feather of a trico, not to mention a beast itself. And the Nest couldn’t be found anywhere. It’s clearly a fairytale- Boy said, really proud of this speech.

-That’s right! This is all made up!- another child claimed. The Man smiled warmly and looked at the group. He already cleaned the Mirror out of the mud and dirt, he was now holding it by a small handle. It was slightly funny-looking, a grown man with beard, covered from head to toes in tatoos, holding a thing which looked like a plate-sized extremly shiny and round shield.

-Well… how do you think i got these pelicular markings?- the Man asked, which confused children.

-That’s what i thought. Because Nanny and others don’t know whole story. Or at least they forgot to mention it- He paused for a second.

-You see… this is a magical Mirror. And, as every mirror, it reflects sun, illuminating the specific point. But, this one, it emits its own green light. You said tricos aren’t real. But trust me, when you point the green light of this Mirror, the beast’s tail would strike a lightning…-

Later, when the sun hid behind the horizon, the Man and children, who found the Mirror, were standing in the middle of village glade. Some of children were holding torches to provide light, while the Man was checking Mirror again, to be sure it would work as it did back then, when he was just a boy, trapped in ruins of the Nest, trying to find his way home. And only ally he had was Trico, one of these big feathered beasts. And ironically enough, Trico was the one who brought him to the Nest. But luckly, after quite a lot of up and downhills, they both managed to escape. But unfortunately, Trico was heavly wounded and he had to be sent away, because villagers would kill him. And it’s very unlikely that Trico survived in that condition.

The Man sighed, suddenly flood with sadness. It’ the only thing he could remember of the moment Trico brought him back. The rest is all just a fog. When he finnaly woke up, he was told that he was getting better for three days, and after 2 next he was able to stand up and go down the stairs of the nursery. It all felt as an eternity, because whole body was hurting, mostly the head though.

-How far can the light reach?- one boy asked suddenly, which snapped the Man out from his memories. He grabbed the mirror by the handle.

-We are about to find out- he said and he rised a hand with a Mirror. Its markings light up with a familiar sound, and a ray of green light went up, towards the clouds on night sky, and it was visible up there. Children exclaimed in awe, whilethe Man smiled. It was so good to hear this sound and see green light, only thing able to destroy the barier protecting Ruler of the Valley.

-I reached the clouds!-

-It’s so pretty!-

-How does it do that?-

-Are you sure it’s not light of torches?-

Man snickered, hearing all these coments was amusing at least.

-I can tell for sure it is not light of torches you hold, it’s the Mirror itself creating this light. When Trico saw the light, his tail would stand up and create a lightning, which was able to destroy even walls. It could also make armour suits stop running after you. Until now i have no idea why though- he said, while children listened carefully to his words.

-Can you tell us the story? The real story?- suddenly asked one boy, which caught the Man off guard.

-Real story?- he asked.

-Yes! What really happened when Trico took you to the Nest!-

The man hummed, gathering thoughts and memories.

-Very well then. As you know, a long time ago, tricos were capturing people at night… and one night, it turned out i was about to be one of them…

At the meantime, in a cavern far away from the Village…

A quiet sound of drops hitting rocks. A sound of waterfall further by the entrance to the lair. Silent breaths of offsprings. Their smell. The warmth of their little bodies.

The beast was at ease. Nothing disturbed the peace. Mate was out hunting. To keep the family well-fed. After the fall of the Claw, no more bright food could be found. So the beast and it’s mate started hunting beyond the Valley. But both of them avoided two-legged creatures and their nests. These creatures were very territorial. But beasts had no need to go there. For-legged small brown creatures were enough. Their offsprings were growing well while eating this meat. Soon they will start practicing flight.

Suddenly, the feeling. The urge. The familiar sense of need. Beast rose it’s head, looking for the source of the urge. Nothing in their nest. It growled silently, it’s offsprings woke up too. What was this? The feeling was somehow familiar. The beast felt it. As if it saw it’s mate after a long seperation. Or it’s offspring for the forst time. Or finnaly found a lost friend. Then the beast realised. The mirror, the tiny figure. Falling bridge, big eye, little weigh of companion on back. Pain of sharp sticks stuck in body.

Beast stood up, knowing what the urge was. What it had to do. Where it should to go. It nudged affectionately its offsprings to comfort them. Mate should be back soon, to tak care of them. Beast rushed through the big crack in wall, jumped over a precipice, trotted through a pond and finnaly rushed outside. It didn’t hesitate when it reached a cliff, it simply leaped, spread wings and quickly ascended, skillfully using the flow of warm air blowing from the abyss below. Despite the lack of sun on the sky, which was replaced by moon and stars, beast could see very good, which also was resulted by its eyes and horns glowing.

Beast finnaly was above the wole moutain, it could see only forests, they stretched to the horizon and, very likely, even further. But ocasionaly, in this ocean of green and yellow, there were bald spots, meadows, where two-legged creatures had their nests. There were s omany, but the beast knew which one it should go to.

It did a small circle, lowered it’s height and headed towards East, direction which it took twice before. And it always was took to reach the same destination, but for diffrent reasons. Now it headed there to find it’s old friend. Friend which the beast brought to the Nest many years ago, in order to give it as sacrifice to the Ruler of the Valley. But very unfortunate accident made the extraordinary story happen.

#writing #story #fanfiction #tlg #the last guardian #trico #tlg boy #long post #spoilers

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