#why it's suddenly 'kill bane's chosen'??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animentality · 27 days

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we talk a lot about how much ketheric hated durgetash, but what about how much orin hated durgetash? either she despised her sibling and hated seeing them happy (and also distracted from bhaal), or she actually got along pretty well with her sibling until gortash came and ruined it. she must have been so jealous, but not jealous in a “i wish it were me fucking durge/gortash” way, jealous in a “im the only one who seems to be taking this group project seriously but you’re the two getting the credit from teacher” way.

See, but here's the more tragic thing to consider...

Yes, the idea of Orin always hating Durge, and then flying off the handle because she can't handle being perpetually single and pretending it's for religious radicalism reasons is funny.

But what if Orin genuinely cared for them, because they were nicer to her than anyone else?

What if they actually had a somewhat decent relationship because deep down, they know they aren't that different?

The Dark Urge killed their parents, and they had to have felt regret...but they pushed down their feelings, and embraced being a Bhaalspawn, because what else could they do, really?

Their father would literally DISSOLVE them if they disobeyed.

But maybe they'd look at this younger fellow Bhaalspawn, and they'd remember having a childhood before that...and they'd feel bad for her. Take her under their wing.

And she, in turn, wouldn't be used to having someone who actually treats her kindly, or at least, with any degree of mercy?

I'm not sure where I read it, but I think it's mentioned somewhere, or was supposed to be in the game or something, that she tried to resist Bhaal once in the past, but was shut down.

And that is really sad to consider, because maybe Orin knew she was trapped, so, like the Dark Urge, she chose to embrace her heritage because she had no other choice.

But she and the Dark Urge have this in common, and that's why they'd get along...

Until. That fucking Chosen of Bane...

Suddenly the Dark Urge isn't spending any time with her...suddenly, they're moody, withdrawn.

Defensively angry.

See, there's a nasty note from the Dark Urge to Orin in her bedroom...

They say that Orin's blood is "impure."

And I can see why that would hurt Orin a lot...but in HER note, she just mentions how she hates how close Durge is with Gortash?

So maybe.

Hear me out...

Orin had NOT been planning on usurping the Dark Urge at all, like Sarevok says, until they met Gortash.

THEN, she felt betrayed.

Like...I thought we were alike. I thought you knew how it felt, to repress your feelings, and to embrace your destiny, instead of your own needs...but here you are.

Embracing a Banite...spending less time in the temple...with me.

So rather than feeling betrayed because she "loves" Bhaal...deep down, on a subconscious level... she's devastated because the only person she felt could understand her...was becoming someone new.

And she hated it.

And anon...

Orin is an artist at heart.

Creating grisly art was her way of expressing her individuality.

The Dark Urge mentions that they admire her art... but also that it's "useless" because Bhaal doesn't care for it...

Maybe they used to encourage her to be artistic as a child?

Because they know better than anyone, how you must suppress any sense of individuality as a Bhaalspawn. That's not what you were made for. But they knew it helped her emotionally.

And before Gortash, they lightly encouraged it, or at least allowed it...but then she starts being abrasive and complaining about Gortash.

She starts saying, do you truly serve Bhaal, or Enver Gortash, and they'd snap back, because they're defensive about it right, that she doesn't really understand what Bhaal wants???

So I think the Dark Urge showing contempt for her artwork was just a coping mechanism.

They had abandoned their individuality a long time ago, but suddenly this Enver Gortash says he likes them for them...he says, I love how smart you are...and they feel like...they're more than a Bhaalspawn...

And Orin is hurt and betrayed, because she thought they were in this together...and they're confused and anxious, over this problem that they can't simply kill...

So in short, anon.

Yes.

I think the Dark Urge and Gortash's relationship DID put a huge strain on the Dark Urge's relationship with Orin.

I think it would've really broken her heart, to know she was alone with just Bhaal for company.

I also think she needn't have worried, because they'd both get what was coming to them anyway in the end.

They were never going to last forever, her own actions be damned.

Alas, anon.

I feel...so sorry for them all.

#enver gortash #dark urge #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #orin the red

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little-tyrant-gortash · 2 months

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Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 2,221

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19.

Chapter 20.

Chapter 21.

Chapter 22.

Chapter 23.

Chapter 24.

Chapter 25.

Chapter 26.

Chapter 27.

Chapter 28.

Chapter 29.

Chapter 30.

Chapter 31.

Chapter 32.

Chapter 33.

Chapter 34. ⬇

Chapter 35.

Chapter 34: Closure

He was pleased to know that she was just there. That he could always check up on her – and she didn't disappear suddenly, this time. She'd told him she'd visit her camp when a few days have passed, but she always returned, and it finally made him a little calmer. Knowing she was surrounded by all his contraptions and soldiers, he could stop worrying about her safety. Frankly, he should've done this sooner.

In the past few days, she tried to keep herself to bland foods, and thanks to Gortash's carefully chosen meals and snacks, she could keep some of it actually down. As the days passed, she often found herself in his bed because of the nausea – their nest, as she called it by now –, surrounded with soft, fluffy pillows and blankets, good books, tea, and healthy snacks. He'd come and go between his meetings during the day; finding some peace in the fact that she'd been resting and she looked better now, that she could actually digest some of the food she ate. Although, he was aware that she still hadn't told him that she was with twins – if they truly could believe Astarion –, and he had to admit, that this fact, coupled with her sudden compliance and obedience to stay there were a little bit suspicious.

But, at the end of the day, when he joined her in the bed, after a quick wash up, and she snuggled up to him, sleepily mumbling nonsense, Enver found himself feeling content in the darkness again. Things were going according to his plans. He acted as Bane wanted him to; following the steps they had to keep themselves safe.

He was aware how fragile their shared future still was. One slip up, and it'd cost them greatly. Which was why he had made extra sure to keep her under close watch.

He could only suspect and not know: she'd been planning something. Again.

And this time, she knew she must be very, very careful, otherwise, he might kill her himself. Figuratively, of course.

The others, Lae'zel, in particular, urged her to get the Orphic Hammer from Raphael's House of Hope. This was a remarkable suicide mission, one Tav wasn't sure she wanted to risk. But then - thinking about how she'd be rendered useless for the upcoming year, maybe more, Tav had to admit that getting this mission done as soon as possible would be the best course of action. They had to release Orpheus from his prison. And they were so close.

The worst case scenario would be that they'd die in Raphael's home; but Gortash wouldn't know what happened to her, unless Raphael told him. It was very risky; straight insane, stealing from a devil's home, but they've been planning to get it done as soon as possible. The only problem was that they didn't know how and where to find a person who could open a portal directly in Raphael's House of Hope.

And the solution presented itself, in mere five days after she moved in Wyrm's Rock Fortress.

Gortash went back earlier to his – their – chambers that evening. He looked oddly melancholic, and much more tired than usual. He slipped out of his coat, hung it up, then walked over to Tav who sat in the bed, surrounded by the pillows, with a book in her lap. She closed it, as she always did, when she heard the door open. She smiled up at him at first; but the smile soon faded away when she saw the look on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asked as he walked over to the bed and sat down. Elbows on his thighs, he hid his face in his hands. "Enver", she whispered, placing the book beside herself, climbing over to him to snuggle to his side, like a cat. She gently rubbed his back. "What happened?"

"Could you come outside with me? I want to show you something."

Hearing how off his voice sounded, she instantly knew it was something serious.

"Of course I can", she murmured, resting her chin on his shoulder. "We can go whenever you're ready."

"Alright. Just. Let me gather myself."

"Of course."

Funny. He always dealt with every emotion he ever felt, alone. Lonely was all he knew. He was sure his parents didn't want him at all, and everything went worse after they've sold him. Only these days, in her presence, did he feel a deep level of understanding, of belonging; here, he felt wanted. Needed. Loved. And she never asked for anything in return. He'd spoiled her with dresses and jewellery but she was reluctant to accept them. He noticed that her eyes lit up so much more when he just walked in through the door than when he presented her yet another expensive gift.

It did not take him long to realise that she really just wanted him. Not the façade, not the wealth or the power, just him.

Why did she want a shattered heart? A boy who'd been broken to a billion pieces, then built up, based on his wrath he'd felt against the world?

Gortash gently moved at the thought; he wrapped an arm around her and held her close.

"You are my everything", he whispered.

Tav realised just now that he must've been in a strange mood that night. Usually, he was just exhausted from all the mental work he had to do during the day, but he always had the energy to ask and then listen to her as she described how her how her day went. Despite the fact not much happened to her like this, he was still interested in the books she'd been reading and the way she was thinking; he insisted on learning more about her, and, at the same time, he wanted to just listen to the sound of her voice.

"Alright", he sighed before she could answer, then let her go and smiled at her, but that smile never reached his eyes. "Let's go."

He held his hand out for her to take, and she cocked a brow at that.

"Oh my, oh my", she murmured as she slipped her hand into his, "what will the people think?"

"About what?"

"That we're holding hands." Tav intertwined her fingers with his, and she loved the feeling of his warm skin against hers. His skin was tougher than it looked; years of tinkering made his palms and fingers rough to the touch. But she loved them this way. "Outrageous. Scandalous."

Gortash looked confused for a mere second, before his eyes glinted with light again.

"I can see the next headline in Baldur's Mouth", Gortash finally smiled in full as he was guiding her out of the room, then down the halls, "Archduke Enver Gortash, caught, holding hands with Toril's most beautiful adventurer-"

"Oh no", Tav giggled, "all the ladies and gentlemen in the city will weep."

"Even married ones?"

"Especially married ones."

Gortash chuckled, then he kissed her temple as they walked.

"I can't believe that you're real sometimes", he muttered.

"Why? Because I'm perfect?" She teased, making him chuckle again.

"Because you can make me smile and laugh even when I'm at my lowest."

Uh oh.

"Did something happen?"

"No… I mean, a lot of things did, but…" He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Nothing serious. I'm just not sure I can do… something alone. I… need you. With me."

Tav gently moved her other hand over his arm. If she could, she would've squeezed him there gently, but the golden gauntlet was unforgiving to her touch. Some parts of him remained unreachable to her. She hoped that his heart was an exception.

"You'll have me on your side for as long as you want me", she promised.

"Even if we shroud the world in darkness?"

Tav blinked. And for a moment, she'd seen a sun, rising over mountains. She focused her gaze again, then squeezed his fingers gently.

"Forever."

They continued their walk outside, then he led her to a small patch of land where a piece of stone laid in the grass. She realised a bit late that it was a tombstone. She read the name, but it didn't ring a bell.

"I had to bring him here. Give him a proper burial", Gortash whispered. "I couldn't leave him down there…"

Tav realised that this was the grave of the fallen Bhaalspawn. It felt like a firm hand twisted her heart in her chest. Looking at Gortash, she saw that his expression was completely unreadable. She wished she could say something - anything, to ease his pain. But she knew that it wouldn't be of use; not really.

"I wish you've met him under different circumstances", he continued, his brows slightly furrowed. "You're both very good at stirring up trouble."

"Oh?" She raised a brow.

"And killing everything that moves, too."

"Hah, we would've been fast friends, then", she agreed with a little smile.

"I never thought it'd be me who'd kill him", Gortash's voice broke, and her smile melted away in sympathy.

"I'm sorry you had to do it", she offered, "I wish there was another way… I wish we could've saved him…"

Gortash remained silent.

They've stayed outside for a long, long time. She didn't mind just being there with him in the silence, in the dark. She said nothing when he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, burying his face in her neck, sobs shaking his body as she was rubbing his back and stroked his head over and over again.

She gave him what he needed the most: silence, time and acceptance.

The stars were out by the time they went back to their nest. He uncorked a bottle of wine - she kept sipping her tea, of course, she didn't want to risk losing her dinner -, and as he was pouring glass after glass, he started to tell her stories of how he'd met the Bhaalspawn and how did they start to work together. She gave him her rapt attention; for one, she really was interested in his past and his relationship with the dragonborn, and she knew that it was important to him now, to talk about the past, in order to feel better. He'd told her story after story – especially because she was a good listener, and he felt entertained whenever she gasped in shock or asked a good question; and he kept talking until the wine was gone and he fell asleep in her arms.

The next morning, of course, he woke up with a headache. Her fingers were in his hair again, as she was watching the dawn rise on the other side of the window. She had been gently playing with his hair ever since she woke up; she'd been awake before even the sun started to stretch its arms across Baldur's Gate to caress her cheek and his head.

"Tav", he murmured in her neck.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"You are most welcome, my dearest." She sighed softly as she ran her fingers in his ebony locks again. They were so soft against her palm. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. It'll take time to sink in, but you've helped a lot."

"I'm glad I did", she murmured, stroking the side of his face, now. He closed his eyes. They let silence settle between them for a while. But Tav had plans for that day, and she wanted to let him know. "I think I'll visit my friends again, today.

"Alright." He finally pulled away, then glanced down at her with a small smile. "But don't take too long. I become agitated when you're not here."

"No need to feel agitated, darling. I'll be with fierce warriors. Besides, I'm also a fierce warrior, remember?"

"Mm." Gortash pulled a bit away from her as he sat up, but he leaned back down to kiss her lower tummy. She blushed at the sensation of his warm breath and lips against her stomach, right where she nurtured the little ones with her body. "You don't need to be. I can be fierce for all of us, you know."

She ruffled his hair and he chuckled. Pulling away, he smiled at her, hair uncharactestically messy. Tav booped his nose.

"I believe you have places to be, handsome", she pointed it out.

"Mm-m. Indeed."

He kissed her forehead and pulled away with a groan. Quickly getting ready, Tav observed him, wondering how much he remembered from last night.

Once he left for the day, she got herself ready, too; donning the Reaper's Embrace and picking up the Blood of Lathander and the Knife of the Mountain King, too. In the camp, the others were eating breakfast, and cheered when they saw her. Tav had to smile at the sight of them; gods, did she miss her friends.

"I know how we'll get into the House of Hope", she whispered to the party when she sat down amoung them, "in the Devil's Fee, there's a diabolist called Helsik…"

Helsik, a character from Gortash's story from last night, who could indirectly help them steal the Orphic Hammer. Tav thanked the wine a thousand times; she was sure he wouldn't've told her nearly as much without it.

#Oathbreaker #little tyrant [enver gortash]#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #enver gortash #archduke enver gortash #lord enver gortash #fanfic #Oathbreaker fanfic

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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[12.43] mafia!seonghwa × reader

⇀ convinced his partner is trying to steal him away from you, you tried conveying your feelings to him. But he didn't believe you, he thought you're just simply jealous.

⇁ tw : mafia life, jealousy, angst, death

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author’s imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Clad in his couture suit, Seonghwa walked into the party venue with you in his arms. You were wearing a beautiful, glimmering Indigo dress that accentuates your curves, earrings that provide shine to your face, and heels that seem to heighten your class.

Despite all that, you had a forced smile on your face as you just had an argument with Seonghwa in his car merely minutes prior.

He is well aware of your apprehension towards his current partner in crime, a female that done the title of a seductress in the organization both for her role and her daily behaviour. You can't even lie and say that she looks like an inside-out, bloated cow because she's beyond perfect. To make things worse, you heard that the reason why she was partnered with Seonghwa was that she and he look good together.

At first, it was harmless observation over the two, wanting to see their chemistry and whether or not what people said was true. But when you see that even outside of their mission she'd flirt and cling onto him, you feel threatened. Naturally, you told Seonghwa about this but he only brushed your feelings off, convincing himself and you that it's merely childish jealousy.

The issue was never addressed and it accumulates to the point that it became the bane of most of your arguments. So he decided to just avoid talking about anything that relates to his partner in any way.

This is why when he accidentally let it slip that she'd be at the party back in the car, you were slightly furious at him for not giving you a heads up.

So here you are, standing by the champagne tower as Seonghwa made his rounds alone only to be joined by his 'partner' when he talked to their ally.

Your hand was clenching the flute so hard, it was threatening to break any second.

"Whoah, never seen you so tense," a voice called out, breaking your focus of glaring at Seonghwa and her. You look towards the source of the voice only to be greeted with Wooyoung's teasing smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled at his teasing jab, "hi Woo," you greeted, letting him pull you into a deep hug that lasted a while.

"Givenchy," he stated after taking a whiff at your neck, "man has taste," he pulled away to properly take your attire in, going as far as twirling you playfully which made you giggle. The people around looked at you two with a smile, probably thinking about how cute you two looked together. Which didn't go unnoticed by Seonghwa who is now zeroing his vision in on you and Wooyoung as the girl next to him clung on his arm tightly, seemingly pretending like they're together.

"Where's Seonghwa hyung?" Wooyoung asked after he stopped twirling you, grabbing a flute of champagne instead. You rolled your eyes at the reminder and simply nod your head towards where Seonghwa and his partner stood before sipping the champagne.

Wooyoung cringed at the sight of the girl throwing herself onto a taken man but what bothered him was the fact that Seonghwa seemed to not be affected by it.

"How stupid is your boyfriend to still insist that your intuition is nothing more than jealousy? I mean seriously! She's embarrassing herself!" he groaned, knowing full well what's going on between you and Seonghwa.

You were glad that you're not the only one who realized, despite the person who shared your sentiment is not your boyfriend.

But before you can answer, loud gunshots shocked everyone and suddenly chaos broke.

Wooyoung immediately pushed you behind him as he produces a gun from inside his suit. He turned to you briefly to hurry you out, "go out now, run and don't look back, take the stairs by the balcony and get out of here as quickly as you can and do not try to hide," he said before rushing towards the sound of the gunshot before you could say anything else.

People were pushing you left and right, trying to escape the hall and so were you. But you can't find it in yourself to run just yet, you look around the crowd of people, trying to find Seonghwa.

Soon enough, your eyes met his.

"Seonghwa!" you called out, pushing your way to get to him as he was trying to get to you. But then another voice calling his name broke his attention away from you.

Seonghwa looked towards the source of the voice only to find his partner by the tables, her dress stuck between two tables and for some reason she didn't seem to be able to pull herself out.

If you weren't in such a panicked state, you'd roll your eyes and call her out on her bullshit.

Your eyes flit between her and Seonghwa as Seonghwa's flit between you and her. You were hoping that he'd ignore her and run to you instead so you both could go to safety.

But your heart broke when he shot you an apologetic look, mouthing out 'sorry' before running to help his partner.

You can actually feel your heart shatter seeing that in a dire situation, he had chosen the girl that you had explicitly told him you don't trust, that you think she has it in her to steal him away from you. But he didn't seem to care.

Slowly, your feet began moving on their own. You couldn't even register where your feet are dragging you to. But as you reach the door towards the balcony, you look back to the sight of Seonghwa holding his partner closely before going where the other members of his organization are going.

And that was the last time you had seen each other for the night.

The shoot out went for quite a while. Apparently, a rival organization caught wind of the party and decided to use this opportunity to infiltrate the mansion to steal something. Their plans were foiled and that's when all hell broke loose.

When Seonghwa and the others managed to kill and capture their rivals, things began to finally wind down. Most people had already fled the scene, being part of the criminal world surely gave them the knowledge of what to do when a shoot out happens.

There were some guests left, those who hid behind tables or were unable to escape due to fear, and sadly, those who were caught in the crosshairs.

Seonghwa sighed at the sight in front of him, bodies lying on the ground, some belonging to their rival, some were members of his organization, and some were the unfortunate guests.

He looked around to see the lower-ranking workers carrying bodies on a stretcher with a white cloth covering everything. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, no matter how long he's been involved in the mafia life, he couldn't seem to shake his sadness away when seeing innocent victims.

As he looked around, he saw Wooyoung walking back to the hall where the party was held merely an hour ago. "Wooyoung!" Seonghwa called, running towards the guy to catch up to him. Wooyoung stopped in his tracks and looked back, waiting for Seonghwa, "Hey, what's up?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Have you seen (Y/N)? The last time I saw her was when I went to help my partner a-" "you helped your partner instead of making sure (Y/N) was okay?" Wooyoung cut him off, an incredulous look on his face. Seonghwa was caught off-guard at the tone his friend used at him, "yeah? She was stuck and needed my help, I couldn't just-" "she's a member of a fucking mafia, she kills people for a living and on a daily basis, you really think she couldn't have gotten herself unstuck?" Wooyoung scoffed.

Seonghwa only stared at Wooyoung with a confused expression, not knowing how to answer him nor how to defend his choice in the predicament after Wooyoung explained the situation his way.

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung nodded towards the door by the table that once had the champagne tower, "Last time I saw her, I told her to run and get the hell out of here," he said simply. Seonghwa muttered a small 'thanks' to him and was about to run to look for you when Wooyoung put a hand on his shoulder, "Just so you know, what you did will change things forever between you two, you got a heck load of making up to do," he said simply before continuing his previous path.

He realized that Wooyoung was right. So he immediately set off to find you, wherever you are.

His instinct told him that you're still around, considering his car is still in the parking lot and that you hadn't known anyone else in the party, he deducted that it wouldn't be possible for you to have gone back.

Even so, you were nowhere to be found. He tried looking everywhere inside the mansion and outside in the garden, but there were no signs of you, not even when he asked the other guests and members of the organization that were still around.

He stepped out to the grand front entrance and look around but only seeing people carrying the bodies of the deceased. He was starting to get worried.

"Seonghwa!" a feminine voice called.

He snaps his head, hoping to see you, but only to be greeted by the sight of his partner jogging towards him. For the first time ever, he rolled his eyes at her and went back to trying to locate you.

She, on the other hand, didn't seem to get the hint as she suddenly hugged one of his arms, "Hey, I was looking everywhere for you, I was worried," she said, pouting at him.

Seonghwa tried to pry his arm off of hers, but she held tight. Wooyoung was right, she's beyond capable of getting herself unstuck, so why did he went to help her instead of you?

"I don't have time for this, I'm looking for my girlfriend," he said gruffly, still trying to push her off as his eyes trail on the people around.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure she's perfectly fine somewhere, maybe even with Wooyoung," she said ignorantly.

At the insinuation that you'd be with Wooyoung, Seonghwa snap his head towards her and was about to say something when suddenly the sight of your dress caught his eyes.

He'd recognize the sparkly indigo dress that he had personally picked for you from miles away. For a second, he forgot about his partner and was about to run towards you.

But his steps halted at the scene in front of him.

Seonghwa hadn't processed that the piece of your dress that he saw was from underneath a cloth that covered your whole body that's rested on a stretcher.

He could feel his heart stopped, his head spinning, and his breath hitching. He was trying to convince himself that you're okay, that you're simply unconscious and is resting, waiting to be taken to the hospital to be treated.

When he realized that a couple of workers were about to carry you away, he sprinted and yelled for them to stop.

As soon as he arrived by your side, his trembling hands held on the piece of dress that peeked out. Again, he tried convincing himself that everything's okay, that maybe this is not you. Slowly, he pulled the cloth back a little to expose your hand. The ring that he had bought you to commemorate your 2nd anniversary brought dread to him for the first time ever. He used to love seeing it on your finger, showing people that you're taken, but not this time.

Bracing himself, he pulled the rest of the cloth off of you. "Oh no," he choked out and finally broke down when he saw your pale, lifeless face. The same face that greeted him every morning and accompanied him every night, the same face that would scrunch up whilst cleaning his wound when he came back home from a mission. The same face that dropped in disappointment when he decided to go after the other girl in her last moments.

He can't believe your last memory of him was him turning his back on you, his last conversation with you was when he called your feelings childish and uncalled for, that the last time he held your beating heart was when he pushed you away so he could talk to people he didn't even care for.

All he could do now is held onto you as he cried, hand going over the wound that ultimately ended your life. Several bullet holes littered your body, but he seems to be focused on the one that's directly on your heart. He thought about how much pain your heart must've born, how much the pain he inflicted on you must've hurt much more than the bullet that struck through. He thought about how he should've gone to you to ensure your safety.

Seonghwa, the usually reserved and collected man, didn't even care about the attention he drew. People around were looking at him with much pity, those who knew him wanted to comfort him but didn't know how to, even Wooyoung can't help but shed his pettiness over his older friend when seeing him wailing over his loss.

But Seonghwa didn't care.

How could he?

When the only important person in his life was ripped away from him before he could make amends.

Without thinking twice, he stood up and carried you off the stretcher. The workers that were supposed to take care of the deceased stood silent and unsure, yet they didn't stop Seonghwa even when he began to carry you towards his car.

"Don't worry, I'm taking you home so you can rest," he said with tears still streaming down his face. He looked down at your face, he could fool himself and say that you're only sleeping, that tomorrow things will be better. Yeah, for now, he can do that.

Once he put you on the front seat securely and went over to the driver's seat, he leaned down and press a kiss to your forehead lovingly, "I'm never gonna leave you anymore," he said before turning the car engine on and drove off.

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snowstcrm · 5 years

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People who are seriously saying that all of this was planned and foreshadowed from the beginning are in so much denial over d&d’s writing habits.

Last season Sansa found out the truth through Bran so she wasn’t actually that cunning or clever. The director just outright said that the scene was removed, likely to bring more surprise to the viewers when Littlefinger was caught. This season they made her some sort of mastermind that can seed betrayal and chaos.

Cersei was supposed to have miscarried last season so the viewers could see her still manipulating the people around her with a fake pregnancy. They stuck with her actually being pregnant to humanize and victimize her.

Arya was only chosen to be the one to kill the Night King three seasons ago. The “brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes” thing Melisandre said was just bullshit thrown in to justify it despite Melisandre having much more stronger prophecies about bringing ice and fire together. The Night King was never supposed to be her kill.

Daenerys talked about marriage for allies at the end of season 6 and the entirety of season 7 was hinting towards marriage and even foreshadowing her pregnancy.

The Army of the Dead was always built up to be the apocalyptic bane of humanity and the Night King being the true threat that humans had to set aside their differences to unite against.

In an attempt to “subvert viewer expectations” we got:

A dumb Tyrion that continues to protect his sister because she actually is pregnant. Tyrion is unrecognizable to his former self at this point.

Cersei advertised as this bad bitch queen ready to blow people up with wildfire suddenly crying about her baby and being crushed by rocks instead of being despicable and taking out more people in Kings Landing if it means clinging onto her power.

The war for the dawn not being apocalyptic to the entire continent of Westeros as we were sold it would be for 8 years.

Arya swiping the Night King kill and not getting to kill Cersei which crushed Jon’s character arc and left Cersei to be crushed by rocks.

Jaime going back to Cersei because she has a baby so he has a reason to love her and go back to save her. His redemption arc people were rooting for fails.

Daenerys not even bringing up the possibility of marriage to Jon even though that was literally on her mind since Mereen.

Jon’s parentage reveal ultimately being used as a tool to divide him and Daenerys and we don’t even get his feelings about his identity. We know more about how Theon feels being a Stark and Greyjoy than we know of Jon’s feelings being a Targaryen and Stark

Nonsensical dragon death and respawning military forces.

In order to push Daenerys further we had to see Missandei being executed in front of her and Greyworm. The most obvious solution to this was to infiltrate the Red Keep and conquer it from the inside out. Instead we get this stupid scene of Dany and a small group of soldiers standing outside Kings Landing with scorpions pointed at them that can kill them all

Brienne’s virginity being used as fodder in Jaime’s story and being abandoned, making all her fears of men true.

Sansa betraying her brother’s trust because we need to undermine Daenerys even though she had done nothing at that point to deserve anyone undermining her.

Bran being set up as the mainplayer against the Night King and would use his greenseeing abilities to help defeat him. Instead we get him warging out and really just being bait.

Jon kind of just floundering around the entire season because the only thing his character was being aimed towards was stolen from his storyline. He also only knows how to say “she is my queen” and “I love her”.

Daenerys winning the battle for the throne and reaching her goal, but for an inexplicable reason she burns Kings Landing to the ground because we need a surprise final villain. She didn’t even just burn the Red Keep where Cersei was. No, that would make too much sense because even the writers said “she wanted to make it personal”. We need to somehow destroy King Landing and because we didn’t write Cersei as the type to blow civilians up with wildfire to win anymore, we need Daenerys to do the destroying.

The story had an extremely clear narrative structure up until this point.

Jon and Dany political marriage -> Deal with Cersei -> Save the world from the Night King -> Epilogue

Apparently that was “too predictable” for d&d though, and they kind of just do shit because they think it’d look cool. Let’s not forget that a big reason why the expedition beyond the wall happened was because they really wanted to write in a dead polar bear somewhere in their scripts for years and needed to make it happen.

#//1 #//2 #//3 #//4 #//5 #game of thrones #my posts

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bssaz97 · 4 years

Note

Does Gerald actually love his family or does he view him as an inconvenience and just using them to survive. ( I’m heavily leaning for the former but I have to be honest Gerald inner thoughts are giving me mixed messages) love your work cant wait to see more

https://youtu.be/AWbeGa_QaDE

(Music to listen to if you want)

Gerald: ‘Day 15 since my arrival at this square shaped den. Silver Eyes has allowed me to continue my existence another day. Lately I’ve been noticing that Silver Eyes seems to take enjoyment in his presence here with her. The question that bothers him is... why?’

Gerald looks up at the flying throne of the Silver Eyes. She was the one who had taken him from the woods and bring him to this mysterious place. Originally he assumed she wished to torture him or make a spectacle of him in front of her other Demon followers. He tried to escape from her grasp the first day he arrived but alas his teeth and claws have been deformed since his emergence. He should have been killed by now he had seen so many of his kin destroyed by other Demons like Silver Eyes.

Yet he continues to be.

Silver Eyes had chosen not to slay him like other Demons would mostly have done, that was the natural order of this world. Instead she wrapped his form with her scarlet wind catcher, she made him a smaller den all to himself inclined with furs that felt like nothing he’s ever experienced, takes him into the white heaven every so often to clean his fur in her personal lake that is contained in a white rock. Even the Rabbit King, who he originally thought would be the one to smite him, gave him nourishment with the sweet taste of the red elixir that he could never obtain due to his lack of claws. These Beings were so different from other Demons that he’s learned about from his kin. Silver Eyes seemed to be unwilling to end his existence and seek to take solace in his presence.

It was a concept that confused him greatly. Why keep him around? Was he a trophy of some sort? Is it a tradition for them to take the weakest of his kind and keep him as a prisoner of some sort? Why take him of all Ursa, there are far greater and bigger Ursa that are much worthwhile than him.

That is why the others casted him out after all. If you could not feed yourself, then you would not survive. No one would take care of you and no one would give you shelter or make you strong. His own kin gave him about a moon cycle before he would either starve or be slain. He was an outcast, a early emerged Ursa, a weakling who would not survive by himself. That’s why he accepted his fate when Silver Eyes first found him, he knew he was finished.

Gerald: *laid down on his belly and made saddened Ursa noises*

He didn’t wished to be born this way, he wanted to be big and strong like the other Grimm, but that wasn’t meant to be. He wished he could understand why he was born imperfect, why he was born small and with small claws and teeth. Was his existence supposed to be a mistake? He would’ve thought more about this but he hears the approaching steps of Silver Eyes. Perhaps this would be the night she slays him, which he honestly would fight over.

Ruby: “Gerald..? What’s wrong?”

He looked up at the Silver Eyes, she looked directly at him with a strange expression. True, her kind had many strange expressions but this was one he hasn’t seen before. No sooner than that he feels her grab his form and bring him into her arms in a nesting position. She slides her hand along his fur multiple times while swaying side to side, but this time she did not say anything. Normally this be the part where she starts making comments about his size and how she would like to crush or ‘hug’ as he’s learning what she calls it. That’s when suddenly he feels a strange sensation of her bringing her mouth to his head plate and rests them on it.

It made him feel... warm.

For many days now, he started noticing that whenever he’s around Silver Eyes or Rabbit King or whenever they hold him close to him he begins to have this warm feeling throughout his body. It was like nothing he’s ever felt before during his time in the woods. Being with his kin never made him feel this way, nor did caves ever feel like this, it was only with her and Rabbit King. Albeit, Silver Eyes would hold him like this more often than he, but he was warm as well. What was it that made him feel this way.

Ruby: “It’s ok Gerald, you can sleep with me tonight.”

Not long after that he finds himself laying beside Silver Eyes on her flying throne as she covers him in one of those flat furs and holds his tiny form close to her form. Her breathing was steady and the bottom of her face was nestled on top of his face plate. It was here that Gerald felt a the warmest than he’s ever felt in his entire existence.

He liked the warmth... it felt good.

His kin said that the Demons were banes of his kind, and yet he’s met two that have shown more care than any of his kin ever showed him.

Where he was cast, out they took him in.

Where he was homeless, they made him one.

Where he was hungry, they feed him milk and elixir.

Gerald: *licks Silver Eyes’ bare arm*

He may never know why these strange Demons decided to bring him into their den, but right now he would not want to be any place else.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #gerald the ursai cub #rwby gerald #anonymous asks

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rhosyn-du · 4 years

Text

Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter Eleven

The floor of the cell was steel, Magnus knew that much. He thought it was maybe four feet by four feet wide, not long enough to stretch out fully lying down, but almost long enough corner to corner. He was fairly certain he was on a boat of some sort. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. He couldn’t see the sun, and no one spoke to him. The door and walls were opaque, so he couldn’t see out. If they were feeding him regular meals, and Magnus suspected they were, since they’d been very careful to tend his injuries and keep him from further injuring himself, then he’d been there for maybe two days.

When he’d been taken by the Circle, when Valentine insisted on keeping him alive, Magnus had assumed that Valentine or one of his cronies would eventually explain why they needed him alive. He’d expected to be questioned, at least. He hadn’t been. He’d merely been put in this cell and forgotten, other than to have his basic needs met. No one even bothered to gloat. Whatever the Circle needed him for, he was nothing to them.

He tried not to think of Alexander, of the way Alexander’s screams echoed in his ears as his captors dragged him through the portal. He tried not to think of Alexander’s blood staining the rug on their dining room floor. He tried not to think of Ragnor, captured by Valentine and forced to commit this awful act. He tried not to think of the wards on his loft he hadn’t thought to update after Ragnor had been taken. The wards that had allowed the Circle into his loft, allowed them to take him. Allowed them to kill Alexander.

No, he wouldn’t think about Alec. Not now. He couldn’t. He needed to keep his wits about him because he was going to escape. He was going to escape and kill every single person responsible.

It was the same circle of thoughts he’d been through for the past however many hours he’d been here. It was his fault, and he was going to kill everyone who’d been responsible for hurting Alexander, and then... He never got past that part.

The sound of approaching footsteps signaled what was likely another meal. Magnus thought it must be too soon. He was sure he’d only just finished breakfast (or was it lunch?), but no one ever came to his cell for any other reason, so clearly that’s what was going on. Except the footsteps didn’t sound like the heavy boots most Shadowhunters favored, or the dress shoes some of the more dapper Circle members were prone to. Personally, Magnus thought it made them look like mobsters, but in a sense, they kind of were, so he didn’t question it.

These footsteps, though, were soft, almost cautious. It was only somewhat of a surprise, then, when there was a quick tap on the door of his cell, and a familiar voice called softly, “Magnus? Are you there?”

“Dorothea!” Magnus jumped to his feet, pushing as close to the door as his restraints would allow.

“Oh, thank god I got the right cell,” Dot breathed. “We’ve been trying to figure out where they were keeping you for days.”

“Dot, do you know what’s happening?” Magnus questioned. “Where are we? Are the other warlocks who were taken here, too? What does Valentine want from me?”

“I don’t have much time,” Dot told him, “but I’ll tell you what I can. We’re in a cargo ship on the East River. We only come and go by portal, so I never know the exact location. At least some of the Downworlders Valentine has kidnapped are here. I don’t know if he’s keeping others at another location, or if they’re all dead. Not everyone survives his experiments.” Her voice dropped. “One of the little girls they brought in didn’t.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Magnus told her. He couldn’t bring himself to ask about Ragnor, although Dot had mentioned him. He knew what happened to Alexander wasn’t Ragnor’s fault, not really, but he couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Ragnor’s magic ripping Alec’s skin open, spraying blood across the table and floor. “And that you were able to find me. Dot, we have to find a way out of here.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Dot told him. “There’s not much Ragnor and I can do. Whatever Valentine injected us with, we can’t disobey a direct order from him, and it’s hard enough even getting around what he hasn’t told us. There’s powerful magic protecting this place, too. Anyone trying to leave on foot or going over the side is killed instantly, and all of the warlocks have been ordered not to open any portals except under Valentine’s explicit command.”

“I don’t supposed Valentine conveniently forgot to tell you not to release me?” Magnus asked.

“No, but Jocelyn is awake, and she thinks if Valentine is distracted enough, she might be able to get you free.”

Magnus snorted. “No offense to Jocelyn’s clearly amazing and well-considered plan, but I sincerely doubt after everything that’s happened, Valentine is going to trust Jocelyn enough to let her out of his sight.”

“That’s where the distraction comes in,” Dot told him. “Valentine is planning to contact Clary and offer to trade Jocelyn for the Mortal Cup. He’s not actually planning to make the trade, of course. He wants Jocelyn and the Cup. And Clary. But when Clary shows up, he’ll be distracted, and Jocelyn thinks she’s figured out a way to use that distraction to get you free.”

“What makes any of you think Clary is going to agree to the trade?” Magnus asked. “Even if she did, the Clave isn’t going to just agree to hand over the Cup.”

“Magnus, I’ve known Clary since she was a child. If there’s any chance of getting her mother back, she’ll take it, no matter what the cost is. I know it and Jocelyn knows it, and unfortunately Valentine knows it.”

“But the Clave—” Magnus protested.

“Are distracted right now,” Dot said gently. “It’s all part of Valentine’s plan to start a war between the Clave and the Downworld. He killed Alec Lightwood and made it look like you did it.”

The words hit Magnus like a blow to the chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He’d known, of course. He’d seen. But there had been some tiny spark of hope left, deep in his heart, that Alexander had somehow managed to survive. Dorothea’s words snuffed that spark like it was a cheap candle.

He had to remind himself that Dot didn’t mean to be callous. She’d never met Alec. She didn’t know—couldn’t know—what he’d meant to Magnus.

“That’s why you’re here,” Dot continued. “Valentine plans to kill you in a couple more days and leave your body somewhere conspicuous, to make it look like you were killed by Shadowhunters in retaliation. Even the people who don’t believe you’re responsible for the murder will believe that.”

“But why?” Magnus asked, swallowing down his grief and trying to focus. “Surely, even Valentine knows what a disaster a war between the Clave and the Downworld would be. It would be a bloodbath!”

“He doesn’t care about Downworlders dying—he wants us all dead—and he sees the Shadowhunters who would die as necessary casualties. He thinks this will convince the Clave that he was right all along, that it will open them up to being taken over by the Circle. He thinks it will destroy the Accords.”

“He’s insane.” Magnus said. It all made a horrible kind of sense, and Magnus hated it. He wondered how long Valentine had been planning this. Was this his plan even before he and Alexander had been chosen to make the marriage for the Accords, or was this plan specific to the two of them? It might not have worked with someone less well-known than he was, at least not as well. It was just one more thing to feel guilty for. If not for him and his ridiculous, spur of the moment decision to volunteer, the Downworld might not be in danger. Alexander might still be alive.

“He’s beyond insane,” Dot agreed. “I think he actually believes that he and Jocelyn and Clary can be a happy family once they’re all together again.”

“At least,” Magnus said, “a madman is more likely to make mistakes. Tell Jocelyn that I’m being held in manacles that bind me from using my magic. If she can get me free of these, then I’ll do everything in my power to take Valentine down.”

“We’ll try to get word to you about when the exchange is going to happen, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to, so you’ll have to be ready.”

“I don’t exactly have a good way of keeping track of time anyway,” Magnus said. “Be careful, all of you. And Dorothea?” He took a deep breath, needing to say the words, needing to mean them. “Tell Ragnor I don’t blame him.”

There was a beat of silence before Dot promised, “I will.”

Magnus listened to her soft footsteps fade away down the hallway, leaving him alone in his cell with his thoughts once again.

Consciousness returned in fits and starts. Alec was aware of voices first. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he recognized Jace and Izzy and a third voice he knew but couldn’t place. He knew the third voice was friendly, though, so he let it go, let everything go and slipped back into unconsciousness.

The second time he woke, sort of woke, it was to touch. On his arm, on his face. This time, he recognized the voice, the third voice from before. Catarina. She must be healing him, he realized. He was injured. That was why he was unconscious. Semi-conscious. Whatever. But he was with Catarina, and Jace, and Izzy, and he was safe. He let himself drift again.

The third time, he was aware that something was missing. Someone was missing. Something was deeply, deeply. Wrong. Catarina was there again, and Izzy. He could hear them talking, but still couldn’t tell what they were saying. He recognized one word, though. Magnus. That’s what was missing. Who was missing. Magnus. And then he remembered. The portal, the Shadowhunters and warlocks and pain and blood and Magnus. God, they’d taken Magnus. This time, he fought unconsciousness tooth and nail, but he was no match for it, and it pulled him under once again.

The fourth time Alec woke, he was determined to stay awake. There were no voices this time, but he was aware of a presence sitting beside him. Jace. With great effort, Alec forced his eyes open. He was lying on his side, facing a small, wooden table. From the table, a folded paper frog stared back at him.

His eyes flickered to where Jace was sitting beside the bed. “Where’s Magnus?”

“You’re at Catarina’s,” Jace told him. “We brought you here after we found you bleeding out at the loft, and then Lydia thought it was best if you stayed here instead of the Institute. I'll explain everything in a minute, but I have to call Izzy and Lydia and tell them you’re awake, and Catarina will probably want to look you over again.”

Alec reached out to grab Jace’s arm, even that small movement making his head spin. “Jace,” he said as evenly as he could manage, “where’s Magnus?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, shaking his head. “You were alone when we found you.”

“Alec?” came a small voice from the doorway.

“Madzie,” he said, struggling into a sitting position and forcing a smile. “Hey.”

“You got hurt again,” she told him, walking over to the bed. She had Mr. Flopsy clutched tight in her arms.

“I’m going to call Iz and let Catarina know you’re awake,” Jace said.

Alec gave him a quick nod, then turned back to Madzie. “I did,” he agreed, “but Catarina healed me and now I’m all better.”

“You were asleep for a long time. I couldn’t stay all the time, but I left a frog to watch you while I was gone,” she added, pointing at the paper frog on the table.

“Thank you,” Alec told her. “He did a very good job guarding me.”

“I wanted to make you a dragon, but it’s not finished yet.”

“Maybe you could work on it some more while I check Alec’s injuries,” Catarina suggested as she entered the room, Jace following behind her.

“I want to stay with Alec,” Madzie insisted.

“We’re going to be doing boring, adult stuff," Alec told her. "You should work on that dragon so you can show it to me when I’m done being boring.”

Madzie stared at him for a long moment, considering. “Okay,” she said finally. “You’re not allowed to get hurt while I’m gone, though.”

“It’s a deal,” Alec told her. He waited until he heard a door open and close elsewhere in the house before demanding, “What happened? How did I get here? Why am I here instead of the Institute?”

“I felt you dying,” Jace said. “I felt you get hurt, and I knew that you were dying, and I just. I grabbed Iz and Clary, and we ran to the loft. We got there as fast as we could, and you were still hanging on when we got there. And then Catarina showed up.”

“Someone made a very obvious, very loud mess of Magnus’s wards,” Catarina explained. “On purpose, I suspect. I couldn’t help but notice.”

“Ragnor,” Alec said. “Valentine and the Circle attacked us at the loft. They had warlocks with them under the influence of that mind-control serum, and Ragnor was one of them. If someone was trying to attract attention, it was probably him.”

“That sounds like something he’d do,” Catarina agreed. “You were close to dying when I got there, but I was able to stabilize you. You lost a lot of blood.”

“We brought you back here,” Jace explained. “We weren’t sure what had happened, and we didn’t know where Magnus was, so we brought you here. And this is where Catarina keeps all of her healing supplies. We called Lydia to let her know you’d been attacked, and she told us to stay where we were.”

“I was worried about moving you,” Catarina said. “Along with the blood loss, you had some spinal injuries.”

Alec remembered that searing flash of pain through his middle. Yeah, spinal injuries would definitely explain that.

“How long have I been out?” Alec wanted to know.

“Almost three days,” Catarina told him.

Three days. He’d been unconscious for three days. Magnus had been in Valentine’s hands for three days .

“We have to find Magnus,” Alec said. “Valentine took him. They took him and they left me to die. We have to find him.”

He tried ineffectually to get out of bed, but he was weak enough that Jace was able to hold him back with one hand. He was weak enough that Jace didn’t even flinch when Alec tried to throw a punch.

“Dude, relax,” Jace said. “You’re not strong enough to get out of bed, let alone go after the entire Circle by yourself.”

“Believe me,” Catarina said, “no one is planning on leaving Magnus in Valentine’s hands.”

“Right now, we don’t know what Valentine is planning,” Lydia said, striding into the room with Izzy and Clary trailing behind her, “but we do have some clues. I heard rumors of your supposed murder before Jace and Izzy even told me you’d been attacked. It seemed pretty suspicious, which is why we decided to keep you here while you healed instead of taking you back to the Institute.”

“You wanted to keep it a secret that I’m alive?” Alec nodded in understanding. “That was a good plan. The Consul warned me there was a possibility that the Circle might have infiltrated the Institute.”

Lydia’s eyebrows shot up at that. “The Consul never felt the need to tell me anything about that.”

“She kept it under pretty tight wraps,” Alec told her. “Only a few people knew, and I’m only one of them because the Circle chose to make its reappearance in New York.”

“And you’ve deemed me trustworthy now that I haven’t killed you when I had the chance?” Lydia guessed.

“Pretty much,” Alec told her. “No offense.”

“None taken. You barely know me, so of course you didn’t trust me. I’m just glad you do now because we have a serious problem on our hands.”

“No kidding,” Alec agreed. “Do you know why Valentine wants me dead?”

“We’re pretty sure he’s the one who started the rumors that Magnus killed you,” Izzy chimed in.

Alec stared at her. “That’s ridiculous. Who would even believe that?”

“People who don’t know you,” Lydia said. “People who don’t know Magnus. There are plenty in the Clave who thought this marriage was a mistake from the start. Those people are more than happy to believe that it ended in murder.”

“Then we need to tell them that I’m alive,” Alec said. “The Accords—”

“The Accords will survive another day,” Izzy said. “Until you’re healed enough to protect yourself, we couldn’t risk it. Consul Penhallow knows you’re alive, and so do Mom and Dad. They all agreed keeping it quiet was the best choice.”

“We didn’t know who to trust, either,” Lydia said.

“And as long as Valentine thinks you’re dead, then he still has the incentive to keep Magnus alive for whatever scheme he’s working on,” Catarina said.

“That’s good thinking,” Alec agreed. “What do we know?”

“We know that Jocelyn Fairchild is awake,” Jace said. “Valentine used the portal shard to contact Clary a couple hours ago. He offered to make a trade, Jocelyn for the Mortal Cup.”

Alec looked at Clary. “Did you tell him to fuck off?”

“I told him I needed time to think about it,” Clary said. “If there’s even a chance we could get my mother back, we have to try.”

“But we’re not actually planning to give him the Cup,” Jace said quickly. Alec appreciated the clarification, even if he’d figured that was the case. Even if Clary was reckless enough to do so, even if she’d managed to weave whatever her magic of persuasion was to convince Jace and Izzy, there was no way Lydia would have agreed to any such thing.

“We can trade a fake,” Clary said, “and get my mom back.”

“And then follow Valentine back to his hideout,” Catarina added, “so we know where he's keeping the missing Downworlders.”

“Then we raid the hideout, rescue the Downworlders, and take Valentine and the rest of Circle into custody,” Alec concluded. “It's a good plan. I'm leading the raid on Valentine's hideout.”

This pronouncement was met with a chorus of disagreement, but Alec held up a hand to forestall them. “The only reason I'm not out there looking for Magnus right now is that this plan is probably the fastest way to find him.”

“And because you can't stand up without falling over,” Jace muttered.

Alec threw him a fierce glare, but Jace glared right back.

“Dude, you almost died. You're in no shape to go back into the field yet.”

It was a conversation they'd had before, more than once. Alec distinctly disliked being on this side of it.

“How long before I'm fully recovered?” he asked Catarina.

“Four days if you're lucky. A week or two if you're not.”

“That's too long,” Alec said, shaking his head. “How long until I can stand up without getting dizzy?”

“You'll probably be walking again by tomorrow, but—”

“Good,” Alec said, cutting her off. “Clary, contact Valentine. Tell him you need time to get the Cup, but you can make the exchange tomorrow night.”

He turned to Catarina. “You know any warlocks who might be willing to help take down the Circle?”

She gave him a grim smile. “I don't have the kind of connections Magnus does, but I know a few. And I know Raphael would be willing to conscript the entire New York vampire clan to help rescue Ragnor and Magnus.”

“Can he do that?” Alec asked.

“Yeah,” Jace said slowly, “There was kind of this whole thing while you were out where Camille illegally turned Clary's mundie friend—”

“His name is Simon!” Clary interjected.

“—and her clan didn't take too kindly to her breaking the Accords, so Raphael is in charge now.”

Alec blinked. “Okay. Any other major political upheavals I missed while I was unconscious?”

He meant it as sarcasm, but Clary piped up, “Luke is the Alpha of the New York pack now. And I know he'll want to be involved in rescuing Mom.”

“Sure,” Alec said. “Fine. Anything else?” He looked at Izzy, half expecting her to tell him a goat was the new Seelie Queen.

Izzy grinned. “Isn't that enough? I can ask Meliorn if any seelies want in on the action, though.”

“Might as well make it a party,” Alec said. “Lydia, I can give you a list of Shadowhunters I'm pretty sure we can trust on this mission. Can you get them ready without letting in what we’re actually doing? I don't want them to know what the mission is, or that I'm alive, until the last minute, just in case.”

“Not a problem,” Lydia said. “What do we tell the Council?”

“What have you told them already?”

“Not much,” Lydia admitted. “Just the message I sent to Consul Penhallow letting her know you’re alive and that we were keeping you hidden. I haven't exactly had time to make detailed reports with everything that's going on.”

“Good,” Alec told her. “I think you'll be too busy for the next couple days, too, don't you?”

Lydia made a face. “If this doesn't work, the Council will have our asses for not clearing it with them first.”

“If we make a report to the Council and any of it gets back to Valentine, our plan is shot,” Alec argued. “If the mission goes south, I'll take full responsibility. My Institute, my fuck-up.”

“All right,” Lydia relented.

Alec glanced around the room. “What are the rest of you still standing around for? I gave you jobs, go do them.”

For a wonder, they actually did.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

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Jagged Crowns(1/2)[β]

(A/N: I had a bit of an internal debate as to whether I should keep writing while...Well, some parts of our world are in a rapid spiral towards a fascist dystopian nightmare due to centuries of institutionalized racism, ignorance, and hair-trigger violence, among other things. I understand that I will never fully comprehend what POC have suffered, because the system has been rigged in my favour since before I was born. There is much and more that can and has been said on the subject, but to summarize: It is not my intention to further harmful ideas/depictions or to hurt people via this self-indulgent outlet. If I have done so(and not given appropriate warnings), please do not hesitate to inform me so that I may correct this. That said, warnings for: gore, violence, death, intrusive thoughts, mental breakdown/hallucinations, and suicidal ideation. The prompt for this was ‘Ahsoka helping Maul through his own struggles, since he’s pretty much on the verge of insanity at all times.’ Unbeta’d.)

In the end, there is no need for a chosen one. No bright, wide-eyed youth to take up a burning sword and the incalculable burden of ridding the galaxy of an oppressive evil. The reality turns out to be less of a legend and more of a horror story.

The Royal Palace is littered with the dead and dying, but there is only one that matters. Sidious is still immensely powerful, but his body has grown old and slow, and there are only so many guards he can sacrifice to protect himself. Overcoming his Force lightning, preventing bones and organs from being crushed, protecting their minds from invasion and violation: That is much harder. But finally, finally Maul strikes off the Emperor’s head as Ahsoka’s twin ‘sabres pierce his shriveled, black heart. She steps back. He keeps going, slicing and hacking until the throne is in pieces, the floor is a cross-hatch of burning lines, and what was once an Emperor is nothing more than a pile of charred meat and cloth.

“Is this...Am I free? No, this was too easy. Master always has a contingency plan.” He does not even realize he is voicing these thoughts, too occupied with searching the Force for something, any trace of Sidious’s presence. Foolish child. You thought you could defeat ME? I know your every pitiful thought, every scheme you concocted while you wriggled, a blind maggot encased in filth. “Be silent.” Maul snarls, fingertips coiled around his anterior horns, palms pressed into his eyelids. “Focus. Focus. Search for him, he cannot hide from us.” There is another voice, outside his head, but he cannot hear it. He has to know. Yet despite the venomous hiss that tries to steal away his concentration, there is...nothing. The Dark Side is empty of even the barest wisp of his Master. “Gone. Gone at last. Finally I have achieved Bane’s will...” He laughs, long and erratically pitched. Not a comforting sound, or even a sane one. Wait. There is something. He uncovers his eyes and re-opens them. Someone before him, unlit ‘sabres in hand. Another rival apprentice. Another test. “Have I not done enough to prove myself?” Maul whispers, disbelieving and enraged all at once. No. You must destroy all who would stand in your way if you wish to claim my power. Prove that you are worthy and strike them down! “Yes, my Master.” He had dropped his sabrestaff before -careless, stupid, he could have been killed-, but it leaps eagerly into his hand and activates as he begins his assault. He cannot seem to get a clear picture of his opponent, their form shadowed and not entirely solid around the edges. He sees their weapons clearly enough, though, especially when they clash with his own. His rival is on the defensive, parrying his strikes but not counterattacking. He cannot hear their words past the blood rushing in his ears, infuriated by this insult. Is he so weak that they do not even think him worth the effort of assaulting?! Maul drives them back, seeking to disarm, to maim, to kill, but he cannot connect. He resorts to yanking their legs out from under them with the Force, lips curled in a feral snarl as he raises his sabrestaff for the final blow...Then the Light bursts into his mind with the force of a battering ram, and he can feel-These thoughts, this presence, he knows it-Mine, this warmth is mine, cast from the star forever out of my reach. Ahsoka Tano looks up at him, eyes wide from exertion and fear. “Maul. Please, stop.” His legs give out from under him, weapon deactivated and slipping from his suddenly-nerveless fingers. He does not know how long it takes for her to come to him. Seconds, or perhaps years, her hands circling his face as their lips meet. He pulls her close, fervent and desperate in his passion. Yes. This is fitting. One last time, before the end. “You must kill me.” A whisper when they part for air, watching her blink in confusion. “What are you talking about?” “I have never fought for your hope of a restored Republic. You know this. You have prepared for it. Sidious is dead and I will inevitably take control of his Empire. Unless you stop me.” “I don’t have to murder you to accomplish that.” “Ah, so you are content to truss me up like a rabid animal and let your superiors toss me in a cage or cut off my head. How noble.” “No.” “Why? Because you believe that they will not take the opportunity to rid themselves of a long-standing nuisance? Or that they will simply leave me in peace because our goals aligned temporarily?” He summons her shoto to his right hand, snarling in frustration as he presses it to her left. “You are neither sentimental or naive, Ahsoka Tano. Do not hesitate.” For a moment, it seems as if she will go through with it. As if white light and the deep blue of her eyes will be the last things he sees. It is not the nature of the Sith, to surrender to death’s embrace so readily. But Maul has...never been a true Sith, and he is so very tired. The voices in his head are blessedly silent, yet it is only a temporary reprieve. Without purpose, without vengeance or ambition, he will lose himself again. “Stop running, Maul.” Her voice is firm, and oh, she burns bright enough to blind him, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Ahsoka takes her weapon from him, sets it down, and entwines their fingers instead. “You’re right. I know who you are and what you can do. I also know you’re capable of more than that.” He cannot breathe. What has she done, to make him feel this way? That there might be hope of being...something other than this? “Did you really think I didn’t notice all these years? The small acts of compassion and honour...Palpatine didn’t rip those away from you.” She is so warm, so willing to offer up these things he has blatantly denied himself and others. “A foolish dream.” Maul rebuts, but there is no real strength behind it. His left arm holds her more tightly, both for emotional and practical purposes. He is not certain how much longer he can remain even partially upright. “It doesn’t have to be. Join me.” Ahsoka offers. “There’s still Vader, Thrawn, and a whole mess of other Imperials to defeat or force surrender from. But after...We can try to build something of our own.” Her right thumb lightly brushes over his cheek. “Won’t be easy, but it’s a chance for both of us to try something different.” “You will regret this decision. Soon.” He points out dryly. There is only so much optimism he is willing to endure, even in this state. She only laughs. “And you haven’t driven me insane. Yet. I don’t expect either one of us to be perfect at this from the start. Just to try.” Her hand curves down and around, lightly dragging her nails up his nape and eliciting a low rumble from him. “Aren’t you going to give me your answer?” Her smile cements the fact that she is utterly devious beneath her relatively-harmless exterior and he will get her back for this later. “You. Are an unrepentant tease. And I will greatly enjoy administering your punishment.” He growls, both impressed and frustrated by her manipulation. “But I am willing to see whether this insane notion of yours will work.” His agreement brings a smile from her, but not before she rolls her eyes and gives a small, exasperated exhale. “‘Yes’ would have worked fine, you know.” “And since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to frustrate you, my Lady?” “Ass. Mmmmph...”

“Care to rephrase that?”

“No. You are the worst. But I might be persuaded to change my opinion.”

“Let us see if I am up to the challenge, then.”

This is merely the beginning of a very long, hard road. Yet neither one of them will walk it alone, and that makes all the difference.

(A/N:Things I didn’t include in the top note because it was getting a bit wordy: This is set around 5-ish BBY, so Thrawn isn’t a Grand Admiral yet, only an Admiral(or possibly Commander, depending on when his promotion happened). Obviously certain canon events didn’t happen (ie Malachor), and Maul and Ahsoka have been in a sort-of relationship for about a decade at this point. Also, sorry, they didn’t have sex in the throne room. Just makeouts and soul-searching. This is absolutely a starting point. Neither character is ‘cured’ of their various issues/traumas by the end of this installment even if they are being semi-cute and flirty. This is...not what I would consider a realistic way to handle someone being triggered/having a delusional episode, but I digress. *notices that fics that have started with gore or violent imagery have mostly ended in fluff* -_-....Hm...Well, that’s a pattern. Or possibly a problem. Cheers, everyone!)

#maulsoka #so much offscreen murder in this #except for Palpatine #because he is a BastardTM #I've decided to remove the 5-number limit and keep my askbox open for prompts/requests #for the moment #all of you are awesome btw

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santalsaburablog · 4 years

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Adventures of Santal. Chapter 1: The girl who survived.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away

Heroes create the times.

The story begins! On the beautiful Twi'lek planet Ryloth, a young Twi'lek lethana, Elina, is raising the daughter of her friend, who, along with her husband, was killed on a starship in an attack by mercenaries. Baby Santal lives carefree and happy. But no one suspects that it has a great destiny in store for it. Only time will tell.

— Santal! There is no answer.

— Santa-a-al! there is no answer.

Elina was walking up and down near the house and shouting:

The woman went through all the rooms once more , then suddenly it dawned on her, and Elina quickly went in the direction that her brain suggested, hoping that her instincts were not deceiving her.

"Of course I forgot about the backyard. What were you doing there? In

front of Elina sat a little girl with dark hair tied in two ponytails. Judging by the condition of her clothes, the little girl had time to Tinker in the ground.

"I'm sorry, aunt. I watched the flowers and didn't hear them. After all, what beauty surrounds us!

Elina was touched and calmed down. Why be angry with a child for such nonsense? Thank you for thinking about flowers and nature, and not about something indecent. And so, let him think about the world around him. In General, her ward loved life in all its manifestations.

"Santal, let's go." I need to get you cleaned up. We'll be having lunch soon.

An hour later, the two women, the big one and the little one, were sitting at the table. Letanka this day rasstaralas and prepared a favorite meal of the pupil.

"So go with her, — thought Elina. "She's not doing this out of spite. Just likes to touch and explore everything. But Santal is only three years old, in six months — four. I try my best to raise her, because she is, poor thing, the daughter of my late friend. I still remember that story. Her family was attacked by hunters. And Santal managed to survive. I just don't know how. Later, when the case was resolved, the mercenaries were not caught, and they wanted to send the girl to an orphanage. But my husband and I didn't allow it. Especially since I'm infertile myself. And I want children. Nobi's husband is a farmer, and I'm a homemaker. We live modestly, but everyone is happy."

Three and a half years ago.

The New hope starship, commissioned by the Shang couple, had just come out of hyperspace. Thirty-year-old Adira Shan lay exhausted after giving birth. Her husband, Bastian, was holding a newborn, long-awaited first child.

"It's a girl.

— Santal, — Adira said.

"Why Santal?" my husband was surprised.

"Your ancestor's name was SATEL. Looks like it, doesn't it?

— Exactly. Perfect. Bastian happily circled the room with his daughter, and then gave his wife to feed.

"She will be the most beautiful and intelligent Jedi in the world, — the woman said with love and tenderness as she watched the baby drink breast milk.

"That's right. You'll see. As the child grows up, we will give it to the temple. In three years somewhere.

"I want her to stay longer." You can ask. And we would have taught her everything.

"You know the rules. Must not.

Adira sighed, thinking how unfair this was.

"Do you remember how we met?"

— Yes. We were younglings then. I was coming from training, and you were coming from the library. Our heads collided. The conversation started in just a minute. They became friends, and then, when they grew up, they got married.

— Many memories. You can't remember everything. Oh, well. We're about to land on Ryloth. Soon we will hug with friends, show the baby and…

Bastian's thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected explosion. The man quickly ran to the sensors.

"What is it?"

— The enemy spaceship! We are shooting back urgently! They seem to be mercenaries!

And the starship seemed to be lying in wait. Waiting for the right boat to come out. On it a girl with a red tail on her head commanded:

— Aim for the engines! Don't let them land!

The shelling started. The enemy ship had good weapons: it included a laser turret mounted on top for space combat and crushing asteroids that got in the way, a pair of heavy laser cannons that could cause deadly damage to the enemy even faster, and an ion cannon that was used to immobilize cargo ships. As for the "New hope", there were improved armor, hyperdrive and power volleys of two guns.

Unfortunately, on this day, the victory was won by an enemy ship, which took the loser on Board. The leader of the bounty hunter gang quickly drew his Blaster.

— Begin.

Meanwhile, Bastian and Adira drew their swords.

— Adira, protect Santal! I'll try to deal with the mercenaries. There must be three of them.

The Jedi, using the Force, realized that the hunters were divided. Question: who will he run into? As Bastian passed through the corridors, he heard voices. One is female, the other is male. As the man approached the door, a short, fish-faced man jumped out and scurried back when he saw the Jedi.

— What's the big idea! Open it quickly, I won't hit you!

Suddenly, a second wickway man came up behind him and started shooting.

"Well,well. What do we have here? "no," he said.

Bastian was a master at deflecting shots, even when the bullet hit him squarely in the arm. The hunter fell, and the Jedi saw that a red-tailed girl was standing behind him, who also started firing at him. And then fishface jumped in from behind. As a result, the girl shot the unfortunate man. Advertising: Hide

— Great, " she grinned. "Bane, we did it.

The gang leader, who had been watching from afar, approached the trio.

— Well. Look for the second one. The customer gave clear instructions: destroy the dynasty, every last one of them!

Meanwhile, Adira was bundling up her daughter, preparing to escape in a secret escape pod. Of course, the mercenaries all blew up, but one was overlooked because it was disguised.

"Santal, all my gift to you, I'm sorry. Only hope to save your life. I hope Bastian doesn't let you down.

A shot rang out.

"Hello, honey." Duros pointed the Blaster at the woman.

The Jedi activated the sword and held it out in front of the hunter.

— Stay back! What did you do to my husband?!

— The same thing I'm going to do to you now!

Adira ran further and further, deflecting the shots, which was difficult, especially since one arm was occupied, and she herself was weakened after giving birth. So it was quickly backed into a corner. All four of them.

— Well, that's it.

— No. Not all. The Jedi gathered herself and pushed the hunters aside as she ran forward to the capsule.

But then there was a roar of four Blaster shots. Adira had just rounded the corner when a burst of energy from one of the weapons hit her in the stomach.

"Hooray! Hey, who got hit? — shouted the fishheads.

Red-tailed Aurra laughed.

— No matter. We must return to the starship immediately. It remains only to destroy the ship, ' ordered the duro, well knowing that this did petroliana.

Or so he thought. In General, it was unclear who was hit. Bane decided to cover up the discussion, because who cares? It's like setting off an explosion.

Adira waited until the footsteps had subsided, then rose quietly, holding her hand tightly to her abdomen, hoping to stop the hemorrhage a little. Finally, with great difficulty, she managed to put the baby in a compact capsule. Adira was mentally prepared for death. She's seriously injured anyway, and soon the ship will explode.

How cruel and unfair the world is sometimes! Just as you're making serious plans, the next moment something terrible happens and everything changes. Or you realize that you are dying and that the dream is already out of reach.

"Hush, daughter. Don't cry, don't be shy. Grief will leave you. I lullaby my last I will always be with you.

Adira kissed her daughter one last time, laid her on the pillow, closed the door, and pressed the button. And just in time, because fifteen seconds later the ship was engulfed in an explosion. The last thing Santal's mother hoped for was that Her little girl would be saved and taken care of.

***

"They are the chosen ones of the force. And it is our duty to remember that we will also leave in due time. We are creatures of Light, but our bodies are not eternal vessels. And we'll all be here in time. Please be silent for a minute to remember and move on. We must live for the sake of the living Jedi. They will live in us forever, " Grand master Yoda concluded.

Since there were no bodies, the Jedi order and their companions were standing in the open air, with two fires burning. Some even cried.

"Bastian was my best friend, — qui-gon said.

"And mine, too," Windu said.

"How pathetic. So young, — it was heard from all sides of the phrase in this way.

"It looks like the legendary Jedi dynasty has ended forever," Ki-ADI-Mundi said.

"Are you sure?" Yoda asked. "I can smell the excitement of The force. Maybe there is hope, and someone survived. It is impossible to foresee our future. Bastian and Adira are dead, but the dynasty is alive. Bye.

"Do you think someone survived?" But there was no one there.

— Maybe — Yes. Or maybe not. And this gives me hope.

As the Jedi reasoned, in the distance, one of the senators, Palpatine, thought: «Perfectly. So the Shang dynasty is gone. No one can stop me."

Present time

And Santal lived quietly in a foster home. She knew the history of her real parents very well. She was repeatedly told about them. The girl sometimes missed her family, even though she didn't tell anyone. The only thing left of my mother is her Padawan scythe, which she managed to pass on as a souvenir.

Santal desperately wanted to know the truth about the tragedy that happened over Ryloth. How it really was. What if they weren't mercenaries? What if the parents managed to escape? Etc., etc. And so nothing.

In General, the girl began to notice strange things lately. Santal always felt that something was going to happen. Or no, it's not. She always felt the presence of someone or something. It was as if someone was telling her, guiding her, keeping her on her way. Santal found a logical explanation for this: it is the parents who help. They're right next to her.

And so the carefree and fun life of Santal Shan went on. But there was no sign that she would soon be the one to change the order of things in the galaxy.

A new life was about to begin.

#cad bane #cad bane x oc

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althealuisa · 4 years

Text

Trust

BASED ON Doubt by @jinmukangwrites (this is the URL bc I don’t trust Tumblr yet) , one of my favourite authors that brightens my day, every day <3

Go read that first, it’s basically like part one. Please leave a kind comment <3 <3

Just as a disclaimer, I’m not native and I didn’t even check for typos more than once soooooooo... Expect to find a few here and there

I’m tired now and need to go to bed. i wrote this in class the last two days bc I was bored and actually came up with this Idea while not being able to sleep after reading Doubt. Oh well.

________________________________________________________________

Twilight stood and stretched his hand out to Wild. “Let’s go back. The others are worried.” For a second, Wilds panicked mind told him to run. He didn’t want to go back to the others. He didn’t want to talk to them. He wasn’t ready to tell them yet. He never was ready to begin with.

They wouldn’t want to know anyway.

He grabbed Twis Hand and stood up. “You know that we need to tell them, right?” Twilights voice was wary, as if he was afraid to break something. Wild nodded. Twilight frowned. “I mean now. Like, I mean right now. They will want to know. And, I’m sorry, but they deserve to know” Wild stared at the ground, rolling the words around in his head. “Okay” He hated how sore and tired his voice was.

Twilight turned around and started slowly walking back towards camp, not noticing how Wilds back straightened, how his breathing evened into an forcefully slow and pressed rhythm, how the torment on his face faded into an emotionless mask. This wasn’t the first time he did this, and he guessed it wouldn’t be the last. He followed his predecessor, his steps too stiff and even, his movements too controlled.

Look at you. Do you think they won’t see right through you? This is ridiculous.

They won’t. He caught up to Twilight, walking just a few steps behind him. They moved in silence, the conversation they were to have looming over them. They could hear the others arguing from far away. “I just want to search for them, come on!”, “You can’t just waltz of on your own. Twilight can handle this.” Obviously, Twilight had been right. Wind didn’t seem too happy with just waiting for their return. Although Time seemed more than calm, Wild could hear the slight worry in his voice.

Twilight stepped into the small clearing and all the Links fell silent. “Did you find him?” Time asked concerned. Twilight nodded and continued to walk forwards without a word. His expression had changed into an almost angry stare. He sat down at the fire place and said nothing as Wild stepped out of the woods. “Wild! Are you alright?” Wind shouted, bolting forwards and throwing his arms around Wilds waist, breaking the upright posture he had remained in. Wild froze in place, not moving at all.

Wind let go of him after a few seconds and studied his face worriedly. “Come”, he said, dragging him towards the fire. He obeyed and sat down next to Twilight. The others followed them. The short, uncomfortable silence that fell was broken by Time. “What is going on Wild, what happened?” His voice was sturdy and calm, his features relaxed. Wild didn’t dare to answer. He knew his voice would fail him and he certainly didn’t want to break into tears in front of the others again. None of them noticed how he straightened his back again and raised his chin, but they all recognised how he lifted his hands.

It’s about the TriForce. He signed. Only Time spoke sign apart from him, so he sighed silently and began translating for him. “It is about the TriForce… He doesn’t have it”. He frowned at the last word as Wild lowered his Hands. A silence fell over the group. Wind shifted uncomfortably. “So?” asked Twilight. “What does it matter?”

“Well, it’s a sign Twilight. We all have the TriForce, we know that we are the Hero of our times because the gods gave it to us. How would we…” Warriors stopped himself seeing the look on Wilds Face. The Facade he had kept up had broken quickly. His features were twisted in pain and his eyes now stood out to them as red and puffy. He lifted his hands again.

“That’s not true” Time answered angrily to Wilds movements, but Wild shook his head and continued. “Time what is he saying?” Asked Hyrule worriedly. Time took a deep breath and began to translate Wilds signs. “He is right. It’s not only the TriForce, there is much more like that. I don’t belong with you, which is not true.” anger was shining in Times eyes as he said the last words. Warriors paled. “Wild, no. That’s not what I meant. You are as much of a hero as everyone of us.” Most of the others either nodded or hummed in agreement. Wild shook his head again. Tears were leaking out from his eyes as he signed. You don’t understand.

Look at you. They are lying to you again, trying to get your hopes up. They always have to care for you.

Time repeated him again and Twilight suddenly stood up, his face twisted in anger and sadness.

All because of you.

“How could you even believe for one second that you are not like us?”

Because you aren’t. You failed. So many dead people.

He spoke, his voice crumbling as he formed the words: “Because I am nothing like you.”

You are a failure.

“Why would you think that?” Hyrule asked, his voice soft and understanding. Suddenly Wild just wanted to get away. Panic flooded every inch in his body, his Head screaming at him to run away, to leave the others and to stop bothering them, to leave them behind for their own good and go back to doing what he did before he was a burden to everyone around him.

So, you want to be dead? Because every second of you being alive was a burden to someone, a problem in their way. How old where you when you pulled the sword? When your mother was killed because of you?

The image suddenly flashed through his mind, and before he knew it, he was sucked into the memory.

The World was different. Brighter. So colourful. Every little creature strolling by or floating through the air brought joy to his little heart. His father was walking in front of him, a bright smile adorning his features, surrounded by a few more men, all clad in armour bearing the royal crest like him. “Come on my boy! It’s not much further!”

He was right. Only a few minutes later they stood in front of a dense forest. Although he was little, he noticed the uneasiness with which the guards were looking at the fog wavering through the trees.

“The princess and the king are going to be here soon. So, do as I taught you son!” He smiled at him proudly as Link stiffened his back and brought his feet parallel together. They stood to the side as Princess Zelda, barely 6 years old, arrived. Her face seemed too serious, her eyes just too old for her age as though she had seen more than even she herself could comprehend.

Her father walked right behind her, his face more relaxed and happier than you would expect him to be. “Let us begin. As I promised, your Son is allowed to come with us Soren.” The King said and nodded to Links father. The knight nodded and stepped into the fog, tightly holding his sons Hand. “Stay close to me Link.” He drew his sword and walked onwards in a seemingly illogical pattern. The Princess, the King and the knights followed them close behind.

When slowly there appeared, what seemed to be an entrance into a brighter part of the forest, Link had the strange sensation, that it could have been a mistake to follow his father to this place. They stepped through a huge hollow tree trunk and suddenly stood in a brightly lit area. “We have arrived, Sir” Links father said and stood to the side. The Royals walked past them and took the lead further into the forest.

Zelda stopped in front of a big stone pedestal. She looked up at a massive tree right in front of her. “Great Deku tree. Hear our prayers.” Even her voice sounded mature for her age. “We have heard of a prophecy that has told of the return of the great evil, Ganon himself. We seek your advice in this time of need as the gods have proven themselves deaf to our pleas.” She fell silent. A dark chuckle filled the air. “Princess, you have come here without knowing that you have searched in vain.” The Kings shoulders dropped.

“Because what you need has been with you the whole time. As the ancient legend tells, a legendary hero, wielding the sword of evils bane that I have been guarding over the past millenium , and a sacred princess, with the blood of the goddesses have sealed the evil away in the past. You, my dear bear the blood of the goddesses. And the legendary hero is right here with us.” The trees voice sounded almost sad, like he didn’t like what was going on. Links father suddenly paled. He grabbed Links shoulder so strongly, that his knuckles turned white.

“What do you mean?” The king demanded, his voice echoing though the empty forest. “The young boy behind you, he has been chosen by the goddesses. As you know, only the chosen hero himself could pull the sword from its pedestal. Let him try it.” Shocked silence had fallen over the group. The King and his daughter spun around and stared at Link. He was hiding behind his father, panic in his eyes. He didn’t understand all of it, but enough to know that whatever was happening wasn’t good.

“Link.” The King said, his voice sounding almost sorry. “Do as the tree said.” Link didn’t move. “Soren, step away. I am sorry, but if the tree is right…” His father swallowed and stepped aside. Link stared at him, his eyes big and scared. “Do as the king said Link. Like I taught you. Be a good boy…” Soren didn’t look at him as he said those words. Link turned and walked past the King and the princess. Panic was brooding in his stomach.

He could see the sword, its blade buried in the ancient stone. “Pull at it, boy. And don’t let go, whatever happens.” The tree boomed. Link grabbed the hilt, his teeth clenched. He pulled at the handle and suddenly pain fired through his body. He screamed, but he kept pulling, thinking that he might die if he wouldn’t.

He pulled and shouted and screamed, his father screaming something behind him. But Link knew that the tree had been right. Light was erupting from the pedestal and the blade was coming lose. Suddenly, with a loud sound it slipped out of the pedestal. The light died down and the princess shouted something seemingly surprised.

Link sank to his knees, his body shaking and his hands firmly grabbing the hilt of the sword in his hands. He heard faint steps behind him. “Link?” His father asked scared. “He is the chosen hero, Hylian.” The tree said thoughtfully. “I reckon that you will take such actions as to prepare the boy for what is to come. You have loads to do” He continued, directing his words at the King.

Suddenly the scenery changed. Link stood in front of a big door, listening to the argument going on behind it. “He is only five sir! You can not ask something like this of a boy this young! He can barely lift the sword by himself, how is he to already train with it?” He heard his father shout, his voice exhausted but determined. “Soren, this is nothing we can debate about. I can not change his destiny as the gods have chosen him. He will begin his training soon. Travel home and let him say goodbye. He will not return for long. That is an order.”

The scene changed again and Link and his father were approaching the door of their home. His father stopped and looked at his son for a second. “Whatever your sister and Mum say, It doesn’t matter.” He kneeled down. “It is not your fault my son. I know you think that I am sad because of you, but I couldn’t be. I love you boy.” He hugged Link for a second, then stood up. Without another word, he knocked at the door. Nothing was to be heard from inside the house. His father opened the door and stopped the second he entered.

He sank to his knees right behind the doorframe. “What’s going on Father?” Link asked worriedly. As he received no answer, he squeezed himself through the gap between his father and the door frame and then turned. He froze in place. His mothers corpse lay on the floor, a big bloody wound in her chest. His father suddenly jumped to his feet. “Stay back Link.” He snarled without looking at him.

He pulled his sword and walked further into the house. Suddenly, a loud cry sounded and the clanging of metal. Another cry followed and another, suddenly 4 people appearing seemingly out of nowhere. One of them was fighting his father, while the others approached him. They were laughing with glee and raising their strangely curved swords, ready to strike him down. He backed away, his way to the door cut off.

But he didn’t need to worry.

Before they could even touch him, they were dead, his father standing above them panting. “Yiga…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “How could we forget…” suddenly a small cry was to be heard. His father rushed forward and opened the closet. A brown shadow jumped out and threw its small arms around Link’s father. “Daddy!” the little girl cried, tears streaming down her face. The man kneeled down, hugging her close and trying to comfort her. Link watched from afar, the pained expression on his fathers and sisters faces seemed to clench his heart together.

“I think he’s waking up guys! Wild!” someone shouted as Wild snapped out of his memory. His muscles collapsed beneath him and he tumbled to the ground. Shouting surrounded him that blurred into a confusing mess as he turned to his side and threw up into the grass. His body was trembling, his vision obscured by his tears, his throat seemed to be on fire. He choked as his body was held by two hands, helping him to stay more or less upright. The images of his newly acquired memory were flashing through his mind, confusing him and making his head feel like it exploded. He felt sick, seeing the images of the corpses, but most dominantly guilt seemed to have stuffed his throat.

“Wild calm down!” Twilight shouted, bringing him suddenly back to reality. They helped him sit back up against a tree and tried to hand him a bottle of water. He waved them away as his stuttering breathing started to calm. But the shivering that was rocking his body back and forth only continued on stronger. Time and Twilight had each grabbed one of his shoulders and were holding him tightly. But their firm grip only reminded him of his fathers hand, digging into his back. He choked again, coughing on and on while tears ran down his face. After a few minutes he calmed, his breathing levelling out at least a little bit. “Wild, are you alright?” Time asked seriously. “Yes” Wild choked, His voice hoarse and weak. “You saw one of your memories, didn’t you?” Time asked cautiously, loosening his grip a bit. Wild just nodded in response. “One you knew? Or a new one?“, „A new one”, he answered quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He could see that the others knew that it couldn’t have been a very pleasant memory. They all looked like they pitied him.

There you go. You finally did it. You managed that they care about you enough to feel sorry for you. And what good did it do?

He lifted his hands and clutched them at his head. The dizziness was confusing him and clouding his mind. “That’s not true”, he whispered quietly. “What do you mean?” asked Hyrule confused. Wild froze. A shadow seemed to go over Times Face. “Wild who were you talking to?” His voice was more than concerned, but he also sounded somehow angry.

“Nobody”, Wild answered carefully, almost scared. Time crouched down, so that he looked into Wilds Face, just a few inches away. “Listen, Wild. You need to let it go. It doesn’t matter how true it sounds, It’s not. Forget it and tell us. Talk to us. We miss you, the way you were before you thought all that nonsense. You are not a burden, you are our friend.” The others looked at Time surprised, but Wild took his hands away from his face and stared at Time, his eyes widened in shock.

“How do you know?” He asked quietly, tears still running down his face. “I knew someone” Time said, looking at him with sadness written all over his features. Wild bit his lip, staring at the ground.

You aren’t strong enough to do this. You are more than just weak. Just give up and let them go.

No, he thought, suddenly determined. They believe in me. I don’t need to protect them. Sometimes… it’s okay to need someone.

“I’m not like you because I failed. I let everyone down. So many people died because of me” he said silently, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

What do you expect them to do? To tell you that no one died?

“You didn’t let them down Wild”, Legend said carefully. “You gave your life for them. You did all you could and more. How could anyone tell you that you failed?”

Lies. All lies.

“Sometimes all you have isn’t enough Legend”, he whispered sadly. “So what?” asked Twilight irritated. “After all your torment, after you gave your life, after you saved the kingdom all on your own, without any help, how would anyone still even dare to question what you did? I mean, it was practically the embodiment of heroism if you ask me” Twilight huffed annoyed.

Don’t believe their lies, they are trying to blind you.

“There are so many differences between all of you and me. Different people and villages, even languages in my time. Heck, even the monsters are different!” Wild shouted frustrated throwing his arms around in the air. “We are all different, that’s just the way it is”, said Time slowly.

Distractions. Empty promises. Empty words. Don’t listen to them.

“I think”, Sky started nervously, “That we all feel guilty at some point or another. That we could have stopped the evil earlier. Saved more lives. But the truth is, we couldn’t have. All of us did our best. And although we just don’t seem to understand that, it’s the truth”, he smiled.

NONSENSE!

“I… I think you are right”, Wild slowly nodded. “I’m sorry guys. For all the drama.” He looked down.

THIS WON’T FIX IT!

“Don’t be. We all need that kind of episode sometimes”, Four shrugged. He smiled. “Must be a part of the spirit of courage. You will be very brave but also immensely dramatic when you feel bad. Too bad for you.” The heroes laughed and even Wild managed a smile, a real, genuine smile.

THEY ARE right. I should trust them more.

He felt like a big stone had suddenly been removed from his head. He breathed in slowly.

“I just don’t want to annoy you”, Wild said carefully, but still happily. Time put a hand on his shoulder.

“You couldn’t. We are family, Wild.”

#linked universe #hero of the wild #hero of twilight #hero of time #doubt #trust #go check jin out #as if not everyone that would probably read this is from there anyway #legend of zelda #fanfic #hero of the four sword #hero of warriors #hero of legend #hero of the winds #hero of hyrule #hero of the sky #lw #what am i even doing

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shadowversejc · 4 years

Text

THE DESTINY OF SKYWALKER: The Rise of Skywalker Ending Reimagined

Chapter 1: The Rise of Skywalker

EXEGOL

Ben was running. Running, running, running as the sweat limped off his arms and face. Running through the darkness, which pervaded everywhere. But like many times before, the darkness was almost physical. But unlike those times, its strength was impossibly strong. The Dark Side was truly everywhere in this place, and it crept outward like an unstoppable slug.

He knew she would've known what to do—that Force bond just saved his life. He almost started laughing, but scolded himself for nearly falling for that temptation. Yet, he really couldn't help it—everything she did made him smile. He could barely keep focus each time they had fought before. Even being in her presence made his heart jackhammer to the point he thought faintness overtook him. Except for when she cut off a piece of his face. Not the finest moment by any stretch. He would always hold a grudge for that. Especially when his kids ask, "Dad, who gave you that?"

"Oh, your mother," he mumbled, still sprinting through and towards Rey's location. He was getting way too ahead of himself.

Priorities, Ben, priorities, he thought. Sometimes—well, more like all the time—he wondered why he loved her. And that he did, she just didn't know or hear him say it. Yet. She was a scavenger, truly a nothing from nowhere. Maybe it was the Force. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was simpler than that, though. Maybe, just maybe, for the first time in his life, he met someone who was also alone. Someone who needed another to make life bearable. It was all very poetic.

His mind was still reeling from the conflict with his former squad, the Knights of Ren. Those savages had been working behind the scenes for the Emperor this whole time, yet he never even caught a glimpse of their machinations. And now, the end neared as the fate of the Force teetered on the edge of an abyss. If they don't succeed and destroy one of the greatest Sith of them all, those kids won't even exist. If Darth Vader now apparently couldn't kill him, who could? But he had to try. Even if it meant giving up the greatest thing of all—life.

He would have to save the galaxy. When he imagined saving the entire galaxy, though, only one thing came to mind—Rey. She was his galaxy. He hoped she always would be. No matter what ensued, death could never hope to separate them.

I will finish what you started, grandfather.

After an eternity of running and jumping like a madman through the terrain of Exegol, he finally made it to the arena. Sith loyalists were everywhere, filling his ears and eyes with horror. The First Order itself was originated in various forms of evil. But this was different. It was pure evil, unlike anything he'd ever seen.

He looked around and spotted Rey in the center; just standing there, Leia's blue lightsaber blade casting a small pool of light in this dark dungeon. And there...was the Emperor. He was attached to the gigantic apparatus he had seen beforehand, flailing about like a zombie. It scared the crap out of him.

"Every master I have grown beyond is now with me," the Emperor said. "There is no escape. I will not just rule the galaxy. We all will!" His voice now seemed to be a multitude of voices. Darth Nihilus, Vitiate, Maul, Malgus, Bane, Plageuis, Exar Kun—the Dark Lords of the Sith from eons past all sounded their victory.

"The Force is not with you, grandfather!" Rey retorted. He laughed, drawing it out so that it echoed everywhere. "Young fool...good. Come and witness the full power of the Dark Side!"

Ben walked up and stood inside the arena. Rey noticed the commotion and looked. She smiled. Not a big smile, just a slight grin. He was overcome with joy. She had never smiled at him before. And boy, did it feel damn good.

Suddenly, he was hit by a truck of courage. He would kill Sheev Palpatine if it was the last thing he did. If only to see her smile one more time.

Glaring at Sidious, the newly-reborn Ben Solo stepped next to Rey, wielding the lightsaber of legacy, the saber used by Luke Skywalker and his father before him—Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One.

"Your coming together will be your undoing," the Emperor said. "You will not stop me. I spent years planning. I destroyed the Jedi. Now, I will destroy you."

"'You'?" Rey snapped. "You won't kill me. You will have to kill us." Ben glanced at her and smiled. The time was at hand.

Out of nowhere, Palpatine shot his hands forward and ripped a translucent mist from both Ben and Rey's bodies. He had sucked something out of them. Something Ben knew he took. Something that horrified him. Years ago, he read the stories of all the powers the Dark Side lords possessed—one of them being life force manipulation. It's how this very Palpatine kept his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, alive after a quick dip in the fires of Mustafar. In doing so, he took the life of his grandmother, Padme Amidala.

"The life force..." the Emperor muttered, almost astonished. He sneered with the smile of a devil and repeated the prior motion. Kylo and Rey were frozen by an unparalleled Force power as their very life left them and instead served the Emperor. His face began to brighten, his fingers reform, and soon enough, he fell to a knee. He felt more alive than ever—like he was back in the game. He dropped Rey and Ben to the unforgiving, cold ground.

Ben looked to Rey. She was unconscious. He shifted and glared at the Emperor, who slowly stood up. When they locked eye contact, Ben discovered a terrible truth: His eyes were now reddish-orange. The color of the Sith.

"No!" Ben shouted, mustering every ounce of strength to at least stand up to this monster in the Force. To pose a threat. To do something.

"Vader betrayed me," Palpatine said. "So I will start off by destroying the last Skywalker!" He telekinetically lifted Ben into the air once more. "I am your Emperor." He thrust Ben away and he fell into a pit deemed no bottom.

The reborn Darth Sidious sat on the throne. The ceiling began to part, displaying the vast fleets from everywhere in the galaxy consumed in an absolute spectacle of war. Rey began to awaken and turned over. She groaned and looked to her grandfather, who pointed his fingers upward. What followed was a deep moan from the very Force itself, letting out an expulsion of Force lightning previously undreamed of straight into the sky, where it branched off like a thunderstorm. The fleets shorted out and began to go deadstick.

Horrified but powerless, Rey inched up. "Be with me," she choked. "Be with me."

"There is no one coming to help you," Palpatine growled. "No one will be with you. No one is coming, just like no one came to save your parents. Once more the Sith will rule the galaxy! And we shall have...peace. And this time, there is no Vader, no Skywalker to stop us."

She connected to the Force, her rage rising. The Skywalker lightsaber lifted off the ground in front of her. On one knee, she reached out to grab it. But it flew right past her and into the outstretched hand of someone, or something, else.

A slightly glowing, blurry figure stepped into an iota of light. Igniting the lightsaber, it began to walk forward. She squinted. The figure's features were now apparent. It wore long, Jedi robes and boasted long, wavy hair. Yet, she had no clue who he was.

"I believe you're in need of my assistance," he said. "I will be with you, Rey. Because I am all you need. And it's time I finish this. I will finish what I started."

Just then, Ben Solo crept out of the pit...somehow. He pushed himself up onto the ground that was riddled with energy and a nightmarish cyan glow. His eyes widened when he made out some kind of Force ghost. The ghost turned around and smiled at him.

"This was never your destiny, Ben! This is mine. I will balance the Force forever. One last time. Not as Vader, as Anakin Skywalker...the Chosen One."

***

I hope you enjoyed reading it! I never write fanfics but I was so pissed after what happened in TROS that I had to do something about it.

#the rise of skywalker #reylo #star wars #kylo x rey #kylo ren #ben solo #rey #anakin skywalker #palpatine #reylo shippers #tros #tros spoilers

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Evil’s Bane: Ch 6. Yield to Damnation

The village had a little more excitement as the sun set. Outsiders were a commodity here, and another Mortuus from outside who wasn’t mad was a treat. Kenshi sat with Black and Leere, recounting a tale of woe. “My daughter loved to wear a red coat, exploring the forest outside the village. There used to be no real danger. She knew what to do when she saw an animal, so I assumed we’d always be safe, if not imprisoned here. I still don’t know if she’s dead or not.”

Bonegrinder had opted to avoid the villagers for the most part. He had told Black and Leere in very clear tones that the Mortuus were not happy about an Echidnan being here. So, he had chosen a comfy tree to rest for the evening until hell break loose. Black, on the other hand, had been instructed not to leave Leere's side. He listened to Kenshi's story but had no words of comfort.

Leere nodded, as her brain was trying to figure out if she liked the villages ale or not. “That’s terrible Kenshi. Maybe we can find her?” Outside, Bi-Hanzo stomped up to the tree with a group a robed Mortuus. “We request your presence.”

When Bi-Hanzo approached with other Mortuus, Black stood as well as Leere. He still said nothing, just ready to follow the princess. Though, he was still apprehensive in this place. He felt the danger, sensed it.

Leere looked to the window, curious what the Mortuus wanted with Bonegrinder.

"Why?" Bonegrinder did not budge from his tree. "This Anagari figured you would not wish for a 'cowardly' Echidnan to grace your presence."

“You are cowardly, God of Life.”

Leere tensed next to Black. Bi-Hanzo’s tone wasn’t friendly. This could easily turn into a powder keg.

"God of Life?" Bonegrinder actually snickered. "Try again. Let's see, the Lorleidians know him as 'Ba'puu' and his counterpart as 'Zarazu'... what do you call him?"

“We call you Proxamus, Creator to the brother Destroyer.”

"What makes you so sure this snake is who you believe him to be?" Bonegrinder snorted. "After all, an Echidnan couldn't possibly be the host of your beloved deity."

“We are certain. Now you will join us for council. Or we can take you by force.”

"Oh?" Bonegrinder turned to face the group with a leering smile of jagged teeth. "You can try. Please do so. Give him a reason to rip your kind to shreds. He will revel in it."

"Don't tempt him." Black finally spoke, standing in front of Bi-Hanzo. "You do not know what he's capable of."

“You do not know what I am capable of.”

Leere ran out, hating how quick Black almost teleported he was so sneaky. “We don’t want to fight.”

“We don’t want a god who has failed their duties.”

"Failed?" Black repeated, casting a glance at Bonegrinder and then Leere. "What do they mean?"

"Oh yes, do so elaborate." Bonegrinder flicked his tail. "Let this snake guess... Prama did not bow to your every little request so you're pissed at him."

“There has only been one request Prama. To liberate us from our hell.”

Leere stood her ground, not wanting a god to break Bonegrinder’s mind because the snake couldn’t hold it together. “Bi-Hanzo. I’m certain that the one you call Destroyah is the architect of your most recent suffering. Why target Proxamus, even if the god were here?”

"They're looking for someone to blame, tiny princess, so they point their fingers at the monster." Bonegrinder was growing so very tired of this prattle. "Go away. You know nothing."

“We know a god lies trapped in a snake.” Bi-Hanzo ordered the town cultists to surround the tree. With necromantic energy, they focused a pentagram around the tree. “Don’t move. Release the god in you willingly, or suffer.”

"... you think you can take on old Bonegrinder with that pitiful magic?" Bonegrinder... laughed. And Black knew when the snake had that mocking laugh that shit was about to go down. Placing his hand on Leere's shoulder, he morphed them away from the tree, reappearing in the shadows in the clearing. "Don't you know that while he may host Prama, that doesn't mean his magic is limited to just light. Oh, no, no, disgraceful ones, you see, Bonegrinder is a shaman. And where he hails from, a shaman studies all forms of magic." He raised his hands with palms upturned then slammed them down on the tree. "Mother of the Monsters abhors necromancy, but you think Bonegrinder didn't take the chance to learn his enemy's magic to use it against them? So yes, yes, he learned... even this one."

The undead rose from the earth, much like what Leere had summoned before, except more so... malicious. Pieces of the undead stitched together from creatures and people ceased a thousand years ago. The Anagari was enraged at their accusations. These fools knew nothing of his torment and suffering. They knew nothing of Prama's shattered memories and his broken mind. No, they deserved to suffer. "He'll ask once again... do you really want to challenge him?"

"... fuck." Black rarely cursed and was rather eloquent with his words at time, but this was alarming. "He's snapped."

“I do.” Bi-Hanzo raised his hand. With a squeeze of his fist, he pulled back his arm. Every undead’s head popped like a balloon as the air was sucked into their ears and mouth, an explosion of icicles pultruding from its neck. Leere was amazed how much mastery he had over necromancy; that even if one couldn’t control undead, they knew how to quickly dismantle them. What surprised her most, however, was a different magic. When one undead drew too close, Bi-Hanzo held a hand out to grab its head, and the moment his palm made contact, the undead turned sizzled, steam burning the monster into a mushy mess of flesh.

"Childish trick, for sure. You think this is all Bonegrinder knows? Hrm... well, he did give you a warning." The Anagari used his finger to cut through the space and suddenly disappeared into a portal. It was several moments before he reappeared, this time, behind Bi-Hanzo. Holding the man up by his throat, he dug his claws into the man's skin. "Let's see how long this snake has to squeeze before your head goes 'pop'."

Bi-Hanzo took a breath and his body turned into mist, escaping Bonegrinder’s grasp. Solidifying again, he threw a hand forward, freezing Bonegrinder’s lower half to the ground. “Paralyze him.”

As other cultists readied a spell again, Leere lashed out, using shadows to trip them up. “Enough! I agreed to help you! You’re attacking the wrong side.”

“We know that the god hides within.” Lady Jackalen hobbled down on a walking stick. “I will speak to my god! Not a wretched snake.”

The spell was a nuisance he could easily wave away with his magic. Yet, if he used too much, the Anagari would risk drawing attention. Before he traveled here, Prama had warned him against using his full power. It could draw more creatures, or worse, if Destroyer was here, he might appear before them. Lifting the spell, Bonegrinder pivoted on his upper half and slammed his tail into the ring of cultists by spinning. True, he knew magic, but also how to fight dirty. Squeezing his coils around the old hag, he threatened, "Tell them to piss off or you're mush."

“Bonegrinder, holy Din, stop! Listen, you aren’t going to kill any of them. And none of you are going to get to talk to your god. Least not here.”

Bi-Hanzo raised his brow. “Here?”

“I can give you another promise. You can learn the truth in Hyrule, outside of Malus.”

"None will speak to him if Bonegrinder has anything to say about it." The Anagari hissed. "This was a mistake, Leere. He warned you of what resided here and now look. These fools want to speak to Prama, to a god they claimed failed them. And for what purpose? Prama barely recalls creating this earth. He had to relearn; he even knew not of the damn prophecy. Worst of all, he's trapped in this snake!" Bonegrinder was severely agitated and it was really starting to show. "His soul, Bonegrinder's soul, two minds, one body, this is torment!!! And these filthy, child murdering cultists want to speak to him?! Beg them to save him?! Let them all fucking rot! They slaughtered Echidnans and we did nothing to them!!!"

"Master, let's just go back to the underground." Black had to do something or the snake was going to have another episode like he did in Omisha. He had heard all the details from Blue and White. The last thing he wanted was for Bonegrinder to sleep for days on end in this hellish place. "We'll go back through the portal and forget about this day."

Leere felt her heart race with adrenaline at trying to get through the snake’s dense skull. “Bonegrinder. Not every one of these people deserve to die. You can’t paint one colour for an entire race of people!” The sun set, with the sound of an owl muttering in the distance.

"Oh, he cannot, can he?" Bonegrinder sneered. "Isn't that what they have done to his race? Hypocritical, tiny princess, is what he says. Shall he slaughter the adults and save the children? Perhaps he should just have them throw at his tail the ones responsible for hurting his people. Tell him, Leere, tell him, for he'd really like to know just how he is supposed to act when this race is responsible for the death of so many."

"Don't make him target you," Black whispered to Leere under his breath. "He's starting to grow unstable."

“You’re an egomaniac drug kingpin who profits off the suffering of others, don’t you dare think yourself any better. You’re overly sarcastic and rude to everyone you meet. It’s like you enjoy scaring people. Having met other Echidnans I know you’re one of the few, no, the only one who acts upon negative impulses on a whim.” Leere ignored Black, pointing to the houses people stared out at. “Look at their faces. Look at them! You inspire fear! They’re just people Bonegrinder! The Gerudo have just people. The Echidnans have just people. And the Mortuus can be just people.”

"... did he scare you, tiny princess? All those years ago when he found you wandering his tunnels?" Bonegrinder grinded his teeth together, dropping the old hag. "He was kind to you because he could smell it on you. You are innocent of the crimes which were thrust upon you. The magic engraved into your very skin could call forth Chaos itself and he knew that you should have died but he wanted you alive and well because you deserved a chance. You were a child. These people would have wanted you dead." The Anagari snarled. "He likes to scare people, Leere. He wants those who would use drugs, hurt others, or even dare to sell their own kin to a brothel to suffer. He lurks in the darkness to inspire fear and it has served him so very well." He had almost a maniacal laugh. "Would you like to know why Prama didn't stop him? Why he has continued all these years to persist after you and your family? Perhaps he should even tell you of your little niece's upcoming fate if she is to be the host of Kaksa? Hrm? Or will you listen to him for once and not seek out such heartbreaking answers? No? You never listened to him when he warned you not to seek answers from this country. It's in the prophecy, tiny princess." He spoke, "Don't ever laugh as death passes you by, for you might be the next to die. The grim reaper walks beside of thee, she comes for all, for you and me. Darkness and shadows bring nothing but dread, two can keep a secret if one is dead."

“Fear. You wield it like a drug. It consumes you. I should have never met you if that’s how you really think you can change the world.”

"If he was a true 'monster' like these bastards believe, then he would have scared you before he ate---"

Before the air could be still with tension, it exploded with the arrival of a new danger. Something had risen from the lake, running with a sprint. Sixty tiny eyes of vision lead it through the forest, past bushes, scaring a group of fairies, down a path, and into the clearing of the village. A giant bipedal creature broke the argument, grabbing a cultist by the head, and running back into the darkness of the forest. More ran out of the dark, drooling pincers cackling together as they ran towards more prey. Leere immediately drew a scythe, slashing ones head off. Bi-Hanzo blasted a body away, encasing it in ice. “Something new! Villagers, disperse and hide!”

The argument was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the creatures. Bonegrinder groaned aloud, and looked more so annoyed than he did disturbed. "Black. Keep an eye on the bratty princess." The Anagari used his long body to crush, squeeze, and maim several of the fiends. He was an efficient fighter despite being so large.

What made the creatures unique was what their bodies did after being crushed or dismenbered. Oozing slime, they instantly started to regenerate.

"... Bonegrinder? What are these things?" Black had already taken down as many as his master, but was not expecting the enemy to rise once more.

"Creations of Destroyer or Chaos one, he cannot remember." Bonegrinder then summoned a searing hot flame in the palm of his hand. "Burn them."

Bi-Hanzo froze one whole, shattering it into fragments with a kick. “No! They might still form again from ash. Freeze their movements to a stand still.”

Leere didn’t have any ice to use, and it didn’t seem any other Mortuus did either. A scream next to her rang out, and from the corner of her eye she saw Lady Jackalen being swooped up by a bug with wings. It had a straw like appendage on its face, and quickly jabbed it into her head. Leere winced as she watched the woman be drained into a husk. One of the fly creatures came silently for Black from behind. Throwing her knife, she hit it right in the eye, causing it to veer off course.

"Good eye, princess." Black commented as he spun her around and used her feet to whack another demon away from him.

"For the love of Mother..." Bonegrinder cursed under his breath. This situation was not good. There were only a handful of these useless bastards that could use magic. Maybe if he used it, just this once to keep Black and Leere safe... then he'd teleport them out of this hell. Hades was still alive. He could feel it with the magic in his scale that the Lynel consumed. The Anagari could seek him out later. "Don't move." The snake instructed as he placed his hands on the ground. Slowly, the dirt started to turn to quicksand around those fiends, trapping them. One by one, the demons were frozen... and stopped. For now. Turning his attention to Leere and Black, he stated, holding no room for objection. "We are leaving."

“Not without the rest of these people.” Leere didn’t falter, still looking around for more threats ready to spring from the darkness. Worse case was they were still surrounded, and she always prepared for the worst case.

"Either you come willingly or he will drag you with him, princess, don't make him act on it." Black warned Leere. "Besides, he cannot transport all these people through a portal. That kind of magic would drain him. He'd be lucky to take a few at most."

“Then he can use my reserve as well to tap into. I won’t doom these people to damnation.”

"You do recall what happened the last time you gave Bonegrinder some of your magic." Black quirked an eyebrow at the girl. "He was drunk off his scaled tail for a full day."

"These people are already damned." Bonegrinder snorted as the rest of the village went quiet. "They want Prama to come and save them. Don't they realize that their deity can hardly remember who he was? Who Kaksa was? His own brother? He could barely recall some of his creations. He cannot hear prayers or whispers while he is trapped. And yet, they have the gall to call him a coward when he's suffered so." He growled. "This old snake may not like his predicament with Prama, but he does know that this hell isn't Prama's fault."

“Then be the bigger person and help then regardless of what wrongs they did to you! That’s what a hero would do!”

"Hero? Hero?!?! You want to know what being a hero for these bastards all those years ago earned him, Leere?!" Bonegrinder's voice was so loud, it pierced throughout the entire village. "Mother went soft! She asked us to try to save a few of the 'good' Mortuus, just like you want to do! It was a mistake! One that was erased from the history books so we would never again try something so foolish!!!" He slithered closer. Then closer, towering over Leere. "So, good Modoc, wanting to please Mother, be honorable, and try to set an example for our future generations went to save who he could. He opened up his home, kept them safe, kept them warm... and when the monsters came after them?" He hissed. "Ask him, Leere. Ask him what those bastards did."

"Bonegrinder, now is not the time---"

"Shut. Up. Black."

“Your family was killed.” Leere wasn’t even phased. “Because you were tricked. Because your enemies were clever to disguise themselves, right? That why you don’t like letting people you can’t outright control close anymore, right?”

"They had a choice whether to fight with the enemy to slaughter us, or die with us." The Anagari scoffed. "So those who were 'good' turned on the very Echidnans who saved them. And they... they were... slaughtered, Leere. And they were innocents. Much like you."

As the argument was boiling, Jang was checking on the body of Lady Jackalen. Many didn’t like the churches leader when it came to killing those she deemed ‘doomed to sin’, but her wisdom had kept them whole for generations. As he sighed at the loss of life, he glanced down at a movement. Was she alive? How with that ghastly wound?

Peering closer to listen to a heartbeat, Jang’s head exploded with the old woman’s chest when a giant tree stalk of flesh shot upwards into the air. A snarling new version of Lady Jackalen snarled downwards at them. With the mimicry of a pained human scream, leeches shot outwards from its body towards hungry prey to feast on.

Leere couldn’t believe the anomaly she saw as she backed away from the flesh eaters.

Bonegrinder took notice of the infection of demonic energy on the old hag's body. It seemed Destroyer or Chaos one had been busy. This was rather new design. Perhaps he was changing his fiends. Usually, he was more concerned with ripping something apart entirely, not causing slow torment. It hardly bothered the snake. "Fleshlings."

Kenshi ran forward and hacked at every leech that lunged at him, furious his best friend was slain. “JANG!!!”

Bi-Hanzo was ready to freeze the monstrosity apart, when the flesh creature uprooted itself from its just host body. Sickening slender spider legs allowed it to move about. It’s first direction was to flee the village. The village protector scowled behind his mask, his eyes visible with fury, “After it! It must not be allowed to escape this realm alive!”

Following Bi-Hanzo and Kenshi, Leere sliced another leech in half with her scythe, running into the dark forest with them.

"... why does she always run headfirst into danger?" Bonegrinder groaned, watching as Black chased after her. He started to do so himself when he felt it. Sensed it. Every scale on his body twitched. Destroyer... his brother... was very, very close.

The group ran through the dark scenery. Finally, they reached the lake they first met Kenshi and Jang. There, the fleshy abomination was trying to submerge itself in the water. Bi-Hanzo dipped his hand in, freezing the water around it. “Kill it!”

The mimicry of Jackalen bloated it’s flesh up. At a critical mass it barfed a putrid acid, attempting to burn its attackers.

Black managed to yank Kenshi back before the acid burned the fool. Decapitating the creature, Black then resumed his place beside of Leere. He shook the guts off his sword before sheathing it. The Wraith looked unnerved. "I stand by Bonegrinder. We need to go---"

"LEERE!!!!" The Anagari had zoomed through the woods at top speed, and he wore an absolute panicked expression. "KALAKUTA!!!"

Now that got Black's attention. Bonegrinder hardly ever used his given name. This was serious. "What is he yelling about---"

"HE'S HERE!!!"

As Black hopped up to slice the head off, Leere used her blade to cut the body in half, causing it to crash backwards like a falling tree. The husk of Jackalen melted in a smelly goop of flesh into the lake. Leere turned to Bonegrinder, he adrenaline still running from the fight. “Who’s here?!”

This quest would only bring one nightmare after the other. From the lake, the water erupted in a fierce explosion, splashing everywhere. A black shape kept moving upwards, upwards and upwards. Finally, the shape arched forward. The body of a massive serpent shook its titanic head. With sunken eye holes, it looked down at the group of five. Kenshi dropped his sword, put into shock by the sight. “What in oblivion.”

"GET DOWN!!!" Bonegrinder saw the serpent looming over the group, the jaws wide. He could make it, just a little more! He had to be faster. Stretching out his long body, he managed to wrap around Black and Leere... before the serpent striked.

The son of the Destroyer opened wider. Suddenly, the air downwards started to inhale inwards. A second later, every body, leaf and living person was being sucked upwards into its mouth with the force of a tornado. Leere reached out to Bonegrinder, light as a feather as they were reaching their destination of doom. “Bonegrinder!!!”

Black flailed as he was nearly ripped away from his master, but held on tightly to his coils with one arm. He managed to sling his belt around the huge snake as a way to increase his grip. Leere, however, was barely holding on by her finger tips. The Anagari managed to grab her, slamming her into his chest and then coiled in on himself, covering Black and Leere with his body.

Bi-Hanzo and Kenshi flew up with them. When they reached the throat, all three Mortuus screamed as the jaws of the serpent closed. With that, darkness enveloped them, swallowing them whole.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626093697379008512/evils-bane-ch-5-belief-scattered

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626094887593443328/evils-bane-ch-7-entering-the-tower

#Crossover #Love Comments #ridersoftheapocalypse #leere dragmire #Leere #Bonegrinder #Black the Wraith #Malus #Monsters #Mortuus #horror

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qeterqujll · 5 years

Text

angels; your best friends are the four most problematic angels in heaven

characters: castiel x reader, gabriel x reader, lucifer x reader, balthazar x reader, dean winchester, sam winchester

a/n: i might try and do a few of these because these four are my favorite i literally cannot handle it. so this is kind of a prologue to that series.

Dean is glaring at you from across the room, staring distastefully at the other four beings standing in front of you. Sam is gone for the day, but Dean’s sure he’d throw a fit if he saw the group standing in their kitchen chatting away while you cook them pie– pie. They’re getting pie and that is not okay with him. Angels don't even eat and now you’re cooking them pie.

“Winchester,” Lucifer spits, glaring back at Dean, “I hope you know that I can hear you.”

“Good,” Dean bites back, crossing his arms as he stands, making his way to your side, “what can I think that’ll make you disappear?”

“Dean,” you snap, whipping around with a whisk pointed at the Winchester, “we talked about this. He’s fine.”

Lucifer’s frown shift’s into a pleased grin, sauntering over to you happily, not missing the opportunity to shoulder past Dean and replace him at your side.

“Lucifer,” Castiel sighs, beginning another unsuccessful attempt at playing mediator between the fallen angel and the Winchester, “you are being childish.”

“Oh, I’m being childish, little brother?” he scoffs, leaning back against the counter with crossed arms, “you should be talking to Gabriel.”

Dean shakes his head, staring at you as if to ask is this really who you invited to the Bunker? but you avoid his gaze and pretend to be very heavily invested in the eggs you’re cracking. Dean just sighs, grumbling something about angels being the bane of his existence before flopping back into his chair, brooding from a distance and scowling when Lucifer meets his gaze with a smirk.

“You’re just jealous because you’re not the favorite anymore,” Gabriel grins, “Don’t worry, Dean-o, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Sure,” Dean scoffs, opening one of his vintage magazines with a shake of his head and an annoyed sigh, “last time soon meant two weeks.”

He very vividly remembers finding the four angels in your room in various positions. Cas he expected, seeing as you had always been close to the angel, but Dean always assumed you and Cas had a thing going on, something he was not interested in asking about. But Cas was not the one laying on your bed, head in your lap as he flipped through one of the books you kept on your dresser. No, that was Gabe, and your hand was actually in his hair as you looked at something on your phone.

Fine, Dean had thought, fine, two angels. One he could handle, and the other he could half-tolerate.

When he spotted Balthazar looking through the lore books on your floor, picking up one about angels and flipping through it, he’d been more than a little bit surprised. He wasn’t sure when Balthazar had come back, and he was definitely not sure when he’d gotten close enough to you for you to allow him into the Bunker, but whatever. Balthazar was irritating, sure, but at least he’d helped them with Cas when they were desperate.

Then he saw Lucifer, laying on your other side with his legs crossed and his eyes closed in peaceful contentment.

He shakes his head at the memory, glancing one more time at the group before standing and storming up the stairs to his room. If he has to stand one more second of those four together with you he thinks he would be better off with Crowley in hell.

“What crawled up his arse and died?” Balthazar comments as Dean storms up the stairs. You sigh, shaking your head as you put the pies in the oven, one for the Winchesters and one for the angels (they insisted they’d enjoy it even though you know well enough from Cas that they won’t taste anything).

“You guys did,” you snort at your own comment, feeling a few glares on your back as you turn around to clean up the mess you’d made while cooking.

“I do not understand,” Castiel begins, “why would we be up Dean’s-”

“Can someone please smite him before I do?” Lucifer grumbles.

“No smiting in the Bunker, please.” “You humans and your rules,” Lucifer rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move from his seat to approach the still confused Castiel, who has let any part of the conversation after Balthazar’s comment go over his head.

“Can you guys just,” you sigh, turning back towards the four angels sitting on the opposite side of the counter, “please behave yourselves around the boys. They’re still warming up to most of you.”

“They like Castiel,” Balthazar sighs, “I don’t understand why any of us are different from him.”

“Would you like the short list,” you look pointedly at Gabriel, “or the long one,” your gaze shifts to Lucifer. “Do the words Tuesday and Apocalypse ring any bells?”

“Michael started it,” Lucifer grumbles, “besides, that was ages ago. They’re too sensitive.”

“Yes, death will do that to someone,” you scoff, leaning towards Lucifer on the counter, “I know you’re not exactly up to par on humans, but we don’t exactly appreciate being killed.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

There’s sarcasm dripping from his words, but you ignore it, smiling happily and taking the conversation as a win. You walk around to the library, picking up the book you’d been reading on the history of vampires and werewolves, but it’s plucked from your hands and replaced by a lore book on angels that you have yet to read. You glance over the top of the book, but all four of the angels are minding their own business. You almost set the book down to find the one you’d been in the middle of when you hear, “if you’re going to read that nonsense, at least read interesting nonsense.”

You roll your eyes, gaze shifting from the angels to the page the book had been opened to in your hands, skimming the words before setting it down on the table, making your way back to the kitchen.

“That book says all humans have a guardian angel,” you glance between the four, “do I?”

“Well it did say all humans, didn’t it?”

“Hm,” you glance at your hands, clasped together on the counter, “who is it?”

“Would it make a difference?” Lucifer sighs, “we’re all here. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon, apparently.”

“Just curious. So all of you have a human you watch out for?”

“All angels have had one at some point,” Gabriel says, “but for most of us, our humans have died. Now we’re all stuck with you.”

“If you want to know if it’s one of the four of us,” Balthazar interrupts, “it is.”

You nod, waiting for him to continue, but he just meets your gaze with a smile on his face that tells you that you won’t be getting any more answers out of him.

“So it’s one of you. Then why do all four of you stick around if you don’t need to?”

“What is it you humans call...friendship? Companionship? Even angels get bored and you’re very entertaining,” Lucifer smirks and Castiel glares at him, but doesn’t comment. You snort, taking a handful of flour and blowing it at him, laughing at the unamused look on his now flour-covered face.

“Well I, for one, am quite entertained.”

“I am the most feared creature on this planet,” Lucifer deadpans, “and you just threw flour at me.”

“It’s the simple joys, Luci.”

In retaliation and with a single snap of his fingers, you feel what must be at least a pound of flour pour over you, covering you in the white powder.

“Well played,” you shake your head, a cloud of flour from the top of your head surrounding you, “you’d better watch your back.”

“You’re lucky you’re not a Winchester because threatening me would not be wise.”

You shrug, taking a handful of flour from the floor and throwing it at him, blowing a kiss when his scowl deepens. With another snap of his fingers, the flour surrounding him is gone.

“I still want to know which one of you is my guardian angel,” you glance between them, sitting on the only empty stool between Balthazar and Gabriel, who snaps his fingers to rid you of the flour covering you.

“Let’s just say we split the responsibility evenly,” Balthazar eventually says when the other three angels refuse to respond, “guardian angels only get one human to look after, and when they pass on we don’t get another human chosen specifically for us to watch over. And the one of us who is your real guardian angel will tell you eventually, but I personally don’t think it matters. I quite like this.”

He motions to the five of you sitting together at the counter and you smile, because you definitely like it too.

“You big ‘ol sap,” Gabriel shakes his head, snapping his fingers to make the pies materialize from the oven in front of him.

“Only one,” you remind him, “the other is for the boys.”

“I thought we were the boys,” Lucifer mutters with a mouth already full of pie.

“We are not boys,” Castiel states, “we are angels of the Lord.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lucifer scoffs.

“Sam’s home in a few,” you hear Dean shout from the balcony above you, “have fun explaining this little playdate to him.”

“Bye, Dean-o!”

Gabriel snaps his fingers and suddenly the silence of the Bunker’s kitchen is replaced by the sounds of heavy traffic and unfamiliar voices.

“Gabe,” you run a hand over your face, refusing to open your eyes and look at your surroundings, “where did you take us?”

“I believe we’re in Paris, darling.”

You open your eyes, the Eiffel Tower standing proudly in the distance. You turn towards Gabriel, who has taken a sudden interest in the the sky, although you can see the smirk on his face.

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighs, “we should go back. Dean will worry.”

“I’m sure Dean and that oaf brother of his will manage on their own for the rest of the day,” Lucifer puts an arm over your shoulders, guiding you towards the nearest cafe, “and I haven’t been to Paris since the Apocalypse.”

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the-dragons-knight · 5 years

Text

Prompt #27: The Chorus Rises

Entry number twenty seven for the FFXIV Write Challenge by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast.

Prompt: “Palaver”

Rating: PG

Relations: None shown

Warnings: Post ARR Main story, Patch 2.5: Before the Fall - Part 1, building blocks of Heavensward story content

Katsum comes to parley with the Father of Dragons, yet the story he tells is not the one she expected to hear after all the stories she has ever heard as a child. So which is truth, and which is lies?

- - - - - - - - - -

“Who treadeth now upon my bones and waketh me from slumber sweet?”

Katsum halts in her steps, her eyes drawn up to the face of the dragon’s corpse. She watched its eyes flash to life, burning red and sparkling with promise of power. An essence of aether fell from his jaws to the air before her. The aether molded to the visage of a dragons head, roaring with such rage, she flinched.

“Thou hast forgotten the face of the lord of Silvertear. Remember now, mortal, and fear me.” The aetherial face of Midgardsomr reared back and roared even more ferociously this time, and Katsum moved to draw her sword. Before she could pull it free from its scabbard though, she felt a burning sensation around her neck and she gasped. Her hands flew up to the necklace hiding under her armor, feeling her aether being drawn into it as a ghostly form of another dragon appeared beside her. This shimmering, foggy dragon hissed and answered Midgardsormr’s roar with his own, a warning that was clear to all who heard it.

“What is this? Hmmm... How curious...” The elder dragon drew back his jaws, and quieted. The dragon that circled Katsum quieted too and vanished, the burning and draining of aether fading and Katsum dropped to her knee, her breathing heavy as she tried to catch her breath.

After all this time, she gets to see him again, yet he leaves without any explanation or reason. No words to be spoken between them or any companionship at all. Just an appearance that drains her energy that could kill her if it stayed long enough and then he was gone. Katsum didn’t understand this. Why wouldn’t he talk to her? It was like every story she had ever been told about the dragons was wrong...and she didn’t understand why.

The glowing face of Midgardsormr disappeared in a flurry of sparks, returning to the jaws of the dragon’s corpse, “By Her gifts - and his presence, hast thou earned a moments reprieve. Silent though he may be, I recognize his soul as one of mine own.” Midgardsormr hummed thoughtfully, and Katsum felt his gaze upon her as she struggled to stand back on her feet, “Speak, mortal, and I shall listen.”

Katsum took a deep breath and her stoic expression returned, her tongue moving to speak in the Dragon’s tongue rather than the common language, “(Hail Midgardsormr, Father of Dragons, Guardian of Silvertear Lake, and Bane of the XIVth Legion, I am Katsum Almor, Defender of Eorzea and Warrior of Light. I was sent here to confirm a prophecy that watcher of the stars spoke of as the waning of the Dragon’s Star foretold your resurrection.)”

“Thou speaketh my people’s tongue so easily. How strange. Speak as normal, mortal, as I do not care to hear mine own language spoken by a mortal’s voice,” He seemed to ponder for a moment, “And Guided by a star…? Heh heh heh. Indeed, thou canst see thy prophecy spoke true.” Midgardsomr hissed lowly, “My people have heard the song. Ishgard shall burn.”

Katsum narrowed her gaze thoughtfully, “I...I don’t understand...” She shook her head, “All I have ever heard is so different then what I hear now. All those stories I’ve ever been told...are any of them true?” She looked up into the dragon’s gaze, “Please, tell me what has happened. Where I hail from, dragons are revered as guardians. As friends...yet all I have heard recently has made those stories seem untrue. But why? Why is this war still being fought after...after all this time?”

Midgardsomr did not answer right away, and she felt him watching her.

“Strange mortal,” He mused, “Sons must answer for their father’s misdeeds.” He growled lowly, “Though a thousand years may pass, and a thousand more after, we do not forget. We do not forgive.”

“Then...then why does he stay with me? Why did he save us? Why was he there to build the kingdom I grew up in? Why did he rise against the chorus rather than join it?” She raised a hand to her neck again, and spoke with earnest, “I know nothing about him, not even his name, and yet all I have ever heard was that he saved us and protected us from the wyrm’s wrath...was all of that wrong…?”

“Foolish child. If thou dost not even remember thy savior's name, then thy people did not truly care for my kind, no reverence for mine son.”

Katsum’s eyes widened in shock, then she grimaced and narrowed her gaze, “So you would have this bloodshed continue? Let this war that kills thousands on both the side of man and dragon alike?”

“Just as thou art loyal to thy loved ones, I am loyal to my children, mortal. We are not different in that regard,” He hissed in reply, “Seven children did I sire. One now singers of retribution, and I rise to join in the chorus.” Katsum opened her mouth to speak, but the dragon snarled, “If thou does not know of the truth behind the war, then thou hast no right to speak of what should be, foolish mortal child!”

Katsum bit her tongue, her retaliation dying on her lips. He was right. She had no right to speak her thoughts on a matter of which she did not know the truth of. And she had never thought of it as such but...why else would the dragon’s name have been lost to history unless...unless her people had come to not care to remember the past as it was.

“Thou art powerless to silence us, mortal. Yet thou shalt not live to labor in vain. Thy reprieve is at an end.” Midgardsormr growled as if he was poised to strike, drawing Katsum’s attention as she reached again for her sword.

Suddenly, a shield of light enveloped her, and she felt her body freeze at the feeling.

Midgardsormr hissed, “Hmph. Trickery is thy shield. This frail creature is not gifted, but chosen...not by one, but two.” The Father of Dragons growled quietly, “Harken to me, Hydaelyn! I remember...and I consent.”

The shield of light fell and Katsum stood up straight again, shaking herself a little.

“Fear not, mortal...I shall not harm thee...such is my promise,” Katsum blinked, curiosity filling her mind. A ball of light appeared again in the jaws of the dragon before it shot like an arrow down at her. She had no time to flinch or defend herself as it struck through her chest. She grimaced and squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the pain, but she felt none. Instead, she felt something disappear, like a weight being lifted, or a cloth being removed from her soul. It was a strange sensation, yet there was no pain like she had expected, just that loss of something that she could not put her finger on.

“Heh heh heh,” Midgardsormr chuckled lowly, “Mayhaps you think me an oathbreaker?”

Katsum found herself kneeling on the ground again, trying to catch her breath. She looked up at the dragon and gasped, “Why...I know not what you did but...it did not hurt me...so why would I think as such.”

“Hmmm...Strange child, hast thou people’s stories taught you such reverence for mine kind that thou trust in mine own words so easily?”

She frowned, “It was your word...and it was true...so yes. I trust it...”

He hummed in wonder and in thought, “Thou art a curious one...Yet still know that if thou comest to harm, it shall be by another’s hand, not mine.”

“What was it...that you did then?”

“I did but strip thee of thy mistress’s feeble blessing.”

Katsum’s eyes widened, rising to her feet shakingly, “But-...but how?! Why?!”

“Thou didn’t profit much by Her grace, but no more. If thou only survived this long because of Her blessing, then thou doth not deserve such titles as ‘Warrior of Light’, nor the soul of my lost son as thy companion.”

Her fist tightened; as if she needed something else to question herself about. She already questioned her right to the crown when it had been given to her, questioned her right to wear the necklace after she fled the kingdom, and questioned why Hydaelyn had chosen her to grant her strength and watch over her. She believed that all was the will of the Savior, but she still questioned it...even when she knew she shouldn’t…

“Listen well, mortal,” His aether sparkled again, and from the blue sparks came the small form of a little green and pale pink scaled dragon. It floated down to hover before her, and it spoke with the voice of the elder dragon, “The covenant binds me to thee, and so I shall follow. I shall watch...listen...and wait. Fight and struggle, if it be thy will. Man hath ever coveted that which lie beyond his grasp. The history of thy people shows as such by the way thy former rulers fell.” Katsum again blinked in surprise. Perhaps there indeed was much she had to learn about her people and their past…

Midgardsomr growled, and the red light of the corpse’s eyes died away, the light disappearing with it. Yet his voice still rang in her ears, “I drink of Her body, and thence doth my own find new life. When it hath grown whole, the loyal and the penitent shall rejoice.”

She turned to the little dragon form of the Father of Dragons as he floated beside her, “Until then, I shall follow thee on thy journey, for thou hath captured my interest. The Dragonsong herald etch a beginning...and an end. How will thou see it end, o Warrior?”

Katsum looked away, down at her own hands, “Can you tell me...as that I do not know...so I shall not be ignorant to it anymore...”

Midgardsormr watched her, and answered, “If thou earns it.”

The little dragon sparkled and vanished in the aetheric essence and was gone from view, and Katsum was left to wonder was was true...and just how much of what she knew was lies, and what had been lost to time.

And if it as he says...than how much of who I am is built on lies…?

Her fist tightened again, a determined glare on her brow and her lips pressed into a thin line, “With or without Her blessing, I will know the truth. I will earn it from you. And if I must fight with my last breath, I will do it...for I have nothing else left to fight for but memory and the truth within it...you may hold me to that promise.”

She heard Midgardsormr whisper on the wind, “So I shall.”

#FFxivWrite2019 #ffxiv writing #ffxiv writing challenge #katsum almor #Midgardsormr #ffxiv #warrior of light #father of dragons #dragonsong war #a realm reborn #pre-heavensward

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robotslenderman · 5 years

Text

Think I’ve finally nailed down Mehra’s story in between getting exiled and ending up in the Dark Brotherhood.

Post-Morag Tong, she meets Quen and helps rebuild the Thieves Guild, going through the quests and everything.

She’s pretty highly ranked in the Thieves Guild except there’s a problem... she keeps killing people on jobs. This isn’t too much of a problem at first, but other thieves are like “The hell, Mehra?” She’s supposed to be a disciplined Morag Tong-raised woman, they don’t kill people they’re not supposed to. But she keeps doing it.

(Sometimes she swears she hears Velsa or Zeira or Quen telling her to kill someone, but it becomes quickly apparent to Mehra that that's... not actually happening. They wouldn't do that and then get mad at her for it. Not all three of them at once. Surely?)

Eventually she brings too much heat on the Thieves Guild and she’s asked to leave by Zeira. It's not a hostile kicking-out - it's a sad parting, and Mehra is understanding. She's secretly paranoid the whole thing was orchestrated, but she doesn't let herself resent them and just. Leaves.

Floats around for a while. She knows the DB is probably the only place left to go, but she doesn't want to. Still, she researches them. Stalks a few DB agents she runs into. Ends up tracking down and watching the Black Hand at some kind of Black Marsh ceremony where the Shadowscales are hatched. She's hiding in a basket, watching through the gaps.

When suddenly Nevusa (my headcanon Listener) opens the basket and, without looking down, drops a book on Mehra's head. The Night Mother, she says to the rest of the Black Hand, told her to do that, and then they leave.

it's the Litany of Blood.

Mehra ends up spending the next few months fulfilling it, because... why not? She doesn't have anything better to do. Meanwhile in the Kvatch Sanctuary they're boggled that an outsider has been chosen to do the Litany, and red spectral statues are appearing but the killer hasn't been recruited yet.

Eventually each pedestal is filled, but... still no killer. The Night Mother still hasn't told Nevusa where to find this killer. In reality, Mehra moves around too quickly to be reliably tracked down, so NM is still waiting for her to settle.

(Headcanon is that the Litany is only ever completed by future Listeners. So the whole Kvatch Sanctuary is especially apprehensive and excited because there's a future Listener out there, and nobody, not even Nevusa, knows who it is.)

Eventually Mehra hears about the DB presence in Kvatch, so goes there. She still doesn't want to join, but it's not like she has any other career options.

there's no Thieves Den there, so she relocates to Anvil.

By day she poses as a beggar, using the disguise to scope out houses. By night she cleans out houses and, occasionally, kills. Sometimes she just kills - she hovers on a roof, waits, then just drops on someone on an alley and stabs them in the back.

The DB eventually get wind that there's a serial killer in Anvil. The NM still hasn't said anything to Nevusa - Mehra isn't sleeping anywhere secure, but Nevusa wonders if it's their Litany killer and puts out feelers.

Nobody ever looks at Mehra twice. She's got horrific burn scars and she pesters people for money - people avoid her, they don't stare, so nobody notices her Tong tattoos, let alone anyone who'd recognise them. Mehra thinks it's hilarious, because the second anyone spotted her tattoos they'd quickly realise she's the killer.

But nobody ever looks, so they don't. She sticks out because she's very distinct as both a Dunmer beggar and one so badly scarred, but still people ignore her.

The killer is eventually active enough that the Kvatch Sanctuary actively investigates. Nevusa is pretty sure it's the Litany killer because the method of killing is the same as the Litany victims - as Nevusa found out when she out out feelers. A single knife to the back, right in the artery beside the spine.

Kvatch Sanctuary gets excited again because their future Listener is in the area and fucking up people for the lulz.

But they can't. Fucking. Catch her. There's never any witnesses, or survivors. Nobody acting suspicious at night (by DB standards, anyway). Remains-Silent, Venom and Mirabelle are brought in to try and find suspects - nothing. Elam is stationed at the Thieves Den full time to keep an eye out for potential hit men or freelance assassins - nada.

It doesn't help that Mehra got shy when they showed up, and stopped killing for a while.

Elam does spot Mehra in the TD occasionally and points her out to Nevusa as one of the more suspicious denizens of the TD, but she doesn't like to talk to Elam and her entire face stays covered, so he doesn't yet connect her to the scarred beggar.

Eventually things get quiet enough that Terenus gives Astara permission to pull everyone out of Anvil, so she does. Clearly, the litany killer has moved on.

And the fucking killings start up again almost immediately.

Cue DB facedesking. This time they just keep Mirabelle and Elam down there.

Mirabelle is a servant listening for gossip, working at the barracks. She's to report any progress the guards make on finding the killer, and to inspect the bodies whenever she can.

Elam is to stay in the TD and just get work. In game, IIRC, not everyone uses the Black Sacrament to get the DB's attention and if I remember right Elam is the one they contact if they don't. So in my headcanon Elam spends a lot of time in Kvatch getting work the old fashioned way. Well, now he's charged with doing it in Anvil and he's not allowed to come home until the litany killer comes with him.

So Elam spends time bored out of his mind, missing home, hoping nobody is messing up the Sanctuary too much, and getting work.

The TD is, for once, grateful there's an agent of the DB hanging around because the litany killer keeps picking off *their* guys, because who else is hanging out in alleyways at 3AM?

There isn't much privacy in the TD but he still has to give out work, and the thieves and pirates and so on give Elam as much leg room as they can.

Eventually his Brothers and Sisters start complaining their targets are dead before they can get to them. Elam has Mirabelle look into it, but still lets clients think the DB did it.

Mirabelle reports back that their would-be targets are getting killed by a single knife to the back.

Nevusa's reaction upon hearing about this: "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Elam's is to break down into laughter so hard he can't breathe.

The litany killer is now actively fucking with them and stealing their kills.

and they still don't have a clue who it is

Good news: this means the litany killer comes by the Thieves Den often enough that they eavesdrop on Elam's business deals, or at least enough to know who's pissed at who and who's planning on getting the DB involved.

Elam still thinks this is the funniest thing ever, but when the fences of the TD are notified they are Not Amused and start more actively working with the DB. They want the litany killer dead. The DB decide not to disclose that they're recruiting them.

The fences and the denizens of the TD do some fund raising and ask everyone to pitch in for a DB contract. At this point they've started calling her "Litany", since the DB have spread her moniker.

Mehra contributes a huge amount because she thinks it's just as funny as Elam does. They have the exact same sense of humour.

Those who know Litany stole the DB's kills no longer bother going to Elam and just stand in the middle of the TD and yell, "Hey, Litany, kill X for me!"

which she does

Some with a sense of humour start egging Litany to steal the underwear of someone they hate and stick it on the spire of the nearby Chapel.

She does this too

Litany is suddenly as popular for their sense of humour as they're hated for killing people's buddies.

Elam is like "our future Listener is *awesome*"

Nevusa doesn't know whether to be amused or exasperated.

Astara is Not Amused.

Then a break comes - someone fresh off a ship hears about Litany, and mentions it's similar to some killings in Hew's Bane. They're practically kidnapped and taken to Elam.

They tell Elam that they're a footpad from Abah's Landing, visiting some relative or other, and that some high ranking Dunmer in the Thieves Guild got kicked out for killing too many people while on the job. Mentions that she's a former member of the Morag Tong.

which... seems to fit Litany's MO. Nevusa is aware that *somehow* the Litany of Blood ended up in Litany's hands from Black Marsh, and the killings were done so professionally even the DB can't track them down. For it to be Morag Tong sounds right.

Cue Nevusa going to Abah's Landing, personally, to visit Zeira.

Who - if reluctantly - confirms that... yup, there was a Dunmer here called Mehra Adrano, former Tong. Liked to backstab people she shouldn't. Lovely woman, just... too stabby for the guild. Very lost after her exile from the Tong. Talked openly about how she thought she was going to wind up in the Brotherhood until the Thieves Guild took her. Zeira's surprised she hasn't ended up in there yet.

"We're working on it," says Nevusa. "We're finding it difficult to track her down."

Zeira gives Nevusa a description and as much info as she can. Nevusa does some research, uncovers Mehra’s backstory as Dralsea Sadri.

Nevusa returns to Anvil, where Elam and Astara still haven't tracked her down, and gives them Mehra’s description.

Elam is like "fuck, she's that scarred redheaded Dunmer?! I give her a few coins every time I buy my lunch! I talked to her like five minutes ago!"

They grab the Shadowscales and go to confront her...

Mehra’s sitting on her pallet, notices the Dark Brotherhood's Listener, Executioner, and a bunch of Shadowscales approaching her, and is like "and it only took you lot eighteen fucking months to track me down. Oh, by the way, here's your book back, Nevusa."

And the rest is history.

#Mehra Adrano #Dark Brotherhood #Morag Tong #ESO #TES #my OCs #long post

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fallenqueen2 · 5 years

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STEREK!!! Where the Nogitsune is not fully taking over Stiles but acts more like Venom-Eddie, whispering into Stiles' ear and occasionally taking over full. And while the Nogitsune has no fucks to give about anyone, Derek is his host's chosen one so he will be protected. Now Derek has to get used to a dark fox. Bonus points for Stiles actually being able to shift into a pitch-black, nine-tailed fox!

NSFW Fic Under the cut

“Those hunters have Derek and everyone else is acting like it’s no big deal,” Stiles seethed aloud as he slammed into the bathroom down the hall from his bedroom, luckily his father was working at the station and couldn’t hear Stiles talking aloud. His stomach thankfully no longer hurt, one of those hunters had sucker punched him when trying to stop him from getting to Derek.

“They are idiots, they do not understand,” A voice hissed and Stiles looked at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t even so much as flinch as a dark mass formed on his shoulder before extending up and out, shifting until it took on the shape of a head covered in old, faded bandages.

“That is an understatement, but I have no idea where they are keeping Derek and even if I did… I couldn’t take those men down, they are hunters!” Stiles exclaimed before he exhaled loudly when the head nuzzled his cheek possessively.

“You are mine Stiles and he is your chosen. Let me take care of it for you, just this once.” The Nogitusune crooned and Stiles gripped the edge of the sink as he rolled the idea over in his mind.

“Why should I trust that you will let me have my body back?” Stiles asked curiously.

“I have no desire to live as a human, to be hunted and extracted from your body only to be sealed away again. Derek is yours and you are mine, therefore, he is mine as well. I protect what is mine, now let us work together and save him.” Nogitsune explained and Stiles could feel himself relax at the words and the promise hidden in them.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Stiles took a step back from the sink and watched in the mirror as his skin bubbled and shifted, bandages wrapping around his limbs and face until he and the Nogitsune were one. Nine bandaged foxtails flared out behind their body as they prepared to leave.

“We will find what is ours.” Their voices mingled together as the now larger form of the teen turned towards the open window in the bathroom and leaped out into the night.

Derek tugged weakly at the cuffs that were keeping his wrists above his head and attached to the rusty pipe that was hammered into the steel wall. He could feel the burns the hunters had left him pull and tug against his skin each time he shifted and he felt as weak and drained as a newborn pup. He hated that they took him by surprise, that they managed to make him this weak and he hated that Stiles had been there to watch until he was sucker punched in the gut for trying to save Derek.

“Did you hear that?” One of the hunters asked from his place by the door, Derek strained his own ears but thanks to the wolf’s bane his senses were extremely dulled.

“Stop being so jumpy,” another hunter snorted as he looked up from sharpening his blade.

“I’m not jumpy, I swear I heard something.” The man snarled as he slowly inched open the door and Derek watched in shock and confusion as what looked like bandages lashed out and wrapped around the hunter’s head. The hunter let out a muffled scream as he was yanked out into the hall and a loud thud sounded. It sent the remaining four hunters up onto their feet, one stood by Derek with a shotgun pointed at his head as the other three hurried towards the door, their weapons at the ready.

The door slowly creaked open, sounding like a sound effect from every horror movie ever and a hulking figure was shown in the doorway. He was covered in aged bandages; he was wearing old army styled pants and a brown leather biker jacket. His face completely covered in bandages as well but somehow that made it so much more disturbing. What caught Derek’s attention were the bandaged nine foxtails that were flaring out behind him. They flexed before disappearing completely and the bandaged head tilted to the side as the form took in the situation.

“Give us our chosen wolf and you will be allowed to live.” A dual-toned voice came from the figure and Derek’s eyebrows furrowed together as he thought one of the voices mixed into the voice sounded familiar.

“FIRE! Kill that thing!” The lead hunter cried out and the hunters began to fire at the bandaged man. The man didn’t even flinch as the bullets made contact. The room suddenly fell silent and only the metallic tinging of the bullets falling to the ground uselessly echoed.

“Then die,” The voice hissed and Derek had to stop himself from blinking. The form moved at a speed equal to or faster than a werewolf, bandages flying at the hunters. Derek watched in stunned silence as the hunters were tossed around the rooms like rag dolls by this creature. A few moments later and the room was silent again, Derek tugged at the cuffs around his wrists again as the bandages retracted into the creature’s hands and the form moved towards him slowly.

“You are damaged,” the creature hissed sounding outraged and Derek felt his eyes widen as he placed the second voice and the muffled scent that hiding below those bandages.

“…Stiles?” Derek whispered and watched as the bandages unraveled, slipping away from the creature’s head to reveal Stiles.

“It’s a long story, let’s just get you out of here first okay?” Stiles offered a smile as he reached down and easily broke the cuffs around Derek’s wrists and without another word hauled Derek up over his shoulder in a firefighter carry.

“Stiles!” Derek was outraged and confused yet turned on by the display of pure strength.

“Easier this way. Stay still chosen one.” The dual tone was back and Derek had to choice but to grab onto the back of Stiles jacket when they were suddenly running and leaping.

Derek let out a puff of breath when he suddenly found himself being laid gently down onto Stiles mattress in the teen’s bedroom. Derek watched as the bandages swirled and disappeared beneath Stiles skin and the teen ran a hand nervously through his hair as he looked everywhere but at Derek.

“So you have a parasite?” Derek offered as his mind ran through ideas of what could be happening to Stiles. Stiles jerked and let out a puff of air that could have been a laugh.

“He hates being called that, no he’s more like… I don’t know what he’s like.” Stiles dug out a first aid kit and sat on the edge of the bed by Derek. Derek eyed Stiles warily before extending his injured wrists. This was still Stiles; he smelt the same just a bit spicier and smokier. This was Stiles who had saved him and seemed to be calm and in control with the thing that was inside of him.

“When Allison, Scott and I died to save our parents… Deaton warned us we wouldn’t be the same. That we would have opened a door and something could come through it. Allison and Scott got off light; I became the host to something called a Nogitsune, a kitsune like Kira but of darkness. At first, all he wanted to do was get revenge and kill, but I convinced him that wasn’t a good idea. We have formed a partnership of sorts, he gets to come out and fight bad guys and I make sure he is fed so he doesn’t eat my liver.” Stiles explained, ending with a small chuckle like it was an inside joke as he finished treating Derek’s wrists, the wolf’s bane was already wearing off so the burns on Derek’s torso were all but healed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Derek asked after a few moments, just to absorb the new information.

“You would have wanted to force him out, we couldn’t allow that. We’re a team now, partners if you will.” Stiles said firmly and Derek slowly nodded he understood why now.

“Why did you risk it all to save me then?” Derek asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed so he and Stiles were sitting next to each other, thighs pushed together.

“The pack was being useless,” Stiles muttered. “I couldn’t let you get hurt anymore, we had the power to stop them so we did.”

“I appreciate it more than you know.” Derek’s voice was soft.

“Kiss him, kiss your chosen,” Nogitsune whispered in Stiles mind.

“Don’t punch me?” Stiles offered up weakly before he did as the Nogitsune suggested and he leaned over and pressed his lips to Derek before pulling back, cheeks burning and eyes downturned like he was afraid to see Derek’s reaction.

“I will punch you if you don’t do that again.” Derek rumbled as he slipped his large palm around Stiles’ neck to cup the back of it. Stiles beamed and allowed Derek to pull him back in for another kiss.

“Finally, have fun I’ll be sleeping, human mating holds no interest to me.” The Nogitsune sounded smug yet disgusted and Stiles felt his presence in his mind become muted and hidden.

“Just us here now,” Stiles said breathlessly when their kiss broke.

“Good to hear,” Derek smiled as he used his hold on Stiles’ neck to ease the teen backward and shifted them until they were sprawled over Stiles bed and Derek was slotted between the younger man, their lips fused together again. Stiles dragged his fingers over Derek’s chest, taking care to avoid the healing patches of skin and then he dragged his fingers up Derek’s back.

“I want to taste you, will you let me?” Derek asked as he smoothed his palms over Stiles’ thighs, pushing them wider apart and growled lowly when Stiles rocked his crotch up to meet Derek’s.

“Yeah, oh fuck yes.” Stiles nodded wildly and let out a throaty noise and ran his fingers through Derek’s hair as the werewolf easily tugged the teens’ pants and boxers down his slender legs and tossed them off the bed. Stiles was blushing and panting before he let out a small gasp when Derek gripped his legs and basically bent him in half, his legs dangling over the wolf’s shoulders and Derek licked a stripe down Stiles growing erection.

“Fuccckk,” Stiles breathed out as he used his finger hand to grab onto the mattress next to him as Derek sucked lightly at the tip of his cock, sending all the blood in Stiles body down to that point, filling his cock until he was achingly hard. Derek cupped Stiles ass cheeks and spread them apart as he licked his way down so he could press the tip of his tongue against Stiles tight pucker. Stiles let out a cry when Derek sucked hard at his rim and used the flat of his tongue to coax that tight muscle to relax. Stiles blinked rapidly as his mouth dropped open as a moan escaped his throat when Derek used the tips of his thumbs to hook against his softening rim and stretched him wider.

“Derek!” Stiles howled, tightening his grip in the wolf’s hair when Derek shoved his tongue into him suddenly. Stiles shuddered and gasped as Derek easily worked him open with his lips and tongue like a pro. Stiles’ legs were trembling from their place over Derek’s shoulders and he could feel Derek’s beard rubbing against his thighs, he knew he would be feeling that for a little bit until the Nogitsune healed him.

All thoughts flew from Stiles’ head when Derek pressed his tongue hard against a place inside of him that made him see stars and cry out in surprise pleasure. Derek was radiating smugness at this reaction and began to twist his tongue and press against Stiles prostate over and over until he had to use one arm to hold Stiles right leg in place thanks to all the writhing the teen was doing.

Derek relented and slowly removed his tongue from Stiles, enjoying the pure taste of Stiles that was now spreading inside of his mouth and he took a look at Stiles.

Stiles’ face was fully flushed, eyes glassy and lips red from where the teen must have bitten them. His chest was heaving and nipples were obvious from beneath the fabric of his shirt, his free arm was tossed over his head and his other hand shaking from its place in Derek’s hair.

“You’re beautiful,” Derek breathed out in awe, he never seen someone look like this while Derek was pleasuring them and he felt his arousal burn hot in his veins.

“Come here sourwolf, if you keep going you may kill me.” Stiles even sounded wrecked yet his cock was hard and leaking pre-cum. Derek slowly lowered Stiles trembling legs and lower body back onto the bed and allowed Stiles to tug him in for a kiss with the hand in his hair.

“Let me…” Stiles muttered against Derek’s lips as they kissed, his free hand fumbling with Derek’s belt, hand cupping and grazing the large bulge in the front of Derek’s jeans.

Derek took pity on Stiles and swiftly unbelted his jeans and unzipped them. Stiles wasted no time in pulling Derek free of his boxers and moaned into the wolf’s mouth at the feeling and weight of Derek’s cock in his hand. Derek groaned as he slowly rocked his hips towards the loose grip Stiles had on his cock, it was wonderful and Stiles seemed to agree if by how eagerly he was stroking and palming the hard length was anything to go by.

“Let’s come together okay?” Stiles asked breathlessly when their kiss broke and Derek went to work on the pale, mole dotted expanse of Stiles’ neck. His inner wolf needing to place his claim on Stiles, showing that he is his chosen as well.

“Okay,” Derek agreed between sucking kisses and he wrapped his large hand around both their cocks, pressing them together and they both let out moans of pleasure as Derek began to stroke them in unison.

“Derek, oh, oh yes, like that.” Stiles panted as he clung to Derek’s shoulders with both hands and rubbed against Derek almost desperately. Derek growled into the crook of Stiles’ neck as he held the teen closer as he rubbed them quicker, both needing to come. Stiles came first and his whole body shuddered and arched as his eyes rolled up into his head as he cried out in pleasure and Derek had to hold him upright before he too cried out his release.

Stiles panted and gasped for breath as he enjoyed the high of his orgasm, Derek was heavy on his chest as the wolf panted into his chest as he enjoyed his own bliss. Stiles blinked slowly as familiar bandaged tails swayed into his line of sight, he blushed as he realized he lost some of the control he had learned and their tails must have popped out during his climax.

“Cute,” Derek commented, voice dazed as he allowed the tails to curl around him and caress his cheeks before wrapping protectively around his healing wrists.

“Fuck, you are our chosen,” Stiles whispered in disbelief before he snuggled closer to Derek and buried his face in his lover’s hair to hide his dopey smile and knew he would be ragged on by the Nogitsune about him such a sappy idiot but it would be worth it.

#Dark AU #Teen Wolf #18+#smut #Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

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