#`` shot to death with arrows like a dog in the dirt :)

[covenstrays]

finally finished this playthrough of dai (not tresspasser) and i was thinking about what nahia would be doing up until the exalted council. and then i remembered she dies lmao.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Petty games don't work well with Azriel, but you never learn, do you?

Warnings - angstttt, pettiness, feral Azriel, possessiveness, lil bit of fluff, smut, oral m!receiving, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, shadow play, unhinged Az, basically just smut tbh

Tension and anger echoed about the study, it was so stifling that even Rhys had no option but to dart his gaze between Azriel and yourself as you both stood opposite one another, chest to chest, shouting at one another due to your sheer luck and dangerous stupidity.

It wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself, but you knew you had only returned from your latest mission in tact by the skin of your teeth and sweat on your brow. Azriel had known the severity of the situation when you had muted the bond, and that made him morph into a feral beast.

Cassian had received the initial onslaught of his anger, his cheek throbbing and bruising as he sat lax in one of the armchairs with a rag full of ice pressed to his skin.

Muting the bond was something he had forbidden you to do, no matter what, and you had gone and done it.

"I couldn't risk your tugging distracting me whilst we tried to get out of there," you shot, shouting up at his towering frame that cast a shadow over you.

Even his shadows had retreated behind him, occasionally begging their master to stop shouting at you, that their pretty love was alive and well, they begged him to hold her and love her, but he was too angry to even think of it.

How could you be so foolish? Azriel had told you not to make all of the mistakes that you had, and you hadn't listened to him, not for a mere moment. It was in that moment that he loathed your cockiness and wit.

Clenching his fists, Azriel's nostrils flared, you stood toe to toe with him, an act that not many lived to talk of afterward, new-born fire burned in your eyes, "You're so reckless, y/n. As long as I have a say in it, you won't see another mission until you learn your lesson."

Stoic. Final.

Rhys sucked in a breath at your face, a usually soft thing that had contorted into blind, psychotic serenity, even the High Lord shrank into his seat whilst Azriel slowly realised the gravity of his words, "Am I bad dog, Az? Are you going to rub my nose in my piss and tell me how awful I am?"

Darkness tugged at him, forcing him back a step, but your eyes didn't falter, didn't move from his face for a singular moment. It was too late to take it back, the underlying tone that told he that he was attempting to tell you what to do, so he stood firm. "You both could have died today because of your stupidity. Rhys would be mindless if he allowed you to step foot on another mission."

There was a cut in your brow that was leaking blood, arrows tipped with faebane were shot at you during your escape, one of which had grazed your brow. Dirt brushed against your cheeks, twigs were entwined in your hair, possibly from the fall that caused your scuffed knees; you had walked into the house limping, smirking to Cassian at the near death experience, and that made his anger roar even more.

The gaze of a thousand blades cut into Rhys and he winced, lifting his eyes from the desk to you. He couldn't deny how reckless your actions had been, you could have died, you could have left Azriel without a mate, both of them without you and Cassian.

Rhys' lips curled into a tight snarl, partly due to the anger of being pulled into one of your fights which left the city trembling, "This conversation can wait," he rose from the desk, hands flat and steady on the tabletop, "We leave for Autumn in two hours," he looked to you, "You should go and make yourself look more presentable. But as for you going on another mission, I do believe that you should take a step back for awhile, until you can understand how your actions impact the lives of your comrades."

You went to bark a reply, your shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. Rhys simply held his hand up and you growled at the action, the predator inside of you not liking being silenced one bit before you turned on your heels and flung the door open so hard that one of the hinges ripped from the wall, not before glaring at Azriel like death was imminent on him however.

"Thank you for that, Az," Rhys sighed and fell back into his seat, making a mental note to get the door fixed and reinforced.

You were by far the most fierce member of the Inner Circle, war was your middle name, you relished in your brutality, and it had astounded them all time and time again just how vicious you could be. One winter solstice, many many years ago, Amren went as far as to gift you with a pair of ornate talons like they were pieces of jewellery, the bloodthirsty animal inside of you grinned at them, and you hadn't gone into any battle without them since.

Azriel was the only person who wasn't scared of you, so it made sense that you had discovered that you were mate. It had taken you a long while to accept the bond, you knew that you were a difficult thing to handle, but he seemed up to the challenge, and he slowly broke down every defence you had thrown up around your heart.

Throwing his head back and running his hand over his face, Azriel cocked his head toward Cassian who sat there wearing a shit-eating grin that he wished to wipe from the face of the earth, "You'll be paying for that later."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Each time Azriel stepped one toe over the line you had drawn, that being attempting to control you or hinder your movements, you would react in the pettiest of ways. Sometimes you would wear the skimpiest thing in your closet and walk about the River House in it to tease him, swimming in the dark eyes of Cassian or sultry words of Mor, and you'd continue to wear it until he would forcefully drag you into your shared rooms and fall to his knees before you, begging for a taste. Other times, you'd go as far as to paint the town red with Nesta and Mor, and he would find you grinding against another male in Rita's, drunk off your ass, and the male would freeze and simper away once he realised whose eyes had stalked him from across the room.

Every attempt to rile up your mate had worked, you had always pulled an apology from his lips the moment he was done fucking you senseless. Azriel hated your little games, he made it clear often, but he always played them.

From the fury in your eyes, Azriel knew that you'd be taking your pettiness to a whole new level that evening.

Using the excuse of your cut up brow, you had managed to buy yourself an extra hour of alone time whilst the rest of your family departed for the Autumn Court.

It was Eris' birthday, and the new High Lord had invited you all as a notion to strengthen the newfound alliance between the courts, and of course, Rhys had agreed. Pity for Azriel that Eris had always had a wandering eye for you, and you were certainly going to use that fact to your advantage.

Gold clung to you like a second skin, a tight and sheer strapless corset pulled against your chest, adorned in a design of vines and dainty flowers, the skirt was long and trailed behind your steps and it was just sultry enough that it exposed both of your legs, right up to the thigh, and one wrong move would expose your cunt for all to see, the only saving grace being the golden fabric that just brushed below it.

Nesta had chuckled low at the look in your eye as she had styled your hair into loose curls. No accessories were needed, the dress was a statement on its own. You had been saving it for yours and Azriel's anniversary which was three days away, but such vicious actions had led you to remove the custom made garment from its casing and wear it for the High Lord of Autumn instead.

Adjusting the straps of you golden heels, you floated through the house like a summer wind and winnowed right onto the front lawn of the Forest House, a feline smirk on your lips as you felt the bond sing at your presence. Music and laughter poured from the open windows and doors, fire lanterns illuminated the path, and the guards at the doors didn't even ask for your name as they opened them with their mouths slightly agape.

Eris was sat upon the dais, looking rather bored, and then his eyes found you and he sat upright in his seat. The act made the room turn to you, to the dress glowing in the candlelight, to your exposed skin poking from the sheer material that stuck to you.

Murmurs from the crowd were dim against the music playing from the band in the corner, and you felt all eyes on you, even the ones that were seething. Once you had sauntered to the foot of the dais, you flickered your gaze up through your long lashes and curtseyed, low, low enough for Eris to catch a glimpse at the delicious cleavage at the heart of the bodice.

From the corner of your eye you saw Cassian's mouth move, to which Azriel's head snapped in his direction in warning before it moved back to you. A smirk befell your lips and you rose, "I apologise for the lateness, My Lord," your words were seductive and you skin glittered in the light due to the shimmering oil you had placed on your hands and arms, on the calves that Azriel loved to trail kisses upward.

"Perfection takes time," Eris drawled, his whisky amber eyes fixated on you, you were by far the most radiant thing he had ever seen, and the most vicious, it made his senses sing, "I appreciate the time you spent readying yourself for me."

With a smirk, you walked from the foot of the dais, in the opposite direction of your family, and toward a table adorned with various flutes of sparkling wine, plucking one from the surface and drinking the sweet liquid as the room resumed its previous activities.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Feigning innocence, you peered up at him, doing your best not to grin at the redness of his face. Azriel looked oh so handsome, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone to give you a glimpse of his tattoos, "I'm drinking my sparkling wine."

"Y/N." Azriel's voice was low and demanding, it made your hairs stand on end and a sinful shudder crawl down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry, Azzie," you suck out your bottom lip and turned around, facing the crowd who were stealing the odd glance in your direction.

Azriel moved behind you, his breath hot on the curve where your neck and shoulder connected, "I've never seen this dress," his fingers brushed against the chain-like material.

The look on his face was not one you wanted to miss when the words fell from your mouth, so you craned your head, turning your beautiful face over your shoulder, "I had it made for our anniversary," his eyes darkened, "Thought why it should be wasted in Velaris when it would be so appreciated here."

Light glittered over your face, making the shimmering powder on your cheekbones glow.

Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers gripped your hip, no doubt leaving bruises swelling on your skin, "Our anniversary."

An innocent hum vibrated against your lips, "Yes. Seventy-four years this week. We were going to make it special. Shame."

Then you turned away from him as a familiar presence entered your consciousness. Eris stood before you, eyes low and darkened with desire, a sight that Azriel lowly growled at, "May I?" Eris offered his hand as the floor reset, and you didn't hesitate to take it, ripping yourself from Azriel's grasp and allowing Eris to lead you onto the dancefloor.

No one else dared to join you.

Surely, where fire met fury, people would burn.

Eris' hand stayed locked in yours whilst his other rested low on your hip, barely grazing the bare skin at your thigh, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as the music started, "Don't let anyone take away your shine."

The High Lord whisked you into a waltz, his steps perfectly matching and harmonising with your own, looking deep into your eyes the whole time. You had to admit it, Eris was beautiful, not as beautiful as Azriel, but still. For a moment, your forgot about the world as you waltzed in his arms, his fire colliding with the flame burning within you, and the entire room held a breath and could only watch the magnificence of it whilst wishing it was them.

The music slowed as did your steps, and one more twirl later, Eris bowed to you, your hand still in his, and kissed the marriage band on your ring finger, smirking against it slowly before rising and taking another step toward you, "I like your games, y/n," your heart began to race, "Do let me know if you'd like your fantasies fulfilled," his finger twirled your hair around it and he hummed in approval.

Then, Eris moved, taking your arm and leading you back to where he had taken you from, which was away from Azriel as he stood between Feyre and Rhys on the other side of the room, eyes wide and shadows dancing.

It should have been menacing, the look on his face, the crooked, unhinged grin and dark eyes that peered at you. All it did was make your cunt burn with need.

Perhaps you had pushed him too far.

For another hour, Azriel stalked you from the opposite side of the room, he was the predator toying with its prey, and he fucking knew it. The constant intensity of his gaze filled you with excitement and dread, until it had gotten too much altogether.

The halls of the Forest House held a chill, and your heels against the floor echoed about the vast halls and tunnels. You weren't sure how far you had walked, up a few staircases and down so many hallways that you were sure you had gotten lost.

That intensity still lingered.

Exhaling shakily, you stopped your walking and you spoke, "I know you're here," you turned on your heels as another pair of steps prowled down the candlelit hallway.

There he was, hair messy from raking his hands through it too much, eyes zoning in on you, his shadows poking up from his shoulders at the feeling of having you so close.

"As observant as ever," he purred, taking another step, and then another, "Did you really think you could wear that, a beautiful gift for our anniversary, to remember all the time that we have spent loving and fucking one another, for another male. Our enemy. And think you'd get away with it?" Another step, and your breath became caught in your throat, another step, and he was on you, his breath fanning over your face.

Backing into the wall, your heart lurched at the lethal speckles in his eyes, "Perhaps you should stop trying to take away my shine," you tried to speak as calmly as possible, but he saw right through it, and Azriel grinned.

Raising his hands, he caged you between them, then one of them moved to graze against your cheek, then the line of your collarbone, then down your arm and hip, until they lingered where your dress and thigh met, "Shine all you want, my mate, I won't stop you," his fingers dipped under the hem of the skirt, caressing your thigh, "But what I will not tolerate, is you wearing a thing meant for solely my eyes alone before others, and bathe in the sinful thoughts of them."

He was beyond pissed. It was hard to see anything but the Spymaster of the Night Court in those eyes.

Gulping hard, you had no choice but to shrink a little, like a bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf, from the lethal promise in his eyes, "I wanted, for once, to do what I wanted to do."

Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, a feathers touch away from your lips, "And what do you want now?" His voice was rough and low, a hush above a whisper, his fingers continued to rub soft circles into the skin beneath that golden hem.

"I want..." you looked into his eyes, into the eyes that engulfed every piece of you, "I want..." your back slid down the wall an inch or so just to put some space between you.

"I need your words, Angel," he cooed as his other hand moved from the wall to run down the side of your face and neck.

"I want you," the submissive tone in your voice made him melt, he grasped your wrist and pulled you down the hall, wind sifting through your hair at the speed of his steps, until he opened a door and pushed you inside.

The room was humming with the last of a simmering fire, the last licks of flame flickering across the room. Hands roamed your waist before he murmured, "I think I'd like you to keep it on."

Spice and cinnamon faintly clung to the air, mulled wide and ash. Then it dawned you, you were in Eris' room, you were about to be used in Eris' own bed. A sickly tempting realisation.

Azriel rounded your figure and smirked, he was enjoying toying with you, if you wanted to play, then he'd play.

The Shadowsinger moved across the room, sitting on a chair you knew Eris would have spent his nights reading in, and sat down, legs spread and slouched into the cushion. Tapping his foot against the wood in waiting, you stood there, you weren't sure for what, but your chest panted.

"Well? Come to me, Angel," he purred, smirking at you, you moved to take a single step but he tutted, "On your knees."

Fire spread through your entire body and you sank to the ground, dancing your palms along the wood as he watched on with that predatory glare, "You look so good crawling for me," his praise made your core pulse, and you knew that you were already glistening for him.

Kneeling before him, in the middle of his open legs, you felt the world shift, and you knew he was about to devour you. Azriel motioned to the best of his trousers and commanded, "Take them off," your fingers reached for the belt, unbuckling the clasp before untethering the buttons to his satin briefs and pulling them down to see his cock already hard and throbbing for you, your fingers delicately curled around him and he groaned at your touch, "With your mouth, Angel."

Azriel shifted his position, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his chest, to make himself more accessible for you.

Taking him between your lips, you swirled your tongue around the head, flickering the tip of you tongue over him. Deeper he went, and you hallowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, Azriel's head was thrown back, his hand curled in your hair as he guided your movements, "You're so perfect, aren't you? Look at how pretty you look," a soft whine moved through you and you rubbed your thighs together, begging to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs.

Azriel continued to guide your head, meeting every movement to the lazy thrusts of his lips, both of his hands were in your hair now, he moaned, a breathless sonnet that made you moan, making your lips vibrate around his cock.

Within a moment, Azriel had removed himself from your mouth and scooped you up from the floor, not breaking his stare as your thighs pressed around his waist and he moved to the bed, "Do you know whose room this is?" Azriel grinned against you neck, he moved back, his face hovering before your own as his fingers moved between your folds, you jolted at the contact, "It's Eris'."

So he did know.

Azriel pressed his lips to yours and you gasped, his finger entering you, and he took the opportunity to nip your bottom lip between his teeth, "He thinks he can touch you like that, think of you like this?"

He was going to fuck your scents into the foundations of the castle, so that Eris would never to able to escape it, escape the untouchable state of your mating bond.

His lips were on you again, and he shifted his position, resting between your legs as his fingers continued to draw soft moans from your lips. Azriel pulled away, taking his time in removing the satin shirt from his body, unlacing the cuffs and drawing the garment over his shoulders, his wings flexed behind him the entire time to make you remember who exactly your mate was.

Azriel positioned himself and pushed into you, capturing your lips on his to silence your soft groan whilst he stretched you, until he was fully hilted inside of you. Then he began moving, rolling his hips back and forth, mumbling against your lips, "You're mine. All mine."

The skin on your neck was clouded in marks from his mouth, sucking and biting every part of you he could see as he rocked into you, slow and deep, trying to stay in control.

Whimpering beneath him, you took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes; his hair fell over your face and you brushed it away, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "Let go."

It was all he needed.

Azriel pulled out of you, flipping you onto your front, and positioning you so that your back was arching in a perfect crescent moon, he wasted no time in pushing into you again, smirking against the walls that were already quivering around him.

This time, he wasn't gentle.

Your mate fucked you relentlessly, you were blubbering beneath him, feeling your walls spasm as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, moaning so loud that you were surprised no one had come in to investigate who exactly was getting fucked in the High Lords bedroom.

"Az, please, I'm going to-"

A familiar flutter passed over your clit, coiling around it and you clawed yourself right through Eris' feather pillows at the touch. The others flowed through your hair and down your sides, licking and caressing your skin.

Crying out, that white light blinded your senses as you came all over Azriel's cock that was slamming into you whilst his shadows took you to a whole other world entirely.

"That's my girl," his fingers trailed down the curve of you spine, furling in your hair and pulling you up so that your spine met his chest, burying his head into the nape of your neck, "Such a pretty dress, hm?"

Azriel didn't slow down, thrusting up into you, his fist curled in your hair and tugging on it to give him access to your neck and earlobes, "Mother above," you muttered through breaths, clutching onto the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Smirking against your skin, Azriel coaxed another orgasm from your body, commanding his best shadows to stay focused on that bundle of nerves that craved attention, "Eris won't ever be able to escape this, us."

"Azriel," the possessive primal instinct had consumed him, the need to mark what was his, right in the heart of his enemies den, "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Angel."

"I want you. Please."

"How could I deny you when you're being so good?"

This time, Azriel fingers moved over your clit, sending electric white heat through your body, raw and euphoric, and he slammed into you, moving with unwavering pace until you quivered around him tighter than you ever had before and he felt himself slip.

His movements had you begging as he fucked himself deeper inside of you, through his high that had him moaning your name. Then his movements slowed to a stop, and you stayed sat on his still throbbing cock, "I hope that Eris enjoys your message."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to your neck, allowing his hands to float down the bodice of the dress that had got you to where you were, nestled on your mates cock in the room of his enemy, "I'm sure he will," his fingers drifted to your stomach, halting there with a smile, "We may have done it."

Looking down, your hands moved to the same position, slithering beneath his, "Do you think so?"

Azriel hummed against your skin, "I do," It was no secret that you and Azriel had been trying for a child for years, you knew it wasn't ever going to be instant, but you had hoped for at least two perfect glimmers of your love for one another in the entire seventy-four years you had spent together.

"I hope so."

"Me too, Angel. Me too."

Smirking, you pulled away and turned to face your beautiful mate who was still kneeling atop the bedspread, "Are we going to talk about that little scene in the hallway, and on that chair?"

Azriel mirrored your smirk, "What can I say?" he moved to you, connecting his lips to yours, his other half, his everything, Azriel looked to your swollen full lips, to your hair, to your eyes that were glowing in the dying light, he shrugged, "It's the dress."

Author's Note

👀

[cherrifire]

Fragment headcanons <3

For those who don't know, these are fragments:

Art credit: me ;)

They are caused by Watchers eating up a player's negative emotions and visualize as these cracks in the body.

Note: I'm going to slap all Double Life fragments onto the heart. It just makes sense. So this headcanon list will be for 3rd/Last/Limited unless there is a special difference (Grian + Pearl + Jimmy + Ren). Just so I don't have to write over the heart several times.

Grian

The only fragment he has stretches across the back of his hands from where he had to beat Scar to death in 3rd Life.

He keeps the Watchers off him for the rest of the series by bringing a silly and goofy vibe to the games though. They hate him so bad so they haven't given him any more fragments. They would rather just ignore him.

Scott

3rd Life fragment wraps around his head like a flower crown.

Last Life fragment hits him in the shoulder then another on the bottom of his foot, spreading inside his body like lightning. (Think Aang's scar from Avatar the Last Airbender)

Limited Life fragment on the left side of his back, giving him a fragment on both sides of his heart. This is due to how hard his heart would have been pounding every time he was hunted for sport.

Pearl

Last Life, Pearl is granted 6 lives and has a habit of using/giving those lives to help Scott, her closest ally. The fragment is small and over the heart.

Pearl's experience in Double Life with heartbreak was so intense, and since she already had a fragment over the heart, her fragment for that season ended up huge. The cracks over her heart are wide and bright. But the Watchers loved her so much they sent her back in even though she wasn't ready. Meaning she held onto her emotions for Tilly and had to be swapped out with Lizzie for an episode.

Limited Life fragment is placed between her eyes and above on her forehead. Like a third eye for being a nosey neighbour and watching.

Martyn (We actually get to see his fragments at the end of Lim Life.)

3rd Life fragment spreads down the cheek like tears for when he cried losing Ren.

Last Life, on the back. The backstabber was backstabbed. He was completely willing to betray Grian in order to get himself, Mumbo, Jimmy, and Impulse somewhere nicer. Somewhere safer. The end. Only for the Watchers to reveal that was never the case.

Limited Life, over the hand his weapon was held in in which he had to kill Scott twice with.

Jimmy

All of Jimmy's fragments spread across his back like canary wings.

Scar

3rd Life, spreads across his chest from where that first creeper blew him up. The first death. Seems rather fitting for the guy who can't keep his shirt on.

Last Life, through his mouth, built from all the lies he spoke.

Limited Life, matching placements with the Clockers on the right forearm like a family tattoo.

Joel

3rd Life, a few small cracks spread around like dog bites.

Last Life, one of the biggest fragments and spread through his entire body. For every kill he got, he got a matching crack as if he was the one who died. His insanity means he has axe, sword, arrow, explosion, and fall damage cracks because with each kill he got worse.

Limited Life, kind of hidden based on just how many cracks Joel has, but starts above his chest and out through the bottom of his foot. Another lightning scar.

Etho

3rd Life, cracks spread from his finger tips up from digging his hands in the dirt to plant dark oak saplings.

Last Life is hard to place a fragment. Because I know he would get one for never giving Bdubs one of his lives but I don't know where that would place on the body. Back of the head for not thinking? Over the heart for the ache of regret? I'm not sure.

Matching fragment with the Clockers but it's on the wrong arm (left).

Bdubs

Bdubs is similar to Grian to me in a case where he brings a very goofy mood to the series. So I want to say he doesn't have a fragment for 3rd Life. Like, he betrays Impulse with 0 remorse.

Last Life, on the back where Grian shot him. That was the moment he realized Etho didn't love him as much as he thought. Shot for doing what he asked and never receiving another life. Etho's name on the tip of his tongue as he dies alone.

Limited Life, Clocker fragment, right forearm.

BigB

3rd Life, similar to Etho, I'm not sure where to place this one. But I think BigB would have a fragment for loneliness. BigB spends a lot of time that season on his own. And it's not like other seasons with lonely characters. Last Life Joel + Scar, Double Life Pearl, etc etc, they all still sort of had someone. Like Joel and Scar still technically had each other + Pearl technically had Scott, Martyn, and Cleo. BigB is mostly just doing his own thing for a good portion of 3rd Life and doesn't join a team till late season.

Last Life, matching stab fragment with Cleo because his betrayal on her hurt just as badly for him.

Limited Life, matching third eye fragment with Pearl for being a nosey neighbour.

Impulse

It's so easy to betray this guy. Both 3rd and Limited Life fragments are on his back from being backstabbed by both Bdub and Martyn. Though, the one left by Bdubs in 3rd life is more prominent and fractured.

Impulse doesn't get a fragment for Last Life. He didn't do much this season and thankfully was able to avoid any huge heartbreak.

Skizz

I think... despite not being in Double Life, Skizz has a huge fragment over the heart. It's not massive like Pearl's despite all 3 fragments being there simply because Skizz is filled with so much love. Love for his teammates and love for even his enemies.

3rd Life, he dies for his nation. Rushing in because he's tired of his friend being pushed around. (I will also never be over how Skizz RAN to Dogwarts when he heard Martyn beheaded Ren. He thought Martyn had betrayed Ren and was ready to CATCH HANDS despite only being in golden armour.)

Last Life, even when team BEST kicks him out, he's sure to stop in the middle of his threats to tell Tango that he's on Skizz's good side. And even though he's mad at his team, when he dies, his ghost watches over them anyway. Being the only one to hear Bdub's final words.

Limited Life we of course got the affirmation station. And when his time was up, he let Etho kill him so his whole team could stay in the game just a little longer even if Skizz could have kept trying for another 20 minutes. He loves so much it kills him almost every time.

Tango

Fragment hidden in his hair for his rage (hot-headed).

For the most part, Tango goes under the radar for the Watcher. His deaths are anticlimactic and there's never enough drama for him. They only pay attention to him when he's angry and this neglect means he holds onto grudges and hosts a furious rage for most people who have hurt him the most. Bdubs constantly being the one to take his lives in Last Life and inflicting the first rage. Martyn just never being a positive presence for Tango's POV meaning he doesn't trust him one bit. Like. Tango is Martyn's most frequent victim with 4 kills.

Cleo

Another case where I'm unsure where to put it. I think Cleo would have a fragment from the stress she had to endure from stealing and hiding Pizza.

Last Life, Cleo gets a stag fragment on her back for being backstabbed by BigB. The thing that makes this fracture special is how it doesn't stay the same. The Watchers forgot to remove part of her negative feelings towards BigB after this betrayal. As the series goes on, this fragment gets bigger and bigger since Cleo never forgives BigB for this betrayal.

Limited Life, Clocker fragment, right forearm. Additionally, part of her Last Life fragment settles down thanks to her short swap with Gem.

Ren

A crack around the neck, fracturing from the back where Martyn beheaded him. Similar to Scar's explosion fragment being important because he's the first death of the series, I think this fragment is also significant since it's the first PvP kill. The first weapon drawn.

Like Skizz, Ren is also a lover. Filled with love, loyalty, and dedication to the people he cares about. His heart fracture spreads across his heart for the same reasons. He would lay his life on the line for his allies. And I think BigB leaving him for Grian broke him so much inside he couldn't return to Limited Life.

Lizzie

She wasn't built for this series. Wasn't built to be killed in cold blood by her soulmate Joel and his red life insanities. But she was healthy enough to be brought because just a little to stand in for Pearl.

Mumbo

He also wasn't built for this series. They snapped him in half bro. Being killed by Grian was too much.

If you disagree with anything or have any of your own ideas please let me know in the comments/tags <3

[introboy]

graves

a list of burials that took place on the 3rd life server.

[ao3 link] 

Scar’s first grave was empty. These words were carved into it: “It was just a prank.” At the time, it was.

Jimmy was the first to die. Really die. Scar removed the arrow from Jimmy’s forehead and waited for his widower to return from wherever he’d reformed. Yellow particles swirled within Scott’s hair, and when Grian tried to touch them, he could only feel sorrow. Scott brought Jimmy back to their home and buried him with the things that he loved. He fell asleep outside that night. By the time he awoke, the bud of a red poppy was curling towards the sky, sprouting from the newly upturned earth.

Cleo died the same day. Bdubs buried her, after he recovered her body. He carved the gravestone with the meticulous care that only a talented builder could have. He did not cry that day. Wasn’t this supposed to be the other way around?

Skizz died as well, within the Crastle, cut down by Grian’s blade. They didn’t know what to do with the body, choosing to wait until morning to decide. By the time the sun rose, he was gone. Etho had buried him on Skizzle Point. He didn’t think anyone else would.

Joel died in the desert. He burned from the fire enchantments on the arrows, the sword, the ax that Ren and Martyn killed him with. By the time others reached the site, there was not a body left to be found. Instead his dogs remained, sitting in the sand, unsure of where to go next. There was no one to command them, no one to feed them, no one to love them. They sat and they howled.

Many were lost in the final battle of Dogwarts. Tango had burned to death, and he looked angry, as if he was trying to fight his way back to the world of the living. Etho collapsed in the carrot field, eyes empty, yet his mask hid his face as it always had. The King and the Hand died near each other. Martyn had been protecting Ren’s body before he was shot down by Scar. They were so close that their fingertips almost touched.

After the chaos, Bdubs buried Bigb and Impulse. The graves remained unmarked. Unassuming. There was no one left to mourn them.

Grian and Scar buried Bdubs, after Scar landed the killing blow. Even in death, he did not let go of his clock, as if he was only sleeping the night away. His gravestone was not carved with the care of Cleo’s, for he did not have a stone at all. A quiet apology was murmured before the final two turned and left.

There were too many bodies left at Dogwarts to bury. The desert dwellers burned the area to the ground. The fields caught fire and spread quickly, ruthlessly. Tango, Etho, the King, and the Hand went up in flames.

On their way back to Monopoly Mountain (the voices of the damned wanted a fight, and a fight they would get), Scar and Grian found Scott. He had died alone, cut down by Ren and Martyn while running away, trying to reach safety. Poppies grew out of the ground where his blood had mingled with the dirt. Two sets of red eyes met, the last remaining, and they knew that it would not be right to leave him there. The flower forest had been the desert’s only true ally, after all. Scar and Grian buried Scott next to his husband. His grave was simple but cared for. Maybe in death, he would find the peace he had longed for in life.

Scar died with a smile on his face. Grian sat by him for a while. The desert was silent except for the whispers of the long-dead. One life to go, murmured a voice that sounded like the King’s. Eventually Grian stood, weary bones creaking and grinding. He buried Scar by Pizza. The grave was marked with a simple stone, these words carved into it: “With love, Grian.”

He was the only one remaining. He’d suffered enough wounds that he would not live through the night, and even if he could, he would not want to. Grian gave one final look to Scar’s grave before stumbling to the edge of the mountain. He was dead before he hit the ground.

As weeks passed, the earth began to reclaim what had been lost. Villagers that had survived began to rebuild their town. Joel’s dogs left the desert behind. Fields of poppies spread across the ground. Cows repopulated the land and sheep grazed freely. Diamond armor was buried beneath layers of dirt. Graves became overgrown and buildings turned to ruins.

The world lived on.

[cinnamonrusts]

i’ll see you in the village -- 2

parts: 1

This village is nothing that you thought it was going to be. You interact with some locals and Chris does some homework to find where you are when he cannot contact you. (chris redfield x f!reader) (a/n: it’s a long one, bois. thank you for all the love)

                                                            ✧.* ✧.*

As the terrifying sounds echoed through the dilapidated village grew closer to where you stood, your blood ran cold and you reached for your gun but stopped; because, you knew that if you opened fire you might blow your cover. However, whatever created these noises did not sound like a friendly neighborhood pet. Person? Dog? Creature? Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous.

“Come out!” you yell as your head whipped side to side, desperate to get a glance at what it was that was playing this game with you. “Come out!” you scream again, but are only answered with a sharp arrow which hurdled through the air and embedded itself in the wooden fence beside your head. You curse loudly, your life almost ended, and you probably wouldn’t have realized it if it did.

Before you popped off any rounds in retaliation, a strong arm pulled you back from behind. Their rough, dirty palm was pressed firmly against your mouth and they shushed you quietly. The person pulled you into a darkened home and quickly closed the front door that was opened just enough for the two of you to slink through. Your mouth opened to speak once you felt relatively safe from whatever horror lurked in the shadows of the night. “Quiet, girl,” your savior spoke. With the faint moonlight that shined through the boarded up window, you could make out the face of an elderly man and to his right was presumably his wife - who was armed with a double-barreled shotgun and the nose of it pointed at a small hole in the door.

They didn’t explain anything besides telling you that being quiet is the correct thing to do. The same blood-curdling screeches grew closer and thuds on the roof caused you to jump. “Do you have a gun?” he asks and you nod as you place your hand on your hip where it was concealed under your clothing. Sounds of snapping wood from above draw the attention of the wife and she proceeded to pump shells in the general direction of the intruders. One of her shots hit whatever it was and it scurried away. Screams of pain were the last of its noise before the thuds stopped and sounds of it tearing through the front yard verified it was gone.

✧.*

A brief amount of time passed before the two locals spoke. “You’re an outsider,” the woman said as she leaned her firearm on the wall beside the door. “Yes, that is true, but I’m nothing but a traveler from a town far East of here,” you lifted your long skirt to curtsey for the couple, “I’ve come here to spread my fortune telling for all to enjoy.” The man scoffed and shook his head before he took a drink from a dirty mug. “Mother Miranda does not cater well to outsiders,” he burped, “--Especially those with talks of necromancy and fortune telling.” Mother Miranda? Score.

“I promise I have no ill well to you, the locals, or this Mother Miranda that you speak of.” The man scoffed once more but his wife shushed him, “You’re welcome here, dear.” she placed a hand on your shoulder and grinned a gummy smile. “Thank you,” you say and the three of you exchange backstory to your lives, until you try to push for some information about Miranda. “Who is this Mother Miranda?” you ask finally and hope that the tape recorder that is hidden in your waistband had begun to record once you bumped it with your wrist. A glimmer of light sparked in her dark eyes and she walked over to the main wall across the way. She pushed herself onto her toes and reached for a dusty painting of a woman that hung crooked above her head.

“This -- this is our wonderful, Mother Miranda.” she placed it in your palms and you brushed away a thick layer of dust with your thumb. The painting was faded but you could still make out what this woman looked like, and it was identical to the photo that the BSAA showed. Another spot marked off on the mission bingo sheet. “She keeps us safe and has for longer than we have been around.” she continued to praise the blonde. “She does? What about whatever is out there!? Does she keep you safe from that?” Your insult hit a nerve because the man stood from his seat, “How dare you insult our Mother in our home! You will feel her wrath!” he continued to yell, despite hiding away from the thing just outside the door. He proceeded to kick you out of their home and closed the door behind you, then locked it so you couldn’t get back in.

You knocked several times and attempted to apologize, but the same shotgun used to save your life was now pointed at your forehead. When you could feel the sensation of the firearm aimed for you, your hands raised instinctually in the air and you backed away slowly, your eyes never moved from the barrels. Never again would you see this couple.

✧.*

Once again, you found yourself alone in the dark village. Maybe the large castle that loomed over would be a good place to investigate next? You wandered toward the center of the crossroads and your thoughts drifted from subject to subject before being interrupted by the sound of a horse’s gallop. Another villager?! Hopefully they’d be nicer than the last pair. You turned to wait for the horse to approach but were horrified at the site that soon was before you. On the animal’s back was no man or woman, but a grey skinned creature who wielded a burning stake with a charred human remain pierced through the middle. It looked like one of the drawings you found in the old fairytale book your mother read to you when you were a small.

There was no time to scream but just enough to pull your pistol off your hip and shoot into its face. Unlike any human but just like the BOWs you’ve dealt with previously, it took the bullets like a sponge. Instead of wasting any more ammo, you decided on your best bet, and that was to run - run fast. The terrain was unknown but you did your best to go in any direction that was not the same way as your assailant. 

The creature slashed the burning spike around in the air as it tried to hit you with it but you managed to duck and dive each time he did it. Soon, you saw a hope of escape, a line of trees. You continued down your path and once you reached the wooded area, you threw yourself down the only option you could see -- a steep hill and then tumbled down. The horse cried in fear and bucked upward, it wouldn’t allow the hostile creature to chase you any longer.

Your hands covered your head as you bounced off the hard, icy ground. Each hit, bump, and scrape burned through your body but you hoped that at the bottom you’d be safe. When you reached the bottom, you rolled out onto a dirt path and narrowly missed being trampled by a horse drawn carriage. The stallion that carried the wooden neighed loudly as it’s hooves dug into the ground. Your vision was blurred from your trip down the hill and you could barely make out a rather obese face of a man who peeked his head out from behind the curtain of his carriage. 

“My word, I nearly flattened you into a pancake!” he cried as he pulled the fabric back completely. Your breaths were heavy and short as you remained silent, eyes fixated on the Caucasian friendly face. The man encouraged you to enter his wagon and you hesitated to accept but did once you pushed yourself up from the ground. “Unlike those bewitching women who lurk in that castle... I don’t bite!” he giggled. The gentleman introduced himself as “The Duke” and gave you a short tale about his travels in this village. Duke explained that it wasn’t always this way and it was once full of rich life and light, but it’s all different now... “What about you, my lady? What is it that brought our paths to cross one another?” he asked before he blew out a puff of cigar smoke. You coughed several times and waved your arm in the air in an attempt to waft the smoke from the small room. “Well...” you started and then proceeded to tell the imaginary tale that you told the couple previously.

                                                                      ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

“Dammit!” Chris yelled and slammed the dashboard of the vehicle he was passenger in with his fist. The truck that was to transport Ethan and his deceased wife had been taken off the road and the infant, Rose, was most likely gone or dead. He began to bark orders at his squad in frustration before he came to his senses and took a deep breath. Miranda must’ve been behind all of this... and took Rose. “There,” he pointed at a rugged map of the local area that was taped onto the truck’s wall and turned to Umber Eyes, “Miranda’s village is there, and I bet so is Rose.” 

A female interrupted from the back of the caravan, “Alpha, that information you requested came in.” she brought over a laptop and set it in Chris’s palms. The bright screen in the dark caused Chris to squint as he read through the document. Your BSAA photo was the largest thing on the page and beneath it was the detailed report of your newest mission, the one that brought you to Europe. He gritted his teeth - thoughts of the BSAA sending you on what could be a death mission crossed his mind. Chris reached into the breast pocket of his black overcoat and pulled out his phone, then held down the 1 key to speed dial your cell. It rang several times before informing that there was no voicemail set up. He huffed before he tried several more times. Each call ended the same way and Chris felt anxious.

“Lobo, ping on [Y/N]’s phone and find her location!” he ordered, his voice cracked just the slightest as his anxiety peaked. Lobo nodded, gave his superior a thumbs up and typed away on his laptop. Chris not only was concerned for Ethan and baby Rose, but now your whereabouts plagued his mind. He was confident in your capabilities but he knew how dangerous Miranda and her subordinates could be.

Chris sat in silence with his thoughts as the vehicle turned around and headed in the direction of Miranda’s village. He reached into the same pocket as earlier and pulled out a wrinkled photograph of the two of you. It was from your first mission that the two of you ever went on together. It wasn’t too long ago, maybe three or four years but it felt like a lifetime now. His calloused thumb ran over your smiling face and he hoped that you were okay...

The moment of silence ended, “Alpha, her phone pinged in the same location as Miranda’s village.” Lobo informed as he turned the screen to Chris. A brief moment of relief washed over him but if your phone was there, then where were you? And why weren’t you answering?

Little known to you or Chris -- the cellphone laid in the middle of the dirt road, left behind as you road off in the carriage with the Duke. The screen lit up brightly in the dark air and the generic tune jingled in the stillness of the night. It continued to do this several times as Chris continued to call and worked on pinpointing the pings. On the final ring, a feminine hand reached down from above and picked the phone up. The screen flashed, “CHRIS” over and over. The call was ended by the person, they took the phone firmly in their palm and crushed it with their strength.

Now, there was no way for Chris to communicate with you and someone was now on your tail...

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Can’t Stand It

For @ho-ne-ye.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan was having a bad day. Well, a bad week. Scratch that, a bad month.

It was March, a beautiful time out in the Arctic. For several weeks the Stan twins hardly ever saw the sun or didn’t see it at all. Closer to the holidays they traveled down south to Northern Europe, exploring the United Kingdom and the Northern Islands in order to enjoy daylight, but now that Summer was approaching and Spring was on their side, the Stan O’ War II was moving up to sail above Canada, breaking melting ice and meeting new creatures.

Today they had stumbled across an island covered in woods. The twins had docked to enjoy stable land, but of course it didn’t take long for them to stumble into trouble when they explored the island. Something about trespassing, Stan may or may not have been magically transformed into a small and cute version of himself, but then turned back to normal by a knocked-over potion. It was all a blur, and it all ended with Stan and Ford being tied together hanging over a raging fire as the clan of seal-people with war paint danced around them and singing a weird song.

Enough was enough. With a knife slipped out of a boot and a few left and right hooks, Ford and Stan managed to get away, now being chased by the angry clan and flying arrows. Stan dove on top of Ford to shield his brother from an arrow and they both scurried to their feet and ran deeper into the woods, heading for the beach, but their path was blocked by a giant monster, a half-spider, half-scorpion kind of creature with eight legs, pinchers, a sharp tail, four red eyes, and an angry kiss as it’s hairs vibrated.

Ford shot at it with his ray gun and that only made it angry. It dove for the six-fingered scientist, but Stan shoved him out of the way and soon Stan was thrown back to a tree and made very little attempts to get back up.

“STANLEY!” Ford cried out and shot at the monster again, this time hitting it in the eye. Temporarily blinded and distracted, Ford was about to grab a nearby spear thrown by a villager, pierce the monster, and leave it to bleed to death as he ran to his brother and knelt in front of him. “Stanley! Stanley, can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

“M’fine, m’fine,” The old sailor mumbled as he blinked a few times. “Just lemme catch my breath…”

Ford noticed how he had a hand to his side. He gently prided it away and was horrified to find blood. The monster must have pierced Stan. In one swift motion the eldest by fifteen minutes scooped Stan up and began to carry him to the shore. “You’ll be okay. I’ll fix you up, I can fix this.”

His brother grunted in response, his hands loosely over his wound, but Stan was losing his strength. Ford then noticed a bead of blood dripping down the back of Stan’s neck; he must have also hit his head perfectly on the tree. Ford swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bobble, and he firmly instructed, “Stay with me, Stanley. Don’t go to sleep. You might have a concussion.”

“M’tired.” He muttered in his twin’s chest. They were close, so close to home. Ford’s boots crushed the sand beneath them.

“Stanley Pines, stay with me!” Ford shouted, ignoring the way his brown eyes stung.

“Why should I?”

Ford’s heart threatened to stop. Stan’s voice had been so quiet that he had nearly missed it, but the old scientist heard every word. The wounds didn’t look that bad, Stan would be fine, he was too tough to be taken down by some pathetic monster like that, but the fact that Stan was even considering…

“Wh-Why?!” Ford repeated, mortified by his brother’s delusional question. “Why?! Because I need you! Don’t you dare think about giving up on me, Stanley, don’t you dare! C-Come on, d-d-don’t you wanna see Dipper and Mabel again? Don’t you wanna see Soos marry that Melody girl?”

Stan’s breathing was shallow against his twin’s blue jacket. “You’d be better off…”

“NO!” Ford screamed as he saw the boat farther along the beach. He broke into a faster run. “No, we wouldn’t! I swear! Stay with me, we’re almost there!”

But Stan wasn’t answering. He was very quiet. And a bit limp in Ford’s hold.

“Stanley?! Stanley! Lee! Lee, don’t you dare give up! Don’t you dare leave me, please! I… I can’t do it!” He shut his eyes at the thought and let tears flow down his cheeks as he climbed up onto the Stan O’ War II. “I can’t lose you again. Please, don’t make me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t fair.

Stan should be perfectly fine, he should be happy. He got his brother back, he had a real family for the first time in forty years, he was living out his dream with his best friend. He wasn’t alien to feeling this cruddy about himself, but at least back then he had something to work towards, something to keep him going, and something to distract him from the voices in his head. But now his thoughts were more apparent now more than ever before and they wouldn’t go away.

The fact remained that everyone would be better off without Stan. He was a mistake, the screw-up, a criminal, a con-artist, a dirty sailor, a worthless heap of flesh. No one really wanted him around, and the people who did would soon get sick of him. Dipper and Mabel called them less and less (which to be fair they have been very busy with exams on the way). And even if it was Ford’s idea to go sailing, how long would it be before he changed his mind? Or had he really meant what he said? Or had he only said what he said because he felt guilty?

No. There was no changing the old man’s mind. Everyone would be better off without him.

He walked down the dock with his hands in the pocket of his brown trenchcoat, his boots clicking against the wood gently. It was bright and shiny and beautiful without it hurting his eyes or requiring sunglasses over his regular glasses. The sun glistened on the water and a soft breeze made him comfortable. The only odd thing was that there was only one boat.

A small boat, actually. It had a sail, like their dream boat as kids, with a cabin down in the bunkers. It was plain and clean and new, with a golden pole and rims on the windows. On it sat a young lady, about early-twenties, with short blonde hair. She was odd, wearing a white Hawaiian shirt with golden palm leaves, white shorts, and had a golden watch on her wrist as she filed her nails, reminding Stan of a secretary from high school. This girl was sitting on the boat with her legs crossed, sporting white sneakers, and hummed a familiar tune, though Stan couldn’t pinpoint it.

The girl glanced up at him, put her eyes back on her work, and called, “You coming?”

Stan shrugged, his hands still in his pockets. “Depends. Where you going, sweetie?”

“Well I’m hoping to grant a handsome sailor his wish, but it’s whatever.” The woman said as she held up her hand to look at her nails boringly.

Stan smiled cockily. “Oh yeah, how so?”

“You think everyone would be better off without you, right?” The woman stood and gestured to her boat. “Wanna see for yourself?”

Stan blinked. Okay this was weird. Was he on TV? He shook his head like a wet dog and scratched next to his red beanie. “Uh… ‘cuse me?”

“You heard me. Wanna see if you’re right?”

“How are you gonna show me if I’m right or not?” Stan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The woman sighed as she glanced at her watch. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time, so here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m gonna go sailing to a timeline in which you were never born. Ford never had a twin, Caryn and Filbrick only had two sons, et cetera and et cetera. Then we can talk about where we’ll go from there. But whether you’re coming or not, this boat is leaving in thirty seconds.”

Stan looked away from the woman, down at the sea crashing against the dock gently. This didn’t make any sense. This was like something out of a cheesy movie. He didn’t have to go with this girl and see a world without him in it, but it might answer some of his questions. He just wasn’t sure if he would get the answers he wanted. Oh well, it’s not like he had anything better to do.

“Ten seconds.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Stan shrugged and climbed up on board. “Set sail, Ms… Hey, what’s your name, anyways?”

“You can call me Honey.”

“Okay, Honey…”

“Oh my God, he called me honey…”

“Wait wut?”

“Time to go!” The woman grinned for the first time, a sly foxy smile with sparkling eyes and beautiful lips curled upward. She stood from her seat, pulled her sail loose, and it suddenly jetted across the sea so fast it threw Stan back and he had to catch himself from falling into the ocean, meanwhile the girl in all white stood perfectly calm.

“So, where we going?”

“I told you,” Honey said calmly. “We’re gonna go see what it would've been like if you had never been born.”

“Yeah, but where?”

“First stop, Gravity Falls.” The sea around them was fading into woods and trees and dirt, and soon the bot came to such a sudden stop that Stan was thrown to the other side and sat his head on a pinetree, growling as he stood up straight on the sailboat and rubbed his forehead.

Stan looked around and recognized the woods. Yup, this was definitely Gravity Falls, but… something was off. It was gray and cloudy overhead. And they were in front of a big open patch of woods Stan had never seen before.

“What is this place?” Stan asked as he hopped off the sailboat in the mud.

“Gravity Falls.”

“I know that! I mean… I’ve never been here before.”

“Yes you have.” The woman said as she got off her ride and stood beside the old sailor. “You lived here for thirty years in another timeline.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “No… Is this where the Mystery Shack’s supposed to be?”

“You got it.”

“But…” Stan was racking his brain, thinking. “What, did Ford never come here? Cuz he went to that West Coast Tech school he never came here?”

“Nope. Ford never moved to Gravity Falls, which means no Mystery Shack.”

“I always thought there’d be a big mansion here or something.” Stan shrugged and said, “Okay, so there’s no rundown tourist trap. Big deal.”

“Eh, so you think.” Honey started to walk into the woods, giving no invitation for Stan to follow, making it easier for the conman to do so. “Do you remember what this town was like before the Shack?”

Stan shrugged with his hands in the pocket of his trenchcoat. “Not much. Just a bunch of paranoid weirdos who needed a good laugh.”

They emerged from the woods and Stan gasped at the town. It was even more worn down and cheap than it had been when Stan came thirty years ago. Broken windows were boarded up, pavement was cracked, and either ketchup or blood was splattered here and there.

“Whoa hey, what happened?” Stan asked as they left the woods and walked through the town, shouts and coughs being heard in the distance. “I know this place is a dump, but not this much of a dump.”

“Stan, do you really think your business was the only one to succeed due to the tourists coming in?” The woman in white asked. “What about the motels? Diners like Greasy’s? Stores and gas stations? All those out-of-state tourists didn’t just give money to the Shack. You’d be surprised how much one tourist trap helps the economy of one struggling town.”

“Okay, sure, but there’s no way the Shack helped out the town this much.” Stan argued, gesturing around them lazily.

“No, you’re right. Really, the town didn’t hit hard times until about five years ago.”

“Why…”

Screeching tires interrupted the old man. He and Honey watched as a very nice, rich-looking pick-up truck spun around the corner and came to a sudden stop in front of a grocery store. Stan’s jaw dropped to the pavement as he watched someone he barely recognized get out of the passenger’s seat.

Soos had a black baseball cap on backwards, wearing a cold, spiky, black-leather jacket, torn jeans, and a gothic, graphic t-shirt. His eyes were so cold and menacing, he seemed a bit taller due to holding himself up with so much pride, and when he snapped his fingers and pointed to the grocery store, five guys emerged from the truck and raided it like it was the end of the world.

“S-Soos?!” Stan gasped. “Soos, what are you doing?!” But he was ignored.

“No one can see or hear us, Stanley.” Honey said as they watched Soos’ gang drag a cashier out by her long hair and began to pumble her just because they could. Soos did nothing to stop it, even smiled a little as the girl screamed for help.

“I don't get it… Soos is a good kid! He’d never hurt a fly! Why in Moses’ name is he…” Stan couldn’t finish the sentence. He was frighteningly reminded of the Colombian gang he was once under.

“Oh, c'mon sweetie, connect the dots. Who do you think taught Soos to be a good kid?”

“His abuelita did.”

The woman chuckled and shook her head. “She tried, but as he got older it really began to hurt that his dad didn’t wanna be around him. And cuz you weren’t there to tell him otherwise… let’s just say high school never happened for him.”

“What?!”

“He dropped out of school in the eighth grade and joined a small gang outside of town. Eventually he made his way up the ranks and now his little gang terrorized the bottom half of Oregon.”

“B-But why?! All cuz I wasn’t there?” Stan asked, shaking his head. “There’s no way…”

“Stanley, who do you think taught him that he was worth something? Who taught him how to stand up for himself and give bullies left hooks? Who had him put all of his energy into hard work?”

Stan stared at his pretty tour guide. There was no way Stan did all that, no way. Sure, he liked the kid a lot, but he never actually thought he impacted Soos’ life this much. Stan looked back at this horrible version of Soos as his gang loaded the car with food and cash and they sped off, leaving the woman to bleed on the sidewalk and wipe the blood from her lips.

“C’mon,” Honey said and gestured onward. “We’ve got more people to see.”

“Okay so,” Stan followed her and racked his brain. Surely somebody benefited from him not being alive. “What about Wendy? Is she still around?”

“Nope. Without you to give her a job here in town, she had to move upstate to her cousin’s lodge, remember? She had to leave all of her friends behind and she was miserable. Still is, actually. Very quiet gal. Doesn’t say or do much.”

“Wendy? Quiet? I don’t believe you.”

The woman opened a door to a shop, but instead of the inside of the building they saw a black-haired Wendy sitting on her bed in her new room, criss-crossed, holding her pillow as she listened to depressing heavy metal.

Stan winced. “Yikes. She turned into a real Robbie.”

“That kid joined Soos’ gang, BTW.” The woman said as she closed the door.

Stan was having a hard time buying the idea that nobody actually got some good out of him not being around. "Wh-What about that lil' troll? Gideon?"

Honey snorted and led the way through town. As they walked, Stan was having a hard time buying this scenario. There was no way he made this much of a difference. Okay, sure, if he not being alive meant Ford never moved to Gravity Falls, and that meant Gravity Falls changed a bit, Stan could understand that, but there was no way this town turned for the worst all because Stan wasn’t there. There was no way the screw-up actually made things better. Right?

“Here we are.” The woman said to snap Stan out of his thoughts.

The car dealership looked mostly the same. A little more run-down, sure, and there was no Tent of Telepathy in sight, but Bud still wore that stupid straw hat with a baby-blue Hawaiian shirt and tan pants, but he didn’t look quite right, either. Heavy bags were under his eyes, looking a bit more like his wife, and the little bit of hair he had was graying a bit too early. He waved his customer goodbye with a smile, but the second they were gone he sighed tiredly and was frightened by a window being shattered by a rock.

“DADDY! GET OVER HERE!”

“Oh, boy.” Bud steadied himself and went back to the house.

“Hey, how come the little jerk’s business isn’t booming?” Stan asked, more interested as to why his biggest competitor wasn’t flourishing in a town that needed someone to believe in. “He’d do great here! He could’ve used his little camera to tell people when S-... when the gang was gonna strike, or…”

“Stanley, sweetie, how do you think Gideon started that tent?”

“I dunno, he decided to use his cuteness to get some cash?”

“Not quite. For a few years he was just a bratty kid, but then he found a journal in his playground full of mystical objects, including a magic bow-low tie. It was that journal that made him think of telepathy. Even if he was fake, it was Journal 2 that inspired him.”

“Okay, okay,” Stan held his chin. “So with no me there’s no Ford in Gravity Falls which means no journals which means no Tent of Telepathy. Fine, but the twerp’s gotta be a better person without that spooky book making him think he’s all powerful.”

The woman in white laughed and pointed to the house. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? See for yourself.”

Stan walked up to the broken window and was mortified at the state of the house. Stains everywhere, chipped and torn furniture, cracked walls, torn carpet, and in the midst of it all was a ten-year-old lying on his stomach on the couch, banging his fists and kicking like a toddler as he screamed horribly. Stan winced, but then was completely thrown off to find Gideon’s hair not white and up Dolly Parton-style, but orange and cut short.

“I WANT IT, I WANT IT, I WANT IT!” Gideon screamed as if he was being murdered.

His poor mother was against the wall, holding her heart and breathing heavy; Stan noticed the signs of an anxiety attack.

Bud slowly approached his son and tried to calm him down. “Now, sugar pie, please…” But the human beaver was kicked in the jaw, leaving a bruise and making him bite his lip so hard he bled. Bud held his mouth as Gideon continued to scream.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU NEVER GIMME ANYTHANG I WANT! WHY YA HAVE TO BE SO STUPID?!”

“Yikes, how did not being possessed by a freaky journal make him worse?” Stan asked Honey as they walked away from the house. “I don’t get it.”

“Sure, Gideon wasn’t the best kid before the journal, but at least with the journal he had something to work towards, something to put all of his energy into, and he also had you.”

“M-Me?”

“Don’t you remember the first time you met him?”

“Yeah, he took my parking spot with that stupid van.”

“Actually, you met once before.” Honey chuckled as they walked back into the woods. “You were both at the grocery store when he was four. He was with his mom, bouncing in the buggy and demanding for candy. She gave in just to keep him quiet and tuned to pick some milk. You were across the aisle, picking orange juice, when Gideon dropped his chocolate bar while trying to open it. You noticed the candy and the boy making grabby hands at you and the candy, but you grinned, said ‘no’ firmly, picked up the chocolate…”

“... and ate it right in front of him!” Stan laughed. “I had forgotten… I didn’t know that was Gideon! I thought that was just some spoiled brat.”

“Well, it was. You were the first and only person who ever told that boy ‘no’, the only person who really challenged him and pushed him. Thanks to you, he channeled his anger and energy into trying to take you and the Shack down. But without you around to push him, he had no way to get his energy out, except his parents.”

Stan looked down at the dirt and they stopped walking for a second. “This… This doesn’t make any sense.”

“How so?”

“I’m just a screw-up!” Stan argued as he looked back up at the woman. “I’m the twin no one wanted! I’m just some loser of a conman! It doesn’t make sense that a guy like that could… it… there’s gotta be somebody to benefitted from me not existing! What about Lazy Susan? With no Mystery Shack that means no lazy eye, right?”

“Actually, Soos’ gang raided the diner and it ended badly when Susan stood up to them.” Honey winced. “She ended up not only losing her job, but her eye, too.”

Stan swore under his breath. “Fine… What about that McGucket dude? His life’s gotta be better than living at the dump with his mind all jacked up.”

The woman shrugged and led the way deeper into the woods. “Barely. C’mon, we’re going to Tennessee.”

Stan followed the mysterious tour guide back to the sailboat and this time properly braced himself for the sudden speed. Very suddenly they were racing along the sea, colors swirling by them, until they stopped very suddenly on a river. Stan’s jaw dropped to see a huge, beautiful mansion up on the hill by the river. The woman parked the sailboat by the dock and they started to walk up to the rich house, passing a weeping willow with a stone bench with a big crack in the middle.

“This is McGucket’s place?” Stan clarified.

“You got it, genius.” Honey gestured to the six horse stables, the lush garden, all of the nice cars and wagons, and at just how huge and nice and rich the mansion was. “Fiddleford still went to Backupsmore and met his wife, Emma May, and with no Ford to ask for help on a portal, Fiddleford became the inventor of not only person computers, or what’s commonly called laptops, he became the founder of the largest tech company in the country, Berri.”

The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out one of those smartphones the kids had, except the back had a little strawberry with a bite in it. “They went on to invent the first cell phone, BerriWatch, and right now they’re testing a self-driving car. Fiddleford found himself with more money than he knew what to do with and after he built his family their dream home, which by the way is the richest house in Tennessee, he simply expanded his company and made historical international deals. He’s also made huge donations to small run-down towns, like the one he grew up in, to create jobs and try to help out their economies.”

“Cool, okay, see.” Stan said with a smile, impressed by this hillbilly’s success. “One person got a good deal from me not being around.”

Honey rocked her hand side to side and led the way around the mansion, walking alongside the clear open space, passing the weeping willow and bench to move around the hill. “Just cuz he was successful doesn’t mean he was better off. Don’t forget, Fiddleford was never the greatest at handling his stress well. He invented that Memory Gun because Ford accidentally inspired him to, saying scientists have a way of creating solutions to their problems. So with no way to forget his stress and anxiety, Fiddleford drank to forget how worried he was about losing his company if he made a bad deal or if his newest invention or work or if he was putting out a good public face.”

“No.” Stan shook his head. “That goody two-shoes? No way.”

“Hey, he grew up around moonshine, he just couldn’t get his hands on it when he was living at the dump.” The woman shrugged and they came upon a stone pathway and walked down it to a small flower garden that formed a circle. “Anyways, Fiddleford was never violent, thank goodness, but he was drunk more than he was sober. He should be happy, with a wife and son and booming business to boot, but he wasn’t. He fell into depression and drank until he ended up here.”

Stan looked ahead and felt the wind get knocked out of him. There was a flat tombstone in the middle of the circle of flowers. He knew what was on there, but he still slowly approached to read what the stone said. “Fiddleford H. McGucket. 1956-2011. The angels now sing a whisky lullaby.”

Stan backed away, backing up farther than the woman was, shaking his head and even punching his forehead as he tried to think. “This… This doesn’t make any sense! Their lives were supposed to get better without me, not worse!”

“Stanley…”

“The kids!” Stan gasped and looked up at Honey. “Where are the kids?!”

The woman looked sober and she gestured back to the sailboat to go to their next stop. “Back in California.”

Stan was anxious the whole trip, though it only took a minute to get where they were going, but soon they were on the side of the road in front of a middle school. Stan watched on the boat as the bell rang and kids started pouring out. He kept his eyes peeled for his kids and he grinned at the sight of two brown-haired twins.

Dipper wore a long-sleeved blue flannel over his orange t-shirt to go with his gray pants. He still had bags under his eyes and he still had that lucky star hat to hide his birthmark, slouching a little with his backpack, but he was still here, a brilliant thirteen-year-old. Stan was a bit worried to see him looking so down and upset, but both men soon smiled as a young girl skipped out of the school.

Mabel had her long hair up with a scrunchie today and kept back with a headband, still wearing her sweaters, today wearing leggings with her skirt, and she grinned at her twin and punched his shoulder before hugging him. “Hey bro bro! Wanna go to the arcade today? I hear they got some new prizes!”

“Sure, sounds fun.”

“There, you see.” Stan sighed with relief as he watched the kids walk down the sidewalk, passing the boat. “They’re fine, they’re happy. They still got each other.”

Just then, some big buy came around the corner and bumped elbows with Dipper, making Stan’s nephew stop, and the bully shoved him onto the concrete.

“Dipper!” Mabel cried out and looked ready to punch the bully, but a guy came up behind her and grabbed her around the arms, pinning her. Another guy joined the bully and they cracked their knuckles as they gazed down at their prey.

“If it isn’t the best punching bag in town.” The bully sneered. “Feel like fighting back today, Dipstick. It’s no fun having a sparring partner that doesn’t fight back.”

Dipper growled and made a flimsy attempt to stand and punch his opponent, but the bully grabbed his wrist and punched him in the gut and kicked him down, leaving poor Dipper to huddle on the sidewalk while the two bullies hammered on him and Mabel fought to be free and help but was powerless against her capture.

“HELP! HELP! SOMEONE HE-” And Mabel’s mouth was covered, but she still wiggled and screamed.

Stan couldn’t watch anymore. He had purposely waited to give the kids a chance to fight back, but sometimes you just need a little help. “I’M COMING!”

“Stanley!”

Stan jumped off the boat and ran to the kids to pull the bully off his niece and scoop her into his arms, but his arms went right through them. He frantically tried to shove the bullies off his nephew, but again his body went right through them, like he was a ghost.

The woman stood by his side and said calmly, “I told you, no one can see or hear or feel us.”

“I can’t just stand by and do nothing!” Stan yelled at her face.

“Why not? Everyone else has. No one had ever taught them how to fight back when the world fights them, except…”

“Me.” Stan finished for her with a sigh. He made himself watch as the bullies continued to beat Dipper up, finally stopping after the ring leader kicked him in the jaw, and Mabel was let go as they ran off to celebrate their victory.

Mabel crawled to her twin’s side and checked over his injuries as he carefully sat on his knees. “Dipper! Dipper, are you okay? What hurts? Show me what hurts.”

“Ow, ow, ow,” He whined as Mabel touched his swollen eyes and busted lips. Dipper spat out a tooth and held his chest. “I think… I think they cracked a rib.”

“Let’s go home.” Mabel carried his backpack for him and had him lean on her as they wimped onward. “Mom can look at it and take you to the hospital.”

“I don’t get it.” Stan said as he watched his kids walk away. “They’re good kids! Isn’t anyone gonna stand up for them?! What about their parents?! What about their friends?!”

“They don’t have any friends.” Honey said sadly as they watched the twins. “The only friends they had ever made were in Gravity Falls, which they had never visited cuz there was no family there. And Shermie taught your nephew to keep your head down to stay out of trouble, which he’s trying to teach his kids. Unfortunately, it isn’t working out for them, and what used to be bad nicknames and gum in their hair has escalated to fights and notes to kill themselves.”

Stan bit his lip. Not those kids. Not his kids. He wanted to believe things would get better for them, but if no one taught them that they were worth something, that they could stand up for themselves, he didn't have much hope and he didn’t dare ask what their future looked like. But something didn’t sit right…

“Shermie,” He muttered without looking at the woman, still looking ahead. “Y-You said he taught his kid to keep his head down.”

“I did.”

“Why would he do that?” Stan asked. “I mean, sure he’s always been a lame square, but that’s really bad advice, even for him. He taught me and… He taught Ford to stand up for himself. Crampelter was terrified for weeks when Shermie found out he had been breaking Ford’s fingers.”

“He and Ford didn’t see much of each other.” Honey answered quietly.

Something clicked in Stan’s head. While all of this was interesting or whatever, there was only one person that Stan truly believed was better off without him. His better half, the genius, the loved son, the author of the journals, the criminal of the multiverse. His brother. Stan turned to her and asked quietly, “Where’s Ford?”

For the first time, the woman looked scared. She looked away and said, “You don’t wanna know.”

“Yes I do!” Stan bellowed and grabbed the woman by the shoulders. “Please! Where’s my brother?!” This gal had been scaringly quiet about the one person Stan cared the most about.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Stanley, let’s just get back on the boat…”

“Only if you take me to see my brother! Where. Is. Stanford?!” Stan demanded darkly, his eyes pleading the woman to make his request.

The woman sighed and Stan let her go.

They slowly got on the boat and it zipped to the docks of Glass Shard. Stan blinked a few times at being back to where he grew up for the first time in forty years. Dark clouds covered the sky. Not much had changed throughout the years, but why on Earth was Ford still here? They hopped off and planted their feet on the sand, and Honey led the way as she spoke.

“Stanford was still born with six fingers on each hand. Your mother tried to assure him that it only made him special, but Filbrick did a good job of making it clear that that wasn’t the case, and things only got worse when he went to school. You weren’t there to beat up bullies, you weren’t there to tell him that he was special, you weren’t there to help him dream of a future where they would sail away and he’d be free.”

“Yeah but Ford was always a little genius.” Stan interrupted as they left the sand for dirt, the beach slowly turning into a small patch of woods. “He’d win a handful of science fairs and spelling bees and then at least Pa was okay with acknowledging that they were related.”

“But Stanford didn’t win a handful of science fairs and spelling bees.” Honey corrected sadly. “Stanley, you were the only person in his childhood that made him think that he was actually worth something. You were the only one who made him shoot for the stars and believe that he was worth keeping around. Without you to give him confidence, Stanford never expressed his intelligence and therefore never allowed it to grow at all. He did okay in school, but he wasn’t the top student. He never participated in science fairs of sleeping bees or math competitions because he didn’t have enough confidence to put himself out there. Sure he was smart, but teachers weren't going bananas over him because no one, not even himself, knew his potential.”

It started to rain, but of course the two didn’t feel it or were affected by it. “So… he didn’t go to West Coast Tech?” Stan dared to ask as they walked deeper down the dirt path, oblivious to where they were as he was thinking this through.

“No.”

“But… I thought you said he did.”

“No, I said he never moved to Gravity Falls. He never felt home.”

“So… what happened to him? What did Ford end up doing with his life?”

Honey bit his lip and refused to meet Stan’s eye. They walked on and Stan finally realized where they were. He felt ready to throw up. He waited for his guide to speak.

“Much like Dipper and Mabel, things only got worse as he got older. He got to a point where Stanford was stealing Filbrick’s boos and he even started to hurt himself. It wasn’t enough. It was all too much for him. He… He…”

“No.” Stan’s voice cracked and he was terrified when the woman stopped and motioned to a tombstone that laid among the others in this graveyard. “No! You’re lying! He wouldn’t! He didn’t!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry, Stanley.”

Stan finally made himself read the rock. He fell to his knees at the words that shined through the rain. “Stanford Filbrick Pines. 1956-1970.”

“NO!” Stan screamed and punched the ground beneath him as he gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. “NO! HE WOULDN’T! HE DIDN’T!”

“Ma found him dangling from the ceiling. She was never the same after losing her baby.” Honey croaked. “He was only fourteen.”

“NO!” Stan shook his head as he ignored how wet his cheeks and eyes were now. “NO! He… He… He never needed me. He never wanted me around.”

“Yes he did.”

“You’re lying.”

“Stanley, listen.” The woman said firmly behind him. “You said it yourself that family needs each other. I know it’s hard to believe that you’re actually worth something when there’s a dozen voices in your head telling you otherwise, but just like how you need them, your family needs you. Your brother needs you.”

Stan listed his fists up from the dirt, his eyes on the tombstone without seeing. “I… I just thought he’d be… they’d be better off I hadn’t been around.”

“No one knows for sure how they change things or how much they really impact others. But you do. And even if you forget all of this, you know your family loves you enough to tell you that they need you.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah, but what’s keeping them from saying that outta pity?”

“You can’t let yourself think like that, Stanley, you just can’t.” Honey said firmly. “Your family loves you. Stanford loves you. He needs you, and if you don’t believe me, just take a look at what he’s like when you’re gone.”

“Wait what?”

Honey got on her knees beside him and showed him her golden watch. The face changed to a scene, like a tiny TV, and Stan started to find Ford back at the Stan O’ War II, kneeling beside his injured twin who laid more dead than alive on the couch. With tears streaming down his face Ford was wrapping a bandage around Stan’s head and feeling his heartbeat and checking that the bandages around his torso were well and secure.

“Stanley, Stanley please,” Ford begged as he took Stan’s hand and squeezed it. “Please don’t leave me. I need you, the kids need you. Please.”

“Whoa hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Stan said, but then his eyes grew wide and he looked up at Honey. “Am I?”

“I dunno.” She asked as she lowered her arm and smiled at him. “Do you wanna go?”

“Go where?”

Honey chuckled. “On.”

Stan blinked at her. “No. No, I don’t. If… If that knucklehead really wants me around, then I’ll stay.”

Honey blinked her eyes dry and stood up. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll get you home.”

Stan stood up and followed her back to the boat. “By the way, honey, why’d you do all this for me? What, wanted to earn your wings?”

“No, this was pure self-indulgent.”

“Wait wut?”

~~~~~~~~~~

His head hurt. His side ached a little, but his head really hurt. That didn’t matter. He had no idea why, but he had to see his brother.

Stan forced his eyes open and found his vision blurry thanks to his glasses being folded on the end table. He smiled when he saw that Ford had fallen asleep by his side, kneeling beside the couch, holding his hand, and resting his head face-first into his own folded arms. Outside it was dark, which could mean it was seven in the morning of seven at night, given the fact they were up in the Arctic.

The younger, injured twin, snorted at his brother, which made the aged scientist sit up too quickly for it to be wise, wide awake, with his hair in a gray floof and his red eyes wide and alert.

“Stanley! Thank Moses!” He cried out and stood up to better look over him. “How do you feel? Any pain? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Calm down, Sixer,” Stan chuckled weakly as he slowly tried to sit up, sensitive to the wound on his side. “My head hurts, but I’ll be fine with some painkillers, and you’re holding up two fingers like some dumb hippy.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Ford hugged him around his shoulders tightly as his whole body trembled. “I know you showed no signs of a concussion and your wound is not nearly as bad as it could have been, but i didn’t know for sure if you would pull through or what I would do without you and…”

“Geez, relax, it’s okay, Stanford.” Stan shushed as he hugged him and rubbed his back. “M’fine, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Ford said firmly and sat back, a hand still on his shoulder. “Don’t you ever think for a second that I don’t want you here with me, Stanley. I need you.”

“Yikes, where’s all this sappiness coming from, eh?”

Ford blinked at his twin and said slowly, “Y-You said you thought I’d be better off without you…”

Stan waved that away. “Ah, you say stupid stuff when you hit your brain too hard. I swear, Sixer, you’re stuck with me, as long as you’ll have me, anyways. Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t kill yourself out here.”

Ford chuckled tiredly and shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right. Now do we have any stew left? I’m starving.”

[chaotically-chill]

Brother

a clingy duo story

I’m going to try and post more stuff on here, just trying to figure out a format and a schedule lmao :)

The oak had aged, Tubbo noticed as he grazed his hand over the rough wood, its planks sun-bleached with time and warped with the memories it had been burdened with. The bench was warm, loved by the sun for years while it was kept empty of visitors. He remembered the first time he and Tommy had sat down on the bench, watching the sun set behind the tree-blurred horizon line. He grimaced as the tired wood creaked under him as he sat down, wondering what his counterpart would say when he saw how evolved the bench had become.

“Those were the good days, weren’t they?” Tubbo flinched at Tommy’s voice, uncharacteristically reminiscent.

Tubbo chuckled, “Yeah, the good days: constantly avoiding TNT and running into enemy territory while trying to find food for some meager dinner.”

“If only Niki had joined earlier, we’d be eating like royalty.” Tommy laughed, easing himself onto the bench next to Tubbo. “But I’m serious, we were so awesome together back then.”

Tubbo looked down, fiddling with the ring strung through the chain around his neck, “We were only awesome because we were young. Because we didn’t have to worry about the regrets we would have.”

Tommy leaned back against the wood, closing his eyes as if he could relive every single word they had said to each other. “We were the founders of a nation that had grown from a drug van, a fucking drug van, Tubbo. A tiny little caravan with a flaming hot dog on top, smoking out of the windows with Wilbur’s projects. We created something incredible out of that! You and I, Tubbo. We did that. You and I.”

He had to admit, there was a beauty to the harsh environment he had lived in for so long while in the midst of a war. But that war had ended, like so many others that he had plunged himself into, and they had taken different paths, traveling the same road in two different directions. He never wanted to admit that the Tommy he knew back then was not the Tommy sitting next to him, he had changed, with time, with trauma. But Tubbo had changed as well, and maybe it was the changes he had undergone that forced him to rip down the veil of juvenile ignorance, or maybe it was time and age that had led him to finally look through it.

Yet, here they were, sitting on the same bench, looking at the same sunset, finally meeting on the same road once more, even for just a small lapse of time. But sunsets don’t last forever.

“Trees grow, Tommy. They grow and their branches and leaves grow to shade away the sun. It’s just that sometimes the branches cover the sun completely, leaving the rest of us in the dark.”

Tommy looked at him, eyes a shade of blue Tubbo could never quite remember the name of, but they conveyed the same memories as his. Memories of unspeakable horrors and sad truths and beautiful beginnings and endings, they were all the same to the two boys. “Can’t we trim back the branches? Just for a day?”

Tubbo smiled, “Yeah, yeah we can.”

The two stood from the bench, silently apologizing for the violent creaking of the wood as they relieved their pressure from it, and walked over to Tommy’s home.

They returned to the bench shortly after with soap and water and fresh screws. The sun was almost gone now, Tubbo noted as he scrubbed away years of dirt and blood and grime from the wood. Memories neither him nor Tommy wanted to look back on. Tommy was next to him, replacing rusty nails and screws with new ones. When they had finished, the two brothers stood back and admired their work, both remembering the first time they had done this, tired and sweaty and weak. But this was now, after they had grown stronger, mentally and physically. After they had seen war and peace and exile and execution. They wiped no sweat from their brows, only tears from their eyes.

“Remember that time,” Tommy fell back against the revived seat, “we were in the middle of battle. There were arrows flying everywhere, nobody could tell whose was whose, and you were right in the middle of it all.”

Tubbo remembered, although he tried not to. “You must have seen me or something, ‘cause the next thing I remember is you covering me while I reloaded my crossbow. You emptied your arrow supply to keep me safe.”

“You know why?”

He shrugged, “Because we’re friends?”

“Because we’re brothers, Big Man. And I’d do it again. Because I know you would do the same for me. Even if I was dying and couldn’t escape to safety, I just know that you would be there in seconds to rescue me. And if you were drowning out there in the ocean, I promise you, pinky promise, swear on my goddamn life, I would give you my fucking lungs if that meant you would be able to swim to the shore. We’re brothers, Tubbo. I’ve got you, brother. I always will.”

He could feel the tears in his throat, muffling his words. But they both knew there was no need for such things like conversation. Their history spoke for them, their memories of sitting on that very same bench, leaning against each other to keep from drifting off to much needed sleep while the soft melodies from the jukebox carried on and on and on. Tubbo threw himself forward, wrapping his scarred arms around Tommy’s battle-worn chest. He felt Tommy return the favor and they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, exchanging words that could not be conveyed using vocal cords.

The next day, they did the same, sitting on the bench they had built and rebuilt, watching the sun disappear behind the trees. They came back the day after that, and then the day after that. Before long, they knew to wait for the other before putting in a disc to listen to.

They didn’t often talk, they didn’t see the reason to do so. They just sat next to each other, enjoying the quiet company of brothers.

And then Tubbo found himself waiting at the bench alone. He waited, and waited and waited and waited. Tommy never came. And then, right as he was typing out a message to the missing boy, a message popped up on his comm.

TommyInnit was beaten to death by Dream

He didn’t react with words. Couldn’t bring himself to scream anger or grief. Tubbo simply sat down on the bench, and sobbed. He stayed at the bench for hours after the sun left him to be alone with his grief.

He came back the next day, dried tears still on his cheeks. They didn’t come today. Today he just thought. Thought about how much faith Tommy had put into him. Thought about how much he failed his one, true friend. His brother in arms. He couldn’t think about anything else. It was too much, he couldn’t breathe. The guilt was weighing too much on his shoulders. He was drowning.

He came back the next day. And then the next. And the next. People would walk past, offering words of consolation and sympathy, but all they could find was a boy who just wanted his friend back. Nobody could do that. Nobody who wasn’t responsible for his death in the first place. People stopped trying to comfort him.

The sun was setting as Tubbo played with the gold rings on a necklace around his neck, humming Mellohi absentmindedly. Then, “Those were the good days, weren’t they?” Tubbo flinched at Tommy’s voice, uncharacteristically reminiscent. He shot straight up from the bench, disbelief plastered on his face. Tubbo tried to speak, but only half words and stutters left his mouth. It was good enough for Tommy. “I told you, Big Man, I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe.”

Tubbo barreled into Tommy, feeling the grateful warmth of his brother as he wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy. He cried apologies and relieved words that were all the same to Tommy’s ears. They were safe now, in each other’s arms. Safe from the horrors of war and death and betrayal and loss. They never let go of each other, at least, not figuratively. They were always there for the other, to stand arm in arm against an army of soldiers. But they always came back to the bench, everyday, washing away the dirt and grime, laughing about memories of the past and the present. Every day. Every single day. Two brothers sitting at a bench that had carried them through life and death and life again. People walked past them on their way to and from business, every day. They watched the two boys grow into men, and even then, not a single day went past where the laughter of brothers didn’t light up the faces of everyone who walked past. Tommy and Tubbo grew, never apart, always trimming back the leaves of the tree. Then, as they left one late night, they grasped their hands together, and made a promise. A promise of brothers, of ties that could never fray, a promise that broke all others, and walked through the Prime Path, and into L’Manburg. And that was their dying day. That was their promise.

The oak had aged, Niki noticed, as she ran her fingers through the deep grooves of the bench. She had brought a pail full of soapy water and a sponge, sat down next to the bench, and got to work. The wood was warm, well loved by the sun while it waited for its visitors. She remembered the first time she sat on the bench distantly, but the memory of her standing side by side with Tommy and Tubbo in front of their bench, promising them that everything would be alright was forever sewn into her mind. It was so long ago, most in her position would have forgotten it, but she never did. For how could one forget the legacy that the two boys shared?

[abrooklynboy]

tantrum || November 1973

@cordeliabarton​ - from X.

Bucky has been shot in front of Cap more times than they care to admit. Steve’s ran at his top speed to carry his partner to medical care. A mile a minute, pleading with his Maker in this Hell of a world to keep his best friend alive so he can chew him out later for being so fucking stupid.

Cap thinks of Bucky telling him “Death and I are old friends,” with too bright eyes and a smile like a knife and he can’t tell what the young man is thinking. Bucky lost mother, father, grandparents all before the age of 16. He helped raise his sister from the age of 10.

It should never have been this literal, Cap thinks as he throws the shield as hard as he can to cover his pal’s remaining arm. Mistaken identity kind of mission. Rogue hunters vs the Avengers. Should’ve been a cakewalk but Hawkeye went all cowgirl, arrows blazing. Bucky’s still smiling as the bullet grazes him. The hunters don’t die but they won’t live well for a long time. Quicksilver zooms Bucky back to the mansion as Cap radios Mr. Fantastic. Initial wave of anger is out of his system, but the fear that follows isn’t helpful. He still prays that they’ll make it through, Bucky’s not dying for real after getting him back this summer.

Reed talks a mile a minute and Steve is able to keep up but the man is exhausting. All they can do is make sure the silver is out, pump in whole fresh and synthetic blood, and bury him in the medical coffin that they keep on standby for this type of thing.

Hawkeye is in his face; rationally, he knows she’s feeling guilty, worried, and hurt and taking it out on him. It was her mission, her mistakes that led Bucky to getting shot. A graze, just a graze put him in this situation. Cap doesn’t say anything, eyes going darker, lips pressed together. Glances at the shield, practically his own arm. She punches him. She knows how to punch better than that - even before Cap started training her. Pure anger and grief.

Reed slinks out at this point.

“Enough,” he snaps, Captain voice on display ("Genug shoin," Bucky laughs, “Enough already, stop trying to feed me like Bubbe, Cap. I’m stuffed.”), hands encircling both of her wrists as he squeezes, still in enough control that he doesn’t grind those clever bones and muscles into paste, lifting her off the ground and into her chair like she’s a disobedient child. Removing all the years he spent in ice, they’re what - 6? 7? years apart. Close enough to be siblings or l...Bucky was 4 years apart. They tested each other then and Hawkeye tests him now.

“You’re benched, Hawkeye, until you can accept responsibility for your actions.” Steve doesn’t look at her as he lets go.

Bucky is dead as Steve puts him in. Covers his face with dirt. “We help bury our dead,” Bucky whispers in his ears. It’s 1943 in some no name (to the Westerner’s) island in the Pacific in Steve’s memories and Bucky is bawling out the Catholic cantor over a Jewish infantryman’s burial. Do it Respectful or not at all. Later, Steve asks him what that was all about, he’s seen the P on Buck’s dog tags. “It’s...What,” Steve can see the sneer, the eye roll, palms to the sky, “I’m not an expert on Jewish funeral customs, pal. s prolly gotta do with ‘dust to dust’ and all that. But...I like it. We keep them safe.” It’s 1945 in Steve’s memories and he sees Bucky vanish into a ball of fire as he falls into the Channel below.

Steve looks at Cordelia’s wrists, Cordelia’s face and knows. There goes one of his old promises - to not treat anyone like Big Joe treated him and his mother. Namor, in rage and grief over his medic friend Tommy, compared humans to bags of water, easily punctured, and Steve knew he had the same strength if he was pushed enough to not care. Bucky was Steve’s weak point and Steve was Bucky’s.

That wasn’t an excuse.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, looking down at his hands. Big, hard Irish artist hands. Smoother than his father’s ever had been, not from lack of work. “You’re...You remind me so much of him. You all do. Even when he’s here too. I want you all to grow up. Live.”

[xhannahbananax03]

The Calm Before

Imagine seeing yours and Daryl’s sons head on a stake

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: TWD S9E15 SPOILERS! Angst, heartbreak, death, gore,

MASTERLIST

Everyone was embracing each other like it would be their final goodbye, and in a world like this, it very well could be.

"Are you sure we can't stay for the movie?" You pouted slightly up at your husband, "It could be our only chance to go on a movie date." You whined.

He just grinned slightly before rubbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead, "Don't worry darling. You'll get that movie date." He promised.

You smiled and hugged him tightly before Dog ran up to your both, giving Daryl a soft bark. Daryl knelt down and pet his head as you spotted your son walking over with his friend in tow, a friend that was damn near impossible to obtain and nearly got you all killed.

But you smiled nonetheless and pulled him in for a tight hug when he was close, "Stay safe." You told him softly, before pulling away slightly and holding his face in your hands, trying to commit every feature to memory.

"Ok mom." He chuckled, grabbing your hand and pulling away slightly. Blushing when he heard his friend giggle behind him. Daryl placed a hand on your back and you looked up at him, exchanging a knowing smile.

Daryl placed a firm hand on his shoulder and nodded his head, "Stay safe son."

Your boy lost his smile as a serious expression took over, he looked just like his dad, "Yes sir." He nodded before Daryl pulled him into an embrace.

When they pulled away, you watched your son and just couldn't help it so you pulled him close and placed a kiss on his cheek, "Mom!" He blushed pulling away and wiping his cheek off.

You just giggled and smiled at him, "I love you sweetie." You told him before waving to his friend.

"Love you too ma." Glenn smiled before turning and walking back over to his friend with his head down, she just laughed and grabbed his hand as they walked away.

You sighed and sniffles softly, "Can't believe he's going on a date.." you said softly. Daryl just chuckled and kissed the top of your head before turning to get his bike ready for the journey.

"You coming (y/n/n)?" He called over his shoulder from where he sat on his bike, you watched your son for one more moment, before turning and making your way over to your husband.

You sniffled again as you climbed onto the back of his bike and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, resting your cheek against his leather clad back.

"Don't be sad sweetheart, he'll be alright." He reminded, patting your hand softly before turning the engine over.

"I know.." you whispered softly, mostly just trying to reassure yourself that he had proven he could take care of himself.

As you and Daryl roared down the road, with your friends not too far behind, you had a hard time keeping the tears at bay as your mind went back to when Glenn was younger.

He giggled as his daddy pushed him higher on the swing. It had been such a long time since you'd seen Daryl smile so wide. Hell, he barely smiled when you got married, not even when you told him you were definitely pregnant.

Maggie had put up a little fight when you told everyone the name you had chosen, but you reminded her that Glenn had been your friend long before the apocalypse started. Eventually, she grew to like the idea of having someone with her husbands name.

Suddenly, loud crying brought you out of your thoughts, you immediately thought the worst and shot out of your seat on the porch, running over to the small playground in the middle of Alexandria.

"What's wrong?!" You shouted, running towards your husband and son. Daryl sat on the ground, holding Glenn on his lap. That's when you saw the scrape on his knee.

"Mommy!" He cried out reaching for you.

"Oh baby.." you cooed, picking him up and holding him close, "What happened love?" You asked him softly as he sniffled and sobbed against your neck. Daryl stood and placed a warm hand on his back, rubbing slow circles to try and calm him.

You looked up at Daryl for answers, and he mouthed, 'He fell off' while pointed to the swing set.

Daryl guided you both back inside and you sat Glenn on the kitchen island while Daryl ran upstairs to grab your first aid kit.

You handed him a glass of water before reminding him to go slow, seeing as how he was barely holding it together and choking up on the occasional breath.

You wiped his tears away before grabbing a wet cloth to wipe the dirt off his face and the leftover mustard from his lunch.

Daryl came in and sat the kit next to the boy before opening up and looking at him, "What do you think kid? Gonna survive?" Daryl jokes, giving him a little smile.

Glenn giggled and nodded his head, "Always daddy."

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the slow of Daryls bike as he tapped your hand to pull your attention the the people in front of you, The Highwaymen as they like to call themselves, stood watching you approach.

Daryl parked the bike and you both hopped off, you grabbed your machete while he grabbed his crossbow and you walked over to the men, they nodded their heads at you, "You should probably see this." The man who you assumed to be the leader spoke up.

These people looked like the raised a costume store.

"We were clearing the roads." He said leading your group down a small hill where a tipped wagon sat, the horses nowhere to be seen and the people were gone too. All that was left was a few crates of things they were probably taking to the trade fair, and a little box of carved wooden tokens. Hilltops people.

"Spotted some tracks leading down to here." He said as everyone stopped to inspect the mess. A woman that Hilltop had taken in, saw one of the coins and confirmed your earlier thoughts. "Dead didn't do this, people did."

Alpha and her people. This had to be them, trying to get back at you for once again, taking her daughter. But you and Daryl both agreed that you wouldn't be giving her back this time.

"The skins-You know about them?" Michonne piped up, turning to look at the leader.

"I got the download." He nodded to her from his crouched down position where he was chewing on a almond.

You looked at Daryl and scrunched you're eyebrows, this didn't make sense. Where's the bodies? He just shrugged and continued looking around, he probably had the same thought as you.

"That'd be my guess." He spoke up once again as you moved closer to Daryl, "Anyone else out here and my patrols would've seen em."

You grabbed Daryl's hand and he looked towards you, "You thinking the same thing I am?"

He squeezed your hand and looked around, "Where's the bodies." He spoke, his deep voice making the conversation a bit more private.

"Yep." You sighed and nodded your head, he turned and squeezed your hand again before dropping it and pointing to the semi-obvious trail ahead.

You turned back towards the group, "They drug em out this way." You said, pointing to the trail and grabbing everyone's attention.

"Let's go." Someone said, moving towards you and Daryl.

Daryl shook his head, his hair flopping about slightly, you'd make sure to get him a shower after this. "No, we can't just all go rushing in there." He argued turning towards the man.

"They could still be alive." A lady piped in, you'd only met her twice. Once at hilltop, once at the kingdom. Never talked long enough to find out her name.

"If those skin freaks followed them all the way from Hilltop, the whole community is in danger right now." You threw back at the group.

"Then we split up." Carol said, "Michonne, (y/n), Daryl, and I will track them. The rest of you go back to hilltop."

A few people looked hesitant, but after looking at each other, they nodded their heads and headed back out of the woods and towards the road.

You followed behind Daryl and in front of Carol and Michonne. "Hey! Wait up!" A voice shouts behind you, causing you to all look back. A newcomer with a bow and arrow trotted behind you before catching up and nodding her head.

Daryl nodded back, showing you she was safe.

Darkness began taking over the sky and soon enough Carol turned on he flashlight, lighting the path for Daryl ahead, "I don't know if there's a happy ending here." You told Daryl sadly. He was always the hero and would always blame himself for something going wrong.

Daryl stopped in his path, refusing to hear your words and knelt down where there was a small bloody puddle on the ground beneath a stick. He picked it up and put it in the light, it had obviously been used as a weapon. Whether it was used on defense or offense, you were unsure.

Daryl drops the stick and looks around for any more clues but sees that the trail splits off in three different directions, "The trail leads three different ways." He spoke up for the rest of the group to hear, "Doesn't make sense." He mumbles, looking around for a blood trail.

That's when you hear a few twigs snap, catching your attention and making you whip around, then you heard a few more break, "Head back. Head back!" You told the group starting to move back the way you game, "Cmon, let's go!" You shouted, knowing you didn't have the facilities so take on the skins right now.

But before you could continue on your path back, a ma stepped out in front of you, wearing the face of a walker. Daryl grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you back behind him. He must've recognized the guy, because he held you firmly behind him.

You turned around to look at the rest of your group and realized you were surrounded and everyone hand their weapons out. "Drop them." The voice of the tall man growled. "I won't ask twice."

He took another step forward, cause Daryl to push you back further against the rest of the ladies in your group. Daryl dropped his knifes and stumbled slightly, this had to be one of the only times you've seen him scared. Granted, the man was huge, but Daryl thought he could take on anyone, and he probably could.

"You just had to give me the girl." The man whispered to your husband, that's when it hit you. He must've been the one to come for Alphas daughter. The one who nearly killed Daryl. "No one else had to die." He told him, trying to make him feel guilty, and you could see in the way his shoulders heaved, he was beginning to feel just that.

"But now that deal..." the giant of a man took one more step, standing toe to toe with Daryl, "is done."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mommy! Mommy!" Glenn shouted, running back into the house. At first you thought it might've been a gleeful shout, but then you saw the terror on his face.

"What is it baby?" You knelt down to his level as he ran into your arms. Maybe he saw Negan and got frightened. Negan has yet to lay his hands on a child here, but he did seem to have a way with words. "Didn't mommy tell you to stay in the backyard?" You scolded him gently.

You pulled back and looked at him to see tears running down his face, "I tried to mommy.." he whined softly, "but then I heard a fight and looked and-and he took daddy!" He sobbed out, hugging himself back against you.

Your face paled as you looked straight ahead, he wouldn't do that. Would he? What use would he have for Daryl.

Later that night when your husband didn't return, you knew it had to be true, Negan took Daryl. He pounded on Ricks door until he answered with a solemn face, "(y/n)-"

"What the hell Rick?!" You shouted shoving his chest, "Why would you let him take Daryl?!" You screamed, surely alerting the neighbors.

"I didn't let him take anything!" He shouted back, "Our 50% was more like 25% this month. He said either he takes Daryl, or he starts killing." He said sadly, dropping his head into his hands, "I fought. I fought like hell (y/n). But he's Negan. He was gonna hurt my boy."

You wanted to be angry, but seeing the despair, you couldn't help but let out a choked sob as the tears began flowing. Rick pulled you into his arms, "We'll get him back. I promise."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All four of you stood silently with your hands tied behind your back in a circle formation, it brought you back to the night Negan killed Abraham and Glenn.

Alpha walked slowly towards you and Daryl, she looked like a lion stalking her prey, she looked like an alpha.

"You ain't gettin her back." Daryl told her before she even had the chance to say anything.

She stared silently at him for a moment before shaking her head, "You think this is about my daughter?" She drawled heavily.

Daryl just stood silently watching her, as did the rest of you. She nodded her head and motioned towards her bloodied knife, "Ran into some trouble on the road." She mentioned, obviously trying to irritate you, and you'd be lying to say she wasn't. You hated seeing a good person die.

She wiped her knife on her pants, smearing the last of the wet blood across the front of her jeans, "You like my new camp?" She asked, tilting her head, "My people like to keep moving. Like to keep roaming."

She moved closer to Daryl, you spoke up in fear that she might use that knife, "We granted Lydia asylum." She turned her attention towards you and so did everyone else, "Any attempt to take her by force, will result in retaliation." You warned.

She glared slightly at you, like she was studying you, before turning her head back to Daryl, standing dangerously close to him, "She speak for you?" She asked him, pointing the tip of her blade at you.

Daryl looked at the knife for a second before looking back down at Alpha, "We speak for each other." He nodded.

She stared at him for a moment before turning back to her people and pacing in the middle of them, looking like a sort of drill sergeant, "My daughter isn't a concern anymore. She was weak and never lived up to expectations." She said slowly, seeming like she's trying to convince herself of that too.

"Was?" Daryl spoke up again, and part of you wanted to hit him for catching her attention. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" He challenged.

"To be clear..." she turned towards him slowly before pulling out a sawed off shotgun and pointing it at his stomach. Your eyes widened and you wanted to scream at her or fight back, but that would just result in definite death, "Your group is in no position to threaten me. That is a habit that needs to be broken." She looked down before looking back up at Daryl like an idea suddenly hit her.

"Come with me." She told him before taking a step closer. Your head turned so fast you swore your neck popped. Daryl just stared at her with no emotion. "Just you." She said more softly, shaking her shotgun in the direction she wanted him to go.

He stood for a moment, before moving in that direction, "Daryl!" You shouted after him which seemed to piss her off because she stuck the barrel of the gun under your chin.

Daryl turned and stared wide eyed at you, not wanting to make her more mad and actually pull the trigger, "If I were you, I'd shut your damn mouth." She growled, pushing your chin up before pulling away and looking at Daryl, "Keep moving."

Daryl have you one more look before turning and heading off, you shut your eyes and allowed a tear to roll down your cheek. You just had to stand and watch as the love of your life walked away to probably die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after Daryl had left with Alpha, a few of the other group members had lead you off in the same direction but a little bit more north. The sun had begun to rise by the time you had reached a large field.

The people that brought you there, cut the binds on your wrists and told you to stay at the bottom of the hill to wait for your friend. When you heard that Daryl was coming to you, you cried tears of relief and when he walked through the tree line you sobbed and ran at him.

You jumped into his arms and he held you tightly to him, breathing you in. When he finally sat you down he grabbed your face and kissed your lips hard, "What did she want?" You asked him as he wiped at your tears.

"Nothing important." He reassured you, which was sort of a lie, but there was no use in worrying you now. "She did say to look for a marker. Said we'd know it when we saw it." You just nodded you head as he looked back at the rest of the group.

Before you all moved towards the hill, you heard shouting come from back in the woods, you looked at Daryl and when he heard a shout of "Help!" He headed towards it with you following shortly behind.

Soon enough, the sight of a bloody Siddiq came into view, he was propped up against a tree and when he saw you he sighed in relief l, "Thank god." He said.

Michonne rushed over to see if he was alright before picking him up and shrugging one of his arms over her shoulders. "What happened?" She asked him.

He was just muttering gibberish and pointing at the hill.

The six of you eventually made your way up the hill, at the top in the near distance, you could see what looked like several poles with round things on them, as you got closer, it hit you. They were heads.

That's when you saw it, "Tara.." you mumbled. Reaching up to cover your mouth as tears began slipping down your cheeks. Then there was an elderly woman who you had seen holding a baby at the fair, then the two highwaymen, then DJ, two of the teenagers from hilltop, which only made you sob harder. They killed children.

Glenn. Looking at the rest of the heads, you spotted him. They had taken and murdered you baby. You moved towards him slowly, needing to see his face, "No. No!" Daryl yelled at you, grabbing you and spinning you away from your son, "Don't look baby. Don't look." He sobbed holding you close.

You never felt this heartbroken, they had taken your sunshine. You swore right then and then, you'd kill every last one of them.

[lucien-stan]

Deleted Scene from The Fox of Prythian

None of this in canon in my fic “The Fox of Prythian.” It is a deleted scene for a reason. Nevertheless, its kinda cute, so I’m posting it here.

Here’s some sleepy Cassian/Lucien for your feed:

The Illyrian watched as Lucien stared at the bed in his tent and then back to its owner.

“What,” Cassian deadpanned. “Sheets too dirty?”

“Too clean, actually. Even half asleep, I can tell you haven’t slept here.”

Cassian leveled him with a look. What’s your point, asshole?

“Have you slept?” Lucien asked the Illyrian general.

He hadn’t. There was too much to do as leader of Rhys armies. Too many dead to mourn, too many ansty Illyrians and foot soldiers for him to control by himself. He had planned to sleep tonight, for at least a few hours. Rhys had threatened to fire him if he didn’t. And while Cassian knew his job was never in jeopardy, the very real risk of Rhys taking on all of Cassian's responsibilities for even an hour was too much guilt for Cassian to bear, and he had promised to try to get in a few hours to appease the High Lord. 

“I sleep in other tents,” Cassian lied easily. A simple enough lie.

“With Azriel?” Lucien asked, and when he read the face Cassian was surely giving him in response, the high fae broke out in a wry smile.

“Did you think you were good at hiding it?”

“Azriel and I aren’t hiding anything,” Cassian responded dryly. “Go to bed. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“Sleeping in chairs is bad for your back. Can’t imagine they’re good for your wings. Take the bed. I’ll sleep in the Illyrian tent or something—”

“Don’t,” Cassian said roughly. “Anywhere but there.”

Cassian had no doubt the high fae could fend for himself, but against a tent full of mourning Illyrian warriors while the male was injured and hadn’t slept? Cassian didn’t fancy Lucien’s odds.

“Okay,” Lucien said after a moment. “I’ll sleep in the chair. You take the bed.”

“Sleeping in chairs is bad for you back,” Cassian drolled.

There were shields Cassian always kept up. His mental shield, which Rhys had taught him to build and maintain when they were boys. His body language, which always allowed for fluid movement into a battle position, and lastly, the natural shields his syphons provided him.

In a split second, Cassian felt as Lucien bore a hole in the last shields, precise and deadly. He felt as sleep overcame him in an instant—his last memory, the dirt of his tent as he began to collapse.

When Cassian woke, he was in his cot, tucked under the covers and sweating like a dog. Still in his Illyrian leathers, though most of the weapons were removed. He groaned as he rose. Lucien was curled up in the chair, eyes closed and head tucked into his shoulder. The position protected his neck, Cassian realized with a quiet, hazy rage.

Cassian turned to the flaps of his tent. They were closed, but he vaguely heard the crackling of fires and shuffling of tired feet. An owl hooted in the distance. He had either slept only for a few minutes, or had slept through the day. By the stiffness in his joints, Cassian bet on the latter. Evening, then. Cassian shot a thought like an arrow to Rhys, pissed and groggy.

You let him render me unconscious? Cassian asked incredulously.

I told you to sleep, Rhys returned with what felt like a shrug. The fact that you could be bested by someone two centuries younger than you shows how much you needed it.

Fuck off, Cassian returned to his High Lord, staring at the sleeping figure in his chair.

Let him sleep. He’s drained, Rhys said a moment later, and Cassian scowled.

He’s drained because he cut through my shields and knocked me out.

You know that’s not the reason.

Cassian did know. Lucien had, allegedly, been burning bodies all day, healing the wounded, and had attended the entire High Lords meeting. On top of knocking Cassian out, the Illyrian didn’t know how Lucien hadn’t run out of magic yesterday.

Cassian sighed, and, slowly, lifted Lucien from the chair and carried him to the bed. The male stayed asleep through the movement, curling in on himself in Cassian’s bed as Cassian returned to the desk, looking over a report Azriel had dropped off in the last hour.

Only a few more deaths that day. Four from the Velaris forces. One of Kyr’s darkbringers. No Illyrians. Two fights had broken out. They still had enough food to last two weeks. Looking good. Cassian wrote out quick orders for the Velaris army to start packing in the morning, giving the folded note to a runner. Another order—start working on a feast for the warriors. It would raise moral, and they had too much fucking food to travel back with. By the time he had drafted those and a few more orders, and had eaten dinner, Lucien was groaning awake himself.

“Evening, princess,” Cassian grinned through a mouthful of chicken.

Lucien groaned again.

[end of deleted draft]

For actual scenes in my fic, go here.

[inosuketingz]

the sheets are stained with blood [p.4]

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE [ PART FOUR ] Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: language, violence, blood and BOP spoilers Word Count: 1687 Tag: @itsknife2meetu @yourlocalghoul​ @im-just-one-of-the-avengers​ @fillechatoyante​ A/N: im sososoosossososos sorry this took so damn long I promise u guys my reasoning wasn’t too bad, i just got busy with school and then right after became really unmotivated w/ the blm movement. as a black woman, it has always affected me a lot and i really couldn’t stop stressing over it for weeks. of course im still stressed over the protests and stuff, but i did want to get back to writing. if it makes you guys feel any better, you guys are getting your guts rearranged in the next part.

“Holy shit!” You yell the minute the quarrel crashes into he window. It lands only inches away from your face, too short to reach it. And whoever shot the arrow knows that. They aren’t trying to kill you. They only want your attention.

 “Since when did Hyunwoo have shooters?” You ask. For the most part, you know Hyunwoo was a very independent person when it came to the shady business he dabbled in. He was never the type to have any guard dogs.

 Victor shakes his head, forcing his car door open at a frantic speed. “They’re not with him.” 

 You narrow your eyes, searching for anything in the distance. There’s a flash of purple within the trees next to Hyunwoo’s house and you look over to Zsasz. He’s standing in the open, a grim look on his face.

 “Zsasz, get back in the fucking car before you get shot in the forehead!” You bark your order. 

 “Don’t tell me what to do,” he replies and you sigh in annoyance, slamming your head back into your seat’s headrest. Dealing with him was like dealing with a four year old. You reach into your pocket for the Blood Pendant. If he won’t do what you say voluntarily, you’ll just have to force him. But, when you dig through the fabric, you realize it’s gone.

 You glance toward him and see the silver chain hanging out of the back pocket of his cargo pants. That sneaky asshole.  You didn’t even notice when he managed to snag it off you.

 “Victor Zsasz!” A feminine voice calls out. It echoes around you and you have no clue where to look. You slip out of the car, mentally readying yourself for any of the spells you can conjure. 

 Zsasz looks even angrier now, his face is painted red with fury. 

“Get back in the car!” You try to advise him. You have no clue why you’re so concerned with his safety.

 “No, I want to kill these bitches by myself.” He pulls his token knife from his pocket, the one you’ve seen referenced all over the news with his murders.

 As he toys with the sharp edge of the blade, you sigh. “No offense, but I don’t think your tiny ass knife stands a chance against a bitch with a crossbow.”

 Behind you two, there is a soft crunch of leaves as someone takes a step closer. Like partners in a waltz, you and Victor whirl around. His grip on the knife’s handle grows tighter and you can feel your power tingling at your fingertips.

 “Hi, Zsasz.” The two of you face a young black woman, her blonde hair styled in loose locs. You can’t help but notice how pretty she is, despite the cocky grin on her face indicating she wouldn’t hesitate knocking the both of you out cold. “Since when did you start working with the Night Hex?”

 “We’re not working together,” You shoot back. “Which is why I think it’s in our best interest that I leave, and let you two hash it out.” You begin to take a step back, ready to bolt out of sigh, when you feel a cold metal against your neck. It’s something sharp, and you hiss as it slightly stabs into your skin.

 “Yeah I don’t think so,” A feminine voice behind you says. You look over your shoulder and see her standing there with a crossbow in her hand. She nudges the crossbow closer to your face and you flinch back. “Consider yourself guilty by association.”

 Another woman approaches you and you roll your eyes. “God, there’s more of you?” 

 “Yes. And it looks like you guys are outnumbered.”   She mocks you, her inner-city accent evident.

 Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. These are those Birds of Prey chicks aren’t they? And you remember hearing somebody say they had something to do with Roman Sionis’s death. That’s why Victor looks so pissed. 

 This isn’t fair. You came to Gotham to relax, and stir away from any of those fuckers in spandex that swear they’re vigilanties. But of course the second you decide to make some hard-earned money, you suddenly have these little birds on your ass. 

 The one with the crossbow sidewalks to stand in front of the pair of you and turns slightly to aim the weapon at Zsasz. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she tells him flatly. The other two birds step back, seemingly to let her at him. Your mind flashes back to the ugly scar on Victor’s neck. It’s shaped perfectly for a crossbow. Whatever Victor had with these women, it seems to be about more than just his dead boyfriend. “You’re supposed to be dead, like the rest of those sons of bitches,” she insists. Her voice cracks as she says this, and her eyes grow wet.

 “And yet, I’m not.” Zsasz practically growls. The words came from deep within his chest. His rough hands twirl the knife between his fingers, anticipating what is to come.

 The air is thick with tension, and you are standing in the midst of it all. Times like this are when you especially become grateful for your witchcraft. 

 A beat passes before Zsasz lashes. He raises the knife, aiming for her face. It’s almost like time slows down for you as you notice the woman’s finger reach for the trigger. You rush to latch onto Victor’s empty hand and close your eyes, picturing your small apartment in as vivid detail as possible. You whisper in Hebrew a teleportation spell you learned in Israel that translates to “Bring me there.” 

 It hardly ever works. Time after time you’ve tried to disappear mid-fight with Wonder Woman, only for you to remain where you are and get her fist in your face. The fact that you’re trying to do it with two people is insane, and you would’ve called yourself an idiot for even considering it any other time. However, for some odd reason, you can’t fathom this encounter ending with a bow down Victor’s throat.

 You’re not sure if you managed it or not until you hear Victor mutter “What the fuck?” and you hear the hum from your studio’s A/C kicking on. You let out an audible sigh of relief and let go of Zsasz’s hand. Your moment of relaxation is cut short when he shoves his hard hands against your shoulders, causing you to stumble back. Out of instinct, you step forward and swing your fist at him, but he ducks back.

 “What the fuck did you do!?” He yells so loud that you’re sure the entire floor hears him. “I was going to fucking kill her! Are you stupid?” 

 It takes you a minute to process his words. You just saved his life and he has the nerve to be mad at you? “Are you stupid?” You echo, your voice even louder than his. “She was holding a fucking crossbow, dumbass! She would have killed you long before you could even lay a hand on her! You should be thanking me, you piece of shit!” 

 He brings his knife to your neck and you clench your teeth, expecting him to bark some new insults your way. Instead, he swallows down and digs his hand into your pocket to take out the keys. “I’m taking these to Hernando myself. Do whatever the fuck you want.” And with that, he turns to the door to leave.

 But you’re not going to let this argument go down so easily. With his back now turned to you, you push him, and he stumbles a bit. “And when you’re done with that, leave me the fuck alone! Stay as far away from me as possible, and deal with the bounty the Birds of Prey have on you by yourself!”

 He stares at you from over his shoulder as you wait for an answer. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you hype yourself up for a fight with him, but Zsasz already looks like he’s calmed down. “Go drink some water, you look like you’re gonna pop a vein.” And then he turns and leaves. 

 Your face twists as your door slams shuts, the million words you wanted to throw at him still tingling at your tongue.

~~~

 Hot water hits your back and you yawn. It took you an hour to finally calm down, but when you did you ordered some pizza and watched TV for the rest of the day. You aren’t too sure how long Hernando wants you to work on this expedition with him, but when it’s all over you’ve decided you're ditching Gotham. 

 The first few months here have been peaceful, sure, but too many dangerous people know that you’re here. Your little vacation spot has been ruined. So, you’ll probably head somewhere else, like Orlando or Los Angeles. Maybe you’d move to a small town without any crime-fighting heroes, and live out your Hallmark-movie romantic fantasy after all.  

 Whichever it’ll be, you’re sure it’s not anywhere near this city. Or Boston, either. 

 You scrub your body with a soapy loofah to make sure all the dirt is off your body. After a few more minutes you finally turn the water off and pull a towel over your body. Something about Victor Zsasz drains the energy out of you. After all your encounters with him, you remember always feeling beyond tired by the end of it. 

 Whatever it is, it’ll be gone once you leave Gotham.

 You lotion yourself and apply your facial creams, pulling on your panties and an oversized shirt you sleep in in the process, all before slipping into your bedroom. 

 Your room is oddly quiet, the hum of the TV you normally keep on muted and your fan turned off. You flip on the light switch and freeze at the sight before you.

 Victor Zsasz waits for you at the end of your bed. The sheets are stained with blood and you can practically smell the reek of death coming from him. He looks at you with those fake innocent eyes as he says a soft, “Hey.”

[covenstrays]

ST. NAHIA OF GETARIA - ART HISTORY (PART 1/2)

on my old blog one of my friends asked me ab how nahia would be portrayed in art over the years (hi zoe) and i wanted to transfer stuff over to here because i still think a lot about it! plus if your muse is into art history and/or religion in general, these might be some fun facts they would know!

- white roses are often depicted in paintings of nahia, as they are the kind of flower into which the arrows in her body turned into after she died, so artists have kind of…just sprinkled them either on nahia or on the environment around her.

- sometimes artists will use lilies in this same manner, but it’s very rare. you can expect paintings with nahia to generally be very dark, with nahia and her bow as the center of light, bc ye olde painters with their shitty light and dark rhetoric.

- as one of her titles is the virgin’s huntress, artists turned to mythology and depictions of diana/artemis for inspiration, and frequently depict nahia with a pack of hunting dogs, even though she never had such a pack of dogs.

- also in relation to diana, her halo when painted will often look very much like the crescent moon often depicted with diana/artemis. to distinguish nahia from artemis/diana, however, she is sometimes given wings

- paintings of saints in general tend to have certain ‘attributes’ that make them recognizable bc let’s be real, there’s an assload of saints and medieval painters weren’t so good at facial features so nahia’s attributes are her bow, pearls, a basket of mussels, or combos thereof.

- she’s predominantly painted with white skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes, because old white male painters are terrible that way, so if you see some cookie cutter medieval white female saint holding a bow, it’s probably nahia.

- there are a fair amount of depictions of nahia that feature her in armor, but most of them have her wear your standard draping robes – said robes are always painted a dark blue or grey color, meant to symbolize the sea from her home village. this is also why you will see those baskets of clams, mussels, and/or oysters.

- pearls are a really important object that shows up to distinguish her as saint nahia! she used to collect pearls before her journey, and so paintings will often depict her as either wearing pearls, with pearls studded on her armor, or a string of pearls in her hand! so…yes!!! pearls !!!

- in scenes of her death, sometimes saint sebastian can be seen among the angels and the virgin who are accepting nahia’s soul, because i guess they assumed that saint sebastian just…showed up because he was also shot by archers? even though he 100% was not there at nahia’s death and she has no idea who he is lol. in fact even in depictions of various stages of nahia’s life, saint sebastian is just. there? giving her advice or something? like i said, even though he never did.

- nahia’s death is more often than not depicted as a stricken young woman standing with max three arrows in her body, eyes cast towards heaven – your run of the mill martyr post, even though she was really heaped in the dirt with dozens of arrows in her body.

- the arrow that pierced her heart, and thus the flower that came from that, is sometimes a red rose, not a white one.

- sometimes she is shown as stepping on a serpent, for further connection to depictions of the virgin mary.

- in paintings of the scene where visigoths storm nahia’s house, they often paint her as holding and protecting a baby boy in defiance for more marian significance, when in reality she saved the four little girls by hiding them.

- nahia was 16 when she died, but most of the portrayals make her seem in her mid-20s, making it easier for people to forget that she was a god damn adolescent child on her pilgrimage

- it was only during like…modern times when people may have started to pick up on this forgotten saint nahia, and Portray Her Right, you know what i mean? like. no halo, no wings or flowers or anything. just a young girl depicted bloody and bruised but with HOPE in her eyes.

[chemicalmagecraft]

Taiyuu OCT Round 1

@taiyuu-oct

Yukino stretched, appraising her teammate for the hero vs. villain exercise they were doing. She guessed that they had some sort of slime body Quirk. Mostly because their body appeared to be made entirely out of blue slime. "So I'm guessing your Quirk is being made out of slime, Rimuru-chan?"

"Yup!" they said, despite the fact that they didn't seem to have a mouth. Or lungs. "I can basically turn myself into a liquid, or make myself super sticky. I'm weak to water and fire, so look out for those. What's your Quirk."

"Cryomancy." Yukino showed off with a small puff of white mist that didn't really do much aside from look cool. "I can freeze things, and then I get psychokinetic control over whatever I freeze. I can actually absorb fire, though I also don't like getting wet."

"Good to know. What should we do for the exercise, then?"

Yukino knelt down and started giving the Lumin they were supposed to escort to the other side of the forest pets. "Right, I'm... kinda acrophobic, so it's probably for the best if we go for the low route. That cool with you?"

"That's fine," they nodded.

"Thanks. I should probably stay with Inu-chan because my Quirk is great for defense. What do you think?"

"Sounds good, I can scout out ahead, try to see if I can find who we're supposed to be fighting."

"Sounds like a plan."

As they waited for the okay to start, Yukino pulled out her staff with a twirling flourish. Unlike the entrance exam, this time they let the students bring some basic equipment with them. Yukino had also tried to ask for a bow, but the teachers denied it when she explained that she could make arrows from ice... Though to be fair, that probably could've gotten pretty dangerous if she didn't have practice with it. Like the entrance exam, she was wearing a nice, warm hoodie, though this time she had her P.E. uniform under it.

"You two can start now," Aura-sensei told them. Rimuru-chan melted into a puddle of blue ooze, then flowed ahead of Yukino.

"C'mon," Yukino told the plant wolf. She started walking, and the wolf followed her. Yukino hummed to herself as she walked down the dirt path in the middle of the forest. One hand was on Inu-chan's head, both rubbing behind his ears and making sure neither of the villains pulled some sort of teleport surprise. She didn't think anyone in Taiyuu had a teleporting Quirk, but better to be safe than sorry, right? Her other hand was holding her staff, obviously. Yukino tried to act like she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, but in truth she was scanning the forest. She glanced around the trees. Occasionally she heard some rustling leaves in the distance, but nothing closer. Still, she didn't let her guard down.

Some time down the path, Yukino saw a rope in the middle of the path. It looked like it might have been a snare or something. Of course, the rope was almost the same color as the dirt path, so if her eyes weren't so good. "Stop," Yukino said, pushing down on Inu-chan to make him stop. She calmly held out her hand. A small blade of ice condensed from the air in front of her hand amid a puff of mist. The clear knife floated over to the rope, then dropped, propelled by her Quirk as well as gravity. The blade went clean through the rope and sunk into the ground. Half of the rope zipped off, and a second later a large rock tied to a rope fell by the side of the path.

"Right, let's go," she told the dog. Just in case, she cleaved the half of the ice knife that was still sticking out of the ground off of the rest of the knife, then shot it forward in a bit of a sweeping motion. It didn't hit anything, so she figured the path was clear for a bit. A little bit later, she heard a loud popping noise. Ball bearings spilled from a tree above the two. Yukino managed to react in time to make a hexagonal shield of ice above them. Her shield prevented them from getting hailed on by the small metal pellets, but there was still the problem of there now being ball bearings scattered on all sides of them.

Yukino growled. "That's annoying..." She snapped her fingers, and as she did her ice shield snapped into long, thin segments. Yukino floated the segments down to the ground and used them to brush the ball bearings off the path. "Is this all it's going to be?" she asked as she started walking again.

It didn't take long for Yukino to get accosted again. This time, Rimuru-chan jumped out of the foliage. "They're coming!" they shouted, then hid back in the bushes. "The girl who uses balloons and another girl with space hair! I'll try to surprise them, you hold them off!"

Yukino got into a ready stance, but couldn't help but snicker. "Balloons, huh? What's she gonna do, amuse me to death?"

"You'd be surprised," a voice said from the treetops. A spherical object fell in front of Yukino, and before she could smack it away a plume of thick smoke erupted from it.

"Smoke bomb!" Yukino shouted, then swung her staff. Frost crept along it as she swung, and as she hit the smoke bomb she generated more wind than should have been possible by swinging a staff. The smoke bomb was launched into the woods and the smoke it released was dispersed. Just in time for Yukino to see a purplish balloon heading straight for Inu-chan, as well as the clown-looking girl that threw it. Acting quickly, she swung her staff in front of Inu-chan, using telekinesis to speed it up a little. An ice shield condensed just off the staff, between Inu-chan and the balloon. The balloon hit the shield with a dull thump. Yukino snorted.

And then the balloon exploded. Technically it was probably just the balloon popping, but it exploded with so much force that it shattered the shield. Luckily Yukino regained control over the large shards before they hit Inu-chan, though it was close... Yukino threw the shards at the girl as she threw another balloon. The shards hit the balloon, exploding it with enough force to pulverize most of the ice.

"Okay, so 'balloons' is a much better power than I gave it credit for, that's on me," Yukino conceded as the diamond dust settled. She saw some blue ooze move behind the clown girl, but kept a neutral face. "Doesn't mean you're gonna win, Makku-chan."

Makku-chan giggled. "Like MacDonald's! You're funny, but I've gotta run now. Toodle-loo!" She turned and ran.

Right into Rimuru-chan. "What the heck?" she shouted as her shoes got stuck.

Rimuru-chan rose up, wrapping around her legs. "Now!" they shouted.

"You activated our trap card!" Yukino quipped as she dropped to one knee, slamming her hand into the ground. White vapor spread from her hand as a line of frost streaked to Makku-chan and Rimuru-chan. The line split just before them, flowing past them and converging on the other side as a circle. Ice froze up from the circle as it formed, forming itself into a clear dome of thick ice. The dome wasn't quite solid, though. There were small airholes out of the bottom, though rather flat and not nearly large enough for a person to squeeze through.

A normal person, anyway. Rimuru-chan seeped out from one of the holes easily. "Good," Yukino said. "I was hoping I made the holes big enough."

"Hey, you've got a dog on you," Rimuru-chan said.

"Well yeah, isn't that kinda the thing of this excercise?" Yukino said.

"No, another one." They made a pseudopod to point at something below Yukino's waist, then made an annoyed sound and changed their aim slightly.

Yukino looked down to see a dog circling around her. Not a wolf like Inu-chan; wolves are, usually, larger than dogs. Still, it was kind of on the big side. And weirdly enough, it was almost like... like the dog wasn't entirely there. Whenever Yukino tried to concentrate on where the dog was it was like it shifted and was suddenly a little to the left, or to the right. The dog walked over to Inu-chan, and Yukino decided that was probably a bad thing. She swung her staff, using her Quirk through it. The dog dodged, but Yukino was satisfied to note that it was only just barely. Yukino felt... something off when she nearly hit the dog, but she just chalked it up to whatever weird effect was around the dog. And as for where the dog came from...

Yukino looked up and saw the starry-haired girl. Except... logically she knew the girl was there somewhere, but for whatever reason Yukino couldn't tell where she was. It reminded her of the dog, just several times worse. The girl was trying to sneak up on her. Maybe. "I'm guessing the dog is yours, then?" Yukino asked.

"I suppose it's pretty obvious," she said, still walking in a direction that Yukino was only mostly sure was towards Inu-chan.

Yukino didn't bother trying to break through the effect through willpower alone. She planted her staff in the ground, letting go of it and making it stay upright with her telekinesis. She held her hands out in what she felt might be the girl's general direction, white vapor pouring from them as the air around them started to cool. The air she cooled, just barely cold enough for her telekinesis to work on it, was pulled to a point in front of her palms. A ball of white mist quickly formed from the compressed air. "That's a pretty annoying power you've got there, Lucy-chan, but I think I've got a workaround!"

Lucy-chan just barely had time to let out a confused "Wha-" before Yukino fired. The ball of compressed air decompressed in Lucy-chan's general direction. Violently. The annoying part of air control was how much Yukino had to concentrate on her air just to keep it from spreading out and becoming useless quickly even if she made it really cold. Her air blast didn't solve that problem at all, but by making it only barely below freezing she ended up with very little "cost" for what was effectively a one-use attack anyway. Of course, being just at the point where her bond broke with it also made it harder for her to feel the air with her bond, so that combined with Lucy-chan's aura of "vagueness" meant that Yukino only had a general idea of where she was.

Still, it was enough that she hopefully had her. Yukino didn't waste time as Lucy-chan reeled from the gale-force winds. She grabbed her staff and channeled her Quirk through it. She made another ice dome, this one a little bigger to make up for the fact that she wasn't entirely sure where Lucy-chan was. As soon as she saw that Lucy-chan was inside the dome, she turned back around to see Rimuru-chan grappling with Lucy-chan's dog.

"Run, I'll hold the dog off!" they said.

Yukino followed their order without complaining. "Inu-chan, come on!" she shouted. She ran as fast as she could... which admittedly wasn't that fast... Even aside from how short her strides were, Yukino was never the fastest runner. And she assumed Inu-chan was under orders to not to too fast, so when she noticed he was lagging behind she had to slow down and let him catch up. Still, she went as fast as Lumin would allow her to. Between Makku-chan's balloon having broken her ice shield and the fact that she thought she'd seen Lucy-chan summon things that weren't a disorienting dog at some point in the past month, Yukino wasn't entirely sure how long those ice domes would hold...

Speaking of... Yukino shook out her numb hands. "Ah, cold hands, cold hands!" She shoved them in her hoodie pocket to try and warm them up. "Still... I'm starting to get the feeling that I'll be getting a lot of mileage out of those ice domes."

"What are you doing, go faster!" Yukino heard Rimuru-chan shout behind her.

"Inu-chan won't go any faster!" she said.

"Can't you pick him up with your ice?"

"Oh yeah, good point." Yukino created a platform out of ice and set it down in front of Inu-chan. "C'mon, Inu-chan, get on!"

The plant wolf hesitated for a second, then got on. "Good boy!" Yukino said, petting him. "Now you get on Inu-chan," she told Rimuru-chan.

"What? Shouldn't I walk with you?"

"I have to focus on floating the platform if I want to go fast, so you should watch our backs. Now get on."

"Okay, if you say so." Rimuru-chan got on the wolf.

"Good slime!" Yukino said, petting them.

"Okay, now go!"

Yukino nodded and started running, having the ice platform float next to her. She was a little slower than she could've been because she still had to concentrate on the floating platform, but she still went a lot faster than she would've if she was just walking with Inu-chan.

They were already out of range of Yukino's ice, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. The good part was that that meant they were putting distance between themselves and the villains. The bad part was that Yukino couldn't tell if her ice was broken if she wasn't within range of it, so unless one of the villains picked up some of her ice after breaking their way out she had no way of telling if they were free...

"So I'm guessing I should work on restraining them so you can do that ice dome thing if they get to us again?" Rimuru-chan said after a bit.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Yukino agreed. "The only real problem with the ice domes is that they take a few seconds to form, unless I'm dealing with someone like you."

"Heh, we make a surprisingly good team, then!"

"I gues-"

"Behind us!" Rimuru-chan warned.

Yukino turned around, readying her staff. The villains were sneaking around the trees, but their stealth was pretty much ruined by the weird burning table floating near Lucy-chan... They jumped out of the bushes when Yukino turned around, ditching stealth. Yukino jammed her staff into the ground, activating her Quirk. Vapor rolled off her hands and horns as a line of frost extended from her staff in front of her, freezing up into a giant wall of ice.

"Ow, cold," Yukino said, shaking out her hands. She turned back around and started running. Hopefully that wall would...

Something weird happened to the wall. It felt like it was melting, but... not melting? Yukino looked back at the wall, seeing the remains of a giant ball of fire that had pretty much instantly melted a large hole through the wall. But... Yukino could still feel her control over... something. It was... cold air? Yukino didn't get it, but she didn't complain. She grabbed as much of the air as she could and compressed it into a ball of misty air floating in the middle of the hole. Yukino let the air loose as the villains approached the hole, blasting them back.

As they reeled from the blast Yukino flung her hands to the side, forming ice crystals with her Quirk. She noticed that that one weird table had disappeared. Maybe it had limited charges or something? Good. Though Yukino didn't like that cloud of green fog starting to grow around Lucy-chan... By the time the duo had recovered Yukino threw the two chunks of ice at them. Two icosahedrons of pure, perfect ice with numbers carved in them hurtled at the two villains. "Roll for initiative!" Yukino yelled.

The green fog around Lucy-chan formed into claws around her hands. "Draco!" she yelled, then smashed both with her claws.

"Nat 20, crud..." Yukino muttered.

"Get them!" Rimuru-chan shouted, jumping off Inu-chan.

Yukino grinned and made the large shards of ice left from the giant dice fly at the villains. "Ice knife!"

Lucy-chan deflected the shards with more speed and force than Yukino thought she was capable of. Yukino winced, forming more chunks of ice to throw. Makku-chan darted out from behind Lucy-chan, carrying a rather large balloon, and threw it at Yukino. Yukino quickly splintered a needle of ice off of one of her crystals and shot it at the balloon. The balloon popped, and even from a few meters away Yukino had to brace herself from the force of the explosion. Rimuru-chan, who was a little closer at that point, was flung back.

Yukino growled and threw her ice at Makku-chan. Like before, Lucy-chan deflected it all with clearly enhanced speed, smashing the ice into shards. Yukino just barely suppressed the urge to grin as she made more ice, and only then because of the sting of the cold on her hands. The shards from the ice that Lucy-chan broke hadn't fallen. Instead, they started to fly at Makku-chan as Yukino drew Lucy-chan's attention with more ice.

Makku-chan shouted as the ice flew towards her. Lucy-chan turned on a dime, swinging at the ice that was now dangerously close to Makku-chan.

Just as Yukino planned. She snapped her fingers, the ice darting away from Makku-chan. Unable to fully stop herself in time, Lucy-chan accidentally punched Makku-chan in the chest. She had greater control than Yukino thought, because her hit didn't look like it hurt Makku-chan too much. Of course, the next few would hopefully throw them off a bit...

The ice shards that Yukino had feinted Lucy-chan with looped around and slammed into her back, blunt sides first. Just for good measure, she threw the ice she'd just made at the villains too. It didn't look like it hit Lucy-chan too bad, but the heavy hits in rapid succession still knocked Lucy-chan and Makku-chan over into the puddle that was made when Lucy-chan melted Yukino's ice wall. Yukino grinned. While they were still trying to disentangle themselves and get up, Yukino drove her staff into the line of frost Cryomancy had already made when she made the ice wall. Her Quirk's freezing effect chained through the frost, letting her create an ice dome anchored to her existing ice wall just a bit faster and for less "cost."

"Okay, back on the dog, Rimuru-chan," Yukino said. "Before they bust out of that again." Yukino thought it'd probably take them a bit, what with how whatever power Lucy-chan was using actually seemed to be more defense-oriented, but Yukino wasn't taking any chances.

"Dang, that was awesome!" the slime cheered.

Yukino gave them a toothy grin. "You know it. Now, let's go!"

Rimuru-chan nodded and hopped on Inu-chan. Yukino picked the floating disk of ice back up and went as fast as she could. She let her staff go, keeping it from falling with her telekinesis, and started rubbing her hands together. Those attacks might've been awesome, but it was cold, too...

SLAM!

There wasn't even enough time to get out of range, this time. If Yukino had to guess, it was less than a minute before she felt a heavy blow put cracks in her ice dome. Yukino turned around to see a giant green snake slamming its head into her ice a second time.

SLAM!

"Oh, come on!" she shouted. The ice wasn't going to take more than a hit or two, even if she put everything she could into reinforcing it.

"That's a big snake!" Rimuru-chan said, pointing out the obvious.

"I know!" Yukino said, picking up her pace as much as she could.

SLAM!

That was the last hit the dome could take, next one would burst a hole right through it. "RUN!" Rimuru-chan screamed.

"I KNOW!" Yukino screamed back.

SLACRASH!

The dome broke. Yukino grabbed her staff back and sent Rimuru-chan and Inu-chan up above the trees and away from her. There was no way she was outrunning that thing, so she could at least try to make sure those two got away. Then she turned around and readied herself to at least try to defend herself from the giant snake. It slithered toward her, though Yukino noted that it looked like it floated just a bit over the ground. She gritted her teeth and readied her Quirk, white vapor curling from her fingers and frost starting to spread on her staff.

The serpent roared and lunged at Yukino. She held her ground, forming a shield of ice in front of her with her staff. The snake bit down on the shield. It tried to throw the ice away, but Yukino resisted telekinetically. She took a few steps to the side and swung at the snake with her Quirk-affected staff. Instead of frost blooming from the blow, though, the serpent roared as part of its body dissolved into some form of luminous green fog.

Yukino blinked. "Huh." That did not taste like normal body heat. It was... weirdly fruity?

"What did you just do to Ophiuchus?" Lucy-chan asked, a mix of curiosity and horror tinging her voice.

Yukino noticed that the two villains were running over to her, Makku-chan already making another balloon. Yukino sighed and drove the butt of her staff into the dirt. A small wall of ice erupted from the ground between herself and the villains, circling around to trap the snake with her. Unless it could float over the wall, anyway...

Her hands were starting to get cold again, but if she was right about what just happened that wouldn't be too much of a problem. She bared her teeth at the serpent, a predatory grin that showed off her sharpened teeth. The snake certainly looked unnerved, at least, as Yukino lashed out at the snake with a Quirk-enhanced palm strike. Instead of bouncing ineffectually off of the snake's thick hide, her hand passed through the snake with little resistance and a roar of pain and terror from the serpent. As with before, the summon's body deformed into a luminous lime green cloud that her Quirk sucked up as greedily as it did anything else it deemed thermal energy.

Yukino dropped her staff and plunged her other hand into the snake. It roared in terror. Yukino winced, but continued eating the snake with her Quirk. The mixed fruity taste it left on her Quirk's metaphorical tongue reminded her of... "Rainbow sorbet," she realized. "I could go for some of the real stuff, actually..." The serpent spat out the chunk of ice it was gripping and tried to escape, but Yukino managed to block it with the ice before it could. "I guess my name for Lucy-chan was pretty spot-on, then..." Yukino muttered to herself, moving her arms around to suck up more of the snake. "I've never tasted a star Quirk before, but between the combination of flavors and the fact that Lucy-chan called you Ophiuchus earlier... You're a constellation, aren't you?" she asked the snake. It was just scraps and green starfog at that point, and just a few moments later it dissipated entirely.

Yukino sighed like she'd just eaten a big meal, her arms feeling nice and hot. While using her Quirk to chill objects to below her body temperature made her body just a bit colder due to the fact that she wasn't completely immune to her own Quirk, sucking up an excess of heat, like a fireball or, apparently, a giant snake made of star matter(?), always left her feeling pleasantly warm. And because of that, Yukino felt almost as good as she did before they'd started the exercise. Maybe a little tired, still, but she felt like she could do something really big with her Quirk. And she knew just what.

Yukino idly noted that Makku-chan had cracked her ice wall a little, though she wasn't too worried. She grinned at the two. "Hey, wanna see something cool?" Yukino dropped to all fours, digging her claws into the dirt a little. Her horns and claws seemed to turn to ice as she readied her Quirk for something big, white vapor streaming from her arms. "Special move!" she shouted as the villains panicked and started to run away. Not that it'd help them...

Frost spread from the ground beneath Yukino's hands, permeating even below the surface of the ground. The frost expanded in a wave, going under Yukino's ice wall and spreading across the forest. It even climbed up the trees. "SUNDERING CLAWS OF THE ICE DRAGON!" The frost quickly overtook her opponents, but they blinked in surprise as nothing bad happened to them. No ice spread up from the ground to trap them, their feet didn't even freeze to the ground. It wasn't even slippery.

"That was anticlimactic..." Makku-chan said, turning back around. She started blowing up another balloon.

Yukino hissed in discomfort. She hadn't cooled the ground as much as she normally cooled things, but her arms were still starting to go numb from the cold... She planted her staff into the dirt and used to to pull herself onto her feet.

"Oh, and look at that," Makku-chan rolled her eyes at Yukino. "All that bluster, and in the end all she accomplished was frosting the ground over and taking herself out. Should we even bother with her?"

Lucy-chan frowned. "I... don't think she's done quite yet."

Yukino laughed as she shook her hands off, trying to return some semblance of feeling to them. "Yeah, she's right." She wasn't freezing again anytime soon, but the thing about Yukino's Quirk was that it was two-step. Even though she could feel the drawback of the first part of her Quirk in full force, the warm, full feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that the energy pool her telekinesis drew from was filled to the brim, almost demanding to be released.

She obliged, spreading out her legs into a wide stance and dropping her clawed hands into a position like she was about to throw something underhanded. Yukino never really needed to physically move to use her telekinesis, but sometimes for bigger things like this it felt like it helped. "Know what 'sundering' means?" She made a slow clawing motion, her hands shaking from the cold as she brought them upwards. As she clawed at the air, the ground started to rip itself apart. Small chunks of ground rose at first, but they slowly grew in size.

Makku-chan and Lucy-chan, quickly realizing that this was not a good sign, scrambled for the sides of the frost-covered ground. Yukino snapped the ground up, blocking them from fleeing with walls of earth.

"Cryokinesis, air blasts, energy absorption, and now geokinesis?" Makku-chan listed... incorrectly. "What kind of Quirk does she have?"

Yukino smirked, drawing more on her telekinetic energy. The ground cracked apart, lifting up in giant chunks. The villains slipped down the suddenly-uneven ground, though Yukino took care that they didn't get too battered from the fall. Once they were stuck in the bottom of a steep-walled crater, Yukino stacked the earth she'd pulled from the ground into a makeshift wall around the hole, trying her best to compact it into something that they'd have trouble climbing or breaking through.

The problem with having a general telekinesis-type Quirk instead of one of its more specialized cousins, Yukino was well aware of, was the fact that it was harder to perform the same sort of fine manipulation that was usually easier with specialization. Yukino could only make her perfect ice because she shaped the water as it was freezing, and even then it took a lot of practice and concentration. Still, Yukino was hopeful that her patch job would make do until her team won. It didn't feel like it'd collapse and bury the villains in dirt, at least.

She hissed again, shivering and rubbing her hands together. Her arms were still super cold, and she was starting to notice that her Quirk's energy reserves were already pretty low just from that one special move. Yyyeah, it was probably back to the drawing board for that one... Yukino almost fell as her legs turned to jelly, only just barely managing to grab her staff before she did. She winced, it was still freezing cold. "Well, at leas' they're probably not gettin' out of there anytime soon..." Yukino muttered to herself. She turned around to walk away and hopefully rejoin with Inu-chan and Rimuru-chan-

And banged her head into something cold and hard. "Ah, what the-" Yukino rubbed her head and looked in front her her face. Oh. Right. Ice wall. "Been a long time since I ran into my own ice..." she muttered to herself. It'd be hard to break out with her energy so low, and forget about climbing over. Yukino sighed, then remembered the part of the wall that Makku-chan cracked. Probably the best place to try...

Yukino walked over to the cracks in the wall. She leaned on her staff and kicked at the crack, trying to enhance her weakened telekinetic force with her weakened physical force.

Crack!

The ice cracked under her foot, but didn't break. Yukino sighed and kicked it again.

Snap!

It broke. Good, Yukino didn't think she had enough energy in her for a third one... She used her staff to knock out a few bits of ice that were only just hanging in there. The hole still wasn't that big, but it looked wide enough for her to climb through, at least. She pushed her staff through, then carefully pulled herself through. She tried not to touch the sides; without enough energy for finer telekinesis, she hadn't been able to smooth out the jagged edges of her hole. She managed, though her hoodie was torn up a little. Shame, Yukino liked that hoodie...

Yukino sighed in relief once she was out of her accidental trap. She slowly picked herself back up and dusted herself off. She looked back at the earth wall, thinking. Should she wait by the wall, in case the villains managed to get out?

She heard a pop, then a voice shouting, "Oh, come on!"

Yeah, they probably weren't getting out of there anytime soon. Not that Yukino would put up much of a fight if they did, come to think of it. Lucy-chan probably wouldn't put any more of her summons in a position where she could eat them again, and without her Quirk Makku-chan would probably take her out easily. Accepting that, Yukino turned around and started walking down the path to where she threw Rimuru-chan and Inu-chan. She was starting to feel pretty sluggish, though... She always felt really tired when her energy reserves dipped too low. The fact that it made her feel colder as well didn't help.

Yukino felt herself nodding off as she walked down the path. She shook herself off, trying to keep herself awake and get her blood pumping. She slapped her cheeks lightly, balancing her staff in the crook of her arm. Just for extra measure she pinched her cheeks, accidentally drawing a little blood because her claws were sharp. At least it woke her up a little.

After what felt like an hour, Yukino managed to shamble over to Inu-chan and Rimuru-chan. Rimuru-chan, who was currently in their more humanoid form, was trying to push Inu-chan faster than he was willing to go, but it didn't look like it was going that good. "Hey," Yukino said.

"You're back!" They harrumphed at her, making cheeks just to puff them up. "You're lucky I managed to catch Lumin, that could've gone a lot worse!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's jus' get to the finish line before the villains get back out again," Yukino waved them off. "Unless you can set things on fire I'm probably not gonna be much use if they fight us again."

"Wow, that snake must've really done a number on you, huh?"

Yukino shrugged. "Th' snake was actually the easy part, I kinda wiped m'self out dealin' with the villains. Shouldn' be too easy for 'em to get outta the hole I dug for 'em without some help, though."

They nodded. "Well that's good, at least. I think we're almost done, hang in there."

True to what they said, Wolfy-sensei was waiting for them at the other side of the next turn in the path. "You two won, good job," he told them. "Take a break, we'll have to get Laccadaisy to repair the course anyway." He was definitely glaring at Yukino when he said that. "Speaking of which, Takeda-chan." Yukino sighed to herself. She knew that stern tone of voice, Ryuji just loved using it on her. Lecture time... "I don't want to see you doing something like that again. It doesn't matter how many villains you take out if it takes you out with it."

Yukino sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, I know, I know. Won' do it again."

He nodded. "Good. Now do you need anything?"

Yukino shivered again. She dropped her staff and leaned against one of the trees. "Need to warm up."

Wolfy-sensei nodded again. "I'll call Laccadaisy, then see about setting up a bonfire or something. You gonna be fine if I leave you here for a bit?"

"Yeah, thanks."

[ragingbookdragon]

Earning Trust Doesn’t Come Without Its Struggles PT. 6

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story!

Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Mentions of Canonical Deaths Author’s Note: I almost boohoo’d writing this. One more part to go! Enjoy!- Thorne

She grunted as she hit the ground, rolling over to hold the hand he’d slapped. “Owwww!” Adrian rolled his eyes at her, muttering,

           “I barely even hit you.” (Y/N) glared up at him and countered,

           “I’m pretty sure you just broke my wrist in four places, Adrian.” He huffed, offering his hand to her. Taking it, she let him pull her to her feet, then he handed her the rapier.

           “Let’s go again.” She groaned, letting her arms go slack.

           “Come on…what is the point of all this?” Adrian moved into position opposite of her, raising the silver sword in one hand, the other curling behind his back.

           “The point is, you need to learn personal defense if you want to survive.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she placed the tip of the sword into the ground, propping her chin on the pommel.

           “I don’t know if you know this Adrian, but I wield a bow. I don’t get up close and personal with people.” He glanced away from her as if remembering something, then said,

           “Archers run out of arrows all the time. When that happens, you can whack people with your bow, but what happens when a particularly strong strike breaks the bow?” She let out a ‘pfft’, lolling her head to look at him.

           “I mean, I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t go and pick fights with people who look stronger than me.” Something in Adrian’s gaze shifted and he warned,

           “I’m going to attack you in five seconds.” (Y/N)’s eyes went wide as she stood up straight, the rapier falling over with a thump as it hit the ground.

           “Wait, what?”

           “One.” She raised her hands, waving them.

           “Adrian, wait!” He twirled the sword around, readying himself.

           “Two.”

           “You can’t be serious!”

           “Three.” (Y/N) scrambled for the sword, shouting,

           “This isn’t how I want to die!”

           “Four.” She raised the sword in front of her.

           “You are a sadistic bastard!”

           “Five.” (Y/N) barely had time to think as he shot forward, bringing the sword down on her. She gasped, arms moving on their own accord to block the blade. Sparks flew from the impact and she schreeched,

           “Hey! Go easy on me!” Adrian’s features didn’t shift as he twisted, swinging up her side.

           “There is no easy in battle.” She glared, narrowly dodging his strike.

           “Okay but this isn’t battle! We’re sparring!” A grin worked onto his lips as he twirled, thrusting the sword straight at her face. (Y/N) sucked in a breath and bent her torso back, watching the extremely sharp blade cross over her face.

           “You’re doing well.” She growled as she pulled her rapier up, sliding it underneath his to shove it away. Straightening up, she put a few feet between them.

           “Alright. You wanna fight. We’ll fight.” (Y/N) launched herself at him swinging wildly. He dodged each swing with a practiced ease, and in a flash, her sword was landing a few yards away, the tip of the silver sword inches from her face. She breathed heavily as he murmured,

           “Yield.” Her eyes darted to the rapier across from her, but a wave of the sword brought her eyes back to his and he added, “You aren’t fast enough.” (Y/N) sighed and dropped her gaze to the ground, then looked back up and smiled.

           “That is true. I’m not fast enough.” She knelt down, hands moving to her boots as she fiddled with her laces.

           “What…are you doing?” (Y/N) glanced up at him and quipped,

           “Distracting you.” The sword lowered a split second and she used that mere moment to curl her fingers in the dirt, slinging it up to his face. He grunted, recoiling as he rubbed his face and (Y/N) dove for the rapier, curling her fingers around the hilt. She rose, turning to face him and watched as he thrust his sword out to her. (Y/N) shifted, letting the blade bypass her, then she lifted, trapping his arm and sword between her arm and her side. Bringing her sword up, she put the blade against his throat. Golden eyes widened and she murmured, “Does this mean I win?” He stared at her for a long moment then nodded,

           “Yes…you win.” (Y/N) smirked and dropped the sword away, freeing his arm in the process. She stepped back a few feet then tossed the rapier aside, collapsing onto her back as she let out a cry of victory.

           “Woohoo!” Adrian glanced down at her in amusement before lowering beside her, sitting cross legged. She wriggled against the ground until she became comfortable, then raised her arms, resting her hands behind her head. “That sucked.” He chuckled at her words, propping his elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his hand.

           “First you shout your win then you say it sucks? Are you happy or sad?” (Y/N) snorted, looking over at him.

           “Oh, I’m ecstatic right now. I can officially add, ‘Kicked A Vampire’s Ass’ to my list of notable achievements.” She reached over, shoving his knee. “It sucks because I’m all sweaty and tired.” Adrian scoffed at her.

           “You did not kick my ass.” (Y/N) rolled over onto her stomach, raising herself on her elbows as she retorted,

           “Uh, yes I did! I beat you!”

           “By cheating.” She huffed, laying flat on the ground.

           “Yeah, and cheaters are the ones who win in fights.”

           “You’re very quick to admit you have no honor.” (Y/N) hummed as she closed her eyes.

           “Honor isn’t going to win you a fight. It’s going to get your head cut off and placed on a pike outside a city wall.” Adrian chuckled, then nudged her side.

           “C’mon dishonorable alchemist. Let’s go eat lunch.” He rose from the ground and she grabbed his boot, groaning,

           “Carry me.”

           “No.” (Y/N) let out another groan and rolled onto her back.

           “But I’m tired! And I can’t move!” Adrian crossed his arms over his chest.

           “I’m not carrying you.” She gazed up at him and stuck her lower lip out, pouting,

           “Will you carry me? Pretty please Adrian?” He eyed her for a moment then bent over and grabbed her by her belt. He heaved, yanking her up and over his shoulder as he turned towards the castle. (Y/N) gasped as she jostled over his shoulder. “When I said carry, I meant like a princess! Not a sack of potatoes!” He snorted as he walked.

           “I don’t see a princess around here. You must be confused.” She reached down trying to slap his rear.

           “You are a jerk! Put me down!”

           “You want me to put you down?”

           “Yes!”

           “Alright. Don’t get mad at me though.” (Y/N) opened her mouth to ask what he meant when she started falling, and she realized she was headed for the stream of water they’d been walking in. She reached out and yelped,

           “Wait! Don’t!” Right before she hit the ground, arms curled under her back and legs, pulling her tight to a strong chest. She looked up, seeing Adrian smirking down at her, and she scowled, “You did that on purpose.” He chuckled, denying,

           “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” (Y/N) glared at him as he stepped onto the other side of the stream.

           “Oh yes you do.” Adrian simply smiled as she continued to badger him on their way back.

A Few Hours Later:

           “Now add the rosewater to the jasmine, and I’ll start grinding the sandalwood down to add in.” She watched as he tipped the vial over and she reached over, gently placing her hand on his wrist. “Easy as you pour. Too much and you’ll overpower the jasmine. You want to make sure you can still smell the other scents.” Adrian nodded, eyeing the mixture carefully as he poured. When he finished, he looked at her, waiting for her approval, and she leaned over, sniffing the mix. After a moment, she looked at him and smiled, nodding her head. “Well done Adrian!” As if her smile was contagious, one appeared on his face as he replied,

           “Thank you.” (Y/N) turned the dial down on the alembic, letting the mixture simmer, and he asked, “I’ve noticed that you tend to make a lot of aroma oils. Why is that?” She glanced at him as she broke apart the sandalwood, explaining,

           “Well, aroma oils can’t cure diseases and conditions like actual medical concoctions, but certain oils, and when combined with other oils can treat less serious things. For instance, lavender can help with stress, ylang-ylang can help calm nausea and headaches, and tea tree can help fight infections and boost immunity.” (Y/N) placed the pieces of sandalwood in the mortar, looking at him. “Also, I really like to smell like nature so it’s a win-win.” Adrian chuckled, then a gurgling sounded between them. (Y/N) placed a hand to her stomach as she felt her cheeks warm and murmured, “Uh…sorry.” The vampire snorted and rose from the table.

           “I’ll go get us dinner.”

           “Thank you.” She smiled as he walked out of the observatory, then she stood, carrying the leftover sandalwood to the shelf. Cezar ran through her legs and she huffed. “Little Cezar, this isn’t a stick to play fetch with. We’ll go outside and play later.” Just as she reached the shelf, the pug shifted in front of her foot and (Y/N) jerked as she tumbled forward, the sandalwood stick flying to the floor. “Cezar!” The dog barked at her and picked up the stick and turned, sprinting off into an opposite door. She grunted as she scrambled to her feet, chasing after him. Her feet slapped against the hallway as she ran, and she grunted, “How can such a tiny dog move this fast!” (Y/N) turned a corner, coming to an abandoned hallway.

Frowning, she muttered, “Well…now where did he go?” Quietly, she walked down the corridor, checking in the various rooms for the small black pug. As she came to the last one, she turned inside, seeing Cezar chewing on the wood. “There you are! Gimme that!” (Y/N) lunged for it, but he was too quick, darting between her legs as he ran out the room. She groaned and spun around to chase him when something glinted in the moonlight, catching her eye. She looked down and gasped, stepping off the scorched indigo carpet. Instantly, an oppressive and sorrowful feeling overwhelmed her, and she drew her eyes to the dark band in the middle of the carpet. Reaching down, she picked it up, holding it flat in her palm. The metal was cold to the touch, almost freezing and she looked around, gazing at the walls.

           A bed not big enough for an adult, a basket of toys in the corner, a set of drawings along the wall and desk; (Y/N) realized she was standing in a child’s room, and she stepped over, looking down at the crude drawings, dragging her eyes over the characters. A man and a woman stood side by side, labeled ‘Father’ and ‘Mother’, with a small boy between them labeled, ‘Me’. She tipped her head as she turned back around when another picture caught her eye, this time a portrait of a family. Stepping closer, (Y/N) raised her hand, tracing the frame, and as if she’d been burned, she closed her eyes, a memory snapping to life.

           Shouting filled the streets and she craned her neck, trying to see over the heads of the mob in front of her. Several priests stood beside the podium, and she caught sight of the Bishop standing in front of it, praying. She drew her eyes to the woman straining against the wooden pole and gasped, shoving to try and reach her. “Wait, don’t do this! She’s innocent!” Hands curled around her arms, jerking her back and she turned her head, staring at her uncle. “What are you doing?! That’s Doctor Tepes! We have to help her!” Her uncle cursed at her.

           “Damnit (Y/N)! What are you doing?! If you try and help her, they’ll kill you too!” She opened her mouth to retort when the woman gave a cry of pain, and they turned their gazes to her as she shouted,

           “Don’t hurt them! They don’t understand!” She gasped, coughing harshly. “I know it’s not your fault, but…if you can hear…they don’t know what they’re doing! Be better than them! Please!” Her screams were swallowed up as the flames enveloped her, and (Y/N) watched as an innocent woman was murdered.

           The hour passed slowly as the mob cheered on, and she glowered at them for what they’d done. The one woman who was actually helping people get better, and they murdered her. Just as she was about to start screaming at them, an explosion rocked the street, causing everyone to cry as they tumbled to the ground. (Y/N) stared in shock as the fire erupted into a pillar, then took the image of a skull, and an enraged voice commanded, “What have you done?!” The fires subsided to form a clear face and the voice called again, “What have you done to my wife?!” She felt her breath leave her lungs as the fire spoke. “I am Vlad Dracula Tepes, and you will tell me why this thing has happened to my wife!” The Bishop raised his cross as the townspeople gasped.

           “S-she was a witch.” Dracula seemed to anger more as he said,

           “Lisa Tepes was a woman of science, and the one thing that justified humanity’s stench upon this planet.”

           “You are not real. You are a fiction that justified the practice of black magic!” The fire grew with the vampire’s fury and he shouted,

           “A fiction?! You take my wife and deny I even exist?!” He paused. “I give you one year, Wallachians. You have one year to make your peace and remove any marks you have made upon the land. One year, and then I’ll wipe all human life from the land of Wallachia. You took that which I love, so I will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been. One year.” The fire exploded in an otherworldly howl shattering windows and (Y/N) gaped as bolts of fire fell from the sky.

           Snapping open her eyes, she yanked her hand back from the frame, staring at the faces of the man and woman. She drew in a shuddering breath. “It’s them…Lisa and Dracula…” Her eyes dropped to the young boy between them, and the hand that rested on his shoulder. (Y/N) glanced between the ring in her hand and the ring on the man’s hand and she blinked, Adrian’s words coming back to her. I’ve lived in this castle my entire life. Before she could even react, a voice called to her from the doorway.

           “(Y/N)?” She spun around, taking in the sight of Adrian wide eyed and worried. She tried to form words, but nothing would leave her lips and he slowly moved to her. “(Y/N), what are you doing in here?” She swallowed thickly, whispering,

           “Cezar ran off with the sandalwood, so I chased him and found him in here.” (Y/N) looked back at the painting and mumbled, “They were your parents.”

           “What?” She glanced back at him and choked,

           “They were…your parents…weren’t they?” He didn’t say anything, but the pained look on his face told her all she needed to know. “Word’s spread across Wallachia that Dracula had been defeated…and you’re living here, and you were opposed to his genocide…” She stared at him. “You lost your mother to religious zealots and then had to defeat your father to save the other side of your people.” Adrian walked over to her and raised a hand, gently cradling her face as his thumb wiped under her eye as he murmured,

           “Why are you crying?” (Y/N) blinked, finally feeling the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks, and stuttered,

           “I-I don’t know…it’s just…so heartbreaking.” Adrian’s brows furrowed and she dropped the wedding band on the table, raising her hands to grip his shirt as she lamented, “You’ve been living here…all alone…mourning both parents…” (Y/N) dropped her head as she let out a sob. “I don’t know why I’m crying! I don’t have the right to cry!” Jerking her head up, she looked into his golden eyes. “I watched your mother get murdered and I didn’t do a thing!” Her fingers tightened in his shirt as the tears fell faster. “And then you stopped your father and met two humans who you started to trust, and they betrayed you!” She shook her head in disbelief. “And then I come in and try to get you to re-trust humanity when you have perfectly sane reasons not to!” (Y/N) stared at him, asking, “Why would you let me?” Adrian gave her a heartbreaking smile and he cupped her cheeks, brushing away her tears as he whispered,

           “Because it’s what my mother would’ve wanted me to do.” She wept as she buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, letting his eyes drift to the smiling faces of a once happy family.

[neon-junkie]

The Valley

Summary: Arthur and his mustang enjoy their day hunting, followed by a calm evening by the fire.

Word Count: 1483

Rating: SFW

Tags: Inktober, Prompts, Hunting, Big Valley, Nature, Thoughts, Feelings.

Notes: I wanted to practice my descriptive text, and write something about the Arthur I played as and my boah, Spirit. 

Big Valley is one of the most beautiful places in the East, and Arthur always finds himself roaming these parts for very few reasons. Sure, he'll hunt and fish here, maybe spend some time chatting to the trapper as he orders some new equipment, but apart from that, there isn't too much to do. And that's exactly why Arthur likes it. He pitches his tent and gets a small fire going, cooking a few leftover pieces of meat he had. After eating a light meal and getting his equipment ready, Arthur heads down into the valley, trotting along on the back of his mustang. This was where the two of them met. Arthur had taken his time to calm and tame the beast, breaking him in and riding him over to Strawberry so he could saddle him up and give him a cute name. The boy was full of spirit, and Arthur could see that wild and free glint to his eyes every time he looked at him. In some ways, the two of them were the same, being adventurous and carefree, and maybe that explains why Arthur bonded with the mount so quickly. 

So that's what he named him, Spirit. The two take their time to hunt, Arthur has the bow ready in his hand, fingers holding the arrow in place as his other hand loosely holds Spirits reigns. He's a little overdressed to be hunting, with his pearly white shirt, red waistcoat, and emerald green puff tie, but the length of his 'stache that curls at the end shows just how long this man has been on the road, somehow managing to keep his clothes clean. Arthur was always dressed impeccably, and his horse was just the same. Arthur had finally gotten used to the number of compliments he would receive about his mount. Spirits' coat was always clean, his hooves were always free of dirt, and the way his fur glistened in the rain would send a chill down any man's spine. Handsome was the perfect word to describe this mustang, but his personality was not as formal as his looks. He was boisterous and full of fire, just like his rider. Arthur reaches the heart of the valley. Hanging Dog Ranch is in view, but Arthur knows not to venture over there. He's cleared that hideout many times, but it seems there's far too many O'Driscolls as the gang always reappears every time Arthur rides by. So to save his time and bullets, he avoids the place. He's sure he'll clear it out for good one day, maybe Sadie will ride alongside him and the two of them will wipe the place out in memory of Jakey, but only time will tell. Arthur can already see the shots waiting to be taken. There's more than enough pronghorns waiting in the fields, grazing amongst the bluebells. A pack of coyotes can be seen drinking from the river, and Arthur notices a herd of wild horses running in the distance. The pronghorns will do. There's more than enough meat on one to keep Arthur fed, and Arthur will probably hunt another one tomorrow so he can take it back to camp. Normally, Arthur takes a stealthy approach, creeping amongst the grass after dousing himself in cover scent lotion. But Arthur wants to run free today, so with a light tap of his spurs and a click of his tongue, he asks Spirit to ride as fast as he wants, the sound of his hooves echoing off the mountains that surround the valley. His bow is at the ready, and the pronghorns begin to run. Spirit, being the stallion that he is, is far faster than the little deer, and catches up to them within seconds. Arthur is an excellent hunter, especially after the lessons Charles gave him back in Colter, and manages to get a clean shot as he rides past one of the does. Arthur always hopes his kills are quick and clean, not just because the pelt will be good quality, but because the animal will die on impact, meaning no pain and suffering. There's nothing worse than a sloppy kill where the animal lies there for minutes, crying in pain until they finally bleed to death. The thought of that alone makes Arthur feel sick. And to think, some men who call themselves 'hunters' take pride in those final few minutes, watching their kill bleed to death rather than pulling a bullet between their eyes. Arthur had once met a man exactly like that, overhearing him gloat at a Saloon about a lousy kill he'd done earlier that day. He went on and on about how he had to let the animal bleed to death else another shot would ruin the pelt, but the hunters own pelt was ruined when Arthur took him out back and beat him down into the mud. Arthur may be an outlaw, but he still has morals, and a lot of respect for folk, animals, and women. He dismounts Spirit, asking him to stay still so he can pick the corpse up and stow it over Spirits back, tieing it to his saddle. After giving Spirit a treat and telling him what a good boy he is, Arthur mounts him and rides back to his little camp up in the trees. He doesn't bother hitching Spirit, knowing that if he does wonder, he won't go far. The pronghorn and his saddle are removed, and Spirit seems even more relieved when his reigns are removed and the bar is taken out of his mouth. Arthur hears Spirit chewing on it all the time, and despite knowing that horses don't mind the piece of metal in their mouths, Arthur still wishes there was a nicer way to equipt them. Spirit wonders off to graze whilst Arthur begins skinning his kill, stowing the pelt on a nearby branch whilst he focuses on cutting up the meat. By the time he's done, the sun has already gone down, and Arthur spends the evening cooking his provisions and stuffing his satchel and stomach full of them. Arthur does what he always does when he feels this peaceful, softly singing to himself whilst he sits by the fire, switching between cooking the meat on his knife and taking a swig of whiskey from the bottle he keeps beside him. Spirit has returned from his graze and seems in a rather lazy mood as for once as he sits down beside the fire. He slowly nods off to sleep, enjoying Arthur's quiet singing and the sound of crickets chirping around him. Arthur eventually does the same, tucking himself into his bedroll as he uses Spirits saddle for a pillow. His mood is ecstatic, something that the civilized man will never truly feel. There's nothing better than truly being free. Things like land and money mean little to Arthur, and his mood shines even brighter when he has the sun and the moon watching over him every single day. He never blocks them from his view, because a life with a roof above his head just isn't the life for him. Arthur knows he's the last of his kind, and the more man builds railways and motorized vehicles, the more his kind dies out. In some ways, Arthur can relate to the Indians, being forced out of their own homes for the oil underneath them. Arthur knows what it's like to have his world die around him, and slowly watch as this newer 'better' world rises up in its place. Though it does benefit most of civilization, he'll never understand why anyone would want to replace this life. He knows one day that this valley will be gone, the trees will be chopped down and the animals will be killed. He's seen how grey the sky is around those places, and always feels ill and uneasy whenever he goes near them. But Arthur will enjoy it whilst it lasts, and whilst he lasts. He's certain he'll be gone before this valley is, and he'll probably be gone before the gang ever considers going back west. Those days, unfortunately, are behind him, and Arthurs finally come to terms with that. The life he once knew is long gone, but he'll see it again one day. Arthurs not a religious man, but if there is a heaven, then it'll be a vast open plain with wild horses and buffalo running free. All Arthur needs is his little tent overlooking the land below, with Spirit by his side and food cooking on the open fire. That's heaven, and that's the heaven that's waiting for Arthur when his time comes. For now, he'll enjoy whatever amount of time is left. It's hard not to enjoy his time when nature surrounds him. Arthur will be fine, he has the open road and that's all he needs.

[recentanimenews]

To Your Eternity – 05 – A Family

Parona frees March, Fushi, and the old lady Pioran, but before they escape the prison, she wants to cut off a chunk of “Oniguma-sama” as proof to Ninnanah he was defeated. She even has a wolf toy ready to placate March, along with the justification that it will save the lives of many girls.

But March, who had just washed the great bear’s wounds and watched him die, won’t allow it. So Parona reconsiders. She’ll convince the villagers some other way—one that doesn’t require another life.

Parona proves as bad a wagon driver as she is an archer, but thanks to her asking March what she wants to do when she becomes a grown-up, it offers March a chance to set a death flag or three. Right on time, the casually relentless Hayase and her Yamone warriors close in on their fleet donkeys.

Hayase assures them she’ll spare their lives if they give up the dog, but Fushi is family, so that ain’t gonna happen. Parona gives a valiant effort to fight them off, but she has to be saved from an arrow by March, who declares “I can do something too” before saving her beloved husband.

Immediately after March is shot, Fushi leaps towards Hayase, transforming in mid-air from wolf to giant bear, wounds and all, and rakes her across the face. Then we take a look back at how Parona and March met. Parona watched from a distance as March played with her fingers in the dirt, imagining them as her kids.

When March approached her wondering why she was always alone, Parona presented her with a doll she made, and March returns the favor with a “thank you meal” that, while inedible, Parona still “eats” and voices how delicious it is. March suggests they become a family; her new doll can be their kid, she’ll be Mommy, and Parona will be Daddy.

Fast-forward back to the wagon, and March is fading fast. Parona finds another “thank-you meal” with which March was going to surprise her. March asks Parona to become a mommy in her place, then asks if Fushi is near, and as he causes a rampage in the city, Parona says that he is. Then March draws her last breath.

Between this and Fruits Basket’s tearjerker earlier today, I’ve gone through half a big box of tissues crying my eyes out. But Parona wears a smile as she approaches Fushi and tells him to stop; there’s no longer any need to fight.  He returns to human form, while Parona finds Hayase lying in a pile of rubble, wounded but alive. She picks up a nearby broken blade, telling March “Let’s go home together.”

In the space between life and death, March envisions returning to her village with Parona and leaping into the arms of her elated parents. She dreams of growing into a beautiful young woman with lots of stuffed “kids” made by Parona. But then March notices this isn’t really happening, and that she’s not really there, or anywhere. She doesn’t want to be nowhere, not when there was so much more she wanted to do.

She sees Parona with the blade, seemingly pointed at Hayase, but Parona, who is unwilling to live in a reality where she outlived March, turns the blade on her throat and prepares to plunge it in, thus “going home together” with her little wife. She can’t hear the spectral March pleading for her to stop…but Fushi does hear her, and stays Parona’s hand, all the while pouting like March. He takes her by the arm and transforms into Oniguma, and the two ride back to Ninnanah.

Once there, Parona approaches March’s parents and presents them with the “letter” containing only March’s handprint, which Parona translates as “March is doing great.” That, along with Parona’s demeanor tells the parents all they need to know. But rather than shun her like her parents did when she dared to live, March’s mother embraces Parona, thanking her for everything she did—and tried to do—for their March.

As the watch announces the Yanome are coming, Parona tells a suddenly far more expressive Fushi to flee before the enemy arrives. After all, life is never merely given, it must be won. He transforms into a wolf and departs.

Using an arrow that’s served her well for more than half a year and a heavy bow borrowed from a watchman, Parona takes aim at Hayase as she aims at Fushi, and her arrow goes right through Hayase’s hand. Even so, Hayase merely smiles, and Parona admits she missed her intended target, which was no doubt meant to be fatal.

As for Fushi, as the narrator says: “In meeting its mother and parting with her, its humanity increased.” Not only that, he can now take March’s form, and does so in order to grab one of the fruits his mommy once so generously fed him. So ends the most moving episode of To Your Eternity yet, in my books surpassing even the sublime first episode.

If I’m honest, I always knew March would be a goner and probably end up another one of Fushi’s forms. And yet the show kept serving up hope she might have a future, right up to her act of self-sacrifice. Parona may not have to live with the loss of March and her sister, but she’ll keep living all the same. It’s what her wife would have wanted.

By: magicalchurlsukui