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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Yes my lady. - CASSIAN X READER - CASSIAN TAKES READER TO SEE SOMETHING INCREDIBLE IN PRYTHIAN - smut at the end

Cassian’s laugh warmed your cheeks as you stood before him in the hall. The heavy winter clothes you wore pooled around your wrists and ankles. “You’re the one who told me to dress appropriately.” You reminded him, stalking to the kitchen with a bag in hand.

“I didnt think you were going to be dressed for winter court cold!” He followed you, his long limbs taking half the amount of steps it took you to get to the pantry. His extra coat fit him tightly, curving perfectly around his biceps. His hair was put up tighter as well to brave the longer flight with you.

“Do you need anything else? You havent really given me a great idea for what to expect here so…” You trailed off, showing him the packed bag of food and wine. His eyes darkened devilishly before saying “Maybe another bottle of wine… to keep you warm.” He winked.

The sun was dimming faster than you expected as you flew away from the Illyrian camp that Mor had winnowed you and Cassian to. She had given you a mischievous grin before she departed without a word.

“Please dont say that you’re bringing me up here to train more.” You groaned, peering around his shoulder to eye the quickly disappearing camp far below you.

“I told you already, this is me being nice.” His grip on you tightened with the words, and you felt your stomach flip slightly. His eyes were a golden honey brown in the waning sunlight. His hair streaked with brown and glossy black. You knew if you had said anything to him about it he would ruin it though. So you waited in silence, enjoying the view of his profile and the pinkish clouds as he flew you mile after mile into the northernmost parts of Prythian.

“Close your eyes.” Was his only instruction upon your descent. You could hear the smile in his voice as he told you when to take bigger steps or if rocks were coming while he led you uphill with your eyes squeezed shut.

“I swear Cassian if you lead me to some kind of monster pit or something-”

“Come on, you know I know better than that!” He laughed, finally stopping you with warm hands on your shoulders. “This is far enough, I want you to think of the prettiest parts of Velaris that you’ve seen, then open your eyes.”

The only thing that came to mind were all the memories with him and a nice sunset, or sunrise. Training with him in the ring on top of the house of wind, sunlight glinting of his damp skin. You felt your hands get clammy, thinking about all the changing scenes that were dominantly him. The thought of anything but him being the most gorgeous thing in Velaris was utterly ridiculous.

“What are you thinking of?” He asked after a few moments. His voice was more distant, and you heard him rifiling through the bag you’d brought.

“The Sidra.” You lied. He laughed aloud, and you heard him pouring the wine.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered sensually in your ear, as he slid the glass of wine into your hand. You could still hear the smirk on his lips. You were about to say something back, if just to get rid of the butterflies after him being that close but when you opened your eyes….the breath left you.

He was staring at you like a scholar, taking in every miniscule movement you made. Every breath, every expression. And you couldnt blame him as you gaped like a fish at the sky above you.

It was overwhelming. The beauty of the location alone but with the added colors flecking the sky it was… “Astounding.” You breathed, blinking to keep your eyes from watering at the sheer beauty. Green turned to blue, blue to purple ever so slowly in the night sky above you. There was no moon out, only stars that seemed to frame the moving painting above you. The stars didnt dare shine too bright, as if they were leaving distance for your viewing of the… “What is this? Do the others know-” You gaped at him. He only shook his head.

“Not many know. Almost none of the war camps do, unless soldiers somehow escaped hunting parties after they abandoned training.” He clinked your glass and smirked. “So how does it compare to the Sidra then?” You shoved him slightly, and he took your arm, sliding his hand down and lacing your fingers together as you both stared silently at the luminescent sky.

“Rhys’ mother showed us this place when we were young.” He said fondly, leading you to a small stream nearby that flowed into a great lake that reflected the stars and colors above perfectly. The chill in the air was barely noticeable with the layers you hand on. And his hand wrapped around yours warming your entire body, as if he was emitting heat. “She loved to take us out flying outside of the camps. She was...like a real mother to me. I dont remember much about my own mother.” He said quietly, his tucked wings flaring slightly with a breeze that made the water ripple.

“Rhys doesnt speak of his parents often either.” You tried to comfort, not wanting him to talk about it if he wasnt ready.

“Sometimes I dont think Rhys truly understands what the Illyrian children go through.” He shook his head slightly, eyes turned to the dark forest across the lake. “That makes me glad though, that he put me in charge of the camps. Az would have them wiped out completely if it was up to him.” He grinned at the thought of his brothers. His true brothers, not just Illyrian brethren.

“Cassian the Winged Savior.” You eyed him up and down and nodded. “It suits you.”

His laugh echoed across the lake. “I doubt any of them would be calling me that.”

You squeezed his hand and he turned to face you. You felt your cheeks flush further, and you knew it wasnt because of the wine or the layers you wore to keep you warm. “You think the best of me. I’ve never had someone.. Put so much faith in me.” He said slowly, his eyes reflecting the hues of green shading the sky. You couldn’t help but lean into him, his dark gaze holding yours.

“The victorious armies of the Night Court would beg to differ.” Your voice rose higher with nerves. You had wanted this with him for so long. Just to be alone, just to have the simplicity of time to be with him.

“As a person. Not a Strategist.” He leaned closer to you as well, his hot breath warming your lips.

“What about as a lover?” You asked slyly, your heart pounding in your ears so loud you could barely hear yourself.

And then he was on you, his lips hot and smooth against yours. Perfectly shaped, shifting himself to match your pace, your angle. You didnt realise how much you had wanted him, needed him until your tongue was against his throat, drawing a shuddering breath from him. His response was just as needy, his hands gripping your ass, working his way back up to begin taking off your layers.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He rasped once he had your shirt off, his mouth slowly leaving a wet trail down your torso until flicking over a nipple, rolling the other with his fingers. A low moan escaped you, and he growled in satisfaction. He continued planing wet kisses down your side, your abdomen until he was on his knees before you.

The sight of him looking up at you was enough to make you want to take him right there, but clearly he had other plans. He rubbed his hot - too hot to be normal - hands up your thighs in massaging circles until he was teasing you, his hand sideways between your legs, rubbing you so so deliciously. He stared up at you, devouring you with his mouth agape, as if he wanted to taste your moans.

“Cassian-” You gasped as he rubbed just the tiniest bit harder against your thick pants. And you were suddenly being moved, his warm arms encircling you from the cool lake breeze. His lips never left yours as he carried you to a nearby cave filled with different outdoor supplies. He had a fire roaring on the leftover firewood instantly, his siphon glowing in the light of it.

“Take your damned clothes off before I remove them.” You growled, pawing at his jacket.

He smiled at you slyly, “ Yes my lady.” He rumbled.

If ya’ll wanna read more cassian p0rn let me know, hes my fave!

#CASSIAN X READER #ACOTAR FIC #ACOTAR READER INSERT #CASSIAN READER INSERT

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saiyajin-families · 3 years

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Does anyone think about how Future Trunks first real victory in defeating evil was when he fought against Freeza, King Cold, and all of their minions when they came to Earth?

.... The guy grew up trying to defeat Android 17 and 18, neither one gave any indication that he had succeeded in defeating them. And then he goes into the past to confront Freeza before Goku got there.

He killed the person who not only enslaved his father and the people he was meant to rule over- Vegeta. who Trunks wanted to learn more about- But the man who also killed him (for the first time. Until the Dragon Balls brought him back to life.)

I keep thinking back to that. What must Trunks have felt like? He entered that timeline, arrived where Freezas men were about to scan the area, cuts them all down (essentially being his first kill as well as his first victory in defeating someone) and goes to face Freeza. Killing off any minion he sent his way. All while holding a stoic expression. Until he smirks when mentioning he can go Super Saiyan. Then the fight-if you could call it that- between him and Freeza begins, and he is showing the efforts of his training. He had grown up with the goal of defeating the Androids in his timeline. But against the Space Tyrant, who was a massive threat to his teacher as a child, Trunks was holding up his Planet Destroying attacks as though it was nothing. How had he felt when holding up such a devestating attack with a single hand when he was used to cold gazes and swift, merciless pummelings? Mechanized ki blasts that hit him harder than the threat that Plagued the galaxy for possibly generations... But against this Freeza? Nothing phased him.

And when he finally landed his attack, slicing his sword clean through the tyrant, cutting him up and effectively destroying his remains. And then taking out King Cold as though he were nothing. (I don't know how strong this guy was compared to Freeza but im considering they are close to the same level.)

And after Trunks destroys the ship they arrived on, he turns off his Super Saiyan power, and finally turns to the group that held his parents, his teacher at a young age, and the much talked about friends said teacher grew up with. He, after killing their last biggest threat, greets them with excitement. Friendliness. Welcoming them to have drinks after guising them to where their friend who had dissapeared for over two years would be. This probably wasnt what they were expecting from the person who eviscerated the greatly feared enemy just moments ago.

But he has to keep his excitement to himself, he must want to talk to his father so much, and maybe even the Z Fighters to know more about the people who Gohan had known in his early years. But he has to restrict what he knows. Only telling them that he knows where Goku is, and he is willing to show them where he'll land. And during that wait he is seen catching glimpses at his father, still being quiet, almost shy. Reserving himself, but we must know how excited and overjoyed he is to see who his father is like.

But can. You. IMAGINE. What Vegeta must have felt. When he discovers years later that the guy who took out Freeza is actually his own son? From the future???

WHY HAVENT I SEEN MORE OF THIS TALKED ABOUT!?!?!? WHERE DO I HAVE TO LOOK TO TALK ABOUT THIS!? THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL HERE!!!!!!! (I KNOW everyone was swept into the Android saga, and I havent even talked ahout what Trunks must have felt after giving Goku the medicine that would save his life as well as keep him around longer for Gohan to know him, even if its only a little while longer before the Cell twist was revealed. But... COME ON!!!!!! We spent the first arc introducing the Saiyan race. Then the next saga we explored the things that Saiyans and especially Vegeta went through, how he was confessing to Goku the life he was bound to because of Freeza-yes i know Saiyans arent all good but its pretty obvious that Freeza might have influenced them being worse than before- but it still sucks having to be forced to serve under a tyrant you know could strike a death beam into you at any moment if he felt like it. And being from a proud warrior race doesnt help that feeling. I just like the thought of Vegeta seeing the person who gave him such suffocating grief being killed by someone of his bloodline. By his own SON!! I'm positive that would have made him proud if he stopped and thought about it. Or maybe i missed seeing him talk about it??? I have yet to read all the way through the Android saga. I'm just sitting thinking about it.)

(.... And yes i am also one of the people who was dissapointed he didnt get the chance to kill Freeza in Ressurection F.)

#Future Trunks #Vegeta #Vegeta and Future Trunks #Future Trunks and Vegeta #DBZ talks #DBZ ramblings #just me rambling about my fwo favorite characters

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onemastertomemethemall · 4 years

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Can we get how each of the seven brothers would ask MC to marry them?💕

Awww, this is a sweet one! :) Here ya go, Anon!

"Merry Me, MC!" with the Demon Brothers

Lucifer

He'd probably either wait for the next party or invite you to dinner or a romantic stroll to a the most beautiful place in the Devildom.

Then once he feels the time is right, he takes your hand and looks you in the eyes, confessing to you all the love he has for you.

Little did you know, this is partially to distract you as he carefully slid a ring onto your finger, which you notice just as he pops the question.

If you accept, you can almost see the pride swell even more intensely within him, ecstatic that he chose him to spend your life with. You may also catch a glimpse at a certain Demon King heir and his butler spying in and smirking.

If you decline, he'd have trouble hiding the hurt, but he would not be angry, nor bitter towards you. He respects your decision, even though it wounds him to be rejected.

Mammon

You find this boy working his tail off, but he refuses to explain why. Sure, you're happy that he's trying to make some honest money for a change, but it's still a bit strange.

When he finally gets the ring, he ends up taking quite a while afterwards to work up the courage to even BEGIN planning what he'd do and say.

After weeks of thinking, he finally decides that waiting for the right time would mean he'd wait forever, and since you're human, he knows he doesn't have that option. So he comes to your room one night, and before you say anything, this red-faced, mildly sweaty man blurts out "MARRY ME!" and holds out the open ring box.

If you accept, you know this man is going to be bragging about it for WEEKS afterwards, irritating his brothers more than he ever has.

If you decline...yeah, he'll pretend it's no big deal in front of you, but he's full-blown sobbing on the floor in his room when you're not around.

Leviathan

This boy has absolutely no clue how this works aside from in what he's seen in anime.

He decides he doesn't want to do a "normie-style" proposal, so he does the next best thing.

He invites you to his room to play a new game with him. You're both sucked in and at the end, you find out this is his way of asking for you to marry him, with your decision influencing the game's ending.

If you accept, Levi would think you're just trying to get the good ending, at least at first. But once he realizes you're serious, he ends up victory dancing.

If you decline, poor boy's going to be upset but understands that you'd probably wouldn't want to be married to some gross otaku anyway...

Satan

He, of course, reads up on human courtship, since he wants to ensure you fully understand what his intentions are. However, he learns about a few creative methods of proposal that give him inspiration.

He'd take you to a cat cafe, requesting that the ring be brought over to you by one of the cats once he gives a specific signal.

The cat would likely have on a little tuxedo while holding the ring box in its mouth, looking up at you with expectant eyes.

If you accept, Satan would be over the moon in happiness, and quickly start researching on the best wedding plans for you two.

If you decline, he'd hold himself back. He knows anger is not the right way to go about this. He's hurt, yes, but he still couldn't live with himself if he hurt YOU.

Asmodeus

He's going all out, because you know Asmo is not one for simplicity, especially not when proposing to you!

He'd take you out around the Devildom for a full on spa day and makeover. He'd make sure you feel like the 2nd most beautiful being alive!

Once everything is done, he'd wrap up the day by taking you to a beautiful beach where he'd propose with the moon putting the spotlight on both of you and the waves almost cheering you on.

If you accept, he wouldn't be able to hide his excitement. He'd already be preparing to go shopping for a dress/tuxedo with you!

If you decline...yeah, that's going to hurt BADLY. Why would you reject him? Was he not good enough...? Was there something about him you thought was ugly...?

Beelzebub

You were invited to his up-coming Fangol game, and even get one of the best seats in the house.

It isn't until halftime and he gestures you to get on the field when you realize something is going on. You see yourself on the big screen as you make your way over to Beel.

You watch him drop to one knee with a ring as the crowd begins to scream and chant in support!

If you accept, the crowd celebrates from the bleachers as Beel scoop you up in one of his trademark hugs. He promises that he'll make sure you're always safe and happy with him!

If you decline, prepare to have a whole crowd boo and hiss at you, but Beel himself attempting to get them to stop. He doesnt want you to feel bad, even if you rejected his proposal.

Belphegor

You get a text late at night to come up to the attic where you first met.

You head up to find the room empty, Belphie nowhere to be found...until you feel arms wrap around your waist in a hug.

Before you know it, you're laying in bed as the cow demon snuggles up to you. It isn't long until you fall asleep, but by morning, you wake up to find a ring on your finger, and a note by your side of the bed with only two words..."Marry Me?"

If you accept, Belphie becomes highly protective of you, not letting any other demon get too close. You're finally going to be his beloved spouse soon, and he doesnt want anything or anyone getting in the way of that.

If you decline, you'll find him become much more silent and constantly sleeping more than ever before. He still talks to you on occasion, but you can hell he's hurt.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me otome #obey me! shall we date?#obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me! shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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simpirals · 4 years

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Down The Tunnels

(Read on AO3) So this is another collab with my very cool friend @stellarwhaleshark in which we wrote about Not!Sasha chasing Jon down the tunnels, ending it completely differently from canon. (Jon doesnt die dw) If you liked it,please let us know in the comments! ❤️ Reblogs are encouraged ! ❤️ Characters: Not!Sasha/ Not Them, Jonathan Sims (mentions of Timothy Stoker,Sasha James and Martin Blackwood) Warnings: body horror, stabbing, axe violence, generally spooky atmosphere Jon scrambled down the dark halls. Dark, unkempt hair with streaks of grey frame his face, which scans every nook and cranny in the impossible labyrinth before him. His breathing is ragged, and as he clutches his axe in sweaty hands, a laugh echoes out in the stale air. He is utterly terrified. And he had all the reasons in the world to be so. Something that wasn't his friend wore a face he used to deem as familiar, and that very same thing was out to hunt him down.

"Jooooonnn..." An uncanny voice echoes through the tunnels, reaching out to the man fleeing for his life. "Jooonnn… Why don't you stop running so we have a nice, friendly chat? With your Sasha?" Noises that weren't footsteps reverberated through the tunnels.

"Isn't it what friends do, Jon? Sit down and talk things out together? I promise you this won't take long."

The creature's voice lowered in a dangerous growl.

Jon's heart leapt in his throat as he desperately tried to find an escape from the thing chasing him. He didn't dare respond, fearing that if he focused on anything else except running, he would be caught. Despite the nagging in the back of his mind that told him that losing it was impossible, Jon forced himself to believe that somehow, some way, he could shake the impostor from his trail. But as far as he could see, the path only continued straight. Something scratched along the walls behind him, sending his feet into a more frantic pace. "Shit, shit!"

Having no other option but to continue forward, the Archivist wills himself to move as fast as he can to avoid falling victim to Sas- no, not Sasha. Whatever was chasing him was definitely not who it claimed to be, and that voice that taunted him was certainly not his coworker's... despite how familiar it sounded.

Jon had no time to turn around and watch his pursuer. But he didn't need to do that to guess that it had picked up its pace. It was coming, and it was coming fast.

"Jooooonnnnnnn !"

Its limbs scratch at the concrete walls as it advances rapidly.

"You'll just tire yourself out eventually, silly! What do you think will happen when you collapse on the ground, exhausted and vulnerable?"

Jon's paranoia makes him feel like something was breathing down his neck. But it was just the coldness of the air.

"I'll catch you. And then we'll be able to properly chat. Like friends! Friends do that all the time, don't they? Why are you doing this, Jon? Am I not a good friend to you? Isn't Sasha someone you can trust? You truly wound me, Jon!"

It almost sounded like it was trying to feign… sadness.

But Jon knew better than to listen to it.

He itched to scream back at it. To tell it that he knew it wasn't her, that it could never be Sasha. But instead, Jon grit his teeth and pushed onward. Then, to his left, he saw a dark patch in the wall. As he got closer, he noticed that it was an opening - another corridor. If he was fast enough, Jon could catch it off guard and use the weaving halls to his advantage. Jon let himself slow down a bit, and he could hear what wasn't Sasha gaining on him. Timing his movement just right, Jon skids over into the opening, turning his attention behind him to see the thing dash past with a growl of irritation.

Huffing a small laugh of victory, Jon turned around to gather his bearings of the new hall, but rather than seeing branching pathways, he instead saw concrete walls encasing him.

"Oh, no... no, no no--"

The monster slammed its claws down on the cold ground with satisfaction, cutting off the path to Jon's only escape.

"Found you, Jon."

There was a sickeningly triumphant grin to its voice as it slowly neared Jon, as if it had all the time in the world, its prey standing right before it.

"How about you face me properly, Jon? Come on, turn around. It would be boring if the last thing you ever saw was a wall, wouldn't you agree?" It sang, and this time, the cold breath creeping against Jon's nape was not his imagination.

His whole body shook, and his breathing became so fast that his vision began to blur. This was... god, this wasn't good at all. Jon's thoughts were a jumbled mess, and it was so hard to focus. He was going to die, he was sure of it. How could he be so stupid? Of course he wouldn't be able to outrun that thing. If it wasn't for him breaking that table--

The table. He still had the axe with him, didn't he? Jon gripped the handle tighter into his fists, knuckles turning white. The whole point of getting it was to make that thing hurt, right?

Well, hopefully it'll actually serve its purpose.

Slowly, Jon turned around, having to crane his head to meet the gaze of the monster that stared back with a dangerous glint in its eyes.

The being that wasn't Sasha stared right at him as he looked straight into its fake, glassy eyes.

"Good." It says, with a satisfied tone, lifting its hand- no, not a hand; this was far too big and sharp to be called one- from the ground, raising it to Jon's eye level.

"Remember when I told you I'd make this quick earlier?" It cackles, with that voice that did not belong to it. "I'm afraid Good old Sasha lied!"

It's going to strike.

"You. Are. Not. HER!"

One quick swing, and Jon manages to axe the beast's right limb. The force sends it slamming against a nearby wall and the thing shrieks with multiple voices at once, stumbling back.

"You...YOU!!!" It had not expected Jon to still be able to inflict any sort of damage on its body.

Clutching its wound, it emits a furious roar, and Jon swears his eardrums are about to pop.

He just has enough time to turn around and start running again before the creature tries to catch him, and it trips on itself.

No matter how far away Jon was getting, screams of anguish still rattled off of the walls around him. It sent a chill down his spine, and as he spotted a fork in the catacombs, a screech of muddled voices startled him. "GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE RAT!" It yells out, and the sound of it getting back onto what Jon supposed could be feet made its way down the hall.

As far as he was concerned, remembering how to navigate his way back out of the tunnels was the least of his problems. So Jon ducks and weaves through halls of all sizes, hoping that he'll eventually become so lost that not even the monster at his heels would be able to find him.

Not!Sasha wants to hunt him down to the ends of the Earth.

But first it needed to get its arm back. It quickly grabbed it and pressed the area that was freshly cut against its shoulder and the porcelain colored flesh melted, fusing the missing piece against its body.

It clutched its limb and stretched out its claws, briefly studying itself to see if that puny human caused any further damage.

It seemed satisfied.

It quickly looked at the direction where Jon had fled and it screeched again, getting back on all fours and rushing out, leaving the dead end behind.

" JON! " It howled like a dying animal.

" I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL DEVOUR YOUR ARM! THAT'S A PROMISE! "

It galloped through the halls, absolutely seething, scanning each nook and corners that could lead it to Jon's location.

" WHERE ARE YOU?! "

Its screams of rage had encouraged Jon to avoid staying in one place for too long. So he continues to let himself wander, some turns echoing the voice louder than others. He's not quite sure how long he's been running, but the aching in his legs is beginning to slow him down. "Come on, keep going...!" Jon grunts to himself as he tries to fight through the pain, but it's becoming apparent that he has to find somewhere to rest soon.

" Jooooonnnn.... " It hissed through gritted fangs, "If you show yourself now, maybe I won't tear you limb from limb. Come on, be a good friend and come out, won't you?" As the monster began to speak aloud again, Jon rounded a corner and pressed himself against the cold wall. Every bone within him shook, and it took everything in him to not slide down to the floor.

The creature snarled, still very much enraged by her previous wound. Even a monster of the Stranger can still feel pain, after all. And having to push its fake bones back into place wasn't exactly pleasant.

Seeing that Jon was still nowhere close to her, it halted for a brief instant. "Alright, I may have gotten a little bit angry earlier. But could you blame me? You literally cut my arm off! That's not a very nice thing to do to your friend, is it, Jon?"

Naturally, she knew this wasn't going to entice him to come to her. But it was fun to toy with him.

"You know," It says, "I wonder how your screams would sound like once I get you to the circus... Taking you apart pieces by pieces, to reshape you afterward… Kinda like Sasha, actually! Oh, you should have seen her! She did such a wonderful performance too, squirming under my claws.'' It chuckles, dragging on the last words of her sentence painfully. No matter how hard Jon tried to ignore the taunts of the beast, its words sank in deep. The second that it began to describe Sasha's body being torn apart and put together, he felt himself heave a bit. And yet they continued on, finding humor in how his dear friend suffered.

"She writhed and squirmed when I gave her new joints, too. Human bones are tough, that’s obvious, but they can always be upgraded to better material. No one would see the difference anyway! Especially not you, Jon."

It chuckled eerily.

"Oh, you should have heard her too! She kept on screaming at you and your acolytes' names, too! It was delightful to hear! Actually, why don't you listen to it yourself? You love to listen, don't you?" Jon's breathing began to pick up again until it became quick gasps of air. He did his best to get it under control, but then.

The sound Jon heard was the exact replica of Sasha's voice. He could hear the terror and the agonizing pain in her tone.

"Jon, Martin! Anyone! help, it-it hurts so much! Please, someone, get me out of here! Please! PLEASE, JON! HELP ME! "

It spoke like Sasha. The real Sasha. The begging and pleading that called out into the halls belonged to someone he couldn't recognize. But he knew without a doubt that it was her. "Oh, Christ... Sasha, s-she was--"

How long was she tormented? Ripped apart and reconstructed like some sort of sick puzzle?

" PLEASE, JON! HELP ME! "

"I-I'm so sorry, Sasha..!" Jon whimpered out, clamping a free hand to his mouth to stop a sob bubbling up his throat. The whole time, Sasha was alive, and they did nothing to help her.

The realization hit Jon with such an intensity that he collapsed down the wall with a pathetic thud. The axe followed shortly after, the metal clattering to the stone floor and ringing out beyond where the Archivist could see. He stiffened, eyes widening in horror and darting down to his weapon he had dropped on the floor.

Jon made a huge mistake.

The creature halted its grim imitation suddenly, turning its head sharply toward the direction of the noise she just heard.

Oh, that was too easy.

She did not need to look any longer, she knew exactly where her prey was now.

Not Sasha suddenly appeared right before him.

"There you are."

Jon barely had the time to get up and made another foolish attempt to flee. The monster had already seized his ankle with her inhumanly big, sharp hand, forcing the man to collide brutally against the hard floor beneath him. Jon gasped in pain at the force of the impact.

"Oh, no no, I’m not letting you go anywhere anytime soon!"

Jon uselessly thrashed and scraped his nails on the stone covered ground as Not Sasha simply dragged Jon back to her, flipping him unceremoniously on his back, so he could see her in her full glory, her entire body looming over him, caging him.

"No-- No, no no no--"

Jon's desperate pleas were cut off as the thing that wasn't his Sasha suddenly slammed her other hand against Jon's body, effectively pinning him down under its weight as its dangerous claws were big enough to cover and seize his body.

"Now… What am I going to do with you…?" It said, absolutely relishing the way Jon stared back at her with terrified eyes.

Oh, how much she loved to taste the fear of her prey. This was delightful.

"Hmm... I could do the same thing you did to me... But using that little axe of yours may make it too easy. I think cutting through you myself would be much more fun!" She spoke idly, biting back a laugh when their suggestion only caused the Archivist to squirm more.

"Oh, but I know how much you care about your old Sasha! Maybe taking you to see her one last time, broken and wrong would be more painful!" Jon managed to wriggle an arm out from its grasp, and attempted to punch their long fingers.

It didn't even phase them. "And if you're good, Jon," Not Sasha's face leered down to meet his own, her sharp grin reflecting in the glasses that framed Jon's panicked eyes.

"Maybe I'll tear you apart just like how I did her."

Jon felt his breath snag in his lungs. If being torn apart would be his reward for being "good" Then what would it be if he tried to actually fight back? Probably something worse than death itself.

He wasn't about to find out.

"Just- please, just let me go, I don't-"

"Ah, ah, ah! I didn't chase you through these tunnels all this time just to let you run again, you silly. No, no, I exactly know what I'm going to do with you."

Not Sasha grabbed Jon's wrist between the edge of its claws, observing it.

"Such a frail little limb. Wonder how long it'll take to break."

"Wait--"

Before Jon could utter another useless plea, the monster unhinged its jaws,and violently sank her teeth into his right shoulder, mirroring the damage that Jon did to her just before. The second her horribly sharp teeth punctured into his skin, Jon began to spiral into hysterics. His instincts told him to do something, anything, but the pain clouded his mind to the point where he wasn't able to focus on anything else. Jon screamed.

Not Sasha pulled and pulled on his arm, and a sickening squelch could be heard as her fangs kept digging deeper and deeper inside his shoulder.

As soon as he felt his shoulder about to give out under that thing's fangs, she suddenly released him, pulling her head back to reveal her freshly bloodstained face. It casually wiped the blood that dribbled down its chin, eyeing its work.

"...Actually, I just remembered that Nikola doesn't really like being handed broken playthings. I guess you get to keep your arm this time. Lucky you! ...But then again, I could always replace your arm with something different. I wonder if Nikola would mind… Hmmm."

She tapped her chin, seeming to seriously ponder that option.

“Oh, I sure hope she won't be mad at me for damaging you a bit.”

She looked almost worried, but more for the fact that she could get in trouble for harming Jon rather than being concerned about his well being.

The Not Them had briefly released Jon, as she was too busy trying to shred his shoulder into bits previously. The Archivist stumbled backwards in hopes of gaining some distance between them. But it took nothing more than a tug at his ankle to drag him back.

Hm, she must have tired him out. Good.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to wait until I hear back from Nikola. In that case," Not Sasha grabbed hold of Jon's torso with one of its large disfigured hands, gripping tightly.

She hummed in satisfaction when she was able to feel the Archivist's heart hammering against her palm.

"It seems like you'll be coming with me." It squeezed him a bit tighter, chuckling as Jon screwed his eyes shut in agony. "N- no! I'll never- AH-!"

A claw prodded in one of the gory punctures on his arm. "Now, now. I was generous enough with letting you keep your arm... don't push it." They dug the finger in deeper to emphasize their point.

For the fun of it, Not Sasha left her claw in the wound, enjoying the sight of her prey writhing in pain. But soon enough, Jon tired himself out, slowly falling limp and shaking with exhaustion. "Someone, p-please...!" He begged. A last ditch effort on his behalf, Not Sasha was sure of it.

"Oh, come now, Jon, no one can hear you. I thought you knew that these tunnels keep things rather well hidden. If none of your friends were able to hear your screams, what makes you think they'll hear your pathetic whimpering?"

He went quiet at that.

"Good. Now, shall we go?"

"Martin, Tim, please...." Jon mumbled to himself, feeling himself close to passing out from the pain.

"I'll take that as a yes." ———————————————- Please let us know if you enjoyed that fic so we can be motivated to write more ❤️

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #magpodfic #not!sasha #not!them #the stranger #Its Strange serie #body horror #stabbing #generally creepy #simpirals #taikeero-lecoredier #the not them #tai's stories

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unicyclehippo · 5 years

Note

Prompt~ since the crush-reveal nott has been watching more closely and can see the cracks in beau’s facade (Also sidenote love love love your work mate sending good vibes from across the ditch ☺️)

ay mate, all good vibes yeah? how’s it hangin?

‘that went well, i think!’

jester. nott would’ve guessed it came from her even if the words hadn’t been so distinctively painted by her accent. they’re not just optimistic, cheerful; in the face of the absolute shit show - literally - that just went down here in the sewers beneath the city, it’s borderline pathological to be so optimistic. unless, of course, the person were jester and they were lying through their teeth in an effort to cheer up their friends.

‘yeah,’ beau calls from where she’s leaned against the slimed walls. she doesn’t seem to notice the slime, or maybe it just doesn’t matter when she’s already kinda coated in shit. ‘definitely could’ve gone worse.’

‘how?’ fjord groans.

‘one of us could’ve died.’

‘okay, good point, fair point. help me up?’

it’s hard to hear over fjord’s whining, but nott thinks she hears a wheeze, a stifled little something from beau when she offers him a hand, hauls him to his feet.

‘you good?’

‘no need for the tone,’ fjord grumbles, drops her hand, wiping the slime onto slime covered pants. ‘i didn’t see you half drowned to distract the fucking thing.’

beau grins a crooked grin, red staining between her teeth. ‘it had two heads, fjord. you know that, right?’

his shoulders slump. ‘so i didn’t even distract it. great.’

‘i mean. you distracted half of it,’

‘super. super great. just what i wanted to hear. great. count on you, beau,’ he says with a mocking little wag of his finger, ‘to give it to me honestly. nothing but blunt fucking honesty from you, eh?’

if she weren’t watching as closely as she is, nott would miss the flash of guilt and confusion and, so so fast nott almost think she imagines it, hurt. and then beau is shaking her head, clapping him on the shoulder.

‘shut the fuck up,’ she laughs. ‘un-poison yourself, oh paladin. cad looks like he’s two seconds from begging to heal you, go on.’

‘huh? oh—hey caduceus, would you?’

with jester tending to caleb and yasha, and caduceus with fjord, nott sidles up beside beau.

‘he didn’t mean it,’ she finds herself saying.

‘huh?’

‘fjord. that whole honesty thing,’

‘yeah he did.’ beau doesn’t look upset that nott was trying to lie; if anything, she looks amused. ‘it’s fine, it’s whatever. he’s not wrong.’

‘hmm.’

‘what hmm?’

‘nothing, nothing.’

beau sighs. ‘i’m not in the mood for guessing games. say what you wanna say or go fawn over caleb.’

‘i’ll go make sure he’s okay, definitely,’ nott corrects her.

‘great. go on.’

‘in a moment. are you okay?’

‘i’m fine,’ beau lies. she shifts. hisses. clutches to her side and as the fabric shifts, nott can see the great claw marks in her flesh.

it’s strange, to be privy to beau’s weakness. not that being injured is a weakness, gods know every one of them has been close to or over that line before. but beau never shows it if she can help it. it almost fills nott with a weird sense of pride, knowing that beau sort of trusts her of all people; and then it makes nott’s stomach drop down down down so fast she’s sick with it and her hands come up, to defend, to fight, to fix whatever she can.

‘holy shit! beau,’

‘it’s fine,’

‘no it’s not! that’s the opposite of fine!’ nott shrieks.

beau clamps a hand over nott’s mouth, careful of the teeth. ‘shut up! do you want to attract more of those things?’

nott shakes her off. pitches her voice low again. ‘you’re fully two centimetres from being fully gutted! that’s not fine! that’s like saying a cyclone is fine weather! that’s like saying avantika was pleasant! that’s like-‘ beau waits for a third analogy, vaguely expectant and even more vaguely amused. ‘you need to get that healed.’

‘it’s fine,’ beau insists. ‘i’m still on my feet, aren’t i?’ she takes a few steps, hands spread wide as if to say, see? ‘besides, cad does his best healing when we’re unconcious.’

‘so you’re, what? just gonna wait until something knocks you down?’

‘i mean,’ beau shrugs. ‘yeah.’

‘that’s stupid.’

‘gee.’

‘no, i mean it, that’s a terrible idea.’ judging from the way beau’s eyes slide away to the side, away from nott’s prying stare, she knows it too. ‘are you punishing yourself for som-‘

‘no,’ beau snaps.

nott squints and stares and slowly nods. ‘alright. i believe that. then why?’

her cheek ticks, jaw clenching. when it happens again, nott realises that the girl is chewing on the inside of her cheek. it’s weird for that to be the thing that does it but the gesture is oddly familiar, reminds her of a young and nervous veth, and staring up at this girl literally covered in shit and blood, face pale beneath the muck, nott realises again that beau is all of twenty something and, as far as she knows, has had shit all in her life until the nein came along. nott can understand that, to a degree, but she at least had had her family and her husband until the goblins took her away.

‘they’ve got limited spells,’ beau says. ‘i keep track of this shit. tactics, y’know.’

‘so you’re playing the sacrificial knight, are you?’

‘i don’t intend to die,’ beau scoffs. ‘i’m just making sure that when we actually need a heal, there’s one for us.’

nott narrows her eyes. ‘you’re worth a heal, beau.’

‘that’d be a first.’ beau didn’t mean to say it. nott can tell by the way she flinches, then winces. she reaches toward nott. ‘don’t - you can’t - i didn’t mean that,’

‘i won’t tell a soul,’ nott promises. ‘if you ask her to heal you right now.’

‘nott,’

‘you’re of no use to us dead. go on now. shoo, shoo,’

she’d nearly forgotten about the shit monster and her sudden shitty understanding of the girl a few weeks later when it became increasingly clear they would have to head to kamordah.

beau had disappeared partway through the revelry of another job well done for a lovely amount of coin, and it isn’t until the wee hours that she returns, a fat lip and bloody knuckles the only sign of what she might’ve been up to.

nott sets her tankard down with a thump, watches as beau’s human eyes try to peer through the darkness to find her.

‘have fun, did you?’

‘nott.’

‘detective nott brenatto,’

‘that’s new,’

‘trying it out,’ nott tells her, words and fear of it mellowed a little by the sweet and very ineffective mead she’s been drinking. ‘get it all out of your system?’

beau slides onto the stool next to her. presses a brutal thumb to the split skin on her first knuckle. ‘most of it.’

‘wanna talk about it?’

‘nothing to talk about.’

‘wow. wow. lying to your best friend. i get it. wow.’ nott allows herself a small victory smile when the comment makes beau snort. ‘kamordah, huh.’

beau goes still as a statue. casts a sideways look nott’s way, who catches it, a raised brow her only reply.

‘i’m scared,’ she says.

nott barely contains a flinch. seeing it, knowing it, is one thing. beau saying it is quite another. ‘i’ll kill him for you, if you want. just say the word.’

beau snorts again. reaches over the bar top for a mug—not seeming to care whether it’s clean or dirty—and from a wine skin on her hip she pours herself a glass. it smells like the worst wine, a copper a barrel type casked wine, and beau drinks it down like it’s fresh water in a desert.

when she speaks, her voice is a little hoarse and nott doesn’t know whether that’s from the wine only a step above acid, or because she really doesn’t want to say what she’s saying.

‘it’s not him. it’s me.’

‘right. i’ll believe that never.’

beau treats her to one of those rare smiles, the actual nice ones. not the ones she practices with fjord but the real ones. a little awkward, a little crooked. jester smiles, nott has been thinking of them as, since she only smiles like that for jester. nott’s eyes gleam as she takes in the rarity, tucks it away mentally with the rest of her treasured items.

‘i don’t mean he’s not an asshole. he is. i’m just—‘ she swipes her fingers in a ring of whatever liquor has been left on the counter, drags the circle outwards into two horns and a little tail. ‘i’ve been trying really fuckin’ hard to be better or whatever, leave every place better than we found it, and—‘

‘you don’t think you can do that there.’

beau shrugs. ‘i don’t want to.’

nott hums in sympathy. ducks a little to take in the entirety of beau’s scowl. ‘that doesn’t make you an asshole, you realise.’

‘kinda does. if i’m picking and choosing the places i get to leave better.’

nott considers that for a minute. then sighs, reaches up to pat beau’s shoulder. ‘mollymauk was a lot of things,’ she says, ‘and he talked a lot of shit. but he was a good guy.’

‘yeah. he was.’

‘and i think if he were here, and listening to this, he’d say fuck that place.’ her vehemence startles a laugh out of beau, brings a little glint to clouded eyes. ‘fuck that place, fuck thoreau, and fuck kamordah. you’re one of the mighty fucking nein! you’re the only thing in kamordah worth a damn thing! and if you want us to burn the place to the ground, we’ll fuckin’ do it!’

‘the wine is actually really good, and pretty expensive,’

‘okay, well, steal the wine first and then burn it to the ground. i can improvise, i can adapt.’

beau shakes her head, laughs again. it’s a snotty laugh and nott doesnt bring attention to it, or her suspiciously wet eyes.

‘thanks. i’ll keep it in mind.’

‘you do that.’ nott pats her hand. jumps down off her stool. ‘see you in the morning.’

‘yeah. see you.’

#cr tag #prompt fill #tagging my stories #not rly anything abt beaujester exactly #just sort of a nott & beau are actually p good friends #sorry if this jsnt so good it is nearly 11 i am a bit tired i tried my best

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jane-fucking-seymour · 4 years

Text

Legend of the Six has now been updated!

Chapter 23: Daughter of Shadow

Words: 5032

AO3 Link

When we are little, we are taught that the darkness is scary.

Children hide from it under the comforts of pillows and blankets, men shield themselves from it with torches and lanterns, and the general public escape it through dreams and sleep. From the day we are born to the day we die, we are told to fear the Dark, and the creatures that live amongst it. It’s personified as the unknown, as the wicked, as the evil. The Dark, many claim, cannot be trusted, nor can it be utilized without misfortune.

The many, to Anne Boleyn, are considered fools.

Ever since she was a little girl - even with the scary stories of the Darkness being evil and Light being good - Anne Boleyn constantly sought for a second opinion. It’s not that she didn’t trust the stories; far from it, as she had seen what the dark could do. But she’s also seen it do wonders: it hides her from an ambush when she’s younger, it reveals foolish enemies positions that don’t know how to control their shadows, and it is a comfort, still, when late at night. After all, Anne argues, the darkness is the reason why we are in awe of the stars. That’s got to count for something, right?

As she continued down this path of Darkness, she came to befriend it in a unique way. Shadows would race to her to say hello, like old friends. The Darkness often wrapped around her like a cloak, a better shield than the ones the finest blacksmiths of the Realm could make. She extended a hand to the dark and found that it not only accepted, but embraced her as their own. And she was happier for it.

Of course, her friendship didn’t go unnoticed; it’s what started the rumors in court to begin with. Many in the court would talk ill of her friends, of the comforts she held that were so unique and against the grain that people thought it scary. She was shunned by many in the courts - all afraid of this girl that could control the darkness, calling her a Servant to it, a thrall. To many, Anne was cursed, and her regency should never had seen the light of day.

Unluckily for them (and, eventually, for her), Henry wasn’t afraid of the dark either.

Anne came to understand this as she was on the run from a particularly unyielding suitor. She hid in the shadows, in the garden, waiting for the man to pass. He hadn’t seen her, and in his drunken stupor, had started calling for her quite loudly. This resulted in unwanted attention. Anne had chuckled as the man was immediately yelled at by the King himself, thoroughly embarrassed and berated in the middle of the night by such an important figure in the Realm. She expected the guy to turn tail and run, which he did.

What she DIDNT expect was for the King himself to suddenly turn and face her. Her, hidden by the darkness that she knew so well.

He looked curious, as if struggling to see her, but seeing her all the same. He called for her to appear, to not be afraid. He wasn’t afraid of the dark either, he said. He knew she wasn’t either. Perhaps they could make a habit of finding each other in the shadows in the night, perhaps they could chat about their experiences with the Dark, perhaps they could be friends.

It didn’t take too long for Anne to realize he meant something a little more than just friends.

The marriage between Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII was going rather swimmingly, at least according to anyone that looked: Catherine had just saved the world from evildoers in the South, and Henry had applauded his wife’s work. The Realm rejoiced in such a decisive victory over the enemy that day, and had even strengthened their allyship with Holbein in the process; a two for one victory that the history books were to celebrate for centuries, if all had gone to plan.

But, as Anne would later find out in their midnight rendezvous, he thought he could do more. His wife was, of course, a formidable person in battle, but the Darkness isn’t that scary. It got a bad reputation because of the Blessed that defeated the enemies in the South, he said. Why couldn’t his wife see that the darkness wasn’t something to banish, but to wield?

To Anne, this made perfect sense because of the darkness that she knew, the darkness she assumed they were talking about. It resulted in resentment towards the (at the time, current) queen, especially when Henry finally gave her the chance to be the Blessed Aragon’s lady in waiting not too long afterwards. Anne didn’t see then that it was a way to groom her for the throne; instead, she simply thought he wanted someone in his corner, someone that understood the Dark for what it really was.

And she played right into his hands perfectly.

At least, for a while.

It was later, when Catherine was “killed,” when she saw Jane Seymour enter the picture, that Anne realized that maybe he wasn’t a friend of the dark like she thought he was.

For one, he never was able to hide well, not from anyone. The darkness that was easy to sink into when she was alone or with Maggie or even with Catherine and Maria was not as such when he was around; it was like the Darkness rebuked him, didn’t want him near it. Didn’t claim him as their own the way that they had claimed Anne all those years ago. In her want to be queen and in her want to have someone that understood her, she ignored it; there was just something about Henry that made her want to ignore what she thought she knew. He had that way about him, a way that made her want to believe in what he said.

So when he told her to go on the road that fateful day, she had no idea what was coming.

Maria hadn’t been acting any different than usual, for example, and it was in the middle of the day when it happened. Anne was completely unsuspecting until just before the ambush occurred; at that point, her shadow gave her away. For a while, it was the shadows that was her most trusted ally as she hid, refusing to be found until she absolutely had to.

She survived because of the Shadows. They had given her so much. But now, it seems, they were asking something of her.

Who was she to refuse?

So she sits, in front of the woman, head bowed respectfully. The woman smiles softly at the girl in front of her, as if greeting an old friend. Anne suspects she knows more about Anne than she lets on, but it’s disrespectful to ask.

“I see that you’re ready now,” she says. “To become my champion.” She nods, standing up. “It’ll be a tough road ahead of you, if you choose to embrace my gifts.”

“You have given me so much, my lady,” Anne says quietly, respectfully. “I am but an agent of your will.”

The woman looks over at Maggie, who is still bowing with her head down. She gently lifts the girl’s head up with a soft grin.

“You won’t be needed here,” the woman says, “but I won’t deny you the opportunity to observe the trial. No, you’ve done just as much as her, and I like you almost as much, but she is the Champion for a reason.”

Maggie doesnt dare look the woman in the eye, instead nodding respectfully. “I am in awe of your graciousness, my lady,” she says, a bit of a tremble in her voice. She’s a bit nervous.

The woman smiles and offers Maggie her hand. Maggie takes it. “You may look me in the eye, you know,” the woman says. “We’re all friends here.”

Maggie does so after a moment, and she’s a bit calmer now. This doesn’t feel as formal as she thought it was going to be, but then again, the Shadows have always been somewhat misleading.

The woman turns back to Anne, who hasn’t moved from her spot. “My Champion,” she says, sitting down in front of Anne. “You will start your Trial immediately. Should you pass, you shall become my Keeper. Should you fail… well, the outcome depends on how you do that.” She shrugs, a hand wistfully circling in the air, forming some sort of bowl with smoking black substance in it. “Drink. And you shall begin.”

Anne nods, looking back at Maggie with a smile. “I’ll be back.”

Maggie nods, still a bit nervous. “I know you will.”

And with that, Anne takes the bowl and drinks it down.

It doesn’t taste like a lot of anything, but the texture of it is vile to say the least; it feels like something is fighting to go down into her stomach, as if it had a mind of its own. She winces at the feeling, squeezing her eyes shut as the bowl, too, dissolves into the substance and enters her.

She steadies herself, feeling how the substance affects her. Her hands, now empty, fall to her sides, and she focuses. She can feel everything else falling away, can feel herself sinking deeper and deeper and deeper…

… until she’s nowhere at all.

She’s floating in nothing.

It’s dark, and it’s comfortable. She opens her eyes and sees nothing. She floats aimlessly, like in a calm river of sorts, and smiles softly; this was nice. Not really what she expected, if she was being honest, but she’ll take what she can get.

Just as she thinks that, however, she immediately feels herself drop. Now, she’s freefalling into nothing. It’s nothing too terrible, but there seems to be something… darker… just below her now. She yelps, tenses, gets ready for the impact-

-but it never comes. Instead, she’s standing still, on the darker darkness.

She looks around, curious about what’s happening.

“Hello?” she asks. She doesn’t hear anything - no echo, no voice returning her call. It’s getting a bit cold, too, as she walks further and further into this new darkness. The shadows from before, when she was floating, were what she was comfortable with. This… was not.

Not bad, just different, and incredibly unsettling when she wasn’t used to it.

She continues through, unseeing, and she wonders if she’s missed something, if she’s already lost the trial. There’s no real purpose to this at the moment, she realizes, and she thinks maybe she needs to do something. Maybe she’s waiting on herself.

With a deep breath, she stops walking, extending a hand above her. She closes her eyes, takes another big breath, and summons the darkness she knows so well.

Usually, it would result in the room getting darker… but that’s not the case. Not now. Her darkness is brighter than this darkness, and the comfort she’s felt for over two decades returns to her. And now, with a smile, she listens to her goddess:

“Your trial begins now, oh contested Champion. I hope you are prepared.”

Anne nods, feeling herself being tugged away and pulled impossibly fast to an impossibly far distance in the shadows - lightyears away from where she was, but also right next door. She eventually stops where she is, and her eyes adjust to the light in front of her.

She’s got solid ground below her. She’s in a hallway. It’s dark and cold and wet. It’s clear that the only light in this area has been the blue torches that dimly illuminate the area. She’s not sure where she is, but she knows she needs to continue.

She moves forward steadily, but as she does, she starts to hear things - a voice?

“Hello?”

Not her goddess’, either.

Her hand goes to her side, where her trusted daggers would be, but they are not there now. She instead moves to the side, using her shadows to protect and cloak herself as she pushes forward. She hears the voice again, this time coming from the end of the hallway.

Someone’s here. Someone that’s definitely real.

She turns into the room, warily at first, but then she realizes who it is and raises and eyebrow.

“Catherine?!?”

Catherine is indeed there, looking around, very confused. When she spots Anne, though, she instantly rushes over to her.

“What’s going on?” Catherine asks, frowning. “I was just headed into the town we were headed into before you left and… and now I’m here.”

“You were Claimed for a time,” says a voice, one that isn’t either of theirs. “You have been Unclaimed. But now you’re Claimed again.”

Catherine seems to recognize the voice, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “In what way?”

“The Light knows what is happening,” says the voice, reassuring in tone. “And they know why you’re here. They know I won’t keep you any longer than necessary, and they know you won’t be harmed.”

Catherine seems to relax a bit then, but she’s still a bit confused. “I don’t know why I’m here, though.”

“You’re… well, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Anne mumbles, a bit embarrassed. “But you’re my guide.”

Catherine blinks. “Your what?”

“In the Trials of the Shadows,” Anne explains, “we get a person that can’t be seen by the Trial, but the Chosen can see and interact with them. Someone that we have a strong connection with. Someone that’s important in our life story. Someone that the Woman chooses.”

“And… she chose me?” Catherine asks, tilting her head.

“We both did, it’s kind of a mutual agreement decision sort of thing,” Anne replies. “Well, most of the time. It’s my soul choosing who it is, and the Woman consenting to manifest it- it’s a long story. Not enough time, if we want to get out of here before the Festival in a few weeks.” Anne sighs, a hand running through her hair. “What you need to know is that I need someone to guide me, to help me through the tough road ahead.” She doesn’t dare look Catherine in the eye for the next part. “It seems that both myself and my mistress are in agreement that if anyone can get me through this, it’s you.”

Catherine smiles. “Well, seeing as I’ve nothing better to do-”

But the jokes stop, suddenly, as the room around them changes.

They’re suddenly in a chamber, one that’s familiar and not at the same time. It’s clearly night, but the moon is not the moon; it’s moreso a ball of energy, as if it was made of arcanic magick rather than a celestial body.

Anne moves into the room a bit more, observing quietly.

“Isn’t this the castle?” Catherine asks quietly, looking out the nearby window. It’s a town made of shadows, but a familiar town nonetheless. “This is Henry’s castle in the Capitol… but I don’t know this room.”

Anne frowns. “Me either, at least, not yet,” she looks around and tilts her head, looking down at the nearby desk. She looks at the papers, picking some up and looking through them, just in time for Catherine to meet her there.

“Anything?” Catherine asks, tilting her head.

“Just notes about certain military movements and plans,” Anne says, continuing to look through. “These look to be from my time as queen, or at least near that time-”

They both look up, however, when they hear someone unlocking the door.

“They can’t see me, but-” Catherine starts, though Anne is already ahead of her. She instantly moves to the shadows, hiding herself. Catherine simply watches as the door opens. She cringes a bit - the person is covered with shadow, their true form unable to be seen.

They walk towards the desk, looking through papers before eventually picking up a blank one and writing on it. They continue to write, and Anne gets a better look at the paper. She narrows her eyes and, while avoiding detection, moves towards the back of the room, farthest from the door.

Just as she does, another person enters the room - this time, Catherine gasps.

“Maria!”

Maria can’t hear her, of course, and the scene continues without interruption.

Maria stands in front of the shadowed figure, bowing slightly.

Both Anne and Catherine wince when the shadowed figure starts talking - their voice is cloaked in a thousand others, distorted and underwater and barely even hearable yet blaring all at once.

Maria, however, doesn’t seem to have an issue hearing them, resulting in a one-way conversation that Catherine and Anne can hear.

“Of course, I understand,” Maria says with a nod. She looks down at the paper that is handed to her, studying it carefully. Maria sets her jaw a bit before she nods slowly. There’s a moment before she tenses, looking up at the shadowy figure, clearly angry.

“I have not forgotten the promise I made,” Maria growls. “Not to her. Catherine shall not have died in vain.”

The confliction on Maria’s face makes Catherine’s heart break.

Maria nods, salutes, and leaves the room. As soon as the door closes, the shadowy figure suddenly snaps their attention straight to Anne.

Anne’s gasp is only for a moment, as the figure rushes her, and suddenly she’s consumed by it.

“Anne!” Catherine yells, but the world is turning again, and despite her concern, another scene is playing out.

Anne, barely on her feet, moves to hide again, but… something’s changed. Something’s starting. Anne is more tense as the next scene happens, this time with the shadowy figure and a eerie green light.

Another person arrives - a magick practitioner in the castle, Catherine assumes - and speaks:

“Once we have someone to accept the terms, necromancy will be firmly in our war arsenal,” he says, looking down at a paper. “We’ve managed to connect the dots on this fairly quickly, thanks to the research at the Heart. And because of that, we may be able to control corrupted Light and Shadows easily enough in a few years.”

“They what-?” Catherine asks, but suddenly Anne is once again attacked by a shadow, once again forced to absorb it. “Anne!” Catherine yells, moving over to the girl as she falls to her knees.

Anne is gasping for air, but is clearly furious. “I can feel it,” she growls out. “The frustration, the anger, the power… it’s all here.” She holds up her hand. “This is how it would feel. To go unchecked. To be consumed… by the rage… of the past…”

Catherine frowns. “But that’s not what the Darkness is, is it? It’s not rage, it’s not power. It’s something else, isn’t it?” It’s something Catherine doesn’t totally understand, but she gets this much; it’s very similar to her own understanding of the Light.

Anne growls out, looking down at her hands as they burn with darkness. She feels it crawling around her skin, no longer the comfortable calm that she’s used to, but with newfound purpose. Anger. Betrayal. All of it. It’s feeding into her emotions, into her magicks.

Catherine sees the trial for what it really is, just in time for the scene to change again.

They’re in a room, and now Maria is back. Catherine ignores her feelings for the time being as she hears the conversation.

“It’s done,” Maria says bitterly. “She’s dead.”

The shadowed figure turns around, says things they don’t understand, and Maria nods.

“I’ll be sure to keep this in mind,” she says quietly. “For the Realm.”

Again, the shadow figure snaps her attention to Anne… but this time, Catherine steps in, quickly shielding Anne from the figure.

Catherine yelps as she absorbs it instead… but now, her Light seems to overpower it.

For now.

“Anne,” Catherine says, a bit winded by the event. Anne, for her part, is glaring at Maria, but Catherine breaks the line of sight. “Anne. Remember. This is a trial. What are all of these things doing to you?”

“They’re…” Anne growls a bit. “They’re making me angry. Angrier than I’ve ever felt.”

“Okay, and why would they want to do that? What is happening with the Darkness you’re feeling?”

Anne focuses on it, only for a moment, before her thoughts immediately go to the Maria in front of her. She’s right there, for the taking, easily killed at this angle…

“Anne, answer me.”

She looks back at Catherine. “It’s not actually Darkness,” Anne growls out. “It’s not comforting. This energy, it enhances your darkest thoughts. Your fears. Your anger-”

Anne tries to pulse towards Maria, but Catherine quickly stops it.

“Anne, focus.” Catherine says. “You can’t let this overtake you. Focus on me: why are they showing you these things? What’s the goal?”

“To make me angry,” Anne growls, struggling in Catherine’s grasp. Maria’s so close, she could almost touch her.

“Is that all?” Catherine asks, raising an eyebrow. She’s struggling to keep Anne at bay, but she’ll do it for as long as it takes to help her.

“What the fuck do you mean, is that all, it’s-!” she starts, but then her eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh, shit, oh-”

“What?” Catherine asks, clearly confused, but then the shadowed figure appears again. Anne immediately turns her attention to it, quick to suddenly pull Catherine behind her with some unseen shadows, and instantly moves to grab the shadowed figure.

Anne narrows her eyes as the shadowed figure whips their head around to face Anne, but Anne shakes her head.

“Not this time,” she says, smirking. “It was a distraction. You were always good at those. And you’re here, because you’re my weakness. You’re the reason I can’t move on, you’re the reason I can’t grow. You, and what you stand for to me.”

She grabs a torch nearby, and this time throws it at the shadowed figure.

The shadows retreated from the form, and the true terror appeared.

Her hair as blonde as before, blue piercing eyes now tinted with green energy as the new staff she wielded resulted in a pulsing energy that made Anne want to run. She looks on with wide eyes as the woman, over and over again, summons monstrosities, clearly attempting to overrun Anne right then and there.

Anne practically growls.

“Jane fucking Seymour.”

The figure in question certainly looked like the Keeper of Necromancy, but with one distinct difference - her eyes were not normal, but instead pulsing with darkness, with eerie energy that Anne had to look away from at the moment. She shivers at the coldness that’s so apparent she can feel it, but then a warm hand holds on her shoulder and she looks up at Catherine.

“This is the trial, then.” Catherine says, so matter-of-factly that it helps calm Anne somewhat. Anne looks up, managing to overcome her own fear of the corruption before her, and nods. Catherine nods back. “Go on, then.”

Anne moves away, towards the corruption, taking a deep breath as she does so. She suddenly pulses forward, moving past the shadowy monstrosities and immediately to Jane, but the girl dodges so fast that Anne can’t react to the counterattack. Suddenly, Anne has a knife through her stomach, though it quickly dissolves into shadows as she’s released. She falls to the floor, huffing in pain, as she practically growls at Jane, who backs up and readies herself for another onslaught.

“Direct attacks won’t work,” Catherine says.

“You think I don’t know that?” Anne asks, right as she pulses forward again. This time, instead of straight on attack Jane, she uses the shadows to dissolve into cover…

… or at least, she thought she did, right before Jane plucks her out of the darkness and once again stabs her with a dagger that fades into shadows.

Anne yelps again, and this time, she falls to her knees. She holds her abdomen, coughing up blood, before she looks down at the wound. It’s festering with corrupted darkness.

And that gives her an idea.

“What else do you have?” Catherine asks, at the woman’s side as Anne shakily stands up. Anne seems to be focused, so Catherine steps aside. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t think you can take another one of those stabs.”

“Don’t worry,” Anne says. “I won’t need another chance.”

She pulses forward, straight on. Catherine’s heart drops; did Anne suddenly forget this was what she did at first?

Jane readies her dagger, and just as she thrusts it into Anne… it suddenly stops. It all stops. All the monsters, all the magicks Jane conjured. They all just… stop.

Catherine looks over to find that Anne’s eyes are not her own - they’re filled with darkness. At first, Catherine thought the girl had lost, that she was corrupted like Jane’s magicks, but when Anne suddenly thrust her hand into the sky and Jane immediately did the same thing, Catherine realized what was happening.

Of course, Catherine thought, feeling a little stupid for not realizing it before. She can control shadows!

Indeed, Anne was now controlling Jane’s movements, Jane’s actions, all of it. The darkness around them was no long being passive in the fight; Anne was forcing it to move with her, at her command, and Jane was powerless to stop it.

This, Catherine realized, was the true power of a Keeper of the Shadows. This was the potential of the Queen of Shadows.

Anne immediately pulses backwards, but Jane still can’t move. Anne lifts her hands - Jane doesn't follow this time, Anne’s holding her in place - and Anne suddenly has chains connected to Jane’s wrists. The end of the chains are in Anne’s hands, and she smirks as she suddenly slams them into the ground, making Jane fall as well. Keeping the chains in one hand, Anne uses her other one to command the shadows to clear out the monsters around them, wiping them into oblivion, before focusing back on the Jane in front of her.

With a final wince, Anne takes the energy that she could feel around the wound and harnesses it herself. Instead of it infecting her body, she now controlled it as she formed it into a spear and threw it back at Jane, cracking her heart and thrusting them all into pale moonlight that blinded the area for a second.

The corrupted dark gives way to pale moonlight, and that Jane is on her knees. She looks up and her eyes are her own.

Anne’s blade pulses with the warm type of darkness that Anne is familiar with.

Anne looks down at the girl, and Jane looks up. She’s crying, eyes wide at the blade. She doesn’t say anything, however, as she bows her head.

“What is this?” Anne asks, but she keeps her gaze on Jane.

Catherine looks around. “Looks like the forests near the castle in the Capitol, honestly,” Catherine says. “I recognize this clearing. The bridge to the courtyard is only a few yards away.”

“And why is she giving herself over to me?” Anne asks, her hand tightening on her blade as her body stiffens.

Silence. Then, Catherine:

“I think you’ve a choice to make, Keeper of the Shadows.”

Anne continues her focus on the neck. She continues to remember. She continues to feel.

And she raises the blade and thrusts it down, hitting her mark.

Instead of a scream, or a head rolling, the figure immediately bursts into darkness, fading into the darkness around it. There’s suddenly a stronger darkness - a Void of sorts - and Catherine and Anne are pulled into it. The darkness is suffocating for Catherine, whose light suddenly is snuffed out, but Anne seems to revel in it, like it’s a cool refreshing drink.

When she opens her eyes again, however, she finds the Woman and Maggie standing over her.

Maggie smiles, but she’s clearly scared. “Annie?”

Anne takes a deep breath, then smiles. “I’m ok. We’re all ok.” She looks up at the Woman. “Was that satisfactory, my lady?”

“Just about what I expected,” the Woman replies. “But I think you’re ready regardless.”

Anne stands and, just as she goes to bow again, the Woman puts her hand on Anne’s heart and mind. Suddenly, Anne can feel a cool yet warm sensation coming from the hands that pressed against her, and her eyes faded into darkness for a moment before they returned to normal. She takes a deep breath and, suddenly, she feels more alive than ever.

When the Woman steps back, Anne instinctually puts a hand on her heart and head, just before she summons a shadow dagger in her hands.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Anne says. She then takes a deep breath and focuses on the energy; it forms into a darkened fireball of sorts, then a gauntlet, then an arrow. She smirks as she then puts the energy into her other hand, back into the dagger, and takes a step back into the shadows. She completely disappears then; not even Maggie could sense her.

She ends up behind the Woman, who doesn’t seem surprised to see her, but smiles. “I trust your new arsenal is to your satisfaction, my champion and my Keeper of Shadows?”

Anne’s eyes go wide at the title and she smiles widely, but she immediately shows respect, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Mistress.”

The Woman nods. “Pray you continue to do my will, though you are not bound to it. That’s not how I operate, unlike some others.”

That got Anne thinking. “Where did Catherine go?”

“The Blessed? She’s back in her body. She had some issues with a Fae, but I saved her.” The Woman smiles. “She helped my Champion in her trial, I saved her from being stolen away by the Fae. I consider us even - well, myself and her Goddess.”

Anne nods. “I’ll be sure to tell them to be careful moving forward. Thank you, my Mistress.” She looks back over at Maggie, who nods. “We need to go. The place where they are, it’s a Fae Lands. They’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Maggie nods. “After you.”

They rush off.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six ff #sixff #sixfiction #sixfanfic #sixfanfiction #six the musical fanfic

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romnff-blog · 5 years

Text

America’s ass

Pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader (can be platonic or romantic, whichever works for you!)

Warnings: language! somebody’s undies are exposed, fighting (although no serious damages seeing as its mainly playful) & hardly anything else unless you wanna consider humor and a bit of fluff a warning bc in that case you’re in for a treat!

Request: “so what about a steve x fem!reader one where they are both Avengers and they are doing their usual morning routine: running before training, but Steve gets cocky and laps the reader several times and just laughs about it so the reader takes revenge during the training session by showing off her "soooo much better fighting skills" and tries to knock Steve on the ground and it ends with being extremely fluffy and giggly, please? thank you bubs, you da best!!”

A/N: hi! This request is from my dearest, @adoringsteverogers aka an absolute angel, I enjoyed writing this and I actually like how it came out so I hope you enjoy! Go follow her guys! She writes as well (a whole lot better than myself, that’s for sure!) and it’s so good, 10/10 recommend, literally not kidding when I say she’s the absolute best! Thanks so much again for this, I love you so much!

“Oh, come on! That all you got, dollface?” Steve yelled from a good metre’s distance, jogging backwards with ease, almost tauntingly.

“Not to burst your bubble, cap, but not everyone is as physically advanced as yourself,” You practically seethe, causing him to pause for a breather, walking leisurely in your direction as if he hadn’t just gone thirteen laps in just under a minute.

“I mean look at you,” you continue breathlessly, waving a hand in his direction, hunched over and palms gripping your kneecaps as you fail to control your staggering breaths, “you’re like a walking steroid!”

That earned a chuckle from Rogers, “walking steroid, huh?” He parrots with a faux thoughtful expression before speeding off.

What the hell?

Before any burning questions you had could be answered, you noticed Steve’s, once missing, figure speeding in her direction as she continued on her light jog. With a shit-eating grin, he speeds right past you.

“On your left!”

“Bastard!” Y/n yelled loud enough for not only steve, but the rest of the neighborhood to hear—if they were even awake, that is.

Steve makes you wake up at the asscrack of dawn saying it’s “the best time seeing as you’re your freshest in the morning -mind, body and soul- and well-rested. It will help you be ready to take on any and every task. And as a bonus, if you run on an empty stomach, you could burn more fat!” that one earned a fake gasp from you and a playful punch to the shoulder for Steve. He’d chuckle, just the reaction he was looking for.

You’d realized your thoughts had blinded you from the reality that is Steve Rogers being an absolute asshat. Almost like lightning, he’s sprinting past you again, this time laughing his head off to your reaction, almost slowing down from laughing so hard.

You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle. “That arrogant asshole,” you thought, “I’ll show him.”

After about the sixth time he’s lapped you, watching him with an amused expression, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Alright, asshole,” you said, pausing in your movement, exaggerating the second part, “you wanna play, let’s play!”

That got his attention. With the same shit-eating grin as earlier, he’s walking towards you.

“Had enough, sweetcheeks?” He says teasingly, pinching your cheeks as if you were some child.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, you cocky bastard. I want a fair game, not this bullshit. Meet me in the training room in five.” With that she was off, slowing down at the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Wait, y/n! You didn’t tell me, five what? Minutes? Hours? You sure you can even get there that fast?” You can practically here the grin on his face, as if he’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

Idiot.

“Prepare to have your ass kicked, old man!”

“Say, y/n, are you sure you don’t wanna back out now? I don’t want to hurt you.” Steve says, pretending to be serious, -you can tell by the way his eyes shine and crinkle at the corners, he’s not- as he rubs his hands together in faux preparation.

“Shut up and fight me already!” You reply as you bounce irritably in your spot, cracking your knuckles.

And with that you’re basically tackling him to the floor. He loses all balance and falls underneath you and between your legs. It’s only a matter of seconds before he’s got one leg straddling your entire front and the other holding himself up. He’s got that signature smug look on his face as if he’s just defeated the world’s toughest villain. Steve’s not as smart as he likes to think he is though. Not with you in his corner.

He’s too lost in your eyes to realize his foot has slipped and he’s laying on his back yet again. You raise an eyebrow, huffing in amusement at his idiocy. You’re straddling his waist for a good minute before he’s got you pinned yet again. After a few rounds of rolling around, seeing who would win for dominance you eventually stand and offer a hand to the sweaty man beneath your feet. He hesitates for a minute before taking it only to earn an unexpected punch to the face and kick to the groin. He groans and lets out a humorless laugh before grabbing your wrist in hopes to knock you off your feet only supporting you to throw yourself back in a flip and landing on his shoulders, straddling the sides of his face with your thighs -and neck with the quads- in a chokehold with your thighs.

“I see nat’s taught–“ he coughs, gripping and tapping your thighs almost in a way of showing he’s surrendered “—taught you her little trick, huh?” Before you can smirk in confidence, you’re being knocked off your feet, landing harshly on the mat.

You can see his figure on top of you as you groan in pain, oh how you wished you could smack that smirk off his face.

Instead, you did yourself one better. While he was too busy attempting to keep his breathing at bay as he laughed his head off at your aggrieved state, you managed to crawl underneath him and take the risqué move of yanking down his pants. You couldn’t control the squeal that left your lips when his true form was revealed to you.

“Y/n!” His voice was high pitched as he attempted to cover up with his massive -clearly not massive enough compared to his...hands.

“ARE THOSE CAPTAIN AMERICA UNDIES I—“ you burst out laughing before you could even finish your sentence.

Steve was quick to get defensive, “LOOK, I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO WEAR, ALRIGHT? CUT A MAN SOME SLACK,”

“THAT DOESNT EXPLAIN WHY YOU OWN A PAIR OF BOXER BRIEFS WITH YOUR FACE PLASTERED ALL OVER THEM.”

“I GOT THEM FROM TONY FOR CHRISTMAS AS A JOKE AND I HAD NO OTHER CLEAN PAIR SO WHAT’D YOU EXPECT?”

You were trying so hard to control your fits but every word he spoke had you in tears.

“Fine,” you lift your hands in surrender, biting back a laugh, “I’m never letting you live this down though.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenges back before throwing himself at you.

He was slick, you give him that, but you were slicker. You were too quick in your actions as you slipped underneath and stuck out your left leg in an attempt to trip him. How easily trick-able he was when he was in a playful mood was beyond you.

You didn’t know whether it was the way his arms flailed in the air before falling backwards or the look on his face and the little shriek that left his lips before falling but whichever it was had you clutching your chest as if your lungs would quit on you any second from laughing so hard.

“You little shit,” he groans as you gasp out a snarky “you kiss your mother with that mouth, cap?” causing you to chuckle, “fine, you win! That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You smiled victoriously, “yes, actually, that’s all I could ever want, thank you!”

Feeling bad after maybe five minutes of watching the man lay with eyes closed, struggling to catch his breath you let your generosity get the best of you.

You kicked his shin lightly to get his attention. He opened one eye and closed it immediately, blushing, almost too embarrassed to open them.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a sore loser now. Here,” you wave your hand in front of him. He’s hesitant but takes it anyway.

Now what you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you to the ground along with him but of course because this is steve, that is exactly what he went for.

You were impressed by his strategy and you, instead of getting angry, couldn’t help but let out the ugliest laugh you’ve ever laughed in your life. This caused Steve to erupt in a fit of laughter as well.

The giggling went on for hours, random things triggering even more laughter which in turn made it so neither one of you would calm as you clutched your stomachs in laughter, all while still being tangled together.

After a good couple of minutes of laying atop of Steve, with your head resting in the nape of his neck in a fit of giggles, all had calmed. Both of you just lay there, engulfed in one another as you move your face to meet his and let out an airy laugh as you smugly reply,

“Can’t believe I really got to witness America’s ass this up close and personal.”

He let out a long sigh, letting his head hang loose before mumbling, “That’s not going away anytime soon.”

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archer3-13 · 5 years

Text

FEH Villains Ranked

from best to worst, excluding book 4 cause its still ongoing

lif: genuinely surprised me by being an alfonse with pathos. well he started book 3 as a kinda generic number 2 type, the revelation of his identity as alfonse (though rather obvious at that point) as well as his goal of essentially destroying other worlds as a penance to restore his own is both suitably threatening and tragic. Creating that sense of pathos i mentioned that works so well for him, especially when hes shown to still be a kind person at heart thats been pushed into such horrific actions because of the devastation he had to endure. Especially when you consider that hes carrying the weapon that could kill hel with him which, although kinda lazy that he just has it, is a) a hel of a lot less contrived then anything book 2 pulled off and b) further deepens that sense of pathos when we consider that not only is it a memento of ‘player san’ and presumably everyone else hes lost but that it can also represent, in a way, a symbol of his own failure of will and bowing the knee to hel. Him prioritizing his own happiness and fulfillment in the form of hel resurrecting his world over the good of the ‘fe multiverse’. Point being, its a complexity of character that I honestly wish we got to see more of, and one I really wasn’t expecting from fe heroes given its track record. you’ll see what i mean down the road.

hel: well not terribly complex in motivation, she basically just wants to kill everything to increase her own power, she gets points for a strong presentation and utilization within the story book 3 creates. The limitations on her insta death power being kinda silly aside, though gustavs gambit to circumvent that i honestly really like more so then alfonses rules lawyering, the overhanging presence she has in the lives of book 3′s characters works really well and the pressure to defeat her because of her effectively endless legions works better as an overhanging threat anyways. When I say presentation though I mean more so in how her words, actions, and motivation intersect because well her words on the face of it have the usual villain posturing, her motivation and actions (such as her relation to eir and her generals, and the world she rules over and created) creates an interesting intersection where one can argue that her posturing words are empty of any true feeling. Shes cold and lifeless like the dead she rules and the world she creates, those around her are simply tools to an end but hardly in a cackling manner and more so in the unthinking manner one treats a toothpick. she gets angry or shocked but even then its in a muted manner, almost performing the emotions rather then truly feeling them. Hel lives in an unchanging world, a stillness brought on by the finality of death, and in a way one can argue that its her unspoken desire to spread that stillness, that perfect unchanging world she controls, to every world. Like lif, its a degree of complexity that I wish we got to see more of, especially in her case, and its something i honestly wasnt expecting from heroes.

helbindi: solely because the man goes through a lot of shit, and is an effective portrayal of a sympathetic villain. Hes effectively a camus if a camus was foul mouthed and more thuggish and that works for him, and is rather endearing in its own way when he acts concerned for his little sister and does the ‘im a thug who hugs kittens when no ones looking’ routine which i like when its done well. point being, he could have been a generic thug but hes a lot more interesting for not being one. However, his general pointlessness to the story, aside from giving us an indication that shock of shocks surtrs a shitty king and an excuse to escort ylgir around places who also does jack shit in the story... heroes is always going to suffer from having to compress its story telling but that fact they waste so much time with helbindi and ylgir and hrud when so much of what they do is either unnecessary to the story or themes present in book 2 or could have been given to other characters and make those characters better for it... helbindi gets to be up here for sympathy points and favoritism, but i am stretching here for ya mate.

thrasir: stronger character wise then helbindi, an interesting relation to lif of enemies turned into close friends over a shared trauma and servitude, plays into some of the same strengths of hel and lif that make them so engaging, yadda, yadda, yadda. So why is she below helbindi? because she doesnt get to do anything, and only starts to get interesting right before her death. If she had been given a bigger role comparable to lif, or just more time to stew in her own motivations she’d easily surpass helbindi. its also not helped that thrasirs own desire to resurrect her brother is similar to veronicas pre established selfishness, which isnt as strong a contrast as lifs selfishness and guilt against alfonses character. Her relation to lif does hint at a stronger sense of kidness and morality instilled within her because of that relation, which is interesting and would make a strong contrast against veronica, but again we get like five seconds of it before shes killed off and then a little more of it again at the end. Deserved more time on screen then she got, and would have probably been number 2 here if she had gotten it.

veronica: bratty child becomes evil sorcerer emperor, more at 11. I like the concept of veronica, its something fes never really touched on much aside from maybe a little bit with julius with his more childish antics. Veronica however cranks that up a lot more, shes impatient and gets bored easily, she wants more friends but in a selfish ‘friend is someone who does everything I want right?’ way, shes emblas ruler and she has the emotional maturity of an evil 10 year old and i just kinda like it. Especially since she tempers it with an air of sophistication and intelligence, much like the classic evil sorcerers fe loves to utilize in villain roles, and it helps balance out the bratty child from being too annoying in the villain role. It helps lend a sense of her trying to present herself as a grown up for the respect and authority that brings, well simultaneously maintain all the perks of being a kid who gets everything she wants. It’s a shame then that the narrative keeps sidelining her, either by focusing on other villains, her god damn brother getting in the fucking way, or with the overhanging implications of magic dragon possession being the root cause of her behavior. I can forgive the magic dragon possession though since that is an fe staple and could works towards more interesting character aspects rather then undercutting her. Regardless, she sure is great when things are actually about her, and i really wish things would get back to being about her.

Laegjarn: solely here because she loves her sister, shes rather flat as a character otherwise. It would have been one thing if she displayed a sense of brutality instilled in her by a childhood being raised by surtr, only dropping the shell when it came to her sister and reigning herself in for the sake of that one familial bond she treasures... instead shes just kinda nice and loves her sister, and yet still works for surtr for some fucking reason. @agoddamn and @ezralahm mention an aspect of learned helplessness to xanders character in fates that people tend to gloss over (heaven knows why, cause its fairly in your face even in the english translation), and that should be something that comes across in laegjarn, but its doesnt really. not as much as it should anyways. Another victim of book 2′s pointless writing.

loki: evil sexy lady with big boobies and a one leg cutout tights pants thing. heres someone who can transform into anyone, and yet she never really does anything with it. oh she does ‘things’, just not things that have much point to them, or really feel like they fit into some larger scheme. she’d be right at home as a recurring villain in an episodic story, coming up with some inane scheme for todays episode that gets foiled and she gets sent ‘blasting off again’. I dont necessarily hate the sexy seductress character, the noire bombshells and the like, they can be fun when done well. loki just doesnt do it well, coming off as more grating and annoying then tempting honestly, and as a villain she lacks anykind of actual menace. My feelings on her are similar to my feelings on aversa honestly, heres someone who should be so cool and threatening, a real menace to the heroes using their skills and abilities behind the scenes to move threats against the heroes, never taking to the field unless they can benefit from it and have an assured chance of victory or safety... but then they never actually do anything, as any of the actions possibly attributable to them either happen offscreen or probably would have happened without them doing anything. Loki and aversa could have stayed home twiddling their thumbs and nothing would change, and thats the real shame about them. Doesn’t help they aren’t particularly fun or entertaining as villains either due to lackluster writing.

surtr: garon 2.0, but with even less complexity. Well garon may have been a blatantly evil prick, he at least had backstory that provoked some degree of complexity and even sympathy, both to him and those hurt by his evil dragon possession personality change. Surtr lacks even that, acting more like a petty thug given way to much power then an imposing ruler. He garon without the backstory complexity, and in a way hes walhart without the air of regality and charisma that helped elevate walhart from being god awful in his own right. And well it could have been interesting if the story made any attempts to comment on that or work it into a central story theme or flow of some sort, it doesnt really do that and instead treats him as if he has and indeed deserves the same credibility and impression walhart or garon or any of the other fire emblem emperor kings have left. But the game doesnt ever actually work for that with him. Hes the emeperor, so he automatically deserves respect as a villain. and thats... so typical of book 2′s writing.

laevatein: shes boring as sin, even with her relation to her sister and the tragedy of losing her. Like her sister, she would have benefited from an impression of learned helplessness but the game never really bothers with it. moving on because i can barely give a shit about her.

bruno: this mother fucker... an annoying detraction that overtakes veronicas spotlight and screentime, an excuse for alfonse wangst that never really lands, pointless and useless... the benefit of book 2 and 3 so far has been his reduced importance, but i fully expect him to come roaring back to steal veronicas position once the story shifts back to an area she should be the focus of. the only thing he has going for him is the sense of a camus struggling with dragon possession but thats more so used for alfonse wangst then it is for anything constructive. What do i mean by alfonse wangst? I mean angst that really serves no narrative purpose then for the sake of unnecessary melodrama, as opposed to informing us anything about the characters or themes of the story. he makes veronica look worse, his drama with alfonse is a waste of time, and he really provides nothing else then a recurring boss fight and get out of jail free card for the story. I’m putting him below laevatein because well i dont give much of a shit about her, she atleast doesnt actively annoy me and still had the potential for something. Bruno however? the story would be better off without him. So fuck him.

#fire emblem #fire emblem heroes

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years

Text

time’s arrow {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: Hi, I love your roger/ben imagines so much and was wondering if you could do some angst with Roger x female, maybe they are good friends and she sees him with another. Whatever you would like! Thank you x :)

A/N: 2727 words. A story told through Seasons. I took a little bit of liberties with the prompt, if that’s okay? This hit me like a lightning bolt and I had to write it. Angst with a happy ending. (I’m just trying to show I’ve got versatility in writing, okay?)

Warnings: Implied sex.

You meet him in Spring, before it all begins, he sits up the back of your Intro to Head and Neck Anatomy lectures, the only class with open spots available by the time you were looking for a science credit. You find out he’s in a band three weeks into the first class, finally going to the local bar, sick of cramming your brain full of information you’re not even sure is necessary for your degree. He grins at you and wow okay, you didn’t even think he’d recognise you.

“You’re in, um,” he’s leaning against the bar next to you in this dimly lit pub, grabbing a drink between sets. Faltering for a moment, his eyes travel down before you clear your throat, angry at yourself for blushing, but his smile widens, “my class.” He finishes, taking a sip of his beer. You agree, rolling your eyes at him, but even that seems to amuse him. He asks your name. The guitarist is calling him over, setting up for the next set, but you tell him before he leaves. Something tightens in your chest when, later that night, he catches your eyes mid-song, his look of intense focus shifting for a moment as he grins, giving you a wink.

He takes to sitting next to you in lectures, chewing the end of his pencil and taking occasional notes in a falling apart notebook that looks as though he uses it for every class. You catch lyrics in the margins and at the bottom of some pages, but he’s cagey about that in a strange way, just says you’ll have to come to a gig to find out what they’re about. So you do.

Gigs become a regular for you, and you start to become friends with the girls who frequent the shows, often hosting predrinks in your dorm room for Mary and her friends on a Friday night. You learn on one of those nights that at least two of the girls have hooked up with him, and there’s a strange, sinking sensation in your chest. You’re not sad, or at least, you tell yourself you shouldn’t be. You and Roger are just friends, it’s not like there’s anything going on there, sure, sometimes after a really good show he’ll give you a pash, but it’s- that’s just him.

It’s not like you’ve never thought about it, but you also know his reputation, and that it’ll do more harm than good to get involved with that. He’s the one mistake you don’t think you want to make.

It’s Summer, a few years later, when they trade in the van to get money to hire the recording studio. Roger had really loved that van, and he lay on your sofa for a solid hour grumbling about it, about how Freddie had some kind of nerve. You roll your eyes at him, call him a drama queen, which he takes offence to, but moves obligingly when you sit down, letting him rest his head in your lap.

When you raise the point that it might be worth it, he looks frankly aghast, griping about how he has to catch lifts everywhere now. He calms down somewhat when you start carding your fingers through his hair, though he still pouts.

“If it comes to it, I’ll buy you a car, you baby.” You snort, despite the fact that you’re currently barely making a living wage on some retail job, it’s not where you’d thought you’d be after university, but sometimes that’s just how it is. He looks up at you, and when you look down at him, he’s looking very intense. Perhaps he might say something poignant about your offer, you think, but instead he reaches up and pokes your nose.

“I can see up your nostrils.” He tells you, and you smack his hand away, scowling. You stand abruptly, ignoring his complaints, smoothing your pants out against your thighs.

“Come on,” you offer your hand, which he regards with both confusion and a bit of disdain, “you can’t mope around my apartment and complain about the band again. We’re going out.” That gets his interest.

You’ve been to bars with him before, and usually you go home alone while he gets the pick of the prettiest girls of the night, or he decides to wingman you, which hurts your heart a little, but you won’t decline. You were attractive in your own right, you won’t deny that, you didn’t technically need his help, but a selfish part of you likes the way the attention to you, even if it’s to help you get with other people.

Tonight is different, tonight he doesn’t leave your side, he slings an arm around you as the two of you stand by the bar watching the truly mediocre band they had on that night.

“You know why they aren’t recording an album?” You ask as the set ends.

“Because they didn’t sell their van?” Roger mused, vaguely bitter, but not melancholy as he swirled the last of his drink in his free hand.

“No, it’s because they’re terrible.” Turning, you smile at your own blunt remark, and when he looks back at you, he’s grinning with a little disbelief. There’s very little space between the two of you, but that doesn’t make your heart race anymore, he’s your best friend, close contact was part of the bargain. But he kissed you, quickly, without warning, and when he pulls back, he turns away to order another drink like nothing had happened.

Your mind is spiralling, this isn’t post-gig excitement, this wasn’t something you were expecting. The selfish creature in your chest that you tried to deny for so long was crowing with victory. Taking a quick look around the bar, you don’t recognise anyone, though there are a few girls who look like they’d be his type- but his hand is moving to wrap around your waist as he turns back.

“What was that?” Voice quiet, you take his drink and have a sip of it yourself, the movement done from muscle memory alone. He raises his eyebrows at you, not regarding the drink, that was a usual occurrence, but at the question. He doesn’t seem to know how to answer, baffled at the question. Dropping you gaze, you take a sip of your own drink. “Why me? Why tonight?” You asked. Looking incredulous, he stepped back, looking you over.

“Have you seen yourself tonight, love? Couldn’t help myself.” You’ve heard him talk like this before, to other girls, not as blunt, but with you he can get away with it. The creature in your chest is elated, and you find yourself smiling, actually blushing. He moves closer once more, his arm around you, voice low as he spoke into your ear. “Trust me, you look very fit tonight, any man would be lucky to have a crack at you.” Heart in your throat, you hope you’re reading the situation right, at the same time ignoring the part of you that knew this was a bad idea.

“Even you?” You turned to face him, watching the way his smile shifted to a smirk, and he pulled you a little closer.

“You know I’m always feeling lucky.”

You kiss him, feeling your blood thumping in your veins, selfish and excited in equal measure, but with his hands on you, you can’t find the focus to care about the former.

Once the bad starts up again, Roger pulls away, making a face at them, asking if you wanted to get out of there. You do, and the two of you are elated on the quick walk back to his apartment, stopping only when he pressed you up against the wall of an closed shop to suck a hickey into the skin of your neck. You catch sight of it in his bedroom mirror, but he’s pulling off your jacket and you have better things to worry about.

It’s not weird, like you thought it would be, when you wake the next morning and he’s curled up, fast asleep with his back to you, but your chest aches just a little. He avoids eye contact over breakfast, though you chat like normal. The gripes about his van have died down, though he makes an offhand comment about things are changing that you read enough into to realise what had happened.

“You’ll always have me, Rog.” You reach across the table to take his hand, and he finally looks you in the eye, he looks so relieved, not that he’d ever say it. Afraid of losing another thing he cared about, he had panicked last night and tried to keep you close in the only way he knew how. He certainly loved you, but not in the way you wanted him to. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s not his fault.

Bohemian Rhapsody airs in Autumn, you’re regional manager now, and you’re sitting in your office when you hear for the first time; you almost scream when the first harmony comes in after the radio host introduces the song.

“You’re a star, Rog!” You gush over the phone on your break, unable to wait until that night when the band was having a celebratory get-together to talk to him.

“Of course, I am, you think I sing that high to be paid in peanuts?” You can hear the smile in his words without even seeing him, and being able to hear his voice warms your heart.

“That was you?” You laugh, the ‘Galileo's playing back in your head, and you try to picture him singing it, which only made you laugh harder.

“Oi,” he bristled, indignant at your laughter, “I’m the only one with the range to execute Freddie’s vision.” You could see him in your mind now, proud and stubborn, standing tall to defend the decision.

“I’m proud of you.” Suddenly sincere, you find your smile turning to something more genuine as you think back on far he’s come.

“Thank you.” His own voice has become less animated, more sincere, though you can still hear him smiling.

“Love you, Rog.” You tell him, just as you always did when you parted ways.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

He’s grinning, draped with casual confidence in an armchair in Freddie’s living room when you arrive, and you feel like you’ve been taken back five years, the casual enthusiasm he’s exerting. Smile brightening, he stands when he sees you, striding across the room to enfold you in a hug.

“Good to see you!” He practically beams at you, holding your shoulders as he looks over you, as if assessing you, seeing if anything has changed.

“Of course, you’ve been holed up for weeks, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Though he’s in front of you, you’re words address the room as a whole, and when he steps back, Brian moves in to hug you as well, asking how you’ve been.

The boys are your friends, all of them, you’ve been around for most of their big band moments, and it eases something in your chest to be here for this one too. But then the ease sharply tightens as a woman you’ve never seen before sits on the arm of Roger’s chair, and he rests a hand on her thigh, smiling up at her.

Mary follows your gaze, and her smile is sad as she pulls you down to sit beside her, asking you about your thoughts on the single. You answer, though your heart’s not in it, and the selfish creature in your chest rears it’s ugly head after such a long slumber.

The monster has shifted, changed and grown, it hadn’t cared about him running around with any pretty girl he could find for the past few years, but this was different. Roger had made it clear that he was far from sacred, but this was the band, this was Freddie’s home, this was the place of some of your happiest memories; this was yours.

You stay well into the early hours of the following morning, despite the interloper, but Roger still stopped you at the door.

“I’m really glad you could make it, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He’s smiling at you, but you don’t smile back. It’s been a long night of being kind and pretending that you’re heart didn’t hurt.

“Well, you’ve very busy.” You shrug, punctuating it with a yawn. His expression turns confused, and you open the door.

“Y/N.” He tried to get your attention, but you left, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder to him. “Love you.” He calls through the door, but you stay quiet, refuse to say it back, just keep walking. You’re too tired to be upset, but maybe you’ll get there tomorrow.

Things change, and you’ve grown to accept that, but sometimes old aches don’t heal like they should. Or at all.

“I’m getting married.” He calls you at the end of Winter.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Your relationship’s been on the mend in the years since the Bohemian Rhapsody launch night. You two smile and laugh like you had when you were younger, and you’ve learned to listen to his exploits and his gripes about women, offering your own about your partners, though they’re few and far between. He’s still your best friend, and you learn to act like it.

“Congratulations.” Your voice is flat. It had been a shock, you’d heard about his latest on-again off-again girlfriend, and had even offered advice in certain situations, actual advice, no malice at all.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t seem to know where to go from here, and silence stretches out between the two of you.

“I should go.” You finally murmur.

“What? Why?” He spluttered, and you sighed deeply.

“Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against the wall.

“I- no, but I want you to be there.” He paused. “And I wanted to be the one to tell you.” Clenching your jaw, you make a snap decision.

“I can’t-”

“Why not?” He actually sounded angry, which was perhaps warranted, though your next words shut him up.

“Because it hurts, Roger.” After a beat, your voice is quiet. “Because I love you.” Taking a breath, you let yourself relax. “I want you to be happy, but I can’t watch you marry someone else.” There’s silence for a very long moment, but you hang up before he can respond. You take the phone off the hook. You need to be alone, just for now.

“After everything, you still-?” It’s the first day of Spring, and he’s on your doorstep, seemingly unable to say the word love. You’re wearing your pyjamas and he looks like he’s just walked out of a Rolling Stone cover shoot, though he just sort of looks like that now, you supposed.

“Don’t worry about it.” You try not to betray how much his visit shocked you, or the way his very presence after your recent conversation hurt you.

“You’re my best friend! Of course I’m gonna worry about it!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. Sighing deeply, he stepped forward. “I thought I fucked everything up when we hooked up, I’m sorry, I panicked.” He was looking at his fidgeting hands, rather than your surprised expression. “And then... I thought I fucked it up again when I chose the band over you.”

“You never-” You tried to protest, but he smiled self-deprecatingly.

“No, I did. I loved you, and I thought that would get in the way of the band.” Clenching his jaw, he looked up and you could see the regret in his eyes. “It was easier to fuck around that tell you I love you.” Your breath stopped in your throat as he finally walked closer. “And I thought after everything, that you deserved better; you know what I’m like, why would you-?” But you cut him off with a kiss.

“You’ll always have me.” You murmured, finally letting yourself smile. Nothing about it felt selfish, in fact, it felt as though the sun was finally shining on you, warming you from the inside out.

“I know,” he agreed quietly, wrapping you up in a hug.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #borhap #queen #bohemian rhapsody #queen imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #bo rhap #the angry lizard writes

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ibitchytimemachine · 5 years

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Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta Characters: Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs, Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Android 17 (Dragon Ball) Additional Tags: Vegebulocracy Big Bang, VBO Big Bang 2018, Alternate Universe, AU, Mafia AU, Romance, Angst, Action, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, multi-chapter, Dragon Ball AU, Vegebul AU, vegebul smut is the best smut, Lemon, vegebulocracy, VBO, Big Bang Challenge Series: Part 1 of Retribution Summary:

Raised in the shadows, Vegeta’s sole purpose in life was to avenge the destruction of his family. The key to his victory laid in the hands of Bulma, the daughter of the enemy, and not even the strange connection he feels with her will keep him from raining his furious retribution upon all who had dared cross his bloodline.

For the TPTH Fic Club this month we read @scarletraven1001‘s Retribution. I have done a down and dirty review a while back when I did mini reviews of all the fics for the VBO Big Bang, but lets dig a little deeper, thoughts below the cut!

So first and foremost lets talk about what Scarlet does really really well. She is masterful at creating believable characterizations. And something that I have noticed is even though they all have the same canon/fanon feel as you would think they should in a canon or canon divergence fic, she takes those building blocks of personality traits and elaborates on them to fit her specific story. Sometimes Goku is a sweet, lovable clown, and other times he is almost the rock for Vegeta. Its a real special gift Scarlet has for this. Also, very rarely does she fall into the trap many of us fanfic writers do of making one dimensional characters.

Also she comes up with the most interesting ways to incorporate winks and nods to canon in an alternate universe. They are hardly ever blatant and sometimes you really have to know what you are looking for to catch them, but there are always really great references to canon in her works. Besides Vegeta being blown up (poor ‘geets), which is another fantastic wink at the readers, I really loved the inclusion of Vegeta’s space pod as a toy he used to play with. And the fact that it changed hands, and even became a mini plot point later in the fic was special. I hope it comes back in part two, cause I want to keep seeing this little space farers journey.

So I mentioned in my original review that it reminds me of Oceans 11 movies with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, with a character having a specialized role within the unit. When 18 leaves the group, it makes me wonder who is gonna fill her spot. She's the getaway driver, and as far as I know no one else is really good at that. We see Piccolo driving at the end but he ends up having to ditch the car. I feel like the character 18 is one that would have figured out how to not ditch the car, so I wonder how her absence is gonna affect later plot points. I would also like to see what her Krillin is like... so hopefully he makes an appearance later too when the action gets pumped up in part two.

Really book one of Retribution feels more like the first act of a play. We know what the problems in the story are, we have been introduced to the world, and the characters, and even have had the first mini climax ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° The romantic subplot is on point. They quickly fall in love, but the relationship is deep seated in childhood friendship. It is also hinted at physical attraction from the beginning of the story, so it doesn’t feel like insta-love. I don't think I need to mention how nicely Scarlet writes smut, but just incase someone out there doesn’t know, her smut is fantastic. It’s both erotic AND romantic, which I gotta admit is not something you see often. Smut is either romantic, or its panty soaking in a lot of fics, but with her smut it’s BOTH.

I am so disappointed in how this ends. It is truly a cliffhanger of epic proportions. Bulma is lost to Vegeta, and Raditz is also gone (although I do have questions about this asshole in the guard house.....) and the WAIT FOR BOOK TWO!!! It is painful. Honestly though, this is my favorite story she has written, and I gotta say coming from the writer of Insurrection, Linked, and The Final Price (all great fics, click those links and read them if you haven't already read them) I came into this story with expectations. I really and truly hope that part two lives up to my expectations. Part one has really set up a wonderful premise that is right up my alley (much lighter in tone than some of the other stuff I rave about so if y'all are worried about that its not dark and heavy) and has romance, intrigue, enough plot to hold up under scrutiny and great characterizations.

I am honestly amazed about what Scarlet was able to do in the first part, cause for all intents and purposes it happens in one freaking location. Bulma is stuck in a freaking house the entire time (except for the last chapter but I digress) and it doesn’t feel like the story stands still during this time honestly. There is action, the dialogue is nice, the characters interact in fun ways... I told her I wished she had made chiaotzu a dog, cause he doesnt do much more than guard Bulma, but maybe he will have a purpose in the second part?!

It is really a fantastic piece. It is only HALF a story and I still think it is just fantastically written and the set up is really well done, so I know that when she starts writing part two it should flow really well. This is a story that you should 100 percent read. If you wanna wait until part two comes out, I honestly can't fault you for that, but I will tell you that the best way to get an author to update something is to go to their page and tell them how much you love what they have done in the comments. So if you want more of Retribution (or any of her other fics) you should go and comment on something you loved, so they know that they are reaching someone in this void called the internet.

On that note, I messaged her the other day after the TPTH fic club discussion and told her how much I personally loved this fic and asked what her time table for dropping the first chapter of part two. She is wanting to finish Obsidian and update Insurrection before starting book two. She says she is already deep in the draft processes of the first bit so we shouldn't have to wait too long!

If you liked this review, after you check out this fic, head over to my A03 and check my stuff out too!

#btm fic review #scarletraven1001 #vegeta x bulma #vegebul fanfiction #fan fiction review #a03 #recommended

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thenixkat · 5 years

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Animorphs notes: Megamorphs 2

Megamorphs 2

Marco 1

Saw something on the news and mentioned it to the others leading to everyone in a storm trying to breathe in dolphin morph

Of course its not like sharks need to breath air and might be better in some cases

Marco uses humor to cope

Rainy day

So why are the animorphs getting involved with a sunken nuclear sub?

Marco wants to go out of his way to save people again.

Him and Rachel are like the most likely on the team to become superheros

Or they could put their stuff in a bag and bury it on the beach instead of putting things in the trash?

How exactly do these guys plan on rescuing people?

Cassie 1

Everybody morphs dolphin

They find the sub

Jake 1

Ah yes the plan to kidnap an officer. Totally would have no negative reprocussions

Can’t just act in a weird and obvious manner to direct people to the sub

Sometimes dolphins help people, sometimes dolphins kill people. Its a rulette game as to whichever a dolphin is more interested in at the moment

The writter makes a comment on war and nukes

A nuke goes off and instead of being vaporised by the light the kids get transported through time and space for some reason

Rachel 1

One of these days a kid is gonna get trapped in morph when they’re uncoincious

Cassie’s the only one who had any injuries from the fucking nuke going off

Why is there a volcano over there? There shouldn’t be volcanoes where they are

Rachel watches the Magic Schoolbus

That’s not how plesiosaurs work and you could never mistake them for a whale even with sonar

Ax is smug about those not being whales

Tobias 1

Why the hell are fucking plesiosaurs intered in them in the first place?

Tobias got vored by something big enough to swallow a 10ft at least dolphin whole

This is causing me pain

Rachel got vored by something that can fit 2 ten or so foot dolphins inside its stomach

Looked it up and yeah no, plesiosaurs were def known to not have flexible necks by the time this was written

No that can’t be an ichthyosaur b/c they’re gone by this point in the Cretaceous and the on ly ones that big were likely FILTER FUCKING FEEDERS

Random ass gulper eel dolphin sea monster

Rachel decides that morphing is the best idea in the stomach

Tobias morphs too

Jake 2

Ax doesnt get to have a turn yet what a surprise

Cassie says they should try to rescue Rachel and Tobias, Jake says thats a fucking dumb idea and he’s right

Jake is pissed at people getting themselves eaten and Cassie coming up with dumb fucking idea

There should actually be some seagull like dinosaurs but I think those were discovered much later than these were written

Kids finally put 2 and 2 together and realized that they aint in Kansas anymore

They havent actually put togther the gone back in time bit yet

Jake and the writer seem to be under the impression that dolphins have no natural defenses

They are almost there in realizing what happened

Cassie 2

Still no fucking Ax narration

THESE KIDS ARE REALLY FUCKING DUMB

Sauropods did not leave elephant like foot prints. At all

Nope not figured it out yet

Cassie, you should know that whales can’t swallow whole full gown dolphins

Cassie almost gets eaten by a crocodilian and these kids still haven’t fucking figured it out

Wait a minute. Grass doesn’t exist in this time period

Also Cassie should know better. Herbivores can and will fuck you up with little provication

They finally figured it out

I see we have movie monster Tyrannosaurs

Rachel 2

Wow Ax really doesnt have any rights does he?

...that’s not how anatomy

Bears are not herder to digest than dolphins

This is hurting ,me

Tobias everything you said aside from the hadrosaurs was pure bullshit

Rachel thinks the dinosaur angle is rediculous

Tobias 2

Tobias you have a fucking hork-bajir morph you utter dumbass

Wow Tobias is bad at morphing, he can’t even get rid of his injuries

Tobias gets to be extra useless and cause Rac hel pain by haveing to perch on her

Grass doesnt exist in this time period

There was a gradual decline in the late Cretaceous of nonavien dinosaurs, the asteroid was the last nail in the coffin

T. rex was just another animal not not much more dangerous than say a lion, just bigger

Marco 2

Ax doesnt get to narrate I guess

There is no reason for the tyrannosaur to be chasing them it just made a fucking kill

They aren’t even the right size to be worth the fucking effort either

Marco almost gets eaten and is saved by Ax who papercuts the thing to death

Ax 1

Yeaaaah Ax vs Tyrannosaur should not end in victory for Ax

I flatout don’t belive this rediculousness and my suspension of disbelife died several chapters ago

Ax is fucking shook that worked

Ok good Ax was very very fucking lucky that worked and not gonna try that again

No, Ax, no that is not scientificly possible b/c theres no fucking dna in the fucking fossiles they are bone and other shit shaped rocks

When the fuck did Cassie get any survival skills? Did she decide to brush up after the Karen incident

Well we have ‘I will survive this with or without you’!Cassie today

Yall could actually morph Ax and have your own andalite tails. Or fucking morph hork-bajir

Rachel 3

Grass still doesnt exist yet

At no point did rachel think to escue some modesty and make wraps for her feet

Rachel suggests that Tobias morph human, even perminatly

He is very shit at morphing

I guess he expects that he’s got days to live as a wounded bird over anything else he could fucking morph

Rachel refuses to fucking make it known that she’s suffering

In what fucking world does that description matach a triceratops

Also deinonychus, not around at the end of the cretaceous

Deinonychus is about almost 3 ft tall at hip and a ft longer than that

Naked ass ones at that

Them going after them at least makes sense

Cassie 3

Camping and eating tyrannosaur meat

Gonna sleep in shifts

People keep forgetting that they have hork-bajir morphs which are amazing and also that they could just aquire Ax

Tobias 3

Nothing about the majority of large dromaeosaurs suggests that they’re fast. The opposite actually. Ambush predators not chasers.

Tobias and Rachel split up

Tobias and the writers forgot about wing assisted incline running and the fact that raptors can fucking climb if the have to

Tobias drops on one and aquires it

Tobias 4?

This is going with the not-dynonicus being diurnal for some reason

Tobias lost control of the morph and will probably attack Rachel

Jake 3

The rock that was the final nail for the dinos is estableshed bvery firmly\

Stampede

And a nother tyrannosaur

Jake trips and falls when it matters most

Rachel 4

Tobias is really serious about not identifying as human

Rachel tries to reach him over smashing the lead raptor

Jake 4

Jake gets vored by the tyrannosaur whole even tho it was already eating bigger more interesting prey

Jake aquires the thing and starts morphing imediately

That tyrannosaur broke its fucking tail

Everyone aquires the injured dinosaur

Marco 3

Marcos not happy and everyone misses Rachel

More travel

Ax says the flash of light that started the stampede was artifical

Did Ax just say he can see ultraviolet and infrared

They find an alien city

Tobias 5

Tobias is bitching about Rachel still being mad that he gutted her

Neither of them are healing their injuries for no good reason

Ew, Tobias gross.

Rachel has a raptor morph now

Rachel isn’t a coherent person when hrungy and tired

Why are there coconut trees? They dont exist yet

Rachel eats a not coconut

No. That is not a fucking spinosaurus. Spino is fucking African and didn’t live at the same time as T.rex

Tobias metally calls Rachel stupid

Rachel 5

This is really fucking poorly reserched

And lo an alien:

And that's when I noticed the other creature step smoothly out from the

bushes.

It walked on two legs. It was rough-textured, like it had really chapped

skin. It was reddish in color. It had two big eyes and a small mouth,

all of the same reddish-rust hue. It stood about eight feet tall. It was

carrying a weapon.

The creature gazed curiously at us with what seemed to be eyes, although

they were mere indentations in its face. From its head a pair of

antennae, flexible as whips, grew and began waving toward us.

The alien calls dibs on the dinosaurs and speaks Fucking English

The nesk

The nesk is a pile of antlike creatures

Anmd really Rachel just fucking escalate things to outright violence

Cassie 4

Cassie suggests that they just go see who the aliens are

And that Jake stay behind b/c she doesnt want to loose more people

The alien city:

We flew toward the shining city in the valley. With osprey eyes I could see much more clearly. I saw buildings that rose in steep, smooth sweeps, like they'd grown from the bedrock. Windows were stuck in odd locations, some aiming out, others more like skylights. And there were fields planted with green and arranged in neat circles instead of rows.

The aliens themselves:

As we got closer, I could see creatures of some sort. They looked a little like large - very large - crabs. Only with shells in a wild array of colors, deep blue, spring green, orange. And while on one side there was something very much like a large pincer, on the other side there was a pair of hands.

Crab people

TRhe kids are attacked by naked pterosaurs

Tobias 6

Wow its almost like starting a fight with an unknown party can go wrong

The ship:

The ground beside me exploded, like it had been ripped by an invisible

plow. I jumped. Another plow mark just behind me! I saw movement. And

there, racing toward us across the plain, was a gleaming, silver craft.

Maybe twice the size of a Bug fighter, but shaped like an elongated

pyramid, long end forward.

The nesk herd Rachel and Tobias away from their claimed territory

Ah they’re falling over the cliff of the mercora city

Jake 5

Daring mid air antics and the team is reunited

Also a force field wich is smart\

Ax is tired of having to be the info guy

At least its not a killer forcefield like the kind that yeerks use

The mercora introduce themselves

Ax 2

Ax and his andalite bullshit

More of the mercora:

There were three of the creatures. They moved upon seven legs. Four on

one side, three on the other. To make matters worse, the four

legs were larger than the three. So they scuttled sideways in the

direction of the small legs.

They stood about half the height of a tall human, and seven or eight

feet wide.

On the side with the four big legs, there was a sort of three-way pincer

claw. It looked very powerful. It looked like the sort of thing I would

not want to have to fight against.

On the other side, the weak side, there were two arms similar to my own,

but even stronger than human arms. The arms ended in long, tapered,

delicate fingers.

There were a lot of eyes. They kept opening and shutting, one or two or

three at a time. They were each hidden beneath tiny trap doors in the

Mercora's exoskeleton or shell. Eyes were forever appearing and

disappearing. It was very, very distracting.

Which is a cool design

They talk in thought speak

Just b/c humans in the future don’t know about the mercora doesnt mean they left or were destroy you dumb fucks

Marco 4

The mercora healed Tobias, gave everyone food, a place to stay and even offered to make them soem clothes

The crabs wear clothing or at least make it

And they have force field furniture

Also that’s not how broccli works

Marco makes a vore joke about the mecora

Really Cassie?

The mercora are herbivores

All you have is the mecoras’ word on that and they are in direct conflict with the nesk

And so what if they’re scavengers?

Very rarely but sometimes Cassie has a valid point

Ax 3

Ax is still kinda specist

Hmm I wonder why the mercora aprove? Its not like they can have an alterior motive here

And the mercora are going to help

Ax is very lonely in genera;

Cassie 5

The writers are fucking awesomebros

And they can’t control the morphs

Cassie gets wounded by a ceratopsian

Jake 6

What? We were just with Cassie oh forget it

Jake is suicidally confidant that Cassie wouldn’t eat him

Apparently Jake is right

Cassie freaks out

Ax 3

Tobias keeps being wrong.

The nesk have thought speak detectors

Tobias 7

They group steal an explosive and destroy the nesk ships

Rachel 6

The nesk retaliate very effectively

Ax calls for back up

TRachel throws herself around to draw away fire from the others

The mercora attempt a rescue and loose a ship

Culture:

The Mercora saucer picked us up, us and our little nuke. But they were a

grim, depressed bunch of aliens. It was hard to tell at first. But then

I noticed that each of them was minus one of their smaller legs. There

were just oozing stumps.

"What happened to your legs?" I asked. But even as the words were out of

my mouth, I saw the limbs in the corner. They were laid out on a

brightly colored cloth which was draped over a shelf. There was

something ceremonial about it. Almost religious.

<Can you explain the meaning of this?> Ax asked politely.

<We must make the sacrifice of pain. The legs will regenerate, but those

we honor will not,> the Mercora pilot said. <This is a symbol. It speaks

to our spirit's pain, by echoing it in physical pain.>

"They did this for the Mercora who were in the other ship?" Jake asked.

<For those who were in both ships,> the pilot said. <To be killed is a

sadness. To kill is a sin.>

Jake says the they owe the mercora for saving them

Fuck you Tobias

Tobias 8

Tobias this is premeditated murder

The nesk have decided to leave the earth

The mercora claim that the nesk altered the path of the meteor

They want to use the bomb to save themselves

Cassie 6

Fuck you Tobias

You need to be held accountable for this shit

Its almost like the vast majority of things to ever live never leave any fucking fossils you nit

This bastard is really trying to justify himself like this is anyway defensible

Fuck you Tobias, you get to join Cassie and Jake in the bin of fucking terrible people

Jake 7

Oh what you little bitch babies can’t handle the consequences?

Tobias deserves his unhappines and eventual death

Cassie 7

Cassie at least decides to bear witness to their crime

CVassie saw the time pass

No good reason given why they can’t retain those morphs

Tobias needs to pay for his shit

#nix reads animorphs #animorphs #this was very poorly reserched #and tobias deserves his suffering

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hi-im-secretly-satan · 6 years

Text

The Taste of Salt (Living People are Warm)

Fandom: No.6 Pairing: Nezumi x Shion Word count: 2306 Warnings: Minor character death, parental death, scars Tags: Hurt/comfort, bittersweet fluff, body worshipping Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788664 Summary: After Karan's sudden death, Shion finds himself losing grasp of what it means to be alive and needs Nezumi to ground him. Notes: Written for the @restructuralcommittee ‘s Valentine’s contest with the theme “Types of Kisses”.

There are many different kinds of kisses, Shion learned.

Kisses his mother gave him when he visited her at the bakery or at home. Inukashi’s dogs that enthusiastically licked his hands whenever he ran into them at the marketplace. Little Shionn who padded up to him, begging to be lifted up high and messily bumping his puckered lips against Shion’s cheek.

Every kiss he gave and received was dear to him. But his favourite kisses were Nezumi’s. Fleeting kisses as he was stirring the pot on the stove. Lazy morning kisses over complaints about bad breath. Nezumi’s newly developed habit of taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. Kisses before bed and kisses before work. Kisses that made him dizzy and kisses that made him float. He had never known there were so many different kisses, but now that he was familiar with them, he couldn’t get enough.

It was on a beautiful spring day that he discovered a new kind of kiss.

In hindsight, he doesn’t remember much about that week. There’s a vague lingering feeling of the phone slipping out of his hand when the staticky voice apologetically informed him of her condition. Of the rage burning in his veins when Nezumi had held him back as he blindly rushed into the traffic to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Of the numb days when they shouldered the heavy burden of preparing for the funeral. Of the emptiness scratching on his hollow insides as he watched the undertaker cover the coffin with dirt.

His most vivid memory was when they had returned from the cemetery. He had closed the blinds and retreated into their bedroom, closing himself off from the bright blue sky, from the sun smiling down at him, from the world that breathed and lived around him as if she hadn’t just cruelly embraced one of her children in her bosom.

Nezumi had left him to mourn, after having promised to come immediately if Shion called for him.

He didn’t.

As the sky outside slowly bled out and turned black, silence settled in their apartment like heavy, stifling blanket. When Shion still hadn’t come out hours after Nezumi had tried to coax him out for dinner, Nezumi grew worried. He was only too familiar to the extremities of Shion’s emotions and knew they were prone to be self-destructive. So he reheated the broth he had set aside for him and took the bowl to their bedroom.

When he knocked on the door, there came no reply. He stepped into the room and quietly drew up to the bed where Shion was buried under the blankets, staring at the wall and his pillow dark with stains. Cautiously, as if he could break him if he spoke too loudly, he said “I brought you some soup.”

It took Shion a moment to reply. “I’m not hungry.”

Nezumi watched him for a few seconds before placing the bowl on the nightstand and sitting down on the edge of their bed. He tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers through his pale, almost translucent hair. Shion inhaled sharply, as if he was broken out of a trance.

Still staring at the wall, he broke the silence. “Mom was so cold in the morgue.” His voice was frail, raw from crying. “I kissed her goodbye, but it didn’t feel like her. Mom is always so warm, but all that warmth was gone.”

Nezumi’s heart ached. Shion was supposed to be brimming with excitement, curiosity and fascination, spewing weird scientific facts at inappropriate moments. Not quiet and broken like this, with red rimmed eyes and tear streaks on his cheeks. “We look before and after, and pine for what is not,” he murmured, letting his hand travel a little lower. His thumb gently brushed over his red scar as he continued, “our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught; our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.”

Shion smiled faintly - Nezumi counted that as a small victory - and scooted a little closer.

“Percy Shelley?”

“Looks like someone has done his homework.”

They smiled at each other. It was a little easier to breathe now. Shion was quiet for a moment until he broke the silence again.

“Kiss me.”

Nezumi happily obeyed and leaned down, softly pressing his lips against Shion’s. It was as if this kiss restored some of the life the recent days had drained from him, as Shion eagerly mirrored the action, burying his hands in his inky hair, effectively messing up his ponytail. Nezumi hadn’t expected the force with which Shion responded and had to quickly catch himself on the bed by placing his hands next to Shion’s head. The taste of salt lingered on his lips. Shion broke away from the kiss and gazed up at him with damp eyes.

“Remember when we were twelve and you were having a fever from the gunshot wound?”

Nezumi felt a pang in his chest. Remember when? Of course he remembered. The memory had stuck with him no matter how much he had tried to push it away. It had kept him sane through the cold and lonely days in the library vault, a reminder that there were still good people out there, and the kindle for a silent determination to see that boy again; that weird, airheaded boy who had saved him against all odds. His hand found its way to Shion’s scar again and he traced the lines with his finger pads. “How could I forget?”

A tear rolled down Shion’s cheek. “You may not remember because you were about to succumb to your fever, but back then you said living people are warm.” He looked up at Nezumi and met his pained gaze, desperation and anguish making his red eyes seem even brighter than usual. “Prove it to me. I’m chilled to the bone, Nezumi. It’s like her cold has seeped into me. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be warm, to be alive, so please, kiss me and remind me I’m still alive.”

Nezumi’s heart both soared and ached. This was one of the many reasons why he loved Shion. In any other situation he would have teased him for saying something so embarrassing with a straight face, but now the only thing he wanted was to obey and love him as much as Shion would let him, as much as he needed him to.

He pressed his lips against Shion’s forehead and heard his breath hitch. “You’re alive, Shion,” he whispered. He kissed his temple, his cheek and tasted the tears that had started falling again. He wiped them away and rested his forehead against Shion's. “You're alive,” he repeated. “Feel the sorrow threatening to drag you under, the anger at life's unfairness; it's a sign that you're living.”

Shion sobbed. He reached up and took Nezumi's face in his hands. “Show me more,” he whispered.

Nezumi brushed his thumb over Shion’s lower lip before kissing him again, a silent promise that he would give everything Shion needed him to give. Gently pulling down Shion's hands from his face, he leaned back and tugged on the blanket Shion was still lying under. He got the hint and pushed them off. Once the blanket was out of the way, Nezumi climbed on top of him. His hand found Shion’s and they shared a loving look before Nezumi leaned down again and let his lips follow the trail of his scar, until it disappeared under the collar of his dress shirt. They hadn't changed out of their funeral clothes yet. Shion had crawled into bed the second he was alone, and Nezumi hadn’t entered the bedroom afterwards out of respect. He met Shion’s eyes. “Can I open this?” It was not something he usually asked, but he did not want to break this fragile moment by taking things to a place Shion wasn't prepared to go.

His worries were put at ease when Shion squeezed their joined hands and nodded. He started unbuttoning his shirt but found it was a pretty difficult task to do one-handed. As he slowly grew more frustrated, Shion let out a watery laugh and let go of Nezumi’s hand. Nezumi shot him a surly look but couldn’t help but grin as well. “Sorry about that,” he murmured as he undid the buttons, with two hands this time.

“It’s fine,” Shion replied fondly, watching as Nezumi undid the last button and pushed the fabric open. Nezumi’s eyes followed the red snake that slithered around his chest. He was no stranger to Shion’s naked body, but the beauty of it never failed to captivate him. Shion tugged on the hem of Nezumi’s shirt.

“You too.”

He looked up to see Shion watching him with intent. He smiled. Of course, it would only be fair. He sat up and undid his own shirt, feeling Shion’s gaze burn as slowly more and more was revealed until he shrugged the fabric off and he bared his own scars to the world. Shion stared at them and Nezumi could only guess what he was thinking. There was pain in his eyes, but also adoration. Shion reached up and hesitantly touched the mark the gunshot had left on his chest. Another trophy of having bested death. A souvenir of yet another time Shion had saved his life. He took Shion’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers, and kissed his knuckles before leaning down again, pressing their hands into the mattress. He brushed his lips over his forehead and wandered down to press kisses onto his pulse points - his temple, his jugular, the centre of his sternum - anywhere he could feel the blood coursing through his veins, the life flowing through him. He heard Shion inhale sharply and couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Shion and his stupidly intelligent brain to notice details like these even in the middle of an emotional crisis. He pressed a final kiss to his chest before sitting up again.

Nezumi’s eyes flicked up to Shion’s before letting his finger pads trace the red snake that coiled around his body. Shion’s breath hitched at the touch.

“The first night you spent in the West Block,” Nezumi spoke, his touch never faltering and his gaze meeting Shion’s, “you had just survived No.6 hunting you down, only for a parasite wasp to hatch in your neck.” He felt Shion stiffen under his fingers but he didn’t look away from him. “You begged me to let you die but you survived. This scar is proof of your strength. You said you wanted to live, and you did. You’re strong, Shion.”

Shion’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and another tear rolled down his cheek. He brought up his hand and bit the skin on the back of his hand to stifle a sob. Nezumi reached for that hand and gently pried it from his harmful teeth. He pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles before guiding it to his bared chest, right above his lungs. “Do you feel your chest rising and falling? Even now your lungs are circulating air through your body, giving you the breath of life.” He moved his hand a little to the right, hovering over his heart, and suddenly he was reminded of that moment in the vault, so many years ago. Shion had asked to know more about him and Nezumi had replied with a similar gesture, taking his hand and placing it on his chest, making him feel his heartbeat. Thus he asked the same question he had back then. “What do you feel?”

Shion seemed to notice the mirror to the past as well, if the widening of his eyes was anything to go by. “My heartbeat,” he replied with a quivering voice.

Nezumi smiled. “That’s right. You’re alive, and that’s all you need to know.”

Shion whimpered. He reached up to Nezumi and pulled him down, burying his face in his shoulder and letting his tears fall freely. “I love you,” he cried. “I love you, Nezumi.”

Nezumi circled his arms around him, his fingers in his hair and his arm around his waist, and guided their bodies to the side. He did not say anything, but he did not need to. He simply held Shion close as he rode through the waves of adoration and grief. When his sobs died down, Nezumi leaned back a bit and wiped the traces of his tears away. “You feeling okay?” He murmured. Shion sniffed and gave him a small smile. “Yeah.” He scooted up a little and rested his forehead against Nezumi’s. “Thank you.”

Nezumi hummed affirmatively and closed his eyes. They laid there for a while, tired and spent after the long week and exhaustion catching up to them. Right when Nezumi was content to let sleep drag him under, he was startled awake by a loud rumbling noise.

Shion flinched and blushed. “I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

Nezumi reluctantly opened his eyes and lazily ran his fingers through Shion’s hair. “Go have the broth I brought you. It’ll be cold by now, but you’re a heathen so I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Shion laughed. “Not everyone likes their soup piping hot.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just eat already.” He nudged his knee against Shion’s leg in an attempt to push him out of bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” He climbed over Nezumi to reach the bedside table bowl was standing on and settled against the headboard. As he ate the (exactly salty enough) broth and watched Nezumi dozing off next to him, he smiled. He was eternally grateful for that day he opened the window and let in the soggy wet rat.

No matter what life threw at them, they would make it through together.

#RCzinegiveaway #no.6 #nezumi #nezushi #shion #fic #fanfic #my writes

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