#YELLS INTO A CAVERN... I LOVE THIS AU... SO MUCH.....

[jamesdeniscouldnever]

Yay! I'm absolutely enthralled by this series, so the inspiration just keeps flowing. Same as the rolan fic Zevlor's hurt/comfort won. I love him. These two made me realize I love teiflings. Gonna scream. This takes place if you failed to save him in act two but its a little AU in the sense that you save him before Orin can...ya know.

The Guardian's Guardian

Summary: Caught in Orin's sordid little web, Zevlor finds himself on the receiving end of some less than pleasant treatment. Hes sure he deserves it for being an oathbreaker and abandoning his fellow tieflings. So why, amongst the pain and torture he endures , does he find his mind seeking comfort that he doesn't deserve in the memory of a friend?

Zevlor couldn't begin to find the words to explain his terror. He was certain he'd simply be turned into an absolute cultist after Ketharic had taken him, nothing special and no one of note. But no. Instead, when Thorm had been killed and the injured Tav had been making their way out of the belly of the beast, they had missed him. At least, he liked to think they missed him. Surely they wouldn't have left him there if they'd known...would they?

He'd been at peace with the idea of dying there, but all that had shattered when a terrifying woman with pale skin that swirled in strange patterns had appeared. She'd smiled so cruelty when she saw him. She had said only one word.

"Perfect." And that was all it took. She'd opened the pod, grabbed him, and in a swirl of ash, they were someplace else. Someplace dark and damp and reeking of blood.

That was almost a week ago. How he'd survived so long he wasn't sure, he'd been on the receiving end of numerous beatings, tortures, and even a flaying since then. He winces to himself as the memory of his own raw nearly-skinned flesh on his left leg causes it to flare in pain once more. Certainly, some God must be keeping him alive for their amusment. Or for his own punishment.

If he'd just fought the absolute harder, he wouldn't be in this mess. His people would be safe. Tav may have had more help in slaying Ketharic.

Tav.

He closes his eyes, feeling the cold stone of the cell floor against his back, and allows himself to think of them. He doesn't deserve the comfort their memory brings. He doesn't deserve to fantasize about them bursting through the door and rescuing him. He doesn't deserve to be worried about them. Certainly they were okay. Far far away from this cultish temple to a filthy God. Far away from him.

That thought brings him more comfort than he was expecting. The idea that they were somewhere safe beyond Orin's reach makes him exhale a breath of quiet relief. A relief he had no right to feel. They weren't his.

He'd been in love with them, no doubt, since the Grove. Their kindness, their leadership, the diffusion of tension among the refugees, and their willingness to help. Help teiflings, no less. A notable trait since the fall of Elturel.

If anyone had been around, he'd have scolded himself for the small smile he allows to creep onto his lips as he thinks of them, their smile, their eyes. It's enough to make him ignore the pain the action brings by reopening the scab on his split lip.

He feels his eyes growing heavy, the tension of pain outweighed by his outright exhaustion. He's almost able to slip into a much needed sleep. Almost.

But the comfort is cut short by the sounds of shouting somewhere above him. It must be loud to traverse the stone of his prison. Perhaps someone had displeased Orin. Perhaps she was making another sacrifice to her awful parentage. Maybe Zevlor would be next.

He doesn't open his eyes. Let them come take him. Let his suffering be over. Let his punishment finally be complete.

But even as the screams and yells die down, they do not come. Even as the whole of the caverns fall silent, they do not come. No, what comes is a frantic voice and the sound of several pairs of boots scraping against the dirt and stones. He is certain now - he has, in fact, died. Died and, through some measure of mercy from the same gods who ignored him, been allowed to see them again.

"Zevlor, please! Where are you? Please, Gods, tell me we weren't too late!" The panic in their voice is enough to rouse him. There shouldn't be such pain after death, such a heartbreaking cry. Unless this is his personal Hell. No, this is not real. He won't play their games anymore. He doesn't respond.

"Zevlor! Gods dammit all! Please! Please answer me!" Tav's voice cries again, closer now. The sounds of clanging doors and cells being ripped open follows them. He sighs in content. Even with such pain laden in it, their voice is like a symphony to him now. A soothing balm to caress his soul. He only wishes it was singing one of the lullabies they'd taught the children or telling one of their stories. But this would do.

The world begins to fade around him, finally letting him go. From deep within his swimming hearing, he hears a cell being yanked open. A desperate cry that sounds as if someone is in pain. A word repeated over and over. He strains as much as he cans to listen-

"-vlor! Zevlor. Please, Zev, please!" A desperate cry. He feels hands on his chest, his neck, then moving to his face. He flinches despite himself, and he hears what sounds like a sob. He tries to open his eyes. Tries to tell the visage of his beloved Tav not to cry, that it will all be over soon, but he can't control his tongue nor his eyes. It's as if they're both turned to rock inside his skull.

The last thing he hears before darkness pulls him down is a fractured sentence.

"Karlah- arry him plea- ave to get out of here!"

After that is dark. He's not sure for how long. He's not sure if he was conscious during it all or not. All he's aware of now is warmth that the cells of the cult of Bhaal had been devoid of.

A crackling sound. A fire. He tries to move his hands, move any part of himself. He's able to feel the twitch of his tail and something soft pressing against his fingertips. A bedroll?

No. A bed. A real bed. The soft dip of mattress under him tells him this. Where in the 9 hells is he?

He struggles his eyes open, the light that meets them a little garish compared to the dark of his previous surroundings. However, they adjust after a moment, and he blinks several times. He's in a room, lavishly decorated, warm, large. He turns his hand and sees several beds, all just as large and soft as his own lining the walls. Curtains hang from the doorway, having been pulled down, presumably for his privacy. He hears voices speaking soft beyong them.

He tries to speak but finds his throat hoarse and painful. He tries to sit up instead but groans out loud in pain as he moves his left leg. Right. Basically skinned alive. But looking down, he notices it's been bandaged, the scent of yarrow and other medicinal herbs wafting from around him.

His yelp seems to have been heard as footsteps rapidly approach the curtains, and a pair of hands yank them apart, a face appearing between them. Tav.

Their eyes are wide, set in both fear and relief, their bottom lip quivers slightly before they swallow and quickly close the space between the curtains and his bed. They don't hesitate to drop to their knees beside him, taking one of his clawed hands in theirs.

"Zev! Oh gods, have mercy, you're awake! You're awake. You're safe. I'm here." Their voice seems to flit through the stages of grief, then relief, then gentle happiness. He doesn't reply, just stares at them with wide eyes of his own.

They simply hold his hand tight and keep repeating the same words to him. As if they're an incantation that will heal his battered body. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm here."

His eyes flit to the curtains, and he sees faces peaking through. Tav's companions. They watch with varying degrees of pity, joy, amusement, or disgust. His looks back to Tav and tries to speak, but only a croak replies. Tav's eyes widen, and they're reaching for the pitcher of water beside the bed before he can even grasp at their hand as it leaves his. They pour a glass and hold it to his lips for him, their other hand cradling the back of his neck as they urge him to drink. He does, and before he even realizes it, he's drained the glass. They pour him another, but he only sips at this one before he finally speaks.

"It's you. You came for me...why? Why would you do that? Why would you put yourself and your friends in danger for me? You could've been hurt! You could have been killed!" Its not until Tav places their hands on his cheeks and hums soothingly that he realizes his voice had been growing in volume. One hand remains on his cheek, and the other moves to stroke through his hair, passing across the bases of his horns. He can't keep himself from sighing and curling in on himself at their touch. Tears blur his vision, and he let's them fall. He's so relieved. Not for himself but for them.

"Zevlor, of course I came for you. I would never have left anyone to Orin's torture, but least of all you. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." They hushed. His tears continued, and wrecked sobs finally burst forth from his throat.

"But why!? I don't deserve your kindness, your sacrifice, and care! I-I gave in to the absolute! I left my people to die! I broke my oaths, I left innocent children helpess, and now I put you all in danger. I'm a murderer." Zevlor wails. He deserved to die there. He shouldn't be here, he should be a body laying in the pits of Avernus left to-

"Zevlor!" Their voice cuts through again. They're gently pulling his hands away from his arms, where scratches and traces blood are now forming. He'd been hurting himself and hadn't even realized it. "Stop. Zev, your people are safe. I got them out of moonrise, and I returned them to their families. There were a few losses but...I did what I could. Arabella's parents... but that doesn't matter. It isn't your fault. The absolutes hold on people is almost unbreakable, but you did it. You broke it. You aren't a murderer. You're a victim. Please don't hurt yourself over this, I can't bear to see it. I love you too much for it."

Their words are so earnest and spoken with such certainty that he almost misses the end part. His gaze whips up to meet theirs, and he almost cries anew at the look in their eyes. He buries his face in their chest and breakdown down once more. They hold him close and gently rock back and forth with the. They rub his back and stroke his hair and whisper words of encouragement and kindness to him. He takes a deep breath and pulls back from them. He pulls his head back and whimpers.

"I love you. I've loved you since that day in the Grove that you saved Arabella from Kagha. Since you showed Geux how to defend himself or kept Lia and her brothers together. I must have annoyed the others with how much I talked about you after we left there. But I couldn't help myself. You're perfect. You're goodness incarnate. I love you. I need you." His voice sounds foreign to himself. Desperate and teary and full of fear. But that's just the effect Tav has on him. He can be weak in front of them. He can be vulnerable.

Lips press against his before he can even look up again. He let's his eyes slip shut, and he sighs into it, allowing himself to melt into the safety of them. There's no heat behind it. No heavy breaths or searching hands. Just chaste, gentle and caring love. Safety.

They pull away before he's ready but place another kiss against his forehead. They sit on the bed beside him and pull his head against their chest. They whisper sweet nothings to him, promises of care and safety.

"I'm here, you're safe. All is well, everything is going to be okay. I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe." They hum into his hair.

He feels something stir within himself, and he makes a decision then and there. He may have broken his oaths, but he's making a new one to himself. Tav, the guardian of the world, the bringer of peace and safety. He's going to protect them with his life. He'll be there for any fight, any pain, any troubles. For the rest of their lives. He will be there. A gaurdian's gaurdian. And this oath, he will not break. No matter what.

[themsource]

I already ranted about this a little on Twitter and I wanna rant on here too! I just binged all of the animated show Skull Island on Netflix and all I have to say is...

Why can't Kong keep a girlfriend!? Either he dies, or she dies, everybody dies, or they end up seperated 'for thier own good and happiness' 😑

Like just let him have his little micro bride! 😤 There's nothing wrong with big strong King having tiny Queen to adore and protect!

I loved Kong the most in the Peter Jackson's film with Jack Black, and I cried so hard when Kong gave his life for her thinking she needed protection! The look in his eyes as she held his hand for the last time killed me! And you know what, there was love there! I swear up and down she loved him too—maybe not in the conventional way but still!

Imma be honest Kong in his interpretations feels more like a monster to me, not so much a giant animal like so many like to classify him, if that makes sence? Like has the same intelligence and sentience level as a human but lacks the ability to communicate. (Not saying that animals themselves aren't intelligent or sentient, just his is in a way that humans themselves can understand)

I'll say it again for the peeps in the back! JUST LET THERE BE MACRO/MICRO HAPPINESS 😤 LET KONG HAVE LOVE FOR CRYING OUTLOUD!

This has me fuming so bad I have to project and imagine this as another UT au idea just so I can feel better lol

Giant skeleton Sans as Kong—

Let tiny bride Reader ride in his palm or on his clavicle, sleep in his ribs while he sleeps with a little hammock tied up between the bones or a sleeping mat on his vertabre—or even his skull, hanging out in his socket like a cavern sfae from the world or riding in it as he goes into battle! Can you imagine? Someone trying to reach for Reader and Sans snapping his lid shut and fighting with one palm over it the whole time with his other lit in rage!? ❤️

And I like ths idea of having Sans unable to talk or write! Half the fun is trying to figure out his thoughts from the tiniest micro expressions or his seemingly blank staring. Reader confessing how much they love him but yelling how conflicted they are over it because they're different species and how could that possibly work, all the while Sans just wears his perpetural smile but his eyelights enlarge slowly as his heart thunders in his ribs but the enlarging isn't noticable because they're already so large to Reader's perspective 😩

Let people wonder if he enjoys the newly harvested tomatos as a sacrifice as he simply tosses it back with no reaction just as he does every other sacrifice he's given! (He totally does but who can tell? His smile hasn't twitched or anything) Only reader is able to deduce his enjoyment because the next sacrifice is corn and he huffs. Doesn't react beyound that as he tosses that back too. Makes his grin twitching at the corners all that more enjoyable when Reader purposefully encourages the tribes to offer tomatos again. He tosses it back and the tribesmen are confused cuz he looks like normal 😂

I just...ugh!

It really feels like Kong is cheated a lot in these shows and movies, I hate it 💀 At least I can imagine Kong-Sans is happy, poor boy 🥺

[bae-leth]

Okay with all the talk about Natalia and Artemis pulling an Awakening of sorts and going back in time to their dads’ academy days, I gotta write up a little something about this. I’ll stick with scenario A: the kids ending up in an Azure Moon past and scenario B: them ending up in a Verdant Wind past. I’ll stay away from the kids ending up in a Crimson Flower past because it’ll be kinda complicated and also I think that would be a little too traumatizing for these poor babies (as if me launching them into AM and VW won’t traumatize them lol). *okay hopefully Tumblr didn’t eat this and it actually went through this time*

For how the kids end up in the past let’s just say Natalia and Artemis went on recon mission together and happened to accidentally come across a long abandoned secret Agarthan facility. While exploring it they accidentally end up triggering a magic trap. Artemis attempts to use his own magic to dispel it but it reacts strangely. Next thing they know, the kids are waking up on the ground in a field within eyesight of Garreg Mach Monastery. Yeah it’s contrived but how they got there isn’t the big thing here.

Other general stuff to note! For this adventure let’s have Natalia be 18 years old and Artemis is 15 years old. Their dads still wield the Hero Relics so the kids don’t have them and their mounts (Natalia’s horse Ares and Artemis’ wyvern Altena) didn’t come back with them. Less stuff for the kids to have to explain away but still makes things annoying for them, especially since they still have to deal with their Crests.

Also, to make things just a bit less horrible for them, while Natalia and Artemis are stuck in the past for the five years of the game’s story, five years aren’t passing in their original timeline. It’s more like an adjustment of one year in the past equals like a month in their proper timeline. And while they are in the past, they’re not aging. It’s like they’ve been “removed from the flow of time”, more or less. Still experiencing things as they come but they themselves aren’t aging or changing during this time (another annoying thing to try and explain away while they’re stuck in the past). This is because I didn’t want them to lose out on five whole years of their lives. Also because I didn’t want to put poor Dimitri and Felix through having their kids vanish for five damn years. They just get to go through the horror of wondering where their kids disappeared to for five months instead.

Natalia and Artemis claim to be “a pair of siblings who are simply travelling the continent” and that’s usually enough for most people to leave them alone. Plus it helps that Garreg Mach and the academy often get visitors, so having strangers show up isn’t too weird. But the pair of them still stick out since they have that air of being far more noble than they come across and you darn well better believe they were closely watched for a long time before people realized they meant no harm.

Stuff gets especially difficult when the pair occasionally help out in battles and their Crests activate (let’s say the glowy symbol effect is something that you physically see and not just a game mechanic). That is far more difficult to explain away since while enough time has passed since the age of the Ten Elites that Crests can appear practically anywhere, the Blaiddyd and Fraldarius Crests have never before been seen outside of their respective family lines. However a good enough argument is made that it very much is possible that the pair simply have distant (lol) Blaiddyd and Fraldarius blood in them and so they just so happened to inherit the Crests. Sylvain gets a lot of mileage out of teasing Dimitri and Felix over this whole thing while Natalia and Artemis try not to laugh like awkward dummies.

Natalia and Artemis being so excited to see young versions of their dads and their uncles and aunts from the Blue Lions. And a younger, far less expressive version of Byleth!

“Oh goddess, Artemis, I just realized I’m technically older than Father and Papa, they’re both only 17 right now!” “Papa ages really gracefully, he barely looks different than he does in our time. But seeing Father with short hair and two eyes is so odd.”

“Uncle Ashe and Aunt Annette have such round cheeks!” “I can’t get used to Aunt Mercedes or Aunt Ingrid with such long hair!” “Was Uncle Sylvain always this much of a flirt? I thought the stories were exaggerating.” “Uncle Dedue keeps looking so sternly at us. We didn’t even do anything this time!”

“Professor never smiles or anything. I heard he used to be really expressionless, but I didn’t realize it was to this extent.” “I’m just glad that the ‘Professor’ nickname has stuck in our time, at least we can call one person what we usually call them.”

Ingrid legit thinks Sylvain is dying or something because Natalia is a pretty young lady yet Sylvain has yet to make a move on her.

“Ingrid you don’t get it, every time I try it feels like I’m gonna throw up! It’s like hitting on a family member!” “Oh so this is going too far but when you hit on my poor granny-” “Would you let that go already?!”

Dimitri and Felix are going through a lot because they don’t understand why they feel so attached to Natalia and Artemis. Dimitri tries to reason that when he was younger he always wanted siblings and the pair are rather attached to him and Felix so it’s something like that. Doesn’t account for just how protective and doting he is on them though. Meanwhile there’s always whispers about how easily Felix lets the siblings stick by him and he’s so annoyed because “why the hell are they constantly trying to get me and the boar prince to spend time together????”

Byleth also has a soft spot for them and the kids have the easiest time with him since interactions with Byleth aren’t that different from their interactions in their own time.

You know that one monk who says Dedue probably had something to do with Flayn’s kidnapping? Natalia totally decks him in the face when she hears him say that. When the guy tries to complain, Artemis turns up the charm and has everyone believing him when he says that of course his dear big sister would never do something so terrible, and so Natalia gets off scot free.

When it comes to Edelgard Artemis has mixed feelings because he knows about how she starts the war and all she does but at the same time he remembers the bittersweet expression on his father’s face the few times he spoke of her. Meanwhile Natalia is distant and wants nothing to do with Edelgard, knowing all the pain she caused the people Natalia loves.

It’s interesting for the pair to see Claude, since the Claude they know is a lot more open about his true feelings. Still talks circles around them all and savvy as ever, but more honest with himself and those he considers close. Claude is also the one who is most curious about the siblings’ mysterious origins (well other than Hanneman who wants to know all he can for his Crest research)

Artemis causes quite a stir when he goes around slinging magic from the back of a wyvern he borrowed from the stables, forgetting that magic wielding wyvern riders are not gonna be a thing for another few decades. He’s just lucky he managed to borrow the most chill wyvern in the stables because any other wyvern would’ve thrown him off if he tried that with them.

So hey wanna imagine how fucking scared the kids are when the Holy Tomb incident occurs and they see Dimitri crush two guys’ skulls?

Their father doesn’t like to talk about the full details of the darkest time in his life, when his mental state was at its lowest. But he was also rather honest with the kids, telling them that he had done many things that were horrifying, that can’t be easily forgiven, if at all. Natalia and Artemis thought they understood but seeing their father breaking down before their eyes is completely different from the stories they were told.

Natalia doesn’t know how to talk to Dimitri about this so she lets Artemis handle him. Artemis is good at just being a comforting presence, knowing when to stay back and when to sit close. Knowing when to say something and when to listen. Natalia chooses to stick by Felix, arguing with him about how harsh he’s being towards Dimitri. Her own fierce and stubborn nature means she can hold her own against Felix. When she sees a rare flash of vulnerability on Felix’s face she understands that, more than anyone, he didn’t want things to turn out like this for Dimitri.

In the years that pass Natalia and Artemis argue a lot over how much they should interfere. This is the Blue Lions’ past so they know what’s going to happen but they can’t agree on whether or not to say anything. Do they try to stop Edelgard’s war? Do they try to warn someone? But how and when? They know where Dimitri disappeared to after his “execution” should they tell someone? But what if things change too much? What if they make things worse? What if what they’re doing has some effect on their own time? Is it selfish to not want to risk their future, their loved ones?

Okay that’s as much as I have to say about the AM version, so let’s talk more about the kids being sent to a VW past.

The kids are so confused when they see Byleth teaching the Golden Deer. What does this mean? Is this an alternate past? But then how will they know what’s going to happen? Will things really change that much if Byleth is teaching another house?

Their confusion only doubles when, a few months later, Felix transfers to the Golden Deer. Natalia confronts him about this but Felix states that Byleth is good with a sword and he wants to learn from him, there’s nothing more to it.

“You’re not running from Dimitri, are you?” “…Why’re you so invested? You and that brother of yours are just a pair of strangers who keep making everyone else’s business your own.”

Artemis keeps a close eye on Dimitri throughout the year, wondering if perhaps Byleth being with another house will make a positive change for Dimitri. Of course Artemis doesn’t want to lose the important bond between Byleth and the Blue Lions, between Byleth and him and Natalia. But…if this can provide a benefit to his father…

But no, Dimitri still falls apart, slowly but steadily. The war still comes. But now Natalia and Artemis are faced with he horror of their father going down separate paths. Felix going to the Leicester Alliance after Faerghus falls and Dimitri still missing. So the kids make a painful decision, a scary one they’re only making because they don’t know what else to do.

Natalia follows Felix to Leicester. Artemis sets out to find Dimitri. Natalia tries to convince Felix to search for Dimitri, to return to Faerghus. Dimitri flips between ignoring Artemis and barely tolerating his presence. Natalia is at her wit’s end, not knowing how Dimitri or Artemis are doing in this strange timeline. Artemis is so desperately lonely, even with Dimitri with him, not knowing how Natalia and Felix are doing.

Everything falls apart on Gronder Field. In the chaos of the three-way battle, Natalia and Artemis lose track of their dads. But they find each other, seeing each other again for the first time in years. Their reunion is emotional, a small bright spot in this horrifying war. But then they have to find their dads.

By the time they locate Dimitri and Felix, the pair are in combat and it’s vicious. Natalia, frustrated and scared that she’s gonna watch her beloved dads murder each other, rushes in, using her own lance to break them apart. As she keeps a furious Felix held back, Dimitri uses the distraction to go look for Edelgard while Artemis rushes after him.

“Where are you going?!” “I must kill that woman. She’ll die by my hands alone!” “You’re too hurt! You’ll die! Please stop this!” “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side all these years. If you don’t like this, then leave me!”

“Why did you stop us?” “Because you’re both idiots! Absolute idiots! How can you fight each other, try to kill each other?!” “He’s nothing but a beast now. It’s how he is.” “It’s not! It’s not…Neither of you, none of this, is supposed to be like this!”

Artemis loses track of Dimitri for a short time in the crowds but it’s long enough. By the time he finds Dimitri again, the prince is on the ground, impaled by so many spears. Dying.

Artemis screams and sobs and throws himself on Dimitri, begging him not to die. He can’t keep up the façade in this moment, seeing his father dying, even if it’s not the same father he knows.

“Father!!! Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die! Don’t leave me, Father! You can’t do this to me! To us!! Please please please!!!!”

In Dimitri’s last moments, the fog in his mind clears and the voices quiet down just enough that Dimitri realizes what Artemis is screaming. And although he doesn’t have all the information, knows it’s bizarre, in his heart he realizes it’s true, that it explains certain things. Artemis is…And the girl, Natalia…Meaning Felix…is…He must be, there could be no other who Dimitri would ever…

“…I’m…so sorry…”

Natalia hears her brother’s distant scream and runs, Felix following close behind because even though the girl is strange and annoying he couldn’t bear it if she died (but why does he feel that way?). They arrive just in time for Felix’s world to crash around him. Just in time to hear Dimitri’s soft and weak apology, to see Artemis clutching Dimitri’s dead body and sobbing hysterically against his chest. Just in time for Natalia to fall to her knees, tears streaming down her face, as she whispers “Father”.

Welp, I that’s enough there too. So let’s get into the last bit. How the heck poor Dimitri and Felix are doing with their kids missing.

Soldiers return to Fhirdiad with Ares and Altena but without their riders. The soldiers explain to Dimitri and Felix that they found the pair of mounts exhausted but doing their best to race to Fhirdiad. There’s no sign of the crown princess or the prince.

The search for Natalia and Artemis is done covertly at first because the panic that would spread across Fodlan if it was revealed that both of the royal children have disappeared would be too great. But as weeks go on with no sign of the kids, word ends up getting out.

Dimitri is beside himself, wondering if someone from his past hoping for revenge has done something to the children. If they’ve been hurt or worse because of his own actions, he’d never forgive himself for as long as he lives. Felix has to divide himself between preventing Dimitri from spiraling downwards and worrying over what happened to Natalia and Artemis.

All of the Blue Lions are hard at work looking for the kids, Byleth himself getting involved too (and the times when he can’t he sends plenty of Knights of Seiros to go looking in his place). Dimitri asks for help from Claude as time goes by, who offers all the help he can. But there’s no sign of the children. No sign of any battles, of any kidnappings, nothing…

After a couple months pass some of the royal advisors get together to talk about the search. They decide it may be better to speak with Felix first. So they bring Felix to a private area and tell him the truth. About how it’s been two months, with no ransoms, no sightings of the children, nothing to suggest they were taken. And Natalia and Artemis are both strong and capable enough that if they could escape from whatever situation they were in they would have by now. The advisors say it’s probably time to start thinking that perhaps they children may be dead.

Dimitri rushes into the room at the sound of yelling and sees the advisors crowding on the ground around another advisor whose nose was clearly broken and gushing blood. Felix stood above him with his fists clenched, angrier than Dimitri had ever seen him in all their years.

“If you have time to talk to me about your bullshit theories, you have time to get out there and search!”

More months pass and it’s common sentiment among many citizens that Natalia and Artemis are most likely dead, there’s been so sightings of them, no word from them. But everyone knows better than to say anything within earshot of any Blue Lions, the Archbishop, or the royal couple.

But Dimitri is breaking down as more months pass. And Felix, for all his fierce nature and stubbornness, is falling apart too. Dimitri spends so much time in Natalia and Artemis’ rooms when he’s not working himself to near death while Felix only ever stays in the castle long enough to make sure Dimitri is well and the kingdom’s affairs are running well before leaving to follow a new lead.

No one will say it out loud but the worry is spreading. That if Natalia and Artemis aren’t found, or…if their bodies aren’t found, that neither Dimitri nor Felix will last much longer. That after all the work and pain that went into bringing peace back to Fodlan and helping it progress, it was all going to fall apart.

Okay that’s a lot of depressing stuff so let’s end this on a high note.

After five months pass, Natalia and Artemis come home. Or Dimitri and Felix finally find them. The royal pair find the mysterious Agarthan facility just as a strange light comes from within. When they go in, they find Natalia and Artemis standing up, together, alive, looking no different than the day they vanished five months ago.

Dimitri and Felix are both frozen in shock but the second Natalia and Artemis lock eyes with their dads they both let out shouts and sobs and basically tackled their dads to the ground in a massive group hug, sobbing the whole time.

Neither Natalia nor Artemis have ever seen Dimitri or Felix cry, especially as much as they were doing so in that moment. But they could laugh about that later. The family was all together again. That’s all that truly mattered.

“Welcome home.” “We’re back.”

—————–

notes from bae:

I’M SCREAMING INTO THE VOID. THESE ARE SO GOOD AND SO SO HEARTBREAKING I’VE BEEN TORN TO PIECES

immediately upon reading the first bits i could tell that my heart was going to be broken because a) azure moon hurts enough on its OWN, and b) i don’t think i will ever get over dimitri’s ending in vw. and all of felix’s endings without him just spell Misery anyway, so seeing Artemis break down over him?? EXPECTED but also??? Artemis??? my sweet sunshine son oh my GOD i am so UPSET!! that entire scene with dimitri’s last words to his son got me. crying in a pool of tears

and i don’t even want to touch CF without at least ten mins worth of prep time, jfc. knowing what happens to unrecruited Felix & co in Arianrhod, and then what happens over at Tailtean, would absolutely break the two of them :( not to mention the even worse scenario of watching CF!Felix unfold…. gosh. ouch.

The mental image of watching Natalia and Artemis trying to explain away their crests is so funny to me…. just: “Our Crests? Uh - we’re… distant descendants of the Elites! Very… filtered down.” “Not at all related to your bloodlines :) (Natalia you’re giving us away stop snickering-!)

SYLVAIN BEING UNABLE TO FLIRT WITH NATALIA YES i remember reading this in an earlier submission and it still makes me laugh :’) and awww… their reactions to their younger aunts/uncles make my heart warm. especially Dedue LMAOO ‘THIS TIME’ WHAT DO THEY PUT THE POOR MAN THROUGH IN THEIR OG TIMELINE….. you kids….!

DIMA AND FELIX WITH THOSE PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS…! you calling Dimitri 'doting’ is doing a number on my heart. Does he make sure they eat and sleep properly? Put them out of harm’s way in battle? Go to bed and wonder why on earth he feels this urge to keep them safe all the time?? Does Felix do the same, but in his own Felix-y way? Do the others stop in awe as they watch him conversing in a normal fashion with the two? I need detais, this is all good food.

Artemis nearly starting a new trend decades early? Natalia decking that racist piece of garbage. good. GOOD. look at them, they’re already creating positive change in the world, and it’s not even their world! i’m so proud of them

you’re right, the holy tomb scene would be absolutely terrifying for them :( but i’m glad they both manage to track down and stay with DImitri and Felix in their own way. VW on the other hand….. OUCH….. OH NO….. them watching Byleth go off and leave the Lions, knowing that he normally has a soft spot for them and their fathers, so what happened? THat must be heartbreaking :(

and then THAT REUNION ON GRONDER FIELD.  “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side all these years. If you don’t like this, then leave me!” - NOOOOO THE DRAMATIC IRONY… DELICIOUS YET PAINFUL…. and then Artemix’ breakdown??? IVE ALREADY SAID THIS BUT YOU RIPPED MY HEART TO SHREDS. DIMITRI REALISING TOO LATE? S H R E D S I TELL YOU

and ofc, in the normal world, you’ve got two parents sick with worry about their missing kids…. Dimitri and Felix really went through it, didn’t they :( They must’ve been in a horrible state. imagining a Dimitri that’s barely hanging on & absolutely blaming himself (even though he’s done nothing wrong!) and a Felix that’s trying to keep it together but fraying at the edges…. i am so so glad they get the happy ending they dESERVE. let this family be happy! let the kids get the scolding of their lives before they all collapse into one big group hug. 

thank you so much for this submission, it made my NIGHT. fraldarddyd family au never fails to make me smile!!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hello! I've been following your blog for a looong time now and I wanted to say I absolutely ADORE the stuff you write, back then some months ago I was so happy that I found a whole blog dedicated to foul legacy childe, moth boyfriend deserves more love<3,

Also I'm glad you're feeling better now!! Hopefully that headache doesn't come back...

Now onto my request~

Can I please have a packaged loose leaf lemon tea, with cloves and sakura, and a crème brûlée and apple cake, served in gold-rimmed china plates??

Thank you veru much ♡♡♡

(I really wanted to ask, can I have an anon tag?? Could I be teacup anon??<3)

Requests for this event are CLOSED!!

Lemon tea, crème brûlée, apple cake, sakura and cloves... what an absolutely marvelous combination!

Let's see what this wish entails...

~ * ~ Sea Monster AU Headcanons, inspired by the words "Discovery" and "Bathing", featuring Bennett and Razor, set in Mondstadt

Fluff

Sea Monster AU- An AU where Childe is your hometown's resident sea monster

Warnings for allusions to injuries and medication

~ * ~ -Mondstadt is, in general, a very peaceful place to live -With the bright sun, the comfortable city, and the soft, constant breeze the only thing that’s really “happened” in the past year or so was the whole Dvalin situation, which was luckily fixed right up by the mysterious Traveler from another world -So Mondstadt remains as it always had- peaceful, comfortable, thriving -AKA very VERY boring -At least to someone like you- it’s not that you crave action every second of every day! You just wish something more interesting than walking to work in the morning would happen sometimes -You didn’t even get to experience much of the dragon incident due to your lack of a Vision; you were just shuffled inside like everyone else even though the only thing you wanted was to get a closer look at that magnificent dragon -So needless to say when Childe came into your life a few days ago you were simply thrilled!! -You found him washed up at the coast off of Windrise, sprawled out on the sand and wheezing from exhaustion, the wounds on his body very clearly telling you that he was running, or swimming, from something -And you were more than happy to help patch him up with the bandages in your bag! It was early morning then, but other people would be out on the beach soon, so you showed the sparkly sea monster a partially-submerged cave he could stay in -You’ve been back to visit him everyday since then, calling out his name that you learned from scratch marks on the rock whenever you enter the small cavern. The way he coos and splashes in the water when you arrive makes you smile <33 -The same trills greet you today as you duck your head to avoid smacking it against the low entrance of the cave. Childe chirps and waves his tail, claws curled on the edge of the little pool of water, and you laugh and kneel to give him pets -He immediately swims forward to settle his head in your lap, tilting his chin upwards and making little echoing purrs in delight. It’s strange, to you, how he hasn’t swam away yet, with the pool being connected to the ocean and his wounds relatively healed -But honestly, you’re glad he’s staying a bit longer -You’re about to start tending to him when you hear a yell of surprise behind you. Jerking your head around, you’re met with the sight of two people- a boy with white hair, and a boy with gray hair- standing in the entrance to the cavern -The white-haired boy, who you quickly recognize as the Adventurer Bennett, is pointing in astonishment at Childe, who squeaks and ducks his head down into the water so only the tips of his horns are peeking out -You don’t recognize the gray-haired one, but he’s carrying a heavy claymore with ease with a wary look in his eye, trying to shove Bennett the eternally unlucky back in an attempt to protect him -“Ah, you caught me.” Is all you say with a wry smile on your face. You’re surprised it took this long, seeing how popular this beach is, and you dip your hand into the water so you can rest it comfortingly on Childe’s head -You’re waiting for them to scream, run, attack, anything- but Bennett seems more amazed and impressed, eyes wide and sparkling. The boy behind him is considerably less so, but still lowers his claymore slightly when Bennett asks what Childe’s name is -He breaks into a wide grin when Childe pokes his head above the water again, blinking curiously. Childe tilts his head at Bennett and the other boy, then at you, letting out an inquisitive trill -Bennett jogs over to sit beside you, waving the other boy over and calling him “Razor”, and he sits as well, although more poised to jump and run if needed. You can feel Childe relax as he deems the two newcomers to not be a threat, and he returns to his spot on your lap with a happy purr -Regrettably you have to nudge him off yourself this time, doing your best to ignore the whine he lets out and digging around in your bag before fishing out a bottle of medication- very special medication that you’ve only just managed to find and acquire -Childe sniffs it gingerly- Razor does too, leaning across Bennett to smell the medicine before drawing back with a crinkled nose- and you kick off your shoes and jump into the pool, landing on a rock that puts you in water about waist-deep -While Childe’s injuries have been healing, they’re now scabbed and dry, and the medicine urges for the applied area to be as clean as possible. So you pick up a rag you stowed away and start wiping at the edges of the wounds, using the crystal-clear water to scrub them clean -You don’t want to reopen any cuts, so you just rinse any dust and blood that might’ve dried around them, and Childe chitters in delight while rumbling loud enough to make the pool ripple -Bennett helpfully hands you items from your bag you request, watching you tend to Childe with a determined look on his face- he’s drinking up the information he’s getting for injury repair, of which he has many -At one point there’s a screech outside and all of you freeze except Razor, who runs to see what it was. He reports back that it was just a shorebird, and you all sigh in relief as he plops back down next to Bennett -As the two boys immerse themselves in conversation you continue to clean Childe’s wounds, but he’s so content and blissful that he nudges his face into your hands, tail smacking the water happily when you cradle his cheeks and gently run the cloth into the grooves of his mask -You prop his head up on your shoulder when you move to cleaning his fins, swiping the silt off the sparkling, veil-like structures, and trying to ignore the audible “Awww!!” that comes from Bennett when Childe wraps his arms around your waist -Your meticulous work means it takes quite a long time, and soon Bennett is stretching his arms and saying that he and Razor need to return to their respective homes -You wave them goodbye before returning to your task, wiping the last of Childe’s fins clean before rubbing your thumb over his cheek to tell him you’re done -But he simply purrs, sleepily, and nuzzles into your palm, arms curling further around your waist like he’s asking you to stay -You sigh, making yourself comfortable in the water before reaching for the medicine on the shore. Childe lets out a happy huff- you’ve never stayed this long before!!- and buries his face in your neck, drifting off to the sound of ocean waves and your gentle, soothing hums in the moonlit water

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Spider Demon Mk Reveal

I wrote this for @strange-lace‘s Spider Monkie AU a while back and here’s me finally getting around to posting it kmsdoaew (LOVE U LACE <3) 

Word count: 2,184

- 

They had been walking through the caves for a good hour or so. 

Mk was no stranger to caves, he’d grown up in them. Played in the caverns and enjoyed the snatches of sunlight that came through the cracks. But these were not his home caves, and he, frankly, was getting sick of them. It was dark and dank and endless, and Red Son had not stopped talking the entire time. 

“Noodle boy, are you listening to me?” 

This wouldn’t have been a problem for him usually; Mk talked all the time himself; he liked talking with people. But this wasn’t talking with Mei or Mr. Tang, or Pigsy, or Sandy, or his mom, or Monkey King, this was Red Son, with an unhealthy obsession, demanding he admit he was a demon for an hour straight. 

“It would be easier for us both if you just confessed,” Red Son told him. He paused for a moment to curse, as he stumbled over a rock, and scrambled to catch up with Mk who continued to walk briskly through the tunnels, doing his best to ignore him, which was getting increasingly difficult as time wore on. “We both know you’re a demon, just admit it.” 

“You’re delusional,” Mk said for the fifth time since they’d gotten trapped underground, allowing annoyance to tinge his voice hoping it would mask his discomfort. 

“I know I’m right!” Red Son yelled at him, despite only being a few feet away. 

Mk whirled around and slapped his hand over his mouth, hissing furiously. “Quiet! We’re still hiding, remember!?” 

Red Son grabbed his wrist to remove his hand and shoved his arm away.

Mk let him, even if he could have easily kept it there, not wanting to give him more reason to suspect his theory might actually be true. 

“Just admit it,” Red Son demanded, much too loudly. 

“Shut up,” Mk told him, heatedly, the back of his neck prickling at the way his voice echoed off the walls. 

The swarm of small demons that had attacked them earlier were still in the caverns somewhere, and Red Son was going to lead them straight to them if he didn’t stop talking so loudly. 

“I’m not a demon,” Mk said, forcing himself to remain calm. 

“Yes you are! If you aren’t then why did you not tremble in fear and awe when we first encountered one another?”  

“Because you’re not scary,” he said bluntly.  

Red Son looked at him in offended outrage, and Mk thought for a moment that maybe he shouldn't have added fuel to the fire, but he was just so done with the interrogation; the paranoia and fear of the others finding out was only made worse by Red Son’s constant prying; he was getting sick of the guilty feeling in his gut. 

“Just admit it!” Red Son shouted again, grabbing his forearm to stop him from continuing forward. His fingers dug into his arm and his hair threatened to catch on fire, something that would be a sure beacon, screaming their current position to any and all creatures in the cave system.  

Mk tore his arm out of his grip, bristling, and gritting his teeth to keep himself from yelling back. “Shut. Up, Red Son.” 

“I’m not crazy,” he snarled back at him.

Mk very suddenly noticed just how haggard he looked. 

His hair was a disaster, barely contained by the hairband, sticking up and out in so many places it looked more like an explosion than his usual carefully styled flame, and it had been like that even before they tumbled into the caves. There were dark circles under his wild, slightly glassy eyes that spoke of very little sleep and too much caffeine, and he almost seemed to be shaking slightly. 

Mk's anger drained out of him abruptly, leaving him standing in the wide cavern looking at his self-proclaimed nemesis, who was breathing hard, clenching his fists, hair flickering weakly, but still not bursting into flames like it usually would have by now, and looking very much like the only thing keeping him on his feet was his 100% correct theory that he would just not let go of.  

He was a mess. 

Mk couldn’t help but blame himself for it; Red Son was right, after all, and Mk was the one who kept insisting he wasn’t, lying to him and to his friends all because he was too afraid that they wouldn’t want him around if they knew. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked quietly. 

Red Son bristled. “That doesn’t matter!” 

“You’re obsessing over this, it’s not healthy."

“I’m right,” Red Son stressed, like it was the only thing that mattered, and wow it was really obvious now that he hadn’t slept in a while. 

“No,” Mk said, like a coward. “You’re not.” 

Red Son gave a wordless, frustrated yell of rage and tackled him.  

Not expecting it, Mk lost his balance, (his balance was better when he had more than two legs,) and they hit the ground and started rolling. 

“What are you doing?!” Mk shouted, trying to shove him off. Except he wasn’t trying, because if he was, Red Son would have been thrown into the cavern wall. 

“Shut up and tell me the truth!” Red Son shouted back, hair sparking, and grabbing his wrist to keep him from pulling away. 

Mk used his hand and shoved his face away. 

Red Son’s fingers dug into his shoulders. 

He pried them off, then slammed Red Son into the ground, only pinning him for a moment before they were rolling again, though this time, Mk wasn’t trying to escape. 

Red Son attempted to grab onto his headband, and Mk grabbed his wrist instead to stop him and bit down on his arm, teeth digging into the fabric of his jacket. 

Red Son gave an outraged shout and elbowed him in the face. 

The ground tilted under them and then they were tumbling head over heels over one another down a steep slope, but that didn’t stop them from fighting, Mk getting knee to the gut. 

They hit the bottom and broke apart, rolling in different directions, sharp rocks digging into Mk’s body, new cuts and bruises stinging from the dust that was kicked up. 

Red Son was on his feet first, unsteady and grippin the arm that Mk had bitten, teeth grit and seething. 

Mk rolled onto his hands and knees and started to rise, carefully, wiping his nose as he watched Red Son warily, ready to fight again. 

“I know what you are,” Red Son hissed, staggering slightly, but somehow remaining on his feet despite looking like he was ready to collapse. 

Mk glared at him, but faltered when his eyes noticed movement elsewhere and he paled at the sight of a rock the size of Pigsy’s truck teetering on the edge of the slope they had just fallen down, Red Son directly in it’s threatening path. 

“And I’m going to prove it.” 

“Red, shut up and move!” Mk yelled at him. 

“You shut up!” Red Son shouted back, and the sound echoed off the cavern. 

Something cracked and the boulder fell. 

Mk lunged forward, ramming into Red Son and tackling him out of the way of the rock that hurtled past the spot he had been just moments before. 

They landed a rather large distance away, Mk not bothering to have tried to mask his strength in that moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut before pushing himself off of Red Son who was struggling to push him off, and then open them again to glare down at him. 

“You’re going to get us killed!” 

Red Son kicked him in the chest with enough force to send him crashing into the stone cavern wall, with a pained “oof!”

He barely had time to hit the ground before Red Son was there, grabbing the front of his jacket and slamming him against the wall again. 

Rocks dug into his back painfully and he grit his teeth, glaring at Red Son who was glaring right back, the wild dazed look in his eye still there. 

Mk saw a creature slink into the cavern from over his shoulder, clearly drawn by the commotion. It was twice the size of the boulder that had nearly crushed Red Son, and it spotted them almost immediately. 

“Let go!” Mk yelled at him. 

“Not until you confess!” 

The creature advanced on them, summoned by their shouting. 

They were both breathing hard, and Red Son’s arms were shaking as he held him against the wall, and Mk decided he’d had enough. 

“You want a demon?” he growled, eyes starting to glow. “FINE.” 

He grabbed Monkey King’s staff from its place in his ear and hurled it at the advancing demon creature. 

The staff grew in length and width as it spun towards its target, sending it crashing through the cave wall upon making contact. And then he dropped his glamour. 

He grew in size, forcing Red Son to stumble back, lest he be impaled by the sharp limbs revealing themselves. The cramped human form faded, freeing his much larger demon form. He never quite got used to the stuffy uncomfortable feeling that came with his glamour, and it felt like taking a breath of fresh air.

It didn’t stop the slightly sick feeling in his gut though, but he let his anger burn that away for the time being. 

His staff came back and he caught it in his hand, the sound echoing through the cave, and glared down at Red Son, who was looking up at him wide-eyed as he loomed over him. 

He stumbled back, losing his footing and sat down hard on the stone ground, barely catching himself back on his hands. 

The creature roared.

Mk leaned down and picked up the dumbstruck demon effortlessly by the front of his jacket and set him down behind him, placing himself between the creature and his companion.  

“Stay. There.” Mk growled at Red Son, voice hard as stone and green eyes sharp as steel. 

Red son just gaped up at him, a dazed look on his face, and Mk leapt over him to take care of the demon, not bothering to hold back now that his secret was out.  

He was a little out of practice with his spider limbs, having been hidden in his human glamour for so long, but he settled back into things quickly and it didn’t take long to scare the creature off. He tucked the staff back behind his ear and glanced back.

Red Son was still sitting on the ground, staring up at him dumbly. 

Mk made his way over to him. He sighed through his nose and reached down, slipping his fingers under the immobilized fire demon’s chin to close his gaping mouth. 

Red Son snapped it shut at the feeling, seeming to come back to himself a little, though the dazed look remained. 

“I was right,” he breathed, looking like he couldn't believe it. 

Mk just felt tired. 

He shrunk Monkey King’s staff, tucking it away back in his ear, and scooped Red Son up into his arms, carefully. Red Son gave a strangled sound at the motion, going weirdly red, hair threatening to catch fire. 

“Uh huh,” he reassured him to keep him from going volatile again. “You sure were.” Then he started wrapping him in webs. 

It took Red Son a moment to realize what was happening, five full seconds in fact, and he started struggling much too late, his arms pinned to his side by iron webbing that he had no chance of breaking in his sleep-deprived, malnourished state. 

“What are you doing?!” he thrashed weakly. His exhaustion clearly caught up to him. “Release me!” 

“Nope,” Mk said, finishing the web cocoon. “You’re barely standing right now. You’ve gotten your answer, so now you’re going to take a nap.”

 Red Son struggled to escape,  his efforts proving to be unsuccessful, only really resulting in small wiggles that almost made Mk want to laugh. 

He made a frustrated sound and went limp, breathing hard like he’d done a lot more than simply strain against webbing. 

Mk maneuvered him around and used a bit more webbing to strap him to his back. 

“Unhand me!” Red Son spluttered.

“No,” Mk said. “You haven't slept in days, and you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, so you’re staying there until we get out of here, or at least until you’ve slept.” 

He huffed. 

“Go to sleep, and I’ll handle getting us out of here.” 

He started forward, a lot faster now that his spider limbs could carry him over the rocks, and he ignored Red Son’s increasingly weak struggles. 

“This is kidnapping.”

Mk’s cheeks heated. “Go to sleep, Firefly.” 

“Noodle boy,” Red Son shot back, voice sounding softer than he probably meant it to be. 

His protests slowly changed to mumbles and eventually stopped completely. His breathing evened out and he fell asleep. 

Mk continued forward, and tried not to think about the fact his secret was out

[pixla]

hi hon! i adore your writing and i have a request for tommy: so you know that scene in the caves when alice breaks her leg and cindy has to like put the bone back into place? could that be with tommy x gn! reader instead? and both of them have a really really cute moment where the reader confesses how they never felt alive until they met and started dating tommy? they both survive and flashforward with fluffy smut pls?

Special thanks to the j-st-patricks-day and all my friends who helped with the process of writing this fic <3

broken bones and beating hearts

Tommy slater x nb!reader

Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of murder, graphic descriptions of injury (eg. Broken bones and stabbings/cuts), Possessed!Cindy, alice dies, Arnie dies, vomiting, fluff, pet-names, knocking out teeth, sex, unprotected sex, this au doesn’t fit with any of the other films (feel free to tell me if there’s any others)

Word count: 3.2k

POVC= point of view change

Tommy gripped your wrists pulling you out through the narrow cavern as it collapsed only seconds later. “Fuck!” You tucked your legs close to your body, trying to shake the feeling of Cindy's grip around your ankles. “What the fuck is happening?” You looked up as Tommy still held you close, you both too scared to move from the previous near death experience.

Everything was normal. You had all just ran out into the woods, you and Alice teasing Cindy about some stupid witchcraft book she had found in nurse lane’s office. But then Cindy decided to slash Alice and Arnie’s guts open with a machete.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried, bawling your hands into fists, wandering down what felt like endless hallways. You both soon realised that you had been going in a circle. It didn’t make any sense, it felt like another dimension or a mirror maze, where everything looked the same, maybe even was the same. “Y/N.” You turned your head to face tommy. “What?” He looked at you confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

You were going to shake it off as you just imagining it, but then you heard it again. “Y/N!” This time you knew it wasn’t Tommy, it was a woman. “Hello?!” You yelled out, hoping that someone had finally come to your rescue, but Tommy just continued to look at you like you were crazy.

You strayed from Tommy’s side following as the voice repeated your name. “Where are you going?” Tommy yelled after you as you wandered, not bothering to pay any attention to his questions.

You followed the voice, bending through the same corridors and hallways, not knowing where you’d end up. It was when you twisted round one corner you halted in your steps. It was a huge room, far larger than any of the ones you had previously found. But the greatest way it stood out was the mass in the centre of the room.

It was dark and fleshy, like clumps of meat thrown into a pile. You gasped as you stood closer gaining a better look at the thing. It was alive. It rose up and down almost like it was breathing and it thumped like a beating heart. With each whisper of your name you grew closer, drawn to it. You reached your hand out transfixed, but when your hand melted into its flesh, you froze.

It all flashed through your brain so fast. Cyrus Miller, ruby lane, billy baker…Cindy Berman. It was every single one of those shadyside phycos, even Cindy. It was all of the pain, all of the suffering and all of the evil. You lifted your hand, a thick slime dragging with. You backed up slowly, expecting to hit a wall. You were soon proved wrong when you felt your body fly backwards.

You cried out as you landed with a thud, Tommy finally catching up to you, peering over to find you clutching your leg in pain. “Shit, are you okay?!”

He had jumped down helping to lift you from the pit. You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks like a broken faucet, your hands clutching at His shirt. Tommy held you running his finger gently through your hair, shushing you softly as you buried yourself into his warmth.

Tommy gently slipped from your hold, leaning down to examine the damage. It was bad. So bad, you could practically see the bone protruding from the skin. You felt your gut wrench at the sight causing you to lean over beside you, regurgitating your dinner onto the cold cave floor. “Don’t look, okay? Just look at me.” Tommy leant over wiping your mouth with his jacket. You nodded slowly, trying your best to keep your eyes locked with Tommy’s despite how hard your morbid curiosity urged you to look down. Ripping his plaid jacket into strips he looked up at you. “We’re gonna get out of here. You’re gonna get out of here. No matter what I do, I’m gonna make sure I protect you, just like I always have.”

“I love you so much Tommy. I’ve never and never will love someone the way I do you.” You lean into him pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t lose you, okay?” He nods sympathetically, pressing a light kiss to the slope of your nose.

“Do you remember those dates we’d go on, out to the forest at night, and we’d just lay there, staring up through the cracks in the trees?” You nod. “I want you to think about that, okay? I want you to think about how many more we’ll go on once we get out of here.”

You hold a tight grip on his arm as he wipes away at the area. “I’m gonna have to put it back into place now.”

You pleaded with him, as the tears started again. “Please, no. Please just leave me here. Just go and find help okay? I can’t do it Tommy, I can’t do it”

“Hey, hey, hey. C’mon, look at me.” He places his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to look him in the eye. “You're gonna be fine, okay? You just gotta focus right now.” You nod timidly, the tears starting to slow.

He holds the bottom of your calf with one hand and your heel with the other. “Just count to three and I’m gonna do it, okay baby?” He looks up at you, his soft words lulling your anxiety. You bite your knuckle nervously, unsure as to how you should answer, but the look of trust in his eyes persuades you easily. “Okay.”

You breathe in. “One, two-” You let out a blood curdling scream as a large crack rung out, bouncing against the walls of the cave. Your fist gripped Tommy’s forearm tightly as you cried out a series of various curses. “You fucking asshole.” You whine out in pain, letting out an airy laugh trying to brighten your rather dull circumstances.

“You're okay baby.” You wince as he wraps the piece of fabric he had ripped from his jacket around your leg, tying it tight enough to hold you together for the moment. You grabbed Tommy’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist lifting you from the ground. You hiss as you feel your leg throb from the sudden movement. “Do you think you’re able to stand?” Tommy watches as you wobble trying to stay grounded. You nod. “Yeah.” You had no choice and you both knew it, if you wanted to live, you’d have to.

You both started your journey, finally entering a new environment as you trudged deeper into the earth of Shadyside. Why did these tunnels even exist? The intricate details of the maze made it easy to come to the conclusion that they were man made, but by who? Not once had you ever heard of these tunnels, and by the looks of it, nobody else had either, despite nurse Lane of course.

“Be careful.” Tommy tightened his grip around you. “You might slip.”

“Okay.” You mumble, too exhausted to form a real answer. You looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. The further the two of you walked, the denser this moss became. You felt a wave of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Red moss…red moss! It hit you, Cindy! Her red stained shirt, she said it was from the moss in the outhouses. “Tommy! It’s the fucking outhouses! We fucking made it!” You would probably be jumping up and down with joy right now if it wasn’t for your broken leg.

You look up, spotting the out house toilet openings. Wow, real nice, you’re both sitting in Sunnyvale shit and piss right now. “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get out?” Tommy sighs looking up at the roughly 15 foot climb. “You can’t climb that.”

You look at him. “Yeah, but you might.”

“No. I’m sorry but no, I’m not leaving you down here, especially when there’s Cindy running around up there trying to kill us. C’mon let’s go, if we’re at the outhouses, we must be near to camp.” He directs you along but before you can both carry on your interrupted. “Did you hear that?!”

“No I-“

“Shush.” You both stayed quiet listening as to what caught your attention. It’s screaming. Someone is screaming from the outhouses. “Hey! Help! Please, we’re stuck down here!” You yell trying to get the attention of the voices.

The space grows quiet as the screaming halts, the both of you waiting nervously for any indication of life when a head pops out from one of the seat holes. “What the fuck are you guys doing in the toilets?!”

It was ziggy, Cindy's sister. “Ziggy..” you wonder if it’s right to tell her what’s happened to her sister but you decide against it, not wanting to put the girl in such an emotionally vulnerable state whilst she’s already physically. “Gary’s up here too!” She yells down as Gary’s head pops out another toilet hole. “Hey!” He yells, surprisingly light heartedly considering there’s a murderer running around camp butchering little kids with a fucking machete. “Can you get us out of this fucking toilet or not?!”

Gary had managed to make some sort of bucket contraption with some rope. “It’s just like You’re Gothel climbing up Rapunzel's hair, okay?!” He yelled down, lowering it down to you.

You're about to slip onto the contraption when you hear Ziggy's unfortunately very familiar screams, and before you know it Gary’s decapitated body lies beside you on the floor. You and Tommy let out an in sync gasp, him pulling you away into his chest, as to protect you from the image. “We’re gonna have to find another way out.”

You think to yourself. Alice…she had shown you something whilst you were robbing nurse lanes office with Arnie. “I know how.” You pull out the book that started this whole thing.

“Baby, I don’t get how that book is gonna help us, let’s be honest it’s some random witches and wizards bullshit written how many hundreds of years ago?”

“No, tommy.” You turn the book to him parting the pages. “It’s a map.” You rest the book on the floor, the two of you leaning over it. “It's a map of camp, you see over here, these x’s are the graves we found. And over here, that’s where we entered.” You point your finger on the page. “Here, there’s another exit. Mess hall.”

His eyes lighten. “Jesus, fuck! You’re so smart!” He pulls you in for a kiss.

—-

You sat, your back arched over as you watched Tommy laid on his back kicking open the vent that led to the mess hall when another scream rang out. You instantly knew that it was ziggy, far too acquainted with the tone of her screams.

“Tommy!” With one final kick the vent flew open, Tommy hauling himself through in a split second. “Don’t move, stay here! I’m gonna go help Ziggy.”

Tommy always cared so much for the kids at camp, you honestly weren’t surprised that he was willing to risk his life for one of them.

—povc—

Tommy barged through the doors of the mess hall, an all too familiar song ringing through the speakers, the noise made his head thump as it blared.

Tommy followed the screams, grabbing a mallet that lied on a nearby counter. Cindy stood beating at a supply closet door as ziggy screamed from within. Tommy pulled cindy's shoulder for her to face him as he swung the mallet into her jaw. Cindy tumbled to the ground as she spat a mouthful of blood and teeth onto the floor. Tommy hesitated holding the mallet in his hand, ready to strike Cindy. But before he could come to any decision Cindy grabbed her machete from the ground slicing at Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy dropped to the floor, his mallet sliding across the freshly mopped floor tiles, Cindy rising to her feet, towering over Tommy. Overpowered, he crawled backwards digging the heels of his hands into the cold tile floor. He was braced for impact when Cindy stopped turning around.

—povc—

You lunged at her digging the knife you found into her back, pulling it out as she turned to face you, plunging it into her chest over and over until she hit the floor unresponsive. You fell. You had finally reached your limit. Your leg was broken for fucks sake and you just murdered Cindy. Pure-hearted, hard working Cindy Berman. You plunged your knife deep into her chest until you split it down the middle. You dragged your body over to Tommy’s wrapping your arms around him, wetting his shirt as you became inconsolable. He held his hand at the back of your neck placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. She’s dead now, we’re gonna be okay.”

You heard as ziggy opened the closet door, dropping to her knees at the sight of her sister dead on the floor. The red headed girl pulled her sister's body over to face her, wrapping her arms around Cindy crying into her cold lifeless body. You crawled over to the girl pulling her away from her sister's touch into yours. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

The three of you struggled as you heard the last bell ring signalling that the bus would be leaving. Ziggy yelled out as the bus doors began to close. The wheels began to roll forwards but before it could depart a boy budged the doors open, calling out to her. “Ziggy!” You released your grip from the girl's side as she ran to him, embracing him. You rested your head on Tommy’s shoulder at the sight of the two. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

The two of you had found a place on the bus as Ziggy sat with you fellow councillor Nick goode. Finally being able to breathe, you rest your head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you're okay.” You look up at him smiling at his words. “Maybe you're the one who really needs protecting, without me you’d be dead meat.” You press your lips together, smiling softly into the kiss. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

Your eyes wandered to the window watching as the camp nightwing sign slowly floated away out of sight. Finally it was over.

———

After the accident medics treated and hospitalised many of the camp nightwing campers and counselors such as you and Tommy. Your leg was thankfully saved. They said if not for Tommy it probably would have had to be amputated due to infection.

It was two months since that night, you still had to use crutches but besides that, you made a speedy recovery alongside tommy. Although he was in a much less critical condition than you and was discharged within a few days, he still spent every night in the hospital with you.

You laid beside Tommy his leg slotted between yours as the velvet underground played softly in the background. You run your fingers through his hair slowly as he whines quietly into your chest. It finally felt like the first time since that day that you both could finally relax.

You pulled away from his touch leaning over him, kissing his lips softly. “You look so pretty.” You hum. He smiles into the kiss. “Not as much as you, baby.”

You lifted yourself straddling Tommy’s hips, deepening the kiss as your hands ran down playing with the hem of his shirt, travelling underneath. He pulls away, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. You removed your shirt as Tommy’s hands floated up to your waist.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbles, kissing up your chest slowly as you take off your pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor.

You lean down unbuttoning Tommy’s jeans, taking him in your hand. Tommy twitches at the contact as you align himself to you. You lower yourself onto him slowly as his hands hold a firm grip on your lower back. Tommy lays his head back, his hips thrusting up into you.

You shiver as you lift yourself up and down, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. His thrusts hardened, your soft whimpers of his name encouraging him. “You look so fucking good right now.” He gripped your waist helping you keep a steady pace.

You steadied yourself, leaning your arms out pressing your hands against his chest as you felt yourself near your climax. “Shit, Tommy I’m gonna come.” You whined under your breath.

“Don’t worry baby, me too.” He runs his hands down your back lovingly.

You threw your head back as you felt Tommy’s hand wander down edging you on further, your breath quivering at the touch. You felt his hips buckle beneath you as he reached his peak, yours following soon after.

You sighed your body collapsing onto his chest. “I love yours so much.” You mumble into his skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

—-

It was the 16th anniversary since that day at nightwing, the two of you still happily together. Despite the permanent scar that night had left on the both of you mentally and physically, you both managed to stay strong, the event probably making the two of you even closer than you already were before.

Every year instead of hiding from the memories of that night, you both embrace it. Tommy’s favourite way to do this was to ‘reenact your youths’ in his words by driving the two of you out to the forest, where you would’ve spent so many nights together when you were younger.

You would open the sunroof and lay out the seats creating a little bed for the two of you. Probably not the safest thing the two of you could do, but most definitely the sweetest.

The two of you laid there staring up at the trees, resting your head on Tommy’s chest, your arm draped across his abdomen. Looking up at him you pressed a small kiss to the slope of his nose, pressing your heads together. The moonlight glazed over his cheeks, giving him a paler look. “You look so beautiful.”

—-

The car ride home was quiet but the atmosphere felt soft and comforting as Tommy rested his hand on your inner thigh. The velvet underground played softly on the radio as your eyes gazed out at the passing scenery.

[sparkbeast20]

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt15 Final

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12 Pt13 Pt14

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature.

Previously

“Okay, now here’s the Plan” Satan start discussing about how to trap Lucifer and make sure that he and Mammon stay in one place and not make the same mistake as before.

“Why do I have to carry the two of ya” Mammon as Levi and Belphie are in his arms. While you are with Beel upfront and Satan with Asmo is behind of two, as Beel following Lucifer’s scent.

“Because your more bigger then Beel right” Levi answer him, and Mammon just groans at him.

“I didn’t realize how soft your feathers are Mammon, this could be great for pillow stuffing” as Belphie said it, he nuzzles his face on to Mammon’s arm. Hiding the fact that he misses his big brother.

“OI! Don’t get any idea!!” Belphie sleepy laugh at Mammon’s bash reply, which Belphie scoffs.

Beel track down Lucifer’s scent in the mountain’s valley near the woods where Mammon’s treasure cavern is, soon you all hear a shrike from the distant, to both Mammon and Satan displease with the latter which clench his fist so tight he dug his nails into the palm of his hand.

“Satan, are you okay…...your trembling” Asmo asks as he feel Satan shaking.

“It’s fine Asmo…... it’s just my instinct kicking in, maybe because we’re in his territory I start acting like this. Shit I didn’t expect this strong of a demonic presence, this ruin the plan entirely”

“So, what now?”

“Our best bet is y/n’s pact with Lucifer, pinning him down long enough for at least on of us cast a chain spell on him, then Mammon can make sure he doesn’t escape”

After minutes of flying, both Asmo and Beel to feel weak and unease, and Mammon sees it.

“Oi, what’s going on with you two”

“I don’t know…... its like my body is getting heavy” Beel can barely say it, he felt like something is causing his body to feel numb.

“I think…... I can’t go on” Asmo started to slowly decent down, as Satan tries to talk to him.

“Asmo! You need to~”

Suddenly both Asmo and Beel felt a surge through their body, they felt that their wings are getting heavier.

“Shit! I can’t move wings” Beel is trying his damnedest to keep flying, eventually he can’t take it anymore and decided to make an emergency landing in one of the path ways between the mountains, and Asmo followed suit with Mammon not far behind.

“Beel! Are you okay!” Belphie immediately rushes to his twin’s side as Asmo can barely stand, while the rest looks around to see where you guys landed.

“Mammon…...” you called out to him, with a worried tone in your voice, as if you felt someone or something is watching you.

“Stay right there, I’ll come to you” Mammon start walking towards you, when he stops and his feathers immediately stand upright, and his wings is spread out in a defensive way.

You quickly turned around to see a black griffin-like demon with six pair wings, a tail with seven peacock feathers on the tip end, familiar horns and eyes with the sclera ink black with crimson red eyes staring directly at you.

“Lucifer…...” you mutter under you’re breathe as your eyes start to shifted, scared of what’s is going to happen.

Lucifer shrikes, launches himself towards you, but Mammon leaps over you, and colliding with Lucifer. The two of them fall on the ground and quickly got up and take a defensive stance as they growl at each other.

“Lucifer! Snap out it. Your better than this. You know us, you know me!” but the only thing that Lucifer did was shrike at Mammon and rushes at him. But then.

“Lucifer. STAY!?!” Immediately Lucifer was pinned on the ground, and try to struggle out of the invisible force on his body down.

Mammon turns around to see you with one hand reaching out and your pact mark with Lucifer glow on the right side of your chest, but Mammon can see that you’re struggling to hold down Lucifer.

The others finally got up, then Satan start casting the spell while the others circle around the two older brothers.

“Lucifer!!” Asmo calls out to him only met with anger shrike, then Levi and Beel start walking close to the two.

Feeling surrounded and threaten by his brothers. Lucifer, let out an eerie shrike causing the other brothers halted in place as they can feel their body twitching uncontrollably as they feel an uncontrollable force making their body weak causing them to fall on their knees all expect Mammon who fought the effect of Lucifer’s shrike, as he makes his way to him.

He sees it in Lucifer’s eyes. Fear, panic and confusion in his eyes just remained when he was like this, not even fully changed yet, and he was terrified. But you were there with him before and after transformation to keep him company and you might know it, but you were his guide back to his sanity when he was lost in his own instinct, now you’re helping him with Lucifer’s own beast.

This time he’ll be the guide for his brother, now he towards over the avatar of pride subdue state, with the attend to remain him of the promise he made with him long ago.

“Lucifer” Mammon calls out to his brother with sincere and honest in his voice “I’ll still stand by you, Lucifer” He stop shrike, and look at Mammon with confusion in his eyes. “Remember what I said to you long ago, I never regret following you and never will we need you Lucifer."

Mammon, will not let this happen, losing him like this. not even in a fight.

But he didn't know that Lucifer can hear him and remember that night.

The night he took Mammon's advice, and that draw him back to his senses, as Mammon continue on.

"And if I have to beat that to your thick head to make you realize that we need you and how much you need me. I know you’ll never say it~”

“I do need you Mammon….” He’s eyes widen to hear Lucifer talk to him, even his like this “I…...I’m sorry…. for lying and…... everything”

He got to him. He knew that Lucifer can hear him.

Mammon chuckles to Lucifer’s apology, to think his never going to hear this from him once this all over.

Meanwhile Levi was the first one to get back on his feet, and witness what he always wanted. The two talking with out turning into an argument. With Mammon comforting Lucifer in his own way.

“Oi, you can’t say things like that here, what if Satan or Belphie hear ya” he getting through to him. “Lucifer, listen. We’re gonna stay in the cave until you get a hold of this. It’s too dangerous to go back home yet. Don’t worry I’m stay and help ya through this” he smiles with eyes at Lucifer.

“Your …... enjoying this aren’t you” even with the demonic voice, Mammon can tell that Lucifer sound tired. Maybe once there in the cave, he can tease his brother.

“y/n its okay, he’s calming down”

“Are you sure” he nodded in respond, so you lower you hand and sigh in relief. Then let the first and second be alone while check on the others.

Once the force of the pact was gone, Lucifer got up with his head hang low. Disappoint at himself for using the book, he thought it was necessary with Mammon’s state. He was wrong, then he looks up to see Mammon who is trouble maker, stepping up took charge, when he was gone. He might be mentally exhausted but he can clearly see how Mammon has grown.

Lucifer walk up to Mammon and lean his head on Mammon's Shoulder, and let out a satisfy squawk. Then he pat Lucifer on the head, just glad that his calming down

“Good to have ya back, brother”

Once he reaches the nest in the cavern, Lucifer flop in the center nest and immediately fell in sleep, while Mammon watch from the mouth of the cavern.

After making sure that Lucifer is fully asleep, he heads towards you and the rest of his brothers to entre way of the cave.

“How is he?” you ask as you walk over to him.

“he’s asleep, he would be tired after all of that flying after changing” he answering you, before puling you into hug and holding you tightly. “Make sure our room is clean, by the time we get back kay’” you hum in respond as you bury your face into him, and start sobbing. “Hey! Its not like I’ll be gone forever. It’ll be a week, or even least with Lucifer prideful head, keeping him in control.”

You look up to him with tears gathering in the corner of your eye. “I know, is just I couldn’t help to feel responsible to cause all of this” tears start fall, but Mammon use the back of his hand to wipe it off.

“y/n even if we didn’t go to the casino that night, I would have done everything to make sure your save and sound, you’re my treasure after all” you blush and hide your face in his feathery chest and he laughs at your action “Hahaha. Now who’s flustered now!”

“Shaddup”

“Oh my, your even talk like him. You really need this time to be apart” Asmo chipper in as he and Beel are getting ready to fly back to house.

“Come on normie! We can’t waste more time here anymore. I’ve missed three days’ worth of events and login~”

“Oi! You’re not going anywhere; you’re staying here with me and Lucifer.” Mammon cuts off Levi and quickly grab him by the helm of his jacket and drag him back.

“This so unfair!?! Why do I’ve to stay?”

“Welp we’re off” Satan grab hold on to Asmo, he and Beel with you and Belphie arm on each of his arm took off leaving a pleading Levi yelling to take him with you.

Once you all are far way from the cave Asmo flew closer to Beel, Satan start talking to you.

“Enjoy the next couple of days with no Lucifer, because once he and those two come home, expect your name to be written on the ceiling”

“Satan!” Asmo butts in “Lucifer wouldn’t do that to our little human, he might be cruel but he’s not that heartless”

Satan looks up to Asmo with a grin on his face, telling him that to eat his own words.

“I can’t believe you would do that to our human Lucifer!?! How could you!”

“Asmo, I will not hesitant to strung you up to, for giving a headache this early in the morning”

“So, Lucifer how’s it feels being back to chaos and piles of paper works”

“You two, better enjoy your freedom now. Because once Diavolo approve the use of the book. You’ll be first two are going to change and I’ll make sure of that”

After returning from that cave with Mammon and Levi, two days ago. Lucifer had been catching up with a week worth’s of reports, bills, and paper works.

Now Asmo is at his side nagging and Satan just being Satan, as he makes his way to staircase where him strung you up by the waist after finding out that it was you who drag Mammon at that Casino in the first place.

As he got there, he saw Beel looking up to where you are being hanged.

“Beel what are you~” he Immediately cuts himself off when he looks up to see that you were gone and the rope is cut. Satan and Asmo try not to laugh at the whole thing.

“Ah? Lucifer” he glances over to Beel who is holding a white feather in his hand. “I find this~”

“MAAAMOOON!”

At the roof of the house was you at Mammon arms just being at each other’s presences as you two heard Lucifer screaming his name.

“Looks like that our que to fly out of here”

“Where do we go?” as you ask Mammon lifted you up in his arms, and quickly shifted into his tame form.

“Where do ya want to go?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, lean in to kiss him on the cheek, then set you head on his shoulder.

“Anywhere, as long your there” he chuckles “ya got it, treasure” and take off, flying to the dark sky. Happy and content.

Fin

Note: I didn’t expect for this story to take this long.

[teddy06writes]

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

wilbur soot x reader

requested: no I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head

trigger warnings: character death, swearing, yelling, wounds, blood

premise: In game au, Wilbur’s plan to blow up l’manburg succeeds, but the one person he wanted to survive couldn’t avoid the blast; plus I wanted to use‘The Night Has a Thousand eyes’ by Francis William Burdillion

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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

“Wil this plan is insane!” 

Wilbur cackled, looking over the plans that laid over the bench deep within the cavern of Pogtopia, “This plan is exactly what we need!” 

“Wilbur destroying our home is not how we save it.” You said desperately. 

Your boyfriend sighed, “(y/n), this is our last chance! If we don’t do this now we will never get a chance to see home again!” 

“In case you’ve forgotten,” You jabbed a finger at his chest, “You are the one who got us thrown out of that place to begin with! If you hadn’t held the election we could still be there! Why did we fight for that land just to blow it up?” 

“I fought for that land to make a place for us!” Wilbur yelled, “So that we could carve out our own little place! So that my son could have a place to live! And he betrayed us!

“They all betrayed us! No one in that country deserves to live!” He continued to yell, “The only way to get our L’manburg back is this way! If I can’t have it no one can!” 

You recoiled as if burned, muttering, “I’m leaving. I came here voluntarily, That means they’ll let me back in.” As you hurried away, blinking back tears.

Wilbur watched in shock as you retreated out of the cavern, now his own eyes brimming with tears as Techno strode out of his room, surveying the scene, “That, was, a lot.” 

“Why do we keep fighting? It’s like all we ever do is fight,” Wilbur moved back to slide down the cavern wall, tucking his knees to his chest, “It’s like we’re falling apart.” 

“Everythin falls apart eventually,” Techno sighed, looking over the map, “It’s a part ‘a life.” 

“What are you lot moaning about?” Tommy asked as he leaned over the rail of one of the higher paths.

“Tommy am I a bad guy?” Wilbur asked. 

“Wilb- what do you mean?” 

“Am I a villain?” Wilbur hauled himself up of the ground gesturing to the map, “Does this make me a bad guy? (y/n) certainly seems to think it does!” 

“Wilbur sometimes people do bad things for good reasons.” Techno said. 

Tommy nodded, “They may think your a bad guy, but your not.” 

“But if they think I’m a bad guy, then I must be,” Wilbur practically wailed, “And now there going back!” 

~~ “And why the hell do you think I’d let you back in here?” Shlatt demanded, “Your as much a traitor as your fucking boyfriend.” 

“Wilbur is insane. I can’t stay there any more,” You sighed, crossing your arms, “Besides, my home and my family is here.” 

Quackity cocked his head, “Your on your last life, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, “Lost the others in the war.” 

“So, as long as you swear not to conspire with anyone in pogtopia, we won’t kill you.” 

“I wouldn’t want to talk to any of them if they were the last people on earth,” You said bitterly, “And I doubt they’d want to see me.” 

Shlatt held out a hand to shake, “Welcome back to Manburg then, (y/n).” 

~~

The tnt was in place, the festival was starting, and your anxiety was steadily rising. 

You forced a smile, wandering through the fair grounds, talking to various friends. 

“(y/n), a word?” Techno asked. 

“What do you want?” You spat as you moved away from the crowd. 

He rolled his eyes, holding out a scrap of paper, “Wilbur told me to give you this.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Well,” he sighed, “The jest of it is, during the speeches, when Tubbo says, ‘let the festival begin’ you run like mad. Get to the border at least.” 

“He’s going through with it.” You said softly. 

“We couldn’t get him to stop.” 

You sighed, and distantly you heard Shlatt yelling, “Everyone to the podium! It’s time for Tubbo’s speech!” 

Slowly you made your way to the stands, taking a seat next to Niki and watching as Shlatt, Quackity, and Tubbo took to the podium. 

“Everyone! Thank you for coming to this celebration of peace! And democracy!” Shlatt yelled into the mic. 

You all cheered, and Tubbo stepped forward, “Welcome everybody to the manburg festival!” 

He began to drone on about traitors, and lettuce, and you noticed Wilbur and Tommy, crouched on the roof of a near by building. Tommy was focused on the stage, while Wilbur’s eyes were trained on you. 

You shook your head slightly, and he smiled sadly, turning back to the stage. 

You looked around at Manburg, the many flag poles now lining the streets, the hideous new flag, waving in the wind. 

“So yeah!” 

Wilbur was no longer in his spot on the roof. 

“I guess that’s all I’ve got left to say, so...” 

Your heart pounded, Techno slipped back into the shadows, and Tommy began to descend from his own spot. 

“Let the festival begin!” 

You barley had time to jump up and start running before the world exploded into fire.

~~ When you could see again, your ears were ringing, your head was pounding, but some how, you though, you were alive. 

You breathed a sigh of relief and tried to sit up, failing in doing so as an excruciating pain ripped through your stomach. 

Distantly you could hear someone shouting your name. 

You craned your neck, gasping upon seeing the long metal pole sticking through your chest, the red and black flag pooling around you. 

Blood dripped from your temple, as the yelling got louder, and then suddenly Wilbur was kneeling by your side. 

“(y/n)!” 

“Wil.” You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, even as the movement made spots swim in your vision. 

“Oh no, oh no,” He looked around frantically, “Techno do you have any healing pots? Please! Techno they need help!” 

Technoblade stood by, knowing nothing could be done. 

“Wilbur, it’s okay, it’s okay.” 

“No! I did this to you! This is my fault! I’m a villain!” 

Tears fell from your eyes, “It’s alright Wil. You’re not a villain. Never were.”

“Don’t leave me (y/n/n)! Please!” He screwed his eyes shut, leaning over you. 

“Look at me,” you commanded softly, and he obeyed, “The Night has a thousand eyes, and the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies with the dying sun.”

“The mind has a thousand eyes,” Wilbur muttered, “And the heart but one.” 

You nodded, closing your eyes, drifting off to the sound of your dear Wilbur’s voice. 

“Yet the light of a whole life dies, when love is done.” He sobbed, the last words, choking on tears, seeing his love, gone. 

[deluluass]

misericordia

It's finally here T^T Here's to reaching 100+ followers! Thank you so much everyone!!

Content Warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; somnophilia; description of dead bodies; includes some elements of cosmic horror; dystopian-ish au; biblical references/imagery; angel! Ushijima

To name is a barren tree: fruitless and, ultimately, the workings of this kind.

  The earth will soon be without form, and void; and darkness shall remain the face of the deep. 

  The Spirit of God no longer moves in the face of the waters. 

  Names are for nothing.

  But, for any cause done here, to name is essential. As it was in the beginning, when there was still a beginning (but it has not ended yet, so the beginning shall still stay), to name had been the first task.

  So when asked for a name, the mouth was able to conjure:

  “Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the body said. 

  And as it is the way of the Created, the body became he.

  And as it is the way of the Created, proof was immediately demanded for the name. 

  And as it is the way of the Created, once found on the chest, Ushijima Wakatoshi was then welcomed. 

  You weren’t there when the world ended. 

  In fact, so, too, was your father's father. The sky had cracked open and the oceans had already split up the old lands for as long as anyone could remember. 

  Before the city became a city in truth, the people had just been strangers, seeking shelter after everything fell apart, only to be abandoned by those who’d promised protection.

  That didn't mean, however, that things got better for your lot once someone swept in and established order and peace and stability and whatever it is those at the top had to say to justify them being there. 

  If your father were to be believed, you had been sleeping in your mother’s womb, still a tiny beating heart, when the longest winter happened ("winter"; they still called it that when there had been minute differences between hot and cold).

  Supplies were short; food was scarce; so when you finally clawed your way into a world breathing its last, your mother couldn't help but bleed into the sheets until your cry outlived hers. 

  But your father barely recognized you  during his final days. That’s why when your neighbors call you a liar for saying “I was born on a Spring,” you shrug it off and think you might as well have been born on a Spring. 

  There’s no way of knowing. The story had always changed every time you asked him. 

  Sometimes he blamed you, sometimes he told you it’s not your fault. Nothing you could do about it. Spring it is, then; you told yourself. 

  Spring always looked so... different, in the drawings Granny made, anyway.

  No one here actually knows her age. Granny had always been Granny; as permanent to this place as the walls enclosing the city.

  She rarely left her quarters, that crone, and could barely stand on her own without your help. Worse, she could no longer see. What use is a blind artist, the others would laugh. 

  It’s their loss, you’d retort, mocking her like that. Because then they’d miss the way her gnarled and knobby hands would glide with unwavering purpose if you asked her to, strokes bold and not a space wasted.

  “You never learn,” she croaked once finished, jostling the wrinkled piece of paper to your lap. “Why throw away your rations for this piece of junk?”

  Granny retched, “Incurable fool.”

  At this point, she would grumble about suffering in the old pig’s (her words, not yours) kitchens for nothing, and always, without fail, you’d feel a smile break on your face. It hurt, honestly, but after an entire day of frowning over the dishes you had to wash and the floors that needed scrubbing and all the other orders yelled your way, it was worth it, anyway.

  “I know you’re laughing. My ears still work, mind you.”

  You felt your belly shake as you giggled, brushing the paper with worn fingers, staring open-mouthed at the piece before you.

  “This is amazing, Granny,” you sighed.

  “Idiot,” she repeated. “It’s the same thing as the one before. And the one before that.”

  And for good measure, Granny added, “Idiot. Not like you hadn’t seen that one.”

  When all you’d done was take her hand in yours and place a pack of food along with a thin roll of paper in her feeble grasp, Granny finally asked, “Why do you keep coming back here, girl? Asking for the same thing.”

  There wasn’t any of that surly frown now. 

  And looking at her like that, without the crabbiness that sharpens her features, that oddly makes her look younger and in control of herself, you find that you don’t have an answer this time. Arrested by the realization that her shoulders slumped lower than you’d thought. And that she’s getting thinner. 

  “Why?” you whispered back, feeling traces of charcoal stick to your palm.

  Maybe it’s because there’s no other way that she’d accept food, unless she does something in return. She kicked you out the first time you intended to give her the ration you’d earned.

  (Or maybe it's because you know what they'd do, once they find out she's no longer making trades.)

  Why, indeed. 

  Maybe it’s because you hadn’t really seen things grow before. 

  You might work at the Governor’s place, at the heart of the city and everything else that matters, but grunt workers like you are prohibited to get anywhere near the farm, let alone actually enter it. So, really, there's no other way of seeing what growth looks like.

  Maybe it’s because you can only do that when you witness her in her craft. You really don’t have anything to compare it with, but you’re sure life from soil works the same way. 

  Everything must come from something.  And that something must be quite the artist, if they're anything like Granny. 

  Birthing roots from the ground of what was once a blank piece of paper with a flick of the wrist; growing into large trunks, strong branches, then into an abundance of leaves and blossoms. 

  Trees drawn on both sides of the paper, always with a smattering of grass and flowers in the middle. She said they used to grow here, when she was just a girl. And if you begged hard enough, she’d add a stray butterfly fluttering around the corner. 

  You hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just love seeing you, Granny,” you grinned.

  “Crock of shit.”

  “Really!” You grabbed your knapsack as you stood from your seat, folding the paper with care. “Hey, Granny, guess what? Don’t give me that face— I’ve already saved just enough and you know what that means?”

  She snorted. 

  “Listen,” you pouted. “I’ll finally be able to get those pigments! I heard they don't cost that much and if I trade next-”

  “Don’t.”

  She tilted her head and faced your way, misty eyes pinning you. "How much does paper cost you?"

  You gulped. 

  Then, with a swiftness that surprised you, she grabbed you by your tattered sleeve and gritted, “I may be the blind one here, but I think I see a lot more clearly than you do. You can sweat and bleed for those pigments, but I will never paint.”

  You felt a sting in your eyes as she continued, “I know what you’re doing. And I’d be the greater fool if I let you work yourself to the bone for some pipe dream."

  "Content yourself with coal, girl. That’s all you’re gonna get from this place. Dirt and rust and smoke. Go sneak into that damned farm. Go steal some of those fuckers’ riches. In fact, while you’re at it,” she laughed dryly. “Steal them all and run away from here. If you really want to live.”

  “Only,” she said, too soft that you had to sit back down to hear her, “Only, stop hoping, my child.”

  Her chest wheezed as she breathed, like air passing through the holes of a rundown machine. 

  You kissed the back of her hand before you left. 

  The wind howled and threatened to topple you as you walked back to your building, hard rain slapping you across the face when you picked up into a run. They didn’t descend in small drops anymore. As you get older, thunderstorms are to be expected once evening falls, lingering for weeks only to suddenly bring about an irritatingly humid day. 

  But tonight, the large cavern above that parts the dark, heavy clouds into opposite streams seem to yawn wider, closing itself lower and lower into the earth that you swore someday it’ll devour the city whole.

  Mud water in your boots, you grabbed onto your soaked coat and climbed the steps of the decaying piece of slab you call home, mindful that you won’t slip and break your skull against the thick beams, twisted metal jutting out of the corners.

  A solitary lamp flickered through the window of the room next to yours. Little Soo-jin must be having nightmares again, you thought with a frown. 

  You were about to knock on their door when the sirens blared, echoing louder across the city than the boom of lightning, followed by a grating squeal that could only be an opening gate. 

  Your knuckle froze over the chipped wood.

  The last time the alarm rang, the people were greeted by the body of a young council member, brought by a small and wounded troop who’d accompanied him outside the city. 

  Soo-jin’s mom peered through the murky window, meeting your eyes after both of you stared into the direction of the gate closest to your zone, as if seeking you for an explanation. You only gave her a shrug.

  “Someone must have died,” you said.

    “No, he’s not dead. That’s why you’re bringing food to his room, aren’t you?”

  You stared at the girl stubbornly shaking her head. 

  “I- I know, but! Didn’t you hear? They said they found him full of bullet holes and I—”

  “Even if you’re serving a rotting corpse, as long as Cook orders it, you follow.”

  It was admirable that she’s refused for this long. If it were you, you’d have been sacked the moment you opened your mouth to say no. You wiped your hand with the towel next to the sink, having finished the work assigned to you, and watched the ongoing bout in the kitchen.

  “Why can’t you just ask the others? Marga’s not doing anything!”

  “Marga,” the older woman hissed, “is with the others. Almost everyone is in the meeting room. So if you don’t take your butt up there, I’m gonna have no other choice but to tell Cook.”

  You winced. This can’t be good.

  You cleared your throat. “I can do it,” you said.

  The tray was shoved to you faster than you can drop your raised hand. You would have found it amusing, considering that you’re sure they couldn’t even recognize you, but the idea of being in the same room with a half-alive man does make you feel uneasy. 

  Not that it’s anything new for you; you nursed your father until the fever took him, after all. You just haven’t lived long enough to get used to it yet. But you steeled yourself and did your job, because it’s not as if you had any choice. 

  You prepared yourself for anything as you entered one of the many guest chambers. Bullet holes, rotting corpse, entrails held together by stitches. 

  And when you announced your presence and gripped the tray tighter so as to not spill the soup on the sprawling carpet, it’s not really surprise that caused you to stumble upon your words when you saw the man sitting on the bed.

  It’s more of an embarrassment, of sorts. 

  You must’ve entered the wrong room, you thought. You immediately checked around  to make sure no one saw you talk and almost grovel to an actual sculpture. 

  Because that’s what he was. 

  The Governor’s estate houses floors and floors of rooms that you hadn't explored yet. But there was one that, if no one would bother to keep track of the workers, you had the habit of sneaking into. 

  Thinking about what it took for this family to have all those sculptures there hurt your head, so you stopped a long time ago. You chose, instead, to just admire the marble wonders in all their beauty, always looking back down at you with majesty and pride. 

  Just as he's doing right now. 

  Chiseled torso wrapped in bandages; sharp jaw that could cut; eyes the color of olives, gazing deep.

  "That is for me."

  You snapped your head down. 

  "Huh- uh, yes? Yes!" 

  His deep voice still rumbled through you. 

  "Yes, I'm sorry," you muttered, heat rushing to your face as you placed the tray on the table next to him, inflaming when you realized he didn't mean it as a question.

  That is for me. 

  Not a question. A question means you can answer. His words brooked no other response but obedience, reminding you of your place.

  Much like those sculptures, every time  you'd spent too much time inside the room and you'd get the feeling that you're not supposed to be there, too filthy to be anywhere near what you think is the closest thing to perfection. 

  And the truth would settle on you like a heavy weight: that no amount of beauty can ever breathe warmth if it cannot live and grow. 

  The same way that despite the sunshine filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, surrounding him in blinding light as he sat on the bed, you can't shake the impression that this is the coldest this room has ever been, with him here. 

  So you anticipated his orders; a single word or maybe a glance that would tell you he wants you gone. Just either one of those and you'd run out of this room in a heartbeat. 

  But neither came. The man (you still didn't know his name) remained silent, staring at the food like they've insulted him specifically, and now he's questioning the collective audacity of the soup, bread, and bowl of fruits laid before him. 

  Maybe they don't serve those where he came from. He's from the North, after all, made evident by the small eagle etched on his chest, just above a pectoral. The last visiting Northerner you served who also bore that mark threw a rag at you (she missed) for "mixing the bathing oils incorrectly."

  You stayed in your position and asked, "Is the food not to your liking?"

  He didn't say anything, but he did shift his attention to you.

  And what a mistake that was. How does this man go about life with such a severe presence?

  "Er..is something..wrong?" you sweated, suddenly fascinated by the vases behind him. 

  Glaring back at the food, he answered with a deep "no" and breathed out. His large arms rose and fell along with it, straining the bandages around the muscles.

  Oh, right. Right.

  You perked up. "Do you need help?"

  Stepping closer to the table, you gave him a tightlipped smile and a sheepish "excuse me" before taking the spoon in your hand. 

  You scooped a thick serving of soup, your palm hanging under it, and waited.

  And waited. 

  The man looked at you the same way he looked at the bowl of fruits earlier.

  "What are you doing?" he said,  gravel-voiced. 

  You're gonna lose this job.

  Why did you think you could feed him like he's an ailing, decrepit old man? Or a literal child? He's built like he commands an army (and he probably does).

  You are definitely gonna lose this job.

  "I- I'm sorry!" 

  You jerked away, your hip hitting the table, the impact shaking it and causing the plates and silverware to clatter against each other.

  "O-oh no, I'm-" The spoon in your hand fell as you attempted to set things properly, soup spilling to the carpet along with the utensils.

  You're gonna lose this job and you're gonna starve to death.

  "I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" 

  Dropping to your knee like your life depended on it, you picked up the myriad of similar looking spoons and forks and placed them back on the tray. 

  You kept your head downwards, bowing as you'd been repeatedly taught, and shut your eyes tightly. 

  "I thought that you hadn't healed yet and needed help and- and-" you huffed.

  "And I thought that I should feed you but- no-no!" You looked at him and flailed your hands in front of you. "No! I didn't mean feed- I meant- I meant no disrespect please forgive me!"

  Not a word was spoken in that second that spanned an entire year. But just as you'd accepted that the worst has come, he said:

  "Then, feed me."

  Wait.

  Wait, what?

  "I don't.. understand..?"

  "Then, feed me," was what he told you. And so matter-of-factly, at that. 

  So you did, desperate to keep the only thing keeping you alive. 

  Though your hand trembled and you wished to be anywhere but here— even the wasteland waiting outside the gates, with all its unimaginable threats, seemed like paradise —you took a loaf of bread from the basket and brought it closer to his mouth.

  Lines marred his forehead as he chewed. You were about to ask, self-destructive that you are, whether you should get the sweetened roll instead, thinking he found the one in your hand too bland. But you don't have the luxury to risk digging your grave any deeper. 

  You kept quiet and pointedly removed him from your line of sight, choosing to count the tassels hanging off the canopy instead.

  Once he's eaten all that's left of the pastries, you dipped your hand into the bowl of fruits and took a grape in-between your fingers and, as much as you can, you steadied your hand to avoid touching his lips.

  It didn't work. 

  You shuddered at the contact, curling your toes in your boots to avoid squirming. 

  This has got to be the weirdest day of your entire life.

  Not a hint of unease was shown. He continued to close his plump lips around the tip of your fingers and crushed the fruits with pointed canines, making the hair on your body stand on end. What if he bites you? Would you bleed?

  The man seemed to like them more than bread. A sense of urgency rose within you as he went through the berries and sliced mangoes like this is the first time he's had them.

  Can't say you blame him. The last time you ate something that resembled a fruit, a real fruit, was when Granny persuaded (coerced) a young boy in her complex to steal one from his employer. That boy has a child of his own now. 

  You felt your mouth water, your stomach growl and command that you take the bowl from him and shovel its contents to your mouth, as you watched him devour the sweet and tangy meat, the smell of it sickening as it is strangely compelling.

  He raised his head and met your eyes.

  Shit. 

  The apples, you thought as you looked back down to the tray. They're the only ones left soaking in the bowl, those apples. After this you'd be out of this stuffy room and you'd laugh about this later with Soo-jin and her mom and Granny too if she's not cranky.

  You could still feel him staring at you as you fed him a slice, the apple crisp when he took a bite. 

  Juice trickled down your hand, the sticky extract tickling your arm as it slid to the crook of your elbow, and you were about to wipe it with your other hand, when you felt a wet tongue probe the gap between your fingers.

  You gasped. "Sir..!" 

  You stepped away. Tried to, anyway, but with a firm hand, a hand that's not injured, after all, he gripped your wrist and continued to suck a digit. 

  "This is- sir!" struggling out of his hold, you pleaded with him to let go, please sir let me go, even as he only looked at you, his eyes dimming when he grabbed your waist to bring you closer. 

  He licked your hand, lapping at the trail the juice left behind, and when you thought he would release you, he took your hand to pluck another slice from the bowl. 

  Your legs gave up beneath you, forcing you to sit on his stretched lap, his hard body scorching you through the sheets, as he ate the apple from your palm, slurping the leftovers dripping from it. 

  "Don't cry," Granny told you once.

  "Especially when you feel like crying," she said. "Don't cry."

  You'd never really been good at listening, but now, you decided to suck in your breath and keep those tears at bay. You can cry and laugh about all this later.

  Because you might be jobless after this, but you will certainly have a damn good story to tell over the fire once you finished kneeing him in the nuts.

  So: one.

  Breathe.

  His teeth scraped your soaked hand.

  Two.

  You rested your hand on his shoulder.

  Three.

  You braced your leg, moving it between his thick thighs, and then, as you clutched his bandages, you—

  "Ushijima-sama."

  The door swung open.

  "Pardon the intrusion, but the Council members requested-”

  It was Secretary Hara.

  “Oh."

  Secretary Hara: a lanky, dark haired man with glasses who's always at the Governor's beck and call. He was here, carrying a small stack of papers, and gaping at the scene before him.

  You and the esteemed guest. Who's still suckling at your skin. On the bed. 

  He grinned, full of humor and disgusting. “Well,” he said. 

  At least you weren't crying.

  A question, shared only by the Heavens, began when the Lord fashioned the flesh out of the dust of the ground and said,"You are made in My image and likeness."

  It was not their way, before that: to question. (One of them did, once, but that is a different story). 

  They have no need for questions.

  They hold the highest seat, below only to the Creator, unencumbered by the trappings of the earth.

  They have no need for questions.

  So it remained unasked, lingering in fragments in the House of the Lord.

  The question comes to him now.

  For the flesh is a cage. It is ephemeral and prone to decay.

  It is fitting for this kind to have it, with all their qualities bound to the material world.

  You are the very epitome of these.

  Graceless. Stumbling like a newborn foal. Too many apologies. Too many questions.

  God is not here, he thinks as you insist on asking what does not matter.

  “Is the food not to your liking?” and “Is something wrong?” and “Do you need help?”

  Indecisive, too. Reneging on your promises. You said you’d feed him and then you said you wouldn’t.

  Ushijima Wakatoshi is a mere flesh, locking inside divinity your kind would never understand. Yet he felt its tedious demands gnaw at him when he saw you. Something so impermanent should have no right for constant sustenance. 

  But he knows, just for this time, that he needs it. That’s why he tells you to feed him, as you said you would. After all, it is your way to serve. And, for all your many inadequacies, God has granted you bread and water and fruit to sate your appetites. 

  Thus, for as long as he is flesh, he will do as it tells him to. 

  When it urged for the taste of fruit, for the cloying sweetness of its juice, it is only right that he heeded its call and had his fill. 

  How dare you object. His light is brighter than yours; God has granted it so (and yet you were given the will that they never had). And even in flesh you are beneath him. You are easily held and defeated.

  The ache in his belly did not cease, each gulp he took heightening his senses, shouting for more, more, more as he took you with his tongue. And he realizes that this is what the first of your kind may have felt like when they disobeyed. The first act of betrayal.

  (For what is the wrath of God to the cries of the flesh?)

  And with that, Ushijima Wakatoshi finds, since donning this useless flesh, that it is not at all easy to gratify. 

  Not in the least.

    There are so many rules in this mansion that even Cook’s effort to batter them on your head could sometimes be futile, given that their number is just as big as this place. But, there is one, among all the convoluted and at times nonsensical decrees, that you are not allowed to forget: 

  Unless you’re among the core staff, you can never enter the East Wing. 

  The East Wing is where all the important things happen, see. It goes without saying that someone as lowly as you cannot pollute that hallowed ground.

  Today seems to be an exception.

  When Cook barked that Secretary Hara wanted you in the East Wing first thing in the morning, you had a feeling that you just might not live to see the next day.

  You didn't speak unless spoken to. You didn't look unless told to. The things you should've done much earlier.

  "How are you liking the work here so far?" 

  Secretary Hara pushed the pen to the side and leaned back against the leather swivel chair. 

  "It's a job," you mumbled, to which he only replied with a breathless chuckle. You didn't see the point in bootlicking any further. Besides, Granny hated that the most; so you avoided doing it as much as you can.

  There's only one conclusion for you here, anyway. No matter how severe the punishment. And it's back in your room, with a uniform that needs sewing for a job that you no longer have.

  He tapped his fingers against the lacquered table. "You're right," he said. "Work is work. Despite your place in this society."

  You wanted to roll your eyes. Secretary Hara has never been any of the workers' favorites (not that any of you had your "favorites," but if you could, you avoided this guy). He had this astonishing effect, too, in which he can actually bring people together. All because everyone hated him.

  He's a slimeball, is what he is. If one needed lessons in kissing ass, he was your man. 

  "Do you know why you're here?"

  You're getting fired. End of story. Now can I please just go? is what you want to say. But losing your job doesn't usually take this much time and attention. Normally, it was Cook who'd grunt "You're out" and that was it.

  So you shake your head.

  "I'm promoting you," he said. "Congratulations."

  Somewhere, beneath that condescending smile of his, is a punchline that you're sure he's deliberately keeping from you. Just so he can be the only one who gets to laugh.

  "I-" You balled your hand to a fist. "Why?"

  He scoffed. "What are they teaching you in that rathole? Honestly."

  They taught me not to be rude to people I don't know, you little bitch.

  "Drop the coy act, it's okay," he sneered. "It's cheap and it won't work on me."

  Oh, now you really want to get fired. If only to kick his teeth in. "That man," Secretary Hara continued. "Ushijima Wakatoshi. You were all over him and you seriously don't know who he is?"

  You gritted. "Secretary Hara, what happened- it wasn't- I didn't want it."

  But he only gave you that look. As if to say, "Sure. Let's go with that." When it'd pass and the need to pummel him became stronger, he stood up and stepped towards the tapestry draped against the wall.

  It was a map, the city a pinprick on the corner. Secretary Hara faced it, dusting the spotless surface, his back to you.

  "Ever wonder what keeps us here?" he started, hand still on the map. "This city of ours?"

  "The," you licked your lips. Where was he going with this? "The river..?"

  Secretary Hara clapped his hands, his voice lilting like he's talking to a toddler as he said, "That's right. That's good. Excellent."

  "So you do know some things, after all." His fingers crawled towards the long line of blue stitched beside the city. "And do you wonder what would happen if, say, that river begins to dry?"

  You felt your eyes widen. You covered your mouth with a palm. 

  You're not supposed to know this. Why is he telling you this?

  He scratched the thick clump of blue thread and continued, "These great cities. They have their energy; their military." 

  Your eyes followed his hand, moving farther and farther away from the pallid brown surrounding your city, towards the bright yellow West, stopping at the bright green East. "Some of them are blessed enough to not be surrounded by a literal desert."

  Then, with a careful hand, he moved to the very top and said, "And the North…the North has it all."

  The North was a sprawling, intricate web of threads, eating away the entire tapestry. 

  "The Ushijima clan rules the North. Much longer than this city has existed. And they’re so engrossed in their wars that they’d never glance our way if we don't give them at least half of what we make,” he spat. “These great people haven’t had contact with us in years."

  Secretary Hara finally turned around, grin still in place. "But now one of them owes his life to us." He walked back to his desk, sitting on its edge. "Perhaps the heavens sent him here."

  When you remained silent and looked at him with eyes that you wished had the ability to kill, because you know now what they wanted from you, Secretary Hara only shrugged.

  "He asked for your name, actually," he said, tilting his head. "Lucky you. He didn't bother to learn ours."

  You stood your ground. "No, sir," you said. "I won't."

  He pulled a thin piece of paper from a pile sitting next to him. "You're not gonna do much," he said as he began to read. "Just show him around the city. Be his friend."

  Friend. 

  "But I- No. I can't." You stepped forward. "Please." 

  He looked away from the paper. "Zone 42. Room 0312."

  "What.."

  "Granny," he said. "That's what you call her, isn't it?"

  No.

  "They say that for a blind old lady she's still somehow miraculously trading to keep a roof over her head."

  Phantom touches crept to your arm, slick and nauseating like cold sweat.

  "You must take it from her. Though you're not related," he said.  "Apparently, you're so hardworking, you even work the night shift. When you don't have to."

  You released a shaky breath. "I'll..I'll start," you croaked. "I'll start right away, sir." 

  Secretary Hara folded his arms, victory plastered all over his gaunt face.

  "Thank you," he chimed. "I'm glad you understand. It's for your own good too, y'know." 

  The uniform they gave you chafed against your skin. Tugging at the sleeves did not help, the pristine fabric too coarse and stiff to budge. Your only comfort was the folded paper hidden in your pocket, fading at the edges every time you touched it.

  You have to admit, however, that you did look...well, you did look clean. Not as much as him, though. And not just in the sense that he's out of the bandages now. Last you checked, and that had been a few minutes ago, he was still sporting a couple of scars on his forehead.

  Despite that, you don't have to look behind you to know what's captured the people's attention as you strolled the capital. Or, who, to be exact.

  Some were outright ogling; some happened to glance once and then immediately looked away with a blush; some made the laudable effort to not look. 

  A mirror of what you're doing right now. 

  They gilded him with gold, which is a redundancy if you ever see one. He was wearing the most expensive pigment, something that only the Governor's family could own: a deep violet tunic emblazoned with golden vines, swirling from the middle to the collar; paired with dress pants that you could probably trade for a whole month's worth of food. 

  You kept your distance as you walked in front of him. "Just show him around the city," was what Secretary Hara told you. That didn't mean you had to talk.

  And it's not as if he had any complaints, either. He followed you through the rows of glass houses that adorned Governor's lane, not a word spoken about the sights. 

  Even when you'd attempted to speed through the dizzying streets, he kept his pace, long legs allowing him to stride close to you. By time you'd reached the plaza, you were already out of breath and in need of rest. 

  But you didn’t. 

  You remained standing a few feet away from him, the paper in your hand opened to reveal those great trees and thriving field, as he sat under the gazebo overlooking the square; a place reserved only for council members. 

  The smell of the sweetmeats and oranges in front of him reached your nose (Secretary Hara has a cruel sense of humor, you belatedly realized, when you were handed a bag of food that had a note saying “treat him well”). You fought the itch to cast out what little you’ve had for breakfast.

  Children were playing around the sandbox, the staff of whatever family they belonged to guarding them. In a way, their job wasn’t that different from what you have now. 

  Except, it’s not a child you were threatened to accompany. With the feeling of his gaze burning your nape, it seems like you’re not the one doing the guarding as well. 

  And you didn’t feel every bit like the adult you are when he called your name.

  You felt frighteningly small, as you yielded with a pathetic, “Ushijima-sama.”

  He only looked at you. Those green eyes telling you exactly what he wanted. 

  People are watching. You can’t mess this up.

  “Sir,” you said, hand still in your pocket, that frayed paper your anchor. “It is improper.”

  Irritation swept through him, his sharp features harsher when dissatisfied. But you can’t give up, even though it’s sending a chill down your spine and he seems like he’s about to throttle in broad daylight. (And he doesn’t have to do much, you know. He can crush you with one hand.)

  “Why- why are you here?” you hissed. “R-really?”

  You don’t shut your trap when you have to, girl. That’s your problem.

  “Because- because I’m not gonna be your..thing.” The paper was dampening in your grip. “While you do whatever it is you do, Ushijima,” you huffed. “...sama”

  Ushijima did not blink, his stare unwavering as he turned towards the small crowd strolling below. There’s a part of you that wishes to put yourself in his place, like a king on his throne. What does the view look like from up there? Are the people beneath just multicolored ants moving from afar? 

  “A few of my kind have suddenly sided with yours,” he said. Then, briefly returning his gaze to you, “I had to see what draws them here.” 

  He linked his fingers together. “Before I do what must be done.”

  You stifled a chortle. “Do what must be done” your ass. Does that include harassing people, too? “God only knows,” you whispered.

  “You believe in God.”

  You were the subject of his relentless attention again. You groaned, averting your eyes to a small girl, probably around Soo-jin’s age, who plopped down to create a heap of sand, much to the consternation of her nanny. 

  “No,” you replied in a thin voice. 

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Where is this question coming from? “Always seemed like a lot of work,” you said. 

  The little girl was making a castle. It’s apparent to you now that she has little pail by her side, shovel in her grubby hand. The frill of her dress caught most of the sand as she stacked them atop each other.

  “And I’m pretty sure God has more fun things to do than worry about me,” you added, just because.

  The castle reached her knees when the girl stood up. 

  "God has left," Ushijima said. "A long time ago."

  And then she kicked it. The thing crumbled to a mound, the breeze scattering it back to the sand. 

  You did chuckle this time. The Northerners sure are strange. "Really? Where’d God go?" you hummed, looking up to the sky.

  The sun was blanketed by waves of clouds, as usual. "Somewhere nicer, I hope," you sighed. 

  You closed your eyes and thought of that nicer place. It would have to be far, far away from here. Maybe it would even have those trees that Granny loved.

  "Cherry trees."

  You opened your eyes and gawked at him. 

  He was still gazing at you. 

  "You are attached to it," he told you, like it's nothing; like your heart's not wreaking havoc against your ribs with each word he utters. "On that paper."

  Pulling it out of your pocket, you stumbled to him and unfolded it for him to see. "You-  you know what this is? A 'cherry tree.' That’s what you call it?"

  "Yes." Ushijima's eyes did not leave yours. "That is the name you people have bestowed upon them."

  "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

  You didn't let him answer that because, just like the fool that Granny accused you to be, you took his hand in your trembling one and laughed, somehow managing to drag him out of the gazebo.

  It took a while before you finally let go.

  Much has changed along the way, he felt this as the air grew hotter; the sound of bustling people louder and less constrained with inutile mortal etiquette. You seemed less wary of him here. 

  The hand that held his tightly was still brushing against him, as you talked incessantly about the pieces of paper plastered across the wall. They all looked the same, yellowed and infested with mold at the edges, but you insisted otherwise.

  “See here?” You pointed to the one on the bottom. “Granny drew the leaves differently. They look like flowers don’t they? They are, aren’t they? I knew it! So they are flowers.” 

  There was a cot in the corner of the room. He sees you there in slumber, surrounded by rocks and scraps of metal and bits of gemstones held together by strings, each strand hanging on the crevices of the roof, gleaming every time they move. 

  You tapped his arm repeatedly. “Oh, oh. I put these two beside each other. Notice that the shades are different? This one is lighter while this one has more shadows to it.”

  "Do you get it now?" you asked him, expectant. 

  Humans are baffling creatures, Wakatoshi thought. Because when he said nothing, you only laughed (you seem to like doing that) and told him to “follow me; hurry.” You didn’t hold his hand this time (you should’ve, he preferred it when you did).

  “My bad. I hadn’t shown you yet,” you huffed as you grabbed a rag and set aside buckets of rainwater that obstructed his path. 

  Behind a curtain of sackcloth and ashes, draped at the furthest side of the wall, was a crack big enough to let a person through, corroding steel bars protruding along the broken concrete. 

  Wakatoshi ducked to enter the room next to yours. It was hollow, save for bits of gravel and a window obscured by dust. You paced to it then wiped the thick glass with the rag you brought with you.

  “That hill is always there in Granny’s drawings,” you said, taking the paper in your pocket and setting it parallel to the scene revealed by the window. 

  Your smile was wide, as if you were admiring a land lush with vegetation, or wildflowers at least. When it was far from that. It was a vast desolation, beyond the gates and the brown earth fractured. But, just as you said, there is a solitary hill sitting along the horizon.

  “Those trees- cherry trees,” you started, face radiating with mirth. “It’s the same but.. different each time.” Your breathless laugh makes him feel just as winded. “How is that even possible?”

  “I know they can’t be just...green.” A finger traced the outline of the leaves. “Because these are real and they actually grow and- and they change.” And, as if it’s a secret, “Unlike the ones at the capital.”.

  “If only Granny would paint them for me,” you whispered, the smile on those lips waning. 

  Wakatoshi couldn’t stand it. So, he grunted, “You are wrong. This one is green.”

  He took the paper from your hand. “They only change colors once they bloom. White, first. Then, pink.” 

  This knowledge is trivial; if it can be considered knowledge at all. It is a speck in the infinite matters that simply exist— have existed, in this world. Yet such a thing has put that look in your eyes. 

  Perhaps it is not inconsequential at all.

  “Pink?” you breathed, grinning incredulously at him. 

  You turned away and closed your eyes, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I see.”

  There's a blood pumping organ within his chest. A vital piece that keeps you humans alive. It beats constantly, never ceasing. If it does then it means you are dead. He is flesh, for now; it follows that if it halts, then he is fodder for the earth.

  How is it, then, that he is still here? He’s sure he felt it stop, the air knocked out of his lungs, as you looked back at him, eyes welling with tears when you said, “Thank you.”

  Thank you, you told him, smiling.

  Ah. 

  Wakatoshi gets it now.

  This is what God must have seen, when your kind looked up and sang, “I love you, my God; I love you; I love you.” And when you knelt and dared to turn those eyes for others that are not God, he suddenly understands why they were ordered to rain fire and brimstone upon your great kingdoms. 

  Because he, too, would smite anything, burn it to the ground and salt what is left, if it would so much as receive a whit of your sweet, soft words. 

  “They used to grow here,” you sniveled. “Granny said so.”

  “And I thought, maybe if Granny added a bit more color- maybe they'd feel more…I don't know..real..?” Laughter rings in his ears once again, pealing like bells. “Yeah..They'd feel more real...Though, she did get mad at me,” you winced.

  “I just thought,” you sighed, your shoulders touching him. “Wouldn't it be nice if I can wake up one day and find them growing again? Right here.”

  God created a garden for your kind once. It is gone now, but Wakatoshi wonders what you’d say, how you’d look at him, if he shows it to you. Your head against the grass, fingers laced with the lilies of the field, the taste of fruit on your lips, your thighs dripping with honey and dew—

  Wakatoshi felt his loins stir, but he didn't say anything, except, “The soil here is poisoned.”

  You snapped towards him, brows drawn together. “I know,” you said.

  “A sapling cannot grow on this wasteland.” 

  “Yes, I’m not stupid.”

  “That could have been any hill.”

  “I know.”

  His throat is parched; his hands a pair of useless things. He can hold galaxies in them, sink ships and level seas by the order of God had this body not trapped him. (He can free himself, but then you’d die). Now he doesn’t even know what to do with them as he rushes out a hoarse, “I have upset you.”

  He refused to let you take the paper from him. You didn’t seem to mind.

  “No,” you sighed. “No, of course not. Forgive me, Ushijima-sama.”

  You bowed again. An act of servitude.

  “Please, let me escort you back to the capital.”

  He does not understand. He only told you the truth. 

  But you turned your back to him and the light in your eyes has gone and he wants to chase it back the same way he wanted to run after God when the parting happened, leaving the Heavens mourning until their wails split the firmament open. 

  Wakatoshi yearns to have you closer. He yearns for that smile and laughter back on your face. 

  Wakatoshi yearns. 

  But, that cannot be. 

  After all, that is just much too human, is it not?

    The rain drenched Wakatoshi to the bone, droplets falling from his lashes to his cheeks, when he walked through the nighttime storm.

  He didn't bother to dry himself. 

  After he'd reached your room and shoved the door open, the clap of thunder covering the noise, Wakatoshi decided to undress himself, shedding all articles of clothing until he was naked as the day God created your kind.

  Wakatoshi felt the chill bite his skin. But that had nothing on the way you easily dismissed him earlier, by the time you'd reached the abode of this city's leader. 

  You left him and he could no longer see your face and yet that fierce longing in his chest stayed, creeping to every part of him, making a home in his belly.

  Until he recognized the feeling for what it was.

  Hunger. 

  Hunger, he could fathom. And when one feels it gnaw at one's flesh, what does one do, but eat?

  You were sleeping on the cot, just as he'd imagined you to be. It's enough to keep him warm: the sight of you, at peace under the glimmer of the trinkets dancing above as a lamp burned lowly. 

  The mattress sank under his weight when he sat next to you. His much larger hand took yours, locking your fingers together to rest his cheek against it, bringing it beneath his nose, and feeling his heart race as he breathed in your scent. 

  He remembers the first time he did this so vividly. You tasted like apples and sin; and though there's none of that now, his mouth still waters as he savors your skin, his tongue traveling to your arm, just as he did then, leaving bites along the way.

  You barely stirred when he lifted your shirt to reveal your tits, the sheen of sweat along the valley forcing a growl out of him.

  Do you feel it, too? When you drag him further down to earth, debasing him and bringing him so low that now he is nothing but a hungry flesh and a mouth made of obscenities. 

  "Fuck," he grunts, as he took his cock, heavy and hard to touch, and rubbed the head with his fingers.

  Perhaps he is lower than human now. Perhaps it does not matter. What is God to this hunger, anyway?

  (This hunger is bigger than God.)

  The cot was pitifully small as he straddled over your chest, breathing still shallow, and spat on his hand before wrapping it around the thick shaft. The tip of his cock touched your nipple as he fondled with the other one, thumb and forefinger pinching and pulling until you let out a tiny mewl.

  Hearing it had him falling to his knees. 

  Wakatoshi moved off the cot to kneel on the floor, the better to suckle on your tits, to lick and nibble on the skin below it, on your stomach, until he's seeing red and ripping your loose pants down to your thighs.

  He pumped his cock harder as he caressed the folds of your cunt. You groaned, arching your back and offering yourself to his mouth, when he started to lap on your clit, sticky liquid coating the swollen bud as he swirled his tongue to  spread the juices dripping from your hole.

  Your entire body was singing for him, even when all you'd managed were squirms and muted whimpers. He felt your skin twitch beneath his lips, as he cupped his balls and drove his hand faster around his throbbing cock, gripping his fist tighter.  

  Oh, he sees you on that garden, clinging onto him as he drives himself into you, pounding your cunt as you beg please, just as you did before, please, please, fuck me harder I am yours I am all yours.

  But, for now, he settles himself with the violent shudders of your body, flooding his mouth with cream, as he releases his seed on his palm. 

  Wakatoshi rubbed it against your leaking cunt, quivering still in his hand. 

  There is something that must be finished, first, before he takes you, in truth. He cannot have you conscious (for now.)

  He covered you back in your clothes, after. Then, Wakatoshi lingered on your face.

  "Fearfully and wonderfully made," he whispered, a mere guttural sound amidst the rain pouring outside. 

  Here lies salvation, he thought, as his fingers brushed your closed eyes. 

  And here, Wakatoshi thought as he brought his lips down to kiss you, here lies damnation. 

  He wiped his blood on the doorposts and lintel before he left.

    You woke up to silence.

  Your nether regions ached and, really, the temptation to not go to work today was insanely strong. But the sun was already bleeding through the window and there's a heavy feeling on your chest.

  And like wearing a shirt on backwards, you immediately knew that something was not right. 

  The sound of the door slamming open echoed through the building as you ran outside. 

  There was nothing. 

  Not the sound of people going about their day nor of children risking the wrath of their mothers with their games. The only thing you could hear was the buzzing noise of a fly circling around your ear.

  You didn't bother knocking on your neighbor's room, rushing inside to shout for Soo-jin and her mom, stopping only when you found them sitting around a small table.

  They didn't turn around to greet you.

  "There you are," you panted, putting your hands on your knees. "I'm so sorry for barging in like this."

  Even little Soo-jin, who never failed to jump into your arms given the opportunity, kept her back to you.  

  You stepped towards her. "Soo-jin," you whispered, placing a hand on her thin shoulder. 

  "Soo-jin, hey," you chuckled, your trembling fingers shaking her bit. "H-hey, what's wrong?"

  Her head nodded down, like a doll grabbed all too suddenly, then it lolled to the side, rolling until she bared her neck, until you saw her face.

  Her mouth hung open. 

  Inside the cavern were tiny black lumps that took you a second to realize were flies feasting on her molars. And when you lurched and sank to the floor, it was only then that you saw her staring back at you.

  Bleached eyes, wide and whitened to the core and pupils like spoiled milk. 

  "N-no." Your vision was cloudy, freezing dread settling at the pit of your stomach when you saw that the same happened to her mother. "Who- who did this?"

  Your voice strained out as you stood, mind moving faster than your legs.

  Granny. Go to Granny. 

  Though you already know, don't you? You don't have to see her to know her fate. Because as you sprinted out of the room, leaping down across the steps, out of the building and into sand and concrete, the smell of sulfur followed you, choking you along with the sight of bodies sprawled on the ground.

  Insects creeping out of nostrils and every other orifice, faces that you'll never have the chance of knowing and faces that you'd grown up with, hands reaching to the heaven as if at prayer.

  You are alone. You are alone in a city filled with rotting corpses. 

  There was an uncontrolled animal inside your body, fighting out of its cage in a fit of rage as you craned to look up, further up.

  The sky was on fire, the fissure in the middle gaping wider and wider and sucking in a mass of swirling clouds dipped with blood and orange.

  And there. There, look. Standing atop the towering walls.

  Beyond the heat wave was a figure, burning bright that you had to squint and you wanted to look away, you had to look away, but you can't go out like this, not without a scream and a curse at your lips.

  What did you do, you were shouting, Who are you, you were screeching, feeling the veins in your neck stretch and pop as you walked closer and closer. 

  Wings as far as the eye could see stood atop the fallen city.

  Spread out to span the horizon and folded at the middle to conceal whatever it is pointing a flaming sword towards the sun. 

  You tasted iron at the back of your mouth, but you did not stop. The earth beneath you swallowed your feet as it turned to mud with each step you took.

  And with the flap of its wings, the sound of metal banging against each other reverberated louder.

  There were children howling in pain, somewhere, behind you, in front of you, beside you. You staggered forward and for the life of you, you do not understand why you keep trying, because the ground below wasn't even soil anymore.

  It took another step before you fell.

  And it was like one of those dreams. 

  But this time you don't wake up. 

  You bawled out and thrashed your legs as water rose above you, slamming against your chest and filling up your mouth and burning your nose until it's all you could see, until you're floating in darkness and water is rushing to your lungs and you were flailing upwards, catching that spot of sunlight, but the more you kicked your feet and swung your arms, the more it tugged at your heavy legs and the less you could breathe and the further it got—  

You were sinking, the clanging of a giant bell everywhere still, as the water pulled you down, and in the deep, below the nothingness, was a massive cleft illuminated by the barest of light, slowly opening to reveal an eye, and no sound came out though you know, though you felt your throat release a shriek, horrifyingly small, so, so small compared to that glass green pupil that illuminated the darkness, rapidly contracting and dilating and then blinking as  salt and fire streamed deep in your skin, but they were looking at you from all sides, a thousand eyes flanking you and judging the weight of your soul with their unforgiving gaze as you tossed and turned in the waters. 

  I am going to die here, you thought. I will die here, you cried.

  But something was pulling at your waist and despite clawing and jabbing at it, desperate to keep it away from you as you wailed get off me get off me, it gripped you tight, hauling you upwards until you were gulping and breathing in cold air.

Through tears and the piercing cry that ripped out your throat, you felt strong, warm arms cradle you close.

  Along with a deep voice, familiar and conjuring a long lost memory. 

It lulled you into hiccups and dry sobs, gentle as it whispered. 

“Do not be afraid,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.”

[emperor-palpaminty]

The Good Doctor

Wild West Bad Batch AU (complete)

I saw this beautiful post by @hellothere-generalangsty​ about a bad batch wild west AU and I cannot fuckin get it outta my head oh no, and being a native Texan it would be a sin to NOT do it... right? also i have been playing too much red dead redemption please end me, also totally not the story i accidentallu posted rip

Tech is also not a very “western” name, so it’ll be his nickname, but his real name is v funny, sorry to all the nerds name victor

also i believe her personal blog is @weirdcharacter​ i love you, you genius, also her writing is amazing so pls go check her out

warning for Western violence, lil bit of western guns, some rooty-tooty-point-n-shooties, also fluff, just fluffy fluff fluff

The sky was as empty as the endless plains of the desert. You planted your hat on your head, exhaling and grabbing your skirts, throwing them up onto the saddle of your horse. "Alright, Commander." You patted the chestnut mane of the steed, who snorted and tossed his head fraternally. "Let’s head into town.”

The ride to town was warm and windless, aside from the artificial breeze that formed around you and Commander. The rhythm of the horse was almost lulling, soothing to you, a familiar tune you knew too well.

A smile tugged on your lips as you tapped on Commander’s hips, clicking your tongue, feeling the horse speed up. Your hat stayed on by the grace of God and the strap around your neck. You rounded up around the cavern, turning and glancing at the winding roads below.

You paused squinting at the wagon approaching with alarming speed. A dust cloud was around it, high and wide, catching up. You knew the crack of bullets well enough to know you had to get down there.

You frowned and tugged on the reigns, reaching into your saddlebag and grasping the revolver you kept in there. “Let’s go, Commander.”

The horse snorted. You imitated a snort back and dug your heels in. The horse followed your tug and ran down the gentle slope, finally submitting to the urgency of the situation. Your thighs squeezed tightly around the saddle as you loaded the gun, spinning the barrel and clicking it together. You aimed, level with one of the highway men approaching the wagon.

There was a crack and the one in your sighs flipped off his horse. You turned your attention to the wagon, where a man was kneeling atop it, rifle in hand, aiming with steady hand. The driver was still whipping the reigns like crazy.

You rode in from the side, pointing at a second highway man and shooting his leg. He yelped at gripped his leg, tumbling off the paint, who simply snorted and turned, racing away, dragging the man after it.

The shooter on top of the wagon glanced at you for a moment. He tilted his head, couriously, the gaze throwing you for a temporary loop before he nodded and aimed back at the oncoming people.

You rode in front of them all, Commander’s legs thudding faithfully on the ground. You pulled up as close as you could to the wagon, picking up your legs and turning, pointing your gun and aiming it steadily.

"I'm glad you can assist!" The man with the rifle shouted, pumping the forestock.

You grinned, glancing up at him, hat lost in the wind around you. His curly mop of hair was bouncing in the wind, glasses teetering dangerously on his nose. “I came at just the right time, darling!” You yelled, shooting your revolver once more. 

If he said anything else you failed to hear, too distracted with taking care of bandits around you. The gun clicked and you glanced down at the open hammer, cursing.

A hand stuck down, shocking you. “Give me your hand,” The man said, laying on his stomach. He was reaching a hand down, open, creased, expectant. You nodded and gripped it, surprised at the strength under his lanky coat. He expressed no strain other than a simple grunt as he lifted you up onto the top of the stagecoach. “Your horse?”

“He knows the way to town.” You took the pistol the man tugged out of his belt and handed you. “He’s smart.” You laid on your stomach next to him, aiming over the back. 

The man nodded simply, aiming and firing the rifle. He smiled behind the butt of the gun, planting it firmly into his shoulder as he cocked it again. “Good horse. Wish I had one.”

“Commander doesn’t have a sister.” You chuckled, picking up your head, hat tugging at your neck. Your fingers worked away the string and you sat up, watching the last couple highwaymen ride away, cursing at the wind. You laughed, glancing at the man next to you. “I don’t reckon you can’t give me a ride to town.” You smiled sheepishly, pausing to admire the gun. It was incredibly intricate, elegant- swirls on the ivory stock, glistening in the sun. 

“On the contrary.” His hand took the pistol, gently tucking it into the holster. “I’m heading there right now.” He nodded at the driver, who nodded shakily back, but resumed driving like the dickens. “Perhaps we should get into the coach.” The man walked to the side, kneeling, holding up a hand to you. “Ladies first?”

You grinned at him, picking up your skirt and sweeping a leg down onto the windowsill, sliding in. The man followed shortly, body moving almost effortlessly into the window. His feet landed steadily, and he dusted a layer of grime off. “Fantastic.” His full lips pressed into a grimace.

You crossed your legs under your skirt, ignoring the red clay stain across the fine yellow of it. The man removed his glasses, examining the lenses, and you took a moment to admire him- a layer of dust coated his fine dark curls, his skin tanned but smooth, lashes long as his eyes inspected the glasses for a final time. He tucked the kerchief into his waistcoat and placed the glasses on his face, turning to you, in his full bespectaled glory. “I apologize. I didn’t properly get to introduce myself.” He smiled, gently taking your hand, kissing it in ritual. Your cheeks warmed before you remembered this was a typical greeting of city slickers. “I am Victor Trech the Third, Medical Doctor.”

You blinked up at him. “Why are you all the way out here in Marauder Valley?” You scooted towards him. “And a doctor with a shot like that?”

Victor shrugged and settled down in the seat across from you, fingers running in his hair to release the stubborn dirt. “I am a man of a few talents,” He stated, quite simply. “A Jack of all Trades, Master of none...” He waved his hand, implying the ending.

“But better than be a master of one.” You pressed your jaw into your hand, smiling at him, skimming his face again. His eyes were stunning- astute, clever, with an intelligence that was not nearly as dull as his interior voice implied.

They shone now. “Ah! Familiar with the rhyme?” 

“A couple.” You leaned your head back on the seat. The hat crushed under your shoulders, so you tugged it off, resting it on your knee. “So, where does a man like you learn to shoot like that.”

Victor’s eyes glinted- perhaps a trick of the light in his glasses- and he settled back in his seat. “We shan’t reveal our secrets to each other so quickly. I wanted to try to take our time. I’m sure the ride to Marauder Valley is quite long...?”

“No.” You shook your head, hair unbraided. You reached back and tugged it over your shoulder, just to re-weave it. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minuites.”

Victor’s lips pressed into a smile, and he crossed his own legs. “Then I am fortunate to be in such good company.”

___

The sheriff was the first one to greet you. His brows raised as the good doctor climbed down first, aiding you down. “Well,” Hunter chuckled. “Last one I expected to see with you.”

You grinned at him, glancing down at the stain on your skirt, voice emerging in an easy drawl. “This is the good doctor you’ve been waiting for.”

Hunter grinned and took the hand that the willowy doctor offered. “Pleased to meet you, Doctor Tech.”

Victor hesitated, but seemed to polite or distracted to correct the sheriff. “Thank you, Officer.”

“Just Hunter. No badge right now.” Hunter smiled easily. “Commander’s at Cid’s. You should-”

“Yeah, yeah.” You laughed, turning to look at the doctor, who appeared quite handsome when not shooting highwaymen. “I’ll catch you later, Doc.”

“I should hope so.” ‘Tech’ replied, and you felt his eyes follow you as Hunter lead him towards what would be his new office.

___

The next time you came to town, you were wearing a blue and white dress, hat still faithfully on your head, and your journey was uninterrupted by any lurking villains. You made your way into Cid’s Saloon & Generale Shoppe, nodding politely at the owner. “Hiya, Cid.” You dropped a stack of leathers onto the counter, sighing at the effort. “A good load.”

“No bullet wounds?” Cid picked up a rabbit skin to inspect it. “And you brought in those plants I ordered for that there Doctor?” Her knuckles rapped her temple as she thought. “Tech?”

Ah, the nickname stuck. “Oh.” You looked at the pouch on the counter, quietly scooting it back into your hand. “I didn’t know that was for him. I’ll run it to him.”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” Cid turned, moving the skins to the back counter, out of reach of especially grabby patrons. “I’ll have your pay and drink ready when you come back.”

“Sasparilla?” You grinned, tapping on the counter, adjusting your skirts as you walked out.

You remembered the general direction of where Dr. Tech’s office was from the last time you had been in town. It took you no time to find it- it wasn’t far from the Saloon, because if someone got shot they couldn’t afford a particularly large amount of time.

You opened the door, glancing up in alarm at the bell ringing above your head. “Oh!”

“One moment!” The tenor voice was sweet, familiar, a drop of cool water to you. 

You glanced around the waiting room. There were a few chairs, extras from the church, probably, and a few frames on the wall. You walked quietly to it, reading the fancy inscription on the college degrees lining the walls, this particular one from the Medical University of South Carolina. 

As you tilted your head, quick footsteps rounded the corner. “Oh! Oh, Miss.” The good doctor bustled in, smiling. “I thought Cid was bringing the herbs.”

“Next time, I’ll tell her to send one of the girls.” You grinned and held out the pouch. “If that’s what you-”

“No! No, you’re fine- excellent, really.” He grinned at you, sheepish, cheeks sploshing a subtle pink. “Quite a- well, anyways, do come back here.” He motioned you with long fingers, walking you towards the back. “Have you been getting herbs long?”

“I grow them, actually.” You tugged at your skirt, wishing you had picked a less frivilous dress, or perhaps an apron. The doctor cleaned up well. “I do a lot of hunting and gathering.”

Tech grinned back at you, opening the pouch. “I didn’t have you pinned as the type.” He opened the nearby cabinet, tugging down a pestle and mortar, the two objects being set down with a weighty thunk. “No objections.”

You grinned at him, suddenly glad you wore the pretty dress and had managed to avoid getting it stained. “So... Tech, now?”

His ears colored, and he cleared his throat, working on smashing a vibrant yarrow. “The name stuck. I quite like it, actually. It seems to have provided the towns folk around here with a sense of... comroidere with me.”

“Mm.” You leaned on the counter, watching his hands work. Your fingers traced over their unusual smoothness, save a few callouses on his thumbs and pointers. “What are you going to do with that?” 

“The yarrow has many uses.” The doctor smiled, hands pausing in their task. “It is a broad medicine, helping quite a bit with cramps, toothaches, so on.” Tech’s hands moved back in their familiar motion, the rhythym of their work falling into a steady pattern.

It was almost hypnotic. You watched him, interested, as the bitter aroma of the crushed plant wafted towards you. “Any patients?”

“A few.” Tech’s brow furrowed as he worked harder on the flora, a smooth paste almost all that was remaining. “You have a lot of toothaches around here. The people are quite kind, though. I really enjoy it.” He tapped the excess off the wand, laying it on a towel. “It’s a good change of paste from Boston.” He smiled at you, again, eyes sincere. “I’m glad I met you first, though.”

Your heart thrummed up to your throat, and your own lips pressed into a smile as you turned, walking towards the door. “I am, too.” You paused for a moment. “Hey, Doc.”

Tech turned. 

“You can come up and see me any time. A wagon won’t get you there, but Wrecker- yes, that’s his name- always has extra horses.” You smiled at him, opening the door, not as shocked by the bell this time.

Tech’s lips drew upwards, teeth showing, eyes shining like honey in a hive. “I will take you up on that. It sounds like a... profitable offer.”

___

Tech's presnece was announced by the dogs. You heard them barking and ran out of the leathering barn, relieved when you saw his familiar form climbing off the horse. He smiled bright at you, taking off his hat. "Fine day, miss. I hope now is a fine time."

You felt like jumping off the roof of your house. You glanced down at your breeches, speckled with old blood and drying materials, and you smiled at him. "It's as fine a time as any."

His eyes skimmed your legs- the pants, a scandal in their own sense- and he quickly glanced away, distracting himself. "A- a lovely home."

“Thanks.” You nodded at it, glancing out at the skies. the skies were clear, with grey swathes in the distance- perhaps the night. "You cane just in time." Your stooped and picked up a basket, resting it on your hip. "You can lay your jacket on the fence. I'll show you where to gather some sage." You tugged your hat onto your head and began walking, slowly, listening for him to catch up.

The good doctor was dressed far lighter today, relaxed. He strolled by you, reaching over to take the basket. "Allow me." Tech took it gently, hands soft as they moved past yours. He moved easily through the trees, the bushes, pausing to reach back for your hand. "Do you require assistance?"

Normally, you didn't, as this was a task you reveled in alone. But you took his hand and stepped, half unsteady with a trembling heart. The doctor's hands remained firm, supporting you. You stepped to him, perhaps too close, and you glanced up, inches spaced between you both. The doctor blinked for a moment, clearing his throat, warm hands moving from your and to the basket. "Thank you," You mumbled, striding a little ahead of him. A smile was still bright on your lips, heart thrashing violently in your ribs. "It's not far."

The day was warm, and you knelt by the patch you knew, the ground was speckled with the brilliantly golden light of the sun. Your hands worked over the sage, feeling for the elongated leaves.

Tech squatted down next to you, watching and mimicking your movements. "Have you been gathering a long time?"

"Yes." You smiled and began stacking the leaves into the basket. "My papa started this, I've been living here since I was a babe." You tore a sage leaf, inhaling the scent, smiling at the thoughts tied to it. A warm fire, a sweet lullaby, a bitter tea for illness that could patch up almost any ailment. "Life has been good to me." You sunk to your knees as gathered more, eyes catching that of Tech, who was watching you with enchantment.

"And to me," He said, gently, running a hand over the patch of sage. "I'm delighted I was able to come here, and run into the likes of-"

His eloquent speech was interrupted by a rumble. You glanced up, standing, reaching down. "Hurry," You grinned, eyes dancing. "It'll be hell when it rains."

His eyes locked on yours and an unspeakable expression was on his face as he stared up at you- admiration, you dared say, and it made the smart doctor very stupid for a moment. He grasped your hand, rising, the basket abandoned in the sage as he ran after you.

Sheets of rain began to fall, and your hand stayed secure in his. You jumped easily over a bramble, turning back to watch his blithe legs leap gracefully over same bush. You landed hard, falling back, crashing.

Your lungs burned for a moment. The rain was cool on your face as your hands flew up to your chest, and you gasped.

Your body rose, suddenly supported. "Steady, you had quite a fall," Tech said gently, walking with you in his arms now. "You seem alright. Let's get you inside."

___

You had changed into a more modest nightgown when you got inside, sitting on your bed as you hiked the skirt down. The good doctor was waiting patiently outside the door.

You sat down, quiet, watching Tech come in and lower a small medical bag. He smiled gently, sitting down, professional as a doctor could be. "You seem to be faring better." Tech smiled and opened the bag, moving through it with familiarity. "Just the wind knocked from you?"

"Yes, it's not a feeling I'm fond of." You chuckled, tugging your nightgown up to your ankles. "I got a little scraped up, sorry."

"No, it's quite fine." Tech produced a small vial, examining the minor wounds with wise eyes. He had removed his glasses because the rain had made the lenses hard to even dry off.

You watched his hands work, rubbing the balm in gentle circles over the scrapes. "You know," You said, sucking in a breath at the slight sting. "My mama used to kiss my scrapes better. Especially the bramble ones."

Chuckling with good humor, Tech glanced up. "Did it work?"

You nodded, leaning back on your hands. "Yes, it did." You hesitated, watching his fingers pause for a moment along your ankle. "But I think it was just... a mind trick."

"Well, the mind is powerful." Tech settled his hands down, closing the lid to the balm. "Sometimes, it-" he glanced back up at you, honeyed eyes sweet in the fireplace light. His fingers drew away, softly settling back against your ankle. He glanced down at his hands, then back up at you, cheeks warming, then at his hands again. "Sometimes it works."

Slowly, Tech drew your ankle up, inhaling quietly, pressing his lips gently to the scrapes. His eyes held yours, and he said, softer, "Better?"

You nodded, breath leaving you in a better way than before, and you held out your hand. "And this. I... hurt it."

His lips pressed in amusement as he scooted up on the bed. "How?"

"I just did." Your brows raised.

Tech smiled, gently taking your wrist and turning it over, examining, warm lips gently pressing to the pulse of it. Your fingers curled at the warmth, and you hummed, happy. "Anywhere else?"

Your free hand drew up, smoothing over your cheek. "Here," You mumbled, watching him slide closer to you on the bed, and he softly held your face. His hands were cool, soft, but you could feel the experience in every ridge. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in, lips you had noticed on your first meeting greeting your cheek. They stayed there, longer, drawing back after you turned his face, running your thumb over your lower lip.

Tech's thumb followed the motion, eyes tracing the movements of his fingers. "And what's wrong here?'

"Nothing," You breathed, the proximity intoxicating you. "Just... precautionary."

"Mm." Tech mumbled, eyes moving between your own and the lips. "Precautionary for... what exactly?" His words held amusement, the curve on his mouth supporting your theory.

"Everything," You rasped. "It worked everywhere else."

Tech sighed gingerly, tugging you in, fingers resting under your chin. His lips were warmer than his hands, sweet, and they tasted like peppermint and tea, everything good. Your hands rested against his arms, reveling in the sweetness of his lips, breaking away from his healing touch.

The thunder rumbled outside again. Tech paused, glancing at the window. "I should go back."

You shook your head, sitting up again, fingers finding themselves wrapping in his shirt. "Stay," The word was more pleading than you intended, though you wanted him to be here, his presence, just to... hold your soul in his. "Please? The cliffs are dangerous. I'll take you first thing in the morning."

Tech paused, nodding softly, laying back on the comforter. He tugged your head to his chest, kissing your hair chastely, sweetly, and when he exhaled you ran a hand over his ribs. You were halfway asleep when you heard Tech realize, "I left my coat outside."

You must have fallen asleep, and he must have had the mercy to not wake you, because the morning found you in the same place, on his chest, finger still in the cotton of the good doctor's shirt.

[tlcwrites]

By A Nose

Submission for Writer Wednesday 5/12

Summary: If you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Or, proof Poe Dameron is a terrible loser.

Word Count: 1528

Tags/Warnings: Poe Dameron x Reader, Modern AU. Implied smut but mostly in passing. Some bad words. Poorly edited because as usual I finished this at like 11 and my kids get up at 5 so I need to go to sleep.

Author’s Note: THREE FICS IN A WEEK WHO AM I?

Okay, so I cannot be the only one who saw the photo for this week's Writer Wednesday (thank you once more for hosting, @autumnleaves1991-blog!) and went the direction I did. If I am the only one, well, just further proof my brain is certifiable. Make sure you comment on when you figure out where this fic takes place.

There will also be an accompanying headcanon coming for this probably tomorrow, because there was SO much material I wanted to use but couldn't make fit. Thank you @paper-n-ashes for brainstorming with me and being the best hype-woman ever.

“AAAAHHHHH.”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“FINN!!” You smack him. “There are small children here!”

But he’s too busy screaming to pay attention.

On the other side of you, Kaydel looks decidedly green. She lets out a pained moan as your vehicle makes a particularly hard turn. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

You pat her knee as you fly through a kitchy town. “Hang in there, honey. It’s almost over.”

The village elder’s well wishes still ringing in your ears, you pull up next to another idling transport. From the driver’s seat, your boyfriend winks at you.

“You’re going down, Dameron!” you holler at him.

He makes the universal ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. “Eat my dust, losers!”

Finn yells back something that has you smacking him again, shooting an apologetic glance to the second row of Poe’s transport, where Snap and Karé are sitting with their daughter Nora. Snap’s hands fly to cover Nora’s ears while Karé laughs heartily.

Next to Poe, Rey holds her thumb and forefinger up to her forehead in an ‘L’ shape. “Second place is the first to lose!”

Before any more trash talking can occur, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye and then both vehicles take off, bursting out of the dark into blinding sunlight.

You both fly over the rusty terrain, neck and neck as you navigate under rocky overpasses and around hairpin turns. From the second row of your car, you can hear Maz lobbing profanities at Chewie in the other ride. He’s yelling back in his native tongue (which you still only understand half of). Beside Maz, Leia and Han are both laughing like kids.

A shriek of joy erupts from you as you fly over a series of hills, the momentary weightlessness thrilling. Finn has both hands in the air, while Kaydel grips the safety handle with white knuckles.

Finally, you come out of a turn to see a sharp drop. You look to Poe, who grins back at you, his vehicle slightly ahead of yours. Damnit, you HATE losing to him. He’s the worst winner.

At the last moment, your ride leaps ahead, crossing under the checkered banner by a nose. The passengers of your car cheer and high-five in victory, while Poe’s passengers groan in good-natured defeat.

As you roll through the red-lit cavern, you laugh as you catch sight of Poe’s face. He’s a terrible winner, but he’s an even worse loser. Even if his loss comes at the hands of an algorithm.

Anthropomorphic cars wave you off as both vehicles enter the unloading zone. On the other side of the platform, Chewie is lifting Rey out of the front seat as she pretends to collapse in agonized failure, her laughter completely destroying the illusion. You accept Finn’s hand as he helps you up, both of you turning to support Kaydel as she crawls out of the car.

A ride attendant watches her warily. “Does she need assistance?” he asks Han.

Han waves him off, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders as Maz and Chewie beeline for the ride photos. “She’ll be fine. No protein spills here.” At the cast member’s astonished look, the charming rogue gives his trademark grin. “Ain’t my first rodeo, kid.” As he and Leia stroll past you towards the exit, he catches your eye and winks. “That, and they haven’t changed the lingo since the 70’s.”

Laughing, you rub Kaydel’s back as Rey swaps places with Finn and helps bracket your green-tinged friend. “Let’s get you some water, yeah?”

Kaydel manages a slight nod, and the three of you make your way towards the exit.

Behind you, you can hear Poe and Finn bickering, as they’re wont to do.

“It’s a ride, dude,” Finn is saying, the exasperation clear in his tone.

“It’s physics, dude,” Poe shoots back. “There’s NO way the car on the outside of the turn would be able to finish first.”

Worst. Loser. Ever.

Your rag-tag alliance eventually makes it out of the exit tunnel. Ben’s waiting across the walkway, those ridiculously long arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the guard rail and steadily ignores whatever Armitage is ranting about.

On the bench next to them, Rose perks up, a smirk crossing her pretty face as she sees Poe’s expression. “Well, I don’t need to ask who won.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” the most-competitive-pilot-in-the-galaxy grumbles back, adjusting his backpack. You help Kaydel to a bench, where she quickly curls up.

Rey rolls her eyes as she forces her way into the circle of Ben’s arms. “It’s not like any of us could have actually controlled the outcome, you noodle.”

“Not without some kind of magic,” Ben intones dryly, resting his chin on his girlfriend’s head.

“How cool would that be, though?” Rey’s getting her Down-The-Wormhole-We-Go eyes. You and Rose exchange a Look™️ as she starts gesturing wildly with her hands. “Like, imagine if you could just look at something like rocks and, like, make them fly. Or make someone do whatever you wanted them to do. OH!” She looks up at Ben with a slightly manic expression. “Lightning bolts from your fingers!!”

Well-used to these kinds of rambles, Ben gently captures her hands and wraps her into a hug that doubles as a straight jacket. “No more SyFy channel before bed.”

Rose slides her arms around her husband as Finn joins her on the bench. “Did you behave?”

Nora, in all her 6-year-old innocence, giggles. “Mr Finn said a whole lot of swear-jar words.” She casts a critical eye on the young man. “You probably said enough you could buy an Elsa doll.” The ‘for me’ is unsaid, but implied.

Karé rapidly turns her laugh into a cough.

Finn glances down at his wife as Rose smacks him upside the head. “Hey! That tractor thing is terrifying. And Maz said WAY more than I did!”

“Age before beauty, Finnigan,” Maz says haughtily, waving off Finn’s ‘m'name’s not Finnigan, damn it’.

Giggling, you tune out the ridiculousness that is your found family and turn your attention to your still-sulking boy toy. “You know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist, “you make that face for long enough and it’ll stick that way.”

He huffs. “This is just how my face looks.”

“Uh huh.” Considering yourself quite the expert in his face, having spent countless hours studying every crease and line until you could have drawn him blindfolded, you call bullshit, but say nothing further.

“It is,” he insists.

“Okay,” you agree.

The King of Sarcasm narrows his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

You widen your eyes innocently. “What thing?”

“That thing where it sounds like you’re agreeing with me but you’re really telling me I’m a dumbass.”

“What?!” You bring your hand to your chest. “Moi?! I would never.”

He huffs again, but you can see the hint of a smirk starting to break though.

“C’mon, First Runner Up,” you tease. “No sulking in Disneyland. Let me buy you a drink at Trader Sam’s, and then we can sneak off to the Haunted Mansion and make out like teenagers in our Doom Buggy.”

He tilts his head, considering it.

“Or-“ You brush an inky curl off his forehead and stand on your toes until your lips are just about caressing his ear and whisper, “-we could get back in line right now and go again.”

Even before you’ve finished speaking, Poe’s grabbing your hand and hauling you back towards the entrance, tossing a “See you jerks later!” as he pulls you under the Radiator Springs Racers sign. Their laughter echos behind you as he leads the way through the mostly empty line (thank goodness for parade lulls).

As you wait in the queue, only a few dozen people stand between Poe and his (re)shot at victory. You see that competitive gleam in his eyes start to come alive again.

“Hey.” You tug on his tee shirt until he looks at you. “If our car doesn’t win, tonight I’ll do That Thing you love.”

“Babe.” The look he gives you is one of pure torture. “You are killing me here.” He really loves to win. But he really, really loves That Thing. “What about when we come in first?”

You shrug demurely. “Then you wear Those Pants™️ tomorrow.”

Hm. Poe’s always been quick to calculate his odds, and this is quickly turning into a win/win situation. If you lose, he gets That Thing. But Those Pants™️ turn you about feral, and when you’re in that kind of mood- let’s just say Poe still has the scars on his shoulders to prove it.

“Are those terms acceptable, Flight Commander Dameron?” You smile sweetly up at him.

His licentious grin says it all. “Hell yeah.”

For the record, your car does lose a second time. And the next morning, Poe hardly has Those Pants over his ass when you’re ripping them back down his legs and shoving him backwards onto the bed.

Oh, yeah, he thinks to himself. This is better than any dumb kid’s ride.

…doesn’t mean he’s not going to ride it as many times as it takes to win.

A/N: I almost titled this “Tell me you have children without saying you have children”. I am so fucking sick of ‘Lining McQueen’. Yay 4-year-olds.

Thank you for reading; likes and reblogs feed my soul.

[amintyworld]

You Just Need To Smile - Dream SMP TEA AU

A/N: Welcome to another oneshot for an AU from @dreamsmp-au-ideas - this time it’s their The Egg Administration AU. We’ve got Corrupted Tommy here folks! For better context, please check out the AU on their blog, it’s so good guys! Anyway, Hope you enjoy! - Minty

TW: Blood/gore, threats of death, major character near death, panic attack(?), cursing (tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Wilbur won’t give up on getting through to Tommy so easily.

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

As Wilbur crept deeper into the cave, his heart felt heavy. A single sword hung off his back, the air thick and heavy. Sweat dripped down his brow at the humidity as he entered the room he began to know so well - the air grew thicker with the spores. Wilbur moved quickly before he tripped over a particularly thick blood vine. The light was dim from the scattered torches as Wilbur’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he began to walk towards the Egg where he knew a certain person was standing guard. 

“So you’ve come into the lion’s den, huh?” Wilbur whipped around to notice Schlatt, hands behind his back with Punz and Quackity by his side, weapons drawn. “No armor to protect you, no potions or apples to regen, no pearls to escape…” His lips turned up into a smirk. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, Wilbur?”

“Shut up, Schlatt. I’m here to see Tommy.” Wilbur threw over his shoulder. Wilbur could hear Schlatt’s chilling laugh echo throughout the cave walls. He jumped down as he walked beside him, waving Punz and Quackity away with a flick of his hand. “Tommy, huh? This’ll be too good to miss.”

Wilbur knew, logically, that there was no way to tell if it could work - from what he’d heard, talking with him in this state did little to help, even angered him more. But that doesn’t mean Wilbur wasn’t willing to try. He’d try anything, do anything for him. Despite what Technoblade and Fundy insisted he wouldn’t give up on him when the kid stood by him and helped him during the darkest days of his entire life. Wilbur loved Tommy and cared for him so much, nothing, absolutely nothing could stand in the way between them that Wilbur wouldn’t conquer, wouldn’t cheat and bribe and fight his way through inch by inch.

Tommy, the kid whose laugh and smile could light up an entire room. Tommy, who stole the most random objects from everyone just because he could. Tommy, who was so loyal and always ready for a fight. Tommy, who loved his friends and family and most of all, L’manburg.

As Wilbur slowly approached closer to the Egg, he knew immediately that this wasn’t his Tommy. His eyes were angered, pained, the mischievous spark that would always land him in trouble completely gone. His hair was oddly neat and combed instead of his messy blonde mop, his green bandana that hung around his neck gone. The black gloves Wilbur gave him so long ago to stop the teen from building calluses with how tightly he gripped his sword disappeared. Even the scratches and scars that adorned his face were gone, the stories and funny memories and battles all lost with an instant health potion. A dark cloak with crimson red stitches around the edges, a white T-Shirt with jeans tainted red. Tommy’s eyes glowed a deep crimson red that sent silent threats over toward Wilbur as he slowly moved closer.

The one thing that was so wrong about Tommy that bothered Wilbur the most - his mouth always set in a thin line. Wilbur can’t remember the last time he saw Tommy smile since he was taken. Wilbur missed seeing Tommy smile and laugh and throw curse words back and forth while he tried to act so much older and puff his chest out with overconfidence. Tommy’s voice was slightly angered. “Don’t take another step.”

“Tommy, it’s me. It’s Wilbur. Your brother.”

“I don’t have a brother,” Tommy said, sword still up and ready for battle.

“I’m your family.”

“Manburg is my family now.” Tommy insisted, pointing his sword threateningly at Wilbur. “And you’re nothing more than a traitor.”

“No, Tommy, please-” Wilbur said, holding up his hands in a sort of surrender as he stepped closer, only for Tommy to charge and quickly strike his side. Wilbur’s breath hitched in pain as he doubled over, catching himself before he fell. “I won’t fight you.”

“Then you’re weak.” Tommy spat like venom. Tommy quickly moved toward the side for another strike, and Wilbur’s pain whimpers echoed throughout the cavern. “A ruler who’s too much of a pussy to strike a blow against the enemy. Someone who always cared more about the country than the people in it.” He growled, and Wilbur’s heart sank.

“I get it, Tommy. You’re mad.” Wilbur said through pained breaths. “I made some really stupid mistakes, I know I fucked up.” A few tears trickled down Wilbur’s cheeks. “I messed up and you didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. But I love you so much, Tommy, I love you too much to leave you, not like this.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment at Wilbur’s words, the red in his eyes fading for a second before they became darker. “I’ll kill you…” Tears of emotion spilled down Tommy’s cheeks. “I’ll fucking kill you!” He leaped toward Wilbur as Wilbur just closed his eyes, bracing for impact. But it never came. He opened his eyes to find Ranboo and Tubbo pinning Tommy’s arms to the ground as he kicked and struggled, eyes filled with rage as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Let go of me, let me kill him! He deserves to die!”

Fundy was at Wilbur’s side, letting Wilbur lean on him for support. “Dad, we need to get out of here. Come on.”

Wilbur’s body struggled to stand, his legs getting weaker. He looked over to Tommy, yelling, almost screaming with tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight utterly broke Wilbur’s heart. Right at that moment, Wilbur knew what Tommy needed more than anything. “No. Guys, let him go.”

“Wilbur, no. Are you crazy?!” Tubbo shouted, panicked.

“Please, Tubbo.”

Fundy looked over at him in concern, and Wilbur rubbed his thumb over his son’s paw in a bit of comfort. “He just needs to smile.” He said, moving slowly, pushing through the pain to move toward Tommy. Tubbo and Ranboo eventually lost their grip as Tommy picked up his abandoned sword, rushing towards Wilbur, tears in his eyes. “I hate you!” He yelled, his sword spearing through Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur wrapped his arms around Tommy, pulling him into a hug that Tommy quickly tried to get away from, struggling against Wilbur’s grip. “I hate you, I hate you, I…” Tommy couldn’t seem to find the words anymore as he sobbed. Wilbur just pulled him closer, ignoring the pain.

“You… you just need to smile.” Wilbur managed, his hands finding themselves in Tommy’s hair as Wilbur clung to him and held him closely. Tommy’s sword dropped to the floor with a clang as Wilbur rubbed his back in comfort. “It’s okay, Tommy. It’s okay, shhh…”

For a few moments, all that could be heard was sobbing and Wilbur’s loving reassurances. Then, Wilbur heard Tommy’s voice, raw and hurt and scared, oh so scared. “W-Wilbur…?”

“Tommy...” Wilbur said in relief, his eyes welling up with tears. He felt his body go limp as his adrenaline wore off, his world fading to black as he fell backward, Tommy struggling to catch Wilbur as he fell to the floor. A pool of blood was beginning to form as Tommy looked down to notice the multiple deep stab wounds and cuts littering Wilbur’s chest, wounds he made, hurt he caused.

Tommy looked down at the scene, at what he’d done, and screamed Wilbur’s name, dropping to his knees, his body shaking, tears running down his cheeks. Shit... shit shit shit, what have I done?! Fundy quickly moved to his side, shouting orders as Ranboo searched his inventory for potions and Tubbo ripped off bits of his coat to make some makeshift bandages. He looked so pale, he wasn’t moving. No, nononononono NO-!

Suddenly, a glitched voice cut through his thoughts as he backed up, beginning to panic until his back hit the Egg, and a familiar static began to fill his head that sent chills down his spine.

Look at what you did, Tommy. Don’t you want to go back to sleep?

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love 21

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi 

Chapter Summary: You flee the Obsidian Palace and Yoongi realizes what he’s done

 Previous chapter here

Yoongi stood there, his hands shaking and his chest heaving. He walked over to his desk and sobbed, cries racking his body.  What the hell was he doing?

He looked over to the fireplace; a pile of blankets lay still as if waiting for you to walk back in and sit. He shuddered. I love you playing over and over in his head. He didn’t deserve love. He especially didn’t deserve it now. Yes. You should return to the mortal realm. When Hoseok came to the party, ,you should return with him. Yoongi would do whatever it took to bargain with Namjoon and get you out of the contract. It would be better that way. 

Yoongi sat down in his office chair, mentally drained. This too shall pass. He told himself trying to calm down. I love you I love you. Dammit. He tried to concentrate on his defense strategies to review with Hephaestus tomorrow. He ran his hands through his hair. He saw a piece of paper on the corner of his desk and turned it over.

My Dear Hoseok,

I will not be returning to the Mortal Realm for a while. I am enjoying my time here in the Underworld. It was surprising at first, but Lord Yoongi actually appreciates me and values my time and companionship. I will do my best to return in the Spring to help usher in the new Season, but as you have said many times before “you don’t need me” since I’m “Just the flower Goddess.” Take care of yourself and don’t worry about me.

Love always,

Persephone 

Yoongi rubbed his face. What had he done? It was for the best. The Underworld wasn’t safe. There was something potentially getting ready to attack the palace. He had to attend reapings two to three times a day. He was a terrible companion. And yet. You had known that and still said you loved him. Fuck. He heard a knock on the door.

“Go away.” He shouted. 

“Sir, I think you would want to hear about this.”

Yoongi sighed heavily, recognizing Lethe’s voice. He looked across the office, towards the door and remembered the shards of glass. He let the fact he was an asshole wash over him once more. He stood up and walked over to the door, carefully cracking it open.

“Yes?” He asked. 

Lethe struggled to catch her breath, "Sir, the servant who went to feed Holly says one of the rowboats is gone. Another servant says they saw Lady Persephone leaving the Great Hall. I’ve checked the castle and can’t find her anywhere,” the concern was evident in her voice. 

Shit shit shit shit. Yoongi hadn’t even considered that you would actually try to leave. Shit shit. Before he could respond to Lethe he found himself running down the stairs, running through the great hall, and running across the bridge.

Oh Gods you were out there wandering the desert or the sea or somewhere. The Underworld wasn’t safe at all outside of the Palace and he had no idea what was happening to the North.  He cursed himself for overreacting. If something happened, he would never forgive himself. He looked around for footprints, but the sand dunes changed so quickly he couldn't see anything. He jogged down into the cavern and over to the docks and that’s when he saw a rope dangling into the water. No. He took the other boat, quickly rowing up to the gate. “Holly. Open the gate boy.”

To his shock, Holly did not respond to him.

“Holly, I mean it. Open up this gate.” Holly poked one of his heads around into the cave and growled at Yoongi. “Hey what the…”’ it dawned on him, “You’re mad about Persephone aren't you?” One of Holly’s other heads let out a whining sound.  “I’m trying to go and get her Holly. I need you to open the gate.” Holly didn’t seem to forgive him yet, but he begrudgingly walked over and picked up the chain to open the door.

Yoongi started rowing as though your life depended on it, because it very much did.

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

This was such a stupid idea, you thought. While the Stygian sea had seemed tame, you quickly found out that it was not. As soon as you left the harbor, the winds picked up, rapidly pushing you East. There was very little you could do other than duck down into the boat as the wind became increasingly cold.  This was it. You thought. You were going to freeze to death in the Cocytus Sea. You had read about this in the Compendium. You laid there, on the bottom the wooden boat to get out of the wind. You felt the boat rock back and forth with increasing fervor. 

What had you done to deserve this? Why were you ever deemed property? Why had Namjoon decided to mess with everyone? Why did the Olympic Gods suck? You found yourself thinking about Yoongi. He had been so angry. He threw you away even after you told him you loved him. You could feel the sadness of the sea washing over you and into you. You heard the eerie wailing of souls and you knew better than to peer over the side of the boat. Cocytus was a punishment. The legendary dragon, Lucifer, was said to keep the sea icy with the beating of his wings; constantly beating back any souls that would attempt to cross into the other realms of the underworld. At this very moment, as your tears began to freeze against your face, you wondered if Lucifer was real. Oh well. Did it matter? What was the point of existing in a world where you were just property being transferred back and forth. 

You willed your eyes to stay open; afraid if you closed them for too long you might not wake up. Where did Gods go when they died? Elysium? You laughed, a dry sad sound. Can you imagine the look on Yoongi’s face if you were in one of Charon’s ferries? Would he care then. 

The absolute dread overtook you. You sat up, looking out into the sea. The grey bodies beneath the surface called out to you. Their hands pressed against the sides of the boat. It would be so easy to just slip in. Slip into nothingness.

No. A small part of you yelled. No. You pulled back, rubbing the ice crystals off your eyes. You heard a faint roaring sound in your ears. It wasn’t loud, but it was strong enough to cover the wailing of the souls. What was that? The boat continued to move and you found yourself getting warmer. The ice around the boat began to thaw. You felt better. Less like dying. You were still sad about Yoongi, but at least the existential dread had passed. Unfortunately, as you looked further towards the East, you saw why. Next up in the shitty surprises of the Underworld was the Inferno. 

---------

Yoongi headed East, pushing himself along with his magic and hoping to somehow catch up with you. Fuck. Fuck. It was cold here. He smacked at the hands of the souls who were trying to reach up into the boat. He had never thought the dead creepy, but after visiting Cocytus, he was starting to have second thoughts. These people deserved to be here. He smacked another one. “Save us.. Save us Oh Lord. Please.” He heard the pleading. 

“Do your penance. I’m not here for you.” He yelled angrily into the water. The wailing continued, growing louder and louder, each cry hitting him in waves until finally he had had “ENOUGH!” He stood up and roared across the sea. It was as though his words themselves sent a shockwave that passed over the water. The icy fog lifted and the wailing stopped. Yoongi heard a hissing sound behind him and he turned.

“Lucifer. We meet again.” NEXT CHAPTER

@sugas-bbygirl​  twilight-loveer ​

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’: Separation

Word count: 1.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Mentions of multiple deaths, feels, fluff

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: This timestamp takes place before the first chapter of the series. I wrote it for myself, because it’s a snapshot of their lives that demanded to be fleshed out. 

The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014.

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

29th August 2014

Sam simply had to look away. He couldn’t bear to see the pictures Stacey had put in front of him.

“Why’re we doing a homicide, again?” Chase asked, face screwed up. He didn’t want to see the horrifying images either.

Stacey pursed her lips. “Sam had told me he’d like to be informed if something similar to… you know... if something like this ever pops up.”

Sam had told her that. She was only doing what she’d been asked.

“So, what’s the deal?” Sam motioned with a tilt of his head towards the photos on his desk.

“Victor Parker, 37 and Alicia Parker, 32, were found murdered at their San Jose home yesterday. They are survived by a 5 year old boy John.”

“What happened?” Chase’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Burglary gone wrong, or so the cops are saying. The resemblance of the crime scene was all too uncanny. I had to tell you.”

Stacey wasn’t wrong. The way the bodies were splayed- just like Simmons.

“Where’s the boy?” Sam’s fingers scratched against the etching on his pen. A nervous tick he had developed over the years when he started feeling the panic.

“In the hospital, fighting for his life. The assholes shot everyone. Little John got it twice. The surgeons removed the bullets, but there’s been a lot of internal bleeding.”

Sam flinched, closing his eyes.

Chase got up from the chair. “What’re we going to do about this? We’re lawyers not law enforcement or miracle workers.” He turned to the girl before him. “Stace, darling, c’mon. There’s nothing we can do for the poor boy. We work private law jobs and this is the DA’s territory.”

Stacey pushed her hair behind her ear, distressed. “Sam, you okay?”

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, fingers sweaty against the obsidian in his hand.

She looked like something had just occurred to her. “Wait… Wasn’t your dad’s name John? Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry if I brought something up.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. It’s not that.”

It wasn’t. His parent’s death had been a grave tragedy, but it affected Dean a hell lot more than it had ever affected Sam. He had always been sheltered, protected and loved by a brother who was his entire family. 

Sam let out a long breath. “Call the PD and check with them which hospital they’ve put John in, will you?”

“On it!” 

He watched Stacey hurry out of his office.

Chase gave him an apprehensive glance then walked out of the cabin, too. He wasn’t wrong about what he’d said earlier. There was nothing Sam could do. Max’s case was a one off. Ralph Simmons had been a client to Johnson’s before, so Max was by default on the firm’s radar. These murders were only a news report. Even though Sam couldn’t be legal help, he could always be monetary help. It’s why he’d asked Stacey to keep a look out. If there was anything Sam could do for little John, he would.

The glass door opened, and his secretary stepped in.

“Stace?” 

Her lower lip quivered before she put her face in her hands. “Just heard from the Hospital. He passed, Sam. That little boy didn’t make it.” 

******

“Mr. Winchester, can I offer you something? A glass of water, perhaps?” The principal asked him, casting a side eye at the other teacher.

“No, thank you,” Sam whispered. “I just want to see my son.”

“I have to tell you, this is very irregular. We usually don’t pull out kids from their classes. Is something wrong?”

He closed his eyes and said the words with deliberation. “Nothing is wrong. I’d just like to take my son home early. Will that be a problem?”

The principal gestured to the teacher, who Sam now realised was Max’s class in-charge. She shrugged. “Sure. There’s just an hour of school left for the year. You can take him home.”

When Max shuffled into view outside, through the office’s blinders, he looked small and confused, brown eyes flitting nervously. It was all Sam could do not to fall on his knees and hug him to his chest. 

Max’s eyes went round with worry as he read Sam’s. Kid just always knew.

With shaking legs, Sam made his way out and clutched Max’s shoulder. He would have picked his boy up, but the fear of collapsing kept him from doing that. 

“Come,” he said quietly, placing a hand against Max’s back.

Max followed without a question, climbing in the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove the rest of the way doing his best not to break down. His eyes kept tearing up and he rolled them up each time to stop the threatening tears from spilling.

Once home, he discarded his coat and sat Max down on the sofa. The packed suitcase, along with Max’s backpack stood right next to it. 

“Stay here, let me fix you something to eat, okay?” 

Sam’s kitchen was open, he could see Max from where he was standing in front of the stove. The eggs broke unevenly and the whisk shook in his hands. Next time that Sam’s eyes flitted to the sofa, it was empty.

“Max? Max!” He yelled.

“Right here!” Max was sitting on the kitchen island right behind, feet tucked under him.

“I told you to stay right there on the sofa!”

Max dropped his shoulders. “You’re spooking me out, you know?”

Sam was taken aback.

“Look,” Max sighed. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go, okay? It’s not that big a deal.”

Closing his eyes, Sam leaned back against the counter next to Max. “It’s not that. I… Well, I had a rough day at work.”

“What happened?”

He wasn’t sure how to put it to Max, but he sure as hell couldn’t lie to him.

“You don’t want to tell me,” Max huffed. 

“Something very sad happened today,” Sam breathed. “And I just… I couldn’t take it-” his voice broke. “I couldn’t breathe another minute without seeing you, knowing you were okay.”

Max was silent for a moment, then he spoke through pressed lips. “You look funny. Bad funny. You wanna sit down?”

Sam gulped once and pulled himself on top of the counter next to Max. 

His house wasn’t big, but it sure felt cavernous when Max went over to Jody’s for the night sometimes. One whole month. How was he supposed to live?

“Your hands are shaking,” Max said in his sweet, ringing voice. “Sam, you’re scaring me.”

First rule of parenting, don’t let your kid see you fall apart, Dean’s words came back to Sam.

He ran his hand over his face- it must’ve been white- not knowing what to say to Max.

“I’m not going to the camp,” Max announced.

“No. You should go. Your aunt Jo would butcher me with one of her fancy knives if you don’t show up now. I’ll be fine.”

The boy next to him didn’t look convinced. Max saw right through him with those sharp eyes. “You’re bluffing. And I thought you were the best lawyer in the world.”

“All kids think their parents are infallible.”

Max snorted. Sam turned to look at him.

“You’re infallible, alright, but you’re also stupid!”

“What?”

Little brown fingers grabbed Sam’s hand, stealing eyes. “It’s just a camp.”

“But you want to go, right?”

Max didn’t say anything. Sam knew he’d been dying to go to that mechanics camp his uncle Dean had suggested. It would mean cars, tools and dinners with his aunt and uncle on the weekends. Dean and Jo were looking forward to this, too. They had their own kid on the way and Jo loved Max. Much like Sam, it was second nature to her to keep looking at the roads and door and be disappointed each time when the person she was hoping to see never showed. Sam couldn’t disappoint her.

“I’ve never been away from you for more than a day since you moved in with me. I wouldn’t know what to do with my days.” Or life for that matter.

Max smirked. “Uncle Chase keeps asking you to have fun. So have fun.”

Chase’s definition of fun was very different from Max’s. Sam wasn’t interested.

“You call me everyday, you hear me?” Sam said through a thick throat. “You miss a day and I’ll haul your ass back all the way from Kansas. I won’t care if the camp counsellor says no. I can throw hands.”

Max gave him a very slow once over then snickered. “No one’s dumb enough to fight you.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself. He threw his hands around the little boy, engulfing him completely. “I’m going to miss you so damn much, son.”

“Can’t. Breathe.” Came the muffled words. Sam eased the grip.

“I’ll miss you, too, Dadda.”

Thirty-one days. Sam could do it. Monday was the orientation lecture for the new class of Stanford Law. A fresh batch. Sam was supposed to teach Civil Procedure. That would keep him plenty busy. Submissions, hypos, presentations. He could take over extra cases at work, make more trips to LA to check on the boys home. The month would be in and out and before he knew it, his kid, the light of his days, would be back to bouncing on his couch and reading on the kitchen counter.

Max yawned against Sam’s stomach.

Yeah he could survive. After all, what could possibly happen in thirty-one days.

********

[rhetoricalrogue]

Fiction Type: Fanfiction Fandom: Dragon Age Prompt: "You have no proof"

Continuing @fictober-event with the AU of the AU of the AU @alittlestarling and I are up to our eyebrows in, this time focusing on my son Vincent.

Running and fighting. Fighting and running. Catch a few fitful hours of unrestful sleep, then repeat. It seemed that was all Vincent had been doing these past few months. First, there was the running and fighting that had been expected of him when he had been conscripted into Empress Celene’s army, then the running when a templar on their side had turned on their unit – Vincent was still healing from the many arrow wounds he’d received when the smite had hit him from behind, the barrier he had put up to protect the solders on their side crashing down at the worst possible moment – and then running from where he had dragged himself, almost near death, to heal and recover back to his side of the army out of fear that they would think he had abandoned his post and hunt him down to drag him back or worse, give him the Brand and use him as an example of battlemages who thought they could take advantage of chaos on the battlefield to make a run from the Circle.

There had been a brief respite from the fighting as he traveled back east, the days of interrogation he’d undergone to prove that he spoke the truth about what had happened that day finally paying off. Vincent knew that his noble birth was one of the main reasons he had been allowed to return to Ostwick, injured in the line of duty – if conscription into a war not of his making nor even in his homeland could ever be called duty – and he wasn’t going to argue with his commanding officers once they signed the paperwork for his release back to the Circle. He’d set a hard pace from the Exalted Plains to Jader, worry that word of his untimely death – once they couldn’t find a body, the army had been quick to declare him killed in action – had already reached those he cared for.

Maker, if Roz ever thought he was dead, it would gut him to think of putting her through unnecessary grief and agony, no matter how brief.

Travel back home was on a decent pace, then he heard word of a contingent of mages traveling to Haven, which was decidedly closer than boarding a ship to sail from Jader back home. Vincent’s mind was made up when he heard that there were mages from Ostwick in the company and joining up with them was far more preferable than sailing across the Waking Sea.

Vincent and boats went together just as well as oil and water.

And then the unthinkable happened. He hadn’t even been anywhere close to Haven when word got out of the explosion, rumors quick to jump to the conclusion that mages had been at the root of the calamity and had taken a page out of the apostate from Kirkwall a year or so ago and blown up the Divine to enact change. Vincent was fortunate that his physical build wasn’t what one stereotypically thought of when they pictured a mage, and he used that to his advantage to flee. Templars were suddenly everywhere, killing on sight. Whatever brief rest he had from running and fighting was well over, and Vincent found himself hiding among pockets of mages similarly running for their lives in the wilds of Ferelden. He lost count of the days, catching sleep when he could and helping as many mages as possible while looking out for himself. It was selfish and he would feel guilty later but running, even if running meant leaving people behind, was the only way that he would possibly ever make it back home again.

Back home, and back to Rosalind. The image of her was seared into his mind and it was one bright thing he had to cling to. He would be damned if he had survived everything that had been thrown at him so far only to succumb to a templar’s blade before he could see her in person again.

Who knew how many days later, Vincent found himself close to Redcliffe. There were rumors that the village was a safe haven for mages everywhere and it was the closest thing to hope that he’d felt since leaving Orlais. He didn’t know how much further it was, but there were abandoned crofter’s cottages dotting the landscape that he dared to take shelter in. He couldn’t risk lighting fires in the hearth, but fitfully sleeping with a roof over his head instead of out in the open was a welcome relief.

And then the demons came. The most direct route to Redcliffe was cut off and Vincent found himself running from shrieking monsters that he had only encountered during his Harrowing. The only positive was that the demons didn’t discriminate between mage, templar, or regular civilian, so if he were really looking to put a positive spin on an otherwise absolute shitshow, he told himself that there were fewer templars trying to kill him in the area.

He came across a group of mages one evening and they readily welcomed him into the shelter of the woods they had named the Witchwood. He listened halfheartedly at their more radical ideas, silently resolving to abandon them for the preferred safety of the nearby crossroads once daylight broke, when he heard someone call him by name.

“Enchanter Trevelyan?”

The light was dim in the cavern, but he didn’t need it to recognize one of his favorite pupils. “Noemi?” He made to get up from where he had sat on the floor but didn’t even make it to his knees before the fourteen-year-old girl flung herself in his direction. He muffled a pained grunt as her arms wrapped just a little too tightly around his shoulder, the last of his injuries having to heal on their own as he used whatever magic reserves he had to fight off daily attacks instead of tending to himself. “How are you here?”

“How are you here? They told us you were dead!” Vincent froze. Oh no.

“Noemi, who else is here with you? Did you come with the people going to the Conclave?”

She wiped at her face, her tears making clean tracks on dirty cheeks. “No. I ran when the Circle fell.”

His eyes widened. “What?” Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders in his hands and focused on her. “Tell me everything. Where’s Roz? Is she here?” Maker, please, he begged, his pulse roaring in his ears. I’ve never been a devout man, but please, let her be safe.

“We were heading to dinner after lessons when she took me and a few of the little ones aside and told us to head to the greenhouses for a special project. She said that she would be there as soon as she could, but there was something that she had to do first. Then all at once, there was a lot of yelling and fire and…” she swallowed. “The last I saw of her was when she was running to the greenhouses. She told me to take the little ones and run.”

He couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean, the last you saw of her?”

“Ser Barnabas grabbed her by the hair and hit her with a smite.” Noemi’s lips trembled. “She screamed for me to run, so I ran. I ran and I ran and I haven’t stopped running.”

No. No, he refused to believe she was dead. “Did you see her fall?”

“No, but…” She scrubbed at her face. “We were all scared of Ser Barnabas, you know that. You know how much he liked to threaten hitting us. I didn’t see it, but Vincent, I think she’s dead.”

Vincent shook his head and sat back against the cavern wall. There was something building in his chest, a wail that wanted to break free and rip past his throat. “You have no proof though,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm as to not scare her. “You thought I was dead, but here I am. Roz is strong, and she’s clever. She had to have made it out of there alive. We have to hold onto the hope that she made it and she’s somewhere out in the world, just like we are.”

He took one look at Noemi and knew that she didn’t believe him, yet she nodded. “Okay.”

“We’re leaving here tomorrow morning. There’s a town, Redcliffe. Have you heard of it?”

Noemi shrank back from him. “No, you can’t make me go back there!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was there. I took as many of the little ones as I could find after we scattered and we got on a boat. The older instructors said that Redcliffe was safe, but something in that town feels wrong. I made sure that the little ones were looked after, but then I snuck out in the middle of the night to find somewhere safer. I thought that I could go back, take the children with me to wherever I found, but…” she spread her hands as if to silently express the chaos around them. “They’re safer where they’re at for now, but I don’t want to go back. Please, don’t make me go back.”

Vincent winced as she huddled at his side, her entire body shaking. “Okay. Okay, we won’t go there, I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her, his mind whirring, desperately trying to focus on Noemi instead of the great yawning grief that threatened to swallow him whole. “Have you heard of the Crossroads? I don’t think it’s very far from here, we can make our way to that in the morning, okay?”

She nodded. “And look for Roz?”

Vincent squeezed his eyes tightly. There was no way that she was dead; she was such a fixture in his life, a lifeline even in the most peaceful of times. He loved her so completely that he was certain that he would have felt something, some sort of connection that tied his heart to hers sever, should she be truly gone.

He ran his hand soothingly over his former pupil’s back while trying to speak over the lump of unshed tears that had built in his throat. “Yes. And just you wait. We’ll find her.”

Maker, how he almost believed that.

[koiotic]

AU where Zuko has 30% less impulse control and 1% better decision making

This fic idea has been bouncing around in my head for weeks, but I want to get more done on my other fics first. Anyway, here’s a snippet.

Zuko makes a different decision in the Crystal Catacombs-

•••

“I need you, Zuko. The only way we win is together.”

Azula smiled her sharp smile, but - was he seeing things, or did it look softer than usual? Was there something like desperation in the back of her gaze?

A cold, twisting feeling shot through him. He was seven again and running through the palace corridors, clutching her hand and helping her steal mochi from the kitchens; he was six and watching her bend her first flames in awe; he was five and hugging her tight as they hid in one of the empty rooms because dad was angry and they knew better than to cross his path.

“You are free to choose,” she said, suddenly cold and even all over again, like nothing had happened.

Uncle was saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything apart from the blood rushing through his veins. She said she needed him. It might be a lie, but she’d needed him before and he’d left her. Not by choice, but he’d left her. This time, he had the freedom to choose.

He made a decision, and prayed to the spirits it was the right one. Her words ricocheted around his head - honour, father’s love, everything you wanted. And that look on her face, the closest to vulnerable he’d seen since she was four and curled up under the bed with him because mother and father were yelling in the next room.

He was running without thinking, almost stumbling into the cavern behind her. The waterbender - Katara - looked up with something like hope shining in her eyes, the Avatar looking dubious but not instantly attacking. And that harsh glee was back on his little sister’s face, making her look so like father it stung. But she said she needed him. She needed him.

He sent a silent apology in his head to whatever spirits were listening, and struck.

Azula dropped like a stone.

~~~~~~

Katara didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Azula hadn’t either, apparently, eyes going almost comically wide as Zuko moved, hitting her in the back with a precise strike. She crumpled, Zuko catching her moments before she hit the floor.

“Wh- what?” Her voice cracked, laced with pure surprise.

Zuko looked just as surprised as everyone else, which was not very reassuring. “Sorry-“

And then, more to himself, “fuck”.

“Did-“ Aang gaped, “did you just chi-block her?”

“Apparently,” Zuko said, still looking shocked.

“When did you learn to chi-block?” Aang asked, half impressed and half nervous.

“About fifteen seconds ago,” Zuko admitted, sounding a little strained.

“So- you- you just did that and hoped it worked?”

“That’s... basically how I do everything.”

Katara was starting to wonder if they had seriously overestimated Zuko’s threat level. A laugh bubbled up in her throat.

“That was the most anticlimactic fight I’ve ever been in.”

And then one of the walls exploded, sending dust and rubble flying. Katara pulled up the water into an ice wall, then dropped it when she recognised familiar shapes careening through the dust cloud.

“Sokka! Toph!”

“Katara! We have to stop Azula, she-“ he stopped short and blinked, “... is unconscious?”

“I’m not unconscious, peasant,” the princess snapped, “why don’t you come here and we’ll see what I can do?”

A tongue of blue flame leaped up past her lips.

“Wow. Okay, cool,” then- “wait, Zuko?”

“Uh, hi?”

“Can someone please tell me what’s happening?” Toph burst out, throwing her arms up, “because I came here ready to beat up some Dai Li and that’s not happening for some reason!”

“Oh, Zuko chi-blocked Azula,” Aang said brightly, previous awkwardness forgotten.

“Does this mean you’re good now?” Sokka asked dubiously, fixing Zuko with a hard look.

“I... I guess?”

“Awesome!” Aang cried, and Zuko frowned, “does that mean you-“

The walls started shaking again, rocks clattering to the ground. Katara’s stomach dropped as rows and rows of Dai Li approached.

“Now that’s more like it,” Toph muttered, a tiny smirk crossing her face, “fighting now, talking later.”

“The only ‘later’ you’ll get,” Azula intoned, the air around her crackling dangerously, “is in a cell before your executions.”

“Charming,” Sokka muttered, letting his boomerang fly at the first line of earthbenders.

Then the Dai Li struck, the room exploding into cracks and rumbles. Zuko threw up a wall of fire, driving back the agents rushing towards Azula. She jerked forward, clearly trying to get up and start throwing around some fire.

Azula writhed as much as she could, then started screaming insults and curses as she whipped her head about, dark hair flying around her face.

Katara pulled up more water from the streams running through the cave, moving into bending stances that felt as familiar as breathing. Beside her, she saw Aang clutch his staff and Toph slide into a solid stance, waiting to strike.

The Dai Li moved first, striking in perfect synchrony. Their rock gloves shot forward, almost whistling through the air. And fast - Katara barely had time to freeze a shield before it was shattered on impact. Some air blasts from Aang threw more off course, but she caught the flicker of worry before he shifted into earthbending posture next to Toph.

Fighting fire with fire, so to speak.

Zuko, fighting earth with fire, didn’t seem to be having much better luck driving them back, but he was certainly holding his own.

A look of fierce focus had appeared on Toph’s face, and between her own attacks and blocks, Katara saw her precise and almost deadly looking movements. She was certain that if the Dai Li hadn’t been earthbenders capable of weakening her blows, they wouldn’t be getting back up.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, but soon a cold dread was settling in her stomach. Spirits knew how many Dai Li there were, and they weren’t stopping. She had lost her breath at some point and was struggling to get it back, feeling heavy exhaustion set into her limbs.

Beside her, she saw Aang stumble. A second later, so did she.

Two more figures appeared in Katara’s peripheral vision, and she cursed under her breath. Azula’s friends, the acrobat and knife thrower, weaving through the crowd of agents.

The princess saw them at the same time as she did, crying out “Mai! Ty Lee!”

Katara ducked under another flurry of projectiles and sent a wave back with all her strength, but the two girls were undeterred, the acrobat jumping over the water using the heads of flailing Dai Li as stepping stones.

“Zuko!” The knife thrower barked, “what are you doing?”

He faltered for a moment, locking eyes with her - but the girl was completely unreadable.

“Treason.”

The other girl - the actual, trained, chi-blocker, Katara remembered with a jolt - sprang forward before she could drive her back with a water whip. She flipped, landing on her hands in front of Zuko and Azula, jumping to her feet with that seemingly ever-present grin. The firebender moved into a familiar, aggressive stance, but seemed hesitant to strike.

“Treason? Without us?”

And then she was leaping back into the fray, striking with lightning quick movements almost too fast for Katara to catalog. The earthbenders finally broke rank, scattering in futile attempts to dodge or fight back.

Katara thought she saw a tiny smile on her otherwise emotionless companion before her arms flew out almost as fast, and another group of agents were thrown back, pinned to the ground and walls by glinting blades. The Dai Li were dropping like flies, piling up on the floor almost comically fast.

And then there were dozens of unconscious or immobile earthbenders at their feet, and Azula hissing and spitting flame in incensed horror.

“Well,” the knife thrower said, turning to Zuko, “what are we doing now?”

Zuko was frozen, looking utterly stunned, and Katara couldn’t blame him.

“Mai, you- you-“

“Well, I couldn’t let you commit treason without me,” she deadpanned, “I can’t let you have all the fun. And we need to get going. What are we doing with Azula?”

“How about we leave Crazy Blue and get out of here?” Sokka cut in, still looking suspicious but more preoccupied with not getting impaled on a rock, “Appa should be outside, Aang, do you have the bison whistle?”

The acrobat, Ty Lee, appeared at Mai’s side and latched onto her arm like a pentapus. “How are we getting out? We could try sneaking out, but Azula’s might give us away-“

“You’re damn right I will,” Azula practically growled, “I didn’t think even you would be stupid enough to double cross me!”

“Wait-“ Katara cut in, “you’re not coming with us?”

The three stared at her blankly.

“Coming with you?” Zuko looked perplexed.

“You- you turned on Azula and helped Aang. I thought you were on our side.”

Was she going crazy?

“Well,” Mai shrugged, “it’d be a nice change of scenery.”

Zuko exchanged an unreadable look with Mai and Ty Lee and shrugged somewhat helplessly. “I was planning on taking Azula somewhere safe in the Earth Kingdom, but...”

“We would love to!” Ty Lee exclaimed, looking so excited and bubbly Katara could almost forget that she was a force to be reckoned with in battle.

“Alright,” Mai shrugged, then glanced at Azula, “anyone got any rope?”