#hands are supposed to look ashy from all the fire

[sleepylabs]

#animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #I’ve become obsessed with a feral stickman #ava the chosen one #ava tco #alan becker #hands are supposed to look ashy from all the fire

[bunji-enthusiast]

Run, Run Far Angel

Note || I am obligated as a fanfic author to write this, sue me. I got attached to DogDay, and he deserved better in Chapter 3.

WC || 2,070

<(You are here)><(sequel part)>

Sypnosis || An unlikely shortcoming of a friendly entity, or, You get a new friend in spite of this hellish factory.

The noise that had buzzed in the far reaches in the depths of your ears had annoyed you to no end, insistent to remain with you. So many times over had your guilt marred your sense of peace, your sense of futility. Whatever control you felt you had in your life was completely gone the moment you had come back to the accursed place known as Playtime Co. Toy Factory. So many unruly things had gone here, things done and said that left you chuckling–few that had left you with regrets.

Regrets that had stayed with you for well over ten years, since your co-workers had disappeared. You always had a sinking feeling you knew well what had happened to the last of them, your friends and those that you had come to consider family. 

Then you fell into Playcare, a place once filled with laughter and joy, something of which was indescribable. To know the children here and being able to hear such joyful playing and sometimes the odd cry, it was fulfilling, now the whole Factory–every floor there was to know–was devoid of the very same life you’ve come to know and love all those years ago.

Now the only thing that had tormented your mind, as it always had been since you first arrived, was your fight or flight. Instinctive you were, but you hated every minute of having to run and hide away from the monster that had presided reign over their domain, on of which the very one you had to be stuck with was-

“Catnap?” You muttered, thumbing the scarred fur that was blotched with ashy spots, as if it were burned by fire. 

The small recreational stuffed animal looked so adorable for the most part, yet it disturbed you greatly, guilt was predominant in mind and body. In all of your years you had remembered working at the Factory you don't ever recall the name of Catnap, the creepy elongated mouth had stood out to you the most.

He was hunting you, toying with you for sport. You couldn’t really understand why he hadn’t just gunned you for killing you at a moment's notice, though you felt a breath of relief that you could buy yourself time.

Supposedly some of this relief is partial to the fact that this Ollie kid was guiding you on where to go, with how dark this place was is absurd to you–so the guidance was appreciated. A voice had finally snapped you out of your ever consuming thoughts, it was terribly the truth.

“Hey are you alright? Just press that button and you’ll be through in no time! The small critters cant seem to get you from up there so you should be alright.” Ollie, yes Ollie that is the kids name. Who is this strange person anyway?

Unfortunately you weren’t in a position to worry about that right now, you simply pressed the button with the help of your grabpack. Trying to remember all the hands you had now with you was troublesome, but you manage.

‘I suppose.’ You wonder if there is anyone in this place that won’t actively be out for your head, truth be told.

Maybe that was a miracle in mind, as you walked through the desolate rubble the air seemed to desaturate, a mist once permeated with dread and the iron taste of blood seemed to float away as you came across a surprising display. Gruesome but something nobody should have to see or experience. 

It seemed to be DogDay, you could've sworn coming across a cardboard cutout of the very same character earlier. 

He seemed to be so.. Sad.

“You…you’re Poppy’s angel. Come to save us. Nothing left to save, not here…You’re in CatNap’s home, angel. Their home.” His voice was broken, forlorn, vocal cords riddled with experience he never wanted to relive again. You felt saddened on his behalf, no doubt the pain he is feeling right now is tremendous. For a moment, silence had filled the comfortable atmosphere rendering you with a small pit of anxiety balling within your gut.

Still you feel as if you had to speak, but you allow Dogday to have his part, that much you could try to do for him.

DogDay’s head lolled about as if he were a ragdoll, the effort to make movement was extraneous. “A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit - fill what feels empty inside themselves.” Those words sparked an ire of curiosity inside your trodden heart, you wanted to help him now.

You needed help, especially answers too. He was in pain, and you wanted to help him, so to ease your guilty conscience a little; hopefully in the process of gaining a friend at the same time. “Catnap.. Just, I don’t understand him.” DogDay raised his head, looking at you wistfully as if he had expected the aforementioned cat to be brought up. 

DogDay winced as he moved, each little rattle sending painful vibrations throughout his body–the phantom legs hadn’t brought any peace to him whatsoever.

“That thing…CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.” His words carried an aura of ominous spiels, as if you were to heed this warning. “These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate- and in return, they are fed.” 

In their place, you would take measures to avoid such a fate too if you would. To a point, you could sympathize with the small toys, not being able to do anything and the teetering possibility of being killed always hanging over your head. Knowing that alone is unfathomably terrifying.

“Would explain why they were hunting me previously..” You murmur, now tucking that thought to the depths of your mind. Still you wanted to hear out DogDay, for he knew better of what had gone on here then you did. His head had shagged, fur ruffled and dangling about as he had squirmed slightly.

“We tried to fight it, the Prototype’s control. I’m…the last of the Smiling Critters.” His tune was mournful, his friends really had been killed right before his very eyes. Catnap’s gas, you remember it well enough. 

You had to take a moment – articulate your words. You were completely filled to the brim with anxiety and alert, you remind yourself to not let down your guard in spite of being with someone who has no intention of wanting to kill you. “You had tried to escape, and he… knocked you out with his gas?”

DogDay’s brows creased, confirming your answer. You felt so terrible for him, causing you to be firmly set on a decision. 

You were helping him get out of here, in no way shape or form did you feel he should be left behind in shambles like this. “This is probably going to sound, insane. But I’m gonna help you get outta here.” Dogday perked up at this, nodding his head no.

He certainly didn’t want you to die, especially not on his account.

“Angel that is not wise! I will slow you down.” He persists, “Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live. You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment–” You didn’t want him to change your mind, so as immediate as you were, You desperately grabbed at his arms.

Quickly and surely enough the small critter toys had began crawling toward DogDay, you certainly would not put up with that. You fired a flare gun at the small critters, as much as you could so you could buy time to get DogDay out of his chains.

It seemed Dogday had sensed your determination to want to help him in spite of his warings, even with how much he had tried to convince you to leave. “You are doing well Angel, keep them away from me.. I will do my best to free myself of these.” His voice felt strained, cut off with a cough as he wriggled free–even if every brittle bone in his body had begged him to just lay there and rest.

You thanked him silently, continuing to work away at the critters who were highly determined in their goal to possess DogDay and resume their chase to kill you. “I am free! Quickly now Angel, quickly.” He ushered you forward to run right away, you picked him up as soon as he had done so and heaved him over your shoulders with a heavy breath as a display of your efforts. To say he was surprised at your willful strength was an understatement, he silently applauded you for your strength to keep moving.

Though, it hadn’t removed any of his worry for you as you continued to run forward, your muscles straining to keep up with your mind. From what he can understand of humans anyway, you were exhausted, though he felt it wasn’t right to speak out on it anyway–safety first before talking. 

“Almost there, Angel.. You just need to get to that elevator over there!” He jabbed his finger in the direction you needed to go, and you went on instinct with his direction. Your muscles ached and burned, but you could rest as soon as you reached the elevator, you couldn’t risk DogDay being left behind helpless with the small critters.

Speaking of which, they were still chasing you and your new companion. You wished they stopped, but you had considered an aforementioned thought, they only do this to ensure their fate wasn’t like his. Since then this has wildly changed.

You were close to the edge.

Then, you leaped, everything seemed to slow down. DogDay held on tightly, hands wrapped around your neck secured tight, to you it seemed comforting in the depths of your sudden despair.

You dropped right onto the metal plate, which luckily had railing. The door shut right behind you as DogDay had quickly made action to press the button to start up the elevator nor long after you had succeeded in jumping to the elevator. He slumped with a sigh, something you could very much agree with, sitting down with a thump following in your wake. 

Truth be told, you weren’t sure of how much more you could take much more of this nightmare. You may just as well be in a very long dream, and you were just actually sleeping at home, but no way however as the exhaustion had finally settled into your bones. 

Weary bones creaked about as DogDay made an effort to check over your slumped body, wanting to ensure you were not injured anywhere before he spoke, “Whatever questions you have..” He paused for a moment as if he were considering his words, something of which seemed to happen to a lot of people and toys alike in this Factory. “I will answer, rest for now first.”

DogDay was being his typical self, always so worried over someone else before considering his own health. His own legs being severed must be a great deal of pain, you wanted to ask him to rest too. Yet, you were too tired to respond, only nodding curtly as sleep had stolen you away from your awakened consciousness. 

A genuine smile seems to relax DogDay’s expression, you sorely needed rest. He would help you get that rest, things to talk about and things to face would come later. “You have done impossible things, you have run far. Thank you.” He quietly spoke, curling up to cuddle you. 

His head laid to rest on the crown of your head, hands and arms elongating ever so slightly to surround you in his warmth. DogDay was a leader, a friend, but he was also a good napping buddy. That much was certainly no lie to be told. 

Silence seemed to fill his ears now, sleep was creeping up to DogDay as well. Ah, he cannot sleep right now. You were in his care and vulnerable, especially considering you had gone through the trouble of freeing him. 

To those tormented, the madness had enraged man and toy, you were their saving graces. Someone they could get behind, without the utmost support where would you be now?

“Night has fallen, but for you I will do my absolute best to help you, Angel.”

#poppy playtime #dogday #dogday poppy playtime #x reader #purely platonic #I like how he calls the player angel #it’s cute :D

[theodorequartz]

Hazbin hotel various x reader

[ His Companion ]

Prologue: A companion

Alastor walked to the empty streets of hell. The sky red and hollow. A circle illuminated the endless bleeding sky, it's a symbol which represents the ring of a sin. The sin of pride. What a beautiful sight, Alastor grinned.

Sounds of footsteps are the only thing that is heard aside from Alastors delightful humming and the sound of blowing wind. The streets empty and silent. Corpses scattered to the ground, blood painted to the plain concrete. Some buildings burning red with fire adding to the red complection of the sky, but not enough to copy it's sheer velvet color. It looked beautiful. The crunching sound of the burning materials adding to it almost made it calming.

Alastor twirled his microphonenic staff. His red eyes glitching as he wiped his blood stained lips, his wide monstrous grin never leaving his face. His golden sharp teeth glinted from the light of the fire as he licked them clean from the metallic wet liquid.

With a snap of his finger, an eyeball appeared. It was a beautiful shade of light blue with white iris. Alastor hummed. The color reminded him of what supposed to be the color of the sky in a warm sunny day back in the land of living. He rolled the eyeball in his fingers. This eyeball belonged to a friend back in the surface. What a shame. They were such great pals to. If only they didn't get in his way.

Alastor crushed the eye, leaving nothing but red mush in his hand. The blood was warm, almost burning in his hand as he watched it drip down the already bloodied concrete.

It's only been a day since his death and a day since he started killing demons, bringing chaos, destroying turfs, broadcasting it all throughout hell to show his power. All citizen in hell must know which demon not to mess with.

The whirling sound of the radios around him echoed through the silence matching the chuckles released from his breath.

He looked up at the sky once more, his grin widening further. He spread his arms wide, presenting himself in this new world he now stands in. He laughed out loud, the buzzing sound of radio joining in. In response, radios around him released glitching sounds mixed with ear piercing ringing of microphones. This is power.

A sudden glowing light flashed from the sky. Like a twinkling star in an endless red void. It pulled Alastor in. Just as a siren lulling a fisherman further to the sea.

The glow faded, swallowed by the dominating color of red as it fell down. Alastor watched as a figure emerge from the light, falling a few distance away from him. The pressure from the fall created cracks from the concrete.

Alastor walked towards the figure. His each step becoming faster as he neared. He stopped.

In front of him was an angel. Pure white wings scattered to the pavement, contrasting the corrupted bloody red of his victims remains. White robes stained with the said blood and dust and scratches from the fall. Glistening [color skin] tattered with scars, old and new. Silky shoulder length [hair color] covering half his face. Long lashes hiding his eyes as they were shut asleep.

Interest surged through Alastors core as the crystal white wings slowly turned obsidian black. His pure robes corrupted into an ashy color. Alastor saw the fallen angel shifted and whimpered in his sleep. Alastor crouched down, lifting his hand to brush the silky hair away from his face. Alastors fingers glazed through the angels cheek. His skin is pleasantly cold against his warm ones. Alastors hand retreated and he rubbed his fingers.

The angels eyes started to open. Golden eyes peeked through the luscious lashes, it looked straight at Alastors bright red ones. The feeling of those beautiful eyes look straight at him send shivers to his bones pleasantly.

Without breaking eye contact, the angel sat up. Wings resting at his sides, the angel looked up at Alastor. Silence stayed between them. Still looking into each other's eyes, they examined each other. They looked deep into each other's soul.

Behind the echoing silence. An agreement. An understanding.

Alastor reached his hand out.

The angel finally broke eye contact and looked at the hand reached out for him. He lifted his hand.

As their hands made contact, a promise was made.

I shall be your companion, and you shall be mine.

[ Hello ! This is my first post on Tumblr! I came from Wattpad so apologies for my mistake. You could come see my stories there! @TheodoreQuartz0001 is my Wattpad account! ^^]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere alastor #alastor x reader #male reader #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Pissing on Romance's Grave

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship WARNING(S): tw Kaiser

Today is worse than a plague.

Well… Exaggerated inner turmoil aside, you’ve been having an awful day. It’s like you’ve been waddling through a swamp of bullshit. Even now you’re climbing up the stairs to your apartment because the stupid elevator broke. Could’ve been worse, you suppose — at least you weren’t inside when it malfunctioned.

The feeble attempt at optimism, however, isn’t easing your hatred and misery at all. Proof of your ever present anger is how you almost rip the door off its hinges after you unlock it, barging in, then closing it with a bang again.

While taking off your shoe, you register a strange smell. Of something burnt. Maybe you’re resigned to the fate that it’s probable you’ll die today, so while you are alarmed, it’s not enough to make you hurry and run with your other shoe still on. Even when you do begin your trek with heavy footsteps, your pace is brisk at best, following the scent right to your bedroom.

You don’t hesitate, but perhaps you should’ve, since it would’ve given you a moment to brace yourself. Still, nothing could’ve really prepared you for the sight that greets you once you enter.

“I can explain,” Kaiser says with wide eyes, reaching out his hands in front of him in case you try to lunge at him and go in for the kill.

Your bathrobe looks burned. Usually this isn’t an observation you’d be making, but you’re forced to now, what with Kaiser wearing it… for some godforsaken reason. Your bed is in even worse condition, tattered and covered in soot, melting candles knocked over. Wax sticking to the ruined sheets. Rose petals are scattered all over the floor. Many of them are ashy like they got caught up in whatever incident occurred. Three more candles dripping over the flowers and the carpet, all these things culminating in a giant mess.

What the actual fuck are you looking at?

“Open the window!” you scream at him then gesture towards it, maybe in case he doesn’t know what a ‘window’ is. It wouldn’t surprise you at this point with the way things are going.

“I did!” Kaiser says, annoyed, as if he has any right to be giving you an attitude in this situation. Though, recognizing the murderous intent in your face, he fumbles to reach out and open it. “I did, but I got cold, so I closed it.”

“Yeah, speaking of, why the hell are you wearing my bathrobe?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring mine-”

“Why do you need to be wearing a bathrobe. At. All.”

“For the atmosphere.”

“For the atmosphere?” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “For the atmosphere?! There’s no atmosphere, this is just a fire hazard!”

“It was going to be romantic-”

“Why did you close the window even though the room hasn’t aired out and stayed inside? Why were you even- What if something happened to you?!”

Kaiser smirks at you, content all of a sudden, before he crosses his arms. You could punch him in the face. “Oh, so you’re worried about me. You’d be sad if I died.” He says all this in the tone of announcing a triumph he’s holding over your head.

You ignore him, stepping over one of the roses. Kaiser regards the action with mild offense, which you don’t notice, since you’re too lost in the haze of your rage to even comprehend what’s going on. “How did you even manage this?”

“There was a miscalculation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I, um, I… tried to pose on the bed,” says Kaiser. This is the first time you’ve seen him look shameful during your entire time together, averting his gaze away from yours and all. Which is one way to affirm his statement and plan are particularly stupid, since he’s the type to stare at you straight on, unflinching, and smirk at you while telling you the dumbest shit.

“Pose?”

“You know. You know what I mean, right? Like a French girl? Yeah, like that.” The more he explains it, the more pathetic his mumbling is getting. To think even Kaiser, who’s obsessed with the sound of his voice, is capable of an inside voice.

You’ve never been so tense in your life. You might be developing a hernia in your neck. “Oh right, of course. Right! Because why wouldn’t you do that while wearing something flammable? I’m so stupid, how didn’t I think of that? Also, why in the world were you trying to LIGHT UP THE CANDLES AGAIN?! Like, let them rest, they’re already fucking done for! I saw you!”

“For the- for my artistic purposes. Of course. A real visionary doesn’t just give up after a small mishap.”

“And! The key I gave you is for emergencies! Not for you to-”

“But it was!!! A fucking emergency!”

“-set fires in my home! What are you even doing here?” You finish off your speech with a huff. Your tantrum has exhausted you, but at the same time it’s convenient you can use Kaiser as a verbal punching bag because of his lunacy.

Now he’s channeling his kicked puppy eyes. Like, he’s trying his best to force himself to cry, you can tell by the way he’s squinting at you and straining. When the effort proves futile he gives up and settles for glaring at you. “Alright, I know I messed up, but it’s obvious I was trying to surprise you for our anniversary.”

You blink at him. Then stay quiet.

“You forgot!” he accuses, trying to distract you from being mad at him by creating some fabricated emotional torment. Then he tries to force himself to cry again, and all you do in response to the display is roll your eyes.

Damn, you can’t believe your day has been so awful, your one year anniversary slipped your mind. These people are working you to an early grave.

“Whatever,” you say, before making a vague motion all around. “Clean up.”

His jaw hangs open as if he’s scandalized. “What? You want me to clean this shit all by myself?”

“You inflicted this on my poor bed alone. Clean it, now.”

Seeing that you’re apparently not dying of guilt, Kaiser decides to switch tactics. “But! My beloved, light of my life, fire in my groin-”

“That’s-” you interrupt your own sentence with a groan and resist the urge to either sock him in the jaw or find a way to knock yourself out through some obscure pressure point. Then you shake your head. Unfortunately it does nothing useful like for example maybe erasing the last twenty-four hours from your mind and instead remains as a meaningless gesture. “Not how it goes.”

“I know,” he says, satisfied with himself and his ridiculous antics. At least you think he must be from his annoying, smug grin. Though immediately after Kaiser appears to get a mood swing because his lips twist down again. “I can’t believe you forgot about our anniversary, though. And now you’re making me act like a maid. Do I mean nothing to you? You’re breaking my spirit here and this is an unethical dynamic-”

“Micha, I don’t give a fuck about your guilt tripping act. Just clean this up so we can enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fine. Whatever. You win. You win! Your heartlessness wins against my romantic soul. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You grit your teeth. “Shut up and get on with it.”

“Okay.” He deflates like a particularly depressed balloon.

You then proceed to watch as Kaiser makes his way around and acts like gathering and throwing away rose petals is the most difficult thing anyone has ever done. In his mind, this experience must be the most suffering anyone’s ever endured — but who knows what goes through his head. Several times, he offers to buy you a new apartment because he ‘doesn’t feel like dealing with this’ and since it’s ‘below him.’

And the whole time you’re observing him and his behavior, you can’t help but wonder what mental institution this man must’ve crawled out of to then find his path leading to you.

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader

[blood-grove]

The Hunt

previous hunt <- part 2 -> (hunting)

x tws; violence , blood , injuries , gore , slight suggestiveness , sickness. <- more will be added possible depending on the part.

x pairings; soap x male!reader (😲)

x characters; soap , ghost , price , gaz + (others will maybe be added? idk ive never written a whole lot of characters cuz i get confused in my own head)

Soap ran his hands through your hair gently scratching your scalp as you purred lowly.

"God ah loue hearing ye purr git a real overgrown moggie as mah boyfriend dinnae ah?" Soap mumbled as he moved his hands to your face tilting your head up enough to look up at him from his lap.

"Such a nice view mm?" Soap grinned as he gently reached hand down brushing over the slight stubble around your chin and cheeks you preferred a clean shave and had quickly learned how to do it yourself.

Especially after all the cuts Johnny gave you trying to do one side of your face.

"Mm.." You hummed as you shifted in the water a near by lake you both have found yourselves at to clean up clothes set aside Soap always carried another pair for the both of you.

Your medallion hung heavy on your chest when clothed you always hid it so you didn't feel like it getting stolen and shifting into a giant dragon while out shopping would be ideal for you and Soap's little business venture.

"How much do we have now..?" You mumbled as you focused on washing instead of Soap's touch.

"Mm..We lost a guid bit we hud tae rush tae th' lea back then..we got 300 silver from you..We'll have to eat today so that'll be around 40 ish- We have about uhh mm.." Soap went quiet in thought as you huffed silently washing some more mud off yourself.

Money.

It had been a problem for you both you could never kept it.

You both had gotten greedy one village ago too many dragon attacks the dragon causing no damage and not even stealing livestock.

They figured you out.

You panicked.

And all remains is a burnt ashy waste.

You tried to repress the memory they were going to hang Soap what else were you supposed to do? You can't take on a whole town, You didn't have Soap's wit and agility especially not back when your human form was still so fresh.

For being such a strong creature you felt helpless in that moment, Soap still wore some scars from it all.

You shook your head as Soap's concerned look brought you back to the present.

"You okay love?"

"..Mm..Yeah.." You nodded as you gently nuzzled him slightly before going to get and dry off with the cloth you both brought.

"...Alright..I think we've got around 1,200"

"..Still not enough.."

"Yeah.."

For the rest of the evening you both ate and soon found an inn to stay in, You both planned to leave before dawn you didn't feel like getting up so early, especially with the cool chill of the twilight air.

You weren't cold-blooded per se but heat has always been a luxury to bask in getting in enough rays just to wake you up enough has always been a pleasure.

But being a literal fire-breathing creature meant your core ran warm perfect for Soap to cling onto too And an excuse to bury his face in your chest.

You didn't mind of course you always woke up to him running his fingers through your hair or sometimes he'd be sketching while one hand rested somewhere on you.

You feel you hit the jackpot with him he's always been physically affectionate yet he never overstepped a line you both hadn't crossed yet.

It was way past dawn when you both woke up again.

You were the clingy one this morning as you tried to keep Soap in place despite his groggy voice mumbling that you both had to get up.

You refused.

He stared at you as you admitting childishly locked your body around his limbs looking up at him.

"Oh noo whitevur shall ah dae a dragon haes me trapped in tis sleepy embrace..maybe a few kisses wull convince it tae let this poor warrior go?." Soap grinned as he looked at you cupping your face as he freed his arms.

"Possibly..I don't know the dragon has a very high kiss toll..I might have ta' turn you into a pile of ash if you don't abide by it.." You teased as he gently pecked your forehead.

"Ohh I'm sooo scared" He chuckled as he finally leaned down and embraced you into a kiss which you quickly melted into letting the rest of his body free as his hands slid down to your hips gently squeezing them as he deepened the kiss.

Soap chummed as he pulled away placing a quick on your forehead before he slipped away.

You both finally got dressed properly as you both packed up and got ready to leave.

Today is another day and another village was ripe for the pickings.

In your head it sounded sort of like thievery.

Maybe you both were scam artist thieves and not relieving people of there excess wealth.

Maybe you were both bad people scamming and scaring the richer folk.

Nah.

It took a week or so to reach the next town and you were both back to your routine.

Soap headed to the nearby guild or tavern if there wasnt a guild, He had a knack for charming the drunk passerby with his exaggerating his dragon slaying tales.

You just hoped he wouldn't get too drunk on the first day here.

You on the other hand were scouting out the town maybe getting a few treats for you and Soap.

You were so preoccupied in your thoughts and potential sweets you would buy you bumped into what could only be mistaken as a brick wall sending stumbling back.

"Ah fuck- What the-"

"Sorry."

You flinched at the voice as you looked up meeting not a magic talking wall which you would have preferred but a man tall and draped in dark clothes and a hooded cloak a skull mask fitted on his face and cloth covering the rest of it.

You got up quickly as he picked up your satchel and book holding them back to you as you stood there for a moment before finally composed yourself.

"Ah um- No its alright I wasnt paying attention."

He just hummed which you couldnt decivier if its good or bad.

"Wheres the guild house here?"

"Uh um I think back near the far markets and again I'm so-"

He just left following your honestly vague directions.

"Oh.. uh okay."

Weirdo.

a/n; sorry if it isnt that good just got back from vacation

#call of duty #reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap cod #john price #captain john price #gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #soap x male reader #male reader #fantasy au #knight au #medieval au

[mistresskayla-blog1]

A Superior Find

Lyn's Writing Event Day 3

May 3rd : Week 1:  Wendigo 

Characters: Dr Scott White & OC (Mika Awi-Mino Deh D’eh) Aka Mika Deer-heart       

“Deer with a strong heart” (Ojibwe)

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Sleepwalker

Word count: 1.0k ++

Location: Gwinn, Ontonagon (MI – US) “Superior State”

OC Character based off a real Ojibwe metal sculptor Louise Solomon “Likeness”

Warnings: nightmares, dark content, dreams, hallucinations, tremors, fear, native american lore,

Deep in the forest of the Superior state, Mika tossed and turned on her pillow, fighting off the sweating and trembling sensations in her limbs as a large glistening black skinned creature is chasing her in her dream. The deepness of the winter had sunken into the cabin and she was alone again, the fire out and her thoughts swimming as she sat up in bed panting and clutching her chest. A frosty breath resounded from her mouth as she tried to claim the fresh air into her lungs. She looked at her hands and they were shaking uncontrollably. Was she shivering or still coming out of that dream? Her skin was cool and clammy, and she peeled off her shirt and padded to the shower to start it up hot. She reset the pilot on a potbelly furnace and started the peat for an ignitor.  Smoke gushed out of the vent; she stepped back coughing. Waving her hands and covering her mouth with her arm, the taste was ashy and acrid. She heard the shift of the water heater and walked away from the stove allowing it to warm the space, flipping the haft toggle bar to make sure the flew was open to the chimney.

She had had enough sunny days to go without a little bit. Residual heat from the other space heaters was enough, but today the chill was there, and it clung to her like her shirt had, a deep embrace. Mika stepped into the clawfoot tub and pulled the shower curtain with a scratchy noise against the metal bar above her. The water hit her skin and flayed off a layer, she cursed out loud and turned it down, letting the steam seep into her lungs, and the water finally to warm her, but not burn her. She checked for marks all over her body, again, this creature came to her, and she did not know what it meant, her great grandmother had said that such a creature meant famine long ago, and she certainly didn’t need that omen.

There were shallow scratches on her arms and hips, but she didn’t remember it getting that close to her. The thought made her shiver under the hot tap, and once she felt clean, she stepped out and toweled off, heading back to the bed. She pulled open a wardrobe hutch, a squeak of the hinge on the door let her know it was still unearthly quiet in this space for morning. She looked up out the paned glass of the windows, the sash was open, so what light was here poured in. The wind was still outside and the snow was crisp, white and calm. Nothing was stirring, not even the birds or squirrels, and that gave Mika an uneasy feeling. This deep in the woods she could always count on the animals to tell her when things were safe.

Mike got dressed and yanked the phone charger out of her phone, scrolling to find the clinic number. Finding Dr John Whitehorn on her “recents” gave her a pause. Maybe she was crazy. She knew he wouldn’t treat her that way, but still, it niggled in her mind, that something was off.

The phone rang as she waited, “John Whitehorn” Mika paused, “Hey Doctor, “ He responded immediately, “Mika, my dear, how are you feeling, did that tea work at all?”

Mika looked over towards the kitchenette, “Sorry, no. I forgot to try it. He came again, or it. And I think it is getting closer. I woke up with scratches.  How does that happen?”

John, “Well, that is a progression, (frowns audibly) we should have you come in. I know a specialist in California that can help. I’ll call him and then we will schedule time for you to come in, alright? Try to eat and do some activities that remind you on being awake, get outside, its supposed to hit the 30s today”.  Mika hmm-d against his tone, “Yeah I will try that. Thanks Doc”. 

“My pleasure. I will call you soon”, Dr John said, hanging up the call and immediately placing a call to Dr Scott White at the Henderson Sleep Institute in Los Palos, California.  

---

Scott was at his desk when his cell phone rang, it startled him a second, he was lost in thought about a client, and sipped his coffee for the morning. It was early, but late for his shift was nearly over. When you work in a sleep clinic you rarely have the night off. Scott picked it up, “Scott White”, Scott said, a male voice on the other end spoke immediately, “Dr White? This is John from the Sacred Heart Clinic in her in Gwinn,” Scott nodded, “Sure, yes, John. How are you, how can I help?”

“Look, I have a patient, Mika and she is having some very strong somatic responses and I was wondering if you had some time to come out and see us here for, maybe a week?” Dr John was hopeful sounding as he paused waiting for Scott to answer.

“What sort of disturbances? What are her symptoms?" Scott asked. John paused, as if looking at notes, Scott heard shuffling, “Sweating, nausea, tremors, and now she has visible scratches on her arms and hips” Scott’s eyes dilated slightly in the resounding pause, “I see. That is quite a unique disturbance. And she is where exactly?”  John answered, “She lives up in the woods here, about 20 miles from the towns. She’s an artist so she likes seclusion, but I think it is getting to her. Our winters up north here can last 6 months or more”.  Scott looked thoughtful, scribbling some notes on a pad in front of him, “Right, well that certainly can’t help matters. How long has she been having these disturbances?”  John, blew out some air, “Oh gosh, Id have to check my notes, but since last year I suppose, its been building. Off and on. She really doesn’t contact me too often. I go up and see her at least once a month, or have her come down” Scott cleared his throat, “I’m sorry are you her primary physician then?” 

John responded, “Yes, here on the reservation, there are only 4 of us accredited in the Western way, so I specialize in psychiatry, sleep, and general practice”.  Scott nodded again, taken in the information. He opened a calendar on his desktop, “I could be there in a few days, if you think she will hold until then”.   John, “Fine, fine. I will make an appointment to have her come down from the hills, no problem. She maybe be a little skittish, but its just the Wendigo spooking her. We’ll see you on Friday then?” John was about to ring off when Scott stopped him, “Did you say the Wendigo, like the lore of the Deer man?”  John smiled proudly, “Yes, you know of our native stories?” Scott spoke carefully, “He appears in dreams and in the flesh haunting people in the wood. I remember reading something back in college. Sleep myths are kind of a hobby of mine, (smirks)”.  “Well that’s great, then she will be in good hands, we will see you on Friday. Pack heavy we’ve got 8 more inches expected that night. Ill send you an email with details on how to get here from the city (referring to Marquette)”. John chuckled and hung up. Scott looked at his computer and down at his notes, “tremors and scratches” he mumbled to himself, “Hmm”.

(More to come... stay tuned.... )

@legolasbadass @fizzxcustard @lathalea

@scariusaquarius @middleearthpixie @riepu10

#richard armitage #fanfiction #romance #dr scott white #wendigo oc #fluff and angst #dark stories #nightmares #deep woods #lyns writing event 2024

[lootsofathousandsworld]

Life of a Pirate Chpt 9

Happy new year everyone! :D

Here’s a new chapter for you all!

Enjoy and sorry if grammer are wonky

No!" I shouted. He ignored my scream and turned to his men.

"Prepare to plunder men! Have the guns ready!" The crew obeyed his orders but I was stunned to see he had broken our deal. That deal was supposed to get me out of here and find a way to fix my wish.

"You..you promised!" Again, he ignored me. Instead, he walked down the stairs to join his men and I followed, yelling in desperation.

"You said I have permission to go without any harm!" You promised I could go! " I then try to grab his coat without thinking. "You can't break this paraly!..."

He finally snaps and turns sharply at me. "That paraly of yours was pathetic!" I stop talking out of fright while he continues speaking darkly.

"Ye are on my ship. I decide whenever I can break paralys or not." He towered over me and I made myself back a few steps. "I decide who goes or not. I decide if I can give ya freedom or not!" My back hit the main mast preventing me from moving more.

He then leaned close enough can smell rum mix tobacco and spoke lowly. "Once you are on my ship, you ain't going nowhere." Those words of his are like knives stabbing me on my freedom being taken away. I turned my head to avoid looking at him in disgust.

“B.E.N!" I overheard him call and in the corner of my eyes I saw the robot running to us.

"Yes sir!" He asked but gasped to see me in terror position. Before he could ask what was going on his Captain spoke.

"Take her to my cabin and make sure she doesn't go anywhere,"

The robot gulped. "B-but sir didn't you just.."

"That's an order," Flint snarled under his breath. B.E.N wimped and turned to me. I shook my head when he reached and grabbed my arm.

"B.E.N please don't," I pleaded as he started to drag me from my spot. As I was dragged I turned my head around and saw Flint watching me pulling away.

My stomach sickens when he gives me his cruel smile with fangs showing. My emotions were mixed with fear and anger. Of how I was stupid not to listen to Nicolas after he warned me I'd be backstabbed.

And should've taken my chance on planning a backup in case this happened. I could've just rebelled my way out but no. I have to rely on that stupid parlay!

------------------------------------------------------

As I was being dragged on the deck Flint shouted fire and thinking my ears went deaf the cannons blasted out and hit the merchant ship after the walus had gotten close enough.

I gasped in horror when I saw part of the large ship in flames and my mind was set on many innocents were killed without any warning. Soon my mind was cut short when B.E.N kept pulling me. I restrained myself by trying to stay put and pull the other way.

"Ashy come on you be safe once we're in the cabin," B.E.N struggled.

"But I don't want to be in his cabin!" I cried and tried to get his hand off but his grip was tight. "B.E.N please let me go I can't stay here,"

"I'm sorry Ash Captain's orders," He finally replied in glum, pulling me so hard that I almost stumbled but didnt give up fighting to pull away. Then there was gunfire shooting as the navy were out and shooting the pirates. B.E.N made me duck down and kept pulling me.

I can tell he was still sad earlier on me leaving and I wonder if he has mixed feelings now about all this sudden moment on Flint ordering him to put me in his cabin.

I then began to reason with him after I saw the cabin close. Right when we were inside he began to lock the door. "B.E.N I know you're upset I'm leaving but I promise we'll see each other again,"

"But how will I know that after you lied to me?" B.E.N stops and turns to me sharply. "How can I know you can keep your promise?" "You might forget me!" My throat tightened after saw his expression. Not in my life had seen him this upset after watching him in film many times.

Trying not to shed tears I touch his hand. "Because this is the promise I will never break. If..if things are different I want you to come with me," His facial slowly softens when I mention those words.

"You would?" He asked quietly.

I nodded truthfully. "Yes, and you do not know how it hurts me to leave you behind." The words of this is your opportunity to make this choice was trying to sneak the way out of my mouth but I couldn't let myself say it.

I had to keep this timeline sturdy. Or else he will never meet Jim in the future. Instead, I give my last try on pleading, holding his hand still.

"Please, this is my only chance of freedom. I will see you again. I promise." He looked at me long and I bit my lips to hold my tears. About a minutes later, feeling like it's been an hour, he sighs and unlocks the door.

"Go and chase your freedom. I'll see you soon," Right after he spoke, I made a joyful smile and leaped to hug him. He grunted with surprise as I held him close.

"Thank you B.E.N. You are the best friend anyone could ever have." I felt him hug me the same.

"All I ask is don't forget me okay?" He asked. I let go of his embrace smiled at him nodded.

"I won't, that a promise I'll keep." I then hold my hand out. "Pinky swear?" He blinked at my hand position puzzling. He raises his hand and holds out his robotic pinky.

"Pinky swear?" I use my pinky to rope around his.

"It is a sign of a sealed promise," I explained. "Once we make this promise it will never break," He almost nodded understanding and then smiled.

"Alright, Pinky swear! I will see you again Ashy!" I almost laugh and give him my last hug.

"Goodbye B.E.N," After our last hug I push the door and run out.

-------------------------————————

The battle was still going on as I stepped out as many pirates were fighting to get on the merchant ship. My mind raced on how I could jump over the merchant without getting shot fearing the navy would see me as one of his crew.

I saw a free rope nearby after someone used it that was close enough to let me swing over. Before any pirate member could reclaim it I rushed over to snatch it. Right when I got it. I thought my skin jumped when I heard this booming voice.

"LASS!" My head turned and saw Flint, looking rage at me. I froze my position in fear and cursed myself for not being sneaky. He was storming towards me and growled.

"Don't ye fuckin dare use that rope!" I force myself to break my spell and I climb up the port fast, gripping the rope. Before his hand grabbed my arm. I jumped and swung over the other ship.

-----------------------------------------

Third Person POV

"YOU LITTLE WRENCH!" Flint roared. He watches her swing herself to another ship and let go of the rope, With much anger, he looked around until he spotted B.E.N amid plundering.

The robot glances down guilty as the Captain speaks venomously.

"I'll deal with you later," Blind Pew shows up and his head turns towards where the woman is. Smirking he pulled out his pistol and asked.

"Shall I shoot her legs Cap'n?"

"No," Flint answered bluntly. "Your job is to make sure every man does not leave empty-handed." He took the rope from one of his crew members. While the member didn't dare to argue he stepped up on the port.

"This lass is mine. She won’t get away." He leaps and swings over to get her back.

---------------------------------

Ash's POV

Shakingly, I got up and right before I could even move a gun was close to my face.

"State your name pirate!" I perked up and saw a navy alien wearing a blue uniform. I shook my head fast and held my both hands out showing no weapons.

"I was kidnapped!" I gasped. They noticed I was a woman and they lowered their weapon.

"You were stolen?" One asked, making sure he heard it correctly.

I nod in desperation. "Yes! They took me away and I was hold captivity! Please help me!" They helped me up and one had a facial of a dog-like alien, similar to Delbert's look at his companion.

"Take her to the longboat with the others! She'll be safe there."

"Yes sir! Hurry miss," All of sudden, before he could lead me a laser was shot through his head. I let out a scream and watched in terror as a navy fell on the ground with blood everywhere. And some spilled on my shirt.

I looked at the owner who shot him and my face paled to see Captain Flint standing, with his facial filled with fury, looking like a satan that emerges from the pit of hell.

His yellow eyes were focused on me as he snarled lowly.

"Lass, I ordered you to return to my ship,"

-------------------------------------------------

"Run miss! " The dog alien shoved me fast, snapping my trance, and I bolted off.

"Don't make this hard!" I overheard him yell which made me run faster.

Trying not to get myself killed, I ducked and avoided going through sword fighting between pirates and the navy. I also try hard to remember which deck below can lead me to longboats after watching the movie many times.

I picked the one that was closed and rushed downstairs, almost tripping. But as I got down I stopped dead when I saw I was in a gallery, where nowhere to run.

"Shit!" I panted and glanced around fast. "Shit! Shit shit!" I heard his footsteps coming and without much of a choice, I dove into the bottom cupboard and closed it right before I saw his boot stomping in.

I cover my mouth to not make any sound and watch through the cracks of him scanning the room. He took a small sniff and bare his teeth.

"I know you here lass," He snarled. He walked over to the nearby table and added. "If you don't come out, I will tear this place apart!" He uses his one hand to flip the table hard, breaking all the plates and glasses that were on it.

I was trembling to hear him breaking everything I covered my ears to prevent from hearing it more.

"Where are you?!" He screeched. I wimp silently. I had to make a quick getaway, knowing soon he'd find me here. With as much quiet as I could make, I opened the cabinet door very slowly and saw Flint's back.

With him distracting tearing the other cabinets. I crawl my way towards the exit without making any sound. In my head, I prayed to God he was in that same position until I was out.

As I put my hand on the wooded step, it made a small squeak sound. With that sound, I made a sharp gasp accidentally. I looked back and saw Flint turn his body fast, and found me on the spot.

------------------------------------

"There ye are!" I screamed and made a run out of the gallery. I hurried out not noticing how fast he ran. I felt my hair being snatched in his grasp and I yelled in pain.

"Help!" I cried when he pulled me to him and grabbed my arm. "Somebody! Help me!"

I struggled to break free by kicking and squirming but he was strong as he forcefully dragged me along.

"Stop fighting!" He yanked me hard to prevent me from trying to escape his grasp. "You are makin' this difficult!" He then picks me up and I scream more as he tries to put me over his shoulder.

"Help someone help! Anybody!" I kept on kicking but out of nowhere, I felt him gasp sharply as if he was in pain. He dropped himself with me, finally letting me go and I looked over breathing heavily.

Saw his hand covering his side wound where he was shot at. With much chaos going on, I didn't hear someone shooting him.

"Miss!" I glanced over and saw another amphibian navy alien who shot him and reached his hand out to me. "Come on!" I took his hand as he helped me up.

“Hurry this way to the longboats!” I started to follow him, running but then I stopped dead. Realizing Captain Flint was in pain, my mind came forth on the timeline.

If he’s in pain, what if he won’t make it back to his ship? If he dies here then..treasure planet won’t exist! I turn back to find Flint in the same position.

Biting my lips at this hard decision, for the sake of the future, I ran back to help him.

#my fanfic #treasure planet fanfic #life of a pirate #chpt #nathaniel flint #self insert #self shipping #ash #monster boyfriend #BEN

[littlemisspascal]

The After

Pairing: Ruescott Melshi x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There is a story before, when, and after Keef Girgo enters your life. This is the After.

Rating: M (18+, minors please do not engage!)

Warnings: Prison/Narkina 5 storyline but an AU where woman inmates are assigned to each unit as ‘peacekeepers’, language, established relationship, references of dead bodies, violence + blood + injuries, talk of having children but no pregnancy, angst, near-death experiences

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is implied to be shorter than Melshi.

Author Note: Thank you everybody for the kind support of this story from beginning to now! Unbelievable this is the end! What was supposed to be such a little thing has turned into this epic journey with characters I've come to love so much. Hope y'all enjoy 💜

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜

Series Masterlist

You find yourself floating in a realm of total darkness. No colors, no sounds, no warmth. And it should scare you, being trapped here in this unnatural stillness, unable to move or scream, but numbness prevails over the alarm pinching faintly at your nerves. It swaddles your limp body, from your head to your toes, like you’re something fragile. Something in need of care.

You could get used to this. 

~~

A strike of pain hits the center of your chest, disturbing the numbness with the same force as an unexpected slap across the face. It startles you, whole body convulsing, and your lips part to release a wordless gasp but—

—you can’t—

There’s nothing in your lungs to exhale. 

Odd, considering you taste smoke on your tongue. Bitter. Ashy. Almost like…almost like you’re burning alive.

“Come on…”

Fire, hungry and vicious, laps at your tender insides like they’re made of paper. It bites most cruelly above your hip, almost feeling deliberate in nature. As if an invisible enemy is pressing a lit candle there against the flesh.

And yet all you can think about, the only thing rattling around inside your panic-stricken mind that you can focus on, is water. Gushing. Rippling. A beast gobbling up whatever it yanks beneath its surface.

“…breath, damn it…”

There’s a voice somewhere, far away yet impossibly close. They sound upset. Panting harshly like they can’t find their breath either. 

And beyond the voice, faintly roaring over the rush of blood in your ears, the sound of waves crashing upon a shore. 

Then another sharp pang connects with your chest, putting an abrupt end to your musings as your peaceful realm of darkness explodes into light and an abundance of colors.

Your vision swims, and there’s a split second of wild incomprehension, skin tingling and lungs full of flames, heart thumping hard in your chest. And then you feel it, something wet and salty rising in your esophagus. Up, up, up until there’s nowhere left to go but out.

There’s no strength left in your body, and yet the second your lips part you’re retching up a disgusting blend of saltwater and stomach acid onto the sandy floor. There’s a shout of your name from nearby, familiar in its cadence, but it’s impossible to focus when you’re choking on brine, every muscle constricting with agony.

“Thank the Maker,” the voice says next, a quiet heave of relief.

You manage a shuddering breath, tongue heavy in your mouth and the taste of salt and iron fighting for dominance. There’s still a fiery burn throbbing from your hip. The kind no amount of water will douse. Your head’s too heavy to look, eyes wanting nothing more than to roll back into darkness.

“No, no,” a hand pulls at your shoulder, rolling you over just enough for Jemboc’s face to slide into view. Water droplets slide down his skin, along the anxious lines marring his expression. “Now’s not the time for sleeping.”

A shiver wracks your frame. You’re soaked to the bone, clothes sticking uncomfortably, and slowly, oh so unbearably slowly the pieces start coming together. A timeline of memories settling into place. It’s hard to tell if the nausea cramping your stomach is from your harried prison escape or nearly drowning to death.

I was shot, you think to yourself. There’s a sharp twinge from your wound, as if it’s pleased to finally be remembered.

“What happened?” Your voice comes out barely louder than a weak hiss between clenched teeth, whole body strenuously protesting the effort. 

Jemboc’s grip on your shoulder tightens. The intensity of his stare drills into your bones, adding to the desperation thrumming beneath your skin. “Pure pandemonium once everyone hit the water. Felt like it was every man for himself; fighting the current, scrambling for land. But I saw you sinking and I-I didn’t think, just grabbed you and pulled you with me to shore.”

You blink at him for a long moment, fatigue pulling at your eyelids, then gingerly tilt your head to take in your surroundings for the first time. The sky’s a canvas of orange, purple, and dark blue overlapping one another, the last beams of sunlight fading fast. You’re on a beachy shore, sand so white it could pass for snow, dotted with sharp rocks and leafless trees. And it figures, of course it does, that the outside of the prison is as dreary and spiritless as the inside.

“Hey.” There’s a new softness to Jemboc’s voice, drawing your hazy attention back. His gaze isn’t on your face anymore, staring someplace lower on your body with grimly pursed lips. “Your wound…It’s–it’s not looking too good.”

Doesn’t feel too good either, is the automatic snappish retort that comes to mind first, but then the true meaning of his words sinks in like the jagged edges of a trap springing shut. 

You’re not making it off this beach. 

You can’t move, and even if Jemboc carried you along with him you can’t fight. Can’t help him find a way to get off this damn moon. All you’ll be is a useless burden weighing him down.

“Should’ve let me drown,” you rasp.

Jemboc bites harshly into his bottom lip instead of responding, hand still grasping your shoulder, as if letting go meant watching you dissolve into sea foam. 

You think you’d actually prefer that over the alternatives. If the dropping temperature doesn’t kill you first, you’re going to bleed out here, a stain of scarlet on the snow sand swept away by the midnight tide. You’d fought for a softer conclusion, asked the universe for a little more time, and this…this is what you received.

What a load of bantha shit, you think, snorting a quiet huff of air that has your sore lungs smarting. It isn’t funny, not even a little bit. It’s fucking tragic. But you bet Melshi would laugh too, that low, husky chuckle of his if he were here—

Your heart stops.

“I–where–” Panic wraps around your vocal chords like a noose, tightening by the second. Your fingers curl into loose fists at your sides, sand gathering beneath your nails. “Rue,” you spit out with strangled urgency. “Where’s Rue?”

You can remember your last moment with him so clearly up there on the landing bay. The feeling of his calloused hands on your face, holding you like his most precious treasure. How his brown eyes blazed with such fervent emotion, voice drowned out by the encompassing maelstrom. If those had been his last words—fuck. Fuck, don’t think like that. 

Jemboc won’t meet your gaze, glancing towards the waves. “I’m not sure.”

Something sharp punctures a hole behind your sternum.

No. That won’t do. That won’t do at all.

“Jemboc, what do you mean you’re not sure? Where the hell is he?”

“It means I don’t know,” he chokes. He gestures vaguely at the beach, the water, frowning deeply. “I told you: it was pandemonium. I just saw flashes of faces, there and gone. Running as fast as they could. Taga, Ham, Kino, Keef, Melshi—I lost sight of all of them. I…I don’t even know if they made the swim.”

You’d always known escaping prison would be hard. That there’d be losses. Sacrifices. But this—this specific kind of pain of unknowing is excruciating. Gaping black holes of uncertainty eating away at your hopes, leaving behind nothing but fear and increasingly catastrophic thoughts. You almost think it’d hurt less, being able to actually see the corpses of your tablemates right in front of you, lifeless and briny. At least then you’d know their fates, be able to firmly close their stories and make peace with their endings.

Jemboc rubs a hand over face, then sniffs quietly, and it only hits you then he’s probably feeling just as lost as you are. With no routine, no instructions to follow, the sudden abundance of options and lack of fellow support is overwhelming. Even worse, every second he spends at your side, his odds of successfully avoiding being caught again continue to dwindle. Like hell are the guards going to let everyone go without a single attempt of recapture.

Maker help any unfortunate souls they find. Those inmates will be dragged back kicking and screaming, if they’re even conscious after a severe beating with a zap rod.

“You’ve got to go,” you say, even though the thought of being totally alone makes you sick. But he deserves better, deserves to have made it further than this point. “You have to leave me behind.”

“I know,” Jemboc says. And it’s the closest to an apology that you’ll ever receive. 

Everything will be alright, Melshi had told you. A lie you’d asked for. A lie you’d swallowed as a future painkiller in case what you feared most came to pass. 

Melshi’s always been your safe haven. Your shield of protection. But he’s gone now. And it’s such a selfish desire—selfish and unfair and so damn greedy—to want him here. To hold your hand and hear his voice one last time before you fatally drift off into the unknown. 

Worse than that, deep down in a place of sharp teeth and possessiveness, half-feral from years spent trapped in a toxic cage, you want him to drift away with you. For your last breaths to be taken together…so in sync your dying souls leave the world behind as one, entangled force. Indivisible.

Jemboc murmurs a quiet goodbye, short and sweet, but you’re lost in your head, somewhere far, far away beyond the stinging pain. Even as your former tablemate leaves you, his figure growing smaller and smaller until there’s nothing left of him to see, you feel so distant from it all, watching from another place. Another realm. Familiar, yet different. More…permanent, somehow. A door which once shut can never be opened again.

Your body’s cold, no feeling in your legs. The hole in your side continues oozing, edges caked with sand, furiously irritated by the saltwater and trauma. It just—it seems so easy, reaching out your hands, to finally let it all go.

~~

And yet.

And yet…

Something—some nameless, shapeless thing—tells you to wait. 

So you do. Your only company a vicious hybrid of heartache and caustic pain who thrives on catching you off guard with its teeth and talons. It can’t be much fun, playing with somebody who’s barely breathing by the narrowest of margins, but that doesn’t seem to lessen the ferocity of its attacks. 

If time passes, you’re blind to it. There’s no change here. No growth. Just you and the monster in the shadows, waiting for you to give up.

But still you wait. For what? No clue. It must be important though, that much you know. That much you cling to. There’s a part of you, a tiny segment tucked away in the same chamber as your sluggishly beating heart, that even thinks the ache emanating from every piece of your body is good. Pain is proof of life. And living, staying alive…that’s good too, isn’t it?

Your answer comes in the most unexpected form.

“Mysie my. A prisoner escaper. Bleeding like a stuck pig, haye. Killing’s all they know, Freedi. Spoiling our water.”

An answering grunt.

A short pause. A decision reached.

“Naye this one. Naye today.”

~~

When your eyes next open, it’s a very slow process reconnecting with your senses. Brain function coming back online like a dusty old datapad finally recharging after years of neglect.

You’re in a ship cabin, that much is obvious from the metal ceiling and how the bunk you’re lying on has been built into the wall. You blink up at the orange bulb overhead for a moment, unable to summon any thread of familiarity.

Did the guards find you? Are you on your way back to your cell, or, worse, the box?

The flutter of fear in your stomach is doused as quickly as it arouses when you shift yourself upwards, noticing for the first time a red blanket with fraying edges covering your body. The prison guards wouldn’t be so kind, offering such a comforting item, you’re certain of that much. 

 So, if you’re not with them, then where…?

The cabin smells like the sea, salty and crisp, with a hint of distinctive fishiness making your nose scrunch up. There’s a line of cargo boxes pushed against the wall across from you. An opened one reveals a bundle of nets intertwined. Above it, small box-shaped wire traps hang from a shelf. Doesn’t take a genius to recognize the equipment of a fisherman.

It’s such a quaint space. So quiet. A complete contrast to the chatter and noises of prison and yet equally unnerving in its own eerie way.

You look down at your lower body still concealed and slowly peel away the blanket, taking in the dried blood stains on your scrubs with a grimace. Those won’t be easy to wash out–hell, you’d burn them in a millisecond if you had any extra clothes available. Lifting up the hem of your shirt, your eyes widen, taken aback by the sight of a large bacta patch neatly covering the blaster gash. Exactly what Melshi had said you needed…

The screeching of the rear hatch door opening startles you out of your musings, heart falling somewhere deep inside your stomach. You sit up straighter, acting on instinct, only for fatigue and soreness to cripple your movements, limbs feeling like they’re weighted down with sand.

It’s two aliens, hulking and dark-headed. One has a cybernetic eye peering straight into your soul, while the other’s even more menacing with an extendable blade serving as a replacement for his right hand. You stare at them, at a loss for words, and there’s a lengthy moment where the pair simply stare right back.

Who the hell are these guys?

“Awake finally, haye?” the one with the cybernetic eye finally says, bobbing his head as if he’s amused. His gray hat impressively remains fixed in place. “Ye be a lucky one. Lost half your blood ye did.”

“I, um. Thank you.” Your voice comes out sounding like you’ve swallowed rocks. Maybe you did, not like you can remember anything in-between Jemboc leaving you behind and waking up here. Hopefully you haven’t lost much time. “I-I don’t know how to repay you for the kindness.”

The other alien says something in another language, deep and throaty. Not a single word of it makes any sense to your ears, but it elicits a chuckle from Gray Hat that’s a little too mocking for your liking.

“What?” you ask, gaze flicking back and forth cautiously. “What did he say?”

Gray Hat takes a closer step, just a small one but in this little of a space he might as well be looming over you. “Freedi saying there be an offer on escapers. Alive or dead. A thousand credits each, haye.”

The response hits you like a physical blow, every piece of you that isn’t struck speechless is bristling with frantic alarm. Fuck. Fuck. You aren’t safe. You were never safe. What are you supposed to do? You can’t fight them, especially not the one wielding a knife. Maybe, and that’s a big fucking maybe, you could outrun them if you made it outside. Think. Use your damn brain and—

“No need to look worried. They not be getting ye.”

“Th-they’re not?” you stutter, panic still raging in your veins. It feels like a trick, a mean scheme to make you lower your guard, but the corner of Gray Hat’s mouth is curling up in what you think is a semblance of a smirk.

“Prison spoiled our water,” Grey Hat says emphatically. “Not much squiggly left. Not anymore. Care not a snod about who they kill. We say scob the Empire and scob their credits, haye, Freedi?”

Freedi agrees with a grunt.

Is this some kind of weird, convoluted hallucination? What are the chances, that of all the strangers in all the galaxy you just happened to be rescued by two who would reject a massive sum out of mutual hatred for the Empire? Infinitesimal, surely. And yet…

Seriously, who the hell are these guys? 

“Oh, yeah,” he continues, as if he’s heard your thoughts. “Dewi be my name. Dewi and Freedi.”

~~

Your new companions are fishermen, just like you’d assumed. Though with the worsening water conditions on account of the toxic waste produced by the prison, they’ll soon have to find new fishing grounds if they want to catch healthy squigglies. The way Dewi explains it, the moon was a beautiful place once upon a time. You believe him, despite the lack of evidence when you look out the ship’s window at the bleak landscape, because if anyone has the power to turn paradise into a nightmare it’s the Empire. 

Dewi’s the chattier of the pair, switching between Basic for you and Narkinian for Freedi. You learn it’s a language uniquely native to the moon, developed by the once-large fishing community of dozens of species, and you can’t help but compare it to the prison’s sign language. Makes you realize just how important communication is for survival.

They feed you—not a squiggly or anything else caught in their nets, but some pieces of meiloorun fruit cut into little cubes. The sharp burst of citrus on your tastebuds has your lips immediately puckering, hitting you like lightning. Maker, it’s good. Better than that, it’s real food. Real flavor. Real smell. No tubes in sight. 

Juice dribbles out the corners of your mouth, swiped away by your tongue, and you probably look a bit like a starved animal with how quickly you sink your teeth into another bite. But neither Dewi or Freedi so much as bat an eye.

Swallowing the last piece, there’s a moment you almost forget about the ache in your chest screaming for Melshi’s presence. 

Dewi told you you’re the only escaped prisoner they’ve seen so far. There haven’t been any reports over the coms from other fishermen saying they found anyone either. No news is good news, so the old saying goes, but in this particular case you think it might actually kill you to never see Melshi again. To never have the chance to tell him you love him one last time. To never know what he’d been trying to say right before the fall.

A bacta patch might be able to heal a blaster shot, but it can’t do anything to fix your suffering heart.

It only really occurs to you that you may have to leave Melshi behind, that you can’t stay here indefinitely, when Dewi asks, a curious lilt to his voice: “Where ye be looking to run now, eh?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. What do you do, when the only person who you dreamed of a life together with is gone? Where do you go when nowhere will ever feel like home without them? 

“I don’t know,” you eventually say. “I didn’t plan this far.”

I didn’t plan to be alone.

Freedi mumbles something, low and surprisingly soft for such a large fellow, dark eyes sympathetic. You smile at him, a weak, trembly thing but a grin nevertheless. Turns out some things don’t need to be translated to be understood.

“One last squiggly pool there be to check tomorrow,” Dewi replies, cybernetic eye whirring quietly as he glances towards the sky outside. “Ye welcome to ride with us to Lothal, haye.”

You don’t know anything about Lothal. You don’t know what you’ll do for money, how you’ll create a new identity for yourself, not a single clue. You nod your head, accepting the offer anyway, even as your fragile heart collapses in on itself. 

~~

As morning transitions into afternoon, glimpses of a blue sky peek through the cloud layers, so pale it hurts to look at directly.

With squinted eyes, you turn your attention across the quarry where Dewi and Freedi are hauling their nets out of a polluted lake, water black and foul-smelling. You can’t see the contents from where you sit in the shade of the quadjumper, but judging from their grumblings it doesn’t sound like a big success. Something tugs sharply behind your ribs, knowing as soon as your companions have finished you’ll be leaving Narkina 5 behind and everything connected to it. Taking with you only your memories, some bloodstained scrubs and a new scar as mementos of your stay.

You know you’re luckier than most, know that there are inmates who bled to death in the prison halls and drowned in the sea and never tasted one breath of freedom, but the thing is—you had hope. More than that, you had dreams.

Maker, you had so many dreams.

Keef had once said escaping Narkina 5 was your and Melshi’s best chance at staying together. How strange it is, how funny, how tragic that escaping is exactly what split you apart. 

You look down at your hands, the water-worn pebbles smooth against your palms. You’re luckier than most, it’s true. But it’s also true you’ve lost far more than you’ve gained.

Exhaling through your nose, you lean back against the quadjumper, stones slipping free from your grasp as your eyes fall shut. You listen to the slicing of Freedi’s arm-blade cutting through rope, the wind stirring up the grit and sand, the beeping of your pulse.

Wait.

Beeping?

You turn your head just in time to see two figures knocked to the ground by the sheer force of a trap ensnaring them in thick, white netting. 

What the hell? 

Crouching behind the protection of the ship, you watch Freedi and Dewi approach the strangers flopping about, not unlike a couple of beached squigglies struggling to escape. Thoroughly wrapped in the sticky net though, it’s impossible to identify the intruders—if they’re friend or foe.

The unexpected surprise has blood whooshing in your eardrums, muffling Dewi’s voice as he ambles along, not in any hurry to let them loose. It reminds you of your own first encounter with him, initially believing him to be a threat before he dropped the facade and revealed his true character. The unknown figures can’t be too dangerous then, you reckon, for Dewi to be so calm. Still, your feet remain firmly planted, hesitant to expose yourself just yet.

A second wave of surprise catches you off guard though when Freedi abruptly presses a button on the sensor trap, reeling the netting back in as quickly as it was launched. You have to blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing things right because that’s Keef pushing himself up on his elbows. That’s Keef, right there, caked in dirt and grime and the slimy residual substance of the net. 

And next to Keef, there’s—

All air leaves your lungs at once in a gasp, or a sob maybe, you don’t know because it doesn’t fucking matter, you just move closer on instict. Melshi turns at once, registering your emergence into the light, and your eyes lock with his, brown and beautiful and so unbearably haunted. 

Melshi slowly shakes his head, the look on his face rapidly shifting from bewilderment to such blatant relief it nearly sends you to your knees, choking out a quiet, “Dream?”

The moment is frozen, disconnected from the flow of time, and then he’s moving, scrabbling onto his feet to reach you, but you’re faster. You collide with his chest, sending you both tumbling onto the ground, though you’re too consumed with reuniting your lips with his to feel the impact. 

It’s a desperate kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, with clashing teeth and panting breaths. And fuck, you can feel him, all of him—his chapped lips, his heaving chest, the frantic throbbing of his heartbeat matching yours—and still he isn’t close enough. You don’t think he’ll ever be close enough, not even if he crawled beneath your skin, nestled between the gaps in your ribs.  You’re terrified that he’ll vanish the moment you pull back, taking the heat buzzing in your veins with him, but your shaking hands can’t hold onto him tight enough. 

Can’t stop Melshi from physically forcing you away with hands on your shoulders, looking utterly wrecked with shiny eyes and spit-slick lips, words spilling out of his mouth so fast they bleed together, “Wait, wait, wait, lemme lookit you. Dream, lemme see.”

The sound of your nickname breaks something inside of you, and suddenly you’re crying, tears streaming down your cheeks, lungs shuddering with unrestrained sobs. “Rue.” It’s more of a whimper than name, scraping against your throat, pulled from the depths of your core.

“You’re alive,” he murmurs, a low rasp, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face. “When I saw you fall—fuck, dreamer, I’ve never been so scared. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so fucking sorry—”

“No,” you gasp out, shaking your head madly because he needs to know, “not your fault.”

“Thought I lost you. That I’d never get to tell you—”

“Tell me what?” you ask hoarsely, gripping onto his wrist like a lifeline. 

Melshi’s thumb ghosts over your jaw, catching stray teardrops before they fall. “What I should’ve told you every day we were together,” he says, soft yet firm. He kisses you again, like he can’t help himself. A quick peck on the mouth, then another, then one more. And then—

“I love you.”

“Rue,” you whisper, eyes widening and heart fluttering like a damn butterfly. You shove your face into that warm, safe nook between his neck and collarbone, uncaring of the streak of slime smeared on his skin. “I love you too. Always, always, always.”

Your voice is muffled, thick with snot and tears and the wellspring of emotions overflowing inside of you. 

Melshi understands you all the same. He always has.

~~

Even within the safety of the quadjumper, you and Melshi refuse to separate from each other. Sitting on the bunk, you can imagine it must look a little funny how closely you’ve managed to intertwine your bodies in such a small space. Keef sits on a cargo box, carefully watching Dewi and Freedi up in the pilot seats. Despite the dark bruises of exhaustion beneath his eyes, his gaze is razor sharp, observing every movement for the slightest sign of deception.

Reminds you of the first day you met Keef, what feels like years ago but in reality is closer to a handful of weeks. Quiet and watchful. Mind like a sponge soaking up Table Five’s movements. 

You try not to think too hard about your missing tablemates or how much you wish they were here too. The universe's cruelest of lessons is that life isn’t fair. Not to anybody. But coming in second, so dangerously close the lines blur during moments of distress, is the self-awareness you can’t save everyone. 

You’ll never forget your boys. Ham, Taga, Jemboc, Ulaf and Xaul. You’ll never forget Kino either, alpha wolf of Unit Five-Two-D right up until the end of everything.

They’ll stay safe in your memories. The Empire can’t touch them there.

“What’s in Niamos?” you ask, causing Keef’s head to swivel your direction.

Unlike you who didn’t have any idea where to flee, Keef knew exactly where to go when asked. Dewi and Freedi had simply looked at each other, nodded in recognition, and agreed to make the flight without any fuss. 

“Palm trees and beautiful beaches,” Keef replies. “More importantly, it’s where I left my stuff before they arrested me.”

Your eyebrows lift, thinking it must be a helluva hiding place for him to believe his belongings are still there. “What kind of stuff?”

He looks towards the front again, but not before you catch a brief shadow of his crooked smile. “The kind of stuff that’ll get us anywhere we want.”

Us, he’d said. We. 

Not me. Not I.

Keef’s loyalty to both you and Melshi continues to surprise you, even though by now it shouldn’t. Not after all he’s done. He fulfilled his vow. He got as many people out of Narkina 5 as he could. He kept Melshi alive for you, dragging him away from the waves they’d been certain you drowned in.

Your heart has yet to stop fluttering helplessly whenever you look at Melshi—from love, from disbelief. He’s tired and bruised and emotionally strung out beyond his limit. But he’s also tangible and warm and here. 

You take one last glance out the window at the water covered moon, finding it amusing how Narkina 5, a place that had felt so huge and imposing while trapped inside, is such an imperceptible speck when viewed from amongst the stars. The Empire’s still an ever-present threat on the horizon, but you don’t feel their phantom strings anymore. 

No, you just feel Melshi’s fingers gently tracing the edges of the bacta patch beneath your shirt. It’s stopped bleeding. It’s stopped hurting too, just a little itchy as the bacta helps your body regrow the missing skin. And even if there was any pain, the heat radiating off Melshi is pleasantly soothing enough to forget about it. Like your own patch of sunlight, melting away the last lingering traces of soul-chilling loneliness.

For all your precious dreams of a life together outside Narkina 5, for all the years you’ve shared a bed—nothing can change the fact that real life is a whole other beast compared to prison. There will be new sides of Melshi you’ve never seen before, yet another alternate persona buried deep beneath the familiar layers. 

And maybe that would have worried you before—before you were shot, before you nearly bled out on the beach, before you faced the most terrifying form of reality where Melshi wasn’t by your side—but now? Now there’s just a sense of giddy anticipation. It means you can fall in love with him all over again. 

Again and again and again…

Outside, the stars stretch and morph as the ship enters hyperspace, silver streaks slicing through the heavy blackness.

Inside the ship though, Melshi’s arms are your safe haven, and his lips are whispering those three special words against the shell of your ear. 

…again and again and again…

~~

Niamos is exactly how Keef described it. Beautiful beaches and palm trees galore. As close to the definition of paradise as a place can be if one ignores the Empire’s occupation and their security droids.

Stepping off the quadjumper, a tropical breeze sweeps over you, lifting up your clothes to tickle at the skin beneath. It’s close to evening time, hardly a soul in sight along the walkways. Which is good, Keef says. Less witnesses means less trouble. 

While he heads off to recollect his things, you say your goodbyes to Dewi and Freedi. They’ve only been figures in your life for such a short fraction of time, yet their impact has been monumental. There aren’t enough words in the galaxy to thank them, nor enough credits to repay them.

“All we ask is a favor,” Dewi says, offering another one of his sly smirks.

You nod your head, eager to express your gratitude however you can. “Name it.”

“Ye were lucky once, don’t be testing it,” he tells you firmly. “Keep your blood in your body, haye.”

“If I have any say in the matter,” Melshi chimes in, squeezing your waist, “she’ll never lose another drop again. Not even over a damn papercut.”

You tuck the crown of your head beneath the underside of his jaw, hiding your smile.

~~

When Keef returns, he’s changed into a striped shirt and dark pants, a canvas bag hanging on his shoulder. He pulls out extra clothes, shoving them into your and Melshi’s arms with instructions to get dressed in the nearby public restroom. You don’t pause to ask him where they came from, if they’re stolen or not. Clean clothes are clean clothes, that’s all that matters.

Stripping out of your dirty, paper-thin scrubs feels good, but putting on something else besides orange and white is another heavenly pleasure entirely. Your new outfit’s a little big on your frame, a dark blue floral patterned shirt tucked into matching colored pants, but you’re too happy about the newness of it all to complain. It’s the slip-on shoes that are the hardest to adapt to, so used to being barefooted you feel like a toddler learning to walk again the way your toes are all scrunched together.

You wash your hands, indulging in the cool water running over your wrists, then wipe your face with a wet towel. Maker knows you’d trade one of your limbs for a hot bath to soak in, but Niamos is merely a stepping stone, not a place to settle down and produce roots. Maybe the next destination will be better, safer, wherever that happens to be.

Wadding up your scrubs into a ball, you toss them into the trash and leave the restroom to find Keef and Melshi. The fading sun rests on the horizon line, sky the color of honey, beautiful and sweet, bathing the world in golden light. Melshi, too, standing at the pier’s edge with his hands clasped behind his back, seems to glow against the backdrop of the ocean.

He turns as you go to him, brown eyes shining like solar flares and dark hair tousled by the wind. He’s the most beautiful thing in the galaxy you’ve ever seen. You’re so in love with him it’s—it’s exhilarating. An adrenaline rush. A force of nature, immense and infinite.

“All this space. Fresh air,” Melshi murmurs, looking out across the water. You press yourself against his side, arms crossed over your stomach. “Like a dream, right?”

“The best dream I’ve ever had.” You cast a glance at Melshi out of the corner of your eye, at the blue-and-gray pattern on his shirt. Circles connected by lines sprouting from their centers. There’s something about it oddly mesmerizing. Almost familiar somehow. “View’s gorgeous, too.”

The tips of his ears burn red once he realizes you’re not talking about the sunset. It’s so cute you think you might melt. There’s a bit of smugness, too, knowing you’re the only one who has that adorable effect on him. 

“Where’s Keef?” you ask, suddenly noticing the other man’s absence. 

“Over there on the transmitter.” Melshi nods to a structure behind you next to the restroom. “Said he had to make a call. Family, I think.”

Looking over your shoulder, you can see Keef, leaning in so the transmitter picks up his voice over the sounds of the splashing waves. I have someone waiting for me, you remember him confessing late one night in the sleep block. Remember him saying she’s the greatest.

“Do you have someone to call?” you ask, curiously blinking up at Melshi.

“No.” Melshi doesn’t sound upset by the fact. He flexes his hand, the scar there flashing gold this time instead of silver. “You’re everything I’ve got in this life, dreamer.”

“Yeah?” you breathe shakily, watching as he takes your hand in his with such delicate gentleness. The laser burn along your knuckles has long since healed, but that doesn’t stop Melshi from pressing his lips to the spot, as if he can still see the mark there. You wonder if it would turn golden in the fading light too.

You feel more than see the upward curl of his mouth. “Yeah.”

~~

Keef’s quiet as a mouse when he finally rejoins you. You don’t like it—how utterly blank his expression is, the way he tries to bury his shaking hands in his pockets, the emptiness in his eyes. You don’t like any of it.

And you’re not the only one who notices the shift in attitude. You can tell Melshi’s concerned as he licks his lips and tentatively breaks the silence, aware of the fragility of the moment. “You got through? It’s okay?”

Keef doesn’t look either of you in the eye when he nods, too jerky, too reflexive. “Yeah.” The next words are choked out, a hushed hitch to his breath. “Everything okay.”

Two things quickly become apparent to you. 

First: he’s lying. 

And second: you’re not looking at Keef Girgo anymore. You’re looking at the man beneath the illusion. He’s right there, the real him, within arm’s reach, and there’s so much you want to say to him but your mouth refuses to speak any of the words aloud.

“How many do you think made it?” Melshi asks, out of nowhere. There’s something sharp about the question. An undercurrent of desperation that unsettles you. “How many of us made it out alive?”

At that, Keef finally meets your gazes. There’s a distantness in his brown eyes, like his body’s here physically but his mind is miles and miles away. You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Want to ask what’s wrong with him. But your hands stay at your sides and your voice stays mute.

After a long beat, Keef blinks and comes back to himself just enough to manage a limp shrug of his shoulders, faintly replying, “Not enough.”

“What if it’s just us?” Melshi presses, unsatisfied with the answer. “What if we’re the only ones?”

“Rue,” you say, faltering at the heaviness in his stare, weighing down on your lungs. You swallow, unable to understand why it’s there, what’s rattling around inside his head. “What are you saying?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, pursing his lips before his narrowed gaze shifts away, half of his face edged in dim shadow. You can sense he wants to tell you, he’s just debating whether he should. Meaning whatever it is, it’s something big. Something that will have consequences.

“Somebody’s got to tell people what’s happening back there,” Melshi says at last, but he isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking straight at Keef.

Glancing at the other man reveals he’s still quiet, withdrawn, but there’s wrinkles creasing his forehead that weren't there seconds ago. And the steady way he’s staring back at Melshi—it’s like he’s already started putting the puzzle pieces together and he’s waiting for Melshi to confirm it’s the right picture. 

“Guys,” you huff, fully aware there’s a silent conversation going on right in front of you and hating every second of it. “What’s going—”

“We need to split up,” Melshi interrupts, voice strained. “Increase our chances.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mind whirling. The beginnings of dread start stirring at the bottom of your stomach. “No way. You-you don’t mean that.”

“One of us has to make it,” he continues, as if you hadn’t spoken at all, ignoring your subsequent tugging on his shirt. “People have to know what’s going on.” 

You keep shaking your head, unable to stop yourself, because it’s everything you don’t want to hear but at the same time, in the deepest part of yourself, you know he’s right. 

Staying silent about the horrors you witnessed means being complicit in the Empire’s crimes against the prisoners. Against Ulaf and Xaul, every lost soul and every one still locked away. You owe it to them to speak up and get the word out. To be brave when all you want to do is run to the farthest, most remote corner of the galaxy.

You owe it to them to try.

“I know,” Keef agrees. Another nod of his head, less jarring, more certain. “I hear you.”

On impulse you wrap your arms around Keef, pulling him in for a tight hug, hooking your chin over his shoulder. There’s a beat of hesitation, his arms awkwardly hovering in the air, and then he hugs you back.

“This isn’t a goodbye. It's a see you later,” you tell him, squeezing for emphasis. His chest rumbles with an inaudible laugh. “Repeat after me.” You look him square in the eye, leveling him with a challenging look. “Say it.”

“This isn’t a goodbye. It’s a see you later,” Keef echoes dutifully, but there’s warmth there that settles your rousing dread and replaces it with something softer. Something lighter.

Something a lot like hope.

“Here. Take this.” Keef digs around in his bag, retrieving a blaster that he gives to Melshi. Caught up in watching Melshi’s hand grip the weapon, secure and steady, no trace of nervousness as he tucks it behind his back, you miss noticing Keef’s second rummaging until he startles you with your name. “Take these too.”

He deposits a stack of credits into your hand. Surprised, you nearly spill them onto the ground, eyes widening as you take in the large amount. Understanding kicks in, that this must’ve been why he was so determined to come back here. This really is the kind of stuff that can get all three of you anywhere you want.

“Dank farrik,” you breathe. “Where the hell—actually, nope. You know what? I think I’m better off not knowing.”

“What dream means to say,” Melshi cuts in smoothly, shooting you a fond look as you stuff the credits into your trouser pockets before his expression changes into one of pure seriousness, “is thank you.”

The two men clasp hands amicably, leaning in closer to pat each other on the back. It’s a brief and wordless gesture, but the meaning’s still understood by both. Take care of yourself out there.

Melshi then inclines his head at you. “You ready, dream?”

You nod, giving him a small smile.

The pier is long, the path beyond even longer. But walking with Melshi, shoulder to shoulder, hands locked together, you find it easier to look forward to the future’s possibilities rather than fear its uncertainties. A future full of golden sunsets, fresh air smelling of fragrant blooms, an abundance of blankets on a plush bed, bites of meiloorun fruit exchanged between kisses, laughter, hot baths, even more kisses, perhaps a little dreamer or two to keep you and Melshi on your toes. 

It won’t be easy. It won’t be soon. But it’ll be a good one.

Because it will be yours and Melshi’s.

You stop walking, ignoring the concerned furrowing of Melshi’s brow as you abruptly spin around. Before taking another step into the unknown, there’s one final thing you’ve got to know for certain.

“Hey!” you call out, catching the attention of the man at the end of the pier. “What do we call you when later comes?”

A second of silence follows, your ears straining for his answer.

“Cassian.” The response is carried on the wind, a smile stretching across your face. And if you look hard enough, there in the last fading beams of sunlight, you swear he’s smiling, too. “My name is Cassian.”

#ruescott melshi #melshi x you #melshi x reader #andor fanfiction #my fic #my writing #melshi #ruescott melshi x reader #ruescott melshi x you

[darkk-academic]

From the Shadows

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V]

Summary : The thing about Love is— it can't stay in the shadows.

Warning : None?

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOLD HIM!?"

Your voice rings out in the room.

You'd been sulking in your room. Lights off, headphones in as you laid on your bed listening to the heartbreak playlist you created especially for this day.

And then Lila just came barging in. Announcing, "I told him."

And now you're teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

She shrugs. "Exactly what I said. Told him that you're becoming Laurie to his Jo."

"YOU TOLD HIM!?"

She folds her arm, leaning against the closed door. "Yes. Ja. Oui. Sí. Need me to go on?"

She-She told him. Told him. Him. Five.

"You…" you start, feeling rather faint. "You told Five?"

"No, I told Reggie," she scoffs. Rolling her eyes. "Obviously, I told him."

Your eyes widen.

"WHAT THE FUCK LILA!?"

"Calm down," she says. Frowning.

You ignore her. You start to pace around your room, stepping up on the bed and crossing over, and back again. Your mind in overdrive, as you try to think of a way out of this mess.

"I don't get it," Lila states. Eyes following your movements. "I thought this would make you happy." You give her an incredulous glance. "You were too scared, so I did it for you. You couldn't have planned to keep it a secret forever."

You step down from your bed. "Lila. Lila. Lila," you say. Coming to a stop in front of her. "You aren't supposed to tell your crush that you have a crush on them!"

"What, why?" she questions.

Inhaling a deep breath, you start your thesis. "So that your crush doesn't get the chance to reject you," you start. Raising your hand to stop her once she opens her mouth.

"See, when you don't have a definite answer about whether they feel the same or not, you get to have this illusion," you explain. Hands moving animatedly as you do so. "You can think that certain gestures they make or things they say are because they feel the same. You get to have this piece of dream in reality. You're allowed to feel those heart flutters, so long as you don't know what they actually feel." You look her in the eye. "Because once that happens, the illusion shatters."

Lila blinks. Once. Twice. Before simply stating—

"That sounds unhealthy."

Your nose twitches in irritation. "YOUR CRUSH ISN'T SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT THEY'RE YOUR CRUSH!" you burst out. Hands coming onto her shoulders as you shake her a bit. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND LILA? THIS IS A RULE OF CRUSHING!"

She nods frantically.

Silence.

"Do you really love him that much?"

You chew on your lips. Trying to find the right words.

"Half the beat of my heart is longing, and the other half is him." It's the best way you can describe what you feel.

There's a silent pause. You hear crickets in the background.

It is then she drops the bomb.

"He said to tell you he wants to talk."

•••

Except he didn't.

Talk that is.

Talking involves two people. It's not talking when he simply said—

"I don't—I'm not—I think I should stay away for a while. For your sake. You know, considering."

And then he gave a jerky nod and all but ran away.

So, you see no talking.

Your gaze trails in his direction.

He is sitting near the back.

Next to Delores.

Your breath blooms in your abdomen, the edges darken with pain, one you feel all over your ribs and heart.

You turn to the front.

The breaths inflamed by pain, trudge up your esophagus leaving imprints of burn, your mouth tastes ashy in their wake. The burning nestles somewhere between your nose and eyes, the fumes reaching both.

Your eyes water. You pretend it's to quell the fire and not to add to it.

Blinking. Blinking. Blinking.

Don't cry, you request.

"I hope everyone is ready for the speaking activity."

Your teacher's voice snaps you out.

What class is it?

Oh, right Literature.

Wait— did she say speaking activity?

Fuck.

•••

It's your turn. And you've not a clue what to say.

You walk towards the front of the class. Contemplating.

You have two options, a. Stand in front of everyone like an idiot, or b. Speak about one of the books you love.

Rolling your shoulders, spine straight, you take a deep breath. "I—"

Almost like being pulled by some magnetic force, your eyes find Fives.

You're hit with a wave of confidence. It drowns you in depths of courage. And with reckless abandon, you find yourself succumbing to it.

You don't give two thoughts to what you're about to do.

Is it impulsive? Yes. Do you give a flying fuck? No.

The truth is, you're tired. So tired of being a coward. That this is something you will go through.

Leave the wound that is your heart open, and dig your fingers into it, pulling out all the love that you can before leaving it achy, raw and free for him to ransack through if he so wishes.

Might as well become utterly shameless in your confession, you conclude.

Keeping your gaze locked with his, you start, voice soft, sure and loud. You won't take a chance, he has to hear every single word.

"Somewhere, there must be a reality where you're mine. A place where there's neither you nor me, just our emotions."

Your legs shake. Heart giving a stutter. You push through with a feverish desperation. Five's looking at you.

"A place where dawn will rise from your eyes, where I'll sleep to the night of your embrace." A shaky exhale. Your vision blurs. Still, you push through because Five is looking at you.

"From your lips to mine, lay emotions unkissed," it's a confession. "The breeze says, wherever you are, so am I."

"I don't know where that place is," sobs underline your words, heard clearly by every ear. But you only care for him.

So long you have loved him from the shadows.

This is a confession in light.

"I know nothing. Nothing but I feel this truth, and the truth is that I'm in love with you."

..................................................................................

A/N :

Romanticising confession? Yes. But then again, confessions like these don't need to be romanticised.

Meanwhile, the teacher : 👁️👄👁️

Lmfao, Anyways, this one feels good tbh. And yes there's one more part.

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

[Taglist : @danis-stuff-is-here @ninalol @wifeofcamillamacaulay @ssshhh-imreading @coolcatlover4 @katiemrty @honestlyspeedytree @ariyabella @tiaamberxx ]

..................................................................................

#five hargreeves #tua five #number five #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #tua #the umbrella academy #tua season 3 #tua3 #x reader

[blueikeproductions]

Based on a conversation with @shinyhappydigistar. -Ash gets fed up with Iono filming him every waking moment, made worse they share a dorm together at the Academy, and has thrown out some of her stuff out of frustration and starts to tear into her about her sleep stream pranks on him until he realizes…-

Ash: Wuh-WHY ARE YOU STREAMING THIS?! Pikachu: -indignantly- PIKA!!??

Bellibolt: -looks embarrassed and a little fed up as well at Iono- Bellibo…! -says sheepishly-

Iono: Whaaaat? People love drama! Why do you think the Porygon does so well over Zubatman comic drama?

Ash: What, that stuff over Tim Druddigon? Pidgey the Boy Wonder should like who he likes, so long as he still gets to fight Killer Croconaw!

Iono: Wow…, that’s surprisingly progressive from you, I wasn’t expecting that. …Oh hey I got a donation!

Ash: Who would give a donation to this Trubbish fire of a live stream…? -back to being annoyed-

-Cuts away to a far off Paldean campsite Goh and Gary Oak are staying at, having teamed up again for research in Paradox Pokemon. Gary and his Electivire both give a dark chuckle as Gary swipes on his Rotom Phone to give another donation, laughing at Ash’s misery.-

Goh and Grookey just stare disappointingly at him: I thought you and Ash were friends, Gary…

Gary -shrugs-: Old habits die hard, and I still enjoy Ashy being taken down a peg.

-A Brute Bonnet walks by the boys, stops and is curious at what they’re so enamored by, shrugs and waddles on by.-

-Back at the school-

Iono: Oh another donation! …Uh oh it’s from Clavell…

Ash: Heh serves you right!

Iono: … He wants to see us both in his office pronto, dude…

Ash: Aw, Ratatta…

Pikachu: Pikachu… (says dejectedly)

-At the office, everyone is still in their jammies, which makes the situation more comical than it is, with Ash in an old Indigo League sleeveless shirt and boxers, Iono in an Elesa themed tang top and Zebstrika sleep pants, and Clavell wearing a loud colored Pokeball themed night cap and gown, along with his Oranguru.-

Clavell: -sighs- I suppose I should’ve seen this coming, having two, uh, how do the kids say it? Having two Gogoated personalities together. In the same room…

Ash: Does that mean Iono can get her own room? Preferably far, far away from me and Pikachu…?

Clavell: Unfortunately the only other dorm was taken by that pink and blue haired RA team with the Meowth we hired, so you two will have to continue sharing.

Iono: Hah! More streaming content for me!

Clavell: Not so fast, Iono. I have some rules to lay down an- Iono, please stop streaming, no one wants to see this. It’ll be boring. At least I’ll do my best to make it boring!

Oranguru: Guru-ran. (Agreeing).

Iono: Fiiiine. -makes the cut motion at her Rotom phone, who cuts off the feed.-

-Ash, Pikachu and Bellibolt all sigh in relief-

Clavell: Your streams help fund the academy, Iono, that much is clear, but for the sake of our student teacher Mr. Ketchum, please back off on him. No more of these dragged out streams and pranks for views. World Champion or not, all it’s done is be a distraction to the students, facility, and in particular it’s made Alfie upset.

-Ash and Iono look surprised.-

Iono: Lil’ Al? What-why?

Clavell: Seems he isn’t a fan of his two heroes fighting each other, well, not in a Pokémon battle I mean. He came to me earlier concerned about what was going on.

Ash and Iono look at each other sheepishly.

Clavell: So can I trust you two will get along? If not for my sake, then for your young friend Alfie’s sake?

Ash and Iono look at each other embarrassingly and fidget a bit.

Ash: …Y’know what? If you promise to limit your streams about me to just classes I need your help with and Pokémon battling, I think we can manage. -holds out hand to shake-

Iono: Throw in anytime Team Rocket crashes the party too, and you have a deal.

-They both smile and shake hands.-

-Clavell and Oranguru smile satisfied.-

Clavell: Good, good. Now if you excuse me, I have some, ah, Pokémon Sleep to catch up on. -looks at the camera and winks- Just clean up that that little pile of AV equipment in your hall, and we’re Gholdengo. -shuffles off to his bedroom-

Ash: That shouldn’t be too bad…

Pikachu: Chuu…

Bellibolt: B’bolt…

Iono: Provided none of my stuff got wrecked… -shoots a look at Ash- Some of that Silph Co. tech they don’t even make anymore…

Ash: I didn’t know… Besides I have a techie friend from Kalos who might be able to fix things…

Iono: -gives him the annoyed, narrowed eyed Phillip J. Fry meme look, before looking bright and cheerful all of a sudden- Cool beans~!

#blueike productions #blueike #pokemon anime #anipoke #ash ketchum #gym leader iono #pokemon scarlet and pokemon violet #paldea

[gl1tch3doracle]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Bombshell ˖ ࣪⊹

Had to write something for Reze now the new trailer is out. Already have another fic for her in store because I am absolutely feral for this woman and she needs more love. If there's one thing I love more than Reze it's her hybrid form.

➸ Reze + !Neutral!Reader

➸ Word count; 1,832 words,

➸ Set before her introduction in the manga (also a slight itty bitty bit of an AU, if you squint)

➸ Content warnings include cursing, blood mentioned, minor amounts of violence (kind of cause Reze is murderous when she needs to be) and descriptions of a burning/burnt building.

Returning home to the petulant smell of sulphur hanging thick in the air was enough to make you choke and gag before dropping your meagre bag of groceries. A resounding thump and rustle followed by the crinkling of packages, plastic melting into the smouldering clumps of brick that used to belong to your apartment building.

Returning home to the petulant smell of sulphur hanging thick in the air was enough to make you choke and gag before dropping your meagre bag of groceries. A resounding thump and rustle followed by the crinkling of packages, plastic melting into the smouldering clumps of brick that used to belong to your apartment building.

There was ringing in your ears - Loud enough to drown out the drones of people, police and firemen maybe. Sharp suits flashed between the crowds, glints of swords, furrowed brows, and taught looks. Furiously pounding in your ribcage, your heartbeat errant, your gut twisting as you numbly stumbled forward to your now destroyed home. The structure was crumbling, billows of smoke towering into the sky, blanketing the blue like a smothering embrace. You weren't sure what was stinging your eyes more - The smoke or the tears pinpricking at the thought of your now lost home.

'Is Reze okay?' Was all you could think. It brought about another bout of panic that settled deep in your chest. You could stand losing your home, it was a heavy blow both emotionally and monetarily, but you could deal with that later. You couldn't handle losing your partner.

'Was she scheduled to work today? She could be at the cafe, right?' You tried to rationalise, pleading that fate would at least let her be okay, but the fact you couldn't even remember if she was supposed to be at work today or not did not help the dying glimmer of hope that remained. Or maybe it was the shock finally hitting your senses. Either way, you continued forward, somehow slipping under the watch of the approaching devil hunters and police and into the ashy ruins of the building you once called home.

It looked like a bomb had gone off, was your first thought. The front desk was shattered, the bench broken in half. A smouldering crater sat placidly in the middle of the room, half-lit fires and smouldering embers burning red hot as you stumbled past. One of the elevators was missing, possibly crashed at the very bottom level if the empty, scorched elevator shaft told you anything. The stairs were miraculously left unharmed for the most part.

Still, unharmed did not mean untouched. Your hand was coated in soot the moment you steadied yourself against the railing. However cool to the touch, it was absolutely filthy. You swiped it over your already ruined uniform.

"Reze?" Your voice cracked, quiet under the roaring flames, sirens and mindless chatter. It barely carried, and you were certain that even if Reze were here and was still alive, she wouldn't have heard you anyway.

You jumped as something fell and crashed not too far from where you were, almost slipping and falling through a hole that opened up underneath your foot like a gaping, toothy maw. Whimpering, you hurried your way up the stairs and further into the burning building a little faster.

Somehow, your hallway was mostly fine. It was undeniably warm, uncomfortably so, flames licking at the scorch-stained windows, but for the most part, it was untouched. Not entirely clean and devoid of damage, but rather, it was the most unspoiled part of the building you'd seen so far. It was nice, you supposed, but your stomach was still twisting and writhing in frantic knots. Bits of broken wood were flung around, but it didn't look like they came from the still-intact doors, nor did the plaster look like it had been blown from the wall. However, just your luck, the one part that wasn't left untouched was your goddamn apartment.

It made your heart sink, or your stomach lurch into your chest. The door was completely blown off its hinges, scorch marks flying inwards, into the apartment like an incredible force had burst its way through.

Carefully, you peered into the ruined room.

Someone was standing in the middle of the kitchenette, humanoid in shape with their hand braced against the table. Eerily silent apart from a faint hissing sound with small sparks flying from small scratches and dents that littered their metallic face. Otherwise, they were stock-still, steaming spewing from one end of their bulbous, shiny head like an overheated engine.

The hole blown clean in the wall behind them allowed the bustling wind to whip past, tugging at the sheer dress of twisted cables and dull-carmine dynamite strapped around their body.

'What the fuck is that?' You held your breath, unsure of whether escaping back to the freedom of outside and clean air would've been a better choice than just standing in the doorway like a deer staring into headlights. Either way, there was the possibility that whatever was standing in the middle of your ruined home would hear you, but there was something that made your blood run ice cold and pause.

A spattering of crimson over the rightmost wall, a clean arc bold against the fumes. Blood, thick, dripping slowly before puddling where the floor sharply curved upwards.

What you could only assume was Reze's blood.

"No…" Tears finally fell, rolling over your cheeks, turning grey with ash. Then, you realised your mistake - Alerting whatever killed Reze to your appearance. The dread of losing your loved one was trumped, nothing compared to the almost hysteria of seeing the thing shift.

At first, it was the flex of the hand against the table, fingers flexing, spreading, smearing more blood against the placemats - Then it was the head. It shuddered and shook itself before seemingly heaving a breath it had been holding and letting a billow of steam spew from its mouth, a sickening, metallic crack resounding through the room before its head slowly, malevolently, peered in your direction.

Amongst the burnt wires and smeared blood spattered against its front (you heaved a silent sob knowing it was Reze's own blood) you noticed the stark white button-up shirt that melted into its skin. Tight, unmarred by everything except the crimson blood that dripped from its harrowing teeth, and decorated with a still intact name tag.

Reze.

That scared you more than anything.

The only thing that haunted you more than your partner dying by the creature in front of you, was your girlfriend being possessed by the creature in front of you. A fiend was the only thing that made sense, seeing something so humanoid garbed with such a strange head and decorated with twisted wires and flying sparks. The thing in front of you had killed Reze, or found her body, and decided to take it for itself.

It was the only thing that made sense in your mind, after all.

"What are you?" You snivelled. The thing already knew you were there, staring you straight down its sights despite the fact you were sure it had no eyes. It paused, tilted its head, and had the audacity the laugh, or more accurately, giggle, in your girlfriend's own voice.

"You weren't supposed to find out," Her shoulders sagged, dragging her feet against the floor. It still felt like her, even if a devil had taken over her mind. Still…

"Reze?" Your voice was hoarse, rough from the smoke and tears. The thing cocked her head to the other side, letting her limbs fall lax at her sides.

"Lisichka," There was a specific tone in her voice, but it was the name that made your heart break. Those uttering of syllables, the same ones Reze would whisper softly, adoringly, in your ear before the two of you would fall asleep. The way the devil moved in front of you, it seemed all too familiar for her body to simply have been taken over. You had no idea how possession worked, but you were certain that the body always lost a sense of humanity as well as their memories as their mind was stolen. Seeing the devil Reze in front of you, a part of you doubted that this was not Reze. Too many of her mannerisms were still there, the way she held herself, the way she talked, her words and the way her head tilted.

"I don't understand…" You clung to the doorway, trying to regain any semblance of balance as your mind whirled by at incredible speeds. Reze swayed before walking toward you, gentle and light with a pep in her step. She didn't say anything, but you could feel the heat radiating off of her, palpable waves that swamped the already humid air around you. Instead, her fingers cupped your cheeks delicately, fuse wires starkly cool, but in a manner that was undoubtedly from Reze's own control.

From here, you could see your face reflected in the shine of her head. Rounded, almost glassy in texture. Steam still spewed from her mouth, thin wisps that rose to the ceiling. You hummed, the sound ragged in your throat. 'This is Reze' was the only thought running through your mind. This scary, daunting creature that had most likely destroyed the building the two of you had lived in, was your own girlfriend. The being that stared you down, teeth covered in blood with her uniform melting into her skin. The person who, despite the carnage that surrounded the two of you, held you so tenderly and carefully and with such love that, as the realisation dawned on you, you couldn't really come to hate like any other devil that plagued the city.

You sniffled once, and then raised your own hands to trace along the curve of her face.

The metal (you were certain it was metal) was warm to the touch. Not hot, but pleasantly warm against the aches in your fingers. Nicks covered the surface, not entirely smooth, somewhat dented - Ruggered would probably be the best way to describe the feeling. Reze vibrated under your touch, leaning in further as your hands traced along the curled ridges cut out of the side of her head, following the curve down toward her pointed teeth. The feeling of hot blood made you flinch, but still, you continued, cradling the oversized head of your girlfriend in the hold of your arms.

That was, until, she literally started melting between your fingers. The scream in your throat was muffled as Reze threw her arms around your shoulders, covering your mouth with a single hand whilst the other rubbed comforting circles across your back. Within a blink, the devil mask, or head, was gone, slumped in a pile of dark sludge that quickly seeped into the floor as soon as it had fallen from Reze's face. Now, she was there, peering into your eyes, crystal clear emerald that you remembered so fondly with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

"What was that all about?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, cracked, and sorely tired. Just having Reze wrapped around you like she so commonly did was already doing wonders for your palpating heart.

"I'll tell you later," She grinned, turning her head toward the broken door frame. The concentrated footsteps of about three of four people were already making their way down the hallway. "For now," Reze grabbed your wrist, "we run."

For those curious, Lisichka, the name Reze called the reader, apparently means little fox in Russian if my five minutes of searching told me anything.

#reze x reader #chainsaw man x reader #reze #csm reze #I just think she's neat #bomb devil x reader

[dandelion-wings]

My favorite headcanon about Kaeya’s mother is that he watched her succumb to the curse of Khaenri’ah and turn into a monster when he was young. I play with a lot of different variations of this, but... this is one of my favorites, purely for the later Diluc-and-Crepus parallels.

---

Edit: now archived on AO3.

---

Something is wrong with Kaeya's mother.

He's known for a while, and he thinks so has she. She's been tense, inattentive, distracted. At first Kaeya had thought it was because she was worrying for his father. She always worries for his father, off on his trips to the world above, where any god-touched child of Celestia would feel no censure if they killed him. But the past few weeks she's been moving wrong, too, jerky and twitching. She's always been graceful, standing tall, head high, a true descendant of King Deshret. Now she hunches her shoulders and walks too heavily and flinches at every wrong movement.

When he awakens today, it's even more obvious. His mother is sitting by the fire, just as she had when he'd gone to sleep, polishing the long knife she always carries. The patterned red-and-brown scarf she always wears is pushed down around her shoulders. She looks up at him and he can't help but whimper.

There are black lines running across the skin of her face, the brown around them gone bloodless and ashy. Her eyes are going black, too, darkness pooling in them as if the black of her pupils was spilling outward. It's starting to seep into the whites, as the black lines are starting to seep into the brown-turned grey, as the despair is starting to seep into her expression.

"Kaeya," she says, setting the knife across her knees to beckon him to her. Her voice is as soft and as gentle as ever.

Despite that, it's a struggle to make himself move. He looks at the black spreading over her face, into her eyes, and shudders. But his mother's requests, however gently voiced, are not to be disobeyed, no more than are his father's. Kaeya pushes himself free of his blankets and goes to crouch down beside her.

She reaches out to stroke his cheek, and Kaeya tries and fails not to flinch from her hand, also black-veined and ashy. For all the darkness clouding them, there's pain in her eyes as she pulls back from the aborted caress.

"What's happening?" he whispers. He's all too aware of what's happening, now that the signs are visible. But he wants her to tell him differently. Wants desperately for his mother to tell him that everything is all right and there's nothing for him to be frightened of.

His father would chide him for the flimsy attempt at self-deception. An Alberich should face the reality of things squarely, head-on, with firmness and conviction. His mother only smiles sadly at him and starts to raise her hand before settling it firmly in her lap again without even trying to touch him.

"The curse, I imagine," she says, and he could almost take the resignation in her voice for calm. "Your father did tell me that by joining with his people, I took on the weight of their sins."

Kaeya swallows against the choking lump in his throat and blinks back the tears that he knows she'd be ashamed of if she saw. Tears are a waste of water. He clenches his hands into fists at his side.

"Father is coming back soon. Maybe he'll know a- a cure, or a way to-"

He trails off there, because he knows better. If there was a cure, they wouldn't have to be constantly on guard for their own people, transformed into monsters and roaming the depths of Khaenri'ah-that-was. If there was a way to stop it, he would still have a grandfather in his life, and an aunt and uncle, and maybe the cousins they never got to have for him to play with. At best, *maybe* Father knows a way to slow it down, and Kaeya knows they can't count on that, either.

But at least if it doesn't happen until Father is here, Kaeya won't have to deal with it. That's an awful, selfish thought, but one he can't help thinking. This is the sort of problem his parents are supposed to deal with for him. Even his father wouldn't expect him to survive by himself, and that's... that's what this is going to mean.

Kaeya blinks again, hard.

"He won't be back soon enough," his mother says, softly, gently. She reaches down for the sheath of her knife and slides it back in. Then, instead of fastening it onto her belt, she holds it out to him. "I am going into the lower tunnels, while you carry on upwards to meet your father. Take this with you."

He stares at it blankly. "But you'll need it."

"Not as much as you will. Take it, Kaeya. Carry it as your reminder of me. You should run before you fight, but use it to defend yourself if you have to. I don't want you to be in the tunnels unarmed as well as alone."

After another moment's hesitation, Kaeya reaches out, slow and reluctant, to take the knife from her. It's nearly a small sword in his hands; when he fastens it onto his belt, still crouching, he has to do it at an angle. The end of the sheath still scrapes the floor. He waits for his mother to scold him for that, but she only looks at him with anxious sorrow.

"You know the right path upward?"

"As far as the meeting-place," Kaeya assures her. She's taken him on that long walk nine times now, every year since he was born, to meet his father coming home. He can walk it easily.

"Good. Be careful, Kaeya. Walk quietly, watch the path, and run or hide if you have to. It's important that you be brave, but it's more important that you be safe."

His mother starts to reach for him again, then lowers her hands before he can flinch.

Grief and terror sweep through Kaeya in a wave. It's enough to propel him forward, and he throws his arms around her shoulders, pressing his cheek against hers despite the black lines on her skin and the strange, feverish warmth emenating from them when their cheeks touch. He clutches at the soft silky fabric of her shawl. His mother makes a soft sound, not quite a sob, and wraps her arms around him, too. She squeezes him so tightly it almost hurts.

Then she makes another noise and shoves him back so quickly he almost stumbles. Before he can recover, she's up on her feet.

"If I come back, Kaeya... do whatever you must to protect yourself. Be *safe*," she tells him again, her voice breaking on the word, and turns and walks away, out of the camp, out of the circle of firelight, into the darkness of the tunnel leading off below.

Kaeya turns to watch her go, blinking back his tears in case she looks back, wrapping his arms around himself as if by doing that he can preserve the warmth of her a moment longer. He opens his mouth to call after her, to ask if she wants her blankets, or some of their food. Then he closes it again. He knows better. She won't need any of that soon.

Well, she might need food. But those monsters who do prefer to hunt their own. On that thought, Kaeya turns to start breaking down the camp. He doesn't know how far she'll get before- before she starts hunting. He needs to be as far from here as he can be by then.

***

Kaeya has been helping carry parts of the camp since he was four, and helping break it down since he was six, but he's never before done either of them alone. The full camp is heavy beyond his ability to carry. Eventually he wraps what he can't heft in his mother's blankets and drags the bundle behind him. It's difficult, especially along the winding passages uphill, but it's better than leaving it all behind. It's a bad idea to leave too many traces on a commonly-used path.

Once he's alone in the dark, well away from the campsite where his mother left him, Kaeya lets himself cry as silently as he can manage.

It takes two days to get to the place where they were supposed to meet his father. Who isn't there yet, as he sometimes is. Kaeya feels his heart sink when he sees the little cavern empty. He wants his father desperately, to hold him and take the burden of his grief and promise him that they'll survive this, they'll get through. That they'll endure, as Alberichs do, and continue to burn instead of falling into embers. Telling it to himself just isn't enough.

He cries himself out for the last time after he sets up his camp. There can be no trace of tears tomorrow, or any time after, when his father might arrive any time day. An Alberich never cries for less than lost Khaenri'ah, and the clan has long since shed all its tears for that. His father is even more severe on that point than his mother is on the wasting of water.

There's a little underground stream here that bubbles up in this cavern, which is why they'd chosen it as a meeting-place for his father's returns from the surface. His mother had told him when he was younger that his father wanted her to stay further below, in the secret bastions where the last remnants of Khaenri'ah's people await the results of generations' slow machinations. But she had raised her chin and told him that she had been born on the surface, and she did not fear the sun. Until Kaeya had been born, she had gone with father on his every secret mission.

Kaeya wonders if she ever wished she could have seen the sun again, just one more time, and finds he has a few more tears left in him.

With the stream nearby and the food his mother had brought for the both of them, he can hold out in this cave for weeks if he has to. The only danger is that the water here is a lure to monsters, so he'll have to keep an eye out and be attentive. They'll most likely be hilichurls, which he knows how to handle, but sometimes samachurls or mitachurls come along, and those he'll have to hide from. Or Abyss Mages, who do have to accede to their servants' needs now and then, and he's not sure he *can* hide from them well enough to escape their magical senses. If any of those come, he'll simply have to run. Kaeya huddles in his blankets and tries very hard not to think about what his father has warned him an Abyss Mage will do with an Alberich.

Fortunately, there are, over the next few days, no Abyss Mages. Barely any hilichurls, either. A pair comes to drink on the second day, but they don't even notice his camp, fire hastily doused and Kaeya and his packs hidden behind a pile of rocks. They're too busy looking anxiously over their shoulders, jumping at every little noise and shadow. Kaeya considers what could have them that spooked and decides not to relight his fire.

The next day passes in silence, with Kaeya able to do very little but eat and sleep in the darkness. Nothing else comes along to the stream, though, and he hears nothing alarming from the nearest tunnels. He starts to relax, no longer listening out for monsters quite so closely. By the day after that, he's starting to feel safe enough again that he considers relighting the fire.

It's while he's starting to assemble it that the mitachurl attacks him.

An axe mitachurl, he determines later, but at the moment all he's aware of is the scrape of a clawed foot against stone just behind him. It's the only warning he gets before an axe comes whistling down towards his head. Kaeya flings himself sideways, rolls, and comes up, squinting his eyes to keep the bright glow of the Pyro slime the mitachurl has just wrenched from the earth from completely blinding him. The axe's glow once the slime has been squelched isn't as terrible, and in fact makes it easier to dodge as the mitachurl comes at him again.

He ducks the axe, darts behind the mitachurl the way his father has been teaching him, and draws his mother's knife. He's been practicing swinging it since he was five years old; it's nearly a sword in his hands, but it's not as if his father isn't going to teach him the sword eventually. It's his mother's training, though, that allows him to swing it up and through the mitachurl's hamstring as it turns.

The mitachurl bellows in pain and topples. Immediately Kaeya scrambles up over its arm towards its neck. He has to cut its throat, and fast; no other part of such a massive body is vulnerable to someone as small and weak as he is, and he can only reach it while it's on the ground. If it gets up, it won't be so easily toppled again. His mouth is dry and his heart pounding, hands shaking with excitement and fear and a strange triumph. This scenario had only ever been theoretical before, but his mother has run it through him often enough that he has to do her proud.

Reaching for its mane to wrench its head around, Kaeya feels his hand touch soft, silky fabric, and freezes. In the dim light of the glowing axe, flung off to the side where the mitachurl had dropped it, he can't quite make out whether the shawl draped around the mitachurl's shoulders is the red-and-brown of his mother's, but he can still make out the familiar pattern. The mitachurl turns its head, looking up at him with the blank eyes of the horned mask. He can't see any features beneath it. But the great creature turns its head on its own, the way he would have, baring its throat.

Does it--does *she*--recognize him as her son, despite all the evidence of generations saying that she shouldn't? Or is she simply responding as the lesser monsters (and he hates, suddenly, fiercely, that he's been taught to call them called them 'lesser') sometimes do now and then to the blood of an Alberich? Or, worse yet, does she understand her new existence just well enough to want to die so badly?

"Mama," Kaeya whispers. He's shaking again, and it's no longer with adrenaline or triumph.

She turns her head a little further, massive shoulder twitching to shrug the shawl aside.

"I can't," Kaeya tells her, his voice trembling.

With the mask, she should be impossible to read, but she lays there, throat bared to his blade, and he thinks he can read expectation in her still silence nonetheless. Kaeya swallows hard and lowers the knife down until it brushes against the fur. His hand is shaking even harder, but he'll have to push to get through the skin, never mind the hide. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, starts to push, until dark ichor wells up along one edge. His nerve fails him, and he jerks the knife back. It slips from his shaking hand, skittering away across the stone, and Kaeya kicks it away.

"I can't!"

His mother sighs heavily, a great animal gust of sound. Then her head turns further, so that she's looking up, past him. Kaeya feels a chill down his back. He goes tense, suddenly aware that he's just thrown his only weapon away.

A heavy hand grabs him by the back of his shirt and yanks him up and away from his mother.

"*Mama!*"

Kaeya screams in fear, and again in panicked anger as he sees the blade flash down, the spray of ichor, before the Pyro glow goes abruptly out of the dissolving axe and leaves him again in the dark.

Readjusting his grip, Kaeya's father tries to pull him close against his chest. Kaeya fights him, kicking and flailing, trying his best to wriggle out of his father's powerful arms. He screams out his grief and fury, all the worse for his father's silence, holding Kaeya inexorably against him until he winds down, finally, and stops hammering his fists against his father's chest and shoulders and jaw. He buries his face in the ruff of fur at his father's neck and gasps until his breath comes back.

His father adjusts his grip again, no longer clinging to him against his tantrum but gently holding him close, the way that's always made Kaeya feel protected. He rests his chin against the top of Kaeya's head, and Kaeya wants to lean into him just as badly as he wants to squirm away. He can't quite give in to either impulse.

"That was *Mama*," he hisses.

"I know," his father says, his voice hard. "And she wanted mercy from you. I expected better of you, Kaeya. I should not have had to do that myself."

There's an anger in there that Kaeya only halfway understands. But the chastisement itself makes his stomach sink, because he does understand that. No monster that once was a person of Khaenri'ah wants to be what they are, except perhaps the deluded who join the Abyss Order. It is the duty of an Alberich to give them their release. Kaeya has done it for hilichurls before. He should have been able to do it for his own mother.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. There's something hard and painful lodged in his throat that he can't seem to swallow down.

"So am I," his father says, some of the hardness going out of his voice. "You shouldn't have had to do that yourself, either. But an Alberich cannot falter when they are asked for such a mercy. No matter who it is."

Kaeya takes a deep breath, then another, and is finally to get out around the blockage in his throat, in a stronger voice, "I understand."

"Good." His father sets him down, and then there's the click of a firestarter, and Kaeya automatically shields his eyes from the sudden light. His father surveys the cavern in the lantern-light. There's the briefest flicker in his eye at the crumpled shawl on the ground, ichor-stained, and then his face smoothes out and goes hard again. "We will have to burn that, and then leave before anything that might have been drawn by all your noise reaches us. And it's time, I think, that you hear about what I've been putting into train above."

The shawl burns quickly, and less than an hour later Kaeya and his father are heading downward. They leave the ashes of the fire scattered behind them. Kaeya doesn't dare snatch up even one of the scorched fragments as his father kicks them across the floor. He knows his father will only remind him that an Alberich doesn't wallow in the grief of what they've left behind.

#my original thought for this was to focus a bit more directly on his failure here vs diluc mercy-killing crepus #but i paused for dinner and the end drifted sideways XD;; #anyway #kaeya is a bundle of knives behind a smile #ascended fic

[dreaming-of-lu]

Hurt comfort with Time and/or Warriors? 🥺👉👈 (also hi i love your art and writing btw :) )

A/N: Hiya! Thank you, I'm happy to know you love my art and writing! 💚 If I'm correct, you're asking for them separately. If not, you can always resend the ask in when the askbox is open. 

Warriors is longer than Time, omg.

TW: mentions of blood, arguing, bit of blaming

Time

"I should've grabbed you out of harm's way," Time tightly gripped your hand against his forehead. Anguish ran deep in his veins as watery eyes stared harshly at the heavy wound that framed your side, running up your chest and close to your neck. Dirty bandages that were slowly becoming soiled needed a change soon. He didn't like how pale your face was; the sickening, ashy color ailed him.

Your brows bunched up, sweat dripped from your forehead down your neck, chest slowly heaving; if only he could erase the pain that racks your figure every so while. He silently cursed the being who brought enemies from the group own Hyrule's forth, swearing under his breath that he shall cut them down with such vengeance. It was supposed to be a simple battle, but they all weren't expecting another ambush from above. It happened so suddenly.

It felt like everything slowed when Time turned around to witness you sliced up the side; he could never forget the pained yell that left you, the shocked look painting your features, numbly watching you stumbled forward while the others quickly jumped to aid you. Blood poured making Time to quickly move and catch you before you fall onto the dirt, it framed his hands. Oh goddesses, your blood framed his hands, he can’t stop staring. Numbing cold swept down his neck and spine.

Everything was a blur afterward; there may have been a few panicky shouts and yelling, some of his own added into the haze. A deeply startled innkeeper, shaky hands, the clinking of bottles and muffled sobs with hushed reassurances. How he loathe it.

"There was nothing you could do, Link."

Time shot up in his seat; you were awake. Tired eyes bore into his own, his brows furrowed,

"I still sho-" you weakly placed a single finger against his lips and grimaced.

"None of us expected it. Could've, should've, would've will not solve anything. Getting all worked up about it will not change it either. We know this; we're both in this together; we knew what we signed up for during this adventure."

"It doesn't make this any better," he mumbled. You lifted his chin to make him look at you.

"No, it never won't and never will. I am still kicking; call it dumb luck or whatever you want, but that's all that matters." You slide your hand against his cheek, watching with a warming heart as he nuzzled into it and placed a gentle kiss on the palm.

"When did you get so wise?" He huffed humorlessly. You tiredly smirked,

"Someone gotta be."

Warriors

Warriors hung his head as Wind ignored him again. The sailor would puff his cheeks and turn his head before wandering over to you. He knew what he did was wrong; the repeated words in his head stung him worse than Volga's fire back at home. He should've apologized by now, but curses, pride was overbearing him, arguing that he was in the right! The other side was yearning, begging him to give in and listen, but he couldn't bring himself to utter a word in your direction. Warriors rub the back of his neck, heavily sighing, thinking back to the argument that happened days before.

"Why did you do that?" Warrior's harsh glare made you flinch back. Your brows furrowed, tilting your head to the side, eyes flickering back and forth before settling on him again.

"What did I do?" you arched a brow as he huffed and threw his hands up.

"Unbelievable; I'm not falling for this again; you know what you did!" His hands rested on his hips as he leaned forwards into your space, close enough to your face that you leaned back as his glare became harsher. You blinked with wide eyes at the sudden accusation.

"Wars, cut it out; I'm being serious either tell me what's going on, or else I'm walking away from this conversation until you calm down." You hissed, eyes becoming glassy, hands curled into tight fists, your shoulders and lips shaking.

"Whatever, keep up with the delusions," Warriors spun on his heel with his scarf trailing behind him in haste. Your face burned as tears spilled down your cheeks, catching the attention of an idling worried Sky.

"Nothing, don't worry about it, Sky." you croaked.

He should've explained.

"Ya know," Legend dropped into the seat beside Warriors that Wind had long left, "the more you keep this up, the more this will possibly descend into another argument that will leave everything more damaged than ever."

"Can you not?" Warriors grumbled. Legend runs a tired hand down the side of his face and groans,

"My goddesses, you're way worse than a stubborn mule." 

Warriors shoot a warning glare at the veteran; Legend reciprocated with his own.

"Why do you care about this? This spat between them and me has nothing to do with you!"

"Well, sadly, dear captain, it now involves everyone here; you're sitting here, looking pitful and sighing like a forlorn lover each time they walk past you without a glance. Whatever the argument is, it's getting old, and let go of your pride and talk it out with them." Legend gets up from the spot to let the captain think his words over. 

Warriors shook his head, knowing the vet was right. He silently prayed to the goddesses above to give him strength for the upcoming conversation he would have with you. He willed himself up from his spot over to you, where you had a happy Wind chatting to you and Hyrule about his adventures. Laughter rang out between the two of you while Wind pouted; he suddenly felt shy. It dwindled as he shuffled forward, your blank stare nerved him, and he gave a small bleak smile.

“Can I speak to you alone, (Y/n)?”

You nodded quietly and followed behind him but not before reassuring a worried Wind. He brings you away from the group, not too far from sight though enough for privacy. Warriors fidgeted underneath your gaze; he breathed a heavy breath and looked you in the eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, I should've explained to you instead of accusing you for no reason."

"Correct," you quipped, causing him to cringe inwardly.

"And I know the apology will probably not be enough for you, and I want to make things right with you again." He watched with a bated breath as you sighed, looking away from him.

"That truly hurt, you know," you began, "when I was begging for you to explain the reason behind your accusation, you brushed me off, and I thought that was it."

Warriors bit his lip, 

"I-"

"I'm not done yet," you interrupted him with a hand raised, "I will accept your apology, but you have to prove to me you are sorry, Link. You can prove to by letting me have some space tonight after this and cuddles tomorrow." 

Warriors softly beams, 

"Of course, anything for you." 

"Thank you, now, please, explain to me what happened."

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse x reader #lu time x reader #lu warriors x reader #.bea's writing #tw: mentions of blood #tw: arguing #tw: bit of blaming

[axels-corner]

The Twelve Of Us Are Eleven Now

Notes: I was scrolling through my notes app earlier and I saw this, and it was just a couple sentences and I had some ideas so I finished it

Characters: Oralie, Emery, the rest of the council is mentioned

Words: 900

Warnings: Character death, panic attack

As she stopped to catch her breath, she looked back. Big mistake, the fire roared, everblaze painting the sky. It was beautiful in a horrible way. Oralie did a quick headcount, Tiergan, Alden, and then other councilors. Fitz and Sophie were no where to be seen, as well as Kenric. She was just with Fitz and Sophie, but she had run to find her colleagues to find the others, she didn't expect for the wind to catch the everblaze. She fought her way over to where the rest of the council was. "Sophie, Fitz and Kenric are all missing she told them. "What!" Emery shouted before doing a quick headcount of his own. "Sophie and Fitz went to bottle quintence for the extinguisher." Liora spoke up. Oralie let out a sigh of relief, but only for a minute, "Wait, that still leaves Kenric unaccounted for." Terik shifted from foot to foot, side to side and quietly, with tears in his eyes whispered

"When the fire started Kenric tackled Fintan away from you Fitz and Sophie." Oralie brought her hands up to cover her mouth feeling tears sting her eyes muttering no under her breath, but  the only thought running through her head right now was, that he, Kenric can't, that's not how he would die, he must still be alive, hurt but alive. But as much as the council liked to make everything look perfect it wasn't and when Terik met her eyes, tears flowing like a waterfall, like she was sure she and the others tears were, he whispered again, like talking any louder would send everything crumbling down, but she felt like everything already had

"I'm sorry Oralie he's gone." She felt her knees go weak, she couldn't tell if she hit the ground or not but she might as well. Everything hurt with the agony of loosing the man she had loved, had wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Her heart hurt the worst it felt like someone was ripping it out, is this what dying felt like? Not burning but drowning, she felt like she had been dunked under the waves, like wading in the water and then suddenly stepping of a cliff into the dark blue ocean. She wasn't sure if she could come up for air, but there was one thought that rang louder than others, that rang longer than all the others.

This wasn't supposed to happen, her and Kenric where supposed to step down together, have a family, be together, but it had been ripped away all because of one man. She was still drowning but she was getting pulled farther down, she was disconnected like her body wasn't hers she was just an outsider, even though she could feel the wet hot tears on her face, that's when she heard someone telling her to just breathe, except she had forgotten how her sadness and anger faded away as terror flooded her senses, she couldn't breathe she was drowning! The voice came back except this time it didn't feel like her ears where the ones that heard it rather like it was broadcast straight to her brain

Breathe Oralie, it'll be ok, the twe- we'll figure it out.

She wanted to scream back at the calm voice that she didn't know how, she didn't know which way was up and which way was down much less how to breathe. The voice came back, like it could hear her thoughts

We'll help you through this just follow the rise and fall

She came back a little more as she felt her hand being put on where their lungs would be, and as she followed the breathing it felt like each breath was connecting her back to her body, her ability, her senses.

One breath the feeling of people around her, but giving her space. The burning on her shoulder from the molten crystal making its mark

A second breath and an ashy taste covered her mouth coating everything it could find, she felt herself grimace, she'd had enough smoke and ash for a lifetime.

Three, she heard people whispering and quietly crying, farther away she could hear people being directed but it was still muffled.

Four the smell of the entire ordeal came back, the thick heavy ash that felt like it coated everything it touched, the smell of burnt sugar, and smoke that had flooded the air when the spark was ignited registered in her brain, it was so potent she almost started gagging on the air.

Five she finally opened her eyes, unsure of when she had shut them. The world was blurry but the longer she had them open the more the blobs of colors shifted to real people, Bronte next to her on one side with Velia on the other, crouched down. The rest still standing close but giving her space. Emery was in front of her and when he could tell she recognized him again he smiled bitter sweetly, and she smiled back the same, still feeling the tears running down her face.

Eventually, she wasn't sure how much time had passed but the councilors had formed a circle holding each other close though nothing could close the gap they all felt. They sat there in the silence they had formed, grieving a coworker to some, a friend to others, and a lover to one.

Writing taglist (ask to be added or removed): @gay-otlc @fintan-pyren @almostfullnerd   @you-have-been-frizzled @agent-azrail-pyren @official-kenralie-fanbase  

#kotlc fanfiction #my writing #councillor Oralie #kotlc oralie #councillor Emery #kotlc emery

[scruffandyarn]

Take My Hand, I'll Start My Journey (4)

Fandom: The Mummy and The Mummy Returns Pairing: Ardeth Bay x f!reader Warnings: The bus ride from hell, kidnapping (remember, if it's in the movie, you'll probably find it here), embarrassment

Take My Hand Masterlist

Part 4:

You tamped down your thoughts as Jonathan pulled the bus to a stop right in front of Evelyn, Rick, and Ardeth.  Ignoring the screaming match between Jonathan and Rick over the status of the latter’s car, you helped pull Evelyn on the bus, pausing only momentarily before extending the same help to Ardeth.

“Thank you.” Ardeth offered you a nod as soon as he was on board.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, Rick jumped up on the platform next to you and Ardeth had been forced to step away.

“Just go!” Rick screamed to Jonathan.

His appearance gave your brain a much needed jump-start.  “Oh, hey, I brought the rest of your things.”  You were met with a look of confusion, which cleared up as soon as he saw the case from his trunk on the bench where you’d set it.  

“You cut that out of my car?”

“I didn’t think you’d mind.”  If he was about to admonish you for your action--

“Good thinking.”  Smiling, he nudged your shoulder with his own before collecting a box of bullets from the case.  Then he pulled a pump-action shotgun out and handed it to you.

“What am I supposed to do with this?!”  There was absolutely no way you were going to take another--

“Don’t worry, ______. These guys are already dead.”

Begrudgingly, you took the shotgun from him, realizing that no one, other than Alex, and perhaps Ardeth, knew of exactly what you’d done earlier.  Still, you snarled under your breath as you loaded it and pocketed several more shells.  

Suddenly, you could feel someone looking at you--the only possible culprit being Ardeth.  But you couldn’t look at him.  Not when you were desperately trying to clear your mind of the life you’d taken just so you could possibly do it a--stop it.

“I hate mummies.” Rick snapped you out of your trance.

You glanced up to see both he and Ardeth were looking out the back of the bus, so you turned your attention to Evelyn and Alex.  You put yourself in front of them as soon as you heard the first shot being fired from above.

“Stay behind me.” This could be your saving grace.  If you could make sure they stayed alive, it wouldn’t erase the blood from your hands, but--no, just focus on keeping them safe.

Ardeth’s yell had all three of you turning towards him.  The upper half of a…a…creature had him pinned against a window.  It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.  The ashy appearance of what used to be a human being, except now nothing but skeletal remains.  You felt yourself freeze up until it opened its mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Yeah, definitely not human.

Feeling the weight of the gun in your hands, you brought it up, butt against your shoulder.  You pulled back the hammer just as you locked in on a shot that wouldn’t risk you accidently hitting the man being thrashed by the mummy.  

As soon as you squeezed the trigger, pain radiated through your whole body, sending your shot wide and instantly making you lightheaded.  Stupidly, you had put the gun up against the shoulder you’d been shot in, not even thinking there would be any repercussions.  But you shook it off as best you could.  There would be time later to deal with the pain.

The thing screamed, indicating that you’d only made it mad.  It turned on you, dropping Ardeth to the floor, and pulled itself across the seats in your direction.  You needed to hurry the hell up and actually shoot it.

“______, look out!”

You ejected the casing and moved to fire, only, it was on you.  In the time it took to blink, an undead fist connected with the side of your head, the force sending you slamming against the seats.  Somehow, you managed to stay conscious.

“Son of a bitch.” You groaned as you attempted to right yourself, hoping you had the strength to shoot it again.

You looked over, just in time to see Ardeth tackle the thing from behind.  It got the upper hand quickly and you saw its fingers grow out into claws.  His groan of pain let you know he’d been struck.

That sound gave you the adrenaline you needed to push yourself into position, shoulder be damned.  You pulled the hammer back and squeezed the trigger, making sure you aimed for the head this time.  Next to you, another shot rang out--apparently Evelyn had acquired a gun too, and the two of you continued to fire until the thing was completely disintegrated.  

Before you could celebrate, Jonathan made a sharp turn, sending you careening across the bus, landing you right in Ardeth’s lap.

Could this night get any worse?

*Hey, at least you haven’t called him pretty…yet.*

“Are you alright?” Both you and Ardeth questioned at the same time, your eyes meeting.

You lowered your gaze almost immediately.  “I’m ok, but…oh, you’re bleeding.”  Your gun clattered to the floor as you tried to push yourself off of him.  Only, your shoulder decided it was time to start hurting again, and you wound up slipping back against him as it gave out.

Ardeth grunted at the sudden pressure against his wounds.  “He should never have given you a shotgun.”

“Hey,” you glared at him.  “Me and that shotgun just helped save your life.”

“No, no, I just…” he sighed in frustration.  “Your shoulder.  After your previous injury, you should have been given an automatic.”

“Oh.” Your ire died quickly, only to be replaced with embarrassment when you remembered where you were.  “Damn, let me--”

“Here, I’ll help--”

It took both of your efforts to get you out of his lap.  Finally standing, you kept yourself up with a death grip on the back of the seat in front of you.  Unfortunately, that grip was no match for the bus having the entire top floor ripped off as Jonathan took it under a low hanging bridge, and you ended up right back in Ardeth’s lap.

“God, I am so sorry.” You could feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes.  Between the immense pain and the immense mental discomfort, you were ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Here.”  Apparently, Evelyn had been watching the entire ordeal and had finally taken pity on you.  Or pity on Ardeth.  Either way, her hand was out to help pull you off of him.

“Thanks.” You clinched your teeth to keep from screaming in pain as she pulled you to your feet.

The bus pulled to a somewhat gentle stop just as Rick descended from the no longer existent second floor.  Seeing his wife and child standing and relatively unscathed, he turned to Ardeth.  “You alright?” 

“This was my first bus ride.”

You snorted before slapping your hand across your mouth at Ardeth’s remark.

At your sound, the two men turned to look at you, curious looks on both of their faces.  “What about you?” Rick broke the silence.

Your lips quirked up into a smirk. “Peachy.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes and turned to Evelyn, who was beckoning him closer.  Apparently, near death experiences really did bring out the Carnahan “charm.”

“Oh geez, get a room.” 

You shook your head with a smile as Alex headed as far away from his parents as he could.  You looked over at Ardeth to find the man staring at you, a smile gracing his own face.  Biting your lip, you looked away and began to hobble after your charge.  “Hey, Alex, how are y--no!” In a split second the man in red who’d thrown the knife at Ardeth, the one that was probably still sticking out of the wall at home, was in front of you, reaching to grab Alex.

Doing the only thing you could think of, you lunged toward him, trying to strike anywhere you could reach.  You managed to punch him in the nose hard enough to draw blood before he grabbed you by your throat, cutting off your air supply.  You did your best to claw at his fingers, trying to rip them from your neck, but it was futile.  He even grinned at you, rubbing salt in the wound of just how weak you were, before tossing you like a ragdoll at the side of the bus.  

The moment your head made contact, the world around you was gone.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

You blinked up at Jonathan, your mind completely blank, before everything came back to you.  “Alex--Alex!  Where’s Alex?!” You scrambled to get up only to have a pair of arms hold you back down.  With Jonathan standing over you, you had no idea who was touching you, which only made you struggle harder.

“Easy, ______, easy.”

The voice was one you knew, but your concussed brain didn’t immediately supply you with the person it belonged to.  “Get off me!  I have to get Alex!”  

“The boy is gone.”

You stopped moving.  “No.” Your voice had dropped to a whisper as you felt your entire body go numb.  “Please no.” You turned to find the source of the voice, only to lock eyes with Ardeth.  Your grief at the loss of one precocious little boy was so overwhelming that it didn’t even sink in that he was basically holding you in his arms.

“We have a plan to get him back.”

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in.  “Oh my god!” Your newfound fury gave you the strength to push yourself up and away from him.  “Lead with that, you absolute ass!”

He frowned in thought.  “Yes, that probably would have been better to start with.”

“You think?!”

You both were reminded of Jonathan’s proximity when he cleared his throat.  “If you’re ready, we’re heading to find Rick’s ‘magic carpet’ or whatever it is.”

You nodded, but noticed that Ardeth wasn’t moving to get up or to go with you.  “Aren’t you coming?”

“I must go and alert my people to what is coming.” He pushed himself up to stand.  “I will bring the commanders of the tribes and meet up with you.”

“Aren’t you the commander of the tribe? Tribes?” Jonathan cocked his head.

“The twelve tribes of the Medjai, you idiot.”  You rolled your eyes at him.  “Each one has its own commander.  Ardeth here, he leads them.”

“Y-yes, you are correct.  Where did you acquire such knowledge?” Now it was Ardeth’s turn to look confused.

“I--well--see…” you stammered, embarrassment creeping in.  “You know what, I like learning things.” Your attempt to deflect didn’t work.

“You’re not going to call him pretty again, are you?”

You refused to acknowledge the pain you felt when your fist made solid contact with Jonathan’s shoulder.  “How the hell do you even--Rick?!  It was him, wasn’t it?  Of course it was.  Oh my god, you two better sleep with one eye open, because I will slice you open the first opportunity I get.  And I will stitch you up without the aid of anesthetics.”

You couldn’t bear to look back at Ardeth as you stomped weakly over to the car Rick and Evelyn were arriving in, effectively missing the smile of affection that he wore as he watched you leave.

#the mummy #the mummy returns #ardeth bay #ardeth bay x reader #fanfic #Ardeth bay fanfic #scruff's stuff

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Azula Week Day 1 - Fire Dancer

Pair: Sokkla

Summary: After years of not seeing her, Sokka  meets her again for the first time after watching her perform at a festival.

The is fire skittering over her skin. Shimmering little sparks and embers against ashy black body paint. Sparks like stars in a night sky or fireflies against dirt. He doesn’t recognize her with the brilliant orange blaze. 

He has only ever seen one shade on her and it is not orange.

Her eyes glimmer with gold paint, it runs down her cheeks as though she is weeping liquid gold. Little false gems in shades of orange and red twinkle on her lashes. Beads and coins flash and glint with each bend of her body and roll of her hips. The reflect the flames coiling over her arms and throw prisms across the stage. 

She extends her arm and the fire crosses it. And with a twirl of her wrist, tongues of fire burst to life and crackle in the shape of several firelilies that spit sparks into the night sky. She retracts her arm but the fire remains for a moment and just when it is about to dissipate into a plume of smoke, she brings her other arm forward and creates a new bloom.

She lets those die away and for some time, simply lets the fire crawl over her body, following each languid and fluid motion. If she sways her hips, the flames sway with her. If she holds her arms over her head while she does it then there is a rain of sparks that glitter over her. If she takes a step, the fire follows–it flares to life beneath her feet and fans out like ripples in a pond. 

And then the music goes silent and she pauses. The fire extinguishes completely and she closes her eyes. For a moment, Sokka thinks that the show is over. That she has done her work and that she is ready for rest. 

But then she inhales slowly. She looks up and a fountain of flames gush from her lips. She draws from those flames, makes two twin pillars that flank either side of her. He swears that he can see the glow of the flame burning a white hot orange in her belly and in her throat. The fountain of flame retracts and the columns remain. 

And with the shifting and flicking of her hands they begin  to take shape.

Dragons.

And they begin to take color. 

Blue. 

That is all Sokka needs to know. Her dangly earrings swing and bob as she beckons the dragons to herself. As they wrap around her. She closes her eyes again and two more jets of fire propel she and her dragons into the air. 

So masterful is her work that, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she was suspended up there, flying like an airbender. 

The dragons fly over the crowd breathing flames of their own. The roar and rage until they are spent. Breath fire until they shrink away into two twin candle wick flames. And then she gently lowers herself. Her ash dipped feet touch the floor, golden anklets tinkling. 

And she bows, elegant and fluid as the rest of her performance. 

She offers no parting words. 

No words at all. 

And she leaves the stage. 

.oOo.

Azula washes away the last of the ash and body paint. Claps and cheers still echo in her ears–a phantom residue of her former glory. A little taste of what she could have been had she any success with the final Agni Kai. 

Although she supposes that she hasn’t fashioned herself a dismal, dreary existence. 

She is well liked. Her skills are well appreciated. 

She does rather enjoy firebending for the sake of the art. Firebending just to feel the heat on her skin. Firebending just to mesmerize herself–and collaterally–an audience with the flames. 

She can do blue and orange. 

Next time she swears that she will try for purple or green. She has heard of rainbow flames, not that she has figured out how to accomplish this yet. 

Orange is natural, default. Blue is natural for her. 

She slips back into her day to day clothing. It is more comfortable, less showy, less performative. Perhaps she should do away with the more revealing costumes–though those do have their perks; they add allure, they leave room for plenty of more creative body paints.

But she is growing tired of feeling nearly naked in front of a crowd. 

She misses her armor. 

Yes, that is it. For the next show she will incorporate her armor and a more militaristic sort of concept. Something that is more in her comfort zone. Something less traditional among fire dancers who enjoy borrowing belly dances from Sun Warrior cultures. 

She will put on a show that gets to the heart of Caldera City’s own culture…

.oOo.

He finds Azula by chance and chance alone. She is in line for mochi and skewers. She looks different without her makeup, without her crown, with her hair slightly tousled from day to day endeavors. 

Sokka thinks that perhaps she has taken to actually enjoying the festival for herself. She is alone but she doesn’t seem particularly lonely–at the very least she doesn’t seem to be bothered by her isolation. 

He clears his throat. “I saw your performance, it was really…I feel like it could have happened in the spirit world.” 

Azula cocks her head. 

“Like, I mean that it was like a performance that felt…mystical, I guess.” 

Azula nods. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“You babble.” She shrugs. 

“I’m just trying to say something nice about you!” He throws his hands up. 

He thinks that he catches a hint of a smile. “I suppose it’s nice to hear every now and again.” 

“People don’t compliment you on your shows?”

She hums to herself. “They do but it’s…it all starts to sound the same after a while.” She clears her throat. “Not that it isn’t still appreciated. If I do well I like to hear as much.” She takes a bite of mochi. 

“So what made you decide to take up fire dancing.” Sokka trails along behind her. 

She finds herself a bench and has a seat. She looks up at the festival lanterns and for a second he doesn’t think that she will answer. “I guess that I wanted to form a more personal connection to my bending. It’s…it’s soothing.” 

Sokka nods. He supposes that he hadn’t really considered how heavy the weight of the crown and the war must have been on her. And really, she looks better. He can’t place exactly what it is–she has always been very well put together. And maybe that’s it; maybe it’s those wrinkles in her clothing or those strands of hair that have strayed from her ponytail. Those little flaws that aren’t actually flaws in the grander scheme of things. She looks more relaxed, her eyes are softer. Softer and brighter. With them, she regards him carefully and he realizes that he has forgotten to respond. 

“I’m glad that you found something that you like.” He says quickly. 

She nods.

“Have people been treating you well?”

She quirks a brow. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because you know…”

“Father and I lost the war? There are a lot of people who still support father’s ideals.”

“Are you one of them.” 

She shrugs. “I suppose I don’t really care.” She sighs. “I never really had a problem with earthbenders and waterbenders. Father had expectations and I simply wanted to meet them…”

“And now.”

“I’d like to meet my own expectations.” She replies. “Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“And what are those?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She rolls her eyes. “Perhaps if you’d like the answers you should stick around.”

Perhaps he will. He can’t say that he is opposed to seeing another fire dance. She has a talent, that is for sure. And it is rather nice to see her using it for something that is both more mundane but also extraordinary in its own right. “Is that an offer of friendship.”

She stands up, stretches her arms, and slips him a  ticket to her next show. “Stick around and fine out, Sokka.” 

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Azulaweek2022 #azulaweek #Fanfiction #One Shot