#cw: fighting

[simmyfrobby]

was feeling a little bit frustrated w the NHL's approach to traumatic head injuries and then i stumbled across some old george parros pictures on getty images and like..

oh yeah true..

[scorchieart]

Second to None

Characters: Belle, Chevalier Michel, Clavis Lelouch, Nokto Klein, Luke Randolph

Genres: Action, Suspense

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: This is a quick fic based on @the12thnightproject's Reverse Ask Game challenge! I chose 7 of Spades, and my prompt was “No Beta we die liek men.” I had the idea for this story sitting in my mind for months, ever since I started really craving Chevalier's faction to hang out more, and today was finally the day to execute it. True to form, I set a pomodoro timer for 3 hours and worked straight on this story with zero backtracking. I only quickly read it once over to check for grammatical & spelling errors (I hope I caught them all, those keep me up at night) but the rest is pure, raw Scorchie-brain. I only ask that you don't think differently of me after reading this, though I completely understand if you do...

Warnings: Fighting, mild descriptions of injuries, unedited work.

I tripped on the last step and met a facefull of gravel. I considered myself fortunate that I did not wear glasses, but in my current situation, the fact I wasn’t knocked out cold was a blessing.

Making sure I wasn’t bleeding—a blood trail was the last thing I needed right now—I picked myself up and ran in the direction of the forest. The stables would be too obvious for someone making an escape, and the palace grounds were crawling with soldiers and guards whose loyalties I did not have the luxury of time to decipher. I prayed no one would consider the looks-like-she’s-running-for-her-life woman grounds for suspicion as I swerved off the cobblestone path onto grass that grew grungier the farther I went.

Night frost and thorns pricked my skin as I burst through a patch of gangly rose bushes into the forest, but I didn’t dare stop and catch breath. My heart pounded louder in my ears with each hulking tree, looking more monstrous and mangled than the last. I think I heard an owl hooting from above, but my gaze was preoccupied with making sure I didn’t trip on anything else. I’d read about adrenaline sharpening senses while dulling others in the moment, but this is the first time I’d ever experienced it firsthand. Even if I couldn’t rely on my ears, at least my eyes were working overtime. And I could definitely do without the pain in my no-doubt twisted ankle slowing me down.

Roots and leaves, I told myself, just avoid the roots and leaves. I jutted my head in so many directions to avoid so many crisscrossing branches I was surprised it didn’t fly off my neck. Perhaps it was because my shoulders remained immovably stiff since I hightailed it out of the castle, but frozen muscles were a natural reaction to that lot chasing after you. 

That insatiable lot and their thunderstruck faces all trained on you at once. I’d sooner fall face first into a giant cauldron full of sizzling gravel than wish to encounter them again. But runaways can never count on their wishes coming true.

Perhaps it was the cacophony of crunching leaves beneath my feet. Or that incessant owl hooting overhead. Or the fact that my attention was solely focused on advancing deeper without looking back. Whatever the reason, I was spotted. And I was wholly unprepared for what followed. One moment I was pushing a bramble of spiderweb-encrusted twigs from my path, and in the next I expelled the entirety of my breath out of my lungs in one go, my back knocked hard against the base of a tree, and numbing stars and a flash of red invaded my vision.

“Give it back,” a burly voice breathed onto my face. The overwhelming odor of honey and sweat punched my nose harder than the words. It seemed as though smell was my dominant sense at this time. 

I wriggled my legs in an attempt to kick him away, but Luke surprisingly maneuvered his massive body to avoid most of the blows. The ones he couldn’t avoid hit him softly in the chest, as though they were little more than the beating of a butterfly’s wings. He didn’t get any closer, though, like he was waiting for me to tire and give in to his demands. But I wasn’t going to succumb that easily. As soon as my vision fixed to focus again, I would make a run for it. But just as I could start to make out the frenzied features on his face, a new smell entered the scene: the crisp, tart aroma of freshly plucked vetiver.

I managed to roll onto my side just before Luke was shoved straight into the tree trunk. My entire body vibrated with rising dread as Chevalier grabbed a fistful of Luke’s cherry hair and pulled his body to face him. Flakes of bark chips stuck to Luke’s face as he glared back at his leader, and his angry huffing intensified with each passing second.

“I was here first,” growled Luke, wrapping his hands around Chevalier’s wrist and yanking it off. Chevalier only spared me a passing glance as Luke slowly rose to his feet and reached for his sword.

“If we are ranking validity by seniority, then I have you beat, Jumbo. I had been sitting in the office long before any of your arrivals.” Chevalier cleanly unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Luke.

“And since when did sitting on your lazy behind count as seniority?” Luke spat as the two began to circle each other. The section of forest we occupied could hardly be called a clearing, and my heart stuck in my throat at the thought of the damage they could do if they actually began to fight. I primed my knees and followed their movements, desperate to find an opening to escape before it all went down.

“That hardly constitutes a retort, coming from you,” snorted Chevalier. His eyes locked briefly with mine, a silent command of “I will deal with you later,” but I quickly turned away and focused back on the gallowing trees surrounding us. Just a second… one second is all I’ll need to slip away.

But my pleas were ignored. Luke kicked the ground and lunged at Chevalier, thrusting his sword directly toward his heart. Chevalier effortlessly sidestepped and punched Luke in the gut, sending him tumbling backward, coughing and sputtering. But Luke quickly recovered and launched again, this time aiming his swing for Chevalier’s head. With perfect timing, Chevalier ducked and jabbed the hilt of his sword again into Luke’s stomach, but instead of backing up, Luke released his own sword and wrapped his arms around Chevalier’s neck, bringing him to the ground with his superior weight as they fell.

This was my chance. I steeled my knees and grabbed the nearest trunk to me for support. Chevalier repeatedly rammed his elbow into Luke’s chest only a few paces beside me, and though it looked like Luke possessed the strength of a boa constrictor encapturing his prey, I could see his hold slipping as Chevalier persisted his attacks. I began inching away, my hand plastering to any tree I passed like a lifeline, my eyes glued to the struggle I left behind. I would only allow myself to tear away from the sight as soon as I could be sure they hadn’t noticed my departure, but just when I had passed my seventh tree trunk, a new contender entered the ring.

It was as though what I had been watching previously moved in slow motion. In an instant, something shifted in the trees behind the brawling pair, swift and nimble like an autumn gale. Branches and leaves shook in its wake, and the once hyper-focused Luke diverted his attention to the sound. Chevalier snatched the chance to give a final push and disentangle himself, knocking Luke out in the process, but as he reached to retrieve his sword, he was seized once more, this time from behind.

Nokto’s silver hair gleamed ominously in the pale moonlight as Chevalier stood, the younger prince’s arms firmly wrapped around his shoulders. Chevalier grabbed at Nokto’s hands and tried to pry them off, but Nokto only climbed higher on Chevalier’s back, using his legs to try and push Chevalier back to the ground. 

Chevalier growled when Nokto jabbed a knee into the back of his thigh, but he didn’t yield. Instead, he raised himself to full height and rammed backward into the nearest tree, squishing Nokto into the trunk with all his might.

“Nokto!” I cried, but immediately regretted it. Nokto’s ruby eyes found me in the darkness and glared with the ferocity of a beast on the prowl.

“You… stay—” he wheezed, but before he could get out any more words, Chevalier silenced him with a backward headbutt into the tree. Nokto gasped and tightened his grip, but two more strikes from Chevalier slackened them entirely, and he fell limply to the ground to join the fallen Luke.  

Chevalier wiped his face and stared at me, and I bolted from the scene as he reached for his sword once again.

My limbs stung as I zipped back through the bramble. Half-broken branches and fallen twigs told me this was the direction I came through previously, but I shuddered at the thought of returning to the palace after what I just witnessed. Now more than ever, I was assured that I needed protection, but could I be guaranteed to find it back at the palace? But with a bloodthirsty Chevalier only paces behind me, what choice did I have?

“I heard a fight. I’m amazed you made it out in one piece.”

I foolishly whipped my head around to the soft voice, and found myself enclosed in a sheath of purest white. My head grew numb as disorienting fragrances of lavender and soil overpowered my nostrils, but two hands firmly gripped my arms before I collapsed.

“Oopsie! My dear, you can barely stand! You look like you’ve just seen a ghost… or worse.” Clavis’s dulcet tones whispered dottily in my brain, and I fought between the urge to rip away or remain trapped in his arms. Chevalier… Chevalier was coming… Clavis could protect me.

“What has you so frightened, little bunny?” he continued, turning me to face him. His golden eyes shone like lanterns to salvation. A safe haven just within reach. “Could it be you encountered something so terrible, so savage, so brutal that you cannot bear to repeat it?” His grip slackened only slightly, like a tamer easing an animal into his care. Into his trust.

“Tell me everything, give it all to me, and I promise I will make it all go away.” His gaze was all-encompassing, and his words comforting and inviting. It was an enticing offer, how could anyone refuse in my situation? I wanted to spill out my heaving guts to him, to pass on the torch of my burden to someone else, and above all take a rest. To leave this dark and foreboding forest before someone else showed up and led me astray, before someone broke this brief respite I somehow called my own…

Wait a moment, wasn’t Clavis one of the people I had been escaping?

I broke eye contact and looked over his shoulder. Chevalier emerged from a thicket of brush, looking seconds away from breathing fire. A hobbling Luke appeared on his right and a bleary-eyed Nokto on his left, the latter’s nose red and swollen like a ripened plum.

It was as if I’d woken up from the most dangerous dream. The dread of my situation resurfaced in an instant, and horror bubbled in my chest as I felt Clavis’s hand rummaging through my pocket.

I clutched Clavis’s shoulders, stomped my heel onto his foot, and jammed my forehead into his nose. Clavis let out a piercing shriek and released me, but as I pulled away, the object he’d grabbed from my pocket slipped out from my skirt and fell to the ground. A single cookie, now broken into dozens of pieces, lay on the forest floor. All four princes stared mutinously at its crumbly remains before turning to me.

I jerked myself out of Clavis’s reach and ran back. The castle was in view now; if I could just make it past those rose bushes and call for help—

Wham!

Something pink and soft collided with me as I reached the thorny bushes and I fell on my backside. Shaking my head from the dizziness, I looked up to see Yves rubbing his forehead, a frilly basket hooked in his left arm.

“Good grief, and I thought my faction was petty over the last sweet!” he said, helping me stand. “If you’d just stayed a minute longer, I was going to tell you I had a second batch in the oven.”

“You couldn’t have said that sooner?” Nokto yelled. My cheeks burned as he and the others caught up to us, their previously angry faces melting into vexation.

“Heh, sorry. Didn’t mean to go all dramatic on you all,” I said, clenching my teeth. Yves’s mouth gaped open as he watched his brothers limp over, and he squeaked in surprise when Luke deliriously walked straight into a tree trunk. How I wished news of this evening wouldn’t reach Sariel.

“You were fortunate tonight, simpleton, but now you know not to trifle with such matters in the future,” Chevalier said, as Luke pried himself off the trunk and dove for Yves’s basket while Clavis and Nokto compared their face bruises like trophies of war.

Yeah, I thought this was really fun. Thanks for the slumber party invite, Impromptu!

Taglist:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[bear-boi-5]

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

Cw: Blood, fighting, drunks

So, Collin actually got fired from his job as a bouncer cause he got into a drunken bar fight, a really bad one

Further context will need to be prided from my hands if you want it

[specialagent836]

Eyes. Those were the first sign that they had found where Black Fog was. Chasing the cries of a member of their crew being taken. Floating hands. One clutching Matsuba, holding him off the ground. Bringing him close to a open maw. It had dragged him into the dark as soon as they had gotten too close. And they were too close.

Poisonous gas oozed out of that ghostly mouth. Choking out any breath and creeping into every corner of their surroundings. Any resolve that he had stored within, gone. Somehow, this was way worse than facing any of the Ultra Beasts. This creature was pure darkness. Terrifyingly deadly.

The others mustered their courage and charged the figure. Trying to free Matsuba before he was consumed. Fire burst forth from both Arcanines. Weapons drawn. Each pokemon and person giving it their all.

Ghastly swarming to serve the greater will of Black Fog. Those ghostly hands grabbed and clawed at Nix and Green. Don't get grabbed. Don't get consumed.

Giovanni and Piers would need support being so close to that danger. He had to act. Koga battled to save Nix from another claw grasping at them. Don't hesitate this time. He was afraid.

Then, Green dropped unconscious and the threat was clear. They needed to focus. He needed to focus. He stepped forward and joined the frey, attacking Black Fog directly.

Heavy attacks against the claws and beast dissipated their hold on their cohorts. His friends. Something gnawed at the back of his mind. Ever observant. Shimmering below the low light, the claws were not gone. This was not the end of it. He warned the others of the danger, but did not prepare himself.

Manifesting from those shadows. The claws returned and he was determined the biggest threat. Grabbed. There was no time to react, not this time. The others cried out and he was consumed. Darkness.

The shouts became muffled. The neon lights of the city completely absent. The poisonous gas more potent than before tried to take hold. Touching this creature felt wrong. Something within bolstered him. Courage? Strength? The words from Giovanni earlier came to the front of his mind.

He would not go down here. He would claw his way out if he had to. The urge to shift into something more useful grew. Distorting his body, his capabilities. No. He could do this. Searching for any sign, any clue, any weakness. There. He lashed out. Lights and sounds broke into the darkness. Again. He tore at the gap.

Freedom. He fell out of the mouth he forced open. There was no grace to be had in trying to survive. Black Fog began to wither behind him. Then, it exploded and he was too close. He felt like he should have died, right then and there. But he didn't.

A ball flew through the air at the creature. Light engulfed it pulling it in. Click. It was caught. The battle was over. They succeeded. And everyone was alive.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[barblaz-arts]

Hell's hottest couple fr

[bluerosefox]

Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!

"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."

Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.

"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"

But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.

"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"

An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)

"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"

"...Losers bet...."

Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.

"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."

He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.

Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)

"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"

Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.

Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.

"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."

"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."

"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."

"Talia."

Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.

So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.

It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...

Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.

After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.

And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.

He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...

[beebundt]

thinking a little too much abt durge/orin sibling relationship rn. 🩸ft. my durge (briar, they/them)

[larvamars]

this one will leave a mark

[citruscantus]

9 YEARS!!!!!

Undertale's been etched into my soul for almost a decade now... I don't think there's one piece of art i could make to encapsulate how important it is to me... but i CAN make pretty colours about it 🌈💫✨

[contact-guy]

(content warning for drugs, scarring, and needles!!!)

This is part one of THE SIGN OF THE FOUR...please bear with the angst, but Holmes and Watson are sooo bitchy to each other in the opening of this story and I wanted to dig into it.

Part two

(this is part of the Watson's sketchbook series)

EDIT since someone asked - these are all direct lines from the book except for the section that starts with "you will have work again" and ends with "I know there have been rumours", which is my little addition to explain certain things

[follow-the-compass-home]

Wilbur, Niki, Jack and Charlie work together as a team of superheroes, fighting crime. What will they do when they get involved in a case that goes far deeper than they are able to handle?

Title from Margaret Atwood's 'Power Politics' from the anthology 'Power Politics'.

AU: Superhero AU

Genre: Angst

WC: 2,412 words

Relationship: Wilbur & Niki, Wilbur & Philza

Language: English

Status: Paused, 1/8

Warnings: Fighting, gun violence, TBA.

[scorchieart]

Hi! For your grab bag event, could you do Licht/#10/Action/3rd pov? Thank you

Character: Licht Klein

POV: 3rd person Genre: Action

Prompt #10: “That's the thing about betrayal. It never comes from an enemy”

Wordcount: 2030

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! This was the one I was most excited to tackle from the lot. I had wanted to make the action the main focus of the story, but I got a little carried away with the preamble, so in case anyone isn't interested in the angst and dialogue I'm adding a second divider in between so you can skip to the good stuff ^^

Content Warning: Fighting, Mentions of death

In one fluid motion, Yves yanked Licht into the room and slammed the door shut behind them. The waning crescent moon shone as the only light source, reflecting dully against the gilded furnishings of Yves’s bedroom. Licht only had a moment to rub his eyes to adjust before a terse shove from behind propelled him toward the windows.

“Curtains,” exhaled Yves, and he disappeared into the closet. Licht snatched at the towering curtains surrounding the far wall, shooting anxious glances out the windows as he shut them. The grounds were crawling with guards. His stomach gave an involuntary lurch.

“I had meant to replace the stock for the month, but with so much going on…” 

Yves reappeared carrying a large rucksack, set it on the bed, and immediately began rifling through it. He pulled out several oddly-shaped wrapped packages, a folded bit of parchment, and a plain, drabby navy cloak. 

Making sure the final curtain was securely shut, Licht hurried over to the bed and picked up one of the packages. The moment he unwrapped it, a sickeningly sugary aroma hit his nostrils.

“Yves,” he began, covering his mouth to keep from gagging, “what are all these sweets for?”

“Don’t eat those! They’ll be long spoiled by now,” said Yves, snatching the package and tossing it across the bed. “Oh, what a waste. And what terrible timing…” he muttered to himself, closing the bag.

“Yves—” Licht tried again, but was silenced when Yves turned to him and draped the cloak over his shoulders. The fabric was heavy and durable, factors Yves would never skimp out on for his wardrobe, and yet so dull and colorless that Licht could not believe it was produced from Yves’s closet. 

“They’re not as savory, but the bread and dried fruit should last you some time,” Yves said, working on fastening the cloak around Licht’s neck with shaky fingers. “The guards are probably searching your room as we speak. I’ll head over there, but I don’t know how much time I can buy you. Take the servant’s door from the kitchens, it’s close to the stables. But don’t let anyone see you. And if someone does see you, don’t stop for them. And if they won’t let you pass—Ah! I’m sorry, Licht.”

Licht jerked his head back when he felt the metal fastener cut his chin. Even in the nonexistent light, he could see Yves’s face growing paler by the second, reaching over to him again.

“I’m fine, I’ll do it myself!” yelled Licht, securing the clasp. “Just tell me what’s going on!”

Yves’s lower lip trembled as he picked up the rucksack. “Oh, Licht, there simply isn’t time,” he croaked, handing over the piece of parchment. Licht unfolded it and, squinting heavily through the dark, made out a crude drawing of three figures hugging, the largest in the center surrounded by two smaller identical blobs. It looked like a child’s scribble, one many years old, and frustratingly familiar.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, but you mustn’t come back,” said Yves, now pushing the sack in his arms and gripping Licht’s shoulders like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Promise me, no matter what, you will never ever set foot again—”

“That’s not for you to decide, Evie,” said a cold voice from behind them. 

Nokto stood in the doorway, sword at the ready, wearing the most mutinous look Licht had ever seen. “Licht’s not a kid anymore. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him what he can or can’t do. He should know right from wrong by now,” he said.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” said Yves, turning to face Nokto and spreading his arms wide like a barrier. “You know Licht would never betray his kingdom.”

“That’s the thing about betrayal. It never comes from an enemy.” Nokto stepped into the room, guided by the faint glimmer of his steady blade. Though he couldn’t see it, Licht could smell the sweat trickling down the back of Yves’s neck.

“Do you even hear yourself? How can you, of all people, say such a thing?” Yves cried.

“I, of all people, have the greatest right to,” said Nokto, pointing his sword toward Licht. “Once, an accident. Twice, deliberate. I will not let there be a third time. Stand aside, Yves. You don’t need to watch.”

Yves dropped his wall pose and hung his head, his shoulder shaking madly. To Licht, his brother had never looked so defeated. 

“Let’s get this over with, brother,” said Nokto, passing Yves’s spiritless form. “I’d rather not Leon or Chevalier steal the honor from me.” 

Licht froze on the spot, the parchment crumpled in his fist. Was this how it would end? Somehow, he always knew it would be this way, slain at the hand of his twin. But he wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. Not when he still didn’t know what even happened tonight.

Nokto raised his sword, a beacon of light in the shadow-filled room. Licht’s arms were glued to his chest, swallowed by the navy cloak and clutching the heavy rucksack. He had to move, to do something, at least talk to Nokto! But as Nokto’s arm came down, Licht could do nothing but stare and count the milliseconds as they passed, until the blow finally landed.

But it never landed. In the blink of an eye, Nokto was flung across the room, collapsing onto the stale sweets piled on the bed with a mighty groan. He lifted his head, tufts of powdered sugar and crumbs sticking to his hair as blankly stared back.

Yves stood beside Licht, breathing heavily but otherwise rock-steady, his own sword unsheathed.

“Run,” he hissed, and launched. Nokto leaped off the bed just before Yves’s sword impaled the crumpled heap of sheets he landed on. Yves swiftly extracted it and rammed the unbalanced Nokto into a dresser. Crystal goblets and glass containers from the top rocked and crashed on the ground, filling the room with a suffocating mixture of perfumes and sprays. Licht pressed an end of his cloak to his nose and he blinked through watery eyes, but the stinging made it impossible to follow where the two had ended up. All he could hear were clashing sounds and angry voices shouting across the room, and each second that passed by made it harder and harder to breathe. 

Feeling close to retching, Licht slung the rucksack over his shoulder, forced his eyes as far as they could open, and bolted out of the room. The sounds of the fight grew dimmer the farther he ran, but as he gulped in heaps of fresh air into his fiery lungs, he convinced himself to power forward.

This is what Yves sacrificed himself for. You will leave, like he wants. You will not let Nokto become a murderer. They’ll be alright once you’re gone.

“It’s Prince Licht!” a voice called overhead. He had just reached the stairs when he saw them. Half a dozen soldiers were racing down the steps toward him, their weapons held in front of them.

Don’t stop for them! Yves’s words echoed in Licht’s mind. He pulled the hood of his cloak low over his eyes and dashed down the steps, taking two at a time. More soldiers rushed to join the pursuit with every floor he passed, their thundering footsteps growing behind him like an avalanche. He was getting tired fast, and they weren’t slowing down.

Licht gripped the railing and jumped on, sliding down the banister like a chute. He tried not to think of how his sweaty palms made him slide faster, nor the fact that he and Nokto used to play this very game as children. The parchment with the drawing slipped from his grasp and fluttered away, engulfed in the stampede of incoming men. 

The distance between them grew. He kicked off at the base of the handrail and set off down the hall on foot. Yves said to head to the kitchens, that was his best hope.

“Licht!” a familiar voice boomed ahead of him. With torches lining the walls, Licht could make out Jin’s figure instantly, the lines of his distressed expression carrying through the deserted hallway as clearly as the crescent moon.

“Stop! Let’s figure this out,” he called, holding his hands out in front of him. Ready to capture.

Don’t stop for him! 

Licht yanked the rucksack off his back, wound his arm, and smacked it directly into Jin’s chest. The force of the blow coupled with the momentum from his run knocked Jin backwards, hitting the ground hard, but it also meant he had to relinquish his hold on the bag to keep from collapsing too. Swearing angrily, Licht flew down the rest of the hall into a side corridor and burst into the kitchen.

“Out of the way!” he yelled, barreling past terrified cooks and bakers and out into the dark grounds. The cold night air splashed at his face, whipping his hood off, as he ran toward the stables. He felt lighter without the rucksack, and there was no one pursuing him, yet his mind weighed down on his predicament. His sword rattled mockingly at his side, and Licht wanted to chuck it as far from him as possible before leaving. How many more people needed to get hurt because of him?

He tore through the stable entrance and made a beeline for his horse’s stall. Marron was still awake, tossing her head jerkily on his approach, as though she too knew what he didn’t. 

“Let’s go for a ride, girl,” said Licht, reaching to rub her muzzle. But before he could touch her, two large arms clamped around him from behind, and he was lifted into the air. Licht coughed as the breath in his lungs puffed out.

“Jin says you did something bad.” Luke’s voice was shaky as he squeezed harder, and for the third time that night Licht had to resist the urge not to vomit. 

“W-what… bad?” Licht choked. He couldn’t face Luke, and instead kept his eyes trained on Marron, who had begun bucking madly against the door of her stall in an attempt to save her rider.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” said Luke. “Chevie… Leon… all the guards are yelling ‘Bring Prince Licht back alive!’ They say you killed the king.”

Licht’s vision turned white. He heard Luke’s words, but couldn’t quite digest them. Probably due in part to the feeling that everything digested in his stomach was close to spouting back up.

“Nokto,” Luke continued. “He told me to wait here… He said you’d try to escape… Told me not to fail… Then he went to Yves’s room…”

At their names, Licht’s focus resurfaced. He was still trapped, his legs dangling in midair, one arm strapped tightly to his side, his sword forgotten. But Marron was just ahead, stomping even louder than the guards on the stairs, whipping her head, eyes locked on Luke.

Licht’s second arm was still free, the one he extended to pet Marron. The latch to her door was so close. He pushed against Luke’s chest, stretching his fingers as far as he could, the tips just grazing the top of the lock—

Wham!

A pounding headache erupted in his skull and Licht burst open his eyes. It was dark, but not the kind of outdoorsy dark he had just seen. This was a wrenching familiar darkness, one of his own design.

He sucked in a few cursory breaths before realizing his stomach wasn’t being squeezed anymore. He tried lifting his head (when had he fallen to the ground?), only to realize his upper half had fallen off his bed, the rest of him still nestled beneath his covers. His lower arm was outstretched, clutching the bottom hem of a curtain.

He climbed out of bed and hesitantly approached the window. Squinting at the bright sun bursting through as he parted the curtain, he caught a view of a picnic setup outside the rose garden. Seated on a cream-colored blanket were Yves, Nokto, Jin, and Luke, all smiling widely and inviting a girl in a red skirt to join them for breakfast.

*Tosses wordcount out the window* I promise, I'll redeem myself with a happy story for the twins one day.

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[sleepygetou]

BROTHERLY LOVE

JJK S2 E13 - Red Scale

[originalartblog]

Unforeseen learning opportunity!

(wikitionary to explain the scar)

(bonus)

[kathaynesart]

TMNT AU BATTLE PART 1 HERE FIRST (file was getting too big so starting a Part 2)

First off I want to thank everyone who participated in the vote for The TMNT AU Competition! It was so fun to be a part of this event and I’m so honored to be able to go home with Empyrean Weeping’s @cupcakeslushie as the champions! It has been an absolute blast getting to interact and draw with so many of you! Also thank you @dianagj-art @intotheelliwoods and @tizeline for being such amazing finalists!

We might do a few more updates to wrap this up then it’s back to work on Replica for me haha.

Also note: One is fine, he’s just in an arm lock, which is painful in the moment but should leave no lasting damage. Replica Leo however is in immense pain after doing an emergency disconnect from his prosthetic. All those raw nerve endings in his arm are probably screaming at him right now. Luckily he knows how to handle pain… though he’s obviously a little more short with One now haha.