#♤— ash tries

[crybaby-writings]

hobie "wear whatever you want, i can fight" brown 🥴

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 22

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Reaped

Notes: 👀

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  22/ It’s a secret.

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You awoke from the constant hobbling of the wagon. Your hands were bound behind your back, and a blindfold made your eyes useless.

Who were these people you heard talking? Paladins?

As the wagon stopped and they walked around, you heard metal move. Weapons? Armor?

One of them roughly pulled you up to your feet and made you get off of the wagon.

“Who are you?!” You tried to break free.

There was laughter from others present who must have seen it happen.

The blindfold was pulled down from your eyes.

“We are the Brotherhood, girl.” He said, and laughed when you fought even harder to escape.

They were rough to keep you under control, their fingerprints would leave their pattern in bruises.

The sound of the sea came from all around you as they steered you to walk the stone path that led to the fort they had seized not long ago.

The fort had it’s home on a cliff surrounded only by the sea, it had once been a great infrastructure to hold off enemies in wars past. It had been inhabited by some Feys seeking refugee, that hope was taken when the Brotherhood had set it’s eyes on it.

A narrow bridge was lowered to cover the gap between the cliff that was meant to keep unwanted visitors out.

The height of this place… it would be a nasty fall before one would get to touch the sea.

Gate after gate, door after door, it all lead to a place you never wished to be in again.

A narrow stairwell, a darkened hall, numerous cells filled with empty cobwebs for even spiders refused to build their home in this dungeon.

You were pushed inside a dark cell, landing on your knees to the floor as they slammed the door shut.

Your legs were shaking as you ran to the bars to try and prevent it.

The lock had already been locked and you watched it with dread.

The sword at your side had been taken away, it had gone the same way all those weeks ago when Ives and Hutch had captured you.

Trying not to panic was futile, they left you in the darkness and you heard their footsteps descend.

Not again… not again…

You sank to the ground as fear took it’s hold.

Reaped by the Brotherhood and brought to their lair, how long before you would join the others of your clan in death?

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Lancelot was pushed to his knees, and shoved forward to a cold tile floor of the large great hall.

The face before him was watching with mild interest.

One of the group that had captured him and survived spoke, “Soran, we found him in the woods.”

The leader of the Brotherhood approached the bleeding Ash Man. “We meet again, Monk.”

He would have highly preferred to never meet him again.

Soran perceived him as if he was nothing more than a speck of dust on clean silver. “I am trying not to take it personal, how one of our own people betrayed our faith.”

“I am not your people!” Lancelot snarled.

It didn’t impress the Reaper at all. “The blood of the Fey is on your hands, nothing can wash it away.”

“His swords, Sir.” One of the Brothers held them out for Soran.

Soran plucked the longsword from his hands and turned it over a couple of times. “These do not belong in your hands, Fey.”

Lancelot contained his anger to the best of his abilities.

Soran handed it back to the Brother. “Send them to the Abbot.”

Of course Wicklow would love to hear the news of his capture…

Soran proceeded to stroll around the room a bit, “‘Lancelot’, is it not? Your name was not simple to learn, only few paladins know and the Trinity Guard had to force it out of one. They must have been quite afraid to speak your real name.”

He was not willing to pretend that this was a normal conversation, “Did the Abbot send you to kill me?”

“He did ask.” Soran confessed. “But I wanted the Dawn girl, not you.”

Lancelot did not know if he had found you already. “It must be disappointing.”

Soran stated it so calmly, “Not at all. Can you not smell her presence here? Perhaps the dungeons are too low for you to pick up on her scent.”

The dungeons…

And this bastard knew of his heightened sense of smell, Wicklow must have informed him of it.

The Ash Man was seething. “If you hurt her-”

Soran silenced him by saying, “Out of the two of us, who is the one that caused her the most suffering?”

He felt the guilt scratch at his conscience again, and could not believe that it was caused by this man out of all people.

The Reaper ignored the glare he was receiving now. “You chose the path of damnation by freeing these Fey. Damnata-…” Soran stepped closer, mocking him, “Invisus, ubique, ab omnibus, ad infinitum. Weeping Monk, your future is not bright at all.”

It was like this bastard could sense his fears and fed off them.

He did not let him get under his skin more. “I would rather be damned and hated, than murder a child as your Brotherhood is known for!”

Soran felt not an ounce of guilt over it. “We are bringing the world into an new era, not everyone will have their place in it.”

These were children he was speaking off. Young souls that were not damned or tainted by evil.

Innocents…

It felt like facing a mirror and seeing the man he could have become in time, if the Church’s lectures had put it’s claws deep enough.

He hated it, and needed it.

To see what you and the boy had once seen when looking at him.

To know he would never return to what he had been.

Even Soran could sense Lancelot’s mood take a turn and got more direct. “I have questions you will need to answer. Lie to me, and I swear you will beg for death before the day ends.”

He arched a brow arrogantly, not frightened in the slightest by the threat.

Soran stopped pacing and stopped a few feet in front of him, “It has cost me precious time and effort to find her. A seamstress even lost her fingers to my blade when she refused to tell me about your presence in Oldmore.” He was agitated, “Why did you take the girl with you?”

He took too long to answer and received a kick against his side from a Brother.

The impatient bastard barked the order, “Answer him!”

Soran was waiting for him to do so.

Instead of answering, Lancelot asked one of his own, “What do you want with her?”

It was no answer he received, but a punch to the jaw from the same impatient Brother.

The Reaper cared not a bit that it caused the excommunicated Fey Monk to bleed. “I do not think you understand. I am asking the questions and you will answer them. Why did you take the Dawn Girl with you? Was it her magic?”

He spat some of the blood that had gathered in his mouth out onto the floor. “I took her with me, because she deserves better than what the Church would force on her!”

Soran lowered himself to his level a few steps in front of him. “With that I agree. The Dawn Girl is far too important to be left in the hands of paladins or the Holy Father. I see her worth, I will not let the faith blind me from what the Dawn Folk has to offer, especially her.”

He disliked how Soran was a difficult man to read.

What Soran asked next made him highly uncomfortable, “Therefore I must know, did you break your vow of celibacy with her?”

His expression must have given away his shock.

Soran made it clear why he was asking, “Could she be with child?”

It was an inappropriate thing to ask, even if nothing of the sort had happened.

Why was this information important? Why did he care if you could be?

The Reaper was getting impatient by the lack of an answer, “Must I have her examined to know the answer?”

This threat did have it’s effect on the Ash Man, he had heard stories of how some places inspected women without regard for their pain.

“I never touched her!” He was furious by the insinuation and threat.

Soran stood again and took a step back, pleased with the answer. “Good.” He turned to some of the Brothers present. “Take him to the dungeon, lock him up. I will decide on his fate later.”

A group of five armed Brothers was what it took to bring the Ash Man, who’s hands were bound, down to the dungeons.

The Reaper was no fool, even if his Brotherhood consisted of men with the skill of the Trinity Guard, he took no risks when it came to the former Weeping Monk.

A wise decision, because the Ash Man was eager to see the life drain out of the Reaper.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

You sat huddled up against the wall right beside the bars. Inside the cell it was pitch dark and it felt terrible to sit there with your eyes open and see nothing.

Were they even open? Often you would touch them to confirm it.

Some light slowly crept inside as a group past by.

You flew to the bars and started banging your hands against them. “Let me out! LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Curses were spewed and if the old gods could hear you, they better have covered their ears.

The speck of light had brought back some of your will to fight.

A group of Brothers walked over and unlocked the cell door, they entered and grabbed you, it proved difficult to fight back when your wrists were bound together.

They led you through the fort and once again you took note of how big the place was.

A door was opened that held the dining hall inside, one large table stood in the middle of it. Multiple candelabra were lit and the table was set for only two.

The Reaper sat at the head of the table, his Brothers sat you down on the chair on his left and tied you to it by the waist, your arms were tied to the arms of the chair.

“Leave us.” Soran ordered them out of the room.

Your eyes fell on the knife next to the filled plate in front of your nose.

He saw it. “You must be frightened.”

Your nostrils were flaring from the breaths you were trying to take, both from rage and fear.

All you could do was hope that the rage was stronger in your eyes.

It was pointless to try and hide how furious you truly were, you snapped at him, “If you want to kill me, then do it!”

“Kill you?” He found the idea ludicrous. “No. All I want is for the Dawn Folk to have their legacy.”

It could not be more laughable. “Your Brotherhood killed us!”

He shoved the blame away. “The Church is responsible for the Dawn Folk’s disappearance, my predecessor killed them as he was ordered to do. I saw the mistake the Holy Father is making by requesting it of us. The Brotherhood is older than the Trinity Guard, we refuse to abide by the same rules, there is leniency with the scriptures among us.”

It was insulting to hear him try and make himself sound righteous. “You kill the Fey all the same.”

Soran told the difference between himself and people like the Abbot. “We still believe in what the scriptures tells us. I make an exception for Feys who’s abilities can lift us to a greater purpose.”

He wanted to spare the useful Feys and change them into slaves? That sounded very similar to what Father Carden had done to Lancelot.

You couldn’t resist looking at the knife again.

He slowly rose from his chair and stepped towards your side, he picked up the knife you were so interested in. “More interested in this knife than in the meal in front of you. I have no doubt that you would attack me if I were to untie you.”

“You’re not wrong.” You deadpanned.

He stabbed some of the food on the knife and held it right in front of you. “Be not afraid to taste. It is not poisoned.”

You kept glaring up at him, ignoring the food he was holding not far from your nose. “I’d rather starve.”

He put the knife down at your persistent refusal. “There are only four of your clan left, in no small part that is the Church’s fault and those who did not see your full potential. But I see it.”

With his charm and appearance, many would fall victim to the Reaper, but you could sense the madness brewing under that calm demeanor and it was that that frightened you.

He brushed a finger along your neck and knelt down on the ground next to you. “I have searched years for you.”

You didn’t like how he was gently kneading at your shoulder, like he was coercing you, “Why?”

Soran sounded like he was teaching you about yourself. “As the Summoner of the Dawn Folk, you do not know half the power you could draw from your gods.”

A frown creased your forehead at hearing he knew of this. “I am not a Summoner.”

He did not believe you at all. “I know you were chosen. One of each Fey clan is chosen to become a summoner. I have heard that the magic of your parents has weakened after their imprisonment by our Brotherhood, and your cousin is too young. That leaves only you.”

The fact that he knew of your parents and cousin was unsettling to say the least, the Brotherhood must have been tracking your family for a while now.

He went on to speak of the twisted plan he had. “Any child you conceive will inherit your ability to heal.” It even sounded like he was asking gently. “I want you to have mine.”

What?

What?!

Panicked flared up in you and you tried to break free of the ropes.

Soran sighed at the sight of it. “Forgive me for being forward. I just do not want us to begin with lies.” He hushed you, like he was not the cause of your distress. “Do not be afraid. Are you still a maiden?”

You gave your answer to that personal question by spitting in his face.

He wiped his face with his hand slowly while standing up again. “I believe you must be tired. Forgive me for sending you back to the dungeon, it is for your own good. At least you are not alone down there.”

Not alone?

You hated how normal he seemed to find it, “Who else are you keeping down there?!”

Soran returned to his seat. “My Brothers encountered the Weeping Monk before they found you. Consider it a sign of my goodwill to keep him alive for you. As long as there is no trouble.”

It was blatantly obvious that he was blackmailing you into obedience, “What did you do to him?!”

He noted the instant spike in your fury. “Nothing yet.”

Yet…

You could not ask further as he ended the conversation abruptly.

Soran called out for his Brothers outside the room and ordered them to take you back to the cell.

While returning to the cell they kept you in, you looked around to see if you could spot the Ash Man.

He wasn’t in the first cells you had passed, they must have taken him further into the dungeon, keeping you far apart. This place was a maze for those who were not familiar with the fort.

They pushed you into the cell again and slammed the door shut. At least this time they left a torch on a wall nearby and there was some light from it falling into the cell.

You saw the Brothers leave, the only thing around to be seen was an old stain on the wall across the cell that was certainly dried blood.

The flames of the torch flickered and it’s burning ashes behaved strangely.

Was it the Ash Man causing it?

“Lancelot?” You wanted to call his name out louder, but worried those bastards would return.

Not a second later, you faintly heard your name be called as well.

You didn’t know if he could hear you. “I’m so sorry…”

The last thing you had wanted was for Lancelot to be caught in the middle of this, it was clear the Reaper wanted to use him as leverage against you.

The ashes of the torch almost reached the cell door now and it felt like he had heard you.

Maybe the Hidden had indeed connected the two of you together, you the Summoner of the Dawn Folk, and him the one of the Ash Folk.

Quietly you pleaded to the Hidden to free Lancelot, before the Reaper would decide to kill him.

The soft humming of the Hidden in your ears was what offered some comfort, you knew it had to be the Ash Man causing it because they weren’t often inclined to help you.

You sat beside the door again, waiting for an opportunity to get out of that place.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

A day must have passed. Lancelot’s eyes had long since adjusted to the dark cell.

He did not fear the fact that these could be the last days of his life.

The only thing he considered torture was how, through the connection of the Hidden, he could sense your distress.

Alone in the dark, he could feel the Hidden’s pull. They tempted with their power to connect the two of you beyond what was considered possible. How could he resisted their offer?

He had spend hours rubbing the ropes around his wrists unto the rough floor, leaving his skin red but the ropes weak enough to snap when he pulled his hands apart.

Now he waited. Surely one of these bastards would come to inspect the cell sooner or later?

The thought of what he would do, when he finally got his hands on Soran, encouraged him

There was a reason Soran was keeping you alive and he did not wish to think of what that reason might be.

He could hear a door open.

Now to wait…

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

You had tried to stay awake, but the darkness surrounding you made it far more difficult.

When the door of your cell was opened, you awoke with a jolt.

They pulled you up from the ground and dragged you along through the fort.

The walk ended in the dinning hall again, this time the Reaper let his Brothers remain in the room.

They left you to stand there alone and you noticed right away that this time there were no knives around to grab.

Dammit.

Soran came closer and reached for your bound wrists, “I hope you had some rest?”

You recoiled, pulling your hands away from his reach, “You believe sleep will make me blind to the madness in you?!”

Clearly, he did not like to be called ‘mad’. The calm mask he hid behind slipped for a moment.

He was quick to compose himself. “I believe it will offer you the chance to think with an open mind. Come.”

He turned and walked further into the room towards one of his Brothers.

You didn’t move your feet until another Brother gave you a push to do so. “I always think with an open mind, not with an insane one.”

The sneer had an effect on him, you could tell it was not the first time someone had called him mad and insane.

Good. He was.

Soran placed a hand on his Brother’s shoulder. “I will prove I am not insane as you think I am. I believe the secret to immortality could be in the blood of the Dawn Folk, and considering you are their Summoner, you are the strongest of your clan alive.”

It was absurd, but the Reaper was as determined in his madness as Father Carden was.

And you had unfortunately caught his interest.

“Immortality? Really?” You scoffed and actually laughed a bit.

Soran stared you down. “You will prove it to me and to the world. We can bring back anyone from the dead. We’ll built an army that no one can stop. The Dawn Folk will have their place in this new world and serve our faith. It all begins here. Do you not want your people to survive?”

There he went again, shoving the blame on someone else, this time it was you.

You were losing your patience. “I will not help you turn my people into slaves!”

He simply corrected you. “They will be born in the life of the Brotherhood, they will not be slaves.”

‘They just won’t know it’ he meant…

Soran drew a knife and you took a step back, he spoke to the Brother at his side. “Brother. God will welcome you into his garden.”

Without hesitating, he stabbed the Brother in the heart and watched him fall to the floor before pulling the knife back out again.

You were still trying to process what had just happened when Soran caught you by the arm and forced you to watch the man die.

“When he takes his last breath, you will bring him back.” He cut loose the ropes that bound your wrists together.

“What?! I can’t heal dead people!” You were shocked by the level that his madness had reached so quickly.

He was looking at you expectantly.

You mocked him, “Why would I heal one of the Brotherhood? I’d rather watch all of you die!”

Soran had a solution for your defiance. “You will try. Or this knife will be in the Weeping Monk’s heart next.”

The Brother on the floor had stopped moving right after the threat.

The urge to tell the Reaper to go to hell was strong, but you feared what he would do to Lancelot in return.

He made you kneel next to the Brother. “Bring him back to us.”

There was no chance that the Hidden would let you be so powerful as to raise someone from the dead. It was unheard of.

With the safety of the Ash Man in mind, you did as the Reaper asked and tried to revive the dead Brother.

The green glow overtook your eyes.

To no avail you tried to reverse the damage done.

Out of breath, you had to stop.

The Brother still laid on the floor unresponsive.

“It won’t work.” You stated what you already knew to Soran.

He was disappointed to say the least, and it was as if the other Brothers in the room could sense it too.

Soran voiced what he believed to be the cause, “Maybe you failed to bring him back because you were not motivated enough.” He pondered on the thought. “I wonder, if it had been the monk, would you have brought him back?”

Wasn’t it obvious by how weak you looked now that you had tried your best?

You didn’t want the idea growing in his twisted mind. “The Hidden will not offer help! I tried!”

He sighed a bit, like it inconvenienced him. “You do not need your gods, the power lies within you.”

After a short quiet moment, he pulled you up from the ground and gestured for his Brothers to hold on to you.

“Speaking of the monk, what Fey clan is he?” Soran asked interested.

“Sky Folk.” You lied.

You weren’t going to tell this bastard that he had another rare Fey in his dungeon.

He was quiet for a beat, as if your answer was not sufficient.

Then he knelt down beside the Brother he had murdered in cold blood. “Collect your strength. We will keep trying until your magic reaches it’s full potential.”

With a flick of his hand he told his Brothers to take you away.

You were grabbed by the arms, they were rougher with you now, like they wanted to remind you of what could happen if you would try to attack them now that your hands were free.

Still, on the way back to the cell you did attack them. A knife sitting on a Brother’s belt within reach had been too tempting. Without hesitating for even one second, you had stolen the knife and planted it into the eye of the Brother it had belonged to.

They reacted as expected by disarming and restraining you, and dragging you roughly back to the cell.

The push they gave to get you into the cell again had made you fall to your knees.

They blamed you for not bringing back their Brother and for wounding another.

Whilst getting up from the floor, you felt somethingpinch you in the side.

A tiny twig? Or maybe a bug that had gotten into your clothing?

You patted your vest down and felt something in your pocket.

By reaching deep inside of it, you fished out the culprit.

A hairpin, the one you had not used back at home to free Lancelot, it wasn’t even bend in the shape of a lockpick yet.

With help of the hard floor, you folded the hairpin into the needed shape. It hurt your fingers, but it was worth the result.

You wasted no time to begin trying to pick the lock.

Of course you fumbled a bit from the nerves that were coursing through you, and prayed that the lockpick would not fall from your hands and out of reach.

The lock clicked open and victory washed through you.

No one was in sight and you quietly pushed the cell door open.

Riddled with anxiety, but fueled by the call of freedom, you sneaked through the paths of the dungeon in search for the Ash Man.

It was the very last cell where you found him in, he must have known by your scent that you were closer as he awaited you by the bars. Dried blood was under his nose.

“How did you get out?” He whispered, baffled to see you there.

You showed him the hairpin. “I found this in my pocket.”

Lancelot wrapped a hand around a bar as he watched you try to open the lock of the cell door, “Are you unharmed?”

You gave a nod, still focused on the lock. “Soran wants to keep me with him I believe. He thinks I can revive the dead, and wants children out of me to grow his own army of Dawn Folk. The bastard is insane. We need to get out of here.”

Had he heard that right?!?

The Ash Man’s eyes changed from concern to lethal, “Children?”

You didn’t even have to look up to know what he was asking. “I won’t let him touch me.”

It made you fumble again to think about the possibility and you dropped the hairpin.

Quickly you picked it up and started again.

Lancelot spoke your name.

Your eyes flickered up to his, he must have seen the distress you were under. “I will get you out of there.”

He could tell that you struggled with the lock. “Do not waste this precious chance to escape this place. Go. Leave me.”

To you, it was out of the question.

You shook your head, determined to get that bloody lock open. “You didn’t leave me behind either.”

He continued to try and get through your stubbornness. “Listen to me-”

You wouldn’t listen. “Shut up, Ash Man. I’m not leaving you here to rot!”

Lancelot reached through the bars, he caught your arm and pulled you close, leaving only the bars between you.

“Get out off here!” He said firmly. “I swore I would earn your forgiveness. Forgive me, and leave this place. Live.”

It felt like time had stopped and created it’s own place for just the two of you.

Tears sprung into your eyes. “I can’t…”

It tore him apart to see you on the verge of tears and know he was the cause.

“…Forgive me?” He asked for clarification.

A small smile broke through on your lips. “I already have. It’s why I won’t leave you here.”

A weight fell from his shoulders at the confession.

You had forgiven him.

His thumb brushed over your arm. “Do not be so stubborn.”

You fired back, “Do not be so shocked to learn that someone could care about you.”

His brow arched a little, surprised by what that meant. “I-”

The sound of a door being opened silenced you, someone was coming.

You thought quickly and put the hairpin in his hand, whispering, “Promise me you will try to get out of here.”

Lancelot was looking at his hand.

“Promise me!” You whispered more firm.

“I swear it.” He could only agree to it after looking into your eyes.

With a quick nod, you stepped away from the bars and sneaked through the paths of the dungeon away from Lancelot’s cell to try and get back to your cell unnoticed.

That plan came to an end when a Brother, who clearly knew his way around the dungeon, sneaked up behind you and got you in his grasp.

The knife at your throat almost drew blood.

“Why are you not in your cell, girl?” He was amused by your failed attempt to escape.

“It reeks.” You deadpanned.

It wasn’t a lie…

The Brother dragged you back to your cell and threw you inside. “Better get used to it, princess. It could become a lot worse for you if Soran learns of this.”

You fell on your hand and winced in pain, the cell door was slammed shut.

The Brother left the dungeon and returned with another.

He spoke to him, “Guard the monk, if he gets out Soran will gut us.”

The other was pessimistic. “If the monk gets out, he’ll gut us before Soran could.”

They shared a look, then the other went to guard Lancelot’s cell while the other kept a watchful eye on yours.

It would be difficult to pick that lock while his cell was guarded…

There had to be another way to get out of this hell.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Keeping track of time felt impossible, you could only guess that many hours had passed.

As if to torment you, the Brother guarding your cell had taken away the torch and therefore your only bit of light. You just knew his lazy rear was sitting in the place that had light and where he could keep an eye on your cell.

Some bread and a tankard of water had been placed into your cell, you hadn’t touched it.

The only thing there was to waste time in that smelly cell was sleep.

It was what you were doing until a group of Brothers came to collect you again, they had bound your wrists together in front of you before taking you to their leader.

On your way to the destination, you saw that it was dark again outside the windows. Another full day spend in the darkness of that cell.

And the Reaper did not look happy when they walked with you into the dinning hall, he stood waiting.

The first thing he said was, “My Brothers informed me that you have tried to escape.”

Your reply was snippy, “You expected me to sit around and wait like your Brothers do?”

The group that had brought you into the room did not look happy with that comment.

Their leader did not even correct you, which only made it better.

He made it sound like you should be grateful, “I expect you to think about your future here. I will have you chained and put in a cell far worse than the one you are in now if you try to escape again.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him, he was already ticked off tonight.

Soran caught you by the rope on your wrists and turned you until your back faced him, he gestured to his Brothers. “Look at them.”

You frowned while looking at this group of degenerates, “Why?”

“Choose one.” He ordered. “They are ready to die for our cause.”

What??

Was he really going to make you try and revive another one?

If you would have to do this for a year, there would be no Brotherhood left.

“Why not stab yourself?” You coldly answered.

Soran’s hand was around your throat not a second later, cutting off your air supply. “Do not test me. There are only a few things I need from you, the rest can be damaged.” He released you then, leaving the threat hanging in the air between you. “Choose.”

The choice shouldn’t have been so easy…

You gestured to the one who had thrown you to the floor of your cell last night. “Him.”

The Brother glared at you until Soran almost noticed it.

The Reaper gave the order. “Send our Brother to God’s garden.”

The knife that another pulled was planted in the chest of the one you had chosen so fast that it even surprised you.

Just as the night before, they watched their Brother take his last breath.

Soran untied your hands and forced you to your knees beside the dead Brother again. “Use your power, return him to us.”

There was little to no hope in you that you could ever bring the Brother back.

You put your hands on the Brother’s arm and were tempted to steal his sword instead.

Not yet… as long as Lancelot was not safe, they could use him as leverage.

The magic flowing through your veins and to the Brother had no effect on him, he was dead and nothing could bring him back from it.

You weren’t as tired as you had been the day before, thanks to the sleep you had gotten in the cell.

It wasn’t constant healing like it had been with the paladins. One attempt and little to no energy taken.

The disappointment in the room was palpable.

Soran saw his men lose faith, something he could not afford to happen.

With a gesture to you, he ordered his Brothers to pull you up from the ground and hold on to you.

He approached another and gave the command, “Get the others.”

The Brother left the dinning hall, and returned with another group who brought in a bound Lancelot.

Your heart almost stopped when they pushed him to his knees and gave him a hard shove, someone had blackened his eye and busted his bottom lip.

The Reaper asked about it’s origin, “What happened to his eye?”

That was something you wanted to know as well.

A Brother explained the situation, “He attacked us when we opened his cell. We had to fight him.”

“How many?” Soran asked.

“Sir?” The Brother frowned.

It ticked Soran off that it needed to be asked, “How many of us has he killed?”

They admitted to it. “Two Brothers.”

Lancelot tried and failed to hide the smug grin he had.

You feared for the safety of the Ash Man, why had the Reaper brought him here now?

I couldn’t be… no…

“Why is he here?” You demanded to know.

Lancelot saw how your hands had begun to shake.

Soran looked between you and Lancelot. “To motivate you.”

You knew what it meant and tried to break free right away, not caring how they could hurt you for it when his life was on the line.

“I will kill you!” You spat.

The Brothers held onto you to the point where they forced you to your knees again to get the situation under control.

It was more than infuriating to see these men continuously reminding you of the brute force they weren’t afraid to use.

Soran spoke to the Ash Man, “You were once one of our most loyal Brothers. Tonight you will sacrifice your life to our cause. Perhaps God will have mercy on you and welcome you in his garden after all, you did serve him well once, Monk.” He circled around him, “Hundreds have fallen to your blade and you have spared the one girl who will change the world, a new era begins here.”

Lancelot knew what was about to happen, the Reaper made an effort to show off the knife in his hand.

The whispers in his ears were warning him for what was to come. And all he wished for was that you wouldn’t have to see it, for he could not bear the way you looked so afraid for him.

Death was simple, but not for the one he would leave behind.

Soran turned the knife in his hands and placed a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. “Any last words? Anything that could motivate her will suffice.”

The Ash Man glared up at the Reaper, then set his eyes on your watery ones, “Born in the dawn?”

You barely held on to the tears and shook your head slowly. “Lancelot…”

This couldn’t be goodbye, this couldn’t be happening.

You tried to get up but they pushed you down to the floor again, one Brother took hold of your throat and forced you to watch.

The dark look in the Ash Man’s eyes betrayed his thoughts, you’d never seen that look in his eyes before.

Soran turned to Lancelot and moved the knife down to aim.

It was a desperate attempt to save him when you pleaded, “No! Stop! He is Ash Folk!”

Soran halted and looked at you, as if he wished to read from your eyes if you were telling the truth.

Lancelot kept still, very aware of the knife in the Reaper’s hand.

And he did not want your last memory of him to be one of fear.

Soran spoke calmly, “Then you would do well to save him.”

There was no time to fully process the meaning of it, the knife moved and cut it’s way through the Ash Man’s chest.

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[dweetwise]

Ace Visconti fic rec list

I wanted to share some of my favorite (non-riconti) Ace fics <3

All of these are older fics that you might have missed back when they were first posted. Give them a read if they seem interesting!

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Bully by impassiveimp (Jake X Ace, Explicit)

A "Jake tries to get into Ace's pants" fic that is the sole reason I started simping for Ace in the first place. Came for the moody saboteur, stayed for the charming gambler. Surprisingly wholesome fic and honestly still some of my favorite Ace characterization to this day.

Ace's in Spades by Shorktooth (Ash X Ace, Mature)

The perfect action-adventure fic in Ash vs Evil Dead style. Two morally ambiguous bastards kill deadites and accidentally fall in love. What more could you want?

the rebirth of our lives by hoverbun (Tapp X Ace, Mature)

Very high quality after the Entity hurt/comfort that always makes me tear up. The feels, the angst and the easy companionship between the characters is perfect. Ugh, I want to squish this Ace.

my love is a sucker bet by lacrimalis (Mature)

Amazing fic that deals with dark topics like Ace's addiction and first trials with perfect in-character humor and shameless flirting. Yes, it's incomplete and hasn't been updated in four years, but the two chapters we have in Ace's POV are so, so worth the read.

[crybaby-writings]

if you want to learn sign language of any kind your one and only reason for it should be proper person to person communication. not because it's "so beautiful", not so you can talk shit and nothing else, not so you can say swear words without other people knowing.

if you're learning sign language your one and only reason should be to communicate with people who use sign language. learning sign language means learning about an entire complicated, extremely important culture and the people who are a part of that culture.

you can not learn sign language without learning about d/Deaf culture in depth. it also means learning to stay in your lane on d/Deaf issues. learning sign language and learning about d/Deaf culture does not mean you get to speak on d/Deaf issues, and a lot of hearing people don't realize that.

this has been a notice from a d/Deaf person

[crybaby-writings]

leona would use his unique magic to destroy things that made his partner upset, i think.

like,, imagine getting a dress or something that you think is going to fit you because it's supposed to be your size and when you try it on at home it doesn't fit and upsets you, and later when you try to find it to return it leona says he "took care of it for you" but there's a suspicious amount of sand on the bedroom carpet around the bed and a brand new dress hanging in the closet that's the right size.

[crybaby-writings]

diavolo: i know you're human

mc: congrats officer fuck-face, you really connected the dots on that one 😐

[crybaby-writings]

let's talk about shane from stardew valley

people who shit talk about shane because of how his spouse room looks (showing signs that he may have relapsed, that's despite being in recovery he's still actively struggling with addiction, ect.) are just as bad as men who date a woman that they know is mentally ill, and then throw a fit or break up with her when she shows signs of mental illness.

it's the exact same thing, to a tee. people are complaining/divorcing him literally because his spouse room shows that he's still struggling with a mental illness/staying sober despite being in therapy and going to meetings.

and guess what, that's exactly how addiction works. you don't stop and it just goes away. you relapse over and over, while doing your very best. relapse/"slipping" is a vital part of recovery, just like therapy and attending your meetings (if you have them for your particular addiction).

addict's will live with the aftermath of, and be in recovery with, their addictions until the day that they die. no matter how long they are sober, there is always a small chance for a relapse or a slip in your judgement. i speak from experience in this, both as someone who has family members who were/are addicts and as someone who has addictions (that are tied to other mental health issues, not substance based).

shane is doing his best to recover, for the people he loves, and doesn't deserve to be treated badly because of something that's a natural part of the recovery process- that he's trying so hard to not let happen.

also, shane is definitely an asshole for a while after you meet him- i completely understand that, and im not arguing with that. you have every right to not like a character, or not want to be married to a character, but not liking them of not wanting to marry them simply because they're mentally ill/you can visually see the way their mental illness manifests is not okay.

also, what is his deal with randomly putting up joja wallpaper in the house? what's the reason? what was he thinking when he did that?

[crybaby-writings]

once my sister told me that she picks gifts for me by finding the ugliest thing within her field of vision and buying it without thinking twice because she knew that would mean i would love it, and i think this sentiment applies to how people would buy gifts for cecil /positive

[crybaby-writings]

mammon is the kind of boyfriend to hold your boobs for you when they hurt/just to take the pressure off your back after a long day

[crybaby-writings]

uuuuh.... the obey me brothers and dateables as things i've said to my best friend

lucifer: you're so fucked once i get my hearing aids and finally find out what you've been mumbling about all this time

mammon: i don't think i should have to pay taxes

levi: that old, fictional man is my boyfriend and i want to lick his face

satan: you aggravate the piss out of me, i hope you know that

asmodeus: who wouldn't want all of this, im priceless

beelzebub: i want 5 cheese enchiladas... and BEEEEEEEANS

belphie: im not going to sleep, you rat, im trying to get comfortable- im laying on all ribs here, no stomach, just ribs

soloman: i take payment for my talents as a medium in credit, promises, a frosty and a large fry, AS WELL as cash

simeon: the son, the sperm and the holy spirit or whatever

thirteen: i see dead people and shit, sexy- i know

diavolo: im literally wearing a tiara, are you going to hit a man that's actually a princess

barbatos: i feel the need to fold all these blankets, NOW

[crybaby-writings]

sanji has line cook energy and it's not about him being a chef, okay? IT'S ABOUT HIS GIANT COCK

[crybaby-writings]

i think buggy the clown should be suffocated between his partners thighs. absolutely smothered, head crushed. he would love it too 🤭

[crybaby-writings]

leona wearing a shirt that says "my wife tried to stage a coup on our wedding anniversary so that we could be power obsessed rulers together" while i wear a shirt that simply says "leona's wife" :)))

[crybaby-writings]

savanaclaw and scarabia men would stand around you in a circle, backs turned, so that you could fix your hijab without the risk of anyone seeing your hair

[crybaby-writings]

SPIDER PUNK IS EVERYTHING TO ME, OKAY?? HE GETS IT, HE UNDERSTANDS, AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT

[crybaby-writings]

i'm begging and pleading for someone to write a fic where the reader is hercules' partner (who he's married to)

after his defeat in the ragnarok when everyone is throwing stones and trash at jack they go and stand over him and everyone stops throwing stuff because 'holy shit, that's hercules' partner' and then the reader is like:

"hercules made his choice and he fought bravely, he would not want you to be treating his opponent this way. he would want him to be congratulated and treated as a hero for those he fought to save" or something

BASICALLY!!!! I WANT THEM TO STAND UP FOR JACK AND REMIND EVERYONE WHAT HERCULES STOOD FOR