#started this fired up about making blade suffer and then forgot how to do it

[kurim-chis]

“The one who buried the beloved, was also you.”

—— blade/yingxing x reader (VERY lightly implied dan feng x you)

BACKGROUND: You're a short-lived species who arrived to the xianzhou alongside Yingxing in the merchant ships (perhaps childhood sweethearts??), you've been in a relationship for a few years now and while Yingxing is gruff and rough around the edges, he's nevertheless besotted with you and fiercely in love with you; a happy ending to this story seems likely —— until you get struck with the mara-disease.

AKA this is half-assed narrative and half-assed word vomit, I just want to add more pain and suffering to Blade's past while being self-indulgent trash :D

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yingxing has seen the mara disease so many times before, during the war and within the ships with their citizens, especially once their times passed the five hundred mark and madness slowly creeps in. their faces had mostly been obscured by golden flowers and twisting branches the first time he saw the corpses, but throughout the years he's seen many variations of them.

faces contorted in agony, twisted in fear and despair, or slack and numb as roots wriggled out of their skin and flowers bloomed over their eyes, and most often they would be driven into mara-struck madess and insane bloodlust in their rampages.

yingxing never expects the mara to fall upon you.

if yingxing tries to look back on it, perhaps it had started way more earlier than they'd known — perhaps it was the itching, the little scratches healing faster than they should, the headaches and the daydreaming. it doesn't quite strike either of you until one day you are screaming as golden lines split your skin, as little branches claw their way out of your arms, and small buds blossom from the wounds on your flesh. it's sudden and unexpected and terrifying and you are hunched over yourself trembling and shivering and sweating as he tries to hold you, a hand hovering over the tiny blossoms that grows out of your neck and collarbone, the tiny roots wriggling out of your arms, and it gets progressively worse from thereon.

this can't be happening, you say

i'm scared, you say

please believe me, you say

(because you're a short-lived species, and the only way you could've been struck with mara like this is for you to receive the plague author's blessing)

yingxing believes you (yingxing loves you)

you are frightened and terrified and yingxing can only hold you through the tears and terror and confusion and pleasedon'thatemeyingxing

perhaps, if it had been just the blessings of the abundance, it would've been fine. there are countless individuals within the ship who use the power of the abundance in medicine and aid, after all. but roots continue to wiggle and settle over your skin like bangles and chains, golden flowers begin sprouting from the buds in your flesh, and even your eyes and hair starts losing their colors.

you try to snip the blossoms and the locks of hair and the branches, and the wounds only heal over and over and over again, each time faster than before, the blooms brighter and livelier than the last, and the tips of your hair take on the color of dry blood and your eye color melt into the gold of the mara disease.

you are in pain, you are in agony and miserable, and eventually, even your memories and sense of self start deteriorating amidst a haze of golden petals and blood.

you start asking if it would be better to die "while you still can" (you are afraid of becoming like the mara-struck soldiers in the game), but yingxing doesn't allow you to.

this cannot be happening, yingxing thinks.

it breaks yingxing to watch you like this, but no one else can know. xianzhou will see you dead for suspicions of worshipping the plague author. he can only hold you during the nights and soothe your fits until you settle like a docile beast in his arms, and then during the day, he researches

yingxing puts aside the forgery for as long as he possibly can without arousing suspicions and throws himself into mara research discreetly, but there's not much he can find. access to advanced texts are restricted and he only learns about as much as anyone interested in the mara disease knows, but one thing is for sure —— there's no documented recovery from the mara in the centuries of the xianzhou history.

become mara-struck, and you either die in a flurry of golden flowers or are striked down by the cloud knights.

(there's another thing yingxing eventually finds out, as well —— this is no accident. someone caused this to you)

(yingxing will hunt them down to the farthest reach of the stars, and he will not stop until they are dead. whoever did this will wish they hadn't been born.)

if yingxing cannot find anything about how to recover from the mara, perhaps then he could find a way to control the disease, prevent it from hurting you as it was doing now, prevent it from turning you into a mad creature. it wasn't too late yet, and yingxing refuses to give up on you.

yingxing turns to imbibitor lunae and the scalegorge waterscape — the sacred abode of the vidyadhara, a race devoted to the sealing and guard of the ambrosial arbor, and that becomes one amongst the many mistakes he will have commited.

in the future, the man - yingxing - who will become known as blade will look back on this moment and laugh — madly, loudly, hatefully, as he lives on cursing his life and that of two other sinners.

you are dead, and yingxing could not save you

you are dead, and blade wants to die

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BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO CONTINUE NARRATING:

There are a LOT of layers to what I want to be happening in the premise of this short. For example, I wanted to write that the ones responsible for "you", as a short-lived species, going mara-struck was a result of sabotaging and conflict with Sanctus Medicus (or whatever antagonist there is during the events of Dan Feng and Yingxing's crimes), who wanted to sow strife amidst the Xianzhou. There's a lot of plot going on that my little brain can't be bothered to rationalize.

During his research on mara and trying to find out HOW you turned mara, he begins suspecting of foul play and unearths quite a bit of shit within the Xianzhou. There's a lot of sketchy shit, some not related at all to what he wants to know, and it paints numerous targets of Yingxing.

Their main targets would actually be Jing Liu (who some time later on succumbs to mara and goes on a murderous rampage) and many other higher ups and important figures to different areas of the Xianzhou. In trying to discreetly trigger or infect mara to others, they also partook in indiscriminate damage in hopes one of their targets will be caught unawares and be infected with something that can trigger or coax out the mara disease, and "you" were caught in the crossfire and ended up mara struck (or perhaps you were intentionally targeted as well, can't decide on this) as a short-lived species collateral. Many of the other short-lived species die during this period of time.

By some twist of fate or whatever, your descent into mara isn't instantaneous and is instead painful, slow and with a clear consciense of the changes in your body, but it's only slowed, and your body can't adjust to mara like how Blade and Jing Liu will in the future.

Ying Xing, however, clings to the hope you can mantain your clarity and sense of self, and what he wanted to do in this short is research the vidyadhara's records to see if he could seal away your mara or contain your disease. When that wasn't enough, he will perhaps 1) try to find some other way, 2) try to see if Dan Feng can find a way to contain your mara disease, or at least delay it until something can be done because this wasn't your fault.

Instead, what happens is that Dan Feng kills you.

Dan Feng sees you and you are half consumed with flowers even though you aren't being violent or crazed, you've tanked the attacks of many other cloud knights and mara-struck alike and are covered in blood and tatters while everyone's dead. Your sins are set in stone (are they really?) and your ending is only a matter of time, so Imbibitor Lunae - although pained - decides to put you down and lay you to rest. He tries to kill you - and either fails or obliterates your sense of self so all that remains is a corpse that keeps healing - and then seals/buries your regenerating body into the Scalegorge Waterscape.

Dan Feng's actions are an act of compassion, love and mercy in his eyes. He buries you in Scalegorge Waterscape, where your rest will be undisturbed and none shall desecreate your body, not even the Xianzhou will be able to part the seas of Scalegorge.

But that and what Yingxing sees are different. (they also think differently lmao)

After Yingxing reaches Scalegorge amidst all the chaos that would be happening, he would only know you were hurt very, very badly. Blood, flowers, tattered clothes. Lots of fighting, arguing, etc.

Ending is that - as mentioned - despite his efforts otherwise, Yingxing sees your body cast into the abyss of the Scalegorge Waterscape and sealed there, left to rot in the darkness and cold of an artificial sea.

Afterwards, he himself becomes mara-struck and then is sent of to be killed over and over again by Jing Liu lmao. He wants to die, but he cannot.

At some point in time, he almost forgets that his name is Yingxing and he had loved someone who died unjustly amidst internal conflict and everything, but it comes back to him when he escapes and becomes Blade.

EVERYTHING here is just self-indulgent brainstorming. NGL it could've been better.

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #started this fired up about making blade suffer and then forgot how to do it #gg i really enjoy writing stuff where yingxing and you or OC were in a relationship #perfectly happy and content #and then WHOOOSH #DESPAIR AND ANGUISH AND DEATH #blade x reader #hsr x reader #i lost my shit halfway through writing this and just forgot how to write #what is writing?? what am I doing?? #kurim writes hsr

[goddessofmischief]

And I Didn’t Like the Ending, Part 2 (Din Djarin x Reader) Angst

You’ve never tell them anything.

...Not that they had asked you.

Instead, a squad of troopers would storm in every once-in-awhile, holding syringes, and a large, medical looking machine. They’d hook you up to it, and slowly, you could feel your power being drained.

But you didn’t care about that. They could kill you, if they wanted. All you had to know was that the Child was safe.

That Din was safe.

Part of you thought he was. You knew he was with Fennec and the others, you could feel him. But you also knew he was in danger. That he was putting himself in danger.

For you. But not only for you, of course. No, you were only the Child’s caretaker, their Jedi master. The one who Ahsoka had said could not train him, because he loved you too damn much, looked on you and Din as parents.

Well. You kinda knew where he’d gotten that idea.

“Jedi Master,” said Gideon, storming into your cell, cape swishing ominously behind him. “I’m honored.” “You know I’m not a Master, Gideon. I just have the midichlorians. No training.”

“But powerful, all the same.” At this point, you want to say something. You want to say something dumb, like ‘You’ll never get away with this!’ or ‘the Mandalorian’s coming back for us.’ But you couldn’t make yourself say any of these things. For one, they were terribly trite, and for another, you weren’t sure they were true.

He might get away with it. The Mandalorian might not come back for you. That was a reality you were going to have to learn to accept.

“You’ve gotten what you wanted,” you said, leaning against the wall of your cell, exhausted. “You’ve got my blood, for whatever reason. Kid’s too, probably. Why don’t you just let us go?”

“Oh, you know I can’t do that.” “Why?” He shrugs.

“The Jedi have been in this galaxy for far too long,” Gideon states. “We’re going to be the ones to wipe them out.” “So you’re going to kill me, then?” “Eventually. When we’re finished.” You hadn’t lost hope before. You did now.

...

He was here.

He was here, and he was not only alive, no - he was well. He was healthy, and at this moment, so much stronger than you. You could barely breathe, much less think of using your powers.

You felt others, too - Cara. Fennec. Boba, for a moment, but then he had left. And... Bo-Katan? Yes. Her too.

Gideon burst through the door again, holding a gag.

“Really?” “The Mandalorian is coming, as you may have guessed. It will be most inconvenient for me if he does find you. At least... before he finds the dark troopers.”

You struggled to breathe through the gag, and Gideon swept away, leaving you in the darkness.

Din, you whispered, through the Force. Din, I’m here-

You could feel him, which made it worse. He was in pain.

He was suffering.

He had to know you were alive. He had to.

Din, it’s me-

Din, come on, keep fighting-

Din!

Cyar’ika?

Finally. A voice not your own. A voice painfully and beautifully familiar, that aches with a familiar ache.

I’m here.

He’s got the kid, you realize, and suddenly you see a shadow cross the door of your cell. It opens.

It’s him.

But not only him, no - he’s got Gideon as well, dragging him against the floor, and the Child carefully cradled in the other arm. And he holds the darksaber, just as you had known that he would.

“Din!” you try to shout, aloud. He kneels in front of you, carefully undying the gag.

“Din,” you whisper, and his glove brushes up against your cheek.

“I’m here, cya’rika.” “I knew you would be,” you lied, and he helped you up as you attempted to keep your knees steady.

“What did they do?”

“Took blood. That’s all.”

He seems relieved, but you don’t miss the withering glance he gives Gideon.

Oh, he’s in for it.

“Yes,” says Din, and you realize you forgot to stop projecting your thoughts to him. “Yes, he is.”

You give a half-hearted chuckle, and he helps you down the corridor and to the bridge, Gideon dragged behind you.

“Y/N!” Cara shouts, sounding relieved. “You’re - oh.”

She sees the darksaber. Everyone does.

“What happened?” asks Bo.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” states Cara, proudly. “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she’s talking about.” Everyone turns to Gideon.

“Why don’t you kill him now and take it?” He’s talking to Bo.

“It’s yours now.” “What is?” Din asks, sounding, frankly, a unique combination of terrified and exhausted.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you.”

Din attempts to hand it to Bo. “Now, it belongs to her.” “She can’t take it. It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again...she would need to defeat you in combat.’

“I yield. It’s yours.” “Oh, no,” chuckles Gideon. “It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she's a pretender to the throne.”

“He’s right.” “Come on, just take it,” insists Din, and you wish she would. Luckily, an alarm goes off... to the relief of almost all of you.

“The ray shields have been breached,” says Fennec. “We’re being boarded.”

“How many life forms?” “None.” “You’re about to face off with the dark troopers,” Gideon teases. “You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.” You start to push away from Din, but he holds tightly on to you.

“Cya’rika, what are you-” “I have to fight,” you insist, making a feeble attempt at escape. “’M the only one who can use the Force, it’s got to be me.” “No. You’re too weak right now.” “Seal the blast doors!” Bo shouts.

“I can do it, Din, let me-”

“They’re here,” states Koska, and you hear the door being beaten in.

Gideon smirks.

“You have an impressive fire team protecting you,” Gideon begins, “But I think we all know, after a valiant stand... everyone in this room will be dead-” Din clutches on to you a little tighter.

“But me. And them. And the Child.” “Never,” you seethe, and your knees threaten to buckle again.

But suddenly, the pounding ceases. And you don’t know why. You can only feel something... a familiar presence, like a warm blanket. Like Ahsoka, but also... not.

“Why did they stop?” asks Koska. No one seems to know. But you see a hooded man on the monitor, and you do. It’s one of yours. It’s a Jedi.

It’s Luke Skywalker.

Grogu watches, enraptured, and you let out a exhausted chuckle.

“That's right, buddy,” you say. “That’s Luke. He’s... he’s one of us. He’s a friend.”

And the most powerful Jedi you’ve ever met. Well, except for Ahsoka... the only Jedi you’ve ever met. The one who convinced you in the first place that you had powers, which you’d never realized before. It had been a chance meeting, brief... but it had left its own indelible mark on you, all the same.

“Open the doors,” states the Mandalorian. “I said, open the doors.” “Are you crazy?” Din looks at you, and wordlessly, opens them himself, just as Luke pulls down his hood. “Are you a Jedi?” asks Din. “I am,” answers Luke. He smiles at you, then turns his attention to Grogu. “Come, little one.”

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Din insists. “He wants your permission. He is strong with the Force - but talent without training is nothing.”

Luke looks at you as he says this, and you can’t help but feel slightly offended.

“I will give my life to protect the Child. But he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”

Din picks the Child up again, and begins to speak to him, quietly.

“Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind. I’ll... see you again. I promise.” “No,” you speak out, mustering all your strength. “No. I will train him.” Luke looks at you with a measure of pity.

“You can't,” he said. “You are untrained yourself. And... he is attached to you.”

He says it like it’s a bad thing.

“Then train me,” you insist. “Train me. Let me come with him.” Din looks at you, and you can hear his thoughts, loudly.

They go why?

They wouldn’t really, would they?

And on. And on.

“No,” Din whispers, hoarsely, and the Child seems to tell that he’s hurting. He reaches up for his mask, and Din does something that you never would have guessed -

He takes the helmet off.

You can see the ache in his eyes. His big, brown eyes.

He’s crying. He cries for you, for the child.

He cries for his family.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, not only to Grogu, but to you. After he sets the child down, he turns to you - and you recognize it as your turn.

Your turn to say goodbye.

“He really needs you,” Din said, his voice small and vulnerable. “...Right? You wouldn’t leave m- go, if there was any other way.” You nod, feeling a lump in your throat.

“I have to.”

“You have to.” You try to walk towards Luke, but your feet keep you planted there, and, unable to stop, you fling yourself into Din’s arms, and he holds you tightly as you sob into his shoulder.

“Sh, cya’rika-” and he begins to hum an old Alderaanian lullaby you taught him-

Mirrorbright, shines the moon,

Its glow as soft as an ember

When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember

Those you have loved, but are gone

Those who kept you so safe and warm

Those you loved are with you still

The moon will help you remember He sets you down, then, much like the Child, and you kiss him. You put your whole self into it... and it’s painful, so painful, not like your kisses before.

“I’ll see you again,” you promise. “I swear.”

Luke nods at you, picking up the Child, and you lean on his other arm for support. You don’t miss Din’s heartbroken, slightly jealous expression.

“May the Force be with you,” Luke utters, and before you shut the link off to Din’s mind, you hear one, last thought -

What the hell do I need the Force for if I don’t have them?

#and i didn't like the ending #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x jedi!reader #the mandalorian x reader #disney + #disney plus #taylor swift #exile song #luke skywalker

[kaibacorpintern]

hi i forgot the ship name but would u write something thats seto and ryou? (platonic or romantic) where they play a ttrpg together or somethin idk

“or somethin idk” give me an inch, i have run a mile. a mile of 4.7k words.

platonic euroshipping. post-canon. ryou applies for a game writer position at kaibacorp and makes it to the final stage. contains: dragons, swords, some very sexy things about solidvision and the virtual world, kaiba covered in blood and having a great time, me the writer having a great time, hopefully you the reader having a great time, and ryou, not covered in blood, having a very, very, very anxious time

tw for some fantasy violence

++++++

Ryou inhaled, taking a deep breath of: the fresh, sweet smell of grass, the coolness of river water, something dry and grey in the wind, slightly rotten - smoke? And sulfur. The grasses were filled with the restless susurrus of the wind, each blade quivering with anticipation. Above him, a hawk tilted in lazy, wide circles, tracking the hidden paths of its prey. He stood on a dusty path halfway up the long slope of a steep hillside, the farmlands of the valley behind him peeled back to reveal the burned, blackened devastation beneath. The village from this distance looked like the charcoal remains of a bonfire, the air still shimmering with heat. 

The sun itself was hot, making him sweat in the thick, coarse silk of his mage’s robe, every purple thread saturated with light and heat. Mopping sweat from his brow, Ryou opened his options menu, the holographic display falling open, in the guise of an illuminated manuscript, and hovering at waist-height in thin air, perfectly tilted for reading. The parchment was old and yellowed, almost velvet to the touch, the edges frayed with age, and he couldn’t resist the urge to smell it, leaning in cautiously to take an experimental whiff. Strong notes of dust, old ink, age; an undertone of knowledge, of the forbidden kind. 

He selected Player Appearance and the page turned, with weight and heft, to reveal another. Kaiba didn’t miss a beat. Ryou had no doubt if he knelt down to drink from the stream that flowed down the slope, folding in clear ribbons past the rocks, the water would run cold over his fingers until they pruned. And the magic effects?

He swallowed. It was not just the sun that was making him sweat.

He’d just changed into something more practical - a short-sleeved green tunic, a pair of white breeches, leather boots that had just a bit of bite to the fit, like the player had to wear them in - when a chime pealed out from six feet away, as though someone had rung an invisible bell. The air tore apart, in odd, geometric anguish, like a broken mirror twisting into itself - 

and there was Kaiba, standing in the knee-high grass in his customary black turtleneck and tight pants, frowning with his arms crossed.

“Hello,” Ryou said. “It’s so nice to see you again. Your technology is... this is amazing. The attention to detail is incredible. The player screen, with the parchment - it even smells like - ”

“What is this? Medieval?” Kaiba said, glancing around at his clothes, the distant village, taking no notice of his praise; Ryou bit his tongue in self-rebuke. As if buttering him up with compliments was going to help. 

“Western Europe. From the mid-11th century to the 12th. The age of knights and chivalry,” he said, deciding that maybe his best strategy was to simply be straightforward.

“I’m familiar with basic history, thank you. How... classic,” Kaiba said, in a tone that screamed disinterest, and Ryou’s heart began to plummet - already starting from behind? No, no, no, he reminded himself, straightening the slouch out of his shoulders. Yuugi had warned him about this. Kaiba was fantastically tough to impress, in general, and the Virtual World was his world, a realm he'd built with sweat and tears, and stolen back with blood. So he hand-picked every writer that wrote for Virtual World games, refusing to squander a single pixel on conventional nonsense and uninspired cliché. 

The last step - before he brought the axe down - was a short, playable demo, as proof of concept, written by the applicant and executed by the Virtual World team.

Ryou had come this far in the application process. Trust that, Yuugi said. And trust yourself.

Kaiba was looking at him, eyebrows arched with expectant curiosity.

“Er,” Ryou said. “Let’s get started, then. You’ll need to change.”

He pulled up the menu, revelling in the hovering parchment once more, and changed Kaiba’s appearance, like - like magic, the lines of Kaiba’s silhouette rippling like a sine wave from the bottom up, his modern-day clothing becoming a knee-length tunic of chainmail under a belted dark blue surcoat. Kaiba held still throughout the entire transformation, in smug admiration of the effect, his arms held out in a ballet dancer’s pose as chainmail draped down his shoulders to his wrists. 

In his right hand appeared, with a sharp, diamond flash of light, a long arming sword, the edge nicked with age and bloodspill. The hilt was black, with a sapphire gleaming in the pommel. A plain shield dropped onto his left forearm. 

He gave the sword an experimental spin, testing the heft with practiced ease, and slid it back into the leather scabbard on his belt.

“A knight, the charred, smoking remains of a village… I’m assuming I’m on a quest to kill a dragon?” he said, pushing back the hood of the chainmail so that it draped off his shoulders, and nodding up the slope to where the grasses tattered into rocky shale. 

“Yes, you can assume that,” Ryou said politely.

On cue, a child no more than twelve years old staggered up the dusty path from the village, her small torso heaving with breath, sweat and tears running in clean streaks down her soot-stained face. 

“Sir Knight,” she choked out. Flashing a look at Ryou that said cheap blow, but unable to deny his own fraternal instinct, Kaiba dropped to one knee and caught her, his hands swallowing her thin, shuddering shoulders. Playing along, at least.

“Calm down,” he said, steadying her. Ryou imagined his anxiety as a small, hard rock, packing in the twist of every fraying nerve, and leaned all his weight onto one foot, grinding the rock into the dirt with his heel. "What is it?”

“They sent me to warn you, about the dragon,” she panted. “They said only the Chosen One can truly defeat the dragon, and bring peace back to the land. Many have tried. All suffered the same terrible fate - a fate worse than death.”

“I see,” Kaiba said. “And who is the Chosen One?”

The girl glanced at Ryou over Kaiba’s shoulder, her eyes glinting with fear. 

“No - no one knows,” she said. “But all the oracles say they’re coming… a knight with a pure and worthy heart. Sir Knight, don’t go. Come back to the village. It’s safe there. What do you gain from this? Our humble lands aren’t worth the danger!”

“I think they are,” Kaiba said, thumbing soot off her face, and frowning as her cheek pixelated, briefly, and resumed a skin-like texture. "Open master commands, user ID 000002510. Initiate master log. Begin recording: skin-to-skin contact glitch reappeared during writer play-test, candidate Bakura, R. Begin patch work immediately. End recording. Disperse to Virtual World team, flag Sawada, project manager. Close master commands. Did you know, one of the most compelling unsolved problems in physics is the lack of a theory that realizes both general relativity and quantum mechanics?”

The girl gave him a wary look, wide-eyed with faint alarm. Ryou sucked in a breath, grinding the anxiety rock down, down, down.

“You - you speak in tongues, Sir Knight," she said. "Are you also an oracle? Has your future-sight failed you? Don’t you see that only death lives on the mountain?”

Kaiba snorted and stood up, turning to Ryou. “A solid response to non-standard player input. Doesn’t ignore modern concepts, but re-contextualizes them in the setting of this world via a framework of prophecy, and redirects the player to the plot.” 

“Um... thank you?” Ryou said. “I wanted this world to feel like it has a future, too, not just a history. I wanted to place it on a timeline, like it - ”

Kaiba’s attention swung back to the girl, still standing there with her eyes darting between them, full of bafflement. 

“Return to the village, girl. Tell them my future-sight never fails me.”

The girl retreated backwards, warily, twisted on her heel, and fled down the path.

"If I go down to the village, what'll I find?" Kaiba said.

"More information about the Chosen One, and an outlaw who tries to recruit you to her band of thieves, with the option to join them for a stealth-based quest.”

"Hm. You have the imagination and the decency to offer me something other than blatant bait, which I don't always bite. The cliché of the Chosen One is boring as hell, it’s both over-done and deterministic, but I think... yes. Yes, I'll bite. Let's go see your dragon."

In the wake of this... compliment?, Ryou could only offer him a small, tentative smile, his heart clenching tight around Yuugi's advice. 

Kaiba started up the path. 

“Er, Kaiba - you might want to check your inventory before you encounter the dragon."

Kaiba’s hand padded around his waist until he found the small satchel that sat on his hip. Another parchment unfurled in the air before him, listing its contents:

Two full healing spells;

Two glamour spells, for changing the guise of a person or object;

Two transformation spells, for changing a person or an object into an animal;

Two scrying spells, for locating people or objects;

Two ignis spells, for commanding fire;

Two aqua spells, for commanding water; and

Two ventus spells, for commanding wind.

Ryou watched him as he read. He'd carved a small, thick groove into the dirt below his foot. Surely, that was enough for Kaiba to get creative?

Kaiba only closed the parchment with a brisk flick of his hand. Then he started up the mountain, Ryou following nervously behind.

***

The mountain path was rougher than Ryou expected, a tightly-coiled spring of switchbacks, leading to the curved lip of a high pass. After several minutes of trudging the dust in silence, he was panting for breath, his feet aching and blistering in their boots, and deeply regretting adding this little detail to the story. Next time, he was just going to put the dragon on a rolling, grassy plain, and he’d make it like an American autumn corn maze, because it still needed to be a challenge, and when the players got to the center they’d find the dragon’s decaying, rotting corpse and realize they’d been stuck inside the maze for five hundred years and everyone they loved was dead, and if they wanted to go back to their own time they’d have to find out how to resurrect the dragon, but only at a terrible cost, a sacrifice of some kind... Not his best off-the-cuff work, but there were usable concepts in there, somewhere. If there was a next time.

Despite being laden down with the chainmail, each tiny link flashing like fish scales in the airy slanting of the afternoon sun, Kaiba seemed unaffected by the demands of the hike, propelling himself forward with long, energetic strides. How?

Ryou thought about asking for a break. Or drinking water from the stream. Or changing his boots for something comfier, but he didn't have anything else in his outfit inventory except the mage robes, and the slippers might be even worse… he stopped, hands on his hips, gathering his breath.

From here the valley sprawled below them, a wide, velvety plain, its edges rising and scalloped by mountains. The village fit in the circle of his thumb and forefinger, a smoking black thumbprint. The team had done a fantastic job: the stream ran down the mountain, flattened into a river, and ran south, lazy and serpentine, a green-blue ribbon cutting through the yellow plains, just like he’d outlined in his initial description of the world….

Wait. 

This was all virtual. 

There was no such thing as air, here, or rivers or sunshine or grasses.

His real, physical body was half-asleep in a Virtual World testing pod on the 17th floor of the Kaiba Corp Tower, and his body here was just a series of algorithms, and if he didn’t want to sweat, he didn’t have to fucking sweat! Thank God!

Up ahead, Kaiba noted the absence of his footfalls and turned around, one hand resting easily on his sword hilt. From his position on the path, he looked down at Ryou from several feet up, which doubled the intimidation of his already formidable bearing.

“I’m fine,” Ryou said. “Just... admiring the view.”

“Are you having your Matrix moment? That’s what my programmers call it,” Kaiba said.

Ryou laughed. “I think so. I was tired but I don't feel it at all, anymore. Like all the fatigue's just melted away and I could run a marathon.”

“Is that something you enjoy?”

“Oh, no. I hate sports.”

Kaiba snorted.

“So, tell me. Why do you want this job?” he said. “At my company? Writing stories with my technology?”

“Er - ” Blindsided by the swerve in topics, Ryou tripped over his thoughts. Surely he must’ve read his application? Maybe he didn’t have the time. Stick to straightforward. “I’m sure you remember my performance in Battle City?”

“Yes, I remember,” Kaiba said, which was honestly more than Ryou expected of him.

“Well, I don’t play much Duel Monsters anymore,” he said, “but I still.. every once in a while, I turn my Duel Disk on and play a few cards, just to see my monsters come out, see them breathe… you know I run a Zombie deck, full of demons and dead things, but SolidVision makes them feel so - so alive. You took these fantasy monsters that exist only in our heads and put them in our world.”

“Virtual World game writers don’t work on SolidVision products,” Kaiba countered.

“Right, I know that. To me, Virtual World and SolidVision are the inverse of each other, or opposites that contain each other, like, like yin and yang - with SolidVision, the unreal enters the real, and becomes real. In the Virtual World, the real - ” Ryou motioned to himself - “enters the unreal, and becomes unreal. We like to put walls between imagination and reality, you know, taxes are real and unicorns aren’t, but with SolidVision and Virtual World, there is no wall. That’s the world I want to write stories for.”

“Hm,” Kaiba said, the corner of his mouth curving up in a smile. “Interesting take.”

And he waited, saying nothing more, until Ryou realized he was waiting for him; and trotted lightly up the path to join him.

*** 

By the time they reached the top of the mountain pass, the air had turned a clear, dusky gold. The mountains cast long, black shadows across the valley, like dark teeth, chewing up the farmlands. The mountain pass was saddle-shaped, one side sloping down into the valley they’d just come from, the other flattening into a smaller, higher bowl, cupping a pale blue-green lake between its rocky palms.

Kaiba scrambled onto the nearest large rock, his head swinging as he scanned the lake valley. Ryou wrapped one arm around his waist and bit his thumb. They had found a deep, penetrating quiet, the kind of wilderness quiet that was devoid of texture of any kind; no bugs or burbling streams or bird song. It was not even like holding your breath, waiting, because that implied a coming moment of exhale, a sigh of relief. This was a perfect stillness. 

And hidden somewhere inside it was a dragon. 

Ryou bit harder, until he remembered the pain was fake and did nothing, and he had to come up with something else to temper his anxiety, which was definitely, definitely real.

Kaiba's gonna flip his shit when he sees your dragon, Yuugi said, from the back of Ryou's mind, Ryou's demo manuscript in hand. In a good way or a bad way? Is it too derivative? What does it matter that he'll flip his shit for my dragon when he flips his shit for ANY dragon? He's a slut for dragons. Oh my god, you can't say that! Yuugi, please, help - nope. You got this. You know what you're doing.

Even the metallic shing of Kaiba’s sword coming out of its sheath seemed small, in an unnatural way, a pointless, petty defiance. 

A shadow fell across the lake valley. 

Both of them looked up -

and an enormous dragon hurtled out of the sky, landing with thundering force on all four clawed feet, flattening trees and boulders beneath its reptilian bulk. Ryou staggered backwards and fell, in an awkward, clumsy crab pose; Kaiba threw his shield over his face and dug in, undaunted.

"HAVE YOU COME TO KILL ME?" the dragon boomed. “MISERABLE WRETCH?”

Kaiba lowered his shield, just enough for his first full look at the dragon. From his spot, crumpled on the ground, Ryou saw, in the shadow below the shield, another slender smile. The dragon’s hide was a dark, luxurious blue-black, mottled like snakeskin but textured with the heavy crags and knobs of crocodiles. It lowered its head on its long, arching neck, gracefully bearing the weight of two massive, curving horns, and stared down at them with fathomless acid-green eyes.

Even Ryou, who had designed it, sat enthralled: every movement it made - the eager flick of its tail, the claws, curling into the dirt, glinting under a layer of blood and grime, the shuddering of its leathery wings as they folded into its long body - hinted at indomitable power. It was a true creature of legend, a titan from the youngest days of the world, demanding both reverence and terror.

“I have!” Kaiba replied blithely, despite announcing it in a ringing voice.

“ONLY THE CHOSEN ONE CAN DEFEAT ME,” the dragon said. “YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF SUCH A FEAT. I SEE YOUR HEART, BLACKGUARD KNIGHT. I CAN TASTE THE BLOOD YOU’VE SPILLED WITH YOUR SWORD, BRIGHT AND PUNGENT. I CAN HEAR THE CRIES OF ALL THE LIVES YOU’VE LET EBB INTO THE DIRT AT YOUR FEET!”

“I’m here to avenge the village!” Kaiba shouted. 

“YOU COME UP HERE TO DEFEND SOME PATHETIC SCRAPS OF BRICK AND WOOD, THINKING YOU CAN KILL ME, AND CALL THAT HONOR? REDEMPTION? YOU CALL THAT COURAGE? ITS TRUE NAME IS VANITY! EMPTY AND FALSE! IT WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN BEFORE I DO!” the dragon boomed again. “LEAVE. I WAS ONCE NAIVE AND VAIN LIKE YOU. COME BACK WHEN YOU ARE MORE THAN A MERE WORM, OR ELSE SUFFER MY FATE!”

Ryou had clambered to his feet and bolted for the safety of a low ridge, which gave him a perfect view of Kaiba, head held high and proud as he gazed unflinching at the dragon, several hundred times his size. He’d written those words in his notebook on the metro, leaning his head against the cool midnight glass, pausing every other line to ferret out another piece of sour candy from his bag. Then he’d missed his stop. That trundling, light-washed world of a train car seemed impossibly distant now - a rapidly fading dream, to be remembered only in flashes and silence. To hear the words come out of the smoking jaws of this dragon, each syllable flowing in a delicious, indulgent baritone from its shining teeth, filled him with a breathless exhilaration, his heart hammering in his throat - this was real!

“Only one of us is suffering fate today!” Kaiba shouted back, a laugh in his voice, and then threw a glance at Ryou. “‘Suffer my fate?’ Is that a typo?”

“VERY WELL. COME KILL ME! THERE IS PEACE IN DEATH, AND ONLY ONE OF US CAN CLAIM IT!”

“I - watch out!” Ryou yelled, as the dragon lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut on the empty air where Kaiba had been standing half a second before. Kaiba threw himself out of the way, a nimble tuck and roll, and scrabbled across the shale towards higher ground. Behind him, the dragon swung its massive head, nostrils red and flaring, mouth curled up in a savage draconic grin, glinting with the promise of violence. 

No sooner had Kaiba flung himself behind a scattering of boulders, shield raised, than it unleashed a jet of fire so hot and scorching the boulders glowed red, their rough faces melting in sheets. Ryou felt the heat wash across his face, from several dozen yards away. 

The fire died out. The dragon snorted in satisfaction, horse-like, a loud, wet huff of smoke. The boulders sizzled as they cooled into their new, bizarrely dripping forms.

Kaiba emerged from behind a boulder, sweating and singed, his face streaked with ash and his eyes shining. He tossed the warped, melted wreckage of his shield aside, where it bounced and clattered against the rocks.

“SO YOU STILL LIVE? A MISTAKE. WHAT COMES NEXT WILL HURT WORSE!”

“For you!” Kaiba hurled back, and threw his hand into the air, a gesture Ryou had seen countless times on a duel field - a lightning rod, a summoning. “VENTUS!” 

The wind picked up, in a giddy, howling whirl, bringing with it a cloud of dust that descended gritty and blinding and pale across the valley. Kaiba and the dragon vanished from sight inside it. Mentally Ryou subtracted one spell from Kaiba’s satchel.

“THIS WON’T HELP Y - ” Cut off by a wet chop and an ear-splitting draconic scream, a raw, awful sound, torn out of an unwilling throat. Just below it, a glorious, cascading laugh. “WRETCH! WORM!”

The dust settled, revealing glistening, dark-green blood splattered across the rocks, and a single severed claw, its flesh still twitching. The dragon seethed, its wounded foot curled in agony. Kaiba was clear across the other side of the pass, by the dragon’s tail, grinning open-mouthed as he panted for breath. His chainmail and surcoat dripped with dragon blood; his hair was thick with it. 

“COME GET YOUR PEACE, DRAGON!” he bellowed, and the dragon slung its head around, tail coiling in an ominous whip. 

Again Kaiba lifted his hand, shouted “VENTUS - !”

And a second dust cloud barreled into the valley, as the dragon roared back, “THAT WON’T WORK AGAIN!”

It whipped its tail through the dust cloud, a scythe-like sweep - smacking something hard into the rocks with a thick, fleshy crunch of bone that made Ryou’s insides clench tight with terrified sympathy.

The dragon whirled around, clearing the dust with several storm-gathering wingbeats.

This was not real. This was just pixels, neatly arranged and running in rivers of algorithms - just a clever series of ones and zeroes - and yet Ryou gasped, the dragon laughing, at the sight of Kaiba lying in a crumpled, motionless heap in the rocks. He hadn’t considered Kaiba might actually fail to kill the dragon - all thoughts of jobs and game-writing abandoned - unreality aside, the mind had a way of making it real - what the fuck happened if Kaiba died?

“IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE, WORM?” the dragon said, nudging Kaiba’s limp body with its claws, rolling him over. His head lolled, his body twisted into a horrifying, broken-boned slouch. How on earth was Ryou going to explain this to Yuugi? Hell. “I TOLD YOU, YOU'RE NOT W - ”

Ryou almost didn’t see it - a hawk in a dive, arrow-straight, from the top of the sky, diving through a blinding flash of light several stories up - and out of the light came Kaiba, alive and whole, plummeting towards the dragon’s head, gripping his sword with both hands - plunging it straight through the top of the dragon’s skull. 

He left the sword hilt-deep in dragon flesh as he pitched forward with the force of impact, rolling over the dragon’s brow, flailing to catch himself - on the massive horn. Clinging, victorious, as the great dragon swayed, its green eyes filming, and finally slumped, in agonized slow motion, to the earth, body first, head last, with a thundering, bone-rattling crash. 

It released one last, rattling breath, the trees shuddering in the fetid breeze.

The valley descended into stillness once more. 

Ryou sat down on his low escarpment with a limp thump, burying his face in both hands. This was just a Virtual World, where at one point everything would power down and they’d wake up safe and sound in the squishy, air-conditioned comfort of a pod, and he had, after all, planned on Kaiba killing the dragon, but Kaiba’s sheer nerve seemed beyond that. Yuugi was right. The guy was, maybe, a little nuts. Completely off his rocker.

“Ryou,” Kaiba said, above him, and Ryou lifted his head. Kaiba rested the sword jauntily across his shoulder, the rest of him filthy with dragon blood and human blood and dirt. “I have to say, I enjoyed your dragon. A shame it had to die.”

“Your strategy... You used a glamour spell? On a... rock? To make it look like your dead body,” Ryou said. “And then a transformation spell.”

“Correct. Is that all for your demo?” Kaiba said, cocking an eyebrow, both bloody and disdainful, and Ryou swallowed. “I was hoping for more of a cha - ”

His words stopped hard in his throat, a harsh, hacking sound. His free hand flew to his neck, mouth dropping open in pain and confusion, eyes widening. He coughed - or tried to, achieving nothing more than a thin, ugly retching, his face going white - and Ryou watched, in fascinated horror, as his gamble began to play out. There was nothing he could do to help; he’d written it that way.

The sword clattered to the stones, green blood dripping off the shining edge, as Kaiba staggered sideways, gasping for breath, both hands on his neck - what was the algorithm doing to him? Ryou had only written ‘a suffocating, squirming pain, concentrated in the lungs,’ and resolved to think more carefully about what types of pain he might inflict on the player characters, if the gamble paid off... But how interesting to know even the creator of the Virtual World himself suspended his disbelief - his knowledge of the truth - sometimes, and indulged in pain...

He collapsed to his knees, stretching one hand out, fisting it around Ryou’s collar and dragging him closer - 

“What - ” he choked out, eyes glaring into Ryou’s, in baffled, furious agony - terrified - they rolled backwards, the blue sliding away to white, as he slumped over himself. 

His hand went slack and fell. What life remained slipped away in a low, shaking sigh.

Ryou took him by the shoulders and gently lay him down, passing a hand over his eyes to close them. Dead, but not really.

“Just hold on a moment,” he said. The body had been vacated. The soul - the player - was awakening elsewhere.

He waited a few moments, absorbing the stillness, the detail on the leaves of the pine trees; the way the lake water shimmered in golden flecks with late afternoon light. It was maybe his last few seconds to enjoy the world he’d written, rendered in full splendor by the magic of technology, and he’d banished his anxiety from both his mind and body, to live out its exile in the real world. It didn’t belong here.

The great dragon body began to stir, drowsily, waking up from a deep, deep sleep. The deepest sleep.

Ryou stood up and slid down the escarpment to the dragon, pebbles and dust avalanching around his feet. The stab wound in its skull was knitting back together; the severed claw was crawling back to its slow-bleeding joint. There was an agonized hiss, forced through the dragon’s tightly-clenched teeth, and a vibrating groan, deep in its chest, as it gathered itself out of death.

Its eyes opened, in wary slits - not the bright, acid green, but a stunning, oceanic blue.

“OW. FUCK,” it growled, in Kaiba’s voice, magnified and twice as resonant. “OPEN MASTER COMMANDS, USER ID 000002510. SUSPEND ALL PAIN ALGORITHMS. CLOSE MASTER COMMANDS.”

He rolled upright, flexing his wings with experimental care. He arched his neck, looking down at Ryou.

“YOU TURNED ME INTO A DRAGON.”

“Yes,” Ryou said cautiously.

“NO ONE HAS EVER TURNED ME INTO A DRAGON BEFORE,” Kaiba said. ”SO I WASN’T WORTHY? IS THIS WHAT IT MEANS TO SUFFER THE DRAGON’S FATE? EVERYONE WHO KILLS THE DRAGON BECOMES THE DRAGON, AND ONLY THE CHOSEN ONE BREAKS THE CYCLE. IS THAT HOW IT GOES?”

“That’s how it goes.”

“HOW DO I FIND THE CHOSEN ONE?”

“You choose them,” Ryou said. “You decide what makes them worthy.”

"SO ANYONE CAN BE THE CHOSEN ONE? ANYONE CAN BREAK MY CURSE?"

"That's right."

Kaiba pondered that for a moment, flexing his claws idly in the dirt, the massive slabs of muscle in his shoulders shifting as he tested the strength and fit of his new draconic body. His gaze drifted out over the lower valley, eyes clouding briefly with memories of another story, another game, another man; one who had always seemed real and unreal, all at once, no matter what world he lived in. Ryou had heard it all from Yuugi.

Then Kaiba looked at him and started to laugh, a sound that echoed and rebounded across the small lake valley, the water shivering as each delighted peal of laughter rolled across. Ryou blushed as it buffeted him from all sides.

“IS THAT SO,” Kaiba said, with dry relish. “YOU’RE HIRED.”

#sibbinthegivengibbon #fanfiction #euroshipping #(platonic) #oh my goddddddd this was a blast to write i just enjoyed myself the entire time #thanks for the prompt!! #its 1 AM i'm going the FUCK to sleep

[janekfan]

Hello! I'm back again with a Witcher prompt for you, if you’re in the mood! You said once that Geralt forgetting Jaskier’s human-ness is your jam, so: five (or however many) times Geralt completely overestimated his human companion’s physical tolerance/abilities, plus one time that he underestimated what Jaskier was capable of when called on. As gen or shippy as you like, but either way I’d like to politely request you go heavy on the kindness, affection, and comfort if you choose to fill it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867821/chapters/65555047

Thank you! It is, in fact, my jam :D

Oh, he’s having a right time with this. Jaskier sipped his tea, hot as his sore throat could manage and grimaced at the sharp sting. He thinks I can’t see his smug grin. Last night, Jaskier had gone to sleep after a rough performance with an aching behind his tongue and woken to full fledged agony, and no he wasn’t being dramatic, it hurt, and unable to speak. After finishing his gruff assessment of him, Geralt had prescribed hot tea, plenty of water, and even so magnanimously agreed to stay one more day at the inn and for that, the bard was grateful. The thought of sleeping out in the rough feeling this dreadful inspired many a woeful ballad. If only he could sing them. But his voice was quite and thoroughly gone. Something Geralt found amusing to say the least.

“What a pleasant day this is proving to be, wouldn’t you say, bard?” Jaskier glowered, setting the cup aside and burrowing deeper into the inadequate bedclothes. He was positively freezing, clenching his jaw to avoid chattering his teeth, because while Geralt seemed to be in relative good humor, he could just as easily leave without him. “Ah, I forgot, you can’t.” Petulant, Jaskier stuck out his tongue and twisted up his face, turning away in the bed to curl up in his misery. He’d sleep this off. A good, restful day would clear whatever this was right up.

And of course, with his terrible luck, it didn’t and he woke in the early evening so incredibly thirsty, cursing himself for sleeping throughout the entire day. He downed the cold tea, whimpering and holding his neck at the burn of it, and noticed that Geralt was gone. The flash of fear at being abandoned was tempered by seeing armor and packs by the door, but Jaskier felt very suddenly alone. He longed for something warm to sip but after barely making it to the rough hewn pitcher to pour himself the last bit of water, he decided against a trip down the stairs. He would fall and make an embarrassment of himself and that wouldn’t do. Jaskier was exhausted and aching, a headache making itself at home behind his eyes and the throbbing, pulsing agony in his throat made tears spring to his eyes. Sleep. Sleep would make it all go away, at least for a little while, and he staggered back into bed to will himself to sleep. At least when Geralt came back he’d be warm.

The next morning dawned cheery and bright, the wretch, and Jaskier woke perhaps even worse off than yesterday. But he was met by a cup of medicated tea if the smell was anything to go by, being thrust into his face and Geralt saying he’d be waiting with Roach, but not without one more jab about his lost vocal talents. It was bringing him no end of amusement.

“Take your time.” Ah, that was nice of him and by the looks of things, Jaskier would need a fair bit of it. The weakness in his legs didn’t bode well for a day of travel. He was about to collapse and the day hadn’t even truly started. But he forced himself up, reeling as the room spun sideways, and very carefully limped down the stairs. He offered up a wan smile, trembling under all his layers.

Geralt looked furious.

He’d taken forever, he knew, but he really was trying his best, and as the sun rose high and the chills became worse, Jaskier fell behind. He could hear Roach, Geralt was traveling at a much slower pace than he normally would, and Jaskier would be grateful if he wasn’t focused so hard on the weight of his lute pulling him toward the forest floor. Everything hurt and the tears springing to his eyes almost had time to fall before he remembered himself. Geralt wasn’t a fan of his over emotional displays and without words he wasn’t able to express just how poorly he really was. No cure but to walk on. Stumble on. His weaving steps slowed him further, enough that Roach had been turned back around.

“G--” Like swallowing a blade, and the syllables died on his lips. Oh goddess. He was going to be ill and was, thankfully not all over Roach’s hooves, and the fire of it drove him to hands and knees.

“Jaskier?” The thump of heavy boots hitting the ground was all the warning he got before a rough, blessedly cool palm pressed itself over his forehead. “Alright.” Jaskier could have sobbed as Geralt grabbed his bicep and dragged him, supported him, a little ways down the path. There was enough space here to set up a small camp and Geralt threw down his bedroll, dropping Jaskier on top of it and going about the motions that suggested they’d stay for at least a little while. The bard held his breath, tried to inhale, exhale in a way that didn’t make everything hurt worse and had almost dropped off to sleep when more tea was thrust under his nose. Willow bark and something else. And even if his stomach did feel up to it, the promise of even a modicum of relief was a heady thing, and Jaskier downed the cup even though it was too hot, falling back and curling into the rough wool.

Late afternoon sun lancing across his face woke him up and Jaskier was not well pleased at how sick he still felt. It was unlike him to be laid low like this. He shifted his head, drawing a shaky half breath, and found Geralt tending to the fire. He was so thirsty with no way to tell him and no way to get up. He hadn’t been drinking enough and tried to gesture, nimble fingers uncoordinated and frightened because of it.

“Go back to sleep, Jaskier.” With no other recourse, he did as he was told.

This time, Geralt’s hand on his cheek pulled him up out of the dark place he’d gone. The witcher tutted, levering him up and holding more tea to his lips, only this time Jaskier could barely swallow, the pain was so great, and rather than waiting on him to finish, he pressed the cup into his quaking hands. Jaskier wasn’t sure he could even lift it. So he didn’t. Just watched blearily as Geralt broke camp, tied his lute to the saddle and that was good. Except there was no way he’d be able to stand, he could tell, and the thought prompted the tears to slip silently down his face and off his chin. He was going to be left here to die. Because he was human and weak and useless. Geralt could sell off his instrument for a good price, make up for the time Jaskier wasted slowing him down. The tea dropped from his fingers and he hid his face behind his hands. Geralt didn’t like it when he was emotional. Better to hide it. Better not to see him walk away from him. At least then he could pretend that he hadn’t left him.

“Jaskier?” He risked a glance and wished he hadn’t. Disappointment and frustration. With him. Always with him. He hadn’t meant to get sick. He hadn’t meant to. “You’ll have to hold on.” Hold on? To what? And the answer came moments later when he was hoisted onto Roach’s back like he weighed nothing at all and Geralt mounted in front of him. “Hold on.” Tentative, confused, Jaskier threaded his arms around the witcher’s waist, hugging him for lack of a better term and burying his cheek into a warm shoulder. Hold on. Easy enough. Even he could do that, right?

Apparently not, and Geralt’s gruff demands for him to hold on and stay awake and don’t fall became increasingly intrusive. Jaskier didn’t want to do those things. He wanted to stop moving and sleep, he didn’t even care anymore about how mad his failures were making Geralt. The alternating stripes of trees and beams of sun passed by too quickly, dizzying him and it seemed like everywhere he looked there was more of it and he couldn’t keep up. The speed was too great, he was being shaken from his precarious perch and his arms were so numb he couldn’t feel them where they’d let go of Geralt.

An attenuated moment passed where Jaskier was completely airbourne. He’d fallen from horses before. He knew how to fall. But he couldn’t get anything to work with him, all deadweight and drained. When he hit the ground, the hard impact wasn’t even bad enough to distract from the stoked embers burning up in his throat and he laid there, listening to Roach’s nickering and uneven gait as she turned around. He was cold. He was hot. He was nothing at all and Geralt’s shout of surprise sounded like it had come to him from miles away underwater. Jaskier knew he was being touched, knew he was being lifted, even knew he was being yelled at, but it seemed like it was all happening to someone else. Someone far away from all this. He’d tried. He had. But like always, it hadn’t been good enough.

“Jaskier!” Growling, loud and rough, and he couldn’t open his eyes long enough to see the rage painted there. The light was too bright, blinding and blistering, adding to the fire and the heat and Jaskier wasn’t able to stay conscious even through the witcher’s shouting.

An indeterminate stretch of time passed and Jaskier wouldn’t be able to tell anyone all of what occurred within. It was a haze of hurting and being touched by unfamiliar hands. Maneuvered whether he wanted it to happen or not. Horrible tinctures poured down his throat that made him shed silent tears because he was nothing without his voice and no one would listen to what his body was trying to say. He was helpless, frightened, confused. Glimpses of familiar white hair caused him to weep because he was sorry, so, so sorry that he’d done this, even if he wasn’t completely sure what ‘this’ was. Damp clothes soothed some of the blistering and there were moments in between the suffering where he was sure he’d never again open his eyes.

But he did.

And he felt dreadful. So sick. Still pained and barely able to lift a finger. Gently, as though he might break, a cool flannel swept over his hot face, down his cheek and the warm compress over his throat was adjusted, wafting the strong scent of garlic into the air. He must have made a face because a familiar chuckle rang out somewhere to the left of him.

“Jaskier?” Soft and kind and he did Geralt the courtesy of tipping his face toward him but didn’t remember much after that.

“You should’ve told me.” Jaskier glared weakly, pained, wrung out and still so, so tired, and Geralt had the sense to look shamed. After a strict regimen of teas, potions, and elixirs from the village healer, Jaskier appeared to be on the mend, albeit slowly. The witcher explained, for what was probably the seventh time seeing as he couldn’t hold a thought in his head for longer than a moment when he first began to wake, that he’d succumbed to a blood infection. “I should have noticed sooner." He fussed, tucking the blankets closer around him, smoothing them out and brushing back his sweat-soaked fringe. "Shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” With an obscene amount of effort, Jaskier patted Geralt’s hand where it now rested on the sheets beside him, letting it linger there, absorbing the warmth.

All forgiven.

Or it would be after a few more days of attentive doting.

#The witcher #the witcher fanfiction #prompt #Geraskier #Jaskier #Geralt of rivia #Geralt #Sick #fever #illness #caretaking

[razorblade180]

Rosebud Prologue:The first move.

In times of despair and sorrow there are fundamentally two options. Wallow in it, or move forward despite through the pain. A wise person would recommend escaping one’s own personal suffering. A wiser man would ask the question nobody else does. When you move forward, what happens to things left behind? They don’t fade away, not always. Sometimes...they try to keep up.

It was just another day. Ruby was doing dishes while her fourteen year old daughter, Carmine, held her baby brother in her arms. The little monster was enjoying his bottle while his happy sister hummed Gold to him. Ruby couldn’t help but feel all warm inside. Carmine had been doing everything and more to help out. This past year could’ve been way harder without her, but now things had fallen into a decent routine. More importantly, Ruby could say goodbye to sweatpants again and hello to corsets! Her body was back in action like it was before pregnancy. Loving her children had no limits but it felt heavenly to not feel like a balloon again. Jaune never complained though. Most likely because it meant it was his turn to whip her into shape. The sneaky husband loved helping with her stretches.

Ruby put away the last dish and dried her hands. “Wanna switch off?” She asked, clearly seeing Carmine enjoy her current duty. The girl shook her head no. “I’m fine feeding Garnet. Just another role as big sis!” Her smile practically reached her eyes. Ruby noticed Carmine had her red contacts in. “Going somewhere soon?

“Yep. When dad gets back with groceries I’m gonna head out to do a bit of patrolling. Thought I’d stop by Sun’s place and see if Aero wanted to join. He gets snippy if I don’t at least try and convince him to join.” Ruby laughed, that was pretty on brand for the boy. “Just don’t go around town starting trouble. I’m tired of the cops telling me you’re playing vigilante.” Carmine couldn’t help scoff at such exaggerated claims. “How’s it my fault I happened to encounter a gang leader in his hidden base of operations? It was poorly hidden. Besides, the cops haven’t called in weeks.”

Ruby’s scroll immediately starts ringing with the Vacou police department ID on it. She turns to Carmine and sighs. “Listen, I was wild like this too, but not this wild.” Carmine raised an eyebrow. “But...I haven’t done anything. In a while, or that they can prove…” she hoped. Ruby only shook her head tiredly and answered. “What or who did Carmine break?” The officer laughed lightly before it faded off. “No no, this isn’t about Carmine. One of the stations a couple of miles out of the kingdom to the neighboring towns called our department. If I’m correct, you were very close with Maria Calavera, yes?” Ruby moved away from her kids and spoke lower. Maria had passed away several years ago. It was the first time Carmine looked so hurt. “Yes, is everything okay? Did something happen to her house,”

“Her home is fine, but not her tombstone. Apparently some punk kid decided to defile it. The cops are wondering if you can drop by and scare the punk into proper shape. You know how people get when they meet you. Also you take care and technically on it, so pressing charges have to come from you.” Ruby was still processing someone disrespecting a grave. To what gain? Maria had no more enemies. Not to mention that her grave wasn’t in a cemetery. It was moved to a hill near the outskirts. “Yeah I’ll show up. I can’t promise I won’t scare the kid to death though. I can’t believe a person did such a thing. This world I’ll tell ya; give me a few minutes to head out. Have them with me so they can admire their work before I make them clean it all up.” Ruby hung up and let out a sigh. There was always something.

“Everything okay?” Carmine asked. She walked towards her mother and held Garnet's adorably chubby face in front of Ruby’s face. It was impossible not to smile at it. “Hehe, I’m fine. Looks like a certain baby is fine too. I might have to put this boy on a diet!” She poked his tummy and patted Carmine’s head. “I gotta go to your abuela’s gravesite. Somebody was messing with it and I gotta give them a stern talking to.” Carmine looked as stunned as Ruby did, then her face scowled. Ruby had seen that before. “Nah ah, you can not come and beat them up.”

Carmine poked her lips out. “You’re no fun. I guess I’ll keep the house safe with Garnet then.” As if she had a choice. Who else was gonna do it!? She stopped pouting when Ruby kissed her forehead. Carmine wanted to rub it off but her hands were full. “Mom!” Ruby stuck her tongue out childishly as she walked away. “Lock the door! You dad will be home soon.” The front door was closed and the house became a little more quiet. “Well it’s just you and I now.” Garnet blinked his eye at her curiously before spitting up a little on himself. Carmine closes her eyes to collect herself. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

xxxx

The trip to Esperanza from the outskirts of Vacou was only a couple miles; not a real problem for someone who walked all the way to Haven. Ruby reached Maria’s small and festive hometown in about half an hour. It was still rather early for everyone to be out and about but noise and smells of food sizzling filled the air all the same. Ruby always liked this place. She spotted the tree that stood proudly on the hill on the other side of the town. Even from here she could see some limbs had been broken off and some kind of fabric flowing off of it. “Why would-ugh, teenagers.” Ruby groaned. Under the tree she could see a cop and another individual draped in a black hood. Now she was even more confused. An over eager fan or hater maybe? Many people around here loved Maria and her legendary status. Ruby wasted no time racing up to the vandalism, catching the raven haired officer off guard. Her emerald eyes bugged out at the sudden appearance.

“Gah! Wow, you’re faster up close. You should come with a bell.” Ruby chuckled at the statement. “I bet the grimm would love that idea.” A closer look at the tree revealed more damaged limbs and roughed up ground. Ruby turned to the cloaked figure who avoided her gaze. They were taller than Ruby expected but that’s all she could decipher. “Care to explain why you felt so compelled to ruin a memorial? Disrespecting the dead is pretty low.” She said firmly, crossing her arms for more affect.

The person hid further in their hood. Ruby waited for any possible response but there was only silence. They looked at the ground and dug their right foot into the dirt. The cop touched Ruby soldier. “He’s been pretty silent since I caught him red handed. There’s a mark on the back of the tree they spray painted. I can’t make sense of it but I was hoping you might be able to. For all I know, no gangs use that tag.” Ruby pointed star the culprit. “Don’t you dare try to run. We’re not finished young man.” He nodded. Ruby backed away slowly. There were always a few that tried running. It was as if they forgot what her semblance was.

A few steps from her and the cop told her that the dude was just gonna stay there. She finally turned around to examine the tree. “You said the back right? Gangs spray paint all the time so I might not know what….” her voice drifted into silence as she reached the other side of the trees. She had to take a few steps back to make sure she was seeing things okay. “This-This is…” words still eluded her as Ruby stared at black spray paint that perfectly made the image of a queen chess piece. Ruby could feel her face lose its color. “Cinder…” it was as if her name was a trigger for disaster. The tree suddenly was cut into by a blade that pierced the other side. Ruby was barely able to dodge the surprise attack, getting a clear view of the weapon. It was a scythe. Their culprit was holding a standard scythe that counted swinging at her. A small smirk was visible on the young man’s face as he came at her in full force.

The scythe constantly spun in his hand as he tried to swipe Ruby.The woman was done being surprised however. Ruby easily ducked and whipped out Cresent Rose. “Wanna play huh? Fine.” She hissed. Fighting first and asking questions later was something Ruby could get behind. She gripped the pole of her weapon tight and swung horizontally. The force alone caused enough pressure to push her opponent back while the blade barely scratched his torso. He had good reflexes. Ruby blitzed behind him and slashed him back before disappearing and reappearing in front of him. Ruby spun the bottom of her scythe and clipped his chin, then took a shot to thrust it forward. The sharp metal end would’ve connected to his face if an unexpected bullet didn’t hit Ruby in her arm. She turns her head to see the cop’s gun trained on her with deadly accuracy.

“What the hell are you-huh?” The emerald eyes of the cop turned pink and brown along with her hair. A familiar mischievous laughter comes from the old adversary as she twirls the gun and watches Ruby avoid the opponent in front of her. “Hey Rubes! You’re looking good; filled out quite a bit. I know your husband must like that.” She fired a few more bullets at Ruby’s feet to keep her moving as the red reaper was easily out classing the man in black, but he was nothing but persistent. He forced Ruby to jump by sweeping her feet and shoulder bashed her to the ground. Expert or not, Ruby was only so big. She quickly recovered by tumbling backwards and dashed towards Neo. For the first time in a long time, an ache more deadly than any blade pierced Ruby’s heart. Ruby couldn’t help but be bombarded with the memories of seventeen years ago.

“WHERE IS SHE!?” Ruby screamed at the smirking woman. That smirk pissed her off to no end. Not again, they’re not taking anything again. She swung Crescent Rose downward at Neo’s face, but quickly spun it sideways to shoot herself towards the right. The cloaked figure sprinted in front of her and blocked a horizontal slash that looked like it would’ve hit air, but wouldn’t. The Neo behind her shattered and the real one poked her head out from behind the man, happily surprised. “Damn, nothing gets past you anymore huh? Saw right through me.” Neo tried getting off another shot. “Still fast?” One bullet fired at close range only hit a rose petal. Instincts told Neo to push her partner out the way and duck. It was the right call. The edge of a scythe blade had been dropped and yanked backwards where Neo’s neck was. “I’m faster…”

Neo’s partner swung the end of the shaft to Neo to grab a hold of then Yanked her to safety behind him. “Phew, thanks darling. Told you she was the real deal.” Neo finally stopped smiling and glared at Ruby. “That’s What makes this next part so satisfying.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a detonator. Ruby’s body tensed up and her assault was halted. Neo’s thumb rubbed the top of the bottom rhythmically. “Guess where the bomb is?”

Ruby didn’t even flinch. “Leave the townspeople out of this or I swear-”

“Times up!” Neo hit the button and Ruby gasped. She went to dash at Neo but was hit in the side with a scythe from behind. The image in front of her shattered as she stumbled into it. An anger growl left her throat as Neo laughed. “Hahaha, kidding! This trigger does nothing.” She tossed it to the ground. “Still gullible after all these years. How are you not dead? Oh wait, others die for you.”

“Little…” Ruby grit her teeth and fired round after round at Neo. The cloaked man spun his scythe to deflect each one. He jumped forward with a downward slash but missed. Ruby spun in a tight vortex of petals that kept his feet fry the ground. She hooked his scythe with hers and yanked it out of his hands then hurled it Neo; not a shred of concern was seen as Neo leaned to the side and caught it. She turned to wink but saw Ruby behind her partner with the man on one knee and gripping the pole off Crescent Rose in an attempt to remove it from his neck before Ruby could choke him out. Neo pointed her pistol again but didn’t pull the trigger. With most of Ruby’s body behind his, it wouldn’t be a good idea to test her aim.

“Heroes take hostages now? That’s so cold”

“You would know.” Ruby pulled harder. “Must mean a lot to you if you’re not shooting. Where’s Cinder?”

“What? Am I not enough for you? Is my vengeance second rate? I thought you’d like me more after all we’ve been through.” Neo pouted.

“LAST CHANCE! OR-” Neo dropped the gun and yawned. “Or what? You’ll strangle him? That would be a terrible way to end a reunion, right Dustin?”

Just like that, Ruby felt her body go numb. “D-Dustin?” She muttered. Her grip accidentally loosened and the man ducked under the metal bar against his neck and rolled away in less than a second. The ground beneath Ruby trembled. Vines armed with thrones shot from the dirt and wrapped around her legs, waist, arms, and neck like barbed wire that pulled her down to her knees. The pain drained and felt a numbing, but Ruby could only stare at the black roses that bloomed on them slowly as the man walked towards Neo and grabbed his scythe. He looked back at Ruby who stared in disbelief, tears flooding her eyes. “D-Dustin…?” She repeated, her voice cracking. Ruby watched the man pull the hood off. Suddenly the world didn’t seem real. Her body felt ice cold with only the warmth of her tears on her face that came from silver eyes that became dim and cloudy; a perfect reflection of the ones in front her. Including the red and black hair. The difference being it was on a face that reflected not just her, but the man she married. It was only once, but Ruby never forgot that face. The face of the boy that made her a mother. The face she mourned for more times then she dared remember.

He finally spoke, “Hey mom. Glad you can make it.” The weight of cold and dense bone gripped Ruby’s shoulder. There wasn’t a nerve in her body that didn’t feel like fire and a heartbeat that didn’t sound like a boombox in her eardrums. If she was trembling before then she was now. Ruby didn’t even bother looking up. The shadow on the ground was enough. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s been quite some time since I met your mother in person. Isn’t that right?” The hand grabbed Ruby’s chin and turned it up to the right. Now Ruby had no choice but to look.

Cinder stood there looking down. Her previous outfit was ditched for dark purple leather pants and a black shirt that faintly glowed a deep fiery red like her heels. Not only was her arm different, looking fully formed and in case the bone armor grimm is known for, her eyes weren’t the same. One remained the same as before. The one that was never harmed. It was the injured one that made Ruby’s mouth run dry. The eye, it was silver as well. “Why don’t we catch up a bit? Normally I’m on a time crunch but since everyone is held up….” She turned Ruby’s head to the left and let her see what she had been missing out on. The wind around Vacou had picked up and turned a dust storm. In it, Ruby saw thousands of red eyes and the sign of fire. Alarm sirens blared seconds later.

“My gods…” Ruby gasped.

“Got to love subterranean grimm. Just have them move slow enough and a little magic to tip the weather in your advantage, then boom. Ambushed without a warning.” Cinder finally let her go sauntered over to Neo and Dustin. “Unfortunately it’s more smoke and mirrors than an actual bang. Tragedies on the scale of Beacon’s are hard to replicate. All you kids have grown up now and everywhere. It’s a pain in the ass. This event was just made to keep us uninterrupted.” Ruby tried struggling through the vines but could barely move. Every shift made her wince as they tightened. Not only that, but she actually felt weaker. They were doing more than restraining her. Cinder found amusement in the struggle. “Your son’s semblance is pretty annoying, isn’t it? Best not to move. Dustin, don’t over do it. I still want my fun.”

The pain eased and her strength was less inhibited. Ruby still couldn’t believe what was happening. She stared at her child who stared back, despondent. “Dustin, it’s me. I’m-”

He silenced her by tightening the single vine on her neck quickly. “I know exactly who you are.” Anger and vigor flooded his eyes in a glare that could only be seen as murderous. “And I have nothing to say to you.” Cinder rubbed his back. “Don’t mind him. You know how teens are, all rebellious and angry.” This situation was going so well she couldn’t help but laugh. “That being said, he’s grown into such a fine young man under my-”

“Ahem!” Neo said loudly. Cinder rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Under our guidance. He’s been quite helpful. Killing silver eyed people and learning their abilities has been far easier when he started helping out. It’s a shame, getting old that is. I used to go collecting by myself. Now he brings back the prizes for me sometimes.” Cinder rubbed the side of her face and saw Ruby shiver in shock. Their attention to each other was disrupted by a flashing light from Ruby’s pocket. The girl tried struggling again as Cinder reached for it and pulled out a scroll. Today got even surprisingly better all thanks to a home screen. “Oh well you look at that? Carmine was a person we expected to hear at least once, but I had no idea about the third one. What a handsome boy.”

Dustin’s body tensed tightly. “What…?” He muttered. Cinder tossed him the phone and sure enough, there the baby was with the rest of the family. Brand new silver eyes and all. The photo was blurred as Carmine’s name came up as the scroll rang. There was no hesitation in answering.

“Mom! Vacou’s being attacked and dad still isn’t back. Garnet is fine and no grimm are heading this way yet but-”

“CARMINE! TAKE YOUR BROTHER AND RUN!” Ruby screamed as loud as possible. Dustin hung up and looked at Cinder and she nodded. “Time for a family reunion.” She snapped her fingers and a nevermore descended from the sky for Dustin to jump on and head towards his brother and sister. Even with him gone, his vines still had a grasp on Ruby. It was weaker but the numbing pain still ran through her as she finally forced her way out of the ones around her arms and neck; air and sensation tried to fill her being again as she fell on her hands and knees. “My son, what did you do to him?” She raises her head with tears running down her face. Moving now would be stupid. Ruby had no choice but to recover.

“Me? You make it sound like I brainwashed him or abused him. No, no such thing.Granted it wasn’t my idea to keep him. The boy would’ve been dumped in a grimm pool or something if I had my way, then Neo had to step in and proposed a better idea.”

“Disguising as your nurse was far too much work to just have it end with a dead newborn. Besides, even I have my limits unlike some people” she glares the hell out of Cinder. “I can play the long game. A missing son returning to his family to erase it? That’s way more interesting don’t you think?”

Cinder circled around Ruby, watching the girl carefully as she indulged herself with explaining how a day like this could happen.“You asked me what I did to him. I did the only thing that made sense. I told the truth.” Ruby’s face softened. Her eyes scanned the ground as she tried to understand. The truth? Cinder groaned, “Boring I know, but a lie this big would be impossible. Ruby Rose, a name known by every last goddamn soul on Remnant. Between that and Dustin’s features, he’d figure out that he wasn’t ours sooner or later, so I told him exactly who he was. A child stolen by a hero's worst enemy. You should’ve seen the way he wept for you. I told him all I could. How incredible your reputation was to the masses and how you would be remembered throughout history for all time along with your friends. Surely a hero that elite would rescue their son, right?” She smirked, Cinder could see Ruby get pale from the implications.

“He...was waiting for me.” Ruby’s voice crackled and shook. A stark contrast from the laughter Cinder had. “Hahaha, oh he did more than wait! Time after time, your son tried escaping. Each attempt meant him killing grimm that I didn’t even have to influence, and each time it was up to either me or Neo to save his life. His will was quite astonishing, his mind sharp. He tried for years until one day...he actually escaped.”

“What?” Ruby wasn’t expecting Cinder to say that. “He escaped?” Cinder pulled out a scroll and nodded, “He was young too. Barely twelve if I remember. At this point I was at my wits end. I thought my choices were to cut my losses or kill him out of spite; Never did I expect him to come back with a look in his eyes I’ve never seen. The anger for his situation had changed. All because of one simple little thing.” The scroll was flipped around for Ruby to see. “Remember this day?”

Of all the things that Ruby expected, a picture of her from an old news photo wasn’t one of them. It was her holding Carmen up proudly after the girl’s first tournament. Her daughter had entered a jr competition at eight and took first place. Cinder put the scroll away. “Apparently he made it all the way to that event. Imagine the look on his face, seeing you smiling so purely with the sister he had no clue about? All that faith he put into you...and it meant nothing. Congratulations, how’s it feel to move forward? It brought him closer to me. My sweet Dustin.” Cinder and Neo fawned dramatically. Their laughter grew as Ruby’s anger rose. Her blood started to feel like it’s boiling and vision started to blur. Her eyes started glowing before flickering in and out constantly as she tried her damnedest to eradicate Cinder to no avail. A pounding in her head started forming that made her grip it. Cinder bent down and tugged hard on Ruby’s hair to stare right into her face with complete disdain. “That’s right Ruby, hate me. Hate me as much as I hate you. This isn’t about justice or preservation. Your anger vs ours. Let’s see who edges out.” Cinder backs away and blasts a wave of ice that only freezes then shatters only the vines. Crescent Rose is stabbed into the ground next to Ruby. This day was unavoidable. These feelings had been building a festering for years. Not just because of Dustin. Beacon, Pyrrha, the friends she’s hurt; the despair Cinder brought into Ruby’s life was too much and too often. Ruby had enough. She pulled herself up off the ground with her scythe. Eyes devoid of light beamed into the two pairs of glimmering evil as the clouds darkened the sky. Ruby could only think of one thing.The only thing that Cinder had thought about for ages.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

xxxx

The sounds of thunder and gun fire raged through and electrified the air as Dustin rode the nevermore. He looked back to see a concentration of wind and varying elements coming from where he left. “Looks like they’ve gotten serious. Time for me to get my party started.” He would be over Ruby’s house in a matter of minutes. Karma was finally gonna come knocking on her door. “A shame she won’t see this. Alright, time to see what my little sister I made-” a sudden pressure and force came upwards that hit like a canon. Next thing Dustin knew, the nevermore no longer had a head and was swan dive to the ground. He quickly jumped from the bird and rolled onto the sand to break his fall. Carmine watched the whole thing while cleaning grimm blood of her blade several feet away.

“I’ve never heard mom sound so panicked before. Grimm herds aren’t anything we haven’t handled before so I knew there was more to the situation; but what exactly is the more?” Carmine couldn’t make out his face from distance but the scythe on the sand and cloak were more than enough to be off putting. She stepped closer cautiously. The color of his hair and eyes immediately made her stop and jump back, placing her sword in front of her body as he stood. “Stop! Who are you?” He patted himself off and looked at his sister. Admittedly, he was caught off guard. This was already more interesting than he anticipated.

“What on Remnant possessed you to take out a grimm mid-flight? I doubt you noticed me.”

“A lone grimm going after a house outside of the kingdom when its friends are having a blast inside is pretty freaking suspicious. Now answer my question!” Her body tensed. Carmine didn’t know why but she felt as if his gaze alone might swallow her up like a pit of tar. There was no mistaking that color. His eyes looked fogged and hazy but they were definitely silver. Then there was his face. Carmine never imagined Garnet would look like grown up but this man’s face would’ve been pretty close.

“Huh, figures they never mentioned me. It was probably too shameful and humiliating to reveal such a major example of arrogance.” His words felt like venom and on the verge of being unhinged, yet maintaining a low tone of composure as he grabbed his weapon. “I think you already have a good guess on who I am, or do you need a closer look?”

Carmine saw the man vanish in the blink of an eye. She quickly rose her sword in front of her in a block that covered her entire body. A clash of metal crashed right into it and rattled her arms from the force. Now they were face to face with a similar look of intensity. “I….I don’t understand what’s going on!” Saying that this was unnerving was an understatement. Carmine has a job to do though. The longer he was with her, the further her clone was with Garnet. The only regret was splitting her sure evenly. Fighting an unknown opponent could go wrong.

“It’s simple really. You’re not the first born child of Jaune Arc and Ruby Rose. That kid got snatched by a witch.”

Carmine’s world felt like it stopped. “Cinder Fall.”

“Bingo.” A vine shot from the ground and wrapped around Carmine before flinging her. Dustin followed up with a leaping downward strike but Carmine corrected herself mid-air yo block it. “Heh, look at you…” his hand slid to the bottom of his scythe and started swiping side to side against Carmine’s defenses. Each contact made sparks fly and her arms ache from the weight of the attack. She couldn’t take it anymore and ducked under the next attack to get in close. Both opponents were no stranger to the limitations of a scythe or had to overcome them. Carmine knew he was likely to pull the entire thing back by bringing his hand to the top of the shaft, so she jumped straight up and grabbed her curved blade, Stamen, from both ends and swung it down to have it drop like a guillotine. The impact left a small crater where Dustin stood before he jumped out of the way. She had no expectations of hitting him but she needed breathing room. It was her turn on offense.

Carmine shot off three aura slashes before pursuing him. She watched closely as his scythe spun to block the attack and leaped over him to get a hit in from behind. More vines shot up and stabbed her hand before connecting. A low hiss came from her. This was obviously his semblance but knowing it’s function was hard to tell. More shot up around her in a circle. A simple spin cut them down to size easily and she unleashed a flurry of rapid attacks that clanged and bashed against his scythe when she wasn’t missing him entirely.

“Geez, maybe I overestimated. All the talk about my little sister and this is it?”

“Big talk from someone fighting a kid, and we’re not family!” Carmine swung at his left torso but was stopped dead in her tracks when he grabbed the blade with his hand. A jab to the throat made Carmine choke on her own breath as Dustin twisted her arm behind her then put her in a choke hold. Her feet barely scraped the sand as she desperately tried to breathe. Carmine could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered angrily through his teeth.

“Don’t act stupid and face the facts. It’s the least a sorry excuse for a replacement; don’t even have silver eyes like our brother.” He squeezed her wrist so tight she could feel it start to give. Stamen was dropped as she tried not to scream. “As for the age difference, three years ago I was already filling graves. What do you do? Rule over the talentless? Tournaments are useless. Just like you.”

Carmine squirmed and bit her lip till she bled. Screw the pain and his words. Weak was the last thing she was, and she was gonna prove it. “LET. ME. GOOOO!” Carmine felt a pop in her wrist as she jerked forward, hard. Her feet stomped the ground and two rose clones appeared on each side, the first grabbed her sword and drove it against Dustin’s ribs. The blow broke his hold on the original by pushing him back. The second clone grabbed his legs so he would fall backwards. It worked. Dustin’s head hit the ground and he stared up to the sky as the first clone did the guillotine drop the original did earlier. “Take this!!!!” It screamed.

Dustin hit his fist against the ground. Vines shot pierced right through the clone then swooped low to stab the other. With the last of its strength, the first clone tossed the sword to the original as she watched her clones go limp; their bodies faded as black roses bloomed the vines. Maybe it was their manner of defeat, but Carmine started to sweat. She hadn’t even realized she picked up her blade and was backing away from the man surrounded by a garden of death. A gut feeling told her that being trapped in those spelled the end.

Her semblance was info Dustin knew nothing about. To see it was genuinely surprising, but nothing he had to fear. Not with Carmine looking like a deer in headlights. “Do you know what black roses symbolize?” Carmine didn’t answer. Instead she pulled out the second part of her weapon, Pistil, and combined it with Stamen. The blade curved downward while the collapsible tactical baton connected to the hilt to make her scythe. Dustin felt a surge of excitement run through him. Another surprise from his sister. “HAHAHAHA! Oh please don’t tell me you’re about to challenge me with that?” He laughed hysterically, his calm demeanor completely shifting to nothing short of rage. He stabbed his scythe in the ground. “Rotten Rose will ruin you.”

“Rosebud hasn’t failed me yet.” Carmine got low and held on with both hands. Her right wrist aches but adrenaline and necessity demanded its use. Carmine needed all the reach she could muster. Dustin was done talking and put up his hood. Alarms, screams, explosions, even the wind blowing felt muted to Carmine. The only thing that mattered was the reaper in front of her. She was going to get through this and reject those black roses. Today wasn’t death day. Not for her. The vines shot straight at her. Carmine shredded through them like a blender by twirling Rosebud. Two more vines from each side forced her to jump straight up. She pulled a trigger on the shaft of the used to be tactical baton. A slug round recoil sent her back to the ground where a massive sweeping attack severed the vines. It wasn’t enough.

Her brief rest was interrupted by more sprouting from the ground around her. Another gunshot sent her out of the center before they all stabbed her from every side. More and more dove in and out of the ground like serpents chasing prey. Dustin stood motionless as his sister fired herself in any direction she could to avoid a strike. Occasionally she was forced to stand her ground to cut several before dodging again. She tried to hide it, but Dustin could see the fear in her eyes. He was gonna force it out of her. A wall of thorny vines walled off Carmine from back stepping again. Dozens of vines came from everywhere in the front. The fear he wanted didn’t come. Carmine grit her teeth and started slashing through them head on.

Chunks of plants flew everywhere as Carmine hacked angrily through them. “Haaaaaa!” The girl could only scream through the pain as thorns scraped her skin like a million stabs. “Just...a little...more!!!!” She refused to stop until a swing cut through to the other side. The sight of Dustin’s shocked face spurred her on. Another gunshot was sending her straight at him with Rosebud’s blade eagerly awaiting to connect with his throat. “You’re done!!!!” All her force went into swinging the blade; too much strength in fact. Dustin simply leaned back Carmine completely whiffed. Her momentum kept her body rotating. In the moment her body had turned away from him, her eyes could only see the blood stained thorns she borrowed through. Carmine’s anger subsided and was reminded of the most basic rule of fighting. Keep track of your aura. Her mistake for forgetting was an instant and excruciating pain that crossed her from each shoulder down to the opposite hip. It all had happened so fast yet time felt slow as the ground seemed to rise to meet her.

Carmine laid face down on the ground. Her back started to feel wet. Like if someone was pouring something warm on it, something thick. Tears filled her eyes seconds later when the shock of it all was met by the stinging of sand and reality.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH~”

Carmine couldn’t stop screaming in agony. Her arms did her best to lift her but her right wrist gave out. Everything was giving out. There wasn’t a muscle that wasn’t shaking in her body. There wasn’t a thought of anything anymore with the sound of creeping plants and footsteps approaching while a shadow loomed over her. The silhouette of her blood dripping off the scythe that was ready to draw more. The shaft of it flipped her battered body over for her to stare into the eyes that should’ve been preserving life; but all she saw was them asking for hers. Was this despair? Carmine never felt anything like it before. For the first time in her life she felt powerless, weak. Her tears ran down her bloody and soiled face. “Pl-Please…” she said, quivering. “ I don’t wanna die…” she shut her eyes and lost all sense of self. “I DON’T WANNA DIE!!!”

“CARMINE!!!” Multiple people cried out from a distance. Dustin turned his dead and was immediately blasted by a laser gun in the face that knocked him away. The current of electricity stunned him momentarily as he saw three more people. Two of them he had heard and learned about. The leader of team SSSN and his partner. The third was an unknown boy with bird wings that picked up Carmine while the other two stood in front of them. “Sun and Neptune. What are the odds the partners of a disbanded team are hanging out today of all days? One of you doesn’t even live on this continent.” He glared at Neptune.

The duo immediately recognized the man in front of them and gasped. No way they wouldn’t. Neptune gasped, “Is that…?”

“No way…” Sun said. He looked back at an injured Carmine then to Dustin. No doubt about it. He clapped his hands together and summoned clones. Now wasn’t the time to let his guard down. “I don’t know how you’re here but I’m not letting you go. Aero, get Carmine far away from here.”

“Not on my watch!” Dustin dashed forward immediately. Neither the clones or pro huntsman were quick enough to stop him blitzing the both of them. He reached to grab the boy holding his sister, then poof, nothing. It was like magic. Dustin blinked and they were gone. They went from right in front of him to already being in the sky, several minutes away. Whatever happened wasn’t speed. He didn’t know what that was, but it was definitely the boy’s doing. He looked back at Sun and Neptune who were charging at him in full force. Dustin clicked his teeth and sighed. Play time was over. “Two pro huntsmen like yourselves is way more than I bargained for. Especially after my other reunion, sorry.” A faint light in the distance caught his eye while planning his exit. Whatever it was had speed and was heading towards the storm over Cinder’s battle. “If I was a betting man…” Dustin used his vines to left himself into the air and grab a passing nevermore to ride, leaving Sun and Neptune in the dust.

“Damnit!” Sun yelled.

“Never mind him, let’s get back to town and help.” Neptune said, seeing the light. “Jaune’s gonna be pissed.”

xxxx

Aero was flying as fast as he could to the medical station set up. Finding Jaune or his friend would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. What he wouldn’t give to have a healing semblance right now. The blood that came from Carmine and dripped down his arms as she wept in pain was burning a memory into him he didn’t want to ever see again.

“Hang in there Carmine! You’re gonna be just fine. Your clone found my mom so don’t worry about Garnet. He’s perfectly fine.” He told her to ease whatever pain and stress he could. The way she clung close to him wasn’t inspiring any change. Carmine kept weeping and shaking.

“Hurts…” she winced. “It hurts so much.” Aero felt a lump in his throat. The boy kept flying with all his might. The tears of the strongest person he knew weighed heavily on his heart the entire flight.”

xxxx

That fight against Reaper and Maiden wasn’t fairing too much better. Neo could attest to that as she laid on the ground, aura flickering and writhing in pain. The normally dry, dusty air was soaked with pouring rain thanks to Cinder. Neo picked herself up painfully slow and could barely keep track of the hundreds of petals and embers that danced in the air over panicking villagers. Who would’ve thought Little Red would’ve grown into such a warrior? To Neo, both Cinder and Ruby might as well be freaks. She watched Crescent Rose carv through ice thicker than a goliath’s flesh and slam into Cinder. The woman went right through the already destroyed memorial tree before recovering with a tiny cyclone of lightning and fire that enveloped Ruby. That too was immediately reduced to nothing. Fortunately, Ruby looked tired. Her own aura and breath looked to be draining.

“Looks like this might be it.” Neo aimed her pistol. “Sorry Cinder, I get the kill-” the blur of bright light raced into view and then before Neo. Her eyes were witnesses to the shining white aura of a furious knight with a sword poised to strike her neck. Any time to move was erased to her as the blade was swung. The force would’ve been enough to take her head. The only thing stopping that was Dustin’s scythe between them that went unnoticed until now. Dustin’s arms went numb but his face remained stern as he stared at his father inches away who was lost for words.

“D-Dustin?” He uttered in disbelief. The hesitation left Jaune open for Dustin’s vines to grab him and throw him towards Ruby. The battling women had finally realized company had arrived

Dustin helped lift Neo to her feet. “You alright?” A pinch on the cheek and a nod told him that was a yes. Cinder landed near them while still facing Ruby and now Jaune.

“Why are you back?” She growled.

“Things got complicated, more huntsman. Time to go. We didn’t come here from a swan song.”

“Like hell! I’m just getting started.” Cinder made a bow and arrow out of lightning and took aim. “Ruby dies today.”

Not if Ruby had anything to say about it. She was ready for another exchange of blows but her anger was quelled when the sight of fresh blood was washing off of Dustin’s scythe. “Dustin, what did you do?Where’s Carmine and Garnet!?” Jaune was still shaken by who he was seeing. How was this possible? The sight of Cinder and Neo enraged him but the words Ruby said were brought to the forefront of his mind. “Carmine? Sun and Neptune should’ve-”

“I never saw Garnet.” Dustin interrupted. “As for Carmine...I’m sure she’s in shock by now. Fortunately for her my full swing wasn’t possible with how close she was. All blood, no lasting damage. Well...that’s not true. Trauma is tricky like that.” He smirked at his parent’s mortified faces. Dustin touched Cinder’s back. “Let’s go! We’ll kill them later. That wasn’t the point of this anyways.”

Ruby and Jaune tried their best to ready themselves as their son stepped forward and pointed at them. “Mark today. The peace you’ve cultivated in my absence will fall as easily as your daughter did, by my- our hands.”he declared. Ruby wasn’t even sure who she was looking at. The face she remembered was not covered in a hate and tragedy that mirrored the two by his side. Her heart couldn’t take it, it wouldn’t. Ruby was about to try and grab him when a shriek filled the air. The villagers down below were being trapped and attacked by vines. Ruby looked at Dustin. “Stop this!”

“You can either stop it yourself, or chase us. Choose fast. It’s not healthy to be wrapped too long.” The nevemore more extended its wing for them to walk on. He watched Ruby take another step before tightening his grip on screaming children. Ruby and Jaune looked in conflicting frustration before Jaune went to help them. “Ruby! I can’t do it all alone!”

Once again Ruby was asked to make the choice to chase her child or do her job. Grief filled her as she looked at him then stared at Cinder in seething hate. “Your head will roll if it’s the last thing I do.” Ruby threatened, joining Jaune to save the people. The nevermore took off and Cinder angrily aimed her bow before Neo blocked her sight with her umbrella.

“Don’t. Let’s not give them more reasons to hunt us now. It’s like Dustin said. This was just our first move. Break their world, then their lives. We waited this long. Just look at our handy work.”

Cinder watched the chaos of a small town and kingdom struggle with her grimm. To say it didn’t make her smile would be a lie. Yeah, she needed more of this. “It’s no Beacon, but it’s a damn good place to start.” Cinder looked at Dustin with more pride than she knew how to deal with. “Oh how I have high hopes for you. Do keep making your mothers proud. Dustin bowed respectively and watched the ruin along with her.

Finally a new game had started and the first move was theirs. Dustin couldn’t wait for his next one. “Here’s to a speedy recovery Carmine… Your big brother will be sure to visit.”

#rwby #rwby au #rwby rosebud #jaune arc #ruby rose #rwby lancaster #carmine arc rose #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #dustin arc rose #cinder fall #neo politan #aero amitola

[softfeelingsandangstywriting]

Whumptober: Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones But...

When their friends had questions, it was usually a normal question; “How are you?” “What’s going on?” “Do you guys need anything?” But sometimes, it was something more touchy, and definitely something harder to talk about. Such as the scar on Raph’s face, reaching from the edge of his jawline down to right above his plastron.

None of them wanted to talk about it, obviously, but when Casey or April set their mind to something, they were determined to succeed.

Michelangelo, when asked, smirked, started to tell the story, then dodged the question with some kind of prank or a distraction, brushing it off with light-hearted jokes and fun times.

Donatello got flustered, stammering and trying to find something to say before mumbling about a project he needed to get done and locking himself away in his lab.

Leonardo reacted far more calmly, meeting their gaze and saying that he was supposed to be doing something, he needed to train, needed to sharpen his swords, he was really overwhelmed and wanted to meditate, had to help one of his brothers with something, and for the most part, he was telling the truth. For the most part, they left him alone afterwards.

Of course, for obvious reasons, they never went to Raphael himself to ask him about it, most likely believing it to be something sensitive to him.

And, sure, he was thankful, but sometimes it got frustrating. Seriously, why couldn’t they just ask? It wasn’t like he’d be sad about it, he thought the scar was cool.

See, it went something like this-

%%%

They were thirteen, a reasonable age to be getting into trouble. At that age, the lair was never quiet, somebody always up to something.

This time, Michelangelo was being an idiot. He pulled a prank on Raphael, and, even though it was just meant to be fun, had accidentally brought the wrath of the hot-head upon him.

Per usual, that prank ended with Michelangelo getting chased down by the second oldest and screaming at the top of his lungs while trying to gather up pillows as he went by the couch to defend himself. Raphael, being bigger and faster than the proclaimed youngest, tackled him down to the floor in a decking that would’ve made any hockey player proud.

Also per usual, it was up to Leonardo to interfere, getting a hold of Raphael and, quite literally, dragging him off of Michelangelo while he screeched about something unintelligible.

But, Raphael did not need Leonardo trying to soothe his frayed nerves right then, he was an inferno at the moment, and only wanted violence.

“Oh my God!” Raphael exclaimed, elbowing Leonardo in the shin to the best of his ability, “Do you mind? You’re not better than us, Golden Boy! Stop acting like you are!”

“Wh-” Leonardo blinked a couple times, clearly astonished by this outburst, then yelled back, “I am not! I don’t act like that, I’m just trying to keep you from beating the living crap out of Mikey!”

“Then why don’t you fight me? You’re acting pretty confident right now.”

Splinter, in the background, watched on, silent, to see how they would react to the fight within the team, even as Leonardo looked to him for help with Raphael’s temper.

There was a long-suffering sigh as Raphael’s struggles died down and Leonardo’s grip loosened before he nodded in agreement.

"Fine, Bonehead.”

Raphael let out a victorious laugh and wiggled up to his feet, marching off to the dojo while Leonardo rubbed his temples to ward off the rapidly approaching headache before following shortly after.

When Leonardo got there, Raphael already had his sai out, twirling them and wearing a crooked grin as he waited for Leonardo to draw his swords.

“Raph, you frickin' idiot.”

Raphael only smiled wider and crouched, delighted when Leonardo mirrored his movements with an exasperated sigh.

As soon as the elder was ready, he lurched forward, slamming into Leonardo full-force. The blue-clad grunted from the weight of the other, then pushed back with his katanas to shove Raphael off of him.

Chasing after the younger brother, Leonardo brought the katanas down in a long slice to force Raphael to raise up his own weapons so that he could catch the attack, trying to force him into a corner and keep him on his toes, moving faster so that the hothead wouldn’t even have the time to strike back.

Raphael struggled, trying to dart in and get a good hit at Leonardo, but he definitely hadn’t expected Leonardo to be so serious about this fight. Then- He saw his opening, Leonardo made the mistake of leaving his right side open for an attack, and he took the chance.

Raphael darted forward, slamming the hilt of one of his sais into the other’s side, and grinning when Leonardo staggered, a short gasp leaving him. Now the tables had turned, and Leonardo was getting forced up against a wall by the hothead. Back, back, back and-!

The hothead froze and hopped back as a katana went flying by his head. He watched as it embedded itself into the wall, almost up to the hilt, and forgot all about the spar until he was going down, the other blade still held by his brother, and pressed to his throat.

Leo had the audacity to smirk after that unfair win, before he pulled the sword away.

“Really, Raph, if you were so intent on winning, you would’ve kept your eyes on me, and not the loose katana-”

The mentioned brother grit his teeth as Leonardo taunted him, then stood up and glared like he wished he could kill the other with his eyes.

“This is what I’m talking about! You’re acting like you’re better than me right now, like you wouldn’t have done the same! I just-” Raphael cut off in a wordless scream, grabbing the sides of his head before turning on his heel and storming out. He didn’t care where, he just had to be out of the lair.

There was a certain area they couldn’t go past without explicit permission from Splinter, but it was far from home, so he went there, looking for somewhere far, far away that would allow him to calm down.

And. There was a ladder. They weren’t supposed to go up to the surface, but it was even farther and-

No, no. He was not supposed to go up, so he wouldn't. Raphael looked away and started pacing, hands curled into tight fists, but, his gaze drifted back to that ladder, then up to the manhole.

What the- He grit his teeth and silently scolded himself for considering it again. He really needed to move away from that thing if it was going to be a temptation-

He looked back, one more time, and sighed. It would just be a short trip to the surface, nothing quick or serious. Once he had calmed down, he would come back into the sewers, go home, and everything would be alright.

Raphael grabbed one of the rungs of the ladder and glanced up before slowly beginning to climb, testing how sturdy it was before moving up higher.

After an experimental push at the manhole cover, he was pleased to see that it went up without a problem. And, as he slowly crawled out, he paused to gape. The sky was almost black, lit up by a dim orange, but the city itself was brighter than the moon, lights sparkling like stars.

He was taken aback, mouth half open before he realized that he shouldn't just linger there. So, he crawled out, slowly set the manhole cover back in its place, and stood straight up. But once he was done gawking at the surface, his anger came back full force. What a way to ruin his moment of peace.

He tested the fire escape to his right first to make sure it wouldn't fall apart as soon as he tried to pull himself up, then went racing up it to get to the top. Raphael breathed in deep, enjoying the cool breeze from the rooftop before beginning to pace, muttering about his insufferable brother.

And then, there were some dudes cackling. That shouldn't have been so alarming, but something in Raphael screamed that it was wrong, he needed to go see it. 

As Raphael approached the edge of the building, he squinted at the people below, and immediately felt the rage boil up in him. It was four grown men harassing one girl. From the looks of it, they were mugging her.

His lip curled up in a snarl as he felt around his belt, looking for a kunai or throwing star or something like that. Once he had it, he tossed it down and heard it clatter. The men turned to look, giving the girl a chance to run, and after they had realized it was a weapon, they glanced up to where he was hiding, although they couldn't see him yet.

"Who's there?" One of them growled, one with a big, winding tattoo over his neck and right shoulder.

Raphael dropped down, not thinking clearly about the odds of the battle. After all, he had been training all his life, what could they do?

One or two of them paused, eyes widening at the sight of him before shaking the initial shock off, getting ready. The others were already stanced up, ready for a fight.

...Needless to say, it went badly. They were many, he was alone. They were adults and he was barely even a teenager. He was way in over his head, and ended up held down by a pair of them while one looked him over, and the other examined his sai. 

"Jesus..." The one to his left muttered, looking him over while he kicked and writhed.

"This thing," The dude in front of him, Tattoo Guy, crouched and reached his hand out, "Is ugly as-"

He yelled and pulled his hand back as Raph reached forward and snapped at his hand.

"Stupid-" he growled, rubbing his hand. Then, he turned to the dude still holding Raph's sai and held his hand out, "Hey, hand me one of those, aight? I'm gonna teach it a lesson for bothering us."

Raphael's stomach dropped, a chill running down his spine. He thrashed harder as the weapons were exchanged, trying to get away, they were gonna hurt him-

"Hold it still, don't wanna kill it."

Somebody grabbed his head, restraining him and forcing him to look up. He squeezed his eyes shut as the weapon was raised, and-!

A scream tore its way from his throat as they carved it through his skin, leaving a burning cut from his jawline to the tip of his plastron. Raphael began to writhe, pushing against them as they stood up and kept their grip on him. Somebody kicked him and then he was getting dragged along the concrete and shoved into the back of a truck.

He could hear them laughing while he shrunk into a corner, shivering and afraid.

Were they- Were they gonna take him? He should have just stayed home, then he could've avoided this whole mess-

They cackled in the front of the truck, he could hear them through the wall, and the engine started up before they started driving. He wasn't entirely sure how long it had been, but eventually, they stopped and the doors to the back opened.

Raphael got grabbed roughly by the arm, their grip tightening almost to a crushing point as they dragged him out, into the back alley, and then kicked him down.

Those sadists were definitely having fun with it, throwing him down and kicking him around while he was injured and unarmed. When they got bored and finished up, they opened up a manhole (his gateway to home, yes!) and threw him down inside before closing the cover after him and leaving.

He hit the ground hard, his shell contacting the concrete with a sickening thud, and knocking the air right from his lungs.

Raphael blinked, chest heaving even though nothing would enter his lungs. He laid there for a long moment, stunned from the fall, bruises throbbing and blood running down his face.

He. He didn’t want to go home, he realized after air started entering his body again.

Sure, there was help there, and it was definitely safe, but he didn’t want to have to face the others injured. Besides, they weren’t supposed to be going up to the surface, he knew that rule as well as any of his brothers.

Instead, he slowly propped himself up on his arms, taking deep breaths to try and get rid of the last of the shock from falling before standing shakily. Raphael teetered for a moment, and he had to brace himself on the wall to avoid falling back down. Once steady, he wandered over to the part of the sewers that he knew he had been supposed to stay in.

When he was safe, and somewhere that he supposed people wouldn’t find him, he raised a hand to touch the injury, wincing and pulling his hand away immediately after. Jeez- That was a lot of blood. Hadn’t Donatello said something about how much heads bleed? Maybe the nerd had actually said something useful for once.

Then he realized that there were footsteps and froze before pressing himself up against the wall, looking for a hiding place, somewhere he wouldn’t get caught-

“Raph?”

Oh. It was- It was just Leonardo. Of course it was just Leonardo, because he was always the one who found them first.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice impossibly soft, because it was Leonardo.

“Go away,” Raphael rasped, still holding the bleeding side of his face, “I don’t wanna see you right now.”

“Raph, look at me.”

“No.”

“I said look at me-!”

Leonardo grabbed Raphael, and before the younger of the two could even react, he had been turned around to face the oldest, and he knew that Leonardo could see the blood now, he could see the bruises and scrapes, and shoot, he looked concerned. Raphael could only feel bad, because now his brother went looking for him, already worried, just to find him hurt.

“Oh,” Leonardo said dumbly, probably at a loss for words, “I see.”

“It’s really nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, Leo. It’s not deep-”

Leonardo tightened his grip on Raphael’s shoulder to shut him up, meeting his gaze clearly. “You realize how long you’ve been gone? You left an hour ago, Raph. We all went looking for you, and we couldn’t find you, because there’s not much to be seen in this little space of sewer. Mikey got cold, Donnie had to check on something, and I stayed, I kept looking for you and even asked for permission to go further in the sewers, just in case.

And then? I found blood, Raph, I found your blood, leading here. You freaking scared me, I thought you were really hurt, or worse!”

And of course, Leonardo found his blood, that hyper-aware son of a gun- The nicknamed “Fearless” was afraid, for him- And his brother was still going, now bombarding him with questions about it.

“Who did this to you? Where are they? How’d this happen? You need to see Sensei or Don, are you alright? You look pale, we really need to get back, everybody is worried and-”  Leonardo cut off as Raphael sniffled, looking down and not at him anymore.

He rubbed his eyes, sniffled again, and then sobbed, crumpling down and taking Leonardo with him as he cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-! I just-” he gasped for air between the sobs, a low whine leaving him before he kept going, “I got so angry, and I didn’t want to stay down here, I felt trapped and I went up to the surface,” Leonardo's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything, thankfully, letting the younger tell his story, “I- I got up to a roof and I heard these dudes laughing, they were mugging this girl, Leo! They were gonna hurt her so- So I interfered, and I know you’re gonna say that was risky but I couldn’t just do nothing! They ganged up and took me down, and kicked me around some to rub it in,” he doesn’t mention that they were hurtful verbally, too. That part wasn’t important, “Then- Then they dumped me back in the sewers about a mile or two back, and I came here.”

He realized that Leonardo was digging his fingers into his own thigh, eye ridges furrowed as his jaw tensed. He was angry, and Raphael couldn't help but wonder-

“Are you mad at me..?”

Leonardo paused, and his facial expression relaxed. In fact, he almost looked hurt by the question, gaze softening as he looked Raphael over.

After a long moment of silence, he answered, his conviction clear in his answer, “...Not at you, I’m not angry at you, I’m the one who made you go up in the first place. I’m angry at them. They’re stupid and cruel, and you’re one of the coolest people I know.”

“...Leo, you only know four people.”

“Shut up and take the compliment before I take it back.”

Raphael sniffled again and then laughed softly, shoulders shaking from it. “Alright, fine, fine. I know I’m cool, anyway.”

Leonardo grinned, wide and happy, and Raphael was a little relieved that the other was feeling better. He was, too, he realized. Somehow, that dork had managed to cheer him up (and he’d have to thank him for it later, but not verbally. He’d find something nice or Space Heroes-related and leave it in his room for him).

“I’ll be right back,” Leonardo said suddenly, standing up and racing off.

Raphael paused, confused at the sudden disappearance of his brother. What the..? But he didn’t leave, he just leaned back and waited, picking at the bandages on his hands while he waited. When Leonardo returned, it was with some bandages, water, and disinfectant, and he was beaming, proud of what he had done.

Without speaking, he crouched back down, cleaning up the injury to keep it from infecting. Raphael hissed and winced from the sting as it fizzed, but he made sure to be nice and still while Leonardo worked on bandaging him up.

But, as he was finishing up- “I’m gonna kill those people..” Leonardo had muttered it, just barely loud enough for Raphael to hear, but it was definitely concerning to hear.

“Wait- What?” he had to double-check to make sure that he had heard the other correctly.

“What ‘what’? I didn’t say anything, we need to get home anyway. I’m sure if you’re honest, Splinter won’t be too harsh with the punishment for going up,” Leonardo brushed that off way too casually, standing up.

“No wait-” Raphael stammered, hopping up after him.

“I said, let’s go home, Raph.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt raphael #child violence #but there's plenty of that in canon #blood #blood tw #completionist

[yugirl-with-dragons]

Beyond the stars

This was in my notes for awhile and I hope you enjoy these two blushy dorks! 

…

“Yusei?.. Are you awake?” 

Her body still coursing  with quiet adrenaline, tense from a nightmare that haunts her tonight. Though it wasn’t a bad premonition, it just startled her. A crackle of the wood underneath the warm fire against the soft summer night filled in between their silence. 

“Hm?.. Aki what’s wrong?” 

“ I.. I can’t sleep. I just had a bad dream.” 

He didn’t quite catch it at first, since he was starting to feel sleep calling for him. Though when her words registered in his brain he quickly became concerned. Almost ready to wake up stardust from his slumber, waking a dragon without cause was a death sentence but a premonition was a good justification. 

“Did you have another premonition?” 

Sitting up, with her hair a bit messy she gave him a glance to his eyes. His eyes, they had a brunt force but allowed his softness to seep through them. 

“I.. no it’s..”

Trailing off, she turned away from him from a force of habit. Not being able to face him. She wasn’t confessing a crime or avoiding punishment when she hid information. Though in difference her face flushed a bit red and warm as if she had drank rum straight from a flask, suddenly nervous for punishment for speaking out of turn. As if she suddenly remembered rules she forgot before realizing that she was no longer bound to Divine’s guidance. 

So why do I feel all.. jittery and nervous when I look at him? I.. I can trust him.. can’t I? I mean, stardust is his companion after all..

Subconsciously, her fingertips tapping against the ground, huddling herself. Her restless hands made their way into her hair, fiddling with it to ground herself, to try to not appear anxious or show any fear. Trying to break her old habits of holding back information, as she was no longer bound to the rules and guidelines Divine had set for her.. before draining her magic.

Yusei waited with patience, seeing if she would elaborate on her own terms. 

Though the only words she could muster up were, 

“it was just a bad dream..”

Yusei let out a small breath of relief as his muscles relaxed, knowing that it may just be a bad dream, but not a nightmare that would potentially kill her or stardust in the real world. Even though she refused to make eye contact with him, he still kept his focus on her. To keep a protective watch over her while to maintain an ear out for nearby danger. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The wildlife of the night and stardust’s gentle snoring filled between their silence. Aki started debating in her head if she should say anything to Yusei about her dream. Normally if it wasn’t deemed as of ‘importance’, she kept it to herself. 

Why? If it doesn’t affect him or his companion.. Why would he want to know?  

It wasn’t a premonition, only a bad dream. Why would a knight like him want to care about a silly little nightmare? He’s got more important things to worry about, like saving the world from complete destruction than to listen to her ramblings!  After all, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her once all of this is over. It wouldn’t make sense for him to fuss over her because she had a minor bad dream!

The warm glow from his face, that signal of friendship and joy.. She was going to miss that. After all, she couldn’t live with him. She’s a witch, an outcast, she couldn’t live with a knight. She’d only endanger him despite saving him with the magic she used to once save him from death. In the few times they’ve stopped in town for supplies words of hate and accusations of her manipulating him were thrown at her. Of course no one would enforce their threats with Yusei at the helm, it was practically stupid to do so! She was definitely going to miss that feeling of safety if she ever had to return to town without him. Reminding herself that they can’t stay together forever, she has to be ready to separate when the time comes for them to part ways.  

He has to do his job, and I have to get my magic back. After this I can .. find elsewhere to stay.

She blinked out from her thoughts as if to shove him mentally out the door once again. 

“..I.. no its.. it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” 

Yusei could still feel a small pang of sadness, that she still couldn’t bring herself to place her faith in him. That he means that he will protect her at any cost even if he suffered for it.

Normally, he’d try to take guesses of what’s bothering his friends if they couldn’t give a direct answer. As sometimes it could help ease the stress on the other person on what it could’ve been about without directly stating the issue.

With her, he wasn’t going to take any sort of risk. He was only able to gain her trust by slowly helping her out of her shell in the big and little moments outside of normal society; forcing an answer out of her would undo any progress he’s made with her. Little by little, the rules that she had ingrained into her being started to fade the more time that had passed between them. Her hesitation still showed through however, as she always asked for permission; Whether it was for a minute task or even to speak, there was  still a disconnect showing that shouldn’t be there. A  part of her that still feared him because of her mentor’s teachings about the outside world. As there were sometimes where she had completely regressed back into her shell, though it’s only a very few times and primarily about her parents. Still, neither he or stardust pressed about it. Something in his gut told him that it’d be best if she were to bring it up to him when she felt ready for that conversation.

So he gave a small smile as she turned back to him. 

“Well.. whenever you feel ready to talk about your dream, you can always tell me or stardust about it. We’ll listen to you.” 

Her heart skipped a beat, as the door gave a gentle knock from the other side to call back to her. It was a similar conversation whenever she had a minor nightmare. Afterwards she allowed herself to drift back to earth and root herself into the soft dirt. Though tonight, she didn’t want to drift. She wanted to be rooted, but the clear skies twinkling down amongst the clearing let her drift to the stars instead. 

“Um.. I know this is weird to ask.. but.. could.. could we look at the stars?.. Together?” 

Yusei temporarily blocked out his sensing for danger; focusing on her words. A small touch of faith she started to place into him. 

 A faint flicker of hope starts to burn as a consistent but weak flame. 

Her face started to heat up as she started to backtrack her words, fearing punishment for breaking an unspoken rule she never learned about. Though his reply cut off her fears for a moment in exchange for one of peace. 

“ You don’t have to ask, Aki. We share the same sky and stars. ” 

He couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear, mixture of being proud and happy of the slow growth he’s seeing from their first meeting under the stars. From reservation to taking a few more steps to confidence to take her ex–mentor down to the realm waiting for him. Not hesitating, he sat himself up and patted to the soft earth next to him as a means for her to join him. 

Sitting up next to him she brushed the leaves and dirt that became entangled with her being, apologizing profusely. Yusei didn’t care, he may have been tried but goodness she was adorable when she became flustered. Though this realization forced his heart hammer in his chest, unsure how long he’d been admiring her for her strength and resilience against the odds of her mentor. 

The two of them could feel their hearts race against their minds as they slowly closed the space between them. Yusei, trying to fight the warmness riding in his cheeks and aki trying to fight the thoughts of being emotionally open with another person. Afraid that she might say something wrong? No no, that wasn’t quite it as the knots in her stomach were telling her.

She wasn’t going to lie, she was grateful for the knight and his companion taking her in after being left to die. Though lately she couldn’t help but feel more .. attached to him. Almost wanting to reach out to him before remembering that when she trusted someone, she nearly died. Though her heart kept screaming that he was different, that it wouldn’t wind up like last time. 

Though right now, she shoved her competing thoughts to gaze up to the twinkling of stars down to the earth. With him right by her side, getting comfortable, she gently grazed her hand over his before retracting away out of embarrassment. He felt a tug of disappointment pull at his heartstrings at her retraction. 

Soon enough the cackling fire filled in the stretched out silence. Though it didn’t last for long as she spoke up. 

“ Hey Yusei?..Do.. uhm, do you think that there’s life beyond the stars?“  

“ What do you mean Aki?” 

He turned to her briefly paying attention to her stumbling of uneasiness. It was clear that she didn’t ask too many questions on her own if they weren’t guided. Which internally made him furious on Aki’s behalf, seeing how she is barely functioning with a team that cares for her. He can only imagine any other manipulation she’s gone through disguised as ‘ love and guidance’. Though it goes against his moral code as a knight to take personal vengeance, he was going to make sure that Divine is permanently taken care of when their blades next meet.   

“ Well, after our time in this world has passed.. Do you think that.. This is gonna sound stupid but, um..”

She started to fiddle with her bangs and avoided his gaze again. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, the purity of balance shone through the fiber of her being. A beacon of hope, once all of this was over they would part ways as if they’d never met and she’d be alone all over again. It was better for them if she didn’t get too attached to him.. right? 

He may be tired but he wasn’t going to rush her. She’s slowly reaching out to place faith within him in small pieces.  

Progress. 

“That our souls go beyond the stars to another world? One just as real as ours but.. different?” 

His gaze returned back to the stars with a smile on his face. She couldn’t ignore the twinkling of the nocturnal beauty and life that reflected back into the lakes of his eyes. The mirrors of hope that were his eyes. 

“ I can’t answer that.. But I won’t doubt that there’s something beyond this earth. Maybe our souls end up in a separate world as our final resting place.. Or  maybe our souls are reborn in another time and another place… Who knows? If that’s the case, then I’d want you, Stardust and my friends to be there with me.” 

Aki felt her heart race a marathon as her face started to flush a rose color in her cheeks trying to defend herself in justification. Turning to him and raising her hands to put up a wall of insecurity. 

“ Really? Why? I can see Stardust.. But me? I’m a witch! I manage to get myself into trouble and–”

Yusei, meeting Aki’s eyes, didn’t like interrupting others, but only had to do it when necessary; her anxieties were flaring up and he needed to give her a stable grounding of trust and foundation. Fully knowing that it was something she hasn’t had since Divine pulled the rug under her, from taking the ability she’s lived with since she was born. 

To tear down her wall of insecurity to give her an embrace of warmth and love she deserved. Knowing that her life wasn’t an easy one, that she needed a friend to call on without fearing being left behind to be burned at the stake of judgement. To let her know that she was no longer isolated and a sacrifice ready to be slaughtered in the screamings of fear, that she had someone to defend her in her time of need. 

“ Aki. You may be a witch, but that doesn’t define your heart. You have abilities beyond comprehension but that doesn’t mean that you’re exiled to a life of misery for being different..” 

I wish one day that you could see that your magic is a gift and not a curse.. 

She did let her head hit his shoulder as she let out a yawn. Yusei could feel his face light itself on fire as in his years as a knight he’s never dealt with maidens in this context. Yes many of them have flirted with him, but he wasn’t interested in them. Their claims for marriage felt more for association and lust rather than with love. 

With Aki? His heart would flutter with the monarch butterflies that would land in her hair and frame her face. Her smile gave a light of hope to him that he had the strength to curb the darkness rising in the evening skies. 

Her laughter? He doesn’t hear it often, when he does it’s a sound he keeps close into his soul. A sign of her shedding her past of pain and isolation to a new life filled with joy just waiting for her. What would happen to the two of them after this was all over? He wasn’t sure, but he hoped that she would open her heart to completely to him when all of this was over. 

“ I know.. but that’s how it is Yusei.” 

“ Maybe, we can’t change what we’re born with or our circumstances.. But it’s what we do with our life is what matters. ” 

Aki let out a tired yawn staring up at the stars, entranced by their sparkles of life. 

“ I suppose..” 

Yusei gave a nod as the two of them slouched back against Stardust. With her head against his shoulder, he let himself stay still as he had no intention of moving anytime soon. She changed the subject to point out the constellations sparkling down in the night sky, taking in the map of the night sky. Sharing a few small moments of hilarity that ensued, whether it calling out the wrong spell and trapping Divine in an entanglement of vines for a solid hour when she started training with him or when Yusei played revenge pranks back at Martha’s on some of the other children from a relatively stupid bet. Glints of happiness and laughter sparkling under the stars. 

Slowly as her eyes shuttered she left her body be engulfed in the warmth from the fire and encasing loosely her arms around her new pillow for the night. Yusei, a bit surprised that he now has a sleeping woman in his arms, did his best to be still, to not disturb Aki. Trying to figure out if he should move her off onto the ground or if he should just let her sleep on him for the night and figure out if he should just wake up earlier before the sun rose. 

He wasn’t sure when but as when she fell asleep, a smile grew on his face. She may not have put her faith in him completely, but she was starting to trust him. Though it didn’t stop him from whispering his thoughts to her as her magenta hair lit up with the warmth of the fire gave a soft glow to her. Wishing that she could see the goodness in herself, that she is a good person with or without her abilities.

“You have a good heart Aki.. I wish you could see that..” 

To show his trust, showing his faith in her, he let his left gently hold her side and held his sheathed sword tightly in his right side wedged between his arm. Ready to fight at the slightest movement.

He let his head swing back into the dragon’s side as his eyes started to close as he left out a soft snore with a little too much force from deadweighting.

Stardust, awoke a bit startled that something hit his left side ready to attack. Only to see his two human companions sleeping right on him. Stardust never understood human concepts of courting and the rules that go along with it, but he could at least see that the concept of love could change a human.. or two. 

Take your rest and enjoy this moment of peace..  you two deserve it.

---submitted by  @taytay4674788 ---

IT’S MY MEDIEVAL AU AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

thank you so much for this gift!!!!! I love how this one shot focuses on Aki feeling hesitant about trusting someone else again... Divine traumatized her enough to give her trust issues and it’s okay not feeling ready even if there are green flags basically everywhere about a specific person... 

“I wish one day that you could see that your magic is a gift and not a curse” big canon vibes !!! I love it *chef kiss*

The fact that they’re sitting there, stargazing together fills my heart with sparkles and little hearts. Thank u for the feels

#my comment is under the cut #my medieval au!! #medieval au #medievalau #submission #taytay4674788 #yugioh 5ds #faithshipping

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 8

Here is the next chapter to Midnight Striga. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you.

Lilith was lost in the haze of memories. It was understandable, really, when you took into account what had happened. Her sister, who she had steadfastly looked down upon and seen as inferior in terms of ability and power, doubly so when counting her curse, had utterly dominated her in a Witch’s Duel, publicly solidifying her place as greater than the head of the Emperor’s Coven. Greater than Lilith. It was a bitter pill to swallow, one she’d been denying for years.

It was funny, really, how much of a farce it all was; the illusion that she was a great and powerful witch. Oh Lilith was certainly strong, that was without question! But she was so far from being her sister’s equal that it was anything but funny, by itself. Each and every fight, every confrontation, looking back, they always ended the same. Edalyn would show up, causing trouble as she pleased, and when Lilith arrived to confront her, they briefly battled, Eda cracking jokes and being witty, before pulling a stunt at the last minute to escape. In none of those conflicts had Eda ever shown serious effort or treated their battles as anything other than a way to pass the time or a chore to work around.

Eda may not have held back against Lilith, but she had never once seriously fought Lilith in all her years in the Emperor’s Coven; each fight was nothing more than Lilith attempting to sooth her own ego, and Eda indulging her because she could. It was sobering, to realize that you were so small. Muffled screams echoed in her ears, but she paid them no mind. Edalyn was there, clearly she could take care of it, and not a weak failure like herself.

Better to sink into the veil of her memories, where she could do no harm.

“So, why do you want to join the Emperor’s Coven?” “Isn’t it obvious? Because I’ll be able to help people, of course! I could do so much to make the world a better place!” “Heh, good luck with that!”

“There is only one opening for the Emperor’s Coven, you two will have to fight for it.” “”WHAT!?””

“No! I refuse to battle my own sister! I’ve decided covens aren’t really my style. Hey, don’t forget about me when you're a big shot, sis.”

Even her own memories conspired to reveal what a fool she was. Even back then, Eda would’ve never challenged her, her sole motive for joining the Emperor’s Coven being to support Lilith and retain her magic, nothing more. The curse was pointless, nothing but the petty jealousy of a child. She still was a child, in the end, a stupid, spoiled, beligerent child who refuses to accept their flaws for what they are.

“Gah!”

Was that Edalyn? No, surely not, nothing on the Isle, bar Belos, could challenge her, not truly, of that she no longer had any doubts. But, what if…?

“I do what I want to do, nothing more… nothing less…!”

 Lilith paused in her thoughts, forcing herself to focus on the present. Screaming, laughing, explosions and fire, echoing all around her.

“But for all that I hate Bonehead… I love the Isles… and the people who call it home…!”

 Lilith winced at the sheer volume of it all. Taking a deep, slow breath, she tried again, tugging at her senses, pushing herself to the surface of her mind.

“So if you think I’m just going to stand back… and let you kill people because you feel like it… then you’re even crazier than you look!!”

Her eyes snapped open. They flew across the stands, her already pale skin dropping in palor at the horror surrounding her. Death, injury, and suffering. Witches, Demons and Witchlings battling for their lives. Where were her subordinates, where were the guards!? ...Where was Edalyn?

Lilith’s head snapped to the side, eyes widening at what she saw, and what she heard.

“Even if I die, I’ll have died fighting for my freedom. Give it your best shot, you two-bit bully.”

Edalyn, held in ice-clad hands by the throat, her captor rearing back a fist filled with jagged ice, ready to run her through. This. Would not. STAND.

As the stranger lunged to attack, Lilith sprung, her staff intercepting the blow. Staring into eyes as cold and blank as death itself, she hissed out. “Stay. Away. From my sister.”

“Ah, so the prodigal daughter comes to challenge her betters.” Reticulus hissed, amusement coloring his voice. “I see you conquered the tests I sent your way without issue!”

“Tests?” Willow said, voice hushed. “YOU CALL ALL OF THOSE ATROCITIES TESTS!??” She screamed. The look of rage mirrored on her friends’, and Amity’s, faces.

“But of course.” He replied placidly. “Everything I do, I do for the sake of building the most perfect body. So why would I not implement tests to find out who is worthy of joining the art that is my form?” He stated, his tone no different than if he had said that he was breathing, or that he enjoyed food. He turned to Luz, amusement dancing in his (most likely, if not definitely, stolen) eyes. “Have you come to return yourself to our care again? Or will you offer up your form to join my work in a futile display of resistance?”

Luz paused, glaring in deepset hatred, before doing something that surprised them all. She started laughing, chuckling really. “You know something? I honestly forgot how much of a pretentious piece of shit you were.” She said, her laughter having subsided, lazily cracking her neck, a glow building in her hands. “You were this big bad monster in my memory, this unstoppable thing I could never hope to face. But now? You’re still a monster…”

She leapt into the air, clapping her hands together, palm to fist, to cast. “BUT YOU’RE A MONSTER IN CAN KILL!” She screamed. “Light-Make: Parliament!” A flock of owl constructs ripped through the air, slamming into Reticulus’ body, drawing roars of frustration from the mismatched madman.

“Impudent wretch!” He growled. “Arteriel Assault!” The flesh of his arms rippled and shifted, the arteries in his arms ripping out from his skin, morphing into the shape of gun barrels. Luz’s eyes barely had time to widen as pressurized bullets of blood ripped through the air, her hastily cast shield barely blocking the spray. Turning his gaze to her team, he cast again. “Rib Bunker!” The flesh of his torso peeled back, his ribs shooting forth like homing rockets, each one screaming towards them.

Eyes widening, Amity and Willow quickly called up their defenses, Amity’s Abomination grabbing the ribs from the air in concert with Willow’s vines, Gus covertly casting a layered illusion, just in case. Moving to the offensive, Amity directed her Abomination to tackle Retic’s legs, the oozing form of it entangling the limbs and seeping into the ground, binding it, however crudely. Joining Amity in the attack, Willow summoned her plants, blasting into Reticulus with a barrage of launched thorns and vine-based whip strikes. To their disgust and morbid fascination, Willow’s vines managed to dig into the seams of Reticulus’ stitchings, pulling them open, exposing the muscle and bone beneath.

“How dare you worms harm this form? The culmination of my life’s work!?” He screeched, the flesh of his limbs morphing into a bevy of blades and spears. With a scream of rage, he attacked again, his fury only barely restrained by his desire to see how competent these wretches truly were.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point, we are trying to kill you, so of course we’re damaging that patchwork of corpses you call a body!!” Luz retorted, another spell building. “Light-Make: Peacock!” An elegant bird crafted from light soared forth, it’s ostentatious form twirling through the air, cutting through the flesh-formed weaponry Reticulus was deploying. As Retic’s attention was drawn by the flashy construct, Luz ran forth, tucking into a slide. As she passed underneath Retic’s legs, she gave a feral grin. “Light-Make: Radiant Durendal!!” The colossal spear ripped upward, slamming into Retic’s groin and torso, prompting the depraved maniac to scream in agony, flying into the air from the force of the blow.

Sliding back, she braced herself for whatever counterattack he cooked up. Willow shouted, summoning a massive vine which latched onto Retic’s leg, slamming him into the ground, a sickening crunch echoing from his body.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!!” He screamed, his body pulsing and swelling in all directions. “Living Corpse Cannon!!” With a horrific shriek of tearing skin and ripping muscle, bloody holes opened all over Reticulus’ body, bone, blood, and extra organs launching with the force of a machine gun every which way. Panting, Reticulus turned around, and burst out laughing. Luz and the others lay broken, bloody, limbs shattered all around him. “THAT IS WHAT YOU FOOLS GET FOR CHALLENGING ME!!!”

“You know, I always regretted how I left Oroboros.” Luz’s voice croaked out.

“Oh?” Reticulus smirked, leaning forward in condescending glee. “Does the wayward doll realize how foolish it was to challenge our whims?”

Luz weakly snorted. “Not hardly, you bastard.” She choked out. “I always regretted… that I wasn’t strong enough to take her away from you all. If I was stronger, braver, maybe I could have saved her, and we’d have both gotten away.”

“Pfft. And the difference between then and now is… what, exactly?” Reticulus mused, leaning close to her broken form.

“This time,” Luz smirked, blood seeping from her lips. “I’m not afraid of dying in the process.” In a burst of light, she and the others exploded, rematerializing ten feet further away, injured for sure, but nowhere near as broken as he had seen, a truly massive light building in Luz’s palms. “And I’ve got friends with me… to stop you!” She shouted, Amity and Willow shifting into action. Amity’s Abomination surged forth, slamming into his legs, holding him fast. Willow’s plants ran up the length of his arms, seizing him and pulling his arms tight and immoble.

“You may be stronger than us.” Amity stated, still composed, even as blood streamed down into her eyes, her left arm visibly dislocated.

“But we just need to hold you still!” Willow grunted, swaying roughly, blood coating her hands, a small trickle flowing from her mouth.

“And I’m using my illusions to get everyone to safety, and away from your goons!” Gus declared, blood leaking from his ear, heavily favoring one of his legs over the other.

“Which means I’ve got all the room I need… to do this!” Luz shouted, the light bursting forth. “Light-Make: Owl Beast!” In a flash, a colossal form burst forth, careening into Reticulus’ mishmash of a body, the force ripping it free from his bindings… but without the bound limbs in question.

“NO! NONONONONONONO!!!” Reticulus screamed, blood streaming from the broken stumps that used to be his arms and lower torso. “YOU CANNOT DO THIS!! I AM RETICULUS CREEVES!! I AM THE MASTER OF FLESH!! THE SHAPER OF FORMS!!! YOU CANNOT CHALLENGE ME!!!” He screamed, raging against the beast that slammed his broken form into the wall, blood splattering with each impact, its talons and beak ripping and tearing away the stolen flesh of his body. As it dug deeper, his screams and protests grew weaker, and weaker, until all the kids could hear… was a whimper.

As the approached the crater that held whatever remained of Reticulus, they peered inside. Their stomachs turned slightly at the sight; all that remained of the vicious Mage was his collar and head, still alive only by the nature of his magic and his sheer stubborn desire to live.

“Any last words?” Luz asked coldly, the pain and rage from her time working with this monster surging back to the forefront.

“Just two.” The head gurgled. His lips twisted into a horrific smile, mocking and hateful. “She… lives…!” He burst into uproarious laughter, hate and madness bleeding through, as Luz froze, images flashing through her mind, tears building in her eyes. It couldn’t be true… it had to be a lie… right!? It probably was… but whether true or false, the bastard had completed his goal when he said the words: he had hurt her at her core. As Luz fell to her knees, the others crying out in worry, she turned to the heavens, tears pouring down her face, and screamed herself hoarse. And then, she knew only darkness.

Staff whirling, Lilith slammed it into her foe’s cranium, grinning in satisfaction as he reeled back in pain. Turning to Eda, she demanded. “What’s happening?”

“Well, nice of you to wake up, Lily,” Eda snarked, before growing serious. “This bastard and his pals burst in, and said they were going to kill everyone. They probably have more in the rest of the Center, but the group they brought with them here is brutal enough.” She said, pointing up to the stands.

Lilith’s retort died in her mouth as she finally gained a clear look at the carnage surrounding them. Over a quarter of the spectators in the stands, including several children, lay dead, with those closest to them encased in ice. Her guards had been brutally butchered, many of them in multiple pieces, some of them melted, others burned to ash, but all of the guards she had brought in with her were dead. On a slightly more positive note, Principal Bump, Titan bless him, was managing to fend off the remaining soldiers this beast of a man had brought with him, directing multiple Abominations to intercept their attacks and retaliate. From what she could tell, he had managed to suffocate and slay at least ten attackers, leaving fourteen remaining.

“We have to stop this.” Lilith breathed out, fear and pain coloring her voice at the horror surrounding them.

“No duh,” Eda deadpanned. She held up a hand as Lilith moved to retort. “I don’t know why you got stuck in your head like that, and I don’t want to know. People who could still be alive right now if you hadn’t are dead because of that. We need to crush this bastard, and then we can go back to hating each other. Deal?”

Lilith bitterly nodded, unable to challenge the point. “Deal.” She turned to their foe, who was building up ice-based armor around himself. “What can you tell me about him?”

“He calls himself Rudolph, uses something called Frost Magic; if you touch it, it clings to you, saps your strength and your magic. I’m almost spent. We have to finish this fast.” Eda said gravely.

“Then you focus on offense.” Lilith stated clearly, twirling her staff. “And I shall focus on defense. Acceptable?”

“Perfectly.” Eda grinned. Nodding to each other, they lunged for their foe, Rudolph screaming in anger as bolts of ice ripped out from his armor.

“You fools cannot stop my symphony of death!” He cried, blades and spines bursting forth from his armor and the ground. Moving quickly, Lilith threw up her barrier, absorbing the blows. Smirking, Eda jumped into the air, a ball of flame forming. With a shout, she threw it, cheering as his armor was forced to absorb the blow. “You dare play games with me!?” He thrust his arm forward, a spear of ice ripping towards Eda.

“I said stay away!” Lilith shouted, whipping her staff upward. A bolt of magic crashed into the spear, changing its trajectory rather severely. The spear went careening, crashing through two of the attackers. 12 left.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone big with yourself, eh Frosty?” Eda joked, spinning her staff against the ground, a massive tube in Hooty’s image (a recurring nightmare of Lilith’s actually) ripping out of the ground.

“What the hell!?” Rudolph shouted in baffled rage, the spell forcibly wrapping around his armor, and constricting, drawing a roar of pain from the sadistic Mage. Eda lunged again, summoning bolts of flame to blast into the armor, craters appearing at each collision, with Lilith adding her lightning to stun the armor and draw a few more screams out of Rudolph.

Sharing a glance, the sisters nodded, pulling their staffs back. With a furious cry, the two launched their spears into the armor, shattering it, Rudolph plunging to the ground, a disgusting crack sounding upon his landing, followed by a pained scream. Crawling out of the crater formed by his landing, mad rage filling his eyes, Rudolph attacked. “Winter Spray!” He cried, launching multiple bolts of ice at the two witches. Eyes narrowed, Lilith intercepted, expertly deflecting each bolt into the crowd, each bolt driving through the bodies of one of Rudolph’s followers. The attackers now numbered 4.

Seeing that their attackers had shrunk considerably, the crowd rallied, dogpiling on the remaining Mages, magic being called up to hold them.

“No!” Rudolph yelled. “This shouldn’t be happening! You are supposed to be weak, helpless! We are the powerful, the strong! We are supposed to dominate!!” His ranting was cut off by Eda clocking the raving Mage across the head, the image of him killing that child from before so casually flashing before her eyes.

“Dominate that, you psychotic asshole.” She growled.

“Oh, Edalyn.” Lilith sighed.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #amity blight #eda clawthorne #gus porter #willow park #magic

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 158 prt 2

Keith was still on the fence about returning to the house. Lance wanted to go. Keith didn’t want to go. He didn’t want Lance committing that place to memory and his nightmares getting worse

“Oh? Actually, I’ve got something to tell you. Lance fell asleep before I could talk to him about it... well, two somethings... You go first”

Pidge had something to tell him? Why did he get the feel he wasn’t going to be happy? She was smiling, but he knew how sharp her teeth could be behind that smile

“You’ve known Lance longer than I have, and I don’t want to fuck this up”

“Oh my god! You’re going to ask him to get hitched?!”

Keith sighed deeply

“Have you been talking to Krolia?”

“Yes, but not about that. Oh my god! When?! Are you getting married before he pops?!”

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat himself down next to the serving tray

“No. Lance and I both... we want to be together a while before... God. If my mother’s been at you, I’m so sorry”

Fucking Krolia. Only by sheer luck had the ring box not been found by Lance. Keith meant to throw it out, but it was hard when Lance generally took the rubbish out and the big bin was emptied once a week. Cocking her head, Pidge forgot she’d been whispering

“She hasn’t been... but if you’re not proposing, then what’s going on?”

“Lance said he wants to go back to the house where Sendak held them. He said he wants to see that it’s empty and that no one there’s suffering”

Immediately Pidge’s gaze dropped to Lance

“Hasn’t he been hurt enough?”

Keith nodded, more than grateful Pidge seemed to get his fears

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea. He asked Shiro, and Shiro’s been in a bit of daze since. We didn’t see Sendak’s body, but I trust Coran when he says Lance killed Sendak. He’s freaked out from his attack, overthinking things and I... He doesn’t forget. I’m scared if he goes there, he’s always going to have the house in his head”

“Dude, he’s already got the house in his head... Maybe... maybe he’s right? If he didn’t see the body then maybe he needs to see the house? You know he has to understand everything”

And now Pidge was shifting her thoughts to things Keith had already thought about

“He said he wants to put it behind him so he can focus on the future. You’ve been by his side longer... I’m not sure if I should say yes”

Pidge snorted with laughter, adjusting her glasses as she did

“Pfffft. I didn’t even know he was a vampire and I’m a paranormal investigator. Dude, you’re his boyfriend. You can tell him no. But if he thinks it might help, then the best we can do is be there with him. I mean, someone’s gotta start the fire and then provide the alibi”

Keith found himself smiling

“Here I was blaming myself for leading Lance astray and you say the same thing we’ve been thinking. We all want to burn the house down”

“In my defence, I think the house has it coming. I would have loved to kick Sendak, even only once in the ankle, that would have been enough”

“I can see that, but you’re lucky you never had to go face to face with him. I still have nightmares about the raisin fuck”

Pidge arched an eyebrow at his “raisin fuck”. Keith blaming Lance solely for his defaulting to bread related items

“Smooth, dude. Okay, well, I’m down to go. Hunk will too. You both have to get it into your head we’re not gonna let you guys go through this alone. Now, I’ve got news and Lance is gonna be so mad so I need to you turn the boyfriend charm on”

“I don’t know if I’ve got any charm”

“You must do. Kosmo totally got up, huffed, and then laid back down. That’s the most he’s been bothered moving in this heat”

“You broke my boyfriend and my fur son?”

“Rude. Matt wore him out this morning taking him for a run. Annnnnyway... You know how I am like the most amazing tech person you know and will ever meet, and you know how we’ve been not making videos lately... I have solved both problems because I am a genius”

Keith wasn’t going to debate facts. Pidge was as amazing as she thought she was

“How?”

“I’m going to work at VOLTON! Oops... I mean, I’m going to work at VOLTRON. Before you get worried, it’s all in research and development. Meaning I’ll be tinkering with all that tech. Coran promised me like an amazing wage, as much tech as I could get my fingers on, and I get a company car!”

She was what? How? What?

“You what now?”

“I know you’re worried. I totally get it. I’d be worried about this amazing little me too. So, it’s like totally okay. I won’t see any vampires or werewolves outside of staff. Mum agreed... well, dad agreed that it’d be safer than letting me do whatever I want seeing Lance is pregnant and he really should be focusing on that. I get weekends free... and Coran said I could totally check out any equipment I want to use while hunting. Apparently he’s a total fan of our videos”

Pidge sounded so beyond excited that Keith had to almost physically cram his fist down his throat to push down the rush of fear he felt for her. Coran was only one fae. Things went wrong all the time... but for Pidge this was a once in a lifetime offer

“I want to be excited but I’m worried”

“Hunk threw up. He said he wasn’t going to, then he did. But think about it, I’m gonna be there and you’re gonna be there and when Lance gives birth I’m not going to be in the room but I’ll be in the complex. I have to have training. Basically enough training to fight a human off... I start next week full time”

What... the actual fuck... Pidge was... holy heck. He didn’t want this life for her. Lance didn’t want this life for her. Lance had busted his arse for years protecting Pidge from her overexcitable ways... and now she throwing herself into the jaws of a lion. He couldn’t... Lance was not going to be happy. He wasn’t happy. This was their Pidge and their Pidge needed to be safe at all times. He was being a bad friend not sharing her excitement. Lance kind of taught him that that was a thing and it was okay not to worry and to go with the flow

“I’m going to need... a moment. Are you sure this is what you want? I’m not trying to upset you, but you know what things can be like and they can be a whole lot worse. Lance managing to cause a commotion is what kept us from losing him”

Pidge’s shoulders slumped. Yeah. Definitely being a bad friend right now. He’d never be leaving VOLTRON’s employment once Lance learned about this

“I get that you guys are scared, but this could be a great chance to put something good on my resume. I’m not working with any magic, or with Lotor, or Acxa, Zethrid and Ezor. It’ll be things like redesigning your phone to be a bit more practical and better coordination communication, and encoding”

If Pidge could hack into the Blade network that said a lot for her skills but also did highlight that anyone might be able to. He couldn’t brain this right now

“Let me just process. What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”

Pidge shifted her weight... Guilt coming over her face. How could things possibly get worse?! How could she not feel guilting for joining VOLTRON, but feel guilty about this

“I... Okay. I’m sorry. I started when... when I was trying to work out my feeling about Lance being a vampire and Matt being a werewolf. So... I um... started looking into your past too. I sent some emails out, and lately I’ve been asking Krolia. Umm. I know I shouldn’t have pried, but I know how much it’s a thing for you. I...”

Oh, God. This... she’d done something. Instantly his nose was put out of joint by Pidge having the audacity to poke into his past. He still had shit in there he hadn’t told Lance. What happened was his business. Not Pidge’s. When he told Lance, that was up to him. Lance knew how much it fucking hurt to go there...

“I found your dad’s grave. I know. I can see you want to yell, and I nearly gave up and no one was replying then I got email two weeks ago and I’ve like been confirming it and I’ve found his grave. I found a few articles on him too. Please, Keith. I know I invaded your privacy... I just... I don’t know what it’s like not to have my dad and I imagine it fucking sucks so I wanted to find something for you...”

She’d... found... Keith knew if he dug deep enough and manned up enough to face his past he may have found out, but... he wasn’t sure he... now she had... what the fuck was he supposed to do?

“Keith?”

“I need some air”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Best Girl (Steve Rogers x reader)

Best Girl

Steve x reader 

Word count: 1673

Warnings: self harm, depression, self hatred

Summary: Reader self harms because she feels that she deserves the pain. Steve comforts her.

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

You really did want to tell him. You had lived with the Avengers since Civil War, and had become close to Steve soon after. Your boyfriend of 6 months, Steve Rogers was the only man that you trusted with anything. That is, everything but one thing.

A few months ago, a mission went wrong. Some mistakes were made and you, Clint, and Steve were almost killed. Correction, mistakes you made had almost gotten all of you killed. You had noticed some innocents standing by next to the line of fire, and something tugged at your heartstrings enough to run to help them. You had to call for backup, and you all just barely escaped getting shot. That is, except for Steve. He got shot in the shoulder.

You blamed yourself. Steve healed quickly, because of the serum coursing through his veins, and he was fine within a matter of days. The same couldn’t be said for you. You apologized every chance you got, and though he assured you that it wasn’t your fault, you still blamed yourself for everything that happened that day. Including that night.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a long time that night, white knuckles gripping the edge of the sink. You couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if he was shot a couple of inches over, in his chest. That would have been your fault. Blood on your hands. And you couldn’t help but tell yourself

It shou;d have been me. 

You didn’t think that you deserved to get away unscathed. Sure, you had some scrapes and bruises, but your boyfriend got a bullet in his shoulder. And that bullet should have been in yours. You felt that you deserved that. 

You deserved pain

You deserve to suffer

And so you went back to your bedside table and grabbed the sharp dagger that sat on it. You went back into the bathroom and stared at it glinting in the light. You hadn’t ever done this before, and you wondered if you really should do this

Then Steve’s pained groans filled your memory, causing you to wince and shake your head, trying to forget how you caused that to happen. Making up your mind, you dragged the blade across your thigh. Wincing even more you looked down to only see small beads of blood making their way to the surface. You groaned...you couldn’t even do this right!

More determined this time, you dragged it across, faster and with less hesitation. This one stung a little more, and the blood was immediate this time. It became addicting. Every time a flash of a memory threatened to creep back in, you would make another cut. This was where you found yourself days later, soon to be weeks leading into months: staring in the mirror, cutting away the memories

BANG

Cut

AH

Cut

My fault…

Cut 

Always my fault

Cut 

Should’ve been me

Cut

Should’ve been -

“(Y/N)?” A knock came on the door. It sounded like Steve, and his voice was laced with worry. He continued “You okay in there?”

At some point you had started crying while lost in your thoughts. Your thighs were covered with cuts and scars, escalating in depth, and bleeding profusely. As much as you wanted to be honest with Steve, you couldn’t. You had already messed up enough...Surely he wouldn’t put up with you if he knew.

You cleared your throat and tried to even your breathing. You couldn't risk him getting suspicious. He was concerned enough about you as is.

“I’m fine, Steve”

You heard him sigh through the door. On the other side, he rubbed his hand down his face. He had seen small things over the past few months. How you would look at yourself with disgust when you thought he wasn’t. How you were withdrawing from him slowly. And what really bothered him was how you would blame yourself for almost anything that happened, or apologize any chance you could for things that had nothing to do with you. 

He tried again, “Come on (Y/N), please. I heard you crying. What’s going on?”

You took a shaky breath and shook your head. “I...I-I can’t…”

Now Steve was really starting to worry. He never heard you sound so...broken. “Please, open the door (Y/N).”

Your head snapped up and you forgot how to breath for a few seconds. He couldn’t see you, not like this. You couldn’t handle him leaving you or looking at you like you were broken. 

“I can’t be your problem Steve. You can’t fix me.”

This puzzled Steve, as he had no idea what you were talking about. “(Y/N), just open the door. You’re starting to scare me.”

“Fuck, Steve, I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry…”

He tried to open the door. Thank God you locked it. “(Y/N), are you going to open this door or do I have to break it in?”

Your face went white and you started to frantically try and clean everything up. Shit, he can’t come in right now.

“I can’t Steve, not right now.” you said, freaking out. Hopefully he didn’t pick up on your desperation.

He did, and with that he easily overpowered the lock on the door and took in the scene in front of him. The color drained from his face as he took in the knife, your tears, and god dammit there was so much blood. 

You looked away from him. “I’m so sorry Steve…”

He stepped closer to you, taking into account your shaking frame. It broke his heart. He sighed with sadness which you mistook for annoyance. “Here,” he said, holding a hand out to you, “let me help you.”

You looked up at him, confusion lacing your expression. Surely he was angry or upset? But as you searched his face for any indication, you only saw the same love he always spoke to you with. You took his hand and stood up from the toilet you were sitting on, and Steve picked you up and sat you on the countertops, really getting a closer look at the cuts and scars littered across your thighs. And he blames himself for not noticing sooner. 

He grabbed some first aid supplies that he always kept stocked underneath the sink and got to work cleaning your cuts. At some point you had begun mumbling to yourself. Stupid. My fault. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.

These little things mirrored what you would say to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening, and they worried him even more so. “Darling, why would I be mad at you? Look at me,” he said, and you did. “I’m not angry with you. I’m worried about you, yes, but sweetheart… I’d never leave you. Especially not like this.” You started crying harder. He wiped some tears away that were instantly replaced. “What happened?”

You look away again. “You’ll just be angry with me…” you said

He sighed again as he moved your chin to look him in the eye. “There is nothing, and I mean nothing you could possibly say right now that would make me mad. I promise you.”

You cleared your throat. “I deserved it.” you whispered so he could barely hear you. He stopped what he was doing “What did you s-” “I DESERVED IT STEVE.” you looked at him, anger evident on your face, but not at him. You were angry with yourself. “That day when you got shot in the shoulder? That was MY fault. You could have died if it was a few inches off. And that would have been on ME.” Your voice was cracking with raw emotion now, and Steve was looking at you with complete sadness at what you were saying. You continued, “That bullet should have hit me. I should have been shot. Not you. And I couldn't take it knowing that you were in pain while I just had a few scrapes and bruises. I didn’t deserve to not be in pain. So i did it myself.”

You began sobbing again, closing your eyes and covering your mouth. He wrapped you tightly in a hug and you clung to his shirt like a life preserver in a sea of your own emotions. You kept saying you were sorry, and he would hush any attempts you made. How long you sat like that you didn’t know, but your sobs became sniffles and you stared at the wall with a blank expression on your face. 

“I’m sorry.”

You were taken aback. The words sounded different coming from the super soldier standing in front of you. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. God, that was months ago, and I didn’t even notice. (Y/N), I am so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. This isn’t your fault, none of it was. This one’s on me.”

You wrestled yourself out of Steve’s tight embrace, shaking your head. “Steve, this isn’t your fault. I shut you out, I didn’t make it easy to notice. I just thought...I dont know. I was scared you would leave if you found out. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and smiled slightly. “Okay how about this: It’s not either one of us’ faults. But now I know, and I’m not going anywhere. So I’m just going to ask you one thing. Will you let me help you?”

You looked at your boyfriend who you loved so much. How did you get so lucky to get someone so understanding? God you loved him. You started to nod. “Yeah,” you started. “Please, Steve. I want help, I want to stop… I just don’t know how.”

He smiled a little more and moved to hug you again. “I’ll help you, no matter what it takes. You know why?” he asked. You hummed in response. He smiled, tearing up at his next words. “Because you’re my best girl.”

***I do not own any rights to the MCU, this is written for entertainment purposes only***

#steverogers #avengers #selfharmcomfort #captainamerica #imagines

[bloody-oath]

What would go down at a slasher slumber party (slashers of your choosing, though selfishly hope you'll include Bubba, of course)? I'm thinkin' either a collage-age frat party, or else a childhood or awkward adolescent sleepover at somebody's house, lol. ^_^

I’ll do all three types! It would be a sin to leave Bubba out… When in doubt though, stick to the main four!

**Mild self-harm and animal abuse mentions (Stage 2: Freddy – 3, Stage 3: Jason – 3)**

Stage 1: Childhood Slumber Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Has been at the party for 0.5 seconds and already misses his mother. If he can speak, he accidentally calls the host’s parent ‘mum.’ Didn’t even notice it until Freddy felt it was his duty to almost piss his pants laughing over it and made sure everyone else in the room heard it too.

⋆ Enjoys playing with Bubba the most. Shares his snacks with the Texan boy and makes an E for effort macaroni-and-string best friends bracelet. He was somewhat disappointed when Bubba ate his friendship offering though. Demotes his companion to ‘very good friend’ status.

⋆ Brought teddy along but only takes him out when the lights are turned off at bedtime, so no one notices. Sleeps soundly, but he’s devasted when he wakes up to find his pal’s fur shredded. Doesn’t hesitate to wail on a suddenly disturbed, half-awake, arms-flailing Frederick, all the while Michael pretends to rest with the tiniest visibility of a smirk present and a stolen vegetable knife under his pillow.

Michael Myers

⋆ Possesses the biggest urge to peek into the rooms he’s not allowed into, such as the off-bounds adult bedroom. Will randomly disappear during mid-playtime and sneak in anyway though. Doesn’t steal anything, just removes family photos from frames and rips them in half.

⋆ Likes to play dress up. Doesn’t pretend to be a character or act differently. Simply enjoys disguising his identity. Will stay in the costume until it’s time to go home. Might go home with it too though. Chooses not to interact with the others much. Silently judges them. Thinks Freddy is a bit of a twat.

⋆ Pays close attention when the twat starts sharing ghost stories though. Loves them, not frightened. Plans to scare everyone when it’s time for bed. Does so and makes a scared shitless Bubba cry. Didn’t expect such an exaggerated consequence but enjoys seeing him suffer. Has good dreams that night.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ He didn’t bring a toy to the party, but like hell he’ll be leaving without one. Keeps an eye out for anything good enough to permanently borrow. Stuffs his pockets with sweets to take home since junk food is forbidden at his house.

⋆ Cheats at every game he participates in. Asks everyone to tell him a secret about themselves but no one trusts him. Experiences a serious sugar high and becomes wildly fidgety. Challenges Bubba to a wrestling match and begins to lose until he plays dirty and bites his opponent. Whines when he gets sat on for his dismal sportsmanship.

⋆ Was outside and somehow managed to catch a rat with his bare hands. Breaks the critter’s neck and brings the dead rodent inside to show his buddies what he accomplished. Everyone reacts badly, except Michael who nonchalantly claps, impressed.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Takes him a while to feel comfortable around the others. Has a particular liking for Jason and asks the quiet boy if he’d like to play Tick-Tack-Tooth. Isn’t sure about Michael and watches him from a distance. Has already had enough of Freddy and covertly hopes he has a hazardous mishap and needs to be sent home.

⋆ Relishes having a break from his annoying brothers. Gains a huge stomach-ache from wolfing down on too many lollies. Spends the next hour groaning on his back with much regret. Pouts at the menace for suggesting the others should tie him up and suspend him in the air as a makeshift piñata. Goes back to munching on confectionary as soon as he begins to feel better. Might learn his lesson after the fourth time.

⋆ Excels in the arts and crafts fun. Creates masks for everyone to wear. Can’t wait to show his family what he’s made all by himself. Especially adores using the face paint. Clumsily knocks over a pot of dye and damages the carpet. Freaks the fuck out because he knows what happens if he ruins anything at home. Squints, trembles and braces himself for the belting. Everyone else just stares.

Stage 2: Awkward Adolescent Sleepover

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Still misses his mother and feels even less confident to socialise. Was the tallest as a kid and still is. Feels marginally proud to retain that achievement. Didn’t want to run into Freddy again but he’s glad he can at least hang out with Bubba. Wondered who was behind the white mask and later realised it was ‘that kid’ he knew from childhood. Forgot Michael’s name.

⋆ Brought some homemade cookies he and Pamela baked together and could honestly smack a shrimp bitch when Freddy disposes of them in the bin. Coolly composes himself. Kind of wants to exhibit his amateur muscles and use his superior strength on the asshole though. Shows Bubba he’s been building up and behaves timidly when his old chum praises him for his efforts.

⋆ Glad no one tried to sneak in any intoxicating beverages or street medicine. Wonders if he’s being too optimistic but genuinely sees his allies having bright futures. Moderately worried about that Michael boy though. Spends the rest of the evening following everyone else’s lead. Got a headache after listening to Freddy talk so much shit and can’t sleep with Bubba snoring like a freight train.

Michael Myers

⋆ Hates being dragged along to another wretched sleepover. Noticed Freddy grew about an inch taller. Throws shade the entire time. Tries to escape the premises but changes his mind when he hears a scary movie being played in the video player. Thoroughly enjoys watching the violent scenes and mentally takes a few notes.

⋆ Teaches the squad how to make a rope noose. Encourages everyone to put it around their necks to make sure they fit. Isn’t being suspicious at all. Brought his knife collection to the gathering and flaunts his favourite daggers. Points out which blades he’s specifically going to use to slaughter each one of them. No one takes him seriously.

⋆ Figures this reunion really does suck and makes a second attempt to leg it out. Couldn’t care less about catching up, hearing how their dreary lives have been or chatting about gross women. Literally gives everyone the middle finger salute and departs. Raids a fast food joint on his way home.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to compare dick sizes with everyone else. Feels humiliated and provoked when he finds out he has the shortest penis. Swears he’ll be the first to lose his virginity though. Goes into great detail about what his sexual desires are and the porn videos he’s seen that influenced the said fetishes.

⋆ His voice begins to break halfway through telling a joke and he goes from talking nonstop to suddenly being speechless. Wonders if tonight is going to get any worse. Exits the room to practice hiding the squeak when he speaks and re-joins the gang with an abnormal, obviously fake Elvis Presley tone.

⋆ Expresses how he has the urge to hurt himself and others, including the innocent. Says the cravings are becoming harder to resist to older he gets. Adds he’s been experiencing powerful fits of anger and battles to control it. No one acts surprised. Casually changes the subject to masturbation.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Found a vintage glamour magazine from Grandpa’s hidden stash and brings the subtly raunchy publication to the sleepover to share with the boys. Becomes aroused a little too easy just by examining the front cover and desperately tries to hide his first-ever erection. Confused and scared.

⋆ Gives a sigh of relief when he goes back to being flaccid. Apprehensively thinks of an excuse to say regarding why he took so long in the bathroom when he reappears in the group. Doesn’t have to use it because no one noticed he even left. Avoids partaking in any lewd discussions or naughty centrefold viewing. Fearful of that accident happening again.

⋆ Doesn’t waver to show off his newly grown body hair though. High-key delighted by his pelt. Compares his super hairy arms to Freddy’s non-existent fuzz and breaks into a chuckling fit. Feels a bit hurt when the shorty points out he’s only getting fatter and uglier though. Never deemed himself to have self-confidence issues until now. Appreciated Jason and Michael playing keepings-off with the bully’s stupid hat.

Stage 3: College Frat Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Avoids consuming any alcohol because he knows better. Also denies any offered drugs. Straight up shoved a hoe to the ground when they sloppily asked if he wanted to have some dirty fun. Hates how the party has started but tries to enjoy himself. Ends up hanging out with the stray cat who sometimes chills out on the fire escape.

⋆ Acts as a caretaker and monitors his highly intoxicated buddies. Openly judges them. Tries to have his own little celebration by eating the leftover pizza in the fridge and watching prime time infomercials on the telly. Began to loosen up until Freddy willingly broke the flatscreen and went on to say he can provide better entertainment. Not amused in the slightest by witnessing his frenemy lighting his farts on fire.

⋆ Needs an aspirin and exits the room to get some fresh air and visits his feline acquaintance again. Incredibly disturbed when he finds a hammered Bubba trying to stretch the cat’s skinned face over his own. Feels betrayed and just wants this night to end. Wonders what it would be like to taste alcohol though and pours a single drop of it onto his tongue. Immediately spits it out. Knows this wouldn’t have happened if his mother was here. Acts mopey and continues to miss her.

Michael Myers

⋆ Has no interest in alcohol consumption but doesn’t hesitate to inject heroin in his veins from a used needle he found discarded on the ground. Arrives at the festive dormitory and busts down the door. Extremely hyped and aggravated. Uses said broken wood to go surfing down the emergency exit spiral stairwell. Severely wipes out towards the end of the ride.

⋆ Wants to fight everyone he sees and proceeds to do so. Finally appears back at the party with bloodied fists and two syringes poking out of his arms. Becomes confronted by a worried, sober Jason and gets his ass served to a beanbag for calming down purposes. Thought the pouf looked at him funny and foam pellets go flying.

⋆ Passes out in a bathtub full of vomit, not of his own, and wakes up hours later naked on the roof with now seven needles inserted. Can’t decide if he’s still alive or dead. Spends the rest of the night presuming he’s an invisible ghost. Trolls immensely.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to play beer pong and won’t stop talking about beer pong until at least one person plays beer pong with him. No one does though, so he faces the table against the wall and verses himself. Gets totally wasted and needs to repetitively inform everyone just how drunk he is.

⋆ Fails to hook up with someone and pursues to suck his own cock. Thinks he does a better job at it anyway. Proposes free pony rides to all the chicks attending the party but results in scaring them further away. Bubba excitedly raises his hand though and frantically searches the dorm for his cowboy hat. Speedily withdraws the offer and explains there isn’t a horse involved. Back to drinking.

⋆ Makes the mistake of walking past a body-length mirror and gets a horrifying glimpse of his reflection. Too wasted to realise that’s how he always looks like and starts to freak out. Yells why no one thought to take him to the hospital because maybe the doctors could have saved him. Just sits ugly-crying in front of the mirror with one hand on the glass and a can of beer in the other. Suddenly perks up when someone asks for volunteers to help steal the opposing frat house’s pet pig though.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Overwhelmed. Only has a sip of alcohol, then chugs the rest of the bottle dry. Was going to pace himself but ends up driving the porcelain bus an hour into the party. Wants to laugh, cry, shit, spew, scream and dance all at the same time. Succeeds.

⋆ Can’t get enough of the booze but stays clear of the flying pink elephant inducing pills. By far the most trashed and happiest person in the room. Turns the stereo up to its maximum volume and blabbers about how every song it plays is his favourite song. Very footloose. Starts a conga line and happens to be both at the beginning and end of it because no one else joined in.

⋆ Removes his sweaty shirt and uses it to do the helicopter. Hurls it onto a poor, unexpecting person’s head. Pours bottles of liquor over his bare torso and warily squeals when he feels the fluid seep down his pants, into his crack. Goes on to remove the rest of his clothing and embarks streaking through the sprinklers on the front lawn of the college. Has multiple school officers chasing after him.

#slashers #jason voorhees #michael myers #bubba sawyer #freddy krueger #slasher fandom #slasher fanfic #slasher requests #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #horror #shitpost

[louiserandom]

How about some cute soulmate thing for HashiTobi - for the prompts? :3

AO3 :3 

don’t hide from me

Rating: T

Summary: When you’re born, the first sentence you’re going to say to your soulmate is written somewhere on your body. Hashirama’s soulwriting says: I love you. Tobirama’s has always been simply: Anija.

A/N: sorry i kinda forgot how to write but still hope you enjoy it x)

“I can’t wait to meet my soulmate again,” Hashiramasighs, lying on his back on the soft grass of his and Tobirama’s favoritemeadow, clothes sweat-drenched from their intense bouts of sparring. “I wonder whatthey’re like. Tobi?” He turns to face his brother. “Who do you think would suitme best?”

Tobirama is lounging on the ground next to him, in much thesame position, though his eyes are closed and his muscles are far too tense—fromthe sensing, no doubt, his enormous range far too much for his eight-year-oldbody to handle. Hashirama reaches out absent-mindedly and kneads his chakrathrough Tobirama’s palm to envelop his body, smiling when the effect is immediate,and his little brother completely relaxes under his touch.

“Someone fun,” Tobirama says, cracking an eye open, “brave,kind, just like you. Someone with…” He gives Hashirama an appraising look. “Asimilar level of intelligence.”

“Was that a jab at myintelligence or an acknowdgelement of my genius?”

Tobirama shrugs. “You’ll never know.” Though his tone flat,Hashirama has long trained himself to spot the hints of derision in his eyes. “Andit’s acknowledgement, Anija.”

“Tobi,” Hashiramawhines, “stop being so mean to me!”

“How is correcting your atrocious grammar mean?” Tobiramaasks, in that squeaky cute voice that really doesn’t fit his personality.“And I’ll stop being mean when you stop acting like an idiot when wespar.”

“But Tobi—”

“Even if you’re going easy on me, you’re magnitudesstronger than me, and I shouldn’t ever be able to catch you by surprise,”Tobirama chastises him, ignoring Hashirama’s trembling pout, “because we’re atwar, and as far as everyone’s concerned, we’re adults. You need to takeyour training seriously, Anija.”

Just to be contrary, it seems, Hashirama sticks his tongueout in the most childlike manner possible and shifts his gaze back to the skyagain, a full-fledged frowny pout now distorting his features.

Tobirama sighs.

His brother is ridiculous.

And annoying.

And adorable.

He sits up with another overly loud sigh and gently pushesHashirama to follow his example, scrambling to sit behind Hashirama’s back andstart braiding his hair. The usual peace offering. His brother melts under theattention in a way that makes Tobirama feel warm, happy, proud of himself, anda few minutes pass in increasingly comfortable silence before Tobirama startsspeaking again,

“As I said, I think your soulmate will be kind. Andunderstanding. And empathetic, just like you are. They’ll love nature andanimals and you’ll spend a lot of time outdoors, going on adventures…” Justlike you and I do right now. Tobirama frowns and quickly shoos the treacherousthoughts away. “They’ll be just as funny, optimistic, brave, and strong as youare. And they will always have your back.” He finishes the two neat braids,smoothing it against Hashirama’s shoulder blades. “All done.”

Hashirama turns to face him and Tobirama has to rollhis eyes at the painfully familiar teary smile he sees. He returns it, ofcourse, tentatively, and is immediately crushed by one of Hashirama’s overtighthugs.

“Oh, Tobi,” he says, voice trembling, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Anija,” Tobirama whispers against the crookof his his neck. Hashirama only ever revealed his soulwriting to Tobirama,apart from their parents who’d seen it suddenly appear at some point, soTobirama knew those exact words, I love you, marked the skin of Hashirama’sforearm. The words he had presumably spoken to Tobirama after he was born,because Tobirama’s own soulwriting is a terrible, damning curse consisting of asingle word:

Anija.

It resides on his shoulder and is small enough that it was hiddenby his clothes when it appeared in answer to the first word he’d ever spoken. Alate bloomer when it came to learning to speak, Tobirama could already read bythe time he was three and had picked up enough about soulmates and soulmarksfrom the adults’ conversations to know that he shouldn’t have beenbonded with his brother.

That according to Senju tradition, such relationswere frowned upon, so close to something bad the grownups called taboo,and it made Tobirama scared, made him suffer, terrified of the possibility oflosing his most precious person. Because one thing became clearer over theyears—his Anija is, indeed, his perfect match. His best friend, his onlytrusted battle partner, the only person in his life Tobirama truly needs andwanted to be around constantly. And it hurts Hashirama too. He knows hehad spoken to his soulmate at some point but missed that moment, he craved—andstill craves—the day he meets his Chosen once more, oblivious to the fact thathe’s spending most of his days next to him.

Next to Tobirama. So different from the image of the idealsoulmate he painted for Hashirama all those years ago, when they were carelesskids lounging in their secret meadow, hunting for flowers and animals in the swirlsof the clouds. So unlike the person Hashirama imagines and whispers to Tobiramaabout, when they have secret sleepovers in their respective rooms during theirteen years.

Funny.

Passionate.

Kind.

Sincere.

Compassionate.

The truth about Tobirama’s personality slips out of the mouthsof his clanmates, usually the elder ones.

Too serious.

Cold.

Merciless.

Reclusive.

Demon.

The last one peeves him the most—a moniker bestowed on himfor his ferocity in combat, only increasing as he grows from lanky teen to allbut a full-fledged adult. It doesn’t matter that he only ever fights to protecthis family, his very few friends, to protect his clan that he still holdsdear to his heart, despite everything, so that what happened to Kawarama andItama doesn’t happen to anyone he cares about ever again. It doesn’tmatter that, for Hashirama’s far-reaching dream of peace, he takes great careto never wound Izuna seriously when they clash, so as not to upset Hashirama’s oncebest friend (The one who would be perfect for Hashirama, had Fateallowed it, Tobirama’s mind continues to betray him.)

It doesn’t matter that he still cries quietly into Hashirama’sshoulder every time a battle is too much, too red with blood, too bitter withthe smell of death and rotting flesh. Hashirama calms him with soft words andsimple breathing exercises, holding him close and healing his wounds with well-practicedwaves of his hands.

“Am I a monster?” Tobirama asks him, heart heavy with the weightof the war and death permeating everything around them.

“Of course not,” Hashirama’s answer is always the same, “Tobirama,you’re my brother. My amazing, wonderful, precious, dearest brother. You’renot a monster. And you never will be. I love you.”

It’s in the aftermath of such a violent battle that Tobirama’sworld is shattered because of one careless, foolish mistake.

In an effort to protect a reckless clanmate (fourteen, theyoungest one on the field after Hashirama and Tobirama had strong-armed their weakening,disease-ridden father to disallow child soldiers to be sent to combat),Tobirama fails to evade the blade that pierces his upper arm. His senses onlybarely register poison before he throws a kunai in a precise, deadlystrike and promptly collapses to his knees.

It’s far too hot.

The fever burns through him almost like a real fire lickingat his skin, eating away at it.

Tobirama knows he’s screaming—and a lot—but can’t stophimself, even as he hears the soothing tone of Hashirama’s voice, feels thereassurance radiating with all the force of his brother’s life-giving chakra, relishesthe faint ‘I love you’ he can hear through the burning haze. The knowledge thatAnija is nearby is enough to make Tobirama pull through—and far too soon for apoison this strong.

He regains consciousness two days later, finding himself inhis room, not a hospital ward, completely healed and coherent.

“Anija?” Tobirama calls for him.

He’s is nowhere to be seen.

It’s at that moment that the implications of the incidentcatch up to him. He’s shirtless, patched up where he was wounded, while thekanji of his soulwriting gleams golden on his opposite arm.

“Shit.” Tobirama scrambles out of bed, heart pounding. There’sdried blood on him that he quickly washes away, untying the bandages andhastily throwing on the first things he can reach.

He can feel Hashirama’s chakra, somber and tense, out by thekoi pond on the outskirts of the compound. Without much restraint, Tobirama usesthe Hiraishin to get to his brother, coming face to face with what he dreads isgoing to be disappointment, disgust, hatred—

Hashirama only sighs in relief.

He stands from where he was sitting cross-legged near thepond and draws Tobirama into the painfully familiar bone-crushing hug that hasTobirama choking up, even as no words are passed between them.

Just silence.

Synchronized breathing.

Chakra kneaded together, just like it always is when theyneed reassurance of the other’s survival and well-being. It’s too much,suddenly, it’s—

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hashirama asks softly, drawingaway but keeping his hands firmly on Tobirama’s shoulders. “Tobirama, your soulwriting—whydid you keep it from me?”

Tobirama swallows through the tightness in his throat. “Because…I-I’m your brother. I’m not…” He waves his hands in a gesture that’s supposedto convey all the things he isn’t, every failure of his personality and actions.

Hashirama doesn’t get it.

“Not—what?” he asks. Tobirama can see the heartbreak in hiseyes, doesn’t understand why his Anija would want to torment him this way.

“Not enough,” Tobirama breaths, and to his horror, everyfear, every secret, every restrained admission of feelings comes spilling outnow that his darkest secret has been revealed. “Not good enough. I’m not whatyou need, Anija, and everyone knows that, knows that I’m not you,not like you, and I never will be—”

Hashirama hugs him close again and lets him speak, rubbingsoothing circles against Tobirama’s back and burying his face in the crook ofhis neck without a word. Soon enough, though, Tobirama feels a smile bloomagainst his skin, confusion spiking in him as he continues his sudden tirade ofwithheld confessions.

“You know,” Hashirama interrupts him at some point, “for agenius, you sure can be very stupid sometimes.”

Tobirama blinks. “What?”

Hashirama draws back again and frames Tobirama’s face withhis hands, grinning widely, no hint of tears or disappointment in his eyes,only pure inexplicable elation.

“I love you,” Hashirama says, voice barely above a whisperas he recited the words embedded on his skin—uncovered now because he never feltthe need to, if it’s Tobirama he was with. “Those are the first words I spoke toyou. I forgot, because I’m an idiot, but you,” he thumbs Tobirama’s nose,making his face scrunch up, “are a bigger idiot for not allowing us to form aproper bond for seventeen years, Tobirama.” He stops abruptly as a thoughtseems to occur to him. “You want that, right?”

“More than anything,” Tobirama admits, dazed.

“Well so do I, dummy.” Hashirama laughs, and the waves of joy—relief—lovecrash from his chakra in overwhelming waves, flooding Tobirama’s senses anddrawing a smile from him, too. “May I kiss you?” he asks, in all seriousness.

Tobirama roughly draws him into a kiss in place of an answer.

He slows down almost immediately, though, because it occursto him, through the buzzing excitement, that he’s never actually done thisbefore. It doesn’t seem to be a problem, though, as Hashirama gently coaxes himto follow his lead. He moves his lips languidly against Tobirama’s, proddinghis mouth open and deepening the kiss, drawing low moans from the both of themas they relish the closeness they’ve both been wanting so much.

“Seventeen years,” Hashirama whispers when they break apartfor air, “we’ve got so much missed time to make up for.”

Tobirama shivers, and not just from the adrenaline coursingthrough his body.

“The clan—”

“Can go fuck themselves, for all I care,” Hashirama declares,stealing a quick kiss that, despite being softer and more innocent than theirrecent one, makes Tobirama blush. “You’re my most precious person, Tobirama,and I won’t let anyone take away what we have. What we will have.”

Tobirama has another sudden urge to kiss his brother again.He does just that. They drink in each other’s breaths and moans, let wanderinghands explore, though Hashirama restrains him when Tobirama’s hands get alittle too curious.

“Seriously?” Tobirama asks, unimpressed.

“Seriously,” Hashirama says firmly. “I want to do thisright. And that means slow.”

“Right means right, and slow means slow, Anija, those termsaren’t interconnected.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I really don’t.”

“Tobirama.”

Huffing, Tobirama lifts his hand to instead stroke theelegant line of Hashirama’s neck. The skin warm and full of energy beneath hisfingers, grounding Tobirama and making him feel, for the first time, completelysafe and barely bothered by the thoughts of an uncertain future.

“We’ll be okay,” he says, half stating, half questioning.

“Of course, we will,” Hashirama promises. “Don’t worry, Otouto,we’ll get through anything together.” He presses their foreheads together. “Ilove you.”

And just like that, the flimsy remnants of Tobirama’s doubtdissipate.

“I love you too,” he says, tugging Hashirama in for anotherkiss of hopefully countless more to come, “Anija.”

#hashitobi #hashirama senju #tobirama senju #camp nano april 2020 #fanfic #lou writes #tobirama #hashirama

[janekfan]

How about this witcher prompt: Jaskier suffers a throat infection resulting in not being able to talk. Geralt thinks it's a blessing. Then Jaskier develops a sepsis

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867821/chapters/65555047

Sorry that took so long! But here we go and I hope you like it! It ended up becoming chapter one of a larger project :3

Oh, he’s having a right time with this. Jaskier sipped his tea, hot as his sore throat could manage and grimaced at the sharp sting. He thinks I can’t see his smug grin. Last night, Jaskier had gone to sleep after a rough performance with an aching behind his tongue and woken to full fledged agony, and no he wasn’t being dramatic, it hurt, and unable to speak. After finishing his gruff assessment of him, Geralt had prescribed hot tea, plenty of water, and even so magnanimously agreed to stay one more day at the inn and for that, the bard was grateful. The thought of sleeping out in the rough feeling this dreadful inspired many a woeful ballad. If only he could sing them. But his voice was quite and thoroughly gone. Something Geralt found amusing to say the least.

“What a pleasant day this is proving to be, wouldn’t you say, bard?” Jaskier glowered, setting the cup aside and burrowing deeper into the inadequate bedclothes. He was positively freezing, clenching his jaw to avoid chattering his teeth, because while Geralt seemed to be in relative good humor, he could just as easily leave without him. “Ah, I forgot, you can’t.” Petulant, Jaskier stuck out his tongue and twisted up his face, turning away in the bed to curl up in his misery. He’d sleep this off. A good, restful day would clear whatever this was right up.

And of course, with his terrible luck, it didn’t and he woke in the early evening so incredibly thirsty, cursing himself for sleeping throughout the entire day. He downed the cold tea, whimpering and holding his neck at the burn of it, and noticed that Geralt was gone. The flash of fear at being abandoned was tempered by seeing armor and packs by the door, but Jaskier felt very suddenly alone. He longed for something warm to sip but after barely making it to the rough hewn pitcher to pour himself the last bit of water, he decided against a trip down the stairs. He would fall and make an embarrassment of himself and that wouldn’t do. Jaskier was exhausted and aching, a headache making itself at home behind his eyes and the throbbing, pulsing agony in his throat made tears spring to his eyes. Sleep. Sleep would make it all go away, at least for a little while, and he staggered back into bed to will himself to sleep. At least when Geralt came back he’d be warm.

The next morning dawned cheery and bright, the wretch, and Jaskier woke perhaps even worse off than yesterday. But he was met by a cup of medicated tea if the smell was anything to go by, being thrust into his face and Geralt saying he’d be waiting with Roach, but not without one more jab about his lost vocal talents. It was bringing him no end of amusement.

“Take your time.” Ah, that was nice of him and by the looks of things, Jaskier would need a fair bit of it. The weakness in his legs didn’t bode well for a day of travel. He was about to collapse and the day hadn’t even truly started. But he forced himself up, reeling as the room spun sideways, and very carefully limped down the stairs. He offered up a wan smile, trembling under all his layers.

Geralt looked furious.

He’d taken forever, he knew, but he really was trying his best, and as the sun rose high and the chills became worse, Jaskier fell behind. He could hear Roach, Geralt was traveling at a much slower pace than he normally would, and Jaskier would be grateful if he wasn’t focused so hard on the weight of his lute pulling him toward the forest floor. Everything hurt and the tears springing to his eyes almost had time to fall before he remembered himself. Geralt wasn’t a fan of his over emotional displays and without words he wasn’t able to express just how poorly he really was. No cure but to walk on. Stumble on. His weaving steps slowed him further, enough that Roach had been turned back around.

“G--” Like swallowing a blade, and the syllables died on his lips. Oh goddess. He was going to be ill and was, thankfully not all over Roach’s hooves, and the fire of it drove him to hands and knees.

“Jaskier?” The thump of heavy boots hitting the ground was all the warning he got before a rough, blessedly cool palm pressed itself over his forehead. “Alright.” Jaskier could have sobbed as Geralt grabbed his bicep and dragged him, supported him, a little ways down the path. There was enough space here to set up a small camp and Geralt threw down his bedroll, dropping Jaskier on top of it and going about the motions that suggested they’d stay for at least a little while. The bard held his breath, tried to inhale, exhale in a way that didn’t make everything hurt worse and had almost dropped off to sleep when more tea was thrust under his nose. Willow bark and something else. And even if his stomach did feel up to it, the promise of even a modicum of relief was a heady thing, and Jaskier downed the cup even though it was too hot, falling back and curling into the rough wool.

Late afternoon sun lancing across his face woke him up and Jaskier was not well pleased at how sick he still felt. It was unlike him to be laid low like this. He shifted his head, drawing a shaky half breath, and found Geralt tending to the fire. He was so thirsty with no way to tell him and no way to get up. He hadn’t been drinking enough and tried to gesture, nimble fingers uncoordinated and frightened because of it.

“Go back to sleep, Jaskier.” With no other recourse, he did as he was told.

This time, Geralt’s hand on his cheek pulled him up out of the dark place he’d gone. The witcher tutted, levering him up and holding more tea to his lips, only this time Jaskier could barely swallow, the pain was so great, and rather than waiting on him to finish, he pressed the cup into his quaking hands. Jaskier wasn’t sure he could even lift it. So he didn’t. Just watched blearily as Geralt broke camp, tied his lute to the saddle and that was good. Except there was no way he’d be able to stand, he could tell, and the thought prompted the tears to slip silently down his face and off his chin. He was going to be left here to die. Because he was human and weak and useless. Geralt could sell off his instrument for a good price, make up for the time Jaskier wasted slowing him down. The tea dropped from his fingers and he hid his face behind his hands. Geralt didn’t like it when he was emotional. Better to hide it. Better not to see him walk away from him. At least then he could pretend that he hadn’t left him.

“Jaskier?” He risked a glance and wished he hadn’t. Disappointment and frustration. With him. Always with him. He hadn’t meant to get sick. He hadn’t meant to. “You’ll have to hold on.” Hold on? To what? And the answer came moments later when he was hoisted onto Roach’s back like he weighed nothing at all and Geralt mounted in front of him. “Hold on.” Tentative, confused, Jaskier threaded his arms around the witcher’s waist, hugging him for lack of a better term and burying his cheek into a warm shoulder. Hold on. Easy enough. Even he could do that, right?

Apparently not, and Geralt’s gruff demands for him to hold on and stay awake and don’t fall became increasingly intrusive. Jaskier didn’t want to do those things. He wanted to stop moving and sleep, he didn’t even care anymore about how mad his failures were making Geralt. The alternating stripes of trees and beams of sun passed by too quickly, dizzying him and it seemed like everywhere he looked there was more of it and he couldn’t keep up. The speed was too great, he was being shaken from his precarious perch and his arms were so numb he couldn’t feel them where they’d let go of Geralt.

An attenuated moment passed where Jaskier was completely airbourne. He’d fallen from horses before. He knew how to fall. But he couldn’t get anything to work with him, all deadweight and drained. When he hit the ground, the hard impact wasn’t even bad enough to distract from the stoked embers burning up in his throat and he laid there, listening to Roach’s nickering and uneven gait as she turned around. He was cold. He was hot. He was nothing at all and Geralt’s shout of surprise sounded like it had come to him from miles away underwater. Jaskier knew he was being touched, knew he was being lifted, even knew he was being yelled at, but it seemed like it was all happening to someone else. Someone far away from all this. He’d tried. He had. But like always, it hadn’t been good enough.

“Jaskier!” Growling, loud and rough, and he couldn’t open his eyes long enough to see the rage painted there. The light was too bright, blinding and blistering, adding to the fire and the heat and Jaskier wasn’t able to stay conscious even through the witcher’s shouting.

An indeterminate stretch of time passed and Jaskier wouldn’t be able to tell anyone all of what occurred within. It was a haze of hurting and being touched by unfamiliar hands. Maneuvered whether he wanted it to happen or not. Horrible tinctures poured down his throat that made him shed silent tears because he was nothing without his voice and no one would listen to what his body was trying to say. He was helpless, frightened, confused. Glimpses of familiar white hair caused him to weep because he was sorry, so, so sorry that he’d done this, even if he wasn’t completely sure what ‘this’ was. Damp clothes soothed some of the blistering and there were moments in between the suffering where he was sure he’d never again open his eyes.

But he did.

And he felt dreadful. So sick. Still pained and barely able to lift a finger. Gently, as though he might break, a cool flannel swept over his hot face, down his cheek and the warm compress over his throat was adjusted, wafting the strong scent of garlic into the air. He must have made a face because a familiar chuckle rang out somewhere to the left of him.

“Jaskier?” Soft and kind and he did Geralt the courtesy of tipping his face toward him but didn’t remember much after that.

“You should’ve told me.” Jaskier glared weakly, pained, wrung out and still so, so tired, and Geralt had the sense to look shamed. After a strict regimen of teas, potions, and elixirs from the village healer, Jaskier appeared to be on the mend, albeit slowly. The witcher explained, for what was probably the seventh time seeing as he couldn’t hold a thought in his head for longer than a moment when he first began to wake, that he’d succumbed to a blood infection. “I should have noticed sooner." He fussed, tucking the blankets closer around him, smoothing them out and brushing back his sweat-soaked fringe. "Shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” With an obscene amount of effort, Jaskier patted Geralt’s hand where it now rested on the sheets beside him, letting it linger there, absorbing the warmth.

All forgiven.

Or it would be after a few more days of attentive doting.

#The witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #sick #illness #prompt #caretaking

[zarcake-writes]

The Lady

This is a little something I wrote a long time ago. It features a goddess and a human she rescues. After some editing, it’s ready to be read. Please enjoy. 

Warnings: blood and death

She isn’t human, she is something else entirely. A goddess, a being who is so old she saw the creation of the world and has already seen the end. Her eyes are always bright, her hair is always perfect, and she is always smiling. She is beautiful, gentle, sexual, cunning, horrifying, monstrous, and violent.

She is who the broken and desperate went to. Humans, elves, orcs, minotaur’s, all the races go to her. They beg her for help, her name falling from their lips and tears running down their faces. Her followers and those she helps all pay their respects to her, they love and fear her. She is life and death mixed together. Chaos and tranquility.

She doesn’t have a name. She claims if she had one, she forgot it. Those who worship her simply call her The Lady. She is The Lady of many things, of many aspects. The Lady of Death, The Lady of Life, The Lady of Rebirth. The names vary depending on locations, but her image is always the same. A human woman surrounded by skulls and flowers.

I asked her once how our world will end. She only told me the way it was created, with fire and noise so loud it will shake your soul. I paled at that, but she took my hand, kissed it, and smiled softly. “My realm lies outside your world. You and the others will be safe. And when that world ends, I will make a new one.”

“Why? Why the destruction?”

She must have heard the fear in my voice because her face softened. She smiled at me and scooted closer, taking my hands in hers. “It is the way of things. You, mortals, say it is how life is. It’s how I am. I give life and I take. You cannot have one without the other.”

“What of the other gods?”

She scoffed and sat up in our bed. The blanket fell from her body, revealing her bare breasts. “What of them? When I decide to remake the world, they cannot fight me.”

She’s currently asleep on my chest. I relish these moments. While she will always be an immortal being with the power to destroy the world, to me, she is only my love. When her hair is a mess, and she’s snoring softly, I swear she has never looked prettier. Even when she drools on me, I don’t mind.

The sunlight is slowly entering our room. It’s still early here, but she’ll be getting up soon. For a goddess, she has a rather erratic schedule. Somedays she’s busy, visiting different parts of her realm and speaking to those who live here. Smiling and laughing with them. Kissing and holding them if they need it.

The days she needs to speak with other deities, well, those days can be incredibly stressful. If it’s a deity she likes, like Thelena, a goddess of the underworld or even Aro a love deity, then the day isn’t so bad. But if it’s a god she dislikes, well, it will be a long day. I still remember when a young god named Onir strolled into her realm. He considered himself to be the god of war, but he was more like a god of the assholes. I remember The Lady physically throwing him out of her realm.

I hope today is a relaxation day, that way she and I can stay in bed all day. No worries, no one to bother us, just her and me.

I came to her realm through a portal located at one of her shrines. It is… remote, not something that is easy to find unless you know the shrine is there. I remember when I first saw the shrine and portal. My body was beaten and bruised; my hands were bound behind my back. Her followers, or fanatics, that surrounded me were the reason I was in such a position.

I remember how those bastards charged into the village I was living in at the time. They were shouting her name, demanding everyone to get down and praise her. They required more followers and the creation of a new shrine. Everyone scoffed at how ridiculous they were being. Nothing but a bunch of crazed zealots.

The village was a simple farming village, so the people here worshipped gods of the land and of the home. Gods that would ensure a good harvest and gods that would keep their families safe. When the fanatics continued with their disregard for others beliefs, the villagers insulted The Lady. I remember how angry the fanatics got, the cold look in their eyes made my skin crawl.

At that time, I didn’t believe in any god. No god ever answered my prayers. No god ever prevented me from being sent to war for a cause I did not believe in. A war started by some king I did not like. No god helped ease the pain and guilt I felt from killing people. No god ever answered why I was alive when my friends died. No god comforted me when I woke up screaming in the middle of the night. At the time, I believed gods were only fantasies and stories.

When the fanatics attacked, it was during the night. I woke to screams and shouts. The fanatics were shouting her name, while the villagers were screaming for mercy. From my small room above the bakery, I could see a fire burning in the fields.

I remember grabbing my sword and shield from beneath my bed. There was a time I swore never to pick these up again, but there I was, picking them up again to defend the villagers. Many of them knew how to use a bow, but close combat was something they could not do.

Most of that night is a blur. I remember shouting orders, a makeshift barricade was made, and the smell of fire and blood. Every fanatic I cut down, there seemed to be two more to take their place. I watched people I’ve come to know and care about slaughtered. Women, men, children, the elderly, animals, it did not matter. The fanatics killed any they came across.

I will say though, that my efforts were not wasted. Many escaped, fleeing into the woods where some hunters were guiding them to safety. I and a few others refused to leave, we would stand and fall for those who were running.

Eventually, I was the last one alive. The others who fought beside me had died. I was alone against an onslaught of fanatics with knives and hammers.

When I fell, the first thing I noticed was the blood-soaked ground. I dimly wondered how much of the blood belonged to the innocent. The dead bodies got my attention next.

I saw the baker’s eldest daughter. She always smiled sweetly at me every morning and gave me the best bread. She was so kind, always wanting to help, and so full of life. But there she was, lying face up covered in blood. Her throat was cut, eyes staring at nothing. Opposite of her was the old blacksmith. He was a large man and had been one of the first to fight beside me. The fanatics stabbed him repeatedly, but he refused to stop fighting. He took his last breath, eyes looking up at the night sky. I saw the poor man who begged on the streets. A veteran from some old war, he suffered mentally for many years. He stayed beside me as well.

The Lady’s fanatics surrounded me and said I was going to be a sacrifice. They bound my hands, covered my head with a bag, and threw me onto the back of a horse. The ride was long and painful. By the time they arrived at their destination, it was two days later. My body ached and I prayed they would kill me soon. They pulled me off the horse roughly, not caring that I was injured. They forced me up and made me walk, the bag over my head prevented me from seeing anything.

When they pushed me onto my knees and the bag was ripped off my head, the first thing I saw was a large shrine with a life-size statue of The Lady. It was so realistic that I couldn’t help but shiver. The statue’s right hand was outstretched, palm facing up; a human skull sat in her hand. The left hand hung at her side, holding a bouquet of flowers. The statue’s face was stern like she was challenging any who looked upon her.

At the base of the statue were numerous gifts and offerings: handmade trinkets, animal bones, food, flowers, clothing, children’s toys, and candles. Old armor and weapons lay in a small pile, and there was even a baby’s cradle. There were flowers growing around the statue. I remember thinking how beautiful they were and how sweet they smelled. It was then I noticed a human skull beneath the flowers. Then a second skull, a third, and then a fourth. I grimaced as I wondered how many human remains were in the area. Would I be next?

The man that ripped the bag off my head began to speak. I glanced back and saw it was the high priest. Gods, I hated him. He had killed the baker’s daughter, with a smile on his face. I wanted to smash his head in.

The priest either ignored my look or didn’t see it. He called to the goddess, the lady of life and death, the destroyer and creator. He said I was to be the newest sacrifice, a great warrior who would serve her well. I cursed and tried to pull away.

“Fuck you and fuck your goddess,” I shouted. The fanatics surrounding me growled, and the high priest glared down at me. “Gods aren’t real. And you fuckers are nothing but murderers.”

“You will see her soon, and then you will answer for your blasphemy,” he said. He placed the knife against my throat. I can still remember how cold the blade was.

This is it, I thought. My eyes shut as I waited for death. The blade dug into my skin, the pain almost made me hiss and pull away. But I would die with some dignity. Before the high priest could finish me, there was a bright light, followed by many gasps and cries. When my eyes opened, The Lady stood before us.

Her beauty left me speechless. The gown she wore hugged her body, showing off her hips and breasts. Her hair was a mess of waves and curls. A crown of dark red flowers on top of her head. Her dark eyes roamed the scene before her, the look on her face unreadable. When her gaze rested on me, her eyes narrowed and she stepped down from her shrine. The high priest bowed and began to speak to her, but she cut him off.

“Who is this?” she asked, pointing at me.

“A warrior, my Lady,” he said. The other fanatics were down on their hands and knees. I wondered if they were afraid or enamored. Maybe both.  

“You killed innocent people, in my name,” she stated. Her hand reached down and rested on your cheek; I couldn’t help but lean into her touch. I couldn’t take my eyes off her; I didn’t want to take my eyes off her. If she asked me, I would have kissed her feet and begged for forgiveness. Part of me hoped she would ask for that.  

“They were not innocent, my Lady. They were fools. They mocked you and called you a whore. And this one here,” the man said gesturing to me. “Killed your most devout. Before you arrived, they cursed and mocked you!”

“I heard them. And it is true, I am what would be called a whore. In my realm, I have many lovers, and I’m always looking for my newest love,” she said. The hand on my cheek slid down to my neck; her nails lightly scratched my skin. When she leaned in close, her face inches away from mine, I could smell her. She smelled so sweet, so delicious, that my mouth began to water. I wanted to lean forward and taste her, just to see if she tasted sweet. Her eyes seemed to be daring me to do just that, yet I didn’t dare.

“My Lady? Do you… fancy this person?” the high priest asked. He sounded insulted.

“I do. They are a strong warrior, easy on the eyes, and troubled. My heart hurts for the pain they have endured. I could feel them calling out to me, begging me to ease the hurt they feel. But, before I can do that, I have something to attend too,” she said. She moved away from me and I nearly cried out. Her sweet smell lingered though, so that was a comfort.

I watched as she approached the high priest. He was so infatuated with her that he didn’t notice the anger on her face or the blade she pulled from her waist. I jumped when she sunk the blade into his stomach. He didn’t seem to understand what was happening.  

She made quick work of the fanatics. Cutting them down but not killing them, simply leaving them to bleed out on the ground. She ignored their cries for mercy and their questions. It was strangely sad; they didn’t seem to understand why she was angry.  

When she was finished with them, the familiar coppery smell burned my nose. Their bodies littered the ground, most of them were slowly dying. More bones to be added to her shrine. She simply looked down at the bodies, a look of annoyance on her beautiful face.

I nearly cried when she approached me and undid the rope tied around my wrists.

“W-why did you kill them?” I asked, trembling at the feet of this deity.

“They were fools. Every god has their fanatics, it’s important to get rid of them. They’re an infection, and removal is necessary to keep it from spreading,” she said. The coldness in her voice sent a chill down my back.

“Are… are you going to kill me?” I asked.

“No, you can go. Or… you can come with me,” she said. She reached her hands out for me to take. I took them and she pulled me up to stand. My body nearly gave out, but she held me up.

She was shorter than me, by at least a whole foot. While looking down at most people is something I’m used to, looking down at this goddess was a surprise. Even though she is shorter than me, she was able to support me leaning against her. While her size made her look small and unassuming, the aura surrounding her was imposing. And those eyes, those dark eyes, were unsettling.

“Go where, with you?”

“My realm. My home. I have others there. An assortment of lovers, friends, and followers who sacrificed themselves to join me. You will not be alone there,” she said.

I said nothing for a bit. Just slowly pulled away from her when I was sure I could stand on my own. She stayed close to me like she was expecting me to fall over. The worry on her face made my heart speed up and my stomach flip. I couldn’t understand why she looked so worried about me or why she helped me.

“Why did you help me?”

She smiled sadly and placed a hand on my chest. “Because of your pain for the things you have done. It is not easy to take and give life, I know.”

“I did not give life.”

“But you did. In the war, your actions kept many people safe, but you also killed and allowed others to be killed. At the village, you killed those fanatics and saved the farmers. Life and death are everywhere, and you know it intimately.”

“I never wished to know it.”

She stepped closer to me; her hands cupped my face. “I know. That’s why I came to you personally to give you a choice. Stay here, continue to give and take, or come with me.”

“If I go with you, what would I do? Would I be one of your lovers?”

She dusted off the dirt from my shirt and wiped the blood from my neck. She frowned at the bruises on my face and the way I held my side. “You can be whatever you want to be. My lover, another’s lover, a farmer, or nothing. The choice is yours.”

If I stayed, I would be alone and I was so tired of being alone. If I went with her, I’m putting my trust in a being that could kill me with a look. But when I looked upon her face, there was nothing but compassion there. Her dark eyes were soft and her smile was sweet.

I took a deep breath and swallowed before I spoke. “Can… Can I be your lover?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

She smiled and her eyes sparkled. “Then yes, you can be one of my lovers. You will be my first human lover. Are you ready to go?”

She reached her hand out and I gazed down at it. As my hand slipped into hers, I realized I wasn’t afraid. Where ever I went, there was life and death. She was right, I was taking life or protecting it. It was a shock to realize that I have always been hers, an agent of her will; I just didn’t know it. No wonder no other gods answered my prayers, she was receiving them all herself.

“Yes.” I squeezed her hand, making sure it was real. She squeezed back and pulled me towards the shrine. I followed her through that portal and never looked back.

That was, well, who knows how long ago. Time is different in her realm. Sure, the sun rises and sets, but the seasons do not change. It is always spring. And the moon is always full here. It was a shock at first, and some days it still bothers me.

A soft hand on my face brings me from my memories. She’s looking at me, a concerned look on her sleepy face. “Are you ok?”

“Yes.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“About the first time we met.”

She smiles and nods. “I was rather angry when we met. My poor warrior was hurt, alone, and so very angry.”

“We were both angry, but only you were beautiful.”

She smirks and looks away, a slight blush on her face. When she looks back up at me, her face is serious. “Are you still angry?”

I think the answer over for a moment. “Sometimes.”

“Are you angry now?”

“No. I’m happy.”

Her smile widens and her eyes shine. “Why?”

“Because I am here with you, and you make me happy.”

“I am glad to hear that.” She presses a kiss to my lips. I moan at the softness of her lips and how sweet she tastes. When she rests her head back against my chest, and my arms wrap around her, I understand how a person could be home.

#exophilia #goddess x reader #monster girlfriend

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 11 - Sweet as Honey

“You would think you all would’ve learned by now…” Zenos sighs, exasperated, knocking a helpless man to the floor.

Your eyes are trained to that same floor, hands locked tight behind your back with Zenos’ sword in hand. You wish you could have ear plugs, ear muffs, anything so you could block out as much of this as possible.

“So weak and helpless are you, that you cannot even create your own form of income, that you must come and steal ours. Interfere with our shipments, rob our trucks mid transport, and sell our product with the audacity to claim it as your own.” Zenos monologues, circling the quivering man on the floor. “Isn’t that right, Foulques?”

The snow white hair of the Elezen is dirtied, covered in dust and soot. He lies in a mangled heap on the floor after Zenos had you forcibly break his legs earlier. It had taken all of your willpower to hold back the bile that threatened to come forth at the sound of his bones snapping in two.

“If you wanted to help redistribute, it was but a matter of contacting us. An arrangement could’ve been made. Instead, you let your greed cloud your judgement, and now here you are, broken on the floor.” Zenos cackles, placing the heel of his shoe on Foulques’ face. “What is a suitable punishment, you think? Personally, I am quite fond of death. After all, there is no greater way to ensure it won’t happen again by ensuring you are not alive to do so.”

Zenos presses down hard, uncaring of the man’s cries of pain. “Where’s that fire I had heard so much of, Foulques? I had heard talk of your strength and yet my guard snapped you in half as if you were but a twig.” He taunts, kicking Foulques onto his back, causing the Elezen to wheeze in pain. “No words? Really, how dull…”

Zenos reaches out his hand expectantly and you flinch, frowning as you pull his sword from behind your back. You place it gently in his hands, fingers touching as he moves to unsheathe the blade. “Well I suppose the message will be sent once your gang members come and find you bleeding out on the floor.” Zenos muses, tossing you the scabbard. “I’ll be sure to send some flowers to your children.”

Children?

“Zenos, wait!”

You block his blade with the scabbard, holding his deadly gaze. You have to talk fast. “Don’t kill him.” You whisper, doing your best to sound strong.

“You know that I must.” Zenos hisses, eyes narrowed on you.

“Just...he has kids, right? Sure they might want vengeance on you if their father is dead...but think ahead a bit more. If he lives, he can sow the seeds of hate in his children himself.” The words sicken you even to say them, but you can see Zenos’ stare visibly lighten as he considers your words. “To send him home broken and mangled, knowing he wasn’t even good enough to kill; what would be a better motivator?”

Your arms tremble beneath his strength, feet planted firmly on the ground to steady yourself to withstand his strength. You watch as Zenos closes his eyes in thought, a vicious smirk painting his lips. “Truly, you are a most valuable prize, my beast.” Suddenly the pressure is gone and you nearly tumble as a result. Zenos snags you by the waist to steady you until you can stand upright.

Turning back to Foulques, he crouches down to his level. “It looks like your false gods have seen fit to give you my mercy. Though, it would be in your best interests to do as she says. Train your children to kill me. I can wait. I am patient.” He chuckles, standing back to his full height. Stepping over Foulques, Zenos heads for the door without a single backwards glance.

You do the same, unable to look at the mangled man any longer.

The walk out of the Duskwights’ hideout is silent like most other raids. It had taken some time to actually get ahold of their leader Foulques, who seemed good at keeping his head low, and with good reason. It was only after Zenos had killed enough of his men did he decide to finally show his face. It seemed like there might be quiet negotiations as Zenos offered to handle things in Foulques’ office, only for him to order you to beat the man to near death.

At least you didn’t have to kill him.

Zenos didn’t seem to get any real enjoyment out of his kills; if anything the act bored him as much as anything else. He had even told you himself that it was merely a result of people refusing to follow orders and getting in his way. If he had enjoyed the act of killing, he would be hard pressed to find anyone to work for him. That did little to soothe your tumultuous thoughts, especially ever since your first outing.

“Perhaps, I can train you in this too.” Zenos muses, breath ghosting across your face. It’s entirely too warm with the furnace that is his body, feeling every single muscle against your own. “I know the savagery is within you. The desire to sink your fangs into my neck and drink deep of my life’s blood...I will see it brought out by my own hand.” He whispers, wiping away the last of your tears.

“You say you did not know what to expect. I suppose I am at fault for that.” He sighs, brushing stray hairs from your face. “So eager was I to fight you, I forgot to attend to other business...but no matter. You too will understand the nature of The Hunt.”

You could feel yourself steadily become immune to the suffering you inflicted on whatever poor gang you had to terrorize as the weeks went by. There were still times where you would nearly be pushed to your limit, but already you could tell your mind was protecting itself, learning to tune out the cries of pain as you shattered bones, made men bleed. Your sullen demeanor didn’t go unnoticed, Zenos seeming at first seeming proud before it turned into displeasure. Despite this, you still were made to accompany him on his excursions due to your role.

“You are distracted.”

You barely move to dodge Zenos as he swings to hit you, narrowly moving out of the way of his follow up hit. You’ve lost your balance as a result and Zenos is ever the opportunist, pursuing you like a hawk. Kicking your feet from under you, you crash into the floor, unable to get up as Zenos has already pinned you in place. Fist balled in your shirt, he stares down at you, but any joy of victory doesn’t show on his face. “Unacceptable.” He hisses, clenching his fist tighter, pulling you toward him.

Averting your eyes, you worry your bottom lip, ready for whatever speech he’s about to give you. “You were bound to catch up eventually.” You lie, and that seems to anger him more because he knows it’s a lie too.

“I am not ashamed to know you are my better, my beast. And I am not too stupid to see your mind is not fully here.” He growls, dropping you back to the floor, uncaring how you wince in pain. Caging you with his arms, he nears his face to your own, hair falling around you like a curtain. “Are you unwell?”

He doesn’t care, you tell yourself, trying to think of an excuse. “I’m fine, Zenos. I’ve just got stuff on my mind is all.” You huff, flashing him an annoyed look. “Now could you please get off me?”

His hands flex tighter around your wrists. “Make me.”

Brows furrowing together, you glare at him full on. “You know damn well I can’t get your heavy ass off me you giant.” You bite out, watching his signature smirk slide into place. “Zenos,”

“Does it make sense? That you are fully capable of throwing me over your shoulder, yet unable to free yourself from being pinned? Perhaps you like being under me…” He teases, failing to notice the way your face immediately flushes red.

“You actually know what you’re doing to immobilize me!” You bark back, trying to control your expresion. “Besides, w-who would want to be underneath you?” You stammer, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

“Oh, plenty of people, my beast. Men and women alike, have shared my bed.” He purrs, nearing his face even closer to yours. Your breath comes faster, his lips not even an ilm away from your own. “Would you like to be next?”

“Like hell I would!” You renew your efforts to try and free yourself, unable to move as much as you’d like for fear of closing that gap. It’s warm, too warm, and getting warmer in places you know it shouldn’t. The more you struggle, the more the lower half of you tingles.

“Oh, you wound me. Am I not your type?” He continues to tease, tilting his head to bury his nose in your neck, breathing in deep. You start feeling lightheaded. “I promise to make it worth your while…” He purrs, the baritone of his voice rolling across your skin.

Would you really?

“If you weren’t my employee.”

Just like that he’s off of you, heading to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge. You stare dumbly at the ceiling, slowly pulling yourself off the floor. “E-Excuse me?”

“As fun as it is to tease you, my beast, even I must try and retain some degree of professionalism. It would not do to have relations with my employees, the media would twist and mangle any story beyond repair.” Pulling his hair down from its ponytail, he flashes you a smug look. “Plus we don’t have the time. A hospital my father sponsored is opening today, and we must attend. Your attire should be waiting for you in your room. I will take longer than usual getting ready, so don’t rush on my account.” Saying nothing more he steps out the door, leaving you alone and aroused in the gym.

You wait until he’s far down the hall to scream in frustration.

Marching to your room, you curse him the entire way; how could you be so foolish? Of course he was only messing with you, of course he didn’t actually want you--

Of course you were foolish for thinking otherwise--

You stamp the disappointment down before it can grow into something worse, thankful you at least the satisfaction of being able to fling the door to your room open and slam it closed hard enough to make the walls shake. Undressing, you quickly turn the shower on to blasting, the cold waters chilling your soul as you stand under the spray.

How could he go on about professionalism with how he treated you? It was simple enough to say that he didn’t want you instead of lying. If he truly cared about being professional he would call you by your name, he’d treat you nicer, he’d not pin you between his muscled legs and arouse you so…

A bastard in every sense of the word except the correct one, he was. You had never hated him more than you did in that moment. More than when he had found you. More than when you watched him kill innocents in front of you. If only you could strike fear into his heart the same way he did to you.

You dress in a rush, giving no mind to the quality of the suit that was resting on your bed. Its slight sheen goes unnoticed, its comfort disregarded. You can think only now of squashing whatever feelings it was you’re feeling, merely tucking your gun into your blazer. Suited up, you head to sit in the foyer, taking your usual seat on a window sill as butlers and maids pass by on business.

“You’ve changed, you know.”

Head snapping up, you lock eyes with Ardbert who gives you a hesitant smile. “Good morning, friend.” He greets, eyeing the open space next to you. “Mind some company?”

Frowning, you quickly look around. “Ardbert, you know that Zenos,”

“I get the feeling that his threats are more warnings than actual threats. I’ve driven him around for years. Think he’d hate to have to train another chauffeur, yeah?” He laughs lightly, moving to sit next to you.

Something about Ardbert’s presence is calming, your frown melting away. “What do you mean I’ve changed?” You ask, brushing your hair behind your ear.

He seems to mull over his words for a moment, thinking them over. “I’ll be honest, Honey. This job. It’s not good for you.” His face is serious, concerned. A genuine concern that you haven’t seen ever since you had started working here. “I had hoped that he wouldn’t drag you back to those places. Like I said when I met you...you don’t belong here. You look like nothing had gone as planned.”

It surprises you what a good read Ardbert is, considering most of your interactions are not face to face, given that Zenos is also usually in the vicinity. You can feel tears pinprick behind your eyes, quickly turning away. You couldn’t cry in front of him too.

“It’s alright.” Ardbert’s voice is gentle as he holds out a handkerchief in front of your face, one you accept graciously as you dab at your eyes softly. “It’s been buggin’ me a while to ask but...why are you here? You had to have known what you were getting into, right?” He questions, seeming as if he wants to reach out and comfort you, but even he dares not go that far.

You bark out a bitter laugh, wondering if he’s a mind reader. “I had an idea, but I suppose I didn’t think hard enough about where I would end up when I applied to work here. I feel so stupid now.” You whisper sourly, angry at no one but yourself. “He had called me naive, you know. Maybe I really was. Am.”

“Naive might not be the right word.” Ardbert offers, bumping shoulders with you. “I don’t think anyone expects to become a bodyguard who moonlights as a hitman. I certainly didn’t expect it myself, when I was hired…” He gives his own bitter laugh, a frown marring his handsome face. “Had I known he would eventually take you there, make you do those things...I would have warned you. Told you to run away, so that it wouldn’t have been too late.” Scratching the back of his head, he gives a forlorn sigh. “I thought maybe you didn’t have a clue, given the circumstances we picked you up under…”

Those words alone are almost enough to make you want to cry all over again and fling yourself into his arms. “Ardbert…”

“Hope you can forgive me.” He offers an apologetic smile. “But if it wasn’t obvious, I’m your friend yeah?” He holds out a fist with a smile. He laughs richly as you stare at it for a moment, giving it a shake. “Well come on then. Don’t leave me hangin’.”

Giggling, you curl your hand to a fist and bump it against his, smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks. “Thank you,”

He shakes his head as he stands to his feet. “What are friends for?” Adjusting his tie, he moves to head for the door. You watch him head outside, surely on his way to the garage to retrieve the car. You would actually be riding in a separate car with Varis’ bodyguards, protecting both the front and the back of his and Zenos’ shared car. It strikes you then that you’ve actually never met any of Varis’ bodyguards, and you begin to ponder what they could possibly look like. How good were they in a fight that Zenos resented his father for taking them from him?

Your fingers flex unconsciously, thinking of the prospect of a different opponent. Not that Zenos was boring; his adaptive ability made every day a challenge. But even you couldn’t push back the excitement of knowing other worthy potential opponents were so close.

You were becoming too much like that asshole.

“You’re Honey, correct?”

Looking up, a taller, Garlean woman stands before you, her red hair slicked into a tight bun atop her head. She wears the exact same suit as you, but somehow with her long legs, she looks so much better in it. “That’s me.” You reply, extending your hand out to shake.

“I see.” Her eyes run over you in distaste, causing you to frown. “I am Lord Varis’ chief bodyguard, Livia sas Junius. You will be sharing a car with me.” You don’t even bother extending your hand in an offer to shake it. Clearly they could only find the most stuck up Garleans on all of Hydaelyn.

“Alright. Is it time to head out?” You ask, standing to your feet.

“It is time to ‘head out’, yes.” She mocks, walking toward the door. “You would be aware of this if you were on the correct linkshell channel. Not that I would expect a savage to know how to work advanced, Garlean technology.”

You see red as you glare at the back of her head, following after her. “Call me a savage again, bitch.” You dare, watching as she turns to you slowly.

“And unprofessional too. Really, does Lord Zenos,” She doesn’t get time to finish her sentence as Zenos catches you hard by the wrist.

“Insulting my employees, Livia?” Zenos asks, leveling her with a bored look. However after your months of being around him, you have learned his tells, able to hear the slight annoyance in his voice.

“N-Never, young master.” She bows, clearly flustered.

“This is my bodyguard’s first time on this type of excursion. I would expect you to set an example and instead guide her on correct protocol so as to not embarrass herself and by extension my father...who I won’t be needing to inform about your misstep, now will I?” A chill fills the air at his tone despite the warmth of the summer day, Livia doing her best to not visibly shake.

“No, my lord.”

“Good. Now do as you are told and make sure she does her job efficiently.” Releasing your arm he turns to head back inside. “You would do well to not anger her. Next time I might not be around to stop her from demolishing you.” He calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks tingle with the rush of blood to them at his compliment. Though it wasn’t direct, it was praise nonetheless, without being followed by a backhanded comment. Turning back to Livia, she too is red, though from shame rather than embarrassment. “Come along….Miss.” Livia grounds out, heading back to the garage. You can’t help but snicker to yourself as you follow behind her.

You’re given a quick run down of how the linkshell works, being given a more in depth tutorial on how the more advanced linkpearls worked. The debriefing gave you a strange sense of nostalgia; reviewing the floorplans, potential dangers, instructions on emergency maneuvers all reminded you of your time on the police. You picked it up naturally as a result, though Varis’ bodyguards didn’t find it impressive. Livia was joined by Rhitahtyn, a man who somehow managed to outdo Zenos in bulk, though he was far more stout. Skin almost as dark as Gaius’, he had an equally imposing image. Livia was quick to inform him to keep down about you, letting you know that even though they were nothing to sneeze at, they still feared Zenos.

A hospital seemed far too philanthropic for what you knew of Varis’ character, and you’re positive that it’s nothing more than to play up his public image. From what you remembered, he was surprisingly well liked by the public, regardless of having a very stern persona and conservative ideals. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, and you would most likely try to be on your phone through the majority of the ceremony.

When it’s time to load up, you catch father and son entering their car, Zenos looking entirely disinterested and like he’d rather be anywhere else. Varis maintains his usual frown, and you have to wonder if his face just rests like that, or if he’s that pissy all the time. Shrugging, you hop into the car with Livia, buckling in for the ride to the new hospital.

The building itself speaks of Varis’ tastes; just from the outside you can see no expense was spared in making it. It’s quite a ways from downtown, allowing it more space to sprawl outward. The grounds are filled with the greenest grass, the loveliest blooms gil can buy. The sun shines brightly on the grouping of various buildings, making it a picturesque day for this unveiling.

As the car pulls up, you step out, adjusting your suit. Paparazzi are held at bay by ropes and security, so you mosey on over to the Galvuses’ car as they pull up. Opening the door, Varis steps out first, Livia already at his side. You hold back a snort as they begin their walk down the red carpet, turning your face away from the dozens of flashes of cameras. Zenos steps out soon after, wearing a full suit and looking entirely too good in it. Closing the door behind him, you follow him down the aisle, sticking close to his side as he doesn’t bother to even wave for pictures.

A simple stage sits just outside in the parking lot, filled with balloons and reporters alike. Reaching it, Zenos follows his father to go sit down in a row of chairs, picking the one closest to the end. You stand with Rhitahtyn off to the side, instructed to stay out of primary view of what’s being recorded, but also close enough should anything happen. From what you’ve seen though, security is tight and there’s few places for anyone to hide. All reporters and guests have been checked for any firearms or weapons, making for a smooth event.

If only it wasn’t so boring.

Since you are out of sight of most of the cameras (and also Varis and Zenos) you play games on your phone through the majority of the dull speeches. Anytime Rhitahtyn shoots you a look you give him one right back, daring him to say anything. You know he’s as bored as you, and that despite the fact you’re at least entertaining yourself, you still pay close attention to anything being said in the linkshell. You find it better than purposefully rolling your eyes at anything doctors say or how Gaius sings Varis’ praises, prattling on about how generous he is. The crowd cheers as Varis makes his speech, making himself seem some sort of visionary.

You wish you were totally out of sight to flip him off behind his back.

Clapping for appearance’s sake, you move into position to get father and son to the front doors where a huge red ribbon is waiting to be cut. Bodyguards are out of arm’s reach, but still a reasonable distance away, as to not mess with the image of Varis walking the halls of his new hospital. He’s clearly confident with his security, if he’s going to choose his image over common sense. The bastard clearly enjoys being the center of attention, answering every single question with ease as he touts about how advanced the facility is and how many lives it will save. Would it be rude to ask him when he’d shut up so you could go home? Probably, and sadly it was not a risk you were willing to take.

Several floors up now, you’ve held yourself back from sighing no less than twenty times now, settling for watching the day pass by out the windows. It really is a beautiful day out, one best spent out in the sprawling gardens of the estate and instead you are stuck here, following a rich man on an ego trip. Watching the trees sway and grass grow proves more entertaining than listening to Varis talking just because he likes the sound of his voice. Even the reflection of a stranger in the glass is--

Before your mind can catch up, thick smoke fills the hall, burning your throat and stinging your eyes, sending the hallway into a panic. “Zenos!” You call, trying to open your eyes but every time you do it burns like the seven hells. You hear shuffling and grunting, Livia and Rhitahtyn calling out for Varis over the panicked screams of the reporters.

But not Zenos.

“Zenos!” You shout, trying to move but bumping into one person after another in the hallway. The entire hospital powers down, leaving the sun through the windows the only source of light.

Cursing, you reach up to your linkpearl. “Livia! Rhitahtyn!” You hiss, trying to hear anything over the sound of people coughing. “Do you have eyes on them? Either of them?!”

Static sounds through the linkpearl for a few moments. “I can’t see a damn thing!” Comes Rhitahtyn’s deep voice. “Someone’s had to have taken them. They’ve not responded to me at all!”

Dread pools in your gut as you make your way to the closest wall. “We need to get out this hallway!” The gas doesn’t let up as you feel your way along the wall. You mumble apologies as you bump into the several people crowded in the hallway, trying to move out of the gas as quickly as possible. You yelp as you’re suddenly pulled forward through a door, the metal slamming shut behind you.

Jerking your eyes open, the serious faces of Livia and Rhitahtyn stare back, the latter handing you a handkerchief which you accept eagerly. “We must act quickly.” Livia begins, turning to head down the stairwell she had pulled you into. “Rhitahtyn, do you have any fix on their location?”

“They’re currently being moved downstairs, I suspect to some getaway car. We need to act fast.” He answers, swiping along on a tablet. “They are moving somewhat slowly. Both Lord Varis and the young master are not easy to transport due to their stature and would therefore slow them down.”

You can’t help but be a bit surprised at their competence and quick thinking. You begrudgingly give them your respect, leaping down flights of stairs.

“Very well. Rhyitahtyn, contact the security outside to be ready for potential interception, and also begin the building’s lock down phase. Contact the police so that they can already be on their way here once we apprehend these fools.” Livia hisses, pausing to glance at the glowing screen. Her eyes flick to you. “You. I want you to come with me as we intercept them. We don’t know how big this team is, but between the two of us we should be able to stop them until more help arrives. If your skills live up to Lord Zenos’ praise.” Red lights begin flashing in the stairwell, and you hear the distant sound of metal doors slamming shut.

“The hospital has successfully been locked down.” Rhitahtyn informs, sitting his hulking form down on the stairs. “They’ve been stopped successfully. You should be able to intercept them now. They’re on the second floor, but you must still hurry before any harm comes to them. I will keep you updated via the linkshell.” Reaching into his pocket he hands the both of you matte, black cards, and you recognize them to be similar to the ones used at home. “These will help you unlock doors to make your way to them. Be careful, Livia.”

Nodding, Livia motions for you to follow her, heading down a few more flights of stairs. “All right rookie,” she begins, still managing to cling to her pride, but unwilling to run the risk of you telling Zenos she insulted you later. “We’re not going to do something as stupid as splitting up unless we see the opportunity to pincer them. They’re obviously somewhat organized, so we have to minimize all risk of harm until we can confirm that our targets are safe. Do you have your gun?” You give a sharp nod as you both come to a stop to a door. “Good. Only use it when absolutely necessary; absolutely no harm must come to Lord Varis or the young master.” Holding the keycard up to the door, the latch unlocks. “Follow me.”

Quiet as a mouse, you slink into the hallway, lit only by the sunlight. You can see a slight panic outside, as security herd reporters away from the building. Shaking your head, you turn back to focus on following Livia as you make your way through the halls of the hospital. Livia begins to check her phone for an update, but you grab her attention as you hear voices down a hall. Nodding that she understands, you slowly make your way, following signs toward the lobby.

“You absolute idiots!” You hear someone yell, their voice echoing in the large space. You and Livia quickly duck behind one of the desks at the nearby reception area, poking your head out.

A blonde, Hyuran man stands in the midst of several men, all wearing red. The blonde man slaps a lackey across the face, quite hard from the sound of it, uncaring that he crumples to the floor. “We were supposed to grab these two and get out of here, but you idiots are too weak to lift two men!”

“Boss, the son has to weigh at least 200 ponze of pure muscle!” One pipes up only to be silenced by the blonde man smacking him in the face.

“Do I look like I care about how much he fucking weighs? We spend an entire night camping inside this fucking hospital, only for them to put it on lockdown! We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here ourselves, let alone with these two alive!” He roars, taking a deep breath as he reaches up to pinch his nose. “Perhaps we should cut our losses and get out of here, before it’s too late.”

“Look, there.” Livia whispers, pointing to a grouping of couches. Zenos and Varis are strewn upon them, unconscious. “Good. They seem unharmed for now.” Shifting her weight she turns to you. “That savage is Lambard. He’s incredibly dangerous, we’ll have to be careful…”

“Boss, why don’t we take just one?” An underling proposes, flinching when Lambard turns to him.

“Oh and which do you propose we take, hmm?” Lambard asks, voice mockingly sweet.

“The uh, son? His father will want him back right?”

It is silent for a few moments until you hear a loud slap. “It is well and good I don’t pay you all to think.” Lambard sighs, drawing near to the two, unconscious men on the couch. “If you all would pay attention to anything around you for two seconds, you would realize there is absolutely no love lost between father and son. The bastard wouldn’t care if anything happened to his only child, and the whelp couldn’t give a damn about his father.”

“Then why are we trying to get ‘em both?” The same one asks, groaning in pain as Lambard steps on him with his heel.

“Because, there are people willing to pay a pretty penny for Varis’ head on their wall. At the very least, they are both unconscious and we can abandon them here, wait for things to cool off, and try another time. No one will know it was us.” Lambard snickers, punching Zenos across the face. “Ah, that felt great.”

You feel your fists clench reflexively.

“I suppose we could leave ‘em a little beaten up and bruised before we get out of here.” Lambard cackles, giving Zenos another punch in the face. “Ah man this feels so good! After having to have this whelp come around and threaten me for so fucking long…” He slaps Varis across the face, roaring with laughter. “These drugs must be strong! They’ve hardly moved!”

You begin to rise but Livia yanks you back down, furiously shaking her head. Gnashing your teeth you turn back as Lambard continues his abuse on the two, anger rising as you watch.

“Boss, we should really get out of here…” an underling warns, to which Lambard responds with a swift kick to their knee.

“What did I tell you about telling me what to do?” He asks in a sing-song voice, smirking as the underling crumples to the floor. “Though I suppose we have overstayed our welcome...though now, I am reconsidering my idea from earlier. Perhaps we can make use of the son. It is only half of the deal, but something is better than nothing, correct? And who knows! Perhaps his old man will have a change of heart and want his baby boy back.” Lambard laughs. “Have those idiots found a backdoor yet?”

“Yes boss. We’ve managed to find one of the hidden exits through a connected building.”

“Excellent! Perhaps you all aren’t so useless after all.” Lambard grins, snapping his fingers. “Leave the bastard. Let’s go.”

You watch as a few of the men in the group slowly heft up Zenos’ hulking form, panic shooting through you as they begin heading in the opposite direction out of another doorway. Without thinking you launch yourself from behind the desk, ignoring Livia’s commands for you to stop. “You get Varis!” You call over your shoulder, vaulting over chairs and couches as you move to catch up.

Adrenaline propels you forward, throwing all tact and reason out the window. Barrelling through the door they left through, it slams into the wall, alerting them to your presence further down the hall. “Who the hell are you?!” Lambard yells, quickly turning back to his gang. “Stop the girl! We gotta get this guy out of here!” He orders, ushering the men holding Zenos down another hall.

A group of five men stay behind, chuckling to themselves. “You lost ma’am?” One taunts, cracking his knuckles as you make your way toward them.

“Get out of my way.” You respond, clenching and unclenching your fists, quickly analyzing each of them. Five on one is still a lot, and the space in this hallway is pretty tight. Looking at them you can see they’re nothing but run of the mill thugs, and should all go down pretty easily.

“Think you’re tough in your little suit, huh?” One laughs, causing the others to join in as he pulls out a gun. “Don’t want to get hurt, now do ya missy? Come over here and be sweet.”

Huffing, you march over to the band of men with your hands upraised, keeping a close eye on their gun. “This is your last warning. Get out of my way.” You snarl, finally standing before the gunman.

“No need to be that way! If you come quietly, we’ll talk it over with the boss and show you a real good time,” Now in arm’s reach you quickly disarm him, knocking his feet from under him to send him crashing to the floor. The others try to scramble into action, throwing themselves at you haphazardly. Centering yourself, you don’t pull your punches, making sure to bruise as they fall to the ground in a heap one by one. Once the last one is down, you hop over their bodies and dash down the hallway, praying they hadn’t gotten too far.

“Livia?” You call into the linkpearl, heart thundering inside your chest. You’ve lost track of them. “Livia!” You try again, spinning in circles frantically.

“What is it?!” Livia finally answers, voice crackling through the linkpearl.

“They’re trying to sneak Zenos out the back exit, I’m trying to catch up,” You get out between breaths, running down halls like a madwoman. “Tell them to reinforce the,” You yelp as you’re suddenly hit in the face, sliding to the ground as you clutch your bloodied nose.

“Well, well, looks like even the Galvuses’ lackeys break just like the rest, huh?” Lambard cackles, fine, leather shoes walking into your vision. “So what’s your name, huh? Don’t think I’ve seen you around.” He kicks you hard in your side, surprising you with his strength.

Taking a steadying breath, you push yourself up onto your elbows, fixing the Hyuran man with a deadly glare. “My name is Honey.” You spit, swiping your hand across your face, smearing your blood on your cheek.

“Honey, huh? Are you as sweet as your name?” Lambard taunts, shoving you with his foot. “I don’t understand why the bastard feels he needs so many bodyguards…” He groans, walking back toward his members that still carry Zenos. “But, since you’re here, I might be willing to run off without killing you if you can tell me a few things.” He grins, spinning to face you.

“I won’t tell you shit.” You begin pulling yourself from the floor again, willing strength into your limbs. The pain from your broken nose fades into a slight throb, allowing you to focus your breathing.

“Boss,” One of the lackeys warns, but Lambard ignores them.

“I am not running away from some girl.” Lambard snarls, eyes fixated on you. “You two! Take care of her.”

The two men holding Zenos’ legs exchange a look, but set them down to follow orders. The first one launches himself at you, swinging his fist in a wide arc. You easily slip under him, delivering a well placed uppercut to his jaw so hard you hear his teeth click together. As he clutches his face in pain, you take the chance to deliver a roundhouse kick to his face, sending him to the floor.

Shaking your hands, you take pleasure from the fear you see filling Lambard’s eyes.

The next man throws himself at you, a bit smarter than the former, keeping his fists closer to himself. He’s easy to find an opening for though, snatching his fist from midair to bend it backwards toward him, grinning darkly as you feel his bones crack in ways they’re not supposed to. Punching him square in the chest, he lands flat on his back, screaming in pain as you step hard enough on his chest to crack a rib.

“W-What...what are you?!” Lambard yells, eyes wide with fear. He backs away frantically, scrambling to get behind his last underlings. “No one moves like that! It’s unnatural! You’re a freak!” Shoving at the last two lackeys, he makes them drop Zenos as he pushes them toward you. “Get her!”

The two of them seem as afraid of you as Lambard is, unsure of whether to follow their sense of self preservation, or orders from their boss. “I said kill her!” Lambard draws his own gun, spurring the two men into action. Cursing, they don’t make the mistake of their former companions and both approach you at once, prompting you to back off. They’ve got you on the defensive, pushing you further away from the exit. One manages to get a cheap shot on you, making you stumble, giving the other the chance to grab you from behind to lock your arms together.

“Ha! Not so tough now are you?!” Lambard jeers, waving his gun at you. “So now, maybe you’ll start talkin’!”

“I told you I’m not telling you shit!” You bark, struggling against the hold of the man behind you but the second socks you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you. Exhaustion begins to set in, your muscles crying for relief.

“Yes, yes, you told me before.” Lambard groans, shaking his head, coming to kneel beside Zenos. Your eyes widen as he places the barrel of the gun directly to his head, fixing you with a cruel smile. “How about now?”

Biting your lip, you stare down at Zenos’ unconscious face. “Leave him alone.” You murmur, fixing Lambard with a pleading look. The action only serves to make him laugh, grabbing Zenos forcefully by his hair, shaking him around.

“Who is he to you? Who are you to him? Does he know you’d beg for his life? Never thought I’d see the day someone would beg me to not kill this son of a bitch.” Lambard chuckles, dropping him to the floor. “Go on. Beg me for it.”

Your mind is racing malms a minute, deciding on the best course of action. He seems more concerned with stroking his ego at having you at a disadvantage than escaping, so even if it stings your pride, you can buy yourself some time.

“Please...don’t kill him.” You beg, scared with how genuine your voice sounds. Lambard cackles loudly, clearly enjoying himself and part of you wonder if he gets off on it.

“Oh, man is this how that bastard feels? I gotta say, it feels pretty damn good.” Coming to stand before you, he gives you a taunting sneer. “Maybe I should take you with me instead? You’re a lot easier to run off with, plus I could keep you like a little trophy, hm?”

Holding your tongue (and your bile), you nod slowly. “Anything to keep him safe.” You plead, even going slack in your captors’ arms. Pleased with your submission, Lambard clutches your face in his hands, giving you an evil smirk. “Such sacrifice...what a good find you are.” He practically giggles, rubbing a thumb along your bottom lip.

“Lambard!”

All of you turn to see Livia come barreling around the corner, gun drawn as she aims straight for Lambard. Her eyes are fierce, but she doesn’t fire. “Drop your weapon!” She demands, slowly making her way toward you. Lambard only sighs, releasing your cheek as he steps away from you.

“So many lovely women keep popping up...and surely your friends aren’t so far behind. I suppose I should throw in the towel…” He sighs, shaking his head slowly as he slowly lowers himself in a crouch to place the gun on the floor. Just when it looks when he’s about to release it from his hand, everything happens in slow motion.

Hear…

Your heart feels like it’s caught in your throat, pounding in your head. The hall is quiet save for the panic outside.

Feel…

The men still hold you tightly as they watch their boss slowly lower the gun to ground. With wide eyes you watch as Lambard quickly shifts the gun in his hand at the last second to angle it toward Zenos, too quickly for Livia to react quickly enough. Alarm races through you, adrenaline once again flooding your veins.

Think....

“He has no use for anyone who is not willing to kill or be killed for him.”

“Those in power cannot afford to show weakness.”

“Kill him.”

Your mind goes blank.

Something comes over you, something unnatural, giving you the strength to free yourself from the hold of the underlings. With unfeeling, calculating hands you reach for Lambard’s head, a hand at the back and one under his chin. Gripping hard, you twist his neck with a loud snap, releasing him to fall on the floor. Turning on the guards you quickly deck one in the face hard enough to dislocate his jaw, giving him a few more blows to send him to the ground as well. The other grabs you from behind, arm around your neck in an attempt to choke you. Reaching up you grab his arm and bend over, launching him over your back to slam into the floor. You pull your gun from your blazer, aiming down, hand on the trigger.

“Don’t kill them!” Livia shouts, eyes so wide you can see the whites of them. “Honey! Don’t fire!”

Hearing your name snaps you from your trance, taking a good look at the men on the floor. His hands are held in front of his face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he trembles in fear. The gun falls from your hand onto the floor, the man jolting as it lands with a clatter. Livia approaches slowly, lowering her gun as she eyes the pile of men on the floor.

“Rookie…” Her voice is but a harsh whisper, peppered with disbelief and shock.

You do not hear her.

“Rhitahtyn...the culprits have been apprehended.” Livia speaks into her linkpearl, turning away to go check on Zenos. “Have an ambulance come around, quickly, for the young master…” She pauses, glancing at your frozen form over her shoulder.

“And one for the rookie too.”

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

[crystalelemental]

“kisant: I also think that if they combined 6+7 they should update the mechanics around supports and child units. Honestly, I don't think 7's supports should have been as restricted as they were in the first place, because I also missed on lore to focus on getting the pairing I wanted. A way to update the games for a remake would be to simply add more child characters in Roy's game, change Karla's recruitment to happen earlier in the game (there are other arenas before the one she appears in) and allow for platonic supports as well as romantic supports, because only being allowed to get one A support and one B support was pretty shitty. For characters like Rath, they could also add more female supports for him with existing characters.  After all, shadows of valentia also added supports between characters (there were none in the original game) and a ton of new mechanics, so a 6+7 remake should also update those.”

This is going to be a somewhat subjective take, but we are operating on entirely different wavelengths, because everything about this is exactly what I think is the worst possible outcome.

Let me start with a statement I have made before and will make again and again until I die: infinite supports are not inherently good.  I think Three Houses proved they can (mostly) be done well, but infinite supports cause you to lose things that finite supports have going for them that don’t often get acknowledged.  A big one just being a streamlined gaming experience and adding replay value.  Infinite supports don’t encourage doing anything different at any point when combined with the free battle system.  You just take like 10 hours out of your life to try and fill out to log, mindlessly beating unthreatening maps that just kind of exist for the sake of doing this exact thing.  Finite supports may mean you have to replay the game to get a different chain, but you don’t slow down your current playthrough to unlock them (unless you’re farming support by ending turn on a seize the throne map, which wasn’t the intended method anyway), and you now have a reason to play through the game again to get something different.  That hidden lore is meant to be hidden, it’s something you stumble upon in a later playthrough when you decide to go for Canas and Renault’s supports, as opposed to their other options.  There was something worth replaying the game for.  “Customizable kid units add replay value” I’ll get to that.

The other thing that’s lost is consistency.  I’ve been on and off replaying Birthright lately, and one thing that still stands out as a problem is that, with infinite supports, nothing ever comes of those supports.  When you have a character like, say, Oboro, whose main thing is hating Nohrians, and a bunch of her supports with Nohrian characters is about overcoming that, it kinda lessens the significance when you hit that A-support and she seems to have learned that lesson, only to start up the next C-support and be right back where you were before, as if nothing happened.  Three Houses also has this problem, I feel, at least when it comes to romance.  You have all these A-supports that end with shades of romance, and then you can just...not have their paired ending.  Getting a heartfelt moment that’s shared between the two characters, and then having each go on to have similar heartfelt moments with like four other romantic options, kinda cheapens the value of their dynamic.  Finite supports don’t have this problem.  When you limit supports, that A-support matters, and the fact that there’s variety aside from romance for baby purposes makes them more meaningful.

Look at Awakening, where this problem started.  Look at how vast that support log is, and tell me how much of it was meaningful, as opposed to empty joke supports or a desperate struggle to come up with a reason these characters are married now.  You have a character like Cordelia, who is decisively not over Chrom at all, marrying literally anyone but him, and you have to just deal with that throughout supports.  Or Tharja, who is obsessed with Robin but can marry other people because kid necessity, even though most of the time she barely has feelings for them at all.  Even with supports that are romantic, you get shit like Sumia just baking Chrom pies over and over and that’s enough for romance.  There’s no depth.  Awakening doesn’t have much in the same vein as Eliwood and Ninian or Nino and Jaffar.  And the reason?  Quantity over Quantity is the name of the game with kid units.

Awakening and Fates are too busy making customization for the kids that they forgot to make sufficiently meaningful supports.  It’s so severe that even the good pairings suffer.  Chrom and F!Robin is widely considered the most canon pairing, and even they have an entire support level dedicated to a joke about how Chrom walked in on her in the bath one time.  Supports suffer when you’re forcing a child system that demands variety, so adding more children characters and more support options to make children characters is going to mean support quality takes a hit.

Not to mention, again, how much that hinders the characters.  “We need more kid characters for Binding Blade, because that game didn’t have enough characters yet!  Quick, make Priscilla have a kid!”  So now, instead of the interesting dynamic she had where she rejects every possible love interest, we have to either re-write that A-support to be reciprocated (boring) or add in another S-support where she reverses that decision (stupid).  “Bartre needs to have Fir, better add other options!”  Cool, so we’re just tossing the whole aspect of Karel being her uncle, which is something explored and explained in Binding Blade.  Like why should Bartre talk to Karel at all if he didn’t marry his sister?  Oops, I guess it’s fine, we’ll just get rid of that touching moment of Bartre apologizing to him for her death.  Not like that was a great moment for character building, we have kids to make!  “We need Rath to have more options than just Lyn, let’s include Isadora as an option!”  Great!  Now the character who doesn’t have other romance options because she’s in love with Harken and believes he’ll return to her one day suddenly has the ability to just drop that aspect of her character entirely for the sake of making babies.  Like imagine turning her support with Legault from just an amicable thing where he’s reminiscent about the old Black Fang and feels the current army is comfortable around to go “Actually it was all because I want to make babies with you.”  Lame as hell.

And double lame because it removes the fact that he’s kinda flirting with Heath.  Sure, Heath isn’t reciprocating, but like...one of the nice things about Three Houses was that it could include gay pairing ending cards, because there were no kids.  You could have things like Petra and Dorothea, or Marianne and Hilda, and that’s just treated as an equally valuable and reasonable outcome.  All of that is dead instantly upon introducing kids, because you need multiple parent options or the system falls apart and stagnates.  And in making a wide enough variety of options, there’s just no room to leave a character with their gay pairing.  It just isn’t something they’d bother to include when the focus is on making children characters, so say goodbye to that.

There’s just...no good outcome with kids.  I like the Awakening kids, but ultimately it’s just not a good tradeoff with the current approach in Fire Emblem.  Genealogy kinda made it work, but only because that game didn’t even have supports.  I want the remake to include supports to develop people’s personalities, but I’m honestly worried they won’t come out that well because of the fixation on children.  Echoes added supports too, but like...okay, yeah, how well did those go?  Which ones do you really remember?  Because mostly fandom seems to remember Faye’s because of how much they hated hers, and maybe Genny and Sonya because it was cute.  Almost everything else often gets forgotten anyway.  So not exactly a great example on the benefits of adding a bunch of supports to a game that already had a strong system.

I know they’re going to add unlimited supports, though.  I know they will, because that’s been the way of things since Awakening.  I want to believe that, because they held true to a lot of the mechanics of Gaiden with Echoes, that they’ll do the same with the Elibe games.  But they won’t.  I just...really hope they don’t combine the games, because knowing that, there is absolutely no positive outcome for a combo game given the demands of a child system.

#kisant #fire emblem #in which I am once again yelling about supports being better in my day