#She's On The Hunt: A Target In Her Sights (Replies)

[ssaflorencem]

The Thrill of kill you| BAU x Unsub Reader

summary: This is all from Hotchs POV. Mentions of SA (not graphic). Mentions of murder. Cat Adams is brought up in this chapter.

Chapter three: No distance left to run:

Everyone wanted this case to be over and done with. We had just caught Cat Adams, and everyone was still very protective over Garcia and Reid. However, whoever was killing these men wasn’t targeting us, but rather people they thought were guilty of certain crimes. Garcia was keeping tracks to see if any other murders were happening with the same motive, but nothing so far.

 

We all kept going over evidence, no stone was going unturned. All these men were killed in wooded areas, places that people would normally go hunting. Their bodies weren’t hidden, but they weren’t placed in plain sight. The killer obviously wanted the bodies to be found, but not to quickly so they had time to escape. The person who was doing this was very skilled, they knew everything they needed to know before killing and once they had completed the job, they just left.

“Hotch, what are the chances that this person is just a hitman? I mean, all these men had targets on their back.” Asked Emily.

 

“It’s possible,” I replied, “but the fact that all the victims were accused of sexual assault leads me to believe that this is personal for the killer.”

 

We continued to brainstorm, trying to find any possible lead that we could follow. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were missing something crucial, something that could break the case wide open. And then it hit me – we had been so focused on finding the killer in Montana that we hadn’t considered the possibility that there could be multiple killers.

 

“Garcia, can you look into the possibility of there being more than one killer?” I asked.

 

“Already on it, boss,” Garcia replied.

 

Days passed as we waited for Garcia’s results. We continued to work on the case, but it felt like we were just going through the motions. Then, finally, Garcia came through with a breakthrough.

 

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” Garcia said excitedly. “I did some digging and found out that there’s a slight possibility that we are looking for two people, but I doubt it. Each murder, apart from one, is done the exact same way, no changes. But there is one, a Mr O’Stevens, from around five years ago. His wife received a letter from the killer telling her what her husband had done and that she would never see her husband alive again. After, no more letters. I think the first kill was personal, but now the killer is seeking revenge for other victims.”

 

My mind was reeling from Garcia's revelation. It made sense. The first kill was personal, but the subsequent murders were done in revenge for other victims of sexual assault. The killer was taking matters into their own hands, seeking justice for those who couldn't get it through the legal system.

 

We needed to track down this killer or killers before they struck again. We started reviewing all the evidence, looking for any connections or patterns that we might have missed. We needed to catch a break in the case, and soon.

 

As we were going through the evidence, we received a call from a local police department in Wyoming. They had just found the body of a man who had been accused of sexual assault. He had been killed in the same way as the other victims. The killer was on the move again.

 

We knew then that we had to act fast. The unsub did not wait around, we knew they weren’t going to be in this state for very long and we had no idea which state they would next show up in.

 

We mobilized the team and rushed to the scene in Wyoming, hoping to catch a glimpse of the killer or any clues that might lead us to them. The crime scene was in a remote area, deep in the woods. As we approached, we could see the flashing lights of the police cars and the yellow tape cordoning off the area. The body had already been removed, but we needed to see the scene for ourselves to get a sense of what we were dealing with.

 

We stepped out of the car and were immediately hit with the smell of pine and death. The forest was quiet, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for us to make a move. We approached the scene, flashing our badges to the officers guarding the perimeter. They let us in, and we started to look around.

 

There nothing out of the ordinary. The crime scene looked like every other one. This unsub was good, professional and knew how to escape undetected. They weren’t going to make it easy for us, and there were most definitely going to more bodies in the future.

 

I couldn't help but feel frustrated. We were running out of time. There was no telling when the killer would strike again or where they would target their next victim. We needed to find something, anything, that would give us a lead on the unsub.

 

As we were searching the area, Reid suddenly shouted, "Hey, guys! Over here!"

 

We all rushed over to where he was, and he pointed to the ground. There, amidst the dirt and leaves, was a small piece of paper.

 

I picked it up and examined it closely. It was a note, written in messy handwriting. It read: "Justice for the victims. More will come. You can't stop me."

 

This was the first time the unsub had done something like this, and they were smart. It wasn’t handwritten, there was no evidence of fingerprints on the paper. Why would they start this now though? Did they want to be caught; did they know we were after them?

 

We needed to act fast before the killer struck again. We knew that this note was a taunt, a challenge to us from the killer. They were telling us that they were unstoppable and that they would continue to take justice into their own hands. We could not let that happen. 

 

As we returned to the FBI field office, the team held a meeting to discuss the new development. There was a sense of urgency in the room, with everyone determined to find the killer before they could strike again. We knew now that this was not just a case of a single killer seeking revenge, but rather a group of individuals who were acting as vigilantes.

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Taglist:

@marvelwoman-sugarbaby

@ellieslver

[zooophagous]

(This entry of Wayward Souls contains a sex scene, viewer discretion is advised)

“I told you I’m fine.” Ursula grumbled and sipped her watery coffee at the breakfast nook. The table had been wiped down thrice. Why was it dusty? Why was everything so dusty? She swore she saw little wafts of lint fuzz on the surface of her creamer.

“You’re not fine. The reason you aren’t in incredible amounts of pain right now is probably because that burn on your leg went all the way through your skin and wrecked all the nerves in it.” Artemis replied in an annoyed tone. “It’s not as if we have any concrete plan anyways so what’s the hurry.”

“Well dear, two things. We need to find a way to clear both your name and Mr. Strauss, so long as the powers that be are convinced he’s a murderer, we have no allies and nowhere to run, and the house won’t stay hidden very long. Second and more importantly-” She said with an emphasis on ‘importantly’- “We need to find Troy before the Witchfinders do. He’s in mortal peril, and if he shifts again so is everyone else in a five mile radius. He’ll blow the lid off of our entire way of life, or blow off his own head, or BOTH in short order.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “And I don’t know about you but I cannot coordinate a lycan hunt with zero staff from a damn hospital bed. Besides. I hate jello.” She slurped her coffee and managed to spill some of it, then furiously blotted it up with a scowl.

Artemis sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. As always, of course.”

“You sound unconvinced.”

“It’s just… if we do find him, we have nowhere to house him. We don’t have a safe bolt hole for him anymore. What if looking for him just makes both him and us a bigger target anyway? Maybe he’s safer as is.”

“As much as I wish I could believe that, Artie, there haven’t been any sightings reported of him, and he hasn’t self-reported either. Neither I nor the two or three remaining staff members has been in contact with him. His silence does not bode well.”

She stared blankly into her coffee with a thin lipped seriousness. “If it is too late for him, I still would like to find him. Give him a Christian burial. Keep him out of some skull collection.”

“The skull collections never seemed to be an objection before.”

A deep voice came from the room behind them. Mr. Strauss had risen, and slowly shuffled into the kitchen with a wide, ugly yawn that showed the full length of his fangs.

“Believe me Strauss, Troy deserves a better end than anyone you bumped into in the research library. If it makes you feel better, I’m sure they’re all nicely cremated now along with my rare books and my research and my files and all of my payroll- oh God.” Ursula dragged her hands down her face.

“Tax season is going to be AWFUL after this. Ugh.”

“Chin up, Frau Harker. The photos in the news show that the library was only partially burnt. All you have to do is hunt down the looters who no doubt are sharing their newly unearthed secrets on the information superhighway.”

“This injury isn’t making me want Dilaudad, Strauss, but you are.” Ursula finally caved and wrenched open her pill bottle full of some prescription pain killer.

“I am surprised the hospital let you go, looking like that.”

“You aren’t the only one who hates hospitals, Strauss.”

“Yes. I do agree with you, however. Troy must be found, and found soon. If he is still alive it is likely he is injured, lost or captured. They may be tormenting him as we speak.”

“Alright, you win. I’m outvoted.” Artemis stood up and began to walk away. “But we’ll start tomorrow. We need at least one night’s rest, then tomorrow we’ll pack, and then hunt for Troy. Auntie, can you handle your own wound care for a bit?”

“I can handle it better than the good for nothing triage nurses. I’m in the best possible hands. My own.” She gulped down a handful of pills. “Still, if we’re going to take a night to rest, I’ll dip into these painkillers. It will at least force me to sleep.”

“If your leg continues to bother you, I will happily assist you in amputating it.” Strauss grinned and licked his teeth.

“Don’t threaten a member of the Van Helsing family on their home turf, Strauss. You’ll wake up the ghosts and piss them off.” She got up with a grunt.

“I’m going to get some rest. Artie, you should too. We’ll have plenty to think about on the drive into town.”

Artemis turned and walked stiffly down the hall. Ursula went her separate way to the guest room she’d claimed for herself. Strauss lingered alone in the hall. He tilted his head and stared at Artemis’ back as her shadow grew fainter further away.

He was unsure what it meant. Her emotions could only be conflicted, negative- but she was still difficult to parse. He hesitated a moment, then followed her. She made it up the stairs, to the master bedroom. She entered it silently, but left the door open behind her.

Strauss hesitated at the threshold. This was not a clear invitation. Or was it? Well. He did not wish to be alone all night long in the Van Helsing manor, so he resolved to be rude, and ask forgiveness if needed. He pushed his way into the dark space. A cool night breeze brushed past the gossamer curtains, lifting them in billows. Artemis’ dark silhouette stood among them, arms crossed, head down, apparently deep in thought. He quietly crept behind her and finally rested his head upon her shoulder. She startled slightly but instantly tamped it down.

“Mr. Strauss. There’s something I need to give you.”

“Oh?” He wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“Your freedom.” She pulled a folded paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “That is a signed form of relinquishment from the Institute. Only blank one I could find in storage. It hereby, and henceforth, deems that you are no longer the property of the Van Helsing Institute.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re free to go, Strauss. Even if the chase was called off now, I don’t have the facility to adequately care for you anyway. It was stupid and clueless and heartless and just… cruel to even capture you in the first place. I’m giving you my word that if you leave and save yourself now, nobody from my side will hunt you down.”

“Artemis.”

“I should have done it a long time ago. I’ve been meaning to all along, you know? That was the end goal. To release you back into the wild at the end of the project. Well, the project is over now. So we can skip to that step.”

“It does not work that way, Van Helsing.” He hooked his claws over her shoulders and held her firmly while whispering directly into her ear. His cold, stale breath made the hairs on her neck rise.

“You have caught the tiger, Frau Van Helsing, and you have tamed it. Have you not read The Little Prince? You are responsible forever, for what you have tamed.”

She pulled out of his grip and spun to face him, only for him to catch her by the wrists.

“Get off.”

“What was it you said to me before? Once a vampire is invited in, it is hard to convince them to leave?”

“Don’t make me knee you in the groin.”

“Troy is my friend too Artemis.” He let go of her and backed off. “Believe it or not, so is Ursula.”

“I don’t know if you can call your gaolor a friend, Strauss.”

“No, I cannot. You are my captor, yes. But you are not my friend. You are something else. You, Van Helsing, are my mate. You own more of me than you can relinquish with a piece of paper.” He took the form and let it fly out the window on the breeze.

“If you attempt to leave me behind, I shall declare you my rival and hunt you. I would become a quarry too tempting for the seasoned slayer to resist. I will stalk you like a wild beast if you dare put me out.”

“You’re only in the line of fire any time you’re close to me.”

“Then let me die happily, for once. I have already died miserable before.”

He put his hands back on her shoulders, this time more of a caress and less of a grip. “There is also, to be considered… the ‘little death’ as well.” He licked his lips.

“That’s what you’re thinking about? At a time like this?”

“And what better time. One more evening of rest, and then tomorrow? We do not know if we will live or die. If I am to be captured and slain like a predatory animal, I should like to go to my grave with a pleasant memory to warm my bones.”

She rested her hands on his chest and looked him up and down before finally looking him in the eye. “I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish we had a little more time.” She smiled sadly. “Best to make the most of it while we can. Memento Mori.”

Strauss dove in quickly for a kiss, quickly enough that his fang caught her lip and made her bleed. She gasped, but grabbed him by the head and ears, controlling his advance. He backed off long enough to lick her blood from his lips and continue, gently threatening with the tips of his fangs.

She grabbed his shirt and began to steer him towards the bed. He continued his onslaught of bite-feints, using his height to loom over her until she lay flat on the bed beneath them. He folded his body over her own like a cloak.

While he kissed and groped, she popped open the buttons of her blouse, and freed herself awkwardly from her bra. She felt her way down Strauss’ torso to his pants, trying to find and open his fly. He wasn’t holding still. Finally she had a handle on him and slid her hand into his pants to hold his arousal.

He stopped his barrage of kissing and stared fixedly at her. She stared back with a confused look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Van Helsing.” He slowly backed off of her. “I very much desire to bite you.”

“Like actually bite me?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” She breathed heavily and looked away. “Excuse me a minute.”

She rolled out from under him and left the bed. Strauss sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands with a frustrated groan. Embarrassing. Complete failure as a lover, but was that surprising?”

“Here.”

He looked up. Artemis had returned, holding something.

“Was ist das?”

“It’s fine. We just need to use a little protection.” She smirked. The item dangling from her hand had straps. She approached and fitted it over his face, obscuring his mouth- and strapped it tightly into place.

“A muzzle.” She stated matter of factly. “An old type of vampire management tool. Inhumane by our standards… but maybe it will do for this.”

Strauss reached up and felt the thing on his face. It was uncomfortable. It conjured up memories of a film about Silent Lambs he’d watched with Troy. “You would muzzle your loyal lap dog, Van Helsing?” He teased though muffled.

“I’m responsible for you, remember? That means you’re allowed to bite when I say you can. If you’re staying, you’ll have to be good.”

She did not have a well practiced authoritarian voice. Still, being made to obey gave him a thrill, a thrill that ran down his leg to his groin and quickly lured him back to bed. She took the strap near his ear and steered his head down to her chest and pulled him over her like a blanket.

He had already managed to escape from his pants, and his anatomy was now craning outward, begging to be touched. She would make him wait. One knee held him up and off of her for the moment, and she took his hand and guided it to her skirt. Her underwear was quickly discarded.

His hands were cold, and his claws left a distinct pinching sensation on her more tender places. She didn’t care, and didn’t stop him. The physical pain was like a shock that jolted her brain away from the emotional agony of the past few days. Strauss’ free hand had found one of her breasts, and he rested his head near it, listening to the pounding of her heart to excite himself.

Artemis relaxed beneath him and allowed him to lavish his pleasures on her. She felt an awkward piece against her leg, and opened her eyes to see Strauss trying and failing not to grind against her in desperation. She took pity on him and took him into her hand and pulled him down into the crease of her body.

There was a pinching sensation again as he mounted her and began to chase his own release. He wanted to be rough, but cognizant of his own strength, instead gripped the sheets until they ripped beneath his claws to spare her soft skin the abuse.

She wrapped her legs around him, easy to do with one so thin, and held and massaged his ears as his desire rocked the bed. He burrowed his face into her neck. She could feel his teeth against the other side of the muzzle, trying and failing to find purchase on her artery.

The denial of the bite seemed to frustrate him, and his pace increased as he looked for satisfaction one way or another. Artemis felt her breathing grow shallow and her muscles tight, as Strauss carried her to the finish.

He had done his job. Now he sought his own reward. He settled into a steady rhythm and a nearly trancelike stare. He had called her his mate, yes, and she got the sense that this strange being, this creature was truly more ‘mating’ than he was making love. For all the sense that made.

She held onto him tightly as he braced for his crescendo, and with a shudder and a grunt she felt the uncomfortable wetness of his release in her embrace. He ground to a stop, and slowly deflated off of her to fall by her side, still clinging to her in a possessive embrace.

“We’ll need to get up and get cleaned up early before Ursula sees us.”

“Don’t think about her right now. Let us sleep. May I stay here with you Van Helsing? Please?”

“Of course.” She nestled in next to him. “Strauss? Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s too bad.” She mumbled, nearly dozing. “After all of this, you really shouldn’t.”

“Do you love me, Van Helsing?”

“I do.”

“Then that will cover a multitude of sins.”

[jahayla-parker]

Karma : Kaz Brekker x Reader Series

Part 4

For full warnings, descriptions, and other parts, see series masterlist here.

2.5k wc

Kaz marched violently through the streets of Ketterdam. He was followed closely by a small handful of a few largely-built Dregs behind him. Kaz didn’t need them to be with him, but their presence helped him comply with y/n’s request to try to be safe during his seeking of vengeance. The residents of Ketterdam reflexively parted everywhere he went, immediately moving out of Kaz’s impassioned path.

Kaz had ordered his Dregs to hunt down the Darkling and to push him out of the area. He told them to do so while making clear this information was not to be known by the Darkling himself. As, Kaz didn’t want to signal to him that he was near his target her. Kaz also had a few Dregs monitoring the Darkling‘s ever changing location and reporting back to him where he was last seen. As such, Dirtyhands knew where to go to find the man despite having started his approach later than the rest of his crew had.

Kaz planned to make contact when the Darkling was a handful of blocks away from the Emerald Palace. So, as he neared the corner just across from the entrance to the destination, Kaz’s grip on his cane tightened as his eyes narrowed. Evidently, his Dregs had been successful in leading their target unknowingly away from where y/n was.

“Pardon me sir, have you seen this girl?” A deep voice asked, causing Kaz to pause as he waited out of sight; looming just around the corner from where the voice sounded.

“She’s wanted for treason,” the voice added, making Kaz twist his neck around the corner to see if his suspicions were correct. When Kaz’s eyes found the black cloaked general, he glanced back at the Dregs following him. He signaled for them to leave him, glaring at the youngest recruit who dared hesitate instead of simply complying.

Kaz knew he promised Y/n he’d try to be safe about this. But, when he’d heard the Darkling drag her name through the dirt, his tone shifted. When the Darkling began to ask patrons if they’d seen Y/n while he showed a poorly drawn portrait of her, Kaz nearly lost control. He had almost willingly let Dirtyhands take over. Kaz knew had to restrict himself as all Dirtyhands cared about was vengeance. He had promised y/n he would at least try to not risk harm to himself. This is why he hated making promises. Yet, he knew if she were to ask him again, he’d likely still comply. Especially if she gave him that look.

Kaz stormed up to the Darkling, his cane smacking the portrait out of his outstretched hands and pinning it to the ground between them. He glared firmly at the man, his brows sharply pointed downwards, lip scowled, and jaw clenched. He looked the intruder up and down. “You don’t belong here,” Kaz threatened, his voice dripping with warning.

The Darkling looked Kaz over, “I’m looking for-“.

“Someone who doesn’t want to be found,” Kaz finished for the man. “This is your chance to leave before things take a turn”. He failed to mention he still planned to track him down later either way, just not right this second as he needed to be prepared and have better guards in place for y/n first. He wasn’t going to leave her in Ketterdam without a full unit to guard her while he was away.

“Where is she?” The Darkling growled, stepping closer.

Kaz just blinked as he watched the Darkling near him.

“She’s required to-“ The man dared to attempt to say.

“She’s required to do nothing,” Kaz snapped. “She doesn’t belong to you, she isn’t yours,” he added with a firm stare.

The Darkling raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Let me guess,” he replied calmly, “she’s yours now, hmm?” He shrugged dramatically, the fabric of his cloak rising and falling with the motion. “Can’t fault you for the desire,” he hummed, “but trust me, she’s disobedient, you’re better off without her”.

Kaz nearly scoffed. Wasn’t the Darkling supposed to be thousands of years old with ancient wisdom to match? Yet, here he was stating blatant lies as if they were facts. When in reality, the statements were so far from the truth they were polar opposites to how things really were. “She doesn’t belong to anyone, not me, and definitely not you,” Kaz hissed, stepping closer. His cane smacking the broken cobblestones echoed through the otherwise quiet street.

“Definitely, hmm?” The Darkling questioned, his tone more serious now. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The man twisted the obsidian ring on his right hand carelessly. “I’m sure she’d be interested in what I have to offer,” he argued. “See, she owes-“.

“She owes you nothing,” Kaz interrupted sharply. He gripped the top of his cane tightly as he moved closer. “And I assure you, Kirigan,” Kaz seethed, “she isn’t interested in being a captive anymore”.

“Miss y/l/n attempted to murder a General, which usually is rewarded with death,” Kirigan pointed out.

Kaz menacingly moved closer to the man at the utterance of the thinly veiled threat.

“But,” Kirigan spoke, holding up a finger. “As such, I believe she’ll be interested to know that I have a counter offer,” he concluded.

“No,” Kaz stated.

“No?” The Darkling questioned with a taunting laugh.

“Whatever the offer is, you can keep it,” Kaz explained curtly.

The Darkling tilted his head to the side slightly. “Even if there were a large sum of Kruge in it for whomever lead me to her?” He asked as he moved closer to Kaz. His implication hung in the air as the boy glared sharply at him.

“You’re one move away from finding yourself buried six feet under this town,” Kaz warned, the grip on his cane intensifying.

The Darkling chuckled humorously. “You keep believing that,” he huffed, eyeing Kaz up and down. “I’ll keep tracking down my subject,” the Darkling said smugly as he stepped to the side of Kaz’s cane.

“If I ever see you anywhere near her, you'll have to deal with me," Kaz threatened with a painfully tight hold on his cane as he slammed it back down in front of Kirigan’s path. His piercing eyes were drilling into the Darkling’s eyes menacingly. Kaz wanted to charge at him, but even Dirtyhands knew not to try and take him alone if not necessary. Even if he hadn’t promised y/n to try and be safe, his survival instincts would be what was holding him back in that moment. Yet, he hoped that his threats would be enough to send the man from the area. Kaz and his gang would handle Kirigan from there, when it was safer to do so and when he was further away from y/n.

“Your presence and tone seem to imply I’m already near her right now,” the Darkling taunted with a mocking hum. He made a show of glancing around Brekker’s frame, as if thinking maybe y/n was that close to them. Before Kaz could reply, the Darkling smirked. “Perhaps you have y/n working in one of these fine establishments?” He asked, waving his hand around at the various menageries lining the street.

“Keep her name out of your mouth. I should gut you head to toe over even such a vile implication,” Kaz remarked. No one would speak of y/n that way without consequences. Kaz would see to that, even if he couldn’t right now.

“Oh, right,” the Darkling nodded, shifting carelessly before Kaz. “I suppose they wouldn’t want a girl with such hideous imperfections lining her shoulder,” Kirigan said, obviously describing the scars he himself caused y/n.

Kaz felt his leg muscles spasm and nearly seize under him as he resisted the desire to lunge at Kirigan. But, he faintly heard y/N’s voice in his mind pleading him to not do anything that might not have him coming back to her. So, he held his ground and redirected his anger into his glare instead.

When Kaz didn’t reply but he could see Kaz’s internal turmoil through his reaction, the Darkling grinned. “Besides, what’re you going to do?” He asked rhetorically. “You truly think gutting me would work? Child, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” the General taunted. “As, you should know by now…. Or, did she not tell you? I’m Immortal.”

Kaz rolled his eyes at the General. “Gutting you is only the initial warning. You harm her and I’ll make your life so miserable you’ll wish you weren’t immortal,” Kaz promised.

This seemed to enrage the General as he lifted his hands out to his sides and closed his eyes briefly. The Darkling began to summon his shadows, causing swirls of black smoke to rise between them. He summoned the creatures upwards from where they hovered just above the ground when Kaz pulled his cane back to him to prepare to fight. But, the Darkling was faster and swiftly punched Kaz’s stomach, Dirtyhands’ body curling around Kirigan’s fist. The General then shoved the boy the rest of the way to the ground and let his shadows hold him in place. “She isn’t worth this…Brekker, is it?” Kirigan questioned rhetorically, stepping closer to where Kaz was pinned. “Well, Brekker, surely you’ve got more important business to attend to than defending some nobody, no?”

She’s worth everything. Kaz ignored his thoughts, knowing it was best to keep such clear statements to himself. It was safer for y/n that way. “You don’t know her worth. And she is my business,” Kaz argued, his eyes shooting daggers at the man above him. At least it was the Darkling’s shadow monsters holding him in place and not the man himself. “She’s a valuable asset, you’re just too moronic to see that,” Kaz spat.

“Please, she’s weak,” the Darkling huffed. He released the shadows from their hold on Kaz. With a simple flick of his wrist, he then sent them off in search of y/n.

Kaz instantly noticed the way Kirigan had switched to holding Kaz himself. This was his chance. “You tried to break her, but all you did was force her to become resilient,” he stated as he shuffled his feet into a better position for when he would attempt to stand up. “You couldn’t handle her if you tried, she’d finish you in seconds,” Kaz replied with a smug grin.

As the Darkling went to reply, Kaz’s leather glove twisted sharply within the Darkling’s grip. He then promptly wrapped his gloved fingers around Kirigan’s wrist, gloved thumb pressed to his palm. With a cracking sound, he bent the General's wrist as far backwards as possible. As a growl escaped the Darkling’s lips, a wicked smirk formed on Kaz’s. He tucked his toes under and forced himself up from the ground. As he rose, he used the Darkling’s injured wrist to shove him backward.

Kaz picked up his cane and swung it around until it whacked Kirigan across the jaw. The action sent blood spewing from the man’s mouth as his head was thrown to the side.

The Darkling lunged forward and tackled Kaz back down. He easily landed multiple forceful strikes to Kaz’s face.

Kaz fought the nausea that rose in him as he tried to ignore the feeling of the Darkling’s bare skin contacting his face. As his lip split open from the latest punch, he slid his hand down the side of his trousers until he reached the pocket. He slyly pulled the hidden blade from his pants and stealthily moved it into place. Kaz twisted his wrist and vigorously jabbed the jagged blade into the General’s side.

The Darkling's painful shout echoed across the abandoned street. “You can fight me all you want, but I will find her,” he hissed.

Kaz brought both knees up aggressively. He winced at the resounding pain in his bad leg as they slammed into the Darkling’s tailbone and forced the man up and over Kaz’s head. Kaz slid down the gravel to distance himself and forced himself to get up from the ground despite his lingering pain. “This town will be painted with your blood long before you ever track down her location,” he vowed.

“Why steal someone so meaningless and protect her so fiercely from your rulers?” The Darkling groaned as he spun around to face Brekker.

“No one stole her. She isn’t some possession to be taken,” Kaz hissed protectively. “She left you willingly, and no doubt your reputation explains why.” He gripped his cane as he prepared for the General to approach. “The lack of proper hygiene was also part of that decision no doubt,” he mocked, referencing the General’s unkept facial hair that had seemingly been coated in dirt and dust on his long journey from Ravka. “And you’re not my ruler,” Kaz remarked defiantly.

“Your reputation seems to have been off, Mr. Brekker,” Kirigan sighed. “For, I was told there was nothing enough Kruge couldn’t motivate you to do.”

“Y/N and her location are not for sale,” Kaz growled.

“You naive boy,” Kirigan scoffed. “You truly don’t understand just how rich I could make you. Do you?” He grinned wickedly. “The treasury in its entirety could belong to you, Mr. Brekker,” the Darkling proposed.

Kaz didn’t care if the offer was legit or not. This came as a bit of a surprise to even himself. While he always knew that no amount could get him to turn on y/n, he hadn’t even considered that amount as an option before. However, this proved Kaz was right in that nothing was worth more than her. Not even Dirtyhands would be able to convince him to risk y/n’s life or happiness. No matter what he could get in exchange. Even though Dirtyhands didn’t have time nor concern for such sentiments, he’d have to deal with it. Kaz had tried to fight these feelings futilely for a long time, so he knew how pointless it was. Y/n had an invisible hold on him. It was a line Kaz would never cross, no matter the offered exchange.

Kaz saw the Darkling open his mouth, likely to keep trying to entice him. It was an opening. An easy distraction. Kaz feigned interest as he slowly crept forward until he was close enough. He sent an uppercut punch into Kirigan’s jaw. He followed that strike as he slammed his cane into the man’s ribs. Kaz heard a satisfying crunch and grinned. He used his cane to thrust the Darkling backward until his back echoed the crunch from his cracked his ribs as he was thrown against the brick wall. The sight of the General’s hands being coated in blood from Kaz’s earlier knife attack made a wicked sense of pride grow in Kaz’s chest.

The Darkling sent his shadows out towards Kaz as he neared him. Once the creatures wrapped around the boy, holding him back, Kirigan peeled himself off the ground. The Darkling quickly picked up Kaz’s knife from earlier and limped forward. When he was within reach, he plunged it into Kaz’s dominant shoulder. “You bastard,” he growled.

“Oh, so my reputation was correct after all,” Kaz smirked. The pain in his shoulder was burning and he could make out the blood pouring from the wound as the nearby antique lantern reflected off the liquid. He kept his furious eyes on the man as he watched the Darkling move even closer in order to tower over him.

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[zafirosreverie]

I think you promised me a date (Agatha x F!Reader)

A late b-day present for @roseclear love you 💕

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

"Love!"

Agatha blinked a bit, snapping out of her thoughts. She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings, but there was no one else on the street. She turned to see you running towards her, looking at you curiously.

"Love, wait for me!" you shouted, silently thanking that the woman stopped to wait for you.

You guys didn't know each other, not in the slightest. You had never seen this woman in your life but right at that moment she was your only option. Agatha for her part was just curious about your intentions. As soon as you were close enough to her, you took her hand and pulled her forward, leaning into her so you could whisper to her.

"Thanks" you murmured, still agitated "sorry, it's just...there's a guy who's been following me for 20 minutes and I don't want him to follow me home" you explained without stopping walking.

Agatha took advantage of one of the mirrors of a parked car to glance back, confirming that there was a male shadow following you. She narrowed her eyes and unconsciously squeezed your hand a little more. Men, they never learn.

She didn't really understand why she kept walking with you, it wasn’t as if she cared, she had never cared for mortals, and she could easily disappear, but for some reason, leaving you alone and vulnerable felt wrong to her.

Maybe it was the way you clung to her as if your life depended on it, the warmth your body radiated next to hers, or that she could smell your perfume because of your closeness, she didn't know, but her magic stung in her fingers wanting to protect you.

"What's your name?" she asked quietly

"Sorry?" you whispered back

"Well, I would like to know my girlfriend's name" she teased without raising her voice "...or maybe wife?"

The witch didn't even try to hide her smirk as you blushed deeply and looked down at the ground. Your grip on her hand loosened a little, but she didn't let you pull away. She had to admit you were a lovely sight, for a human.

"Y/N" you muttered, looking up at the street.

"Agatha" she replied without taking her eyes off you

"Lovely name" you said, without thinking

"Thanks" she giggled "so, Y/N, would you like to go to a cafe? I know a good one, near here"

You blinked and looked at her, losing yourself for a moment in her incredibly blue and beautiful eyes. You quickly scolded yourself mentally and blushed again, looking away from her.

"What?" was all you managed to ask

"Oh come on honey, it's not the first time we've had an impromptu date night" she said.

You frowned and looked back at her, quickly catching her subtle cue to look behind you. You didn't even have to turn your head far to notice that the man was now closer, definitely close enough to hear you.

"I'd love to, darling" you said, smiling at her.

The brunette simply smiled back and squeezed your hand, quickening her pace.

_____________________

"He is stubborn"

You looked at the beautiful woman sitting across from you, who in turn was subtly looking over the menu at one of the tables behind you. You had been in that cafe for at least an hour and the man seemed to have no intention of leaving you alone.

"You seem to be someone important, hon" she said casually "anything I should know, my dear Y/N?" she asked with a smirk

You just rolled your eyes, not wanting her to notice the nerves that hadn't left you yet. You had certain ideas of who might have sent that guy to follow you and just thinking about it made your stomach churn.

"I thought he would give up soon" you said "I thought he just followed me because I was alone"

"Well, clearly someone put a target on your head, love."

The way she said it was so casual that it was almost hurtful. She didn't seem to care that your life might be in danger or that someone was hunting you...but to be honest, you couldn't blame her. She didn't even know you, why should she care? At least she was kind enough to walk you there, and a part of you was afraid that she would get tired of waiting for the man to go away and leave you alone.

"If he doesn't leave in the next 15 minutes, we'll go to plan B" she said suddenly.

"P-Plan B?" you asked confused

She just smiled at you and called the waiter to ask for your wine glasses to be refilled and she ordered another lasagna for the two of you. It looked like you were going to be here for a while.

____________________

Agatha wasn't a woman who shone for her patience with humans, and if she was being honest, that guy who looked at you as if you had a sale sign around your neck was starting to annoy her.

She didn't really know what had come over her, but in that hour sitting with you, she had become…rather protective of you. And if that idiot wouldn't stop looking at you as fresh meat, God help him.

___________________

"Okay, that's all" You blinked as your companion set her glass firmly against the table and wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin, all the while looking behind you.

"Still there?" you asked

"Not for much longer"

"Where are you going?" you said alarmed, taking her arm as she stood up

"To talk to him" she smiled at you "He won't bother you again"

You let go of her arm and lightly scoffed at it. Agatha looked at you curiously and for a moment she didn't move, just getting lost in the nervous movement of your fingers gently tapping the table.

"If you can do that" you said "I'll take you on a real date" you joked

"Deal" she smirked and winked at you when you looked at her in surprise.

You watched in silence as the woman approached with a firm and sure step to the table from where the man had been watching you. For a moment you worried that he was going to do something to her, but you quickly put that thought to rest. Agatha seemed like the type of woman who could defend herself.

You couldn't really hear what she said to the man, and her back partially blocked your view of his face, but from one moment to the next, you thought you saw his eyes (or at least the only one you could see) turning purple and his expression changed to one of horror.

You dismissed it as an effect of the alcohol in your system, even though you hadn't had that much to drink. However, you couldn't think much of it because the man quickly got up, dropping a wad of bills on the table with a thud, and stormed out of there like hell.

You gaped at Agatha as she walked back to you with a smirk on her face. You didn't even bother trying to hide your blush when she caressed your cheek after gently closing your mouth.

"How nice, he even paid our bill" she told you "come on honey, I think it's safe to get out of here"

You didn't protest when she pulled you up and laced her fingers through yours to guide you out of the place. Your mind tried to catch up with everything without success.

_________________

"How…what did you tell him?" you asked once you were able to find your voice after walking with her for at least two blocks

"Nothing important" she smiled, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

You seemed too lost in thought, not noticing that you had never let go of her hand since you left the cafe. Not that she cared, in fact, she was quickly becoming addicted to the feel of your skin on hers.

"I...I don't know how to thank you" you said quietly

"Oh honey" Agatha laughed, stopping.

It was at that moment that your mind seemed to wake up a bit and you realized that you were on your street. You didn't even know how you got there or how she could know where you lived. You thought it could be a mere coincidence.

"We already have a deal, remember?" she said

You looked at her confused, blushing when she wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to her. You put your hands on her shoulders out of sheer reflex and your breath caught in your throat as her piercing eyes scanned you shamelessly.

You gasped a little and your face grew hotter as Agatha used her free hand to caress your face and her thumb teased your lower lip for a moment.

She was really close to her and her warm breath smelled like red wine, which only made it more intoxicating for you. The brunette brought her face a little closer to yours and you could feel her lips brushing against yours.

"I think you promised me a date, my love" she murmured against your mouth.

You swallowed audibly as her eyes turned the same purple you'd seen in the man's eyes and you felt an electric current running through your body.

Oh shit. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

[caedun]

glimpse XXI

((A long-overdue sequel to glimpse XIX, a story I knew the end of but struggled to identify the middle of until recently. More to come in this tale.))

---

It was a towering, lopsided thing.

A titled bone, worn by wind and sprouting from its arid host, the only sign of long-gone life in the evaporated wasteland, and now the lone target towards which he journeyed.

From a distance, he had assumed it a structure. The closer he came, the more he considered it a marriage of the geological and xenological, a desperate attempt by a non-native being to turn a lone option for shelter into some form of housing. Even possessed of his own unique sight he could infer the multiple apertures that made for windows and the structural outliers that suggested an inhabitant, but it was not until he neared the "building" that he began to sense what truly mattered: his quarry.

Even well beyond visual range of the entryway, he knew a demon resided within the walls of the makeshift tower. At the realization a long breath, matching the heat of the ash-blasted desert through which he trekked, left his mouth and snaked about his jaw, then his teeth clacked shut and his mind raced as he began to plan his assault.

Really, truly, bearer mine? Even here, on the precipice of your death, you would give yourself to The Hunt? Slay what may very well be the only other living being on this emaciated world? Your dedication would be impressive, were it not towards so worthless a craft.

"Shut up," came his reply, growled aloud to the one heard only by he, by now a practiced response. He distanced his thoughts from his eternal compatriot, gaze flitting between the openings in the structure and what now appeared to be an entryway with a makeshift door.

Twenty metres out. He saw clearer now, as though the outline of the demon's body was visible through the walls.

Fifteen metres out. He released another heated breath, his veins dilating and filling his muscles with scorching blood.

Ten metres out. The demon's motions stopped, hesitant, the pressure of his presence surely noticed by now. He scanned the target; undoubtedly shivan, weakened but fully mobile.

Five metres out. The demon moved towards the entryway, stood just on the other side of the door. His footfalls left scorched glass in the sand and his fists clenched, the cabled muscles in his forearms straining his wristwraps.

One metre out. His body lowered into a bound spring, his eyes widening and lips curling back into a mask of violent rage. He took in a long breath between his teeth, flooding his body with oxygen to power his impending movement. He could cover this distance in less than a second.

The door swung open and he held his stance, the gathered pressure holding, but not releasing, at the sight before him.

The shivan was clad in tattered, sack-cloth robes, the edges faded into the same powdery colour as the dust that covered the planet; none of their typical adornments of crown or pauldron interrupted the slight, ghostly silhouette she cut. A hood obscured her face, but an Illidari perceived every detail of a demon regardless. She bore a wide smile, three of her hands holding what appeared to be a container and two small cups, the other holding the door ajar.

"A guest!" she cried, the fourth hand lifting from the handle to beckon him forward. She quickly spun on a bare heel, heading back into the structure, chattering in Eredun all the while, "I felt your approach and thought I had finally lost it; then I thought you were a Legion assassin but I figured why would they send one after all this time, then as you got closer I realized you have Fel power but you are not of the Legion so I assumed you got lost here like I did but your presence is so threatening that..."

Like an overheated machine expelling steam he slowly released the pressure in his muscles and breast, rising back to standing and watching the shivan slip back inside, gaze lingering on the open doorway. She continued to talk at him, but most of the words passed around and above him as he mused on the situation, his expression stony and flat.

Ahh, and now you are suddenly above wanton slaughter. Make up your mind, hunter. Is it curiousity? Pity? The shivan are master manipulators... you should stop wasting my time, kill her, and return to dying slowly in the desert so I can watch.

He ignored his passenger, and stepped forward. The shivan's reaction was extremely uncharacteristic and he could easily measure her strength, which had clearly waned in what appeared to be a very, very long time on this world. Reason got the better of the need to destroy and he paced forward, entering the structure--or, apparently, home.

[msbigredmachine]

TARGETS - 27 - In The Mouth of Darkness

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted.  (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

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

Roman leaned against the wall of the van he was ensconced in, staring dully at the heap of clothes in front of him, seeing them without seeing them. His mind was somewhere else, spinning with a million thoughts - all of them centered on his love.

It seemed impossible that six hours had elapsed since he had last seen Jasmine; six hours since she left Leona's house. Since then, he'd replayed their last encounter several times in his mind, reducing it to the fragmented haze of sight and sensation that all treasured memories seem to consist of. He recalled what she said before she left, remembered what she had been wearing - heck, he could still remember the warm softness of her lips beneath his as he kissed her, the determined look in her eyes before she walked out that door. If he'd known this would happen, that that psychopath would take her, he'd have barricaded the doors and kept her inside and in the safety of his arms.

That Corbin had Jasmine, frankly, terrified Roman. If that bastard had his way, he would never see her again. If he lost Jasmine today, he wouldn't know what to do with himself, he honestly didn't. But he could not allow himself to think like that. He knew firsthand that his girlfriend was a firebrand, a fighter. There was little doubt in the Samoan’s mind that she was going to survive Baron and be reunited with him.

Roman had hitchhiked on a laundry delivery truck, hiding out among the dirty clothing. It wasn't a problem for him, as he'd staked out in worse places for agonizingly long periods of time. He recalled his phone conversation with Dean and Seth a couple of hours ago.

"What exactly is the plan, Reigns?" Dean asked. "After this...after you rescue Jasmine...what are you going to do?"

"We're going to bring the Companies down," Roman answered him, "both of us."

"What?" Seth and Dean exclaimed, their voices so loud that Roman actually had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"Bring the companies down? You tellin’ us you wanna bring down F.L.O.R.A. and the Authority?" Dean repeated incredulously, "Have you lost your fuckin' mind? How the hell do you expect to bring down two groups of the world's deadliest assassins all by yourselves? And need I remind you that even if you do rescue Jasmine intact...Corbin would have done some serious damage, you know that. She may be in no shape, physical or mental, to do anything by the time he's through with her."

Roman wished he could explain himself further. He knew they both wanted in on the action. But he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let them get in harm's way. Not for him. "There's a plan in place, don't worry," he assured them. "But right now, the less you know the better. And if Jasmine and I do make it out of this mess, we've got a one-way ticket to Jamaica. And if we don't make it..." He watched their eyes widen. "I've asked Leona to head there if she doesn't hear from me. I want you to do the same. Both of you."

"You're joking," said Seth, stunned. "You want us to run?"

"Not run. Walk away. Start over. Skip town and this God-forsaken life behind. You deserve better lives than this and you both know it," Roman replied fiercely. And the silence that followed proved him right.

"Still...Dude, let us help you. I can get Dean to turn the car around right now," Seth pleaded.

"I can't let you do that. This is my fight. I got into this mess all on my own. I can't get you involved any further and have them chasing after you for the rest of your lives."

"Meh, they know we're involved already. We’ll take our chances," said Dean, "Corbin won't be in that building without backup. You need us, man."

"I don't care how many people are in there; I'll kill them all for hurting her." He paused and swallowed hard, the emotion threatening to take over again. He finally understood why sentiment was outlawed in this business; the pain of losing someone you cared about was overwhelming, all-consuming, and almost impossible to recover. But the former Authority agent knew he needed to put that aside and focus on getting this done, like any other assignment.

"Remember, boys. Jamaica," he reminded them. "I will meet you there as soon as possible."

"Your ass had better be there," snarled Dean, "You got a week to show up, and if you don't, I swear to God I'll come right back to the States and take out your fuckin' ghost."

Roman nearly laughed at the threat. He was sure he meant it, too. "I'll be there. We’ll both be there. I promise."

"Good. It’s about damn time we met the woman that’s stolen our boy’s heart,” Seth said with a deep, resigned sigh. “Get rid of the phone the moment you can, alright?"

"Will do. I'll see you soon, boys." And with that, Roman had hung up.

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

He sniffed the air, and was instantly taken back in time. He knew exactly where he was. It took a bit of effort, but he broke out of the laundry truck and jumped out, relieved that he hadn't hurt himself as he did so. Looking across the road, he was spot on with his calculations. Roman could feel his fingers itch with eagerness. Shaking his muscular shoulders, he set off towards the building. In other circumstances, he would have given more time for to scout the area, but time was something he was lacking right now. Every second lost took Jasmine further away from his reach.

His walk was somber, subdued but determined, and a reminiscent chill swept through him as he crossed the tarred road. Yeah, this was it. This was the very place where he'd first got involved with The Authority. Unfortunately the ‘meeting’ hadn't gone very well; He was a bystander then, a hungry punk kid fresh out of prison and finding his way around Vermont, looking for some food to get him through the day. The warehouse looked like a good place to start. He ended up stumbling on an active ‘interrogation’ and the sight of a man in a chair covered in blood. Kevin Owens spotted him. He remembered fighting for his life against Owens, remembered the helplessness he felt as Owens stood over him, a bloodthirsty look in his eyes, sadistic enjoyment practically oozing off of every word he spoke...

"Sorry, man; you're at the wrong place at a very wrong time..."

That night changed his life forever. But by the time all of this was over, they would wish they let him go. They would regret ever crossing Roman Reigns. Every single one of them. And he would start with Corbin. That was a promise.

He dragged his beanie hat over his tied-up hair, hands in pockets, looking like just another pedestrian. He watched as a hooded man slipped in through the lone door at the side of the building and shut it behind him. Locked, surely. Approaching the door, he began working on the lock, looking around a number of times to make sure no one was watching him. The door opened successfully after a couple of tries. The area was blanketed in darkness, stuffy and uncomfortable. Perfect conditions for him. He navigated inside, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. He made his way quietly down a flight of stairs towards the basements, where he had deduced Jasmine was being kept. Just as he thought, there were people standing guard; two men and a woman. He recognized them all; former Authority recruits. One of the men, Trick, if he recalled his name, stood there at the bottom of the stairs, oblivious to the intruder behind him. Withdrawing his gun, Roman aimed it at the back of Trick’s head and fired, the silencer giving nothing away. He stepped over the agent's body and kept walking like nothing had happened.

He made quick work of the other two, Dijak and Jakara, the woman. Their presence meant that Roman was at the right place. Both had dark hoodies slung over their heads and guns in their grasp as they patrolled the long, straight corridor. Roman moved quietly, ensuring to remain in the shadows. His footsteps were silent, invisible to the naked eye or ear. He approached Jakara from behind, locked his hands around her head and twisted it brutally to the side. Dijak received a bullet in the head for his troubles. He confiscated their weapons and continued on his way.

As Dean had shown him, there was a long line of doors along both parts of the corridor. Roman resolutely picked open the locks of each one, his heart pounding with anticipation and hope. But each door produced nothing. Time after time, hope after hope was dashed. And Baron was still nowhere to be seen.

He had pushed open the very last door, almost certain that he'd been too late, when his gaze landed on the slender figure dangling in the middle of the room. He recognized the person instantly, and shock flooded his body.

Her red wig was gone. Her dark hair was limp and dirty and tinged with blood. She was suspended in the air, heavy chains binding her arms above her head, her feet off the floor with her legs shackled together. Her half-naked body exposed the cuts and bruises littering her skin. There were deep, nasty-looking gashes along her stomach and both of her thighs. Corbin had hurt her. Badly. And Roman would make sure he paid if it was the last thing he did.

Rushing into the room, he aimed his gun and fired at the chain holding her arms hostage. He caught her before she dropped to the ground. Gently cupping her head, a sob nearly escaped his throat when he took a look at her face for the first time. It was battered and streaked with blood, and her eyes were swollen shut. Roman placed a gentle palm on her cheek. "Jasmine, wake up. It's me. Please wake up, baby."

She stirred, a small groan emanating from her. Squinting through swollen eyes at him, she gasped with surprise. "Roman?" she whispered. Her voice was incredibly weak. Roman felt the tears sting his eyes. "Oh, thank God," he breathed, bringing his forehead to hers.

Tears filled her eyes. "You're here. You found me."

He pushed his lips against hers and stroked her lank hair. "Of course I did. I told you I would." His bottom lip trembled, and it was all he could do not to break down in front of her. He couldn't describe the relief he felt that she was alive. "I'm so sorry, baby girl."

"Don't be," A sad smile tugged at her full lips. "Just get me out of here, and hurry. I don't know where he's gone or how long for."

"I'm on it. Is anything broken?" he inquired, just to make sure.

"No." Jasmine winced and hissed in pain when she brought her arms to her front. She was hurting everywhere; her entire body felt like she had third-degree burns, and it didn't help that this was the first time she could move in over six hours. Roman came back in front of her and unshackled her legs. His gaze drifted to the spot on her thigh where the branding iron had struck her, leaving an ugly wound that looked like it was infected. As he gingerly touched the area, Jasmine violently flinched with another hiss, and he regretted causing her pain. He eyed the bruises on her inner thighs, and looked up tentatively at his girlfriend, already dreading the answer to what he was about to ask. "Corbin...did he…do anything else?"

Jasmine swallowed hard, tears of shame rising. "He...touched me…He…put his fingers inside me," she clarified meekly. The heartbroken look on his face made her want to actually cry. "I'm sorry...I tried to stop him, I swear-"

"Hey, hey!" His hand was back on her face, his lips on her bruised cheek, soothing her, assuring her, "It wasn't your fault. You hear me? He did this." Jasmine's head was bowed as she nodded. Roman trembled with fury and hatred. "And he gon’ fucking pay. I'll kill him," he growled. "I'll rip his fucking balls out and feed them to him."

"Not if I kill him first," Jasmine told him, and Roman smiled as that familiar fire of hers flickered again. "Come on, let's get you to your feet," he said. "I can carry you out of here. Can you move for me?"

"I'll try." She glanced up, her gaze immediately drifted to the door. "Roman, look out!" she screamed.

The sound of the gunshot echoed all around the room.

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

Thoughts?

Credit to the owners of the pics and the gifs.

Please leave comments. I love comments!

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read: The Great Hunt! Chapter 4: Summoned

Welcome back to my reread, folks! Today we're in for a real treat: Our first real Moiraine POV. Sadly, this post - like every other one I'll ever make - is filled with indiscriminate spoilers for the whole damn Wheel of Time series, so you should move on if you don't wanna deal with that.

Another chapter, another new chapter icon. The Horn of Valere makes an appearance, which is funny because for the most part it's only discussed by Anaiya, who doesn't know what's up with it. Its container is seen but not openly mentioned.

Little in Tar Valon besides a meeting of the Hall of the Tower called for the formality of the shawls, and beyond the Shining Walls a sight of the Flame would send too many people running, to hide or perhaps to fetch the Children of the Light. A Whitecloak’s arrow was as fatal to an Aes Sedai as to anyone else, and the Children were too wily to let an Aes Sedai see the bowman before the arrow struck, while she still might do something about it.

So like, do Whitecloaks just murder Aes Sedai in broad daylight on city streets? Do they follow them out of town and kill them on the roads? The former seems like something that would get them into a lot of trouble regardless of their target: someone willing and able to kill an Aes Sedai is going to be a dangerous assassin regardless. The latter seems like a hassle. I think there's a reason the Whitecloaks drop off of the threat scale pretty quickly after book four.

There must be trouble, or she would not have come herself, she thought for at least the tenth time. But beyond that lay a thousand questions more. What trouble, and who did she choose to accompany her? Why here? Why now? It cannot be allowed to go wrong now.

Frankly, even while stressing about it, I think Moiraine's underselling the crisis. She knows there's been all sorts of trouble out in the world of late, with the unnatural winter and the false Dragon and the time Caemlyn was almost wiped out by Trollocs but no one knew about it. She knows that there's other bullshit going on in the world at large too from the eyes and ears she'd be talking to. Meanwhile, she's just made herself a major figure of import in Fal Dara by showing up just as multiple miracles occur and explaining nothing. It makes sense that now that the hunt phase of her quest is over, the game is going to change drastically, but she's spent twenty years doing one thing so it's not something she's ready to adapt to.

Her sisters in the White Tower knew a few of her tricks, and suspected others, including some that did not exist, some that had shocked her when she learned of them. The things she did with the stone were simple and small, if occasionally useful; the kind a child would imagine. But if the wrong women had accompanied the Amyrlin, the crystal might put them off balance, because of the tales.

You could take the crystal off... Just saying. (Also note how ineffective the White Tower is at preserving knowledge that at this point it's just taken as a given that a Sister will have secret tricks not even shared with the rest of her Ajah.)

Both women were taller than Moiraine, though Liandrin by less than a hand.

Jordan's Law of Inverse Power Volume means that Liandrin is almost as much of a threat as Moiraine, but not much.

“Against all,” Moiraine replied smoothly. “Many of the serving women are curious about Aes Sedai, and I do not want them pawing through my rooms when I am not here. There was no need to make a distinction until now.”

So she's lying about something here, that's the rule of Aes Sedai talking smoothly. Possibly the only lie is the implication that she will respond to the need to make a distinction to her wards, but also possibly she's bringing up the serving women to distract from far more interesting culprits: Darkfriends in general, but also possibly the EF5.

“This time, Moiraine,” Anaiya said, “you have been gone from Tar Valon too long. Much too long. Tar Valon misses you. Your sisters miss you. And you are needed in the White Tower.”

Clearly Moiraine returns to the Tower on occasion, both to keep up appearances and also because Tar Valon provides a lot of opportunities for pursuing her investigations. How long has she been gone though? Does she usually come to the Tower every year and missed the last one? Are the gaps even longer than that?

“Three more false Dragons.” Liandrin bit the words off. “In Saldaea, Murandy, and Tear false Dragons ravage the land. The while, you Blues smile and talk of nothing, and try to hold on to the past.”

Liandrin is so bad at socializing. You'd think the Black Ajah would hold socialization practice meetings to help their sisters blend in more. The reason the Wheel makes sure that women don't pick up facial hair is because the Black Ajah would completely give itself away two years after its establishment with all the rampant mustache twirling they'd do.

Also I guess for posterity I should note that this is our first mention of Taim, one of our few mentions of the unnamed Haddon Mirk DR that is completely irrelevant but people keep asking about him, and probably the only mention of the Murandy DR who was apparently teamkilled.

How easily can the world deal with three at one time? How many will flock to their banners? There has never been a shortage of followers for any man claiming to be the Dragon Reborn. How great will the wars be this time?

Is that middle bit strictly true? Were the initial claimants very popular, or did the popularity of the Dragon Reborn grow overtime as the political and technological might of the region declined? To what degree could the existing power structures forestall the popularity of DR claims, if any?

Anaiya tsked. “Sometimes formality is necessary, but men often make more of it than they must. Please, call me Anaiya, and I will call you Amalisa, if I may.”

I've been back to highlighting flaws with Jordan's ideas of gender roles and stuff but I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be ironic: I've known lots of people who love formality when it means people have to fawn all over them.

From the corner of her eye, Moiraine saw Egwene, far down the side hall, disappearing hurriedly around a corner. A stooped shape in a leather jerkin, head down and arms loaded with bundles, shambled at her heels. Moiraine permitted herself a small smile, quickly masked. If the girl shows as much initiative in Tar Valon, she thought wryly, she will sit in the Amyrlin Seat one day. If she can learn to control that initiative. If there is an Amyrlin Seat left on which to sit.

F-f-f-FORESHADOWING! About the only part that doesn't get relevant in some way or another is that Egwene never learns self-control in any meaningful sense. ;)

(Also if I'm not mistaken this is our first time seeing Rand outside his POV.)

“. . . and I would welcome the chance to learn more of your land.” She wore a smile, open and almost girlish, and her voice was friendly.

Liandrin's a great counter-example of the whole, "Judge people by how they treat waiters" advice. You should people by how they treat folks all over the place - some folks who think they're better than everyone are very kind to those that society recognizes as beneath them in the way that most of us are kind to puppies, but very shitty to those who are broadly considered their equals.

It constantly amazed Moiraine that Anaiya dealt as well as she did in the White Tower, but those who were devious always seemed to take her openness and honesty, her acceptance of everyone, as cunning devices. They were always caught completely off balance when she turned out to mean what she said and say what she meant. Too, she had a way of seeing to the heart of things.

Anaiya deals very well: a good deal of evidence suggests that at this point in the series, she's the Head of the Blue Ajah! For example, Moiraine's earlier line in this very chapter where she says she'll leave the Hall to Anaiya even though Anaiya is not a Sitter. She's certainly very important regardless and I have no doubt that Jordan intended it to be that she had risen to such acclaim because she didn't play the White Tower game, not despite it. It's very strong for his themes that even minor characters whose histories are of no importance to the narrative reflect them.

Morgase holds her throne less securely than she did last year, but she holds it still, and will so long as Gareth Bryne is Captain-General of the Queen’s Guards. ... The Daughter-Heir’s party was followed to the River Erinin by the Children of the Light. To the very bridges to Tar Valon.

Foreshadowing for the next book or three here, with Morgase's fall, Bryne's departure, and the encounter with the Whitecloaks all set up.

But she still must keep the full extent of the girl’s potential secret. Would the people of Andor knowingly accept Elayne on the Lion Throne after Morgase if they knew? Not just a queen trained in Tar Valon according to custom, but a full Aes Sedai?

And this I'd say is setting up the succession crisis arc, though honestly I don't recall a lot of Elayne's status as Aes Sedai being anywhere near as much an issue as Morgase's reputation.

“You must know that the Great Hunt of the Horn has been called in Illian, the first time in four hundred years. The Illianers say the Last Battle is coming”—Anaiya gave a little shiver, as well she might, but went on without a pause—“and the Horn of Valere must be found before the final battle against the Shadow... In any case, there will be a new lot of stories for the bards and gleemen to add to the cycle. The Light send it is only new stories.” “Perhaps not the stories they expect,” Moiraine said. Liandrin looked at her sharply, and she kept her face still.

This is pretty much it for Horn discussion in this chapter, one rumor among many that all make it clear that Tarmon Gaidon is coming. There's a particularly millenarianist mindset in the people of the world, in many ways the Hunt is just a much more pleasant variation of a Crusade. It's really no surprise so many people end up Darkfriends when even the good guys seem desperate for the world to be destroyed and replaced.

And then there's Moiraine, smugly bragging about being at the center of it all and thinking she's slick.

The Sea Folk are agitated, their ships flying from port to port with barely a pause. Sisters from the islands say the Coramoor, their Chosen One, is coming, but they won’t say more.

Interesting that Anaiya says "Sisters" instead of "The sisters". There's only three, so most people would phrase it the latter way because a poll could be conducted quickly and thoroughly (especially since they all live and work together). I think Jordan hadn't quite decided how separate the two societies would end up being yet.

The Aiel appear to be stirring, too, but no one knows why. No one ever knows with the Aiel. At least there is no evidence they mean to cross the Spine of the World again, thank the Light.

Meanwhile, less than sixty miles away, a Stone Dog is examining his sixth Borderlander farm for the day while hiding in a leafless bush and sadly concluding that the Car'a'carn is probably on the other side of the continent.

“Almoth Plain,” Liandrin said, and looked surprised that she had spoken.

Liandrin's need to be the smartest person in the room means she's pretty terrible at espionage. She almost certainly got the full debrief on the Seanchan from Ish back in the prologue and if she hasn't been given the order to kidnap the girls yet, it's coming.

What is the wretched girl up to?

I'm a little surprised that Moiraine doesn't suspect her of being Black Ajah outright, but I suppose that she thinks that the Black Ajah infestation is a lot smaller than it is and that being suspicious of every oddly behaving Aes Sedai would mean falsely accusing a whole third of the tower. Shame she couldn't just balefire every Aes Sedai that looked at her funny and saved the world a whole lot of trouble.

The Brown sisters concerned themselves with little beside seeking knowledge. Moiraine sometimes wondered if they were really aware of what was going on in the world, or even immediately around them.

Yay Verin, my favorite Aes Sedai (besides our mains) and Least Suspicious Woman in the World! @checkoutmybookshelf , she is not sketch!!!!

Moiraine not spending any time at the Tower is really coming to bite her in the ass is what I would say if Siuan isn't going to be just as blindsided as she is.

Where are the others? There was no need for them all to be there—most would be resting in their rooms, freshing from the journey—but she was on edge now, all the questions she could not ask running through her head.

Don't worry Moiraine, they're completely irrelevant. Hell, the nameless Yellow Sister in the room with you is irrelevant. Why were they all brought? Siuan says it's about giving each Ajah two representatives (plus her and Leane as non-Ajqah), but why do all the Ajahs want representatives specifically just for bringing in Moiraine? Why not thirteen sisters who could be trusted to shield her if necessary, a number they don't have because there's only twelve non-Blues (and some of the Hall would be concerned that Siuan at least would join in, which would necessitate even more sisters to keep both in check).

At the sight of the golden cube Moiraine had difficulty keeping her face unruffled. The last she had seen of it, it had been safely locked in Agelmar’s strongroom. On learning of the Amyrlin Seat’s arrival she had meant to tell her of it herself. That it was already in the Amyrlin’s possession was a trifle, but a worrisome trifle. Events could be outpacing her.

Events are outpacing you, Moiraine, it's time to get out of denial. What even have you been up to this past month? You haven't been training Rand, you didn't expect this meet-up with Siuan... Did you just send her word and decide to await further instructions? And if so, why wouldn't you expect the Wheel to keep weaving while you stood still?

She was only of medium height, and handsome rather than beautiful, but her face held a strength that had been there before her elevation, the strength of the girl who had survived the streets of the Maule, Tear’s port district, and her clear blue gaze had made kings and queens, and even the Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, drop their eyes.

I really wanna know about the time that Siuan and Niall met. Heck, I also wanna know about Siuan's Maule adventures possibly.

Morgase was one of the few rulers to openly admit to an Aes Sedai councilor; almost all had one, but few admitted it.

Presumably the Borderlanders are the others who admit to it. Tear's leaders probably don't have an advisor, maybe Amadicia's don't either though I could see them doing it in secret since they're not the Whitecloaks. Of course, I could also see the Aes Sedai seeing Amadicia's supposed leaders being far too irrelevant to risk a perfectly valuable sister on.

The Amyrlin nodded as if it were all of no consequence. Moiraine’s eyebrows lifted in surprise before she caught herself and smoothed her features. Those were the two main concerns in the Hall of the Tower, that fewer girls who could be trained to channel the One Power were found every year, or so it seemed, and that fewer of real power were found.

The political positioning around the three Wondergirls really isn't! Elayne won't be providing the Reds any glory going forward because of the Schism, Egwene sheds Ajah affiliation and then dies, and ain't nobody going to want to say they deserve special treatment because their Ajah found Nynaeve as she will Gateway straight to them with her favorite stick and provide it on the spot. What really matters is what the three girls bring to the Tower as a whole, which is a goddamn shitton. Per girl. Plus, all three girls are going to reverse the trends about the two main concerns before the end of the series.

Elaida had another reason for coming to Tar Valon, Daughter. She sent the same message by six different pigeons to make sure I received it—and to whom else in Tar Valon she sent pigeons, I can only guess—then came herself. She told the Hall of the Tower that you are meddling with a young man who is ta’veren, and dangerous.

The thing I love about early book Elaida is that she's not even wrong. Moiraine is a weird Aes Sedai who fucks off for months or years at a time, gave herself a suicidal prince for a Warder, and now she's playing around with ta'veren in the midst of a supernaturally prolonged winter while False Dragons declare themselves in every corner of the world? That's fucking terrifying when you don't know her. Of course Elaida writes to Siuan in desperation. Of course she wrote letters to the Head of the Red Ajah and the Red Sitters and probably every other Sitter and fifteen other sisters who looked important just in case they were the other Ajah Heads.

...Elaida harms no one except those she considers dangerous. Darkfriends, or those poor fool men who try to channel the One Power. Or one who threatens Tar Valon. Everyone else who isn’t Aes Sedai might as well be pieces on a stones board as far as she is concerned. Luckily for him, the innkeeper, one Master Gill as I remember, apparently thinks much of Aes Sedai, and so answered her questions to her satisfaction. Elaida actually spoke well of him.

And like, I think it's Siuan's bias that makes her say that middle bit about pieces on a board. Elaida's a red whose desperate letters include complimentary things about a man who helped her. She didn't have to do that but she did because she knows he's just a dude trying to live his life in uncertain times.

“It was put forward in the Hall that you should be sent into retreat for contemplation. This was proposed by one of the Sitters for the Green Ajah, with the other two nodding approval as she spoke.”

This, and the further proposal by the Greens that the Reds be in charge of Moiraine's retreat, likely comes specifically from Talene, since she's the only Black Ajah Sitter among the Greens.

“It was further proposed, also by the Greens, that your care during your retreat should be given to the Red Ajah. The Red Sitters tried to appear surprised, but they looked like fisher-birds who knew the catch was unguarded.” The Amyrlin sniffed. “The Reds professed reluctance to take custody of one not of their Ajah, but said they would accede to the wishes of the Hall.”

Amusingly, thanks to the Vileness, none of the Red Sitters (Teslyn, Pevara, and Amira) are Black Ajah themselves. Also note the fisher-birds simile. Siuan loves em.

“There was yet another proposal, one that still smells like week-old fish on the jetty. Since Leane is of the Blue Ajah and I came from the Blue, it was put forward that sending two sisters of the Blue with me on this journey would give the Blue four representatives. Proposed in the Hall, to my face, as if they were discussing repairing the drains. Two of the White Sisters stood against me, and two Green. The Yellow muttered among themselves, then would not speak for or against. One more saying nay, and your sisters Anaiya and Maigan would not be here. There was even some talk, open talk, that I should not leave the White Tower at all.”

Again we can assume Talene was one of the Green, and Velina amid the White, but which others did they convince? The Green is probably Rubinde since she votes to depose Siuan later, but then there's the Whites. Neither of the other Whites is invited to the coup vote later; one is sent away to the Rebels for her own safety and the other nominated Siuan for Amyrlin in the first place.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Leane said, “As you wish, Mother.” Moiraine could feel her surprise. The Amyrlin gave few audiences without the Keeper present, especially not to a sister she had reason to chastise.

Leane should be used to being a third wheel when Moiraine's around if you ask me.

“I don’t know that any of the others have your old trick,” the Amyrlin Seat said, lightly touching the blue stone on Moiraine’s forehead with one finger, “but most of us have some small tricks remembered from childhood. In any event, no one can hear what we say now.”

It's later clarified that eavesdropping is one of the most common early weaves for a wilder to teach herself, so this is wise. It's also interesting that Siuan says that most Aes Sedai have these: the official policy is anti-Wilder but it seems that most sisters are technically among their ranks.

“No, I would not give it up. Most of the time, no. But there have been times I envied that village goodwife. At this moment, I almost do. Moiraine, if anyone, even Leane, discovers what we plan, we will both be stilled. And I can’t say they would be wrong to do it.”

I can! Unlike all the previous Amyrlins who might have gotten involved in raising up Dragons Reborn, y'all are doing it because you know damn well that it's happened and that the world needs to be ready. The only thing wrong in what you two got up to is that you stay so relentlessly secretive even now. Oh well, it had to be done. The very first Aes Sedai who's going to discover what you're up to is Black Ajah, after all.

Anyway, that's another chapter done. See you next time when we have three new POVs and a first with four POVs in a single chapter altogether! Our transition from Rand is gonna hit hard folks!

[etherishome]

Luck & Vain: She Let Him In

Chapter 4 of Luck & Vain. On their way towards the Underdark, the party finds a monster hunter who has been tracking Astarion since the Nautiloid. Astarion never doubts that, after all she's done for the other freaks with them, Tav won't give him up--but is surprised by the encounter nonetheless.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Content Warnings: brief depiction/reference to past nonconsensual sexual experiences, manipulation, spoilers for The Pale Elf quest in BG3

It's been, Astarion thinks, a remarkably good day.

He awoke from his restful trance long before Tav woke from her human sleep, so was well alert to watch her slowly stretch and roll around before realizing where she was. She looked up at him with a dopey sort of smile--lovesick? anemic?--and wordlessly nuzzled into his side.

"You just can't keep away, can you?" Astarion smoothed her bedhead from her ears, running his fingers over her jawbone, across her neck. Tav has two little dimples on her neck now, like a sealed ear piercing. When his thumb brushed over them this morning, she shivered against him.

"Comfy," she replied.

"Very eloquent of you."

Eloquent, no. Articulate, perhaps. Comfy was not a part of his lies that Astarion ever got to live out with his victims. How often had he, had his body, falsely promised this to his targets over the years? Come to bed with me, and we'll spend the night and waste the morning. Rot in bed till the workday, make a home among bedsheets and half-empty wine-bottles.

Yet there Astarion was, his mark resting in his arms, legs tangled, the morning bugs and birds chirping under the sun. Comfy.

He's never had to live the lie this long. What comes next?

The decimated village was where they found Astarion's second bliss of the day. When they stumbled upon a barn and heard what could only be, undeniably, the largest sex they'd ever heard. Someone inside let out a gutteral yelp. Tav, face a mixture of concerned and confused, reached for the door.

Evidently, the answer was more walking. Tav stealthily slipped from Astarion's tent during the bustle of packing up camp and south the party marched, towards the decimated village that housed what few goblins remain in this area. They were on the hunt for a hag, apparently, who could get them to the Underdark, which would get them to the Shadowlands, which would... well, Astarion isn't sure where they get from there, but presumably a nice city, free of worms.

"Wait," Astarion burst out. "Don't interrupt."

Shadowheart cast Astarion an interrogating look, as if to ask, "Since when did you care about other people's feelings?"

"Let me do it," he said, a grin sneaking across his face. "They sound disgusting."

Realization of what was happening in the barn finally settled on Tav's face. Astarion fully expected her to march the party away, leaving whatever was happening behind closed doors. Instead, she stepped aside, tiny smile on the corner of her lips.

He was almost giddy. Astarion threw open the barn doors and stumbled back, cackling at the sight of the ogre getting ravished by a bugbear.

The ensuing fight was certainly with the moment.

Most of the party set up camp just south of the once-a-village, while Tav's scouting party marched southward, the ground getting ever squelchier and mosquitoes ever buzzier. The weather remained as fair as ever, the grass as green and flowers as repugnant. He couldn't help but notice the party get twitchier, however, the wetter things got. Until the spell broke, and they found themselves in a godsforsaken bog.

"Not one pleasant thing today?" Shadowheart had moaned as she absently kicked over a basket, watching what were certainly poisonous apples roll into the muck.

"Could be worse," Karlach said cheerfully. "Tav, ask those fellas what's up."

"The redcaps?" Shadowheart said. "Really?"

"Fugly little buggers," Karlach said.

"Nasty little buggers," Shadowheart said. "They'll gnaw our ankles off before we get a step further."

"They don't seem very aggressive," Tav said thoughtfully.

"These are certainly a little less blood-drenched than the usual fare," Astarion noted.

Tav strode toward the nearest one. There was nearly a bounce in her step.

The redcap twisted his face up at her. With a weary sneer, he opened his mouth.

"Baaaa."

They understood at once. If they hadn't broken the illusion, these redcaps would look like sheep. And this one was still begrudgingly playing his part.

"Baaa," Tav said back, cheerfully.

Karlach clapped a hand over her mouth. Shadowheart smiled, which looked a little less wicked than usual. Astarion snickered.

The redcap shuffled off. Tav deftly stepped in front of him, staring him down.

"BAAAA," the redcap said, now a big angry.

"Baaa," Tav said, nodding wisely in agreement.

Shadowheart turned her face into Karlach's arm to hide her laugh. Astarion giggled.

"Leave the poor animal alone, dear," he called out. "We'll find you a conversation partner more on your level. A snail, perhaps. Or a zombie."

Karlach cackled. Tav walked back, swatting Astarion on the arm as she went.

"C'mon, there's a path up this way we didn't turn down. Maybe we can avoid the redcaps that way."

And that was the day, leading up to this moment. Tav waking in Astarion's tent, Tav letting Astarion have his fun, Tav keeping Astarion entertained.

He's allowed to enjoy it. He can like her. There's no study she'll disappear to at the end, never to be seen again. Astarion truly can have his fun this time. As they hike up the boggy hill, he flashes her a rakish grin.

It's been a very good day.

Until, of course, they come across someone.

"Great," Astarion mutters. "Another lost soul. Help me, Tav. Save me, Tav. Let me give my problems to you!"

Tav doesn't heed the warning. So she isn't that under his control yet.

"We are running heavy on strays," Shadowheart says in reasoned agreement.

"We are the strays," Karlach counters.

The man swims into clearly focus as they push past the fog into his encampment. It's rather sad, Astarion thinks, to see a camp for one after over a week of their big merry bunch. One tattered bedroll, one fire down to coals, one lumpy backpack.

One rancid stench. Astarion nearly stumbles back down the hill.

"Ah, stranger!" the man says. "Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine. An old hunter's trick."

Astarion knows what the man is immediately. Gur. He can see it in the little details of the man's hair and clothes, the lilt of his voice. He feels boots in his ribs and knives on his skin.

"Monsters will think twice before making a meal of me," the man jokes. "I'm Gandrel."

It's certainly making Astarion think twice about making conversation.

"A monster hunter?" Astarion asks lightly. "I'm surprised. I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats." He watched Tav in his peripheral. '

"Pardon," Tav says politely. "But who--or what--is a Gur?"

Gandrel raises his arms, twinkling his fingers esoterically.

"A mystical and dangerous people," he says in a story-tellers voice. "We travel the land, never settling in one place. We still your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters."

Beat your magistrates, Astarion thinks.

Gandrel gestures to Astarion.

"Your friend here has heard it all, I'm sure," he continues. "I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I'm a simple wanderer and monster-hunter. I'm no witch doctor or cutthroat."

"What are you hunting?" Tav asks. "If it's the hag, we're searching for her ourselves."

"Something terrifying, no doubt," Astarion says. He must remain flippant, uncaring. "Dragons? Cyclops? Kobolds?"

"Nothing so dramatic. I'm hunting a vampire spawn," Gandrel says. "His name is Astarion. I fear he's gone to ground, and was hoping the hag of these lands would help me flush him out. If I can afford her blood-price."

If Gandrel senses the sudden tenseness among his four new companions, his face doesn't betray the perception. Astarion's hand drops instinctively for his knife, hidden as the flourish of a hand on his waist, waiting to hear Tav's next words.

"Only a spawn?" Tav asks. "Pity. Not like he's a real vampire."

Astarion shoots her a venomous look.

"I don't know," he says. "I'm sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it."

"He is right, unfortunately," Gandrel says. "They are only weak when compared to their masters."

Astarion doesn't love the reminder of just what a threat Cazador still poses, even with the tadpole's freedom. He sees himself, knees on the floor, his new companions disappearing into the study forever. You have nothing, he hears Cazador say.

"During the day, we have the advantage," Gandrel continues. "But during night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry."

Astarion knows Tav won't give him up. She didn't give Karlach to Wyll, didn't give Lae'zel to the Tieflings. He waits, confident in her coming attack.

"Interesting," Tav says thoughtfully. Astarion doesn't take his eyes off of Gandrel. Why isn't Tav lunging forward, leaping into action? In his peripheral, he sees her turn to look at him. "Astarion, what do you think."

Oh. She's going to let him do the honors?

A wicked smile slides onto his face as horror crashes onto Gandrel's. Astarion can all but imagine the glint of sunlight on his fangs, the flash of red in his eyes. He pulls out his dagger with a flourish, slowly stepping forward.

"Astarion?" Gandrel splutters. "No, it can't be!" His eyes dart up to the sun, to the dagger, to Tav's face, to Astarion's mouth.

The dagger is in Gandrel's chest before he can protest any further. Tav is quick to follow, coming in under Astarion to deliver more blows to the trusting monster slayer's torso. Astarion rips his dagger free of its collar-bone shelf, spattering Tav with blood. Gandrel is only able to flail, delivering a solid knock to Tav's skull which sends her knocking into Astarion's legs. He lowers his center of gravity to steady them both, and the duck allows Shadowheart to send an arc of radiant flames over his head, a rather touching move, in Astarion's opinion. He reaches down to pull Tav back, letting what's left of Gandrel fall to the ground, setting the tatty bedroll aflame.

An axe buries itself with a mushy crunch in the smoldering log, a moment too late but with great intention. Satisfied, Karlach and Shadowheart start pillaging. 

They watch as the flames die down, almost as quickly as they came. 

"Well," Astarion says. "That could have been much worse for me than it was, really."

"Monster hunters are after you?" Tav asks, wiping a bit of blood from her cheek. It would be a lovely sight if the blood didn't still reek of ironvine powder. 

"Get in line," Karlach grumbles. She's sorting through Gandrel's pack.

"Well, not anymore," Astarion says, dropping to investigate the bow stashed near the bedroll. "Which is all that matters, really." 

"Why?" Tav asks. "What did you do?" 

Astarion bristles. 

"I didn't do anything," he snaps. "I was kidnapped. Just like you." 

"No one's hunting me," Shadowheart says, rummaging through camp supplies. Astarion gives her a dirty look, which likely would hurt her feelings very much if she could bother to turn around. 

"It seems Cazador wants me back," Astarion admits. 

"You're sure Cazador sent him?" Tav asks. 

"It was him, I'm sure," Astarion says, through gritted teeth. "It was him. Only he would--" He pauses, then takes Tav's hand to pull her further from the looters. "Only he would know to send the Gur after me." 

Tav waits for more. 

"It was a group of Gur that attacked me that night in Baldur's gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me." 

"Saved you by turning you into his slave," Tav says. 

Astarion sighs, exasperated. 

"Well, he didn't mention the 'slave' clause at the time," he says, putting a hand on his hip. "Anyways, the Gur monster hunter is a message." 

A cruelly-timed one. Just when Astarion was reveling in a hunt that was all his, a reminder. 

"Reminding me of his power. Even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me," Astarion says bitterly. "And he wants me back." 

Back. Back bloody, knees aching. How long would he be in the kennel? Or maybe buried back underground, this time 12 feet deep, while Cazador counted how long it takes to come crawling back to Master. 

"But why capture you?" Tav asks, brow furrowing. "Why not just kill you?" 

"Maybe he wants to make an example of me," Astarion says, fighting to keep control of his voice. "To show what happens to runaways. Or maybe he thinks death is too good for me."  

Strung up, starved, tortured for years on end. Would Cazador leave Astarion his pretty face, let him wander the streets for dinner again? Or would he find some new, special role, just for his prodigal son, one where being pretty didn't matter nearly as much as the gorier entertainment his body could provide. 

"We'll keep you safe," Tav promises. 

Instantly. 

She hasn't even thought about it. What a useless promise. She has no fucking idea. 

"Do you know the power a vampire lord possesses?" Astarion asks, leaning into her face, fangs out. "He can change shape, turn into mist, call wolves to do his bidding, shrug off blows like they're nothing." 

Tav doesn't move back, although whether it's bravado or slow reflexes Astarion isn't sure. He moves in closer. 

"He could walk into our camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands. And you'd be lucky if death was the worst thing that happens to us." 

Astarion can see it now, all of them spawn at Cazador's bidding. He shuddered to think of Karlach's brutish strength at tenfold, Gale's city-leveling explosion in a vampire lord's hands, likeable idiotic Tav doing her best to help the whole city when she's the one dragging their most vulnerable back for snacktime. 

"Alright," Tav says, unfazed. "What do we do?" 

Here it is. Astarion has her ear. His suggestions driving their actions. 

"Well, first we have to--" He hesitates. "Uh..." 

Ugh. 

"...I don't know," he says, confounded. "If we kill his lackeys, he'll just send more." 

Tav nods, thoughtfully, as though that was in any way helpful counsel. 

"We just have to be vigilant," Astarion concludes. "Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters on sight." 

He pauses. 

"We can probably make an exception for Wyll. Probably." 

"I have your back if you have mine," Tav says. 

She says it out loud. With the same stupid bravado Astarion says things like "the gods made you to ruin me." Things you say when you're playacting, when you want to get something. But Tav isn't bargaining for anything. Nor is she promising something she won't make good on. They've both already done that. Him in the glade, her now. He thinks of her sunray fingertips tracing his scars. It's not fair. She has his back in more ways than one. 

Extremely annoying of her to be winning like that. He's going to have to completely throw himself into this con to rebalance the scales. 

"I'd rather have your neck," he says, smiling enticingly. 

Tav only smiles back.

dumbass loser vampire thinks he's so smart but he can't plan for SHIT.

anyways this one is a little slow, a lot of it is just me filling in around game dialogue. next chapter picks up if things to go to plan <3

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 96, Replies Part 1

1) “And so, what better way to help my headache than start with vigilantes? Last time we backtracked in pretty much everything that happened so far in the story but at least we got to see Koichi again. For five seconds, but hey, that’s progress.”- You know, in my opinion, if you power through a headache by adding more pains to it, eventually you reach a point where the pain just becomes numb background noise and you don’t even notice it anymore. Sometimes, the best way to cure burns is to apply more fire, or I think that’s how the saying goes. 2) “No koichi, don’t stare directly at the nuclear ball of fire! No Koichi no!”- He witnesses the approaching end, the non-existence of things beyond the manga’s story. 3) “oh hey, it’s Rachel and Bam, and they seem to be at the Cat cafe of justice, oh we’re gonna see all the irrelevant people today?”- Gotta catch up with everybody before everything kicks off. 4) “HOLY FUCK IS THAT THE PRESIDENT AND THE MAGICIAN?!

THEY ARE HERE? FOR REAL? IS THAT A TOPHAT ON HER SHIRT?!”- Branding is an important part of Showbiz….and relationships.

5) “dude

please

for the love of god, it has been three years already, everybody and their mom knows that’s not his name. You guys have been interacting with him on a semi-regular basis for the last three years since the cat cafe is on the neighborhood why are you calling him by the wrong name?!?”- At this point, he either thinks it’s an affectionate nickname for Koichi before he went “mainstream”, since he knew him starting out, or there’s an undercurrent of spite motivating him to keep the name going regardless of reality. I bet he’d carve it into Koichi’s tombstone to mark it as he real hero name too.

6) “…

is that it? You called them all here to say “nothing new, we’ll keep you posted”?

Dude, this could’ve been an email for fuck’s sake”- Sometimes you have to deliver bad – or at least neutral- news face-to-face, just to let them know you’re not dismissing their concerns, but there’s simply no good news happening right now. 7) “Alright I feel bad for that joke, you guys definitely called them here so you could give them some sweets to cheer them up after their friend got put in the fridge. I’m sorry, I was feeling evil.”- A few sweets to stave off the bitter taste of feeling useless and unhelpful. 8) “Yeah I suppose that a regular patron which you guys pretty much endorsed for a few years turning into an homicidal villain and blowing up half the city would be kinda bad for business.

Well, at least she didn’t hurt anyone.”- Certainly put Uraraka’s parents in business for a bit though, assuming they could get the contract to work here. 9) “Yeah, but who’s gonna take care of the cats?”- You could always pass then onto Midnight, given how invested she is in Pop’s survival. Plus, Aizawa’s flashback showed she’s already taking care of one, what’s 15 more? 10) “Feeling a tad paranoid Soga? Feeling like some investigator suddenly flipped a switch and decided to send your asses to jail? Or is that just the procedure when you’re Knuckle’s apprentice? 

Well, I mean, it’s not like it’s difficult to find you fuckers, standing guard outside the hospital and totally-not-doing-something-illegal.”- Not difficult to find the Trio standing out front, but as they’re technically not the ones the police are hunting, having not been officially recorded committing heroics illegally, they’ve got some leeway with the police arresting them/devoting manpower to hunt them down vs Koichi, who’s a priority target. Therefore, they can serve as an early-warning system for Koichi waiting out of sight nearby to get into action, since he’s the one they’re actually counting on to do the heavy lifting when it comes down to brass tacks. 11) “Oh your dad? And you talked to him? Huh, must not have been something important. now let’s see what Dadichi can impart to us with his infinite wisdom and terrific good looks.”- And this is more of an interaction with Koichi’s own father than Izuku’s exchanged in the entirety of MHA. 12) “Throw it Puto! It’s good to keep him on his toes, you never know when he’s gonna need to jump into action. Throw it and see how fast he can catch it”- Every moment is an opportunity to get more training in there before the big fight. 13) “Yeah that’s exactly what I said puto. But it seems like Koichi hasn’t even noticed he’s turning from the Crawler into the Hoper.”- I have liked Koichi’s slow, gradual improvement in his Quirk handling throughout this series, it’s something I think it does very well, but I do wish we’d had more chapters to see Koichi’s improved movement skills after his fight with Bee Pop. He’s now doing stuff on instinct that he’d have had to seriously think about before, just like Izuku got a better handle on OFA by using it as second nature. 14) “Yeah I can imagine it Puto. I can imagine it… Shame soon Phelps will put an end to it anyway.

Eventually.

Maybe sometime in the next three years.”- Try three minutes. 15) “Oh, nice bat there flamey, good thing that’s definitely not illegal or something.”- Baseball is a national sport in Japan, so bats and such are actually pretty easy to get over there, if anybody wants to head to a batting range to practice their swing. 16) “Good work Puto. We can always count on you.”- Soga’s pulling double-time trying to keep this group half-way competent to handle Nomura’s threat.

17) “That he did, my color me impressed, he actually decided to do his job. And look at that, it’s like keeping the cellphone off didn’t mattered since he knew exactly where y'all were.”- Well, not Koichi specifically. The trio aren’t really work the manpower to hunt down, but Koichi’s elevated himself to above-average with his new Quirk handling, so he gets the arrest warrant. 18) “Soga, did you- Did you came all this way to be arrested? Huh? What are you planning?”- He can’t trust Puto not to blab out where Koichi’s hiding during the talks, so he needs to be there in order to handle the interrogation half-way competently. @thelreads

[deathdxnces]

The first thought she has is that he does not look as frightening as she remembers. Not as tall, either. The admiral is taller than she is, and clad in dark iron he cuts the impressive figure of a dangerous foe — but not as dangerous as the one who had haunted her nightmares for years, robbing her of peace at any moment of possible rest. He had always seemed insurmountably large, a shadow behind the soldiers he ordered to do his dirty work. Now he looks less a monster and more a man; a scared one at that.

She looks at him and sees the last name on her personal list; her family's murderer. What does he see when meeting her gaze? Death, Irelia would wager from his frightened looks; his near future and the fact nothing lay beyond it. The thought fills her with some sort of vicious pleasure, the delight of the hunted turned hunter.

Dig another grave and get rid of her. His voice is what she remembers more clearly, the words as clear in her mind as the day she heard them. Even that doesn't sound quite the same. He had been barking orders and threats, but there is a shake to it now, an uneasiness. He is afraid and she lingers on it, dwells longer than she ought to, savors the taste of satisfaction she will only get once. He will die afraid. It's not enough, but it is still the best form of justice she can offer to those she lost.

"I know who you are, girl," Irelia can see recognition in his gaze, and for a moment that too pleases her, before his words make clear where it stems from. "The one from the Placidium — the one who cut off Swain's arm." Of course. He has yet to realize the little girl from a small village in Navori is the same now in front of him, the same who had fought his High Command in the Placidium, the same who would now take his life. Maybe he doesn't even remember that happened, she considers, frown deepening at the thought. Why would he? It had been just a little girl, just another family killed and buried in their own gardens. How many others had he killed? How many Ionians had met their end due to the orders of this man, who didn't even have the decency to wield the blade himself?

"We don't have to be enemies — under Noxus' banner, Ionia would have the strength to defend itself from anyone — and you! You're strong, a natural leader. The empire values such talents. The Hand himself hails from one of the annexed territories. If you join us —"

"You disgust me." She understands his words (learned to, as most Ionians did, out of need); her retort is viciously spoken in her mother tongue, nonetheless, dripping with venom and bitterness. "After all this, to think I would join you?" A scoff, blue eyes as sharp as the steel she is armed with. "Pathetic."

A fluid hand motion and he reaches for his sword, though the man still does not use it. Her blades, hovering in the air between them, return to their original shape, her family crest reformed.

"You said you know who I am, but you don't, Admiral Duqal. Do you recognize that crest?" He does not reply; instead, the noxian finally leaps to action, an attempt at attacking her that is as predictable as it is simple to dance around. Irelia spins away from his edge, the careful formation of her blades undone as they flow into action. As she twirls, so do the weapons match her rhythmically, meeting their target not in her opponent's weapon but his flesh. The dancer needs not to block a blow she can easily dodge; instead her blades replicate a blow she had become famous for, the man's arm severed while he screams. At sixteen, the sight is far from unusual. She had seen enough battle that severed limbs were nothing anymore. She had cut off enough of them that even the sight of her blades wet with blood makes her feel nothing.

Well, not nothing. That isn't entirely sincere. There is an ugly satisfaction to it, dark and shameful; he is in pain, suffering, and she is the cause. This should be a grim task, but it isn't. She likes that it was her brutal blow that left him like this.

They would be ashamed of her, Irelia is certain. If they had answered his violence in kind they would still be here, a part of her retorts bitterly. But they are dead and she is not and outside thousands of people look up to her to lead them — to save them. She can't do it if not by fighting back. She wouldn't want to do it without fighting back.

Noxus deserves no mercy. That is for beings with hearts and souls and spirits. The monsters deserve nothing.

"I asked if you recognize the crest, Duqal." The inquiry is repeated sharply, the form of her blades now stained with the man's blood. His face is pale; whether from the blood loss or fear she is uncertain. The noxian replies with a shake of the head, confirming what she suspected. To her, it had been years of fear and nightmares, years of dreaming of revenge; to him, it had been nothing. Her family died because of him. How could that be nothing? How could it be so insignificant it eluded his memory entirely?

"You killed the family who bore that crest — all of them, from an elderly woman to a boy of not even four. All of them but one. The girl who stole this back from the hands of your soldiers survived. The one you would have killed for her defiance," She watches horror and realization bloom upon his face, knowing full well where this leads. "The one who will kill you now."

There is no time for a reply; a single swift motion and his throat is slit, despite a pathetic last effort to raise his arms to shield himself from her blades. For a long moment, Irelia stares at the man's fallen form, the blood pooling beneath him. She wonders if it would be enough, if this night she would not have to fight troubled sleep, if her family would rest more easily now.

It won't bring them back; the ache of grief and loss unmoved, no matter who she killed. And yet few things could have left her more satisfied. No, this would not bring them back — but it still felt good.

[my-sun-m00n-and-stars]

'Sex, Drugs, and Blasters'. A Cad Bane longfic

Hello, and welcome to my first post (and first fanfiction)! This fanfic has been an idea in my mind for about the past two years, but only now have I had the guts to write it down. Gotta love the bastard man. I’m planning on writing a trilogy. Currently, I have the first book charted out. It should be about 20 chapters, I have the first two written already. I’m going to try and update every week, but we’ll see how it goes. I intend to work at the pace that’s right for me :). I'll get this up on AO3 once I get access to my account again.

*DISCLAIMERS*

This first book focuses less on Bane, and more on the bounty hunters in general. You’re guaranteed to see your favorite scallywags show up at one point or another. In fact, there will not be any smut between Bane and my OC at all in this first installment. He doesn't even meet OC until around chapter 7. It's going to be a sweet slowburn, enemies to lovers. But don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of tension with the blue man, as well as some smut with our other favorite criminals ;).

**WARNINGS**

This fic is going to be dark. The main OC is not a good person. I don't think anyone who could run with the bounty hunting crowd has all of their morals in check. Be prepared for what it says on the title.

***CN for chapter 1***

Morally grey, she/her able bodied OC. Strong cursing/language. Mentions of class divides. Violence and collateral damage. References to smoking. Reckless disregard for sentient life.

Without further ado, here's chapter one.

4.1k words

Two years before the Clone Wars

The woman crouched on the edge of the rooftop, peering through a pair of scopes. She passed over the skyline of the Upper Levels of Coruscant, attempting to focus her lenses through the endless skylanes of traffic and flashing neon lights belonging to billboards advertising a myriad of goods and services. Exactly one-point-three klicks away was the target in question. 

The Bank of the Core was the largest banking system in the galaxy, and had been partnered with the Intergalactic Banking Clan for the past thousand years (give or take a few centuries). It had over five thousand different locations in three thousand systems, yet their headquarters found their home in the Galactic Capital–specifically at the Bank of the Core Plaza in the Financial District, home to the Republic’s top one percent. As such, the best security credits (or rather, client’s deposits) could buy would almost certainly be expected.

At least, that was what her partner’s research about the institution said. In her experience, the woman often found that ‘most expensive’ didn’t always translate to ‘most efficient’. 

She spied the surveillance droids that buzzed around the building, small and deceivingly inoffensive. The bank wouldn’t want their pompous patrons feeling uneasy about clunky security droids brandishing their blasters all over the place, would they? No, those droids laid dormant, just out of sight, waiting for their camera counterparts to alert them to any disturbance that required their assistance. And inside the building, she knew that layers upon layers of codes, facial recognition, lasers, and whatever else those rich brats could cook up would await anyone stupid enough to attempt to break in. 

Luckily for her, she wasn’t stupid. Not stupid enough to go in the obvious way, anyway. In all of the Bank’s showy security systems and tech, nothing could account for the fact that their walls, no matter how thick, were distinctly un-lightsaber-proof. It was all a matter of time and patience, and a good hiding place to work from. Unless the Bank had recently decided to line their walls with Beskar, in which case this whole gig would be over very quickly. But that was doubtful. Hopefully.

Her commlink beeped. Reaching down to unclasp it from her belt, she held it up to her lips.

“You ready, Darius?” She spoke softly, never taking her eyes off of the building. 

“Yep.” The man replied, his voice smooth like butter with a hint of a Corellian accent. “Our window is coming up in about five minutes, Kiara, you better get your ass over to my position.”

“On my way.”

She picked up her helmet that had been resting on the ledge next to her. The entire front was tinted black transparisteel that would completely obscure her features, but allow her to have a wide field of vision. On the back was a skull and crossbones, an image she had walked in on Darius stenciling in without her permission. She placed it securely on her head, making sure that none of her white-blonde hair was poking out from its braided bun on the crown of her skull. She mounted the speeder, running her hands along its sleek matte black sides; it had cost her nearly every credit she owned. 

Taking off, she wove in and out of the traffic lanes, discreetly breaking off to stop in an alley that was much closer to the Bank. Her partner, Darius, awaited her as she slowly descended, coming to a halt. 

“How much time we got?” She queried, not wasting any moment.

“‘Bout a minute and forty-five seconds. Thought that thing was supposed to be fast.” He responded, quirking his thick brow. 

“She just hasn’t been broken in yet.” She replied sardonically, patting him on the side with the back of her hand. He wore a thick brown nerf-leather trench coat that nearly went to his ankles. Through it, she could feel the faint outlines of the tools of his trade: lockpicks, glass cutters, wrenches, magnets, and oil. “Want me to tuck those luscious locks away my friend? Wouldn’t want to be recognized now would we?” She remarked, motioning to his head. His hair was styled into thick dark locs that were pulled back into a ponytail. He nodded his assent, and she moved behind him to carefully tuck them into the collar of his coat. He too placed his helmet on, and for a moment they stood in silence, staring at the tall building. 

“Nervous?” She asked.

He turned his head to look at her, as if surprised, before turning it back.

“Like hell.”

She laughed quietly. “Don’t worry Dari. We’ve done shit like this loads of times. As long as no one walks in on us, we’re clear.”

He laughed hollowly.

“Yeah, as long as. Twenty seconds. Get ready”

They both tensed, intently staring in front of them. 

At precisely 22:00, a dumpster would be floated out around to the back of the building to be emptied by the morning trash collectors, the sole object along the entire wall. This motion detected by the cams would be noted as routine, and discarded. Theoretically, if they hid under the dumpster quick enough, they would not be detected. Theoretically. 

Right on schedule, two workers emerged from around the corner with the dumpster in tow. They pulled it further into the adjacent alleyway, checking to make sure it was locked before they returned back from whence they came. The second they turned the corner, Kiara and Darius sprung into action. They sprinted forward, eclipsing the thirty or so feet between them and the dumpster. Kiara reached it first, sliding underneath it. Darius was right behind her, sliding straight into her and crushing her against the wall with an ‘oof!’. He hastily snatched his limbs under the edge. They waited in that exact position for an indescribable amount of time, their breaths light, desperately attempting to discern any sign that they had been detected. The space underneath the floating trash bin was only about a foot and a half tall, and a muscle in Kiara’s back was beginning to spasm from her awkward position. Plus, she was sure to have bruises on her torso from being shoved into the duracrete. 

“It’s 22:11, Ki. I think we’re good” Darius’ muffled voice whispered some while later. 

Taking a deep breath, she allowed her body to relax and she shifted herself into a more comfortable position. Wordlessly, she reached down to her belt and unclasped her saber. The hilt was heavy and familiar in her hands, the calluses on her fingers molding perfectly with the slight indents in it created by nearly 15 years of use. 

“Scooch back Dari, I need room. Ouch! Not that fucking much, kriffing hell. Alright, saber going on.”

She ignited it, bathing the entire underside of the dumpster in crimson light. Slowly, she sunk the blade into the wall. It was like a hot knife through butter, but the outer wall wasn’t the most important one they would have to cut through. She gradually made a rectangle just big enough for Darius’ broad shoulders to fit through, pushing out the shape and creating the hole. Clasping her saber back onto her belt, she braced herself before army-crawling forward. She shimmied her way into what looked like an office. Darius was not far behind her, quickly lugging himself through, careful to not let the glowing hot edges of the hole rub against his body, and silently thanking the fact that he had had the foresight to wear thick leather. Kiara shoved a small box in front of the hole, wanting to hide it but unwilling to plug it back up in case they needed an alternate escape route.

Panting, they took a moment to collect themselves. According to their floor plans, the vault should be below them and to the right. Admittedly, their blueprints were not the most sound. Darius, a pickpocket by trade, had posed as a potential client interested in making a deposit in the bank. In his one-on-one meeting with the clerk, he had pretended to drop his chrono, and in the process of bending down planted a scanner onto the bootstrap of the employee. Later that day, Kiara and Darius had watched from their datapad as the employee made his rounds around the workplace, unwittingly mapping the entire ground floor. Only once that entire day did he venture down into the basement, likely to make a withdrawal from the vault. The signal had gone static, signifying thicker walls. From this crude information, the pair had surmised that they could bypass the fancy security systems by simply cutting through the floor. Who would think to alarm a solid wall?

Silently, the pair moved through the building, cutting through the glass of the offices to avoid the alarms on the doors, and Darius using his magnets to temporarily disable the motion detectors. They tread softly into the office that was supposedly directly above the vault. With a slight hum, Kiara reignited her lightsaber and began work on the floor as Darius took a lookout position. 

The metal was thick. So thick she couldn’t even push her saber in without waiting for it to melt first. For a horrible second she wondered if it had been reinforced with Beskar. But surely enough the blade began to sink down.

“This thing must’ve been made with solid durasteel” She grumbled. Darius shushed her in response. The saber sank further and further, with her putting almost her entire body weight on the hilt to push it down.

I hope this damn thing is long enough. 

With a sigh of relief, she felt the saber jerk down the rest of the way as it breached the opposite side. She shifted and began to push it from the side. It moved forward about a half an inch. 

“I think this is going to take a while,” she grumbled through gritted teeth. 

“Well, we do have all night. Supposedly.”

… 

Approximately two hours later, she had neared completion of the hole. Darius attached a magnetic cord to the top so that it could be lowered down carefully. In one final push, she completed the circle. It held its position. Standing up, she carefully placed one foot on top to give it a small nudge. 

It dropped. The cord it was attached to groaned in protest at holding the weight of the solid metal. He released the slack, and it began its slow descent. They hastily followed it, using the cord to lower themselves down. 

The vault was huge. Rows upon rows of safes that reached the ceiling, spreading across the entire span of the room that must’ve been a hundred meters across. 

They set to work. 

Wrenching, cutting, burning, they opened the safes and drawers that lined the walls. Darius gravitated towards the jewels. More money for less hassle, he had said. Kiara followed the names of the clients listed on the rows in alphabetical order, adrenaline coursing through her. It had all hit her at this moment that they were actually robbing the biggest bank in the galaxy. She came to the P section. Jogging down it, she scanned the names. Several times she had to go back and look again, her eyes seemingly unable to stay focused for long, jumping around the room. 

Sheev Palpatine. 

Her breath caught. Alarm bells were going off in the back of her head. 

This is a very, very bad idea. 

Using her lightsaber, she destroyed the lock on his safe, ripping it open. She was almost disappointed. Stacks of credits lined the walls, and a few trinkets were on the floor.

Of course. Anything of real value would be kept in your lair, Sidious. 

She opened her knapsack and cleared out the contents.

“Fuck you.” She whispered to no one. 

…

The sound of running footsteps made her jerk her head to the side. Darius was sprinting towards her, bag full, waving his arms. Her stomach dropped.

“Security!” He hissed, pointing at the entrance of the vault. Sure enough, she could hear the gears and locks of the door clicking and grinding away as someone began the lengthy process of opening the vault. She snatched up her bag, making sure it was zipped tight, before darting towards the cord. Darius was already halfway up it, though he was weighed down considerably by the sheer amount of precious gems in his knapsack. She began clambering up, her well-muscled arms bulging underneath her leathers with the strain.

“Stop right there, thief!” 

Two armed men stood in the entrance of the vault at the far end of the room, pointing blasters at her suspended form.

She froze, and considered them for a half a second. 

They’re about fifty meters away, probably hired through a security agency. Fat shot.

She ignored them, and scurried up the rest of the way. Blaster fire erupted around her, the sounds echoing in the cavernous room. But as she predicted, they came nowhere near close to hitting her. Darius practically pulled her up by the scruff of the neck, cutting the cord and pulling her into the hallway.

“Wait!” She stopped him, pointed down the hallway, where the front of the building could be seen through windows. Flashing red and blue lights illuminated them.

“Shit, shit, shit, how the kark did they know we were here?” He exclaimed, breathing hard. 

“They must’ve had detectors on the walls,” she said miserably. “C’mon, back this way!” Kiara led him back down the hallway to the office where they had made their entrance, thanking the Force that she hadn’t decided to plug it up. They shot through it, cramming themselves underneath the dumpster once again, this time with their added luggage. She reached behind her and pulled the rectangle she cut out back into their hole as best she could.

All around their hiding place, chaos was ensuing. More and more police droid sirens could be heard approaching the building. Someone was shouting in the distance. She held her breath as pairs of heavy boots ran by, no doubt surrounding the building. They were being boxed in. 

“We need to get out of here and onto our speeders before it’s too late” she breathed to her partner. 

“Are you insane? There’s two guards right there!” He motioned to the two pairs of feet she could see that were keeping eyes on the back of the building. 

“I’d rather deal with two than fifty. They’re going to figure out eventually how we got in. We need to go now before more backup arrives, or before they hear you, mouth breather.” She whispered harshly.

“Alright alright.” He clasped his hand over his mouth. They arranged themselves in a position that would allow them to spring to action. She drew her blaster.

“Three…two…one…now!”

They rolled out from underneath the dumpster. Before the guards could even blink, Kiara had shot one in the chest. She aimed at the other one but missed. He returned fire, and called into his commlink for backup. Abandoning him as a lost cause, they booked it to the alleyway where their speeders were still concealed. 

“Well Ki, you won’t have to worry about breaking it in anymore!” Darius called, leaping onto his bike and ascending. She followed suit.

Apparently she had been a bit modest in her estimation of fifty armed guards. No less than double that number of guards, police droids, and law enforcement officers were currently giving chase. She wove in and out of the Coruscant night life, with most ships having the good sense to get the hell out of the way when they heard the barrage of sirens behind them. Darius followed her closely, throwing the occasional thermal detonator over his shoulder. Surveillance droids kept pace, with Holonews ships floating some ways above them. 

At least we’re making an impression.

They zipped past the end of the Financial District and into the Senate district. They just needed to reach one of the portholes that lead to the depths of the undercity; there, they could melt away. Her knuckles ached at her firm grip as she floored the accelerator as much as possible, her hot body being cooled by the night air that swirled past her speeder. 

Twenty meters in front of them, a group of police droids burst into view on their hoverbikes from around the corner of a skyscraper. Without thinking, she pushed the handlebars as far down as she could. Entering a nose dive, her surroundings became a blur. Sounds, lights, and speeders came and went faster than the blink of an eye. She had no time to wonder if Darius was following. The wind nearly lifted her out of her seat as she leaned back as far as possible. 

The surface of the planet came crashing into view. The bobbing heads of thousands of people milling about became a churning sea in front of her. Using all of her strength, she pulled up, the bottom of her speeder almost grazing the frightened pedestrians. She dared to look behind her. Miraculously, Darius had followed her dive, albeit a bit more gracefully than she. Not so miraculous was the horde of law enforcement that hadn’t seemed deterred by their daring move. What’s more, she could hear sirens approaching from what seemed like all sides. 

Strange pain erupted in her leg as a stun bolt grazed her. Her leg numbed, a pins-and-needles sensation spreading up to her hip. Gasping, she veered slightly, nearly colliding into the side of a building. They needed something drastic. Screaming people dove out of their way as they did their best to avoid them. From the sounds of it, law enforcement had been slowed down considerably by the nightlife. 

An idea sprouted in her head. Kiara slowed her bike down just enough, with Darius shooting past her in confusion. She scanned the crowd. A green Twi’lek woman was pressed up against the wall in front of them in a bid to not get hit by the oncoming speeders. Without hesitation, Kiara swooped over and grabbed her by the collar, throwing her over the back of her bike. Darius, who had slowed down to see what she was up to, quickly got the right idea and scooped up his own hostage, a teenage Weequay boy. 

The Twi’lek screamed in terror as Kiara picked up speed again, desperately scrambling to find purchase on the back of the bike. Sure enough, the blaster fire from behind ceased. She caught up with Darius, whose hostage in contrast seemed to be too petrified to make noise, clutching to the backseat of the bike with his eyes shut tight. 

“Please let me go!” The Twi’lek screamed, Ryloth accent thick. Kiara smirked under her helmet. 

…

Cad Bane leaned back in his chair, feet up on the table. Outside of his dingy motel room, he could hear faint sirens. His long fingers, nearly twice the length of the average humanoid, stroked up and down the barrel of one of his LL-30’s, polishing it with a blaster care kit he picked up at a sleazy shop a few levels down. A cig hung loosely from his thin lips, held in place by one fang that protruded from his mouth. His duster was draped across the back of his chair.

His eyes were trained on the Holonews broadcast in front of him.

“—It is reported that the thieves have now taken hostages with them on the back of their bikes. Law enforcement has responded accordingly and has stopped fire at the pair. We have been told that their plan is to box the robbers in, get them grounded, and ensure a peaceful release of the hostages. The safety of our citizens is of course the top priority—”

Bane scoffed. Everyone outside of the Core knew that the Republic didn’t give a bantha’s shit about its citizens. They were just making a big show now that somebody had emptied their pockets.

“—We have no word yet on how much has been stolen from the vault. What we do know is that security guards on the scene found several safes completely empty with their doors left destroyed. Some reports say that the safe of the Chancellor himself—”

He had to admit, he was curious as to how they had pulled it off. They were amateurs, obviously, seeing as they had caused such a huge fuss, despite their ample skills with speeder bikes. But there was no denying that even making it this far with money from the tightest bank in the galaxy was no small feat. Bane could’ve done it himself, of course, if he so desired. But his schedule was just so busy nowadays, he could hardly find the time just to enjoy a good smoke without some rich pansy calling him up for a job. Speaking of which, he should probably get back to business. He took one final look at the news, and the dark figures racing through the streets with their cargo. One of them had a skull and crossbones on the back of their helmet. Who knows, he mused. Maybe I’ll get hired to track ‘em down. 

…

Somehow, the Twi’lek had not stopped screaming. The back of Kiara’s mind wondered if she was a singer, with lungs like that. The forefront of her mind was preoccupied with slightly more important things, such as the fact that the cops were still on their ass like flies on poodoo. Darius dropped back slightly so that he was level with her, their commlinks having long been jammed. 

“How are things going for you back there Ki?” Darius asked, his voice raised over the sound of the wind. 

“Not very well Darius. This bitch won’t stop screaming in my ear.”

“Aw man, that sucks. Anyways, what say we split, lose the hostages as a distraction, and rendezvous at the spot?”

“I say that sounds like an excellent idea. My ass is starting to hurt.”

They sped onward, approaching a diverging street in front of them. While they were no longer being shot at, the police were not going to be shaken off without a fight. They likely were hoping to trap them in a corner. Giving her a salute, Darius took the left street. She veered right, putting one hand back to ensure that her bag and her hostage didn’t fly off. The nearest porthole to the underworld should be in about two klicks.

“P-please sir, just let me off!”

Kiara flew in confusion for a few moments, wondering who the girl could possibly be talking to, until she realized that her heavy leather jacket probably made her appear as a man. An unexpected surprise, but a welcome one. It would make it all the harder to identify her. However, annoyance prickled at her. All this work, and she wouldn’t even get any credit. 

A flash of blue caught her attention in her peripheral. She whipped her head to the side. A Jedi sped alongside her, lightsaber in hand.

Right. Senate district. Home to the Jedi temple.

She realized with a jolt that the robed man was attempting to grab her hostage with the force and lift her to safety. If only she could use the force right now, all of this would be so much easier. 

She snarled in anger. She didn’t care what hell Darius would give her for it, she was going to make a statement. The porthole was fast approaching. She clenched her muscles and ensured her bag was secured to her person, preparing for what was about to happen. She allowed the Jedi to drift closer and closer, hand outstretched…

They were over the porthole. She leapt off her bike, abandoning it and the hostage. The Jedi started to swerve, attempting to save the out of control bike, but Kiara slammed into the side of the bike, gripping it with her arms and legs. Her vision turned red. 

Jedi bastards. 

They plummeted down into the depths of the city, a mess of billowing robes and limbs as they fought each other and for control of the speeder. Their combined Force sensitivity allowed them to sense ships before they crashed, swerving from side to side. With a yell, Kiara lunged for the blue lightsaber. She cried out in pain, her leg that had been shot by the stun bolt made lame. At the same time, the Jedi dodged her. She plummeted straight forward and off the edge of the bike. 

She attempted to tuck her head and roll into an upright position, but found herself unable to move. In fact, she didn’t seem to be falling at all. She opened eyes that she didn’t even know she had shut, looking around her surroundings with a feeling of dread beginning to engulf her. 

She was suspended in mid air, the Jedi’s hand held out to her in an open position, as if reaching out. The sirens approached, officers surrounding her floating form on all sides. 

She only hoped that Darius had made it out alright.

Next chapter

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (19)

Chapter 19: Voice of Treason | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

A/N: Hello guys, I’m sorry if I’ve become so inactive last year. The slump was one thing, but more and more things kept piling on my shoulders that it’s becoming more difficult to bear. I lost my grandmother a few months after I announced that she was sick. We lost her to cancer. My only comfort was that I was able to take care of her and spend time with her. For a while, I lost my energy to write again; and now that it’s the new year, I’m picking up my old habits again. I hope you guys have had a great Christmas and I wish you guys a wonderful 2022. ❤ As for me, I’m okay and I will be.

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 | Previous: Part 18 | Masterlist

20 of ?

Trilla’s heart leapt, but not in the wholesome way most would think.

The sight of the red-haired Jedi roaming free like a dog and Irele—of all people—behind him without any form of restraint on him launched a thousand ideas into Trilla’s mind.

It was a risk to frame Irele, but if ever the universe would favor her, perhaps she would topple Vader’s own ward out of her own pedestal.

“Don’t you have another target in mind, Trilla?”

“It was never implied that we stick to whom we choose to hunt,”

Irele squinted in reply. The Second Sister’s knack of not answering Yes-or-No questions slightly vexxed the young ward.

Trilla raised her lightsaber, its end pointed at the boy with a head of hair as crimson as her blade. The gesture suggested as if she’s taking the Jedi for herself.

“I see that he is not bound, Irele,”

“Smart observation,”

The Inquisitor’s lip snarled, “Are you conspiring with this Jedi?”

“Do you have proof that I am?”

There is a silence. Irele was not to be underestimated, especially her wit—borne from the harsh desert life in Tatooine and sharpened by her exclusive Imperial training to serve Vader—it was more of an ally to her than an asset, as some people would have remarked. She made sure that the Inquisitor was aware of the repercussions if she were to accuse the Vader’s Ward, heavier is the punishment when the treason is proven baseless and for lack of evidence.

“Then why isn’t he bound if you’ve captured him!?”

“Cal here proved to be quite cooperative that I felt that there is no need for it,”

The Jedi boy could not react—as a matter of fact, he does not know how or what. Thoughts chased each other around his head, the exchange of the two women was nearly white noise to him. Although, one coherent question could be heard in his mind, What is she planning to do with me in this?

When the white noise dissolved and his attention returned to the Inquisitor and his apparent captor, just when he thought they were coming to a close in the conversation, a trooper in black armor with red stripes—one that Cal is very familiar with—butts into the scene.

He politely does so, beginning with an “Excuse me” and when all three turn to him, the soldier fixes his faceless gaze on the young ward.

“Lord Vader has requested for you, milady,”

“Tell him it’ll take me a few minutes, I left my fighter in the other side of the island,” the fact slightly exasperated the girl.

Irele detected a croak in the soldier’s voice, as if he cut himself from what he was about to say; he gathers himself in the next second.

“He requests that you come now, we will have a shuttle arranged for you.”

with the Second Sister and the Purge Trooper standing beside each other, Irele half-shifted her eyes to her left, then quickly steeled them at the latter, perfectly masking her growing distrust. It appears she was more concerned of her favorite ship being blown to bits or thrown off to the black ocean rather than the credit of her capture being grabbed by someone else.

“Have a porter fetch my fight and dock it where I’m headed,” she commanded as she strode ahead of the trooper. She signalled for another trooper standing around to put Cal in handcuffs. The air of authority lingered upon her.

Before disappearing with the trooper, she stopped at her heels to face the Second Sister.

“You’ll take it from here, won’t you, Trilla?”

the woman did not speak. Irele took it as a yes when she hung her head and did not meet her gaze again. Irele let her thoughts run once she was alone with the trooper in the large elevator heading to the surface. The moment she left Cal alone with the Second Sister, he was open for the taking and the next competent person was there with him. Later on, her thoughts branched out to Trilla’s next possible move, which she has always anticipated from the start. Turning him in formally before Vader obviously meant that the acknowledgment is hers, and hypothetically, the favor. She can almost feel the Second Sister’s glee.

Vader’s sister was confident that she cannot be toppled that easily. Her cunning was something that her own big brother lacked and secretly envied, for he was the perfect opposite: he is sheer, brute force, imposing and terrifying just as his mere silence. Her mind wandered on the idea that while there are moments where she saw Trilla’s determination—albeit reckless and sometimes miscalculated—but she confessed to herself that she had been blind to Trilla’s desperation for favor. Being in the second highest rank among the Inquisitors meant that she would do anything to preserve that status, or evolve it—but Irele had the feeling that she Second Sister would’ve preferred the latter.

Through the maze of rock and ice, Irele and trooper find themselves in the base—the one pasr the abandoned village—and marched through the aisle of computers on either side. Her appearance caused every Stormtrooper to drop everything and greet her.

“Carry on.” she simply dismissed.

The large door disappeared into its frame, Irele makes her way to the center of the landing platform that’s jutting out of the mountain face. A gray shuttle awaits her at the end of the runway.

The humid ocean breeze was such a relief for Irele, the air in the caves felt too stale and heavy—it reminded her of the days where she was first captured then conditioned. The scent of wet grass was welcome in her lungs and for the first time, her exhale sounded satisfied, and a smile snuck in as she pushed out the last of the air before boarding the ship.

Once off-planet, she recognized her ship. Behind it—with a considerable distance—was another, and she didn’t need to know whose it is.

When the shuttle landed in the hangar of the second command ship, she gracefully strode out of the entrance, barely missing a beat in her stride; the trooper following her tails was replaced by a uniformed officer, obligated to escort the young lady to the dark lord’s chamber. Irele gestured at the man with her, essentially dismissing him and so he left as she entered.

After her first few steps through the door, she bent a knee and bowed with great reverence.

“You called for her, Brother?”

In the center of the room was a large, black shell. Parted vertically to reveal an ice-white space inside, sitting in it was Darth Vader with his back turned to Irele while looking at a screen. He later swivels his seat to face her.

“The report states that you’ve caught a Jedi,”

“As I should, yes,”

“Perhaps you’re aware that he and his companions have something far more important than the bounty on their heads,”

Irele squints her eyes in puzzlement. Vader senses that she is not hiding anything behind that expression.

“It wasn’t stated in the profile though,”

Indeed, when the profile were presented before the Inquisitors and Irele, there was no indication that Cal is in possession of whatever important thing Vader mentioned.

Irele continued, “What is it?”

“A Holocron,”

“What does it contain?”

“A list of children, Force-sensitive ones. They will be a great asset to the Emperor. I trust that you make him talk about where he’s hiding it,”

“Even if it kills him?”

Darth Vader only stared facelessly.

-

Meanwhile, Trilla did exactly what Irele had anticipated. She thought that there is the slim chance that either Irele will declare her responsibility of the capture or Vader will acknowledge it based from the reports submitted. The Inquisitor decided to gamble her luck.

“We’ll take him to the ship,” Trilla commanded another trooper.

The Second Sister takes the lead, two troopers block Cal from a back exit.

Still bound, Cal had not noticed that from the moment he and Irele met Trilla, BD-1 was missing the whole time. He was smart enough not to make his concern obvious, he trusted the tiny droid had something up in its circuits. He asked BD-1—in his thoughts—where could he be.

Alas, the tiny droid, practically invisible to the enemy, skittered rock to rock as he attempted to get closer to the troopers. Whatever the droid is planning—it will end up to be a mess. The pitter-pat of its feet was muted by the dull squeaking of the cogs in the middle of the caves. In a spider-like grace, BD jumped onto the shoulder of one trooper, the tip of his splicer sends a jolt of electricity and BD didn’t wait for him to fall to the floor before hopping to the other.

The Second Sister spun to witness the commotion unravelling before her. Not wasting a split second longer, the tiny droid immediately hopped onto Cal’s wrist and picks the lock of the cuffs. Cal’s first instinct was to ignite his saber, Trilla follows, and they exchange hits. The were too preoccupied with their skirmish that they didn’t notice a small band of bounty hunters—one of them was a droid—had been camping above the rocks and finally got the golden opportunity to jump on them.

In the middle of their interlocked saber, the hulking droid descended from its perch, the ground shook as it landed and split the two warriors apart. Then it was time for the bounty hunters to spring into the action.

“Oy, you take on the woman, get the boy!” cried the hunter, thick with accent.

Trilla and Cal each had to deal with two hunters. It would seem that Cal had gotten the shorter end of the stick since he had both the droid and the hunter’s attention. The Inquisitor was pushed to the edge, landing a lower rock outcrop with her two enemies.

Once separated, the humanoid bounty hunter fished out something from under his cape. A small metal canister explodes into a fog upon hitting the ground, partially blinding Cal; it caught Trilla’s attention and gave the enemy an opening to strike her—and strike her he did. This disoriented her long enough to make their escape with a knocked-out Cal on the droid’s shoulder.

They fled.

The Second Sister felt her stomach sink to her feet.

[ssarkosghost]

Nuts and Dolts Week DAY 5- Battle Couple

Submission for Day 5 of @nuts-and-dolts-week and we’re back to possible canon interactions 😄

Alarms sounded across the streets as another pack of Grimm charged through Mantle’s neighborhoods. The scent of fear drove their leader, a massive Alpha Sabyr adapted for maneuverability. Its larger bulk and additional spikes are offset by another pair of legs. It also wasn’t just the Alpha that was dangerous, no the rest of the group was made up of Ice Sabyrs, a dangerous subset of the Sabyr Grimm. Known for the liquid ice flowing through them, that upon death caused the area around the corpse to become encased in ice. Truly a dangerous evolution of the regular Sabyr.

Of course, that didn’t matter much to a sniper several blocks away. Ruby easily sighted the Alpha with her scope. Her breath slowed as she counted her heartbeats.

One

Two

Three

“BAM!!”

The Grimm’s head exploded as Ruby sent a round right through its eyeball. However, she didn’t waste time admiring the dissolving corpse. She swept to the next Grimm in the pack. The sudden death of their leader had stopped the pack in its tracks. A threat had made itself known and they immediately sought to find the offender. This however made them relatively easy for Penny.

A massive beam of energy slammed down on the entire group, boiling their bodies and more importantly the icy blood within them. A massive bloom of steam marked their destruction as Penny floated down from the sky.

“Thank you for the assist, Ruby,” she broadcasted to her friend giving her a wave.

“Happy to help Penny,” Ruby responded as she smiled at Penny’s exuberant waving. It made her day when most of the time, due to the vast amount of city blocks the two had to cover, she was stuck on the highest building sniping priority targets. While the sniping practice was great, being perched at the highest point in the freezing wind was not her preferred way to hunt Grimm. Still, it did feel good to help clear the streets, and the fact that she got to do it with Penny was nice.

“I’ve got one more lap before our shift is up,” Penny spoke again, and Ruby already saw the green trail of her jets start to move away.

“Copy that, give me a shout if anything happens,” Ruby replied, getting an affirmative from Penny. Then it was back to the important task of keeping her eyes open. Fortunately, many a late night at Beacon had given her the experience to fight the process. Granted that was against sleep and here it was the cold wind that tore across the city. Then again it really didn’t matter to Ruby as it was just to keep her head busy so the boredom didn’t distract her.

Already feeling the boredom seep in, she started scanning the walls on Mantle’s borders again. The old metal structures did their best, but with numerous holes and partial collapses, they were more of a road bump than a proper defensive structure. Not to mention it wasn’t the only way that a Grimm could enter the city.

“Bzzzz”

Ruby checked her scroll as an alarm sounded. Something had tripped one of the sensors in the pipes. With a groan, she sent a message to Penny about what was going on as she blitzed over to the sewer entrance.

“I swear if it’s a rat,” Ruby groused as she braced herself for the smell of Mantle’s underworld. The years of neglect were more than obvious don there as even the repairs seem to be made of scrap themselves. Shifting Crescent Rose into its compact form Ruby started to hone in on the tripped sensor. While rats had set such sensors off before, she knew that any warning could possibly be Salem’s agents or even just older Grimm sneaking in to cause chaos.

She soon reached the area that the sensor guarded, and started to look for signs of a Grimm’s trail. Scratched metal, indents, or even leftover ooze were good signs of an attempted infiltration. A slight hissing suddenly caught her attention further down. Her earlier boredom was now gone, replaced by hyperfocus and tension as she scanned for threats.

As the hissing got louder, she noticed a sizable hole ahead, right in the middle of an intersection. Carefully she aimed Crescent Rose down the hole only to find a bubbling mess of sludge and—

“Acid?” She wondered as she started to kneel down, only for a roar to whip her head toward the right passage. Yet all she could see was a stream of green acid hurtling toward her. Blitzing back with her semblance, she saw the acid eat through metal and cement. She quickly extended Crescent Rose and charged back. Her target, however, some sort of mutant Centinel, dodged away firing another stream of acid that forced Ruby back. Ruby quickly brought up her scope but couldn’t get a clean shot as the Centinel skittered away along the walls. Giving chase Ruby narrowly avoided another blast of acid. The Grimm continued to avoid her attacks, limiting her openings against it by squirming around the pipes along the walls.

Ruby could feel her annoyance growing as her opponent continued to hamper her attacks. She focused on keeping her annoyance down that she nearly missed it when the acid attacks stopped coming. Skidding to a halt in another intersection she quickly spun around looking for her target. Yet all that greeted her was the concrete catacombs that made up this place.

The mutant Centinel however was not gone. Above Ruby was a straight shot to a manhole cover, and amongst the shadows, the monster slowly made its way down ready to douse the unaware human. Yet there was no fear from this human almost like—

“WHAM!!”

The manhole cover crashed down, just as Ruby stepped out from under the shaft, as Penny slammed the Grimm straight down with the manhole cover. Ruby the semblance backward, grabbing Penny and blitzing to the end of the hall. Rematerializing the pair unsheathed both their weapons, Floating Array in front of Crescent Rose’s barrel.

“Plasmaflower!!” Ruby cried as a web of energy erupted from Floating Array as Crescent Rose fired. The web caught the bullet, twirling around it as it sped toward its target. The enraged Grimm threw off the manhole cover, intent on brutalizing the one that cracked its armor. Which is just where the energized bullet slammed into. For a millisecond it just looked like a normal bullet had hit the beast.

“KERSHOOM!!” only for the Grimm to be vaporized in a flash of green and silver from the inside out. The blast just as quickly vanished leaving only blackened marks on the floor around the bottom of the shaft. For a minute silence dominated the sewers as the two girls caught their breath.

“So,” Ruby suddenly started, “you ready for dinner?”

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Temptation of the Immortals (7)

Warnings: cursing, canon typical violence for the Percy Jackson series, spoilers for the Percy Jackson series, nightmares, the gods being absent parents, references to Greek Mythology, mentions of starvation and trauma.

“Dad.”

“Get away from her Alexander.”

You and Bryan spoke at the same time.  Taken aback by his father’s harsh tone, Alexander let go of your legs and looked over at his dad.

“Come here.”  Bryan commanded, “I don’t want you to go near her ever again.”

“But...She saved my life!”

“And that makes up for the fact that she couldn’t save her brother, Castor’s?”

A lump grew in your throat and you faced your father, “Dad…I had nothing to do with this.  You have to believe me.” You pleaded, “Ares was the one who sent the boar to attack Alexander and Grover.” 

“I know,”  Dionysus replied.

“If you know, why is he saying things like this?  Isn’t (Name) the best option to keep Alexander safe?”  Piper demanded, “She knows how to navigate the world of gods and demigods.” 

“Mr. Kneef and I had a little chat as I brought him here.”  Dionysus shrugged, “I thought it best to inform him what life as a demigod is life, seeing as his son is one and how monsters now know that he is a demigod.  We spoke about many things, such as how a larger group of demigods draw attention because monsters hunt them by scent and typically, demigods don’t exactly have a long-life span.  Oh, and how gods with grudges will target demigod children for the fun of it.”

“Castor died during a battle that Kronos orchestrated in his rise to power-”

“Save it.”

“It’s true!  When Kronos fell, it gave Gaea the final push to rise, we-”

“I don’t care about anything you have to say.”  Bryan interrupted with a snarl, “Your presence brought monsters to my door!  You’re a danger to my son.”

Those six words did more damage than any weapon that you had ever been attacked with and the words you were planning to use for your rebuttal died in your mouth before they could cross your lips.

“Weren’t you listening?!” Piper raged, “It wasn’t her!  Ares sent the boar because he didn’t want your son around!  He’s the first son of Aphrodite to have the power of charmspeak!  I have it too - all it means is that your son can convince people to do what he wants them to do.”

“Like my old teacher and those tutors.”  Alexander put in helpfully, still not moving from your side.

Bryan faltered and Dionysus saw it, “Our deal, Mr. Kneef.”

“If you depart now, with your father, I will not press charges against the museum,” Bryan stated, staring directly into your eyes.

“Lord Dionysus!  You can’t do this to her!”

“I can and I am.  She is my daughter.”

“DIDN’T YOU LEARN ANYTHING FROM THE WARS SHE FOUGHT IN?”

“Grover.”

“IS IT TOO HARD TO COMMIT TO CHANGE AND STOP BLACKMAILING MORTALS TO DO YOUR DIRTY WORK!” He roared.

“GROVER, STOP!” You yelled as you caught sight of the purple fire flickering in your father’s eyes.

“Yes, satyr.  Stop before you go too far.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.”  Dionysus praised and before you could blink, Dionysus had appeared next to you and grabbed your upper arm.  The last thing you heard as the world dissolved in a blur of colour was Alexander’s wail of agony.

[thebarbariansshadowprincess]

Chapter 4 – Songs and Shadows

Word Count: 1125

Kallisto was checking every room in the castle, stomping on the floor. All he could think was where the hell was his sister. They had to leave soon, but no one, not even the maids knew where she was. He was growing desperate. What if someone attacked her? What if she was kidnapped to target him? He had been attacked at the hunting competition a couple months back, so why wouldn’t she be targeted too?

He was almost rushing towards another room when he ran past the music room and heard something. Someone was playing the piano. How odd. Only his mother played piano. Ever since she died, no one dared to touch her piano, not even he himself, more because he didn’t know how to play it. Cautiously, the young prince opened the door and looked inside.

There, sit in front of the grand black piano and playing, was (Y/N). She was still too small to freely touch the tiles, however Kallisto could tell: she was doing great. He didn’t know that she even knew how to play, if someone was teaching her, but as someone whose only reference in that matter was his own mom, he thought she was doing great.

“(Y/N).” He calls her, surprising her.

“Big brother!” She answers with a smile, jumping out of her seat and rushing to him.

Kallisto picks her up in his arms and holds her. She’s quite heavy, but then again, he’s a kid too.

“What were you doing here, (Y/N)?” He asks her.

He already knows the answer, but wanted to know her reasons.

“I was playing hide and seek with Anna and hid here. I saw the piano and wanted to play it.” She replied, before looking shy. “(Y/N) shouldn’t have played the piano?”

“No. You can play it if you want to.” Kallisto replied, which seemed to brighten up her mood.

“Can I play a song to big brother?” The little princess asked excitedly.

The crown prince became quiet at her words. So she KNOWS how to play. He thought that would be the case, but it still was surprising. As much as he's aware, no one in the palace knew how to play piano, and his sister hadn't been assigned a piano teacher. So, how could she have learned how to play it? Or could it be… like when she first started reading and writing…?

“Big brother?” Her voice got him out of his thoughts.

“Sure! Show big brother what you got, (Y/N)!” Kallisto said with a wide, encouraging smile.

His sister held his hand and pulled him towards the grand instrument, making him sit down and finally sitting herself. She prepared herself, but her arms were too short for her to reach the tiles. The crown prince smiled at the sight before picking her up and placing her on his lap. Now she could reach it. His sister turned to him with a wide smile before turning back to the piano. Then, she began to play.

(A música que (Y/N) toca)

The song she played was… a rather sad one. He's sure he's never heard it before, even if he's not a music person himself. And also, while he knew he could call his sister a master in playing, since she was still so small, he was sure as heck that no 6-year-old could ever play like this unless she was taught from a young age.

His sister ends the song and turns to him, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Did you like it, big brother?” She asked.

Callisto couldn't help but smile at her.

“Yeah! I loved it!” The wide smile on her cute face was so precious he wished he could stop time so it would never end. “But what song is that, (Y/N)? I don't think I ever heard it before.”

“I wrote it!” She said excitedly and with a proud look on her eyes.

“You did?!” He exclaimed surprised, even more as she nodded. “But, how did you learn how to play it? Did someone teach you?” She shook her head.

“I just… thought it was the right way of doing it…” She explained in a low voice.

Kallisto didn’t question her further. He could see it was making her uncomfortable, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“I see.” He said, adjusting her in his arm. “The emperor is waiting for us and no one knew where you were. So, let’s go meet him.”

His sister nods her head, coming down from his lap and waiting for her. He follows her, holding her hand, but he stops before opening the door.

“When we’re back…” He whispers. “I wanna hear more songs from you, (Y/N).”

The bright smile on his sister’s face made his whole day.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” The woman asks the maid kneeled in front of her.

“Yes, your highness.” The maid replies, not daring to lift her head.

Despite how quickly and emotionlessly she replied, the woman could see her hand shaking while tightly gripping her dress. She scoffs.

“If you do, then be gone.” She told her, to which the maid quickly reacted, standing up and bowing before rushing out of the grand room. “Useless bitch.”

The woman goes to the large window in her room and looks at the magnificent garden outside. When she sees who's there, her eyes glow in a silent anger and her face twists in unending disgust.

The ridiculous crown prince and his pathetic wrench of a little sister. Ever since the day she discovered she was pregnant with her perfect son, these two have been the bane of her existence.

The oldest prince was the first in line to succeed the throne, but the more he grew, the harder it became for her to kill him. She wasn't afraid of doing so. The emperor was so head over heels for her, he would never suspect she was the true culprit behind all these attempts against the prince. Or he might even know, but decided to ignore it or rub it off. So, she would try as many times as she needed to put her child on that marvelous throne.

The princess was no better than her brother, despite not being ahead in the line for the throne. Despite being so young, she attracts the eye of all and growing out of her shyness step by step, she is bound to attract the attention of all. She will be the fairest of all ladies once she's a full grown adult, and if she’s half as talented as her brother it will be a headache. However she still had her use. Her closeness to her brother will serve her greatly.

[nervouslaughter05]

Of Monsters and Men-Chapter 1

A/N: As promised, here is my second (and much happier might I say) addition to the CoD fandom! When the CoD edits started pouring into my TikTok feed, you would not believe how happy I was. Instantly, the healthy love I had felt for Ghost when I was younger and playing the game with my friends blossomed into a thirst quenchable only with the finest literature (Tumblr and Ao3 have been my saving grace) could satisfy.

I will be posting a ref sheet and a fact file for my OC on my art insta and here within hopefully the next week or so. Just know she is 5'6", has auburn hair she wears in a single french braid, and greyish-blue eyes.

Anyways, please heed the tags! I will be putting a note at the top of each chapter with some tags for that chapter specifically just for added protection for you readers :). Thank you and enjoy!

Art Insta: @timtoart05

C/W: blood and injury mention, OC patches up a bullet wound of a soldier and a knife wound (neither are described in graphic detail but blood is mentioned), minor language, mentions of killing and shooting

Masterlist

“Soap, I’m running a little low over here!”

“Here, catch!”

Grizzly snatches the magazine from the air, deftly reloading her rifle and taking aim at the incoming hostiles. She pulls the trigger and sends a ball of lead right between the eyes of one of the men. As he crumbles to the ground, she takes aim again, staring into her scope and sending another man into the dirt. 

“We cannae keep this up!” Soap yells to be heard above the sound of gunfire, taking down targets of his own. “The fuckers jus’ keep comin’. ”

She sends another man to the grave, shouting back, “You think I don’t realize that?”

“Alpha, where the hell are you?” Grizzly questions, pressing the com resting in her ear that was tethered to a radio on her vest. “We’re gettin’ hammered out here!”

“About four minutes out,” her captain replies, the sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air traceable in the background. “Hold on.”

“Copy that.”

The marine to her right falls onto his back, clutching at his shoulder with a cry of pain. Her attention snaps from the rifle in her hands to the injured man, dropping it and hurrying to his side with her kit already open and ready to go. She keeps one of her hands pressing down on the one he already had on his shoulder to stanch the bleeding while the other pulls out gauze and cotton to pack the wound. Grizzly gently moves his shoulder up from the ground to check for an exit wound, instantly plugging her finger into the hole while she grasps a bottle of antiseptic. 

“Count to three for me, corporal,” she orders, flicking open the cap while the injured soldier does as told. 

Except she pours it on when he’s at one. He curses in pain, stiff beneath her steady hands. She expertly packs and bandages the wound. Once the gauze is firmly secured, the latex gloves get tossed away in favor of being swapped out for the combat ones. 

“Can you still shoot?” she questions, hands already back on her rifle as she gets a nod from the corporal. “Good. Back to your post.”

Grizzly transitions from corpsman to sniper instantly, resuming her position and taking aim at the men below. Right as she gets ready to take down one of the men hunting them from the outside of the compound they’d holed themselves in, the remaining men begin dropping like flies. She catches sight of a sniper taking aim at them from their spot on top of a nearby building right before there’s a hulking form shooting them in the back of the head. 

Ghost. 

“Fuck yeah!” she yells, watching the last man drop dead as Alpha team sweeps through. 

“Take that ya sonuva bitches!” Soap cheers, rising to his feet and a hand going to the com in his ear. “Just in time fellas.”

“You’re welcome,” Gaz replies, his voice filtering smoothly through the coms. “You comin�� down or do we need to move in?”

“Meet us halfway,” Soap tells him as Grizzly rises to her feet with the rifle grasped firmly in her hands. 

He leads the way, their squad moving behind him in a line. She’s second to last, the marine with the injured shoulder in front of her while a massive brute is behind her. They move with ease, boots thumping on the stairs as all eight of them make their way from the third floor to the first. 

Fresh air brushes fondly over her face once the squad is outside, soothing her heated skin.

“Good to see ya in one piece,” Gaz says, bumping Soap’s fist with his own in their handshake.

Grizzly ushers the marines onto the helicopter, turning to Gaz once the last soldier gets on. “Of course y'all make an appearance right as the numbers die down.” 

He laughs, turning and leading them to the helicopter just as Ghost was coming back. 

“Lieutenant,” she greets him, nodding at the helicopter. “Nice move out there. Bet that poor bastard didn’t even see you comin’. ”

He nods to her, voice gruff as he speaks. “Sergeants.”

She grins, climbing into the helicopter after Soap and settling into the first open spot she sees. Ghost follows closely after, dropping heavily into the seat at her left since the others had all filled up. Price enters last, nodding to her and Soap before taking a seat and ordering the pilots to take them back to base. 

And just like that, the mission was a success. 

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

“Soap if you don’t stop moving I have the authority to knock you out.”

The man chuckles at the threat. “Doesn’t that go against your oath, Griz?”

She snorts, shoving him. “We’re surrounded by marines. You really think they’d care?”

Gaz laughs at the pout the Scot puts on at the reply. “Aw c’mon, man. Ya know she loves you too much to do somethin’ like tha’. ”

“Debatable,” she quips, winding the bandage around Soap’s thigh where he’d been knifed during the fight.

“A’m hurt, Griz,” Soap tells her, placing a hand over where his heart is and putting on a mock frown. 

She chuckles. “Oh come on ya big baby. Even if I did knock you out, I’d make sure you were properly taken care of. I can’t be the only raging Scot around here to celebrate the death of the queen.”

Soap laughs at that, unable to stay mad while Gaz deadpans. “Guess yer right, lass. Even if yer only half.”

“Only one who ken wat yer talking ‘bout, Soap,” Grizzly says, laughing at the other man in the room with them shaking his head. 

“Even after all these years I still can’t understand the two of ya.”

“Don’t need to,” she hums, standing and encouraging Soap to do the same to check his bandages. “How’s that feel?”

“Better,” he replies, heading for the door of the med ward. “Wanna get some eats? The mess should still be open.”

Grizzly follows closely behind the other sergeant with Gaz at her side, making their way through the base. It wasn’t the one they called home, but considering she had spent five years in the marine corps before being called by Price to join his budding 141, she was able to steer them in the right direction. Marines walked past, nodding in respect to her and the team. More than once she heard a teasing “Evenin’, Mama Bear” passing by. This just made her grin and keep walking, knowing it was the soldiers own way of showing their respect to her as a doctor. 

“What’s up with their whole thing of calling you ‘Mama Bear’, Griz?” Soap asks as they enter the mess hall and get into line. “I don’t think I’ve heard any of them refer to you by Grizzly once.”

She shrugs. “That’s just the marine way, Soap. Gotta show their respect somehow. Many of them knew me back when I was still a corpsman meaning that I saved a lot of their asses out in combat.”

The room was still full of marines of various rankings shuffling about and sitting at tables eating. When she steps out of line to wait for Gaz and Soap to finish being served up, a squad marches in. They’re all very loud, shoving one another with playful roughness in line. She rolls her eyes at the display, all too familiar with it even after being officially away from the scene for nearly three years at this point. 

Her other two team members finally step away with their food, at her sides as they find a place to sit down and eat. She spies an empty table against the back wall, turning to face Gaz and Soap. Grizzly nods in the direction of the table, weaving through the mass of tables and bodies crowding them. They get to the back of the room, settling down and digging in. 

“How was the mission, Mama Bear?” a marine sitting at the table about two feet from theirs inquires, catching her attention right as she was taking a bite of her food.

Another marine cuts in before she can answer. “Oh come on Daniels. Ya know it went well. Any team with Mama Bear as the corpsman is gonna make it out in one piece. Ain't that right, Mama Bear?”

“Damn straight,” she replies, a grin on her face. “There’s a reason why you’re cautioned against riling up a grizzly with cubs, fellas.”

The marines chuckle at her response, leaving her to eat the rest of the meal in peace. 

“That was so corny,” Gaz teases, sipping his juice. 

She shrugs. “True though ain’t it?”

He just huffs out a laugh and keeps eating. Soap swaps banter with the marines and Grizzly joins in every now and then, amused highly at the confused expressions on the faces of the marines when she used her thick Scottish accent. Eventually the marines finish up, leaving with a chorus of “bye Mama Bear!”s and nods to the men she was with. 

She pulls her phone out, shooting a quick text to her older brother as she remembered something random he’d asked her on a call they’d had a few days ago. Before she could put it away, her ringtone goes off and the caller ID of “Mom” pops up. Without skipping a beat, her ringtone is silenced and the phone is put back into one of the side pockets of her cargos. 

“Scammer?” Gaz asks, gaze curious. 

Grizzly shakes her head, going back to eating. “Nah. My mom.”

Soap’s head snaps up, eyes meeting hers. “Why’re you hanging up on yer mum, Griz? Wat’s the woman done now, aye?”

“The usual,” is all she replies with, finishing off the last of her food and drinking the rest of her juice. “Her latest fixation is kinda funny though.”

Gaz seems slightly nervous as he asks, “And what would that be?”

She looks up from her tray of food, meeting his gaze. “When she’s gonna be getting grandkids from me.”

Soap nearly chokes on his drink from the snort of laughter that spills from his lips while Gaz takes a moment to process her words. 

“Wat aboot findin’ a partner first?” the Scot manages to say between his wheezing laughs, trying to rein it in. “Ye cannae jus’ pop out a pup at her request.”

“That’s what I tried to tell her,” Grizzly says, pinching the bridge of her nose between her pointer finger and thumb with furrowed brows. “So then she just goes ‘When’s the wedding then?’ and I almost lost it.”

Soap’s laughter rings out as Gaz shakes his head, shoulders shaking with his own laughs. 

“Sounds awful,” Gaz concedes. “She want you out of the military or somethin’?”

She nods, rising from the table as the men do the same. “Exactly. She hates how long I’ve been in for. Thinks I need to get out and do normal ‘woman things’-whatever the hell that means.”

“She’s very old fashioned isn’t she?” Gaz remarks, walking beside her. 

“Old-fashioned is an understatement, Gaz.”

The three of them walk out of the mess hall together, passing by the packed tables of marines. Murmurs follow in their wake, speaking of the prestige of the team. She’s amused by the murmurs, having grown used to them after spending a few years in 141. Soap and Gaz converse while they walk, the former very animated in his speaking and hand movements. 

Her phone vibrates in her pocket against her leg, but she pointedly ignores it. 

“Ey Ghost!”

She had zoned out, not seeing the approach of their team’s lieutenant. He nods to them in greeting, trying to go on his way around Soap. The insistent sergeant however blocks him, striking up–or at least tries to–a conversation with the other man. 

“Where ya off to, L.t?” Soap asks, sunshine attitude leaking from him in waves. 

Ghost looks down, voice neutral. “None of your business, Johnny.”

Grizzly rolls her eyes with an affectionate huff, stepping forward and placing a hand on Soap’s shoulder. “Leave ‘em alone, Soap. Maybe he just wants some peace and quiet away from you.”

The Scot guffaws, pouting at her. He looks back at Ghost. “Tell me it’s not true, Ghost!”

Ghost huffs, and she can tell from his expression alone he was raising an eyebrow beneath the mask. “Why? No point in lying to ya.”

She laughs at the mock anguish Soap plasters on his face, getting to relieve the sergeant’s drama from earlier when she’d been treating his wound. Gaz chuckles, heading down the hallway in the direction of the barracks and showers with a soft “M gonna clean up” to Grizzly. She watches him go for a moment before turning her attention back to the lieutenant and the other sergeant. 

“Ya wound me, Ghost,” Soap sighs dramatically, sagging down into Grizzly’s hold. “At least I still have ya Griz.”

“Wouldn’t change a thing, Soap,” she tells him, patting his back. 

“Since ya want to know so badly,” Ghost says, getting the Scot to perk up. “I was heading to the gym.”

She looks up at the lieutenant, slightly surprised before realizing this was Ghost they were talking to. 

“Lookin’ for some sparrin’ partners?” Soap asks, slinging an arm around Grizzly so she couldn’t slink away. “Am sure Griz would love to spar wi’ ya. Right?”

“I’ll break your arm, Soap.”

He laughs. “Calm down, shorty.”

“Show some respect to your superior,” she orders playfully, squirming from his grip. “I didn’t get into the military two years before you did just to not be shown the respect I’m due.”

Soap grins. “Sounds like we ‘ave an issue to deal wi’. Care to fight it out?”

She glances up at Ghost–Christ why did she have to be so short compared to him–who had an expression of a man resigned to an interrupted workout and then back at the Scot. “You’re on.”