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souverite · 2 years

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showdown

kinda warning - a lil blood n injury detail ? skip if u don’t want that

yes, i gave in and wrote more. 1.8k words.

same pronouns as last time, this is my take on their different perspectives ! enjoy lol

… They should really think before they act.

Red knew just by watching from the sidelines that this… brighter red figure would be near impossible to beat. The black-colored one seemed strong when he was fighting off the spiders back at Alan’s computer, and not even he could come close to defeating that red one.

They shivered just remembering what it looked like to witness the black one getting stabbed continuously, only to go on as if nothing happened.

Oh, right. The group was in front of him and Second now.

All of them basically went into stare-down momentarily. Red shifted uneasily. Would’ve been easier if they weren’t being threatened with those electrical dagger things. So, what’s their first instinct?

They charge.

Probably should’ve thought that through, but at least it was them and not anyone else.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but it seemed as if someone had slowed the hands of time; the red… being, they’ll call it, suddenly darted forward before they could even blink. They barely noticed there was dust kicked up around the two, covering their sight like a smoke bomb.

It was then they realized they were left stunned right next to it.

Red had their arms over their face defensively, but before they could move to even attempt attacking, it unsheathed the blade.

And in a flash, they were impaled to the ground.

The wind was knocked out of them, almost making them vomit. Pain instantly shot throughout every part of their body, homing in on their stomach. It hurt so, so much.

Are normal stab wounds supposed to make one’s entire body feel tight, something close to buzzing? Does that make sense?

Red didn’t have time to ponder on it; the blade was yanked out. Blood quickly pooled in their mouth as they weakly reached their hand out to hit, grab, tug, anything. Strength left their body completely, and they went limp.

Then, Red’s vision began to fill with static. It felt like they were being slowly torn apart, ripped piece by piece like a sheet of paper. They didn’t know why. It was agonizing, yet they couldn’t utter a single sound. Only a simple, strained, pitiful thing that came out as a silent gasp.

It’s getting dark. Weren’t they in the daylight just now? Why was it getting dark?

They swore they could see red, glitchy particles floating away slowly, but every one of their senses had been reduced to fuzziness, feeling sharp as pin needles before they could question it. They didn’t even get to say goodbye. The last thing they saw was bright red.

Red, red, red.

Red wasn’t sure if they liked their color anymore.

—

All of them stared.

Disbelief. Horror. Everything in between.

Green watched as Blue shook, hands tightly curled in fists, before they lunged forward. The only thing he could do was follow behind.

It was easy to say, winning this fight would be hard. Well, if they even could. He shouldn’t think like that, it’s obvious, but… you understand, don’t you?

His friends were being kicked, punched, beat all around him. He tried to go for a kick, but was caught and thrown aside.

He groaned. It’s not like he’d give up that easily.

Not after what they just watched.

Green tried attacking side-by-side with Blue, but every hit was blocked, both being held by the throat and launched for the second time. It was starting to take a toll on his body, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

Wincing as Second was thrown past him, Green hauled himself up to his feet again. Everything hurt by now, joints aching and skin pulsing with bruises and cuts. He was thrown to the ground again.

He had to keep going. They got this far, there’s no going back. Not with the life lost already. There has to be some way to defeat that red person-

His breath hitched in his throat as Yellow was gripped by the neck, blade being summoned and ready to kill.

Before it made a move, Green darted over, using most of his weight to try and hold its arm back. He’s not letting another friend die at the hands of this monster.

It seemed to work for a few seconds, the figure turning to glance at him, when its arm abruptly shifted, switching targets and digging the blade straight into his chest.

Briefly noticing Yellow start struggling more, Green’s sight quickly became fuzzy, not even having the power to move. It was staticky, almost, but the only thing he was focused on was the immense amount of pain he was in. Before he knew it, him and Blue dropped to the floor.

Wait, Blue?

Green struggled to lift his head, but when he did, he saw them limp with a gash in their back. Yellow fell next to them, stabbed through the head. His surroundings were soon consumed by static.

It was terrifying. He doesn’t think he’s felt this much fear before. Yet, there was nothing he could do.

There was only red.

—

Anger. Grief. Anger.

Who does that guy think they are? Killing someone that was like a brother to them, evil and stupid and merciless.

Powered on with this, they fought with all their might. They did whatever came to their mind first; punching, hitting, kicking, pulling - hell, they’d even considered biting it at one point. An important life was lost, and it was because of them.

Guilt.

Blue was the oldest. Blue should be able to keep everyone safe. Blue should know how to fight things off, because they’re responsible for it. Anything that happens to the group, they only curse how they could’ve been there to stop it.

Blue should've been there to stop it.

Red was the youngest, and they let them die. They died right before their eyes. That fact tears apart their heart; rips it to shreds, whispering how they could’ve, should’ve been there, damn it!

No time to think about that. There’s a fight to focus on.

Blue shakes their head as they were thrown to their knees, trying to ward off the dizziness from the countless hits and blows that they - all of them took. Except, something caught their attention.

Yellow was suspended in the air by its hand. It had the blade out. Blue was frozen as they watched Green attempt to pull it away.

Blue was frozen as it stabbed him, the same way it stabbed Red.

Tears pricking at the corner of their eyes, they rammed their body into its side, pushing as hard as they could. They could see the glow of the weapon. They could see Green’s body held slightly above the ground, faintly tinted by it.

Blue was really getting tired of that color.

Their mind went blank as a sudden shock came from their back. Looking down, they could see the tip of the blade protruding all the way through.

They were dropped. They tried, so hard, tried to reach for one of them, but it didn’t work. Glitching and static was all they saw, and they hated it.

Everything was red. Bright, blinding red.

Blue felt red when they faded, frustration, and they hated it.

—

What did they do?

That was the thought running through Yellow’s head for half of the fight.

What the hell did they do?

Second was flung, landing roughly beside him while he made the move to get up. He shot a glance at his friend over his shoulder, before running back into the fight.

He looked exhausted, Yellow noted. They were all exhausted. How could they not be? Everyone had witnessed a death right in front of them - of course it would drain some of their worth.

Yellow tried not to think about how long it took for Second to get to his knees.

Apparently, he didn’t have to. He was grabbed by the throat before he would even get deep about it.

Yellow choked, caught off guard by the sudden attack. His heart skipped a beat when the blade was drawn, skipped another when Green started to yank on the red one’s arm.

Stop that! he’d wanted to say, but nothing would come out. The words were stuck, refusing to let loose. It didn’t help that a hand was around his throat to prevent him from swallowing the lump he felt.

And then, Green was dug into with the blade. It was long, painful to watch, even more painful to imagine the feeling. Yellow started to struggle, tears threatening to spill over, threatening to break the dam.

He’d kept it in for so long - there was no way it was being pushed back now.

Then Blue tried to do the same, actions desperate, pleading, only to meet the same fate as the previous three.

Now, tears fell, dripping slowly and pricking off his face quicker, speeding whenever he blinked. It hurt to blink.

Yellow slammed his hands against its head, as hard as he could from this position. He brought them down, pounding, trying to get it through that he wasn’t putting up with this!

But it was futile. Of course it was.

The red figure turned, the last thing Yellow saw being the fading bodies of his friends, and a glitching dagger going straight for his face.

Everything was static the moment it hit. No last look, no last movement, no last words. The action had killed him immediately.

Red. It was always red. What did you think it was?

—

Second stared, the last of his friends disappearing, tears flowing from his eyes, though there was no hiccup or shaking or wailing.

Why was that not happening? Isn’t that supposed to happen? Where was the scream? The shudder, the headache, the reaction?

It’s like he never gave one.

He turned to look at Chosen. He was struggling, losing, the arachnids overpowering him. Second wanted to help, but he didn’t know how.

A shaking hand in his direction, and then, pure pain.

He looked down. The blade was impaled through his chest. And yet, the only thing he gave were dull tears.

Chosen noticed, but couldn’t move. That was upsetting.

Dark yanked him up from his knees once he fell, god it felt like his heart was being manually torn out from his body, and the moment Second put his hand over their face, they seemed to have had enough.

The next few seconds… it was all a blur. The only thing he remembers was blistering pain all over his body, doubled with every slice and slit Dark made.

And yet, the only thing he gave were dull tears.

Those didn’t even feel sincere anymore. This isn’t right.

When Second regained awareness of his surroundings again, he was stabbed into the hard rock. He slumped, blood dripping from his mouth. Dark pulled away.

Even with this, nothing felt glitched. No static. Instead of red, green flickering and dancing around in his vision. It was bright, almost electrical.

There was no red.

Second’s breath stuttered, and a proper sob came out. Several followed.

More green. It flashed around him. Suddenly, his body felt tingly, becoming lighter than before. Then it all went fuzzy. It was almost relieving.

There was no red.

He heaved out a sigh, face damp.

He hopes he can wake up with his friends again.

#yes the first four referred to dark as an ‘it’ bc they had literally no idea who they are #dw sec didn’t die #hopefully u get what i mean by the electrical green #anyways #alan becker #animation vs animator #ava red #ava green #ava blue #ava yellow #ava the second coming #ava the chosen one #ava the dark lord

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apexqueenie · 3 years

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The Blood King (Bakugou x Reader, Medieval AU) Ch1

Synopsis: In fairytales, princesses like you got to marry handsome princes like your best friend Shoto, but you’re not living a fairytale. You find the harsh realities a punch to the face as you and Sho run away outside palace grounds and into the real world. But the harsh brings out the beautiful, and in your case, it took the form of the scarlet covered barbarian king, whose territory you disturbed.

A/N: This is the first long series that I’m writing, I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, a bit of violence (This is Bakugou lol), eventual smut (I’ll put a warning dw, totally skippable)

[Ch1]->[Ch2]->[Ch3]->[Ch4]->[Ch5]->[Ch6]

You didn’t know how much more badly a plan could go, but here you were, lost, wounded, and scared in the middle of the freaking forest, the sound of a very angry beast trailing after you. You tugged at the unconscious man on the floor, his head bleeding severely. He was losing too much blood and you couldn’t keep pulling him along without stopping the bleeding first. Your only option was to fight. How did this all start exactly? Well, it started when you decided to ditch your wedding.

***

In a daze, you pulled yourself from your slumber, rising to the sound of gentle knocks at your door. “Who’s there?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

You shivered slightly and crossed your arms, realizing that you had kicked off your blankets in your sleep. Your best handmaiden, Ochako, barged in, not even bothering to answer the question.

“Good morning princess” she sang delightfully as she opened your large curtains, allowing the morning light to spill into the huge room. Ochako, although not being of royal blood, was a close friend of yours throughout the years. It was her job to serve you, but you loved her and treated her as your sister.

“Chako, I told you (y/n) is fine when we’re alone” you said with a yawn.

Ochako hummed as she walked to your wardrobe, sifting through it for the perfect dress. “Ah, but you see your highness, we aren’t alone.”

Before you could question her, a familiar face peeked around the door, heterochromic eyes glancing around the room. “Hi” he says before entering the room and closing the doors behind him.

“SHO!!!” You yelled, launching yourself out of your bed to give your childhood friend a big hug. You haven’t seen him since last summer.

The both of your fathers were Kings of kingdoms who traded with one another, meeting in person once a year to discuss the details. While they both enjoyed a bit of drinking and chess, you and Shoto ran around the gardens barefooted with sticks in hand for fake swordplay. They were always about knights and dragons, and since there were only two of you, you took turns being the dragon or the knight. Princesses weren’t taught to practice swordplay, so Shoto took it upon himself to be your mentor. He taught you what he remembered from his private lessons, insisting that if you were to meet a real dragon like in your games, you would be able to fight it off.

“But won’t you be here to protect me?” you asked, lowering your stick.

“Yeah,” he said, “but when we meet a real dragon, we’ll be protecting each other.”

Every year, you two would meet to run around the gardens, hiding from your handmaidens and butlers until meal time. Every year, you would shy a bit away from the games and start sparring for real, Sho providing the wooden swords to teach you what he’s learned from the top sword fighters across the continent. Every year your blades danced with his until the both of you could read each other’s movements with a single glance. And every year, you felt a growing affection for the boy that you were too afraid to bring up.

The two of you talked about your home lives often, sharing stories and complaints about being “perfect” and a “role model” to your citizens. Shoto’s father constantly pushes everyone in their family to their limits, causing the Queen to go insane and burn Shoto, leaving a signature red scar on his left eye. While she was locked in the medical housing part of the castle, Shoto started to understand why his mother lost her mind and silently started to rebel against his father. Your father was similar, always correcting you and forcing you to practice perfect mannerisms. You were his first born, you were supposed to be the perfect example of what a future Queen was to be, especially for your younger siblings; the second born son barely of age to train by sword. If you were anything less, you were to be locked in your room until you had time to “reflect”, your maids unable to speak to you in fear that the King would hear and throw them in the dungeon. Your mother, being too vain to involve herself with any of her children, never saw any of you until your birthdays. She opted to drown herself in self-pampering every other day. Both of your lives were royal hell until “The Meeting”, where the both of you could forget about being perfect for a day.

You wrapped your arms around Shoto’s neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, the both of you clutching each other close. His body radiated its own heat, warming you more than the thin fabric of your nightdress could. You pulled away, realising he got even taller this year.

“I missed you Sho!” you smiled.

“Likewise” he replied, slinging his sword from his back, only there was another object wrapped in silk next to it. “Did...anything interesting happen this year?”

“Hmmm,” you pondered, walking to your vanity and grabbing a brush. “Well, Jinko is pregnant again.”

“Your mother?”

“Heh, she was never around enough to be a ‘mother’, she’s merely my birth-giver.” you snorted, combing your soft locks.

“So, is that the fourth…?”

“Fifth.”

“Well then.”

“Yep, and as soon as she’s done pushing it out, she’ll ignore it 364 days of the year. Hell, Ocha was there more for me than my mother ever could be” you say, earning a small blush from the girl.

Shoto sighed, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and placing his sword next to him.

“Anyways, what’s the meeting about this time?” you asked now moving onto cleaning your face.

“That’s… uh...well, I have to talk to you about something soon, but first, I brought you a gift” Sho said a bit awkwardly. He turned and handed you the silk wrapped object. You took it gently, afraid of breaking it, that was, until you unwrapped it. Your mouth dropped as you felt the silk fall off and onto the floor, completely forgotten as you held up the object in awe. In your hand was a long silver blade engraved with delicately curved patterns surrounding a single mother pearl at the center and down the blade itself. The hilt fit perfectly in your hands, the weight completely balanced.

You were damn near about to cry. “Sho...its-”

“Get dressed so we can try it out” he smiles and hands you the sheath.

Giddily, you sheath your sword and headed to the dressing curtain where Ochako waited for you with a big smile. She seemed to have known about this whole visit because she held up a bit more of a casual dress, one that wasn’t as long as it normally would be. You never understood why you had to wear dresses as a princess, but it couldn’t be helped, you had no control over your clothing choices. Ochako however, had the power to hem the dresses for you so you could run with a bit more freedom.

***

“Sho! I can’t believe you did this! How’d you manage to sneak this by your dad?” you ask once you are dressed. You moved to take the direct route to the gardens, but Shoto pulled you to a different route around. “Sho?”

“That’s the thing I have to talk to you about,” he said, peeking into all the rooms and hallways before entering, “I don’t want to run into anyone else right now.” He pulls you along swiftly until you reach the gardens, taking one last look around you before relaxing a bit.

“Hey, Sho, what the heck is going on?” you ask, lowering your voice.

The boy in front of you couldn’t look you in the eyes. He was worried about something, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. Trying to ease his nerves, you reach out and gently squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t respond back. Instead, he just sighs, finally about to say something.

“So...you know how we...always meet up every year?” he asks.

You nod, slightly confused at where this was going.

“Well, our fathers have been discussing…”

“Discussing what?”

“Something very.. special for next week-”

“My birthday isn’t for a couple of months”

“It’s not that-”

“Then?”

He turned his head and sighed.

“...Discussing our marriage…” he trails off.

“Sho! Oh wow, This-this is great!” you beamed. You always thought about the day you’ll have to marry someone. Your role as a princess was to marry a prince, and become a beloved Queen to your kingdom. You dreaded that it would be for trading purposes, that you’d have to marry some pudgy old man so that your father could share more land, but you had the option to marry your best friend! Anyone would be delighted at the thought...anyone but Shoto.

Your smile quickly faded as you studied his face. He expressed a mix of guilt, awkwardness, worry, and something you haven’t seen before…was that fear?

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, still unable to look at you, “I can’t do this-”

“Is it too early still? Because it’s ok, we don’t have to-” The words stung, but you couldn’t let that get to you.

“No! No, that’s not it, it’s just that I can’t”

“You can’t what? Tell me what so I can help you.”

“I… I love you (y/n), just...not like that” he says, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What? Wait, what do you mean?” you asked, stomach dropping.

“I just mean that I, I don’t see you like that.” he said.

“So, I’m not good enough?” you shook your head.

“-No-”

You could feel the tears stinging in your eyes, “so...there’s someone else?”

He lets go of your hand to rub his arm in a nervous manner, “No, that’s not it either, I just don’t know how to explain it-”

But he was lying. You knew Shoto was a bad liar around you. It was bad enough that he couldn’t look at you, but even worse that he was taking steps away from you, slowly inching backwards in the opposite direction. He wasn’t trusting you with something and you didn’t know why, but your anger took over, and suddenly, you didn’t want to know why either.

“Well then, I’ll leave it to you to inform our fathers that this wedding won’t be happening, Todoroki.” you huffed. You saw the hurt in his face when you called him by his last name, but you could care less right now. You turned around and headed back to the castle, back to your room, and back to Ochako so you could cry in comfort. You kept your eyes trained at the ground, a silent message to all your servants to leave you alone. However, the message was left unknown to someone who didn’t live in the palace, someone like King Enji.

You were cut off from the path to your room by the tall and heavily built man, his eyes cold and harsh staring at you from above. You stopped and immediately curtsied in respect, as you were representing your father every time you met with a leader of another kingdom.

“Good morning, King Enji.” you said, giving him a well practiced ‘princess smile’.

He only grunted in response, nodding his head to the sword strapped to your back. “I see you received my son’s wedding gift, do you find it satisfactory?”

“Oh-the sword, right! It’s beautiful, your greatness. I am so humbly honored to receive such a gift.” you bow. You had completely forgotten it was there after what happened with Shoto. It was supposed to be a wedding gift, a sign of his love for you, but he didn’t love you like you loved him. You should be throwing this thing away, you should feel disgusted...so why did those words come out so naturally? Why did the sword feel so familiar? Hopefully Ochako could help you answer those.

King Enji nodded in approval, motioning to some servants he had waiting out of your sight. “You have good manners, young one. Perhaps my son could learn a thing or two from you when it comes to respecting his elders.”

Two female servants took place besides you, awaiting further instructions from their King.

“Your father has agreed to allow me to provide the dress, courtesy of the profits he helped me make last year. My servants will be taking your measurements, as well as note your likes and dislikes for the preparations.” he says before walking off.

All you could do was smile now. You couldn’t make your father look bad, even in front of servants. You continued to hold back tears as the handmaidens escorted you to your chambers.

So much for spilling your heart out to Ochako.

***

The maidens were merciless, insisting that every measurement be as precise as possible. You tried to delay them, but your efforts were futile. They brought every bit of conversation back to the dress, and to the wedding plans you know you won’t have. Guards were installed in front to ensure no one came in or out until every inch of your body was measured to perfection. They measured your breasts and behind about five times over to ensure that “your best qualities were perfectly framed” for the wedding. Best qualities? Were you just boobs and ass for the future King? You sighed, still letting them continue their measuring. Shoto wouldn’t have cared…

No, he was Todoroki to you now, until he can give you an explanation.

But...do you even deserve one?

As King Enji’s servants gave you a break to bring out supplies for your fitting, you walked over to the sword your “fiance” gave you, unsheathed for its glory to shine on your bed. He knew how you liked it, designing it to perfectly mirror you. He took note of everything you loved, remembering your style interests from whenever you two would talk for hours on end. You traced the flawless engravings on the blade itself, almost tearing up again. Turning the sword over, you saw the engraving on the bottom of the hilt, small, yet beautiful nonetheless.

“Let’s protect each other from now on”

All the anger you felt before was gone, replaced by pure guilt.

He really did love you.

Just not in the way that you had hoped.

You were being selfish, and you needed to make it right.

Before you knew it, you were yanked back to the full length mirrors for more measurements.

Both the measuring and interrogations lasted nearly the entire day with the servants drawing several designs and re-measuring you for each one. Of course, they didn’t accept a “that looks fine” or “this one is good'', so they continued to create new ones, each more extravagant and beautiful than the last. Evening came, and the maidens packed their materials to head back to their own kingdom. You thanked them sincerely for all their hard work and rushed off to say goodbye to Shoto until he disappeared over the hill and into the forest, like you’ve always done...except you weren’t.

You arrived to meet your father, King Enji, and Shoto in the main hall a little out of breath while they said their last goodbyes. King Enji broke his attention away from your father to give you a polite nod, acknowledging your presence. Your father noticed this and turned to give you a big hug, laughing heartily.

“Can you believe it? You’re getting married in a week! I need to tell your mother straight away! She would be so proud.” he says, pulling strands of your hair behind your ear.

“Yes, I believe she would” you smile. You weren’t in the mood to explain that she’d only use this as an excuse to out-fashion you on your own special day.

Shoto hung his head in silence right next to his dad, still not making eye contact with you. You tried to pay him no mind and instead focused on building up your courage to ask something of King Enji in the politest way possible.

When you got the chance, you squeezed out every bit of bravery left in your system to say “Erm, King Enji, is it alright if Prince Shoto stays?”, twiddling your fingers innocently.

The red headed man looked a bit taken back by the question, but he didn’t seem opposed to the idea. He snorted, waving his hand to Shoto, who stared at you with an open mouth.

“Ah, young love,” your father chuckled, and went to see his comrade out the door.

Without a second to spare, you grabbed Shoto’’s hand and led him to your room, closing the door behind you quickly.

“(y/n), what are you doing?” he asked, watching you shove a chair underneath the handles of your doors. You had enough palace servants for today.

You turned around and immediately threw your arms around his waist. He stood rigid with surprise before hesitantly hugging you back with a light grip. He was still confused from the fiasco earlier, but didn’t blame you.

“Sho....I’m so sorry, I should have understood.” you whispered. “I hope you could forgive me..”

He gave you a slight squeeze, “Of-course, (y/n). I’m sorry too, I-”

“Stop. You don’t need to explain anything to me. All we need to do is get this wedding cancelled.” you interrupt, looking up at him. “Also, I’m glad you didn’t say anything.”

He looked relieved, giving you a soft smile. “Thanks, (y/n).” He pulls away from you and takes a seat on your bed next to where your blade still sat, unbothered. “But, I realized that if I were to tell my father, he’d assume it to be an insult no matter what I say, and end the friendship. with your people. Then he’d have me married off to someone else and make my life more hell than it already was. I’d rather be married to my best friend than a stranger.” he smiled.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words escaped you. You were stumped. After all of this, it turned in your favor, but you didn’t want this anymore.

You huffed and stood up abruptly, heading to your drawers and searching through them.

“What are you-?” Sho trailed off, standing up with you.

Finally, you found an assorted set of bags you use to collect things on your trips to the forest. With most of your years being devoted to molding you into a perfect queen, you haven’t used these for anything more than bringing home a pretty set of rocks in hopes that your mother would pay attention to you. Now, you were finding the biggest ones, planning to fill them with essentials to help you survive the woods.

“We’re not going to do anything we’re forced to be into,” you said, “No matter what, our fathers won’t allow us to cancel this, but they can’t do anything if we’re not here.”

“(y/n), you’re not thinking of leaving are you?” he asked, worry apparent all over his face.

You handed Sho a bag, staring him straight in the eye. “I’m absolutely thinking of that.” You grabbed a bag for yourself and shoved the rest back into your drawers. “We both have siblings who can inherit the throne, right? And if we disappear together and write a note saying something like “oh this is going too fast and we decided to take a break together in the mountains”- neither of our fathers could blame each other, so-”

“Hey,” Sho laid a hand on your shoulder, “we don’t have to do this. I told you, I really thought about this, and as long as it’s you, I’ll be happy-”

“No, Sho,” you said, shrugging off the hand and looking through your closet for extra clothes, “you can tell yourself that, but that’s not going to be true. I want you to be just as happy, and that’s not gonna happen if we go through with this marriage. Look, I know Ocha’s grandmother lives in a small town East of here, past the forest. If we can get there, we can rest and figure out what to do, ok?”

You looked at him for confirmation, his brows furrowed and his lips spread into a thin line. For a few seconds, he contemplated the terrible outcomes of your plan, but he knew you would just do this yourself if he didn’t come with you.

Finally, he nodded before he could change his mind.

This probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but at least you were together.

#bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha medieval #bakugou #x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader series #shoto todoroki

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

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Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 19)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Graphic Depictions of Blood and Violence, Death, Gore, Japanese Mythical Folklore, No Major Character Death, Slight Horror, War

Previous Chapter: 百鬼夜行 - Hyakki Yakou

Next Chapter: Home with My Heart

Word Count: 3.96k 3.97k ish like rounds up to 4K

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Extra notes: Long. I suggest rereading the last chapter if you need a refresher. This is like more than twice the length of my first chapter lol.

Chapter 19: Stay With Me

You remain silent.

"No answer, hmm??" The Kitsune grinned. But deep inside she was pissed. Another technique of hers lies in knowing who you'd prefer to save and manipulating you into hesitating so that you’d lower your guard down.

You are the largest threat to them here in Kyoto after all. But you didn't trust so easily. Especially the words of a Special Grade curse who obviously has something planned.

You carefully took in a deep breath. And in less than a split second, you turned and ran towards Noritoshi, with one hand pointing behind you towards your cousin.

Your barrier activated around Hiroki while you moved to position yourself in front of Noritoshi. You whipped out your blades, ready to parry her thorns.

As soon as your feet moved from position, the magic circles flared and activated their sequence.

Both boys realized what happened after a few seconds, the Kitsune's attack and your movements were too fast for them to follow.

She had launched her thorns in your direction. You tried to block as much of them as you could, but some got through your openings.

There were too many, and it was much faster than you expected. It was hard, not fighting with a guard around you.

You numbly stared down at your open wounds, feeling the pain in a distant manner. She had cleanly pierced through your ribs. While her other large set of thorns had bounced off your barrier, protecting your cousin.

The magic circles beneath both boys disappeared, as did your warp around Hiroki.

“Y/N!!” Noritoshi stared in horror. Your back was still to him, but he could see the protruding blood-stained thorns. Time slowed down as blood gushed from your lips.

He catches you as you fall towards the ground. An insane heat spreads throughout your body. Something was very wrong.

She laughed maniacally at the scene unfolding before her. "Jujutsu Sorcerers are so weak. So easy! You all crumple at the sight of your most beloved ones in danger."

It's scary isn't it? Putting your life on the line for your comrades. Will you die today?

The Kitsune launches an attack at the both of you, but Hiroki quickly steps and defends against her. She is forced further back as Mechamaru shoots out a laser beam from a distance.

You were trying to use your reverse cursed technique, with no avail. Your hands and legs can't move. It's a temporary paralysis. So you couldn't pull out the thorns and then heal your wounds.

"Love! Talk to me! What's wrong?"

You couldn't even answer him or move your mouth. Blood continued seeping out of your wounds.

You slumped as Noritoshi gathered you in his arms. How unlucky. There were barely any curses anymore and yet this had to happen. But you had no regrets.

You looked up at Noritoshi with so much love in your eyes. But his own were filled with agony, screaming at you to hold on while blood was pouring down the side of your mouth.

Tears streamed down your face. You were happy, because you had the power to save the ones you love this time.

But you really wanted to grow old with Noritoshi. See the wrinkles line his face. Experience everything with him. You'd take him back in a heartbeat and tell him that he owned you and your heart since the day you met. That you loved him even when you thought he put on a farce to be with you.

Even if he were to love or be with another woman. Even if it pained you to think of him as a distant person in your life, being by his side was the happiest you've felt in your entire life.

He pressed his lips against yours, trying to give you more air. His hands trembling against the thorns embedded inside of you. Your blood was spilling everywhere, and he didn't want to look down to see his hands covered in red.

'There's so much blood,' he thought to himself, panicking. It was staining both of your clothes, dripping onto the pavement.

"Your reverse cursed technique! Use it!" He yelled hoarsely. In smooth movements, he ripped out the thorns one by one and applied pressure onto your wounds.

His heart plummeted as nothing happened. But he didn't lose faith. If you were paralysed, it was up to him to save your life.

Noritoshi did some quick thinking, remembering the content in the Gojo family records of Soulmates. He bit his thumb and forced his blood into your mouth.

"Drink my love, please drink it." Turns out you didn't have to do much. The blood hit your tongue, and he activated his technique on your blood.

Usually this would be impossible. Blood Manipulation only works on the user's own blood, but the power of soulmates isn't one to be taken lightly.

He read through your vitals, RBC (red blood cell), platelet, and WBC (white blood cell) count, and saw the rising blood pressure and temperature. He did his best to stabilize your vitals.

It worked. Your head cleared, and even while paralysed, you quickly managed to seal your wounds. You continued activating your reverse cursed technique, not stopping for a moment.

If it was any minute longer, you would have died. But Noritoshi worked way too fast out of desperation to keep you alive.

"Stay with me, angel. Good, your wounds are finally sealing." He leaned down and continued applying pressure onto the open punctures.

He continued to scan and manage your blood pressure, and found something. It was a foreign substance in your blood. Something like a black tar, attacking your insides and messing with your nervous system. Alongside with it was a poison slowly seeping through your blood.

"What on earth is that? Is that the technique of the Kitsune?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

But with complete hold over your blood, he was able to manipulate it into leaving your body by going outside one of your wounds.

It was so painful, more tears fell down the sides of your face, while you were still in paralysis.

"This will end soon, I promise. Hold on."

Noritoshi blocks out everything else. Completely ignoring Todo and Mechamaru who are facing the fox behind him.

As soon as the black substance was out, you finally could move, trembling and heaving out more blood.

"No, calm down. Calm down! Y/N!" He pressed you back down onto his lap as you tried to sit upright. “Love, please!”

Hiroki was fighting the Kitsune with tears running down his face, screaming bloody murder as he striked and aimed at it.

It seems as though the magic circles require a ton of cursed energy. The Kitsune doesn't seem to be activating them anymore. She was now on the defensive, not having expected reinforcements. Still, it was clear she overpowers them all.

A red symbol appeared on your right eye, a cross identical to Noritoshi’s red flowing scale mark. You bent over to the side and started puking out a blue substance mixed with your blood. Moving to kneel down on all fours, while Noritoshi held you.

“Get it all out, love, faster.” He was frantic like he’d never been before. Pressing a palm against your neck and forcing you to remove this new poison right away.

An alarming amount of blood came out of you and pooled on the concrete. Even though he knew you needed to force it out of your system, you were still losing blood fast, and it wasn’t good. Your skin slowly turns into a sickly pale shade.

Thank goodness for Noritoshi, who could help push out the poison with brute force. If you were stuck with anyone else, you'd be dead right now.

As soon as the poison is completely out, he pulls you up and away from the bubbling blue liquid on the ground. “Close your wounds. That’s enough. Anymore and you’ll lose too much blood.”

The mark on your eye disappears.

Noritoshi cradles you in his arms. Both of you were drenched in blood, the blood of the enemy and your own, but he didn't care as he held you close.

“Steady darling. Stay steady. You’re okay. You’re with me.” Tears continuously fell from his eyes. You tried to reach up, wanting to comfort him, but your arms could barely move. 'Don't cry Toshi. Please don't' You thought.

"I love you, please don't leave me alone. I can't live without you." He choked. With one hand on your wounds, Noritoshi did his best to ensure you didn’t lose any more blood. He tried to make it stay within your system, circulating properly.

You looked up at him with blood and tears running down your face. 'I love you too, Noritoshi, it's always been you. It has to be you,' you thought out loud.

You took deep breaths, grunting at the pain. The pounding headache you’ve had for a while slowly started to clear. You were now able to completely seal your wounds, trying to do it carefully to prevent scarring.

Noritoshi placed a hand over yours as you healed yourself. You turned to look at the Kitsune that was preoccupied with other sorcerers. They were going to die at this rate.

You feel light-headed and your eyes keep fluttering. It was hard to stay conscious at this point. Noritoshi slowly lifted your hand to kiss your knuckles ever so softly. “Stay with me, my heart.”

You will. If it was the last thing you’d do, you’d do anything to stay with him.

The reverse cursed technique activated and the wounds sealed tight and clean.

“I think I’m good now..." You tried to sit upright, breathing heavily. He worriedly looked over at you.

"You saved me, so I now owe you my life. Not that it's never been yours in the first place. Thank you for that Toshi," You heaved yourself up to stand, spitting out another mouthful of blood onto the ground.

“You saved MY life, darling. And what do you think you’re doing? You’re still hurt. Let’s bring you to the clinic. Come.” He beckoned you there.

"I didn't lose THAT much blood. It just looks really bad. Maybe a pint or two at most. I'll manage."

"No, you stay back. You need rest." He tried to push you to the direction of the clinic but you held fast.

Noritoshi stared into your eyes. They reflected the light of the fires behind him, making them look like glowing orbs of flame. You were his Phoenix, he realized. And he was utterly entranced by your charisma.

"I can still fight."

You knew your limits well, having trained all your life for a situation like this. Even now, your reverse cursed technique was activated in the background, simultaneously with your combat techniques.

Now that all the poison was out of your system, you only had to worry about the physical injuries.

"I don't want to lose you," Noritoshi whispered, broken.

"You won't. Because I'm much stronger than this, I promise you." You grabbed his wrist, "So stay with me. You said that just now right? I’ll stay with you, I promise."

“I can’t ever keep you down, can’t I?” He bitterly smiles to himself as he presses his forehead against yours. Eyes filled with pain, because he knew you were right. Jujutsu sorcerers always fight to surpass their limits.

“No, you can’t. But you already knew that since before, didn’t you? After all, you’re the same as I am.”

Noritoshi couldn't do anything else, but to kiss you. You returned it with just as much passion. It tasted of dirt and blood, but to both of you, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Both of your red strings slowly crept out into the open, invisible to everyone else except the two of you. The broken ropes reattached and you felt your mark burn for the first time in weeks.

But there was no time to celebrate.

"I've got this bitch to kill. Just watch the other curses in the area. I've got her."

He let out the biggest sigh you’ve ever heard. “Okay. I’ll be right here. Cleaning up the rest. Right behind you.”

Your eyes zeroed in on the Kitsune who turned to you, shocked that you had survived her poison.

She quickly pushed out another palm with the same insignia flashing in blood red. But you were faster, moving past Noritoshi's arms and in an instant, shoving both of your blades into her gut.

“Get back!” You yelled to everyone else. There was a reason as to why you were most effective when you did your missions alone.

She tried to pull away. Flames suddenly engulfed the both of you. But it didn't matter, because you've got a hold on her.

You didn't hesitate to choke her and wrap your legs around her waist.

"Fucking bitch," You spat out.

Her eyes flashed a brighter gold and the flames surrounding the both of you went even hotter. Burning the lamp posts and pavement in the vicinity. The ground warped and started flowing a bright red.

Noritoshi was forced back from the insane heat. The other curses and poor unprepared Jujutsu sorcerers closer to the both of you burst into flame and disintegrated.

You couldn't see anything at all. Just the Kitsune, and a wall of fire. You thought about the damages distantly, and automatically used your technique to fly high up in the sky with her still in your chokehold.

"We curses deserve to rule this land. Just as we did thousands of years ago during the Heian period. What makes you think you're any better than us? You pathetic Jujutsu sorcerers are slowly dying out while ignorant weak humans stay protected by their ignorance. What are you doing this for?" She hissed.

"I don't care about any of you curses," your throat closed up, anger rising at the thought of innocent sorcerers dying in the middle of combat.

"You could join us and be stronger!" She pleaded.

Fury was evident on your face. You gripped her throat tighter, your fingers wrapped in your spacial barrier to prevent you from her fire.

"Or you can shut up and die right here." You snarled.

The Kitsune saw that you were going for it. She raised her hand and the flames turned blue. If you weren’t fast enough you’d melt. This flame was far more than what you were used to handling.

What is stronger? Flame or ice?

You set Niflheim to the lowest setting you could.

"Absolute Zero."

Immediately the flames extinguished and turned to cold smoke. Ashes and steam billowed in the air, making it hard for anybody to see anything.

The Kitsune under you screamed as she slowly froze over. But she was still moving. Not enough?

You released your technique and the both of you did a free fall from the sky.

You took a leaf out of Satoru’s book and slammed her down hard on the pavement, simultaneously releasing Goldenrod with a proper activation at over 3000 volts. You've been perfecting this attack with Hiroki for weeks.

A loud crack of thunder with a flash of lightning shot out of your hands, incinerating her on the spot. Not a trace left as the curse disappeared into black smoke. The remnants of her final screams echoed in your ears.

You placed your palm against the still hot pavement and activated Niflheim to cool things down within the area. Steam fizzed out as the flames were put out.

You crouched down low on the ground to catch your breath, those last two attacks took a lot out of you and you were running low on cursed energy.

You have a lot. But it wasn't unlimited, unlike how Satoru could regulate his to an insane extent. Even now, you can feel some pain in your chest and try to heal yourself further.

You felt omnipotent. There's no other way to describe it. You say you hate fighting, but the rush of defeating a powerful opponent is like no other.

This side of you that enjoys beating down curses is rising, you couldn't stop smiling. But you felt a soft hand bring you slowly back down to earth.

"Darling?"

You looked up at him, still grinning. Ignoring the blood running down one side of your face.

"Darling."

Ah. That steady presence. The beautiful person whom you live for.

"My love, let's clear up the remaining curses. Celebrate later."

"Mmmm." You smiled at him, feeling yourself come back down.

You squeezed his hand. Noritoshi could feel your elation. It was almost electric. That ego rising up too high. Pride.

He didn't mind seeing you like this, but you tended to get overconfident in battle sometimes. Not that you didn't have any good reason not to be. This side of you was very much Gojo Satoru like, he thought to himself.

You helped clean up the remaining curses. Not much stronger ones were left. Noritoshi watched every movement of yours, staying right beside you to support you.

You staggered after seeing that your areas were clear. Noritoshi quickly wraps his arms around you, “You’re coming with me to the clinic. And I am not accepting any answer other than Yes.”

“Yes sir.” You leaned into him as he lifted you in his arms. Some of your wounds had reopened, due to your reverse cursed technique weakening. The adrenaline coursing through your body was too much that you failed to feel the pain. Which means you failed to realize that some wounds were still bleeding.

He entered the clinic and quickly put you down on one of the empty beds. One of your uncles came to check on you. Running over with an IV stand in hand. They hooked you to one of their regular Balanced Saline solutions to help with your blood loss.

Hiroki came in, battered with a bruise on one temple, but still very much alive. He was now off combat duty and on healing duty. Quickly coming over to press a hand against your chest to activate his reverse cursed technique.

Noritoshi sighed in relief, seeing your bleeding come to a halt. He winced upon feeling a sharp pain in his right arm, turning to look at the nurse that was dressing his wounds. He didn’t even notice them, being too focused on you.

He had fewer injuries than you did.

“Hemorrhagic shock sis. You scared the life outta me back there.” Hiroki groaned as he let his head fall forward.

“I would never have forgiven you if you died on me too.”

“You’re such a loser bro. I won’t die.”

“Keep talking shit like that and you might,” he pinched your side making you hiss at him.

“No fighting with the sick!” Your uncle smacked him upside his head.

“We need Hiroki! Life support emergency please!” A nurse from the other side of the ward yells. Your cousin worriedly looks down at you, “I’ve done what I can. Can you manage?”

“Yep. Go. You know how I’m fine now.”

He nods and leaves you with Noritoshi, who was still staring at you. Now with his wounds fully dressed and cleaned.

He kneels down in front of you, looking up with such a soft expression. He stayed like that for a while, feeling your vitals stabilise further. His technique was still linked to your blood somehow, which gave him a deeper sense of relief, knowing he can help you if anything else were to happen.

You felt absolutely horrible. The man had shown you time and time again that he loves you and you doubted that.

"I'm sorr-"

"Are you-"

You both spoke at the same time, eyes widening.

He motioned you to go first, but you shook your head and let him go first.

"Are you feeling okay?" He whispered.

You smiled. "I am. Just need to sleep it off. It's not the worst I've had."

He ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly distracted, before reaching over to link your right hand with his left one. "Good, good."

“Are you okay Toshi?”

“I’m fine. Hardly a dent in me today. Thanks to you.”

You gave a shy smile, quietly relieved.

“Toshi… thank you…” you whispered.

Noritoshi shakes his head, “You save me and I save you. That’s how we work. As soulmates.” He holds up your hands, marks burning brightly.

He could feel your emotions once again. It used to be this numb feeling, where you once were. But now, he can sense all the negativity in the back of your head.

Regret. A lot of sadness. Guilt. But also, a deep love for him. You never stopped loving him.

"Toshi," You started again with a bit more confidence. He looked back into your eyes, smiling and nodding.

You have to apologize. Go do it. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but somehow you were still tongue-tied.

"Noritoshi, I really owe you a proper apolo-"

"Hey," You both looked to the right to see your mom approaching you.

"Mom!"

Noritoshi jerked into a standing position, body stiff as he bowed a full 90 degree angle towards your mother.

"Ah, it's nice to meet you. I'm Kamo Noritoshi and I'm y/n's- " He froze, not knowing what to say.

You weren't dating anymore. As of now.

"Soul-"

"Boyfriend and soulmate, mom. He's my boyfriend." You smiled up at both of them.

His heart warms itself at your words. A humongous invisible weight lifts from his chest and shoulders.

She smiled and reached up to pull him into a hug. "You've made my baby girl so happy. Thank you. Call me 'Okaa-san' too."

He felt his throat tighten, "Not at all. She's been such a blessing to me. Uh- Okaa-sama."

“I need to bring my baby girl home now. Do you want to come back to the Tsuchimikado estate with us? We can oversee your recovery as well.” She offers.

Noritoshi’s eyes widened. “Ah, I’d love to. I just have to check on with my father-”

“I’ve already talked to him. A pleasant man he is, the head of the Kamo clan. More than I thought.” She had a bit of a wary expression when she said those words. Clearly still unfamiliar with Noritoshi’s family.

“If he said so, then yes please. I’d like to stay with her.”

After that, it was a blur of activity. Your mom makes sure you’re both stable enough before bundling the both of you in a car back to the estate. Noritoshi quickly shoots a text to his father to confirm things, and was actually surprised to see a jovial reply.

No doubt trying to help him patch things up with you. He closes his eyes. For now, he’ll take this as a solid win. It was working in his favor anyway for his father to so strongly support your relationship.

You squirmed uncomfortably against him, patting him to get his attention.

“Do you need anything, love?” Noritoshi nearly tosses his phone away in his haste to turn back to you. But you shook your head.

"I love you so much, Toshi. And I’m sorry for hurting you." You whispered. You were unsatisfied; it was far from a proper confession. But for now, exhaustion overcomes you. His eyes widen, but you fall asleep against him just as you see him open his mouth to reply.

He looks over the top of your head and checks your condition. You had fallen asleep. It was a miracle that you even stayed conscious for this long. Noritoshi was prepared to catch you in the middle of battle, but you held on the whole time.

Still, he was happy to hear those few words, not bothering to hide the biggest smile on his face as he tucks you into his side.

Authors notes: Guess whose form the Kitsune took on when Noritoshi looked at her as he was put under hypnosis.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years

Text

all signs of a world / that doesn’t see clearly

Title taken from the poem Static Poems by Gottfried Benn and translated by Michael Hofman.

Prompt: Miscommunication

(warnings for mental health issues, family dysfunction, blood, mentioned violence, guns)

Full set of stories here.

Yes, this is an Arcane LOL AU. Tell me that you didn’t noticed the whole red-blue parallel too. Starring Raph as Vi, Leo as Jinx/Powder, and Casey as Caitlyn (don’t @ me, he was a cop in the 2014 movie and everything).

____

There's something wrong with his brother's eyes.

Of course, everything about Leo looks "wrong" right now. His black wrappings, his ink-colored mask, the pistols strapped to his thighs and the grenades on his hips, the claws in a defensive position while he's got a sword raised to attack. He's taller now, and even though he's still shorter than Raph it's an ugly reminder of how much time has passed.

But the eyes, the eyes are the worst. Remorseless as a predator and cutting like a bullet, a mad light dancing in their depths to a tune no one else can hear. He glances over Raph's shoulder, where Casey stands fucking everything up by his very presence, then over the other shoulder, where there's no one at all.

"Leo..." he whispers, holding out a shaking hand. "Leo, it's okay. We can work this out." They will, they have. Although he has no fucking idea how, not when Donnie and Mikey aren't here to help and his brother's babbling at thin air and waving weapons in Raph's face.

"Stop calling me that." The sword shakes ever so slightly in Leo's hand. "It's Ghost now. Leo fell down the well."

Oh. Oh shit.

He remembers it now, remembers the fire roaring in his ears, his own hands wrapped around his older brother's throat as he pinned Leo to the ground, choked him. You're dead, you hear me? DEAD. Dead to me, dead to us. I never want to see you again!

Then they'd left, all three of them, and Raph wants to blame Donnie and Mikey for just trailing behind him, but he knows that's childish. They'd been shell shocked kids, still were, really, and Raph was the one who'd said the horrible words, the one who'd kicked Leo in the head when he'd tried to follow them.

And before they could go back, they'd been caught and separated, and now--and now. There'd been real shock in Casey's voice, real horror and fear: Your brother is Ghost?

"Fuck, I never should have said that. Leo, I'm sor--"

"It's okay." Leo's hand jerks out and the sword blade pushes under Raph's chin, lifting his head up. "I don't mind being dead. It's fun. You should give it a try sometime, little brother."

"Leo--" Blood drips down his chin, the sword cutting into scale as he says his brother's name.

Leo's eyes are darting, wild, but now there's a cold smile gleaming steadily on his face. "That's why you came, isn't it? To see who's stronger, once and for all."

"I came because you're family, dumbass!" Raph knocks the sword aside and stomps towards Leo. "And that ain't gonna change, ever." He reaches for Leo's arm. "So, you can slice off up anyone you want, but I'm not goin' any--"

"Shut up!" Leo jerks away from him, hunched over as if hiding from a blow. "All of you, shut up, I need, need need need to think."

Raph's stomach gives a nauseating lurch. He needs to say something, anything to fix all this, but he's never known how to use his words to do anything except fuck things up more (as if things could be any more fucked up).

"Wait." Leo's head snaps up. "You hear that?"

And to his surprise, Raph can. The hum of engines in the distance, growing closer with every second. His brother cocks his head, posture straightening with something that looks terrifyingly like anticipation.

Raph sucks in a breath. "We can talk about this later," he says, glancing over his shoulder. He hates the idea of running from a fight, but he needs to get Leo out of here fast before things spiral even more. "Leo--"

But his brother isn't listening.

Leo lets out a war cry that chills Raph's blood and launches himself at the first figure to soar out of the shadows, blades flashing at his sides. His eyes gleam like blue fire, bright enough to almost send sparks swirling across Raph's vision, and he has enough time to feel a strange kind of grief before all hell breaks loose.

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yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years

Text

Do Your Worst

A/N: This is literally 8,640 words of self indulgent smut. Just want the Winter Soldier to beat the shit outta me, ya know? As far as tagging I just tagged whoever liked the post I made about finishing this chapter, if I missed you or you want added/removed just let me know!❤️

Warnings: Violence, bloodplay if you squint, knifeplay if you squint, choking, hitting, degredation, rough sex, violent sex, name calling, I think that's all of them??

Summary: Your purpose is to fight, to be used as a weapon. During a training session at the Red Room facility, you come face to face with the ominous man they call "The Weapon." Unexpected tension is developed during your match, that is later unleashed when you learn what the Winter Soldier's true mission is... To train you to be a weapon just like him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You kneel on all fours, your own blood and sweat dripping onto the floor in front of you. You don't even know where all the blood is coming from at this point. This fight has been going on for who knows how long. Your muscles scream and you feel your bones are begging you to surrender. You take in a deep shuddering breath when you see your opponent's large black boots shuffle out of your peripheral vision. You jump to your feet with all the coordination of a drunken grizzly. You glance quickly at the other girls watching your match, all of their faces blank while they observe you getting your ass handed to you. They sit in a sea of grey uniforms, everyone's hair all braided back the same way. The room you're in is set up like a small gymnasium, seats set up in rows on the sides with a large sparring area in the center. The design makes it easy for everyone in the room to see every detail of your pathetic attempt to fight off your enemy.

This is your first fight with the man they call "The Weapon" and he's kicking your ass. In your many years at the Red Room training facility, you've fought plenty of men and women here, beating most of them rather quickly. You were sent here very young after your incredible ability to heal rapidly was discovered. Basically, you're really good at taking a beating, making you nearly impossible to best in combat. You don't remember your life before your time here, not even your own parents. Your purpose is to fight, so that's all you remember doing. That's what brings you here, fighting the Winter Soldier.

You look back to him to see he's already coming at you again. A blur of black and silver, the only distinguishable feature are his furious blue eyes that peak out above a black mouth covering. You scan his body, looking for any sign of weakness, willing there to be one with every cell in your body. His stance is too wide, he's stalking towards you now as if he's almost frustrated. Your body reacts to the opening before your mind tells it to. Once he's about two feet from you, you launch forward into a somersault. Your torso lands between his legs, you quickly let your legs fly up, hooking the backs of your knees around the tops of his thighs. Using every ounce of strength you have left you push your torso off the ground to bring him slamming down with a thunderous thump.

You press your hips into his, then you throw your torso forward so you can straddle him. His left hand comes up to grasp your throat and your chest seizes up with fear. Your hands fly to his wrist, gripping the cold metal as if it will somehow get him to release. This is why they call him "The Weapon". His left arm is made entirely of metal, built exactly like a regular human arm, but it possesses superhuman strength and dexterity. The metal plates pinch the skin of your throat, causing you to panic slightly. No, you can't fucking panic, that's what they're watching for.

Your right hand flies to your thigh, quickly unclipping your knife from it's holster. He's too focused on squeezing the life out of you to notice your actions. Just as you start to see white stars dance in your vision you bring the knife to his throat. His grip on you loosens slightly, anger dancing in his piercing eyes. You see his right hand move to grab the knife, but you bring your foot up to trap his wrist under your boot, thankful for your flexibility. You press the blade against his throat.

"Yield." You choke out.

His eyes go wild, pieces of unkempt brown hair falling over his forehead and shoulders, adding to his feral appearance. His metal hand tightens around your throat again, he's challenging you. You sneer at him then apply more pressure with your knife, seeing his skin split slightly, a small trickle of blood seeps out onto your blade. Unfortunately, he seems completely unbothered by the action. There's no victory from this position, you have to find another way. You hike your right foot up then plant it on his chest, earning a deep grunt from him. You throw your body over his, freeing yourself from his grip, keeping your knife on his throat the whole time.

You quickly throw your legs over his shoulders so you can straddle his chest this time, your feet hook into his armpits as your knees cage his head. You flip your knife in your hand to bring the point down against his jugular. His hands fly to your thighs as you use them to grip the sides of his throat. His fingers dig into your skin, the pain of his fingertips bruising you only fuels you now. You feel his flesh hand leave your thigh, you read him like a book and beat him to his next move. Your free hand flies back and rips his own knife away from it's home on his thigh. You bring the knife up and throw it into the wall across from you, it sinks into the wood with a satisfying sound.

With a roar he uses his metal arm to push off the mat, flipping you both over so your back is pressed against the ground. He has your right leg hooked over his shoulder, metal hand around your throat again. You have somehow managed to keep your knife against his throat, holding onto it like it's your lifeline. You try to move your left leg to kick, then realize he's got you pinned. His hips are pressing harshly between your legs, in another context the position would look positively erotic. You hate yourself for the way the heat spreads through your body when he presses into you further. He only makes it worse by bringing his right arm up to yank your braids from the roots. You let out a cry, cursing yourself for how wantan the noise sounds. You look into his eyes, letting your knife push into his throat further.

You're both trembling with rage, furious with each other for not yielding. There's blood slowly pulsing out of his throat while your vision goes blurry, but neither of you are willing to admit defeat. A drop of blood falls from the handle of your knife to land on your lips. His eyes snap to your mouth, suddenly transfixed. That's it. That's the weakness you've been waiting for. You lick your lips slowly, welcoming the metallic taste. His eyebrows pinch together and he lets out a trembling breath, his eyes snap back to yours then and you feel something pulse against your center.

"Horny bastard." You whisper, so quiet only he can hear it.

His eyebrows furrow and his eyes light up with blind rage. His metal hand squeezes around your throat with malice, causing you to gasp and sputter. This is your window, don't fuck it up. His torso presses against the leg he has hooked on his shoulder, bringing the top of your thigh flush against your chest.

Perfect.

You bring your other leg up, plant your foot on the ground and kick off. With him practically laying on top of you, he isn't well grounded enough to fight off the leverage you have. You use the leg on his shoulder to twist his torso so that his back is pressed against the mat once again. You quickly scramble up his body and twist yourself rapidly, then throw your legs over his shoulders to trap his head between your thighs again. The back of his head is pressed hard against your core, you ignore the friction and the proximity of his mouth to your inner thighs. He's the horny bastard, not you. You suck air into your lungs, desperate for the oxygen to fill you again. Your legs are pressed against his torso, pinning him against the ground. If he rolls he'll only smother himself against the ground, and in the position he can't gain enough leverage to lift you off the ground.

You sit up, letting your thighs squeeze his throat even more, his silvery eyes are strained as he looks up at you. His hands are gripping at your thighs again, you feel his metal fingertips break your skin, but you pay no mind. You just bring your knife up to his face, in one swift movement you cut off his mask, exposing a pair of full lips and a sharp jaw line. You're shocked by how handsome he is, but you quickly shove the thought out of your mind. This is no time for any sort of admiration. You flip you knife around then bring the tip up to the soft spot under his chin, letting it puncture the skin slightly.

"Yield." You repeat harshly, voice hoarse from all the choking.

He glares at you with hate and disdain, obviously desperate to end your life. That's the one thing he can't do though. During these spars you are given one rule, you are not to kill your opponent. You can beat them within an inch of their life, but you cannot take it.

His flesh hand loosens on your thigh, and then he gives you three harsh pats. Signifying that he has admitted defeat. Neither of you moves an inch, eyes still locked. You're trapped by adrenaline and the carnal need to survive, both full of feral bloodlust. Your body will not release his until an instructor tells you to do so. You're both locked in place by each other, bodies trembling, covered in each other's and your own blood and sweat. His face settles back into his usual blank stare, but his eyes are clouded slightly, lips still quivering. For a moment he looks like he did when his blood trickled from his throat to your mouth, he looks starved, desperate, animalistic.

Sickening attraction shoots through your veins. Images of his hard body working against yours fill your mind, you can't help but wonder how brutal he would be in the bedroom. His body is designed to destroy others, you're filled with a dark and shameful desire to let him destroy your body however he pleases. It's just the adrenaline, that's the only reason your core pulses when you see that look in his eyes. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

"Release." A woman's harsh voice echoes behind you.

Slowly, like two machines being turned off, your bodies loosen their holds on each other. He slides out from between your thighs, using his hands to push you off like you're some hideous garment he can't wait to rid himself of. You slowly stand up, every part of your body crying out in pain as you do. You place your knife back in its holster. Despite the burn in your shoulders, you bring your hands back to hold each other behind your back, then turn stiffly to face your instructor.

She's a terrifying old woman, muscular and rigid. She keeps her silver hair in an immaculate bun. Her wrinkled face always pulled taught in a harsh grimace. She always looks like she's ready to sentence someone to death, which for all you know, might be true. She sits in her chair with one long leg crossed over the other, she's seated at a solitary stool that's placed in front of the rows of other girls. You don't know her name, and you never will. You have been instructed to refer to her as "Madame Widow".

"Ready for assessment, Madame Widow." You say, trying to keep your damaged voice as monotone as possible.

"And you, Soldier?" She asks your opponent pointedly.

He's standing beside you, a rigid mountain imposing fear on every young woman in the room. Every young woman except you, that is. You got him to yield. You push the pride deep down, it's not an emotion you're permitted to feel.

"Ready for assessment." He states. He doesn't need to refer to her as Madame Widow, since he's not a pupil of hers. He's simply a weapon used to make you and every girl here a formidable opponent for any enemy.

"Soldier, you were strong at the beginning." She starts, you feel his energy shift at her words. Shoulders drawing up as he takes a deep, tense breath.

"You had me convinced it would be a quick and easy victory. You had an opportunity to strangle her within the first thirty seconds but you missed it. This gave her all the information she needed about your fighting style." She glances down at her notepad, her stiletto shaped nails thrum against the paper.

"Then of course, you had her pinned, but you were… distracted." Her voice is dripping condescension.

Your heart falls to the floor, she knew. Of course she knew, it's her job to know. You quickly settle yourself. She will see it as a victory on your part, a weakness is a weakness. You have even been taught that as a woman, when you face a male opponent, their greatest weakness will always be their physical desire for you. You had harnessed that in the fight and used it to acquire a victory.

"Your distraction cost you the match, Soldier. Naturally, she spotted your desire for her immediately and used it to gain the leverage she needed to get you to admit defeat." She says, her tone cold and calculating.

You hear the metal plates of his arm scrape together and assume his balling up his hand into a fist. You don't dare look over, you're not allowed to look away from your instructor when she's addressing you. You want to see him though, you want to see the blood painting his thick neck where your knife pierced his skin, you want to see him ripping you apart with his eyes in all of their animalistic rage. The thought makes your chest burn with a dreadful desire, a desire that you know you have to kill.

"You." She says harshly. She angles her head back slightly so she can look down her nose at you.

"At the start, your fighting was pitiful. You were flustered, panicked, and emotional. You must never show that to an opponent, no matter how outmatched you may be." She chastises you, disgust evident in her voice.

"However, despite your haphazard style, you were terribly clever. Even when you were losing consciousness you kept your wits about you. You used leverage instead of strength to make your opponent submit more than once. Your ability to manipulate his desire for you was exemplary, and should be incorporated into your sparring more often." She closes her notepad with a harsh snap, straightens her jacket as she stands up with impeccable posture then strides to the front of the room.

"You two, clean yourselves at the medical station, the rest of you are dismissed." She says curtly, then exits the room, letting the heavy wooden door slam behind her. The girls all move hastily with their heads down, gathering their belongings silently, one by one ducking out of the room not daring to look at you or the Soldier beside you.

You turn slowly to limp towards the medical station at the other side of the room. It's required that you tend to any wounds inflicted upon you by yourself. It's supposed to teach you to be self-sufficient in the field, since most of your missions will be done as solo operations.

Once all the girls are gone, you place your hands on either side of the sink then slowly lift your hand to turn the faucet on, but before you can reach it your wrist is seized by a harsh metal grasp. Before you can react, he's got you twisted around, back pressed into the wall beside the sink. He bars you against the wall with his mechanical arm, he presses his mechanical forearm into your chest and you can't help but let out a whimper. He lets out a ragged breath through his nose, you look up into his eyes and your blood freezes. His eyes are an inferno of pure fury. His dark brows are pinched together, his upper lip is pulled up slightly exposing teeth smeared with blood. He has the appearance of a wolf that just got caught tearing out the throat of his prey.

"You listen to me." He snarls, his voice trembling.

You can't stop yourself from glancing down at his neck, desperate to see where you wounded him. You're always so morbidly curious about the damage you inflict on others, you hate yourself for it, but you can't get enough of making others bleed. He snaps you out of your trance by practically growling at you.

"You pathetic bitch. You're too thirsty for blood to even pay attention to the danger you're in." He spits, bringing his knife up to your throat with his other hand. You let your head fall back, without the prying eyes of your instructor and the other girls you can welcome the sharp metal against your skin. You let the veil slip while you revel in the sharp kiss against the soft skin of your throat. That familiar taboo longing fills your chest. You can only guess that he shares your same twisted desires. After the way he reacted to you tasting his blood, you're relatively confident he does.

You look up at him through your lashes, letting your mouth twist into a teasing smirk.

"Do it, I fucking want it." You spit the words at him, challenging him with your lewd implications.

He glares at you with furious eyes, then he lets a shaking breath fall from his lips.

"You're disgusting." He says with venom. Almost as soon as he's insulted you, he's released you. He turns and stalks towards the exit of the door, broad shoulders swaying in a menacing way as he does. Your hand slides up to feel where his knife had been pressed against your throat, already missing the exhilarating sting. Longing takes over your body and you try to shake it off, identifying it as a weakness immediately. He can want you, because you can use that against him. If you want him though, you're weak and vulnerable.

You shake your head and rip your hand away from your throat. You have to kill these feelings, you are not allowed to have such a weakness. There's no room for it, it will only cost you dearly in the end. You spin slowly to face the medical station once again, placing your hands back on the sides of the sink. You're shaking like a damn leaf.

A timid glance at your reflection shows that you're much more beat up than you thought. Your lip is split and caked in blood, your left cheekbone has an angry welt growing on it, and your neck looks like it's been through a meat grinder. Deep purple bruises are already blooming over the skin, the places where his fingers dug in have small patches of blood peaking through the skin. Your heart flutters at the way he's marked you, but it's short lived. The feeling is stuffed deep down inside you, forced to join any other weaknesses he might bring out of you.

"Fuckin' hell." You huff to yourself.

None of your wounds are big enough for any bandages, so you'll have to just clean them and let them be. Your overused muscles are producing most of the pain, you'll just have to stretch and rest well tonight. Thanks to your freakish ability to heal, you'll be back to normal by morning. You turn the cold water on so you can give your face an icey splash. The sensation clears your mind slightly and you realize just how much trouble you're in.

The Winter Soldier is only here temporarily, his mission is to train you and the other girls here then leave. In the few weeks that he's been here you've only seen him for brief moments, stalking around the facility like a ghost. He's an assassin, a weapon, nothing more. He's especially not supposed to be such a source of desire for somebody like you. You have a job to do, and it in no way includes wanting him to fuck your brains out. You blame it on the adrenaline, on natural physical responses. Any woman would be aroused by a man like that pressing himself between their legs. You're not any woman though, you're supposed to be a cold blooded assassin, you're supposed to be a vengeful weapon. You are not meant to have weaknesses like normal women. Your weaknesses aren't those of a normal woman though. Yours are much more sinister...

That Night

You toss around on your small bed, desperate for sleep that won't come. You skipped dinner and went straight to your room, wanting to avoid everyone, especially him. The longer the day has gone on, the more the soldier is creeping under your skin. The longer you have to reflect on your encounter, the longer the desire you felt wraps its skeletal fingers around your heart. Of all of the fights you've had, you've never been so evenly matched. Yes, you technically beat him, but you hate how close he got to beating you. You don't really have wit like the other girls, or a distracting amount of beauty, but you can fight. You have been the best in hand to hand combat for years and you absolutely hate that somebody came close to taking that title. You haven't lost a fight since you were a child.

You try to find comfort in the fact that he is a genetically engineered super soldier with a hunk of metal for an arm. You can't beat yourself up for having to fight as hard as you did, you could even find a little pride in it if you wanted to. The thing that you can't seem to escape is the heat that pools between your legs when you think about his metal hand around your throat, the sharp taste of his blood, the way he crushed your chest when he pushed you against the wall. He could have killed you so easily, he had his knife right there. With one swift flick of his powerful wrist he could have slit your throat and left you to die. The thought is positively exhilarating in the most horrible way. Your body erupts in goosebumps as you remember the way his rigid form trembled with rage. Your thighs press together when you think about him hovering above you, drenched in sweat as he bled into your mouth.

You're not going to fucking sleep. You huff and throw your blankets off, angrily turning on your light. Your pathetic little room has no comforting elements, it just looks like a shitty hotel room. No decorations, just one generic landscape painting on the wall. Your only furniture is your bed, your night stand, and a small rickety dresser for your uniforms. All of it is a plain dark wood, the walls a bland grey much like your blankets and everything else in your life. The style of the room is intentionally designed to look like a hotel room, it's a psychological thing. The intent is to take away any feeling of a home, you're supposed to live on the move, never settle, and never feel safe.

You quickly change out of your night clothes and throw on a clean uniform, a tight grey shirt with matching cargo pants. A glance at your watch tells you it's a little after midnight. You snatch your knife off the table and examine the blade. The metal is the same black as the handle, it's lines are sleek and deadly. Your eye is caught by a small amount of blood that remains on the edge of the blade. You wipe it on your pants, ignoring the irritating shiver that goes down your spine at the thought of making him bleed. You shove the knife into its holster then turn to check yourself in the pitiful mirror above your dresser.

Your body has already begun to recover, your bruises fading as if they're weeks old. Your busted lip is hardly noticeable and your muscles are no longer screaming. There's no longer a welt on your cheek and you look like you've had at least ten hours of restful sleep. As much as you detest your healing abilities for ruining any chance you've ever had at living a normal life, it is incredibly convenient. You had been ripped from your family because of it, never even given a chance to develop a bond to know or miss the individuals that gave you life. You suppose it's easier like this though. If you had known them, you'd be susceptible to the pain of living without them. Instead you're filled with rage towards those who stole you from them. You can't afford to feel the weight of mourning, you don't have time for it. Instead you're propelled forward by anger and hatred, mostly for yourself, but also for those that have forced you to live your life as a tool for their own purposes here at this God forsaken Red Room facility.

You tear yourself from the destructive train of thought as you turn to stalk out of your room. You close your door silently so you don't disturb the other girls on your hall. You chew the inside of your lip as you move down the halls of the barracks. The awful lighting casts a sickening yellow glow on the slate colored walls lined with plain white doors. You finally reach a large steel door at the end of the hall on the right. It has a poorly painted red mark on the door in the shape of a knife. You slide into the room quietly and let your shoulders drop once you're inside and hear the door close behind you. Of course it's empty at this hour, meaning you can release all of your rage without any judgement.

The knife room, set up much like an indoor shooting range. Every assassin here is trained in close hand to hand combat, making knife handling an essential skill. You stomp into one of the stalls, desperate to relieve your frustrations. You roll your shoulders back and draw in a shaking breath. You wind your arm back and throw the knife at the human shaped target across from you, imagining it's that bastard the Winter Soldier. The handle of the knife pings off the it's thigh then clatters onto the ground, the sight fills you with burning self hatred. You let out a frustrated groan then take off to pick up your knife. You hear something shift in the corner and immediately dive for your knife, quickly returning to your feet to turn towards the noise.

"You're too angry." Says a cold, deep voice.

The owner of the voice steps out of the dark corner he's been hiding in. Of course it's him.

You roll your eyes then walk back to your station.

"I wonder why that is." You say, you try to still your racing heart as you hear his heavy footsteps moving towards you.

"It makes you sloppy." You whip your head to face him where he's now stood behind you. His massive arms are crossed over each other, and you notice that he's wearing the same thing he wore at the fight. A strappy leather vest with heavy black pants to match and thick leather boots to tie it all together. Without his black mask to cover his mouth, his handsome features are on display. Except his beauty is shrouded by a scowl that makes his feature dark and menacing. Over all, he looks terrifying. His eyes are nearly the same cold silver as his arm. Your chest burns as his frozen gaze pierces through you, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and let a huff out through your nose.

"I didn't ask." You say, trying your best to sound disinterested.

In one beautiful, fluid motion he pulls his knife out and sends it flying at the target. The knife lands right in the throat of the man shaped target, the sound of the impact echoes gently off the walls.

"My mission is to improve your skills, so I don't need you to ask. I'm telling you something, so you should listen." He says, sauntering over to retrieve his weapon. His tone is that of an overworked teacher that's been reprimanding his student for making the same mistake over and over.

"Your mission is to improve everyone's skills, so I don't understand why you're-"

"Are you really that stupid?" He cuts you off, visibly irritated by your statement. He comes to stand directly across from you, not even a foot apart, much too close for your liking.

"I would have killed every one of those girls within the first five seconds of a match. There's a reason you were fighting me and not them. You have a weapon that none of them have, you are a weapon. My mission is to improve your skills. Your mutation makes you unique, it makes you valuable, they have asked me to train you." He says it slowly, like he's talking to someone hard of hearing. His patronization makes your blood boil and your fists clench.

"There are plenty of girls here that could have held their own in that fight. Yeah, I can take a beating more than any of them, but they can all fight like hell no different than me." You say, your voice sharp.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" He sneers down at you.

"You just said it yourself, you can take a beating. Yes, your fighting skills are questionable at best, but you can out fight anyone if you can exhaust them." He explains it like you're a stupid child, which only makes your rage burn hotter.

"Is that what happened with you?" You ask, poking at his defeat earlier.

He chuckles, his voice low and dark.

"Oh no." He says, moving even closer to you. You can feel his hot breath on your cheeks, the sensation makes your head swim.

"You just found a weakness, well done by the way. Except in doing so, you exposed your own weakness." His voice is absolutely sinful by the end of his sentence. You're so distracted by his seductive tone that you don't even notice his right arm reach up behind you, he grabs your hair by the roots and cranks your neck back, exposing your throat to him.

Normally, you would fight back, but you don't want to, you can't. You let out a pathetic little noise, making him let out another deep chuckle.

"You're pitiful." He says it almost affectionately, the gravely tone of his voice makes your legs turn to jelly.

"I could kill you right now, but you're not even afraid, you're probably getting wet thinking about my knife against your throat." He's growling again, like he did after the fight. You hate how right he is, your core is igniting with heat. You don't even want to think about how you must be absolutely soaking your underwear.

"What about you soldier, I think I remember you gettin' all hot and bothered when you finally got me underneath you." You tease, his advances give you the confidence to bring your hand up to ghost your fingers along the inside of his thigh.

He laughs in disbelief, eyebrows shooting up as his lips twist into a wolfish grin.

"Where the hell did they find you?" He says it like he's thinking out loud.

All you can do is moan pitifully when he tightens his grip on your hair, you look up at him and let your hands fly to his chest. His eyes have that animalistic look to them, like he wants to literally rip you to shreds. Your walls flutter at the idea and you take in a sharp breath, so desperate for him to drop the teasing act and just have his way with you.

"So fuckin' needy." He says as he lets his eyes flicker to your parted lips.

You let your own eyes drop to his throat, your mouth waters at the site of the large red line that your knife created. You did that, you marked him. The thought makes your stomach flip, darkness fills your chest and spurs on your twisted desires. You absentmindedly lick your lips at the sight, an action that he obviously catches.

"I knew it." He sighs out, his metal hand slides around to spank you harshly, his eyes still burning into yours. You moan against your will and let your nails dig into his vest. The impact of the metal makes your skin sting in a delightful way, and you only want more, so much more.

"You're a blood thirsty slut." He punctuates his words with another harsh swat, "-and you can take a hit." His voice is starting to sound shakey, like he's holding something back.

"Beg for me." He gives you another harsh swat.

You seal your lips. You can't beg for him, this isn't supposed to happen. You refuse to let this asshole create any weakness within you. This has to be a test, if he's truly supposed to train you, this has to be some sick experiment to see if you're as depraved as he thinks you are. He can't win, you didn't give him a victory earlier and you sure as hell won't give him one now. You rip your eyes away from him and glare at the floor, you take a trembling breath and force yourself to deny him.

"No." Your voice is a pathetic whisper, small and meek.

"Wrong answer bitch." He snaps with a menacing tone. He forces your body back, walking you into the wall behind you. He presses your body against it then moves his right thigh to spread your legs so you're straddling his thick, muscular leg. His right hand is still holding fast to your hair, but his left is starting to slowly trail up your side. He lets it trace over your breast before ghosting over your collar bone. Your eyes lock with his as soon as his cold metal fingers snake around your throat. Your breath completely stops, your body frozen under his ravenous gaze. You instantly buckle under the weight of your desire for him to destroy you. The dam finally breaks and you drown in the waves of lust, all it takes is one firm squeeze from his inhuman appendage and you're a goner.

"Fuck- please, please fucking use me." You gasp as he tightens his grip on your throat, you grind down against his thigh again, desperate for any form of friction against your aching center.

"You've got a filthy little mouth on you." He says, finally releasing your hair.

"Let's give it something to do." He brings his middle finger up to your lips as he relaxes his hold on your throat, you open your mouth instantly to welcome his thick finger inside.

"Suck, darlin'." His eyebrows furrow slightly when you slide your tongue over the pad of his finger, sucking him further into your mouth. This can't be happening, you can't let yourself be this weak.

He quickly pulls his hand out then cups your cheek, placing his thumb under your chin so he can angle your face up towards him.

"Will you be a good girl for me?" He asks, raising his eyebrows in a challenging way, the question makes you shiver and your mind is flooded with images of him defiling you. Ok, maybe you can be this weak.

You nod slowly, you feel adrenaline pump through your veins. Your heart is thundering in your chest and your cunt is absolutely aching with need.

"Use your words." He says harshly, "-you know what I want to hear."

"Yes sir." You breathe out as he slides his cold metal hand around your throat again. You sigh at the sensation and let your eyes flutter shut.

"Now, what do you need." He asks, sliding his thumb over your pulse.

"I need you to use me." You let your voice drop to a raspy tone as you repeat your request from moments ago, you open your eyes to see an almost disturbing look in his.

His fingers tighten around your throat and he pulls you closer to him until his lips brush against yours, the feeling makes your chest burn.

"Get on your back, you should be good at that." He huffs against your lips then rips himself away from you. He pulls you off of the wall by your throat and pushes you back into the middle of the room. You drop to your knees like it's second nature, you reach out to run your hands up his strong thighs and you steal a glance at the massive bulge in his pants.

"You don't fucking listen." He growls, he hikes his large right leg up and plants his boot in the middle of your chest, he sneers down at you while he kicks you back with force. You catch yourself on your elbows and look up at him helplessly. He sinks down to his knees so he's somewhat straddling you, but mostly caging you with his body. He grabs your jaw with his right hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"When I tell you to do something, you do that thing exactly or I will make you sorry you didn't fucking listen." He spits the words at you, eyes ablaze with fury.

"What if that's what I want?" You ask, testing the waters for how much patience he has for your attitude.

His grip tightens on your jaw, inevitably leaving bruises now.

"You want me to hurt you?" He glares down at you while he talks, he looks angry enough to snap your neck, but the lust raging in his eyes reveals his true desires.

"Do your worst." You fire back at him.

Then he's on you, lunging at you like a wild beast. He's pushing you into the ground by your throat, he wedges himself between your legs, pressing his hard length into your center.

"Sweetheart, my worst would kill you." He groans into your ear. His words pull another moan out of you, your hands claw at his back when he grinds down against you rather roughly.

"Hands and knees, now." He says then pushes off of you to kneel between your legs. A flame of defiance ignites inside you, it spreads and burns all of your common sense.

"Fucking make me." You say, the idea of him forcing you to your hands and knees sends a rush of exhilaration through you. Your moment of thrilling defiance is cut short by the feeling of the back of his right hand cracking across your face. Your head jerks to the side as his hand connects with your jaw. You let out an indignant cry, too shocked to do anything else. As soon as he's smacked you, his hand is latched back onto your jaw, he jerks your face towards him, forcing you to scramble to your knees while your hands cling to his wrist.

"You think you're cute, don't you?" You can feel him shaking with rage as he holds you in place. The sharp pain from his knuckles hitting your face makes your cunt clench, you have to be absolutely dripping at this point. Your entire core is throbbing, desperate to be filled by him.

"Answer me." He barks.

"I think -oh shit." You're cut short by the feeling of him running two metal fingers rubbing your clit through your pants. Your body responds instantly to his rough touch, hips bucking against his hand.

"What do you think?" He teases, pulling his fingers aware from where you need them most.

"I think you're doing too much talking, not enough fucking." You snap.

That does it, that pushes his last button. It all happens far too quickly for you to even process everything he does. You feel a sharp pain under your arms, then feel your back hit the hard cement wall. He rips your pants down your legs, bringing himself to his knees so he can rip each of your feet out of the pant legs. You're completely exposed to him now, the cold air hits your pussy and you shiver at the pleasant shock. You glance down at him as he slowly slides the knuckles of his right hand up the inside of your right leg. His cold eyes follow his hand's movement all the way up to where you're desperate for him.

He uses his knuckles to tease your clit, earning a hiss from you. The sound seems to snap him out of his lustful trance, his body shoots up to loom over you. He glares down at you as his hands move to undo his belt. Your mouth waters at the sight, eager to finally see him exposed.

"I'm gonna fuck you." He breathes, pulling his belt from the loops of his pants.

"I'm gonna fuck you like the whore you are, and it's gonna hurt. You're gonna keep that fucking mouth shut, you're gonna take it like a good girl, and you're not going to cum until I say so, do you understand?" He unbuttons his pants, pulls his zipper down, then he pulls out his painfully hard cock. His tip is already dripping with precum, you reach out to touch him, wanting to feel all that girth in your hand. To say he's well endowed would be an understatement, the soldier is fucking massive.

He snatches your wrist and throws it to the side.

"Do. You. Understand?" He says, his voice is strained and impatient.

"Yes sir, I understand." You say weakly, even you're growing tired of the teasing. You're so fucking desperate at this point you don't even have the energy to quip back at him. You're completely pliant now, nothing but putty in his rough and capable hands.

"Good girl. Now jump." He grabs you by the backs of your thighs, you oblige eagerly. You wrap your arms around his neck and jump off of the floor. He presses you against the wall, he uses his metal hand to hold you around your waist, the other to brace himself against the wall. You help him by wrapping your legs around his hips, pressing your dripping folds against his solid cock, trapping his length between your hot bodies.

"Fuck." He breathes, letting his head fall to your shoulder.

"Please, let me put it in." You beg, then press your lips into the side of his head.

"Since you asked so nicely." He huffs against your neck, his voice has lost most of its rough edge, he sounds much less stable now and much more desperate.

You reach down between your bodies and grab his length by the base, giving him one long stroke before sliding his tip along your folds, gathering your slick as you line him up at your entrance. He doesn't give you a single second to do anything else before he snaps his hips up, shoving himself into you. He was definitely right about it hurting, you bite into his leather clad shoulder to muffle your cry. He presses himself into you and you feel tears prick your eyes as he stretches you painfully. He brings his head away from your neck to rest his forehead against your own. Your eyes lock with suffocating intensity and your cunt immediately clenches around his cock, now completely inside of you. He hisses at the sensation, then he presses his lips against yours with bruising force.

You moan into the kiss, letting your fingers dig through his messy brown hair. He presses his tongue against your lips and you open wide for him. The way he's kissing only makes you want more of him, your chest fills with the shameful desire to be used by him. The way he moves against you is flawless, he's rough and precise, like he's already known your body for years. He bites your bottom lip then slowly pulls his hips back just to thrust himself back inside you.

"Shit!" You sob against his mouth, pulling his hair a little as the broken sound leaves your throat. He's stretching you out and filling you up, he's absolutely ruining you. The sharp pain of his cock opening you up is something you only want more of.

"You've got such a tight little cunt." He sighs pulling back again then sliding in at a torturous pace.

"Tell me again, what do you need?" He asks, voice catching when your walls flutter around him.

"I need you to use me, hurt me, fuck me. Please- shit- please fucking ruin me." Your voice is broken and full of lust, you look him dead in the eyes while you confess your needs to him. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as you beg. He's barely even started, and you're already a moaning mess for him.

With a growl and a wild look in his eyes he pulls out slowly one last time, then he starts ramming into you suddenly and relentlessly. Your jaw drops and you grab onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck completely, your head falls back against the wall and a moan rips out of your throat.

"You fucking whore, you're dripping. You like it when I hurt you? Does that make this pussy wet?" He says with a mocking tone.

"Yes sir." You cry, your thighs squeeze his hips, his words stoke a familiar flame inside you.

If at all possible, he snaps his hips into you even harder, the obscene sounds of his skin meeting yours fill the room, you can even hear how soaked you are as he pumps in and out of you.

"I knew this is what you wanted." He huffs, he presses a sloppy kiss against your lips.

"As soon as you licked my blood off of your lips, I knew you were a nasty little pain slut." He ends his sentence with a harsh moan.

Your back is being rubbed raw by the concrete of the wall, your cunt is being split open by his brutal pace, but you welcome all the pain. You fucking love it, it makes everything so much more thrilling. His thrusts halt for just a brief moment, just long enough for him to pull you off of the wall with a growl. He falls back onto the ground, landing so you're straddling him, your hands plant on either side of his head, knees aching from the impact. He throws his arms around your waist then he starts snapping his hips up, drilling himself into your pussy. The new angle allows him to rut into you so hard that the head of his dick pounds into your cervix with every brutal thrust. You sob into his shoulder, your arms give out and you collapse against his chest. You can feel his cock so fucking deep, this new position is more incredible than anything you've ever felt. You're fully sobbing now, hands gripping at him wherever they can't find purchase. You moan out broken sentences, begging for more and more of his addicting thrusts.

"How's that feel, bitch?" He says with a ragged voice. He brings his metal hand down against your ass, smacking it so hard you're certain he breaks the skin. It only makes you clench around him even tighter, the exhilarating sensation pushes more years from your eyes as you all but scream out.

"Good girl, fuckin' take it." He groans.

His words make your abs seize up, you feel your legs start to shake and your cunt start tighten, electricity settles in your lower belly and your walls start to flutter.

He smacks your ass again, so fucking hard.

"I didn't say you could cum yet." He sinks his teeth into your neck with a harsh groan. The sting only brings you closer to the edge.

"Please sir, please I'm so fucking close. Let me cum on your cock. Please please please." You sound absolutely pathetic, you feel drool drip out of your open mouth as he drills into you mercilessly.

"Look at you, you're such a fuckin' mess." He gives you a particularly rough thrust, absolutely nailing your cervix much harder than he has been. The delicious sting makes your entire body tremble.

"Please let me cum sir, I'll be a good girl I swear please just let me cum. I wanna be so fuckin' good for you, I'll do anything." You beg like you're pleading for your life, your body is so painfully close to release, but you don't dare reach down to play with your clit, you know better.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart." He moans against your neck. The gentle nature of the name he's just moaned contrasts harshly with the previous degrading terms, it strokes your ego in a delicious way.

"My clit, please, please rub my clit." Your voice is completely shredded, thankfully, he seems to finally give you what you want.

His flesh hand shoots down between your bodies, finding your clit immediately. The contact sends electric shocks through your cunt and down your legs. You bite onto his shoulder again to quiet your screaming.

"No." He growls, his free hand snatches you by your roots and rips your mouth from his shoulder, the sharp pain makes you cry out from the back of your throat.

"I better fuckin' hear it when you cum- fuck- do it now, be a good girl like you promised and let me feel you cum." That's all it takes, his fingers working at your clit as his rough voice grants you permission. You tremble violently against him as you finally let your orgasm rip through you. White hot pleasure shreds every nerve in your body. An inhuman scream leaves your throat as your walls contract around his dick. He just keeps fucking you through it, not stopping his destructive pace for even a second.

"Cum inside me." You moan out against the side of his head while your nails dig into his shoulders. His hips stutter slightly and he lets out a high pitched moan that only makes your walls squeeze tighter.

"Yeah? You want me to come inside your slutty little cunt?" He asks, voice laced with a desperate edge that makes your eyes roll back in your head.

"Please, I want you to ruin this cunt, I want you to ruin me." You beg, and he finally fucking breaks.

With a deep, ragged moan he buries himself inside you, stilling as he spills his load deep within your walls. You gasp as you feel his thick cock pulse inside you, painting your insides white with his hot cum.

"Fucking shit- good girl, such a good girl." He chants against your neck, nipping the skin between moans. You're both panting heavily, hands clinging to each other without any desire to let go. You lift your head slightly to gaze down at him. He stares up at you with lust blown pupils, the silvery blue of his irises nearly overtaken by the dark centers. Neither of you say a word, you just lay there and drink each other in. Whatever you've unlocked with each other tonight isn't something you could even begin to talk about. Your bodies twitch against each other, both of you riding out your aftershocks, coming down from your frantic highs. You let your forehead drop to meet his as a dopey smile spreads across your face.

His flesh hand comes up to cradle your face gently, the tenderness of it makes you jump slightly. He takes a deep breath in before uttering his next words with a deep, warning voice.

"Do you still want me to do my worst?"

@b-o-n-e-daddy @can-i-sin-right-now @confused-racoon @lostsoul23 @buckysbbygirl @perksofbeingabookworm @peace-love-hobbitness @buckyshenley16 @brownlee-22 @deardiarylovegale @upsettispagettii @supernaturalbaesduh @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @blowing-mikey @littlegasps

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #captain america #marvel smut #sebastian stan smut #wintersoldier #winter soldier smut #blood play #knife play #silence wench #marvel

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ressyfaerie · 3 years

Note

The beyblade battle between Tala and Julia. ( the battle g revolution never showed us)

I’ve realized as I started writing this I don't think Tala has battled any girls? Like ever? Please correct me if I’m wrong. I’ve never written Julia before so this is going into so many new realms! Prepare yourself for the #1 sass battle of the century. (okay so halfway through this fic I just looked it up and turns out he battled her off screen lmao but she’s the only girl he's ever battled (I forgot lol) So I based it around that idea, also I got carried away and now I want them to f. * are thoughts!

Tala hated seeing people he knew outside the beystadium beybattling, especially in awful disguises. The twins were surrounded by a cheering crowd, they were making more than a spectacle of themselves.

Tala scoffed, “typical.”

However-

He had to admit, he was intrigued.

Suddenly a flash of purple flew by his face, he took a step back, but tensed back up convincing himself he couldn’t show he was caught off guard.

He grimaced; she saw.

Julia grinned at him under her helmet, her blade flung back to her hand with well practiced precision.

Tala locked eyes with her, and then, simply, rolled his eyes.

She didn’t like that.

Tala turned to leave, advertising his disinterest. Julia wasted no time loading Thunder Pegasus into her launcher.

“Get back here!” She yelled while launching her blade towards him.

This time, Tala thought, she wouldn’t get the best of him, he didn’t move an inch.

Huge mistake.

Tala felt a tingle on his wrist, he inspected it and found a few strands of red hair.

*She cut off a wad of my hair?! Are you serious!?*

Tala swung his whole body challenging her, she simply laughed at the small chunk of hair missing.

“Are you taking me seriously now?” Julia smirked.

Raul tried to grasp her arm to calm her down but she aggressively shrugged him off.

“Naw- this guy is all talk and no brains Raul. I’m going to put him in his place.”

“Why don’t you wait for the championship?” He shot her a devilish smirk.

“Get real, you’re not going to make it to my level, battle me now so you don’t miss out.”

Tala calmly looked her up and down, he knew it would be satisfying to turn her blade to dust, but then he thought about Kai’s reaction to him beybattling in a park.

“No thanks.” Tala shrugged his shoulders.

“What did you say-” Julia challenged him.

Tala realized if he couldn’t fight with Wolborg, he could at least use his words. He decided to piss her off.

“Besides, I don’t fight girls anyways.” He stated nonchalantly.

“You don’t- What?” Julia emphasized her sentence ready to launch her fist at him instead of her blade.

“I’ve never fought a girl, and I don’t plan on it.”

“Are you for real?” Julia groaned this time, becoming painfully aware one of the bladers she idolized was sexist scum.

“Prove me wrong then. Somehow manage to claw your way up the ranks with your pretty nails- and fight me.”

Tala shot her a smile. He could piss her off more, no should he? Yes absolutely.

“You should smile more. You’re prettier when you smile.”

Raul had to physically grab Julia before she launched herself at Tala.

“I’ll see you in the championships.” She spat in his direction.

Tala turned on his foot elegantly and waltzed away.

*Damn, now I need to figure out what to do with my hair-*

And the day actually came.

Tala approached the beydish pleasantly surprised to see Julia as his opponent.

“Are you ready to get beat by a girl?” She felt more confident than their last altercation.

She loaded Thunder Pegasus into her launcher.

Tala prepared Wolborg.

“You think you’re going to be the girl that will change my opinion?” Tala grinned secretly hoping she would be.

She replied, preparing her stance, “Absolutely.”

The countdown hit and they both released their blades at record speed and strength. Julia had something to prove, and she would keep fighting until she did.

Her speed and endurance actually did impress Tala. Wolborg kept up at an even pace.

“Thunder Pegasus attack!” She yelled and attacked Wolborg relentlessly.

Tala held his ground easily, but, just barely.

“You started off too strong Julia, think you have something to prove?” Tala placed his arms in front of him in a questioning gesture, but she knew it was him being cocky.

“You better learn to take girls seriously- or else.”

“Or else what? You’re going to scratch me with your coloured nails?”

Julia took a breath and calmed down a bit.

*I can’t let this guy rattle me.*

“You mention my nails a lot you know, if you want yours coloured you just have to ask.” She placed her hands in the same questioning gesture Tala had previously.

Tala scoffed, “Ugh.” He rolled his eyes.

“And-” She continued, “if you were to be lucky enough to be scratched by mine you’d learn-”

Tala tilted his head.

“They hurt!” Julia commanded Thunder Pegasus fluidly and knocked Wolborg off it’s balance.

Tala became nervous when the match took a drastic turn. Julia had screwed her head back on and now they fought evenly without remorse. Tala needed to change his tactic.

“You know Julia-”

“What?” She sighed back exasperated.

“I secretly hope you’ll beat me.” He smiled at her but also grew worried about his teammates thoughts on his next action.

“Why?” She wondered while preparing for another intense attack.

Tala got there first, “because I love a woman who can kick my ass- Go Wolborg!”

Wolborg’s speed increased as it advanced on Thunder Pegasus with intense velocity. Tala’s tactic worked, Julia was taken back for a moment, but she immediately snapped back and sent Thunder Pegasus on the assault.

Their blades collided with an intense force

The stadium lit up white for a moment, and then their blades had disappeared.

Once their eyes adjusted, the outcome was Thunder Pegasus and Wolborg on either end of the dish, just the edges. Thunder Pegasus fell back and stopped spinning outside the dish.

“TALA IS THE WINNER”

The announcer screamed.

Julia’s eyes were wide, she was so confident- and now-”

“Julia.” Tala grabbed Wolborg then changed his direction towards her.

“Get away from me you pig-” She took a step backwards, away from him.

Tala smiled and held out his hand. “That was a good battle.”

She cautiously shook his hand.

Tala finished, “I’m excited to battle you again.”

“Oh?” Julia grinned, “So you changed your mind?”

“I never knew a girl could battle the way you did-”

“And with such colourful nails!” Julia jabbed in there.

“Yeah,” Tala let a small chucked escape his throat, “I’ll battle you again-”

“And any other girl that wants to challenge you right?”

“Absolutely.”

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taptroupe · 3 years

Text

evergrace chapter 11 FINALLY LET’S GO LET’S GO

This would happen if darius did not push the two out of the way in the first four lines of this chapter. yes. lmao.

WILL DARIUS AND CO MAKE IT OUT OF THIS BATTLE ALIVE?! READ MORE NOW. LOTS OF FUNNY ART WITHIN

they’re teleported into the lab, which has a dome like ceiling, very spacious, and with markings engraved into the walls. the light of the magic circle fades away, and....

Immediately, Darius pushes the two out of the circle. Right in front of his eyes, a roaring flame crashes into the floor, making a wave of red. The fire dies down, revealing who other than that small child... Trandin.

And behind him, standing on a shadowy pillar was... ooohooo.... The Morpheus.... or something like that

“Hyohyohyo, you’re here, you’re here. I’ve been waiting...”

“Give Sharline back, now!”

“Hyohyo, seems like that little missus is very important to you, isn’t she?”

Morpheus pointed a skinny finger to a corner of the room. [i swear the lab is circular]

Against the walls of the circular lab, several enclaves sealed off with green glass. In one of them, a small, enclosed room where Sharline was held. Turning to face Darius, she seemed to be shouting something with all her might as she hit the green wall of the room over and over.

“Indeed, the Cycle was a big help, a great lab rat to aid in freeing this country from its binds. To let go of such a test subject, never!”

Sharline pointed to another room beside her. There was another woman, the same person who kidnapped her back at the Human Research Lab. The woman who saved Sharline’s life - it must’ve been Sienna.

From behind Darius, Orladin and Ralbadora jumped forward. [there’s a metaphor here for jumping as fast as rabbits, please imagine they wavedashed] Trandin’s eyes seemed to dart from left to right, confronted by these two -

“DON’T LOOK AT THEM BUDDY. I’M DARIUS AND I’M GONNA FIGHT A CHILD WHO IS YOU. MEET YOUR NEW BULLY”

Darius readied his spear, forming a ball of ice palmira at its tip. Blasting it off, a countless number of shards were aimed at the young boy. But, a wall of light appeared, and it probably melted those shards or threw it back at darius, whatever works. Trandin, weakened temporarily by his epic flex of power, floats to Morpheus’s side.

“How, Trandin, how can you already be at your limit? I gave you the ultimate weapon, the Alcrest! Did my readings on the Cycle go wrong somewhere.... Useless!”

Morpheus waved his cane, and ORLADIN JUST GETS HIT WITH A BLAST OF THUNDER. MAN WAS JUST STANDING THERE

“Prince Orladin, it’s an honour that you came all this way. These two men are here to save these two ladies, but you’re here for Princess Lismur, aren’t you? How about you look through this door, then?

Hyohyo, what a nice man I am, aren’t I? However, you’re the one who left the princess behind in the castle - she must be in so much pain, don’t you think? I’ll let you meet her again.”

“WHAT?!”

Morpheus, standing atop his shadowy pillar thing, raises a hand. A certain green wall in the back disappears, and out comes black, black ivy... Ivy that entwined the princess, slithering out...

“Orladin?”

An overflowing wave of black seemed to approach Orladin, who was standing with sword gripped tightly. Watching the whole spectacle, Morpheus simply laughed to himself full of satisfaction, as if dancing.

[the descrption of lismur comes from the rieubane castle chapter. blonde long hair, blue eyes, a red dress. . ...................... i had to make her naked here at least i wouldn’t be reminded of katia and get too horny to translate more LOL DON’T READ THIS DON’T READ THIS PART]

Suddenly ralbadora tries to hit morpheus while he’s laughing, but the man in black armor is deflected by a shimmering wall as usual. An assortment of blades, all engraved with dragons, all trying to break through that protecting light wall. But only sparks of beautiful green light came out.

“You! There was another Palmira soldier you had at your disposal?”

Waving a cane, Morpheus launches a purple ball of energy as Ralbadora, but he’s cool and just jumps backwards before opening his mouth to speak (coolly).

“I have neither the Crest nor the Alcrest. The Palmira soldier you (derogatory) speak of, it is not I (politely)”

“What? So you’re another one graced by the Cycle?”

[note the usage of grace. heh. lol. yeah when they say evergrace the grace bit is meant to refer to “being chosen” or “favoured”]

“My power comes from The Mother of All Things. I do not know anything regarding this Cycle you speak of. For your senior of your age, I suggest you get off that platform for your own safety.”

“Hyo, say that again! The one backing off will be you lot!”

From the ground underneath Morpheus, a ring of light appeared, hitting Ralbadora’s feet. Well, obviously it’s gonna hit his feet, right? From his platform, Morpheus raised a shaky finger.

“Hyohyo, now look well. To the little miss you call Sharline, keep your eyes glued!”

Darius was in the midst of the battle with Trandin, when suddenly a groan reverberating through the air made his body freeze up.

From beyond the green glass wall, Sharline was grasping her head, body hunched over in pain.

From atop this black platform, Morpheus raised a finger, and suddenly Sharline’s body lifted from the floor - with the floor below her crumbling.

[you can probably guess the floor below her is probably you know, air]

“Don’t move! If you do, this girl will...”

“Morpheus, you motherfu - URGH”

Trandin’s ball of light hit Darius’s chest, blasting him away. probably sending him flying, can never tell with tobasu

Orladin, who had given up cutting the ivy intertwining around him, seemed to be entranced into the pale arms of the princess.

Ralbadora, at least, could slowly approach Morpheus, letting out a weakened voice.

“That girl is important to us... As she is to your research, isn’t it?”

“A good assumption, but no. I don’t have any sentimentality for the little missus. Sure, Trandin wasn’t the right research sample at all, but the use for that is all over now.”

As Morpheus’s finger danced, so did.... i’m sorry sharline..... So did Sharline’s body, violently shaken around in midair. Ralbadora could only look on in anger, as Morpheus laughed loudly.

“And now, you can’t even run away. Only pitting three people against me? Just foolish! For believing you could even try to oppose me, I suppose I’ll just turn this girl into Palmira.”

OY WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO!? SAY THAT AGAIN

SHARLINE IS NOT JUST SOME KIND OF FERTILZER FOR YOU BASTARD. SHE IS A CURED DELI MEAT - I MEAN SHE IS MY FRIEND

“TURN INTO PALMIRA?!” Darius groaned.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? Whether it be Billiana fruit or a human, both can be transformed into Palmira. If we’d known this sooner, there sure would’ve been a lot less waste.”

The three could only watch as the cheerful Morpheus continued his monologue.

“Hyohyo, Trandin, fetch the Crest if you could please.”

Trandin floated over to where Darius was, and landed in front of him. Extending his small hands out, Darius tried to shield himself with his own arms.

“Hyohyo, a tug of war, is it?”

“Trandin, stop it!”

A spiral of yellow light appeared before Darius, unfurling itself to be none other than Krisalis. She fluttered noisily at Trandin’s emotionless face.

“Trandin, can you hear what I’m saying? It’s me. Please, stop this.”

“What in the.. You’re... No, it couldn’t be...?!”

Upon realizing Krisalis’s appearance, Morpheus turned his head towards Sienna. Beyond the wall, her head was slightly lowered, with her hands resting on her chest, unmoving.

“So if that’s how you’re going to be, one ridiculous thing after another... Then you’re next!”

Morpheus raised his hand, and suddenly Sienna’s body................. BENT BACKWARDS?! JISHO!?!?

Krisalis let out a wail of pain.

“.....Tr... an..... din.....!”

The bird-like shape disappeared, leaving nothing but a spiral of yellow light left in front of the boy’s eyes.

But, slowly, his eyes grew wide.

“Mom..... my?”

no agetec, not mom, my. mommy

As the yellow light gently embraced the boy, he turned around and looked at Morpheus. And he flew to him, as if an arrow flying from its bow.

Of course, the reflective wall around Morpheus repelled the boy, but only for a moment. In a flash of light, the wall came crashing down.

Morpheus, still focused on Sienna, was knocked down from his platform. As he tried to get up, a short sword swung by Ralbadora struck him.

“Trandin?! Wait, no, how, impossible..!”

A green, glowing sword with a polished tip plunged deep into the robes that Morpheus wore. His body leaned uncomfortably backwards, cane on the ground. This is basically old man dying i’m skipping this tiny portion.

The blood stained the robes black. Painful breaths, veiny arms, clawing over to Sienna’s wall.

“Why... Now... You’re going to destroy it all... Your very purpose.... Your reason to live.... Destruction...

Truly, you both are... A demon...”

A shaky finger pointed at Sienna, who kneeled down in her cell. She had a face of sadness, listening to Morpheus’s groans of pain, she tried to say something with nothing coming out.

With great effort, Morpheus raised his finger once more.

“Why.... Does this world.... have something.... like you.... a demon... exist? Everyone..... was..... alive......”

“I’m sorry..... Even I...... Couldn’t do anything.... Not a single........”

Sienna turned away.

“My..... To Medina, I..........................................”

With that final word, Morpheus’s arm dropped to the ground.

And that was the last of Morpheus’s strength.

#evergrace novel funtime #this will now be tagged as my art

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touchmycoat · 3 years

Note

LOL when you said Hero my brain said noooooooooooooo cuz they all died dammit but then you said jmbnh and I perked up considerably :P. That sounds really really cool!!!

YEAH YOU GOT IT LMFAO. i'm gonna try to actually execute this (I hope), so i'm gonna slap the rough first outline under a cut for those who don't want spoilers ;) ;) but you already know where i'm going with this lolololol

Act I: Did you know the Xiu Ya Sword and the Broken Sword were lovers?

The Warrior is brought before the Emperor. Upon presenting the broken Cheng Luan sword, he is allowed to approach within 20 paces. "Did you kill him?" "No. Your Venerable Majesty's decree may have been dead or alive, but all warriors on the jianghu know it's the Emperor's wish to kill the Cheng Luan Sword personally." "Very good. Bring him before me." "Your Venerable Majesty, the Cheng Luan Sword Liu Qingge has escaped his bounds and is on the run." "No matter, Your Majesty, he will come here." "Oh? Why is that?" "Because the only two men to have bested him are here, and his sword lies broken between us."

The Emperor laughs, joyous.

"Very good! But Cheng Luan is not all you brought."

Xiu Ya and the broken Xuan Su swords. The Warrior is allowed to approach within 10 paces.

"How did you do it?"

"Did Your Venerable Majesty know the Xiu Ya Sword and the Broken Sword are lovers?"

-Red-

We get the heavily saturated story of the Warrior going to the Qiong Ding School of Calligraphy. He begs a character: 心, heart. He does so to figure out the Broken Sword's strength, because swordsmanship is embodied in calligraphy. He also fights side-by-side with Xiu Ya Sword, fending off the Emperor's attempt to be rid of the assassins. He gains enough cred from Shen Qingqiu to beg an audience with both Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan.

There the Warrior tells them that Liu Qingge is dead, and that LQG had been confident that YQY, with whom he'd had a one night stand, will avenge him. It's the Warrior's honor to come challenge YQY now. In a fit of jealous rage, SQQ stabs and kills YQY, then goes to battle the Warrior himself. Distraught by emotions, SQQ falls, and the Warrior walks away the victor.

Back in the Palace, the Emperor listens. He says he did know, yes, that the Xiu Ya Sword and the Broken Sword are lovers, but doesn't the Warrior think he's underestimated somebody in this equation? "Whom?" "Me. I've met Yue Qingyuan once, three years ago when he and Shen Qingqiu tried to assassinate me. Even then I could see his complete devotion to SQQ. He would never sleep with anybody else, not if SQQ is still at his side. So everything you said is a lie, except for one thing." "What?" "I think the Cheng Luan sword did know one of you, but I think the one he knew was you."

Act II: I think the Cheng Luan Sword trusted you.

"I think you, Liu Qingge, Shen Qingqiu, and Yue Qingyuan all colluded in order to get you within ten steps of me."

-Blue-

Despite imperial witnesses, Liu Qingge successfully faked his own defeat at the Warrior's blade. The Warrior carried and bound LQG himself. Then the Warrior brings his proposal to SQQ and YQY—he has a killing move as long as he gets within ten steps of the Emperor, so he only needs one of their blood on his hands. SQQ wounds YQY to keep YQY at home and makes himself the sacrifice. YQY does not make it in time to save SQQ but gives the broken Xuan Su to the Warrior anyways, because Xiu Ya and Xuan Su, just like their masters, should always stay together.

"You also gave LQG a way out. All of this is to get within ten steps of me. And now you're here. Tell me, am I wrong?"

"...Only about one thing. Your Majesty has also underestimated somebody."

"Who?"

"The Broken Sword."

Act III: The Broken Sword says you must not be killed.

-White-

Nobody was ever in actual danger. The Warrior did not kill LQG. He also will not kill SQQ or YQY. They only need to fake it for the imperial witnesses.

Only, the Broken Sword says the Emperor must not be killed. Xiu Ya Sword is furious—"You know what he's done to me and my country, yet you let him go three years ago and you'd let him go now. Why?!" But YQY will not say. SQQ vows to help the Warrior and stabs YQY to keep him out of their way.

But as the Warrior heads to the Capital, YQY also gives him Xuan Su. "Do you know why my blade is broken?" "No." "Neither do I. I've never wondered, either, but three years ago, when my blade nicked the Emperor's neck, Xuan Su suddenly sent me a warning."

"A warning about what?"

"A warning that I'll find out. I'll find out what broke my blade if I kill the Emperor, and that's something I want to remain ignorant of no matter the cost. Can you understand that feeling?"

"...Yes, I can."

"Who would have thought, of all the people in the world, it's the Broken Sword who understands me best? You understand it too? Tell me the feeling," the Emperor demands. "What is the thing you don't know, but the thought of knowing it terrifies you?"

"I know I must kill the Emperor," the Warrior states. "I know that he is a tyrant, and he runs a bloody world. I know I must kill him to save us all. What I don't know is why my heart breaks at the thought."

"You know you sound just like a man I used to know," the Emperor sneers. "He too criticized my methods. He too despised me. He too hurt at the thought of hurting me. Do you know why Liu Qingge must die by my hands?"

LQG steps out of the shadows, wounded but ready to kill.

"Because the Cheng Luan Sword took that man from me," the Emperor snarls, pulling his blade.

LQG approaches.

"Pass me Cheng Luan," he tells the Warrior. The Warrior grabs Cheng Luan, but hesitates in the throw. "Shen—!"

The Emperor runs him through. LQG falls dead at their feet. There are less than ten steps between them and the Emperor can kill the Warrior in just as easy a stroke. The Emperor does not.

"Who," the Warrior asks slowly, eyes on the fallen LQG, "is the man you used to know?"

"I don't know."

"I think I do. I think by coming here, I've learned the reason for my heartache."

"I think I have too. I wish you hadn't come. Will you still kill me, Shizun?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do. This is something you've always known."

"...Yes, Your Majesty, I will."

The Emperor takes a deep, shaky breath.

"You didn't let Liu Qingge kill me."

"That's because he couldn't have," the Warrior says sadly. "Only I know how to kill you."

"Well I won't let you!" the Emperor snarls, furious. "I'll cut off your arms so you can never wield a sword again and your legs so you can never run again! You've left me once, I won't let you do it again!"

"Binghe."

The Emperor's eyes go wide, then red. He turns on his heel and takes less than ten steps away. His sword is still in the Warrior's hand.

"This character," he says of the scroll hung behind his seat, the one on which YQY has written heart, "holds the secret to his sword. Is that what you said, Shizun?"

"Yes."

"So many people want to kill me, Shizun. I know why. This too is something I've always known," Luo Binghe says quietly. "What's curious is why there is a man who doesn't want me dead, when my own Shizun will suffer heartbreak itself to kill me. Have you figured it out?"

"Not quite."

"May this disciple examine it?"

"...Of course."

He examines the character for a very long time.

"I see it now!" the Emperor exclaims. "As the Broken Sword understands me, I understand him. In my tyranny, I am strong. I am the only person strong enough to keep this country together. As long as I am alive, his world will keep going. His sword, his brush, his heart—it's all one in the same. It's all right here. Destroy one, you destroy the others."

"When you die, he will die too."

"No, Shizun." Luo Binghe's voice is so, so sad. "When I die, his heart will die too. It's the same for this disciple too. Killing me may bring Shizun heartbreak, but it will destroy my heart completely. Shizun, please. Please don't kill me."

"Turn around, Binghe."

When Luo Binghe turns, Shen Yuan has set LQG's corpse on its back and placed Cheng Luan in LQG's hands. His smile for LBH is sad.

"If you hadn't killed Liu Qingge, I really might have spared you," Shen Yuan says, wielding LBH's sword. "But now that he's gone...Binghe, this Master is sorry to have failed you. But I promise, it'll all be fine. The pain will go away quickly."

"Shizun..."

The sword is at LBH's chest. He thinks that even though it's his sword, he doesn't recognize it at all.

Shen Yuan wipes a tear from LBH's face.

"Binghe," he says, lifting the blade, "silly child. I wouldn't have stabbed you from the back."

He sinks the blade into Luo Binghe's heart. Everything shatters.

"Senior Disciple Shen!"

"It's self-destruct!"

"He's killed him! Luo Binghe's killed Senior Disciple Shen!"

Shen Qingqiu's head snaps up to where, in the sky, Shen Yuan's limp body had started to fall. He moves on instinct to go catch Shen Yuan, but he coughs up a violent fit of blood instead, falling back into Yue Qingyuan's arms.

"Xiao Jiu!" There's blood on Yue Qingyuan's lips as well and his face is ashen, but he's clearly been awake for longer than SQQ. "Don't—"

"Save him!" SQQ tries to yell. All of a sudden, a shadow speeds over their heads, catching Shen Yuan's limp body before it could hit the ground.

It's Liu Qingge. He's both furious and panicked. He has the dying Shen Yuan in one arm while in his other arm, he held another body.

"Up," Shen Yuan whispers, fading quickly, "Binghe. Quick, he's waking."

"Take care of yourself first!" Liu Qingge snaps. "I brought the body like you said—"

"Shixiong, please. I promised not to hurt him."

Teeth gritted, LQG launches them all the way up to the center of a miasmic black, where LBH hovers, surrounded by demonic energy. There's an immense blanket of demonic energy lifting from the earth, and people are screaming and running about.

"What's going on?! Where did all this demonic energy come from?!"

"Is he cursing us?!"

"No, no it's going away! Look! Senior Disciple Shen must have done something!"

"Has he saved us?"

LBH's eyes snap open and the first thing he does is attack. LQG just barely blocks the blow with both his arms occupied. There are tears on LBH's face and he's putting out an insane amount of demonic energy. He's screaming as he launches himself at Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan grabs LBH back with the last of his strength, gives LBH a firm but loving shake.

"Binghe!" he demands. "Watch."

LBH freezes and does as he's told. He watches as the last bit of life drains from Shen Yuan's body. He watches as LQG releases Shen Yuan's corpse into his arms. He watches as something goes white at his side, and it's LQG activating an array on the other body.

LBH watches as the pieces of SY's soul find a home again in the second body, which suddenly pulses bright with spiritual power. The body opens its eyes and takes a huge, gasping breath.

"Shen Yuan?" LQG demands to know.

"Shizun...?"

The person in the body lets out a little sigh of relief. He grabs LQG with one hand and LBH with the other.

"See, Binghe?" he chuckles weakly. "I told you it'll all be fine."

He faints.

The full story comes at the end. Shen Jiu still gets taken in and abused by Qiu Jianluo, Yue Qi still binds his life to his sword at Cang Qiong. Only, SJ's first strike against QJL mostly misses, and as QJL approaches SJ in fury, another little houseboy—the one who dusts and sweeps and mops but none of the hard work because he was born with a sickly body—holds out his broom and trips QJL. He means for SJ to get away, but SJ kills QJL instead. SJ still sets the house on fire, but he has no idea if the other houseboy got away.

After reuniting with YQY and entering Cang Qiong as a disciple, SJ is working in the field one day when he stumbles on a Master Shang's Medical Emporium. There's an incredible amount of rare flora and fauna in there, all great for cultivators. Intrigued, SQQ investigates and finds the source of all these goods to be a young man named SY—whom he recognizes. He swears SY to secrecy about his past and takes SY to Qing Jing, first to prevent SY from exposing him, but then they grow close. SY is very clever and knows how to make himself useful to SQQ. His level-headedness earns him a spot by seventeen at SQQ's side as senior disciple.

Flash forward to LBH's arrival on Qing Jing. SQQ is still cold and spiteful and petty, but with SY there, LBH is cared for. SY's older than LBH by what, five years? Takes baby!bing under his wing and mitigates the sour relationship between LBH and SQQ. As a joke (but not really), LBH calls SY "Shizun" in private, and SY gets a real kick out of it.

The thing is, SY is still totally a transmigrator. But just like Shang Qinghua, he transmigrated into a baby's body and basically had a whole other life in this world. Seventeen, eighteen years is a very long time to remember a novel you read a lifetime ago. While SQH's life changed, SQH's only a minor character—plus that's the author! Maybe he gets special privileges, while nobody else is allowed to influence the plot in a major way. Scared of potential repercussions, SY trains LBH and gives LBH as many resources on Qing Jing as he can, but does not tell LBH about the upcoming Abyss.

So SQQ still ends up kicking LBH into the Abyss. SY is filled with incredible regret. The relationship between him and SQQ go kind of awry too, but it's still mostly okay because SY knows LBH is not actually dead.

Just to level the playing field though, SY also doesn't tell SQQ that LBH is going to come back for revenge.

All this while, SY and LQG get to meet and become really good friends. Out of friendship comes love—they both crush on each other in a way that's super obvious to everybody else. SY isn't actually a very strong cultivator, but he is a voracious scholar (cough nerd cough) and hunts/forages a lot of wild stuff. LQG accompanies him every time.

Thanks to SY's training, LBH comes back from the Abyss a lot earlier than SY and SQH expected. LBH seeks out SY, but bad timing has him overhearing SY talk about how LBH dying at the Abyss was for the best—LBH assumes it's bc of his demon bloodline, but SY is really just placating other characters. On top of that, LBH finds SY and LQG all couply and lovey-dovey. LBH runs off.

Because why??? Why does everyone he cares about leave him, why does the entire world want him dead??? Even Shen-shixiong, somebody who cared for him, betrays him in the end. SQQ also gets word of LBH's return at around the same time and comes to hunt him down. In classic SQQ fashion, he only makes shit worse for Binghe, and LBH starts using Xin Mo like crazy.

When they get the word, YQY, SY, and LQG go running. SY learns about LBH being taken over by Xin Mo and asks LQG for a favor—go to my hidden lil mushroom grove and grab my spare body for me please? See, SY's physical ailments had him researching ways to clone himself and put himself in a better body. It's untested, but probably successful!! SY sends LQG to go get the body while himself and YQY and SQQ confront LBH.

During the battle, SQQ gets himself seriously wounded to protect Qi-ge. In a fit of fury, YQY unsheathes half of Xuan Su. LBH goes crazier as a response, and SY throws himself on the sword to save LBH from being eaten up by Xin Mo's power.

Believing he's killed the love of his life, LBH blue-screens. Unconsciously, he activates one of the most powerful skills the Dream Demon's taught him—Waking Dream. He plunges the entire mountain into a dream world of his own making. The world freezes, and everybody gets trapped inside LBH's world. They have no memory of this being a dream, but the few of the most powerful cultivators—LQG, SQQ, and YQY—plus the heart of the dream, SY, all manage to retain one critical piece of information.

As long as the owner of the dream dies, they can all be freed.

So in the dream, LBH becomes the Emperor, wielding all his forces to retain his power over his dream country. LQG, SQQ, YQY, and SY become assassins, all scheming to kill him.

YQY came the closest. He only has half of Xuan Su because Xuan Su is fundamentally bound to his life—half of the sword stayed outside in the real world with his body. Inside the dream, YQY and SQQ got to be lovers for years, and SQQ did not hate him. Upon sensing the boundaries of the dream, YQY could not bring himself to kill LBH and shatter the beautiful mirage.

If you die inside the dream, you die in real life—with one exception. If it's the owner of the dream who kills you, you get to go free.

That's what happened with LQG. LQG was still en route with the body, and SY didn't know if he'd make it. So SY was honest in the dream—had LQG remained in the dream with them, SY might really have allowed his baby bing to keep the dream going. He didn't want to hurt LBH with his own death. However, with LQG out of the dream, he knows LQG will probably make it on time with the body to save him. So he kills LBH and gets them all out.

The last scene is qijiu. SQQ is bed-bound. Nobody else has retained memories of the dream, only faint impressions. Only he and YQY know what happened.

SQQ demands to know why YQY refused to kill LBH. YQY explains, and the truth about Xuan Su also comes out. Happy ending happy ending.

SY of course survives. He gets a cool new body and apologizes sincerely for letting LBH get pushed into the Abyss. The plot has obviously changed in a major way already, and whatever happens from now on will just happen, it's fine. And LBH and LQG, his two favorite people in the world, will just have to get along. They'll all be best buds together hahahahahaha.

#hero AU #svsss #jesus christ this got long lkjfnlaksdjf #sv #but i think it works pretty darn well!!!!!#anon

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cicada-bones · 4 years

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 26: Death and Dreams

This was a fun one! Please forgive me for the angst at the beginning lol

I spent some time this week outlining the rest of the fic, and I found out that we are exactly two thirds of the way through what I have planned! Right now, I think we are going to end up with 38 or 39 chapters, so ive got at least twelve more to go. Crazy to think that there's still so much left in this story to tell!

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan sat up quickly, a gasp already trapped in his throat. It was early morning, and the small window was white with frozen mist, preventing him from seeing much of the fortress’ surroundings. Regardless, he could tell that dawn was still far off – Mala’s golden light distracted by the waking of far off lands – and neglecting theirs.

Rowan rubbed at his eyes, seeking a way to wipe away the images that still danced behind his lids. He had been ripped from sleep by a dream, by the same dream that had been torturing him all week.

A nightmare that was not a vision, but a memory. A memory of the night he had spent two centuries trying to forget, and now was running like a cold river through his mind, relentless and inescapable:

The wind was reluctant beneath his wing feathers, tossing and tumbling and chafing against his magic’s inescapable pull. It was cold, bitingly cold. But Rowan didn’t feel it, not through his already icy chest. Frozen not with cold, but with fear. With panic.

The familiar land of home teased at the edges of his vision, but the picturesque mountain vista was distorted, marred by black clouds and the smell of smoke. The ice coating Rowan’s heart began to crack, shattering glass exploding in his torso. Piercing and slicing as it went.

Rowan dove, his wings straining, his breaths sharp in his lungs as he rounded a corner and their hilltop rose before his eyes. And then his heart dropped completely out of his chest.

Their home was gone.

Destroyed. Eradicated. Burnt to dust and ashes.

Nothing was left. Not the cottage, nor the stables or pens. Their animals were slaughtered and left in the snow to rot. And the garden, Lyria’s precious, treasured blooms, had been trampled into the earth. Already withering.

The surrounding trees were alight with a forest fire that could have been burning for hours. Days, even. The ground was dusted with snow, but the thin coating hadn’t proved a hindrance to the flames that danced from branch to branch, wild and harsh and utterly indifferent.

Rowan’s feet pounded into the earth as he approached the ground, shifting in less than a second. And he was running.

Twigs snapped over his skin, ripping into his face. Beads of blood dripped down his cheeks, replacing the tears that could not come. One moment he was running, and the next, he was home.

Their cottage was a pile of ash and burnt wood. A pyre. But Rowan ran for it anyways, his hands digging into the remains desperately, ignoring the heat of the still-burning embers. Ignoring the truth that was staring him baldly in the face: nothing that had been in the cottage when it burned would have survived.

All of a sudden, Rowan collapsed. His knees gave way and he was sitting in the dirt. Sitting in the grave of his only home.

Her name bubbled up through him, burning and itching as it went. But his throat tightened, trapping the cry in his chest where is writhed and twitched. Pressing against his heart and lungs and throat until they ached.

It felt as though hours passed, but it must have only been seconds. Drops of blood appeared before his eyes, and it was a while before he realized that they were real, before he recognized their smell.

His eyes slowly began to focus through the haze, and they traced the pools of red over the ground, through the trampled snow, up to the crest of the hill and –

Rowan tore up the hill, a desperate hope clawing its way up his throat. His hands reached for the body curled atop the cliff face, his fingers trembling. But then her scent reached him. Her cold, empty, lifeless scent.

And Rowan felt his very essence leaking away, melting into the snow as what was left of the mating bond guttered, and fizzled out.

He was alone.

Rowan reached out tentatively, his fingers seeking to cradle Lyria’s face, to stroke her hair, one last time.

But then a frown crossed over his mouth, his face tightening. Lyria’s hair was brown, not gold. And her scent was a mixture of silk and ferns and rabbits’ fur – not this strange, bright, citrusy spice.

Confusion washed over the agony in his chest. Dulling it, and distracting him. The mountains began to fall away, darkening and disappearing in his periphery. The falling snow seemed to stall in mid-air, sparkling like captured stars. Caution slowed Rowan’s fingertips as they stretched that final inch to brush across the female’s face and turn her head towards him.

Aelin Galathynius’ cold blue eyes looked back at him, their golden core frozen solid. A hollow void. Wild no more.

The princess’ blood stained his hands, and it sunk into his skin like acid. Filling him with an infinite, boundless guilt. Aelin was dead, and it was his fault.

He’d brought her to Maeve, and she killed her. And Rowan watched.

But no – she was here, right before his eyes. Her hair was a ripple of golden silk on the pillow, each breath a wisp of delicate white fog into the cold air of the stone room. Aelin was alive and well.

But not for long, a cold voice in the back of his head interrupted. Not for long.

And Rowan couldn’t find any disagreement within himself.

For even if she survived her looming encounter with Maeve, afterwards, she would leave. Back to Adarlan, or Terrasen, or Eyllwe. Onto other dangers. And he probably would never see her again.

Rowan stood up from the bed, and the princess sighed and turned over, her arm spreading out into the empty space he left behind. He lit a fire in the hearth, opened the window, and launched himself into the night sky – seeking answers from the wind that he knew it could not give him.

It was almost as though the dream had been crafted specifically to torture him, to make every part of him writhe in discomfort.

Rowan was used to dreaming of Lyria, was accustomed to closing his eyes each evening and being tortured with her scent, her bloodstained fingers, her broken body. Her screams. But this, this…lack, was almost even worse.

He was supposed to dream of her, his lost love. Was supposed to feel that pain for every day, every second, until he was returned to her in the Afterworld. For that pain to be taken away, for it to be turned on its head in such a way, was a violation of that unwritten contract. Of the agreement he’d made with himself when he gave his life over to Maeve. And so the guilt gnawed at him, a hungry animal.

But then seeing Aelin’s face in death, and knowing it was his fault –

Rowan shuddered, choking on the image and swerving in midair as he temporarily lost his balance. Even just imagining that guilt was beyond his capabilities. He couldn’t be the death of her. He refused to be.

But that meeting was creeping up on them, drawing ever closer. Each day Aelin improved by leaps and bounds. She was a natural fighter, taking everything he threw at her in stride, and then some. Even Fenrys and Connall couldn’t compare to her.

Even so, Aelin had not even come close to reaching her full potential. The iron bars locked around her power had not weakened, Aelin had only gotten better at navigating around them. She now knew how to access small amounts of her gift, and could control and manipulate those small portions, but the vast majority remained inaccessible to her. Held under lock and key.

But it almost didn’t even matter. Aelin was powerful enough that even without access to her entire gift, she was nearly ready to meet Maeve. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Rowan cursed inwardly, and made to turn back to the fortress, the blackened sky only just beginning to pale into a navy blue.

He could feel the days pressing in on him, the end of his time with Aelin looming close. There was a part of him that wanted to make the most of that time, that tasted the remnants of her blood on his tongue and wanted to damn the consequences to hell. Aelin had claimed him as a friend – was there a chance that she wanted him in that other way as well?

But it was only a very small part. There was still that male- no, man, across the sea. The love that had sent her away. A steel-cotton-and-birchwood trace in her blood. And though his mark had been fading in her scent of late, the amethyst ring remained on her finger, a clear sign of her feelings.

No, she didn’t want him the way he wanted her. But that was fine. In actuality, it was probably for the best. Rowan didn’t know what he would do if she had decided to pursue him for anything more than friendship. Aelin was relentless when she wanted something, and Rowan’s self-control was far from faultless. And there were more significant things to separate them than a captain across the sea.

Rowan sailed through the window of their rooms, shifted, and settled into the chair before the worktable. He removed the blades from their concealed places in his vambraces, and studiously began to clean them. There was still at least an hour before the sun truly dawned, but there was no chance of Rowan going back to sleep.

He reached beneath the work table, his hand stretching into the compartment hidden just underneath, searching for his sharpening set. But then his fingers brushed past an unexpected object – something he hadn’t thought about in weeks.

Rowan pulled out the bundle and unrolled it on top of the table surface, revealing the knives he had confiscated from Aelin all those months ago. Most of them were in piss-poor condition, having been neglected for so long (and not having been of particularly great quality to begin with). But there was one that stood out.

It was silver, and though it was burnished with dirt, the metal was of good make. The edge was strong, though dull, and the handle was wrapped in a sturdy leather thong. It was a good, solid weapon. One that could remain useful years after weaker tools had succumbed to the pressure of time.

Rowan discarded the other blades, grabbed his felt cloth and sharpening rod, and set to work.

···

Soon, Aelin awoke and headed down to the kitchens to help with breakfast. Rowan went with her, thinking to grab some food before the kitchens filled with demi-Fae. On his way back up to his rooms however, Malakai found him.

The old male got right to the point. “Another body’s been found.” Rowan’s jaw locked, and a stone dropped into his stomach. “And there’s been a letter for you – it came with the courier this morning. She arrived just as I was about to go find you, so I thought I would deliver it for her.”

Malakai handed Rowan the letter, his eyes cold and hard, but Rowan knew that the aggression wasn’t directed towards him. This was the second body they had discovered this week, the other having been found three days earlier by Bas on his usual circuit. Rowan had forced Aelin to remain at Mistward that day to practice while he flew to the site to confirm Bas’ report, and to dispose of the body. But this time, he doubted he would be able to convince her to stay.

Rowan sighed and took the letter, recognizing the writing as Vaughn’s, but instead of opening it in the hallway he tucked it into a pocket in his tunic and turned his eyes back towards Malakai.

Without any further prompting, he launched into a description of the body’s location. It had been found by a sentry who belonged to a neighboring fortress to the south, far beyond any of the other sites. It had been spotted thirty-two miles directly southwest, just off the coast. Once the sentry returned, the commander at that fortress informed Malakai of the discovery.

Rowan only nodded at the male, who then jerked his head tersely in return and retreated back to the sentry station atop the battlement wall.

Each time Malakai arrived bearing news that yet another demi-Fae had been murdered it got harder. And now, it was the second time this very week. How many more would die before Rowan could figure out what the hell he was missing?

Rowan returned to his rooms in a daze, distractedly tearing open the report from Vaughn. It was short and to the point, as all Vaughn’s reports were. Apparently, Remelle, Benson, and Essar had arrived, and were now settling into the southwestern court to play diplomat and to spy for their queen – meaning that Vaughn was now on his way back to Doranelle.

Rowan set down the letter and sighed. Then began to gather up his many blades, and ready himself for a lengthy morning run.

···

Aelin had gotten even faster. Thirty-two miles – the farthest she had ever run. She had to push her Fae body to the limit, and yet they still made great time – it was still mid-morning when they arrived at the sea cliffs, where the body of the unknown demi-Fae was waiting for them.

Aelin stripped off her tunic, her chest heaving, forcing the white band she wrapped around her breasts to stretch and contract with each breath. Rowan averted his eyes, unbuttoning his own jacket while a delicate heat kissed his cheeks. He silently cursed at himself.

After they caught their breath, Rowan sent out a few feelers of wind, and they brought back impressions of pine and mist and birdsong…and a scent trail leading towards the shoreline. He and Aelin carefully approached the site, now close enough that Rowan didn’t even need his wind to scent the rotting corpse.

“Well, I can certainly smell him this time,” Aelin said wryly.

“This body has been rotting here longer than the demi-Fae from three days ago.” Rowan mused aloud. But then he regretted it when a spike of irritation struck him in Aelin’s scent. She definitely hadn’t forgiven him for leaving her behind earlier this week.

Rowan fully expected a sharp retort from the princess, scolding him for his protectiveness, but then the body of the demi-Fae came into view.

The ground around the body was torn up, the pine carpet full of gouges and hollows. There was a small stream just ahead, and even over its rushing, Rowan could clearly hear the buzzing of thousands of busy flies. All of which were hovering just above what appeared to be a heap of clothing piled behind a small boulder.

He approached the contorted form, swearing viciously as the smell began to overwhelm him. He leaned over to examine the male, forced to cover his mouth and nose with a forearm.

The demi-Fae’s face was twisted in horror, the obligatory dried blood oozing from the mouth, nostrils, and ears. The skin was wrinkled and dried as usual, but the clothes were perhaps more torn-up than others had been.

Aelin took a step forwards, her face twisted in disgust. “It has our attention and it knows it,” she said. “It’s targeting demi-Fae – either to send a message, or because they…taste good. But – ” Her voice cut off, her face becoming contemplative. “What if there’s more than one?”

Rowan’s brows raised in surprise. There had been moments where he had considered it, had though that the creature’s scent varied slightly between bodies. But he’d never been sure. And it had seemed even more unlikely that there were multiple overlooked and undetected creatures stalking the countryside.

Aelin moved to stand behind him, her scent filling with a nauseated horror. But as always, she didn’t let it overwhelm her.

“You’re old as hell,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “You must have considered that we’re dealing with a few of them, given how vast the territory is. What if the one we saw in the barrows wasn’t even the creature responsible for these bodies?”

Rowan narrowed his eyes, and gave her a shallow nod. She could very well be right – most land-locked predators didn’t have a hunting range beyond fifteen square miles, and the creature had killed over an area far closer to a hundred.

“Rowan,” Aelin’s worried tone pulled him from his train of thought. “Rowan, tell me you see what I’m seeing.” She swatted at the flies uselessly, her gaze fixed on the male’s hands, where you could just see –

Rowan cursed, crouching to get a closer look. There were small cuts along the palms, as if he had dug in his fingernails. Rowan used the tip of a blade to push back a bit of clothing torn at the collar. “This male – ”

“Fought.” Aelin interrupted. “He fought back against it. None of the others did, according to the reports.” She squatted beside him, holding out a hand for Rowan’s dagger.

He hesitated for a moment, but then her eyes met his, and he pressed the hilt into her open palm. Only for the afternoon.

Her lips twitched as she grabbed the dagger, seeming to tease him right back. I know, I know. I haven’t earned my weapons back yet. Don’t get your feathers ruffled.

Her gaze left his before he could respond, prematurely cutting off their silent conversation. Rowan snarled at her. He only got a quiet amusement in response.

Aelin carefully advanced towards the rotting forearm, gently running the tip of the dagger underneath the male’s cracked nails, and then smearing the contents on the back of her own hand.

A stain of oily black.

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, leaning over her outstretched hand and sniffing the strange substance. He jerked back automatically, snarling. The smell…it was as though the stench coating the bodies had been distilled, condensed into solid form. And it was fouler than anything Rowan had ever smelled before. “That’s not dirt.”

Possibilities raced through his mind, each seeming less likely than the last. But that night-black oil…it couldn’t be blood.

“This isn’t possible.” Aelin jerked to her feet, her hands shaking slightly as she started to pace, all of a sudden filled with a manic energy. “This – this – this – ” her words came out in a stutter, and Rowan found himself rising slowly and carefully, forcing himself to press down on the panic that filled his own body at the sight of Aelin so frantic.

“I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” The words didn’t seem to be directed at him, and instead Aelin was wrapped up in her own thoughts. No – her memories.

“Tell me,” Rowan growled, unable to wait any longer.

Aelin raised her eyes to meet his, her face tight. She moved to rub her eyes, but then seemed to remember the black oil still marking her skin, and went to wipe them on her shirt. Only then remembering that she wasn’t wearing one – only the breast band.

Her face twisted, and she crouched and ran her fingers in the stream, then rose and provided Rowan with an explanation. What she told him, astounded him.

Aelin had been holding out even more than he had suspected.

She told him of a creature, discovered in the catacombs beneath a library, within the very palace where she had been held captive for so many months. A beast with black blood and talons and a mutilated face – a demon with a human heart. Created, and held, beneath a clock tower made of Wyrdstone.

She told him of Wyrdmarks, of learning a language by firelight with the help of a friend, Nehemia, each word aching with the pain of her loss. Of how she had used the marks to contain the demon while she had killed it, cutting it to pieces right before the eyes of the crown prince.

She told him of the Wyrdkeys. And of the information that Maeve was holding hostage. Information that was necessary to stop a king who already possessed at least one of these keys, and was using it to create these demons. Targeting those with magic in their blood to be their hosts.

“The demon beneath the clock tower had been left there because of some defect, some flaw.” Aelin said, “But what if there were others, a new version that had been perfected?”

She shook with cold, her eyes cast to the ground, and Rowan sent a warm breeze her way. Wrapping the air around her like a silken ribbon, and erasing the gooseflesh that coasted her arms and stomach.

Rowan’s thoughts were twisting and contorting, but he held his face steady. This was the information he’d been missing. The connection that allowed the pieces to fall into place. He remembered the man Namonora had shown him, the man with the tale of a lethal darkness emerging from across the sea…

“How did it get here?” he asked.

Aelin shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. But that smell – I’ll never forget that smell as long as I live. Like it had rotted from the inside out, its very essence ruined.”

Rowan began to pace. “But it retained some cognitive abilities. And whatever this is, it must have them, too, if it’s dumping the bodies.”

“Demi-Fae…they would make perfect hosts, with so many of them able to use magic and no one in Wendlyn or Doranelle caring if they live or die. But these corpses – if he wanted to kidnap them, why kill them?”

“Unless they weren’t compatible,” Rowan said. “And if they weren’t compatible, then what better use for them than to drain them dry?”

“But what’s the point of leaving the bodies where we can find them? To drum up fear?”

Rowan ground his jaw, stalking through the torn-up earth as if the ground would provide them with the answers they sought. But the dirt was only dirt.

“Burn the body, Aelin,” Rowan said, removing the sheath and belt that had housed the dagger still dangling from her hand and tossing them to her. She caught them easily. “We’re going hunting.”

···

Even when Rowan shifted into his other form, and circled high above, they found nothing. No trace of the creature, or of anyone at all, for that matter. This area wasn’t very densely habited – most of the local farmers inhabited an area farther down the coast.

As the light grew dim, they climbed up into the biggest, densest tree Rowan could find with several square miles, and they squeezed together onto a massive branch, huddled against the cold. Rowan hadn’t brought supplies for an overnight trip, and even with the coverage provided by the thick pine boughs, any fire would be seen for miles.

Aelin complained, petitioning to be allowed to summon even just a flicker of flame. But Rowan only pointed out that there was no moon that night, and as they had just proven – worse things than skinwalkers prowled these woods.

Instead of giving her space to grumble any further, Rowan asked her to explain more about the creature she’d encountered in the library, for her to detail its every strength and weakness. She told him readily, but nothing much stood out.

The creatures were strong, difficult to kill. Without the weaknesses of mortals, and with many of the benefits of immortal ones. As she spoke, Rowan pulled out one of the longer of his knives and began to clean it, more out of a desire to use the task to focus his own attention, than out of actual necessity.

“Do you think I was mistaken?” Aelin asked softly, “About the creature, I mean.”

Rowan turned away from her in order to pull his shirt over his head, and access the blades strapped to the skin beneath. He almost felt as though he could feel Aelin’s attention on him, could feel the slight pressure of her gaze on his back.

But when he turned back to face her, her eyes were fixed to his face. Still, the ghost of a smile marked his expression as he said, “We’re dealing with a cunning, lethal predator, regardless of where it originated and how many there are.” He grasped the small dagger that had been strapped over his left pectoral, and began to thoroughly wipe it down. “If you were mistaken, I’d consider it a blessing.”

Aelin leaned back against the tree trunk, her scent filling with exhaustion and dejection as she fell into her own thoughts.

Rowan let her be, instead turning to the familiar ritual of preparation. He systematically worked his way through his collection of blades, and then used the water skin to rinse his hands, neck, and chest, cleaning them of sweat and grime. Every now and again, feeling that faint pressure of Aelin’s watchful eyes.

He told himself that it didn’t mean anything, that she was looking at him simply because he was something to look at – an object in her field of vision. Her scent told him nothing, and so he dismissed those unwanted voices in his mind that thought that maybe, she was watching him for a different reason.

But still, the pressure felt…nice. It felt good to be looked at by her. To be seen.

Rowan pulled his shirt back on and settled his body against the trunk, his side pressing comfortably into Aelin’s. They sat in the dark quietly for a while until Aelin said, “You once told me that when you find your mate, you can’t stomach the idea of hurting them physically. Once you’re mated, you’d sooner harm yourself.”

Rowan turned to face her, the gold in her eyes glinting softly in the faint light. Her expression was unreadable. “Yes; why?”

“I tried to kill him. I mauled his face, then held a dagger over his heart because I thought he was responsible for Nehemia’s death. I would have done it if someone hadn’t stopped me. If Chaol – ” her voice broke off. “If he’d truly been my mate, I wouldn’t have been able to do that, would I?”

Rowan hesitated. He wanted to say no, that he didn’t think that Chaol was her mate. The man’s scent was fading from her blood, each day growing fainter and fainter. And it didn’t sit in that deep, essential place where Fae carried the scents of their mates.

No, the captain was a passing note in Aelin’s life, small and irrelevant. But the amethyst ring still glittered on Aelin’s finger, a reminder of the man who still held her heart. And Rowan wasn’t sure that Aelin wanted to hear that the man wasn’t hers to claim. Love could be a hard thing to let go of, regardless of how blatantly its falseness stared you in the face.

So instead Rowan said, “You hadn’t been in your Fae form for ten years, so perhaps your instincts weren’t even able to take hold. Sometimes, mates can be together intimately before the actual bond snaps into place.”

“It’s a useless hope to cling to, anyway.”

“…Do you want the truth?”

Aelin only tucked her chin into her tunic and closed her eyes. “Not tonight.”

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#the warrior and the embers #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin #rowan pov

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

10x07: Girls, Girls, Girls

A woman runs down an alley, clearly escaping someone --or something. She’s eventually found by the man pursuing her. She stabs him in the eye, but that doesn’t slow him down. He flashes black eyes and snaps her neck.

Sam and Dean are enjoying a meal and no case on the horizon. Dean’s phone keeps blowing up with alerts, so Sam grabs it and sees Dean’s joined a dating app. Impala67, lol. Sam is having the TIME OF HIS LIFE, and thinks the woman that Dean is pursuing is a little too available. “Is it so hard to believe that an attractive, red-blooded, American female could be interested in someone like me?”

Sam’s proven wrong when Shaylee shows up and Dean takes off with her on his arm.

Castiel is still working with Hannah on finding rogue angels. She suddenly strips right in front of Cas. It makes our bumbling, awkward angel spontaneously combust with embarrassment and confusion.

His little huff and awkward casualness about her nakedness is --hearts. Also, how he just hangs on to the laptop with one hand like it’s nothing is somehow very pleasing.

Dean, meanwhile, is slightly bummed to find out that Shaylee is really a prostitute.

And she’s not just any prostitute. She doesn’t want money--she wants his soul. You picked the wrong mark, girl!

Hannah gets a visit from her vessel’s husband.

Back at Dean’s motel room, the demon shows up for Dean’s soul, but he’s greeted by both Winchesters --and a devil’s trap. They learn there’s an entire brothel somewhere before Shaylee stabs the demon with an angel blade. The dude was carrying a card of where the brothel is located --so lucky them!

At Raul’s Club, Raul and another dude are ---OMG ROWENA. Yep, she wanders in and they tell her that they’re not hiring and she’s too old (sigh). She tells him she would never do business with filth like him and throws a hex bomb at him.

Raul dies a most horrific and perfect death. Rowena then invites the girls for a bit of food.

Hannah talks with Joe about why Caroline disappeared. Joe wants answers. Hannah struggles with finding an adequate way of explaining Caroline’s absence. Castiel walks in the room then and things get even MORE awkward. Joe asks if they’re together --which Hannah doesn’t get right away, but realizes that’s the best way to explain things, and grabs Cas’s hand.

Joe doesn’t believe it. “This guy?” Um, that guy is probably on A LOT of people’s cheat lists. Just sayin’, Joe. But Joe knows his wife, and knows deep down that it is false. Hannah kisses Cas to prove her point.

Sam and Dean find the chaos left in Rowena’s wake.

Rowena brings her new charges to a fancy restaurant, and they are prompt asked to leave due to their sartorial choices. Rowena casts a spell to keep the wait staff in order. The girls ask her how she did it. “Magic.”

Gerald, the demon that wasn’t Raul, reports back to Crowley and spills that they opened the brothel. He wanted Crowley to know about what the powerful witch did.

Sam does his research on the demon killing spell. It turns out to have not been used in over 300 years and it’s only been used by the witch who created it, Rowena. (SMART LASS.)

Rowena explains witches to her new friends. She talks of being a natural witch, and how the Grand Coven kicked her out. She’s been on the run and in hiding. Now she’s ready to fight, and is looking for witches to train. The girls wonder when they can start their training. Rowena sees the waiter go up in red fire and they make a bee line out of the restaurant.

A demon wakes up in a trap and immediately starts hurling insults at an unseen captor. When the captor comes into view, we learn that it’s Ass Hat and he’s after Dean. I didn’t remember that Ass Hat was in this episode! I DEMAND A REFUND.

At a gas station, Hannah and Cas share an awkward conversation. Hannah is perturbed by the confrontation with her vessel’s husband. She’s feeling, more specifically, plagued with guilt. Cas consoles her and tells her that the “affair” gave him a reason to walk away. He then speaks of Jimmy Novak, and how he took him away from his family - twice. But “the mission comes first. Always.”

Dean investigates the waiter’s death and catches a lead: there were two sex workers in the restaurant who came in with another woman. Meanwhile, Sam researches mysterious deaths at fancy hotels. The brains were all boiled, just like the waiter’s.

For Calming Scenery Science:

Cas trails Hannah to a quiet bridge. She apologizes to him but she won’t go with him to track down any more angels. Hannah is horrified to experience an echo of the sacrifice humans have made to become vessels that allow angels to walk the earth. “It’s time to put [humans] first,” she says. Working with Cas, she felt human things. “Passions. Hungers.” (Me: eyebrow waggle) When she was confronted by Caroline’s husband, she felt their pain. She kisses Cas on the cheek and says goodbye.

Caroline wakes up in his arms. It’s time to go home.

At a swanky hotel, there’s a knock on Rowena’s door. She rustles up her troops to cast her spellwork and opens the door for a hotel employee. Unfortunately, that employee is already MEGA dead. Two demons step inside.

We cut to Rowena captured and her protégés destined for doom, when the Winchesters intercept them. They dispatch the two demons quickly and then circle in on Rowena. She lobs a spell at her blonde minion and drags away the other woman as the blonde shrieks. Her eyes bulge red and she launches herself at the Winchesters with superhuman force.

Outside, the other woman confronts Rowena, who explains that she used an attack dog spell to create a decoy to stall the Winchesters.

The other woman is entirely uninterested in being Rowena’s gal pal after that, and punches her. Rowena’s about to hex the ever loving stuffing out of her, when Dean interrupts. He’s got a gun pointed at Rowena! Rowena smiles because behind Dean...is Dumbass, who has a gun pointed at DEAN. Dumbass compels Dean to free Rowena, who flees merrily.

Dean apologizes to One Entire Butt, but he’s not having it. Dean explains that he was only a demon TEMPORARILY. One Entire Butt concludes that Dean is a monster through and through (demon or no demon) and they fight.

Sam hides out in the hotel room while the woman under the attack dog spell pounds frantically at the door. She pounds and pounds and pounds until...she just stops. Sam opens the door and she falls down, dead.

Dean defeats Worm Guts and insists that they talk it out. He gives him the monster talk. It turns out that Dean remembers every detail of that kill and how Worm Gut’s father was out murdering people and eating livers. Dean retells that evening until Sam arrives. There’s another gun standoff with twitchy Worm Gut before Sam finally lowers his weapon. Worm Gut experiences emotions while trying to reconcile what he just heard with his memory of the past.

Dean has one last revelation to drop. “I get it. That was your story. Look, man, I got one of those, too. Okay, but those stories that we tell to keep us going? Man, sometimes they blind us. ...The people who love me, they pulled me back from that edge. ...Now, the truth is I'm past saving. I know how my story ends. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun.” DEAN WINCHESTER SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

Sam chimes in, urging Sack of Raw Eggs to go back home to his family. Dean gets his gun back though so, yay?

Caroline arrives home and knocks on the door. She reunites with her husband while Cas sits alone in his rain soaked car.

Cas opens up his laptop and looks up Jimmy Novak on the web - he’s still marked as missing after all these years. Cas bby.

Sam confronts Dean after Slime Mold takes off. Did he really mean all the sad things he said about himself? OF COURSE NOT, Dean tells him. He is FINE and has always had a healthy self image!

For Brooding Boys Science:

Cut to Crowley who’s being escorted by a minion to someone in a holding cell. The camera pans down to show ROWENA. She smiles at Crowley from her shackles and lobs barbs his way. The camera zooms in on an utterly gobsmacked Crowley.

“Mother?” he asks. And we fade to black.

QUOTER???!!!

Nice screen name, Dean. Impala67

Who knows what a soul is, really?

Hardly the most appetizing process in the world, but killing demons always makes me hungry

Screw the grand coven and their silly rules

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 10x07 #girls girls girls #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #crowley #rowena macleod #hannah #cole for ts #supernatural season 10

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shepherds-of-haven · 4 years

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whats something that the shepherds would always get excited to hear/talk about? do each of them have something they could practically give a lecture on, they like it so much?

Blade: combat... battle strategies... war... He’s always very excited (and exacting) to train people and help their battle skills improve!

Trouble: he’ll launch into a discussion of guns if you’re bringing it up a lot, but the thing he could really talk your ear off about is airships and all the stuff they’re doing in the West!

Tallys: definitely herbs, ways to grow them, different uses for them, and etc.!

Shery: you can sort of see this in the game, but she gets very animated and long-winded when discussing Haven’s history and especially the history of the Shepherds’ compound. Also, baking!

Riel: god don’t get me started he’s an expert on all kinds of things that he’s more than happy to talk to you about, though he’s pretty much always perceptive enough to realize when he’s boring somebody, so he rarely prattles on. He could go on and on about history, political treaties, trade agreements, his different inventions, strategic games, body language analysis, different operas, you name it...

Chase: he typically doesn’t talk on and on about any one subject (unless you count making up stories about himself and his exploits), but he enjoys teaching people things like lockpicking!

Red: magic. traveling (the magical kind). other worlds. you can see this in the game but everyone around him is pretty much sick to death of hearing about it gdlfkgfd

Ayla: she likes talking about her travels across the land and all the strange and foreign places she’s seen. It’s pretty much a surefire way to get her talking, because she’s normally pretty laconic otherwise!

Briony: she likes talking about what’s going on around her (so like the state of so-and-so’s mother, who had pneumonia but is getting better, and how blah blah is looking for a gift for blah #2 for their anniversary, and etc.), or what she’s reading at the moment, which could be a variety of subjects. Other than that, she doesn’t have a subject she can give a lecture on because she lost her memories. There’s battle magic, but she doesn’t like to go on and on about it. She is very interested in sailing and seafaring and pirates, but doesn’t quite know why!

Lavinet: court gossip LOL. oh, she could go on and on for days giving the tea on all these different people... all the juicy things she knows...

#Shepherds of Haven #talking #talk #romance options #anon

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f-117-nighthawk · 3 years

Text

I’m in a Playlist Mood

I was scrolling through my dark matter tag looking for something I made a while ago to reference in the next chapter of Carry Me Home and ran across my last playlist explanation post. It put me in the mood to think about this again, and I’ve added...a lot. The playlist might’ve actually doubled in length since then (Thank You Abyss) and I’ve moved some stuff around in order. So, more playlist meta under the cut (it’s LONG)

So first thing: I’ve actually created two new playlists (well, one new one and actually made the third playlist have more than two tracks) since that post jhadsfljd. Working forwards in time (kinda), we have:

Dark Matter: The Road to Ruin

The Road to Ruin is the Main Playlist, the thing I use to write to, the thing I lie in bed and listen to to think up new things, and half the thing that keeps the timeline in place (it’s actually more updated than World Anvil rn whoops). Here we have overarching plot hooks, character development, and the story of six Paladins and their friends trying to save the universe.

Turn the Lights Out I sort of explained in the last post and I can’t think of too much more to add. The TLDR is it’s about the Lions (and, well, technically [REDACTED] too....) and sort of why I refer to a fully-melded Lion-Paladin duo as Spirits.

(I was here/Will you welcome and recognize me/I'll be there/I was here/Will you dread me, will you despise me/I'll be there/For the last living thing)

Remnants of Stars is again about Galran philosophy and the actual process of the quintessence nurseries filtering quintessence back into the universe. But the bit about giving in to know the truth becomes important much, MUCH later.

(As children of space/With stardust in our veins/We will give in to know the truth/We are the remnants of stars)

Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds are about [REDACTED], about what happens between that instant between the first plank time and the next. They’re an overarching theme, but also the event that everything else builds from, whether that be interpreted as the beginning of the universe or the Voltron comet crashing into Daibazaal.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Apocalypse 1992 is actually the main story of Through Apocalypse Skies, although its framing story is shortly after String Theory. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

You Keep What You Kill covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won't be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They'd fall to Earth to grant a child's dream/But I'm still waiting)

Starlight is the newly added Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I'll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I'll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I'll fall in love with you again)

Abyss is Awakenings again. It’s specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I'm surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It's not in my mind/It's here at my side/Go tell the world that I'm still alive)

The End of the Beginning and Nobody Gets Left Behind are the aftermath of the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula, the end of season two. The End of the Beginning hasn’t been posted yet, but it’s also the second of the four Closure fics. The End of the Beginning also has influence on String Theory.

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I'm caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

(Don't even try to pretend/That you're rough and just as tough/As when you're missing a friend/Attack and take him back/Cause when the team isn't whole/You've got a hole in your soul)

A Simple Plan is sort of part of The End of the Beginning, but really takes place after it. It’s the newly shuffled Team Voltron attempting to track down Lotor as Haggar tries to keep him under her control, and the new Black Paladin’s slow shift away from the things that he was pushed into and to the Blade. (And... guess what... it has influence on String Theory!) Fun fact I found out recently: The Spiritual Machines are by and large also the people behind Les Friction, which explains so much.

(What is this space we’re climbing/What is this place we’re stuck in/Why do we feel we’re sinking/How do we get out – get out of this)

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met skips all the way over Naxzela and to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter.

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can't see your face but I'm trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven't met yet who's wished upon the Pleiades?)

TRIALS (reimagine) and String Theory are.... hoh boy. [REDACTED], [spoilers], and the turning point for a lot of things, which is why it has the honor of being the separating fic between my two main Dark Matter folders. TRIALS being on here is a fun story, because I associate that song very heavily with my main Star Wars fics, since that’s where the series title comes from, but the reimagine version of it gave me such strong Dark Matter vibes, it ended up here. It has heavy influence on the first part of String Theory, and is what I’ve been using for general pacing of the first half. String Theory itself isn’t the weirdest song on the playlist, but it’s really hard to find the connections to it without several layers of abstraction and backstory on [REDACTED]. String Theory is also weaved into a good chunk of fics before it.

(The ending won't be forgotten/It's written in the stars and the hieroglyphs/Sending the lionhearted/The stones break bones, but we're venomous)

(You don't believe in space/You don't believe in light/You don't believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We're never going anywhere we've never been before)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! (Rise Against says it’s about parenting???? lol fuck that) (okay but actually, switch the parental love part to sibling love/general familial love and that’s a pretty good description....)

(So I'll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we're up in flames/I'd burn here if that's what it takes/To let you know I won't let go of you)

Belgrade is the klance song! It is a) bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to be bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction as far as I know. Belgrade also leads almost directly into...

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it's time to move on/When there's nothing left to prove/I'm coming to get you)

Iron is what eventually replaced Ten Thousand Against One. The plot has actually changed a lot since it was that song like. two years ago (three?) at this point. It has more of a focus on Keith knowing what’s going on due to [spoilers] and coming to accept parts of himself that are suddenly very obvious (kiiiinda the third closure fic?)

(You can't live without the fire/It's the heat that makes you strong/'Cause you're born to live/And fight it all the way/You can't hide what lies inside you/It's the only thing you know/You're embracing that, never walk away)

Birthright and Firewall are not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it. They’re actually largely about Lotor, but then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall after Galraasa meets their fate, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can't take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Closure is placed where the fourth of its fics is. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Ember and Soulbound are two closely related missions involving both Voltron and the Blade (specifically the Dark Whispers) in which [REDACTED] comes in with a vengeance, and some revelations about certain people’s fates are had. Soulbound is actually sort of from Krolia’s perspective.

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don't drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

Darker Matter and Other Worlds Than These are. Well. [REDACTED] and [spoilers] and String Theory’s revelations rearing their ugly head once again, but this time with extra context and just a little bit of [spoiler]

(Dream yourself away/The pull of you shredding time and space)

(There are monsters in the sky/There are demons in the sea/I have seen them with my eyes/I've seen what you won't see/Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won't shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is a fun one. The combined effects of String Theory, Soulbound, and Darker Matter/Other Worlds Than These come to a head and Team Voltron goes, well, hunting.

(She's been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter's coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she's slain the gods before)

My Darkest Hour is revenge for Godhunter, as well as a distraction from it, although Godhunter continues all the way to Louder than Words.

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

Faster Than Light is almost direct aftermath of My Darkest Hour, and sort of the inverse of Godhunter, where now Team Voltron are the hunted, even as they attempt to continue hunting. Oh and, Marzin and [REDACTED] are big parts

(Once more we're flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can't outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It's plain to see she's coming for us all)

The Reckoning, This is a Call, World on Fire, The Wind that Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words are the finale, what everything has been building towards. Earth’s faction, Haggar, [REDACTED], Voltron, the Empire, and the Coalition, all clash together in a final desperate bid to finish or prevent the final result of Your World Will Fail/Dark Matter/Eater of Worlds.

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We'll see the day of reckoning)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

Dystopian Fiction

Dystopian Fiction is focused on what happens on Earth during the main playlist. I split it out because putting stuff like Cross the Line on the main playlist was getting clunky, and I figure Adam and Veronica (and the rest of the Paladins’ families, but mostly those two) deserve a chance for their story to shine on its own.

Dark Matter is on here because title track, but also it does end up with effects.

(Don't stop, don't think/Move up, don't blink now/On your knees pray for rain/Don't breathe when you take your aim)

Codebreaker is Adam’s song! I have him primarily as a cryptologist for the Garrison, teaching on the side and as a reserve pilot. Aviators says Codebreaker is actually about Cyperpunk 2077 but uhhh Fuck That it’s about Adam being The Best and dealing with...

(Codebreaker can't you find/Can you read between the lines of code?/Tell me all that you know/How far down the hole does it all go)

Cross the Line is the Éskhayklos’ image song. They’re a neo-luddite movement turned terrorist group that are upset with the way the Sol Federation is trying to fix Earth, stating that humans are the one that pushed it into this state, they should leave it to die and die along with it. Akane Shirogane was their worst nightmare. Cross the Line fits because, well, they crossed the line when [spoiler beep] and they were happy about it. (And “human cause” comes into play later when they pick up anti-alien leanings)

(Cross the line, redefine, break away unbent, unafraid/Together we stand in the dark/Seeking the light and what is right, together we cross the line/Our journey will come to an end and then our human cause will be/Justified)

Who Will Save You Now here is about Sam, and the aftermath of Here to Save You, in addition to its referenced role in the main playlist

(Alone with this vision/Alone and blind/Go tell the world I'm still alive)

The Day the Earth Collapsed is exactly what it says on the tin.

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Dystopian Fiction is the title track for this part. With the events of The Day the Earth Collapsed, the Garrison and our heroes on Earth are at their lowest point. It really is a piece of dystopian fiction, between [spoiler] and [spoiler]. And also: “Nobody can shoot me down, not just yet” is about Adam bc Fuck Canon

(I'm a dead man/In the wasteland/I'm a soldier fighting for superstition/Under search lights/In the long nights/We've been written like dystopian fiction)

The Reckoning is the only one of its little subset that made it over here, because it’s the only one that references events from before its eponymous fic (both verses are Very Earth)

(We're all alone, walking in twilight/The night has been long and so many have fallen/Feel no remorse, light will be breaking/Our freedom is worth it all)

Filaments

Filaments is the least complete, mostly because it’s the ‘sequel series’ of sorts. I have ideas for it, but I still haven’t posted most of the major story beats from the main portion of Dark Matter, so I’ve been purposefully putting it on the backburner. I do have enough to write Carry Me Home and put some foreshadowing in other fics.

Dark Matter is here because, well. A) Title track, B) yes, it still has effects. It’s the overarching theme, after all. Filaments sort of has a subtitle itself, which is ‘The Undoing,’ after the other part of the lyric that the subtitle of the main playlist comes from. It’s about undoing a past mistake (that wasn’t obviously a mistake until much later) and reconciling the events of Your World Will Fail.

(I am the keeper/I am the secret/I am the answer/I am the end)

Filaments is the title track of this part. It’s... a little hard to explain why without giving away the entire plot (what little I have planned lol) but it’s about the connections between different parts of the universe, and some fall-out of Darker Matter/Other Worlds Than These.

(These glowing filaments/Conducting this enchanting/Sarcophagus that's holding us)

Starlight is, again, Adashi song, and this time the happy part

(Don't leave me lost here forever/I need your starlight and pull me through/Bring me back to you)

Carry Me Home is what I’m in the process of writing right now, and it’s about the aftermath of the Quintessence War, specifically about how Shiro decides to settle down on Earth and what he does to build himself a home.

(Carry me home to the morning light/carry me home before you wave me goodbye/Oh, carry me home...)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #wow it's 2am #i spent like three hours on this #playlist #enjoy the spotify links #i really did not realize just how much I've added to the playlist this year #it's abyss's fault #i just. really love the playlist #it is my masterpiece #my brother makes fun of me for this but like #you DON'T make super complicated playlists for stories??#i reiterate i really really love this thing #anyway i should. sleep #i mean the semester is over i cn stay up till two but that doesn't mean it's wise #can't wait for me to finally post everything so i can gush about the playlist without smatterings of [REDACTED] tags when it shows up #DM Playlists

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