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myfandomprompts · 6 months

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To Risk It All | Chapter 1

Aemond x Dragonrider!OC

Summary: Daera arrives in King's Landing. Aemond remembers her vividly.

Tags: possessive!Aemond, angst, mature, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, obsession, blood, canon divergence, king Aemond, smut and fluff, dragons, war, F&B spoilers. | Prologue - Masterlist

Though Daera had never stepped foot in King's Landing before, the Dragonpit was unmistakable as she glided down her dragon towards the sandy ground, the Dragonkeepers welcoming her as they once did with Laenor. The red towers of the castle were visible in the distance, the chaotic sound of the city rising in the air as well as the stench that came along with it. All of this was so new to her. Once in the carriage that would lead her to Aegon’s Hill, she wondered what her mother and cousins had planned upon their delayed arrival. Would they demand justice, revenge?

Leaving the Queen, she was led to her brother’s temporary chambers. Upon seeing him again, Daera did not hesitate to throw herself in his arms, holding him tightly as if she feared he would disappear. His purple eyes were red with exhaustion, his small figure pressing against her chest as she held him close. She asked about him, but Daemion only voiced a weak affirmation before diving back into a worrying silence.

“Mother and father’s cousins are on their way, they will be there soon. Then we will go home,” she assured him, stroking his silver curls fondly.

His silence endured and she could do nothing but respect it, basking in their shared embrace before they were led to the royal sept. She held her brother’s hand while she paid her respects to their father, trying to not care for the gruesome state of his head under the white linen while Daemion stared at the ground, speechless.

Daera could feel him trembling, so she squeezed his hand harder.

Soon nightfall came and Daemion had still not said a word to her and when they came back to their apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast. The ghost of their father floated around them like a cold breeze, icing their blood, making them feel so alone, so powerless.

She asked him if he was tempted by a nightly ride upon Seasmoke, hoping to spark something other than sorrow in his eyes, but he only dismissed her with a curt shake of the head. “Daemion… we must be strong. Carry on what he left behind for us, and for mother. You can cry in front of me, you don’t have to hold your tears.”

He finally looked at her, pain plaguing his expression, and she wanted to wipe it away, make it disappear forever.

“You don’t cry,” he remarked with watery eyes.

“I do. I only reserve my grief for the ones I love, and that is you and mother. Certainly not the court,” she answered with bitterness, thinking about those who had done nothing while Vaemond Velaryon was mercilessly slain before them.

Now all that she hoped was that one day, her brother would be able to overcome the trauma the Rogue Prince had inflicted upon him, upon her family. She would make it so, she promised.

Daemion didn’t say a word, instead wrapped her arms around her, flattening his face against her and her heart ached in affection. “Goodnight, sister.”

As she watched her brother close the door, she realised that she, on the other hand, could not bear to be alone. She was scared to be left with her thoughts in such an unfamiliar place and desired to return to what comforted her.

She glanced at each side of the corridor, trying to remember the location of the stairs that led to the main hall. She moved through the castle silently, her steps leading her through the red faded stoney walls until she reached the outyard, where the night had settled so deep she shivered under her cloak.

“I demand to be taken to the Dragonpit,” she called out to one of the guards standing at the main gate.

“It is the hour of the ghosts, my Lady.”

“And what of it?” Daera said, arching a brow high on her forehead.

The guard looked at her with a repressed scoff. “So I cannot prepare a carriage only because you wish to see your dragon, I am afraid.”

Daera fumed inside, but was unwilling to give up. “Then find someone to escort me on foot.”

This time, the guard did not hide his snicker. “I do not think that a young Lady such as you should be strolling the streets at this hour.”

“Open the gates.”

Daera turned around to see the newcomer as the guard widened his eyes. She had to narrow hers in order to see properly amidst the shadows of the courtyard but she could recognise the silver hair around his face and the smug demeanour of the man that was now advancing toward them. He wore a long dark green cloak that enveloped his figure, boots scratching the floor.

“Yes, my Prince.”

The guard did as told, gesturing to his counterpart to help him move the heavy doors in order to allow the Prince passage. Once outside of the walls, he suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at her over his shoulders. “Are you coming or not?”

Daera almost jumped, startled to be addressed and scurried to follow him, earning an annoyed look from the guard that closed the gates behind them. The silver-haired man only smirked and resumed his walk, forcing her to catch up with him.

“You are the Velaryon girl. Daera, is it? The Winged Seahorse?” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye while hastening his pace away from the castle’s gates. “You ride Seasmoke?”

“Yes.”

The way he behaved along with his unabashed confidence left little to no doubt about his identity, and Daera’s suspicions were confirmed when they came to a stop at a junction, now facing each other for the first time.

He looked at her, fully, and she could see the lilac eyes, the curly silver hair, the proud jawline and the redness under his eyes. She had not seen them in years, but it was easy to guess which out of the three children of Viserys Targaryen he was.

“Yes, my Prince. And you are Aegon Targaryen," she concluded, hinting that they had never been introduced properly.

“Indeed, we’ve met once before. But we both grew up since that time,” he said with poise before giving her a onceover. “And for the best, it would seem."

Daera stayed emotionless. “I suppose so. We must live up to our House’s name the best we can. Make them proud.”

He looked at her for a little while, assessing her features and the way she spoke, trying to decide if the girl was not very quick witted or if she was just careful around him.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he finally said after his study, watching as her eyes turned grimmer at the mention of her father.

“Thank you."

She did not know what to say, and gazed at the paved stone. She had successfully managed to exit the castle grounds but from her position, she had no idea in what direction the Dragonpit was, the night sky hindering her vision.

But her curiosity was piqued by the unexpected encounter, making her momentarily forget about her destination. "May I ask where you are going at this hour, Prince Aegon?”

“The only place I can truly entertain myself,” he smirked. "I would have invited you to come along, but as I understood, you have a dragon to ride.”

She only nodded, deciding that she did not want to drag a more precise answer out of him by the way he mysteriously looked at her.

“The Dragonpit is this way, you’ll have to cross Fleabottom,” he pointed vaguely to the street on the right. "Keep on and you’ll see the light of the dome from the plaza. I hope the Dragonkeepers are in a good mood,” he added. “For your sake.”

He reached for his hood to put it over his hair, covering the very recognisable silver of it. “Oh… Thank you.”

“Have a nice flight, Daera.”

As she watched him stride off southward, she felt jealous of his hood, feeling silly for not having brought one of her own to hide her silver head. Instead she was left to squeeze the fabric of her cloak around her and began walking, thoughts swirling around the oddity of the King’s son.

Were all of his children like this? Helaena? Aemond? Daeron?

She thought about Aemond, the boy she had met with two eyes before he lost one out of pure perseverance. She had seen neither him nor Helena since her arrival, and she knew Daeron to be in Oldtown. But now that she had met one of them, she found herself most curious about the others.

It was a shame that she was to leave as soon as her great cousins’ plea would be heard.

Aemond cursed under his breath when he saw that none of the adjacent streets he had taken were empty, his plan to remain unnoticed moot. His evening ride on Vhagar had been pleasant, a necessity after the dinner that had left him fuming, remembering the sufficient snort of Lucerys Velaryon as the roasted pig was served, and how Jacaerys Velaryon had thought he could provoke him. In fact, Aemond felt vengeful still, much of the ire accumulated within him since that fateful day on Driftmark demanding to be released, and he felt it more and more difficult to keep his rancour at bay.

The noises of the night owls above and the drunks staggering on the main street steered him away from his murderous thoughts, noticing with relief that he was getting closer to the Red Keep as he walked further up Sour Belley Row. When he took a turn to a street he hoped to be empty, the thoughts invaded him once again.

If only he could challenge Lucerys Valeryon, challenge him in a fight, or even sneak into his room, unseen, and make him beg for him to stop when he would try to take his eye as wel-

A loud laugh echoed from one of the back alleys, and he instantly stopped in his tracks, his jaw clenching. "... the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn…"

He looked under his hood to search for the source of the voice, only spotting two shadowy forms as another shrilling laugh echoed against the stone walls of the alley. From afar he recognised an old woman he knew blind, talking to a stranger whose back was turned to him.

He sighed with annoyance; this woman was known to be some sort of seer, overlooked by some, adored by others, and decided to pay it no mind, rather walking away before earning more of her questionable predictions. It was easy for a charlatans like her to announce the death of his father when he had one foot in the tomb, and her sort only deserved his disdain.

But as he casted one last disapproving look to the old crone, he caught sight of the stranger’s silver hair facing her and stilled again.

It was a woman, a young woman that was wearing noble clothes, both blue and black, wrapped around a thick dark marine cloak. A Targaryen? One of Aegon’s bastards? No, she was far too old. An imitator perhaps? Not from her clothes and the way she stood herself. She then turned her face slightly, and curiosity took the better of him at once.

She was too beautiful not to be of noble blood, and there was only one person that possessed her characteristics and was currently in the capital: Daera Velaryon, the girl he had watched grieve Laena Velaryon all of those years ago on Driftmark, and had sometimes after claimed her brother’s dragon, following his own steps.

The one who had led him to the dune where Vhagar slept.

She had grown much, she was nothing like the girl he had met by the seaside. Before he could realise it, his feet had advanced toward the two women on their own, and as he stepped into the light, the white orbs of the seer snapped at him like she had suddenly recovered the ability to see. The Velaryon followed her gaze and took a hasty step back when she realised that he was right behind her, a jasmine fragrance filling the air as she moved.

He could not blame her for her reaction, knowing that he would look rather imposing to her as he beat her both in height and size and bore a hooded cloak that hid most of his face, keeping it in the shadows.

“Ha! There is the vision, the one you will cower under!” continued the old woman, drawing back both Aemond’s and the girl’s gaze on her.

Then the young woman spoke, allowing him to finally hear her voice for the first time in years, memories coming back to him at the softness of her tone. “I… I don’t understand.”

The seer cackled again and began searching for Daera’s hands, reaching to her front and bringing them into her own. “The God of Flame and Shadow understands, my dear,” she said as she tapped her hand and grinned widely. "You, on the other hand, don't need to."

Aemond was almost certain that the woman had ‘looked’ straight at him as she said her last piece, but he had no time to react for she let out another cackle before letting go of Daera’s hands and proceeded to slowly limp away in the dark alley, holding on to the wall for direction.

Both him and Daera watched as she disappeared in the shadows before she turned to face him, making Aemond remember where he was and where he was going before he had stupidly lost himself in a dark alley.

He could feel her gaze on him, scrutinising, the scent of jasmine spreading in the air.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes searching under the hood that covered his face.

He congratulated himself for letting his sapphire eye bare of leather for that particular occasion. No one could know he was away from the keep, even less recognise him.

“None of your concern, I’m afraid.”

His tone was cold, unforgiving. He wanted to turn away before she could ask any more compromising questions, but his body refused to move, as if it was detached from his brain.

“You smell of dragon.”

He stopped himself in time from lifting his head completely in reaction, keeping his features safely tucked away in the shadows. Instead, he watched her intensely under his hood as she kept searching for his eye, gears visibly turning behind her violet ones.

“It’s unwise to insult strangers away at such a late hour. Especially alone,” he answered with all the menacing tone he could muster.

She straightened at that, and if she hadn’t considered him dangerous before, she was now. Or was it prudence?

“I didn't mean to insult you. I only… I just wanted to head to the Dragonpit by myself, but I got… distracted,” she gestured behind her where the woman had disappeared, staring at the now empty street deep in thought. “I wish to see the dragons for myself.”

“Hm,” he found himself muttering, wondering why in the seven hells he was still standing there instead of being on his way back already. Instead he found the want to goad her, to test her. “Maybe if you had stayed on the main street and avoided being lured by beggars and liars, you would have found it without difficulty.”

He saw her chin lift up at that, like a creature ready to strike, to defend itself.

Like a dragon.

“Well, if I was lured so easily, like you put it, I wonder what you are doing here,” she said defiantly, “Fancy the words of a liar or do you just have a likeness for dark alleys? Or perhaps more discriminating endeavours?”

He considered her for a moment before letting out a scoff, surprising himself and earning a puzzled look from her. She had the grit of her father, he could give her that. Or was it the fire in her veins, the same that he possessed?

"See the dragons," she had said, instead of explaining that she wanted to ride hers. Just like he had.

Exactly as he had said all of those years ago.

He hummed again, scrutinising her. “Maybe you should ask someone else, there are much more informed people in those streets than old fortune tellers and strangers that smell of dragon. You would be better to take your chance with them.”

He allowed himself a short moment to see her expression shift from defensive to surprised, before turning his back to her swiftly and finally walking away, letting a smile creep at the corner of his mouth.

That was unexpected.

“You think you can protect him? Ha! He will fall, girl, you are powerless against their wits. Grief plagues you all, but so do teeth and claws. Maybe wings will cover his tomb?”

The blind woman's voice kept ringing in her ears as she walked down the main avenue. Protect him? Protect him from what? From who? Was it her brother, she had asked. Was it Daemion? But the woman had not answered her, only mocked her further.

"One candle burns as the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn and see your heart within it, your future."

What had she meant?

Daera raised her head and exhaled in relief when she saw the enormous roof of the Dragonpit over a nearby building. She began walking again, carefully staying in the dark and avoiding every person she would cross paths with.

The seer had called to her, asked her to approach, but when Daera had said that she had nothing to offer, taking the woman for a beggar, she had seen the white of her eyes and felt compelled to go to her. The old woman had then passed her hand over her face before laughing and speaking mysterious words, taunting her. Should she even take her seriously?

But against all odds, it was not the most peculiar encounter she had made this evening, and wondered if maybe, the night had more in store for her.

The hooded man that had inexplicably materialised behind her, listening in to the incomprehensible words that were spoken to her, had unsettled her and now occupied her thoughts as she climbed the steps to the Dragon Pit. He was tall and lean, from what she had seen. His voice was soft, but firm, and obviously rather cold as he spoke and she wondered if he always sounded so scathing.

She had only seen his jawline in the dark, the rest of his face hidden from her, but she found herself more intrigued by him than by the blind woman's words. And the smell, sandalwood mixed with smoke. But it was the distinctive scent of dragon that had her eagerly curious. It was the exact same smell as when Princess Rhaenys came back from a ride with Meleys, or as Laenor had once, or as Laena did. Was he a Dragonkeeper? Or maybe just a worker there? Maybe she had been wrong completely, and had mistaken the scent for another odour. But he had not denied it, rather had looked unphased when she had pointed it out. She might think of every possibility but her instincts already knew the truth.

She wondered what the odds were of meeting two Targaryen Princes in one night.

Chapter 2

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta.

Tag list: @knightprincess@baconturtle @witheredoffherwitch @lexwolfhale @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy (sorry I forgot to tag you in the prologue)

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #smut #slowburn #hotd fanfic #fanfic #dark aemond #dark!aemond x oc #usermyfandomprompts #aemondedit #aemond x velaryon #tria #triafic

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take-it-on-the-run · 5 months

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Echoes

Lucy Gray Baird & Coriolanus Snow

How could Snow know that a song written for him would come back to haunt him, all these years later?

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: ANGST, no happy ending here folks, big spoilers for TBOSAS and The Hunger Games, time skips (back and forth), Lucy Gray gets the last laugh

Characters: Lucy Gray Baird, Coriolanus Snow, Katniss Everdeen

Read it on AO3!

A/N: This is a mish-mash of the book and the movie, and also my first attempt at fan fiction ever. I wrote a large chunk of this in the bathroom at Thanksgiving because I saw TBOSAS the night before and couldn't get it out of my head. I hope you enjoy, and any constructive criticism is always welcome! Also, I hate editing on my phone :)

The first time he’d ever heard the song, he was in a meadow, far from the prying eyes of the Capitol. Away from the television screens that broadcast his lover being thrust into the Games in a vain attempt at entertainment. The Games his life was bound to, forever.

The Games that, in a twist of fate, his lover had won purely through her charm and wit. The only weapon she wielded was his mother’s compact he’d given her in secret, filled with rat poison, which was returned when it was found on her person after the game. He was sure that if he hadn’t given her that compact and told her to hide under the arena, she’d have been dead before nightfall. She was a performer, after all.

She was there, Lucy Gray, sitting alone, idly strumming at her guitar. Once the Capitol released her back to District 12, she reunited with the Covey, her family, her one true reason that she needed to win in the arena.

At the time, he wanted to let himself think he was the reason she wanted to win, but deep down he knew her heart always laid with her misshapen family.

He slowly approached her, taking in the lyrics to the soft song she was singing. She sang so softly that if she sang any quieter, her words would be lost to the wind.

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He strolled further towards her, eyes scanning the empty landscape until they landed on the tree she was sitting under. Its branches were dry and could barely be called brown, and Lucy Gray was using a large chunk of it as a makeshift chair.

Where they strung up a man

They say murdered three

The lyrics to the song made him stop for a moment. Of all the things she chose to sing about, why would such a beautiful girl sing such a dark story?

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

The second time he’d heard the song, he was in a forest, reeling at the pain from a trap his lover had set for him. Rain forced them to pause their journey of running from Panem, seeking shelter in a cabin among the trees. He didn’t know if his lover knew about the weapons stored beneath the floorboards, but as soon as he laid his hands on them, she must’ve thought his choice was already made.

She all but ran from the cabin, making an excuse to get food that she earlier deemed wasn’t ripe enough to eat. He knew that she was running from him, from the silver-tongued Capitol-raised son who was almost killed by her charms.

Almost.

He ran after her, gun in hand, looking to see where she’d run to. A rough trail turned into forest floor, trees suddenly the only thing he could see. He cautiously took more steps before his mother’s orange shawl he’d given her, crumpled in a small pile, came into view. Another piece of his mother given to her, being returned.

He bent down to pick up the shawl, snatching it off the ground when he felt a sudden pain shoot from his forearm. Stifling a scream from his lips, he frantically looked down, the source of his pain hanging from him.

An orange, black, and white banded snake was sunk into his skin. He ripped its fangs out from his arm with a grunt, the culprit slithering away into the grass before he could crush it with his boot.

He called out and asked the trees whether or not the snake was poisonous.

If she was trying to kill him, after everything he’d done for her.

There was a flash of bright color among the dark trees he was sure was Lucy Gray, and he fired. Without a thought, without remorse, and without a trace of the man he promised her he’d be.

He paused when he heard a grunt, a small part of him hoping he’d missed.

A larger part of him hoping he hadn’t.

He stalked through the trees, expecting to see her bleeding into the earth, but was met with her gold hoop earring, dangling with long pearls. He tucked it in his pocket, next to his compass and his mother’s compact.

He spoke again to the empty wood, saying this was enough, for her to stop.

The reply taunted him in his lover’s voice, dripping from the beaks of the dozens of jabberjays that started to circle above him.

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He craned his neck up to see his tormentors, ricocheting the voice of the girl he was running away with.

Where the dead man called out

For his love to flee

The voice of the girl that was now running from him.

He raised the gun that was slack in his arms, pressing the trigger and firing at the birds. He spun on his heel, desperate to stop hearing her voice colliding off the walls in his mind.

He fired frantically, screaming at the birds to shut up, but none of them seemed to hear his pleas or fall from the sky.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

The third time he’d heard the song, his heart stopped, only for a moment. He was a decrepit old man now, his chin sporting a white beard that matched his hair, sitting at the head of the Capitol.

He faced a television screen that was broadcasting a large band of rebels, walking to the District 5 dam with explosives.

The attack was an act of treason against the Capitol, plain and simple. Giving the rebels a small glimmer of hope at rising against Panem’s government, all led by a seventeen-year-old girl.

The victor, the girl on fire, the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen; she went by many names, all of which made him want to crush her like the pest she was.

Even more when he learned she twisted a song written for him by a lover he wished he could forget.

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He diverted his eyes from the screen, lightly pounding his fist to his chest as he covered his surprise with a cough.

Where I told you to run

So we’d both be free

He blinked, and suddenly he was back in the meadow, watching Lucy Gray play from afar. Her soft voice floating through the gentle silence of the wind blowing against an open field.

Back in the forest, hunting her down and being taunted by jabberjays as the song cut through the dense forest that still visited him in his dreams.

He dug his blunt nails into his palm, standing up and walking over to a window that overlooked a courtyard. Other people in the room were glued to the television, gunfire mixing with the voices of the rebels.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

The final time he heard the song, he was standing at a post, center attention to every eye that had invaded the Capitol. Alma Coin stood on a platform behind him, and the dearest Mockingjay stood with an arrow trained at his head.

His eyes met hers, cold and void of the emotion they held when they met. Her lips were held in a thin line, the drawstring of her bow taut against her nose.

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He raked his eyes across the crowd, and he swore for a moment he saw her. Lucy Gray, young and bright as the day he’d met her. He knew his mind was tricking itself, some rendition of his life flashing before his eyes, but he still sucked in his bloody breath at the hope of seeing her again.

He’d always been honest to the girl on fire, and for that, he hoped she’d give him a swift death; but instead, she moved her aim above him, letting the arrow fly and killing Alma Coin.

He jaw went slack, the metallic taste of his blood sliding over his tongue. She lowered her weapon as the crowd behind engulfed her form, surging at him as he closed his eyes tight.

A peaceful death wasn’t in the cards for him after all.

Wear a necklace of rope

Side by side with me

Regret didn’t surge through his veins for the countless lives he’d taken, the people he’d enslaved, or the Games; it was for the man he chose to be. Taking the guns from the floorboards of that cabin, hunting her like she was a bird with its wings broken, and swallowing her memory like a snake in the grass.

He didn’t deserve regret. He deserved a fiery endless hell that would barely serve his actions justice.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

As brutal hands clawed at his skin, tearing his soul from his body, he brought his mind back to the memories he didn’t deserve to have. With her, his lover, Lucy Gray. The girl that was lost to the trees, erased from history in a hope that the all-powerful President Snow would always land on top.

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imtryingmybeskar · 1 year

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Come Home Chapter Eight

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Some soft moments with Joel and Ellie that are interrupted by ever-expanding memories of the past. Warning for description of a panic attack.

Word count: 4975

There is a slight spoiler for how Ellie chooses to cover her bite in the second game. Nothing major. I also want to re-iterate that this work is primarily based on the games. The outbreak here occurred in 2013, not 2003. Pop culture references are of that time.

Come Home

Chapter Eight - Hold On

The grumbling is helping you to feel slightly better about your arduous and slightly disgusting task. Rather than visit the laundries in the centre of Jackson, you had decided to stay in and wash your clothes free of the blood and gore that killing the infected had splattered upon you. The repetition of soap-scrub-rinse-repeat was helping to relax your mind, and every time a wave of grime was added to the water in the tub, it added to your sense of satisfaction.

“Goddamn…fucking…urgh. Fuckinnnng piece of shit…”

The body had been burned at the front of the outpost building, the room put back together as best could be, though the carpet had some stains that were probably permanent. After logging your visit and the fact that one infected had been killed, Joel had insisting on sweeping a wide circuit before heading back to Jackson to try to establish where the victim had been taken down.

“Look, see?” he had said as he raised the trouser leg of the corpse. You saw. The blistered bitemark was in the meat of the calf. “Woulda taken a day or so to turn. Let’s try to see where he came from.”

“Least he gave as good as he got,” Vanessa had murmured before beginning to collect up the more useful items that were lying around.

A forlorn little camp was discovered a little over an hour later half buried under the snow. When you uncovered the scene you discovered the tent partially burned, possessions scattered and a dead runner lying in the middle of it all.

The sky had been a deep lilac and swirled with grey cloud as you had re-entered Jackson, barely beating nightfall over the town. Luke had taken the horses to be stabled, Joel had gone to report to Maria, and Vanessa had briefly come to visit your house for a cup of tea before pleading tiredness and bidding you farewell. You had turned your lamps on again and built up the fire, bathing the living room in a comforting glow before deciding to do something productive and wash your clothes from the day. The gloves and jacket had borne the worst of it, and you’re just hanging them close to the fire to dry when a knock comes at the door.

When you open it you’re greeted by the welcome sight of Ellie, almost hidden behind a large cardboard box in her arms. You take it from her and bid her come in.

“Thanks,” she gasps gratefully. “That thing was kinda heavy.”

You place the box carefully on the couch, curious as to what’s inside.

“Go ahead. Look,” she says with a small smile.

Sparkles. Glitter. Frivolous beauty. You can’t help but mirror her smile as you draw out a long string of silver tinsel.

“Christmas decorations? Where did you get these?”

“They were in the garage when we moved in. I kept ‘em around. Wasn’t really sure why but I just liked ‘em. And when I saw you at the tree the other day I figured maaaybe you’d wanna decorate?”

Her voice is hopeful and her eyes more so as you look up at her.

“Well… you’re right. I used to love this stuff. But don’t you wanna decorate your place? Or Joel’s?”

She makes a dismissive huffing sound as she sits next to the box on the couch. “I already picked some stuff out to put around my place. And Joel’s a grumpy old man who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“He did.”

“He said no?”

It is fun. You forget the dark corners, the bloodstains that won’t come out. You ignore the bad memories lurking out of sight upstairs. For a long while it’s just you and Ellie and warmth and laughter. She’s incredibly smart, with a sense of humour that spans from terrible puns to dry wit and everything in between, and before long the house is a glorious mess of mismatched decorations. She’s also eager for stories of how Christmas used to be, and you find that the memories aren’t so painful when she reflects their joy back to you.

“-and office parties. Oh Christ, they could be bad! Someone would always get too drunk or hook up with someone they shouldn’t or both and then they’d have to face the music come the next work day –“

Another knock at the door interrupts your reminiscing, and when you open it, Joel is on the other side.

“Hi,” he says, looking effortlessly handsome with one arm casually leaning on your doorframe. “You seen-“

“I’m here,” interrupts Ellie as she comes to the door too. “See. Someone appreciates the decorations!”

“I can see that,” he says, eyes twinkling as he steps inside and looks around with an amused expression. “Like a goddamn Christmas shop in here.”

“They had Christmas shops?”

“All year round in some places,” you smile.

“Well, I hate to break up this party,” Joel intercedes before Ellie can gush excitedly about this new piece of information. “But it’s time for dinner. And I think you’ve disturbed this poor woman’s evening enough.”

A rush of eagerness for them not to depart seizes you.

“Actually if you guys wanna stay for dinner here, I can offer…uhhh canned peaches. And also…canned…peaches?”

“Well now lemmie see if I can add to that fine selection of food.”

You can practically feel Ellie’s pleading gaze directed at Joel, silently begging him to accept your invitation, which he does with a low chuckle.

The fire is in its embers when Ellie begins to yawn hugely, and Joel insists it’s time to finally leave you in peace. After they depart you realise that the soft smile upon your face isn’t going anywhere soon, and rather than battle with your demons tonight you resign yourself to a bathtub sleep again, not wanting to disturb the peace and happiness that this evening has brought.

He brings some homemade leftover chicken noodle soup and a half loaf of bread back with him and with the absence of a dining table you instead sit cross-legged on cushions around your table near the fire. Conversation is light, frothy. You talk more about Yuletides past and discover that Joel firmly believes Die Hard to be a Christmas film whereas Tommy disagrees vehemently. The subject of the upcoming winter dance comes up when you mention that you’d seen it advertised on flyers around the town, and you learn both that it’s a staple of the calendar in Jackson and that Ellie is looking forward to going to her first one. At one point she retrieves a battered old book from an inside pocket of her jacket to much protestation from Joel, and he and you groan together at the terrible puns that emerge.

The next morning dawns steely cold and grey as flurries of fat snowflakes rain from the heavens and you debate what you want to do today. Staying in by the fire seems like the best idea, but you wonder if you would be imposing if you called on Ellie. Maybe to cook, or read, or just chat. You assume Joel will be busy, but their company had been so welcome, such a balm to a wound that had been open for so long you had near forgotten it was there, and you already missed the spark of warmth that had been ignited within you by their presence.

You bundle yourself up and open the door to traverse the brief distance between the houses only to startle back when you find Joel right outside, hand up as if to knock and with a look on his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh. Hey,” he says, bringing his raised hand around to rub the back of his neck instead.

“Hi,” you reply, the warm smile from last night returning easily to your lips. “Come to try some more of my gourmet cooking? My can opening abilities are second to none as you know.”

He returns your smile and snorts a small laugh. “Actually, I-er-I was wonderin’…”

He trails off and you get the impression that he’s anxious about something. Seeing him that way causes you to frown slightly with worry. He’s always so in control, so self assured. Something must be up. You wait patiently, wondering what could have got him worked up, but he seems to be struggling to articulate what he wants to say.

“You wanna come in?” you ask, thinking that might help.

“Naw, I gotta go down to see Tommy for a bit. But thank you.” Another pause, and then he draws himself up more fully and takes a breath. “Actually I need to see him about you.”

Your frown deepens as worry begins to sneak into your own stomach. “Nothin’ bad,” he hastens to add. “I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to go and scout that town we were talkin’ about yesterday. Since you’re so new I gotta clear it with Maria, but I think it will be okay. This particular place has been investigated twice already. Once before I got here and once at the end of summer, so we already have a fair understanding of the layout. But it might have some new “residents” by now, y’know? And there’s a clock tower in the centre where we’d need to drop off some supplies. But it would mean a coupla days away from Jackson instead of a coupla hours, so I understand-“

He's babbling. Much as you had when you first had a conversation with him, and while you didn’t really understand why given that he was usually so sparing with his words, you had an urge to save him from himself.

“I’ll go.”

He stops, looks up at you as if seeking assurance that you mean what you say. “You sure?”

You lean against the doorframe and steel yourself to answer. You don’t want to offend him, but you do want to nip this need for constant affirmation that you can actually do what you say you can in the bud.

“Joel, you keep asking me that. And I get that I didn’t make a great first impression with you here, but I promise you, I can take care of myself.” You look down and scuff the wooden planking of your porch with your foot before deciding to take the plunge and elaborate. “Its…easier out there, somehow. Mentally at least. You expect the shit. You know something’s gonna happen so when it does you just…deal with it. Here…I guess…I guess it’s a place I should feel safe but I don’t entirely. Yet. And the last actual house that I actually lived in…well…it was mine. Before.”

His brow furrows in mild confusion. “You never lived in a QZ?”

“Oh I did, but it was small. Very small. We all lived in tenements. Squats, almost. Lots of people all crowded in to each apartment. No real room of my own. I haven’t lived like this“ - you gesture behind you – “since I was in my twenties. Before I met-“ You break off abruptly and take a shuddering breath of freezing air. Too much. That was a step too far.

Comprehension dawns over his handsome features and he nods both his appreciation of what you’ve told him and acceptance that you can’t finish your sentence.

“Well…that makes some stuff a lot clearer. Gotta be weird to be alone after so long.”

“You can say that again.”

You smile sadly at him and he returns it, his handsome, whiskered face full of soft understanding.

“So,” you continue more briskly “Yeah, I’d like to go scouting. Well actually I’d like to go to Disneyworld but this will do. Christ,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “Can you imagine Disneyworld now?” A shudder creeps down your spine at the thought.

“Well, I like to imagine Mickey’s kicking ass somewhere. In full costume, you know, for protection. I bet those things are hard to bite through.“

Your shudder transmutes to a chuckle at the thought.

“Sometimes I like to guess which famous people survived,” you confess. “I bet Woody Harrelson made it.”

“Hell yeah, man’s a badass,” Joel agrees. “And that girl who played Arya in Game of Thrones. Man, I wish we’d got to see the end of that. It was gettin’ good.”

You chortle softly, and a slightly awkward silence falls between you. There’s a sense that Joel hasn’t quite said all he wants to, but before you can ask him about it he’s bidding you farewell.

“Well I’ll let you get on. And come back to you with what Maria and Tommy say about the trip out. See ya.”

And with that he walks down your porch steps and away. You suddenly remember your half-formed plans for the day and call after him.

“Wait, Joel?” He turns back, shielding his eyes from the falling snow. “Would you mind if I went over to see Ellie? Is she in?”

Even from this distance you see the warmth of his smile. “Man, you’re a glutton for punishment,” he jokes. “Sure, go right on through the backyard. Gates unlocked. She’s in there.”

He raises his hand in a final farewell and departs properly into the hazy, freezing grey landscape.

When Ellie flings open the door to the garage after you knock, she appears to be partway through a conversation.

“Jesus, Joel! I said-! Oh hi.”

“Hi,” you repeat. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Oh no, you’re not! Its just that Joel kept on about me coming out to Jackson with him today. “You ain’t been outside for a while, Ellie. You need some fresh air, Ellie!” Its fucking snowing for Chrissakes, who wouldn’t wanna be inside?”

Her mimicry of his gruff tone is entirely accurate, and you chuckle as you answer.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over and hang out. But inside, for sure! And if you’re busy, I understand.

She beams at you and shakes her head. “No, no. I was just sketching. Let me get my stuff.”

She closes the door softly as you turn away to look up at Joel’s house. The snow is still falling softly from a dove-grey sky, a gentle blanket covering the backyard and the rooftop and the world beyond. The silence is peaceful rather than eerie. No cars running, no crunching of the snow underfoot, no children playing-

Your thoughts suddenly enter a new track and a sly smile curves your mouth as Ellie reappears behind you.

“Hey, what did you call Joel yesterday cause he wouldn’t let you decorate the house? A grumpy old man?”

“…Well he is!” she said, defensively.

You hold up your hands in mock surrender. “You know him better than me, I’m not arguing. But what if we made another kind of decoration? Although…it would mean being outside for a while.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

A couple of hours later you’re standing proudly in front of your handiwork. Ellie’s cheeks are pink with cold and exertion, and she steps forward to adjust the scarf that had been retrieved from your upstairs closet and that now decorated the neck of one of the snowmen on Joel’s front lawn.

“Not bad for my first try,” she remarks as she steps back in line with you and scrutinises them.

“I think they look really good,” you reply. “If only we could make them look a bit more like you and Joel. Though I don’t think he’d appreciate us digging around to use his clothes on them.”

“Probably not. But maybe…”

She breaks off as she rips up tufts of grass from the exposed patches where you had rolled the snow together and pats them on to the chin of the larger of the pair.

“It’s got a beard. Now its definitely Joel.”

You relocate indoors to the welcome warmth of your fire, your fingers tingling even within their gloves. Ellie lights the lamps to combat winter’s gloom, and you take stock of what you could whip up to feed a hungry teenager and yourself. Some vegetables, some milk, some tins and not much else. You’d have to get some more supplies soon.

“Sorry to make you eat out of a can again, but I’ve not got a lot. Does stew sound good?”

“It does, actually,” she says as she comes through to your kitchen.

“I’ll make some mashed potato on the side to make it marginally more interesting. If only I had some cheese. Cheesy mash is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

“I think Joel might have some.”

“Much as I’d love to treat Joel’s fridge as my own, I don’t think that’s okay given that I’ve only known him a few days. Let’s give it a week at least!”

Ellie helps you to peel and chop the potatoes, and while they’re boiling away and the stew is heating up you chatter about everything and nothing. You ask her about her artwork and she coyly mentions that she’s getting better and that she thinks she would like to design a tattoo for herself one day.

“There’s a tattooist here?!”

“Kinda,” she says, and to your surprise a blush surfaces on her face, tinging her cheeks and the tips of her ears pink. “Her name’s Cat. She’s an artist, but I know she’s tattooed a couple of people around town. And herself. And she’s given me some guidance on how to get better with my drawing. She’s…she’s pretty cool.”

A small smile surfaces on your lips at the obvious crush Ellie is harbouring on this person. “Well, I’d like to meet her at some point. Might be nice to add to some of mine if I can ever find a way to pay her.”

“Did they hurt?”

“Some of ‘em. Depends where you get ‘em. The one on my back is pretty big and it hurt going over my spine. Not so much over the muscle.”

“Do you have any on your arms?”

“Chosen your spot already, huh?” you ask with an indulgent smile. To your surprise she clams up, her body language closes inward, and you wonder what you’ve said wrong.

“Yeah, I…yeah,” she mutters non-commitally.

To cover her awkwardness, you pull back your sleeve to reveal cascading patterns of concentric circles and lines spiralling around your forearm and disappearing upward.

“Oh cool!” she exclaims. “…What is it?”

“There was a TV show I was very much a fan of about a time and space travelling alien. This was the written language of their species.”

“So…this was a quote?”

“Yes, but not from the show. This is by John Keats, one of my favourite poets. If I ever find a bookstore or a library that isn’t totally wrecked I’m gonna try to find a collection of his work.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s from a letter he wrote to his next door neighbour. He was very much in love with her. It says 'My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am f-forgetful of everything but-' "

Your breath catches. No, you can do this.

“ 'But s-seeing you again. M-my life seems to stop there. I see no further.' ”

You clutch the kitchen counter top, grip it so tightly that your knuckles whiten. You hadn’t thought about these words for a long time. Such a long time. So many years, so much pain in between. They had hung in some dusty corner of your mind, covered with old cobwebs and half-forgotten until this moment. Deep breaths. Get through it.

“ 'You have absorb’d me.' ”

Your voice is a husky whisper and you realise you’re staring blankly at nothing. Those words. So much meaning then. So much more now. Your throat is tightening with tears and your heart is racing. Fuck. You let your guard down. Too fast. Too far. And now you’re falling.

Dimly you can hear Ellie calling your name and with an effort you swivel your head to look at her. Her mouth is forming words, but that buzzing is back in your head and you can’t make them out properly. “I’m sorry,” she seems to be saying. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s..not…you,” you rasp out. “I just…I can’t. I haven’t for…And I can’t. F-fuck.”

You dazedly push yourself away from the kitchen counter and stumble to the living room where you sit down heavily on a chair. In your peripheral vision you see Ellie pad over, soft and skittish as a feral cat and sit on the sofa opposite you. You put your head in your hands and try to regulate your breathing. From your left, you hear Ellie speaking again.

“Hey. Stupid question, but are you okay?”

The dark corridor

“Y-yes…no.” Yes and no. Not with this. Never with this.

Torchlight shadows cast upon a wall sprayed with blood and bullets

Oh fuck, no. Not now. You don’t want her to see you like this.

Poor kid. You can hear her panicked tones even through the rush of the blood through your ears. She sounds so very far from you – on a boat bobbing out to sea. Your breath is shallow again, an elastic band tightening its grip round your head.

Your eyes roll back in your head and you close them.

“I’ll be fine,” you gasp as you raise your head from your hands and try to focus your vision, desperately wanting to reassure her. “Panic…attack. Just let it…pass.”

The lanyard.

The lumpen, misshapen figure ahead.

The clicking...

The clicking.

Something is slammed with force upon the table in front of you and your eyes spring open to see a glass of water.

“Drink” demands Ellie, and you recognise the wisdom in her suggestion.

You reach for it with shaking hands, slopping some on the tabletop and down your clothes before the ice cold of it washes through your mouth, over your teeth and down your throat.

Again.

Breathe.

Settle.

Breathe.

Shaky, fragile, tenuous calm.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” you stammer out. “I didn’t want you to s-see…I h-hate when-“

She soothes you, her calm child-like voice finally breaking through your layers of panic and worry.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You think I’ve never freaked out? That Joel’s never had to wake me up from nightmares? You think I’ve never had to wake him?”

A weak smile touches your lips. “Never thought…he’d be one for them,” you joke feebly.

She doesn’t smile. “He mumbles in his sleep sometimes. About…well we’ve all been through a lot. Have to if you’ve made it this far.”

“True. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Look, I’m gonna deal with those potatoes. Just…sit for a while, okay?”

She shouldn’t have to do this. She’s just a kid. She shouldn’t be taking care of you. As quickly as you’re able you stand and go back to the kitchen where Ellie is mashing the potatoes with some force. As you enter she turns and holds out the fork toward you in a mildly threatening way.

“Don’t apologise,” she commands, as if she somehow knew that would be your first response.

Nodding, you join her at the counter again. “Okay. Thank you. Again. And I just wanna say…” Be brave. Take the plunge. “Obviously that quote was very dear to me once upon a time. Me and my-my wife.” A half formed thought crosses your mind of a bloated, disgusting shape and you shove it away with as much force as you can muster to focus on Ellie, to try and put some distance between what has happened and where you are now.

Her head snaps up again from where she had resumed her task, a tiny crease between her brows. “Your wife? So you’re-“

“Bi. But…I understand what it’s like to navigate certain feelings. So. If you want to talk about anything, I’m happy to listen. I uh…I dated my first girlfriend when I was about your age.”

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow with guarded suspicion. Clearly she hadn’t thought you had picked up on her earlier behaviour.

“Hey, its okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Joel?” You’re taken aback by the force at which she hurls the question, and make sure your voice is gentle when you respond.

“Of course not. I won’t say anything you don’t want me to. But…why don’t you want Joel to know?”

She drops her head to avoid your eyes, scuffs her shoe along the floor and you worry that you’ve pushed her too far, that she will close down completely.

“I dunno, I just…worry what he might think? I don’t know how he’d react.”

“You know he loves you right?”

“Shut up,” she huffs in an embarrassed way, a slight flush grazing her upper cheeks as she begins to shove the fork into the potatoes again.

“He does. And I don’t know how you two came to be here together, and I don’t know him as well as you do, but in this case that doesn’t matter. Love like he has for you is acceptance. I’m not saying you should tell him anything if you don’t want to. I’m just saying that I wouldn’t stress too hard over his reaction.��

“Any time.”

Ellie looks up and holds your gaze firmly for a moment, seemingly searching for any trace of falsehood, then visibly relaxes and looks back down at the countertop. “Well…thanks. I guess it’s kinda good to know there’s someone who understands.”

Dinner is served and conversation drifts back into the banal, the easy. You hope that you didn’t freak her out too much, but she seems to be more comfortable with the aftermath of your panic attack than discussion of her feelings toward Joel or Cat or anyone else and you can’t really blame her. In a small community like this, stakes were high in that regard. You couldn’t up and leave if a relationship went south. And while you held on to the belief that Joel would love and accept her no matter what, the same might not be said for everyone in town. Though you wouldn’t put it past Joel to kick someone’s ass if they were cruel to Ellie. You wouldn’t put it past Ellie to get there first either. There was steel at the core of the girl, you could see it in her eyes. The protection of Jackson’s walls (and presumably Joel himself) was allowing her to be a teenager as much as anyone could be in this world, but it was obvious too that she had seen some shit, been through the wringer just as much as anyone in her short life.

You sigh as you survey the sad bed in the bathtub and then climb in, too emotionally weary from keeping those memories at bay to wrestle with anything else. The bed could wait.

She departs a couple of hours later with a promise that she wouldn’t tell Joel about what had transpired and though you hadn’t asked for any such vow, hadn’t wanted to burden her with any kind of secret keeping, you were secretly glad. After having told him you could take care of yourself, hearing about this was NOT the way to cement that notion in his mind.

The house seems a little suffocating again the next day and you decide to go into town, to pick up some supplies, to take a walk, to partake in a small change of scenery. The snow has stopped again, but the sky is still grey and heavy with its promise. You visit the stables, check up on your horse and stroke over the velvet of his neck, bury your face into his comforting scent before brushing him down yourself. You visit the blacksmith, marvel at the rendering of metal that seems like such magic to your uneducated fingers. You stop off at the town’s library, peruse the small selection of DVDs and books and ancient magazines that tell of mindless frippery that is long dead. There is no Keats, but you do find a copy of the Hobbit that you gladly borrow. The person who had filled your bookcase had either really loved romance novels, or had been desperate to get shot of them. Either way, it wasn’t really your first choice of genre.

As you stroll along the main thoroughfare, clutching your precious book to your chest with your gloved hands, you see Maria coming the other way and stop to chat with her.

“Morning. I hear Joel’s planning to take you out once the weather permits,” she says without preamble, vaguely gesturing with her head in what you assume is the general direction of the town outside the walls. Her eyes rake you downward, assessing, calculating, though for what you cannot tell. Its slightly disconcerting and you stumble a little over your words.

“Uh yeah, he mentioned that supplies need to be delivered to the clock tower there.”

“Yup, and to check its not gotten overrun again. If it has, it will be a short trip for you. You’ll have to come back with a larger group.”

You feel the incomprehension clouding your face as you frown. “Well obviously if there’s a swarm we wont be taking them on, but even with a small team of us we can at least try to-“

Your eyes grow wide and she grins more widely as she departs, wishing you luck on your journey, and leaving you standing in the middle of the crowded street with excitement shrouded in apprehension in your heart as you watch her go.

A tiny, knowing smile graces her lips as she interrupts. “There won’t be any team. Joel said it should just be you and him.”

Next chapter

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the-isopodcalypse · 2 months

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I'm reading Silver Under Nightfall for a book club and I'm gonna be posting my thoughts here because I think it will make it easier to go back and find em once we have a discussion. I'll do my best to put spoilers under a cut but if you don't want to see any of that you can block the "damien reads SUN" or "silver under nightfall" tags

#damien reads SUN #silver under nightfall

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fennelwrites · 2 years

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salva me, fons pietatis - chapter nine

cass and volo stop for lunch and meet an unexpected obstacle.

(cw: slight animal abuse. contains postgame spoilers)

read on ao3

The sun was lowering from its peak in the sky as Cass and Volo approached the Cafe Cabin for a quick lunch. They’d set off for Solaceon Town the morning after their Contest victory and reached the small town at about noon. Though it was tempting to take a break and explore the ruins, Cass–perhaps feeling guilty about taking a day for the Contest–insisted they press onward, promising to return once the Galactic situation was dealt with.

“Alright,” Cass stated as the Cafe Cabin drew nearer. “We’ll stop for lunch here, then we should make it to Veilstone by nightfall.”

Volo nodded. “And once we get to Veilstone?”

Silence fell over the pair, broken only by the sound of the wind.

“You have no plan,” Volo stated bluntly.

“I do my best planning under pressure,” Cass blurted out, not meeting Volo’s gaze.

Volo sighed. “Perhaps during our lunch break you could come up with something? I don’t think winging it is the best idea when it comes to dealing with spacetime-altering criminals.”

“It’ll be fine,” Cass protested. “Once we get there, I’ll just beat them like I did before. Easy.”

“And how can you beat them without knowing what they’re doing?” Volo placed a hand on Cass’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t be reckless about this.”

Cass sighed, her lips curving into a small pout. “Fine. But you’re helping, cause I’m not smart.”

“Says the woman who completed the Pokedex.”

Cass opened her mouth, ready to fire off some snappy retort, but the words died on her tongue when she saw Volo’s expression. He was smiling at her, knowing and patient, and his eyes shone with a softness that was, to her knowledge, reserved for his Pokemon.

Had he always looked at her like that?

The blush spreading across her face must have been evident; Volo raised an eyebrow in concern. “Are you alright?”

Cass shook her head and promptly looked at anywhere she could that wasn’t Volo. “Peachy keen! Just–”

She was cut off by a thunderous crash that, by now, she was exceedingly familiar with.

The pair wheeled around to see a crack steadily forming in the sky, multicolored lightning arcing around it. Cass glanced at her Poketch as her other hand flew to Umbreon’s Pokeball; the Rift Detector app pinged, a second too late, and she sighed. “Ugh. I need to give Rowan some feedback on this thing.”

“Champion Cassandra.”

An unfamiliar voice sent a shiver down Cass’s spine; approaching her and Volo were two black-clad figures. One was familiar; Venus’s teal hair and malicious smile were immediately recognizable. The woman standing next to her, however, was someone Cass had never seen before. Her silver hair was swept over one of her bright blue eyes, and she regarded Cass with a glare.

“Oh, fantastic,” Volo said, reaching for one of his Pokeballs. “There’s two of them now.”

“I am Mercury, lieutenant commander of Team Galactic,” the silver-haired woman spoke, her voice even and low.

Cass held Mercury’s gaze. “If you’re in charge, then tell me what you clowns want,” she replied, clutching Umbreon’s Pokeball at her side. “And how you think you can get away with it after what you pulled six years ago.”

“Ooh, ooh! Can I answer?” Venus asked, raising her hand. Mercury glanced at the scientist out of the corner of her eye, then returned her gaze to Cass. Taking this as an affirmative, Venus grinned. “We want to get Mister Cyrus back from the Distortion World!”

Cass’s eyes widened at the familiar name. “You want Cyrus back? Why?”

“So he can finish what he started six years ago,” Mercury answered plainly. “The new world he seeks will come to fruition at any cost.”

Volo suppressed a shudder, Mercury’s words resonating in an all-too-familiar way. “And why are you telling us this?” he asked, glancing at the fracture in the sky. “Aren’t you concerned that Cass and I might take action?”

Mercury’s eyes narrowed as she reached for one of the Pokeballs at her belt.

“The two of you won’t be a problem for much longer.”

She tossed a Pokeball into the air, releasing a Slaking. Next to her, Venus sent out a Dusclops, then fiddled with a device on her wrist.

Cass flung her trusted partner’s Pokeball forward, and Umbreon popped out of the device with a determined cry. Next to her, Volo sent out Togekiss, who chirped happily at being out in the air before the reality of the situation hit her. She quickly steeled her nerves with an angry peep.

“Umbreon, Calm Mind,” Cass instructed. Umbreon closed its eyes and focused intently, exhaling a bit before opening his eyes again. Volo swiftly commanded Togekiss to do the same thing; Togekiss focused before sending a determined glare across the field at her opponents.

Venus pressed a button on her wrist, then beamed at her Pokemon. “Dusky, Skill Swap with Slaking!”

Cass’s blood ran cold. “Oh, shit.”

Volo frowned. “What does that do?”

“Slaking is stupid powerful, but has an Ability that causes it to slack off every so often,” Cass explained, keeping a wary eye on the battlefield as Mercury commanded an Amnesia from her Pokemon. “And now, that Dusclops has switched its Ability with Slaking’s. Meaning that Slaking will act normally.”

Volo sighed through his nose. “But Dusclops will slack off now, right?”

“Right,” Cass replied, “but I have an unfortunate feeling that’s not the end of their strategy.” She waved her hand, returning her full focus to the battle. “Umbreon, Snarl!”

Umbreon let out a loud bark, sending a wave of darkness towards Slaking and Dusclops. Dusclops staggered back a bit, but remained standing; Slaking looked barely affected, even when it was hit by a Moonblast from Togekiss a few moments after.

“Slaking, Hammer Arm on Umbreon.” With a wave of Mercury’s hand, Slaking launched forward with uncharacteristic speed and slammed its fist into Umbreon. The impact sent Umbreon flying backwards, but the Pokemon shook it off and stood back up with a growl.

“Don’t worry, Dusky, you take your time!” Venus cheered as her Dusclops settled down for a quick nap. She pressed a few more buttons on her wrist, then grinned. “Ready, Mer?”

Volo tensed. “Ready for what?”

With a nod from Mercury, Venus grinned. “For this!”

She pressed another button on her wrist, causing bright lightning to shoot down from the rift and strike Slaking. Yellow light enveloped the Pokemon, causing it to let out a deafening roar. Cass froze up, panic coursing wildly through her system as she watched the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Thoughts raced through her head as she tried to come up with a strategy. How could this woman let something like that happen to her partner? How could she want it to happen?

A hand on her wrist jolted her out of her trance. She glanced over to Volo, whose lips were pressed shut in a thin line. He didn’t look calm by any stretch of the word, but he looked back at her evenly. “Don’t panic,” he said evenly, lacing his fingers together with hers. “We’ll get through this together.”

Cass exhaled, steeling her nerves, and squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

“What’s the plan?”

Cass took a moment to think. “I’ve got physical moves,” she began, “so I’ll take care of Slaking. Its Special Defense is weaker, but Amnesia’s boosted it. Have Togekiss focus on taking out Dusclops.”

Volo nodded. “Got it.”

“Umbreon, Iron Tail on Slaking!” Cass instructed, waving her free hand. Umbreon’s tail took on a metallic sheen as it turned around and slashed at Slaking. That seemed to pack a bit more of a punch than Snarl had, though Slaking still looked relatively unbothered.

“Togekiss, Moonblast on Dusclops!” Volo followed up. Togekiss sent a blast of concentrated energy toward Dusclops, who stumbled backwards.

“Oh, Dusky, keep it up!” Venus exclaimed. “Skill Swap again! This time with Umbreon!”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Cass seethed as Dusclops executed its orders.

“Now Umbreon will slack off, right?” Volo asked, squeezing Cass’s hand.

Cass nodded. “Next turn, I think.”

“Slaking, Rock Slide,” Mercury commanded. Slaking slammed its hand into the ground, pulling up boulders and launching them at Umbreon and Togekiss. Both Pokemon managed to remain standing afterwards, but neither were doing well; Togekiss was covered in bruises, and Umbreon was unsteady on its feet.

“Another hit like that and Umbreon will go down,” Cass said, inching closer to Volo.

“Same for Togekiss.” Volo tried to think, the noise of the rift and Slaking’s roar doing nothing for his concentration. “If the rift closes, Slaking will go back to normal, right?”

“I don’t know,” Cass replied, her grip on Volo’s hand becoming vice-like. “Even if that happens, it’s still wicked strong, and I don’t know what they have beyond that–”

“Give up, Champion,” Mercury interrupted coldly. She took a step forward, her visible eye seeming to glow in the dim light of the rift. “Your journey stops here.”

Cass opened her mouth to reply, but whatever words she was going to say died on her tongue as the reality of the situation settled in.

She was losing.

A lump formed in her throat as she tried to straighten her thoughts. When was the last time she had lost when the stakes were this high? She’d always prided herself on her ability to pull out a victory from nothing; at least, she thought she could. Now, though, failure was staring her directly in the face.

She was so deep in thought that she almost missed Slaking rearing back for another Hammer Arm.

Cass faintly heard Volo call out to her as she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch what followed. Light flashed against her eyelids, and she registered the crack of thunder and a surprised gasp from beside her.

The sound that followed was unexpected.

“I arrive, right on schedule!”

#writing #salva me #volo #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon volo #pla spoilers #:)

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Final Space: And Into The Fire Review or Now with 110% More Homoerotic Telepathy

Welcome new and old to my first Final Space review! If you’ve never seen the blog before, and given this is the first “new” series i’ve covered as it come out in some time that’s probably quite a few of you, welcome. I’m Jake, I do recaps and reviews of various animated shows and comics, mostly just stuff I want to do, often on comission (5 dollars an episode if theres any episode of the first two seasons of this show or any episode of any other show you’d like tos ee me cover), or for my patreon patreon.com/popculturebuffet. And it is my utmost honor to add this show to my rotating roster of shows I cover as they come out.

I friggin love Final Space. I was intrigued by it back when TBS released the animatics alongside Close Enough (Wth the two shows ironically finally together on HBO max as of earlier this month), for their doomed block. I heard a lot of good things about season 1.. and let it get away from me, not watching it till Season 2. But both seasons had more than enough to pull me in with intriguging characters, even greater jokes and a truly unique idea for a premise involving giant monsters, an edltrich god and lots of cookies.

So while it took an extra year given Covid, I’m super friggin pumped to get into season 3 at long last after the hell of a cliffhanger, especially since ironically last night I saw Steven Yeun’s oscar nominated performance in “Minari”. Now i get to watch him play a cat teenager again too.. and in a few days Mark friggin Grayson. It’s a good week to be a fan of his is what i’m saying and a good week in general.

Previously on Final Space Yo!: Since it’s been a year and while the series provides a recap , I’m going to be doing these anyway so:

Our heroes finally got all 5 dimensional keys and freed Bolo, and in the process also freed Avacato from Invictus, the horrifying entity controlling final space. Meanwhile Tribore got Sheryl to stop being a selfish prick and she joined the team trying to be a better mother from now on. But freeing Bolo came at a high cost as Nightfall sacrified herself as the sixth key (KVN was natrually both Gary and Bolo’s first choice, but was inllegible. ) So we ended the season with our heroes entering Final Space and Gary reuniting with Quinn.... while Invictus loomed. So over a year later we finally get some answers so join me under the cut for spoilers, recaps, and homoerotic text ahoy.

Something i’m doing since both the roster keeps changing.. and as I correctly guessed from the trailer, and the general tone of the promos for this season, that everyone won’t be all together all season.. or even in one piece.. i’ll be doing a silver age style roll call to let us know who all we have on the Team Squad for the episode Roll Call: Gary, Quinn, Avacato, Little Cato, Ash, Fox, KVN, HUE, AVA, Sheryl, Bolo, and Tribore

So we pick up right where we left off, Gary tearfully reuniting with Quinn, with Quinn wishing he hadn’t come for her, and Gary being Gary naturally having ignored that, and actually been more determined since that made it forbidden which made it extra tempting and him want to extra do it. God I missed this glorious idiot let me tell you.

So things are quickly interrupted by invictus, who turns out to be a giant flaming head.. thing... and chases them and the crimson light, which has to start speeding with our heroes tethered to the outside, Quinn holding onto Gary.

So we get one hell of a thrilling chase as the Crimson Light outspeeds the demon head and runs into two titans, but Bolo shows up to take out one, with Mooncake trying his dimension shattering blast thingy on Invictus.. and naturlaly g ven this is the big bad we need to show off how horrying they are, and it does NOTHING. But Gary catches his little buddy so we’re alright.

Sheryl also shows off her badass bonafieds by LIGHTFOLDING THROUGH A TITAN... granted she still has some parenting skills to learn as “lightfolding while your son is hanging out the back through an edltrich god” really isn’t a motherly thing to do.. but neither is trying to murder your child several times or blaming him for how shitty your life turned out so ANYTHING is a step up for her.

But.. it’s not enough. While she does manage to kill ONE the Crimson Light is too badly damaged to go on and we get two tragic deaths in one go... The Team Squad is forced to abandon the Crimson Light.. and AVA is too damaged to Upload into HUE. “I’m Sad” “For who?” “For you.. and for us. “ God damn Tom Kenny is amazing. You don’t need me telling you that, but sometimes you need a reminder.

So our heroes end up on a desolate mystery world, stranded in final space with no ship, no suplies and no hope. The only thing to do now is survivie and hope they can continue the mission at some point.

ONE MONTH LATER

Things have not gotten any better, as naturally , our heroes have only found weird cartoon eyed worms that regrow their heads when you bite them off. So while this means unlimited food, it’s also disgusting and Garry hates it. “This may be a head but it tastes like a butt”. Quinn and Tribore are with him and Quinn hasn’t been ready to talk about her experiences trapped in this hellscape and still isn’t but being a good dude, Gary dosen’t push her on it. Though the weird red veiny thing on her arm tells me maybe one of you should speed that up before she explodes or gets cronnenburgy. Just saying. I’ll also say i’m not huge on the one month time skip, as while I feel they probably have a reason for being that specific i’ts a bit TOO long and I question why have that long a period of a jump, not the longest but still long enough for things to happen with nothing changingin that time? Still it’s a minor nitpick in an otherwise fantastic episode so I can let it go, I just don’t get it.

What we do get is some Gary Corpses dropping and Invictius puppeting them... i’m with gary that is bowel openingly scary. I also do like how despite the FAR more dire circumstances, they still get in the requisite shenanigans this series requires. I’ts not to the network mandated subplot levels where it distracts, but it’s enough to help ease the terror of the situation and isn’t around for situations like the opening where it really SHOULDN’T be. As the series always has when something big happens, the bollocks goes away. Once we’re in between we can get back to literal pissing contests, KVN leading a crowd to their deaths and HUE in a pimp hat like god intended.

So yeah our heroes have to outrun the horrible horde of Gary’s, though Little Cato catches on something’s wrong as Tribore makes gary cary him as foreshadowing for later and Sends mooncake down to asssit. Our heroes escape.. but a cave in happens.

After the break, Gary wakes up confused with the party now split in two: Gary, Quinn, KVN, Tribore and HUE on one side and Avacato, Ash, Fox, Little Cato and Sheryl on the other. So Gary does the logical thing... and take his shirt off telling Avacato to feel him.

I mean I didn’t even ship them before this scene but... Gary claims because of their bond he can telepahtically connect with Avacato. That’s normal Gary shenanigans.. except not only does he shrug off his girlfriend asking why they can’t do that.. but it WORKS. We have a scene of the two telepahtically talking in a wheatfield that is so homerotic I guarantee there only wasn’t the Careless Whisper sax because they couldn’t afford it.. or their saving it for later this season. Look sometimes you don’t ship a ship because you just.. dont’ care that strongly one way or another and sometimes you just need an incredibly gay scene to see the light. Same thing happened with Weblena same thing here.

Fox also says “that was glorious to watch” same man. That was freaking art. So our heroes split up into three plots. As usual for me

Team Gary: So yeah... Triobore’s pregnant. No way to really softball into that. He’s been pregnant this whole time. So we get a stupid and mildly horrifying gross out sequence with Gary having to look Triobore in teh eyes and Quinn having to “uncork him”. Which is code for ... you know what i’m not going to say it. If you’ve seen the episode you know and if not your better off not visualizing it trust me. Point is this whole sequence is dumb and the worst part of the episode by far. And the series CAN do good gross out. While Olan Rodgers regrets it, the pissing contest was one of the funniest scenes of season 2, and managed to make a gross idea on paper actually pretty damn funny. This.. this is just “Haha males giving birth and tribore’s an asshole”. There’s no joke here just a .. plug. .. gah.. the vomit is rising let me tell you.

We do get something good out of this nightmare, Tribore’s son who hatches as the army of gary’s dig their way in, Quanstranstro, who rapidly ages into a stylsih spanish speaking adult badass. He is fucking awesome and a great addition to the team and the sheer.. oddity of his birth is wonderful even if the actual birthing was not. Then the climax happens so before that.

Team Avacato:

Avacato and Co come across a sleeping giant robot cyborg .. thingy. Naturally Fox wakes him up. Little Cato remains not suprised. It occelates between panicking over it’s legs being gone and amenisa and is pretty damn funny. It’s voiced by John Dimagio. But it gets serious as we find out nothing has ever made it out of final space, and things.. change the longer there there. And Quinn’s been there several months if not a year. Whuh oh. This part is much better both due to better jokes and plot advancment.. though again Quanstrano is still fucking amazing.

Team Bolo: Bolo meanwhile returns and fights a titan, and has mooncake help him rather htan join the others, but looses, hitting the planet with his body.. I mean he might not get back up.. but the impact shatters the caverns and causes an explosion. Everyone but Gary, Quinn, KVN and HUE are MIA, as our remaining party find earth floating overhead.

TO BE CONTINUED>

Final Thoughts: A decent start to the season. Like I said the whole birthing sequence can die in a fire and reminds me of the terrible comedy subplots adult swim wanted grafted onto two episodes.. but otherwise it’s a tense stark opener that sets up the bleak tone while still keeping the series rediciulous shenanigans in tact. It’s the perfect welcome back after so long. I mean the gay telepathy alone would make it a winner.

Next Time on This Blog: We dive into a little history with HIsteria. See you at the next rainbow.

#final space #gary goodspeed #avacato #little cato #quinn airgon #ash grayven #fox #KVN #HUE #AVA #invictus #bollo #sheryl goodspeed #tribore menendez

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ac4rus · 3 years

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Here is Varian’s part as I PROMISED!

@fletchphoenix @honeyxmonkey (this is for you)

The full story will be on AO3 on November 5th!

⚠️ contains mention of body dysphoria, shaming, indirect homophobia/transphobia, sexism, death, and pretty much- angst ⚠️

——————————————————

It’s been 2 weeks since Hugo’s last letter.

“Varian! Come get the mail!” My father yelled, letting my legs swing to the side. I his music necklace containing the engagement ring and put it under my shirt, hopping down the stairs.

“Apparently some guy got the homosexual treatment at the military. What a joke. He’s probably dead as a door nail and they’re probably shipping him to his family. It’s in the news all over. Not sure, don’t care.” My dad laughed, betore unfolding his newspaper.

Homosexual treatme-

Oh shit. Hugo.

I dropped the letters on the floor, my hands sloppily fumbling to the doorknob. My father reached out, only for me to weasel out of his grip.

“Vivian!”

I froze.

“Vivian Ruddiger. Get BACK here this instant! You are in big trouble young lady!” He snapped, as I raised my leg and kicked him back in protest.

“It’s VARIAN. And I’m not your daughter anymore. I’m your SON. Always and forever. Now if you excuse me... I need to check on my real family. The love of my life, and the father of my child... and get the answers I need!” I raised my voice, feeling a soft kick in my stomach. I doubled down in pain, before my legs scrambled to their rightful footing. Once I stood in the doorway, I slammed the wooden door in his face before taking a longing breath of relief.

And then I ran.

——————————————-

(Had to skip the first part due to spoilers. Sorry guys 😭)

—————

“Write your name.” The guard boomed, pressing his finger on the table.

“Huh?”

His fist hit the desk, “Write your damn name. It’s for a very good reason.”

I shakily wrote my pseudonym, Andrew Ruddiger on the piece of paper.

I heard him click his tongue with a sharp whistle. There were two people who emerged from the shadows, guns drawn. My immediate reaction was to look back, turning my head to the side in sheer panic.

A paper was shoved in my face, making me twist my head to the side.

“This is your handwriting, is it not, Red?” A guy snapped before taking off my jacket forcibly.

My breasts were somewhat showing under the binding uniform as I took a slow, yet-deep, shallow breath.

“I looked under the archives under the Ruddiger family bloodline. There’s only one child listed. Vivian Ruddiger. A biological girl who now pretends to be a guy.”

Everyone gasped around me, making me hide my chest in shallow fear.

Nonono...

“I just wanna know what you did to my fiance! I want ans-answers...” I cried, slamming my fists on the floor. Another sharp pain was felt at my stomach, followed by a faint kick.

My hair was grabbed by brute force, snapping my head to look up at them. I began to scream, feeling a hand go to my mouth. “You’re supposed to stay home, girl. But since we’re gonna kill ya too... why not introduce you to your precious boyfriend again? Hm?”

The curtains opened, revealing a tuft of faded blond hair. His skin was seared and burnt to a crisp, the rest of his skin was either a deathly pale or peeling off from the severe burns. The body fell on the floor, dropping a small metal object on the floor.

I rushed to pick it up, seeing how part of it was slightly melted. I knew what it was. His ring. He kept it. It’s the same ring I made for him out of love.

Before I could get another word, I felt a burning pain on the side of my head. When I began to register the pain, it pulled back. A loud fizzling sound echoed in my ears, before it struck me with a jolt of electricity and brute force. I collapsed on the floor, feeling my insides start to turn from the hurtful impact. My mouth couldn’t move to sob or cry.

The pain was immeasurable.

And before I knew it, the kicking stopped. My stomach at the feeling. I lost the child, our- child. I just knew it.

A delayed, terrified scream came from my mouth as I tried to wake up my already-dead fiancé in hopes. His hand rested out, as I tried to grasp it for dear life. The sound of a crunching sensation made me yell, feeling the sharp, searing pain go up my body.

“Hugo... don’t let go.” I whispered quietly.

“3.....”

I clutched his hand, feeling the blood starting to spill from my insides.

“2....”

“Hugo, I love you.”

“On my mark-“

I closed my eyes before digging my head onto the floor. The shirt sagged below my mouth, taking the fabric in my mouth before biting it, preparing for the blow.

I’ll see you on the other side. I’ll introduce Hope to you.

“1.”

The room was dark. Blacker and more solemn than any night I’ve seen or felt.

I remember seeing the two boys in the news after their heartbreaking deaths.

Clasped hands and bloody, silvered fingertips. The sign of true love.

The one who looked so frail and so scared had the touch of rouge nightfall.

The lips of a pseudo woman, the body of a male.

The one who laid next to him caught my eye. The messy flurry of dim, sunlight hair covering the dry-stained tears on his greyed, burnt face.

Strong, but remained defeated. A forced heroic death, as I tell to the people.

The way he looked into his eyes, a clash of opposing colors. The dead, yet-so-alive in love look.

I can tell the two had a devastating grey war that split the star-struck lovers apart. They both fought for each other in their own battles, the two forced raise their white flag in the murky, Coronian air.

His red lipstick still resides in my pocket, the faint colors stained on my lips.

But not just my lips. My fingers bled the rouge nightfall, the same as them.

————————————————————-

#varigo fanfiction #varigo #tts fanfic #fanfiction #angsty #this is pretty dark sorry #imma go cry now #I love Varian I swear

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lunavadash-creates · 4 years

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Lost and Found

Finally, I decided to write something in English. It wasn’t easy, but I hope that you will enjoy this little prologue. This story begins only because of the support I received from an amazing author. @storytimefromthecreed pushed me through my doubts and insecurities. And the biggest hug for Baccano, who check this story, helped me and also pushed me to do this. Thank you both! So now - enjoy.

Also - sometimes I’m so damn stupid stupid so I accidentally deleted this story Now I have to post it again ;.;

Warnings: mention of death, Assassin’s Creed Black Flag spoiler

Prologue

The memory of the promise she made back then was still burning inside her as she slowly approached his house. It looked the same as the day she left it; absurdly big and weirdly symmetric, but… something was wrong, she could feel something dark and heavy crawling inside her guts making her feel uneasy. The whole surrounding of the house was full of armoured guards in unfamiliar outfits. She frowned and made a few steps back, hiding behind a corner. She walked from the port up here and her legs were already numb, she wasn’t in a position to start a fight with those men when her body was weakened, even if she wanted her answers right now. She was fully aware that time was moving differently when she was out but it couldn’t be that long, right?

Not too happy she decided to leave the mansion for now and found the information in a different way, starting from learning what year it was. She, of course, couldn’t ask a random person, it would be strange and suspicious but finding an abandoned newspaper wasn’t really hard. Not in a city like this. The hard part was seeing the date. March 1756. For a second, she felt dizziness, but the thought that she disappeared for twenty years was overwhelming. For her, it was like two or three years tops! And yet here she was, surrounded but unknown people, in a city that didn’t seem to be friendly to her anymore. She looked around finally noticing all the details of her surroundings, especially people that were looking at her with strange expressions. Her clothes were standing out, but what could she expect? In was two whole decades, of course, that fashion changed during this time! She really had no idea that so much time passed like in a blink of an eye. After a short while of insecurity, she decided to find another place, a calm spot where she would be safe enough to wait until the nightfall. With legs hurting and her conscience uneasy it was hard to wait those few hours, but she was taught patience and now she finally could use that skill. This once.

She found a little café where she used to sit in with her friends, at least this one place looked like time’s influence had missed it. She even ordered the same thing as twenty years ago, a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin. She sat at the table and again a little sigh escaped her lips, her thoughts were spinning like crazy around every memory connected to this place. It was so hard to believe that she missed… everything. When she rose her glaze from the tea, she saw that table in the corner, it was occupied at the moment, but she remembered the first time she came here. She sat next to the window and that little, adorable boy decided to sit on her knees despite his father warning. But that child was just so cute, she immediately fell in love with him. On that day he was like five years old and she was able to see him growing for some time. But how old he was when she left? Eight maybe, nine? Something like that. She hugged him and gave him a little pearl she had found during her travel. She hugged her best friend and his wife, then promised him that one day she will be back, hopefully very soon.

She was so happy for them and the thought that they might be… no. It couldn’t be true. They probably moved somewhere when situation here became dangerous. That had to be it. Soon she will find them all, and they will be laughing at her stupid insecurity. With a better mood, she finished her muffin and tea it was evening. She left the café to get ready.

When it was finally dark, she made her move, getting closer to the manor, she found a lonely guard, standing in the darkness. He looked tired and hangover, but it meant he was vulnerable. A good target to begin with. She took a gold coin from her pocket and stepped closer.

‘Freeze! No trespassing’ the guard shouted, pointing his gun at her. She slowly rose her hands, making sure that the man could see the coin glistened under the moonlight.

‘I only have a few questions. You will not regret answering them’ she ensured the man, who looked at her suspiciously, never putting his gun down. But he didn’t really stop her from closing the distance between them.

‘What happened to the previous owner of this manor? What happened to that family’

‘Dead. I heard that almost the whole family had been murdered.’

‘Almost? There were children, what happened to them?’ she asked much more hesitantly that she would like to. She couldn’t let her feeling betray her but… hearing his words were so excruciating.

‘I know for sure that boy was taken. He came here a few years ago before departed for the New World. That’s all I know, so that lovely coin of yours should definitely stay with me now’ the smirk on his face was terrible and disgusting, making her sick at the sight. She reached out her hand to the man and dropped the gold coin, but before the man could catch it, she stabbed him in the throat. His body collapsed on the ground with blood leaving his veins, his eyes still in shock as he didn’t even have time to make a sound. She quickly moved his body to hid it in the nearby bush, it would give her a little bit more time to explore the mansion. She denied to believe that her best friend was dead, she had to see this with her own two eyes, so what other choice did she have?

Breaking in was hard, there were a lot of armoured guards surrounding the mansion like it contained some kind of hidden treasure. And who knows, maybe there was something so valuable that needed to be protected at all cost. They looked like mercenaries so probably whatever was hidden inside was worth paying for protection. She frowned, hiding beside a pillar, waiting for the nearest guard to move away before she jumped inside through the open window. The room was filled up with darkness but it didn’t stop her from investigating the house. She was here a few times and still remembered the way to his room like it was craved in her brain. Up the stairs, turn right, second door on the left. But before she managed to make the first step, she seen the proof that man she killed and hid in a bush indeed told her the truth. This place wasn’t safe anymore, it was a lost cause and her best friend was dead. A huge Templar symbol was hung on the wall in front of the entrance like a trophy. Proof that this place belonged to them and no one could question their dominance. She felt sick on that thought and controlled by a silly rage she just ripped that stupid sign and tossed it across the hall, wanted it to disappeared from her sight. The sound of ripped material alarmed a guard who quickly came back to the room only to see a woman who shouldn’t be here. He was as heavily armoured as the rest, who were surrounding this place. Orders he got were clear – kill every person who tries to break in and so he intended to do. He attacked the startled woman without hesitation or mercy and soon she was forced to save herself by dropping a smoke bomb. Running for her life as fast as she could on legs that weren’t used to the effort like this anymore. Unfortunately, the detonation of the bomb created more commotion, so now quite a lot of people knew of her presence. She swore silently under her breath, it didn’t go as planned, not at all.

Soon all those people, guards, templars, some kind of a freaking gang of mercenaries, started to look for her, an intruder who might want to interrupt their plan. They were looking for a reckless assassin, who broke into the templar base in the middle of the night, created a commotion and just run away like it was all a childish play. She was angry at herself for this stupid rage but right now it was already too late to change it. Besides, every cloud has a silver lining, the same men who were looking for her were the one who kept the information she needed. And now, after killing bunch of templar’s dogs, she was finally sure – Haytham Kenway was still alive, living in New World far across the globe and now it was up to her to find him at all costs, to keep a promise made almost two decades ago.

Even though it was dangerous for her to wander around the city right now, she still decided to pay a visit to the local cemetery, to find a certain grave, before she will leave for the New World. Holding blue flowers in hands, she searched the area for a few hours until she finally found the one she was looking for. She crouched next to the grave, placing flowers, gladioluses, on the ground and released a great deep sigh.

‘I’m so sorry Edward that it took me so long to came back. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to save you’ she said silently. It hurt so badly and her heart was painfully clenched as she was looking at elegant letters forming into a name of Edward James Kenway. Died on 3rd of December 1735. Only a few weeks after she left. Hot tears started to pour down her cheeks as she held back a sob for a few moments. Soon it became unbearable and she started crying, hiding face in her hands. Edward was dead and she felt guilty and alone, he didn’t deserve a fate like this. He was supposed to finally settle down and live happily! Not be dead, lying in a cold grave! And children, he had children who were supposed to grow up with amazing father, surrounded by love and prosperity.

‘I promise you, Edward, once again. I will find your son and I will take care of him. Protect him like I couldn’t do with you. This time I will not fail you, my dearest’ she said determined and then she finally stood up. Her gaze was focused on the river and soon she was on her way again.

A few weeks later a man knocked on Haytham’s office door before he walked in. He looked scared, a piercing glaze of Haytham Kenway made him look away and shuddered a little. But he had a task, information, he needed to provide at once and the possible consequences of not fulfilling the order were severe.

‘My apologies Master Kenway. We got in information from London about a female assassin who is looking for you. She barged into your house, killed a few of our men to gain information about your whereabouts and now we are worried that soon she will be here. What should we do, what are the orders?’

Haytham rose an eyebrow and moved papers in front of him before he straightened on his seat. A silent sigh escaped his mouth. He couldn’t really consider this situation as a problem because of one assassin? Against whole Templar Order? Against him?

‘What do you think Master Cormac? Should I be worried about my well-being?’ he asked calmly, but he knew better than that, that he was safe, having next to him ruthless assassin hunter. Shay rose from the couch and stretched a little bit.

‘No. She’s a deadwoman if she thinks she can get to us. No assassin can stop the order’ and with a smirk, he departed with the man. Looks like soon another hunt will begin.

#actsquad #shay cormac #haytham kenway #shay patric cormac #assassin's creed #ac rouge #assassin's creed rogue #luna writes #fanfiction #oc

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nimrodinked · 3 years

Text

The Chill of Home, Imperfect as it Is

With the season finally bringing snow to my area, I've been thinking, more prevalently than usual, about an old title I used to play back when you had to buy it. A game about brothers in the old times, fighting in the canadian wilderness to protect their sister. It's called Sangfroid: Tales of Werewolves, a game about setup and execution where you lay traps and defenses for the night of unholy terrors ahead, and beat the ever-loving hell out of all manner of folklore creatures, from werewolves to wendigos.

I don't think I'll be talking much on the story, it's very straightforward with a twist at the end that, to my knowledge, never led to a sequel. Instead I think it'd be quite a bit more enjoyable to talk about actual gameplay, one of the many aspects I think this game shines in. It is, all in all, a fairly simple affair, having a basic attack string and a special 'rage' attack to unleash once you've caused enough damage. In addition, the player, whoever they pick as their protagonist, has a rifle with a simple aided aiming system that both makes shots forgiving, and rewards accuracy with higher damage on properly aimed headshots. That's the extent of the fighting proper, but the game is about more than brawling with wolfmen in the woods. You get a preparation time before nightfall, getting exact information on waves and pathing so you can lay traps in the way of enemies. Your tools expand as you play, starting with simple bear traps and hanging rockfalls, building up to auto-attacking sacred trees and sniper crows nests allowing you to zipline quickly across the map. It all gets quite hectic, and the game shines quite nicely, especially on hard mode, which in itself is a welcome little change.

Rather than having a static character and scaling difficulty, players choose either easy or hard mode at the beginning of the game. A rather entertaining lore twist, 'easy' mode sees you playing as Jos, the younger brother blessed with a freakishly large build and Paul Bunyon-esque endurance. He's built like a truck and hits just as hard, capable of easily tangling toe-to-toe with werewolves and tougher enemies solo, freeing up more time in preparation mode to make money with log-cutting and spend on bought traps like black powder barrels. The harder mode sees you playing Jacques, the older of the two brothers and all around adventurous mountain man, now retired to a quiet life in the countryside at his log cabin. Jacques isn't blessed with his brothers strength, meaning while he can, if cleverly executed, kill a werewolf one to one, the encounter will eave most damaged and out of stamina for the next fight. So naturally, Jacques requires players to plan more carefully and set up a plan that will ideally be executed without an axe swung at an enemy, baiting groups of rabid wolves into spike pits and bear trapping Maikan shapeshifters under hanging rocks to crush them. Jacques makes you engage the game on a smarter level, forcing you to make elaborate plans and backups, rather than just wading thigh-deep into furry growling monsters.

With the constant evolving of traps usable, the expanding list of foes and their unique abilities, upgrading your gear and balancing out having holy armaments for unholy killing and silver for Maikan slaying, not to mention the skill upgrade system that augments your traps and combat abilities, not to mention that, to add additional difficulty, the area you have to protect gets larger and more difficult to traverse, it's a canadian sledload of tools and challenges to test your mettle. Not to mention the final boss, which, without spoilers, is magically hidden from sight and requires you to use every trick up your sleeve to triumph.

Gameplay isn't the only thing that makes me love this game, in fact there's not much I really dislike about my experience going back. The voice acting is, while at times a little on the corny side, in major part believable and enjoyable. The character models are a bit odd at times, though it's mostly the underused shopkeepers that look the most like unfinished models. Jos, Jacques, and their little sister all look very nice, and even the rather hellish model of the Devil (yes he shows up, rather immediately in the story in fact) looks good enough to pass. It's a shame then that there's a few 'off' bits in the game, mainly the axe models. The axes themselves lok very nice, but they're quite upscaled, to the point that the head is larger than the character models own noggin. That, and the character portrait for Jacques. I don't know who drew it, but I'd very much like to hunt them down and ask them why they think single-fire muskets possessed ACOG sniper scopes back in the day. Silly things, nitpicks really, and I only point them out because they're generally the exception to an otherwise fantastic direction.

Topping all of this off, the music. My word, the music. Exactly the kind of high-pulse, frenetic canadian pieces you'd expect of the locale, with musical stings to alert you when enemies have caught your scent or a new wave is spawning. Coupled with softer, more somber pieces during daytime shopping and planning, it's all a great accompaniment to your brawling and scheming. So, the game's great, what's the catch, where does it get awful or fall flat? Well, nowhere so grevious, though I do have a single major issue with how things are paced. Mainly the tutorials. They're very helpful if you haven't played the game before, but for me, who only really needed a touch-up on knowledge, the agonizing slowness of every new mechanic does grate, if only a bit. That's only for repeat players mind you, it was as I recall a lovely little learning experience seeing the videos drop down and a friendly, Gabe Newell-esque man teach me the intricacies of the wall of flames.

So, Sangfroid, a game I love, and started playing again. It's got a lot of love poured into it, has a satisfying gameplay loop that'll always keep you wanting to move one day further, and, best of all, as far as I've seen, it's free on steam. It went free to play a long while ago, and seeing how they didn't add any micro-pay oddities into the formula, I think this is a case of the dev team wanting to get their labor of love out to all the people they could, a notion which, if true, would be a nice sentiment. As far as I know they've made one other game, but seeing how Sangfroid is literally a free to play gem of fun gameplay and simple but effective narrative, they're a highly ranked studio. In my eyes anyhow. So, check it out, you've nothing to lose but time, a resource I'm sure many of us find we have much more of nowadays. Thanks for reading, and wrap up warmly; the forests are a cold place.

#video games #werewolf #pc games #canada

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malicedafirenze · 6 months

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Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco

Unfiltered and spoilery thoughts on Silver Under Nightfall, taken while reading. For a proper review and summary, with proper spoiler tags, see here

#silver under nightfall #silver under nightfall spoilers #rin chupeco

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off-the-record92 · 7 years

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At the hearth

I’m new to the Jonerys ship and this is my first ever stab at fluffy, smutty fan fiction. Let know what you think! *Spoilers* for Game of Thrones season 7 episode 6. ___________________

Halfway up the spiral stairs, Dany stopped. Torchlight flickered from a sconce on the wall, casting strange shadows in the darkness. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cool stone wall of Eastwatch, willing it to calm her. In the silence of the old fortress, she could just barely hear the rush of icy wind outside. She had never experienced such brutal cold until she came north to help Jon beyond the wall. The wind had felt like a thousand thorns against her skin. It pierced so deep nothing could warm her. She glanced up at the torch fire, thinking of her dragons Drogon and Rheagal huddled in a cave under the castle, hiding from the unfamiliar snow. Dany thought of Viserion. That keening sound he made as he fell at the hands of the walkers. Tears pricked her eyes and she pulled her white furs tighter around her small, shivering frame. She could think of only one thing that could drive away the physical and mental chill that had come over her in the North. It was late. A heavy blizzard had hit the wall and Tormund told her it would likely be a few weeks until they could leave. Most of the men had relied on wine and liquor to dull the cold, even Jorah. As she laid in bed earlier that evening, she had heard their rumbling voices and clinking bottles in the dining hall. She had waited until each man stumbled back to their rooms to collapse in their beds. Now she crept, silent as snow, down a hall to the bedroom door of the King in the North. Yesterday, she sat by his bed as he woke. His eyes wounded her, they were so apologetic. She had hushed him, but he was insistent. Though he had fallen through ice, his fingers felt like flames when he grasped her hand. Dany yearned to feel that heat again. She pushed the heavy door open a few inches. Orange light bounced around the room from a roaring fire Ser Davos must’ve lit before nightfall. Dany looked first to the bed, only to find it empty. He was still too weak to walk very far, Davos had said. Concerned, Dany pushed the door open further and stepped into the room. The space was so warm, it felt like sliding into a hot bath. Dany sighed and looked to the massive fireplace on the other side of the room. On the hearth before the fire was a mound of furs. And stretched out among the furs was Jon Snow. When the blizzard hit, he must’ve lifted himself from the sickbed, dragging the blankets and furs with him as a child would, finally curling up in front of the fire like a cat. Or a wolf. Dany drank him in. Jon was sound asleep, half in, half out of the blankets. One arm was cocked above his head, his face turned to the flames. His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and his full lips were slightly parted in sleep. The usual furrow in his brow was gone. Black curls fell loose around his temples instead of tied back tight. He wore nothing but linen trousers and Dany’s eyes were drawn to his abdomen. She slowly padded to the hearth and crouched beside Jon, tucking her own furs beneath her. Listening to his deep breathing, Dany leaned closer to look again at the scars on his torso. But, “scar” was not the right word. These were deep, gouging wounds. Somehow they seemed new, yet the skin was shiny and red like a healed cut. There were no marks from stitches and each slice looked the same. He had received the wounds all at once. Dany felt her throat constrict as she thought of Davos’s words many days ago about him taking a knife in the heart. She reached out a trembling hand and brushed her fingertips across Jon’s stomach, flowing over the ridges of scars and swells of muscle. A faint hum came from Jon’s throat and Dany froze. She watched as his fingers briefly curled, then relaxed and his deep breathing continued. So, Dany continued her exploration of the northern man. She traced a finger up his chest, through a smattering of dark hair. Then up side of his neck and to his strong jaw where stubble scraped her skin. She drew the fingertips down, across his shoulder and along a muscled arm. When she finally reached his palm, she let her hand linger, twining her slender fingers with his calloused ones. Her eyelids closed and for the first time in years, Dany melted. After a few moments, she noticed the silence. The fire continued to pop and purr, but Jon’s deep, sleeping breaths had stopped. Dany slowly opened her violet eyes to meet Jon’s smouldering dark gaze. Her breathing hitched under his stare and for a moment she looked down, embarrassed. She considered standing and moving to a nearby bench, but then she felt his strong fingers squeeze her hand again like he had yesterday at the sickbed. She took a breath to speak, but Jon shook his head and gently pulled her in to join his nest. All doubts vanished with the cold as Dany leaned against Jon’s hot skin. She crushed her lips against his full mouth and he let out a sigh through his nose. Jon sucked on her bottom lip like he wanted to drink her in. His fingers slid into her hair and along her scalp, sending shivers down her neck. A heat filled Dany like she had never known, starting in her belly from nerves and spreading to core between her legs and upwards into her heart. She realized she was leaning against his chest and pulled away, afraid he was still too weak for that much pressure. Jon groaned when she broke contact and soon proved he had gained his strength back. He sat up and the furs dropped away from his body. He turned and pushed Dany down by the shoulders. Her white furs sprawled out with his dark northern ones. As Jon lowered himself over her, his scent floated in the air: soft leather and a mix of cedar and sage. Jon propped himself on an elbow to meet her gaze. His heavy breathing was back, but this time out of lust instead of sleep. With a rush, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue slipping out to brush her lip. His hands pressed on either side of her face, as if to keep her there. Like she was a dream he didn’t want to slip away. Dany threaded her own fingers through his soft curls, something she had thought about doing since the moment she meet him at Dragonstone. Then, she had cursed herself for thinking such girlish thoughts, but now, the heat and scent and passion coming from Jon drove out every silly little thought, worry or pain from her mind. Jon’s hips were pressed against hers and she could feel him hardening against her core. She gave a soft buck to meet him and Jon took a shuddered breath, moving his mouth to her neck. He sucked at the soft skin there while he tugged at the shoulder straps of Danys night dress. Dany shuddered as Jon kissed circles around a breast and he lowered a hand to cup the other. A calloused thumb slid over her nipple and it hardened at his touch. His mouth enveloped the other nipple, sucking at it and tweaking it to a peak with his tongue. Heat pounded between her legs with each heartbeat and she could feel herself growing slick with desire. Dany lowered her hands to Jon’s waist where she slipped a few fingers under the cloth at his hips. Jon held his breath as her fingers grazed through the patch of black hair beneath his navel. With her other hand, Dany untied the laces of his pants and shimmied them down his hips. Dany bit her lip and hummed as she caught sight of Jon’s throbbing member. She wrapped her fingers around its warm length, garnering a grunt from Jon’s throat. Dany spun her wrist in a way that had pleased former lovers and she felt Jon jerk above her. He dropped his forehead to her collarbone, huffing against her skin. Dany grinned. Seeing this brooding man fall apart under her touch was satisfying in more ways than one. As if he could sense her pride, Jon lifted his head and gave her a blazing look through his curls. He grabbed her wrist roughly, mid stroke, and pinned it above her head. Dany gasped at his sudden assertion. She wanted to feel that power moving in her, but she knew Jon wanted to tease her. He took a fistful of silk night dress at Dany’s thighs and bunched it up to her waist, exposing a triangle of silver curls between her legs. He sat back in his knees and let out a sound of appreciation as he stared at the firelight dancing on her milky skin. Jon lowered his head between her thighs while keeping eye contact with Dany. His hot tongue prodded between her folds, searching for her nub. Dany cried out when he found it, arching her back and securing her fingers in the furs beneath her. Jon groaned against her sex, using his mouth to suck and lap at her, circling her with his tongue. He reached both hands up to her breasts where he skimmed his knuckles across the tips before pinching them softly. Dany lurched with need as pressure began to build beneath Jon’s soft lips. He could feel her body climbing the peak of pleasure. He worked to pull it out of her, moving his tongue in steady swirls and tugging at her breasts. Suddenly Dany reached the edge and flung herself from it, letting out a long groan as she fell. Jon was there to catch her. He kissed each of her thighs before climbing up her body. He wiped his glistening mouth on the back of his hand and then he met her gaze. Through heavy lids, Dany could see his lips were swollen from their activities. She pulled him in closer for a deep kiss. Dany wrapped her legs around Jon’s waist, pressing her wetness against his still hard length. He guided the tip of himself to her entrance and slowly pressed in. Jon’s eyes slid shut as he let out a low moan, his lips forming a soft O. Dany lifted her hips to move against him, relishing at the feel of him inside her. They rocked together, the sound of flesh on flesh growing louder with each thrust. Dany gently bit onto Jon’s muscled shoulder, tasting sweat and feeling his hair against her cheek. Without pulling out of her, Jon leaned back into a sitting position and took Dany with him until she was straddling him. With their bodies silouhetted against the flames, Dany pressed her forehead against Jon’s and rode his thrusts, gasping at the depth. Jon sped up his rythym, letting out desperate sounds with each beat. His head suddenly dropped back, his unruly curls falling behind him. His eyes scrunched shut and his mouth opened in a silent cry as he pumped into Dany a few final times. She felt him throb once, twice inside her before filling her with heat. With a strangled cry, Jon fell back against the furs, pulling Dany to his heaving chest. She kept an ear over his galloping heart. Jon slid his fingers into Dany’s silky hair once more, stroking her scalp. As she floated into sleep, Dany realized she had been craving a place to call home her entire life. Jon was home.

#jonerys #jonerys smut fest #jon snow #danereys targaryen #game of thrones #game of thrones spoilers #smut #snowstorm #did i do this right

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