#and when /I/ fell off of a horse into a river all i got was a bruise. so

[anglerflsh]

Actually I thought about that poll and I would rather be able to ride a horse around the city than a bicycle. At least 30% of the responsibility if something bad happens would be on the horse

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say “I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

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

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

[hihomeghere]

Burning Love | John Marston/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : Set in the epilogue of RDR2. You stumble upon John in Blackwater after being alone for years. When he invites you to visit Beecher's Hope, will you be able to fight feelings that have been building ever since you were kids? (No Abigail and Jack, love them but you aren't in this episode) Warnings : Smut, cursing, unprotected piv, hickeys, oral reader receiving, just dirty idiots in love, reader has bio female parts

“John?” The word fell out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. Here you were in Blackwater, a good six or seven years since that no good river boat business, and there in front of you was John Marston.

At least, he looked like him. His head snapped towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours. You swore your heart stopped, you raised your hand to cover it before sliding off of your horse.

“Y/n?” He sounded breathless, a small smile growing on his face as you started running towards him. You threw yourself into his arms, he laughed, spinning you around. “Holy shit it is you.” He said as your feet touched the ground. You looked up at his scarred face, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“John Marston.” You chuckled, unable to stop the grin spreading on your face. Tears welled up in your eyes which you quickly wiped away. God it had been years, ever since… well it had been years.

“It’s good to see you.” You chuckled lightly, punching his shoulder.

“It sure is good to see you, too. What the hell are you doing in Blackwater?”

“Well I don’t rightly know.” You shrugged, shaking your head. “I go wherever the wind takes me and it took me to Blackwater.” You said looking around the dusty street. He grinned, shaking his head slightly. His hair was shorter than before, light stubble covering his face. 

“Well if you don’t have anywhere else to go, would you like to come see Beecher's Hope?” He said with a nervous smile on his face.

“What’s Beecher's Hope?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“It's my place, somehow.” He laughed looking down at his boots.

“John Marston, homeowner?” You laughed, “Course I do!” He looked up at you, your stomach filling with butterflies as that boyish grin crossed his features.

“Well come on then!” He said, walking over to his horse. You followed him out of town, riding close behind him. It didn’t take you very long to make it to Beecher’s Hope. Well he was certainly hopeful to call it his home. It was barely a shack on a good piece of land, that was the best way you could describe it.

“Now I know it don’t look like much now.” He said, hitching up his horse.

“You’d be right.” You teased doing the same. 

“Now who’s there?” A voice called from inside the shack. Was that?

“It’s just me, Uncle.” John called, rolling his eyes. Uncle?

“Uncle! You get your lazy ass out of that shack right now!” You called jogging over to the ‘front door’

“Y/n? Well I’ll be!” Uncle said getting up from inside. You pulled him into a hug, glad to see the old man still kicking.

“Now this is how I should be treated, John, with respect.” Uncle said as he patted your back.

“She just called you a lazy ass!” John groaned.

“What are you doing hanging around this ruffian?” You teased, pulling away from Uncle’s embrace.

“Begged for my help, how could I say no?” Uncle explained, placing a hand over his heart.

“Bullshit! I never asked you for nothing old man.” John scoffed, shaking his head.

“Alright alright, I’m starving from my ride. You got anything I could cook up for us, John?” You asked, setting your hands on your hips. 

“Barely, we could probably hunt down a rabbit or two for dinner.” He sighed.

“Lead the way, cowboy.” You said walking back over to your horse. 

A rabbit or two turned into four between the two of you. Everything turned into a competition, it had been like that since you were kids. Let’s say Uncle wasn’t upset by your catch. You cooked up a nice stew for the boys before settling down for the night by the campfire. It all seemed too good to be true, being back with Uncle and John. You couldn’t lie that your heart skipped a beat every time you caught his eye. The alcohol definitely wasn’t helping with that. 

“It seems like yesterday we were sitting around a campfire just like this, listening to Javier play the guitar. Or having Hosea give us reading lessons.” You sighed bringing your bottle to your lips.

“Yeah, you were such a tattle tale.” John teased, the glow of the fire illuminating his face, casting dark shadows along his scars.

“Was not!” You scoffed, knocking back your drink. He laughed, loud and hearty. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, a blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Yes you were! Would always get me in trouble when I’d sneak off to the horses.” He shook his head a smile tugging on his lips

“That’s because Boadicea was gonna kick your head in one day, I was only looking out for you.” You snorted, nodding to yourself.

“She loved me.”

“You kidding?” You barked out a laugh, “She used to nip at you so hard you’d have teeth marks for weeks!”

“Well not everyone can be princess Van Der Linde.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“You were Dutch’s favorite long before I came around Martson.” You quipped, the alcohol easing the pain of past gang members. You both sat in silence, the crackle from the fire and far off yips from the coyotes the only sound, along with Uncle’s snoring.  

“Shit,” John sighed, “we got into a heap of trouble back then.” He grinned, bringing his bottle to his lips.

“Still do.” You added, leaning over to bump his elbow with your own.

“Still do.” He repeated, a small smile on his face. He looked at you from under the brim of his hat. You felt your face heat up under his gaze, instead of the growing fire.

“Why’d you even buy this land in the first place?” You asked, breaking eye contact as you looked around your makeshift campsite. The shack behind John, if you could even call it that, almost falling apart as Uncle slept. He sighed, staring into the cracking embers.

“Felt like I had something to prove, I guess.” He shrugged, “I never was very smart. Never had anything to my name. I had you at one point and screwed that up too.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“John,” You started, your eyes flickering up from the fire. A blush settling on your cheeks. You two had been sweet on each other before, honestly you had never stopped being sweet on him. But he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, and you deserved better than being drug along for nothing. 

“No,” He stopped you, his hand held up between you two. “You were the only thing that was good in my life and I pissed it away.”

“We were young, and for some reason I’m still following your sorry ass around.” You said, shaking your head. Refusing to meet his eye, you leaned forward with your hands resting on your knees. “You ain’t got nothing to prove, you’re a good man John Marston.” You said sparing him a glance. A soft smile graced his lips before he shook his head.

“Guess you ain’t too bad either, y/n.”

“Well that was never in question.” You said bringing the bottle back up to your lips, John let out a low chuckle. You both stared at the fire, it was easier than looking at each other.

“Will you-“ John started, his lip in between his teeth, “Will you stay with us here?” You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. You looked up, pretending to mull it over.

“Until a better offer comes along.” You shrugged, laughing as John shoved your shoulder.

“Don’t have to be such a smartass.”

“Oh I think I do.” You grinned, raising your bottle. He rolled his eyes, a playful grin on his face. “You’re smiling.”

“Am not.” He said turning away. You shook your head, staring down at the crackling fire. 

“What did you do for all those years, were you alone?” You asked, afraid of his answer. Although you couldn’t blame him if he hadn’t been, many nights you wished you had someone warming your bed, although it was always John you were dreaming of.

“Bounced around, ranch to ranch, just-“ he let out a long sigh, “Just trying to stay out of trouble.” You nodded looking up at him.“What about you?” He said, crossing his arms.

“Nothing really, hung low for a while, a year or two.” You shook your head, you honestly couldn’t remember what it was like in the early days. You had never been on your own before then, not that you could remember at least. “It was hard for a long time, but I had good teachers.” You smiled softly, feeling more melancholy the more you spoke. “Spent some of my time trying to make an honest living but you know how that goes.” You chuckled while taking a long drink from your bottle. 

“You can say that again.” John chuckled, “Did you have any fellas in that time?” He asked, shifting his eyes from the fire to yours. You tried hiding your smirk.

“Nah, none that piqued my interest.” You smirked, unable to keep it at bay.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He chuckled to himself, taking a drink.

“And why is that?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side. Could he feel the same about you? He went silent, lowering his head so his face was covered by the brim of his hat. He let out a dry cough, clearing his throat.

“Oh, well- I just mean-“ He sighed, you giggled softly looking up at him.

“John-“

“I’m a damn fool,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “I finally got you back and I’m too chicken shit to do anything about it.” He said, running a hand down his face. Your heart started to beat faster at his small confession. You set your bottle down, walking over to him. His wide eyes met yours as you sat yourself down on his lap.

“Good thing I ain’t.” You said taking his hat off and setting it to the side. You leaned forward, rubbing your nose against his. Your breaths intermingled as you looked into his eyes. He took the initiative, leaning forward and capturing your lips with his own. His arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, your clothed core rubbing against his crotch. You felt a moan rumble in his chest before it slipped out his lips. You smirked, your tongue swiping across his lower lip. He eagerly opened his mouth, his own tongue entering your mouth. He tasted like smoke and whisky, an intoxicating combination.

“Darlin, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” He mumbled against your lips, before moving to kiss along your jaw. 

“I know John, god I’ve wanted you for so long.” You breathed, running your fingers through his dark hair. He latched onto your throat, sucking a spot that would definitely bruise. You let out a soft moan, gripping his hair tightly. He thrust his hips upwards against your clothed cunt, causing a higher pitched moan to leave your mouth.

“Shh, don’t want Uncle to hear us.” John said softly, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, he rubbed his thumb against your stomach. His movements shot straight to your core. You bit your lip to stop a whine, as you rubbed yourself against his growing bulge.

“Fucking take me and stop teasing.” You growled pulling him up to kiss him. He smirked against your lips, slipping his hands under your ass as he lifted you up in his arms. He walked you over to his tent, setting you down on his bedroll. You made quick work with the buttons on your shirt, working them through the eyelets. You pulled your arms out of your shirt, removing your cotton undershirt. You sneaked a peek at John, who was pushing his pants down. Your eyes raked over his body, his union suit leaving little to the imagination. You pulled off your pants, left only in your bloomers. 

“Fuck darlin.” John whispered his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you closer to him. He dipped his head to your breast, taking your nipple in his mouth. His other hand kneaded your breast. 

You laid your head back on the bedroll, a soft gasp exiting your mouth. He sat up, sinking his fingers into your bloomers before pulling them down. His finger dipped into your wet folds.

“Mmm,” You moaned, biting down on your lip. He smirked again, pushing his index finger into your warm heat. He pumped it in and out, his eyes never leaving your face as you fought the urge to moan. His thumb rubbed against your clit, making small circles on your nub. He added his middle finger, curling it inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head and the coil inside you tightened. Your nails dug into his arm, as your pussy clenched around his fingers. That familiar wave of bliss washing over you.

“Yeah that's right sweetheart.” John cooed, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

“John-“ You breathed pulling him closer, he removed his fingers sucking them clean.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He said as he unbuttoned his union suit. Pulling his arms out, as he pushed it down his thighs. Your eyes raked over his body, scars from bullet wounds and cuts littered his body. Your mouth watered at the sight as your gaze followed the patch of hair from his chest down to his pelvis. 

“Fuck me.” You huffed, propping yourself up on your elbow as your legs fell open.

“Yes ma’am.” He smirked, taking his thick cock in his hand. Pumping it twice before nosing his dick to your opening. He pushed himself into you slowly, a groan working its way out of his chest as he hung his head. “God damn you’re tight.” He hissed, his hands gripping your hips with a vice like grip as he slowly pushed his hips forward. 

“John.” You whined, gripping his forearms as he seated himself in you fully. You had never been so full in your life, he was so deep you swore his tip was kissing your cervix.

“I know darlin-“ He rasped, slowly pulling his hips back before slamming back into you. Your breath knocked out of your chest as he picked up the pace.

“Ah- oh John!” You yelped before his hand covered your mouth. He moved your leg to sit on top of his hips and he leaned forward, resting his forearms next to your head.

“Feel good?” He grunted, squeezing his eyes close as he let out a hissed breath. 

“Fuck- feels so good.” You whispered, tears starting to well up in your eyes. His hips met yours with every thrust, the sound of slapping skin filling the small tent. He grabbed one of your thighs, lifting it up onto his shoulder. You swore you saw stars at the new position. It had been so long since anyone had had you like this, and John was playing your body like a fucking fiddle. Every thrust punched the air out of your lungs as somehow he went deeper. 

“Shit darlin-“ He huffed, his hot breath on your ear as he bent over you, “Squeezing me so good.” He groaned, nipping at your ear.

“Oh- John I-“ You cried, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your toes were curling as the pressure built inside your stomach. 

“You close honey? You gonna come?” He cooed, kissing your neck, one of his hands moved down your body to your already sensitive bud. He flicked it once, maybe twice before your orgasm came crashing down. You mewled, trying to stay quiet as John wiped away your tears.

“That’s it, that’s it.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he strained his neck up. “Where do you want it?” He said as he sat up, still rutting his cock in and out of you.

“Inside.” You breathed, wrapping your legs around his hips as you pulled him closer.

“Oh- darlin I-“ He let out a low moan as he spilled inside of you, his hips twitching as he pumped his cum inside your heat . You let out a small sigh, letting your body go limp under him. He cradled your head in his hand, kissing you softly as he pulled his cock out of you. He sighed against your lips before laying down beside you. Pulling a blanket over both of your bodies. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him.

“I’m not letting you go this time.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. 

“Good.” You said holding his arm against you, as you drifted off feeling his cum trickle down your thighs.

-

“Jesus what is that mark on your neck?” Uncle said his hand resting on his hip as you blushed from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“Nothing.” you said quickly, covering your neck with your hand.

“Good lord is that a hickey!” Uncle said recoiling at the sight, “Now who the hell would give you…” He trailed off his gaze shifting to John who was drinking his coffee. 

“What?” John said, lowering the mug, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Disgusting.” Uncle cringed walking away from the both of you back to the shack. 

“Just had to mark me up, now didn’t you?” You asked, crossing your arms as you looked at John. He smirked shaking his head as he walked over to you 

“You’re mine, everyone should know it.” He shrugged, pulling you into a searing kiss. 

Maybe you could deal with a mark or two. 

[cm-lily]

I read a fanfic once, I forgot which one. But in that fic, they have this idea where Gem and Grian's base has this... Foggy vibe to it. Like compare it to the cherry mountain that's all pink and petals and then you have these two bases which are straight up The Horrors™

I Just love that idea

So much I've been thinking, what if the whole Magic Mountain is surrounded by fog? A magic fog and mist that just always surround the area and got thicker as the sun set further. The area always seems cloudy. As if there is an eternal cloud forever covering the mountains. It's either raining, or storm, or cloudy. The only time it's clear is when Grian finally got his mending book, the pink snail arrive, and it switch to storm when Scar got the mending book. (He got struck by lightning a few time if he reaches that area)

Joel's base not only has lantern illuminating it, but souls as well. They didn't stay idle, but never went too far. Some of them even transform, Into tanuki or fox or wolves and even Koi fish and Axolotl. That fly in the air instead of water, obviously.

Sometimes there's things passing by on Impulse's build. Something tall and slender, with long limbs and sharp claws. They're not Enderman, Enderman don't crawl. Impulse said they're cool if you pretend they didn't exist and just let them... Lurks around.

Something is wrong with Mumbo's base. I want to call it decaying, but it's not. It's more like redstone veins appear around the blackened grass, the air smells like gunpowder and something acid. Or maybe copper.

Many hermits had reported seeing the sight of a statue angel that just appear on top of Skizz's unfinished Pyramid. It appear when they're looking at it, but then they look around and it's gone. The statue has never been in the same position everytime someone look at it.

Most people don't like going to Scar's base at night, not only because of how creepy it look like surrounded by those fog. Like the rest of them, something strange always happens. Like animals looking bigger and more beast-like the moment night arrive, ever seen a cow just grows multiple horns and it sounds like those horn are breaking out of it's skull? Or that one time, one time his horse stand up on two feet? Probably not. Scar said they're harmless. Except for the snail—he said. The snail isn't his. That's why they damaged his build and become a nuisance.

(There was once a time, a time where clouds whirled around his ore pillar, clouds that are made of limbs and hand and eyes and it just stretched and climb down from the pillar. It never reach the ground, fortunately.)

Grian never stopped fishing. Even if it rains or stormed outside. He's smelly and that's why snails like him and his horse don't. Totally not because Pluto saw him turn into giant mer-man with many eyes and tails and sharp tooth. Definitely not. Don't feel weird when you feel like you're being watched. Or because shadow-like silhouette wander around his wheat farm, or a silhouette of something massive that was illuminated everytime lightning strikes, looking down from the cherry mountain toward his and Gem's base and, occasionally, you felt like you found a body you recognize in the water—

And that's where Gem comes in! Gem is someone who stopped you before you decide to jump in the water and check who's that corpse is. And the one who shooed off the many eyes that lurk in the muddy river side of Grian's base. Grian hates her for that but there's nothing he can do. Gem, like Grian, is someone who can walk in the middle of the storm unharmed. Most of the time, she make sure that none of the hermits fell into the trick of her other neighbors.

just don't let that distract you from the fact one of her build is actually sentient and breathing and is always staring at you. Or the fact there's blood around the rocky shores if you squint into the dark river/soon-to-be-ocean. Or the fact that, just like the angler, the skull always felt like it's watching even if there's no actually eyes in it's socket. Gem is always present when you want to have a tour or just so happened to passed that area, but... If she's not there to guide you, would it even be worth it to be stabbed with a trident and got dragged into the water?

[coppoladelrey]

The Pretender - Chapter l

A/N: So Aemond inspired me to write again, hope you guys like it and please let me know if I should do more of this story. Feedback is greatly appreciated, even if it’s to say that it sucks LOL.

Summary: You are the spitting image of a Lady of the Reach, when she framed you for a crime you did not commit you become her and marry her betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Violence, let me know if there’s anything else.

Tag List: @aemonds-war-crime

The Pretender Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Life at your grandparents’ farm wasn’t easy, but it was all you knew. Waking up before the sun, milking the cows, taking take of the sheep, making sure the crops were growing properly, cleaning the chicken coop, everything that your grandparents couldn’t do. There was one thing that you loved more than anything, and that was horses, your family didn't have the money for one, so you tried to find wild horses, they were fearless and dangerous but you were able taim most of them.

A horse that hasn’t left your side since you were only thirteen was a black horse, he was a beauty, he always found you, having a domestic side but always wild at heart. You named him Arrow, due to the fact that he’s so quick, always has been. Arrow always found his way back to you, and he loved you and you loved him, you didn't have enough money for a saddle, so you rode him bareback.

After your chores you went to find Arrow, it was a freeing feeling being able to ride on his back, being tired didn't matter, worrying about what to do after your grandparents die, being tired after a long day at the farm, none of that matters when you’re with Arrow.

You were whistling, looking for Arrow in a field the grass was tall the sun was almost setting and you saw him, he was eating. You approached him, and he looked at you, the bond was strong between the two of you.

“I’ve missed you, Arrow.” You put your head on his, and he neighed you’d like to think that he missed you as well. “Let’s ride.” You jumped on his back, you tried to care for him, brushing his hair but he always came back more wild than before.

You always let Arrow decide where to take you, he knew the Reach quite well and took you to so many different and exciting places. You held on tight to his hair and he went. You closed your eyes, and the wind on your face was incredible, sometimes you wished to be like Arrow, being attached to nowhere.

Arrow stopped by a river, and you came off of him and started drinking water off the river. The sun was setting so you started thinking about coming back home. You started touching Arrow, you wished that he would come home with you but you loved him too much to sentence him to such a cruel fate, he was free. You heard hustling from the trees, you decided to leave. But it was too late, a couple appeared from the forest.

The man had to be a knight, and the woman was wearing an incredible purple dress, she looked absolutely amazing. The man looked angry, drawing his sword.

“Who are you?” He screamed, his sword was pointed at you. Arrow was getting scared, but you were able to calm him down.

“My love, she’s simply a farmer girl. She has no idea who we are.” You were avoiding looking at them, you wanted no trouble with the noble people.

The Lady approached you, you took a step back. She did not like that, she grabbed your jaw rather forcefully. You looked at her, you couldn’t believe it she looked exactly like you and she had a surprised face, the same as you.

“By the gods, you look exactly like me. If you weren’t so dirty and a peasant, you could be a pretender.” The Lady finally released your jaw, it hurt so much. “Have you lost your voice, peasant?” She was rude, and you did not like her one bit.

“I do, you haven’t asked anything before, m’lady.” She hit you, hard. You knew there would a bruise tomorrow, why did she do this? You almost fell, but you got your footing before that.

“Do not talk back, peasant.” Her words held so much venom, you hated the royals so much. “I simply had the most extraordinary idea. I will go to Braavos with William and you shall marry the one-eyed monstrosity in Kings Landing.” The knight, William you assumed finally approached the two of you. Your face held nothing but confusion, you pretending to be her?

“That would never work, this peasant doesn’t know how to behave, how to read.” William held contempt for you, but his voice had a tinge of pity.

“It will work, we will teach her everything. She shall become a Lady of House Oxwell, she shall become me.” You knew that name, her family was the richest in all of Westeros, richer than the Lannisters, they say.

“No.” You simply stated, you didn't want to become her, you wanted to be truly free like Arrow, you wanted nothing in your name, you craved freedom, you craved being away from the farm, you craved peace, you craved the wind on your hair.

“No, how dare you…” William started drawing his sword again, but the Lady stopped him.

“Most peasants would kill for an opportunity such as this, why do you refuse? Being adorned with the finest jewellery, touching only the finest silk, eating only the best meats? What do you truly desire?” Her line of questioning was uncomfortable, she wanted you to say things that you never told anyone before, of the deepest desire within your soul.

“I wish to be free, I wish to take my horse and ride him through the seven Kingdoms.” You uttered the words, finally. A weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Do you have a name?” It was as if she completely ignored your words.

“Y/N.” You wished that you could take back your words, those people didn't deserve to know of your heart’s desires.

“My name is Shaera Oxwell.” You’ve heard of her, the only daughter of Lord Lewis Oxwell. She could do no wrong in her father’s eyes, whispers around the town are told of her being a whore, entertaining knights and Lords, going to whore houses, and laying with men and women alike. You didn't know if there were any truths to those rumours, but she was unaccompanied by a man that certainly wasn’t her husband. “Do you have a family?” She queries, her curiosity was harmless, you thought.

“I live with my grandparents on a farm, not far from here.” You pointed in the direction where your farm was.

“I apologize for my antics, you must be impatient to go home.” Shiera allowed you to go back to your horse, you passed her and William. You mounted Arrow and you went back home.

The interaction with the Lady felt like an unusual dream, you put it past you. You would never see her again. Arrow took back to the farm and left, opening the door you realized your grandparents were asleep, you simply laid on your bed, sleep wasn’t far behind.

You woke up before your grandparents and you started work again, one more day. The encounter with Lady Shiera was long forgotten, you had many things to occupy your mind with.

“Y/N, come quick.” Your grandfather shouted, you could hear the panic in his voice. You ran towards him, he was close to the sheep.

“What’s wrong, grandfather?” He looked to be deep in thought, looking at the sheep.

“We are missing a sheep, it must’ve escaped last night.” Your grandfather was quite attached to the sheep, he has been taking care of sheep since he was a boy.

Your grandfather worked for a small Lord, not far from where you live now. That’s how he got enough money to buy your farm, the Lord taught your grandfather how to read and your grandfather taught you as well. You knew how lucky you were to be able to count and read, it was impossible for anyone to take advantage of you when you went to the city with your grandmother to sell your goods.

“I will go find it.” You hugged your grandfather in hopes to calm him, and you ran to where the sheep usually got stuck.

You must’ve been walking for five minutes when you heard the sheep. It had a paw stuck in a hole, you gently removed the paw from the whole and carried the sheep. You knew the sheep wouldn't go too far, especially with all the holes around this rocky area. Commotion on the farm was heard, things being thrown and screams. You started to run towards the farm, you saw guards thrashing your home.

“What is this?” You screamed to the guards, the sheep was still in your arms. Your grandfather and grandmother were crying, you had no idea what was happening.

“One of you stole the necklace of Lady Shiera Oxwell and I will find it and take the hand of whoever did it.” The guard screamed in your face, the sheep was scared you tried to calm her down before the poor thing had a heart attack.

This woman probably lost the necklace in the forest, you thought. But why are they here, a voice whispered in your head. Your grandfather came to you and took the sheep from your arms.

“I’ll take her away.” He whispered to you, kissed your cheek and left to put the sheep where she belonged.

That’s when you heard a really over top fake crying, it was her. William was consoling her, always going for big theatrics. She approached the guards, you realized that they had her House Crest on their chest.

“Have you found it? Please, it was papa’s gift.” The main guard was rushing the other ones, how could no one notice that there were no tears in her eyes?

“We will find it, my Lady. Do not fret.” The guard assured her, you felt as if this wasn’t really happening.

“What makes you so sure that it is here?” You question Shiera, and the guard has no reservations about slapping you with the back of his hand you fell onto the floor and from your pocket, fell the necklace, it was a blue diamond, not that you would know.

“My necklace!” Shaera exclaimed, you had no idea how it was in your pocket.

“Well, well, well. We have a little thief in our hands!” The guard grabbed you from the floor with no care. “You must lose your hand for this, even better your life.” The guard seemed so pleased with himself, he was a person that loved to inflict pain on others.

“It was me, it was me!” Your grandfather shouted, he couldn’t allow his beloved granddaughter to die for a crime she did not commit.

“Very well then, you shall be hanged at dusk tomorrow.” The main guard signalled to the other guards to take your grandfather away, your grandmother a mute was crying in the corner.

“Stop! I’ll do anything, do not kill my grandfather!” Tears were running down your face, you couldn’t let your grandfather be killed for this.

“Ser Wilbert, I will not allow tragedy to be struck in this family. I shall take the girl to work for me and her grandfather shall be free of charge of such crime.” At that moment you knew, she owned you, she just bought you for the price of your grandfather’s life.

“You are too forgiving, my Lady.” He bowed to her and looked at you with such venom. He kept looking at you, this time really taking in your features. Lady Shaera realized what he was doing and took his attention from you.

“That is nothing, Ser Wilbert. Take the girl to my carriage.” He started to drag you to the carriage, your grandfather was crying but the other guards were stopping him from getting any closer, you were kicking and crying but Ser Wilbert was much stronger than he appeared. Before you were put in the carriage, you saw Arrow. He was running away from the farm, you would never see your family or Arrow again. You would never be free, you would never be like Arrow.

He threw you in the carriage and closed the door. You broke down, you could hear the faint voice of your grandfather. Being in this carriage made you realize that people could never see you being weak again, she would never break your spirit, and she would never win.

The carriage door was opened and Ser William helped her get in, she sat down in front of you. The carriage was so spacious, it was almost the same size as your house.

“By the gods, you reek of manure.” You didn't understand the words that she said, but you realized that it was something about your smell because of the way she was holding her nose.

“If it bothers you so much, let me go.” Shaera was with her hand in your jaw in an instant.

“You are not going anywhere, you are my freedom. You shall do exactly as I say otherwise I’ll kill your useless family, starting with your mute grandmother, I wonder if she can scream. And after you watch Ser Wilbert killing your family, he’ll cut your hands, and feet and gauge your eyes out with a hot spoon. I own you now, and then you will become me.” She was looking for fear in your eyes, she found it despite you trying to hide as much as possible.

The carriage started and you decided to say nothing, it was going to be a long journey.

_______________________________________

It was evening when you arrived at the castle, you hadn't slept while Shaera slept the whole way through. Everything was quiet, you assumed that everyone was asleep. You wondered how your grandparents were, how they were going to survive without you. Shaera handed you a cloak.

“Put this on, otherwise people will see how much you look like me.” You quickly put on the cloak and you started following her, the castle was enormous, unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life. If it was in any other circumstances, you’d be excited to see something so grand.

The three of you ran towards the Lady’s chambers, the castle felt like a maze. It was intimidating, would you need to learn where everything was in the castle?

“This is my wing of the castle, no one shall disturb us. We must start with the lessons first thing in the morning. Go.” Shaera motioned to a room, whilst she and Ser William went to another.

You opened the door and the room was huge, you went to the bed, and the furs and sheets were incredibly soft. That’s how clouds must feel like, you thought. Laying on the bed, was the softest thing you’ve ever felt sleep came in more easily than ever before.

Waking up the sun hasn’t risen yet, so you decided to look around the bedroom. It was the first time you’d ever seen a mirror, you picked up the brush and started brushing your hair, the brush was soft it was easy to untangle your wild hair. After finishing your hair, you could see how much you look like Lady Shaera. It felt absolutely disgusting, how can you look like someone so vile? After that you started looking at the dresses that Lady Shaera had in the bedroom, they looked uncomfortable but so pretty.

_______________________________________

Hours passed and there was no sign of her or Ser William, you started hearing commotion outside the bedroom, things being moved around you decided not to come out it probably wasn’t Lady Shaera. You were right, you put your ear in the door and you heard the servants talking amongst themselves. Water was being dropped somewhere, she dismissed the servants and the noise stopped. The doors were opened and there was Lady Shaera, she had a white dress, you assumed that’s how she slept.

“Aren’t you an early riser? Come, I must try to remove the grime off of you.” She ushered you away from the bedroom, you saw the bathtub, it was made out of wood. You touched the water and it was warm, it had a nice smell and rose petals on the water. “Remove this disgusting dress and get in the water.” No one has ever seen you naked since you became a woman, not even your grandmother. “By the gods, do not make me wait!” She grabbed a knife and ripped the dress off your body.

You’ve never felt so violated, you felt cheap and vulnerable. She motioned for you to get in the bathtub and you did. Shaera grabbed a rag and started rubbing off the dirt from your body, she was forceful you could tell that she wasn’t affectionate or nurturing in any way. You were trying to hide but she was having none of it, always getting your arms out of her way. Getting scrubbed by her made you feel like cattle as if your privacy and modesty didn't matter. Shaera gave you a towel and you started to dry yourself.

“We now must dress you, we shall see if you actually resemble me.” She started dressing you, first with the undergarments, then the corsets and finally the dress. It was extremely heavy and uncomfortable but so lovely. The dress was purple, the House’s colours were purple and white, and the aminal on the crest was a horse. She started preparing your hair the same way she uses hers, your hair was longer than hers but it did not matter.

“By the gods, it’s almost as if I am looking in a mirror.” You heard a knock at the door, she looked at you excited. “It’s Ser William, he will be the hardest one to deceive but nothing better than passing throught the worst first.” She was smirking, and went to hide in the bedroom you were in.

“Come in.” You said, and it was in fact Ser William.

“Where is the peasant?” He inquired, you could do this you thought to yourself, Your grandfather’s life was in danger also yours.

“Still asleep.” You rolled your eyes, Shaera has done it plenty of times.

“Good, that means we have time for yourselves.” He approached you, and that’s when you flinched away from him. That’s when he noticed. “You’re not Shaera, are you?” He seemed to doubt himself, did you look like that much like this woman?

The door was opened and Shaera seemed really pleased with herself, you were able to fool her lover, for a few seconds but you did.

“I’ve done the most marvellous job.” They shared a passionate kiss, you looked away physical displays of affection are foreign to you. “What gave it away?” She was so excited, she finally saw that it would work.

“She flinched away when I approached her.” He simply stated.

“Well, if that was the only thing…by the gods, she’ll be able to become me.” You knew that was dangerous, if anyone found out you’ll be killed so you had to play the part, for your grandfather’s sake.

“We shall begin now, I am supposed to leave for Kings Landing to marry the one-eyed monstrosity in three months.” This was the second time she said this, you were curious.

“Who are you talking about?”

“He is the younger Prince, his name is Aemond. He had his eye gouged out by his nephew, and he’s a cruel man. Some say that he kills animals for fun, some say he brutalizes peasants in his free time.” Both she and Ser Willliam started snickering at your terrified expression. “We shall begin.”

___________________________________________

Shaera spoke five languages, played a few instruments and was very well-read. She was teaching you the languages whilst teaching you how to behave, and every time you got something wrong she would beat you with a cane. You realized that you were smarter than you thought, picking up the languages rather quickly. What you were struggling with was how to use the cutlery, and how to mimic Shaera’s handwriting.

“Wrong.” She beat you with a cane again, you had bruises all over your body due to her beatings.

“Will you please stop hitting me?” You shouldn’t have said that, she beat you again.

“I’ll stop once you get it right.” She sneered, you got her handwriting well but her signature was an issue. “Gaomagon ao shifang nyke?” (Do you understand me?) Her cane was raised again, she was doing that quite often, speaking with you in many different languages, and today was High Valyrian.

“Kessa.” (Yes) You replied, and her cane was lowered.

“Sȳz.” (Good) She was proud of you, impressing this woman was no small feat.

You did get it right eventually, she told you all the stories of her life. Shaera would question you about everything, history and philosophy.

“Who were Viserys l’s parents?” Her cane was raised, you couldn’t take this anymore.

“Baelon and Alyssa.” You knew everything, five months had passed and you didn't leave her chambers.

“Handwriting?” You handed her the paper, and she smiled.

“It appears that my cane is no longer necessary, you shall sleep in your bed tonight, Lady Shaera.” She smirked and left you alone, you were happy for some reason but you were dreading meeting Prince Aemond, would he mistreat you, would he kill you? Only time would tell.

The servants undressed you and you fell asleep, wondering what else Shaera and Ser William would teach you.

__________________________________________

When you woke up the servants were already in your chambers, Shaera was adamant on you mistreating the servants and being rude to everyone else, but that’s not what you would do.

“Your father demands to speak with you, m’lady.” The servant spoke softly.

“Thank you, help me get dressed please.” The servant was stunned but complied, she never heard you say any of those words before, no one ever has.

After you were dressed the servant left and you opened the other bedroom but there was nothing there, only a letter on the bed, and the blue diamond necklace.

“Dearest Shaera,

We shall never see each other again, I am to be happy in Braavos with the love of my life.

Be happy, be ruthless.

Y/N.”

Why wouldn’t she say something yesterday? You were angry at her, for putting you in this situation, for not giving a warning so you could mentally prepare. You’ve never met your father before. You put the necklace, you left your chambers since the first time you came here, you needed to have the courage to become Shaera, you were her. The doors of the Great Hall were opened and for the first time, you’ve seen the reactions to you, snickers, eye rolls or simply anger.

“My precious daughter, you have been hiding from this old man. Must I suffer this much?” You heard the pure love coming from your father, but you’ve never met yours, your grandfather never spoke of your parents. You ran towards him and you hugged him tightly.

“I apologise, father. Would ever be able to forgive me?” You had tears in your eyes, the rush of emotions was too much and everyone was shocked, by the display of affection and kind words uttered by you.

“Of course, I simply wanted to inform you that Ser Criston Cole is arriving in a fortnight to escort you to Kings Landing.” Your blood ran cold, you were so scared of Prince Aemond but you had to do this.

“Then I must prepare, thank you, father.” You hugged him again, and Lewis was giving you so much love, so much care, he was incredible.

The days went by really quickly, you knew of Ser Criston Cole the trusted Kingsguard of Queen Alicent. Today was the day that you were leaving for Kings Landing and you were afraid, of being discovered, of being hurt by Prince Aemond.

“Are you excited, daughter?” You could see that your father was excited, he wanted what was best for you so you smiled at him.

“Yes, but I am afraid of not being enough, father.” Your father scoffed at you and hugged you.

“It’s the other way around, they won’t be enough for you.” He kissed the top of your head, and the castle’s doors were being opened.

That’s when you saw him, Ser Criston Cole he looked angry, your reputation reached Kings Landing you thought. It would take some time to repair that, he got off his horse and approached you and your father.

“Ser Criston, welcome to our humble home. This is my daughter, Lady Shaera Oxwell.” Your father motioned towards you, Ser Criston looked nervous.

“It is known that Lady Shaera can’t control her tongue, be aware.” Ser Criston reminded himself of the Queen’s words, he was expecting a rude comment or even hurtful.

“Ser Criston, I was told that you are the Queen’s most trusted knight?” You approached him carefully, you didn't want to antagonize the man.

“That I am, my Lady.” He curtsied you tightly.

“Then I shall be at peace knowing that the King and Queen sent their best fighter to accompany me.” That caught Criston off guard, he was expecting an insult not a compliment.

“Thank you, my Lady.” After this interaction, he knew one thing: The rumours of Lady Shaera Oxwell were that, only rumours.

[megamindsupremacy]

Misc PJO Fic Recs (Part 4)

The Stolen God by TsarinaTorment

Python is defeated. The prophecies are restored, and Nero has fallen. Apollo has not been seen since. His trials are over; why isn’t he back on Olympus?

-

Baby Blofis College Fund by zipadeea

Valerie calls her an hour later.

“Sally, what the hell?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Bad? Sally, it’s gold. I went from squirming in my seat to crying genuine tears. And that twist, making him a Greek god, it’s exactly what we’re looking for right now. How soon can you get me the next chapter?”

***

In which Sally Jackson realizes by the time the new baby is eighteen, a semester of college will cost an arm and a leg. And those Fifty Shades of Grey books sure did make a lot of money.

-

to bet on losing dogs by furnaceglow

The thing is,” Apollo said, the coolest prisoner of war in all of time. Prometheus wasn't prone to jealousy, but even he felt a drop of envy at how relaxed Apollo was in maximum security. "How to define a man…are we talking ontology here? That’s broad scope, bigger picture. We can include ourselves in that definition. Philosophy otherwise! Our good man Diogenes. You remember Diogenes! Or are we specifically talking about man for the sake of man? Is this about anthropology, is what I’m saying.” “I’m open to all interpretation,” Prometheus said. “Been a while since I’ve had good conversationalists here. Krios is all grunting, and Hyperion is solely interested in making his quarters nicer.” “Well, he has an eye for interior design, I’ll give him that,” Apollo said.

In which Percy Jackson ascends to a reluctant godhood, his mother loses the war but wins a battle, and for once, Prometheus picks the winning horse.

-

and if your eyes don't speak by Pixelfun20

Estelle Jackson is seven years old when she meets her nephew for the first time, over a grainy Facetime call.

OR

Estelle grew up with stories of Percy Jackson, but it takes meeting his son to realize who he really was.

-

the carriage held but just ourselves by Writeous

The official story is this: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, just two months shy of their seventh wedding anniversary, hurtle off a cliff on a lonely mountain road. A tragic accident, a sharp turn taken too quickly. Their 2023 Prius was found buried under debris, three hundred feet below where witnesses claim they fell. Paramedics declared them dead upon arrival, suffering blunt force trauma as their car collapsed with them inside.

The real story is this: Percy and Annabeth watch as Hecate’s children create perfect duplicates of them that are promptly hurled off a cliff. Percy loved that Prius.

(Or: at the end of the Titan War, Zeus offered Percy immortality. Percy was mistaken in thinking it was an actual choice.)

-

Dawn Rises From The East by TsarinaTorment

During the Battle of Manhattan, Michael Yew fell into the East River; his body was never found. Two years later, a homeless kid known only as Ferret has a chance encounter that changes everything he knows.

-

Annabeth and the Nine Step Career Plan by feeling_the_aster_9145

Annabeth Chase does not accept limitations. Everyone knows that. If she wants something, no matter how impossible, she will find a way to make it happen. Though, perhaps she will allow Bruce Wayne and his ridiculous paranoia-induced company restrictions a small portion of the credit.

Actually… now that she thinks about it, the man may have had a point in his worries.

Wayne Technologies does not accept college interns. Annabeth always has a plan B.

-

is it really a crime if you don't exist? by MidnightBunny

"So, what you're saying is," Percy said, staring at the man in front of him. "you're me from the future."

The man took a drink out of the coffee cup in his hand. "Yup."

"And you're here," Percy said slowly. "Because Annabeth's brother's boyfriend is trying to prove the existence of the multiverse."

The man nodded.

"And you got sucked in when he turned it on."

Nod.

"And now you don't know how to get home."

Nod.

"And how did you get sucked in, again?"

The man mumbled something.

"What?"

"I was coming back from the bathroom and opened the wrong door."

-

(I'm so excited this one is back y'all, the author privated all her works but just unprivated them a few weeks back so now I'm recommending you read all of her stuff, especially this fic)

Son of Sea Foam by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

“She’ll never claim me,” he whispered. Silena shook her head, eyes wild as she looked around for anyone who could be watching.

“My mother doesn’t remember half of her children as it is,” she said with a note of bitterness. “If you do something to impress her, it won’t matter. Return the bolt in her name. She’ll claim you if you act the part. If you stay unclaimed then they'll figure out what you really are," she said, squeezing his hands tightly. Percy's heart sped up.

"I - I don't know the first thing about Aphrodite-"

"My mother was born of sea foam," Silena cut him off. "And if you're really who I think you are... you are the sea. You can pull this off," she said and touched his cheek. "Get the bolt. Survive," she said. Percy swallowed.

"What if I can't act the part?" He asked. Silena's expression went blank for a moment. Slowly, she slipped off her bracelet and placed it in his hands.

"If you're going to be one of us... you better learn."

Or

AU where Percy has to hide the fact he's a Big Three kid otherwise he'll be killed on the spot. Unfortunately for him, unclaimed kids tend to raise the most suspicion... but he might have found a loophole in the form of Aphrodite.

[deeplyridiculouslyinlove]

My favorite Moiraine moments in The Eye of the World

EOTW only spoilers below the cut

1. “[The mist] follows the river as if drawn with a pen,” Moiraine was saying in satisfied tones. “There are not ten women in Tar Valon who could do that unaided. Not to mention from the back of a galloping horse.” (Chapter 12)

This is "Siuan Sanche waits for only one woman" energy right here.

2. “I suffered more injury to my pride than anything else,” the Aes Sedai said irritably, plucking at her cloak blanket. She looked as if she had been a long time ill or hard-used, but despite the dark circles under them, her eyes were sharp and full of power. “Aginor was surprised and angry that I held him as long as I did, but fortunately he had no time to spare for me. I am surprised myself that I held him so long. In the Age of Legends, Aginor was close behind the Kinslayer and Ishamael in power." (Chapter 51)

Not babygirl being surprised (and a bit self-satisfied) that she held off a powerful Forsaken for so long BUT ALSO her pride being wounded that she couldn’t do it for longer.

3. Even Aginor seemed stunned. Then his head lifted, cavernous eyes burning with hate. “Enough. It is past time to end this.” “Yes, Forsaken,” Moiraine said, her voice as cold as deep winter ice. “Past time.” The Aes Sedai’s hand rose and the ground fell away beneath Aginor’s feet. Flame roared from the chasm, whipped to a frenzy by wind howling in from every direction, sucking a maelstrom of leaves into the fire which seemed to solidify into a red-streaked yellow jelly of pure heat. In the middle of it, Aginor stood, his feet supported only by air. The Forsaken looked startled but then he smiled and took a step forward. It was a slow step, as if the fire tried to root him to the spot, but he took it. And then another. “Run!” Moiraine commanded. Her face was white with strain. “All of you, run!" (Chapter 50)

"I'm as strong as I have to be" 😭

4. In Algomar’s private garden, under a thick bower dotted with white blossoms, Moiraine shifted on her bed chair. The fragments of the seal lay on her lap and the small gem she sometimes wore in her hair spun and glittered on its gold chain from the ends of her fingers. The faint blue glow faded from the stone and a smile touched her lips. It had no power in itself, the stone, but the first use she had ever learned of the One Power as a girl in her royal palace of Cairhien was using the stone to listen to people when they thought they were too far off to be overheard. (Chapter 53)

Obsessed that her version of the all-knowing Merlin character is an affinity for eavesdropping--maybe it's mystical wisdom, maybe it's being a nosy bitch (affectionate)!

5. Her eyes fell on Mat as she stepped through the doorway and she hissed as if she had touched a hot stove. "Get away from him!" Nynaeve did not move, except for turning to stare at the Aes Sedai in surprise. In two quick steps Moiraine seized the Wisdom by the shoulders, hauling her across the floor like a sack of grain. Nynaeve struggled and protested, but Moiraine did not release her until she was well away from the bed. The Wisdom continued her protests as she got to her feet angrily straightening her clothes, but Moiraine ignored her completely. The Aes Sedai watched Mat to the exclusion of everything else, eyeing him the way she would a viper. (Chapter 41)

Sorry I didn’t hear you I was distracted thinking of canonically tiny Moiraine dragging Nynaeve across the room like one of those mothers who finds super strength and lifts the car off her kids.

6. Moiraine climbed down from Aldieb's back. Calmly she removed something from her pouch, unwrapped it. Rand glimpsed dark ivory. The angreal. With angreal in one hand and staff in the other, the Aes Sedai set her feet, facing the onrushing trollocs and the fade's black swords, raised her staff high, and stabbed it down into the earth. The ground rang like an iron kettle struck by a mallet. The hollow clang dwindled, faded away. For an instant then, it was silent. Everything was silent. The wind died. The trolloc cries stilled. Even their charge forward slowed and stopped. For a heartbeat, everything waited. Slowly the dull ringing returned, changing to a low rumble, growing until the earth moaned. The ground trembled beneath Cloud's hooves. This was Aes Sedai work like the stories told about.... Abruptly Moiraine wavered, and would have fallen had Lan not leaped from his horse to catch her. "Go on," he told the others. The harshness of his voice was at odds with the gentle way he lifted the Aes Sedai to her saddle. "That fire won't burn forever. Hurry! Every minute counts." The wall of flame roared as if it would indeed burn forever, but Rand did not argue. They galloped northward as fast as they could make their horses go. The horns in the distance shrilled out disappointment, as if they already knew what had happened, then fell silent. Lan and Moiraine soon caught up with the others, though Lan led Aldieb by the reins while the Aes Sedai swayed and held the pommel of her saddle with both hands. "I will be alright soon," she said to their worried looks. She sounded tired, yet confident, and her gaze was as compelling as ever. "I am not at my strongest when working with earth and fire. A small thing." (Chapter 18)

She's ridiculously proud of her fog along the river and then just a few chapters later channels EARTHQUAKES and WALLS OF FIRE like she's not one of the last Aes Sedai of a dying age and SHRUGS IT OFF.

7. "The The Wisdom won't help. She says she can't. But the stories--" She raised an eyebrow and he stopped and swallowed hard. Light, is there a story with an Aes Sedai where she isn't a villain? ...

She used the staff to pull herself to her feet. “Take me to your father, Rand. I will help him as much as I am able. Too many here have refused to let me help at all.” “They have heard the stories too,” she added dryly. (Chapter 7)

Rand is lucky he's the Dragon Reborn or he and the Two Rivers folks would have been met with some wasps.

8. Thom Merrilin stepped forward grandly and held up one empty hand, turning it slowly. Suddenly, he gestured with a flourish and a dagger twirled between his fingers. The hilt slapped into his palm and, abruptly nonchalant, he began trimming his fingernails. A low, delighted laugh floated from Moiraine. (Chapter 12)

This peek at the girl who watched court bards at the Sun Palace in Cairhien is so cute it makes me almost willing to ship her and Thom in the books.

9. “The Dark One is after you three. One or all. And if I let you go running off wherever you want to go, he will take you. Whatever the Dark One wants, I oppose. So hear this and know it true. Before I let the Dark One have you I will destroy you myself.” It was her voice, so matter of fact, that convinced Rand. The Aes Sedai would do exactly what she said if she thought it was necessary. He had a hard time sleeping that night, and he was not the only one. Even the Gleeman did not begin snoring until after the last coals died. For once, Moiraine offered no help. (Chapter 13)

This is controversial but I personally adore this speech where she threatens to kill them all and then acts petty about healing them just because she hears Rand talking badly about Aes Sedai.

10. “Do they have sheep in Tar Valon? That's all I know. Herding sheep and growing tabac.” “I believe,” Moiraine said. “That I can find something for you to do in Tar Valon. For all of you. Not herding sheep, perhaps, but something you will find interesting.” (Chapter 48)

I giggled.

11. Rand made ready to put Cloud to a gallop right away, and everyone else settled their reins with the same urgency. Everyone except Lan and Moiraine. The Warder and the Aes Sedai exchanged a long look. “Keep them moving, Moiraine Sedai,” Lan said finally. “I will return as soon as I am able. You will know if I fail.” Putting a hand on Mandarb’s saddle, he vaulted to the back of the black stallion and galloped down the hill heading west. The horns sounded again. “The Light go with you, last Lord of the Seven Towers,” Moiraine said, almost too softly for Rand to hear. Drawing a deep breath, she turned Aldieb to the east. “We must go on,” she said, and started off at a slow, steady trot. (Chapter 18)

11. I can't help but think how much they've grown since New Spring when I read this and it makes me want to cry.

Bonus: Every scene of Moiraine greeting the cats at Basel Gill’s inn. (Chapters 41 & 43)

Bonus Bonus: The way Rosamund delivers Moiraine's "it will be as the wheel wills" in the audiobooks after Loial says he is worried the bridges in the Ways are breaking and they might be trapped in there and die. (Chapter 45)

[madhatterbri]

Bond Beyond the Battlefield | Wardlow

Summary: Just wondering if you would write an historical AU, with wardlow, about the story I told you about my 3 x great-grandparents and the civil war?

Author's Note: Squealed when I got your request. Thank you for entrusting me with your family's story and for their service. ❤️

Requested by: @plentyoffandoms

Y/N's house shook from the force of the cannons that shot out of the ironclads in the river. Her hand clasped over the rosary that hung from her neck as she prayed. A quick end to another senseless battle and the safe return of the brave men to their families, that was all she asked. With a sad glance, her eyes locked on the picture of her husband killed in battle in 1861.

Michael Wardlow sat on his horse, lost in his thoughts. His mother warned him about getting involved in American business. Always reminded him that money isn't worth a life. He didn't listen.

He was denied enlistment the first time. Dismayed, yet not defeated, he was able to sign up with the New York regiment. Adjusting to life away from home was hard, yet he managed to make it work. Life in the army camp was a different story.

The lack of resources and basic care made injuries near fatal. He lost countless friends due to illness and injuries. Many letters were sent home to their families with the grave news of their loved one. Michael would always offer his condolences in the end. He vowed never to get injured and make his mother know of his passing with just a letter.

A loud whistle from a cannon caused the horse to get spooked. He whinnied loudly and started to stand on his hind legs. Michael petted the horse and urged that they were okay. When he knew the horse wasn't going to calm down, he grabbed the reins and prepared for the worst.

The rider remained in his saddle to not lose his horse. Horses were hard to come by, and many were lost in battle. The horse stood on his hind legs once more and fell over. It happened so fast that Michael could barely register what was going on until it was too late.

He yelled in pain as he lay on the cobblestone ground. The horse stood up on his own accord and took off running. The now injured rider laid back on the ground. He was done for. He just knew it. No amount of strength could help him stand up.

His vision started to darken. Deep, shallow breaths forced from his lungs as he felt himself start to lose consciousness. Michael placed his hand over his heart and prayed. He hated that he wouldn't give his mother grandchildren of her own to spoil and love. There would be no woman to call his own. As his vision tunneled down, he saw a group of people looking down on him.

"Mercy," he pleaded with his head raised. His heavy head fell back to the ground as the darkness engulfed him.

"And that is how you met Mama?" His eldest son asked while he sat on his knees. A toothy grin appeared on his face. A warm fire burning in the fireplace to keep warm from the harsh winter. His two other children sat around his feet. Michael bounced the fourth youngest on his lap while Y/N held their youngest in her arms. The smell reminded him of the same stew she made when they officially met.

Y/N stared at the man who lay in her bed. He was unconscious the moment the townspeople helped bring him to her home. The man appeared malnourished despite his long stature. There was a lack of food in the camps, no doubt. She stayed by his side and waited for him to wake up.

The smell of food stirred Michael from his slumber. He shook his head slowly from side to side. His eyes were too weak to open until his body registered the pain radiating up his leg.

"What? What happened? Who are you?" Michael asked in a panic. He tried to move, yet the pain proved to be too much. "Where are my men?"

Y/N stirred the spoon in the pot. She turned to look at him. The glow from the fireplace is the only lighting in the tiny wooden farmhouse. His brown eyes were completely on her, but at least he calmed down. She seemed to be kind.

"My name is Y/N. You fell off your horse. I had some men bring you here to take care of you. I mean you no harm good sir," she assured him. He visibly relaxed at her comforting words.

"Where are my men?" He asked urgently. His platoon needed their leader just as much as he needed them. Michael couldn't leave his men to die.

"The Union surrendered to the rebels. They suffered many casualties," she spoke in a grim tone.

"Those damned rebels," he sighed and balled his fists.

"Dinner is ready. You must be hungry. Do you want me to assist you?"

Michael paused for a moment and nodded. His body was too weak from the injury and life at the camps. He took comfort of the aroma of the meal. The smell reminded him of home and his mother.

"What is your name?"

"Michael Wardlow. Proud officer of the 12th New York regiment,"

Y/N sat on a chair by his bed. He watched with interest as Y/N took a spoonful of the contents of the stew and blew on it. A small smile cracked the serious mold of his face. His eyes gleamed. She noticed him watching her.

"What?" She asked with a blush. "Do I look a fool?"

"No, my mom does the same thing back at home, in Canada. Your generosity reminds me of her," he smiled.

Y/N smiled in return. Michael admired the glow from the fire behind her. She appeared like an angel. An angel sent from above to watch over him during his greatest time of need.

The rest was history. They fell madly in love during his time there. Once he was fully healed, he had to go back to fight for the Union. Michael promised to return to her once the war ended. He kept his promise.

In April 1865, after the Confederates surrendered in Virginia, she was his first stop. His tales about the beauty of Canada convinced her to take the long journey up North. They married and made a little family of their own. Five sons and a daughter.

"That is how I met your mother," he smiled.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

(1) (2)

"Is that a dragon? That's a dragon! It's a dragon! You're a dragon!"

Hiccup and Toothless share a look. When facing a thousand pound, flying, fire-breathing lizard, people tend to back away at best, and at worst, they start swinging - axes, clubs, fists. In general, there's a lot of panic, sometimes screaming, involved. Hiccup was prepared for that, not whatever Jack's doing.

Clearly, if their guest was healthier - more capable of moving without risk of death, he would be running around like a madman. But, thankfully for Hiccup's sanity, Jack can barely stand, staying on his feet through sheer stubborn will.

But he laughs freely and loudly as a smile lights up his whole face. Hiccup could almost - almost - forget the corpse-like tinge of Jack's skin, the sunken shadows on his cheeks, or the bruise-like marks beneath his eyes.

"Uh yeah... So... Meet Toothless... He's a dragon, alright." Hiccup frowns. "What? Have you never seen a dragon before?"

"Of course not!" Jack replies, not taking his eyes off Toothless. "Dragons don't exist where I'm from. We only have stories, you know, myths and legends." He turns to Hiccup. "You're the weird one here."

"Me?"

"Yeah! You see dragons everyday and you're just so boring about it."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh not like that! I was just - I don't know. I'm over here losing my mind and you're just standing there, looking at me funny."

Hiccup tries to imagine a life where dragons had not been part of his existence since day one. He nearly gets a headache for his efforts. A life - a world without dragons? What? There's no way. That's just impossible.

"Aaaand now you just look constipated."

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "So what do you have over in the New World?"

"Horses? Bears? Sheep? Beavers?"

"What's a beaver?"

"It's kinda like a giant rat - big front teeth and a wide flat tail. They build their houses on rivers. You can make good money from their fur."

"Huh."

"Right? Totally not as cool as dragons."

"You know, most people would be afraid of dragons. You're over here acting like Snoggletog came early."

"What's Snoggletog?"

"What's - Okay, this is too much. You're breaking my brain over here."

Jack cackles, which quickly turns into hacking coughs that shake his whole body.

Hiccup frowns. "I think that's enough excitement for one day."

"What? No! We just got started! I'm literally four steps from the front door!" Jack wheezes out, gesturing at the hut sitting right at his back.

It's only been two days since Jack woke up and introduced himself. This was not nearly enough time for a full recovery, according to Gothi. But after a couple hours of sitting around, watching water boil, the guy was literally climbing up the walls. Once, Hiccup had to catch him because Jack almost fell out the window. All things considered, that was probably an escape attempt... Or maybe Jack had really intense cabin fever. If Hiccup had to spend two whole days with only Gothi for company, he would also throw himself out the window.

Since Jack was driving himself crazy (which drove Gothi crazy), Hiccup took pity on him (on them both), and offered to show him around Berk. Of course, that meant Jack would get to see all the dragons roaming around. There was a good chance that Jack would keel over at the sight of so many dragons in one place. So, not taking any risks, Hiccup figured that a quiet, one on one introduction would help their guest get... used to the way they do things around here.

Given the way Jack got so excited from meeting Toothless, Hiccup can pat himself on the back for a job well done. He can also smack himself for not thinking about the whole "Jack can barely move" problem. How's the guy supposed to see Berk if he can't even walk ten steps without collapsing? Didn't think about that, did ya Hiccup?

Hiccup and Toothless share another look. If dragons could shrug, Toothless would have done so at that exact moment. He also would have said something like, "Hey, this guy's your problem." Lazy lizard.

Sighing, Hiccup runs a hand through his hair, thinking over his options. Maybe if he...

"If we strap you to the saddle, we can show you Berk from the sky."

Jack's eyes nearly pop out of his skull. "The sky? What? You're gonna let me ride Toothless? We're gonna fly?!"

Hearing him say so, Hiccup begins to question his idea. The face that Toothless makes doesn't help. But Jack is vibrating with excitement now, his grin curling from ear to ear. Hiccup doesn't have the heart to deny him.

"Yeaaa... But just a short flight... If you die on my watch, Gothi can and will curse me."

"Fair. But I'm not gonna die." Jack rolls his eyes.

Hiccup snorts. "Well, I suppose there's really only one way to find out."

It takes some work. Hiccup asked Gothi for some spare leather, which he quickly wove into a rudimentary belt. Then he handed Jack some of his extra flight gear (kept on hand in case something breaks midair), and walked him through adjusting it for his size. Jack was vaguely annoyed, almost sulking, when he had to tighten the straps several notches. Hiccup made things worse by grinning at the size difference. After a lifetime of being the village toothpick, it's sooo nice to be bigger than someone for once.

Finally, it was the moment of truth. Hiccup was fairly confident that Toothless would allow Jack a seat on his back. But as they say, "it's never wise to count your fish before coming to shore".

With Jack watching closely, Hiccup steps forward, holding out his hand. "Just let him come to you."

Taking his cue, Toothless bumps his snout against Hiccup's palm, exactly the way he did all those years ago.

"See?" Hiccup glances at Jack as he gently pets Toothless. "As long as you're careful and slow..."

Jack meets his gaze and nods slowly. He copies Hiccup, lifting a hand up and letting it hang in the air. Unlike when Hiccup first tried this, Jack doesn't look away. Toothless stares right back. For what feels like forever, neither make a move and Hiccup starts to think that they'll never move again. Then Toothless decides to break their little staring contest, but he doesn't press his snout to Jack's hand. No, this weirdo of a lizard decides to lick Jack's palm. Their equally weird guest outright cackles with glee. Toothless appears very pleased with himself.

Hiccup shakes his head, clapping his hands. "Alright, alright. We're all good buddies now, great! Let's not waste anymore daylight."

Jack whoops and scrambles over to the saddle. After some awkward wiggling and squirming, it becomes pretty clear that Jack has never sat on a saddle in his whole life. Toothless keeps trying to look behind him, wondering what this strange new human was doing on his back.

"Need some help?" Hiccup asks, stifling a smile.

"Nah! I'm good!" Jack says cheerfully, with his booted feet planted on the saddle, and nowhere near the stirrups.

Hiccup crosses his arms. "I'm sorry to say that you've got it all wrong."

Jack takes in his crouched position. "What? No! Can't be!"

There's even odds that this guy is just messing with him. But Hiccup finds himself laughing along. It was just a bit of harmless fun.

"Right well, your feet are supposed to go here. Let me-" Hiccup reaches over to take hold of Jack's ankle.

He didn't mean anything by it. He was just going to place Jack's foot into the stirrup. But as soon as Hiccup's fingers brush against Jack's ankle, the guy flinches hard and launches himself off the saddle. Toothless lets out a loud squawk, echoed by Hiccup, as they watch Jack tumble down - head first - towards the ground.

Luckily, Toothless is not very tall so falling off his back won't cause permanent damage. But it would still hurt. From the hard thump followed by a breathless groan, it sure sounds like it hurts.

"Jack!" Hiccup hurries over.

"I'm fine! I'm fine! Just a little..." Jack waves a hand. "You... I wasn't expecting the..."

The poor guy looks shaken, breathing heavily and trembling all over. All that from one tiny touch? Hiccup frowns.

"Sorry, I didn't - I was - I should have warned you."

"No, no, no! You're good!" Jack folds his brow, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. "It really wasn't a big deal."

"Coulda fooled me..." Hiccup murmurs under his breath. "Can you - Are you hurt?"

"Just my dignity, but who needs that, right?" Jack pushes himself up and dusts himself off.

Hiccup snorts. "I wouldn't know. I never had that myself."

Jack grins, already looking a lot steadier. Sure, he's breathing a little funny, but he's less twitchy - less ready to run. Before Hiccup could say anything more, Jack's already back by Toothless, swinging himself onto the saddle, no more messing around. But the stirrups still give him trouble and after a few failed tries, he lets out a frustrated grunt and kicks off his boots.

"There! Much better!"

Hiccup blinks. "Huh? Did those not fit?"

"Nope, those fit fine. I just don't like boots."

"Do you not wear boots in the New World?"

"Can we just go already? The sun's gonna set!"

"We're not going anywhere until you put the boots back on. It's even colder up in the air. You could get frostbite!"

Jack snorts. "Please! I'm not even cold right now! And we're only gonna be up there for what? Five minutes? Ten? I'm not gonna lose my toes after ten minutes of windchill!"

Hiccup clenches his jaw before breathing out a heavy sigh. He's spent a lifetime with hardheaded people. He knows a lost argument when he sees one. "Fine, fine. What's a few toes in the grand scheme of things?"

"That's the spirit!"

Hiccup gives Toothless a tired look. Toothless has the audacity to laugh at him. Thanks, bud. Real supportive. Grabbing hold of the saddle, Hiccup hops on as easy as one, two, three. He settles himself behind Jack, and again, the contact causes Jack to flinch. The reaction is more muted this time, undoubtedly due to the guy's admirable restraint. Yet Hiccup can pick out the way Jack draws his shoulders up, his arms pressing tight against his torso, and his hands holding onto the harness with a white-knuckled grip. Every part of him is wound up tighter than a trebuchet about to fire.

"We good?" Hiccup asks.

"Yeah," Jack squeaks out.

Taking pity on the guy, Hiccup ignores the way Jack sounded like mouse just then. "Alright, let's get you strapped in."

Somehow, Jack tenses even more but he doesn't complain as Hiccup winds the belt around them both. Then Hiccup leans forward, pressing his front to Jack's back, as he grabs onto the harness. Close together like this, Hiccup could feel Jack's ribs stretch and shrink - faster and shorter with every breath.

"Everything ok-"

"Just. Fly."

Thor save Hiccup from stupidly stubborn guys. He wasn't kidding about Gothi cursing him.

"Alright. You heard the man, Toothless."

Letting out a warbling growl, the Night Fury stretches out his wings and with a click from Hiccup's prosthetic, they leap into the air.

Jack stops breathing entirely. He stops for a single, sticky second - long enough for Hiccup to start panicking. But then Toothless levels out, prompting Hiccup to adjust his tail, and just like that, they were flying.

And Jack... Jack laughs - a noisy, clumsy, heavy sound as if he needs his whole body to laugh. Hiccup has never heard anything more joyous. Toothless must share his opinion because the dragon lets out an echoing roar before barrel-rolling across the air. Jack's laughter transforms into a throaty shriek as he lets go of the harness, opening his arms wide like he's trying to embrace the sky itself.

Hiccup thanks every god he can name that he had the foresight to strap this guy onto the saddle. Jack would have slid right off from that stunt.

"Are you crazy?!" Hiccup yells, tugging hard on the harness. "Toothless, quit it! Jack, put your hands back down!"

Toothless gets the message because he straightens out neatly. Hiccup knows that the dragon is rolling his eyes. Just for that, he is sooo not getting fresh chicken tonight.

Jack breathes out a throaty chuckle before placing his hands right back on the harness. "Man, that was fun. You get to do that every day?"

It's hard to believe this was the same scared-stiff guy from earlier. From his position, Hiccup can't quite see Jack's face but he could see a world of difference in the looseness of Jack's limbs and the soft curve of his back. Somehow, Jack seems more at ease, more at peace in mid-air than he ever did on the ground.

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure Toothless would bite my head off if I didn't take him flying at least once a day. Twice if we have time."

"Wow..."

Toothless takes them up higher and further out into the ocean until the whole island could be seen. Then, as if greeting them personally, a strong Northern wind whistles by, parting the clouds and letting the sun shine a spotlight onto the busy, messy, crazy village below. From this height, Hiccup could see the sturdy perches placed by each home, the forever full feeding stations, and the comfy, customized stables. He could watch a cacophony of colored scales wing around the vikings as they went about their day - fishing, fighting, and even frolicking when they thought no one was looking.

"Oh," Jack whispers - soft and gentle and weightless with wonder.

Hiccup allows himself to smile proudly. No one could say that they had it easy these last few years, but they made it here somehow - a long way from where they started.

"Welcome to Berk."

[ryin-silverfish]

Fanfic: Bodhicitta

AO3 Mirror

Possibly the start of a short series. About the pilgrims, post-journey, and what led to their reincarnation in LMK.

CW for a bit of body horror at the end.

Tripitaka completes a pilgrimage, ponders his faith, and makes a vow.

bodhicitta: literally "Heart of Bodhi", the motivation and defining quality that makes a Bodhisattva in Mahayana Buddhism.

---

Thus the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, Deep in meditation, Saw the emptiness of all five skandas, And sundered all bonds of suffering.

…

An old master living in a crow's nest taught him those lines. It shall protect you from harm, he said, sticking his neck out like an actual bird. Perhaps he used to be one. Perhaps he still was. Or maybe there was no difference.

("A single thought can make a Bodhisattva, or a demon," Guan Yin once told his disciple.)

It was hard not to feel a little cheated, though, when he tearfully muttered the sutra under his breath, and still fell off his horse, got dragged into a river, tied up next to a steaming pot after the monster broke his barrier with a single flick of its tail.

Oh, how he had recited the sutra faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut, and still the demoness's nails pinched at his cheeks, drawing blood, cooing Aren't you a delicious little snack, in both senses of the word?

Why did it never work like those miraculous tales in the scriptures? Was he really that bad a Buddhist? Did such thoughts make him a bad Buddhist? Or were the tales just another product of the rampant mistranslation he was so tired of?

It won't matter, he told himself, trying to steady his resolve. Once they reach the Western Lands and receive the True Scriptures, he would finally be free of all doubts.

…

Here then, Form is no other than emptiness, Emptiness no other than form. Form is only emptiness, Emptiness only form.

…

"Master, if all things are emptiness, why do you care if I kill them or not?"

Patience, how to be gentle yet firm, a willingness to see beyond the words on paper and into ultimate reality. These are things he would come to learn. But he hadn't yet.

So instead, he began a lengthy lecture on just how much a grave misunderstanding of——no, insult to Buddhist doctrines that was.

Form is emptiness, because it never stops changing, like clouds in the sky. There is no permanence when nothing stays constant, going up and down in the wheel of samsara, lifted up or weighed down by their karma.

It is empty because it is a wheel, and doesn't go anywhere. Not because the chain of causes and consequences don't exist.

"But they had it coming!" The monkey pouted, like one of those spoiled aristocratic nuns he had encountered in the Golden Mountain Temple, who hated monastic life with a passion and only came here to escape a worse marriage. "Are their deaths not a natural consequence of, you know, robbing people?"

"Not by Great Tang laws, and certainly not by Buddhist laws." He rubbed his temple, feeling a familiar headache coming. "But that is not the point. What about your consequences, Wukong? How much negative karma are you accumulating by taking their lives? And how much will I receive by association, for failing to stop you?"

"Oh, so it's all about you?" Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes. They were glowing red, like embers in a hearth, which never failed to send a chill down his back.

"Well, even if I somehow end up in Hell again, it's not like the Ten Kings can do anything to me. And since you'd rather die than letting me stain your flawless karma, I'll leave you to it, then." With a single flip, he was standing on his somersault cloud. "Bye, baldy."

"Wait!" He shouted, but the monkey had already disappeared over the horizon.

…

All things are by nature void. They are not born or destroyed, Nor are they stained or pure, Nor do they wax or wane.

…

But if nothing was stained or pure, why, then, would he be horrified at the deaths of six humans, but not an entire cave of demons?

They were but creatures of the Path of the Beast. Yet he was steadfast in his adherence to the monastic codes, which forbade him from consuming meat, for each meal costed the life of an animal. Was the life of a demon even less than that of livestocks, livestocks devoid of the spark of intellect?

Did their blood not stain his hands too?

Indeed, they were man-eating monsters. And so were regular wild beasts. So were two of his disciples, before they joined him on the pilgrimage.

If mercy could be extended to a monkey, a pig, a dragon, and a river monster that ate his nine past lives, why was it denied from the others?

Sometimes, on long, cold nights where nothing happened, and all they could see were the desert sands below and stars above, he wondered if Sun Wukong was right. If the fact that nothing could be truly created or destroyed, merely changed into another form, meant that death did not matter.

If compassion was but another form of attachment that led to suffering, and he would be better off severing it like the rest of his worldly bonds.

After all, he voiced no objections when the bandits who killed his father and destroyed his mother received their just deserts, nor did he do anything that might have stopped her from hanging herself in shame. Unseen laws were just as true as written laws and monastic laws, and beneath it all lay the karmic laws.

An eye for an eye. A good deed begets a good birth. Violence begets violence.

Were his convictions to do no harm just another lie, then? A delusion that he knew better, for he was the acolyte that actually bothered to learn Sanskrit, the good Buddhist, the master? Nothing but him putting his own discomfort and unseen scars above what was truly just and right and wise, and making his disciples suffer in his stead?

People clung to suffering not because they enjoyed pain, but because of the memory of happiness, and the promise of momentary release. It always felt good, until it didn't.

Like love and its inevitable loss.

He knew. Yet he could not stop hurting, could not let go of his doubts.

Maybe that made him an unworthy monk. Maybe the perils kept coming because he had not learned the lesson yet, and there would be a time when he finally stopped caring.

But whatever that time was, it wasn't now.

…

So, in emptiness, exists no form, No feeling, thought, or choice, Nor is there consciousness. No eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind; No colour, sound, smell, taste, touch, Or what the mind takes hold of, Nor even act of sensing.

…

Your senses fool you. Much like how the ghostly immortal, hijacking long-dead bodies, fooled him, and Yellow Robed Demon's illusion fooled the king of Baoxiang.

What makes one innocent? He thought, as he sat inside the cage, all four limbs chained to the floor. Or guilty, for that matter? What makes a man into a beast, a beast into human, a mortal into god, a god into monster?

What makes one deserving of forgiveness? He thought, as he looked into the dead woman's eyes, drowning out her shrieks with his chanting of Ksitigarbha's Sutra, suppressing her blue ghostfire with chains of golden light that wrapped tighter and tighter around the coffin. Or a chance, for that matter? Had she ever had a chance when it mattered?

When is an apology accepted, and not merely heard? He wondered, as he made his own to Sun Wukong, and the monkey didn't even spare a single glance at him. Just kept gazing eastward, a haunted look on his face.

…

No ignorance or end of it, Nor all that comes of ignorance; No withering, no death, No end of them.

…

"Is that how I was like?" Sun Wukong mumbled, as he scrubbed at the end of his staff with a rag. If there was still blood left on the metal, it had already been cleaned off ages ago, yet he kept wiping and wiping, like he was trying to yank someone's vengeful spirit out of it. "Is that what I am?"

"No," he said, then immediately winced. Even with a barrier in between, getting hit in the back with a heavy iron stick was no joke.

"How would you know——" he turned back, and almost instantly squeezed out a smile. "Oh, greetings, master! Didn't see you there. Are you hungry again? Thirsty? Need your bandages changed? Sorry about that whole evil doppelganger business, by the way."

"There is no need to apologize. It is not your doing."

"But…" He looked away, then sighed, tossed the rag into the creek, and shrank his staff back to needle size, putting it into his ear once more. "Well, if you say so, then I ain't complaining, master."

"And you are not your Second Mind."

The monkey froze in place, and didn't speak for a long time. When he did, it was in a barely audible whisper. "Does it even matter, if I wanted to do the exact same thing?"

"You still didn't."

"I tried, though, master." He exposed his teeth in what looked like a grin, but, according to Bajie, was monkey language for I'm scared shitless or Bugger off before I eat your stupid face. "Don't you remember? Right after the fillet. And I was so close to trying again, every time you listened to Piggy and recited that spell for a reason that wasn't exposing shapeshifting demons."

It was strange, how reassuring it was to have your biggest fears confirmed. At the same time, it was also deeply upsetting, knowing that the fears weren't just about someone else, but also you yourself.

"Look, I…I know Macaque. Whatever he is, he sure ain't a literal piece of my mind. But that just makes it worse when he wanted to become me." Sun Wukong clenched his fists together. "He would've dragged me back by my tail, once upon a time, kept the worst of me in check. But I chased him away, and now he didn't know how to be anything else, so he just doubled down and became the worst bits of me anyways."

His eyes started glowing bright red again, as he bared his canines and let out a low growl.

"He killed my monkeys. Okay, Wujing did, but it wouldn't have happened if he didn't make them impersonate you guys. And he dared, DARED call me weak when I lunged at him screaming, after I saw what he did to their bodies! The coward who couldn't even be a villain on his own, without hiding behind someone else's shadow!"

The monkey breathed in deeply. "For that alone, I don't regret killing him. But when Di Ting——okay master, I guess you wouldn't know who that is, it happened after we punched each other into the ground, all the way to——"

"I do, in fact," he said. "Ksitigarbha's steed, the All-hearing Beast."

"Pretty much. But it's less hearing, and more…knowing." Sun Wukong paused. "The very earth speaks into its ears, and when Di Ting rises up from the ground, its eyes just see through you, all of you, and knows whether you are good or evil."

"I imagine that must be quite disconcerting."

"You know what's even more disconcerting? When the only answer it gave was 'Go speak to the Buddha.' I mean, it all worked out in the end, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was simply too polite to tell the truth. That we are but two different flavors of evil, capable of wreaking the same havoc, and," Sun Wukong shuddered, his fur standing on ends, "under a different circumstance, I, too, wouldn't see a problem with throwing my monkeys' lives away."

He knew what he should tell his disciple. No, you are not evil. You are not entirely good, but neither am I. Few people are made of one or the other, and it takes a special level of ignorance to claim so.

He also knew Sun Wukong would not believe it, not after hearing the furious speech he made a few days ago. Is your heart made of stone too, just like the rest of you? Are you capable of finding delight in anything, other than death and wanton destruction?

So instead, he lowered his head, knelt down in front of the monkey, and said, "You can do whatever you want to me."

"M-Master? What are you…" Immediately, the monkey moved forward, trying to lift him up. "Have you lost your mind?!"

"You heard me." He smiled. "I swear to the World-honored One, I will not recite the spell, or use my barrier. If you want to beat me up, or bash my head in, you are free to do so."

"No, no, hell no!" Sun Wukong took a step back. "Why do you think I would? No, why do you suddenly have a death wish?"

"I do not," he said. "I merely put my life into your hands, and choose to accept whatever consequences that ensue. Death is but one possible outcome." A pause. "Is it the outcome you want for me, though?"

"Again, hell no!" He shook his head. "I mean, I'm still mad at you, but this…wouldn't solve anything! And I'm not gonna protect you for so long, only to throw it all away for nothing. What are you getting at here, master?"

"Nothing. I'm just wondering, if you would not kill someone you have good reasons to hate," he looked into his disciple's eyes, "What makes you think you will ever knowingly send your subjects, your family, to their death?"

Sun Wukong's lips moved, but no sounds came out. Then tears started coming out those eyes——no longer glowing, but still red. Seconds later, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven was on the ground, clutching his robes, bawling like a little child.

"But I already did, master…not knowingly. But I still did, way back when."

…

Nor is there pain, or cause of pain, Or cease in pain, or noble path To lead from pain; Not even wisdom to attain! Attainment too is emptiness.

…

Reaching their destination did not free him from doubts, though it did lift a weight off his shoulders, knowing that he could begin the real work undisturbed.

Neither did staying in the presence of Buddhas and Arhats for the next few years, as he slowly but steadily gathered the reference materials he needed for a proper translation. Flipping through ancient, ink-covered leaves and scrolls alike, honing his Sanskrit while learning more local dialects than he ever needed to know.

He knew his disciples would fully redeem themselves upon their return to Chang'an, capital city of the Great Tang. That he would attain Buddhahood for bringing the scriptures back to China alone, and could have left the translation to other capable monks.

Alas, much like doubts, he wasn't ridded of his perfectionism either. So he politely asked to earn his Buddhahood instead, by finishing his translation and making sure people could actually understand the scriptures' wisdom, and was granted his wish.

Perhaps this decision was also born out of doubt. How ironic was it, that he wasn't sure if he wanted Buddhahood anymore, only after it was all but guaranteed?

How ironic was it, that he once was so foolish as to wish he could be rid of pain by severing every bond, by throwing his compassion away?

Enlightenment is not isolation. It is not a single snowflake, frozen in time, but a raindrop falling back into the ocean. You would never find true strength, if you dared not even let yourself be human and feel the slighest bit of weakness.

But what happened when the raindrop, so close to the ocean waves, gazed upon its fellow raindrops in the clouds and thought, For their sake, I want to stay? What would happen to it if it stayed?

Then it shall walk on the Path of the Bodhisattva, that was the obvious answer. However, despite his encounters with multiple Bodhisattvas during the journey, he had never really gotten a chance to know them personally, not to mention making inquiries about their nature.

Well, now would be his chance to find out.

…

"It begins with a Vow," the wily old scholar said, twisting a five-petaled azure flower between his fingers. "And the Vow stems from awareness. Comprehension. A glimpse into the void, a spark of Wisdom."

"Then, dedication, in both mind and body," the three-headed woman laughed, gripping a vajra club with one of her six arms and pointing it at the ground. "It takes great Will to descend into the land of the unliving, be a jewel of light amidst unfathomable darkness. Me? I prefer to Act in this world, help the needy before they reach that stage."

"At the root of it all is Mercy," the familiar woman in white dipped her willow branch into the vase, "the desire to see less suffering in the world, big or small. For you, too, have suffered, and learned that pain is no mark of weakness, nor is it unavoidable."

"I would not say there is anything at the root." The scholar corrected. "For that would suggest the superiority of one Vow over the other, one Path over another, when they are but streams flowing into a single river."

"Ever so precise with your words and diction, I see." his three-headed companion teased gently. "But indeed. To put it in the simplest term: practice what you preach."

"True. Compassion without wisdom is dangerous naivete, and sympathy without action is just empty words." The woman nodded. "But wisdom without compassion can quickly turn cold and detached, and actions and worship, done only for the benefits of oneself, is but another form of bribery."

"Mercy is not turning a blind eye to harm, but choosing the path of least harm——sometimes by offering a chance, other times, by recognizing they would not take it."

"But you already know that, do you not? Tripitaka, River-Float-Boy, Golden Cicada."

"Monk, orphan, prideful student."

"Sinner, redeemer, venerable master."

"So go," the three spoke together as one, "and walk upon your own path."

…

So know that the Bodhisattva Holding to nothing whatever, But dwelling in Prajna wisdom, Is freed of delusive hindrance, Rid of the fear bred by it, And reaches clearest Nirvana!

…

Eighteen years.

Eighteen years had passed since his return. An entire tower was built in the west wing of his temple of residence, to store the sutras and holy artifacts he brought back.

He performed countless masses, to free the dead from their torments, one of which was on Flower Fruit Mountain. He sealed away a fire, destined to burn away worlds at the end of each kalpa, yet ignited too soon inside a child's body. He dealt with visits from nobles and high-ranking officials and rich laypeople all over Chang'an, until Wujing had to carry him back to his bedroom while Bajie shooed them out of the temple gate.

He took in more assistants and scribes. Taizong passed away and his third son inherited the throne. The officials made disdainful sneers at the mention of his new favorite concubine ("A nun! And one of the late emperor's consorts, too!"), then talked among themselves in a hushed and fearful voice, as she stepped over her rivals' bodies and became his empress.

His eyesight grew faint, his back ached on rainy nights, and sometimes he dropped a brush right after picking it up, because of the shakes in his hands.

Yet, after translating over six hundred scriptures, his work remained unfinished, and would likely never be finished.

A pity, but the completed translations would at least be in good hands.

He had recited his last prayers in front of the temple's monks——five days ago? Ten days ago? He could not remember. Everything blurred together, as if in a dream, and the only constant was the presence of his disciples.

His first, dearest disciples.

Wukong had stopped pacing, but was no less restless, if Bajie's muffled "Stop hitting me with your tail!" was any indication. Wujing's expression was one of grim acceptance, ever since he stopped eating and drinking and entered a deep mediation on his sickbed.

Ao Lie…they never told him what happened, but he had a feeling that the dragon prince wouldn't be coming back.

"Then stop standing next to my tail, Idiot."

"Excuse ya', there's only so much space in here!" A squeal. Sounded like the pig got pinched in the ear again. "Why are you so damn jittery today?"

"No idea. I just feel like…something's gonna happen."

And it did, the moment Sun Wukong finished speaking. The air grew cold and still. Before Bajie could yell "Don't jinx it, ape!" all the lamps went out in a gust of wind.

At first, there was only darkness. Then came a spark, a cicada's call, and with light, shadowy shapes.

Tendrils solidified into limbs and tails, bent at unnatural angles. Some silhouettes were fuzzy, clad in fur, some had horns and antlers, while the others were covered in bone spikes and scales. Many were missing chunks of their skulls or entire heads. Even more were charred to the bone, bits of cooked flesh sloughing off them as they lumbered forward.

Eyes with slit pupils, eyes that glowed, bug eyes, fish eyes, a pair of giant, lantern-like eyes, eyeballs hanging out of empty sockets——they all gazed into his, with unconcealed hatred and naked hunger. A few lunged at him, but soon staggered back with a pained screech, burnt by the golden light radiating from above.

Once, the mere sight would have sent him tumbling off his horse, trembling in fear, tears streaming down his face. He would not be standing tall, unfazed, listening to the vengeful ghosts of his would-be killers.

The Great Tang Monk, they cried out. Our doom. Our salvation.

A fellow poet, who became our guest. A group of four whispered from afar, branches and leaves shaking in their hair. The rudest of guests, and a deadly one too!

Did our mother wish for our deaths, Venerable Master? Two tiny shadows jumped up and down, behind a towering tiger demon. Was that what she wrote, in the letter she handed you?

Cheater! Devious bald donkey! A headless tiger, a disemboweled deer, and an oil-soaked goat skeleton tutted. Without your disciples, you'd never have won the contest.

Why is it a crime to eat the flesh of men, when they are never punished for consuming the flesh of our kind? A wrinkly fish demoness sighed. Such unfairness. Such hypocrisy.

Says you! I haven't eaten a single human, I'm just a palanquin carrier!

Do you remember us?

We, who are not worthy enough to count among your perils?

Do you even want to remember us?

Give it back, Great Tang Monk! The chorus of wails suddenly rose to a shrill crescendo. We want our lives back! Give our lives back, or grant us peace with yours!

He looked away from the consequences of his causes, and up into the light.

Six magnificent wings, six limbs, eyes like diamonds, a dot in the middle of the forehead. Cloaked in purple-gold kasaya, sitting in the lotus position. A most divine smile on an inhuman face.

A fleshless, miraculous body, a container of all the good deeds performed over his life and prior lives. A gateway to his Pure Land, an ocean of liquid gold.

One step, and he would be freed of birth and death, pain and doubt.

One step, and the spectres of murdered demons would never be able to reach him again, left behind to stew in their misery until they were dragged back to the Underworld in chains; the majority of them were far from innocent, after all.

One step between him and eternity.

And he needed only to reach out his hand and take it.

Idly, he wondered about what the others must've seen. What made them take that vital step, or stop at the last moment.

Then he shook his head and laughed. Those were their paths, were they not? Not his. Walk upon your own path.

He doubted even the three great Bodhisattvas could have predicted what he had in mind, though. 

"I hereby forsake my Body of Benefit, to give all my accumulated virtues to the restless dead, so that they may be released from suffering, once and for all."

A crack formed in the golden figure's forehead, growing wider and wider, until it stretched from head to toe. Out crawled little cicadas, wings buzzing, making a beeline for the howling herd of shadows.

They flinched back at first, then, upon realizing what was happening, eagerly grabbed each and every insect and devoured them whole, dissolving into golden light with a joyous expression on their faces.

"I vow to descend into samsara, shedding my selves like a cicada's skin, my inherent Buddha-nature obscured, yet remain unfaltering in my pursuit. For there is no courage without vulnerability, no awareness without experience, no immortality without mortality, no transcendance without having been bound to the world."

As the shadows thinned, he could see his disciples again, their motion slowed to a crawl, the panic in their eyes slowly transforming into dreadful awareness at the words echoing through their mind. But there was no turning back. He had already committed to his Vow.

He only hoped that they could see the look on his face, or hear the warmth and wistfulness in his speech, as he continued speaking. This is not the end. I will be nowhere and everywhere. I will always be by your side, in one form or the other.

"For every life of mine, rich or poor, ignorant or wise, man or beast, ghost or god, I vow to undertake a journey, learn the meaning of compassion anew, and teach it to those denied of such chances: whether by birth, by luck, or by their own stubborn will."

"Only after I have walked all the paths that can be walked, learned compassion against all possible odds, taught all who were forsaken, shall I attain Nirvana."

The last cicada had been caught and swallowed. Fully split in the middle, the remnant of his miraculous body was little more than a shell now——a shell that was starting to shrivel up and burn away in bright golden flames.

"Thus saith Golden Cicada, known in this life as Chen Xuanzang. May the World-honored One be my witness, and grant me strength and wisdom on my journey."

The Vow was almost complete. Its binding words tugged at his soul, drawing him closer and closer, into the flames above. His form was fading, yet it did not hurt.

It felt like peace. Like a pair of glowing palms lifting up an insect, sending it back into the blue summer sky.

"Namo," he said, and let the light take him away.

[bumblesimagines]

Under The Moonlight

Part 15

Request: Yes or No

Officially putting this on hiatus until season 3 comes out!

~~~

Cold.

Why did he feel so cold? 

The noises around him sounded muffled and distant. His body moved on its own, swaying and floating... floating? He took in a breath and immediately regretted it as water invaded his mouth and throat. His eyes snapped open. Murky water surrounded him. His legs began kicking wildly under him, fear clutching his chest. His instinct overrode the fear and he looked up, following the light shimmering above him and breaking through the surface. The water continued to drag him as he attempted to stay above water until he reached a shallower part of the river, hands clumsily grabbing onto the smooth rocks under the water. His chest burned and his head ached.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you alright?" He groaned in response, stumbling slightly as he got to his feet, the weight of his drenched clothes pulling him off balance. Hands grabbed his arms to keep him steady and he squinted through the pain, seeing the familiar face of Brigtoc. She seemed fine, just drenched from head to toe. She winced and released him, reaching down to the ends of her cream-colored dress and ripping off a piece. 

"The others?"

"I am not sure." She answered, pressing the cloth against his temple. He hissed when it stung and leaned his head back, spotting the red spreading across the cloth. 

"Are you two alright?" They turned to look at Batu making his way down the bank toward them with one of the oars in hand. Brigtoc exhaled in relief, shoulders slumping slightly at the sight of him alive and well. Batu swept his gaze around the area and frowned when he couldn't spot the others. His eyes settled on (Y/N)'s temple and he sucked his teeth, leaning forward to look at the injury. "You must've hit your head. Looks like a cut, nothin' serious." 

"Good," (Y/N) sighed, taking the cloth from Brigtoc and keeping it pressed against his temple. "Come, we must head back to the falls. Everyone else will likely regroup there."

"The boat couldn't have gotten far either." Batu nodded, tucking the large oar under his armpit and marching forward, occasionally calling out for Kaysan. Their journey downstream led them to Eleana, Kaysan, and Kurya across the river.

"Have you seen the others?" Kaysan asked, standing up from his crouched position beside Kurya. Kurya seemed fine as well, apart from coughing up some water.

"No." Batu crossed the shallow river and dropped the oar on the ground before tossing his arms around his friend and chuckling. (Y/N) followed him, glancing back at Brigtoc when she nearly slipped and fell. The redhead paused for a moment, staring upstream at two figures approaching them. 

"Dorn!" She called out and (Y/N) looked over his shoulders, spotting Leif and Dorn. The young girl had her arm around Leif's shoulders and she walked with a visible limp. Batu ran over to them, taking Dorn's other arm and helping them quicken the pace. 

"Your head-"

"I'm fine, Eleana." (Y/N) murmured, touching her arm and smiling. With most of the group reunited, they were only missing three members. Cadlin, Mariam, and... Harald. Leif surveyed their surroundings before nodding for everyone to continue their trek downstream in search of the boat and the others. They were able to locate the boat and soon spotted Mariam collecting some rope. 

Jogging forward, Leif called out, "Mariam!" The woman turned her head in his direction, a smile breaking out on her face. She stood up and opened her arms, embracing Leif when he got close enough. 

"I am fine." She assured, looking over everyone as they gathered before frowning. "But the Pechenegs took Harald. He convinced them we were all dead." 

"What colors did they wear?" Kurya asked, a slight panic in his voice. 

"Red and white." 

"It was not the Khan then. Probably a tribe from the east." Kurya breathed in relief. (Y/N) gazed into the forest and walked forward, spotting the horse tracks. Along with footprints that would turn into streaks and then back into footprints. They were dragging Harald back to their camp. (Y/N) took in a deep breath and turned to look at his brother. Leif nodded at him, securing his axe to his side and stepping forward.

"(Y/N) and I are going to find Harald."

"We'll go with you," Kaysan called.

"No. You are needed here to right the boat." Leif dismissed with a shake of his head. Eleana grabbed a quiver still containing arrows and slipped it around her shoulder. She met the gazes of Brigtoc and Dorn, nodding to the girls and looking back at Leif.

"Then we're going." 

"And me too." Kurya chimed in. "I'm the only one who knows their camps. I'm your best hope of surviving."

With the crew divided, Batu handed Dorn his blade and Brigtoc took an axe from the weapon's barrel. Batu and Kaysan stayed behind with Mariam to get the boat water ready. Placing Kurya's hand on his shoulder, Leif set off with the others, following the tracks in the dirt. From the direction they were headed in, (Y/N) deducted the camp near the river had been the ones to take Harald. It seemed small enough but the Pechenegs were ruthless warriors. It didn't take long to find the camp with the sound of loud chatter, horses, and dogs echoing through the trees. Once close, they ducked down and climbed a small hill to observe the camp.

"I smell fire," Kurya whispered.

"There is a camp below us. Eight tents. Many horses and some dogs." Leif described for him.

"It is a raiding camp. Harald would be there. Can you see the Khan's main camp?" Kurya asked and they craned their necks to look past the sparse trees behind the camp. In the distance, they could see the start of a larger camp. More tents, more warriors. 

"Yes." (Y/N) breathed, fingers anxiously digging into the dirt. 

"(Y/N), Kurya, and I will bargain with the leader for Harald. If they don't bring us horses, it means we failed and they will know that there are others. You must get back to the boat and leave as soon as possible." Leif instructed the girls and took Kurya's hand once more, placing it on his shoulder. But Eleana shook her head.

"We won't leave without everyone."

"When the warlord sees me, he will be required to send for the Khan and my brother will return with many warriors," Kurya told her with a small frown. (Y/N) reached for Eleana's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She met his gaze and shook her head again, placing her hand over his and wrapping her fingers around his palm.

"You must go if the plan fails. The others will rely on you to get them to Constantinople." (Y/N) spoke softly, lifting his brows at her. Eleana dug her teeth into her bottom lip and sighed in defeat. With the plan fresh on everyone's minds, (Y/N) and the other two men stood up and began heading down to the camp. They kept low to the ground to avoid being spotted, maneuvering through the trees. 

"Hey," Kurya called out to them softly. "You must promise me something. The Khan will return with many men and they will catch you if you try to take me with you."

"We didn't come all this way to leave you behind, Kurya," Leif protested quietly.

"But I did." Kurya fished a necklace out of his shirt, holding it up for them to see. It contained a tiny container at the end of it. Realization settled on Leif's features when he noticed it. "Mariam gave this to me. By bringing me this far, you have given me the chance to redeem myself to Ulgen the Allfather of my faith. Now when I die, he will turn my spirit into a bird and I will fly to Ocmah, where my wife has been waiting for me for a long time." 

Tucking the necklace back into Kurya's shirt, Leif lightly shook his head. "She's going to have to wait a little longer, my friend." Rising to their feet, (Y/N) slipped his dagger out of his sheath and wrapped his arm around Kurya's shoulders. Pressing the blade gently against Kurya's neck, they moved forward toward the entrance of the camp. The men there spoke in a language (Y/N) couldn't understand but he saw the way their eyes slightly widened at the sight of Kurya. They held their weapons tightly but made no move to stop them as they headed toward the warlord's tent. 

And within the tent, (Y/N) saw Harald. 

Hooks were impeded into Harald's chest muscles with ropes tied to them, holding Harald up in the air. His hands remained tied behind his back and a light sheen of sweat covered his body. Purple and red-coated Harald's neck, confirming (Y/N)'s suspicions. Harald had been dragged to the camp by rope. The way he'd been strung up nearly made bile rise up in (Y/N)'s throat. Harald panted and heaved, groaning in pain.

"Cut him down or we'll kill him," Leif ordered, widened eyes tearing away from Harald to look at the man sitting on the chair. The warlord held a skull in his hand which he appeared to drink from. The warlord set the skull down and slowly rose from his seat, staring at Kurya with a small sneer. "You know who this is? Do you?"

"This is the brother of the Khan." The warlord murmured.

"He has a bounty on his head, which we are willing to trade to you for the Norse and three horses," Leif explained and (Y/N) pressed the blade against Kurya's throat. The warlord's jaw tightened and he inhaled, nostrils flaring and hands curling into fists. He turned to look at one of his men, speaking in a foreign language before nodding to the other two holding the ropes that kept Harald up. The two men released the ropes and Harald fell down onto his knees with a grunt and pained groan. The first man glared them down, brushing past them and leaving the tent. The ropes were cut from Harald's hands and the hooks pulled out of his skin. Harald leaned over in pain and staggered onto his feet, blood seeping down from the holes in his chest. 

"Never felt better." Harald strained quietly, attempting to be reassuring.

"Now, the horses." Leif turned back to the warlord but then swords pressed against his and (Y/N)'s necks, forcing (Y/N) to remove his dagger from Kurya's neck. The warlord smirked at them and slowly clapped his hands as laughter spread through the tent. (Y/N)'s arms were suddenly restrained, causing the dagger to fall to the ground with a clatter. The three were dragged out of the tent and toward some thin logs. (Y/N) was placed behind one of the sets, his legs kicked out from under him and arms pulled out to each side of him. His wrists were tightly bound and he looked out at Harald and Leif as the same was done to them. 

"I hope you have another plan." Harald breathed, gaze flickering between the two brothers. The warlord stepped out from his tent, holding (Y/N)'s dagger in his hands. He inspected the blade thoroughly, the smirk still present on his face. He strode toward the middle and spoke out in his language. Whatever he said earned him some laughter and he smirked at the men, pointing the dagger at Harald then Leif, and then (Y/N). His smirk only widened and a man roughly pulled up the back of (Y/N)'s shirt. The warlord moved around (Y/N) and hummed quietly, dragging the tip of his sword softly across his skin.

"Let's see how sharp this blade of yours is, Viking."

The fire crackled loudly but through his tears, it only looked like a blur. The disgusting cackle of the Christian echoed in his ears, sending a shiver of fear down his back. His small hands bundled up the ends of his shirt and he stood up, stumbling around a bit. He had to run. He had to find his mother. (Y/N) didn't get a chance to step forward before a foot slammed against his back, sending him falling onto the grass. A soft grunt escaped him and he winced at the aching. Moving onto his back, he looked up at the Christian with wide eyes, soft sobs escaping him and making his shoulders shake. 

"Pagan filth." The man sneered, slipping his sword out of its sheath. The tip of the blade pressed lightly against his forehead and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying that Allfather would allow him into Valhalla where he could wait for his mother. The pressure of the blade disappeared and he dared open his eyes. "I ought to teach you a lesson, boy." The man spat and he pressed the blade down into (Y/N) shoulder. Pain erupted through his body, only intensifying when the sword dragged down his chest. The tears spilled freely down his skin, incoherent pleas and babbles escaping his cracked lips. The pain wrapped around him like a snake, constricting him more and more until he could hardly breathe. Black spots began filling his vision but he was able to see the moment his attacker bled and his mother's soothing voice filled his ears.

He could still see it just as vividly as the day it happened. His home burning mere feet from him. He could still feel the warmth of the fire and how the smoke rose so high in the air he wondered which of the neighboring villages could see it. When the blade pierced into his back, he only shakily exhaled. His scar ached and burned with the memory. A memory he had tried so hard to bury. His fingers wrapped around the rope keeping him still, wrists wriggling wildly to get free. His teeth grinded together and his eyes squeezed shut, taking in deep breaths. He tried to ignore how the laughter of the warlord mixed with the echo of the Christian. Harald and Leif both squirmed in their restraints, sneering at the warlord and hurling insults but the warlord continued, slicing lines into (Y/N)'s back. 

Until an arrow whizzed past his head and buried itself into a tent, the fire on its tips spreading rapidly. Another arrow flew by, hitting and covering another tent in flames. (Y/N) felt the rope burn into his wrists but he continued wriggling them until he slipped free from the restraints. Kicking out his foot, he hit the ankle of the panicked warlord, causing him to lose his footing and drop the dagger. (Y/N) didn't think twice before grabbing his dagger and forcing the warlord on his back. Lifting the dagger, he brought it down on the warlord's head repeatedly as chaos spread throughout the camp. Frightened horses ran wild, running over Pechenegs and disappearing into the forest. Eleana rode in on one, shooting arrows at any Pechenge that charged at her while Brigtoc and Dorn freed Leif and Harald. 

"(Y/N), come on!" Leif called, freeing Kurya from his restraints but his words went in one ear and out the other. (Y/N) felt the blood spray on his face and clothes but didn't stop, even when the warlord became unrecognizable. It was only when strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him off the warlord that he finally saw something other than his attacker and his destroyed home. Harald heaved in pain, pulling (Y/N) along to a horse. (Y/N) panted softly and sheathed his dagger, noticing his stained hands as he got on the back of the horse. His arms tiredly wrapped around Harald's waist, face burying into Harald's back.

The horses raced through the forest and back to the boat where Batu and Kaysan had gotten it upright again. But it still needed to be pushed off the shallow bank. Brigtoc and Dorn slipped off their horses and raced over to help them. Eleana got off her horse and turned around, helping (Y/N) and Harald get off their horse. They immediately went toward the boat when Leif shouted that the Khan had followed them, helping push against it despite the pain. (Y/N)'s mind felt fuzzy and jumbled but he still pressed his wet hands against the boat and pushed, waves of stinging and pain shooting down his back. 

"Kurya!" Dorn screamed for the man and (Y/N) looked over his shoulder, spotting him turn and walk back in the direction of the Khan. Despite everyone's protests, Kurya continued and disappeared into the forest. After more pushing, the boat finally slipped into deep enough water to float. Harald immediately wrapped his arms around (Y/N) and lifted him up, grunting when his wounds were pressed against. (Y/N) climbed into the boat and whimpered. With the adrenaline fading, (Y/N) now had to face a new world of pain. Everyone else scrambled to get on board and into positions, using the oars to push the boat further out. (Y/N) slumped down at the front, leaning against the side of the boat and gazing out into the forest for any sign of Kurya. Screams of agony came from the forest, but the voice sounded deeper than Kurya's.

"Oh, my love. My sweet love." Harald whispered quietly over the sound of instructions being shouted. His hand cupped (Y/N)'s face, wiping away at the blood and tears. He gently pushed (Y/N)'s head onto his shoulder, feeling (Y/N) allow himself to go limp against him in exhaustion. Men slipped out of the treeline with Kurya. His wrists were tied and held apart. The men began taking turns slicing and stabbing into Kurya. The crew onboard watched in horror and cried until Leif got a single arrow and took a bow, aiming for Kurya. He released and hit Kurya directly in the heart, giving him a merciful and quick death. The men hollered and shouted in anger but made no move to retaliate against them, letting the boat continue freely down the river. 

"We must tend to you." Harald breathed, looking for Mariam. She collected some bandages from the storage and approached them, squeezing the last bits of water out of them. Tearing part of his shirt, Harald lifted the back of (Y/N)'s shirt and gently dabbed at the cuts, murmuring apologies and words of comfort. 

"Harald, you are hurt as well." (Y/N) reminded him, taking Harald's hand and slipping the cloth from his fingers. Eleana approached them, taking a sit beside (Y/N) and getting some cloth for herself. 

"You tend to Harald and I'll tend to you." She proposed, continuing to clean the cuts. (Y/N) winced slightly and turned to Harald, focusing on the four wounds on his chest. Once the cuts were cleaned up, Eleana carefully wrapped them around (Y/N)'s waist and chest before pressing a fleeting kiss to his shoulder and standing up. Harald watched her return to her seat, grimacing when (Y/N) ran a finger over one of the wounds. 

"You should have left when you had the chance. You wouldn't be hurt." Harald murmured. "It's my fault. You shouldn't have come back for me."

"You are the reason we came, Harald."

"You could have gone on without me... You could have gone home." Harald winced and inhaled deeply, one hand coming to rest on (Y/N) hip while the other took the hand (Y/N) used to clean his wounds.

Smiling tiredly, (Y/N) gazed into Harald's eyes. "I care about you a great deal. You are part of my home. You are part of my heart. I would never leave you for dead."

                    ➸        ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸

The passing days on the boat had allowed for Harald and (Y/N)'s wounds to slowly heal. The mood, however, remained somber. Kaysan had revealed not long after they escaped that they had found Cadlin's body after getting the boat upright. She'd likely been pinned under it and drowned. The news had devastated Dorn and Brigtoc, rendering them silent the following days. Mariam's condition had worsened as well. She coughed more often, her body trembled more noticeably, and she could hardly walk without help. The necklace she'd given Kurya had been meant for her to use on herself once the pain from her illness became unbearable. Still, she smiled and acted as if all were well. Leif tended to her frequently, keeping her warm with coats and comforting her. He hoped she'd be able to manage the last two remaining days left of their trip before they reached Constantinople. 

They chose to stop at a beach nestled between two mountains. Further up the beach were stairs that led up onto the mountains where ruins stood. Stone pillars and floors. Mariam claimed it was the Pontic Olbia, a place that had once been sacred to the Greeks. (Y/N) found the ruins fascinating to look at while setting up camp. The stories Mariam told of Constantinople and the other places she had visited made them sound like tales his mother would tell him. Despite her death looming over them, Mariam told her stories with a smile and spoke of how she'd show them around Constantinople. 

(Y/N) settled down as night fell and stories were exchanged over the fire. Batu told stories of his and Kaysan's adventures and close calls as con artists, most of which got a laugh out of everyone. (Y/N) found himself leaning against Harald, chuckling softly. Harald smiled, slipping his arm loosely around (Y/N)'s waist and nuzzling his nose against (Y/N)'s temple. The laughter slowly faded when they caught the pained look that appeared on Mariam's face. She smiled sadly, her eyes glittering with tears.

"I am sorry." She said faintly. "It is finally my time." She breathed. Her words brought a quietness to the air and for a moment, nobody moved or spoke. Batu inhaled deeply, gazing into the fire before standing up and walking forward toward her. He crouched down beside her and took her hand, sniffling softly.

"I miss you already." He whispered and she chuckled softly, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. When Batu stepped back, Brigtoc and Dorn moved closer, taking Mariam's hand and speaking softly to her. When it was Eleana's turn, Mariam leaned forward and sweetly cupped her face, smiling at her.

"You have a difficult road ahead." 

"Help me, please." Eleana pleaded quietly, leaning into Mariam's touch.

"I cannot advise you. But your heart will." Mariam cooed, tucking strands of blonde hair behind Eleana's ear. Eleana pressed her forehead against Mariam's, wiping away her tears and leaning back. (Y/N) and Harald stood up, helping Mariam to her feet. She winced and wobbled slightly, holding tightly onto their arms. 

"Thank you for everything, Mariam." (Y/N) said, smiling back at her.

"Remember what I told you, (Y/N)." Mariam touched his cheek, rubbing his skin with her thumb before looking at Harald. "Take care of these two for me. Please." 

"Always," Harald assured and Leif scooped Mariam into his arms. She bid everyone one last goodbye and curled up in Leif's arms, resting her head against his shoulder as he walked into the forest to have one last private moment with his lover before her death. (Y/N) watched them disappear into the forest with a heaviness in his heart. Harald rubbed his back and offered a sad smile. "At least she spent her final moments surrounded by love."

"Yes..." (Y/N) let out a shakey sigh and sat back down, leaning back on the blankets on the ground and staring up at the stars in the night. Harald lied down beside him and looked up at the stars as well, his fingers finding (Y/N)'s and hooking around them. (Y/N) tilted his head to look at him, giving Harald's hand a gentle squeeze. Harald's lips twitched upward and he hummed softly, gazing back at the Greenlander.

"We always seem to find ourselves together like this... under the moonlight, don't we?" Releasing his hand, Harald reached over to touch his cheek and stroke it, a warm smile settling on his features. "I want to stay like this by your side... forever."

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Bounty of Sneezes

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 Summary: Slightly pre-events of Red Dead Redemption 2, Arthur is heading out on a bounty job and seems to be coming down with a cold. Luckily he has some help. CW: period typical gun violence, some mess, cold sneezes Word Count: 2,391 words MINORS DNI Author Note: i had an ask a long time ago i am so sorry for something rdr2 related and i hope this will do and i hope i did the cowboys justice bc i had to just keep picking at it. also i make no apologies for subjecting you all to my equine bullshit.

The change in seasons from summer to fall had always been challenging for Arthur, both as a young man and as an older one. Bounty hunting wasn’t exactly easy work either, but it was good pay, which the gang needed right now. Money. A lot of it. So, Arthur would do what he always did. Provide. Pull his weight. Because that’s what he was to them. A workhorse. 

While everyone else was sitting comfortably down near Pike’s Basin, Arthur had chased a bounty up in Tall Trees. The chill of the air got worse as he followed the lower Montana River further up North. The bite of the air was starting to make his nose run. 

Although, come to think of it… his nose had already been running when he left camp this morning. He sniffled again, just as he’d been doing all last night while trying to pick his way through Pearson’s threadbare stew. Gathering up the edge of his coat sleeve, Arthur swiped at his nose tiredly. 

He knew he was about due for his annual cold, and it hitting now that he was away from the rest of the gang was probably for the best. Lest the rest of them get sick because of him and blame him for going around camp with everyone in such close quarters. A subtle itch had started somewhere in the back of his left nostril, and Arthur grunted as he shifted in the saddle, sniffling to try and disrupt it. 

The sniffling didn’t seem to be doing him any good, so he briefly stood, readjusting in the saddle before sitting a little deeper and pulling his thick, blue coat closer. He’d woken up cold this morning, too. No surprise there. Arthur naturally ran hot, but when he was sick? He froze over. Squeezing his hands into fists on the reins and then stretching them out again, Arthur tried to ignore the growing itch that was building in his sinuses now. 

It was starting to make his nose run worse, and he cleared his throat a little, wincing at the sharp and grating pain that tore through his throat from the action. He swallowed, wincing when that hurt, too. This time, he brought a hand off the reins to scrub a little more roughly at his nose with a finger, causing a soft sort of squelching noise that made him grimace. Still, it did nothing to alleviate the itch, and his other hand began to brace on the horn of his saddle in preparation for what was to come, his heels pressing down a little more just in case his horse spooked.

The poor creature beneath him was new. Still learning. Arthur was still learning her, too. He didn’t know if he could trust her not to spook at his sneezes. The sound of another set of hooves coming up behind him at a fast-paced trot briefly caught his attention, but Arthur was quickly becoming all too consumed with the coldish tickle niggling at his nose. 

“God daahh… ax’TSHHiuh! Snff! Huh…” Arthur pitched forward in the saddle, bending at the waist, careful not to jerk back on the reins as he pressed them flat to the crest of his mare’s neck. Said mare nickered anxiously, tail lashing up and down at the sudden sound of the sneeze while starting to sidestep off the road. “Easy, girl. Woah. You’re alright… Just a sneeze.”

“Some sneeze.” And if that wasn’t the most irritating voice in all creation, Arthur Morgan didn’t want to hear today of all days. “I’d say you nearly fell out yer damn saddle, Arthur.” Because, of course, John Marston had to have followed him up here on Old Boy. 

The elder outlaw gave a gruff sort of huff and sniffled once again, able to feel the congestion in his nose threatening to leak. “If anyone’s going flying out of their damn saddle, it’s you, Marston.” He snapped back, his mood only soured more by a blanket of exhaustion that was settling on him. “Thought I left you back at camp.”

By now, John and Old Boy were matching pace with Arthur and his mare, riding beside him on the road. “You did. Dutch sent me out here after you. Said we could use some brotherly bonding time.” He sounded just as bitter about it as Arthur felt. The two hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms lately, given John’s disappearance that Arthur had taken somewhat personally, not just as a hit to Abagail, Jack, and the gang. There were plenty of complicated feelings Arthur had brewing for the outlaw he once treated like a younger brother.

“Dutch should know better. I do this kind of work alone.” Arthur growled, but it only served to irritate his throat further, making him turn from John to cough roughly into a gloved fist. He could feel John’s eyes on him as the coughing tapered off, and he patted his mare’s neck, sliding a hand under her mane to keep it warm. Then he turned his eyes back to the road and surrounding trees, pretending to ignore John.

For a few brief moments, there was just the sound of hoofbeats on the dirt road before Marston spoke up. “Because you’re just so damn capable…” He muttered, and the words were distinctly bitter now, instantly stoking that ember of anger in Arthur.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” The blonde snarled back before he had to dissolve into another fit of coughing, this time leaning against his saddle horn for support. His mare danced off to the side skittishly, and Arthur rubbed her neck as the fit died off, leaving him feeling distinctly more tired after each one. 

By the time Arthur could look over at John, the younger outlaw was leaning to reach back into his left saddle bag. “That.” His voice was that same rasp it always had been since the brunette hit puberty. “You’re sick. Same damn time as last year. You think I don’t remember? You always get sick around this time of year, Arthur. We’ve practically been brothers for how long now?”

A scoff left Arthur, and he took one end of his reins to smack Marston’s leg with it for his meddling. “I ain’t sick, Marston. Just ride along back to camp and tell Dutch I sent you h-home.” The itch was back but in the opposite side of his sinuses now, making itself known much faster than the last tickle. So much so Arthur barely had time to grab the saddle horn and make sure he kept his reins low as his whole body jerked with the sudden sneeze. “Eh’TSHXuh! EXXtsh! Woah! Easy, girl!” 

Quick as a flash, Arthur was going from sneezing to soothing his nearly spooked mare while driving his heels toward the dirt like his life depended on it. The horse below him had taken off at an anxious lope as if trying to escape the sudden explosions from her rider. “Ahh, easy- woah, come on now, girl. Nothin’ to be scared of.” John on Old Boy kept pace just behind them as Arthur eased his horse back to a walk.

“So… you ain’t sick?” John checked as he pulled up beside Arthur again with a smug smirk.

Arthur grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Why’s it matter? I’ve worked jobs sick before.” Once again, his wrist came up to rub at his nose with a thicker sniffle now, every rub causing a wet squelch. If he wasn’t careful, he would be more congested than when he’d had a cold over Christmas. 

When Arthur looked over, he spotted a bottle in Marston’s hands that looked like a tonic of some sort. “Because usually there’s a whole posse behind you, right?” It was like John was trying to direct him in a particular train of thinking, and Arthur was just too damn sick and tired for it.

It did earn a semi-congested snort of amusement from Arthur, who hastily had to press his wrist back to his nose and sniffle. “Contrary to what you might believe, Marston, I ain’t like you. I pull my weight. I run jobs by myself all the damn time.”

“Shuddup, ain’t like that-” John defended instantly.

Arthur fixed him with a stern glare but did down the tonic before continuing. “You wasn’t even in camp for a damn year!” The thought did occur to Arthur that talking this loud while tracking a bounty this close maybe wasn’t such a good idea. “You came back for two or three big jobs. Couldn’t e-ehh…” His voice trailed off as his breath hitched that itch coming back.

Suddenly, though, John slowed down his stallion while reaching for Arthur’s reins. “Arthur, not now-” For some reason, John’s voice seemed to have gotten quiet.

Tears of irritation formed in Arthur’s eyes as the itch prickled and brushed through the most sensitive parts of his nose. The ticklish sensation was strong enough to make his mouth fall open as he hitched, “Hehh-! Eh-!” 

“Arthur-!” John’s voice was an urgent hiss now as Arthur’s mare began to prance beneath him. Something was wrong, very wrong, but he couldn’t-

“EXT’shhiew! HiT’SHiew!” There was the sudden chaos of six shots ringing out, and Arthur gasped as he choked up on the reins as his horse reared before well and genuinely bolting. Old Boy did just the same as the bounty they’d been searching for came guns blazing from the brush. 

Element of surprise gone, Arthur threw a leg over his horse’s back and dismounted before she could run too far. He stumbled a little on the landing but drew his revolver before ducking behind a tree. “Come out, Treva! Wanted poster said dead or alive! Don’t care how we get the money!” 

Another three shots hit the tree he was hiding behind, and Arthur looked around for Marston, wondering if they could get this fool to run out of lead and reload. He spotted the younger outlaw moving in closer and shook his head, waving a little before motioning to call out.

“What’s the matter, Treva? Too chicken shit to come find us? We’re on our way to finding you!” John called; not exactly wrong either. He’d been well on his way to getting close. 

One shot whizzed by Arthur’s hiding place on the left, then on the right. Just barely clipping the edges of the tree and sending shrapnel of bark flying in every direction. Treva could aim, but could he reload fast enough once he’d shot that last round? Arthur took off his hat and stuck it on the end of his revolver, nodding to John just before peeking it out from behind his tree. 

Crack. With a hole in Arthur’s hat, John made his move and launched from his own hiding place. Arthur stuffed his hat back on, sniffling back the mess threatening to run down his lip, and went to follow. By the time Arthur made it to John, Treva was out cold, and Marston was preparing to tie him up. 

“You got ‘em, Marston?” Arthur crackled out, sniffling and rubbing his gloved hand against his bright red nose. It already felt like that tonic was wearing off.

John pulled the binds tight and nodded. “All set. Just gotta get him to town.” He stood and hauled their bounty over his shoulder, both men whistling for their horses. “You should get a room in the town when we drop him with some of the money. I’m sure Dutch won’t mind…”

Arthur glared at the younger gang member as he caught his horse by the reins, soothing her gently. “Bullshit. We oughta drop him and get back.” He said gruffly, putting a foot in the stirrup to haul himself back into the saddle. Now that the action was over, his nose was still running, and Arthur could still feel that prickling tickle teasing at the back of his sinuses. “Hhh…”

They rode silently for a while, Arthur still struggling against that incessant sensation in his nose. It was like an entire feather pillow had been stuffed in his nose, tickling and blustering about as if in a dust storm. He squeezed his saddle horn and pressed his heels down, “Heh-eh! EXt’Shhuh! Hhh… hih-! Hh! HDt’SHH! Christ alive!” 

Thankfully, given his outbursts this time, his mare seemed to only toss her head in displeasure. He patted her neck and sniffled thickly, exhaustion weighing heavily on him as he followed her motions without conscious thought. Riding was second nature in this business. He could do it while sleeping, let alone while sick as a dog, and if Arthur spent enough time with one of his mounts, they became quite the pair working in sync with one another. 

“Bless you,” John mumbled under his breath, and Arthur grunted a quiet “Thanks” in reply. It continued on in much a similar fashion until they reached town. Their bounty was delivered without complaint, though Arthur found himself on the receiving end of more than a few curious sets of eyes watching him. Townsfolk were always suspicious of strangers riding in. 

It was not uncommon, but now he suspected it was because of how poorly he was beginning to feel and look. He stayed mounted in his saddle while John handled everything inside. It felt like he wouldn’t get back up once he dismounted. He was too exhausted from it all. He just wanted to make camp, maybe have a fire, fall asleep, anything to rest and warm his bones. 

A shiver ran through him, and Arthur huddled further into his coat, rubbing his raw, chapped nose against the wool lining with a gurgling sniff. 

“That don’t sound too good.” 

John had appeared at his side, offering him his cut from their bounty job, which he took and stuffed directly into his satchel with a nod. “You’re tellin’ me.” He rasps back and winces. “We should go.”

“No. You should rest. Abagail will kill me if she finds out I let you ride back like this.” Without any more warning, Arthur suddenly felt himself being dragged from the saddle. He protested halfheartedly, stumbling as he tried to find his footing once on the ground. “We’re gettin’ a room. C’mon.”

And without another word, the two outlaws set off for the closest hotel. 

[noforkingclue]

The Slow Horses on vacation or some kinda team building??? That's lots of room for chaos to ensue haha

I started drafting a brief thing during my lunch break which, well, turned into this! I had way too much fun writing it and please, feel free to send in more Slow Horses stuff :D

Title: Team Building

“Are we being fucking punished?” You asked as you looked down at the memo

“We’re at Slough House y/n,” said Louisa, “of course we’re being punished.”

You grimaced and poked the paper with your pen, almost of though you were afraid that it would go off. Knowing how much The Park hated you, you wouldn't have been too surprised if it did. You were certain this was some kinda of sick practical joke.

“The important question is,” said River, “who’s going to tell Lamb.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. You were rereading the memo when you realised everyone was looking at you. When it dawned on you what they were expecting you shook your head.

“No.” You said firmly, “absolutely not.”

“He likes you the most.” Said River

“He fucking hates me. Standish, can’t you do it?”

“I think it’s best that you do this.” Said Standish with an amused smile

“What the fuck am I going to say?" you picked up the paper and waved it about, "Morning sir, The Park sent us a fucking note telling us we need to improve our team building skills. Shall I tell them to stick it up their arse?”

“Yeah, that’ll fucking do it.”

Lamb’s voice cut through the room and he stomped over to you. He snatched the note out of your hands and glared at you before he read through it. Once he’d finished he snorted in amusement and shoved it back to you.

“Sort this shit out,” he said as he walked towards his office, “I don't want to spend any more time you you cunts than necessary.”

“Well l/n,” said Roddy with a smirk, “looks like it’s all up to you.”

“Me? Why the fuck should it be me?”

“Because you’re the least useless one,” shouted Lamb, “not that that’s saying much.”

“Looks like you’re on your own with this.” Said Shirley with a smirk

“Oh no. This is meant to be about team building,” you snapped, "we’re not doing a lot of team building if your ditching it all on me.”

“We could go down the pub,” said Marcus

“We can’t do team building down the pub,” said Standish, “that defeats the whole purpose of this. Besides, how would that even work?”

“No wait,” you sat down on the table, “Marcus might have a point. When I was back in accounts-“

“Like a fucking nerd.” Interrupted Roddy, earning him a smack from Shirley

“We had a budget for this sort of thing, not that anyone really used it of course. I saw the expenses for team building bullshit. Dealing with drugged up team members and how people would cope dealing with the situation by themselves.”

“How-“ stated Louisa

“Basically the team got pissed and one person was the DD,” you said with a smirk, “and these things got through the system somehow. Now then, why don’t I do a bit of research…”

You smirked as you did a quick Google search trying to find the perfect place.

“Good Woods Corporate retreat,” said River who was reading over your shoulder, “can you fucking imagine Lamb in a place like that?”

“Nope,” You said, "But look it has a spa and a pool!"

“It’s a fucking grand a night,” said Shirley who was on your other side, "How the fuck can we afford that.”

“We’re not going to be paying for it.” You said with a smirk, “and I’m sure Ho can dig up some dirt on the CEO so we can actually get out of doing all the corporate team building shit. Once The Park gets our bill I doubt we'll be forced to do this ever again!”

“Already fucking on it. Anything to see you in a bikini y/n.”

“Five days of us eating good food, getting drunk and sitting by a pool all paid for by the Park. I think that sounds like pretty good team building don’t you?”

[winters-mistress]

The protector becomes the protected

When Geralt finally wakes up, his chest is finally clear and he can breathe again. He frowns, confused, the ache in his ribs and lungs and impressive, thudding ache in his head reminds him of what had happened to him.

An avalanche had taken Roach's hooves out from under her, and then the fall. He doesn't know how far they had fallen, but he remembers the panic enducing feeling of water filling his lungs. Of his horse kicking his ribs in panic as she rapid waters took them all downstream. The cries she had let out, before being silenced by the ice cold water.

But now? Now he's laying on his back, he can feel the leaves underneath the back of his neck. Where is he, a forest? How had he gotten here? He can't be anywhere near the river.

His eyes open, and he can see the tops of the trees, bare in winter. When his eyes finally clear properly, he tries to sit up, but a small hand on his chest stops him.

"Slowly, take it easy." the voice says. He blinks, who is it?

Geralt turns, and sitting next to him is his child surprise. She's got her legs folded underneath her, blonde hair wild and curly, falling all over her shoulders and back. She looks exhausted, dark circles underneath her pretty green eyes.

"Ciri?" He gruffs, his chest and throat hurting with the effort to speak her name. "What-"

"Calm down, it's okay." Her hands leaves his chest, and he only now realises that he's not cold, or wet. But how can that be? Last thing he remembers, he was drowning In cold rapids, how is he laying, warm and dry, in a forest?

"Do you want a drink?" she asks, leaning over to grab his waterskin. She helps him, leaning his head up, as the water slides down his throat.

"What happened, how did you-" he trails off.

"Don't you remember?" she's not confused, but somewhat sad? He aches to comfort her, but his body aches more. He can't move just yet, where's his bag of vials?

He shakes his head slowly, watching as Ciri sighs, fixing the blankets around his legs.

"We fell into the water, and it was a minute or so we were in there. I don't know how, but you managed to grab me off Roach just before she fell in with us, threw me a couple feet away in the water. I hit a rock, that's what this is-" she brushes her hair back from her face and he inhales sharply at the deep purpose bruise marring half of her face, and there's dried blood at her hairline. How hadn't he noticed that before? "and, umm, I got out of the river, managed to grab Roach's reigns and she got her footing eventually when I was pulling her out. And-and I couldn't find you, I thought you were taken by the rapids. I jumped back in, and finally found you, trapped between two rocks. Maybe it was my magic, maybe it wasn't, but somehow I got you out. You coughed out the water, and she settled near a rock so I could tie you on after I got the blankets off her and everything else that was soaked. Uh, got you on, tied you down, and got as far away from the river as I could. Don't know if were off course to that Keep you said we're going to, we probably are, but uh-" she scratches her neck. "Yeah, something happened in me. I don't know what, or how, but-" she gestures to the surrounding area. He looks around, and they seem to be in a bubble? A bubble of warmth and dry and comfort. He looks further, and all around them, there's a considerable blizzard. But not here, Ciri has appeared to have made a clearing to protect them.

"You're a mage." He grunts.

"Probably something like that." she sniffles, wiping her nose. He grins, she's so far removed from the prim and proper little princess who staggered into his arms weeks ago. "Uh, yeah. Got you off Roach. Built a fire, dried you and the blankets off. And here we are." she sniffs, brushing her hair behind one ear. "Do you want this?" she reaches past where she had grasped the waterskin, pulling his bag of potions and vials closer to them both. She settles it next to his shoulder, and he quickly pulls the leather open so rifle through the glass.

If this was any other time, he'd probably make it into a botany lesson. Ciri had been eager to learn all she could about hunting, skinning, building fires and finding edible things in shrubbery, bushes and trees. Over the past couple weeks, Geralt had finally attuned himself to having a wide eyed student, soaking in everything he tells her. But he's too tired to say anything now.

"Will you teach me what those are when we get to your castle?"

He glances at her, pushing himself up to rifle through the bag easier.

"Do you have some tort of telepathy too? First your scream, this and now verbverbalising my thoughts?" He grumbles. She grins shyly. "It's a Keep, not a castle. And yeah, I will."

"Thanks." she watched him drain four vials, fiddling with the hem of a blanket upon his thighs. "By the way, Roach is fine. She's by there." Ciri points, and somehow, he hadn't noticed his mare laying on her side, chomping happily on a bucket of oats.

He winces at the feeling of the elixr travelling down, before looking back at her.

"Thanks," he nods. "You look exhausted. You should sleep."

"I don't know if I can, and keep this up." she looks around. "I don't even know how I put it up in the first place."

"Good point." He acquiesces, rolling his stiff shoulders. "First moment we're both up and well, you sleep whole I get us back on track to the Keep. Deal?"

"Deal."

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 13. Shadow

part 2 of The Prodigal Tiefling (on AO3)

It was only well into the following day, bruised and ragged from a night of running, that Woljif’s mind caught up with his legs—legs that ached almost as bad as his stomach.

He could outrun the gargoyle disaster but he couldn’t outrun the images cycling in his head. Sosiel snatched up in demonic talons and carried off. The Count, too. (What were they doing with them anyway? Tearing them limb from limb to feed their big ugly gargoyle chicks?) Dead crusaders littering the camp. That one paladin who almost fell right on his head, the crunching sound of armor and bones colliding at high speed with the ground.

Not to mention the chief.

Wonder if he made it, he thought morosely as he stumbled up another rise in the cliffside over the Sellen. There was something so sad about the image of the chief’s crumpled body lying among the ruins in his colorful clothes like a crushed flower, it made Woljif forget to get choked up about his own predicament for whole minutes at a time.

He should have been smarter, whispered the shadow in the back of his mind, which had been gradually inching into the front of his mind since the night of the gargoyles, so much so that he almost thought he could hear it for real now.

You made it, and that’s what matters.

He itched his ear and looked around to be sure there wasn’t really someone—or something—hanging over his shoulder. About him loomed nothing but the tortured branches of Worldwound trees against a stark sunless sky.

He was hungry, thirsty, exhausted and freezing but true enough, it bore keeping in mind that that was a sight better than being torn up and fed to gargoyle chicks.

“Well, I’m still alive, but not for long if I don’t find some sign a’ civilization soon. You don’t reckon you can conjure up some spicy pastries insteada just chatterin’?”

The shadow lapsed into sullen silence.

Clenching the Moon of the Abyss in his fist as he negotiated a tangle of underbrush he carried on muttering, his breath forming bitter clouds in the chill air. “How do you like that. Finally get my hands on my legacy and here I am, lost in the Worldwound. And unless it can conjure some breakfast this amulet’s no more use than a plea for mercy with the Prelate.”

As long as he kept talking the shadow stayed quiet, and so did certain thoughts that kept creeping up on him from a secret place in his heart he’d rather not acknowledge.

It got so bad that night that in a fit of remorse he lost a lot of time doubling back toward the Crusade camp, frantically inventing excuses.

The shadow had things to say about that. They hang deserters, you know.

The chief ain’t the hangin’ type. He’ll take me back.

No, he won’t. After the shenanigan with the necklace in his pocket, and now abandoning him to gargoyles?

It was true. The chief probably hated his guts now. Respectable sorts always got up on their high horses, when really all he ever did was try to get by on the little he’d been given in life. Yet even as he thought the words he knew they weren’t true. He and the chief had had some good laughs; Siavash wasn’t like that.

Which made his stomach hurt worse, at the image of the chief lying betrayed and dead among the smoking ruins of the Fifth Crusade. They said after a battle crows came and ate people’s eyeballs.

Coward.

On the third day, waking shivering from a restless nap, his face still wet with—admit it, tears, lodged in the gap between two tree trunks, Woljif began to worry more seriously. He’d wandered off track from the Sellen because he had to loop around some steep hills and he was pretty sure the river lay somewhere to the east, but it was hard to keep track of east in this cursed forest.

Desperate with thirst he stumbled down a steep slope to the bank of a creek. Like a dog he drank from it on his hands and knees, splashed his face and then sat back on his haunches with water streaming down his front.

If he were to stick to the plan of just following the Sellen downstream he’d have to cross this tributary. It didn’t look over his head but if he tripped and the current caught him—well, Woljif’s only relationship with deep water was staying out of it, literally and figuratively.

So it took him most of the remaining daylight hours to find a fallen tree he could shimmy across to the other side, and once he made it and started trudging downstream again soaked to the bone and shivering so hard it made his skin hurt, he suddenly stopped and stared around at the sun setting behind the trees to his left.

Wait.

He was meant to be heading south. And how’d he get this far from the Sellen, anyway?

By the fourth day he was engaged in a bitter debate with his inner Lann about the nutritious benefits of lichen.

Lann won. The lichen offered little besides a sour dirt flavor, and was too tough and dry to choke down even if he wanted to. How’d a big guy like Lann survive on this anyway?

Oh yeah, Lann was a hunter.

Not exactly Woljif’s skill set. Besides, he hadn’t seen one animal out here. He glanced around as if there would be a few nice, plump ones just standing there, should he bother to look.

It couldn’t be that hard, if a one-horned cave-lizard could do it. I could stun one and then run up and stab it. Nah, too much blood to muck around in. Better to zap it. And then just slice off a nice steak and barbecue it over a magical fire, easy as toast.

Now if he could just find an animal that wasn’t too scary.

He trudged on, trying to remember the words to a song to keep his mind off his cramping stomach and failing legs, but that reminded him of the chief and made everything worse, which in turn made the shadow impatient.

Quit sniffling, it hissed.

No animals turned up, but he did find a snail. People ate those, didn’t they sometimes? With a dubious frown he picked it up and inspected it. It tucked into its shell, leaving a sheen of slime around the edges. How hungry am I?

No. He’d need to be closer to death than this.

Tossing the snail over his shoulder he plodded on his weary way through the brush, changed his mind and went back and found the snail and put it in his pocket, just in case.

And all the while, as if hovering just behind the back of his skull, the shadow continued to whisper.

They would have done the same.

Woljif stopped in the middle of a frosty clearing and looked around in despair. He had no idea which way was east.

Surrounded by nothing but barren trees, lost and starving. Some kinda survivor. He hugged himself around his aching middle.

I’m gonna die alone out here.

[aredlemon]

My Job. Ao3

Summary:

Roman comes face to face with what can only be described as a hybrid from hell.

Or

Uh so Roro gets hunted by this thing

Notes:

I’m *not* gonna say sorry for this being poster later than promised (fanfic authors curse caught up with me) cause *someone* (I know you are reading this) wants me to be more confident.

Cw: Blood/gore (slightly, only like a bit), not really angst/mostly action and scenery descriptions, implied character death (but maybe there is a sequel who knows~)

Pairings: none!

~~~

As the wind roared and echoed, rain started to fall. The skies opened wide, full rivers crashing down on the soil. Clouds hid any trace of the sun, one would mistake the early morning hours for midnight. It was cold, the September breeze having been turned into a tornado, destroying what the rain couldn’t.

Screams were heard as the people of the imagination abandoned their homes. Children’s cries muffled in the embraces of their parents. The once quaint town had turned into a hellscape.

Sudden thunder made the earth shake. As lightning struck flames burst out. A fire fuelled so quickly even the abundance of water was not able to tame it. Flames rose up to the sky, enveloping the brick and wooden houses.

———

Roman ran and ran through the fallen buildings and ruins, he couldn’t help but allow the tears that had prickled at his eyes to stream down his face. A face no longer bright and beaming with glee. Blood, sweat, and tears all decorating it.

He couldn’t stop now. He had to keep on trying. Trying to guide this monster and the destruction it brought with it away from the city. Away from his people.

———

The beast growled low and heavy. Sharp teeth speckled with blood glistening in the golden flames. No animal had been able to escape its path and now it had a new target.

It was truly something out of the depths of hell, pure concentrated evil. A hybrid with the face and upper body of a boar, transitioning into the lower half of an eagle. When on its hind legs it towered over the tallest of the village’s horses. Wings spreading so big they practically blocked the sky out of anyone’s view.

As it flew near the ground it huffed and puffed, ignoring the fleeting people in favour of the one who had attempted to kill it.

———

When Roman first came vis-à-vis with the creature the day was still normal. Sun shining down upon the fertile valleys, a light breeze swaying the tall grass, birds chirping. An idyllic scene.

What had caught his attention were some dreadful noises, a loud tearing accompanied by an agonising wail.

As he walked towards the noise he unsheathed his sword. It wasn’t unusual to find deer being hunted down by wolves, a somber sight for sure, yet one the prince was accustomed to.

When he looked the beast in the eyes he swore he saw the devil himself. It immediately dropped the deer carcass and lunged forwards. Roman quickly fell to the side, covering his face. That was when the wind started to pick up and clouds darkened the otherwise clear blue sky.

Swiftly rising to his feet Roman swung his sword at the foul beast, barely grazing its right wing. That’s when all hell broke loose. The beast let out a loud growl, sending a shiver up the prince’s spine. It charged for him, missing him by mere millimetres.

At that moment Roman decided to run, he was woefully unprepared and wasn’t keen on being the monster’s main course. Before he could take two steps it threw him on the ground. Roman fell on his face, sword joining him on the floor in front of him. He could feel the blood run down his right cheek, as well as the mouthful of dirt he was assaulted with, but that was the least of his worries.

The hybrid pinned him down and got ready to bite his head clean off. Thinking on his feet (or rather his stomach) Roman reached for his sword and blindly lifted it above his head, successfully injuring the beast, if the moan of pain it let out was any indicator. That’s when he got a chance to run, quickly scrambling to his feet he took off.

When he approached the outskirts of his kingdom he started to yell for the people to run. Most of them had already realised something was wrong, since the weather had gone from a perfect sunny day to now the sky being nearly black and the wind shaking anything it collided with. The residents didn’t think twice before starting to flee, guards trying to organise them. Some offered to help but were quickly dismissed by their commander. Roman didn’t want any one of the townsfolk to be hurt.

———

Now Roman was battling against the strong wind and rain, trying to avoid any of the wreckage and flames, running despite feeling his legs ache with each step.

The beast was catching up with him, he could feel its stare on his back. That’s when he saw an opportunity open up, the thick, mile long, forest that separated his and his brother’s sides of the imagination. It was the perfect place to trap the monster, rendering its wings useless, and perhaps even turning them into a disadvantage.

The forest was dense, trees so close to one another the sky was no longer visible behind their leaves. Not many creatures lived here, apart from the occasional squirrel or bear. A place mostly inhabited by insects.

———

These woods were a place Roman knew like the back of his hand, able to navigate through the flora with ease. He manoeuvred through them, suddenly tripping over some newly fallen tree trunks. Turning around he came face to face once again with the beast.

It looked angrier than ever. As it went to bite down on his neck Roman expertly leaped out of the way, rolling behind a tall and broad tree stump. Noting the absence of his sword from his hands he felt scared. The sound of teeth and claws against metal filled the air with a final snap of the blade.

Picking up speed he sprinted away from it,his clothes tearing as branches caught onto the fabric. He could feel some of them pierce the top layers of his skin but he didn’t care. All he cared about was ridding the imagination from this thing.

———

Few minutes passed before the beast caught up with him again. As it charged forward Roman ducked, barely avoiding the hybrid and letting it collide with an incredibly tall tree. When he heard the light snapping sound of the bark he got an idea.

Whistling to lure the monster he started a game of chase with it, nearly avoiding its attacks, making sure they would always be followed by the cracking of the same tall tree. As the beast charged one last time Roman felt it lightly scratch him. Despite that the tree finally came down with a loud thud, trapping the beast by its right wing, seemingly knocking it out.

Approaching with care, Roman picked up a branch, poking it a few times. The beast continued to lay there motionless, was it even breathing? He took a sigh of relief before going to find something sharp to ensure it was gone for good.

———

Suddenly his knees gave out, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The world had started spinning, his head feeling heavy. As he looked down on himself he noticed the cause of this. A gash starting from just under his right pec, ending near the left side of his stomach.

It wasn’t incredibly deep yet it still bled quite a lot. The adrenaline coursing through his veins must have stopped him from noticing its severity, not to mention the pain he was already feeling from fumbling through bushes and crashing into branches.

He tried to reach a hand out, an attempt to press his clothing down on the wound, to try and stop the bleeding. His hand remained still by his side, unresponsive to the brain signals being send. Roman tried again, he couldn’t go like this.

A faint ringing echoed in his ears, his eyes feeling heavy. He shifted a bit backwards, resting his back against the length of the fallen tree’s trunk. His head lolled back, eyes fluttering closed.

‘Is this how it ends?’ Roman thought.

This couldn’t be it. He had to make sure the beast was dead, he…he did what he was supposed to! He fought and he tried his hardest. What would his people think? Would they mourn him or be disappointed he left them unprotected? What about the other sides? He didn’t even want to think of what they’d say when he didn’t come back home.

———

The sky had started clearing up, heavy rainfall coming to an abrupt stop. The sun shone through the leaves, creating intricate shadow patterns. Droplets of water slid down the leaves from high above, mimicking a light trickle.

Roman’s shirt had turned a mix of brown and red. Stained from both the dirt he had fallen down onto many times today as well as the blood leaking from his wounds.

———

A sudden noise surprised him. It took him a few moments before realising it came from him. A sob.

There were still things he wanted to experience, battles for him to fight.

A tear made its way down his cheek, eyes still shut, he let out a shuddering breath.

‘I can’t…I’ve got to make sure they’re safe…’ he thought, the world around him coming to a halt as his body relaxed.

———

The edges of the gash had started to scab over. Blood soaking his skin, once tan now turned pale. Hair damp with sweat and rain stuck to his forehead. The scar on his cheek had long stopped bleeding, ‘twas a simple scratch after all.

———

A slight rumble was heard echo through the forest. The beast must have still been alive. Roman couldn’t even open his eyes. He had to get up, finish his job.

As the world around him fell silent the last thing he heard was the snap of a branch and the guttural growl of the monster.

Notes:

Here ya go~ who knows…maybe I’ll make a second part…

(Feel free to have this be its own part and the second its separate story)

-ARedLemon