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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

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Empires on the Horizon XVI

Jason is a CEO: Part XVI

okay wow it has been a hooottt minute since i’ve updated a multi-chap fic and an even hotter minute since i’ve updated this one. so here’s a recap:

jase and zoe broke up, because she is being forced by her father to marry someone else (who that may be is yet to be revealed). jason has finally had enough and at the insistence of his friends he packs up on a holiday to Panarea (in italy) where he is delightedly shocked to discover Percy Jackson is currently working, and oh no.....would you look at that......the hotel messed up their reservations and now they have to share the same room, and the same bed. lmao they’re dorks.

here’s how the last chapter ended:

“Let’s just stay together? We’re friends. We know each other, we trust each other, and it’ll be less hassle than trying to find a room for either of us.”

“But there’s only one bed?” His brain was short-circuiting.

It shut down altogether when the man before him smirked. “Well i can keep my hands to myself, if you promise to.”

“I-” What is stopping him from saying yes? Why should he say no?

“It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Percy’s expression was so gentle, and it turned every weathered rock in Jason to gemstone.

“Yes.” He said firmly. “Let’s share the room.”

It was only when they got back to the hotel did Jason realise they were still holding hands. He wondered if they’d find each other like that in their dreams too. They did.

masterlist; my links

Jason awoke to an arm slung over his waist and soft breaths fanning the bare skin of his back. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing with it the heat that was sure to get unbearable. He thought he’d feel uncomfortable with someone touching him in weather like this but Percy seemed to be cool, and gods did he look cute with his messy black curls, and brown skin that absorbed rays of light and turned it into magic.

They had promised each other that they’d keep to their sides of the bed and refrain from mauling one another in the night, but it seemed like they had gravitated together anyhow. And Percy was certainly a cuddler.

A knock sounded and with groaning realisation he saw the clock on the wall read ten am. They were out later than either of them had realised.

“Jackson,” He nudged the man gently, “I think you need to get up.”

A mumbled response sunk into his skin as soft lips brush against his back. Jason went completely still, the sensation running along his nerves like hot wires.

“You okay?” Another mumble filtered through his delirium.

“I’m fine,” He managed to choke out, “I think we need to get up though. Room service is already here.”

That sparked movement. Suddenly green eyes were wide open, and cheeks, streaked with the creases of the pillow, were red with panic. “What is the time?”

“It’s ten am,” He pointed to the clock.

“Fuck!” Percy practically leaped out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the door frame as he skidded into the bathroom.

Jason heard the shower go on, and an electric toothbrush whirr to life, and then he heard a multitude of curse words, a loud bang and some groans of pain.

“Er,” He should go in there and make sure his friend was still alive. “Jackson?” He stepped into the bathroom and was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him.

There, tangled in his pants, toothpaste stains on his face, and the shower soaking the bathroom floor was Dr. Percy Jackson.

“Do you need help?”

“This is not how this morning was supposed to go,” The dark-haired man garbled, looking hopelessly at the mess he had created.

Jason hid a smile as he bent down to help tug Percy’s pants off him, “And how was the morning supposed to go.”

Green eyes clashed with his, the toothbrush still whirring in his mouth. “I was supposed to wake up early and order a buffet for breakfast and then as we stuffed ourselves-” he cut off, choking on the toothpaste.

Jason couldn’t hide his amusement, and burst out laughing at Percy’s subsequent glare. Standing up and tossing the pants in the wash basket, he offered his hand to his friend, who took it gratefully before heading to the sink to finish brushing his teeth.

“What were we going to do while we ate?” He asked, leaning against the basin, one leg crossed over the other.

“I was going to feed you maple-covered waffles and answer some emails, and you were going to read that book I know you brought.”

“Are we an old married couple in this scenario?” He quirked a brow, lips twitching.

Percy frowned, stripping off his underwear and stepping into the heat of the shower. “I’m just trying to start our future early.”

Jason watched those glorious back muscles ripple, as water streaked down, but he refused to follow its path, not daring to go lower than the small dip of that spine. He didn’t even know why he was still in the bathroom, why he was being such a creeper, but his feet were superglued to the floor. He couldn’t move even if a crowbar tried to pry him away.

“Are you not agreeing with my vision?” A muffled voice drifted around him.

He attempted to come back to reality but it was proving near impossible. “Uh no-” He stuttered, “I think it’s a solid plan.” His eyes traced the sharp angles of that jaw, and the strong-bridged nose, and black hair matted to beautiful brown skin. He was sure he was dreaming. There could be no other explanation for the surrealness of the moment.

“Jase?” Percy touched his arm gently, skin hot from the shower. “You okay?”

He startled into the world so fast he felt dizzy. Where on earth had he gone? To another dimension it seemed. “Oh gods i’m so sorry,” He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I just watched you shower like a complete pervert.”

His friend smirked, and then he was laughing. “Who says i didn’t enjoy it?”

The blush that raced across his skin was enough to dull rubies. He didn’t know where to look, or how to breathe, or what he was made of. He was simply an untied balloon barreling towards the nearest thorn bush. “You,” He managed to choke, “Are going to be the death of me doctor.”

“Good,” He heard the smirk like violins, “Maybe then I won't feel like I'm falling straight to the bottom of the ocean all by myself.”

Jason peeked through his fingers, watching as Percy finished up and flitted around the room, trying to still the heart that threatened to beat out his rib cage and into a drum set. It was an ache in his chest, how much he felt for this man. How much he wanted him.

“So i’m going to be in and out for the next few days but i’m going to work my butt off so i can have Thursday and Friday off. I’m sorry for being a terrible roommate but i don’t think i’ll make meals until then.” He could see the regret in the doctor’s eyes, turning that vibrant green a shade like dying leaves.

“No,” He shook his head, “Seriously it’s not a problem. You do what you have to.” He couldn’t believe his friend felt bad for leaving him, when they hadn’t even known they’d be here together. It said enough about Percy's character that Jason was trying very hard not to bundle the man up in blankets and kiss his cheeks until the guilt of the past stopped carving valleys between his brows. Instead he hugged him, accidentally letting his lips brush against Percy's neck, just above his collar as he pulled away. Accidentally. The squeeze at his waist let him know his accident was well received.

“Goodbye Jackson.” He smiled as he watched the doctor race down the hall. A ringed wave was the response before he disappeared around the corner.

Jason closed the door, leaning against it with an expression made from coffee foam and whipped cream. He couldn't imagine a morning as peaceful as that one, not in days, months, years? With a satisfied sigh he flopped back into bed, inhaling the ocean scent of Percy that lingered across the sheets like cool waters on a summer evening. The plan for the day was that there was no plan. Thalia had chosen well by booking this little place. He wouldn’t be distracted by touristy things ergo he couldn’t possibly do anything else but relax. So he snuggled into the pillows and stared at the ceiling and fell half asleep and listened to the wind and felt the heat creep across his skin and he just let himself be.

His thoughts were as wild as the tides and sometimes they spilled like ocean water across his cheeks. But then he’d drift off to a dream and wake up to the sound of people laughing and cars sputtering and footsteps stomping past his door and all of a sudden nothing felt too far away.

He was sad. He was sad enough to wonder if sadness was all he knew. His ex boyfriend, who he had loved like stars loved darkness, had broken down his dream and rebuilt it as a nightmare. He managed to wake up. His girlfriend, who he could have loved given time, had tied all the fraying parts of his heart to the wheel of a car and pressed accelerate. He managed to cut himself free. His girlfriend, who he had loved outright and bold, had danced him to the edge of a cliff and left him with one foot already going over. Had he managed to catch himself before reaching the bottom?

It was a question that kept him occupied through the day. Through the breakfast he ate slowly. Through the sleep he found restlessly when his mind wouldn’t focus on the book he’d brought. Through the very late lunch he gobbled down like his stomach would start a rebellion if it didn’t get it’s due. Through the golden sunset he sat at the window and watched.

But it was finally when he sunk to the floor of the shower, letting the water hit his back like welcome rain, that he had an answer; and with it the question of “What came next?” That answer, he knew, would come later. Clear and bright and ready to be grabbed with teeth and hands and love.

So he finished his shower, and changed into loose cotton pants and a shirt that he didn’t bother to button. A walk on the beach didn’t require formality.

The sand was soft on his feet, different to the way New York beaches felt. And the ocean was a richer blue, as if he were being introduced to colour for the first time and this was how water was supposed to look. He supposed places like this weren’t called paradise on earth for nothing. The last dregs of sunlight skittered across the water, as if playing with it. His fingers itched to paint the scene but with nothing but the sand at his fingertips he simply took in the view, and let his mind form the painting he couldn’t.

The air was cooler here, not as sticky, but that didn’t mean the heat wasn’t ever present, scorching the sand like coal hearths. His feet would be blistered if it weren’t so late into the evening. Any earlier and he may have been hopping around like a scared crab. The image was enough to make him giggle to himself. It’s a sound he misses, and one he loved enough to leave him smiling.

“Care to share, comedian?” A smooth voice called from behind him.

He turned around, whipped faster than the wind, to see Percy walking towards him, a grin on his handsome face.

“I was picturing myself as a scared crab.”

Dark eyebrows raised in confusion, before rich laughter burst into the air. Jason swore it turned the night into magic. “Maybe I should have left you in peace.” The doctor shook his head.

“Who says you’re disrupting it?” He tilted his head, before starting on his walk once more.

He didn’t see the look that crossed his friend’s face, like comfort turned to being.

“What did you do today?”

“Self reflection,” He said into the air, into the world, into himself. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, a little lab work here, a little analysis there.” Percy shrugged.

“Tell me more,” He prompted.

The look of surprise on his friend’s face made him want to throttle anyone who’s ever stopped this man from talking.

“You sure?” It was hesitant, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t promise to understand everything so I may have questions but if you’re willing to indulge me I want to hear all about it.”

With a look that spoke of worlds beyond their comprehension Percy launched into a detailed play-by-play of his day. He answered every question with patience and sparkling eyes, and there were many questions. By the time they got back to their hotel the crescent moon was their only source of light in the inky blackness of the sky and his stomach was growling enough that he knew he couldn’t afford to snack for supper.

“Want to go to the restaurant for dinner?” He tilted his head to the opposite side of the lobby where grand doors opened and closed periodically.

“I uh,” His friend winced, “I have some work today so i’m going to head to the room.”

“Okay,” He shrugged smiling, “I’ll meet you up there later.”

“Uh yea,” Percy’s face held an expression he didn’t quite know how to interpret. “See you then.”

“Want me to bring something up for you?”

“No, no, don’t worry about me.” Black curls bounced as he shook his head.

They parted ways, Jason only slightly confused by the weird turn his friend’s mood took, and decided he’d bring back a chocolate brownie if nothing else.

As he sat down at a table, observing the grand balustrades and curtained windows he felt suddenly alone. It wasn’t a feeling he let himself be consumed by but just the fact that it was there had him reaching for his phone. With a few taps he was calling Leo, knowing it’d be early morning for them.

“Hello,” A cheery voice crackled through his earphone. It was enough to settle all the worried nerves hidden between his ribcage.

Their conversation was bright and energetic, Leo being a morning person; he even got a few grunts out of Annabeth, who was decidedly not. Everything was okay with his company and more importantly his friends were fine.

“I found a person we know here,” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice and excitement quiet.

“Who?” Leo was practically vibrating. Even Annabeth looked at the camera with blurry eyed curiosity.

“Uh Percy.” He scratched the back of his neck, shyness crawling across his skin.

“Oh,” His friend’s eyes widened. “What is he doing there?”

“Work,” This was fine. This was safe. Nobody was jumping to any conclusions.

“Are you sure you didn’t run away to get married?”

And there went all his hope of having reasonable friends. “No!” He hissed. “And besides I didn't run away, you guys forced me to go.”

“Well it’s done you good. I can finally see some colour in those pasty cheeks.” Brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

Before Jason could respond another call was interrupting. “Zoe Nightshade” flashed across the screen.

“Uh Leo,” He frowned at his phone. “I’ll call you back.”

“Everything okay?” He heard the worry like tv static.

“I hope so.” The furrow between his brows didn’t disappear.

And then he hung up on his best friend and answered the other call.

“Oh Jason,” Relief flooded in his ear like water in a drought. “Thank you for answering.” The smooth voice of his ex-girlfriend reached him.

“Zoe,” His nerves were bow-string taught. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

“I need your help.” She answered. She sounded desperate. “I can’t marry Octavian.”

Jason Grace nearly falls off the cliff.

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Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leyontheway

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

@legendary-cupcake

@larrikin-is-a-himbo

#empires on the horizon #part 16 #pjjg fanfic #pjjg series #jercy #jercy fanfic #jason grace #percy jackson #grace #percy #jackson #jason #i loved searching for moodboard images for this one #i got to stare at muscles and hands for hooouurrrssss

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mosspetal · 3 years

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whats ur hcs for the modern thunderclan background characters?

ok so I think I’ll just do spotfur’s generation, bc that’s the one I’m Emotionally Attached to

Spotfur

-kinda the de facto leader of the group

-very perceptive and has absurdly good intuition but nobody believes her

-master procrastinator

-large crowds can be overwhelming, especially when she was younger, because of all the Feelings(tm) clashing in the air

-big buff and fluff, can bench press every cat in modern ThunderClan

-bi demigirl

-what no I’m not projecting slythfhvhbtrfv

Stemleaf:

-doesn’t Understand people

-very good planner

-the only reason Spotfur gets anything done

-a lot more warm and genuine around spot and Briss than the other apprentices

-hates his entire family except for eaglewing

-pan

-twiggy stick man, skinny and tufty

-was a douche as an apprentice but after having a very emotional confrontation with Spotfur he got better

Briss:

-doesn’t really people but isn’t a big organizer either

-master hugger

-smol and droopy-furred

-bi and aro

-especially close to her dad

Flipclaw

-tall and awkward

-has a goatee

-sokoke tabby

-rlly close to his cousin Lightleap

-the two of them are glorious wholesome friends together

-had a definite crush on Feather

-disaster bi

Thriftear

-very agile and quick

-spotfur’s rival

-lowkey evil but not an actual threat yet

-plumstone’s best friend

-good liar

-mild douchebag

-too busy scheming to worry about romance

Plumstone

-disaster lesbian

-she and Spotfur used to be best friends but plumstone kinda screwed her over and now they hate each other

-basically just the popular mean girl stereotype

-kinda hates her parents but isn’t gonna do anything about it

Shellfur

-dumb

-if thriftear, plumstone, and him were the plastics he’d be Karen

-literally just an idiot that’s his entire personality

-also kinda a jerk but not as bad as the other two

-trans, gay, and ace

-him and leafshade are best friends, ultimate mlm-wlw solidarity

Eaglewing

-babey!!!

-absolute babey

-how did such a dysfunctional family produce such a babey? idk

-dating flywhisker

-functional pan

-only one of her siblings that was never terrible

-fluffy and soft, would make a good bed

-probably loved briarlight as a kit and was very sad when she died

Flywhisker

-adhd

-still kinda traumatized by twigbranch tbh

-disaster lesbian

-has been crushing hard on eaglewing since they were apprentices

-when she was younger she was Anxiety Incarnate

-now she’s a lot more confident

-surprisingly good at roasting ppl

Snaptooth

-as dumb as his dad but much less short-tempered

-enjoys roasting ppl but isn’t as good at it as his sis

-trans and het

-is this an au or a headcanon? idk but I hc that his litter was adopted and they’re descended from the sisters, he can see ghosts

-can we pls have snaptooth and rootspring bonding moments

BONUS ROUND

playing among us

Spotfur: an amazing crewmate and a decent impostor. god-tier intuition but nobody believes her so she just accuses the impostor of venting, she’s right

Stemleaf: a good crewmate and a good impostor. notices a lot of little clues that others would miss. finishes tasks efficiently enough but prefers to vote out the impostor

Briss: a good crewmate and a terrible impostor. nervous and bad at lying, and whenever she’s impostor she kills in front of a witness, and vents to another one, and it’s a disaster. when she’s a crewmate she finishes her tasks super fast and camps cams for the rest of the round. most likely to get framed out of everyone

Flipclaw: just generally bad at the game. is really bad at hiding it when he dies. always gets stuck on the swipe card task, hates Simon Says and calibrate distributor, will not go into electrical without a buddy

Thriftear: a good crewmate an an amazing impostor. really good at lying but also really good at not being noticed. ridiculously trigger happy but manages to pull it off. she and Spotfur trade kills so much to the point where if one of them dies first it’s clear who the impostor is

Plumstone: a decent crewmate and a decent impostor. she loves when she and thriftear are the impostors together. relies super heavily on sabotages. when she’s a crewmate she finishes her tasks but isn’t good at figuring out the impostor

Shellfur: bad at the game but in a funny way. will always vote stemleaf no matter what. perpetually sus. not good at tasks and can never remember his alibi

Eaglewing: a good crewmate and a bad impostor. always feels guilty when she kills someone. good at voting the right people out but doesn’t trust her own intuition, actually knows how to use doorlog

Flywhisker: a decent crewmate and a good impostor. camps admin. uses the vents all the time. isn’t good at tasks but never skips a vote. always catches impostors in weird, clever ways

Snaptooth: an okay crewmate and a decent impostor. really trigger happy but unlike thriftear he’s not good at it. him and shellfur as impostors are the ultimate chaotic duo. never uses sabotage. stans the tree task, probably watches tree task asmr or something

#Spotfur #stemleaf #bristlefrost #flipclaw #thriftear #plumstone #shellfur #eaglewing #flywhisker #Snaptooth

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soft-pentagon · 4 years

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If you and the owners of all the other big pentagon blogs would have a sword battle to the death, who would win? Who would lose? Who do you reckon is secretly a good swordsman?

Okay so this is a really fun ask but since it's not my place to decide on who are the "other big ptg blogs" I'll just do it with some of my mutuals! I hope it's okay~ I GOT WAY TOO INTO THIS ASHSJSNSM IT’S REALLY EXTRA AND DRAMATIC

It's the year 18XX, we're fighting for survival, only death or life ahead. There's many powerful uni legends that are going to confront eachother but only the strongest will remain. The prize you ask? Jo jinho's blessing, Jo Jinho's approval, he the glorious will name the winner as the official, the only and THE BEST swordman in existence.

The competitors are @kihno (E) @pentangels (Milda) @antihongseok-network (Escher) @yeosprout (summer) @soft-pentagon (me) @yeocxlt (Sumi) @astarwithhismoon (Andrew) @chiveburger (Candice) @wooseoks (cat) @airportver (aleks) @incorrect-pentagon (Dani) @hongshoes (Mel)

And then IT BEGGINS!

1) It starts of with Sumi VS Andrew. A tragic destiny 😔 siblings fighting... Couldn't have been pared in a worse way,, but it's life! Sumi dies because she's really clumsy.... Actually it wasn't andrew who killed her... She stumbled, hit her head and BAAM GONE!!! we couldn't even appreciate her sword skills 😔😔😔 anyways ANDREW WINNER OF THE FIRST ROUND!

2) Cat VS Aleks. A tough fight I'd say.... They'd probably rather be drinking tea then fighting so they aren't doing it that enthusiastically.... aleks eventually stabs cat because she wanted to be done with it fast, she has more stuff to do, no mercy 😔. ALEKS WINNER OF THE SECOND ROUND.

3) Me VS Mel. A fight between lovers, well at least one sided 😔. I was in love with Mel but she didn't knew, plus she was on a relationship with the wicked fool hongseok,,, she the, oH SO POWERFUL Mel, showed how skillful with the sword she was, she stabbed me multiple times. As I was lying on the floor, blood coming out non stop, tears of bitter unsaid feelings, I looked her and the eyes and I said: "Hong ain't shit". As I close my eyes and let my last breath poetry was made. MEL THE WINNER OF THE THIRD ROUND.

4) Escher VS Milda. Two big candidates, both skilled on their art. But Escher has a weakness 😔 shinwon is watching, shinwon who escher hates (read as "loves"), shinwon who she wants to prove wrong. Previously the competition they bet, Escher she'd win whoever she'd confront EXCEPT Milda, she was too powerful, a brave soul. Shinwon joked and bet Escher would win even against milda. They started to argue, it wouldn't stop... And so we back to the present day, the competition day: Escher who always knew she couldn't win the talented milda, perished. She might have lost the competition BUT she won the bet with shinwon, she looked at shinwon and she whispered: "Told you so dumb bitch." MILDA WINNER OF THE FORTH ROUND.

5) E VS Dani: An unusual situation these two found themselves into. Dani was the royal fool, the funniest bitch in the kingdom, E was the most beautiful and charming lady you, a mere peasant, would ever put your eyes into. How and why were they fighting for life you ask? Well the oh glorious god who's writting this decided so. Anyways,, Dani dropkicks E, she falls, Dani feels bad and helps E get back on her feet, E, beautiful BUT ALSO sneaky as a fox, dropkicks back, Dani falls with her head and dies. As previously has happened to her cousin Sumi,,, being a fool runs in the family. E WINS THE FIFTH ROUND.

6) Summer VS Candice. Finally, the clash of titans. Friends to rivals. Candice, a poet who used to write the most enduring essays about ptg, wasn't experienced on how to use a sword even, but she was there because she wanted to slap summer at least once. I'm not sure why, maybe she got tired of all of her kinks publicity shown on twitt*r, or whatever that was at that time, the only certainty was the slap had to be delivered. And it was indeed delivered but summer got sad so she killed Candice. Fast and efficient. SUMMER WINS THE FIFTH ROUND.

As the first wave of the competition was done only 6 candidates were remaining. We are jumping right into it because the story is getting long.

7) Andrew VS Aleks. Andrew was a kid.... Aleks, a weakling at the heart, could never hurt a kid.... Andrew also could never hurt another person..... How could this keep going then? Aleks eventually gave the first and final stroke 😔 Andrew had to go, aleks is a busy person. ALEKS WINNER OF THE SEVENTH ROUND.

8) Mel VS Milda. Two of the strongest in town, no one could compare. They fought. Blood, sweat and tears were spilled, no one wanted to lose, it lasted one hour but eventually 😔 milda delivered the final blow. Mel, on her dying moments looked up to the sky, peaceful. She felt her heart get warm and she said "now that I'm dying maybe Hong really ain't shit". And I think that's beautiful. MILDA WINNER OF THE EIGHTH ROUND.

9) E VS Summer. Tragic fate once again.... They were long lost childhood friends. A truly TRAGIC destiny of having to meet in these conditions 😔😔😔 E a beautiful lady with sadly no knowledge in the sword art died by summer hands. Summer again was sad. SUMMER WINNER OF THE NINTH ROUND.

As we enter the final round, 3 candidates will fight for life and for Jo jinho's blessings. Who will be the so called master of the sword?

10) Aleks VS Milda VS Summer. The best of the best. Aleks is so tired of it she's DONE so she somehow manages run away and goes take care of her own business. Milda and summer remain. A battle written in the stars I'd say. Both aquas, both skilled, both unstoppable. They fight all night long, no rest, no water, no food, only blood. Eventually summer can't do it anymore, she's EXHAUSTED, she's no longer sad, she let all her stress go, she's in a peaceful state of mind for once. Milda thinks "it's my opportunity", she runs towards summer and she delivers the finally strike..... SIKE...... They end up killing jinho because WHO decided!!!! HE!??! COULD declared who the best swordman is?? Tf??? In this economy???? Milda helps summer get up and that's, that's how the kingdom of aquas starts.

THE END

#anon #ask #this is so dramatic ffs agabsnsms i feel like I'm going to jail because of this #ALSO GUYS AHGSHS IM SORRY FOR THIS

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insane-control-room · 5 years

Text

Make a Claim

A collaborative work with the wonderful, incredible, lovely, @randomwriteronline (ilysm <<<333)

ao3 link here

inspired by her fic The Thought

After a grave mistake, the doctor finally asks him, plain as day, to make their claim their own.

“I am at my wits end, Bandit!” Doc Carver muttered in a loss as he repaired the foolhardy puppet’s strings. “I have tried everything - letters, poems, offers to help him, repair him, even repainting his chipped coat! I cannot understand how a man can be so, so oblivious!”

Bandit did not say anything, merely sighing. He was used to the Doctor’s spiel at this point.

“And to add insult to injury...! After I repainted him, he hugged me, and I felt so overjoyed, but…” a noise of frustration broke out of the taller puppet’s mouth piece. “It was too short lived! And then he ran off, and I, like a coward, was too dumbfounded and startled to even try and go after him, so I didn’t follow. Ugh, that was just simply pathetic, wasn’t it, Bandit?”

“Dunno, doc,” he shrugged. “Never tried courtin’ someone, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Carver grumbled. “You know, you’re a great listener, Bandit.”

Looking into Bandit’s tired, cold, dead eyes, one could see that yes, he did in fact know he was a good listener, especially after having to hear these exact words being told to him a plethora of times. Far too many times, in his opinion. Doc had a bad habit of repeating himself, nearly as bad a habit as Banker’s natural stutter. But, honestly, Bandit did not really mind - it was comforting to have some sort of repetition, something natural and flowing, a familiar back and forth between the attempts at not dying any time he stepped outside of his few friends’ sight.

So he just stood, with the face of someone who was about to doze the hell off, as Carver grumbled away his woes and stitched his strings up. To the doctor's reminder to take care of himself, he replied with a firm thumbs up, and then he waddled awkwardly into what in an episode might have been the glorious sunset, but in this case was only another door through to the wild.

Leaving the good doctor alone. Wooden fingers drummed against the unpolished counter of his workstation, filling the deathly quiet world with a steady rhythm. An impatience filled his head, that constant nagging feeling to do something, anything. Instantly his thoughts turned to the Banker, the sweet, timid, scared Banker, and those thoughts curled around daring ideas and wishes like ivy growing steadily on an old house's wall; he shoved them away, just as the Banker had shoved him away. Yet they kept coming back, filling his mind over and over. Carver leaned against the wall heavily with the soft thud of wood on wood, rubbing at his face with a grumble. Another day, another lovesick time. He smiled wryly to himself, humoring his conundrum. A doctor's worst patient is themself, he concluded bitterly, and he could not heal his own aching heart, despite his biggest efforts. He slid down the wall, trying to quell his murmuring mind, so absolutely wanting, no, craving, no, needing another’s touch. Specifically, the gentle, shaky, newly restored touch of Banker. But it was not like he could just, just up and ask him! Oh, goodness, no! The gall, the audacity! Carver scowled, stuffing his hands into his pockets, then took out, picking up his saw to go out into the wild. He was running short on needle and thread anyways, especially with how often Bandit was getting himself de-stringed nowadays.

So he would return to his old place, murder decimate destroy harvest some aracknits, and pick up more thread.

On his way, he encountered a bank booth. He only got a glimpse of something - or rather, someone, a particular someone who wore a shirt of the same light blue as that of the sleeves he saw retreating into the dark right before leaving the place completely empty. Carver stared at the empty bank for a little, recalling the man that had been in it but moments before. Then, with a heavy, sorrowful sigh, he forced his legs to move past it. It would not have done much for either of them anyways, standing in front of each other, waiting for something to happen, and that yet, knowing their clashing natures, simply never would. Hefting his saw over his shoulder, he crept into Dead Man’s Gulch -- and then into the place he used to call home.

The sound of the spider-like creatures sent shivers up his wooden spine, the inebriating thrill of the hunt filling his chest. He forced himself to keep calm and still his nerves, knowing the adrenaline rushing in what he could consider veins would only give him shaky hands, like those of the Banker he so cherished. But he could not risk having them, not now. He silently stalked through the halls, a thin and lithe coyote between hazy sand stone creeping up to its prey.

A distinctly recognizable sound caught his attention. Ah-ha!, he thought, crouching furtively out of sight. There it was: one of those awful little yarn devils, scuttling around in the shade of the doctor's old home with his needle tick-tick-ticking all over the wooden floor. A quick, painless bounty of thread for the blade of Carver's saw. The Doc slowly crept closer and closer, trying to hide the glint of his weapon from his eyeless prey, sneaking forward without letting himself make a single sound…

A fulminous zac!, and the aracknit dissolved into a bunch of strings with four needles attached.

Carver grinned, at least, the best he could with a solid mouth, satisfied. He still got it.

He stopped to gather the materials, keeping himself from humming and attracting too many of the little beasties. A skittering passed behind him. He froze, readying his saw once more. He turned his head ever so slowly, his motions nearly unperceivable... An aracknit rushed by, and he swung, missing, his saw flying out of his nervous grip. He swore under his breath, chasting his own hastiness and going to retrieve it, but another spider ran by him and stole it from under his reaching hand. A hiss, long and slow, and so, so, so very many quiet, ticking aracknits. He tried to creep out of his corner, but found every stealthy pass blocked by yarny webs. Without a weapon, there was no way he could go through an open area. He would lose his strings in a matter of seconds if he even attempted to do so! Color slowly drained out of his vision, and he cursed his worsening luck. He could feel his wooden heart beat, faster and faster. More scampering. He demanded of himself to slow his breathing, and could not.

“Well, well, well, well, well,” the air turned cold. The supposed to be jolly and high voice creaked and rasped lowly, angrily, softly, dangerously. “What, or rather, who, do we have here, caught in the webs of his own prey?”

Carver stayed silent, going at a crawl to the thinnest web, planning on breaking through it and making a mad dash to the exit. The sound of the Faceless Bandit’s three footsteps clacked loudly in the still, dusty air, the scampering aracknits now far too quiet in comparison to the terrifying approach. Perhaps because they too, as simpleminded as a bug of raw yarn can be, could not help but being afraid of the scarred danger slowly coming closer.

“I didn’t know you were Dr. Jekyll,” Faceless chuckled, making the wood of Carver’s back to ripple in disgust. “Seeing that you’re playing around with Mr. Hyde.”

Doc Carver scowled. Goodness, how much he despised the other’s use of terrible puns.

“Stop playing around, my dear Doctor,” his words turned the land foul. The dead shivered and rose, disturbed from what should have been their peaceful eternal rest. “You can’t avoid me forever, you know….”

‘Yeah, right’, Carver rolled his eyes, then refocused onto the web he planned on escaping through. He poised himself to run, breathing in, waiting for Faceless to turn around… and the moment he did, he bolted with a, “Ha !”

It was a mistake.

A grave one.

Of course it was all planned out, of course there would not be a weak spot. After all, wherever a bone breaks, it becomes stronger than before.

Dozens and dozens of aracknits surrounded him, wooly fangs bared. Some trembled, others ducked away, and Carver realized that--

“They listen to me,” Faceless droned behind him. He grew very still. “Out of fear, yes, but still… aren’t they so cute? So sweet? So helpful?”

The doctor ran into the crowd of the small eight legged monsters, the spiders parting like a sea, but also like a sea, instantly drove back.

An aracknit jumped at Carver, and he tried to bat it away with his open arm, but it just scampered onto him, leaving a woven strand over his wrist, and jumped away.

Another did the same to his other side, and he struggled even more, despite the fact that he was given less and less ability to do so.

He felt a string snap, and his left leg gave out, leaving him stumbling to the ground. Second came the right arm. He screamed, not to ask for help, knowing no one would hear him, but to try and bolster his own strength: he bashed an aracknit down and restringed him arm, then going back to fighting with every ounce of strength he could have found desperately still kicking in his wooden limbs.

The aracknits kept coming, the few dozens that were cornering him turning into a swarm that only grew bigger at every turn of his head, crawling out of every single nook and cranny. They bit down on his strings almost faster than he could sew them back up (but luckily, not quite as fast), all while stabbing his legs with their small damned needles as they attempted to climb him, possibly to feed off of him, maybe to try to escape their terrifying master by reaching the top of the doctor's head.

Carver felt their webs wrap around him, pulling him back, swirling around him tight, tighter than the knot of a noose, tying him to the ground and the walls, nearly forcing him on his knees. He screamed - not to be heard, not to gather strength: he screamed in pure terror, almost as though he hoped the sound of his voice would delay the inevitable.

A fly. He was a fly, a careless naive fly, who had thought he could outrun the spiders only to fall in their mother's trap, the hunter becoming the hunted - and soon to be the slaughtered.

He gave one last weakened kick before his legs became a useless mermaid’s tail on land, only barely managing to hit an aracknit strong enough to shoo it away before the string wavered away, dropping onto ash. The little beastie tumbled over, legs frantically moving in a terrified attempt to scramble back onto them, and he pitied it, the shared pain of two prisoners trapped beyond their powers, and he wished that it could get to its feet, to give him a sign of hope that he too would rise, but alas.

It was crushed under the handle of an approaching scythe.

Its needles stiffened and twitched, fighting one last time against their lightning quick rigor mortis; then, it dissolved into a puddle of string under Carver's horrified eyes.

Silence. Accursed, blasphemous, terrifying silence. All the doctor could hear was his own panting breath. He had one string left, and a scythe tugged on it for a moment before sliding down his face, making his head tilt this way and that, as if inspecting a specimen most curiously.

The two puppets were still, and silent.

Not a spider crawled, not a soul moved, nothing breathed and it was all so strikingly obvious to Carver. Of course, of course, why should he have gone back here? He should have baited the aracknits out instead of going in like a fool, a cretin, a pup still unaware of the sly tactics of hunting, thinking it all as fun and games. How foolish he had been!

He wished that he was somewhere else.

Somewhere safe.

Somewhere to feel at home.

Hanging up his apron in the hall after a fulfilling day of making puppets feel better and smile, going into a cozy living room to join hands with a smiling Banker, to rest with tea in front of a warm fire and good book, simple domestic perfection and tranquility. That was all he wanted. Was it really too much to ask for…?

It seemed so.

A golden tear bubbled up in his eye, and he blinked rapidly to force it away.

It slid down his face, trailing down his scar.

His wooden skin crawled as a scarred and ripped hand came to rest on that mark, and he turned icy cold, shivering. God, how he wished a different, trembling, gentle hand were there! Even if he were in the same position, bound and inflexible and defenseless, he would have given anything for it. For that sweet intoxicating touch, the throne of which was instead being usurped by dirty, loathing, scratching fingers.

“Oh, my dearest Doctor Carver,” the mangled puppet laughed, his words airless. “You always were my least favorite. Always stealing from me those delightful strings of the weakened, of the broken and bent. And you, so resilient and resistant! Why so much of a fuss, hm?”

The doctor felt a knot tie in his throat. He forced himself to stare straight at the eyeless being looming cruelly before him in total defiance: if he was going to die there and then, he would have not given that piece of tumbleweed the satisfaction of seeing him bend his head to him.

“What is it, Doc?” the Faceless hissed, yanking him with annoyance at his silence, scratching at his face, gouging three sharp cuts under his scar that would have bled if the doctor had blood instead of sap, which oozed out of the crevices. “Cat got your tongue? Or did you ever have one? I doubt it, seeing as you’re quite dumb right now.”

Carver inhaled with a low growl.

“Go to hell.” he merely grumbled.

“Ooh, how raunchy,” Faceless snarked back, cutting into his own face with his scythe to display any kind of expression, the smirk he left in his own face jagged and twisted. Carver felt his stomach churn with frost at the sight, so crude and, and unnatural. The scythe returned to the bottom of his chin, sliding up to the top of his head to hook around the string that resided there. Carver shivered as he felt his singular string slowly sawed at.

The Faceless Bandit held his head firmly with one hand, pulled back his arm a little, swiftly, and-

Shhh.

Then there was nothing.

Death felt so weird, the doctor thought.

He had imagined it crueler, darker, colder, more painful. Lonelier.

Instead he felt only… suspended. As if in wait. For what, he could not tell. But it was a peaceful waiting, and he felt far from afraid.

He was enveloped into a gentle, vast hold. A warm, ginormous finger touched his face, tapping each of his eyes, and he felt air seep into his lungs once more.

Another hand carefully, gently, cautiously and lovingly placed strings onto his limbs.

The hands slowly vanished, and he found himself put into something enclosing and… safe?

And then he felt alive.

Which was not ideal, because it made him realize that he was in a claustrophobic and dark space, and with his most recent memories being those of his body tied up in yarn among an army of aracknits and every last one of his strings being cut by the cruel scythe of a criminal lacking a face, so he panicked and kicked the air in front of himself as hard as he could to escape his dark prison.

The Banker nearly had a heart attack when the coffin next to bank opened with a loud noise - only nearly, because he did not actually have a heart or circulatory system.

“B-Bandit? Is, is that you?” Banker’s sweet, timid, wonderful wonderful wonderful beautiful darling amazing incredible voice rang out in the empty room. The doctor pleaded in his heart, unable to find his voice, still gasping and panting, trembling and teary, ‘Oh, please, say more, speak more, keep talking, fill the void.’ There were quiet footsteps, the Banker creeping slowly out of his booth. “L-Lorelei? L-Lookout? Uh, um, Mr., Mr. West?”

And then he stood before him, looking down at the Doctor with four wide eyes.

Carver knew he was a mess, he knew he was shaking and sitting in the bottom of a coffin like container as his tears froze in his eyes, but the moment he saw the Banker looking down at him, silently, mouth open in a slight shock, he felt his frosted heart melt, finally filling his body with relieving warmth, color finally returning to his vision, and his shoulders finally untensed as he looked up at him with total and complete admiration.

The Banker stood, fidgeting with his hands nervously. He was about to start scratching them, but he stopped himself: the doctor had put a lot of time and… and care (wonderful, dutiful, devoted care, whispered the ghost of a thought in his mind) into that coat of paint. He couldn't just… he couldn't just ruin it like that. And, well, he couldn't, he couldn't just leave him there, hazy and frightened and in need of help, either.

He lent him his hand as that terrible fear gnawed at his stomach: “I, I didn't expect you to, to be here, D-Doc.”

Carver grabbed the appendix with both hands, pressing his fingers against its palms. He did not make any motion to stand up; completely honestly, he did not want to. He just wanted to hold it, to hold him, to feel the other puppet's arm curl against him, a soft, shy and gentle shield of blue and brown hues, of tremors and stutters, warming him endlessly. Oh, how he needed it! How he wished for it terribly, now and forever...

“D-Doc Carver?” the Banker felt that fire burn from his fingertips, spreading up his arm. He swallowed roughly to keep it from his face. “D-do you need to make a c-claim?”

“Yes,” he breathed, and pulled Banker’s hand down, close to his heart. Banker stared at him with wide eyes, big, terrified eyes. “Yes, I do, please, Banker, please… grant me this one claim.”

Banker trembled, and still, he asked; “What?”

“I've just been struck down with death,” Carver nearly whispered, eyes glazed with tears. “I have lost my confidence, please, Banker, dear, dear Banker of mine, please, kiss me with life, restore my confidence, please, that's the only claim I ask of you.”

Carver squeezed the hand tight, afraid it would escape his grip, knowing it could.

“K-kiss you?” Banker squeaked, eyes wide, the searing sensations spreading all over his face and neck, but, how enrapturing and captivating those burns were! And how loud the echo of the thought he'd been sure to have killed was! His fear tugged him away, or so it tried, for his body wouldn't move an inch.

Carver nodded, his eyes pleading, as he rubbed his face on the back of the hand, murmuring ‘please, please’ over and over, knowing rejection would have killed him on the spot, and yet not finding the will to care for it. Though he wouldn't beg for life from the Faceless Bandit that so hated him, he would beg and plead for death from the Banker he so adored.

The Banker breathed heavily, shivering. His head shook ever so slightly.

“N, no, no…” he whispered as he kneeled in front of the other puppet; “No, no…”, as he let the doctor cup his cheeks and rub his face on them; “No, no, no, no…”, as he returned the other's affection, kissing him in the way a puppet can kiss, wooden faces scratching ever so softly against each other, slowly, then faster; “No, no, no…”, as his fingers finally curled around the stitches of Carver's scar, stroking it idly, pushing away the tears that slowly dripped from the other’s face, finally seeing his fear as what it was: no fear at all, not even close to fear, even. It was something softer, something that he had selfishly denied himself through his own blindness. Oh, what good were four eyes when he could not use them to see what was right in front of him? What good was the blessing of sight without letting himself revel in the beautiful image in front of him? What good was living to play a part and nothing more if it did not allow him to have the gift of, the, no, his, his dear, dear, darling doctor to gaze upon?

He held Carver closer, nuzzling harder against him. The fire divamping inside him boiled and burned, it begged to be released, to be imprinted on the other puppet for all to see. He was kissing it into Doc, but it was not, it could not be enough. A single face was too restrictive, and he had to improvise, he had to figure out a way to make it more, to have more of the doctor pinned under him, to show him that yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, this was right and wanted and good.

His hand begrudgingly left the side of Carver's head and instead grabbed with all of its strength his arm. The good doctor nearly jumped up from his seat in the case, surprised, left breathless. His own fingers curled around the Banker's forearm, but the kiss they pressed against him was weak, not nearly as deep and passionate as the one pushing into his limb, far more shy and trembling, a near reverse of their usual attitudes. Carver’s whole being shivered with warmth. And oh, oh!, it was so good! So very good, so very delicious, the sensation spreading from that long, long kiss to the rest of his body… goodness, he was addicted to it already. That was it, his only wish, his reason to live. All he wanted was for that magnificent pressure to never soften and leave.

But the Banker had other plans. For him, it was too long, too time consuming; it didn't let him give Carver everything they both wanted desperately after letting so much time pass by. So instead he began to grab and release, grab and release, fast and hungry, pressing quick hasty kisses all over the doctor. On his arms, his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his sides - to hell with his part!, to hell with his fear! - even reaching further down, gripping Carver’s hips and legs in a frenzy, dominated by nothing but the burning embers inside of his wooden frame that pushed him to love and love and love again.

Carver was too slow to reply to those attentions, and he found himself overwhelmed. He was in an almost comatose bliss, jolting and shivering with little gasps and murmurs of, “Yes, yes, p-please, yes….”, only barely managing to nuzzle back his lover's face, goodness gracious, this was it, the moment he always dreamed of, his lover, they were lovers now. He did not feel like himself, not at all. He was out of his body, out of his mind, looking down on that scene from a warm cloud of ecstasy, the prickling of pleasure taking over him in waves.

It took what felt like ages, for the Banker's wild rush of claiming Carver as his to consume itself. It exhausted them both, to the point where they were moments away from collapsing entirely in the box Carver rested in, seconds from slipping into pure bliss and tranquility. They held each other close as they rested, panting softly, Banker’s hand finally finding its place on Carver’s cheek, gently trailing the scar there. Then he felt the ridges, his eyes widening, and he pulled away a bit to inspect the mark, and to his horror and sadness found the three fresh cuts under his hand.

“C-Carver, you, you’re hurt!” he exclaimed, his gentle shaky fingers turning the doctor’s head to inspect the cuts better. “O-Oh dear, why didn't, why didn’t you t-tell me?”

“It’s fine, it really is,” Carver reassured him, though he leaned into and reveled in his touch. “It’s nothing that I can’t mend.”

Banker frowned at that, and so Carver might have even said something more, had a not-so-freshly-painted-anymore visage not rubbed gently on his wounds, kissing away the sap seeping from the small gouges. The kiss threw him for an incredulous loop, stunning him. Had his wood been replaced by flesh, he would have been redder than a blooming hibiscus.

Perhaps it was seeing the doctor like that that slowly brought the four-eyed puppet to his senses. All those newly formed memories reverberated in his mind, slowly becoming clear, first their gentle, almost reluctant, kiss, then the frenzied adrenalinic boiling and burning and exploding cravings that had taken control of him, and finally, when he realized the spontaneous act of kissing those little scrapes, he finally got a grasp on his actions. He gradually began shaking, hands going to cover his mouth already muttering apologies, his legs trying to push him to his feet - oh, but Carver would not have any of it.

His gentle grip tightened around the other's waist, keeping him from escaping into the dark of his shame. Banker would have blushed furiously had he skin, feeling the rippling strength of Doc Carver’s arm around him, his breath hitching as those thoughts that he thought he killed earlier swarmed back into his mind. The doctor collected himself as well, slowly, naturally slipping back into his ordinarily calm and proper self, just like the Banker had returned to his anxieties and worries, their regular personalities bleeding back into their forms as if regaining consciousness after a long sleep.

“Dear,” goodness, how wonderful it felt to say that, “Dear, darling, love, what's troubling you?”

“I- I, I… Doc, I-”

“Carver, dear, please. Carver is just fine.”

“I, I… Car, Carver, I didn't - oh, oh god, I'm, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-”

“Oh, you did!” the doctor adamantly insisted, his eyes widening, but in complete confidence. “We’re… us now. It’s okay, we’re okay… I’m here, you’re here, it’s okay. We… we are good.”

The Banker tried shrinking himself in the other's arms without much success. Carver merely huffed, an adoring look in his eyes, and brought him closer. His gentle nuzzles onto his recently repainted cheek were a balm for the Banker's nerves.

“There's nothing to fear, my darling.” he murmured into the puppet’s ears, feeling him relax from his smooth accent, melting against him in a pleasant warmth, “Hm, but your booth… it seems quite comfortable, wouldn't you say?”

The other nodded, humming absentmindedly, one of his hands trailing up Carver’s arm, twirling around his neck to run over his hair. He had always wondered how it felt, and now found that it was not only wood, but covered in felt to give it a soft velvety texture, and the same went for his handlebar moustache. Come to think of it, nearly everything about the doctor was just so soft and warmly inviting.

“Should we head over to it, then?” Carver's voice caught up to him, pulling him back to reality, yet sending him from one pleasant distraction to another. He barely had to answer, the slightest sigh and the smallest nod, and the doctor slid a firm and strong hand under his knees, and rose him up, carrying him into the bank much like a newly wed groom carries his beloved man into their just made house.

There was some cloth folded in a corner, arranged as if to simulate what could have once seemed like a bed which clearly had been abandoned for the anxious Banker’s many sleepless nights, him preferring instead to pass out in fear on his counter.

The doctor laid him on top of the covers gently before positioning himself on top of him. One of his hands tenderly stroked his cheek, his legs straddling the Banker, looking down at him, eyes shielded by his glasses, though behind those lenses, his eyes were full of pure admiration.

The four-eyed puppet adjusted himself under his weight almost sleepily: “Carver, love…” oh, to be called like that forever and always, what shivers did it send down his spine!, “What…”

“Please, my dearest.” Carver leaned down to press kisses to his throat, and purred against his neck, hands pressing light kisses with thumbs swirling on wooden skin so gently, “You don't truly think I am sated of your kisses? I waited so long for you…”

The Banker sighed blissfully, body melting and becoming as soft as warm clay. He wrapped his arms around his dear, dear lover and let his head fall back on the bed that hadn't seen him in weeks, basking in the wonderful burn enveloping him.

How curious, he thought to himself. He could hear a hummingbird sing in the back of his mind.

For some odd reason, he heard Bandit clear his throat in the back of his mind too.

Then Doc Carver let out a small grumbling shriek, rolling over and tumbling off of a Banker too hazy to notice anything.

“H-Hello Bandit!” Carver stumbled over his words as the cowboy looked at them from the counter where his elbow was leaning on. The four-eyed puppet called for him needily, drawling out the last part of the doctor’s name, his grasp on reality basically non-existent. Carver turned bright red. “F-fancy seeing you here….”

“Sure is, Doc, sure is.” Showdown smiled, cheek resting in his hand, giving him a quick wink. “Mind if I make a deposit?”

“Um, sure,” the doctor stuttered, rushing to the desk to swipe the cash, hastily dumping it in a vault labeled ‘SHOWDOWN BANDIT’.

The cowboy tipped his hat politely: “Thanks, Doc.”

“N-no problem,” he mumbled, staring at the ground.

“Now I suggest ya go back to yer other business. He sounds pretty… um… critical.” Showdown nodded in the direction of the lovestruck Banker. The doctor tried to swallow, and failed. “Y’know what I mean, Doc?”

“Carveeeer, love, please… please, where did you go?” the poor soul lamented, turning on the bed. “You're so cruel, so cruel… ! Oh, love, please… please, I need you… !”

“I know.” Carver muttered to Showdown, closing the Bank’s shutters and swiftly turning around, rushing back into the arms of his darling, finally together.

#control art #control writes #collab #writing collab #showdown bandit #sb #the banker #doc carver x banker #doc carver #pining #arachnophobia #araknits #faceless bandit #showdown #near death experience #love #fluff and angst #happy with an angst ending

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puroresu-musings · 4 years

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NJPW WRESTLE KINGDOM 14 Night 2 Review (Jan 5th 2020, Tokyo Dome)

NEVER OPENWEIGHT 6-MAN TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH/GAUNTLET MATCH: Togi Makabe, Toru Yano & Ryusuke Taguchi (c) vs. Tomohiro Ishii, YOSHI-HASHI & Robbie Eagles vs. Shingo Takagi, EVIL & BUSHI vs. Taichi, El Desperado & Yoshinobu Kanemaru vs. Bad Luck Fale, Yujiro Takahashi & Chase Owens **3/4

JUSHIN THUNDER LIGER RETIREMENT MATCH Ⅱ: Jushin Thunder Liger & Naoki Sano vs. Hiromu Takahashi & Ryu Lee ***1/2

IWGP Jr. HEAVYWEIGHT TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: El Phantasmo & Taiji Ishimori (c) vs. SHO & YOH ***1/2+

BRITISH HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Zack Sabre Jr. (c) vs. SANADA ****

IWGP US HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Jon Moxley (c) vs. Juice Robinson ***1/4

NEVER OPENWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: KENTA (c) vs. Hirooki Goto ****

Kota Ibushi vs. Jay White ****

Hiroshi Tanahashi vs. Chris Jericho ****1/4

IWGP HEAVYWEIGHT AND IWGP INTERCONTINENTAL DOUBLE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Kazuchika Okada (Heavyweight Champion) vs. Tetsuya Naito (Intercontinental Champion) *****

Photos.

This was an excellent show that, despite being the “deeper” card, ended up not quite being up to the standard of yesterdays phenomenal show, which burnt me out in some respects. Which isn’t a slight at all. It did, however, feature a ton of really memorable moments, a whole bunch of great matches, and an all-time classic of a main event. Things began on the pre-show with an entertaining, but ultimately superfluous gauntlet match for the NEVER 6 Man Titles, which proved to just get as many people as possible on the show. It boiled down to defending champions Taguchi, Makabe and Yano, and the LIJ trio of Shingo, EVIL and BUSHI as the final two teams. To the surprise of no one, the Ungovernables won the most meaningless belts in the company, when Takagi pinned Taguchi with Made In Japan. The main show kicked off with the final match of Jushin Thunder Liger’s career. This was an emotional bout, which really helped enhance the action as if it weren’t Liger’s last outing, it would literally have been just a match. Obviously, the action was driven by Liger’s altercations with Hiromu, and the masked legend was more motivated then he’s been since the Suzuki match in October. Also, Liger’s trainer, Yoshiaki Fujiwara was out there, which made things seem extra special. Lee and Sano both hit dives, but largely weren’t much involved in the bulk of the action. After Liger scored a great near fall on the new Jr Champion after a big Shoutei and a Brainbuster (it certainly isn’t easy watching Takahashi bump on his neck!), Hiromu rallied back with the Death Valley Bomb into the corner, then tries Time Bomb, but Liger turns it into a cradle for another near fall. A lariat from Takahashi follows, as does the Time Bomb, and the long time “Ace” of the Junior division puts the current “Ace” over in the most decisive way possible after 12:16 of very good action. Hiromu got in Liger’s face in the post match, but the former Dragon Lee helped the legend to his feet and bowed to him. Liger then got the mic and thanked everyone for their support over the last 31 years, before heading to the back and signing off on a truly marvelous career.

The Jr tag title match had a difficult time following that emotional ride, as the crowd weren’t too invested early, but it was still a borderline great doubles clash. The story here was Phantasmo getting his comeuppance after a year of being a dick, and the babyface team finally vanquished him to win the belts. The finish saw SHO hit the Daisuke Sekimoto double German Suplex on both champions, and after kicking out of an ELP Styles Clash, he outsmarted the dastardly heel when he no-sold a dick punch, which Phantasmo has been using to win matches for months, including their really great singles showdon in San Jose, revealing he was wearing a cup all along. The challengers took Ishimori out with 3K, then pinned Phantasmo at the 14:08 mark with their new finish; a double stomp/Shock Arrow combo they’re calling STRONG X. The RPW British Title encounter between Zack Sabre Jr. and SANADA was an excellent match. It was quite unlike anything else on either show, and was just a fascinating, mat-based struggle. Super fast paced, and revolving around amazing counter sequences, this never stopped for it’s entire 12:32 runtime, and both guys looked great here. Zack avenged his G1 defeat by retaining over Cold Skull, when they traded a series of cradles in hyper speed, then ZSJ finally locked in the European Clutch to take the win. The Moxley/Juice US Title bout that followed was by far the weakest match these two have had together, and also the weakest match on the main card of this show. It was fine, but felt flat, and Moxley retained when he hit a Double Arm DDT out of nowhere, rolling through into Death Rider and taking the win at 12:48. The post match though, was great, as Minoru Suzuki came out, clearly sore about that DDT Mox gave him at the WTL Finals show in December, locked him in a rear naked choke, then laid him out with the Gotch Piledriver. That should be an interesting match indeed.

Ten years ago, I’d have killed for a KENTA/Hirooki Goto match, and we finally got it here in 2020. It wasn’t anywhere near as good as it would have been back then (mainly due to KENTA’s current physical limitations, and Goto’s staleness), but it was still a great, hard-hitting battle. KENTA stalled early, because he’s a master heel, but it built into a compelling slugfest. The defending champion got a near fall after hitting Shibata’s PK on Shibata’s childhood friend, and a Busaiku Knee, but after a really stiff strike exchange, Goto puts him away after an Ushigoroshi, the GTW, and the match winning GTR at 16:12, and win maybe his 63rd NEVER title, just to continue the rut he’s in. The battle of the double championship losers between Jay White and Ibushi, a rematch of the superb G1 final in August, couldn’t possibly live up to that, given its placement here, and as a result was something of a disappointment, despite being excellent. After Switchblade turned a top rope frankensteiner attempt into a massive Uranage Superplex, and further dropped Ibushi on his head with a nasty looking Sleeper Suplex, the Golden Star battled back with a Boma Ye, then tried Kamigoye, but White pulled Ibushi into referee Marty Asami (who took a bump like he was Curt Hennig), which was the cue for Gedo to run in. He nailed Kota in the back with a chair, who no-sold it, got the “murder eyes”, and floored Gedo with a palm strike. After the ref resurfaced, Ibushi destroyed White with kicks, and hit a stiff Kamigoye, but the dastardly Gedo pulled Asami out whilst he counted. This allowed Jay to throw a chair straight at Ibushi’s head, then Gedo hit a brass knucks shot, allowing White to hit the cross-arm Bloody Sunday and Blade Runner to steal the win in 24:58. Going into this weekend, I theorised that Ibushi was likely the one of the four to go winless this weekend. This is because New Japan do 50/50 booking more often than some would like to admit, and that he had to give his G1 wins back. Ibushi was not happy in the post match.

The semi final saw reigning AEW World Champion Chris Jericho take on The Ace himself, Hiroshi Tanahashi, in something of a dream match with a much talked about potential future title match on the line. I loved this, even though it wasn’t close to being the best match on the show, and both guys have seen better days physically (though it must be said, cosmetically speaking, Tanahashi looks 20 years younger than Jericho), this was a lot of fun, with both veterans clearly having a blast. Jericho took it outside early, hitting a dangerous looking DDT onto the English announce table, but tries a High Fly Flow of his own, and misses. The shot of Tanahashi grinning in glorious fashion because Jericho had missed was tremendous. Tana blocks a Lionsault attempt by dumping Jericho to the floor, then hitting a HFF to the outside. He nailed a series of Dragon Screws, blocks a Code Breaker, and works over the leg with more Dragon Screws. Tana misses the High Fly Flow, and Le Champion hits the Lionsault but the damaged knee prevents him from covering in time, and Tanahashi kicks out. After escaping a Walls Of Jericho, Tana goes up for another HFF, but Jericho turns it into a mid-air Code Breaker. The Ace blocks a Judas Effect and hits a Code Breaker of his own, which busted up Jericho’s mouth, but the former Y2J counters a Sling Blade into the Walls, which Tana turns into a cradle for a 2 count. Tana tries another Flow, but Jericho rolls through into the Walls, and transitions into the high-angle old school Lion Tamer in the centre of the ring. After a mighty struggle, Tanahashi had no choice but to tap at the 22:24 mark. This was great stuff and the crowd were really into it.

And in the main event of the evening, both the IWGP Heavyweight and Intercontinental Titles were on the line in a winner-takes-all match between Okada and Naito. This was the culmination of a 6 year (!) story in which Naito promised, after winning the 2013 G1, that he’d beat Okada at the the Dome (he didn’t), which became an obssession to Naito after failing to do so again in 2018. But this year, he was determined to get the job done. First things first, this was an outstanding wrestling contest, filled with amazing drama and emotion, and is the best match these guys have ever had together. With the stakes so high, the crowd were super into this from the get-go and it lead to an amazing atmosphere. This started slow, but picked up tremendously after Okada started working over Naito’s injured knee, even planting him knees first through a ringside table, much to the crowds chagrin, and leading to a great countout tease. After taking a huge missle dropkick, Naito escapes a Rainmaker attempt, but eats a nasty German, which Okada rolls through into another Rainmaker attempt, but Naito turns it into a Tornado DDT. Naito hits Gloria, then a terrifying top rope reverse rana, which Okada lands right on his head for, scoring a great near fall. After escaping a Destino attempt, Okada beautifully dropkicks Naito out of the air as he tries his flying forearm, but eats a running Destino for another great near fall. Naito tries another Destino, but Okada shoves him into the ropes, and hits another big dropkick for the double down. Both men start “selling” exhaustion big, and Naito slaps Okada, resulting in him taking a Spinning Rainmaker. Naito fights back, but Okada turns a Destino attempt into a Tombstone, then hits Rainmaker for another great near fall. Naito spits at Okada, which causes him to start stomping on the injured knee to the crowds dissmay, earning loud boos. He hits two short Rainmakers, but Naito counters a third into Destino, again for a two count. Naito then turns the clocks back five years, and hits his old babyface finish; the Stardust Press (a move he missed at WK12, which ultimately cost him the match), but Okada gets the shoulder up at 2.999 as the crowd goes insane. Naito tries Destino again, but Okada blocks and tries the Fire Thunder Driver, only for Naito to escape and drop Okada on his head again with Valentia. He then lifts Okada up and hits another Destino, this time getting the win at the 35:37 mark and fulfilling his “Destiny” in becoming the first ever double champion. This was outstanding.

What more can be said about Okada at this point? He’s essentially the greatest of all-time, and it’s incomprehensible to think of someone having two matches as good as this and his match with Ibushi yesterday, on two consecutive days. As for Naito, it’s his time to win the big one, as it’s either now or never for him. He’s clearly very banged up, sometimes clearly phoning it in, and the state of his neck and knees is pretty worrying (it’s slightly ironic that someone who is a huge Keiji Muto fan would follow suit in having utterly devastated knees by his mid 30′s). Either way, this was fantastic storytelling and an amazing blow-off to a years-long story arch. Naito in the post match gives a shout out to Okada, and tells him they need to do it again. Okada, who whilst being helped to the back, gives Naito his own fist bump pose in the affermative. However, before Naito can finish his victory speech, evil heel KENTA runs in out of nowhere, hitting a clothesline and a PK, then killing the new double champ with Go 2 Sleep, before sitting on his chest cross-legged, holding up both titles and laughing. BUSHI arrives, chasing off KENTA, then helps a beaten down Naito to the back as the Dome booes loudly. I know a lot of people are mad about KENTA ruining Naito’s big moment (and God forbid Naito fans have something to be mad about), and it really isn’t an ideal wayto end such a historic show, but it’s the perfect way to get KENTA over as a believable challenger, someone who the crowds are sometimes cold towards, seeing him still as an ‘outsider’. But now everyone is going to want to see him get his for ruining such a momentus occasion, and it may provoke the usually tranquil Naito into being a lot more fired up than usual.

NDT

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thecardsimagine · 5 years

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The Tale of the Fog Village

Summary: Venturing out of your foggy village, all you wanted was to save everyone from the looming threat that cowered in the forest. No one could have known what you would encounter in your quest to achieve that, how much you’d gain, and what you would lose. Not you. Not him.

Pairing: Lucio x Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death Genre: Romance, Drama, Fantasy, Action, Alternate Universe

Back to the Prologue / [Read on Ao3] / Next Chapter

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a/n: I currently really need to get to plotting the future story. I have another finished chapter but then never got farther >-< Feeling a little unmotivated at the moment, so I’d appreciate any kind of comment on this chapter! Let me know what you think, please! ____________________________

Chapter 2 - Explosive Experiments

Lungs stinging, you finally managed to reach even ground again. Your ascent to the top of the hilly forest had taken its ultimate toll on you. Every part of your body was shaking, and every time your mouth drew air in, it felt like needles to your throat. You couldn’t help but topple over, holding your torso up with your arms stemmed into your thighs. The muscles in your body felt like they were burning, and if you hadn’t had too much respect from what lingered on the ground, you might have laid down right then and there.

By now, it was remarkably dark in the forest, a fine night without a doubt. There were still no signs of fog, and only the crickets remained to tease you with their presence. Even if you felt like you had been run over by a horse, when you looked up, you could see the sparkle of stars in the gaps of the tree crowns, giving you some feeling of achievement. The light of the moon was all that kept you path lit too. Maybe, if you hadn’t been on this important mission, you would have really enjoyed lying down and star-gazing for a while. But all you could do now was concentrating on not accidentally lose track of your path or step into another fairy circle.

You didn’t know how late it was or how far away you were from your village, but even with all the optimistic talk just hours ago, you felt more and more tempted by the idea to just go back, forget about all of this. It was ridiculous, after all. You had been on your feet for so many hours now, and there was no sight of any strange buildings or even anyone lingering around. Just trees and trees and trees…

All your hopes left you as you breathed out the though to swallow air, looking up ahead on the path that lied before you. This all seemed to meaningless, now, that you weren’t going to find anything. Swallowing hard, you let your thoughts circulate through your mind, scenarios popping up here and there.

If you were to go back now, maybe no one would be too angry with you. Perhaps you could just sneak back into your home and pretend you’d been busy the whole day? There was no way you could imagine what the village would do when you strolled back idly and told them that you ventured out into the woods on a whim. A few cruel thoughts crossed your mind, too, and you were quick to banish them. You did not want to think about it, after all.

Letting out a long, deep sigh, you felt the defeat overtake your body. You had come so far, challenged yourself so much. Everything that hurt beneath your skin - which was literally, everything - was proof of your achievement and yet, you had nothing. Nothing to prove and nothing to preen yourself with. It was not that glorious, beautiful feeling you had anticipated when you started your journey, and you felt your stomach twist when you thought about going back to your ‘useless’ life.

If this was how the most significant undertaking in your whole life would end, it was unnerving.

Shaking your head at your own miserably, you turned, taking the first step back on the road you had come from. Maybe, if you took all the strength you had left, you’d be able to make it by the rise of the sun. You’d cozy up in your bed and pretend to have come back home late, afterwards keep yourself awake for another day and no one would even suspect anything. But that was not what should have happened.

Even before you could shift your weight on your backtracking feet, you got hit by a lash of wind, so strong it felt like a whip clashing into you. You tumbled back, falling to the ground with a suffocated yelp and shielding your eyes instinctively with your arm. When you let down your guard and looked up and felt yourself shudder from the sight.

What had you expected? This was the forest to a foggy village after all.

You could see the gray mist rise from the ground, taking over your view down into the forest’s valley from which you had just come from. In less than seconds, it was almost close enough to the edge that you had reached after all the climbing up. Ominous, scary it seemed to loom, and suddenly it dawned on you that you would never be able to get back with it blocking off the sight. If you were lucky, you’d probably have a range of view from the tip of your nose to the fingers on your hands when you held up your arm. The fog was that thick.

Had it ever been so threatening to see the fog? Aside from how fast it had come up - minutes before, you had still thought about peacefully watching the stars twinkle - the mist seemed to move almost, staying away from the ground you were situated on, but enveloping you as if it was urging you forward. You could not remember if ever before in your life it had made this impression on you. Maybe you were just tired. Maybe it wasn’t real. Imagination was a powerful thing.

Nonetheless, you stumbled to your feet, suddenly taken by a feeling of uncomfortableness. Only a few steps backwards and you were pressed against a tree with your backside. The more space you gave away, the more the fog seemed to catch up with you, crawling over the ground and inching closer slowly like an insect to a flower. You could not help but feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight while goosebumps hushed over your arms and legs. This all seemed unnatural and unreal to you, but you slipped past the tree, continuing on your way with your eyes always on the fog that seemed to follow you.

Somehow you felt like it didn’t want you to go back, though you could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Swallowing the fear in your muscles, you turned around and moved forward. Intuition was what had brought you here. If it was going to tell you that the fog didn’t want you to go back, then you were leaning towards agreeing with it once more. Maybe all you needed was to trust yourself, even if you found it hard to do so.

With another shudder, you looked back over your shoulder, eyeing the gray mist suspiciously. However, the further you got, the less it seemed to come after you, dispersing slowly but surely into the air again. You rose a confused eyebrow at that, though you shrugged it off and looked forward again. Some things were better left without pondering about them, after all.

After that strange occurrence, you completely lost track of time and orientation. With you getting away hastily, you had lost the muddy patches you had always followed before and noticed way too late you went off-track to get back to them. Still a little unsettled and with a lingering feeling of helplessness, you moved onwards, eyeing every movement in the trees or on the ground that you could make out in the ever-growing dark.

That’s the way your existence would find an end, you figured. Alone, lost, in a place you shouldn’t be. Suddenly, every punishment that could have expected you back home seemed endurable compared to this, and you caught yourself more than one time choking back tears that formed uncontrollably. You were just tired and exhausted that you were sure off. Right the next morning you’d find your way back, just tracking your footsteps or something. With all the books you had read in your life, there must have been one to prepare you for getting lost in an unfamiliar forest, right?

Surprisingly, these thoughts calmed you a little, and you decided to be more rational about the situation. Maybe you could find a small cove or somewhere shielded to take a nap, so you’d catch up on a bit of energy before you tracked back the next morning. Unsurprisingly, by now, camping out in the forest didn’t sound so bad, after all, this was a completely normal, peaceful forest. That’s what you tried to tell yourself even after all that had happened.

Coming to a halt, you took a second to scan your surroundings, trying to figure out where to go. One place caught your eyes, dimly lit in the distance, and though you didn’t want to stray too far in case you really could backtrack to the path, you figured it would be nice to see a little bit more than the bare minimum in front of you. Carefully, with unsteady feet, you made your way towards it, hoping it was what you needed after this long, straining day.

And it was. In some form.

You could not hold back your jaw from dropping as you laid eyes upon the enormous brick building that rose up in front of you. With only the moon shining down on it and revealing it’s massive form to you, it looked far more intimidating than you had expected it would. In its simplicity, brick after brick, row after row, it seemed so out of place, you were immediately hit with another wave of chills.

Rarely you had seen bricks being used in building things before. It wasn’t the material typically used by your village, except for a few small things like fireplaces, so seeing something as big as the trees stand up in front of you made it even more intimidating. In a hint of naive curiosity, you wondered what it would feel like. Would it be warm? Or cold? But you kept your hand on the tree beside you, warily standing in the dark parts of the forest. Even you knew something like that wasn’t erected by just anyone, and you did not want to run into who build it.

Finally, you thought. You had reached it. The thing you had been searching for the whole day was presenting itself in front of you now, gloomy and unnaturally to a forest. Not at all how you knew buildings from back home, it seemed so foreign and unfamiliar to you. If anything, the only word popping into your mind to describe it would have been ‘advanced’ though you weren’t sure in which way this was applicable.

You did it. You really did it. Even with all your confidence and determination almost lost, you had followed the feeling that every rumor you had heard before was real. And finally, you were rewarded for it. Instead of the dull taste of defeat, you could feel your fingertips tingle, and you almost let out a small, victorious outcry. Sudden excitement rose in you, but you were quick to push it down into its place again. After all, you hadn’t achieved your true purpose to come here yet.

Yes, you had been right, and yes, you had managed to reach the building, but there was something other left to do. Something that needed to be done in order to achieve the peace you wanted to bring back to your village. You were the only one to do it, everything rested on your shoulders now. Right there and then, you could end it - and go back victorious like you had planned from the start. No one would ever call you useless or the like again when you’d show them what you had accomplished.

Huffing in encouragement to yourself, you reached deep into your bag, taking a few seconds to search for what you needed in the dark. You felt all the different kinds of surfaces that lingered inside, all of them necessities you were sure would come in handy and had packed in advance. But it wasn’t the time for them yet. Instead, your hands stopped at the feeling of a cold, thin material, carefully tugging it out of its secure place between some pieces of fabric. You had not dared to risk accidentally smashing one of these glass bottles on your journey, so you had packed them carefully.

But now it was time for them to shine and you pulled one out, holding it in your open palm for a few seconds and inspecting it. With the moon shining down, you could see the dark, black fluid shifting from side to side, it’s consistency thicker than water, so it glued to the walls of the glass bottle. Nervously you watched it as it moved, revealing streaks of red appearing every now and then, the fluid reflecting in the moonlight.

You could not deny how nervous you were to yourself. Even though it should work, you had no proof it would. When you were little, your father had taught you how to make these potions, instructed you on the harvesting of the ingredients and how to put them together without blowing yourself up. Alchemist, that’s what people who needed his help called him. A moron, was what everyone else said.

But were you still able to use his knowledge after all these years? You had practiced secretly, put together everything as he wrote in one in his books which your mother had hidden away in the attic from your siblings. And it looked like what you had fabricated in the past, even if your memory was hazy. You couldn’t help but feel guilty when you thought about what you were going to do now. In case there really were people inside you’d make quite a big mistake with throwing on of the small bottles.

Screw it, you thought. In the end, the threat remained, and while you prayed silently that everyone would be able to escape if it worked, you leaned back to take a big swing forward. You’d never know if your creation worked if you didn’t try and you’d never be successful if you didn’t know. For a second you sent another silent prayer to whatever there was, wishing that this would work as you expected it before hurling the little glass bottle forward, waiting for it to inevitable smash against the brick wall of the strange building before you.

There were less than seconds between the sound of the glass shattering upon impact and the deafening explosion that followed. Jumping in shock, you immediately cowered down as the wave of heat spread rapidly, followed by a gust of wind, making the trees around you sway. Suddenly, the building was radiating its own light, engulfed in flames. They seemed to struggle at first to take hold on the bricks, but soon enough started to rage and move all over it and quickly, the first hints of black appeared where they worked their heat.

Gasping, you could not move as you watched the fire spread with fear in your eyes. Even if you had wanted to go and take something as evidence that you really destroyed the threat, you were frozen while you watched the flames reach out to everything around them. The potion you had made had done this. Just like you had wanted to expect from it, though you felt more and more guilty for what you had created too. Never before had you done something socially tabooed like burn down anything and here you were, setting such a tall and sturdy building aflame. You realized now much too late you really didn’t know anything about it.

Shaking your head desperately, you tried to get yourself out of your weird state of mind, finally getting back onto your feet with the help of a tree nearby to hold on to. For another minute you watched as the flames went higher and higher, even spreading on the ground around the building - especially where the fluid had leaked - before catching your mind wandering off again and turning around.

Maybe it wasn’t the way you had come from, but you didn’t care. You had to get out of here immediately. Something was urging you to leave this place behind, even if it was just to escape the fire. Panicky, you realized that maybe this fire could burn down the whole forest. It would all be your fault for setting something flammable like grass and leaves ablaze. You banned all the thoughts about what would happen to your village if the forest really did catch fire everywhere. But surely, you would be the first one to get caught in it if you stayed now.

Running blindly through the nightly forest, you could still feel the heat on your back as the fire spread mercilessly. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the orange and red flames lick out to everything around it, ready to devour what it could. Fire was like that. Cruel, ruthless.

You looked back to the front, hoping you’d make it out before it could reach you. The flames already seemed to have caught up with something in the distance in front of you, probably because they wanted to envelop you. Maybe it didn’t want you to leave? Was that the forest scolding you for your doings?

Slowly, you came to a halt. That isn’t right, you thought, squinting your eyes to see better. There was no way that this could be the same fire as the ones in your back. No... No! Absolutely not, that was impossible! These flames seemed to bop up and down, growing and growing as they approached you. No, these were not flames.

These were torches.

Holding back a scream, you clasped your hands over your mouth, looking around you in a panic. Whoever was coming your way wouldn’t be all too friendly when they realized what you had done. Even if it was unlikely, if these were villagers, they’d blame everything on you and do who-knows-what. And if they were not? Maybe that building belonged to someone unbeknownst to you, and then you could expect no mercy after what you had done to it.

Feeling more and more like a caged animal, you weighed your options. Face these people approaching you or go back to the burning building? What should you do, you asked yourself over and over, hoping to press out an answer. Neither of this was ideal in any way, and you didn’t feel like any of these would get you out well and healthy.

Gently, almost like a holy sign, you felt the wind pick up, nudging you backwards to the burning building behind you. You didn’t want to go, this fire seemed way too dangerous to approach again, but your body decided otherwise. Nudged by the wind you took back step after step, feeling as if you got any closer to the fire, it would reach out for you too in an attempt to burn you. But before that happened, your foot got stuck on a vine sticking out from the ground, bringing you to a fall that you could not stop yourself from.

With a gasp, you felt your side fall upon the hard ground, pain stinging you and shaking through your whole body. Confused and scared, you tried to check the situation around you, hoping not to be too close to the fire or the torches approaching. You were glad for the adrenaline pumping through your veins as much as fear did, keeping you from hurting too bad. Softly, the tall grass around you swayed in the wind, as a new sound approached you, loud and hurtful to your ears. It was the sound of metal clanking against each other, paired with loud, thumping footsteps that approached quickly.

Holding your breath, you felt the ground shake beneath you, as they passed, the torches lighting up the area above you. Conveniently, the long strings of grass guarded your body against sight, swaying with the wind in a way that made them hover over you. You felt endlessly blessed by their help, keeping you from whoever could be there to see you, though the panic still took over your body, tears of fear welling up in your eyes.

“Shit,” a human voice growled next to you, presumably from whoever was holding one of the torches. The source of light twisted and grew stronger as the person seemed to move around. “How could this have happened, eh?” it asked in annoyance. Not a question you were going to answer. “I don’t know, Sir,” someone meekly responded instead. “M-Maybe lightning?” You almost felt bad hearing the stuttering voice. It sounded almost as scared as you felt.

“On a cloud-free night, eh? Are you dumb? Skedaddle, boy! Find whatever caused that, or I’ll make sure it’s your head at stake!”

With that, the footsteps continued, a loud and heavy pair followed by smaller, lighter ones. The brightness of the torches faded out too, leaving you behind to adjust your eyes to the darkness again. They seemed to move into the direction of the building, and you finally let out your breath, barely believing your luck. They had not seen you. You were free to go.

However, the happiness inside of you was harshly interrupted as a small chuckle caught your attention.

“That was bold, I’ll admit,” a voice hummed, sounding like it came from behind you. Flinching, you turned around, but there was nothing to see, only the grass shielding you from everyone’s sight and keeping you from seeing much yourself.

“How about it, kiddo? Need some help?” Confused, you looked to every side, throwing your head around to look behind you. Nothing. Just darkness and the cracking of fire in the distance. You wouldn’t have known how deep you were into all of this already, and in your panicked and fearful state, you only added another component to your potion of life, your voice weak and scared as you managed to speak up in a whisper.

“Y-Yeah, I could need some.”

#lucio #The Arcana #The Arcana game #The Arcana Imagines #The Arcana Headcanons #The Arcana Scenarios #The Arcana fanfictions #Montag Morgasson #lucio the arcana #the arcana lucio #count lucio #AU #Fantasy!AU #AU!The Arcana #OW

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ultimavolatusrpg · 5 years

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ACCEPTED // ARES CARNAHAN

28 years old, 86th Hunger Games, FC: Matthew Daddario

Charming, passionate, dedicated, headstrong, and guarded

tw: blood, violence, gore, child abuse

ARENA

The arena of the the 86th Games was a larger-scale Roman Colosseum. The Cornucopia being in the center of the fully erect stone walls with holograms of screaming fans. The tributes were adorned in gladiator armor of the color code of their Districts. The Cornucopia ended up being consumed by the dirt as soon as the Bloodbath was over, leaving whatever weapons and supplies the tributes had taken the only ones in the arena until the sponsors sent more.

The map of the arena changed on a daily basis. The first of the four days of the arena was a maze that the only exits were into the underground catacombs. The second day, the tributes were trapped in the catacombs where the mutts of the wild animals were caged as a taunt. The third day, the coliseum flooded in an effort to kill off a fraction of the kids. On the fourth day, the water drained, the coliseum was left as an open area, and the animal mutts were set loose on the final four tributes in the finale.

BIOGRAPHY

Ares Carnahan was born the fourth of five children to Eladora Carnahan, the Victor of the 59th Hunger Games for District Two. While Eladora had been a fan favorite of the time, that quickly dwindled for her. She started to become more and more lonely overtime and thus bedded multiple men from different parts of her life. She never told her four daughters and her only son who their fathers were, only that they didn’t share the same father. Ares always found that funny, always wanting to know what his other half was. For a long time, he was sure that his father was of District Two origin, because otherwise, why else would he be so good at what he did? That was only before that he realized that he couldn’t be, as his mother could never return to District 2.

Ares’s three older sisters, Persephone, Mikala, and Seraphina had been their own women. Seraphina was three years older than him, so she was the one who partnered with him on a lot of their adventures as children in the Village. When his younger sister, Leta, was born, Ares became almost obsessive with having attention focused more on him. So he became determined to show his mother how much he earned and deserved the attention, except it wasn’t well received and his mother grew increasingly more agitated toward her only son.

A particular day had been bad when Ares was eleven, that drew him to run away from his mother’s mansion and down the long street to find somewhere to be and hide away from her. He ended up behind a house that he had once known to be empty, a place he knew wasn’t occupied, until he realized it was. It was occupied by District Two’s newest Victor – Fell Vasile. Ares had been terrified of him due to his actions in the Games, but as the eighteen-year-old boy took him out from under the rain, Ares knew that there was a safety about him.

Anytime he had issues with his mother, Ares found himself going straight to Fell’s for protection and safety, but other times, even when the days were good, he would still drop by and spend time with him, noting how he was the only person in that big house of his. Sometimes Ares wanted the quiet, and he had a feeling that it was good for Fell to have another voice in the house.

After spending years like that, it eventually came to a head where his mother had enough of it. Accusing Fell of inappropriate behavior with the then fourteen-year-old Ares, the fight escalated and got worse over the next several minutes until Eladora had enough of the situation and told Ares it was either to come home with her or else. Ares chose the ‘or else’. With that, Eladora had banned him from her mansion and told him to live on the street. Blissfully, even with tears in Ares’s eyes thinking the worst, Fell had turned to him and told him that he wouldn’t, that he could live with him.

So he did.

Even though it was obvious that Fell didn’t want Ares in the Games, Ares became more determined to become a tribute, wanting then to prove to himself and to others that he was better than his abusive mother. His need to please her and make her see him had morphed into a sort of twisted vengeance in his own head, but thankfully, Fell helped coach him more and taught him what he knew. Eventually, at seventeen, Ares had gone back to District Two for the evaluations and nominations for the 86th Hunger Games tributes and had gotten the male tribute nomination. Much to his glee, Ares was excited. Except Fell wasn’t. Still, Ares volunteered during the Reaping and the two of them were off to the Capitol once again.

His time in the Tribute Tower was mostly spent charming other tributes. Ares made sure to form an alliance quickly with his tribute partner and District One. He purposefully left District Four out of it, not wanting to get the group too big. He didn’t need that many people targeting him. His training came with a breeze, showing his worth almost immediately. His training scores reflected that with a glorious 10, knowing full well that he would get it. His confidence was soaring and he knew he would defeat whatever obstacles were thrown at him.

Upon arriving in the Roman Colosseum arena, he was adorned in a gold armor with red adornments. When he went into the Bloodbath, he was one of the first ones into the fray, grabbing a hold of a sword and decapitating the girl from District Six first when she got into the area. Seven tributes died in the Bloodbath, including his own District partner after a well-placed dagger by the boy from District Four. He would have to keep an eye out for that one, he remembered thinking. So he disappeared with the two from District One, knowing he was at a slight disadvantage due to his District partner’s stupidity.

The next three days of the arena went fast for him. He, like other tributes, were starving and growing weaker by the day. However, his thirst was eventually quenched when the third day happened and the arena flooded, killing the majority of the tributes. He managed to stay alive by swimming, but so did the boy from District Four. They got into a scuffle before they were suddenly rained down upon with arrows from the sky, so they ended up splitting ways.

On the fourth day, there were four tributes left. Ares, with the most kills of the Game at five people, the boy from District Four, with three kills of his own, and then the girl from District Seven and the boy from District Ten. By then, he was fed and medicated from the injuries he had sustained from the arrows from sponsor gifts. He was gifted a better sword by fans of his work in the arena. His armor and his body were covered in the blood of his kills. As they were all flushed out of the tunnels by the released animal mutts, it was now or never for all four of them.

The boy from District Ten was the first to fall from a bear that mauled him to death before the boy could get away. The girl from District Seven was immediately taken out by Ares when she was distracted by the horde of wolves that howled out from the south gates. That left him and the boy from District Four. They dodged and attempted to move around the hordes of animals as they went at each other. When they clashed, it was epic. Even looking back on it, Ares was fascinated by how evenly matched they both seemed to be. After almost fifteen minutes of fighting, the boy from Four managed to get a dagger into Ares’s side and rip it out, knocking him to the ground. As Ares knew he was bleeding out and the animals would smell his blood, he watched as the boy from Four jumped on him and tried to get in on his neck. Ares held him back, only to smear his own blood across the boy’s face and shove him off with one last gasp.

Then the wolves and tigers descended upon him.

Ares managed to barely get up while holding his intestines inside, nearly getting taken out by animals on his own accord from the smell of blood. He watched as an elephant came stampeding right toward him and a group of cheetahs stalking him before the sound of a canon blew. Everything halted then. All of the animals calmed and stopped moving. The boy from Four had died. Just as the voice on the intercom presented Ares Carnahan as Victor of the 86th Hunger Games, he collapsed in the middle of the arena, having lost too much blood.

Upon waking, Ares knew he would be bedridden for a while after the surgery. Still, he stood and walked for his crowning, not wanting to miss that for the world. He thought he would feel on top of the world, but instead, he felt empty. There was no pride or glory in what he had done. The kind of attention he had gotten from the Capitol wasn’t the kind he wanted. They saw him as some sort of icon for bloodshed. Everything that Fell had warned him about, but the older man was still at his bedside regardless.

Over the next several years after his Games, Ares struggled with nightmares and panic attacks. A year after his Victory, he was introduced to the sex ring, in which all of his issues were made worse by it. Fell wasn’t happy about it by any means but Ares made him swear not to intervene, in fear of what might happen to him if he did. The year after that was when Ares’s life shifted again, but for the better. Serenity Garcia had been selected as the female tribute and had won the Games. While her hot-headed nature had been off-putting at first, it didn’t take long for Ares to realize how beautiful she was, and in a way, her personality was something that drew him in.

Ares had his found family over those years, but despite it all, he had grown to have an alcohol addiction. Finding himself at Capitol bars more often than not after he turned twenty-one, but his drinking started to bleed into his own home after a while. With his destructive lifestyle and the bombardment of clients that came his way over the next nine years, Ares was slowly coming unraveled even as his feelings for Serenity had developed.

During the 96th Hunger Games, Ares felt it come to a head after a particularly awful client, causing him to binge drink until he had nearly died from the overdose. Fell and Serenity helped him recover, including Fell who made him detox for several days. While he is nowhere near beating the demon that had grown within him, it was a blessing that he and Serenity had admitted to one another that their feelings were more than simple friendship. With Serenity at his side and Fell as his constant support system, Ares knew that it was going to become easier to beat his demons, unless the Capitol had other plans for him first.

PENNED BY: TABBY

#accepted #character bio #ares

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hazyheel · 5 years

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WWE Monday Night Raw 8/26/19 Review

Sasha Banks Promo: She talked about why she left for the past four months. She kinda started to mix reality with fiction about why she left, but then she said that she left because she was jealous of Becky Lynch for getting to main event with Ronda Rousey and Charlotte Flair. She was relegated to a tag match, defending tag titles that meant nothing to her. She said that she bided her time, waiting for the best moment to return, and that was when Natalya was paying tribute to her father. It drew out Lynch, which was her intention, She said that she was the talk of the women’s division, because she was the best in the women’s division. She was going to continue, but Natalya ran down and attacked her. The two fought a whole bunch before the officials separated them.

Grade: C. Love to hear Banks cutting promos again, but the content of it was a bit odd. I get that heel Banks loves the attention and is a dick about it, but this was weird. They devalued those Women’s Tag Titles like crazy with that line, not that they were in a very good place to begin with. But just whining about not getting money and not main eventing when, two months before mania, she cried in the middle of the ring about how happy she was to make history with Bayley? That doesn’t make sense. Those titles were big when she and Bayley held them, and they could have stayed big if they retained at mania. I question this story a lot, but maybe it will pick up. I like the whole “eyes on me” part of the story, but her reason for leaving was bad.

The Street Profits backstage: They hyped up Sasha Banks’ return, the King of the Ring matches, the United States Championship match between Styles and Strowman, and the tag team turmoil match. They are fun.

Drew McIntyre vs. Ricochet in the first round of the 2019 King of the Ring: before the match, Ricochet cut a promo backstage. He said that King of the Ring was a childhood goal of his. And he is willing to do anything to beat Drew McIntyre. McIntyre also cut a promo. He said that the former winners were disappointing, and that he would get rid of all the unworthy superstars when he reigns supreme. In the actual match, Ricochet relied on his agility and speed, while McIntyre used his power. McIntyre had the advantage early on by lighting up Ricochet with strikes and huge throws. McIntyre worked over the back quite a bit during this match to weaken the base of Ricochet. But that certainly didn’t stop Ricochet from hitting his high impact offense. At one point, Ricochet went for a poison rana, but McIntyre just powered him up and over into an inverted Alabama slam. At one point, Ricochet caught Mcintyre out of a corner splash, and hit a northern lights suplex. But when he went for the vertical suplex follow up, Mcintyre just caught him and threw him aside. McIntyre then tried to throw Ricochet into the steel steps, but Ricochet jumped off of it to deliver a high kick. He tried to follow up with a flying forearm, but Mcintyre gave him the Glasgow kiss as Ricochet flew at him. Ricochet then countered a Claymore with a superkick, but McIntyre responded right away with a lariat and then a huge powerbomb for a near fall. Ricochet we then thrown to the top rope, where he gave Mcintyre Recoil off the top, and the 630 Senton for the win.

Grade: B+. This was a really good match. The two put on an above average TV match, with a lot of back and forth. It would have ranked higher if there was more urgency, but it was largely slow. That slow pace helped to sell Ricochet as an underdog, as Mcintyre constantly stayed in the advantage by keeping him on the mat. But Ricochet got some good offense in and got the win. Good booking, Ricochet needs this more than McIntyre. Match of the night.

Braun Strowman and Seth Rollins Interview: Rollins talked about how he doesn’t mind defending both his titles at Clash of Champions. Strowman then challenged Rollins for the Universal Championship, and Rollins accepted. That match was then made official. Interesting situation.

Baron Corbin vs. The Miz in the first round of the 2019 King of the Ring: before the match, the Miz got on the mic and ran down his accomplishments. Then he said that he wanted to be King Awesome. Corbin came out and started the match by throwing his dress shirt into Miz’s face and laying into him a bit. However, Miz then fired back with a series of stiff strikes, only to be layed out on the outside with a right from Corbin. Corbin also insulted the ref a whole bunch here, similar to Corbin’s match back at Super Showdown. There was a nice sequence where Miz flipped out of an End of Day before kicking Corbin in the knee and ramming his head into the mat with a DDT. Corbin went for his run around the post lariat at one point, but Miz ducked it and hit a skull crushing finale for a near fall. In the finish, Miz went for a springboard lariat, but Corbin caught him in an End of Days for the win.

After the match, Corbin was sure to try on the crowd and hold the scepter. Then he grabbed a mic and insulted the fans for not wanting him to win King of the Ring, but he said that none of them matter. He said that they couldn’t get anywhere near his accomplishments on their best day. Corbin then said “All hail King Corbin.”

Grade: B-. Pretty good match here. They blended together well, and they had a simple match with a simple story. Corbin looked strong, and he is back to his winning ways. Corbin needed this win far more than Miz, and it ended up a good match. That line closing the segment was interesting, it sounds like some thing that we may have to get used to saying.

Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows interview: they talked about how Rollins and Strowman didn’t earn their title match, so they don’t understand why they need to earn theirs. But it doesn’t matter, because they will win anyway.

Bayley vs. Nikki Cross: this match stemmed from the fact that Bayley interrupted a moment of Bliss on Smackdown last week, even though everyone does that all the time. Anyway, during the match, Cross worked over Bayley’s ribs over using boots and body scissors alike. The match was over pretty quickly. Bayley eventually put Cross on the mat and gave her the elbow off the top.

Grade: C-. A squash that was meant to pad the show. Weird story, and Bayley won randomly.

Braun Strowman interview: Strowman talked about how he will handle every opponent that he has at Clash of Champions. He will destroy AJ Styles tonight for the United States Championship, and then Rollins for his Universal Championship at the pay per view. Strowman is getting a lot of love lately.

Tag Team Turmoil; The B-Team vs. The Viking Raiders: The winner of this whole Tag Team Turmoil match will be declared #1 contenders to the Raw Tag Team Championships. Oh the poor B-Team. They were hit with the Viking Experience before they even got off their feet.

The OC vs. The Viking Raiders: Ivar and Gallows started things out, but both members of the OC quickly isolated each member of the team and beat them down. They were beating down Erik on the outside, but Ivar gave both members a suicide dive. They all rolled back into the ring and they brawled violently until the ref called for a double disqualification.

Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode vs. Lucha House Party: Gran Metalik and Lince Durado represented the Lucha House Party, while Kaslito was on the outside. This match was incredibly fast paced for the short time it lasted. Ziggler pushed Durado off the top rope and to the outside, and nailed Metalik with a sweet chin music to the back of the head as he did a springboard for the win.

Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode vs. The Revival: Ziggler and Scott Dawson started things up. This new team of Ziggler and Roode made very quick tags over and over to constantly have a two on one advantage. Eventually, the Revival got control back using their superior experience as a tag team. They beat down Ziggler with everything that they had, using mostly suplexes to keep him down. In the finish, there was quite a bit of chaos as Ziggler tagged in Roode while Dawson was legal. He tried to superkick Wilder, but Wilder gave him a tornado DDT off of Roode’s chest, only for Ziggler to stand right back up and give Wilder a Famouser. Dawson then gave Ziggler a brainbuster, and tried to give Roode one as well, but Roode countered into a Glorious DDT for the win.

Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode vs. Curt Hawkins and Zack Ryder: Hawkins was totally destroying both of his heel opponents in the early parts of this match, showing everyone just how underrated he is. Hawkins and Ryder hit a nice neckbreaker/samoan drop combo, with Roode breaking it up. But in the ensuing chaos, Ziggler nailed Ryder with a superkick for the win.

Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode vs. Heavy Machinery: Before the match, the heels tried to call for a time out, but Tucker took them both out. Heavy Machinery had some quick tags here, but Robert Roode pulled down the top rope to take him out, before throwing him around ringside to weak him. Ziggler desperately tried to keep Tucker on the mat in the middle part of this match, but Otis got the hot tag. He destroyed the new team with his intense offense. As Otis went for the Caterpillar, Ziggler tried to stop him but he was just tossed in the air like a pancake. Otis then gave Ziggler the caterpillar, and then a huge slam to Roode for a near fall. Tucker went to hit the compactor, but Ziggler cut him off with the Sweet Chin Music. He then gave Otis a Zig Zag onto Tucker, and then Roode picked him back up for a Glorious DDT and the win.

Grade: B. There were some nice segments here and there, but the best match of the six was definitely the last one, although the Revival were very good as well. Roode and Ziggler blended together really well as a team, and I look forward to seeing how they proceed from here. That should be an entertaining match at Clash of Champions. But the closing stretch at the end was really really nice, with a lot of excitement and a bunch of anticipation.

Natalya vs. Sasha Banks: Natalya came into the match with an already injured arm, so that had a big red target on it. Natalya started with some vicious strikes and slams early on. They quickly fought to the outside where Natalya continued to throw her all around ringside. At one point, Nattie gave Banks a huge release German suplex that gave her a couple seconds of air time. Banks then took advantage by smashing Nattie’s arm into the ring post, and then tossing her into the timekeeper’s area. From there, Banks started to talk a whole bunch of trash, which only angered Natalya more. However, Natalya went for the sharpshooter, but she couldn’t lock it in, only for Banks to lock in the Bank Statement. Banks even tied up Nattie’s hurt arm to keep up the pressure, and Nattie had to tap out.

Banks continued the attack after the match a little bit, smiling cruelly as she did.

Grade: B. Pretty good stuff. Nattie showed a lot of fire here, and Banks looked like a terrible despicable heel. Her heel turn is turning out great so far, and her future is definitely looking bright. I will definitely be into the feud when Lynch gets more invovled.

AJ Styles Interview: He said that The OC were screwed during the tag team turmoil. He also said that he didn’t need Gallows and Anderson to win, and he said that he isn’t scared of Braun Strowman. He siad that he would give Strowman exactly what he deserves: nothing. Cool line.

Cedric Alexander vs. Cesaro: the two started out with a bit of shoving, but they started to absolutely mess each other up with strikes. At one point, Alexander went for a suicide dive, but Cesaro nailed him with an uppercut as he did. Cesaro focused mostly on the leg, but that definitely didn’t stop Alexander from nailing a Michinoku driver for a near fall. Cesaro fought back with a huge deadlift superplex for a near fall of his own. The injury to the leg became more and more prominent as the match wore on, as Alexander went for a power move and just collapsed as he tried. Cesaro continued the the work on the leg, including catching Alexander out of a one-legged Neuralizer for an ankle lock. From there, Alexander pulled Cesaro out of the ring, and caught him with a Lumbar Check as he came back in. That scored Alexander the win, but his leg was very injured.

Grade: B. Another pretty good match. I liked the limb work a lot, and Cesaro sold his anger very well. I do feel like this match only happened because they need a reason for Corbin to win next week, but if that is the case then I will deal with it. Alexander still looks really good, and this momentum can only be good for his career.

Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode interview: Ziggler talked about how they came together. They both knew that the other was hungry for gold, so they gravitated to each other. They called this meeting destiny, and said that they will win the tag team championships because they actually care about each other.

Street Profits Backstage again: They ran down what happened on the Show, before hyping the main event. They were about to do their predictions, but Bruan Strowman was next to them.

AJ Styles vs. Braun Strowman for the WWE United States Championship: Strowman immediately threw Styles out of the ring and ran him over a couple times, before nailing a chokeslam back in the ring, only for Styles to put his foot on the bottom rope. Strowman then gave Styles a big boot out of the ring. When we came back from commercial, Styles locked in a sleeper. Big men need more oxygen, but Strowman crushed Styles in the corner. He tried for a big boot in the corner, but Styles dodged it and took him out at the leg. Styles then started to work the leg and knees a bit. Styles then locked in the Calf Crusher, with Strowman desperately trying to pull himself to the ropes. However, Strowman then just sat up and gave Styles a headbutt for a near fall. Strowman started again with the shoulder tackles, and was sent into the post as he did. Styles then gave Strowman a dropkick, sending Strowman into the ref. Styles then went to the eyes, before giving Strowman a low blow. Styles grabbed a chair next and started to beat Strowman down with it, only for Strowman to drill him into the mat with a powerslam and got a visual pin. The OC then ran down, but Strowman took them both out with a steel chair. Styles acted like he was down as the ref got back up, and the ref was convinced that Strowman hit Styles with the chair. Styles then won by disqualification.

Strowman beat down the OC with a chair after the match. He gave everyone Running Powerslams, and held the US title for a bit.

Grade: B-. Fine match, mostly good for the shenanigans. I missed Styles’ awful cheater side, and he was super good with his cheating this time around. The Strowman DQ means that he probably won’t get a rematch, and they still kept the feud going a bit. Strowman then beat everyone up and sent the crowd home happy. Fine stuff, but largely inconsequential.

Overall Grade: B-

Pros: Ricochet vs. McIntyre; tag team turmoil; Banks vs. Natalya; Cesaro vs. Alexander

Cons: Banks’ reason for leaving; bayley vs. cross

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widgenstain · 6 years

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Currently cleaning out my fic folder. This barbarian/monk crackpornfluff has been lying around for a while now. Cannot remember why I wrote it, probably because I wanted to write some top!Erik again for a change. Have fun and ignore the bad English!

“They have so much gold, they paint their books with it, pages over pages!”, Toad nodded gravely, Don't laugh, I have seen them with my own eyes!”

'”How do you paint books with gold? Gold is solid. Besides, it's heavy and monks are weaklings, how are they supposed to carry those books around?”

„It's only very thin gold! Erik, you have seen them too!“

Toad turned to him and poked him in the side. Ignoring Erik's warning grunt, he kept going:

“They value them for what they scribble in them though. They’re obsessed with it. You should have seen the one crying at the last place we went to, when I ripped that stupid leather thing apart. They are so weird.”

“Monks are weird”, agreed Victor, “but they do make the best beer. I can't wait to get my hands on some stout and barley bread. And maybe on some of the monks too.”

“What!?”

“Don't pretend to be so surprised, you slimy creep. You’re into much worse. Erik here gets me, right?” Victor grinned his feral, dark-stained grin.

“They're weak, pale and softer than women under their robes. I mean, they’re usually so scared - or into it, they don’t struggle or wiggle much, so if that’s more your thing, you’re at a loss, but I’ve had some great hours with their asses and mouths.

Erik psshhed and Victor shrugged.

“Don't pretend you're better than me. You do it, I do it, why shouldn't we all have a little fun with them before we kill them? Speaking of ...”

Between the leaves of the forest's crown the impressive defensive walls of the monastery had appeared. In Erik's old company this would have been the time to make camp and go over the plan of attack. In this new group of fearsome Norsemen, it was time you charged at the castle swinging your axe without a moment of hesitation. The men yelled their battle cries as they leapt through the mud, weapons raised and clubs crashing heavily against the wooden planks of the main gate. They hammered and splintered away, the noise deafening in the air and slowly the oaken gate gave way to the assault.

Except...

The gate was open. The fearsome warriors weren't faced with a real door, they cursed and fought mirages made of dust and air.

“Hey Erik!”, a red-headed boy greeted him as Erik walked through the gate.

“Did you bring the spices I asked for?”

“All down by the boat, I'll get them in a minute.”

“Ha, yeah, a minute...” he froze at Erik’s face, “I’m joking! Don’t worry about them, Hank and I will get them! You enjoy yourself!” As much as he wanted to scold Sean and make the boy tremble with fear, there were more important matters at hand.

Erik pretty much flew up the stairs to the dormitorium. It was empty at this time of day, except for the very naked abbot of the monastery who was casually lightening candles in the back. He didn't even look up from his conduct, as if he hadn't noticed Erik barging into the room. Erik could feel his mouth water at the sight of the thick, creamy thighs and the perfectly round globes of his ass. Pale? Yes. Soft? In some areas. Weak? Well, those who had wrongly assumed so had paid a painful price.

He felt Charles’ puckish grin spread in his mind and the sensation of what it feels like when he burrows his beard in Charles’ shaven neck. Erik couldn't keep in the groan and he pretty much pounced Charles who pretended to only see him now.

“Oh no, intruders, barbarians, we are doomed!”

“Oh shut up!” Erik pulled him into a tight embrace and crashed their mouths together in a hungry, bordering on desperate kiss. Usually he had better control, but with a display like this and almost three months away from Charles, Erik ached for the feel of Charles’ lips on his. And Charles grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him back fiercely, noses and teeth clashing. But after a few, blissful moments, Charles broke it up and wailed:

“Oh what will I do, a strong wild man has come to ravish me”, all while he leaned his compact, NAKED body against Erik's still unfairly dressed one.

“What are you talking about?”

“Will you not forcefully deflower me, like a true Norseman would with a weak and wilting young monk like me?”

No eyeroll could express what all was wrong with that sentence, yet Erik still tried.

“Charles, please, stop that nonsense.”

He brought their mouths back together and Charles gave in until:

There are 27 men with limited and very brutal fantasies fighting a glorious battle downstairs, thanks to me. Humour me a little.

Erik, weak in the knees thanks to Charles sucking on his tongue like the demon in monk robes that he clearly was, sighed into the kiss and slid his hand down to roughly grab one of the perfect cheeks.

“Alright, but this ‘Norseman’ wants to be undressed and not do much of the work tonight, understood?”

Charles licked his reddened lips, nodded with a twinkle in his eye and went on to flick the buttons of Erik’s jacket open. For someone so desperate to be ravished, he was took his time though, kissed and licked every new bit of exposed skin, sloooowly ran his fingers down the line of Erik’s neck...

Until Erik let a frustrated noise, pushed him back to his bed and finished the job much quicker. Mischief, pure mischief was written on the beautiful face as Charles laid back on the simple berth and spread his legs. His gorgeous fat cock curved against his belly, hard and wet at the tip, while below the hair was dark and mussed up.

Erik groaned and practically ripped his leggings off. He was on Charles mere seconds later, right between his legs, he kissed the red mouth hard and couldn’t help but grind his stiffening erection against the straw filled mattress.

“Yessss:”

You are incorrigible, he thought at Charles as he kissed his way down the pale chest to the ticklish belly and licked the tip of Charles’ cock who groaned and tried to move his hips away.

“What a strange Norseman who sucks his poor, helpless bounty’s cock.

“This “Norseman” missed the taste and he’s not going to let this be taken from him, even if he apparently has no say in the general proceedings”, he swallowed him deep, tell me if you want me to stop.

Charles’ needy moan and the hand suddenly fisting his hair told Erik that this was not the case.

And just HOW Erik had missed this! He’d done this with other men before, before he’d met Charles, but he’d never expected that he would like it this much. Or just like it. Full stop.

Charles was different than those nameless men in every sense; he was perfect. Erik loved the musky taste, the foreskin and the shape, he loved how deep he could take him and how the stretch didn't bother him; instead it filled him with pride when Charles whined and grabbed his hair tighter.

He’d wanted this the whole damned crossing and it was so much better than the memories he had jerked off to. As a matter of fact: he reached down to take himself in hand and rub his cock in the same rhythm, he was so horny, he was going to burst any minute or so anyway.

“No! No.”

Charles pulled up Erik’s head rather abruptly.

“You aren’t the only one who went through a dry spell, you’re going to keep it together. You can do that later if you want to.”

Charles scrambled up and climbed to his knees, butt raised and presented himself to Erik like a gift.

“This way. We haven’t done this in ages, besides, I’ve used half of your oil this morning, it cannot go to waste.” He wiggled his ass at Erik who grinned but also couldn’t tear his eyes off the display.

“So economic. Where’s the rest?”

“Silver phial.” Charles went down on his forearms and stretched his back in the obscenest manner. The little bottle shot through the air like an English man’s dart and Erik suddenly couldn’t slick up fast enough. He ached for it and it took all of his composure not to come as he levelled behind Charles and breached him slowly. Or tried to breach him slowly since Charles pushed back and took him to the root with a long, deep, satisfied sigh. Erik grabbed the cheeks, nails sunk in as a warning, but it only spurred Charles on.

“Come on, take me. Take me, I need it.”

“Wah..sn’t this supposed to be some helpless victim fantasy?”

“Screw that. Fuck me.” Charles moved on his dick and Erik almost choked on his tongue so heavy and thick it felt in his mouth. He wanted this. Charles wanted this, he could do it. He pushed back, countered the rhythm Charles had set and slowly fucked him, every thrust measured and with the goal to bring Charles more joy than the incredible, soft wet heat brought him.

It was bloody useless though. Charles thrust back, his hole so welcoming and greedy even, clenching around him with every move that devil of a man made. Erik whined tried to regain some control, pulled out under Charles’ noisy protest but couldn't resist the low and needy moans that followed. He shifted on his knees, went for a better angle and thrust back in. He’d forever deny that shout, but from that moment on it was a brutal and fast mess. He pounded into Charles who encouraged him, a filthy stream of obscenenities falling from his mouth, with no rhythm, no finesse.

“Yes, there, deeper, come on take me, fuck me, faster, Oh Lord in heaven yessss.”

Erik sobbed and pushed Charles’ shoulders down, mainly to shut him up, but he only got muffled moans in return, and an ass that fucked back even more relentlessly. Erik grabbed the soft flesh before him, right now Charles ass was the best thing he’d ever touched, probably ever, round and soft and so insatiable like its owner. Erik slapped it, sharp and loudly,

“Yes that’s it, do it harder!”

Erik’s coherency spectacularly collapsed while he still TRIED.

He slapped Charles’ ass again, undulated his hips and pushed into him with quick, deep thrusts that shook their small bed and fully kept him in the tight vice of Charles’ greedy body. Down to the root, sunk in his lover, he smacked that perky flesh again and muttered, most likely not only figuratively out of his mind:

“This is what you want? To be held down and used like this? To be fucked like all the men out there want to fuck you? Like a piece of ass, to be used and thrown away?”

The gasp that followed did it. Charles body was raked with a deep shiver, like this was precisely what he’d waited for, and Erik came. To the gasp, to the heat, to this relentless friction on his cock he spilled himself into Charles, almost crying at the relief it brought him.

When he came back to his senses he leaned against the whitewashed wall of the dormitorium while a sweaty, grinning Charles straddled his chest. He was still very much aroused to Erik’s surprise.

I said you could do that later, didn’t I?

Erik grinned like a loon and without a second of hesitation he swallowed Charles down. As far gone as he was it didn’t take more than a few needy sucks from Erik to make Charles cry out and try to pull back. But he wasn’t the only one determined amongst them, so Erik refused to let him go and with a very un-monk-like curse falling from his lips, Charles came down Erik’s relaxed throat. When he pulled back Erik couldn't help the cough but Charles contented and slightly dumb face was worth all the discomfort in the world.

Re-arranged and cuddled together on the small bed, Erik tried to stay awake, there were errands to run, and the fools of his company to be taken care of.

Put them to sleep right the moment you came through this door. It’s not as if the others couldn't deal with them if I slipped but I didn't want to accidentally broadcast something of this into their sad little brains.

“You didn’t? Don’t you usually give them fantasies that are quit similar to this? Didn’t you want to show me off?”

Similar, yes. But not you. Not us. You are mine and this is for us. It’s not to be shared.

Charles’ face lay close to his on the one pillow and if Erik didn’t know better there almost was something shy in the otherwise so confident smile.

“So I am”, Erik said and finally gave Charles the soft, lingering kiss he’d wanted to give him the past three months.

#cherik #fanfiction #there's some casual talk about rape in the beginning but this is really mostly cracky fluff #this had some other ending in the beginning #a more dirty and less fluffy one #but it didn't fit #maybe I'll use it somewhere else #I dunno #conflicted feeling about fanfiction lately #so I'm blowing out everything that's rolling around on my computer #and see how I'll feel about it in a few months #my stuff

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patriotcoinrings · 3 years

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All sales help support the Wounded Warrior Project!

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Grade: Mint Condition

Metal Content: 1 Troy Ounce

Purity: .999 Pure Silver (Purest Form Possible)

Manufacturer: Golden State Mint

Coin Thickness: 3.2 mm

Coin Diameter: 39.3 mm

Obverse: Depicts a pirate with the words Praedatum in Mundo which translates into "A Predatory World".

- Reverse: Shows Flames with the purity and weight of the (8) 1/8 oz pure Silver pieces of the 1 oz Silver round.

Silver Shield Pieces of Eight | A World of Plunder | 1 troy oz BU .999 Fine Silver

Avast Ye Lads & Lassies! Plunder the coffers of SDBullion with these stunning Pieces of Eight: the first Silver Bullion coin commemorating both the original Spanish Pieces of Eight silver coins, and Pirate lore!

The new Silver Shield Pieces of Eight physically represents the deadly history of silver. Praedatum In Mundo translates into “A Predatory World” that defines the struggle of man against nature to extract this rare, precious metal, but also violent clash of civilizations to control the treasure of the world.

The ocean and sky in the background of the Silver Shield Pieces of Eight represent the treacherous seas that would claim many a men in search of this glorious treasure. Explorers sought to find new trading routes with Asia soon discovered the new world and all of it’s riches.

The Silver Shield Pieces of Eight has an Aztec inspired lower border that represents the powerful Native American empires that arose long before European discovery. The Aztecs, Mayans and Incas as well as many more Native American tribes conquered the Americas and spread their power throughout the Western Hemisphere. That is until another predatory power came to the new world...

The Spanish Conquistadors brought Christianity, brutal tactics and most importantly disease to conquer the indigenous populations and steal their natural wealth. Perhaps the most brutal example of the dangers and deaths associated with silver, is the legendary Cerro de Potosí mine in Bolivia. The Potosí mine was known as the mountain “made of silver” or the “mountain that eats men”. Since the Spanish first forced indigenous populations to mine the mountain, an estimated 8 million souls have died mining silver out of that one mountain. It is said that with the amount of silver taken from Potosí, the Spanish could have built a bridge of silver back to Spain. Local legends also say that they could build a second bridge back to the new world from the bones of the men that perished in the mining of that silver.

Despite and estimated 33 million Indigenous People and African slaves that worked the Potosí mine over the past 500 years, she is still yielding silver today. At over 15,000 feet above sea level, young boys as young as 14 years old work all day in medieval conditions hauling rock on their backs or breaking the rock with hammer and iron chisel. To think that even today, these boys risk their lives to work in brutal conditions in the dark for $14 a day is amazing. Everyday, they face almost certain death from either the dangers of the job, or if they are lucky enough to get to their 40’s, they will certainly face numerous lung diseases associated with this dangerous job.

As powerful as the Spanish Empire was, soon other colonial powers sought to dominate the nature and their fellow man. The eight swords of the Silver Shield Pieces of Eight represent the 8 great colonial powers that fought countless wars in dominating the world. Spain, England, France, Portugal, Denmark, Netherlands, The United States and Belgium all fought in foreign lands for the natural resources of other poorer people. This colonial warmongering continues to this day with the resource wars in the Middle East and Asia.

And no matter how powerful any one nation or empire is, on the open sea they were all subject to yet another predatory power, the Pirate. Despite the very bad reputation of the pirates, they actually had a very egalitarian code among them. It gives us a strong example of a true democracy that would put modern American democracy to shame. Pirates not only directly voted for their captain, but they also had the power to depose their captain at any time. Pirates also had a worker’s comp program that stated that if any pirate should become a cripple or lose a limb in service that they would receive 800 Pieces of Eight from the common stock.

The Silver Shield Pieces of Eight was styled after the original Spanish Dollar or Eight Reales coin. Like the original Spanish Dollar, the twin pillars of Hercules are adorned with the early manifest destiny motto of the Spanish Empire, PLVS VLTR, or "further beyond". These adorned pillars are also the reason why we have the dollar sign ($) today. For many years of the early American history, the Spanish Dollar was used as an official currency of the new colonies.

The Spanish influence on the American monetary system is still evident today. The original Spanish Dollar was a one ounce silver coin was valued at eight reales. This "piece of eight” could be fractioned into halves (four reales) or quarters (two reales) much as we do with modern dollars. These "pieces of eight” were also why the stock market traded stocks for hundreds of years measured in 1/8 until the decimalization in 2001.

Like the original Spanish Dollar, the only way to cut the Pieces of Eight into it’s eight pieces, is a lot of effort and strong tools. Unlike the original Spanish Dollar, Silver Shield Pieces of Eight has a unique reverse that shows the purity and weight of the (8) 1/8 oz pure silver pieces of the 1 ounce pure silver strike. If you do manage to cut this into eighths, each piece of eight would have a unique colonial power sword on the obverse.

Dead men tell no tales, and neither will ye unless ye smartly secure the motherload before she sails away!

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#how to make a coin ring #patriot coin rings #making coin rings #coincollecting #spanish #w #etsyjewelleryshop #etsyusa

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 3 years

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 37 – Yuigi’s Mystery

“Sir, we have a situation!”

Sangin and Yeonsu bolted into the room, their motion so forceful that they might as well have demolished the door.

“We just had an explosion in sector 32.”

“Sector 32? That must be...”

“That’s where we have a facility that belongs to the ex-chairman.”

Of all the places.

Taesik, the director of KSA, minced a biteful of his lips, grasping his desk tightly by its either sides.

“Do we know the cause?”

“We dispatched the agents who happened to be nearby. They testified that the topmost structure of the building – which is in the ex-chairman’s possession – was utterly destroyed. Luckily we have zero casualty so far, due to the time and location of the explosion. Not to mention it was built in an area not dense in transient or residential populations.”

“...That is good to hear.”

“I am terribly sorry to say this, but it is too soon to call off the alarm. We have yet to find the one to blame.”

“...Did you notify them?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Takio said he’s on his way right now.”

“Very well. You two look into the exact number of casualty and magnitude of damage. We must get ready for the aftermaths, including the media broadcast.”

Sangin and Yeonsu nodded in understanding.

They remained silent, but they knew what used to stand at the scene of trouble. They also knew who was lodging there.

Which was why they mentally mumbled in synchronization: Did she finally do it?

*****

Yuigi was running.

She had been stranger to a chase for such a long time.

However, unlike her previous experiences, she was the one on the run.

“Where do you think you’re going? I just put up a fight and gave you an invitation – don’t you turn down the party!”

The man croaked behind her, sounding much more like a toad with his voice raised.

Currently, Yuigi was luring him.

She could not say for sure if she could muster even one-sixteenth of her original power, but she remembered how she could make a colossal building crumble to the very bottom with a mere punch, as if breaking a toothpick.

She knew herself too well; she could not dare engage in a brawl where the safehouse once maintained itself.

‘There’s no reason for me to reserve myself a lecture from those three, given that I can make it back alive.’

She ultimately reached the area where 6th, 7th, and 8th Elders were lost, still under KSA’s management – a thoroughly vacant space, impeccable for a clash-slash-clamor.

‘No, it won’t be a clash. Clash applies to a case in which the involved parties engage in a mutual combat. What I’ll soon get to encounter here would be a one-sided beating.’

Yuigi directed her eyes, slightly hazy with bitterness, towards her choker, somehow feeling heavier than usual.

“Like I said, you have no idea how elated I am, Yuigi! For at last I have found a chance!”

The modified human smirked, making it so very blatant that he was in ecstasy.

‘Duh, of course I have no idea. I was too busy trying to recover my well-bombarded eardrums.’

That was when Yuigi got curious of what he had said to her upon entrance.

She was aware of the fact that bad guys who talk a lot have so much to offer.

Though verbal manipulation is far from her usual style of battle, Yuigi warmed up her lips in preparation.

“Oh, so that’s what you jabbered about when you crashed through the door? Thanks for filling me in.”

That moment the man’s face was crumpled in displeasure.

“I happened to be busy in thoughts. Damn, speaking of which, I didn’t even get to enjoy my late-night snack. I’ve been waiting to savor it since last night; I wonder if I can get it later. Then again, since the entire building is gone, I should start cleaning the mess. And figure out who to send the bills to pay for the loss.”

Yuigi peeked at him, making herself appear as unconcerned as possible.

Just as she had wished, his face was plastered with doubt concerning his own hearing capability, soon to be marred with question regarding her words.

“That was the prelude of my glorious history of spotlight. You were supposed to be my witness for the moment...! And you didn’t hear anything I spoke?”

“Nope. To me, getting a treat as scheduled is more important than that stupid speech of yours.”

“Why, you...! Stick this to your head – the codename’s Kornel. The new hope and star of the surviving Union! And as I get my revenge for my dear friend Mark, I...”

Kornel flinched and held his tongue, in the course of his frenzied monologue of screech and spit.

And he smiled as if telling Yuigi that it was a nice try.

“You were planning to pry out info from me. Sorry, but I’m not falling for it. I’m not that hopeless.”

Well, you just spilled the codename of your closest comrade. That counts as a lethal mistake in my point of view.

Yuigi did not dispense her opinion, for Kornel did have a point: she could no longer collect intelligence from him.

And she had neither the plan nor time to give it another try. Kornel flexed his fingers and closed the distance between them.

“Since you were keeping yourself hidden in such a place, I assume your skills have turned unworthy of flaunting. It’s a shame that I can’t pummel you while you are in best condition and fully furnished, but I hope you’d understand. When will I ever get to beat a Cerberus? Oh, and allow me to thank you in advance – thank you for serving as my stepping stone to the higher ground!”

With a pregnant thud, Kornel flung himself forward.

Instinctively Yuigi’s senses were whetted to the extremity, and she fixed her eyes upon his fists and correspondingly maneuvered herself in the air.

Kornel launched the kickoff of their game with light punches, their pressure and power nevertheless not even close to the definition of kickoff, and darted towards the red-haired woman. As she ducked and turned in evasion, she could run a self-diagnosis.

‘Reflexes. Speed. Rate of reaction. They’re not so different from what they used to be. My powers may have been only partially retrieved since I was freed from Crombel’s lab, now chained by this choker. But this isn’t so bad; I can handle this, I think.’

And Yuigi got to pay for speaking too soon.

“So this is piece of cake for you, huh? You do live up to the name of the Cerberus.”

So here goes the real deal.

Yuigi had a feeling that was what Kornel’s grin was implying.

Swoosh!

Pow!

“Urgh!”

Kornel’s body faded as Yuigi kept her gaze on him, and right after an impact equivalent to that of a tank’s missile bored through her side.

Despite the painful delusion that half of her form was shattered into dust, Yuigi lifted her body to find out what just occurred to her.

Thus she came to behold Kornel lifting his enormous fist, about to powder her for good.

Bam!

Yuigi gave a kick to her legs at full force, to be gravely astonished by how Kornel had already caught up to her.

‘He looks like a toad, but how come he’s so fast?!’

As far as she was concerned, he was just a bit slower than Takio, based on her memories from the day he exhibited his nimbleness with a glass of water when she first opened her eyes in the safehouse.

Therefore, she had no choice but to altogether pledge herself to dodging.

She was not completely cornered, to her gratitude.

‘No energy manipulation or body transformation. Looks like he’s the type that deals with physical melee based on superhuman speed and strength.’

The moment her analysis met its end, out of habit she attempted to counterattack.

As she had commonly done so, Yuigi concentrated the energy within to eject it in the shape of a beam.

Just then, an unexpected pain yanked her neck, rendering her whole body numb.

It was thanks to the choker, molded by Tao and assigned by Takio.

Simultaneously, she could feel the energy that sparked across her palm withdrawing itself, like fire dumped with water.

Kornel did not hesitate to throw himself towards her, and after a series of despair and helplessness came a thought: Should I just give up?

Yuigi did not even wipe the blood off her throat, a mark left by the slash of wind that very nearly beheaded her. She was captured by the idea that even if she makes it out of here, she still has no life.

‘And I don’t want to stay as a nuisance to him.’

Takio may have thought she was blind to the fact, but she knew.

She knew that M-21, as much as he tried to make it invisible, was not happy at all with her presence.

Although Lunark’s visit set a guideline for her future behaviors, she knew that Takio was on a rather away-from-good terms with his teammates for her sake.

And just then she could see no reason why she should keep on with her current status, void of a purpose but surely a hindrance to her savior.

‘Let’s just give up.’

Her body stopped struggling, as if it were waiting for her statement.

She could feel all of her cells drained of vitality, as if her biological clock has been broken.

Meanwhile, Kornel did not halt his attack; he was right onto her face, which was a sign for Yuigi that this was it.

However, the air enveloping her heaved with a swoosh, and Kornel’s movement went past her.

No, she went past it.

‘What the...?’

She was ready to die. She did not mean to move whatsoever.

Nonetheless, her body scrambled as Kornel lunged towards her once again.

And her body began to move on its own.

‘What the heck...? What is going on?!’

She could not control any of her appendages.

It was as if her mind was cut off from her flesh, trapped in a shell in humanoid configuration.

On the other hand, her steps and actions had turned much more precise.

Apparently Kornel realized the change; his face was muddled with confusion.

But not long after, he snickered, seemingly onto something in his mind.

“A puppet within the Union, and a puppet outside, I see.”

What are you talking about?

Yuigi’s words were mute, her voice box incompliant.

“In the past, I could pick up a couple things about you by pure chance. Including what Yuri did to your body via Crombell’s order, when you were made his test subject. And what you had gone through when you found yourself at the Union for very first time.”

Yuigi did not like the way he was bickering.

For some reason, she felt like he knew something that could devastate her entire world once she learns.

What are you trying to say?

What is it that you know?

Tell me. Say it now.

No, don’t. Don’t say it.

Please let me stay ignorant.

A myriad of thoughts summoned within her soundless lightning, vortex, and squall.

“Did you know that you’ve been serving your archenemy?”

Kornel’s declaration turned Yuigi’s inner lightning into thunderstorm.

“How very pitiful. You haven’t realized who gave you your misfortune.”

Her vortex within transformed into a tornado.

“You’ve considered Union your everything, haven’t you? Well, guess what? It’s the Union that took everything from you.”

Her squall recast itself as a hurricane.

And the said hurricane struck her from head to toe, igniting every nerve of her physique.

What is that...

“...Supposed to mean?!!”

The phrase that was to be left as a thought erupted through her lips.

She could feel control back in her grip; Kornel stiffened upon her shift.

He soon repositioned himself to continue his assault, but he had to hold onto the idea.

“Miss Raciela!!”

Bang! Bang!

With a sheer cry, bullets unusually amplified in power directly landed on where Kornel was locating himself.

Kornel hurriedly took steps back, as Takio secured himself before him.

The Union agent winced upon recognizing him.

A purple-haired gunner. A gray-haired werewolf shifter. And an electric whipper with locks of white hair. In whatever circumstances, don’t you ever face off against them. Or so help me......

‘Damn it,’ muttered Kornel in his head, as he composed himself and gritted his teeth.

“Looks like fortune favors you. But don’t you think this is the end of it. Now that I know you are here, you have just provided us with an additional weapon. You’d better mark my words!”

Contrary to his you-can’t-do-anything-about-us stance, Kornel did not waste a second in running for his life.

Takio kept his gun poised and ready to fire until Kornel was made perfectly scarce, to finally turn to Yuigi, who remained immobile until then.

Her reply to his question of her safety was nothing like what he was anticipating.

“Tao.”

“...Sorry?”

“The guy who used to be in DA-5 with you. The one who is still on your team. I need to talk to him.”

(next chapter)

Yes, Kornel belonged to the assassin team under Crombell’s ownership, along with Mark. The fact that he was Mark’s closest friend is my creation for this fic, so I hope there would be no confusion on this matter!

Now this fic is slowly reaching its highlight chapters. I’ll do my best to bring a good finale for my series! :D

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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