#he can only allow himself to feel anger and rage and bloodlust

[moonlightpetalz6]

Kinktober Day 10

Character: Original Sukuna x Witch Reader 

Reader: Fem Reader!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, harsh language, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), double dicks, double penetration, blood, violence

Wc: 2,849

A/n: I kind of referenced this fic to one of my earlier works between Sukuna and Witch Reader! (It's sad and angsty but I just love the story I have behind the two so I couldn't help myself! Just look for Sukuna's part if interested! (Not required of course!) This one is not edited or proofread so I do apologize for all the mistakes. I also feel like I got a little lost while writing this one, so I do apologize. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! I tried my best to get all the warnings written above! I apologize if I miss anything!

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Making his way through the dark woods, Sukuna lets out a few breaths, his body taking him down the path he had come to engrave deep inside his mind. "Damn pathetic witch…living so far out." He growls to himself. Your mere existence was annoying, but at the same time, your face always seemed to calm his rageful soul. After what felt like a century of walking, his eyes take in the faint glow of the lantern you always kept hanging from your porch. He grunts, not bothering to knock as he pushes the door open only to be greeted by pure silence. The curse narrows his eyes as he searches the small hut noticing no signs of life. “Oi! Damn witch of the woods!” He shouts allowing a moment for you to respond but there is nothing. He grits his teeth, his mind running through all the possible things that could have happened to you. “The village.” He spits, recalling how you had once mentioned being hated and feared by a village a few miles away. Thinking that one day they would come for you. Sukuna quickly rushes out of the hut, his feet taking him at max speed towards the village, his bloodlust filling the air.

As he dashes through the woods one of his eyes catches a glimpse of a figure standing out in the lake causing him to halt. He approaches the tree line with all four eyes taking in the figure under the moonlight. There you stood, body fully exposed as you bathed under the moon, completely defenseless as you looked up at the sky, eyes shining with the stars. Sukuna watches his mind and nerves going crazy with multiple emotions. Fear, anger, relief, lust each one clashing with the other as he tried to push it all aside. “Do you seeeee her?” An eerie voice whispers from a few trees down getting his attention. There hovered some low-level curses, their eyes peering at your oblivious self their actions irritating Sukuna. “She’s known to be one of the prettiest creatures to grace these woods~” Another curse giggled, leaning closer to get a better look at your exposed breasts.

“Do you think we can touch-” It falls silent as one of the curses falls to the ground, head cut clean off. The other curses jump quickly looking behind them to see the king of curses hold a severed head in his hands, eyes cold as he smirks down at the pathetic creatures before him. “Just by looking at her you die.” Was all he needed to say before blood splattered everywhere covering his body in the filthy red liquid. He growls while examining his body with disgust before his ears ring at the sound of your voice. “Who’s there?” Though you pose it as a question your tone is stern and demanding causing the king of curses to smirk an idea popping into his head. Carefully he emerges from the tree line still drenched in blood as he lets out a deep sigh while one hand scratches the back of his head.

“Calm down damn witch.” His eyes trail back to you watching as your defensive form relaxes at the sight of him, this small action causing the bloodthirsty killer's heart to waver. Though you had relaxed you soon remembered that you were bathing under the moon completely exposed to the man in front of you causing a deep red to dust your cheeks as you tried to duck under. The sight is amusing as Sukuna slowly strips himself of what little clothing he already wore, his body slowly entering the cold water of the night. “I-I’ll be out soon Sukuna-san! You can just go back to the hut!” You protested while swimming further away, your entire body flushed at the quick glimpse you had gotten of his naked form. You hear him scoff as he moves closer to you only stopping a few inches away as he peers down at you with dark eyes.

“You weren’t there…” He mumbles, reaching out to pull you against his chest; you flinch at the sudden contact, your usual calm demeanor gone. He smirks at this, finally being able to see a new side of the most powerful witch of the woods as he rests his chin on your head. “I almost went to kill that village.” He confesses one of his hands carefully sliding down your right arm to extend it out as he examines the black tattoos that covered your skin similar to his own thanks to that soulmate spell you had performed almost three months ago. You frown at his words not wanting him to murder innocent lives because of some witch. “Sukuna-san I only went to bathe under the moonlight! I didn’t even know you would be coming here at this time of the night!” You scold turning your head up to look at the curse who was labeled as your soulmate. He hums, taking a piece of your hair between two of his fingers gently playing with it as he recalls the curses, he had just slaughtered a moment ago.

“Do I need to inform you when I will arrive? Tch, who do you think you’re talking to?” He growls dipping his face into the crook of your neck to leave a possessive bite, his teeth piercing into your skin causing you to whine as you grip onto two of his biceps, your sharp nails dragging against his skin sending tingles through his body. “I told you before…I’m not afraid of curses.” You breathe listening to him lick at the fresh mark a satisfied hum leaving his lips as his eyes look up at your face brows furrowed. “Curses aren’t afraid of you either, you know. In fact, curses are drawn to you.” He growls pulling away his body becoming clearer under the light of the moon as you take in all the red still staining his skin the smell of iron finally processing in your nose.

“Are you hurt Sukuna-san?” You question quickly turning your body to face him, your bare breasts pressed against his chest as you examine him for any injuries getting ready to cast a healing spell if needed. He stops you, arms trapping your body as close as possible to his, a small gasp escaping you as you feel the two hard cocks pressing against your lower body. “I’m fine dammit! I just found a few pathetic curses trying to mess with something that belongs to only me.” He growls at the memory of their ugly faces, his blood boiling as he could only imagine what was running through their minds when they looked at your lustful body glistening so beautifully in the night. “It makes me so pissed…that you can just let others see you so exposed.” He grabs at your chin with one hand forcing you to look up at him, his eyes taking in your flushed appearance.

“I didn’t even know they were around…I guess I was just spacing out too much.” You confessed feeling foolish for having let your thoughts of the man in front of you cloud your senses making the area around you nonexistent in the moment. Sukuna hums watching the night sky reflect in your pure orbs so full of care and love for this world's filthy creatures. “Your skin is so divine in the moonlight.” He confesses cupping your cheek, his mind filling with only you, the one creature he was willing to love for all eternity. Your eyes widen as you look up at him, mouth agape when you see the soft look in his eyes. “Sukuna-san you didn’t drink any of the potions when you were inside, did you? Some of those are for customers who asked for aphrodisiacs!” You worry, not wanting to have the curse mad at you the next day for allowing him to drink something that would show any signs of weakness.

He frowns at your words, going to pinch your sides in annoyance. You let out a small cry from the stinging pain, a pout on your lips. “Tch. You think I would be so stupid to drink one of those disgusting vials?” He growls, finding your questions insulting for the king of curses. You try to shrink away into the water, finding his mood to be slightly unpleasant. “I was just wondering…big jerk.” Your words were quiet but not enough to go unnoticed by Sukuna who disliked that you were no longer pressed against him, his body not feeling whole. “If you wish for my anger to cease then will you be a good witch and please your king?” The question shocks you as you make eye contact orbs searching for any mischievous intent only to find pure lust greeting you. The two of you had made love only once when you had discovered you were soulmates, both your harbored feelings finally being released into three whole days of passion.

As if reading your mind Sukuna let out a small chuckle, his arms gripping at your waist as he pulled you close once again this time making you wrap your legs around his torso. “It's been so long since I’ve made love to you…tell me does your body still recall my touch?” He whispers lips pressing against your forehead. You hum, unable to think of any words as you feel your heart racing, your eyes trailing all over his chest taking in the man who had won over the most powerful witch. “Look at me Y/n.” He growls forcing your chin up the use of your name causing something inside you to tingle. “I’m going to make every creature in these woods know that you’re mine. So don’t you dare hold back filthy witch.” With those words his lips are roughly pressed to yours in a bruising kiss as he pries your mouth open with ease, his tongue almost plunging deep into your throat as he hungrily takes in your taste.

You whine, arms wrapping around his neck to deep kiss your body wanting more of him as if remembering those three days like it was something you experienced your whole life. A deep growl leaves Sukuna’s throat as one of his hands grips the back of your head taking in a fist full of your hair as you feel him smirk into the kiss. Your eyes shoot open in shock, a small cry being muffled by his lips when you feel a giant tongue lick up your pussy. Sukuna’s fist pulls at your hair separating the kiss, a long string of saliva still connecting the kiss as he lets out an amused laugh “Does it feel good darling? Having two tongues inside you?” He breathes as the mouth on his stomach hungrily lapped at your twitching pussy under the water. You let out a few pathetic moans. The feeling of his other mouth was different compared to his normal one.

Sukuna closely watched the way your face twisted into pleasure as your arms tightened around his neck, your hips starting to move in sync with the licks of his other tongue. He watches cocks twitching as the sight deeply arouses him. “What a filthy witch~” He teases his tongue sliding up your neck as he wraps a hand around your throat. You shiver body trembling from all the pleasure you were feeling. Sukuna presses his forehead to yours, his eyes taking in every detail of your face before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. You whine, your body stiffening when the tongue from his stomach slithers deep inside your hole, eyes widening as your legs squeeze around him. Sukuna pulls away an evil grin on his face as he looks down at your fucked out expression.

“Filthy whore coming from another mouth!” He laughs a hand caressing your side as he tries to pull you away however your grip doesn’t loosen up as you try to recover from your orgasm pussy twitching. He sighs, pressing a few kisses to your cheek. “Strongest witch in the world but so pathetic from just getting your pussy tongue fucked.” His words earn a small smack from you followed by a tiny ‘shut up’ causing him to laugh. “If you want me to be satisfied you have to move away a bit darling. Otherwise, I can’t put it inside.” He whispers into your ear taking notice of your shivers. ‘The water must be getting cold.’ His thoughts are confirmed when you slowly float away from him, his eyes landing on your perked nipples and trembling lips. His two lower hands reach under the water to pump at his throbbing cocks wanting to feel inside your warm walls.

“Your pussy can handle both, right? Or has it been too long for the Witch of the Woods?” He hums remembering how long it took for your pussy to accept both his cocks the first time. Your body stiffens as you contemplate swimming away from the curse, your eyes trailing over to your clothes that lay by the shoreline. Taking notice of your gaze Sukuna frowns quickly gripping at your wrist to pull you back into his chest. “You dare think of running from me witch?” He growls two of his hands lifting you up, earning a small squeak from you as you try and hold onto his shoulders for support. “S-Sukuna-san I don’t think I can! It was so long ago!” You plead nails digging into his flesh.

“I want any pathetic creature lurking around to see my little witch get fucked by a true king!” He shouts while positioning both tips at your entrance, the feeling of them rubbing together causing a decent amount of precum to mix with the lake's water. With a free hand, he cups your cheek, eyes locking as his lips hover over your bruised and swollen ones. “The only king she will please and love.” He whispers before sloppily kissing you while thrusting deep into your pussy. You scream into the kiss tears falling down your cheeks as you feel your pussy being ruined as his cocks fill you. Sukuna groans into the kiss, his chest tightening as he feels your walls squeeze almost making him cum on the spot. He pulls away multiple curses leaving his lips as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his body shaking from how good you felt.

“So, fucking tight…such a good witch…my good girl.” He praises kissing anywhere he can while listening to the tiny whimpers you give in response. After a moment he starts to move growling at the feeling of his cocks rubbing together the friction driving him crazy as his movements start to pick up. His hold on your body is tight as he bounces you up and down like a doll, the sound of water splashing filling his ears. However, that was the only sound causing him to look up at you while gritting his teeth. “I fucking knew it.” He scoffs watching your mouth move but no sounds come out. This wasn’t the first time you had cast a spell to conceal your voice from him not wanting to disrupt any of the woodland creatures or anyone in the area.

“Tch, I won't let you stay quiet with your spells this time witch.” He spits venomously his nails digging into your hips as he pounds deep inside you the tips of his cocks entering your womb causing tears to fall from your eyes. Having learned some of your spells Sukuna is quick to rid you of your silence, your screams of pleasure music to his ears as they echo throughout the woods. “That’s right, witch! Scream my name let these woods hear who makes their precious witch so weak and pathetic!” Sukuna laughs maniacally, his thrusts merciless as he feels you cum for a second time. You toss your head back drool falling from your chin, eyes glossed over with lust as you stare up at the moon. “Sukuna! Sukuna! Give me more!” You scream your mind is too fucked out to care anymore. Sukuna laughs followed by a few grunts as he feels himself reaching his own release, the excitement from killing all those curses along with seeing how beautiful you looked under the moonlight bringing him so much pleasure.

“Kiss me Y/n…kiss your king…your soulmate.” He breathes heavily. His only desire is you. You look at him with a fucked-out expression that causes him to go over the edge, his lips smashing to yours as he fills your insides, your pussy clenching as you spray all over them. Sukuna’s arms hold you tight, his eyes trailing to the tree line, smirking against your lips as he watches the smaller curses cower away. Once he made sure the two of you were clean, he was careful while carrying you out of the lake making sure to grab your clothes along with his own. “Sukuna-san…you’re so mean.” You whisper half asleep from the tiring activity. Sukuna just scoffs rolling his eyes at your words.

“Shut up Y/n.”

[gabessquishytum]

You know what I love? Feral Hob. Hob who’s bloodlust goes insane when he finds out that his stranger has been imprisoned. Who doesn’t use guns because he can’t stand them after his time in the world wars, but instead uses blades. The sword and knife are still his go to after 600 years, and any bullet wound he receives he shakes off in his anger. As he sneaks through Fawney Rig his sword splits open guard after guard with blood staining every inch and his hands dripping red. Hob feels no sympathy as they are all complacent in his strangers capture and he will stop at nothing to free him. By the time Hob gets into the basement and Dream sees Hob split open the two guards from stem to stern in a quiet anger, his brain short circuits because 1) finally freedom stands within reach and 2) well mark him down as scarred /and/ horny. Where Dream would normally have stars in his eyes, there are instead hearts as he can all but taste the passion, the devotion, the worship that Hob has brought him in his bloodshed. Once Hob bashes the glass around him, Dream thrusts a hand into Hob’s hair and yanks his head back to mark his throat and let all know that Hob is /his/. That this worshiper belongs to Dream. Hob is still hard from this when Dream is dealing with Alex, a malicious smile splitting his face as he sees Dream take his vengeance. As they start ascending the stairs to begin their hunt for Dreams tools, Hob begins to feel his long dormant bloodlust sated once more, though unknown to him, it will only be a short time before it rises again when there is another immortal to rescue from imprisonment. And when the time comes, Dream is all too happy to watch the bloodlust consume Hob once more.

- 🦊 anon

I'm uh. I'm really into this.

I love Hob with swords and knives, and Hob who strangles and garots and pulls his victims to bits by hand. Hob spilling blood for Dream like a sacrifice, so his body floods with power and he has no need for the ruby - Hob has given him more than enough to rejuvenate himself. Hob touching himself as he watches Dream dealing with Alex, unable to hold back his appetite any longer. Hob staining the Manor house red with blood and grimly digging bullets out of his own flesh like some kind of terrifying spectre.

Hob who isn't allowed to go to hell because he'd get himself into trouble. Hob who develops this utter hatred for John Dee and can't be restrained, even by Dream. After the ruby is destroyed its Hob who deals with the miserable excuse for a human, who punishes him for all those innocent lives taken.

It's the same all over again with Calliope, and once Dream gives him permission to wreak havoc, Hob once again allows himself to be consumed by rage. Afterwards Dream can't help himself - he fucks Hob desperately in the nearest alley until they are both properly sated, and they figure out the best way to help Calliope in her recovery.

It's fair to say that Hob develops a bit of a reputation.

[aithorin]

An Exception to the Rule - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: Now All Smite was by no means a hero. In fact, he was quite literally the opposite, but for you he might be willing to make an exception. 

Warnings: Mentions/threats of rape (nothing actually happens), Villain Au, Villain!All Might, Blood and violence, Threats of violence, Slight gore, hostage, Protective!All Might (i.e. he basically goes on a rampage cause someone tries to hurt you), Soft ending with hurt/comfort

Rated M for violence

Flying through the city, a smirk made its way onto All Might’s face as he heard a scream echo throughout the night. God, he reveled in the chaos. The chaos that he created. His very presence had allowed the chaos in Japan to fester and grow throughout, and thus every time he heard crimes being committed, his chest swelled with pride. It made his ego surge to watch the fruit of his efforts be harvested and taken advantage of. There was just something so immensely satisfying about it, knowing that every villain in Japan owed the success of their crimes to him. It provided a rush of gratifying adrenaline like no other.

Deciding he had a few minutes to spare, All Might quickly set course towards the sound of the disruption. At the very least, it would provide some entertainment. But, depending on what they were doing to the unfortunate soul, he might even decide to join in. It would be a nice way to unwind before going home to you. God knows how much fun he had seeing the way people cowered at the very sight of him.

Landing silently behind the group, he quietly observed the scene unfold, trying to decide if he wanted to step in.

“Eh this one’s a looker, isn’t she boys? Before the night’s over, I think I’ll use her for the whore that she is.” The one All Might assumed to be the leader taunted, stepping forward to tower over their victim.

Manic laughter floated throughout the air as the two lackeys accompanying him moved in to completely surround their target. “That sounds like a great idea boss! You always have the best ideas. Can we get a turn too? Please. Please. Please!” The one on the right begged.

“Maybe once she’s unconscious. You know it’s only fun for me when they’re awake so I can see the look of fear in their eyes. God, just the thought of it is giving me a hard on already.” The leader chuckled out.

”Pl-please,” A woman’s shaky, frightened voice whimpered out, “let me go. I-I have money. Just tell me what you want!”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, the blood in All Might’s veins turned ice cold. That-that was your voice. And just like that, the overwhelming pride he had been feeling moments ago withered away, consumed by something much more deadly-a feral rage. How dare they talk to you like that? How dare they even try to lay their hands on you? Fists clenched and shaking in anger, All Might stalked towards them, blue eyes blazing and filled with an unquenchable, seething bloodlust.

Unaware of their impending doom, a harsh slap echoed through the night as the leader thug slammed your head into the dumpster you were backed against. He looked down at you, sneering, “Shut up, bitch! You’ll be lucky if you make it out of here alive tonight. You should be grateful that I’m even considering it.”

“I’d leave the girl alone if you know what’s good for you.” A gravelly voice spoke from behind.

Turning around halfway, the leader scoffed, not even bothering to see who the person was. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? This one’s ours, so why don’t you scram before I decide to kill you t-”

He was cut off as a hand shot out, quick as lightning, to wrap around his throat. Before he could even register what was happening, the thug’s eyes bulged as the hand began choking him. He felt himself being lifted 3 feet into the air, and soon came face to face with a set of flaming blue eyes. At the sight of them, his body went stiff in fear. The rest of the newcomer’s face was hidden by the shadows of the night, but just the sight of his eyes were enough to make the thug cower.

“Who….the….hell….are….you?” The leader gasped out, vision going spotty from his quickly draining air supply.

Letting out a sinister chuckle, the newcomer stepped into the light emitting from a nearby streetlamp. Seeing who it was, the leader’s mouth went dry as a sweat broke out on his forehead. His already tight throat closed up even more causing his breath to come out in wheezes as a chill of fear worked its way down his spine, causing his body to tremble in mid-air.

“Al-All...Might” He rasped out, hands pointlessly tugging on the one large hand curled around his throat.

A wicked smile crept onto All Might’s face. “Good,” He purred out, “You know who I am, so there’s no need for introductions. Maybe you aren’t a complete imbecile.”

Tilting his head to study his prey, All Might reconsidered, “Although it is hard to believe you actually possess a brain, considering you tried to steal something of mine.”

Nodding his head toward your shaking, huddled form a few feet away, All Might’s face hardened. “That girl over there belongs to me, and you just tried to touch her. Now if you remember anything about me, you should know that I don’t share. Do you want to know what happens to people who try to take things that belong to me?”

Eyes darting back and forth, the thug frantically shook his head as much as he could while being held in All Might’s grip. “Pl-please… I-I… didn’t know!”

Ignoring the man’s pleas completely, all the previous traces of being dangerously coy with the thug were wiped away as All Might murderously intoned, “They die.”

With that, All Might began to squeeze the hand wrapped around the man’s throat even tighter. Garbled chokes escaped the man’s lips as with each passing second All Might added more and more force. Reveling in the sound, a sadistic, twisted grin made its way onto All Might’s face. If he was feeling generous, he could have just snapped the man’s neck and been done with it, but that would have been too easy. The bastard had to pay for what he did, and so All Might made sure to drag it, delighting in the way the man’s neck slowly began to crack in his grasp as the life drained from his eyes. Sickening sounds floated into the air, mixtures of bone breaking and strangled gasps as the man gagged on his own saliva. His hands flailed, desperately clawing at the limb wrapped around his neck in a futile attempt to break free. Much too soon for All Might’s liking though, the thug’s efforts slowed before stopping altogether, his hands falling lifelessly back down to his side.

Letting out a sneer, All Might finally released him from his grasp letting his body carelessly crumple to the ground with a revolting thud. “How pathetic, he didn’t even last 2 minutes.”

Taking one last glance at the body, he kicked it to the side before turning his attention toward the two lackeys trembling in the corner. Blinded by bloodlust, he stalked toward them, licking his lips in anticipation and clenching his hands together, imagining their necks were in between them.

All Might was almost upon them when a flash of movement captured the corner of his eye. Momentarily ignoring his prey,  he shifted his body slightly and caught sight of you, shivering in a seated position with your arms wrapped tightly around your legs while slowly rocking back and forth. Gooseflesh had broken out along your skin from the chilly night air, only agitated by the cold sweat that had broken out upon your brow from the night’s events. Stray hairs stuck to your skin as wide, fearful (e/c) eyes looked up to lock with his own, and instantly All Might felt his bloodlust melt away, replaced by an overwhelming need to go to you.

Spinning back around, he addressed the two lackeys quivering in the corner. He pointed a disgusted, raging scowl at the thugs before thundering his ultimatum. “You have exactly 5 seconds to get out of my sight. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up like your boss over there.” He stated, throwing a finger back over his shoulder in the direction of the corpse.

Leaning down, he pulled both of them up by the collar of their necks. “And if I ever catch you even looking at this girl, trust me when I say you won’t live to tell anyone about it. But, feel free to tell your buddies about what happened here tonight. It’ll be a good reminder to everyone out there about what happens when you try to take something that belongs to me. Remember boys, I. Don’t. Share. So spread the word that this girl’s mine.”

Then, without another word, All Might threw them towards the opening of the alley. Not needing to be told twice, they scrambled back, hightailing it out of there. Watching them go, a small smirk passed over his face at their show of naivety. He’d let them go, for now. He had more important matters to take care of. But come tomorrow, they’d be dead. All Might was nothing if not a man of his word, and so they, too, would have to pay with their lives for trying to steal from him. He could see it now. The look of shock their faces would portray at his appearance tomorrow. The way it would morph into a look of fear as he approached them. And finally, the acceptance that would fill their eyes as he squeezed the life out of them, realizing, at last, that he had never intended to let them truly escape. Yes, tomorrow would be a very good day indeed.

Turning around, he started to approach you, making slow, small steps when your face darted up in fear, like a deer caught in headlights. Seeing that it was just him, All Might watched your tense body start to relax as you buried your head back into your legs. Reaching you, he squatted down to be eye level with you, hesitantly reaching an arm out to place it on your shoulder. Now that you were no longer in danger, All Might felt unsure of what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort someone in distress as he was much more used to being the one causing the distress. Finally, he decided to settle for asking basic yet somewhat obvious questions.

“Are you alright?” He gruffed out.

Hearing no reply, a worry that he tried to push away started to creep into his mind the longer you stayed silent. Were you hurt? Had he gotten there too late? Had they touched you? He started to become lost in thoughts until a sudden force jolted him out of it. Looking down, he saw that you had attached yourself to his body, clutching at him like your life depended on it. He debated with himself for a few moments before choosing to reciprocate the gesture, wrapping his large arms around you and encasing you within his body heat. At his touch, your body started to shake with silent sobs, tears from your eyes beginning to wet his shirt. You stayed that way for a long time, bodies holding onto each other as you tried to process the events from the night. All Might didn’t say anything, choosing to offer you support quietly for as long as you needed it. Eventually though, your cries subsided and your frame slumped against him, exhausted from everything that had happened.

Eyes heavy, you were vaguely aware of your body shifting as All Might stood up. Lifting you with ease, he placed you into both of his arms, saying “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Slowly being lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his footsteps, a feeling of warmth and safeness washed over you. Right before you drifted to sleep, an inkling of a smile crossed over your face as you thought of the irony that you felt completely protected in the arms of the number one villain. With him, you knew that he would always be there to keep you safe. Although he was a villain, if tonight had proven anything, it seemed that you were an exception to the rule.

[leonardhoee]

Ikevamp Guys as Villains

Warnings: Mass Murder, Gore...

Tagging: @aurora-morning @delicateikemenmemes @writer-akihiko @nafeary

Napoleon

Napoleon would be a royal dictator. He is the leader of a corrupt, authoritarian regime, hellbent on conquering the world. Think Hela (Thor: Ragnarok or The Darkling (Shadow and Bone). He controls people with his massive armies, and believes he is the only rightful ruler in this world. He believes that the world should be remade in his image so it can be restored to its former glory. He craves power and he will stop at nothing to get it. His armies are tools that swore their lives and souls to his cause. He feels no remorse in sacrificing them for his greater good. The only thing that would satisfy him now, is seeing the world crushed under the heel of his boot.

Leonardo

Leo as a villain would be like Iron Man gone bad. He does what he does simply out of curiosity he wants to see if it would even work. Cyberterrorism is just a tool for him. He would make modifications to his own body so that his eyes can see x-Ray, night vision, and other people’s biological information, and his brain is directly connected to the internet. He would create an entire army of robots like Ultron (Marvel) or Terminators. He hacks into government servers and international television broadcasts. He takes over entire governments simply by sitting in his lab controlling his army from a tablet. He can destroy anything connected to the internet with a flick of his finger. He wouldn’t even have to get up out of his chair. His plans would be so well thought out that no one would realize what happened until they’ve already lost.

Dazai

Dazai would be unhinged and reckless. He’d completely detach himself from human emotions and commit as many insane heinous crimes as possible till he does something bad enough that he would get killed for it. He creates an alternate persona for himself like the Joker or Hisoka (HxH), and at that point he has buried his emotions so well that he fails to differentiate between his persona and his true self. He may not actively acknowledge it but his true goal is to just go out in a blaze. It doesn’t matter how many lives it costs to do so.

Jean

Jean would be walking a fine line between villain and antihero. His main motivation is wiping out the people he considers evil, to make the world a “better place”. However, he would take it to a point of mass murder. There would be major battles breaking out between the people that support him and the people that believe what he is doing is evil. He believes he is bringing divine justice upon those who deserve it and thinks this is the way to atone for his past sins. Sound familiar? Jean would be Kira (Death Note). He is also similar to The Hood (Arrow). He has no mercy and he will not hesitate to kill.

Comte

Comte is rich enough to buy world leaders. He is the puppet master behind every single nation of the world. No one suspects him, however he slowly takes over countries one by one. He would also run some kind of underground mafia operation that’s involved in pretty much every kind of trade there is. He gets his money from so many sources that even if one is cut off, he is still rich enough to maintain his control over politicians and famous businessmen. Comte is the leader of the secret societies that the world’s richest people are involved in. The world answers to him and you would never even know. (Similar to Kingpin (Marvel) and the Court of Owls (DC)

Sebastian

Sebastian was adopted by Comte after ran away from his family. When he was young, hs saw firsthand how cruel the world can really be. He wholeheartedly believes the world is better off being run by Comte, and has pledged complete loyalty to him. He is Comte’s right hand man and he runs most of their underground mafia operations. He is incredibly versatile and does whatever Comte needs from him. Acting as a proxy? Assasinating a world leader? Leading a heist? Sebastian can do it all. His ideals have been so skewed growing up with Comte, that he sees himself as an extension of Comte’s power. Nothing more. He is a loyal weapon to be used by his boss.

Vincent

Vincent would release his emotions and would be unable to handle it mentally. He would be a serial killer who escaped from an asylum after losing his mind. He would kidnap his victims and slowly bleed them out as he paints with their blood. His specialty is carving designs into his victims after they have bled out and died. He leaves a sunflower at every crime scene and each new murder is just his latest artistic masterpiece left for the world to see. One way or another his art will be remembered, and it will cause the whole world to feel as much as he does.

Theo

Theo is driven by rage. Rage towards the world, towards the way he and Vincent were treated. His strength and anger would translate into him having an incredibly powerful monstrous form. His only goal is destruction. He wants to tear apart the society that allows people to get hurt like he did. He would be similar to Venom (Marvel), Abomination (Marvel), or Eren (Attack on Titan). Blinded by rage, he looses sight of his original goal and devoted himself to destroying everything he sees. It doesn’t matter who gets killed, they’re just collateral damage.

Isaac

Isaac can be two different types of villains all in one. On one hand, he’s a mad scientist who happened to discover a chemical combination that can be weaponized. However his insatiable bloodlust drives him to weaponize his discovery for himself. He wants people to know fear like he does (think Scarecrow (Batman). I can see him laying with Leonardo and helping upgrade his robot army with that chemical. On the other hand, when he lets himself give in to that bloodlust, he won’t stop unless he is stopped by someone else (like ripper Stefan from Vampire Diaries). He rips apart his victims like a wild animal. His crime scenes are covered in blood with dismembered body parts.

Mozart

Mozart would be an assassin for hire. He’s like a ghost. There have been stories about him but no one truly knows who he is. He works in the shadows and kills efficiently and without hesitation. One of his specialties is creating various sound waves that can kill his target. For those type of kills he doesn’t even need to leave his base, he can simply hack their device and cause it to play that frequency. Comte has hired him before to carry out certain kills he couldn’t do himself because of his position. Mozart is extremely devoted to his job will kill anyone who gets in the way of him and his target.

Arthur

Arthur would be a mix between Moriarty and Kilgrave (Jessica Jones). He would have some kind of mind controlling ability that allows him to create loyal puppets for his elaborate schemes. He loves playing games with the people suspecting him and he leads them in circles with their investigations. Sometimes he will even offer to personally help investigate cases he is responsible for, just to lead them into dead ends and plant fake clues. Every crime of his is a masterpiece with countless layers going into it. He does not see the people involved as humans. They’re just his pawns in his game of chess. Arthur just wants to see how far he can go before he finds a worthy opponent that can solve his cases.

Shakespeare

Shakespeare would be a theatrical serial killer who later escalates to mass murder. He would start out by abducting people he believes to “fit the role” he has planned for them. He would then kill them, replicating famous death scenes from plays and movies he admired (or his own plays). Each crime scene would be perfectly set up with lighting, makeup, and costuming. This would escalate later on to him and his troupe taking massive groups of people hostage, forcing them to read lines and act out various gruesome plays. When someone dies in the play, the actors have to murder each other. If they refuse, Shakespeare murders them both out of rage and brings in new people to replace them. He will not stop until he creates his perfect play.

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part Two)

Apparently I had so much to comment on this crappy book that I had to break this up into two parts (you can read part one here). No, I have nothing to say for myself. Lol

Let’s continue.

Clint Barton and Loki’s hand-picked strike team were in a stolen Quinjet with a faked S.H.I.E.L.D. call sign, 26-Bravo. That got them close enough that by the time the air-traffic officer on the Helicarrier knew something was wrong, it was already too late.

Whoa whoa whoa. I thought you said Loki didn’t care about the details. I thought you said such things were beneath him. Make up your mind.

With a last heave and twist, she freed herself from the fallen beam and ran. At that moment, the Hulk turned and saw her. She vaulted up a stairway and onto the next level. The Hulk swiped at the stairway and shredded it into scrap metal. Loki had gotten what he wanted. He must have been trying to time it so he could manipulate Bruce into becoming the Hulk right as his soldiers came to attack the Helicarrier. The Hulk would do at least as much damage from the inside as the rogue Quinjet could do from the outside.

Yes. Yes, he did. Lol

Natasha kept running, and the Hulk came right behind her. For a moment, she thought she’d lost him, but then he came at her out of the shadows, roaring. He was like walking rage, a single-minded engine of destruction. She shot a hole in the pipe over his head. Steam shot out of it into the Hulk’s eyes, stopping him for just the moment she needed to get a head start. She ran as fast as she could, but she knew she wasn’t going to stay away from him for long. He came after her, smashing through bulkheads and doorways like they weren’t even there and roaring the whole time.

Mood, though.

Steve got to the edge of the turbine mount about the same time as Tony. “I’m here!” he called out.

“Good,” Tony said, dropping into view and hovering in the Iron Man armor to survey the wreckage. He had the suit on, and Steve could hear his voice through the earbud microphone all S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel wore. At least that channel was still intact; if they lost communications, they’d be done for.

Convenient. Clint would absolutely know this, which means either 1) he's incompetent, 2) he's not as mind-controlled as we think, or 3) Loki allowed/arranged for his own team's semi-failure.Take your pick.

“What’s it look like in there?” Tony asked.

“It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Steve said.

Tony was shoving loose huge pieces of debris that prevented the turbine blades from rotating. “Well, you’re not wrong,” he said.

Steve fumed. He wasn’t here for technical support. But that was all he could do at the moment.

Ironic for Steve to call out Tony for being useless without his suit when Steve is apparently useless at anything other than beating people up. Lol

Tony stood inside the turbine housing, looking at the blades. He’d cleared most of the debris jamming the rotors. “Even if I clear the rotors,” he said, “this thing won’t reengage without a jump. I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

“If that thing gets up to speed, you’ll get shredded,” Steve said.

Hey hey hey now, I thought Tony wasn't the type of guy to sacrifice himself??

The Hulk stomped around the flight deck, roaring. He saw Thor and swung a fist twice the size of Thor’s head. Thor caught it in both hands, straining to hold both the Hulk’s arm and his attention. “We are not your enemies, Banner,” he grunted. “Try to think!”

Now, where have I heard that before...?

In answer, the Hulk punched him through the wall.

Jealous.

Thor got up and watched the Hulk coming after him. Now this was a fight! He held out a hand, waiting for Mjolnir to return to him. Mjolnir smashed through another wall and reached Thor’s hand just as the charging Hulk came within striking distance.

What's a little bloodlust between friends, amirite?

The Hulk caught the hammer, and a fierce grin spread over his face… then he toppled backward and Mjolnir pinned him to the floor of the hangar.

None but I can lift Mjolnir, Thor thought. Not even this giant.

Yes, yes. You're very special, Thor. We're all super impressed, promise.

“You like this?” Coulson asked, meaning the gun. “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don’t know what it does.” He powered it up, and rings along its barrel glowed bright orange. “Want to find out?”

But Loki wasn’t there in front of him. Thor saw it too late to do anything. That Loki was an illusion… and the real Loki was behind Coulson.

Lokiception.

“You lack conviction,” Coulson said. He did not move from where he sat against the wall. Blood trickled at the corner of his mouth, and the enormous gun lay uselessly across his lap.

Of all the things Coulson might have said, this was perhaps the one Loki expected least. I have moved worlds out of conviction, he thought. Made bargains with beings who snuff out planets as an afterthought. “I don’t think I…”

"bargains"

“Tasha,” he said. “How many agents did I—?”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.” Better than maybe anyone on the Helicarrier, Natasha Romanoff knew you couldn’t blame yourself for things you did while you were brainwashed. All you could do was try to heal and get things right the next time.

OH? DO TELL.

“Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one,” Tony said. “But let’s do a head count here. Your brother the demigod, a Super-Soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend, a man with breathtaking anger-management issues, a couple of master assassins… and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

“That was the plan,” Loki said with a grin.

“Not a great plan,” Tony said.

YOU'RE RIGHT, TONY. IT'S AN OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE PLAN. NOW ASK YOURSELF WHY HE WOULD DO THAT ON PURPOSE.

“You’re missing the point!” he said, and his tone got sharper. “There’s no throne, there is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us… but it’s all on you. Because if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be sure we’ll avenge it.”

Weeeeeell...

With those last words, he tapped Tony on the chest with his scepter, just has he had Hawkeye and Dr. Selvig. Nothing happened. The Arc Reactor in Tony’s chest countered the scepter’s effect.

Loki tried it again. “This usually works.…”

“Well,” Tony said, “best-laid plans. You know the saying.”

Uncomfortable with mild swear words and dick jokes, I see. Lol

Look at this!” Thor shouted, holding Loki and forcing him to gaze out over the destruction in the city. “You think this madness will end with your rule?”

“It’s too late,” Loki said. Thor thought he was beginning to understand what he had done. “It’s too late to stop it.”

“No,” Thor said. “We can. Together.”

Loki looked him in the eye… and then betrayed Thor again, stabbing him in the side with a knife hidden in his sleeve. Thor dropped to the ground, clutching the wound. “Sentiment,” Loki said mockingly.

OH MY GOD. HE'S MOCKING HIMSELF, YOU ABSOLUTE KNUCKLEHEAD. I swear to god, this author sat down and went, "Hmm. How can I systematically erase any and all complexity this character possesses so he's as generic a villain as possible?"

CASE IN POINT:

On a bridge, Cap huddled behind a destroyed car with the Black Widow and Hawkeye. “Lots of civilians trapped up there,” Hawkeye said, indicating the nearby buildings. A flight of Chitauri went over, and Cap noticed something different about one of them.

“Loki,” he said. He was shooting at the civilians fleeing through the streets. “They’re fish in a barrel down there.”

It can be admittedly hard to tell because most shots of the Chitauri vehicles firing on people are from too far away to tell who's piloting... but I checked the clips from the Battle of NY and the only person Loki can definitively be seen firing at is Natasha. On another Chitauri whatever-you-call-them. Not even aiming for the street.

Thor was still watching the Chitauri zipping overhead. “I have unfinished business with Loki.”

“Yeah?” Hawkeye said. “Get in line.”

“Save it,” Steve said. “Loki’s going to keep this fight focused on us, and that’s what we need. Otherwise those things could run wild. We’ve got Stark up on top—”

Almost as if... according to plan...

Look, I have historically not bought into the full "Loki formed the Avengers so he could lose on purpose" theory because I feel that it contradicts the canon explanation that he was being influenced by the sceptre. But... you'd have to be an absolute moron to think he wasn't sabotaging himself, whether accidentally or on purpose. I suppose one could argue that just because it was amplifying his negative emotions, that doesn't necessarily mean it prevented him from working against his "allies". But if it wasn't affecting his actions at all, I don't know why they'd bother to confirm the theory as canon.

Also, like... according to this book, Loki is somehow targeting civilians and not targeting civilians at the same time ?? lmao

“Dr. Banner,” Steve said. “Now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

Bruce was already walking toward the Leviathan. “That’s my secret, Captain,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m always angry.”

Same, tbh.

Thor reached the top of the Empire State Building and lifted Mjolnir. Storm clouds gathered and lightning struck down, hundreds of bolts reaching for Mjolnir. Thor turned the Empire State Building’s iconic spire into a lightning rod, gathering the force of the elements into it. Then he thrust Mjolnir in the direction of the portal. All the energy he had built up blazed out in a single forking bolt. It struck and destroyed every single Chitauri between the Empire State Building and the portal itself. Hundreds of them exploded and tumbled from the sky at once, including several of the Leviathans that tumbled down to smash into buildings below.

...so why didn't Thor just keep doing this for the rest of the battle? Too draining, or not exciting enough? Lol

Satisfied, Thor nodded and glanced over at the Hulk. Perhaps the scales were evened from their last fight against each other on the Helicarrier—

The Hulk shot out his left fist and smashed Thor all the way across the block-long gallery. Then it was his turn to look satisfied.

Jealous. Again.

Maybe that was just Loki, but Steve was starting to feel like the Chitauri were going to absorb every punch the Avengers could throw. They had to close that portal, or nothing was going to stop the invasion.

Well then. It sure is fortunate that Loki allowed Selvig to install a failsafe, huh?

Fury stood and listened to the World Security Council explain that they had decided to take the operation out of his hands. They were going to use a nuclear missile to destroy the Tesseract and close the portal—but at the cost of untold civilian lives. Fury protested as strongly as he could and one of the councilors cut him off. “Director Fury. The Council has made a decision.”

These crazy motherfuckers would have killed so many more people than Loki it's not even funny.

...and tbh, it probably wouldn't even have destroyed the Tesseract, so they would have killed them for literally no reason too.

The Hulk paused, confused.

“You are, all of you, beneath me!” Loki raged.

Not yet, sir, but I would very much like to be. 😏

She knelt next to him and said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

Selvig digested this for a moment and then said, “Actually I think I did. I built in a safety to cut the power source.”

Of note and as alluded to previously:

1) The mind control over Barton and Selvig was not absolute either; therefore, if they are not responsible for their actions over the course of this movie, Loki is not responsible for his either.

2) If The Other could hear everything Loki was up to, it's very likely that Loki could hear everything Barton and Selvig were up to as well. Meaning that, at a minimum, he knew about the failsafe and did nothing about it.

The missile had a lot of momentum built up, and Tony’s Mark 7 suit was not operating at full capacity after the amount of energy he’d expended in the battle already. It was no easy task to get the missile angled up sharply enough to clear the tallest buildings in Midtown—especially Stark Tower. That was where the missile seemed to want to go. So, Tony thought, the World Security Council is jealous of me, too.

Look, I get that he's mostly just being witty, but seriously... this dude is out here accusing Loki of being an egomaniac? Lol

He got underneath the missile and angled it upward, straining against its stabilizers, which tried to keep it on course. But slowly he forced it up, and once he got its warhead pointed at an angle, pushing it into a steeper climb got easier. A little.

Steve Rogers’s voice broke his concentration. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip?”

So... you're admitting you were wrong, then? 🙃

The Avengers looked up. On the roof of Stark Tower, Natasha said, “Come on, Stark.”

They saw the explosion through the portal, brilliant as a new sun. There was no way Tony could have survived that.

I was wrong about him, Steve thought. When the time came, he did make the sacrificial play.

Thanks, Steve. That's really all I wanted.

Loki had just gotten himself put back together enough to get out of the hole in the floor. Painfully he dragged himself toward the door. Never had a mortal damaged him as much as that green monster. He would be healing for a long time.

He's literally in better shape now than when he came through the portal. And the author made zero mention of his health there.

But heal he would, and then he would have his revenge. Even though the portal had collapsed and he had lost the Tesseract. Even though his Chitauri army was destroyed. Loki would show the so-called Avengers they never should have opposed him.

Raise your hand if you watched Avengers and thought Loki was thinking about revenge right after getting Hulk-smashed. Why aren't any of you raising your hands??

Seriously, there are two emotions I felt from Loki at the end of Avengers Assemble: relief and anxiety. I have no idea why Alex Irvine is so intent on turning him into a boring, one-dimensional villain, but it made this book absolutely insufferable to read.

Anyway, that's it! I hope you all found this as entertaining and cathartic as I did. Lol

↩️ Back to Part One

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Lautrec Chain

Original Prompt: How Lautrec landed in that cell in the Undead Parish. We did it! Another chain is complete! A big thanks goes to all the amazing artists and writers who participated in this chain. Please check out their content and blogs.

@acebladespades

“A knight of Carim is nothing without his lady.”

He looked at the man behind the metal bars.

“You knew well what was expected from you.”

He took one step closer to the cell’s door.

“So why are you still alive?”

‐---‐-----------------------------

“I love you.”

His entire world came to a stop. 

Fina’s voice echoed softly in his ear. 

At first, Lautrec believed it was only a trick of his wishful mind. It wasn’t until he felt Fina’s arms resting on his chest, pulling him closer in a tender embrace, that he realized everything was true.

He closed his eyes and gently put his hands on top the golden arms of his cuirass. 

“I love you too, my lady.”

“Then, when the time comes, you won’t hesitate?”

Lautrec couldn’t answer. He knew his silence angered his goddess, but the question had caught him off guard. 

“I see.” Fina lifted her ethereal arms, leaving Lautrec alone with the metallic replicas of his armor. “Your ridiculous honor still means more to you than I, doesn’t it? How foolish I was to think that your love and devotion for me were real.”

“They are real.” Lautrec replied. “You know well you are my everything.”

“Lies. Your claims are nothing but honeyed and vacuous words. They are so typical of you mortals. If you truly loved me, you would have answered me instantly, without any trace of doubt in your voice; yet, all you gave me was silence. That’s not the way a knight should treat his lady, is it?”

“Of course not.” Lautrec smiled in a faint attempt to appease Fina’s temper.

Fina answered by resting her hands on his belly. At first, he mistook the gesture as a sign of forgiveness. His naïve perception changed when Fina dug her nails deep into his flesh and began clawing her way up to his shoulders.

The pain left Lautrec breathless. He fell to his knees, swallowing his screams and forcing himself to endure the punishment in silence. 

Even if Fina’s nails did not make him bleed nor they left visible injuries on his skin, the agony they caused him was real. 

Lautrec only dared to breathe again once Fina was done. The skin where she had touched him felt burning and tender, as if her ethereal nails had been covered in fire.

“If you wouldn’t treat a vulgar wench so rudely, what makes you can act with so much disdain toward your goddess?”

Lautrec didn’t answer. Fina didn’t gave him the chance, for as soon as she was done speaking, she embraced him again from behind.

The melted together, trapped in a blissful moment that Lautrec wished would never end.

“I love you.” 

Lautrec could feel the brush of her breath against his ear even through his helmet. 

“It pains me to hurt you like this, but you left me no choice. Please, my knight, do not make me do this ever again. All I ask from you is an answer.”

Guilt and regret kept Lautrec glued to the floor.

“So, I’ll ask you again.”

The ring on his finger throbbed with an invigorating energy that swiftly got Lautrec back on his feet. He remained still, with only the weight of his armor and the voice of his goddess keeping him grounded in reality.

“When the time comes, will you hesitate?”

“I won’t.” His answer came so promptly that his voice clashed with Fina’s. “Never forget that I am yours.”

“Oh, my knight.” Fina whispered so lowly that Lautrec could barely hear her. “My Lautrec.”

Though she couldn’t see her, Lautrec knew she was smiling.

 Underneath his golden helmet, he smiled too. 

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

“I must say I expected a more courageous performance from you.”

“My lady, it is one thing to fight a horde of Hollows.” Lautrec said once he was done rubbing of the filth off his helmet. “But to confront a ferocious drake, with nothing but a narrow bridge as our battlefield, wouldn’t have been brave, it would have been suicidal.”

“I suppose you are right. At the very least, I’m satisfied you didn’t end up becoming that beast’s dinner. You should be glad that its fire only brushed the surface of your helmet. Had it touched your skin, you’d be cursed with a burn that would never heal nor stop hurting.”

Lautrec had never believed such claims. He had always dismissed them as the exaggerated and baseless statements of antique books and scrolls. 

But he believed Fina.

The memory of the drake and the closeness of its fire formed a hole in his stomach.  

If there hadn’t been a secret passage underneath the bridge, the drake’s fire would have engulfed him whole, either reducing his body to ashes or leaving him covered in agonizing blisters. 

It was seldom that Lautrec felt fear, but there was something dreadful in imagining himself at the absolute mercy of a beast.

Forcedly, he dismissed his panic from his mind. The least he wanted was for Fina to notice how scared he was.

His lady, while gracious and merciful, did not take kindly to displays of weakness of any sort, and she took great pleasure in mocking Lautrec every time he failed to keep his mental barriers up and left his most hidden insecurities exposed.

Though her derision was always heartless and poignant, Lautrec did not resent his goddess for it. He knew Fina didn’t do it out of malice, and had he been in her place, Lautrec would have done the same thing. 

After all, he was a knight of Carim. To be always strong and resilient, especially when in the presence of his lady, was both his duty and his pride. If a lady mocked his knight, it was not to discourage or humiliate him, it was simply to remind him to keep the weakness of his heart in check.

Indomitable, stoic, dutiful, strong and steadfast.

Those were the true qualities of knighthood.

How Lautrec pitied the sentimental Astorans and the savage Catarinians for their deplorable and bastardized perceptions of what a knight was. They were pathetic, weak-minded and pretentious fools without a purpose.

None of them could ever understand what an honor it was for a knight to dedicate his entire existence to a lady. They couldn’t fathom the satisfaction a knight gained from being the eternal protector and the pillar of strength for his fated woman.

And if said woman was none other than Fina—

“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing.” Lautrec said. “I was just thinking of how blessed I am to have you as my lady.”

Fina remained quiet. 

After a small moment, she chuckled.

“You are adorable.”  

She sounded amused. 

Lautrec waited for her to continue. 

When she did, it was only to order him to proceed with his journey. Far from being disappointed, Lautrec was pleased. Though his confession hadn’t given him the answer he’d wanted, he had succeeded in making Fina laugh. 

He had made her happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more.

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

After getting rid of some meddlesome Hollows and infected rats, Lautrec managed to infiltrate the parish the drake had guarded so fiercely. He felt tempted to rest for a moment in a nearby bonfire, but Fina did not approve.

“I know you are tired.” She told him, so tenderly and motherly that Lautrec felt ashamed for having even thought about taking a rest at all. “But you cannot stop now. We are close to our destination. Once we are in Firelink Shrine, you will rest there for as long as you need. I want you strong and refreshed when your time comes to fulfill your duty.”

The reminder shattered all sense of peace and comfort Lautrec harbored. He raised his mental walls before Fina could sense his distress. This time, his weakness passed unnoticed by his goddess, but Lautrec still felt a boiling hatred for himself and his own feebleness.

Even if he could fool Fina, he couldn’t fool himself.

His rage and frustration fueled his attacks. 

Every Hollow and any other abomination that crossed his way met their ends at the touch of his swords. 

Lautrec fought his way through the chapel, but his streak of invincible prowess was cut short when the armored boar proved to be an enemy he couldn’t defeat.

The beast charged at him and sent him flying towards a wall of stone.  If it hadn’t been for his armor, the violent crash would have broken his spine in half.

“Don’t even think about dying now.” Fina told him as he struggled to get back on his feet. “If you die, do you know how long it would take you to arrive to this place again? Seriously, if I had known you were so frail and easily defeated, I would have allowed you to rest at the bonfire. No wonder that harlot you used to look after is long dead. She was cursed to an early demise the moment you were made her guardian.”

Lautrec couldn’t move. 

He felt as if Fina had dug a dagger into his chest and had ripped out his still beating heart.  He would have remained there, rotting in his own bafflement for all time, if the loud trotting of the boar hadn’t snapped him out of his trance.

This time, Lautrec avoided the charging attack of the armored animal. He lunged himself forwards and landed on his chest.

Then, his instincts took over. His former bloodlust was replaced by an urgent need to survive. 

He ran. 

He did not look back at the enemies he left behind. He continued running, making use of his blades only if he had no other choice. Many of the Hollows he was escaping from tried to follow him, but they were slow and clumsy creatures.

The few that managed to keep up with Lautrec had their heads severed from their shoulders.

To him, his escape was little more than a blurry vision. It was as if his mind had become disconnected from his body and dull to its surroundings. At first, Lautrec tried to convince himself that his numbness was the result of his exhaustion and stress. 

Like always, he failed to believe his own lies. 

He couldn’t think of anything else. He continued pondering on his weakness long after he was safe again, inside the confines of an abandoned church. 

How he had gotten there was only a hazy memory, as was his fight with the Hollow knights that lay dead at his feet.

His ring finger itched as if maggots were devouring it whole.

“See, my knight?” Fina told him. She caressed his chin, tracing a soft line along the bone of his jaw. “See how effective and lethal you are when properly motivated? Be thankful, Lautrec... for it is I who gave you the strength you needed to overcome your weakness. Go on, say it. Say that you are grateful to me for unleashing your best self.”

Fina rested her other hand on his chest, right above his heart.

“Say that you are grateful to me for being the only reason you are still alive.”

Lautrec’s mouth was bitter and parched. For the first time since he had become his loyal knight, he wished Fina would keep quiet and go away, if only for a moment.

All that Lautrec wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, but he was a knight of Carim. His time was not his to employ as he wished, it belonged only to his lady. 

“I’m grateful.” 

“Grateful for what?”

Lautrec clenched his jaw; he almost committed the offense of pulling away from Fina’s touch.

“I’m grateful to you for unleashing my best self.” 

Then, he felt it. He felt how Fina tried to pierce through the barriers of his mind. 

Lautrec strengthened his walls and hugged the arms of his cuirass.

“I’m grateful to you for being the only reason I’m still alive.”

“Oh, my Lautrec.” Fina kissed him in the cheek. The softness of her ethereal lips was followed by the sharpness of her voice. “If only I could believe you.”

Beads of cold sweat formed in Lautrec’s forehead. He didn’t know what scared him most, Fina’s anger or how easily she had seen through his façade. 

He remained trapped together with his goddess in a cold uncertainty that felt eternal.

“You’ve got nothing to fear, my knight.” Fina said, “As long as do as I tell you, you won’t be giving me reasons to forsake you. As long as you forget about that ridiculous knightly pride of yours, killing that fire keeper will feel as natural as the beating of your heart. The act will be quick, peaceful and pleasant. She will be grateful to you for freeing her from her cursed fate. She will enjoy it, and so will you, if you just let go of your past and embrace your present.”

Lautrec’s lips quivered.

“You are Undead.” Fina continued, brushing away the only tear that escaped from his eyes. “You’ve got no lady to satisfy other than me. The teachings of your homeland have no meaning in Lordran. I am your everything; you are my knight.”

“I am.” Lautrec muttered. He was overwhelmed. Not even the darkest piece of Humanity could have granted him as much peace and comfort as Fina did.

“Then prove it to me now.” Fina’s tone changed. It remained gentle, but now her words sounded like orders. “Over there, at the altar. Do you see it?”

He did.

There it was, at the other side of the church, carved in stone and untouched by time. Behind it, he could see the statue of a woman.

“Not just any woman.” Fina corrected him with a scoff. “It’s me. Approach it, my knight.”

Lautrec obeyed. He felt like almost like a child. 

The silly excitement he felt slowly vanished the closer the got to the altar, and it disappeared completely the moment his eyes understood what the strange figure laying on the altar’s surface really was.

Lautrec was used to the sight of corpses. He had been familiar with death since the time when he had been too young to become a page.

However, as unfazed as he remained by the decrepit state of the corpse before him, Lautrec trembled at the sight of the glowing orb floating just above the body��s chest.

“What a shame.” Fina said, “I would have preferred her to be alive so you could kill her, but it seems someone else already did the deed for you. You must be rather disappointed.”

“But I thought,” Lautrec swallowed before he could continue, “I thought the fire keeper would be at Firelink Shrine, locked for all eternity inside a cave, just like you told me.”

“Don’t be stupid, my knight. This fire keeper is not the same you will murder. This must be the tribute some deluded fool left here for me in a desperate attempt to earn my favor. Whoever he may be, the only thing he’s gained is my disdain. Does he honestly believe I would accept the offerings and advances of every man that comes by, as if I were a common strumpet?  The gall! Does he not know that Fina handpicks her knights and followers? Does he note care? Such offense will not go unpunished! If he ever dares to come back, you will fight him, and you will kill him.”

“I will.” Lautrec promised, wishing that the offender would return and give him an excuse to step away from the altar, but no one came.

“Regardless,” Fina continued once the worst of her flaring temper had passed, “it would be a waste to refuse this soul. I will not accept the offering of a stranger, but if my knight was to offer it to me instead, everything would be different.”

There was no need for Fina to instruct him further. 

Somehow, Lautrec managed to lift his arms. They felt heavy, as if they were made of stone. It took as much effort to get them closer to the corpse as keeping the barriers of his mind up did.

Yet, he could Fina trying to tear down his defenses and reach the deepest part of his mind. She wanted to see it.

She wanted to make sure that his heart was free of all regret and doubt.

Why shouldn’t it be?

Lautrec was staggered by the question as he asked it to himself.

To kill a fire keeper was the greatest sin a Carim knight could ever commit. It was an unforgiveable offense, a taint on his soul not even death could remove.

But he was not responsible for the death of this fire keeper. He had not taken her life; he had only found her rotting corpse on his goddess’ altar. 

He had done nothing wrong. 

He was following his lady’s commands.

So truly, he was fulfilling his duty as her knight. 

He was just—

“Take it.” Fina said in his ear. It wasn’t until then that Lautrec realized his hands had remained stuck in the same position for a while. His armored fingers were so close to the fire keeper’s soul that its gentle warmth could be felt through his gauntlets. “Do it.”

“I will.” Lautrec smiled. His pulse throbbed intensely in his temples. “I am yours, remember? I love you, Fina.”

“Shut up and take it!”

That he would. 

His rebellious hands had just started to listen to his commands when the blade of a rapier emerged from his chest. His blood covered the weapon, concealing the silver of the metal underneath a crimson layer.

Lautrec let out a soft gasp. It was the only sound his pierced lung could muster. 

Fina did scream on his mind; more than a mournful lament, her cry resembled a roar. She cursed the stranger for spilling the blood of her servant.

She damned him for damaging that which belonged to her.

The stranger, if he could hear her, ignored the goddess with sinful indifference. Instead, he focused all his attention on Lautrec. 

The stranger warped an arm around Lautrec’s neck and pulled him closer to him, further impaling him with the blade of the rapier. The weapon cut through the plates of Lautrec’s armor as easily as it cut through his flesh and bones.

“I witnessed your sin.”  The stranger said as he rested his chin on Lautrec’s shoulder.  “And it shall not go unpunished.”

“Kill him! Don’t you dare die without putting up a fight!” Fina exclaimed. Her voice resonated so loudly in his ears that Lautrec was surprised they didn’t start to bleed. “Kill this bastard, you useless coward! What kind of man are you? Are you even a real knight? Don’t you dare die, Lautrec. I will never forgive you if you fail me this way. If you die, I will forsake you and leave you to rot in this cursed land. I have no need nor use for weak men.”

The stranger removed the rapier from Lautrec’s body. His movements were quick, but they were not gentle.

Lautrec swallowed his pain and blood and tried to turn around. He would do as Fina said. He would not die in such a shameful way.

If a knight of Carim was meant to die, he had to meet death in the heat of battle. To perish under any other circumstances was the greatest humiliation imaginable. 

“My lady,” Lautrec stuttered as he tightened his grip on his swords.

Just when he was turning on his heels, the stranger grabbed him by his helmet and violently pulled him down to the floor.

He then grabbed Lautrec’s arm and pulled it behind his back until he let go the sword. The stranger kept pulling, almost snapping Lautrec’s arm from his shoulder.

“Useless.” Fina spat at Lautrec. Her voice was venom, and it spread across his soul like a blight. “Absolutely useless. What a pitiable excuse for a man, what a mockery of a knight you turned out to be.”

The stranger said something. His voice overlapped with Fina’s.

Lautrec tried to reach out for his goddess, but he had already sunk too deep into the darkness of death. His life was leaking away from him, taking with it all of his thoughts and his strength.

Soon, all that remained inside him was exhaustion and the phantom of his own despair.

Lautrec heard a distant, chilling laughter.

It was the last thing he perceived before death claimed him.

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

He got no response from the knight.

Oswald waited, but it was in vain.

He knew the knight was awake and could hear him. Oswald had defeated him; then, he had healed his injuries by forcingly feeding him Estus. 

Sinners like the knight did not deserve to be granted the peacefulness of death so easily. Death, contrary to what most people believed, was not a punishment or a sentence. To those with a clean conscience and an unburdened heart, death was a well-deserved rest. 

Yet, even if the knight had not sinned, to let him die would be an unnecessary waste of time. He was Undead, and for all Undead, death no longer had the same meaning than for those who remained free from the curse.

“You should have taken your own life the moment you lost your lady. That’s what was expected from you, or are you not a true knight of Carim?” 

Oswald said. The knight refused to acknowledge him, but Oswald did not care. 

“That fact you still exist when you’ve got no lady to protect is a sin in itself. How unfortunate that the Undead curse prevents you from fulfilling this last duty... or perhaps luck has nothing to do with this matter, and you sought a way to curse yourself in a pathetic attempt to preserve your life?”

Oswald listened as the echo of his own laughter spread across the church. The knight of the golden armor, however, remained quiet and indifferent. 

He had his chin glued to his chest. His hands were caressing the golden arms of his cuirass.

So, he was one of them.

Oswald’s smile almost hesitated, but he had long learned that to pour any amount of pity into those lost, deluded men was useless.

It was seldom that they broke free from their delusions, and most of them never tried at all. They became drunk on the promises of eternal love of the vainest of goddesses. 

They willingly fell for her empty words. 

Fina’s power over them was only as strong as the power of their own wills. 

It was no wonder she always picked the most broken and feeble of knights.

“Your failure to keep your former lady alive, whoever she was, is an unforgivable sin.” Oswald said. He took a step back from the cell. He joined his hands behind his back. “But that’s not the reason I am punishing you. Whatever sins and mistakes your committed back in Carim are none of my concern, but those you commit her in Lordran are my domain. And I saw what you did, so don’t even try to deny it. At this point, accepting your fault is the least you could do to salvage what little honor remains in your rotten heart.”

The knight did react to this. He lifted his head and looked at Oswald.

Oswald couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind his golden helmet as they were, but he could almost feel the ice-cold glare of the knight.

“I did not kill her.”  He said. 

There was anger in his voice, but also a deep emptiness. He would go Hollow soon.

Oswald smiled.

“Perhaps you didn’t.” He conceded. “I have no proof, so I cannot thrust the weight of this sin upon you; but I saw what you did. I saw how you tried to take her soul for yourself.”

Oswald expected the knight to say something in return. He was prepared to counter his excuses and tear apart his arguments, but the knight said nothing.

His silence was all Oswald needed to know he had condemned a guilty, dangerous man.

“If you were willing to commit such a vile act, what will stop you from killing a fire keeper yourself the next chance you get?  Certainly not your conscience, even less your pride as a knight. That’s why you shall never leave this cell. You will remain here until you go Hollow.”

Oswald gave one last look to the disgraced knight before turning his back on him. 

“And then I will kill you. But remember this, knight, your death is not your punishment.”

He told him as he walked toward the stairs that led to the church’s roof.

“It is merely the fate you chose for yourself.”

Oswald laughed again. 

He didn’t so out of mockery or cruelty, but out of amusement.

Oh, Fina’s so-called devoted followers.

They would have been pitiable if they weren’t so pathetic in the first place.

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

Fina had forsaken him.

The bitter solitude of her absence had almost driven Lautrec to his Hollowing, just like the death of his first lady had come close to sink him into madness.

But he had endured, though not because he was strong. 

If he had been allowed to keep his sanity after losing everything, it was because he had never lost his faith.

Faith that he could make amends and regain the love of his goddess.

A faith that became invigorated after some poor idiot freed him for his cell.

A faith that was about to be cemented now that the second bell had tolled. 

It was time.

He had delayed the act long enough.

It will be quick.

Lautrec thought as he grabbed the fire keeper by the neck through the barriers of her cell. She showed no emotion in her blue Astoran eyes.

It is peaceful.

Her stoic semblance not once faltered, not even as Lautrec slit her belly with a long slash of his curved sword.

It was pleasant.

Lautrec did not trust this last thought, but when his eyes meet with the agonizing and defying stare of the moribund fire keeper, he could see a glimmer of happiness in her.

It was then Lautrec knew that Fina had been right all along.

The gaze the fire keeper was giving him was not one of hatred or resentment, but of gratefulness. In the last moments of her miserable life, she was thanking him in silence. 

She was grateful to him for freeing her from her everlasting torment.

She was enjoying the moment just as much as Lautrec was.

“You are welcome.”

Lautrec told the fire keeper before letting go of her fading corpse. He forgot about her as soon as her neck left his hand.

In his other hand, floating above his blood-soaked palm, there was her soul.

I did it, Fina. Can you see me? 

Lautrec held the essence close to his chest. His mind, devoid of all barriers now that he had freed himself from his past fears and insecurities, was touched by the soft whisper of a goddess only he could hear.

“I do.”

Fina answered. For the first time since his defeat at the hands of the pardoner, Lautrec felt safe in the tender embrace of his one and only lady.

“My knight.”

Lautrec smiled. 

He felt whole.

@pan-de-torao

@dbzespio

Lautrec leaned heavily on his knees, gazing deeply into the bonfire and its dancing flames. He sighed softly as his wounds began to heal up, and the strength returned to his body.

Yes, this bonfire had served him well. But now, he felt it was time to move on.

His posture still stooped forward, he turned his eyes upward to behold the firekeeper. 

Much like his, her helm hid her face from view, and so he could not tell where exactly her gaze was directed. She was rested against the wall, her body still with a certain poise, one that indicated she was not one to be trifled with. She could hop out of that position and into a battle stance at once, and all with the ease of a well-trained warrior; he could tell. 

He rose to his feet with a slight grunt of effort. 

No, it would not be worth the trouble. He already had one prize; he didn’t need more.

~~ 

Those damned archers…

Lautrec nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of a new bonfire. He practically dragged himself to sit before it, finally allowing his gaping wounds to heal once again. 

“Oh! There you are!”

Lautrec startled, snapping his head towards the voice. 

But it was only a fellow knight, seated there on the floor nearby, just far enough to still be warmed by the flames. The crest on his chest held no significance; the fool had likely painted it on himself in a fit of self-grandeur, or perhaps, sheer lunacy. He also appeared to be adorned with a feather or two and... was that grass? A lunatic indeed.

Lautrec faintly recognized him; he had likely summoned the fool to assist him in battle at one point or another. He merely grunted a sort of half-acknowledgement of the knight’s words and returned his gaze to the bonfire.

The knight politely waited a few moments before speaking again. He leaned forward slightly, his voice friendly. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately. Smooth summoning out there?”  

Lautrec slowly turned to face him again, wishing that his glower could melt through his helm. 

“Anytime you see my brilliantly shining signature, do not hesitate to call upon me,” the knight continued. “I must say: you’ve left me with quite an impression. I would relish a chance to assist you.”

Was that fondness in his voice? Truly a fool, this man was. 

Despite this, a modicum of camaraderie swelled a little within Lautrec’s chest. Fool though he was, this man was still an undead knight, trapped within this godsforsaken realm, no doubt charged with a quest similar to his own. He felt he owed the knight a warning, at the very least.

“Our futures are murky,” he finally told him, turning back to the fire. “Let’s not be too friendly now.”

“Nonsense,” the man proclaimed, the feather atop his helm swaying in place as he fervently shook his head. “You and I are bound together in not one, but two bouts of jolly cooperation!

“Whatever your quest, my good knight,” he continued, his fist held up in a firm resolve, “I feel certain you will see it through.”

“I already have.” Lautrec rose and readied himself to leave. “Now it is nothing more than a simple matter of delivery.”

~~

Breathing heavily, Lautrec willed himself forward before collapsing before the fire. 

That was too close. 

His eyes darted around wildly before settling upon the summon signs around him. 

So there it was. His answer to the ever-constant invasions…

~~

Lautrec and his posse had just cleared the hall when yet another invader formed before them. She was but a simple cleric, but her eyes smoldered with barely suppressed rage as she rose from the haze upon ground. 

“Oh, look! Another one,” Lautrec sneered, waving the others to attention. “How many times must these lambs rush to slaughter? Ah well… Let’s get it over with!”

Lautrec charged forward, his summoned warrior following in his wake. Just behind them, his sage readied his wand. 

The cleric immediately raised her shield, a flimsy thing, really, and certainly no match for his blades. It managed to reduce the impact of the sage’s magic bolts, but now, Lautrec was right before her. He reared back before striking her a solid blow, his curved shotel easily reaching around her paltry shield. The shield blocked his comrade’s spear, but the woman now looked rather breathless. 

“‘Tis a terrible pity,” Lautrec mused, trading his left shotel for a knife as he watched the invading cleric scramble to return her shield to her back. “Like a... moth, flittering towards a flame.

“You fellows… No? Don’t you agree?” He turned back towards his sage and briefly extended his arm towards his warrior, allowing the cleric a moment to ready herself for an attack of her own. 

As if she’d stand a chance. 

He chuckled darkly, watching as she lifted her talisman. She cast Force, which sent the spearman to the ground and the sage’s next magical projectile soaring back to strike him in the face. 

Lautrec himself stumbled before recklessly charging her again. If his companions weren’t able to strike her, it appeared he’d have to finish the job himself. 

She rolled away when he slashed at her with his shotel before charging at him with a knife that he hadn’t noticed she had been holding. He caught it with his own, slashing at her again with his free arm. 

Vulnerable as she was, and with no armor to boot, the cleric staggered from the devastating blow. Lautrec kicked her away, laughing callously yet again. The sage’s magical bolts peppered her several times as she struggled to recover. In the meantime, Lautrec traded his parrying knife for his second shotel, all the while watching her intently. 

Finally she knelt with talisman in hand. He recognized the gesture immediately as one of self-healing. “Oh no, you don’t…” 

With that said, he lashed out with dual strikes and chuckled as her form disintegrated into smoky mists. He helped himself to the humanities and souls she left behind before turning back to his entourage. “Well, well. I thought you were wiser… but I thought wrong.”

His summoned warrior lunged at her now formless remains with his spear. Poor fellow was a bit slow to grasp the reality of the situation. Finally he recognized she was gone and returned to Lautrec’s side. 

“Well, that was rather simple,” he scoffed and scanned the area. He beheld a glowing summon sign near the stairwell and went to examine it further. 

Ah, if it wasn’t the fool himself. 

Lautrec recalled the spearman, and summoned the warrior of sunlight. He arose with his arms in the air in a sun salute before facing Lautrec with a nod. Thankfully, he didn’t talk as much while in a summoned state.

Lautrec led them down the hall and pushed open the giant, double doors. He would have thought the room beyond empty, until he finally took note of a giant, stocky figure at the other end of the area. For a moment, they were so still Lautrec wasn’t quite certain whether they were human or statue. Either way, they wielded a hammer, nearly as large as themself.

Before Lautrec or the others could move in to have a closer look, another figure slowly and gracefully made their way to one of the balconies above. A single hand rested gently upon the railing as the knight, clad in incredibly intricate armor, gazed down at all of them. Within moments, the knight leapt down to stand before them, poised for battle. 

The one wielding a hammer hefted it upon his shoulder, moving the giant weapon with such an ease that it looked as if it were made of feathers. So then apparently this ‘statue’ could move after all.  

Lautrec faintly recognized the pair of warriors; felt certain that he had found their likenesses etched in marble somewhere within the city of Anor Londo. But it hardly mattered; if they stood in his path, they would be eliminated, all for the glory of the goddess.

The knight charged forward, his spear at the ready. Lautrec raced to meet him, easily moving off to the side to avoid the incoming spear. However gifted he may be, this spearman was no different from all others; he favored his right. All Lautrec needed to do was be careful to avoid that side and attack from the left, whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Meanwhile, Solaire focused his efforts on the giant. He would avoid the swing of his hammer with well-timed rolls and slash away with his sword while the giant struggled to reorient himself. He’d have to sprint away whenever his opponent decided to charge him, his hammer practically transformed into a whirlwind. And once his back was turned, Solaire would toss over a few lightning bolts in response.    

Meanwhile, Lautrec’s summoned sage would hurl magic bolts at the giant. He was a large, and therefore, easy target, after all. And with both Lautrec and Solaire keeping their opponents busy, the sage didn’t have much to worry about, so long as he kept himself far from the fray.

Before long, the giant man crumpled to the ground and took his last breath. Ornstein leaped away from Lautrec to stand at his side. He rested a hand against his fallen comrade’s body with a clearly remorseful weight to the action, despite how simple it was. 

But that simple gesture granted the knight a sudden surge in power. His very size surged until he grew to twice his height and weight. His spear sizzled with electricity as he held it aloft, reinvigorated to fight anew. 

“By the goddess!” Lautrec exclaimed as the spearman lunged at him. He rushed away; this time, it was much more difficult to avoid the weapon, given it too had increased in size. 

Solaire took the moment to lob a spear of lightning at the dragonslayer. However, it hardly had any effect.

The sage had prepared a more powerful spell, and this time, several magical bolts struck Ornstein at once. He momentarily flinched before rushing forward to attack the sage.

Lautrec and Solaire used the opportunity to move in close, slashing away at Ornstein’s legs. In response, the knight readied a lighting strike, charging up his spear with crackling electricity. Lautrec just barely managed to avoid being impaled, but his body shuddered as the remnants of lightning burned at his skin. He rolled away and yanked up his helm to chug a flask of Estus.

Meanwhile, Ornstein leapt high into the air, his body practically shining with excess electricity. Both Solaire and Lautrec were knocked off their feet as the dragonslayer crashed back down to the ground, sparks flying nearly everywhere. Even the sage, far from the action, staggered from the impact. 

Lautrec frantically rolled until he was far away, ripping back his helm to down not one, but two flasks of Estus. This wasn’t going to be an easy battle.  

But once he had his fill of Estus, he clenched his fists tightly around his shotels. He would not falter. For, after all, he had the favor of the goddess.

In the meantime, Solaire hurried to his feet and rushed in to attack Ornstein’s legs once again, determined to give Lautrec the time he needed to recover. He narrowly avoided another lunge; his body involuntarily shuddering from the excess electricity. How he longed to drink but a drop of Estus… But he had no time for that.

Meanwhile the sage had quickly gathered his wits and hurled magical bolts at the dragonslayer. He was too distracted with Solaire to fight back, so the mage continued his assault without interruption. 

Reinvigorated, Lautrec moved in to assist Solaire. Together the two kept slashing away at Ornstein’s feet, all while avoiding his near-constant barrage of lightning laden lunges. Ornstein was just about to recharge his spear when the sage dealt him one blow too many, and the mighty dragonslayer finally fell. 

Muscles buzzing with excess energy and skin burning from electrical buildup, Lautrec heaved hungry breaths of air as he watched the knight succumb to darkness. A glittering light was left behind, along with several other treasures.   

But before he could go to retrieve them, the foolish knight hurried to stand before him. He jovially clapped Lautrec’s shoulder until he finally lifted his helm to look him in the face. 

“A truly excellent bout of jolly cooperation, my good friend!” Solaire declared, no doubt a hearty grin beneath that helm. “Here; please take this!”

Lautrec already knew what the man was about to give him, and he didn’t want it. 

Regardless, Solaire found his hand and pressed a warm medal into it. Lautrec could feel the warmth even though the thickness of his armor; the object was indeed strange. But he refused to close his fingers, so the medal eventually fell to the ground once the golden sunlight warrior finally vanished into thin air. Lautrec didn’t bother to give the thing even the slightest of second glances. He simply didn’t need it.

Instead he moved in to receive his prizes. A gluttony of souls, along with Ornstein’s own, and a ring, a lion engraved upon it. He doubted he would find much use for it. Regardless, he tucked it away along with the rest. 

He wandered about the area for a while before coming upon a moving platform. He took it to find access to the balconies above, and to his great relief, a bonfire laid in wait. He took a rest there, allowing his wounds and aching body to heal.

Soon enough, he rose to his feet and made his way to the double doors before him. What laid behind them took his breath away.

There, her beautiful body draped across a plush chaise, laid the goddess Fina. The room was warm; soft light that emanated from the goddess herself wrapped the area in a gentle glow.

“Fina…” Lautrec breathed, immediately dropping down to one knee. 

Fina smiled and extended a gentle hand towards him. “Thou hast journey’d far, and overcome much, chosen Undead. Come hither, child…”

Lautrec blinked. ‘Chosen undead?’ ‘Child?’ 

Did she not see him?

He cleared his throat. “Fina, my beloved… It is I, Lautrec the Embraced. And I have for you a gift...” He procured the firekeeper’s soul and held it aloft.

She beckoned to him again. “Come hither…”

“As you wish…” Lautrec humbly rose, moved to stand just before her, and knelt down, all while holding out his treasure for her to take.

“O chosen Undead,” she continued, her voice soft. “I am Gwynevere. Daughter of Lord Gwyn; and Queen of Sunlight…”

 She had more to say, but Lautrec immediately stopped listening. Rage boiled up within his gut and spread throughout his body as he clenched his teeth.

The blasphemous wench! How dare she pose as the everlasting goddess!

Snarling, Lautrec ripped his shotel from its sheath and slashed the imposter, causing the unsuspecting woman to scream out. But his steel did not taste flesh; rather, he tore through naught but haze. 

The woman was but a mirage. A trick of his mind. 

Just as suddenly as the woman disappeared, the room went dark. It was cold here. 

Lautrec looked about wildly, but he was alone, left with nothing but a soft, almost fading light from the firekeeper’s soul. He dropped his shotel, and it clattered to the ground, louder than ever now. 

Was Fina… testing him?

He clenched his fist. No, it was that woman’s fault. She was a charlatan, a fake. Nothing was worse than impersonating a goddess. And it wasn’t as if he had ever seen a being as wondrous as the goddess herself in person before. How could he have known? 

Yes... yes. He was not to blame here. No, not at all.

In that moment, the silence was broken. 

I witnessed your sin, and it shall not go unpunished. 

Lautrec froze. Too afraid to turn and face the voice. 

Thou shalt perish in the twilight of Anor Londo.

No, this wasn’t happening. Everything he had done… it was all for Fina. 

He couldn’t have…

Slight footsteps from behind compelled him to whirl around. A blue phantom stood within the doorway; she was dressed in light armor, not unlike the painting guardians he had encountered shortly after he had entered Anor Londo. And just like those warriors, she was wielding two short blades. 

He would have bent to retrieve his shotel, but his limbs felt heavy, worn. And before his mind could have the opportunity to overpower his fading will, the warrior rushed forward, her blade plunging into his abdomen. She twisted the weapon, and he shuddered, the pain overtaking all of his senses. She kicked him to remove her blade, and his body easily crumpled to the ground. 

He laid there in agony, coughing up blood and wondering why she hadn’t yet finished him off. Once he finally opened his eyes, he saw her, tenderly holding the firekeeper’s soul. He must have dropped it at some point, or maybe she had taken it from his hand; he could hardly tell, much less remember, at this point. All he knew was that it was ill-gotten. That he had soiled Fina’s good name in taking it.

Before long, his helm was roughly ripped off of him. “This is for Anastacia of Astora,” the warrior stated, her voice cold. 

With that said, she lopped off his ear. “The Dark Sun will be pleased.” Her voice was soft now, devoid of the malice with which she spoke earlier. 

He watched her ready a black separation crystal. “You will not kill me?” he finally managed to ask.

“Killing you would only end your suffering.” She stepped on the wound in his gut and pressed down, forcing him to cry out yet again. “And my wish for you is to wallow in it.”

She finally backed away and activated her crystal, returning to her realm awash in shining light.

Lautrec, bloodied and broken, finally mustered the strength to drag himself out of the room and towards the bonfire beyond. 

But it was not lit.

He coughed again, blood spattering across the marbled floor. His vision blurred; the blood loss certainly wasn’t helping matters.

He crawled onwards, knowing full well he was too far gone to reach another bonfire. But he knew he must try. For Fina’s sake.

Fina…

He had failed her. 

No…! He would never…!

His fingers trembled as he continued to drag himself forward. Onwards.

Everything, yes, everything he had done, all of it was for Fina. For her glory. For his honor. For their love.

But…

Lautrec faltered and hissed. The pain was too great.

Fina was a magnificent, benevolent goddess. Death in her name would only serve to sully her beauty, her magnanimity. She would never allow it.

But the prize.

The endless souls… They would preserve her beauty forever; grant her with eternal youth.

Lautrec’s fingers hit into a wall. He could barely see straight; his body felt cold. He wasn’t certain how much longer he would last.

He pulled himself into a seated position, his back against the wall. He breathed deeply, as best as his tired lungs would allow. 

The ends do not justify the means.

He had failed his goddess, his love, by dishonoring her name. She would never accept any gifts, any love from a man drenched in sin. He knew this now.

He would perish within the twilight of Anor Londo.

As his goddess ordained. 

@lefrustemangaka

@taroris​

Silence always followed death. It was mandatory, as only death could rip things from this world with such coldness and leave a grieving void where the poor soul exhaled its last breath. Once the Shrine’s fire faded, not even the breeze dared to break the deathly quietness.

It took a while for Anastacia’s grasp around the metal rod to vanish; her delicate face contracted in a somewhat painful expression yet with relief under her lifeless blue eyes. Blue eyes which also stared at Lautrec with reproach; reproach because it wasn’t yet her time to leave, because she was supposed to die after fulfilling her role as Firekeeper, not in the hands of a knight who kept her company day after day until turning his blade against her.

With a swift measured move of hand, Lautrec cleaned the blood from his shotel. It was splattered on the floor in front of the rusty cell, which seemed to have been built in a rush by non-expert hands. Her frame paled in the light, not even a murmur was produced by the vanishment process. Then, the delicate soul of Anastacia jingled where her place has been for, perhaps, an eternity; tiny humanities dancing around the pure white light, happy, unbothered by the grim turn of events.

Lautrec picked them up and gave a look at the light and the darkness. Both antagonists floated pleasantly in his hand; darkness around light, light around darkness. The tendrils of Anastacia’s soul seemed to caress the humanities, as a mother would do to their kids. The humanities seemed to love the attention as they appeared to jump and shake their small bodies pleased. The somewhat peace these poor vestiges of a past life enjoyed was finally disrupted, for the image of the very safety and home meant nothing to Lautrec, whose real home was in the arms of a Goddess and the safety was only reached after the brief moments of offering the humanities he separated from Anastacia and placed inside his travel bag.

The Firekeepers' soul seemed to shiver when the mourning was over and the wind blew in the shrine, caressing its tendrils and letting it know of the newfound loneliness.

Truth be told, the reaction of the white soul was rather peculiar. With a tilt of his head, Lautrec observed how it reacted to its surroundings. How it seemed to know somehow that something was off. Maybe the pureness of the Firekeepers’ souls was the one to blame; souls remaining safe of the hunger that leads most Undeads, unbothered by the filthiness of the world that has no room for these same souls unless entrusted with the task to tend fire.

Lautrec scoffed. He was no innocent human, that was as true as the sky was blue. On top of that, he was hungry; hungry to please her Lady, hungry to give her everything she wished for. Staring at the soul wouldn’t do him any good. Then, almost in a whisper, a kind voice spoke to him. It spoke to him about time, about love, about forgiveness. For Lautrec, there was only one thing more absolute than death, and that was her Goddess’s words. He knew what he had to do next: complete his duty in the so-called city of Gods, but which was no home for his Lady. At least, not anymore.

The knight left the Shire, wherein the few beings remaining there barely noticed his leave. He, then, resumed his travel; going through the cathedral, through the burg, through the fortress made to break one’s soul but merely scratched his for the loving voice gave him the strength needed to prevail and move forward. It was such the faith in his Lady’s words that he even travelled through air (carried by nasty ugly demons) to arrive at his destination.

With utmost care, Lautrec inspectioned the place until finding the bonfire and, with the bonfire, the Firekeeper. He felt the arms around his torso hug him even in a more affectionate way, and the joy which washed over his body was almost overwhelming. Yet, he shouldn’t be carried away by those feelings, or he could end up imprisoned again, when the end of his task was within the reach of his fingertips.

When the Firekepeer spoke, Anastacia’s Soul shaked faintly in his travel bag.

“Mmh… You are a rare visitor,” she said once he walked down the stairs. In her voice, there was a hit of something Lautrec couldn’t place right away. “Welcome to the lost city of Anor Londo. If you seek Lord Gwyn’s old keep, exit here and head straight yonder. If you-”

“I will, for now, allow myself to take a rest,” Lautrec interrupted her.

It had been quite a while since he had been around a talkative Firekeeper. Instead, he had grown so comfortable with the silence around Anastacia that he had forgotten how annoying these women can be sometimes; with their gibberish and duties.

“Very well. After all, that is what the bonfire is for,” she muttered, with annoyance and that something which was still difficult to place in her voice.

Lautrec sat down near the fire. His tired legs sighed with the brief break they were given while his hands quickling unfastened the travel bag around his waist.

The moment to observe her came when he pretended to take care of his equipment, of his shotels and armour. It stood out that Firekeeper was nothing like the previous ones he had encountered before; all delicate ladies, sometimes blinded, sometimes too oblivious of the world around her. This woman, instead, looked like a warrior, and it was not because of the pretentious armour befitting of an even more pretentious place like Anor Londo. No. It was because of the aura around her, of the way she folded her arms, the posture she kept against the wall, the way tried to appear like she was self-absorbed but her eyes felt like daggers poking his skin.

It finally clicked. That something hard to place in her voice: mistrust. This woman was, by all means, different from the previous Firekeepers who always thought he was a well-meaning knight searching for their help and fire. This woman was dangerous, because mistrust made you be aware of dangers, of betrayal, and made offering harder. Lautred needed to find help, and by help it meant cannon fodder. For that reason he got up and announced it was time to continue his journey. The knight, then, adventured himself even further in the city, further into the high building.

His shotel cut through multiple enemies dressed in white clothes and who threw daggers. He got no reward from it and the voice whispering kind words suddenly started to rush him to go back to the Firekeeper’s place. Oh, how much he wished to speak with his Lady at that moment, to hold her delicate hands and promise her that she would have the world if only she gave him a moment to do what had to be done to cut the Firekeeper’s throat.

His steps lead him to a cathedral, wide, open, and filled with multiple enemies. Even if it cost him some estus, Lautrec prevailed and the colossals figures and Silver Knights ended up falling to his blade. When inside there was no more than silence (a silence aware of the knight’s intentions and which followed him as it followed death), Lautrec started to search for marks. For marks of unwaries who would have no other choice but to help him fulfill his role; perhaps serving as bait.

It didn’t take him long to come across a well-known yellow sign. Holding back a scoff turned out to be impossible for a solid second, as there was no point in summoning that crazy fool. Lautrec kept searching, avoiding the signs of Warriors of Sunlight as if they were infected with the plague. Then, finally, after walking up and down the hallway, he located it: two white summoning signs. A sorcerer and a spearman. That would serve him well. Lautrec touched the first white light, with black letters signaling a name that he couldn’t care less, before touching the second one. Two men appeared in front of him and spoke words of greeting, too cheerfully for his liking. He barely muttered some words to content them for there were more pressing matters to attend.

After the pointless greeting was over, the three of them walked to the entry, to the closed massive doors. With a sigh, Lautrec started to look for the mechanism to open them, locating a giant lever attached to some big gears.

Upon touching the handle, though, he felt it. The soft rumbling of worlds clashing together. His furrow deepened under his helmet and walked back to his comrades who were looking at their surroundings. Lautrec didn’t feel like playing the mouse and cat game at that moment, so, when the other two men looked at him wondering about his plan, he simply ordered them to wait until the dark phantom appeared.

And the phantom did so. After a closer look at the armour, an amused hum left his lips. The Chosen Undead straightened their back and when their gaze fell on the knight and his cannon fodder, they stormed towards them, sword raised in wrath. The same wrath that filled their voice when they spoke.

“Lautred, you bastard! How dare you kill her?! How dare you kill Anastacia?!”

The knight waited (hearing reassuring words of his Lady that ensured him the victory) for the Chosen Undead to run towards them and for his summonings to defend him, as it was a mandatory rule between the fool Undeads.

“Well, look at you,” he began, dragging out his shotel. “I thought you were wiser, but I thought wrong!”

@thefatladysang​

[emerald-amidst-gold]

A Wolf and His Dragon

Now, I know this is a bit sloppy and not very fleshed out, but the idea was inserted, and I had to spit it out before it left me! Maybe I’ll come back and tweak a few bits, but have some Dragon!Fane everyone! As well as a Solas who knows how to laugh without feeling guilty! 

@oxygenforthewicked You asked, you received~

*****

One did not merely lose a dragon. Dragons, for one, were as gigantic as the domains they inhabited. Mountains, plains, the more abandoned spires in the far reaches of Elvhenan; they were all the adequate size to house a hoard of majestic creatures larger than life itself. Obviously, the numbers had drastically dwindled, much to Solas’s anger and dismay, but there was still a chance to correct it, as well as, free his own people from their own contract of slavery. However, he could not do that when he seemingly could not find one of the last rarest dragons, who flew in the clear sky without a shred of fear or shame of being collared. 

Solas had lost a dragon. 

He had lost Aterian. 

Solas let out a frustrated sigh as he stopped in his gait within one of the deeper forests just outside of Arlathan, lifting a hand to slowly rub at his face in exasperation. 

“Fenhedis, Aterian. Where are you?”, Solas growled out to himself, throwing his hand down to slowly swivel his head back and forth. “He is not one to wander off without a reason.”

Solas knew Aterian enjoyed bouts of solitude, the Evanuris sparking the flames of rage and bloodlust within a snowy heart long used to seeing his kin broken. He would not deny the snowy dragon his time alone, or freedom, for that matter. He was not Aterian’s master; he was his friend. However, these moments of sudden disappearances did cause him to panic somewhat, so worried that one of the Evanuris had cemented it within their minds that they would attempt to tame the fiery dragon, even as Solas had warned, threateningly warned, that if any one them were to touch or use an ounce of magic upon Aterian, they would not be spared retribution. He still felt a bristling of indignation when Elgar’nan had flagrantly scoffed at his protectiveness.

“Are you certain you are not its master, Fen’harel? You certainly act like one. All its needs is a collar about its neck, and the package is complete.”, Elgar’nan had commented upon a moment Solas had been merely speaking to Aterian. 

Solas remembered the fiery gold that had swam within Aterian’s vision at that accusation before he had had to intervene. As much as he, too, had been furious for such idiocy, it wouldn’t have done for either of them to lash out. Not yet.

“As I have stated multiple times, I am not his master.”, he had enunciated the gender of Aterian with a hiss. “He is free to come and go as he pleases. As any being should. Have I not made this point before, or shall I go on about the importance of free thought and power of choice once again?”, he had challenged the elder of them, all the while having to pat the underside of Aterian’s maw to keep him back.

Elgar’nan had merely sneered in disgust before turning away from him and Aterian. “Save your breath, but do be careful the beast does not snap your head off when it finally turns. Mythal would be heartbroken. So much so, that she may finally move against your pet.”, the threatening words having been the last as Elgar’nan had stormed away. 

Solas felt his jaw lock up at the memory before letting out a deep breath through his nose. 

“Calm. Calm. No matter their words, retribution will come soon enough for all their transgressions. I simply must have patience, and hope that my words will reach them in some form before something tragic transpires.”, he urged himself quietly before looking around the thick forest once more. “However, that is not what is important right now.”

Yes--his misgivings over his fellow Elvhen could wait. For now, he had a dragon to locate, albeit soon before panic truly set in. But where would he start to search further? He had already tried every other area around the main city, and he had come up empty handed. Perhaps--

“Grr..”

Solas’s head snapped to the right as he heard a distinct, familiar growl rumble from beyond a group of trees. He felt the cool feeling of relief wash over him as he saw the end of a snowy, ebony tipped tail swaying back and forth, occasionally whipping sharply before another growl would sound. 

“Aterian..”, Solas sighed out in further relief, smiling warmly before it turned into a curious smirk as another sharp whip of a serpentine tail stirred the foliage around it. What was his dear dragon up to? 

Solas only let his smirk spread as he slowly began to step over bits of twigs and dried leaves, not wishing to garner the occupied dragon’s attention just yet. He was a tad curious as to what Aterian was so transfixed with that it was eliciting somewhat frustrated growls and defeated huffs, but that was all the more reason to be stealthy. It wasn’t very often he could catch the usually observant dragon off guard, after all. 

As Solas sneaked closer, he carefully shifted around Aterian’s whipping tail to gracefully scale a small boulder. He gingerly set himself down to sit upon its cool surface, resting his chin a hand as he finally could see the elegant face of ebony, ice, and white that was currently nuzzling at the ground like a hound. Solas let his amused smirk turn into a fond smile, eyes narrowing slightly with warmth as he watched emerald and gold ebb and flow like liquid from its searching movements. 

He is truly a beautiful soul. To think that such atrocities are committed to his kin because of ignorance; it is sickening. Solas thought with a slight grimace before his eyes picked up a gently floating wisp making its way to where Aterian’s massive head was still running along the grassy ground. 

The closer the wisp got the more Solas could see it was..holding something? He squinted a bit, trying to make out what was floating in front of the gentle nebulous form until he felt a harsh gust of air nearly dislodge him from where he was seated. As if on instinct, Solas threw up a barrier to weather the rest of the windy storm before it died down as quickly as it had spurred. When he next looked up, he saw that Aterian had lifted his head to the presence of the wisp, emerald eyes glinting beautifully as an emotion like approval shone within them. 

“Hmph.”, Aterian let out a pleased huff, his mouth opening to gingerly take the wisp’s belonging, which it gave without any fuss before it began to float away with a methodical purpose in the direction it came. 

Solas let out an amused sigh before he couldn’t help a soft laugh from escaping. It would seem his mighty dragon had employed the help of a wisp for something. That was..fascinatingly adorable. 

“Aterian..”, Solas finally addressed the pleased dragon, watching as satisfaction shifted to shocked emerald as Aterian snapped his serpentine head to where he was. “..If I may ask, what are you doing?”, he asked with a warm smile as wide, draconic eyes stared down at him in further shock. 

Aterian’s shock soon shifted to a form of sheepishness as emerald morphed into pale gold, the harshly whipping tail from before seemingly grabbing a hold of something on the ground before it slicked back slowly to a hind leg. Solas hummed, his smile only widening as he realized his friend was hiding something. Now that was interesting, as well.

“What? Am I not allowed to see what it was that you were working so diligently on? Considering you rallied a wisp to your cause, it must be very important.”, Solas teased, lazily pointing in the direction that wisp had gone.

Solas saw Aterian’s eyes go blank at that, reminiscent of when one’s face would go deadpan. He smirked more at that. As much as he knew the dragon didn’t like his teasing, there was still enough of a glint of gold that told Solas that he actually did. There was much one could learn from gazing into a dragon’s two toned gaze. Aterian had taught him that without a single word. Their bond was special, and he cherished it as one would cherish a fond memory; closely. It had obviously not always been sunshine and bells, but that is what had made it as strong as it was now. 

I care for you more than my heart can bear at times. You have a bright spirit. Brighter than most Elvhen. Solas thought with a slightly sad smile before he translated that sorrow to a sigh. I wish I could do more for you, ma’isenatha. You and your kin, but I am only one man. However, I will do as much as I can with the power I do have. I vow to you. He thought with more determination before the sudden sight of large golden emerald eyes nearly inches from his own had him staggering back in shock, actually falling from the boulder this time to land plummet to the ground below. 

Solas began to draw in magical energy to erect a barrier, but he felt his descent suddenly halt as he felt something..tugging on the material of his clothing. His brows furrowed in confusion until he looked down, seeing that his feet were hovering just a few feet from the ground. This..did not feel like magic.

Before Solas could openly voice his confusion a soft, but annoyed huff of air rushed against his back, making him shiver from the chill it housed. He blinked a few times as he felt dampness soak into his clothes before letting out an airy laugh, realizing what was going on. 

“Ma’isenatha.”, Solas said around a chuckle, turning his head upwards to see emerald eyes glaring down at him, but they held a glimmer of warmth within the amber tones. “You do understand I was in no danger, yes?”, he asked with a soft smile. 

He watched as Aterian’s annoyance shifted to soft sheepishness as the dragon’s eyes shifted away slightly, a low growl escaping past the cloth before he felt himself being carefully lowered to the ground. Aterian released him as soon as his feet touched the ground, but before the dragon could turn his head away in shame, Solas reached out to delicately place a hand upon a snowy white, cool the touch snout. 

“Thank you.”, Solas said softly before shifting his own gaze to the side a bit with a gentle smile. “..For always being there when I fall.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath pass through massive lungs before the snout before him nudged into his frame gently. Solas blinked, stumbling slightly despite the gentle touch before resting his forehead against a frigid snout to stare into glimmering orbs of emerald and gold. Those eyes told him more than words ever could. They were better than any voice. They were the land and the emotions that permeated it, and he would gladly fall a thousand times if it meant he got to see those glistening pools every time strong wings caught him with their width. 

If only I could express how much you mean to me, my dragon. If only I could utter the same words that emerald and gold utter to me. If only I could be there to catch you when you fall. But I know such things will never be because I lack what you possess so wonderfully. He thought with anguish before nuzzling into Aterian’s snout, hearing a faint sad growl rumble from a mighty chest. “Shh, my dragon. I am fine. I apologize for burdening you with my emotions when your own are already so heavy.”, he whispered soothingly, hearing another sad growl come from Aterian before he heard a heavy body plop down to come closer to him. 

Solas couldn’t help but smile warmly at that despite the longing in his chest, delicately tapping Aterian’s snout with a few fingers. Yes--his dragon was adorably fascinating with the range of emotions he could display, as well as, his odd habit of acting like a puppy. However, Aterian was not a dog to him. The rare dragon was a wonderful, bright, and headstrong person, and he would not hear anyone say differently. All beings had a shred of humanity within their hearts, no matter their form, and they were capable of love, happiness, grief, anger; they were capable of it all. One simply had to understand them. Sadly, it would seem understanding was in short supply anymore.. 

“Would you like to take a nap with me?”, Solas asked, the idea popping into his head to flush out the depressing thoughts as the mixture of warmth and cold wrapped him in a comforting blanket. “There is no rush for us to go back, and I doubt our presence will be missed for a few hours. Does that sound fair to you, Aterian?”

Aterian’s eyes flared with barely contained happiness as multiple huffs and slight nods of an elegant head showed just how much that was fair to the large dragon. 

Solas let out a warm laugh. “I will take that as a ‘yes’.”, he said before shifting to position himself between Aterian’s front legs. 

Aterian lifted his head to allow Solas to in, emerald eyes watching him closely as he gently sat himself down on the ground. He leaned back to rest against a firm chest of oddly soft scales that were both cold and warm at the same time, and chuckled fondly as he felt Aterian bring his head back down to rest a bit of his head in his lap. 

He sighed contentedly before reaching a hand up to tenderly stroke at a sharp cheekbone, watching as one, visible emerald eye gazed at him with warm affection. Solas felt his chest tighten at the sight before he leaned forward to nuzzle against the dragon’s head, idly noticing how both their eyes closed upon the touch. His heart could not feel more full, but yet it did..

If only.. He thought with renewed anguish before bringing his arms up to softly hug at a strong maw, once again hearing that same sad growl resonate like a sorrowful spell. If only I could show you how much I love you. Perhaps in another world, another life, but yet, I do not wish for more than you have already given. For I fear it could be taken away from such selfishness. And so, I will keep you close, I will keep you safe, and I will accept that this is enough. For I love you, my dragon, and no matter the form, love knows no discrimination. That is my one guiding light as we walk into darkness.

Those were Solas’s final thoughts as his mind gently began to drift into slumber, all the while not feeling the soft sensation of something being placed upon his head, or the delicate fragrance of Gladiolus that wafted from above as a faint, faint echo of a voice sounded in his ears. 

If only I would allow myself to let you in further, my wolf. I am sorry. In another life, another world, I promise I will let you. I vow to find you, wherever you may be, so you will know how much I love you.

...I didn’t cry while writing this. Nope. Nuh-uh. *currently sniffling like a child* IN ANOTHER LIFE, VHENAN!

[dayzone]

maybe you could do neil snapping (i mean he kills someone or something like that) at evermore after the winterbreak (so Andrew is already out of rehab) and calling kevin (and the rest of the foxes bc they are there)? idk? it was just an idea hahahha :)

BRO YES THANK YOU

okay i took some liberties with the prompt BUT i absolutely adore fics/hcs of neil snapping so mmmmm thank u

tw death / blood

so we know andrew got out of rehab after neil came back from evermore but we’ll just say he gets out of rehab before neil gets back

and andrew- andrew knows when kevin lies. he knows all of kevin’s tells and he’s too paranoid by nature to not be able to tell when people are lying. so he’s Suspicious when he asks where neil is and kevin starts to blink hard and seems like he can’t sit still while stammering out that neil went to visit relatives.

but he leaves it alone because he’s not supposed to care anymore now that he’s off his meds

now neil.. neil isn’t one to back down and take a beating without biting back

he knows he can’t physically really touch riko; he can talk back and insult him until his mouth fills with blood, but he can’t do much more than slam his forehead into rikos nose the one (and only) time riko made the mistake of getting too close to neils face while sneering and cutting into neils chest

so riko.. he can’t touch riko. not now. not yet.

but the other ravens? that’s a different story.

neil doesn’t know it but it’s his last day in the nest. his cheek is throbbing from roman numeral “3” on his cheek and his body hurts so bad it feels numb

he’s in the locker room, sitting on the floor of the communist showers, everyone already gone, including jean. neils been sitting there long enough for the water to be ice cold, and he only distantly hears the cream of the door opening

and in comes a raven neil can only distantly remember; he’s good enough to be a raven but not good enough to be one of rikos boys who stand close in his shadow. neil knows his name, colin hemmings, and he also knows that he embarassed colin on the court only a few hours earlier, bad enough that tetsujis cane took a break from neils back to find home on colins spine

colin comes in sneering and spitting curses after locking the door, and he’s coming at neil with his leg cocked back to kick at neils already bruised ribs, fists clenched and ready to rain down on neils crouched form

and neil is just so fucking angry. he’s so fucking tired but right now all of his rage towards riko, the ravens, and the nest burst to the surface and he feels himself rise quickly to his feet- he doesn’t really remember making the conscious decision to get up, to sweep colins feet out from under him, to straddle the boy and catch him by his collar and slam the boys head repeatedly into the tile floor

neil does remember vindictively thinking that colin was too stupid to think to bring back up- too stupid or too proud and that will absolutely be one of the last mistakes he ever makes. neil remembers the look of anger, and then fear, that flashes in colins eyes as neil breaks his arm and cracks the bones of his own knuckles from the sheer force he’s putting behind the punches he’s aiming at colins face. he’s smiling so hard he thinks that he’ll never stop.

neil distantly knows he’s going to kill him, and when colin tries to pull a knife on neil it only makes his rage burn hotter, making his vision go white

he doesn’t remember much after colin tried to pull the knife. he thinks there might be a “W” carved into colins chest by the time he’s dead but he doesn’t look back to check. when neil finally pulls out of his own head, he’s standing in the middle of his room and jean is looking at him with barely concealed horror. neils hands only start to shake when he goes to pull on clothes over his damp skin and realizes that his skin is damp with watered down blood. his cheeks ache.

“jean.” neil says, after he finally gets dressed. he’s not sure what he wants to say but jean beats him to it

jean hurries to get out of the chair he was sitting in and pushes neil towards to door of the room “we’re leaving. your flight isn’t for another eight hours but we need to go.”

so they leave. jean gets neil in the passenger seat of a car and pulls out of the parking lot faster than what could ever be described as safe and it’s only when they’re an hour away from edgar allen that jean tosses neil his phone and tells neil to call someone to pick him up after his flight

jean has a look on his face that neil doesn’t want to even begin to decipher but neil unlocks the phone anyways. his fingers shake hard enough that it takes three tries to punch in the numbers, but really, there’s only one person he can call right now

“kevin. kevin you have to come get me.”

neil can’t make himself talk anymore after that, can’t get his throat to unclog, can’t tear his eyes away from the mirror on the side of the car where he can see his own reflection, his fathers eyes and smile staring back at him, his face splattered with blood

jean snatches the phone from him and snaps at kevin in fast french, undoubtedly telling him the entire story. jean says nothing whenever neils chest bubbles over with quiet, mean giggles.

neil knows he goes to the bathroom in the airport to wash away the visible blood, and he knows he sits deathly still for the entire flight, but he doesn’t really feel like neil until he drops his forehead on kevins chest. kevin’s too terrified of opening neils wounds to wrap his arms around neil, so he just presses the side of his face against the top of neils head and tries to breathe deep to stave off the tremors lurching through his body

they sit pressed as hard against each other as neils wounds will allow in the back seat of andrews car as andrew drives them back to palmetto, refusing to look in the rear view mirror to look at neil. his jaw is clenched hard enough that neil’s jaw aches in sympathy while neil presses his fingers against his own lips.

when they get back to the tower, all of the foxes are there waiting but it’s kevin who simply glares and shakes his head tersely at them before leading neil up to his room. neil showers while kevin sits on the lid of the toilet in the bathroom with him, and andrew is smoking in the living room

when neil finally slinks into bed he feels- not okay. he doesn’t regret it and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but the bloodlust is finally easing in his veins and kevin is within reaching distance, andrew is by the door of the dorm, and that counts for something.

[rokutouxei]

you are still the sun that shines for me

part 8 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc | G | 2800 | [ao3 in bio]

Life couldn’t get any better. You enjoy what you do here, spending your life without regrets with the person you love the most. That is, until you meet her. The woman who still loves Theo.

CHAPTER 3

Neither of you talk about it.

Not the week after, not two weeks. Not an entire month after.

Time passes by, unaffected.

-

Vincent keeps his promise and does not say a word of your conversation with him to Theo; every single detail he’d unraveled for you seared under your eyelids but also blown away in the wind at that cliff overlooking the streets of Paris. Sebastian doesn’t ask questions about your recent interest in the van Gogh history books. And even if you and Theo spend the same amount of time one another, no one makes a mention of the noticeable tension between the both of you.

Not even Theo.

Of course, work does not stop even if one is facing an emotional crisis. Or maybe it’s because one is facing an emotional crisis that work does not stop. After the exhibit, there is the process of selling the paintings that patrons were interested in. Then, there was, of course, inevitably, the dreaming, the preparation of yet another exhibit in the future. There were days of figuring out what strategies to apply to avoid the Academie; days of watching over the artists; days of talking with other dealers; days of going to patrons.

Aside from the silence, most of everything was the same.

That was the hardest part.

-

There is one street in the entirety of Paris that Theo does not have the heart to walk down.

Because he knows that if he does, his traitorous mind will remind him what it was like, living in that apartment on 8 Cité Pigalle. The walls filled with Vincent’s paintings. The view from the window, the one he’d sat across from and sketched and painted and studied. The dreams of an exhibit before it was shot to the ground.

To no one in particular, but also to her in particular, Theo asks: why hadn’t you left? Why are you still here? Doesn’t the sight of these streets bring you back to that time, doesn’t it hurt? Why have you come to haunt me like an old ghost, wandering the hallways?

What do you get from still living where the memory of us still lingers?

What do you want out of me?

Arthur usually jokes that rage is the emotion that best suits Theo’s countenance, the wrinkled forehead, the snarl. And maybe it is. But Theo does not have the strength to let it show now, even when it is all that his heart throws at him—an insatiable, irrational fury. It’s a fire that burns so strongly, so quickly, consuming him.

Burning him out.

Quickly running out of fuel, disappearing into nothingness, replaced by a heavy exhaustion.

Theo feels the weight of two lives heavy on his shoulders.

-

You feel like you’re holding a knife to your heart, but you know that in the end, you will be better off having done this to yourself than letting the confusion, the ignorance, leave you festering on the inside. So on days where you have little to do, where Theo goes alone to work, you sneak into Sebastian’s little secret library to read.

At first you convince yourself that you are only doing this solely for the knowledge of it, but deep inside you know what you are doing—a bookmark to the index item of her name, jumping only to pages that are relevant to her. And at first, you wanted to know what what she was like so you could make yourself similar to her, copy what he’d liked, what he’d loved, so that you’ll be someone a little better for him. And at first, you scanned the pages with your eyes prickly with tears only out of spite, reading every bit of their story filled with hurt and the want to outshine it.

But before you can even notice, it becomes different.

You learn about their letters. You don’t have a copy of them—and somehow you are thankful for that—but you know about them, and you can surmise what they have, knowing Theo now. You learn about moving to Paris, uprooting herself to keep her husband’s feet on the ground of his dreams. You learn of a domestic life, of making someone into something new, something better. You learn of promises and candlelit scribblings of adoration.  

You think of dreams.

Dreams so different, and yet so familiar.

About a little home, overlooking a beautiful city, a babe in warm arms.

Slowly, with each passing day, every week spent hiding away from the rest of the mansion, dipped in a history that does not belong you... it shifts; the anger sizzles into relief; the jealousy turns into joy. Instead, there is only awe, there is only respect—the realization that there is no need to compete with someone who is not fighting a battle with you. It is not up to her, after all: it is up to Theo. In between these pages you get to know of a woman who shared her whole heart with him, carried his dream up in her arms.

Like you are trying to do.

You are afraid, sure, of course, but—

You have faith in Theo.

You have faith in what Theo has left with Jo.

Recognizing what love looks like is a balm on the still-tender burns of your heart.

-

In the following weeks, Theo throws himself into work with a fervor you had never seen from him before.

Just a month after the initial exhibit had closed, he is already closing in on another venue, this time to feature Vincent’s works in its very center. You ask when he started preparing this, and he says in his spare time, which he already does not have much of—you feel a little slighted that he’d left you out of the build-up for the work, but you’re already carrying enough weight in your chest, so you decide to let it go.

Until it becomes undeniable that there is too much work being done in too little time. Like Theo was purposefully avoiding something, someone—you, maybe, you think, in a moment of weakness. At your most vulnerable when you ask him what’s wrong, he only answers, “This is the only reason I turned. There’s nothing wrong,” and you feel small.

But the truth is, a swirling storm of what-ifs hangs over Theo’s suddenly too-cold room in the mansion. He tries not to spend as little time as possible inside it. His heart shakes, a small twig so near breaking as the gale whips around in between the spaces where the touch of your skin doesn’t meet his, across the bed that seems like miles too wide. You’d asked one of the many questions that were inevitably going to come, and he’d thrown out barbs at you. He could reach with his pinky to touch the curve of your elbow, but…

He doesn’t.

Theo wonders how many of the things he’s decided to do had inevitably turned out to be bad decisions. Letting his brother meet Gauguin. Chasing after the murderer. Getting killed in the process, blinded by his own rage.

Leaving her behind.

What if he’d stayed?

What would he have not lost in the process? What new things would he have gained?

Would these have been able to fill the void left behind by his brother’s untimely death, the one he tried to overcome with seething bloodlust?

Would the tender blue eyes of the little boy who looked like a perfect match of him and his beloved have made staying… a little more worth it?

Theo doesn’t sleep.

A lesser vampire body is an extraordinarily sturdy thing, but it still needs its sleep. That first night after the exhibit’s opening runs into a week of Theo depriving his body of rest; he’s poring through paperwork, answering correspondences, whatever he can do to fill the spaces of time he would have once loved to spend next to you, warm in bed.

Floating in a pool of exhaustion, Theo’s mind begins to float. It is this exact state that allows him to stop thinking of the worst of things. To stop remembering that he is, in fact, the worst of all things.

So he doesn’t notice a lot of things.

Theo drives himself to exhaustion so he doesn’t hear his heart clamoring please go away, when you tell him good morning, tell him have a good day, tell him I love you.

He forces his mind to stay quiet.

-

The both of you had split up today for work, and while Theo is negotiating with another dealer, you sit across Monsieur Cedric in his lavish home, having brought over another one of his requested paintings. You’re chatting over tea and cake, talking about the latest news about the Academie.

“Monsieur Theodore is becoming a known name around these parts. It’ll be sooner rather than later that the Academie will try to get their hands on him. And you too, mademoiselle.”

More like now rather than later, but you decide to spare Cedric the gory details. “We will be very careful. Thank you for your concern.”

“Your will to endorse these artists and also assist Theodore is so charming, mademoiselle. I wish the both of you the very best.”

You chuckle, saying “It’s something he deserves, doesn’t he?” before putting your teacup to your lips, smiling softly against the rim, thinking of another woman who is also fighting a battle, perhaps harder and longer than yours, for Theo.

It still stings, but you feel no need to hold it against him anymore.

You don’t want to push him, to hurry him, not when you know that the process is long, and agonizing. The most you can do is stand by him, have faith, and make him feel that—

That it’s okay.

You miss him already. You hope he feels better soon.

Oh, the things one does when loving a man like that.

-

Whatever had changed between the two of you since the exhibit does not feel as heavy as it did two months ago. You’ve gone back to sleeping in his room, soothing him when he wakes up shaking, from nightmares, or simply when he cannot fall asleep. You still feel that wall, something impenetrable that’s preventing you from getting through to Theo entirely, but it does not feel as opaque or as solid as it did back then. At the very least, you can now hold him in your arms without feeling the nagging sensation that it was wrong.

Theo, oppositely, feels very heavy, cold. Like it was the middle of winter, in a snowstorm, and all he has is a thin coat. Stormclouds hang over the abandoned town of his heart, where not even a single candle lights up the curtain of the night.

Here, Theo thinks. Theo thinks too much, really. Lets himself get consumed by the unending cycles of what if and if only I and I should have. He walks the deserted alleyways filled with memories of a life he doesn’t own anymore—a life he no longer deserves. Maybe a life he never deserved in the first place. In real life he doesn’t have the courage to return to it, but in bed, unable to sleep, he comes back to that Paris apartment he rented with the woman he loved. Touches the floors, the walls, with his hands. Wishes he knew what they would have meant to him, back then.

One day, in-between appointments with patrons, the two of you head out to your favorite café to have some lunch. The waitress already knows the both of you, and as you throw a smile, she winks, already knowing what to bring you. But while you’re animated and excited for your usual meal, you find Theo staring off into space, out into the distance, like he’s chasing after the shadow of someone he thought he knew.

(The Theo from the old life.)

You reach out across the table, gently placing your hand over his. The warmth of your touch brings him back to the present, his usually-sharp eyes taking time to adjust from their glazed state. He looks at you like something in him hurts. You squeeze his hand so gently that he has to squeeze yours back for yours to tighten.

“I’m here,” you say, even though you don’t know if it’s the right thing to say. Nothing has felt the right thing to say, but you feel like something will break if you don’t speak to him. “I’m here for you, if you have something you want to talk about. I told you we’d carry things together, right?”

Theo feels the flicker of fear die out. The clouds in his mind part to give way to sunlight.

And his mind is still ringing, still saying, how much did you lose then? How much did you take for granted? How much did you throw away? But his heart, his heart is banging at his chest and saying: but what are you risking losing now? What are you unconsciously letting go, by going back?

Theo knows what to listen to.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles silently, he should contact Monsieur Desrosiers one more time.

-

Johanna van Gogh-Bonger keeps a diary.

Well, she had kept one, before her marriage with Theo, but then in the whirlwind of it, had left it unwritten, sitting on a shelf in their house in Paris. When she’d moved back to the Netherlands together with the little baby that was not quite a baby yet when Theo had gone away, she resumed writing in her diary.

Theo had a way with his words, one that Jo could not compete with, but he had taught her their importance, even if a lot of times he spent a little too much time figuring out what to say, instead of actually saying them. Jo treasured every single word he had granted her, keeping all his letters.

Two months ago, she had returned to Paris to visit a dear friend, when she had heard about the exhibit being held by—coincidentally—a man named Theodore van Gogh. Her heart thumped in her chest so loudly when she’d heard the name, even if she knew that it could not have been her Theo. No, her Theo was under the ground, next to his brother in Auvers-sur-Oise, where they dream of rye fields. Still, his name alone left her longing, and she could not resist the opportunity to visit, bringing with her their little Vincent.

She’d been working not only for herself and her little Vincent, but also for Theo, the past few years—keeping Vincent’s paintings, their letters, trying to continue what he had done even if she did not know entirely what she was doing. Grasping for straws, trying to walk down a path she knew she should reach the end of. And yes, the streets of Paris still speak to her, still make her shiver because they seem so empty, not without him, but when she went to that exhibit, she saw the paintings and—remembered Theo.

Felt like he was still around, watching her.

And oh, Theo, he had taught her to see, taught her to live—taught her much about life, so much so that she felt like she had, for most of her life, gone through life with her eyes half-closed. She wonders if he knows, how much he had given her, had left her; how much she ought to thank him for, how grateful she is. He had taught her the greatest bliss but also the greatest pain, the hollowness of having lived past what one knows is the best part of their lives—but he hadn’t left her, not entirely: he had left her Little Vincent, her treasure, her joy, with Theo’s blue eyes, his kindness, his sharp mind.

Time washes away the heartache of having been torn open, and instead, leaves in its wake the cool of growth, the same way a toppled plant still reaches up to the light. And sitting in that exhibit, in a gallery of paintings that were so similar to that which Theo felt so important to let grow, that he found so much potential in, Jo felt the where the wounds of her heartache had already healed.

She is okay now, and she still carries Theo with her everywhere.

And oh, she wants to send a part of his heart back there.

Johanna van Gogh-Bonger picks up the folded piece of paper with contact details she’d found from someone else, and, taking up parchment, follows Theo’s lead, holding his words to her heart, and begins to write under the morning light.

---

bongerdiaries [.] org was a wonderful resource for jo’s diaries that i pretty... much had to copy paste from just because of her wonderful voice in writing that i wanted to keep intact. please go give it a read if it so interests you!

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader}[25]

Masterlist

~^*^~

Exactly 27 minutes and forty three seconds ago, Jack had left. Silence had ensued for 27 minutes and now forty five seconds. Your phone was blowing up in your bag. Message after message after message. Phone calls over and over. Jack had made you swear not to touch the phone - that if he needed you, he’d get into contact with Daniel first.

Speaking of the devil himself, he was looking around the room, avoiding meeting your gaze. He had opened his mouth a few times, as if to speak but had decided against it.

The clock was ticking on the wall.

27 minutes and fifty six seconds-

“[First]-“ he cut himself off when you finally met his gaze.

“What?” You grumbled.

“Are you going to pick up your calls?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“I see... how have you been...?”

“Well I’m here, so I couldn’t be worse.”

He chuckled. He guessed it was because of the awkward tension, or maybe just because of your pessimistic attitude. You averted your gaze and he sighed. His biggest regret was Lucy.

~^*^~

Dracula tapped furiously on his phone, trying to get you to respond. Maybe if he sent enough messages, you’d give in.

[You: it’s over. we’re through.]

“What?” He whispered to himself, unable to comprehend the message that had just sent. What the fuck did you mean it was over? It couldn’t be over... He dialled your number. Voicemail, “[First], call me back right now.”

No answer. Nothing. It was like within a moment, within turning that corner, you had utterly disappeared. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not without a fight. He needed you more than anything. He’d go to any length to get you back.

It seemed that fate was tempting him, as an hour later, Jack had turned up at his door, a firm look on his face as the vampire invited him in.

“So,” Dracula began, turning away from Jack and pacing up the room, “where is she?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Jack stated. Dracula could hear his pulse. Not as tough as the fact he was putting on, that’s for sure.

“Sure you can, you just tell me where she is and I go and get what’s mine.” Dracula turned to face him, giving him a look that make Jack have to repress the urge to recoil.

“She’s not yours. Not anymore. She’s safe.”

“Are you suggesting that she wasn’t safe with me?” There was a tone of offense in his voice.

“She wasn’t. Given the circumstances, she’s safest as far away from you as possible.”

“Given the circumstances?” Dracula gave him a confused look, “what circumstances? Her mother being a little overbearing isn’t cause for her to run away!”

“You really don’t know?” Jack stepped forwards.

“Tell me, boy.” Dracula challenged.

“Renfield is after her. He wants her blood. He’s not going to stop until he finds her-“

“If that’s the case!” Dracula cut him off, voice suddenly rising with anger, “she would have been safest with me!”

“What? So Renfield could make his way here straight away to kill her?!”

“You think I can’t overpower a newborn?! I was one! I know how weak they are! They are just driven mad by bloodlust! There is no safer place for her than by my side!”

“She’s done with you, Dracula. I suggest you hunt Renfield out yourself and kill him so no harm can come to her. If you do, or if you don’t, she isn’t coming back.”

“She’s not done with me.” He growled and strode towards Jack. His hand easily fit around the younger’s throat and he squeezed hard, “where. is. she?”

“I-“ Jack’s air was running out. Was this it? Was this his fate? Would he die to keep you away from Dracula? He’d have to. He’d grown selfish. You shouldn’t be with Dracula. God knew what would happen to you if you did. If Renfield found you. There was no way on earth or in hell that Jack would let death come to you by Renfield. You needed to stay away from Dracula if you wanted to live for another fifty, sixty, seventy years, “-won’t tell you.”

Dracula let out an anguished cry, anger ripping through his throat and his chest and his head and he squeezed as hard as he could. His eyes narrowed, the anger taking over. Never had he felt so insulted! Never had he felt so betrayed! Oh, he could just explode in this rage! How could this little brat take you away from him? What did he know about your safety? Why wouldn’t he just spill the secret of your location? It would be so easy to mend things!

Heavens above! If he didn’t know how much it would hurt you, he’d kill this little brat right now!

The sheer anger was consuming him, and just for a second, he lost control.

-

-

-

snap!

-

-

-

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh, dear god, no.

No, no, no...

Jack’s body fell to the ground in a heap and for the first time since becoming this monster, a toxic concoction of regret, guilt, anger and shock festered inside of him. His chest swelled with pain and he stepped backwards, stumbling over his feet.

Never in his life had such a nasty feeling spread so violently around his body. Never before had Dracula felt guilty for murder. But right now, watching the life leave Jack’s eyes, the colour wash away from his face, he couldn’t help but think of you. Your screams of agony at finding out your best friend - your only friend - had been killed.

If he ever got to see you again...

His only way to find you was dead on the floor in his apartment. Fuck.

“Shit.” He whispered. Jack was dead.

Jack Seward was dead.

He stumbled over his feet once more, rushing to the living room and bursting out to the balcony. The brightness of the sun seared his eyes and he chocked on the fresh air that swirled around him. Jack Seward, your best friend, was dead because of him. He dove from the balcony, turning during his fall to dig his nails into the bricks. It stopped his momentum and he was able to rush down the fire escape. When he reached the bottom, he composed himself, striding out on to the street. As he walked, he ran his hand through his hair, looking around at the people bustling past him.

He had a monster to kill.

~^*^~

Dracula rose with a start, hitting his head on the box that concealed him. What the fuck was that?!

Fever dreams weren’t his thing and he found himself rushing towards his phone.

“Hello?” He breathed a sigh of utter relief.

“Jack?”

“Dracula? It’s four in the morning.” Jack grumbled.

“I know. I had to be sure of something.”

“Don’t tell me that you had that stupid vision again.” Jack sighed and sat up.

“Can’t you tell me where she is?” Dracula whispered.

“No. You promised me you’d find and kill Renfield. When you have, I’ll think about telling you.”

“What do you mean you’ll think about it? You will tell me and that is final.”

Jack hung up. Thank god it had only been a feverish nightmare fuelled by his resting state. Vampires didn’t dream. They hallucinated and everything felt truly real. Dracula had had many over his lifetime. Most that he could recall were of you.

He sighed. He missed you. He missed you terribly. It had been five and a half weeks. He had done nothing but search for any sign of Renfield but he turned out to be difficult to track down. If people had seen him, he was already at least six steps ahead and the trail was most likely bullshit. Finding him before he found you was necessary. There could be no other outcome. He had to.

Over the last five weeks, the tension and the awkwardness had slowly been chipped away and you found yourself able to stay in the apartment with Daniel without too much complaint. Things had been spoken about, mostly your relationship and the turn it had took. Apologies had been given and accepted and closure had been given at last. Finally, it was easier to be around him. Well... had he not been so obvious about his lingering feelings for you, maybe it would be easier. Turns out that his fling with Lucy had been due to lack of attention whilst you were busy studying and his feelings had simply never changed for you since then.

He had read all of your published journals, poured for hours over your works, reading every word in your voice as if you were inside of his head. He had kept up with your career, loving how highly your academic peers spoke of you. You had made a name for yourself and he had supported you from the shadows. The fact alone had you sobbing because... well, you’d missed him too. And you didn’t know if you could ever be with him again, but it was nice to be in his presence.

You had read the message Jack had sent to Dracula. You had immediatly called him (Jack) and screamed down the phone. “How could you do this to me?” “What gave you the right?” “Do you have a death wish?” He had let you abuse him before calmly explaining his plan. You needed to let Dracula go if you wanted to live. Renfield would only find you sooner unless you cut all ties with the vampire. He had not explained this to Dracula. Part of him wanted this breakup to be permanent. He wanted you to realise how happy you were before Dracula, and how happy you could be after. What person wanted a boyfriend who could only supply them with constant hate and fear?

After ten weeks, Dracula was growing impatient. He was searching every inch of the internet trying to find something that would hint to your whereabouts. He was having major withdrawal symptoms. Mid-October was bringing it’s chill as it always did and Dracula would pass couples on the street, bundled together to conserve their warmth. He wished your hand was in his, filling his body with your warmth. He had never felt so cold or so unloved. Just to see your face and maybe he could go on without you. Clicking around a few more times, he found his way to a profile that he knew he’d see you on, just not as recently as this. Three years ago? Certainly. Last night? Most certainly not.

[Long story short... we are official hand holding buddies!]

Your face, beaming with a laugh that Dracula would have loved to hear. Head pushed against his as he laughed, too. Your hands interlocked. Dracula felt sick to his stomach.

Absolutely no way in hell was he going to stand for this.

He just had to remember how to find a location through an IP address.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @savebensolo-ordie

[forever-more-never-again]

Land Before Time (A Request)

Requested: @rexburning2002

Word Count: 1581

Pairing: Alice Cullen X GenderNeutral!Reader

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of animal blood

Request: Hi, can you imagine where male reader is the last dinosaur shifter his gift is Berserker's Rage the effect is it makes his body glow a crimson fire aura around him and his eyes glow with Red fire It increases his abilities to beyond a newborn. His mate is Alice She's the only Cullen without a mate she goes hunting gets jumped by newborns reader saves her and disappears back to his territory. The Cullens track him down to his home to thank him he is immune to vampire gifts. He trusts no one.

A/n: I made the reader gender neutral and I hope you like this! It was my first Time writing a twilight fic!

Masterlist

Carlisle stopped running abruptly, causing the rest of his family to pull up short right behind him.

The reason for his sudden stop was visible before them. Alice stood stock still, her eyes wide but not seeing. 

Carlisle turned to Edward who had his head tilted, eyes scrunched in confusion and concentration. “What’s going on Edward?”

Esme stepped up beside her husband, her hand placed comfortingly on his arm.

“I don’t,” Edward paused, forehead wrinkling in frustration, ‘I’m not sure it's so...strange.”

Absentmindedly Carlisle placed his hand on top of hers as he awaited for the vision to end.

Alice came back to the present with a gasp, stumbling slightly.

A blur of movement and Rosalie had her in her arms, steadying her.

“Carlisle.” Alice’s voice was small.

The head of the family walked up to her, looking at her face calmly, “What is it Alice?”

Birds chirped and the trees around them swayed gently in the wind, peace at war with the confusion on the vampire’s face.

“It was...There!” With no warning, Alice took off running, a blur amidst the forest.

“Gr! Where is she going!?” Emmet growled before Rosalie looked at him.

The rest of the family raced after Alice, wondering where she was headed.

Eventually they came to a stop up in the mountains.

“Stop. Everyone.” Edward’s voice was a warning, nearly a whisper but everyone heard him perfectly.

Alice stood before them, still with her eyes closed as she tried to recall her vision.

Rosalie and Emmet looked to Edward for guidance. Edward was staring intently into the treeline.

And then he tensed, Hissing, “Newborns.” 

The family of Vampires stiffened and then spread out to surround Alice who was still standing there with her eyes closed.

Without any warning, they were swarmed. Around fifty newborns came racing from the treelines, jumping with growls and snarls and a feral ferocity as they descended.

Far away from the mountain where the vampire family was fighting off a horde of newborns, you were walking back to a cave that you had claimed as your home. The deer that you had killed was slung over your shoulder.

Breathing out a grunt, you slammed the deer onto the ground outside your cave and went in search of your knives so you could begin to butcher it.

That’s when the smell hits you, it was very faint, carried over to you by the high winds. Anger, hunger, bloodlust, and something flowery and sweet layered under it all.

The beast within you growled at the scent, demanding to be released again to track the scent.

Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to rest until you figured out what or who was emitting that scent, you began jogging to the next mountain range, muttering under your breath as you fought back the shift, “Why can’t I just be left alone? I chose this range for the isolation, and what do I get? Two shifts in one day. Fun.”

When the smell was overpowering, you slowed and evened your breathing, listening to your surroundings.

From the right came screams of blood lust and anger and protection. And from ahead of you...was the flower scent.

Alice’s eyes fluttered open as she sensed the strange presence before her. But that lost her attention as she gasped at the carnage happening around her.

Her family had gotten separated, overpowered by the strength of the newborns. They were all fighting to keep the newborns from her.

“Well lookie here. We got the seer all by herself. Boss wants her to himself, but I bet he won’t mind if we have a taste.” The oily voice slithered up her spine and she shivered as she met the vibrant red eyes of several males creeping closer to her.

“Stay Back!” She took a step backwards, the men merely sneering at her, and then the brush in front of her, emerging behind the newborn vampires, was a beast she had never seen before.

Rising up on hind legs, reaching over eight feet tall, with scales covering its body and razor sharp teeth filling a giant mouth, the beast let out a roar of pure power.

With one snap of its jaw, the men before Alice were split in half, crumbling at her feet.

Eyes wide, she stared at the creature, Dinosaur, her mind whispered, as it lowered its head and turned so that its eyes were focused on her.

Intelligence stared back at her, along with some exasperation and annoyance.

“What?” A whisper, and all she could manage to get out before the Dinosaur let out another roar and began demolishing the Newborns that the rest of her family hadn’t managed to end.

And then before the rest of her family could register what had happened, the beast was gone.

You let out a painful sigh as the shift receded. Being a Dino Shifter was not fun when the beast decided that it wanted free reign to destroy.

Your bones always ache afterwards, and the raw power that coursed through during the shift causing your muscles to strain.

After the Volturi had decided that your race was too dangerous to be allowed to roam free, they had killed most of the clans. You were only alive because you ran and stayed hidden.

You killed no people, and stayed away from towns. Which was easy since people annoyed you to no end. Especially their petty arguments and wars. It all seemed so pointless once you had been alive for several thousand years.

Cracking your back as you reached your cave, you groaned as you saw that the deer you had hunted early was gone. Probably dragged off by another predator.

“Just great. This is what you get [Y/n] by trying to help some vampires.” You muttered, digging around your belongings for some Jerky you kept.

“So your name is [Y/n].”

You twirled fast with a growl, lowering your stance. You  had been so distracted by your lost hunt and hunger that you had let someone get the jump on you.

Admittedly they were pretty, and as you sniffed the air and eyed the vampire warily, you realized it was the same pretty vampire that had the flower scent from early.

She smiled and it seemed to make the air around her glitter, like she was a pixie.

“I’m Alice! I had a vision about you earlier although I didn’t know you were a Dino Shifter! It’s nice to meet you! Thank you for saving my family and I earlier!”

You grumbled under your breath as you straightened, eyes squinting, she was too bright for you.

“Okay. Go Away.” You turned around back to your Jerky, tearing into it, trying to ignore the way your beast was practically screaming for you to protect the petite vampire girl.

“I didn’t know there were any Dino Shifters left! What’s your shift class!?” The girl bounced, Bounced! You cringed with realization, as she came closer.

You growled low in your throat realizing you wouldn’t get rid of her easily.

Marching past her out into the sunlight, you settle down on a log in the open space.

The girl, Alice, merely followed, a smile still on her face.

Between clenched teeth you muttered, “Beast Class, Tyrannosaurus.” 

Alice’s eyes glittered with questions and amazement, “That’s so cool! The last known beast Class Dino Shifter was William Shakespeare, wasn’t it!?”

You squinted at the vampire, before huffing and looking away, “You know your stuff Vampy.”

She giggled and you would not admit that it made you feel warm and the beast inside you melt.

“My family and I live just on the other side of the state! We consider ourselves Vegan because we only eat animals. I noticed you had pelts back in that cave..”

She left her statement open. But you knew it was really a question.

Finally giving up and leaning back to look at her, you sighed and spoke plainly, “Yes, I eat animals, no I don’t eat humans like the Dino Shifters before me. Yes I am the only known Dino Shifter in the Americas, No I don’t know any others. Now, why did you follow me and why is your smell so intoxicating?”

You felt blood rush to your cheeks, you hadn’t meant to let that last part out.

The Vampire girl froze for a moment, golden eyes widening before she laughed and leaned way to close into your personal space.

“Like I said, I’m Alice Cullen and I had a vision about meeting you. Though I didn’t know it was you, you and I definitely didn’t know about the newborns, speaking of, my family is hunting down their maker right now because that was a lot of newborns to be made under our noses without knowing-”

Reaching up, you placed a hand over the girl’s mouth to cease her incessant rambling. Once you were sure she wasn’t talking, you let your hand fall.

Alice giggled and looked away for a second, “Oops, got carried away.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes and allowed a huff of laughter to escape, “You think?”

She swallowed and looked right into your eyes, “I think you’re my mate.” She shook her head, closing her eyes for a second before opening them back up, “No, I know you’re my mate.”

Instantly the beast within you roared with approval as you felt your heart sink deep within your chest as you realized what this meant, “Oh Shi-”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t​ @mialeelavellan​ @rainydaysrnevergrey​ @platonic-plots​ @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi​ @queenbbarnes​ @mythixmagic​ @chas-z​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @princess-evans-addict​ @rororo06​ @timelordhunterandmysterysolver​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

[path-of-fire]

Can we get a snippet of a dark MC (not evil though) who's pretty much angry and set on vengeance against Aghadi and Eamon doesn't agree and tries to talk to MC? Maybe get in a "You're not my dad, he's dead" from MC 👀

The sound of heavy breathing was the only thing that permeated the silent room. Eamon could feel the tiredness seeping into his body, but he pushed himself forward. He had to keep standing because he couldn’t allow himself to fail. Not when his child, his son, was standing before him. The boy he had raised was not going to fall to the darkness, not if he could help it.

Straightening his back, despite the sharp pain that his sides gave off, Eamon moves towards the boy. Watching as steely grey eyes, so much like Adriel’s, stared at him. Though there wasn’t any familiarity within the stare. There wasn’t a sense of a familial bond that had been growing for years. The state was blank, empty, of any emotion besides anger. The anger, Eamon could tell, was eating his son alive. The need for blood and vengeance warping his beautiful boy.

The same boy who had been nervous about butterflies was staring at him with nothing but bloodlust. It was a sight that completely broke him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to protect his son. Protect him from the darkness that always want to snuff out the light.

Clutching his side, Eamon begins to speak his words coming out with a desperate tone. “Aidan you need to stop this. This isn’t the way to get justice.”

“How can you stand there and say those things to me? How can you stand between me and my right? How can you allow that man to keep breathing after everything he has done to us?” Aidan asks, his words coming out in a roar. His eyes blazing with his draconian persona.

Moving forward Eamon tries to put his hand on his son’s shoulder, but is merely shaken off. Stepping back Eamon let’s out a despondent sigh before responding. “I can stand here and say those things because I know the rage you are feeling. I know how dark it is without your parents, and I know that you think this is the best course of action. But I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you kill all of those innocent people that will stand in your way. I can’t let you kill someone for what you think they might have done. I can’t let you get consumed by your darkness.”

Snarling Aidan moves away his anger clearly palpable by the stiffness of his body. “Then you’re just as bad as him. How can you stand to the side and let their deaths go unanswered? How can you let Juliette’s memory get tarnished like this?”

Eamon could feel his own anger starting to rise at his son’s words. He could feel the way his dragon rose up to the challenge his son was posing. It took everything within him to back down. He was not going to fight his child if he didn’t have to. “Never speak of things that you have no understanding of, and never speak of my mate in that manner again. Their deaths have been answered, but you’ve been too blind to hear their words. You’re too caught up in your anger to listen to anything.”

“Stop patronizing me,” Aidan hisses, his eyes once again flaring. Which causes Eamon to stiffen trying to ignore the way his body cried out because of it. Only allowing a small wince to flash across his features. Noticing this Aidan allows his own concern to show on his face, but it only lasts for a moment before the anger returns.

“I’m not patronizing you, Aidan, I am simply trying to help you,” Eamon replies, his words coming out soft. “Please, son, let go of your anger.”

For a moment Eamon thinks that Aidan might have finally heard him, but is only disheartened even more at his son’s next response. “I’m not your son and you’ll never be my dad, he’s dead. So stop trying to act like it.”

Before Eamon can respond Aidan is gone. Leaving a bone chilling silence in his wake. Closing his eyes Eamon could feel his helplessness grow, but he wasn’t going to give up on Aidan.

I may not be your father, but you will always be my son. No matter what I’m going to save you. There is no other option than that.

[the-elusive-libbin]

Ummm, do you have any Akutagawa (bsd) headcannons?

I sure do!!! Akutagawa Ryunosuke is a man who is full of bloodlust and jealousy, so much in fact that it actually kind of rules his life. I’ll admit I did have to re-watch a few Bungou clips to remember the way he acts but none-the-less I think I finally have enough of his personality in my head to get a few vore canons down. I know I spoke with the person who sent me this ask in private and they have no preference to microxmacro or same size vore so I shall write a bit for both types.

WARNING!: POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR THE BUNGOU STRAY DOGS ANIME AND MANGA SERIES FROM THIS POINT ON!

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-As usual we find ourselves asking whether or not Ryunosuke Akutagawa would devour someone alive….He would!. Should this man find out he can swallow someone, he would probably do it a lot when ordered to do so as an effective method of disposing of the weak enemies that stand before him.

-Firstly let me just get this out there: Akutagawa would fatally digest his prey most of the time, in fact this is almost always the case. Why should he have to go through the trouble of devouring someone when he can’t digest them? Does one not devour food with the controlled mindset of ‘this is my meal, it will be devoured and give me energy?’ Precisely, one does not intentionally spit up a sandwich after it has been eaten. 

-To be totally honest, Akutagawa does not care about the life of the person inside his belly, he would have killed them with a knife, a gun or his own powers anyway so regardless of process, the outcome of death is the same. Secretly, Akutagawa does not like digesting same-size prey as it takes too long and is a hassle. Tiny prey are easy game.

-So what would make him want to swallow someone? Three reasons I can think of off the top of my head: 1. He has used vore as a method to get rid of people before and will do so again should it prove effective.This is of his own and his boss’ will of course. 2. The port Mafia orders him to devour someone or a few people. 3. The final possibility, if Dazai asks/orders him to swallow someone. I’m talking about any version of Dazai, Mafia Dazai speaks for himself but I think the concept of Akutagawa being praised by the suicidal maniac would be enough to coax him into vore even if Dazai has left the mafia by this time. This may take more thinking though.

-When committing acts of vore of his own accord, Akutagawa has devoured same-size people but he prefers swallowing tinies for reasons I will mention very soon.

Gonna split this now into two separate canon sections for Microxmacro and Same size because I know some of you guys prefer different ones~

SAME SIZE:

- This asshole struggles when it comes to same size vore. He kind of reminds me of a small, yappy dog with a loud bark and a bite to match but struggling to pull through with his threats. What I mean by this is that he’ll happily threaten to devour his soon-to-be prey with the intention of putting them into his stomach and he’ll grab his prey and go for it with force too...But he’s so small and skinny that he struggles to get the prey down into his belly.

-Even if his stomach can stretch to accommodate a single prey, that is about all he can manage. His skinny frame struggling to contain a huge, bloated mass that refuses to cease in its thrashing. Akutagawa attempts to act like he can in fact handle his meal and attempts to give orders to his men at the same time. So stubborn. It’s rather embarrassing really. 

-He wishes he could devour more than one of this kind of prey as he believes it will allow him to assert dominance by showing others what could become of them should they mess with him. Unfortunately this is not the case and the poor thing ends up a panting, humiliated mess. Of course he’ll threaten the blush away from staining his cheeks and refuse to admit his struggles. He has not been bested, he has swallowed a human whole! 

-Anyone who dares mock Akutagawa in a stuffed state will be either next on the menu to be savoured at a later date or killed on the spot. Subordinates included. Is he embarrassed by any of this? Of course! But he’s not gonna show his blush, he’ll hide it however he can. This is especially true for Akutagawa in the early stages of the show.

-The guy is quick to anger so of course he has swallowed people during a fit of rage before without meaning to do so. Imagine he’s halfway through swallowing someone and realizes that he shouldn’t have taken it that far. But he needs to save face and swallows them down anyway with a struggled ‘Gulp!’ It’s their own fault for getting in the damn way.

-Akutagawa prefers to swallow larger prey (when he has to) in the comfort of his own quarters, allowing only his sister Gin or at a push Higuchi into the room to aid him. Ultimately he prefers to be alone during this time as he finds his overly full state to be humiliating. Having the two women that care most about him fuss over his engorged stomach is less than ideal.

-Secretly the guy is touch starved and would love nothing more than to have someone rub his swollen belly to help sooth it or aid his digestion. This is Akutagawa we’re talking about here folks and unfortunately his own personality gets in the way of his belly rub ideals. Should he be tied down and forcibly have his belly rubbed (Not that one would dare) then he would be furious and possibly unable to hide his embarrassment. 

-His digestion is embarrassingly loud and obnoxious at the best of times but when he’s got an entire person to get through it is worse. Walk in on him mid digestion and hear those loud churning groans and be prepared to face the consequences of a red faced mob boss and his weapons.

-Akutagawa doesn’t care if he starts from the head or from the feet as long as the prey gets in his belly, it’s his job after all. He starts off cool, swallowing in gulps but then the prey’s head enters his stomach and he already feels full. The poor guy can’t eat much so stuffing his belly is hard for him. Eventually he manages to get the entire person down with pure willpower but his belly churns painfully and he falls to the ground, unable to support his own weight. Rashomon may emerge to hold up his bloated tummy for him. -After this, his belches and hiccups are soft and uncontrollable much to the mafioso’s embarrassment. Again, he’ll try to hide his blush if he’s not alone.

-Akutagawa is quick to anger as I may have mentioned previously and so punching and yelling at his gut would often occur. He does this when the prey inside won’t stop thrashing, when he’s too full, when he’s starving and even just when his belly is making too much noise. The most embarrassingly irritating scenario is when Akutagawa doesn’t feel hungry or full and his belly churns for no reason. There is no need.

MICROXMACRO:

-Akutagawa much prefers to devour tinies as they are easy to swallow and enter his stomach quickly. There is not much fuss and no mess. No struggled gulping and over bloating. Also a perk of this size difference is that the mafioso can erase multiple people at once.

-He will often make sure his stomach is starved before eating a tiny as he likes the idea of doing away with the prey quickly. If his stomach is craving a meal, it is more likely to digest the meal it has been longing for rapidly. He may be a murderer but he canonically hates torture and prefers to have things over with quickly. This is probably another reason as to why he doesn’t like swallowing conscious same-size prey.

-Akutagawa can’t eat much normally so I imagine five cupcake sized tinies would be enough to sate his hunger and bloat his belly. He would be stuffed and bloated after eating 10 or more. He would rather not do this because then his meal takes longer to digest in his gut.

-I imagine Higuchi has bought him a bowl of small criminals before and told Akutagawa that Mori demanded he dispose of them orally. How the mafioso’s eyebrow twitched as he glared at his subordinate in annoyance. He prefers not to overindulge. He doesn’t realise that she is staring at him for a while, and so swallows the little people down with contempt. When he does notice he will fluster before angering and kicking the girl out of the room.

-When eating tinies, he takes a few, looks them over, regarding them. He is not checking their nature, gender, age or any of the sort because none of that matters to him. Canonically he has no qualms about who he kills. The tinies he is given to devour have upset the port mafia, that is all the information he needs to devour the poor souls. The mafioso is secretly checking for dirt however and wondering about the taste.

-Let me be clear, no amount of begging will save these tinies. I think if Dazai or the boss orders him to devour these people then that is good enough for him.

-Not wanting to keep the tiny person in his mouth for any amount of time, he tilts his head straight back and drops the tiny inside. As soon as they hit the back of his throat, he swallows straight down, not bothering to follow the bulge down his throat with his finger. His stomach groans hungrily and Akutagawa wills it to hush in his mind. The prey hits his stomach which immediately wraps around them to digest, hugging the prey from all angles.

-Akutagawa likes the feeling of the prey going down his throat at this size, it’s intriguing to him. He also is able to feel the small movements inside his belly since he’s so skinny and his stomach is so sensitive. 

-Sometimes his belly doesn’t like having tinies inside it and his stomach sets off grumbling sickly and proceeding to give its owner heartburn and indigestion. This almost always occurs when he is stuffed. His stomach acid is strong and digests easily but his stomach itself is weak. Moving around with a full belly makes him nauseous.

-Belches? Unsightly to say the least. Akutagawa will stifle his belches into his fist unless he really can’t stop them. Should a loud belch escape his lips, he will be rather flustered by it and shake it off; this can be said even when he is alone. The mafioso’s belches are hardly ever loud and are usually wet and strained.

-Once Akutagawa has devoured a tiny or a few tinies, he will continue with his work business as usual, like nothing happened. He has a habit of gently placing a hand on his stomach when he has prey inside.

-”But Libbin! I hear you say.” “What about safe, non-fatal vore?” I hear you, let me think. So Akutagawa is the type to usually devour someone upon order, if he eats someone it will usually be to erase them, however should someone order him to keep someone safe inside his belly, he would have to do it. He’d be a mix of annoyed and confused at this as well. I see him actually worrying about digesting the tiny to the point where he researches the human stomach and its capabilities and eats some food beforehand to ensure his stomach has other things to digest first. He eats, touches his stomach, is this enough? Better eat some more just in case. Repeat a few times. I see him going totally overboard and eating way too much accidentally whilst overthinking. The poor thing is already full of food and then has to swallow a person he cannot digest on top of that.

-It’s not that he cares about the person he’s swallowing but if he digests someone when he’s not supposed to he’ll be scolded and he can’t have that.

-Should he decide to trust his stomach and swallow a tiny he cannot digest while it is empty he may learn how to control the digestion. If he manages that he will be happily surprised. His stomach will moan in hunger as it complains for food, upset that it cannot digest the only morsel inside.

-Self indulgent scenario time: Once Mori decided to test Akutagawa’s stomach capacity after the boss realised his subordinate could devour people to erase them for him. As a doctor, he knew his way around a stomach and performed an examination before and after Akutagawa swallowed a person. Then he filled him with tinies until he was at max capacity. Of course Akutagawa agreed to these tests as they ‘helped’ the port mafia…..In reality Mori just wanted to admire his handiwork and embarrass the younger male. Secret reports from the incident state that the younger male had never been seen so red faced and flustered. Then again, he had never before had a person place an accusing ear against his bare stomach as it digested people before. A strange scenario for anyone to find themselves in really, you can’t blame him.

So there’s some long awaited canons for you. I hope I could do him justice~ I do really want to draw him more now ^_^

[lycorogue]

Amelia and Trish🌺💐

Awww, yay! Someone sending me an ask from a list! 😍 I get these so rarely. This is such a fun treat! Thank you! (For anyone wondering, the “Soft OC Ask” master list can be found here.)

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Funny enough, the answers to most of these questions more-or-less happened canonically within the X-Future roleplay, so these are fairly easy to answer. Since each question is actually a series of related questions, and this ask is for two of my OCs, this got a bit lengthy. You can read my reply below the break.

Lia: 🌺 When Lia was a toddler, her mother crocheted her a little stuffed Calcifer the flame from Howl’s Moving Castle. Lia still has this stuffed Calcifer and cuddles it whenever she’s super stressed or awakes from a nightmare. If she feels she’s failing at reaching her true potential with her powers or as a leader, she goes to the X-Men archives of her mother’s training and watches those. If anything, doing so makes her feel worse because it makes her feel even more inadequate and tears at her grief of not knowing what happened to her mom, but neither fact stops her from doing so. Alternatively, if she’s stressed about generic Teenage DramaTM, she usually storms off to be alone, literally burning off some steam as she rages with her powers once she knows she’s in a safe location where she won’t permanently damage anything. As a child, she would also come to her dad (who was literally never too far from her at any given time, thanks to his powers; he was the ultimate helicopter parent) if a situation was too big for her to handle by herself. As a teen, she tends to vent to either her then-boyfriend-now-ex-but-still-friend Chayse, or her roommate Willow, or her current boyfriend Ripley. If it’s something minor that she needs to work out, she’ll sneak off to dance; just to get the positive energy flowing again.

💐 As the “mom friend”, Lia is much better at playing nurse than being nursed. Although, she is a bit naïve when it comes to emotional/mental-health support. She tries, but usually falls a touch short when trying to help out in those matters. She’s much better at nursing physical illnesses or injuries because she can study the most effective ways to heal those. When she’s the one sick or injured, though? She gets antsy if she’s forced to rest up in bed, especially if she feels like it’s overly cautious for her to do so. Now, if she’s majorly sick or in pain, she will gladly hide under her covers and ignore the world exists. Anything short of “OMG, I’m dying”? And she’ll fight bedrest tooth and nail. Her father is the #1 person to care for her, but since attending the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Jamie has allowed Lia’s roommate and friend Willow to take on the role of primary caregiver, with Lia’s boyfriend Ripley on stand-by to tag in. If neither of the teens are willing or able, though, Jamie will gladly jump back in to take care of Lia. Aside from being antsy and a bit whiny about being forced to stay in bed (if she’s feeling alright), Lia does accept being cared for fairly gracefully. She’ll comment it’s unneeded and that her caregivers should focus on “more important things” since she’s clearly “fine”, but will still gladly accept the soup, extra blankets, pillow fluffing, and so on. She’s a bit more grumbly if she’s recovering from an injury because she hates feeling helpless or weak in that regard.

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Trish: 🌺 Trish HAAAAAAATES showing any kind of weakness AT. ALL. So she does NOT go to anyone for comfort when she’s feeling overly stressed or scared. The exception is MAAAAAAAAYBE Pyro if she is majorly shaken about something. She hates seeming weak and immature in front of Pyro, though (and hates adding to the father-daughter dynamic when she wants a lovers one instead), so there has to be something TRAUMATIZING to her before she goes to even him for comfort. Otherwise, she turns her fear into anger and rage. She’ll run the training obstacle courses to the point of exhaustion, just to give her mind something else to focus on, and something to aim her powers at. She overcomes fear by adding to the façade that she’s completely fearless. She allows adrenaline to completely over-ride her fear as she almost always goes for a “Fight” response. As for nightmares, she’ll usually calm herself down by playing with her butterfly knife; something else to focus on until she forgets the nightmare. She’ll also calm herself down with a shower, especially if she’s covered in sweat from the nightmare. She’ll chant to herself, “it’s not real. It wasn’t real. Ignore it” until the nightmare is forgotten or no longer intense enough for it to affect her.

💐 Trish is a TERRIBLE patient. She’s even more antsy and stubborn than Lia. Being sick or injured enough to be bedridden is a sign of weakness, and she CANNOT be weak for Pyro. The only time she’ll submit and actually listen to instructions to rest up is if Pyro himself tells her to do so. She’ll also gladly ravish the attention if Pyro is the one nursing her back to health. She’d even milk it, just to be doted on further by him. Otherwise, lord help the person playing caregiver. She will stubbornly battle them every step; again, only complying when Pyro tells her to behave. Once her roommate Nyssa was forced to play nursemaid when Trish was badly injured by a shrapnel blast. Trish was like an injured feral creature the whole time, snarling at Nys and trying to swat her away; claiming to be healed further than she was. Nyssa practically had to have Pyro there at every bandage changing to force Trish to accept the treatment. The major exception to all of this is a mutant vigilante Trish simply calls “Stranger” since he’s never given her his name. He was hunting down the anti-mutant terrorist group The Purifiers, and stumbled upon a few that were teaming up against Trish. He saved her, but she was still wary of him; attempting to leave him to the Purifiers so she could escape. When the escape plan failed, and he saved her a second time, she was more welcoming to him attempting to help patch her up (if nothing else, she didn’t want to worry Pyro by coming home injured again). They have since met up a couple of times to hunt down more Purifiers together; helping with Trish’s bloodlust and Stranger’s want of revenge against the Purifiers for murdering his whole family in front of him and leaving him for dead. They have an uneasy bond, and Trish wouldn’t go to him if she were sick, but if she were injured she might seek him out just so she had someone she trusted moderately to care for her without feeling like a burden on Pyro. As for Trish being the caregiver? HA! She is absolute trash at caring for anyone other than herself and Pyro. Exceptions being Stranger - she would tend his wounds as well so she didn’t lose her partner in these non-Brotherhood excursions - and anyone that Pyro asked her to care for. If it’s a request from Pyro, she’ll do the bare minimum to satisfy the request, and grumble about it the whole time. Even when caring for Stranger, she’d spend the whole time bitching at him for being so “careless” as to be injured in the first place (ignore that this also implies that she’s careless whenever she gets injured).  For Pyro, though? She’d go full on Florence Nightingale and dote on him every waking moment.

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Okay! I think that’s everything! This was fun. Thank you so much for the ask. I hope you got to learn a bit more about my OCs.

Also, I’d like to note that Stranger is one of my husband’s OCs named Jack Knoife (yes, the name is a pun. Yes, Jack is Australian. Yes, Hubby leaned hard into the classic Marvel naming tropes)

Anyway, if anyone else wants to learn more about my OCs (or if you’d like to learn more, @doesnotloveyou ), feel free to drop me an ask. 😁

[ryder-s-block]

Jaig Eyes (Ch 63)

Jaig Eyes (63/?)

Summary:

Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she’s involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?

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Chapter Sixty-Three: The Airbase

By the time Fives and Hardcase spiralled their ships back over the airbase, I had already locked down the main tower and disengaged parts of the fence. Their arrival got the Umbarans away from the tower base, letting me get back out onto the landing pads to keep fighting.

I stayed in my space of calm, letting the Force lead me through my fights. I spun gracefully through the Umbarans, deflecting their shots with ease. A swing of my lightsaber here. A sharp kick to the chest over there.

When the rest of the battalion arrived to storm the airbase, it was pretty simple. The clones stormed in like a flood, spurred by the adrenaline of their recent victory and the hope for another. I stopped fighting as they raced past me, yelling while rounding up the remaining Umbarans. They moved quickly to establish the base as their own, dividing the Umbarans into prisoner groups and locking down all supply transfers.

My lightsaber slowly disengaged when I heard Rex’s voice somewhere behind me. “Despite Hardcase’s flying,” the captain joked, “You two saved us all.” I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Hardcase and Fives joining Jesse and Fives.

“Ah, it wasn’t so tough,” Hardcase lied.

“You sure?” Jesse asked as he removed his helmet. “You looked a little green when you came out of that fighter.” I smirked from my position away from them, choosing to stay unseen for now. I’d have loved to have taken a ship of my own and blasted those damned machines to hell.

But I had felt the Force prodding me to stay. And it was good I did, considering I’d managed to deactivate the fence temporarily until the clones were inside. I stepped a little closer, still behind the clones and unseen….but closer.

“Captain,” I stopped abruptly, hearing Krell’s voice. “Report. What is our situation?” The Besalisk was approaching, flanked by clones. I hid the sneer from my face. He needed a report because he didn’t help in the damned battle.

Rex stood at attention immediately. “General, we have taken the base and cut off enemy supply lines to the capital.”

“Luck has smiled on you today, Captain. Consider yourself fortunate.”

Rex took a step forward towards his commanding officer, my brows raising curiously. I felt defiance in him. That wasn’t something I was used to. “It wasn’t all luck, sir. A lot of men died to take this base.” 

He was trying to get Krell to understand. My heart ached for the captain, because he didn’t know what I knew. He didn’t feel the darkness that surrounded Krell’s mind. The bloodlust I felt beneath his calm Jedi exterior. The longer I was near him, the more uncomfortable I felt. 

“The price for such victory,” Krell replied easily. “Perhaps someday you’ll realize this.”

There was a blossom of anger from Rex. The Force moved darkly around him, but he fought the urge to fight his general down. His fist clenched where he held his helmet at his side, but he said nothing.

“Dismissed,” Krell said firmly, turning away. He stopped abruptly, his head turning over his shoulder. “Fett.” My name on his lips made my blood turn to ice. 

The clones followed Krell’s line of sight, seeing me standing behind them. They seemed excited to see me at first, still glad from our victory. But it soon melted into concern when Krell turned to face me fully.

I didn’t even have time to react. 

My lightsaber, still held in the palm of my hand, was ripped from my grasp. It flew through the air, landing softly in Krell’s outstretched hand. He examined it as my anger bubbled, my feet immediately taking me towards him. I stopped amidst the clones, though, my senses returning for a moment.

“I told you that your use of this weapon is disrespectful. Clearly, you cannot be trusted to have it.”

I glowered at him, the Besalisk giving me a smug look. He closed his eyes briefly while I festered in my rage, fighting the urge to shoot him where he stood and take my saber back from his cold, dead fingers.

His yellow eyes snapped open in a moment, one of his dual-sided sabers igniting to point at my chest. I stood my ground, unafraid as I stared at him. “I feel your anger,” he growled, leveling the glowing blade between us. “Your rage. Give me a reason, Sithling.” He was daring me to make a mistake. 

Like I had never really wanted the Umbarans to surrender to me in the control tower...Krell wanted me to mess up. He wanted me to fall to darkness--or at least close enough to it that they’d believe him--so he could take me out of the equation. Whether it was genuine malice or just the fact that he didn’t like me, I couldn’t be sure. Still, I’d never find out if Krell killed or imprisoned me.

Then what good would I be in keeping the boys alive?

So I let my anger slowly cool, even though I wasn’t about to forget it. Krell watched me in silence, every muscle in the group round tight with apprehension. “It won’t happen again, sir,” I said smoothly, surprising everyone there.

Krell, while taken back, recovered quickly. “Correct,” he smirked, clipping my lightsaber to his belt. “It won’t.” He said nothing else as he walked away, but I felt the smug feeling of victory radiating from him. 

I was silent as I watched him go, my gaze burning a hole into the back of his head. I knew I’d get it back, either by Skywalker backing me up when he returned, or by taking it by force. I was a bounty hunter, after all.

“I-” Fives coughed slightly. “I can’t believe you let him walk away with your lightsaber.” He was trying to make light of the situation, but I didn’t even look at him, my gaze still following the Jedi.

“Of course she let him,” Dogma voiced from nearby. “He ordered her not to use it and she did anyways. That’s a light punishment, if you ask me.”

“Shut up, Dogma,” Hardcase groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

I ignored them all, though, trapped in my own raging thoughts. A hand touched my shoulder gently, making me jump. “Kida?” It was Rex, his voice soft. I felt his frustration at me still, deep down, over my defying him in front of everyone. But that was largely shadowed by his worry for me. If I hadn’t been so enraged at Krell and maybe just a little bit at Rex for not doing anything….maybe I would’ve reacted better.

But I was confused, much like what I was feeling off most of the clones. Krell was a Jedi. He was supposed to be good. But something felt wrong and every step he took led to clone deaths. And I wanted Rex to do something, but he could do nothing more than speak up. And he’d tried that to no avail.

Thankfully, the men saw that. But I could feel Fives thinking that Rex still wasn’t going far enough. Fives, like me, would disobey orders if they were wrong or there was a better option. He was a free-thinker, through and through. Rex was too, but as a captain, he had developed a code he lived by in order to lead others. It meant he followed orders with honor.

Disobedience wasn’t honorable to most.

So why was I still mad at him, when I knew he was doing all that was in his nature to do? I didn’t care. The whole situation was complete osik. From Krell to the Umbaran death machines. From Dogma being a kiss-ass to Fives wanting to practically start an uprising.

I needed to get away and clear my head. 

I stepped away from Rex’s touch without looking at the clones, my gaze still following where Krell had gone. I left without a word, knowing I’d say something that would get me in trouble.

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

I spent some time fuming on my own, staring out over the perimeter. When I’d finally let myself cool down enough to be back in public, I emerged to find Fives working at one of the gunships. I approached, giving him a nod as I sat on the opposite wing and began fiddling with my goggles in an attempt to fix the infrared. 

“You alright?” he asked softly from where he worked below the wing.

“Peachy,” I grumbled back, earning a soft--but equally frustrated--chuckle. My eyes lifted when I felt both Krell and Rex approaching. Krell was flanked by Dogma and Hardcase, Rex approaching from the control tower.

“Sir,” Rex said in greeting to the Jedi. “There’s a transmission from General Kenobi.”

Meets up with Fives--briefing from Rex and clone argument about plan.

Krell barely even broke stride. “I’ll take it in the tower.” Rex followed them up, but Hardcase peeled off, seeing Fives and I at the ship.

Hardcase took off his helmet, flashing me a smile before ducking below the wing to greet his brother. “Hey, how’s it coming?”

“Eh,” I heard Fives grumble. “Tricky piece of hardware.”

“Krell’s got Jesse stacking ordnance.”

My brows lifted at that, my gaze finally drawn away from the hardware of my goggles. Fives sighed and grunted from below. “I’m still waiting for Krell to thank us for handing this bae over to him.”

Hardcase stood, looking up at the looming tower Krell and the others had gone into. I snorted a laugh. “Hey, he punished me for my part in it. Consider him saying nothing to you two the best damn thank you he can offer.”

Fives pushed himself out from under the ship, pointing one of the tools at me. “That surprised me.”

“What?”

“That you let him take your lightsaber!” Fives ran his hands through his hair. I felt his frustration and fear, but I only sighed.

“What was I supposed to do? Fight him for it?” Neither of the clones answered me, which was enough. They fell silent as I fitted my goggles back into place, the infrared fixed. I stood, moving to their side to inspect the ship. “Okay, first thing is that Fives isn’t allowed to try and fix this ship anymore.”

Hardcase laughed, joined with the laughter of Jesse and Tup. I gave them both small smiles as they approached. Tup was quick to join me as I removed a panel from the top side of the wing, inspecting inside. He crawled up with me, offering me a childish grin. I got to work sorting out the hardware, my algorithms running to decode it the moment I plugged in.

“That was badass, what you did today,” he said a bit shyly. 

I lifted my brow, letting out a cough of sarcastic laughter. “What? Get humiliated by that jagyc of a general we’re following?”

“You should be careful what you say.” Our heads snapped to the side to see Dogma joining us. As much as he was annoying sometimes, Echo apparently used to be a bit like that too.

And like Rex, according to Anakin.

“You’re lucky the General doesn’t understand Mando’a,” he announced as he sat to fiddle with his blaster. Fives leaned against the wing beside him, giving him a raised brow. “What?” Dogma asked. “I’m just saying, he hasn’t been very forgiving towards Kida and I doubt he would start now if he heard her talking like that.”

I glanced down at the machinery below me, trying to look busy and distracted. Maybe he was annoying….but he was saying it to protect me. Maybe some was pride and honor and the huge tree up his shebs. But still, he cared. Somewhere in all that Geonosis coding and Republic armor.

I felt a bit bad for my outburst earlier. In the end….he was lost. He, like Tup, was young compared to many of the clones here. Rex was older and was still struggling with honor and duty in situations like these. Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Tup handed me the next tool I needed without my having to ask. I flashed him a smile as Rex approached, announcing that we were advancing on the capital, despite a new ship bringing supplies to the Umbarans. Krell’s plan. Obviously.

“Head on?” Jesse asked from where he had started to work on an Umbaran computer. “Again? That didn’t work out so well last time.”

Fives jumped in, pushing off from leaning on the wing adamantly. “Those missiles have a 100-megaton yield. We won’t even make it to the delta!”

“What can I do?” I glanced away at Rex’s answer. Mine had been similar. I guess we were all in the same boat. “I’ve tried to reason with him. Those are the orders.”

“Great, another suicide mission. The capital is too well armed,” Jesse sighed.

Tup sat back beside me, making me pause in my work to glance up. “Why does it seem like he has it out for clones? And what about Kida? Calling her a--a Sithling?”

I shrugged, muttering quietly, “He’s not wrong.”

“He didn’t mean that as a compliment,” Tup responded, giving me a frown. I conceded, turning my head as Dogma spoke again.

“I think you’re all overreacting.” I rolled my eyes, giving Tup a pointed look in response. The young clone covered his smile with his hand, turning away to smother a chuckle. “Obviously General Krell knows what he’s doing. Do you really think he doesn’t care when he loses men?”

Jesse crossed his arms, watching his brother closely. “I’m not saying that. But I do think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake.”

I glanced down at the mechanism I was working on, thinking. The readings I got off Krell made me think he didn’t care. But then again, I’d never thought to root into his mind during a firefight while my friends were dying. It wasn’t really the highest thing on my list at those moments.

Then again...when I thought back to the horrific moments, I could remember the emotions like it was a picture painted across my thoughts. Death. Loss. Pain. Fear. Valor. Anger. Relief.

And during that moment, I returned to when I’d held a clone until he died, tucked away in cover from the Umbaran’s bombardment. The emotions had been overwhelming. And then there was Krell. A stillness, but something unlike what I’d felt in other Jedi. Something almost like...contempt. 

I shook my head, looking around at them. “Well, I am saying it. Krell doesn’t care about his men. And you don’t need the Force to see it. I had Apex research the general when he first got here.” I glanced down briefly for a moment. “I’ve never seen a general with these kinds of casualties.”

“He’s out of control,” Fives announced fiercely. “He is not acting like the other Jedi. He has no respect for us. Hell, even Kida is acting like a better Jedi than him!” My brows shot up in both shock and maybe a bit of hurt? I wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel great to be compared to Krell, or be called a Jedi, considering my thoughts on them. But I guess he was praising the Jedi in this situation...so I took the compliment in stride.

Rex took a small step forward. “Listen, I don’t agree with him either, but…” he seemed to struggle for words, “I don’t have a better plan.”

“Well what about using these starfighters to destroy the supply ship?” Fives offered, glancing over his shoulder at the lines of ships.

“Our fleet has been trying,” Rex sighed in response. “The Umbarans have it as protected as the capital.”

I glanced up to Fives, seeing him walking over to Jesse, who was still working at the console. My wrist computer beeped, telling me that I’d deactivated all kill bugs in the starfighter hardware. I cleared my throat, earning a grin from the ARC trooper, who clearly knew what that meant. “But we have their access codes and their own hardware,” he declared to his captain with a cocky smile.

Rex seemed shocked for a moment, his voice almost breathless. “You were able to crack it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Fives punched Jesse’s shoulder playfully. Apparently the clone had been finding access codes for his brother, rather than stacking ordinance for the general. Jesse was grinning still, so clearly he preferred Fives’ task. “We can sneak right past their blockade...get where our ships can’t.” Fives’ face was cracked wide with a smile, his hands held before him almost like he was pleading.

Rex’s gloved hand touched his strong jaw in thought. I averted my gaze, still confused between anger and guilt. 

“If we take out that supply ship, then we cut off arms to the capital.” Fives’ tone was firm, but hopeful.

Rex’s face reflected that after a moment of thinking, his eyes showing the old spark I was used to. The one of valor. Intelligence. Leadership. And hope.

He gave us all a curt nod as he turned to start walking towards the command tower, likely to relay this idea to Krell. I watched him in silence for a moment, my fingers twiddling the decryption key I’d fashioned while everyone was talking.

Fives cleared his throat, making me turn. He was giving me a pointed look, glancing after the captain’s retreating back. 

“Think you can handle this without me?” I asked Tup softly after a low sigh. The young clone gave me a brief confused look before it clicked.

He grinned, his teardrop tattoo wrinkling on his cheek. “Have fun.”

“Shut up.” I tossed Tup the decryption key as I hopped off the wing of the starfighter, hurrying after the captain. The clones behind me were all chuckling, aside from Dogma, who seemed utterly lost. Then again, I doubted any of the clones had told Dogma about what happened at my club most nights. Not with his track record of being a suck-up.

When I was far enough from the clones and close enough to Rex, I called after him. “Captain!”

His steps stuttered only slightly at my voice. His tell was his mind, as it practically blanked for a moment before he roughly shoved me from his thoughts. I was taken back, stopping in my tracks as he turned. 

“I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my head,” he said curtly, not meeting my eyes. Still, I could tell his stare was cold.

I swallowed thickly, but stopped the automatic apology that started to come from my lips. All this time with Krell was making me act more like the docile slave I was once trained to be.

I hated that.

“How else am I supposed to know what’s going on with you?” I asked instead, crossing my arms. I wanted to look imposing, but I felt like I was trying to shield myself with my arms instead. “You don’t talk to me.”

Rex’s golden eyes flickered to me only briefly before he sighed, staring at the ground between us again. “We can’t….” He sighed again, seeming to struggle for the words. “We can’t act like we do when…”

His words tapered off, but I understood. I glanced away, trying to fight the emotions brewing inside me. This entire mission had been bad news. It was overwhelming in every capacity. It was making me….unsteady.

Unsteady in my dedication to the Republic. Unsteady in my trust in the Jedi. Unsteady in my dedication to the Bendu. 

I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself as I counted off silently in my mind. “I know that,” I said finally, finding no other words within me. I was exhausted--we all were. I swallowed again. “I’m sorry about--”

“It was out of line.” His words were sharp when they cut me off. He sounded like a commanding officer. I felt my back straighten just slightly. “I know you’re reckless and that’s something you’re proud of, but I won’t accept that under my command.”

My anger flared, licking dangerously at the part of me that remembered the power of the darkness. I forced it down with determination, lifting my head slowly to look at Rex in the eyes. Over the time we’d spent together, he must have gotten used to me touching his mind with my own. 

I guess in that same time, he learned how to start blocking me out. Because when I reached out desperately with a sense of calm and endearment, I met a wall. I pulled back like I’d touched a hot flame, recoiling physically with a half step backwards before I stopped myself.

Rex sighed lowly. “Kida, out here...I have my men--my brothers--to worry about. I can’t be worrying about your recklessness putting them or yourself in danger.” My anger was only rising with each word the clone captain spoke. My pot was near its boiling point. “You need to learn to take orders.”

“Even when they’re wrong?” I asked, unable to hold it back.

Despite his mental wall, I felt Rex’s patience thinning even further. “That’s not for you to decide!” Some clones glanced our way, our eyes dropping to the ground under their curious gazes. Rex dropped his voice down again. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re undermining my command. Can you understand that?”

“What I understand is that you think I’d ever put you or your brothers in danger,” I hissed back, taking a daring step closer. Rex seemed taken back by my tone. Then again, I suppose he’d never heard me speak that way before. At least, not since we’d become friends. My anger was bubbling inside me, spilling out in hot tears that I was barely holding back. “I was brought here because I’m good at what I do. Not because I’m good at following orders.” I lifted my chin, my jaw tight with my restrained anger. “And I refuse to take disrespect from anyone. Never again. Can you understand that?”

Rex only blinked at me, unsure how to respond. What could he do, really? I had him backed in a corner. For a moment, I felt triumph. And then I sensed the tiniest whiff of fear from Rex. Fear of me. Fear of the things he’d heard and the stories I’d told him. Fear of the monster Krell foretold I could become.

I stepped back, looking away as I finally lost the battle with my tears, the salty drops staining my dirty cheeks. “That’s how you put someone in their place, Rex,” I said softly, my words sounding weak through the tears. I hated that, but knew there was nothing I could do. In the end, there was no hiding from Rex’s searching gaze. That is...if he ever looked at me with that searching gaze again after all this. “If you want the men to respect you, that’s how you do it.” I breathed slowly, my eyes still downcast. “Good luck pitching the idea to Krell.”

I turned abruptly and walked away, leaving the captain in his shock and uncertainty. I was embarrassed. Angry. Hurt. Offended. Sad.

Confused, was likely the best descriptor.

So I hid away in the Umbaran compound, finding a nice little corner that opened to the dark sky that sometimes sparkled with the battle occurring in the stars above us. After so long with my kyber crystal, it was weird not having it there as I meditated. It focused me, especially since I’d healed and bonded with it.

Still, I knew I needed to settle my thoughts in order to see Rex again. I wouldn’t let this war destroy me. I wouldn't let Krell destroy Rex or his brothers.

And I wouldn’t let this stupid mission come between me and the man I loved.

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

I wasn’t sure how long had passed when I felt settled enough to ease out of my meditative state. I felt more centered, despite being unsure how to handle Krell. Still, I chose to trust what I’d learned from all of my teachers: Anakin, Obi-wan, Ahsoka, Qui-Gon, Jango, Bendu, the Father, Yilria, and even Darth Bane.

I would trust the Force. When I was still and quiet….and really listened….I knew I’d wield my saber again. I knew Rex and I would make it out.

But I also knew there was still great darkness to come. And not just on Umbara.

The base’s activity had died down a bit while I meditated, many of the clones now taking rotations to bed down in the barracks. I headed there, seeing no armor designs that I recognized in the clones milling about outside.

When I drew closer, I could feel tension coming from inside. I could sense many familiar presences. Fives. Rex. Dogma. Jesse. Tup. Hardcase.

The first two of which were heading towards the exit, both still boiling with frustration. I backed up from the door, ducking behind a casing of supplies. Rex exited first, helmet held at his side with a fisted hand.

“This is about more than just following orders,” Fives called as he ran out after his brother.

Rex stopped, glancing over his shoulder steadily. “It is,” he allowed. “It is about honor.”

“Where is the honor in marching blindly to our deaths?” Fives’ mind flashed to Echo’s death, making me flinch at the horrible sound of the explosion. “ECHO!” I heard Fives scream in my thoughts. I shook it away, concentrating on my friends again.

“It is not our call.” Rex was staying calm this time. Good. Maybe he’d handle this better than he’d handled our conversation. “We are part of something larger. We are not independent of one another.” I looked down, my jaw clenching again with the emotions I’d just taken so much time to carefully school down. Osik.

“I’m sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they’re wrong, especially when lives are at stake.”

Rex’s resolve hardened, his anger flaring. I didn’t dare prod at his mind, not wanting him to know I was listening. Still, his words sliced deep into my chest. He’d said similar words long ago when we’d been at Cut Lawquane’s homestead. 

I suppose….some part of me had hoped that idea had begun to change. Not necessarily in his dedication to the Republic, since I had long since come to terms with that. And learned to respect it.

But more so in the idea that he was more than just another clone. He wasn’t just another part in the machine. He wasn’t replaceable. Not to me.

“You will if you support the system we fight for,” Rex said firmly, drawing my solemn attention back to the clones. He was getting more heated, poking Fives in the chest.

The ARC trooper threw off his captain’s hand. “I do support the system,” he professed. “I do! But I am not just another number. None of us are!” He turned, but stopped when Rex scoffed a low chuckle.

“You sound like Kida,” Rex grumbled, sounding annoyed. I scowled from my hiding place.

Fives whirled, glaring at his brother. But when he spoke, his voice was hushed. “That’s another thing. You have something. Something most of us will never have the luxury of having.” Fives looked almost sad for a second as he stared at the ground. “She cares for you, Rex.” His voice was small. Maybe even a bit broken. “All of us.” He shook his head. “What she did after Echo--”

“I know.” Rex seemed calmer now, his demeanor sad. 

“Then why do you expect her to be something she isn’t, when she’s already so much?” I was shocked by Fives’ words, my back pressing against the racks I hid behind. “She’s a bounty hunter, not a soldier.” Rex went to argue, but Fives held up his hand. “And she hates to admit it, but every day, I see her become more like a Jedi than a bounty hunter.” I frowned, but I knew he meant it as a compliment. 

And then again, maybe it was true. I’d just spent hours meditating and trusting the Force, after all.

Rex sighed. “Why are you telling me this?”

I felt Fives’ resolve build, his frustration with his captain coming back. “I’m telling you because I care for you. And as much as I think you don’t deserve her right now,” he hissed, turning on his heel to call over his shoulder quietly, “I don’t want you to lose her.”

“Fives, where are you going?” Rex called.

Fives stopped at the door to the barracks, looking over his shoulder. “To round up some pilots.” He reentered the barracks, leaving Rex alone with his thoughts. I still didn’t dare peek into them, for fear of him sensing my meddling. After a moment, the captain turned and left.

I surmised from what I’d overheard that Krell had rejected Fives’ plan. That wasn’t really a big surprise. 

After waiting a second to ensure it was safe, I stepped from my hiding place and waited by the barrack doors. It only took a few minutes for Fives to emerge, flanked by Jesse and Hardcase. They seemed shocked to see me lounging casually in wait.

“Gentlemen,” I greeted, giving them a nod. “I heard Krell wasn’t a fan of your idea.”

Hardcase rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Eh, not really. The captain said it’s because we don’t have the time or training to pilot starfighters.”

Jesse cast me a smile. “Know any good pilots who could give us a quick lesson?”

“I might,” I grinned, crossing my arms. “But there’s a catch.”

Fives mimicked my stance, quirking a brow. “Oh?”

“I get to go with you.”

“Rex won’t like that,” Hardcase laughed, elbowing me as he walked past me with Jesse. I shrugged in response, only earning more laughter.

Fives threw his arm around my shoulder, dragging me with him out of the barracks and towards the hangar. “I always knew I liked you, Fett.”

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

MANDO’A

Osik-- shit

Jagyc-- dick

Shebs-- ass

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

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I hope everyone is staying up to date on the new episodes! They have been very very good through the Mandalore Arc. For any of you wondering, yes…. Kida will be a part of the Siege of Mandalore. And Order 66.

I am incredibly excited to eventually get there, but for now, am super pumped to be working my way through Umbara. (After this, it’s the Zygerrian Arc and I’m very excited to finally bring in some of Kida’s slavery memories and such! Yay backstory!)

As always, likes/reviews/questions/shares/reposts are always appreciated and encouraged!

-Ryder

[simplysparrow14]

Slowly but Surly making my way through some Dark Crystal Fanfic’s that i have been slowly writing. 

Here are some sneek peaks (Alone with synopisis)  to hold everyone down. 

@fandomsonmysleeve

@solieetlunami

@jenskira

@amethystgelfling

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Get Away From Her --> Dark Crystal

(Set within season 2. After being chased by the Skeksis Lords, Deet, Hup and Rian are cornard on the edge of a rock-cliff, a powerful thunderstorm raging over their heads. Deet can bairly keep herself together thanks to the ever-growing pull of the darkening. Rian is heavly injured. Hup is exasted, but determind to keep Both Rian and Deet safe. However, in a large display of force, the Skeksis knock the trio off the cliff, sending them tumbling down feet over heads.  Rian is knocked completly out, leaving only a badly hurt Deet and hup to defend themselves form the skeksis. ) 

Deet felt cold, icy cold. A kind of cold that settled deep down into your bones and never left. It was a constant feeling, thanks to the darkening coursing though her veins. She could feel that constant push and pull of power, the swell of dark thoughts: Of death, of pain, of sadness that wrapped around her like a cloak.

It had been a constant companion during those first two weeks after the Skeksis-Stonewood battle. It kept her company, guiding her away until she forgot where she was, and, eventually, herself.

But now, standing on the ledge above the ravine, her body soaked by the violent downpour, her cloak whipping violently around her, she felt that horrible surge of power better then ever.  Her vision was blurred, either by the Darkening or the rain dripping into her eyes, she couldn’t tell. She clutched her cloak closer to her, trying desperately to keep the power down.

In front of her, Rian struggled to keep upright. The Stonewood looked disheveled. His long sepia-and-myrtle hair was slack with rain, his long bangs laying flat to his forehead. His armor, once finely embellished, was in taters, its once well-worn leather now cut and blood-stained. A large purple bruise was swelling up against his right eyes, the horrible purple discoloration seeping into his tawny skin.

Next to him, Hup was just bairly standing. The Podling was drenched from head to toe in rain, the hair ringed by his hat plastered to his skin. His red and brown nebrie-tunic and pants were dark with water. Bruises peppered his skin, and his hand shook violently as he held his spoon out.

“Rian,” She mumbled, her voice horse and faint. She blinked a few times, trying despertly to keep her eyes clear of the darkening for as long as possible.

Standing near the basin of the cliff side before them, hunched and cryptic and macomb as ever, The Slave Master giggled with glee. The Skeksis looked just as waterlogged and heavy as they were, his fine silks clinging tightly to his skeletal form, showing off every sharp angle of his bones. The fuzz patch that sat atop his his head was stamped down by the rian, and as he waddled his way up the cliff, the heavy jewels clattered together, a horrid song within the thunderstorm. In his hands, a magnificent skeksis blade caught a flash of lightning that split the sky above them.

“Stupid! Stupid, Gelfling!” He roared, his voice grating to the ears, like a piece of stone against a blade. “Making me come all the way out here! Making me stand out here! Wasting time! Should just jump and end it! Make Skeksis lives easier! But no…Gelfling too smart to jump. Gellfing too foolish to hand over Grotton. So now Slave Master must take! must bring parasite back to castle, or else Slave Masters good graces with emperor go to waste.” He took a step forward.

“Savalum!” Hup roared. The Podling took a step forward, thrusting his spoon at the skeksis. “A nishi amoka ninya fam! No. Hurt. Deet!”

The Skeksis is silent for a moment as a dagger of lightning rips open across the sky, before throwing back his head in pure, blissful laughter. “How quaint!” He roared, taking a step forward. From her small perch on the cliff, Deet could just make out the cloud of bloodlust that somersaulted through the Skeksis’ horridly small eyes. “A podling protecting a gelfling. How louche! It be true that  I’ve seen strange relations with other creatures on Skeksas’ travels, but this one takes the prize.”

Anger boiled through Hups body, twisting and turning within his veins as he watched the Skeksis throw back his head in laughter. The Podling held his spoon tightly, small knuckles growing as white as snow, nails digging into the apeknot wood.  Hup did not dare show fear in front of the Skeksis Lord, though every nerve within his pudgy body told him to run and hide. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not when Deet was to be gauged and chained and dragged back to the tall spires of the castle, where the Skeksis could do what they pleasued with her.

Hup could almost imagine what awaited her within the halls of the castle. The Emporerscruel laughter echoing down the corridors, mixed in with the giddy cheers of the others and the snake-like whimper of The Chaimberlain as The Scientists preformed macobe and unsavory experiments on her body. “For the benefit of the Skeksis,” the scientists would hiss, as he tied Deet to the essence extraction chairs and unleashed the power of the crystal.

Hup could picture that. Fathom that. He had seen the podlings held captive within the castle, had heard the chains around their necks clatter against stone as they wandered aimlessly through the corridors as the Skeksis shouted command after command.  If the podlings were any indication of the Skeksis’ cruelty and hatred to life, who was to say they couldn’t do something more fowl and horrific to Deet?

The podling felt fire burn within his chest at the thought. He wouldn’t allow that. Not while he still had air in his lungs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Happy Ending --> Dark Crystal 

(Also set within Season 2. Rian and Brea wake to find their lives completely diffrent. Rian is the Captain of the Palace guard. Mira is alive. The Skeksis are nice and not-essence dependent. Brea is back in Ha’rar, now the curator of the Library. Seladon is All-Maudra, being helped in her duties by the now Maudra-once-was, Mayrin. Tavra is married to the Sifa Onica, and is now captain of the Ha’rar royal guard.  Everything is perfect, a perfect dream come true. A happy ending for all Or is it? ) 

At first, all Rian could hear was nothing. Nothing filled his ears. Nothing cried out. Nothing sang. It was as if the world had been cut down, silenced in the middle of its precious song.  Rian had heard it once, but now nothing said a word. He laid there for a moment, his mind blank.  The ground was cool against his back, cloaking his shoulders in a pleasant sensation that drew him further away.

Until the voice called his name.

It was light and airy, soft on the wind.

It called his name with love and adoration, rolling off the tounge with ease.

Rian’s ear twitched at the sound, and for some reason, he felt his heart relax.

But… soon the voice grew worried. Then sad. Then heartbroken. It grew louder and louder. Until finally, it enveloped his ears, drawing him out of the nothing.

Rian awoke violently.. Light stabbed his eyes like daggers, pain blossoming deep within his blue irises. The Stonewood Gelfling took a deep breath, his lung filling with the cool, earthy taste of Thra as he took in the sight around him. The cradle tree was healthy and whole, its bark free of purple veins. Its leaves were healthy; Not whether or brown with decay.

“Cradle tree…?” Rian whispered, confusion settling with him his chest. No, it couldn’t be. The tree Rian remembered was old and withered, barely a tree at all anymore. Its voice had died away long ago as The Darkening  ravaged its body to the point of nothing, its large hulking body forever scared by the blight.

But above him, The forest was thick with life, vines and roots and branches all around. Crawlies scudded in the dirt, while birds cawed above him.  Leaves swayed in the summer unam breeze, and for a moment, Rian swore he heard a whisper echo from the tree above.

“Rian…!” The voice called again.

Fluttering his ears, Rian lifted himself up from the dirt. His knees popped painfully as he stood to his full height. A wave of Dizziness swept over his mind, causing him to sway and stumble where he stood. Something clattered at his hip

Looking down, Rian saw that he was dressed in full armor. At his hip, a large scabbard, its silver blade shiny with polish, gleamed eagerly in the light. In the dirt, a helmet rested, its large spikes turned sideways into the dirt

Rian took a step back. The last time he had seen that kind of helmet, his father had worn it when he left for the tithing ceremony in Ha’rar.

The sound of hooves stamping the ground and the deep throated gurgle of a Lanstrider gained his attention from the helmet.  Rian placed a hand on his sword, his fingers curling around the hilt as he watched the landstrider gallop forward. Rian’s sapphire blue eyes caught sight of the gelfling perched on top of the lithe animal.

Rian felt the air leave his lungs. He felt his stomach drop to his feet as he watched as the gelfling slowed the landstrider to a halt, then proceeded to take off their helmet.

Perched on the landstrider, her silver hair tied elaborate in a long single plait, freckles ever present in the sun, Mira looked down on Rian. Her smile was bright and full of life, and her pale green eyes shine with a playfulness Rian had never thought to see again. Patting the landstrider, Mira blinks at Rian.

“Did the Captain have a good nap?” She asked.

Rian stared at her for a moment, struggling to connect her voice with her words. It had been unams since he’d heard her Vapran accent, the light and airy way her tounge rolled the R’s of certain words. It was a stark contrast to his tough and even Stonewood intonation. Rian had forgotten how well the two complemented each other.

“Rian,” Mira said again, leaning forward a little on the landstrider. “Are you okay?”

“Mira,” Rian gasped her name. He took a step forward, eagerness racing through his veins. Tears sprang up from his eyes as he croaked out the words caught within his throat. “You’re alive.”

Mira gave a laugh–sweet and intoxicating– as she kept her landstrider still. “Of course I am,” She said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“T-the skeksis killed you!” Rian studderd, his whole body shaking with excitement.  He watched as Mira’s ears folded back against her silver hair, confusion swimming across her face. “They drained you of your essence, and I watched as they ate you!”

“Rian, did you have a nightmare? The Skeksis would never do such a thing. They’re kind. Benevolent–.”

“Monsters,” Rian blurred out. The landstrider gurgled at his harsh words. Mira drew back against their finns, whispering soothing words. Rian felt his ears fall back against his head as he breathe in the cool, earthy air.

Mira was silent for a moment, her own ears falling back against her head as she looked everywhere but at Rian. The stonewood knew that  thoughts ran amuck in her mind. He had seen that look before. His heart swelled.  It had been ages since that look crossed his mind, and Rian felt lighter then ever at the sight.  Rian watched as the gentle summer breeze rustled her side-braids.

“You’re not well,” Mira said finally. Leaning over, she extended her hand, gloved in nebrie hide. “Come. Lets get back to the castle.”

“To the castle? To the Skeksis?” Rian said, stepping back a bit. His feet crunched against the earth as fear

“Please, Rian,” Mira pleaded, her voice slightly strained as she held out her hand.

Rian gazed at the Vapra. He felt his eyes start to sting. Her green eyes were shining like gems in the bright light, her pale gold-and silver streaked hair wind-tousled. There was love in her voice; love that, for so long, Rian had thought he’d never hear again. For so long, her voice was just a muffled whisper in his mind, a dream that fled like a frighted landstrider when he awoke. There were times where, when the wind howled just right, or if someone called his name in such a way, he turned around, hoping to find her standing and smiling at him. But, time after time, it had been a trick of his mind.

He still thought that now, standing before her, watching as she held out her hand to him, welcoming him up onto her landstrider.

But, her voice was so strong, so present in his ears. She sounded real–but was she real to the touch?

Hesitantly, he reached out. He let his fingers glide along hers. And it was this that made him crumble, made the tears free-fall against his cheeks. Made him grasp her hand and press it against his forehead, savoring her warmth.

“Mira,” Rian whispered, his voice strained with grief and relief and sadness and happiness all at once.

“Im here,” Mira said sweetly, almost worried-like. Her ears were turned forward a little, showing off her concern.

“You’re here,” Rian answers. She was real– real as the earth, the sky, the sun.  Moving closer, Rian let go of Mira to grasp the leg of the landstrider, careful not to hurt the creature as he swung a leg over its body. He scooted closer up to mira, until he could throw his arms around her waist and rest his head against her back. He took in her scent. She smelled of the armory; of the worn leather of the guards armor, the sweet, peach-berry polish used for the swords and spears. Rian couldn’t help but laugh as Mira’s heartbeat pulced against his cheek.  Mira said nothing. Instead, she moved a hand to rians, encasing his fingers with hers. Kicking her heels against the landstriders sides, she guided the beast over a hill and through the forest. Over her shoulder, Rian could make out the jagged and twisted silhouette of the Castle of the Crystal, with its cryptic spires and its thousand pavilions and windows.

Anger boiled in his gut at the sight. That bloody castle. It had been the main source of his pain for unams now. It had been the same palace mira had took her last breathe in; Gurjin had been locked within its cages as he held his ground to protect Rian. His father had sworn life and loyalty to its tall spires and horrid bird creatures that roamed its halls. Rian could have spewed curses for days on end. But, as the landstrider galloped on, his anger fell away to nothing.  tighten his grip around Mira’s waist as the two made their way to the guards chambers.