#i had 'thorns are sharp' first but that was too much of a mouthful -- i think 'thorn-covered' feels easier to say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugairsstuff · 5 months

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Hi saw you're looking to write stories and was hoping to send some inspiration your way! I am a sucker for "Who did this to you?" Trope and I'm just in need of more Cassian from ACOTAR on this site. So I'm thinking of a little one-shot story of the reader getting hurt by an ex or a family member she doesn't get along with and the General of the Night Court being Angry about it.

Happy Writing! Can't wait to see what you come up with! 😊

thank you very much for being my first request! and i’d be happy to- sorry if i’m a bit rusty- i hope you enjoy how i approached this prompt!

who did this to you.

cassian x fem reader (a court of thorns and roses)

warnings: mentions of abuse, minor descriptions of violence

summary: you run into an ex who wrongfully treated you, and in his pathetic attempts to beg you for forgiveness he injures you. conflicted, you choose not to tell your mate, both suppressing your right to feel emotional and worried for cassian should he go after the male. but your mate knows you like the back of his hand, and you decide to tell the truth before cassian figures it out himself.

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

You stand at the end of one of the House of Wind’s scarlet-wreathed hallways, thinking only of how grateful you are of your dress’ long sleeves as your left hand rubs your opposing wrist- which throbs with the inevitable purpling of a bruise wrapped around it. Although you know your mate adores when you wear pretty jewelry of all kinds, something tells you that seeing this makeshift bracelet your ex-boyfriend gifted you today in the city would only make your mate’s crimson eyes see redder.

Your chest feels heavy, swirling with a flurry of emotions as you root yourself to the end of this hallway. The sounds of your friends’ voices- laughter- from beyond the grand doorway that stood opposing you overpowered the beating of your heart in your ears, though not the flurry in your chest that leaked into your brain, watering the seeds of your feelings and forging them into thoughts.

Your ex, so unimportant his name isn’t even needed, had ran into you accidentally whilst you were browsing a vendor selling handcrafted bookmarks in the city’s local markets. Once you saw him and made to slip into the crowd in an attempt of avoidance, it was too late, as he was already calling out your name in a tone that began in surprise and evolved into frustation. And when you didn’t look back, worried he wanted to pour his heart out to you, beg for another chance after the wicked ways he’d treated you in your past relationship, he wrapped his hand around your right wrist. He tugged you back, ignoring your sharp shout of both warning and shock as the crowd meandered past you without sparing second glances.

You didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying, your mind already in a frenzied panic as his grip only got tighter the more you tried to pull your wrist back to the safety of your side. His pleading, persuasive tone betrayed the vice-like hold he had on your wrist as he tried to force you to hear him out, hear his babbling of apologies and promises ‘to change’ and ‘to be better’.

By the time you had wrenched your wrist free, so desperate to simply get out of there, your response you threw at him was only a brief shout to leave you alone that came out more shaky than you were going for. Forgetting all your other leisurely plans for the day, you trekked back to the House of Wind, gripping your aching wrist and blinking tears back as you stared at the ground a few paces ahead of your swiftly moving boots.

So now you stand at the end of this hallway.

Thinking.

While your ex himself is old business, the encounter with him had resurfaced memories with him that left a bad taste in the back of your mouth. But they are old memories, you tell yourself to try and convince yourself there is no need to tell Cassian. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, the bruise would heal, and Gods above did you not want to send your mate on a warpath with the destination of wherever your ex lives. As much as you wouldn’t mind seeing he who does not deserve a name get what he actually deserves, you didn’t want Cassian paying the consequences for his actions. You nod to yourself in self-assuring confirmation of your decision.

You’re startled out of your head with the sudden worry you’ve been caught standing and staring at nothing like a lunatic. You glance around to ensure no person nor shadow was lurking, exhaling in small relief as you can’t think of a reasonable enough sounding excuse for your current behaviour. Don’t mind me, just contemplating the meaning of life! You scoff to yourself at your own weak joke, and move forwards until you reach the large double doors.

When you enter, familiar faces turn up to greet or smile at you from their places on the lounge room’s velvet sofas.

“There she is. You’re welcome for babysitting your whining mate, believe me when I say he’s been waiting for you the entire time in here to return from your devastatingly long two hour journey into the city.” Rhysand smirks, joking elaborately in a playful jab at his brother, with one of his hands tangled with Feyre’s in her lap- who sat nearly next to him but mostly on top of him.

“We were just wondering where you were.” Feyre jumps in to avoid the brothers getting into a back-and-forth bicker about clinginess. Her blue eyes twinkle like stars as she leans forwards a little, “So, how much did you spend today?” the female grins, looking too much alike to her mate.

You make your way to Cassian’s side immediately, standing next to the large armchair he was sprawled in rather than accepting his soft invites into his lap. He reaches over to you with both a wing and hand, the former brushing your back and the latter reaching to graze against your fingers. Placing a smile on your face comes easy as you look to Feyre, “Hate to disappoint, I only bought fresh ink and a new book.” you tell her, patting the small leather bag that rests against your hip as your excuse to move your hand away from Cassian’s. One small displacement of your sleeve would leave you having explaining to do, which you really would prefer to avoid.

Feyre whines a complaint in how you need to treat yourself more often to luxuries- as if this family hasn’t done that enough for you- before her attention switches to the male sitting below you, “Aw, sorry, Cassian, am I stealing all the attention away from you?” she teases.

You look down at your mate to see the pout on his pretty lips that elicited Feyre’s joke. One look at him, and you can tell him missing your presence wasn’t actually what was bothering him. Instead, his gaze was focused on the hand you had, apparently not subtly enough, moved away from him. Damn you for underestimating how well your mate knows you.

Cassian’s brows furrows ever so slightly as he looks up at you, a few raven black strands falling free from its messily half-tied state, appearing as though he were deeply pondering something. He looks as though he wants to say something, most likely ask why you’re acting oddly, though instead he rises to his feet and his hand lifts to brush not your hand but gently against your cheek.

Grinning, Cassian turns to Feyre and Rhysand, “Well, call me now the thief of the thief,” he shoots back equally as playfully to the High Lady, “I think we’ll be off so I can give my mate a properly informal greeting,” he jests, wiggling his eyebrows and winking at the two as he stole you away using a large, calloused hand centred on the small of your back.

You know better, though, this is simply Cassian’s way of preventing you from being put on the spot in front of two pairs of prying eyes. Cassian led you through the House of Wind’s corridors, pace slowing to make up for your lack of height in comparison to the Illyrian.

“How was your day, baby?” Cassian asks, his tone too soft for your liking right now. He’s testing the waters, you are well aware, both trying to solidify his feeling something was off and see if you are okay.

“It was fine,” you tell him honestly- well, all the parts without your ex in it. You fail to meet Cassian’s eye, afraid that if you do your mate will see right through you and know for certain you are upset. But this response only makes your mate fall quiet for a beat too long, something rare for the extroverted, energetic warlord. You hear Cassian suck in a breath as you turn a corner, and in moments he’s opening the large carved wooden door to your expansive chambers for you.

Cassian kicks the door shut gently before turning to you. You untie your boots and pull them off before he has the chance to offer to do so himself, and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. To avoid Cassian getting straight to the point and asking if something is amiss, you deflect before anything is sent, “I’m going to go run a bath. The place’s staircase is brutal,” you joke, speaking without thinking as you notice Cassian perk up a tad.

The male looks more relieved in his body language though apprehensiveness lingers in his gaze as he turns to you with a boyish smirk, “Am I invited to that event?” your mate tries.

You know you pause for a second too long as Cassian’s expression falls slightly and he begins to reel back his comment with something with just as much lightheartedness as there was worry for you, “Or shall I leave the lady to her flowery bubblebath and soap?”

You frown and shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay, I want you to come.” Normally, you’d make a sexual joke to lure him in the hot, soapy water with you, but the burden that Cassian will inevitabley discover exactly what is making things not okay in minutes was leaning over you.

“Okay,” is all Cassian responds with, and you inwardly cringe at how clear it is how simultaneously unsure and sure he is that something is bothering you. That heavy feeling in your chest returns, settling back to where it sat in that hallway as now you feel guilty for confusing your mate over such a small, meaningless encounter with a hostile ex. Or so you tell yourself.

It’s as if a tether is attached to that weight in your chest, giving a comforting tug that pulls some of it off of your lungs. You look up to Cassian, knowing that tether was instead that special little string that tied the beautiful bow of your bond. Your mate looks much more serious now as his deep red eyes flicker with concern, though he still speaks softly, “Come on. That bath’s calling our names.”

You stand rather than sit in the large bathroom as Cassian leans over the luxurious tub, hand testing the water as he makes sure it’s set to the temperature you like the most. You make no move to begin undressing, your arms wrapped tightly around you. The bruise no longer throbs as it sits untouched, but you’re still painfully aware of it.

Cassian eventually turns to you, his large wings extending slightly as he approaches you. Seeing as you are still undressed, his hand traces its way around your waist where two of his fingers catch the string of the dress’ corset, “May I?” he asks, though there are no lustful undertones in the warlord’s deep voice, despite him preparing to strip his lover in front of a steaming bath.

You nod up at him, but place a hand on his wrist before he makes a move. Cassian’s gaze flicks to yours immediately. His brows pinch upwards slightly in gentle questioning.

“Just- don’t freak out. Don’t panic. Okay?” you say vaguely, and watch as Cassian’s expression only becomes more worried. “Cassian.” you say, more sternly.

“You’re scaring me here,” he says, your name trailing at the end of his sentence rather than one of his more playful pet names. When you only look up at him with a pleading gaze, Cassian gives in with a sigh, “Okay.”

Your mate commences, tugging the dress loosely ever so gently. You can tell he’s alert as he stands over you, his wings and scent engulfing you as he peels off your day dress. You watch his face closely as he watches your body. Any other day, and you knew what you’d find there- sweet, honey-dripping lust and warm, intimate love as more of your figure is exposed to him. Right now, though, his brow is furrowed, and he’s looking at every inch of your skin, scanning you for what exactly your warning meant.

Cassian gently tugs the sleeves of the dress off of your arm. His crimson gaze looks to your left wrist, and then to your right wrist.

And then Cassian goes rigid.

You never understood how eyes could darken like the ways they were described to in all the books Nesta reads, but watching your mate now- now you fully understand. Leaning over you, eyes unmoving from the splotchy purple markings around your wrist, you watch as lethal anger fills his vision, you see your mate see exactly the colour of his eyes as pure, vicious anger seeps into his blood and runs it cold.

“Who.” Cassian’s voice is low, quiet. You blink at the husky, nearly strangled-sounding word that your mate managed out. “Who did this to you.” he says, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you see that the look in them has changed only slightly- just enough to show you it is far from you that Cassian is angry at.

You look down, your eyes stinging suddenly as tears brim your eyes and you have no idea why. You don’t answer, so Cassian speaks for you, tone low though not harsh towards you, “Was it him?”

You nod, and open your mouth to speak and curse yourself for stumbling over your words, “We ran into each other at the market earlier. He- he grabbed me, Cass, and he wouldn’t let go. I was so scared. I just ran.” you manage, feeling the cool trail of a tear drip down your cheek. The sight of that alone was enough for Cassian.

He curses, stepping back from you as his wings flare. “I am going to kill him. I swear to every God above, he’s a fucking dead male walking.” Cassian growls, both of you having completely forgotten about your planned bath together as he paces the bathroom like a prowling predator, as if he were plotting right now all the ways he’d make that male suffer.

You move towards him then, tears still running down your cheeks as you set your right hand on his arm, feeling how tight and tense the muscles beneath are. “No, Cassian,” you tell him, “you can’t. Don’t go after him, please, Rhysand can’t play favourites no matter what you do to him,” you tell him.

Cassian looks down at you, the fury in his gaze swirling and settling and then slipping away. He sighs, moving his own two hands to cup your cheeks gently. The large male uses his thumbs to brush away your tears. “Okay.” he says, sounding almost reluctant. “But I still can’t let him get away with this. I won’t.” Cassian tells you, his tone stern yet not harsh in an assurance that he would not let this happen to you ever again. He pulls you close to his chest, wrapping both his arms and wings around you, cocooning you in warmth. Cassian strokes your hair, letting you smoosh your cheek against his chest and listen to his slowed, steady heartbeat.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Cassian eventually murmurs once your tears have ceased, earning a small snort and then, blissfully, a laugh from you.

“Don’t worry, I just would rather only him being arrested then both of you.” you respond, and now it’s Cassian’s turn to chuckle. He releases you from his anchoring hold. “We can talk to Rhysand tomorrow, yeah? About the political and civil way to get him punished.” Cassian huffs, emphasizing his words in a joke.

You roll your eyes as you finish undressing, “Oh, yes, how very boring.”

Cassian only grins back at you, joining you once you climb into the tub and pulling you back against his chest, one hand interlocking with yours as he frowns momentarily at the bruising. “My idea of killing him is still up for grabs, though,” he hums.

“Cassian.”

#cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #bat boys #cassian x y/n #cassian x you

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 days

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Silver, Azul: Equal Parts Noble and Naive

... Why's he making a Malleus "r u lost bby ghorl" face while also copying Lilia's chin-in-hand pose/Malleus’s Dorm Uniform pose 🤡 There's another Malleus parallel in the vignettes; Silver comments on the same Philip-Aurora dancing painting (that is shown in Malleus's Groovy) and says that he took up dancing too since he admired the prince. Boy was ready for GloMasq/j Malleus glaring at the happy couple and Silver determined to stand firm against a fearsome foe... ;v;

I don’t know if I should be concerned or not given the Groovy and potential foreshadowing for book 7 😂 since there’s fan theories about how Silver could be the “sword” that slays the dragon… *rubs hands together* but it would be fun if it happened…

Fun fact about this Groovy: it had to be corrected because during the initial drop the devs forgot Silver's eyeshadow www The first time this mistake happened, I believe it was on Platinum Suit Vil's chibi.

A Tale as Old as Time.

There was a magic to two sets of parallel lines, bound together to form a quadrilateral. A great number of things could be contained within it. Upon a storybook's page or a painter's canvas, endless possibilities and mystical beings.

Silver gazed at one now.

A spindly dragon, horned and with massive spines protruding from its back, was poised in a platinum frame. Its belly was a violent shock of violet, its scales black as the night. Leathery wings splayed, gaping maw glowing green, trails of smoke exuding from its nostrils, the fearsome beast was prepared to strike down any warrior foolish enough to approach it.

"This is the Thorn Fairy in her dragon form," Silver murmured, his expression set in seriousness. "I'd always dreamed of seeing it for myself someday."

"How wonderful that your dream has now become a reality," a slick voice crooned. It belonged to Azul, who had sidled up to him like an all-too-eager used car salesman. "Ah, but you seem to be troubled. What ails you?"

“It's just... for the Thorn Fairy to have assumed this form, it means she felt as though she was in danger. Someone may have threatened her or put her in this situation."

“That’s true.” Azul nodded. “As I recall from our Magic History lectures, fae tend to be reclusive creatures with rather tumultuous relations with other races.

“In the days when magic was branded as heresy, fae were particularly ostracized due to their natural affinity for it. Humans far and away wide feared them. It's possible that this painting depicts a struggle of a similar nature."

“A struggle…” The corners of Silver’s mouth turned down. “Yes, humans and fae have historically been at odds with one another. We are fortunate to live during an era of relative peace."

“Quite! My own people—the merfolk—have also had a strained relationship with humans. It was through the union of a mermaid princess and a human prince that we were able to begin efforts to mend that bond. I am most gracious to them! It is because of the mermaid princess that I’m afforded the opportunity to study on land.”

“That’s great, Azul. I’m happy for you.” Silver gave a smile that was as softy and airy as dandelion fluff. “It’s nice that we’re able to meet and share ideas with people from different walks of life. It makes the world a richer place.”

He looked to the painting again, his eyes tracing the curved horns of the dragon and stopping at the sharp tips. His liege, too, had a pair like those.

“… As much as I hate to admit it, it will be a while before fae and humans can reach that level of understanding." Silver folded his arms. "Sebek says the differences are too numerous, but I… I want to believe that we are capable of bringing about that kind of a future.”

His vision, so clear, so pure. It sparkled like the face of a polished mirror.

Azul pushed his glasses up, his hand concealing a smirk.

"Fufufu. Perhaps it is possible to achieve with your endless optimism and empathy, Silver-san. After all, I don't believe I've witnessed you losing your cool even once with Malleus-san, Lilia-san, or Sebek-san. That kindness and patience is your strength, stronger than any sword you could wield."

He pretended to hesitate. "Though... I do wonder what should happen if--no, never mind. Please forget that I said anything."

"What is it? You can tell me," Silver reassured him. Dread surged up from his stomach--but the spike soon settled.

"Well--" Azul made a little show of choosing his words carefully, as though he were thoroughly coming through ingredients lined up on a shelf. "Consider: what happens if the day comes when you are forced to point your sword at your master?"

"At Malleus-sama?! I can't imagine..."

"If, if. This is entirely hypothetical," his peer tutted. "Let us say that Malleus-san were to make a decision--a decision which has dire consequences for you, for all of humankind. Silver-san, would you be able to salvage that precarious peace?"

Surprise lasted for a second before it vanished from the knight. Back was a quiet stoicism, steel sharpening the delicate colors to his gaze. A hand clenching his chest, as if to keep his heart still.

Finally, he spoke.

"I will do what has to be done. I will not back down. If there comes a time when my lord strays from his path and into the darkness, then it is my duty as his retainer to return him to the light."

“And you are not concerned for what awaits you in the aftermath?”

“No,” Silver replied matter-of-factly. The answer was simple. “I will offer my hand.”

“I beg your pardon?! Am I hearing this correctly? You plan to help the person you just opposed back up after you defeat them?”

“That’s the right thing to do. Everyone deserves a chance for their feelings to be heard. If we listen, then we can find a solution together and keep the same misunderstanding from happening again. That’s my hope.”

His wish was like the buoyant notes of a bell. Clear, crisp, resonant. It flitted up, rising above the boys’ heads, at last bursting like a bubble and letting the words rain down on them in thoughtful flecks.

"… I see,” Azul mused. “So that is the type of person you are."

How noble. How naive. It seems that Silver-san is a very bit like the prince from the story he so deeply cherishes. Neither will recoil from foes, no matter how formidable.

The valuable piece of information, he tucked away for a rainy day. With his probing settled, Azul brought his hands together and flashed a winsome grin.

Here was a hero in the making, and he, the sponsor to the champion.

“Your character is commendable!! I look forward to witnessing your many friendship-fueled triumphs.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Silver #Azul Ashengrotto #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #something no one asked for #Silver birthday takeover #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios

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duramaters · 2 years

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Try Me // E.C.

Synopsis: You pass initiation by the skin of your teeth and Eric isn’t too happy about you joining Dauntless

Warnings: Smut (18+), explicit language, threat, characters are aged up

Word Count: 2.9k

Initiation had been tough and you had come shamefully close to fucking up your fear landscape, but you scraped through thanks to Four’s guidance. You could tell that your success had irritated Eric. It may have had something to do with the fact that you still retained some of your more subtle Amity traits despite the fact that Dauntless should have wiped that out of you during your initiation. The Candors were still allowed to be brutally honest and the Erudite could still rely on their intelligence so why couldn’t you maintain your sunny disposition? You weren’t the only Amity initiate that year, but the other was a boy clearly destined for a future in Dauntless so he had a much easier time of it than you, especially with Eric. Tall, stupid, brooding Eric. He had been a thorn in your side since you jumped off that rooftop but you had been adamant that you would prove him wrong, even if it was just out of spite and not some twisted sense of self-preservation.

You were heading back to your room after dinner at the pit when you noticed the aforementioned thorn leaning against the wall, cleaning his fingernails with a rather sharp looking knife. Typical Eric intimidation tactic. His position meant that you would have to walk awfully close to the edge of the chasm to get passed him which was not something you felt entirely comfortable with and the glint in his eye as he looked at you suggested that he was well aware of this.

“Initiate.” He stood to his full height as you approached and turned his body to completely block your path.

“I know it’s hard for you to accept that I am a fully fledged Dauntless now Coulter, but I’m sure you’ll adjust eventually” you smiled up at him sarcastically. There was venom in your tone and the quirk of his eyebrow hinted that he wasn’t expecting such an impudent response. Amity passivity be damned. You half expected him to grab you by the throat and launch you into the chasm as punishment for your audacity, but to your complete surprise he merely shoved passed you. It didn’t escape your notice that his broad shoulder pushed you into the safety of the wall and not the raging torrent to your right. You faltered for a moment at the realisation, knowing that he had come close to killing people for less. Eventually, your mind caught up with your body and you carried on to your room, trying not to overthink Eric’s actions.

~~~

You had told your friends about what had happened with Eric the next day during your morning workout. Will refused to believe that Eric hadn’t throttled you at the first chance he got and you grimaced at the thought.

“You should see how far you can push him!” Christina suggested in typical Christina fashion.

“I didn’t get through initiation just to get myself killed now!” You laughed at her absurdity. Although her idea did sound kind of appealing, you knew Eric was not one to have his buttons pushed and let you get away with it.

“I wonder if he’d make it quick and snap your neck or if he’d torture you slowly?” Will wondered aloud before suddenly going wide eyed at something behind you.

“It would definitely be slow and torturous. You’d be begging by the end.” Immediately your face flushed bright red and the hair on your arms stood on end as Eric bent down and whispered threateningly in your ear. You stared open-mouthed at your companions as Eric laughed and brushed passed you, the touch of his leather jacket on your bare arm eliciting an involuntary shiver. There was absolutely no need for such close contact, you thought.

“That was hot.” Your friend smirked, and as much as it pained you to admit it, Christina wasn’t wrong.

You finished your workout and absolutely did not look over at Eric, now covered in sweat with a single piece of hair falling alluringly into his eyes. You really weren’t expecting the image to make your stomach flutter. God what had happened to you? Did the feeling of finally being safe and no longer facing the stresses of initiation mean that your subconscious had latched onto something new and equally as daunting? His earlier comment had definitely not helped matters that was for sure. Christina nudged your shoulder, bringing you back to the present with a knowing look. You simply sipped your water and acted oblivious, throwing one last glance at the tattooed leader before heading out of the gym to the showers.

~~~

That night you had forgotten all about Eric and his comment and you were blissfully lounging in your bed with a book waiting for the bath to fill. Will had made you complete a rather intense workout to make sure you didn’t start slacking now that official training was over and your muscles were in agony so a warm bubble bath was a much needed indulgence. Once the tub had filled you stripped off your clothes, chucked your hair up into a bun and slipped into the water, trying not to hiss at the pleasure of your loosening muscles. You had left your book on your night stand and you were too relaxed to go and get it so you let your eyes slip closed and simply enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness.

The feel of fingers lightly caressing your throat, sliding delicately up your neck before gently clamping down on your jugular was an unexpected sensation. A moan slipped from your mouth at the pressure and you felt a disturbance in the water - another hand was sliding its way across your inner thigh, heading straight for your rapidly warming core. Nails bit into the flesh of your leg and you groaned, lifting your hips ever so slightly, silently begging for more. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, unprepared to find the lust blown gaze of Eric Coulter staring back at you. With a splash you woke up and spluttered bubbles and bathwater out of your mouth. You didn’t realise you had fallen asleep. The water was now lukewarm but your skin was ablaze with the imagined touches of a man who had tormented you for months. You reasoned that your exhausted mind had just latched on to Will’s earlier mention of Eric throttling you and that there was nothing at all erotic about your feelings for your leader. You shook off the dream and hastily got ready for bed, adamant that you’d wake up refreshed and with Eric no longer occupying valuable brain space.

~~~

The next few days passed relatively uneventfully but your peace was bound to be interrupted at some point. One of the patrol crew had been injured and as the lowest ranking member working in control you had to take his place until he recovered. Four ran you through the protocol and you headed off to meet the rest of the crew before the train arrived. You hadn’t thought to question where you were going to be stationed but the sight of the farmland and fields of your old faction had you wishing you had. Luckily the crew stationed at this part of the fence was fairly large so you stayed in the centre of the pack, hoping to remain anonymous. As you reached the top of the ladder your eyes were met with a pair of black Dauntless issue combat boots. Your gaze travelled up to glare at whoever was blocking you from getting onto the platform and shock horror, it was none other than Eric Coulter. You rolled your eyes at his infuriating acknowledgment.

“Initiate.”

“Coulter.”

“Control room getting a bit stuffy was it? Thought you’d get a bit of fresh air?” He smirked down at you and your hands were starting to get sweaty with your grip on the ladder.

“Max’s orders. Now please move.” You hoisted yourself up onto the wall, but Eric had only taken the slightest step back so that when you straightened up you were almost touching and your eyes were level with the blocks of ink running up his throat. You fought back the sudden and very invasive urge to lick them. You did however give into to the urge to toy with him. If he was going to actively try to get you all flustered you were damn well going to do the same. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and with a small smirk, moistened your lips.

“Where do you want me?” You questioned. If you thought your pathetic attempt at seduction would have any effect whatsoever on Eric’s stoic glare you were sorely mistaken. He merely pointed to the farthest end of the wall from where you currently stood and marched off in the opposite direction.

As the sun rose higher over the fields you found yourself removing more and more layers of clothing until you were in just your vest and leggings. You had pulled your hair up into a ponytail, hoping that at least a light breeze on your neck would help cool you down. No such luck. The hours passed slowly and since you weren’t part of the regular crew no one really spoke to you. The boredom was agonising and you found your mind wandering once again to Eric. You’d have to ask Christina for her advice when you got back to the compound. Or get Four to remind you of all the cruel, antagonistic things Eric had said and done to you during your initiation in the hopes that it would snap you out of your budding infatuation. Because you hated to admit it, but you were starting to become really attracted to the man.

~~~

By the time you got back to the compound you were sweating in places you didn’t even realise you could sweat so you immediately headed to your room with the intention of a cold shower before heading down to the pit to meet up with your friends. You stared down at the concrete as you walked, lost in thought about what you’d say to Christina and Four about your current predicament. By the time you looked up to unlock the door it was too late to turn tail and run. Eric was stood directly in front of you, one broad shoulder against the wall and his right leg slung over his ankle. You frowned at him as you continued your approach. Wordlessly questioning why he would be at your door, and how he managed to get here before you when you had gotten off the train at the same time. There were definitely secret corridors you didn’t know about, you surmised.

“What do you want now?” You huffed at him as you pulled your key card from your back pocket, trying to act as unfazed by his presence as possible. His brow was furrowed and he didn’t seem to hear your question.

“Did you want to reveal any more skin today or is that quite enough?” His voice was deep and laced with anger. Or was it frustration.

“I didn’t realise there was a rule against wearing appropriate clothing when you’re sweating your tits off.” You rolled your eyes at him when, at the mention of tits, he glanced down at your chest before catching himself and returning your glare.

“The other guys on patrol were staring.” Was that a hint of possessiveness you detected?

“Eric,” you grinned, “you’re staring.” You huffed out a small chuckle, but it got stuck in your throat when you looked up at him and saw how serious he looked. He slowly surrounded you, invading your space, but not close enough to be considered indecent if someone happened to walk by.

“Don’t you want me to?” He whispered, sounding almost earnest. Your breath hitched and you suddenly didn’t know where to look. Focusing on a point over his shoulder, you felt a blush rise up to your cheeks. Did you want him to stare at you? Well, when he looked like he did right now you did. Biting you lip at the thought you turned your gaze back to his face and oh - those eyes were the same lust blown eyes you had dreamt about.

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible and Eric bent his head down ever so slightly to catch your words.

“Unlock the door, Initiate.” His voice had got even raspier and you thought back to Christina’s comment, wandering how far you could push him.

“Ask nicely.”

“No.”

Eric plucked the key card out of your hand and swiped it against the lock. Pushing the door open so you fell backwards, his arm snaking around your waist to catch you. The door closed with a heavy thud and you were slammed up against it. Eric’s gaze turned hungry. His hands were now resting against your hips and you noticed that he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before you could stop yourself you surged upwards and licked at the drop of crimson forming below his teeth and Eric didn’t hesitate to suck your tongue into his mouth in response, causing a breathy moan to escape your lips. You didn’t think it was possible for your bodies to get any closer, but with a light nudge from his knee your legs were parted and he had pulled you down against his muscular thigh. You were so turned on you almost came from that alone. His hands had crept under the hem of your top and were burning the sensitive flesh on your stomach, it was heavenly but you didn’t want them there. You wanted them around your throat.

“Eric,” you sighed, “please.” You were too far gone to verbalise your want, but Eric knew exactly what you needed. He moved his hand tantalisingly slowly across your stomach and up between your breasts, avoiding your hardened nipples in favour of your preferred destination. Just like your dream, his fingers caressed your carotid artery before applying the pressure that you craved. Your eyes rolled back and you rubbed yourself against his thigh, seeking more friction than your clothes would allow. Eric was panting and as you lowered your hand to palm him through his trousers he screwed his eyes shut in a hopeless attempt to regain some self-control. You were sucking at his throat, finally tasting his beautiful tattooed skin, but you wanted more. Once you had initiated the removal of his clothes it wasn’t long before you were both completely naked, marvelling at each other through the haze of desire that had overtaken you. You didn’t know if you could make it to the bed on your wobbly legs, so you stood on your tip toes, kissing along Eric’s jaw before jumping up to wrap your thighs around his waist.

“Fuck.” He muttered into your neck, lightly biting down on your shoulder. “Wanted this for so long, can’t wait much longer.” You didn’t fully register what he had said, but you knew you felt the exact same way so you ground your hips against his, the wetness of your cunt coating his throbbing cock.

“Then do something about it.” You groaned against his jaw. You didn’t need to tell him twice. The man shoved you back into the door and thrust his cock into you, immediately bottoming out. It was too much, but you took it willingly, vision going white with pleasure.

“Shit. Sorry.” Eric stuttered.

“Shut up.” You murmured before melding your mouth to his, silently reassuring him that you were fine with him being rough with you. He took the hint and began moving within you, almost completely removing himself before surging back into your tight warmth. Your hands roved over his chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples before looping around his back and leaving scratches across his shoulder blades. He grunted into your mouth and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. Good to know you weren’t the only one that liked a bit of pain with your pleasure. He grazed his teeth over your lower lip and suddenly the door was no longer at your back. You assumed he was walking you towards the bed and when he lowered you into the sheets without pulling out of you, you sighed in sheer bliss. Eric grabbed at your forearms, releasing your grip on his shoulders, and hoisted them above your head all while thrusting into you at an unforgiving pace. Your inevitable undoing came when he moved one of his hands from your wrists and brought it back up to your throat, squeezing somewhat harder than before. As soon as your brain registered his touch, your pussy clenched around him and you turned your head, shouting his name into the bedsheets. Your orgasm was so intense and your spasming walls squeezed his cock so deliciously that Eric was coming without warning, groaning into your chest with his release. When his cock finally stopping twitching inside of you, you shuffled further up the bed and he collapsed unceremoniously beside you, looking thoroughly fucked. You smirked at him, your sex addled brain thinking of nothing but how much you wanted him to do that to you again, and again, and again.

“I don’t think you could ever beat that performance.” You chuckled, staring at his beautiful face through hooded eyes. He grinned at you wolfishly.

“Try me.”

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aki-shun · 2 years

Text

Part II

Jack an Leona is here!!!

I'm so sorry for this episode being late but DA DAA is here :D

Warning: HUMAN

⚡️Sebek ZIGVOLT⚡️

You can't be thinking this guy is bottom of a HUMAN

A HUMAN(!)

Nah

He's not

He's TOP

Everytime

And you can't change it

First of all, it's a miracle you're even dating this guy

How did you convince him?!

This boy totally hates you

Because you are a HUMAN

And that's enough for him to hate you

But you keep bothering him

You do your best to make him go out with you

You're trying even though he's always rejecting you

He secretly likes it but can't admit it

Tsundere boy 2

HUMAN, if you really love me and you want to date, PROVE IT!

Valley of Thorns is a bit old-fashioned, I guess

Valley of thorns in the virginity and having a relationship are important and sacred, I guess..

So he will want it with you

No problem for him

Even if he doesn't admit it, he likes you too and wants to have sex with you

'Cause when that happens you won't be able to break up with him even if you wanted to

Having a relationship with someone you love is sacred and if you get involved with someone, you can no longer break up with them

You were in your dorm room

Sebek hadn't even gotten out of the shower yet

!Please clean before intercourse. This is important for the health of both you and your partner!

You're so excited because you barely made eye contact with Sebek, let alone a date

But now you're gonna have sex with him

Lucky Boy~

Sebek got out of the shower and approached you

Damn he was so sexy with his hair down

And that wet body from years of training

Fuck it, you're glorious

You already had a slight blush on your face

He took lubricant from the nightstand and poured it on his hands and fingers

After he poured enough, he stuck two fingers in your hole.

You shivered, the coldness of the lubricant and Sebek's thick(?) fingers disturbed you, but you did not give in

You tried to suppress his moans as his fingers sheared your insides

Because Grim was sleeping in the room and the ghosts could hear you and come

You didn't want two possibilities so you were covering your mouth with one hand

After Sebek finished prepping you, he poured some of the lubricant on his own cock

You could see that he was looking at you with serious and cold eyes when he looked at his face, but the redness on his cheeks and ears was enough to tell how he was feeling

He got into you in a way that wasn't very slow and gentle

A deep moan escaped your throat

Then Sebek's cock twitched inside you and you felt it

The Sebek bed began to slide into you at a speed that wouldn't make much of a noise

As time progressed, Sebek's movements and pace began to become more rigid

The more he increased his speed, the harder it was to suppress his moans

Sebek turned you around and buried your face in the pillow and lifted your ass in the air

(for the reader who didn't understand the positions and showered me with questions at six in the morning: dog position)

Sebek squeezed your hips, pushing himself harder on you

Your drool and tears soiled your pillow

Your moans were absorbed by your pillow, but they were loud enough for Sebek to hear

As Sebek neared the climax, he was pushing himself harder and faster at you

The harder Sebek pressed herself against you, the more your hole and your walls clung to him

Sebek leaned over you, resting his chest on your back

With his mouth close to your left ear and he said

I see you love me, enough to you get fucked by me, HUMAN. Look how your goddamn hole is wrapping my cock. Are you ready to be under me forever?

He was saying this in your ear in a contemptuous tone

Your face was still buried in the pillow

Then Sebek straightened up and slapped your ass hard

You ejaculated with this hard hit and all your cum spilled on the sheets

A sharp scream came out of your mouth

Enough to wake grim and the ghosts

But they didn't wake up or come

Lucky~ one wink

Sebek leans over you again

I asked you a question, HUMAN. There's a half-fairy in front of you, now answer my question.

You nodded, your body still shaking from the sudden discharge

Then Sebek started to move harder with a smug grin

Pressing himself in the deepest

All the cum was pouring into your inside

A HUMAN like you should be grateful to be accepted by me.

But you were grateful to god that Grim or the ghosts didn't wake up :)

I'll post the article for Ruggie later because I'll write it as both top and bottom.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst smut #twisted wonderland × male reader #twisted wonderland × bottom male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek x male mc #sebek x male reader #school and homework are so tiring #Part III will come #im sorry for this late:#this bastard is satisfying his ego with you

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everlastingdreams · 4 months

Text

Weeping Monk x Fem!Oc : From Hunter To Prey

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Father Carden accepted a Huntress to aid in the mission. Her favorite pastime is irritating the Weeping Monk. One evening, they both push past the limit of their quarreling.

Notes: Please note, this is a spicy one-shot. 🌶️ 🌶️ Also, I need to think of a better summary for this :S

Warnings: Frenemies to competitive lovers lol?. Unprotected sex. Strong Language. Slight Dub/con at first(?). Consensual.

Word count: 3,9K

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

These past few days had been nothing but obstacles and trouble. The task Father had given him had proven more difficult than he had expected. It was a failure, and to know that Father had entrusted another with the task because of it was humiliating.

The Huntress, Annora, had been given the task. The golden haired woman had been raising in ranks rather quickly since Father had chosen her to join the mission. And since that day, there had not been a single moment where this woman did not make a mockery of him. Tasks that normally would go to him, were now entrusted to her. She succeeded when he failed, she had Father’s unwavering attention and not a bad word was spoken off her among the paladins. Some of it because of her talents in battle, some of it because of her appearance. The Huntress, much like himself, stood out between the Red Paladins. Her wavy golden hair always tied up, otherwise it would run far past her shoulders and hinder her in a fight.

Those sharp eyes of her had searched the paladin camp for Father Carden, and she spotted him standing at the side of the Weeping Monk. The Huntress approached, it wasn’t necessary to wait long, Father Carden put his attention to her immediately. The Monk’s jaw tensed just enough for her to notice. She was not taller than his shoulder, he towered over her, but the determination in her eyes could bring down anyone faced with them.

“Our talented Huntress returns victorious again. This, my son, is what I ask.” Father told him.

Annora’s mouth curved into that smile that she knew the Weeping Monk hated. Oh, how amusing it was to see the Monk look at her with a bitter expression. It made her day.

“Yes, Father.” He answered, knowing very well that it was meant to point out his recent failures in catching the Wolf Blood With again without having it be said.

She was beaming with pride, a thorn to his eyes.

Father Carden put his hands on her shoulders, proud of the woman. “Rest well tonight, my dear Annora. Tomorrow you will receive your next task.”

“Yes, Father.” She politely tilted her head.

A paladin called out for Father Carden and the priest went to see what he wanted.

Annora looked up at the Monk. “You must be glad that I undid your mistake today.”

He had forgotten about a mill still storing flour. A group of Feys had stolen all of it. The Huntress had seen this happen and these Fey had not gotten far.

His jaw tensed even more, he was swirling the protests in his mouth to prevent them from being spoken.

“The plan was to starve the enemy. Have you forgotten?” She sounded far too sweet while rubbing it in his face.

Annora knew that he despised her, he dismissed her presence unlike the paladins. He avoided her like she was the plague running through the camp. Months had passed and the Monk’s envy for her achievements had only grown.

He clenched his jaw. “I have not.”

That coy smile danced on her lips, “Are you sure? I could ask Father Carden to remind you of the importance of it.”

He turned to her, staring her down, gritting out through his teeth. “Do not play your childish games with me, Annora. I know my duty, mind your own.”

Not even his icy tone could wipe that arrogant smile off her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Monk turned and walked away from her.

“Do not be so sensitive, my Weeping Monk. I was merely joking.” She called out after him, embarrassing him in front of the paladins.

He shook his head, continued on his path, and refused to listen to her mockery.

Later that night Annora found her favorite target just outside the paladin camp. The Monk seemed rather calm tonight, he was looking down at a small map in his hands.

She walked over to ruin his peaceful evening, “Studying the maps in the hope to prevent further mistakes?”

He let out a loud obnoxious sigh, and rolled the map up again. “Is there something important you wish to discuss, Annora?”

“No.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Or maybe… yes. I wonder why you have been performing so terribly as of late?”

He pressed his eyes and mouth shut.

She circled around him, intruding his personal space with, like a feline would. “I might begin to suspect that you are leading the paladins to those Fey camps too late on purpose. Is that what is happening?”

His tone was as sharp as cold steel, “What are you insinuating?”

She feigned a pout, her voice soft, “Is our Weeping Monk growing weak?”

He cast his eyes to the trees, clearly bothered by her.

Annora faced him, sounding more serious now. “I don’t want to have to keep fixing your mistakes. I expect better from you, I know you, you aren’t usually this…” She gestured to him, “Distracted.”

For the first time he looked down at her face, just for a second, and only because he heard some genuine concern underneath the rudeness.

He did not appreciate her derogative comment. “Your disappointment is not my concern. I only answer to Father. And as I recall, I still outrank you.”

Annora hated to hear him remind her of it. “Only because you happen to be a man! If I were born different, Father would have made me his second in command, not you!”

The Monk smirked, oddly amused to see her get angry.

It made her all the more furious, that feigned sweet smile was gone, “Soon Father will see who is truly capable of leading the paladins!”

His tone grew as venomous as hers, “You? How? Will you whisper your commands in their ears to make them listen to you?”

Annora was insulted by the blatant mockery and what he was insinuating. She gave him a shove, he barely moved. The Monk took a step back and started to leave, before this could spiral downwards further than it already had. He made the mistake of losing sight of his surroundings and pushed a branch out of the way when he wanted to storm off. A branch of an Ash tree…

The control he had over his body was slipping away, and to his dismay he felt his Fey markings rise to the surface of his skin far too fast to stop it. One look in her eyes told that she had seen them form on the back of his hands, her eyes were trained to notice these things. He had sealed his fate with this.

Annora’s eyes widened, shocked to learn that the Weeping Monk was Fey himself.

“You’re Fey.” She stated if firmly.

His jaw tensed at the tone, he knew that the line of ally to enemy had been crossed.

“Does Father know?” She demanded an answer.

The answer was quiet. “Yes.”

Annora got closer, much closer, invading his space once more.

“Why should I not kill you where you stand?” Her voice never changed, it remained light and almost sweet, it made her all the more dangerous to unsuspecting targets.

A wicked smile danced on her lips so temptingly that she saw him look down at them, “Or are you going to kill me, my Weeping Brother?”

He rolled his jaw, seeing the challenging way her eyes were glancing up at him, that coy smile on those plump lips.

“I’ll keep your secret.” She boldly brushed her palm over his chest up to his shoulder. “I will enjoy reminding you of the power I hold over you now.”

He glared down at her and took a step away. “I will not be your toy, Annora! You hold no power over me.”

Her hand dropped away. “I was only joking. I suppose Father finds your skill more important than your treacherous heritage.”

The Monk held her gaze, staring her down. “Have you forgotten, when you first joined our mission, who it was that made certain you were not butchered during the cleansings?”

Annora forced her eyes away, crossing her arms over her chest. It was true, she had not been prepared for how chaotic it could be when half a battlefield was on fire and the rest of it was filled with people fighting for their lives.

She took a step away, “Are you asking for my gratitude for doing your duty? For doing what was expected from you?” Annora scoffed, and looked at him condescending.

It did not come as a surprise that she would act ungrateful.

He turned away from her. “I want nothing from you. Not even gratitude.”

She was almost stunned to hear him speak to her in the same tone. Annora watched the Monk walk away from her, leaving her among the trees as he returned to the cluster of tents.

~~~◇~~~◇~~~◇~~~~

The next day, Father had made the decision to return to the monastery to better plan the course of the mission. It was hours upon hours of Father speaking with other priests, standing over countless maps that were acquired by both the Monk and the Huntress.

And then, early in the evening, Father had decided to choose Annora for an important task, a task he would have given to his most trusted Monk had she not been there.

Father’s trust in him was wavering. His own faith was wavering. And now this. Of course the Huntress flaunted with Father’s trust in her capabilities. Especially because Father has given her the task whilst he was standing right beside them. An objection had come from him, one that was met with Father’s cold glare, it had silenced him immediately

Now the Monk was standing outside the monastery, whilst his Brothers slept, because he could not calm his mind enough to let it rest. Perhaps some cool night air would calm the envy, soothing it until it was nothing more than disappointment in himself again.

“What are you doing out here?” The disapproving voice of Annora rang from behind him.

He shut his eyes and sighed. “Standing.”

She got right into his view, and leaned against the wall of the monastery, “I can see that. But why?”

It came out cold, and far less polite than he often forced himself to be. “Do you have no one else to bother, Annora?”

She simply shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone else here loves my company, it wouldn’t be bothering them.”

Annora leaned a little closer, grinning at him, her tone constantly bordering on how one would speak to an infant. “Come now, did I make you angry?”

He tried so hard not to roll his eyes, but they still betrayed his irritation.

The way she was leaning was almost playful, “Is this about me being given that task instead of you?”

“No.” He lied.

“No?” She echoed. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re angry that a woman is succeeding where you are failing.”

He drew a deep breath, and told her. “This has nothing to do with you being a woman, Annora.”

“I see.” Annora pushed her back against the wall, breathing in deeply. One might be tricked into thinking she was moving sensually on purpose, “You are just jealous because Father knows I serve this mission better than you ever could.”

He wondered how he had the patience to be around this woman on a daily basis. “Your haughtiness will be your downfall in battle one day, Annora.”

She sounded terribly condescending. “Oh, you wish. I will outlive you, my Weeping Brother. Run along now. Go be a good boy and fetch us the Wolf Blood Witch.”

His palm slammed loud against the wall just next to her before she could walk past the spot, it stayed there, blocking her from just walking away after that.

Annora arched her brow, then a soft chuckle came. “What? Did I hurt your feelings?”

She roughly pushed his arm out of her way. He responded in a way he never thought he would.

The Monk had grabbed her by the arms and pushed her back against the wall. The otherwise mouthy, brazen woman had a hint of fear in her eyes. A rare thing for her and a rare sight for him. Something in his own eyes changed upon seeing it.

Her she was, constantly provoking him. And now she had the look in her eyes that he had seen in others hundreds of times before. Why did it bother him to see it in hers?

Annoralet out a shocked sound when he suddenly grabbed her throat and harshly kissed her. He was loaded with all the disrespect she had shown. She hated him. She hated how good it felt. She hated that she wanted him to do more.

Annora tried to act reluctant, even when she opened her mouth for him and began to reciprocate. Then she pushed him off, at least she tried, but the shove barely got him an inch away.

“How dare you!” She sneered.

He looked back at her, unimpressed by her response.

He had felt her react and reciprocate, she was as guilty as he was. Father’s perfect little Huntress was flawed after all.

Annora glared at him, until her aroused state won from her pride. She pulled him back in and pressed her lips to his just as harshly as he had done to her. Even now she tried to get the upper-hand, to be the one in control.

He would not let her, she was kept against that wall by him no matter how much she tried to gain control over him. And for the first time since he met her, she yielded to him.

“Good girl.” He remembered how she had disrespected him earlier, and used the same sort of language on her.

She moaned when his tongue entered her mouth after her own had beckoned for his. His hand went under her shirt and groped her breast. The cold of his hand caused her to try and squirm away from it, but soon her need for him grew stronger and his hand warmed by touching her.

“Such a good girl…” He purred the praise into her ear.

He was growing hard at the feeling of her becoming so pliable in his hands. The icy huntress who had spend her days tormenting him, was now letting him take control over her.

His hand sank down between her legs, cupping her through the fabric of her trousers as he let the bottom of his palm rub against her. She had felt his cock poke her against the thigh.

“If you intend to stick your cock in me, hurry up before you bore me again.” Annora told him with that usual demanding, condescending tone he hated.

His hands flew to her hips, turned her, and pushed her front against the wall. “I will.”

She never thought he would actually do it. He pulled her trousers down to her knees. The sudden cold chill against her legs was torment. The cold was forgotten when she felt him sink two fingers into her. A surprised yelp forced it’s way out of her. The sound of her wetness as he pumped them into her made embarrassment hit.

The Monk leaned in close to tell her, “This does not sound like I bore you as you claim.”

She swallowed her pride, to desperate for the feeling of being filled. He was more generous than she anticipated, she believed he was determined to show her why she was wrong to disrespect a man who could bring her pleasure. He worked her so much that she got dangerously close to her release. The Monk must have sensed it, because he withdrew his fingers and began to undo the cords of his trousers.

He sucked at the skin of her neck and ground himself up against her rear a bit, “Still want me?”

She had lost her maidenhead long before she met him, and it had been too long since she had felt filled. “I want your cock. Not you.”

“Good.” He replied almost coldly to her.

He pushed her legs apart with his leg and inserted himself to the hilt right away. A curse flew out of her, she hated how he could surprise her in this. He was more merciful when he began to thrust, his hips rolled against her slowly. She bit back her moans, biting her lip until it was too painful to keep doing so. He did not bother to hide his vocal responses from her.

He was not rough like others before him had been with her, there was a patience with which he moved that stunned her. Her rear was being caressed much like a lover would do, it worked terribly confusing on her. Was it so bad to pretend for just one moment in time that he wasn’t someone she loved to anger everyday? To play the act of lover instead of fighter?

Annora leaned into him, taking the hand he had held on her hip and using it to move his arm around her instead.

His nose touched her ear, he heard how she had begun to moan differently. Longingly. She was as close as she could get to him, moving her hips along with his.

“Lancelot…” She moaned the name she had always been too stubborn to speak.

In return he gave all of him to her, thrusting deep and holding her hips still for just a moment to let her feel it well. Then he didn’t thrust for a moment, but moved his hips a little.

“Fuck…” She quietly slammed her hand against the wall, he filled her far too well.

He began to roll his hips again, hearing how her wetness sounded every time he thrusted into her. She shameless pushed herself back into him, too impatient to let him thrust with long strokes anymore. He matched her impatience and quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filled the air and burdened it with the sin. She bend forward just a little, causing him to hit just the right spot. She was scratching her nails into the wall, whimpering for release. He put a hand on her back, keeping her as she was now that the pressure in his groin was close to unwind. She heard him quietly curse and felt him lose the restrained he had shown. She did not complain when he bucked into her faster, chasing his own pleasure, it hit her just right.

“Keep going. Just like that.” She couldn’t manage to sound commanding, it came out like begging.

He stroked along her back, quietly praising her, “My beautiful Annora…”

She didn’t protest when he spoke of her possessively whilst he was fucking her so good. It worked to arouse her further, something he had undoubtedly noticed because his praising continued.

“You are not so cold between your legs, as you are to me otherwise.” He dragged his hand along her back, then caught a handful of her hair and pulled her close again, his teeth grazed her ear, “My good, good girl.”

Her release hit her like thunder, she quaked on her legs and he slowed his thrusts to keep her on her feet. The slow strokes of him made her cry as it increased the feeling that had taken hold on her. He fucked her through her release patiently slow, and when she had her hands on the wall to recover, he quickened again.

She knew he was close and offered him the answer to a question he might be asking himself, “Just keep going… don’t retreat.”

She swallowed the ‘please’.

The Huntress was asking him to spill his seed into her? It got him so close to the edge that he cared not for the repercussions that could follow.

She gave him the first bit of praise he must have heard in weeks, “You’re doing so good…”

He bucked into her fully, once, twice…

She felt him swell inside of her, and pushed her pride aside to offer him some more, “You deserve this.”

He throbbed and spilled, feeling how his seed shot into her. She felt the hot liquid enter her quickly and gasped at the amount he gave her.

He kept her still, letting her receive it all and relishing in the feeling it gave him to know that she had wanted him to give it to her.

They both were quiet for a moment as they regained their breaths. Annora let out a small noise when he withdrew himself from her and hid himself back into his trousers. She shut her legs, already feeling his seed starting to slowly run down from her. The Monk reached down and moved her trousers back up. She said nothing while she closed them with the cords again. Neither really knew what to say after the mutually committed sin. She batted her eyes at him, finally her voice broke through the silence.

“I was wondering when you’d finally realize you like me more than you think you do.” She sounded quite proud.

He looked off to the side, cheeks still flushed down to his neck.

Her arrogance returned. “You’d better not speak of this to anyone.”

His eyes returned to her, “You believe I would be so disrespectful?”

Annora blinked twice, taken aback by his respectful approach to this. “I never thought you would be so considerate about this.”

He spoke of it in a calm manner. “It is not my fault that you have always refused to learn who I am as a person.”

She nodded, a rare thing for her to admit that she had been prejudiced towards him. “Would you believe me if I said that I want to learn?”

The Monk looked at her in silence for a moment, studying her eyes, then nodded. “I believe it.” The hint of a smile presented itself. “I no longer bore you?”

She nearly scoffed, but her coy smile curved her lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He was trying not to smile.

Annora curled her fingers around the leather straps of his cloak, and stood on the tips of her toes to peck his lips. “It’s much better to like me, than to hate me. Is it not?”

That seductive tone slithered into his ears. “I never said I liked-”

“Don’t…” She stopped him from denying it, and realized that she did hope that he actually liked her.

He fell quiet immediately when he saw her smile vanish, her eyes were filled with sincerity. She took a step back, turning her head to look at the trees.

The Monk reached out for her, touching her chin and making her look at him. “You make it difficult for me to like your company, but it is even harder to go without it.”

The admission made her look at him. “I suppose that is fair.” Her smile returned. “Maybe I will make it less difficult for you from now on. Perhaps it will make you feel more inclined to seek my company.”

By the look in his eyes, she knew that he understood what she was offering. He cleared his throat.

“We shall see.” He said.

She smiled at him a little suggestive.

And after they had made themselves presentable again, they headed back into the monastery.

The Huntress remained arrogant towards him, but he did not mind. Because he often reminded her of what he had to offer in return for her yielding to him.

#weeping monk #the weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #cursed #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #cursed netflix #cursed lancelot #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader

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sleepyfan-blog · 5 days

Text

Nearly Taking Root

Author’s Note: this is the second part of mer-Darsas fic! I have borrowed @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan ‘s boi Hura with permission for this fic Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @whorety-k

Warnings: Body Horror, near-death experience, swearing, ask me to tag something if it bothers you

Summary: Darsas finds two little helpers in his garden and one of his dearest brothers comes for a visit.

Darsas hummed happily as he swum through the burgeoning garden of rot that he had been lovingly and patiently tending to for months now. The garden was small and fragile, but Darsas held out hope that with time, effort and the endless patience that Grandfather has taught him, the small space of decay will grow and become a -

“Ehehehe!”

The high-pitched giggle burbled around the diseased reef and through Darsas’ mind. A bright grin pulls at his lips - and the larger mouth that Grandfather had Gifted him on his lower torso purred out “I hear you little one! Won't you come play with me?”

“Who calls us? We hear! We want to play… Will you be nice?” Another voice chittered in his mind and through the water.

“I am Darsas Plagueweaver. Psyker of the Death Guard, humble grandson to the Lord of Rot.” The space marine rumbled, not entirely surprised as two nurglings peered Up at him from the heart of the garden, where grew the Plague Rose vines.

The deep green vines dripped with spores and bacteria from their black thorns, pulsing in time to his heartbeats, curled around his previous offerings. He had no willing cultists to feed the garden's heart, nor any worthy captives. But the larger aquatic mammals were sufficient for the task for now, and by the time he needed sentient sacrifices, Darsas Was certain he would have them.

After all, he had seen the baseline humans who regularly visited his gardens, taking samples of his efforts. Their curiosity was understandable, as was their weariness. Ancient Terra was incredibly difficult to create and maintain Works like this without much blood, sweat and tears. He hadn't approached them directly - but he planned to soon.

They definitely seemed like the types to meddle, and baselines though often enthusiastic needed a patient guiding hand to show them the path forwards. He was delighted to see the tiny deamon's faces. Their many sharp teeth and ever-shifting number of eyes as they swam out to meet him with wide grins and happy giggles.

“This world is… Not one we have been able to work in before. Grandfather is grateful that you would seek to bring his Love and Care. We bring you a bowl filled with His Soup, to fortify you. You're practically skin and bones. Our Grandfather would not have you fall into sleep and join him in the Warp too soon.” One of the Nurglings coos while the other cuts its’ belly, it's writhing intestines and brackish blood curled around the bowl of benediction.

Darsas kneels down as far as his large bulk would allow, lovingly patting both Nurgling's head, smiling as their tar-sticky skin clings in clumps to the fused ceramite-skin of his armor. “My thanks, to you both and our Grandfather.” with careful hands, he scoops up the small bowl and tipped it - bowl and boiling stew together - into his larger stomach-mouth.

A soft sigh of satisfaction leaves Darsas as the mind-numbing ravenous Hunger he had been unable to sate from the moment the first Rot Rose Vine began to grow in the heart of his garden. The ragged edges of exhaustion were lovingly removed from his mind and body, and the micro-tremors from how ragged he had been worn from working the hard-fired clay that the Warp felt in this time, on this world. Another dual smile and a deep, thrusting purr rumbled through Darsas as he scooped up both Nurglings, nuzzling them happily “Please send my deepest thanks to Grandfather. I feel much better now.”

“We are here to help! Many souls live on this world, just waiting for Grandfather to embrace them. There are many diseases and parasites that could be empowered with Grandfather's blessings… Many souls in agony, on the brink of fearful oblivion and in need of the gifts that he can give to those loyal grandchildren who follow in his footsteps.” one of the nurglings chirruped happily.

“Oh I know, but I do not move quickly over land. Through the air and in the water, yes. And the mortals here shy away from me, as they fear my visage.” Darsas pointed out with a regretful sigh. He was large for a Chaos astartes and had long since fused with his armor, which was more akin to his skin than anything else.

The scent of putrid Rot and decay followed Darsas wherever he went, the scent strong enough to nauseated most mortals who got within thirty feet of him. The spikes on his armor and the way his fins could stretch and Warp to suit his needs bothered many of his cousin astartes as well, if the low-level headache one of the lingering blessings of Nurgle didn't drive them away. It wasn't as if Darsas could help to be the way that Grandfather had altered his body and psychic gifts to be of better service.

And serve Darsas did, the memories of Father's long years of defiance and horror as he and his brothers were… Made examples to The Reaper, of why defying Grandfather was the height of foolishness. But that had been long, long ago and whatever his initial feelings on Back Then had long since faded.

“Worry not, Darsas! For we can alter our forms to be able to move quickly over land, and to mortals we will look pleasing to their eyes unless we choose not to!” The healing nurgling burbled up at him happily.

Darsas beamed and gently patted the injured nurgling, setting it back down within the Heart of the Garden, allowing the vines to wrap around his body, it’s thorns sinking deeply into his flesh, as it drank his blood.

“Darsas?” One of his nearest and dearest Brothers called out.

“Over here, Hura.” Darsas called out over vox, his voice weakening as the thorny vines constricted further around his body. Grandfather’s stew kept the pain away, and it the pressure felt pleasant as the blood loss made him feel floaty. Shadows were starting to lengthen and deepen as the Apothecary came into view. Why was the other horrified? Darsas was fine, really, and the Nurglings giggled and clapped delightedly, dancing at where his tail touched the decaying reef. The sweet relief of sleep was incredibly tempting. “I’m… So tired, Hura… Been working on this garden all by myself… Younglings all wandered off.”

Hura was frowning for once, and the usual smile on his face was missing. He was… Cursing? Angrily as he hacked and slashed at something with his power sword. “Oh absolutely fucking not, Grandfather damn it all, Darsas why didn’t you tell me that you had a Hungry Plague Heart that needed feeding? I would have been able to procure for you an appropriate sacrifice. You didn’t need to pull something like this.”

“Huuuuraaa stop being maaad! Grandfather gifted me a bowl of Soup… I feel great.” Darsas murmured, feeling something leafy and verdant on the back of his tongue, for reasons he couldn’t begin to guess. “Look! Hura! Nurglings!” He pointed at the two little ones who’d scrambled behind him, peering up at Hura, their faces shifting.

“He is hurting the heart! We must stop him!” One nurgling cried out, frightened.

The injured one rushed at the Apothecary, trying to grab at the other’s tail “Stop it! Stop it! We were going to play a game and you’re ruining it! Stop iiiit!” They begged.

Hura glanced down at the Nurgling pawing at his tail and sent the tiny demon flying into a large sandstone rock, the force with which the Apothecary had used enough to cause the little demon to splatter into a puff of warp-energy and necrotic rock. “I will not let you take my brother from me. It is not his time yet to join Grandfather.”

The other nurgling whimpered and looked up pleadingly at Darsas “Please help me! Why is your friend being so mean? I thought he would be nice, like you.”

“He is nice. I don’t know why Hura is being so strange… ‘Urrie, you need to calm down. ‘M fiiine! I promise.” Darsas reassured the very unhappy apothecary, reaching out a shaking hand to cup Hura’s face, to get his attention.

“You really aren’t, Darsas. I was worried when our brothers mentioned that you’d been withdrawing from them. I didn’t think you’d pull something like this. Sar. You stop fussing and let me do what I must.” Hura growled - actually growled - at him.

Genuinely stunned and taken aback, Darsas obediently kept still, unable to process the frantic pleading of the remaining nurgling - who’d gotten sliced in half by a stray swing of Hura’s blade when it tried to step between Darsas and the irate apothecary.

Eventually, Hura sheathed the blade and pulled Darsas into his arms, still growling softly. “Don’t you dare fall asleep until I tell you to. I will wake you up if you do.”

“No… Promises. I’m so tired, ‘Urrie.” Darsas mumbled as the darkness took him.

#cw: body borror #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #Celestial Seas AU #death guard #oc: Darsas #oc: Hura #cw: near death experience

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searchingforserendipity25 · 4 months

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More precious was the light in your eyes. ao3.

Many thanks to @welcomingdisaster and @outofangband for inspiration on how to tackle the 'dusk' prompt!

The first woman of the Edain Daeron loved was a milkmaid and cow herder late in her years, all wispy age-streaked braids and fat arms

He sought out her shadow rustling in the aldar leaves, in the laughing of a hidden brook. Running, leaping, whenever he thought he caught her scent of starlight on mossy ground - like a hound sniffing for its mistress, like a madman gathering thorn-scratches and losing the course of the years.

It was not madness, though it sounded mad, and foolish, and pitiful.

There were tales told of him. Because even the oldest forest and the darkest waters were no longer unpopulated, and mortals bred fast and grew covetous, there were made old trees thorn down; it happened at times that he would leave a meadow for a time, and find it turned into a hamlet on his return, or a town.

His heart grew hard as stone, inside him. In the worst winters, when there was much cold to be fought in Mannish homes, and fallen elms and firs and birches were too many to name, Daeron thought only bitterly of Lúthien's escape. Lúthien's Choice, a choosing of cruelty, a renouncing of the true face of the world.

He withheld his songs from her, as if she heard him in truth; and gathering himself in a cold cave or hollow stump, his sleep was thin and unhappy, with no memory of spring.

Regret came with the first thaw; but then, like always, it was too late to find any solace, any satisfaction. Lúthien was in the forests, at times; but she never did turn to look back, to see if he kept to her tracks.

The first woman of the Edain Daeron loved was a milkmaid and cow herder late in her years, all wispy age-streaked braids and fat arms, pail carried steadily on her head even as she let out her loud graceless laugh.

Before her narrow cabin she set a basin, and a handful of seeds; in this way she had small wood birds near her house often, and some of their pretty singing.

It was a kindly trade; that it had brought her an elf as skittish and fond of fennel seeds as any sparrow did not daunt her in the least. In the evenings he came, sometimes, by her door; she played a flute, a small and ugly thing, not well and not badly.

Daeron had forgotten. The songs of others were lovely still, in their way; even the ones Lúthien had never heard.

Soon enough she she set him to fixing the thatch roof and mending the crane mechanism in the water pump- also gathering new rushes for the floor.

"As thou art a wood-sprite, and stands sense that rushes are sweeter for thee," which was true enough; he brought new smells into the damp shelter of her house, a little green wildness.

He did as he was told out of bemusement, and surprised himself in accepting her bowls of gruel, her warm blankets, her warm legs wrapped around him upon a straw mattress, a grass mound, the shade under the tall chestnuts where the cows grazed.

"Look at this mad thing," she said, tripping rough fingers up his ribs to test if he would quiver, running them through his hair - picking off bits of dead grass, shreds of ivy. "I knew there were birds that turned into spirits in the woods, but most birds are much neater than this!"

She laughed at his indignation, and pressed him down, and laughed further at how he did quiver, nose against her bosom, mouth opening with kisses.

Reluctantly, in fits and starts and incidents, he came to know their ways.

The first winter he spent in a human village was an error; the second there was a plague, the sixth it was razed by the neighboring kingdom - or might have been. If not for Daeron singing terrors out of the mists; if not for the growing of briars sharp as daggers, and wild barking in the wild.

Melian's teachings were in him still, half-dormant; and if he told none whom it was that kept danger away, still his lover teased him while plucking briars from his hair, and grew even more shameless about sending him off to scare away wolves and bears and annoying tax-riders with his mighty powers.

Lúthien's choice grew less repellent to him, in time. But he would not have chosen as Lúthien might have, after all.

He could only be himself, one of the Quendi; the last of them, he thought, perhaps.

He stood by the mounds where roses grew from his lover's bones. Her laughter, gone thick with age and then silent, was a biting grief, a cutting thing; and he had to be glad for it, too, for he had not thought to grieve a thing besides Lúthien, and it was good to love, after all, even a thing that died.

O, but it was bitter! A long winter of the heart, and a winter that always came back.

That much Lúthien had taught him, and his cow-herder; and the forests, too, where saplings grew in the place of old giants, and shrubs ate away even the roots of Ents.

This relinquishing come no more easily, not more easily was he at peace with it. Still he knew then it would happen again; many times, perhaps.

He swept the house, brought in new rushes, and left the cows grazing, and filled the basin, where sparrows and jays and plain nightingales came to sate their thirst. Some winters he went onward, deeper into the forests, to scare the wolves, the bold mountain lions, the king's riders.

But the house was his now, and the roses were not as stout as niphredil, and wanted tending.

It was not madness. Daeron saw her in every flower that bloomed at dusk, the sweet haze that rose over the world in the first days of spring. Lúthien was there.

He saw her, now. Not at first, when he was younger, and caught in grief and regret such that no consolation could be found.

He saw her in the small pale flowers that were not niphredil. He saw her in the lined faces of old women weaving by the hearth during the long winters, and in the maids dancing round the summer bonfires. In all things mortal, in all blue twilights; and he loved Lúthien the better for it, in time, with a love that was an aching sweetness, not the last of its kind.

#silm fic #lúthien #daeron #oc #daeron x oc #my fics #february ficlet challenge

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cheesewelsom · 1 year

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An AU where all their children marry each other. ( hanahaki AU too ) [ and instead of the flowers being the ones the crush likes, it's now what the crush represents ]

( At this point, im too tired of not shipping Incest okay? It's the incest show anyways, save me my scraps of pride. )

Everyone's aged up for the appropriate setting.

Aemond and Lucerys are getting married. Everyone supports it, Even Alicent who everyone thought wouldn't agree because of her religion..

But she does.

The marriage was like basking in Golden sunlight and purple rain, it was beautiful, majestic and the married couples faces looks so much like flowers happily dancing in the wind.

Alicent could almost see her and Rhaenyra's faces standing in front of the alter, saying those vows with thrumming hearts and happy smiles.

Maybe in the past... Far into the past it could've been..

But not now.

[ The flowers are now planted ]

The next wedding, Jacaerys and Aegon's.

She was so proud of him after he changed, spite what everyone told he couldn't, he did and apologized.. even if apologies didn't reach for what he had done, he tried everything to be better. And he was.

He is.

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra were tasked with finding the Priest, Decorations everything..

It felt like she was getting ready for her own wedding, but she couldn't go too ahead of herself.

She asked Aegon about idea's, tossed them around and then she'd report back to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra did the same.

Again, she imagined the whole wedding to be hers and Rhaenyra.

[ Flowers come out of her mouth, they look majestic. ]

It was selfish, but it uplifted her spirits.

The next comes in the form of Rhaena and Helaena. She almost pukes.

[ The flowers angerly decided to stay down, rustling in her stomach and thorns scratching her throat )

She didn't know if she could do this, she didn't. This wedding was more taxing than the first two. A lot more taxing.

The only relief if that there is no brown haired person in front of the alter.

The flowers didn't think it was enough, sadly, and they started acting out horribly.

She wanted to be distant with this wedding, but after a few minutes of not talking and being awkward in the room, Rhaenyra had enough and pulled her aside.

" I don't know what has gotten into you? Why are you not putting as much effort as i seen with the other two? Heleana's starting to get nervous and your children- " before Rhaenyra could even finish, Alicent's stomach hurt and her lungs felt like hell, the flowers decided to come bursting out.

And burst out they did.

Cascading down her mouth were a flurry of purple flowers from old.

An old Valyrian Flower, from the place where her fathers model copied from..

Rhyserys represents Freedom, Love, Joy, Fairness, Good-natured and to some lengths, Romantic.

They also represent sharpness, Determination and Protection..

They grow anywhere, in any weather. They're blue fading into purple, flowers on vines, They're full of life, green leaves, and two cool colors.

Now vines are coming out of Alicent's mouth, with a dance of what seems like a hundred flowers, and blood, so much of it attached to the thorns and Rhaenyra's panicking because Alicent might die.

Alicent pulls of the vines, she pulls and pulls until they're out.

"Sorry, couldn't speak.." Alicent mumbled as blood dripped down from her mouth.

Rhaenyra is just looking at the heap of Vein flowers on the floor, with tiny specks of blood. Then she stomps..

"What the fuck are you? and how dare you hurt her! " She keeps shouting at the flowers while stomping at them. A string of angry curses, names, and insults follow.

Alicent just looks dumbfounded and laughs, even if her throat feels like a thousand needs poked through her she still did, her voice sounded terrible, so did choking on blood, but it was hilarious..

Rhaenyra didn't think so as she fussed her towards the Maester even if she told Rhaenyra she was okay.

After the whole family got together after hearing about the visit from the Maester, she told everyone she was alright. She's happy that Rhaenyra kept it a secret.

Next wedding is on the battlefield, Alicent got kidnapped the Targaryens are trying to her back, alot of shit goes down and now Alicent is in the middle of the battlefield, Struck down by an arrow to her stomach, Rhaenyra holding her close as they near the tents.

"Alicent, Alicent please don't close your eyes, don't fall asleep, just listen to my voice okay? " Rhaenyra's voice was scrambled and panicked, a broken foot isn't exactly was she needed right now.

Alicent smiles as she touches Rhaenyra's face.

She was ready to face death ever since she knew the flowers. She read a book about them and how the only way to get rid of them is through confession or being cut open to tear them away with her emotions.

She couldn't imagine herself as a person without loving Rhaenyra, so she didn't.

She kept it all inside, ready to die with her love.. now she can die for her.

"You look so pretty. " She weakly beats out of her lungs, the flower's grow against the arrow.

"Thank you, but now is not the time for that Ali. You can stare at my face as long as you'd like, I'd even stay still as a statue for you, you just need to be there for it, okay? "

"Don't you think the weddings looked nice? We worked really hard on them. "Alicent inched on. It was now or never.

"Alicent, just say yes okay? Just breath for me even if i know it's nearly impossible with the flowers and the the whole arrow but i need you to breath, i need you alive, breathing air, looking at my face, at your children okay? "

"The vows of the seven, it's quite funny how Targaryens have so little faith in them but still use them in matrimonial ceremonies.. is it because the old Valyrian has no records of any rituals? "

"Ali, why are you still talking?? I love hearing your voice, a nice thing to know that you're still alive but if you keep using your breath like this you won't make it. Just please, let me make sure i see you tomorrow okay? Let me hear your voice tomorrow as i force you to finally ride Syrax with me because life is too short already and fate is trying to take you away from me again. "

"Rhaenyra, that almost sounds like a love message. " Alicent would laugh is she could feel her lungs.

"Because it is. " The world stops. " I don't know how you can't even see it, even your son with one eye can clearly see us in front of an altar for all to see yet you still hide. And when i found out that you're were love with another- "

"I confessed first. " Alicent cuts her off, "in- in the book it said that if you let the person you are in love with, see the flowers that have bloomed in your lungs because of them, it is said that you have confessed eternally love for them to see... You practically stomped on my heart which comes in the form of flowers from my lungs. "

"... That's a shitty wedding speech. "

"What? "

"You were talking about weddings, then suddenly bring the fact that i stomped on your confession and called the things that caused you pain, a heart. I had every right of being angry at the things keeping my love in agony. "

"No.. wedding speech? "

"That's the thing you settle on hearing? But yes. I am saying that if you'd like that- "

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Clone, Stranger. " Alicent cuts her off again with a smile.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.. " again, i couldn't follow. "

They repeat together.

"I am hers. "

"And she is mine. "

" From this day, till the end of my days. "

"You said plural, that means you owe me more days to come, Alicent now live please. "

"Hm, the flowers are moving the arrow...i really don't think- "

"Don't worry love, we're here. " Rhaenyra looks up to see a Maester, they shove Alicent in and everyone just sits in silence.

The war is done, but Alicent ends up alive but unconscious. It was said that something saved her, a blockage of some kind saved her from the arrows full impact, bad side the shield was down to early..

It takes a couple more moons until alicent started to wake. Rhaenyra was on her side reading through hanahaki disease..

" You know.. someone said that id be fine now. "

Rhaenyra turns to Alicent side eyes and hugged the daylights out of her.

"I thought you were going to turn me in to a widow so soon after our marriage. "

" You're settling on that as our marriage? " Alicent cheekily asked.

"No, our engagement. "

"Really? "

"Of course not Alicent! I would die before the my memories of my marriage OR Engagement were about war and my love one dead.." Rhaenyra takes Alicent's hand and kissed it. "You deserve better than that... But if there was a ' who's had the most dramatic wedding, can we please say that? "

"We can.. we practically did the vows anyways. "

"Sweet, now i can really focus on planning our engagement! "

"So soon? "

"Well...after i found out fate seems to want to tear us apart again and again, it seems like soon isn't too close. "

"I sadly agree.. "

Rhaenyra smiles.

#Rhaenicent #Lucemond #Jacaerys x Aegon #aegon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys valeryon #rhaenyra targaryen #heleana targaryen #Rhaena #Alicent Hightower

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edupunkn00b · 1 month

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Progression, Chapter 6: Eyes Closed

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - Eyes Closed - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The Muse finds someone who needs his help. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 6: Body Swap WC: 1303 - CW: a child in peril, minor character deaths (unnamed characters, not the child) A little mind-bendy (that's a bit of a given with Remus' Illusion powers, though.)

The Muse ran.

Broken bits of brick from the latest building lost to ivy battered bare feet and the tangled underbrush threatened to drag him to the ground. He stumbled, feet wetted with crushed moss and blood slipping on the forest floor.

“I see you!” A deep voice sing-songed and echoed against the trees, laughter coming from everywhere at once. "You can't hide from us!"

His lungs burned and he’d lost count of the scratches and bruises on his shins, his arms, his face. They’d first spotted him at dusk down by the creek and he’d been on the run ever since. Every time he thought he’d escaped, every time he thought he’d hidden well enough and long enough, they’d see him trying to sneak away and once again, they’d pick up their hunt through the dark woods.

He dodged to the left, crashing blindly into the thicket and hoping it might slow his much larger pursuers. Thorns grabbed at his skirt, tearing at his skin but he kept running.

His skirt?

The Muse forced his eyes open and stared up at the bright ceiling lights in his room. No, not his skirt… there was someone else. Someone close. Someone hurt.

But they were getting further away and it was getting harder to fight through the buzzing shield around his room. The Muse rolled onto his stomach. His hands and knees were scraped raw, muscles screaming under the strain of movement. When he closed his eyes, he saw the forest, tasted the moss and dirt. And blood.

Inch by inch, he dragged himself to his door. Using first the handle, then the frame, he pulled himself to his feet and palmed the control. His own weight pushed the door open and he fell past the shield and out into the hallway.

Color and light and ice and fire consumed him and filled him to bursting. The world crackled through his nerves, through every cell. A tiny child laughing, clapping her hands when her doll sang. A couple yelling horrible things to each other, unbreakable dishes crashing against the wall and bouncing off back at them. The rush of air as a man fell. Fingers torn and bleeding and…

The Muse shook his head, searching for the girl in the woods. Her sweater had been itchy, sticky with sweat but it protected her arms so she kept it on. Feet numb, knees bleeding, she shivered now, tucked between gnarled tree roots, a crook filled with mold and petrified rat droppings. She pressed both hands to her mouth, muffling her pants as large men—Powereds, too, too large to be Traditionals—tromped over her hiding place.

-”Jannie…”- he pushed past the sharp static of Jannie’s usual shield. He wasn’t supposed to, he knew he wasn't supposed to, that it hurt them both when he did, but this was important. Cold ice slashed at his mind as the static broke. -”Jannie! Jannie, help us…”- His eyes fell shut again as the vision took him.

“Love?” Luc’s voice was so very far away. “Love… wake up!” Orange light bled through Janus’s eyelids and he burrowed deeper under the covers, hiding from the soft hand shaking his shoulder, the insistent voices in his head. “Jan!”

-”Jannie…”- The desperation in The Muse’s voice finally pulled him from his dream—nightmare? No, not a dream. -”Jannie, help us!”-

“The Muse is out,” Janus mumbled, shivering under the warmth of their comforter.

“I know, love,” Luc nodded, hands warm at his shoulder, his cheek. Janus finally opened his eyes and noticed the bright glow of Luc’s. “You were…”

Janus became aware of the tears streaming down his face, his neck. The pillow was soaked. His throat was raw and his palms bleeding from tiny half-moon impressions.

Luc’s eyes dimmed and he brushed gentle fingers over Janus’ cheekbone. “You were…inconsolable without…” His voice shook and he let his hand fall away. Janus’ heart thudded in his chest at the lost contact, a bird fighting its way out of its cage.

“It’s okay…” He swallowed back a sob, the temporary easement of Luc’s powers letting through the full force of everything The Muse shared. He nodded, chasing his hand. “It—than—thank you. He—”

Luc touched him again and Janus smiled, accepting his power. He sucked in a breath and met Luc’s bright orange eyes. “He needs me,” he whispered, already pushing away the covers.

“I know.”

-“Muse… Muse, can you hear me?”- Golden light flickered through the leaves and The Muse reached out from his hiding place, fingers scraping against lichen-covered bark.

“Jannie?” he called, high pitched and broken. And not nearly quiet enough.

“I found her!” Rough hands grabbed at him, pulling his hair and yanking him out from beneath the fallen tree. “Got you, you little—“

The man’s hands grazed bare skin and The Muse saw through his eyes now. A girl shivered before him, dress torn, hair matted with blood and dirt, rivers of tears marking her face. He released her and she dropped to the forest floor, curled in a ball.

Rage and pride coursed through his veins. Filthy lust. But Jannie was there, too, and strong, steady hands circled the faint strains of the man's guilt. Strangling it. Strengthening it.

The Muse pushed back against the foul thoughts in the man’s head and shared with him the girl’s fear, the sting and burn of her cuts, the fire in an ankle that surely must be broken.

The man staggered under the weight of it. “No, please,” he muttered. “Stop!” To The Muse or to Jannie. Or maybe to himself.

They didn’t stop. The Muse pressed both hands to the man’s head and pushed in everything he'd seen. The fighting couple. The child who’d touched a stove. The man who’d fallen—jumped?—from the factory ladder. Another man, hungry and cold, sifting through the bins outside the same factory.

Everything.

He pushed it all into the pursuer’s head. With a strangled cry, he dropped to the forest floor. His friends ran to his body and The Muse touched each of them in turn, adding the memories of the one who fell before him until the bodies of a half dozen Powered rogues lay in a heap around the little girl.

-”Go home,”- he said to her as gently as he could.

Crying, she stumbled away from the men's bodies. The Muse stayed with her until she reached the edge of town and the world around him faded to black.

The floor was cool against The Muse’s back and a soft blanket had been draped over his chest. Fresh stitches itched his hands and his legs. He opened his eyes just in time to see Papa Bear slip through the door, leaving him alone with Jannie.

Jannie’s hand—his bare hand! He’d taken off his gloves and just touched him—his hand was so warm and curved perfectly over his cheek. The Muse melted into the touch, the warmth. Jannie brushed away the tears leaking from his eyes. “I got ‘em, Jannie,” he whispered. “I got ‘em all.” It was important he say it. The words made it real, made the vision real. It was all real. He'd made it real and he’d done something good this time.

“I know,” Jannie said aloud, voice breaking. “Ro and Virge found the girl and brought her to her parents.”

The Muse smiled, wincing at the tug of stitches he hadn’t noticed along his jaw. -“We did it”-

“We did,” Jannie said, so quiet The Muse had to strain to hear. “Rest now, Muse. Rest…” His eyes were half-closed when Jannie slowly pushed up to his feet and shuffled to the door.

As the door sighed closed, the last thing The Muse saw was Jannie falling into Lucas’ arms, the hallway lit in the bright orange glow of his eyes.

#Progression #ts remus #ts janus #ts lucas #Meus ex Machina #The Mad Lads Universe #dukeceit #demus #platonic dukeceit #superpowers #janus sanders #remus sanders #lucas sanders #examines fingernails through gloves‚ what do you mean‚ of course this chapter is on time

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vixen525noms · 11 months

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Defying Certain Death Part 5

Copied from my DeviantArt account, a non-sexual G/T vore story featuring adults along the lines of the lion and the thorn fable. There will be tons of hurt/comfort aspects, lots of safe vore. That is the primary focus in this.

Barrett is and adult giant standing 85ft tall and Hope is an adult human at 5ft 6. Barrett does not eat children at any point.

Warnings: Fatal Mention; Characters in Distress

Future: While this part is relatively tame, future parts include fatal vore and violence. Barrett, the giant, is not a good guy, so will be doing some occasional bad things.

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He closed his eyes, purring at the wonderful taste of the frightened human girl. It had been far too long since he caught one of the tasty little morsels. He felt the girl curl up in fear, shaking slightly. He was all too familiar with various human fear reactions, but he hadn’t paid much attention to that before. But now was different... As much as he loved the taste, and as hungry as he was, he knew he couldn’t. Not after all she did, not after 3 weeks of taking care of him, helping him recover and escape.

He went still, no longer moving her around as he tasted her. He heard her faint words as she managed to speak again, “Please... Please don’t hurt me...” He sighed softly, closing his eyes a moment and nodded. He spoke, keeping his tone soft so the volume of his voice wouldn’t bother her too much, “Shh, little one. I won’t. I won’t hurt you, won’t kill you. I would be dead without you. I’m just... I’m just so hungry... I needed something to help cope until I can get washed up and hunt. I can use a protection spell; you’d be completely safe. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I owe you too much, but it would help me. I’ll get you back out before I go after food... but I would really appreciate if you would agree to this.”

He received no response aside from her faint whimpers of fear. He realized that with her health also in poor condition, she probably wasn’t focusing too well, that she wasn’t able to easily get past the fear of her current location to focus on his words. He so badly wanted to swallow... so badly wanted to do something to curb the feeling of hunger until he could get some actual food. But even if her kind was inferior, even if they were typically no more than prey... She had saved his life. The whole reason he had been able to grab her so quickly was because she had been there to save him. No matter his normal feelings about her kind, he could not treat her like just a meal. His kind may be known for having little regard for intelligent species... But they did have some sense of honor. There were exceptions.

Hesitating briefly, he took her from his mouth and held her in his palm, watching her frightened, shaking form. He really should have talked to her first, not simply given into his desire to know her taste. He nudged gently at her with one finger to try to get her attention, watching her hesitantly relax, then turn to look at him in puzzlement. He gave a slight smile, careful to keep the sharp fangs hidden this time. He reached down to gently stroke her back, pausing when he saw her cringe, “Easy now... I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.” “But... you...” He sighed, “I know; I’m sorry. I just... wanted something to take the edge off. A little taste... but I would never eat you. Not for real. What I was trying to ask you while you were panicking... I want to use a protection spell. I just want a little something to help me cope until I can go wash up a bit and hunt. I was trying to ask... but I would be dead if you hadn’t helped me over those three weeks. So I just want to ask... Please, will you help me one more time, will you help me to cope with the hunger while I wash up, until I have the opportunity to hunt or gather food? You’ll be perfectly safe... I’ll get you out before eating anything...” He looked down at the young woman in his hand, hopeful as he waited for her answer to his request.

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runawaycarouselhorse · 3 months

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Tokuda Yumenosuke only directed about 15 episodes of the Pokemon anime and one special (The Blue Badge of Courage dubbed as part of Pokemon Chronicles,) but he has such an appealing art style, with thick lineart that tapers to fine points, defined corners of lips, fun expressions, and just such a lovely art style in general. Every character looks better in his style! There's still this 90's anime-esque sharpness to it (the very stiff popped collars, the little M part in Shuu/Drew's hair, even the shading style is more zig-zaggy... you'll notice as you move into the 2000's, anime prefer a simpler halo shine that shows smoothness for the most part rather than a detailed, more zig-zaggy shine that shows texture/implies strands.)

(Check out Shuu/Drew's introduction episode where he's still more of a cocky jerk before he loses the very 90's anime little part in his hair and his design turns softer and rounder along with his personality... he had his thorns filed down as he was forced to acknowledge Haruka as his equal after she saves his life and he drops the -kun and they no longer a senpai-kouhai dynamic. :D; )

Iwane is the most skillful animator and Tamagawa is my favourite for sheer style (those adorably huge eyes and more natural silhouettes--check out how natural Iris and Dent's figures are compared to how lower detail and more compact/cartoony they look in other animators' styles), but Yumenosuke has this dramatic, solid art style and I just love it.

The corners of mouths and thick, tapering lineart are the most distinctive tells. Also, little wrinkles and folds and things. Check out the wrinkles on Mightyena's snout!!

Naturally, he's also the one who drew the (much nicer) first half of the unfortunate Groudon VS Kyoge two-parter... which also had this fun scene where Ash and Mightyena stare each other down and growl (yes, feral Ash, growling at a hyena/wolf/dog monster.)

It's easy to recognize it as his work too because just look at Izumi (Shelly)! The hair animation (which was very rare back in that era of the Pokemon anime, it was so stiff, aha...), the face, and again, really stretching the expressions.

Other important episodes Tokuda worked on was the episode Misty said goodbye to Togetic... (again, look at the very 90's shine to the hair in the sunset. Also, the hair has more of a natural texture in that closeup. ^^)

So, I hope this helps you appreciate an animator you might not've known the name of before, even if you might've loved their work. ^^ It's quite fun if you recognize the unique touches each animator and artist brings to the characters.

#PokeAni #Advanced Generation #Team Aqua Shelly #Gym Leader Misty #Coordinator Drew #Pokemon #Tokuda Yumenosuke #Yumenosuke Tokuda #Izumi #Shelly #Kasumi #Misty #Isabel #Shuu #Drew #wish I had access to better quality video for these gifs but oh well #Lamees' gifs #gif *

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roxannarambles · 3 months

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Title: Wings of a Butterfly, Eye of the Tiger (Part 2)

Ship: Nemona x Juliana (Julinemo/Terajules)

Summary: Nemona and Juliana just can’t resist returning to Area Zero once more. They find new places to explore, new pokemon to discover, and a new things to learn … about pokemon battling, but also about each other.

Notes: Happy Pokemon Day, folks. I don't normally post WIPs, but I already posted the first chapter so. I guess I post WIPs now, lol. Usual disclaimers that I've been slow lately with writing for health reasons, so don't expect fast updates.

Part 1 is here!

When you and Nemona glided down into Area Zero on Koraidon the next morning, it looked exactly the same as you’d last seen it: bright, glittering, with breathtaking vistas and a thriving population of powerful pokemon. You still marveled at the strange, almost eerie feeling of the place, very much like stepping into a portal that brought you into a pocket universe of its very own. It was so incredibly quiet here, all the usual background noises of human civilization like the hum of cities and cars and planes entirely absent; what’s more, the sunlight that streamed into the crater through the haze of clouds seemed to be magnified so that it was incredibly bright down here, almost supernaturally so. You figured it probably had to do with the way the air itself shimmered. Perhaps the tera crystal energy was drifting in the very air around you. Hopefully it wasn’t bad to breathe it in– your previous trips here and the healthy pokemon certainly suggested it wasn’t. If anything, it filled you with a buzzy energy, tingling at your senses and your fingertips.

Nemona was as charged as ever, probably feeling the effects of that buzzy energy too. After landing, you both walked to a wide, open space covered in grass.

“This place look good?”

“Seems good to me.”

“Ok, great! Let’s do this!!”

“Hold on. Scarlet, get ready.”

You nodded to your pokemon, and the giant red lizard stood on his hind legs, unfurling the feathered crests on his head and tail.

“Aw, Jules, they aren’t even healed up from the last battle! I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Just making sure.”

Nemona smiled, amused at how wary you were, then took the pokeball from her belt.

“Hellcat, go!”

She tossed the ball, a large, quadrupedal tiger materializing before the both of you. It was green and covered in jagged purple stripes, its limbs stocky and sinewy like twisted vines, and it had a pointed, leafy mask covering its face. A pair of wickedly sharp fangs jutted from its mouth, which looked like giant purple thorns.

When the tiger appeared, it seemed confused for a few moments, its pupils narrowing in the bright sunlight as it looked around.

Its gaze settled on you. It curled its lips back in a snarl, the sound a bloodchilling reminder of the last time this pokemon stood before you.

Then it sprang, purple claws reaching for you in a flash, no hesitation. You hardly had a chance to even register what was happening before Scarlet jumped in front of you, crashing into the tiger. They tussled for a bit, the tiger giving angry shrieks while Scarlet roared, you and Nemona watching with wide eyes. You grew worried when the tiger sunk its toxic fangs into Koraidon’s leg, but Scarlet quickly thwacked it away with his heavy tail and then blasted the tiger with his fiery breath.

This seemed enough to finally subdue the pokemon, Hellcat staggering to a stop with an exhausted growl. It panted, looking weak but eyes still burning with a feral rage.

You looked to Nemona. She had a hand held to her mouth in surprise.

“Holy moly. I guess you were right! They had way more fight left in them than I thought.”

Hands on hips, you nodded.

“Somehow I’m not surprised. I think we’re gonna have our work cut out for us, taming this tiger.”

Nemona turned to dig through her bag.

“Well hopefully they’ll be purring like a big ‘ol pussycat before long. Food usually wins over even the crankiest of pokemon.”

She pulled out some berries, but you frowned at the selection she had.

“Maybe, um, we should start with Oran berries instead of Sitrus?”

She looked at you a moment and glanced to Hellcat.

“Mmm . . . yeah, okay.”

She grabbed one of the little blue berries and took a few steps towards the tiger.

“Okay Hellcat, you’re probably pretty hungry by now. You want a berry?”

You didn’t like Nemona getting closer to this tiger, but Koraidon was watching very carefully, and you knew you guys had to start somewhere. Nemona took a few more cautious steps, holding the berry out.

“That’s a good kitty. Do you like Oran berries?”

Hellcat snarled at her, its pink eyes glaring daggers. Koraidon flicked his tail and seemed about to intervene, but you held up a hand to indicate for him to stay put.

Nemona cooed to the tiger,

“Aw, don’t be like that. I just want to help you. You’ll feel a lot better after you eat!”

She tried to step closer again, but the tiger’s angry snarl made her stop. She spoke soothingly,

“C’mon, Hellcat, it’s just a tasty berry, I promise. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Nemona, I don’t think this is working . . .”

She sighed and agreed,

“Yeah. Any ideas on what to do?”

You considered it for a moment.

“Maybe . . . maybe we need to be a bit tougher, you know? If you’re too sweet and nice, they might just see it as a sign of weakness or something.”

She looked at you.

“You want me to be mean to them?”

“Not mean! Just . . . firm. Assertive!”

Nemona frowned.

“I guess I could try.”

She cleared her throat, then took a step forward.

“E-eat the berry, Hellcat!”

She tossed the berry. It rolled along the ground until it came to a stop in front of the tiger. Hellcat sniffed at the berry before flicking a tongue out and swallowing it. Nemona took another Oran berry and stepped closer. The tiger growled.

“C’mon Hellcat, if you want the next berry you gotta not growl at me.”

She tried again, but Hellcat still was incredibly agitated and wasn’t cooperating.

“You gotta be firmer than that, Nemona.”

“I’m being as firm as I can be! I’m no good at being mean, you know that, Juliana.”

“Ok, let me try.”

Nemona stepped back and let you take some berries and approach the tiger, holding one out. The pokemon crouched down, ears flattened as it hissed.

In your best bossy tone, you said,

“No hissing. Sit down, Hellcat, and I’ll give you a berry.”

The tiger didn’t sit and simply remained crouched, as if ready to spring. It was incredibly unnerving, but you knew you had to show the pokemon who was boss. You inched closer and repeated,

“Sit, Hellcat! If you want food, you gotta sit.”

Scarlet made an unhappy whine. Nervously, Nemona warned,

“Jules . . .”

You tried again, demanding,

“Sit, Hellcat!”

The tiger bared its fangs, the muscles in its limbs taut with tension.

“Sit–”

Hellcat jerked just slightly, as if it was thinking of lunging at you, and Nemona’s voice suddenly rang out so loud and vicious it made your heart leap in your chest:

“SIT DOWN!”

The tiger froze immediately, its pink gaze on Nemona. You glanced to see Nemona was staring the tiger down with pure fire in her eyes. You’d never seen her look so intimidating before.

Then, miraculously, Hellcat backed off and sat down, its tail drooped and its head lowered. You stared in awe, completely dumbfounded.

“Y-you . . . you did it!”

After a few moments you remembered to give Hellcat the berry and then backed off a few paces to give it some space. You turned to your friend.

“That was incredible, Nemona!”

She seemed just as shocked as you were.

“They really listened to me, didn’t they?”

You nodded and teased,

“And you said you weren’t any good at being mean.”

She crossed her arms and huffed,

“Well I wasn’t gonna let them eat you! I don’t think you realize how close you came to being catfood just now.”

You wanted to tell her Scarlet would have stopped Hellcat before that happened, but in actuality, you’d been so close to the tiger you weren’t actually certain, in retrospect.

“Erm, well . . . maybe it wasn’t the best approach. But I think we made some actual progress! Try giving them another berry.”

Nemona reluctantly went to try it out.

“Sit, Hellcat!”

The tiger growled at her quietly.

“No, Nemona, you gotta sound like before, when you were all scary and stuff.”

“I’m trying. Sit, Hellcat!”

“That’s not even close.”

Nemona turned and complained,

“Well you’re not about to die, Jules!”

You blinked.

“Yeah?”

“So I’m not gonna sound like I was before!”

“. . . oh.”

You considered the problem for a moment, then asked,

“Mmm, well, can you try to imagine, then?”

Nemona didn’t seem a fan of the idea.

“You mean imagine you’re about to die?”

“Y-yeah, I guess?”

She hesitated before saying,

“I dunno, Jules . . . that feels weird, you know?”

You chuckled. You placed a hand on her arm and acknowledged,

“That’s fair. But look, you obviously can be very commanding when you want to be, you just gotta tap into that! It could be a pretty valuable skill. I mean, if you can tame Hellcat, you can tame any pokemon.”

Her expression scrunched up as she thought about it, and then she sighed.

“All right, all right . . . I’ll give it a shot.”

She approached the tiger again. Hellcat turned to her and the fur on its back ruffled, hot-pink eyes glaring. Nemona didn’t say anything at first, apparently concentrating.

Then she gestured at the pokemon, ordering without hesitation,

“SIT DOWN!”

Hellcat’s ears lowered and it sat down. Nemona smiled.

“Good kitty!”

She gave it an oran berry.

“Okay, what next . . . oh, I know.”

She backed up a bit.

“Ok, Hellcat, come. Oh, right.” She cleared her throat.

“Hellcat, come here!”

You watched as the tiger obediently stood up and approached her.

“Good job!”

She fed it again, the tiger eagerly chomping the berry down.

“Ok Hellcat, sit!”

You smiled as Hellcat sat once more, waiting expectantly for the berry. Nemona tossed it and Hellcat caught it out of the air. Nemona turned and grinned at you,

“We’re doing it, Jules, did you see that??”

“I did. I knew you could, Nemona. You’re pretty amazing.”

She gave a laugh, then gestured at you.

“C’mon, come give it a try!”

You joined Nemona, helping her put Hellcat through the very basics of pokemon training. That included things like sit, stay, come, lay down, and so forth. Most pokemon picked these up very rapidly, and Hellcat did too now that it was feeling a little more cooperative. The pokemon obeyed you too once you’d managed to be sufficiently commanding (by imitating Nemona), but you could tell that Nemona still had an easier time getting Hellcat to cooperate than you did. Part of you suspected it was because the pokemon remembered when Nemona went up against it with nothing but a rock. You certainly felt impressed whenever you thought about it, and it wouldn’t surprise you if it left a strong impression on the pokemon, too. Quite frankly, you didn’t mind in the least that Hellcat was bonding so well with Nemona. It just made you smile to watch.

The two of you spent the morning in intensive training with Hellcat. The commands Hellcat enjoyed the least were things requiring restraint, such as ‘wait’ or ‘drop it,’ while learning battle commands were clearly its favorites. Hellcat had a very wild, aggressive disposition and a strong will, but channeling that energy into battling seemed to bring it a lot of joy. It positively wrecked the pokemon it went up against– it seemed to have a phenomenal attack stat, and its moves were pretty potent. You found out that it knew Play Rough, Dire Claw, Swords Dance and a powerful grass move neither of you had ever seen before. The two of you decided to name the move ‘Thorn Fang’ since it was a biting move.

After a busy morning, you both stopped for lunch. It was a leisurely picnic, watching the majestic waterfalls and chatting with Nemona about pokemon battling, while Hellcat and Scarlet lounged in the grass nearby. When you’d finished eating you both just lazed there for a while, breathing the sweet, clean air under the shade of the trees.

For a while, Nemona let her head slump down and come rest on your shoulder, her eyes closed and her body perfectly relaxed. You felt your heart thumping in your chest and stayed very still, not wanting to disturb her. She drowsed for a bit until eventually waking and apologizing. You missed the feeling of warmth when she moved.

Fortunately, your time in Area Zero was far from over. You had come fully prepared to make it a full-day event. You both packed up from the picnic, revitalized, refreshed and ready for more adventure. You hiked to the bottom of Area Zero, where the earth opened up into a spacious, sparkling cave. The plan was to search for Roaring Moon. The primeval version of Salamence was the only Paradox Pokemon that had eluded you on your previous trip. Nemona was very eager to find one, her eyes aglow with excitement whenever you spoke of how terrifying it had been to face in battle. You hadn’t spent much time in the caves during your previous trip, so you hoped this trip would turn up the dragon type. It was also possible you’d discover even more Paradox Pokemon species, like you had last time when discovering Hellcat. That would certainly be a welcome bonus, although it was perhaps unlikely. In either case, you both felt the caves were your best bet for finding something cool.

If the surface of Area Zero was beautiful, then the caves were downright breathtaking. Your first exposure to them had been under rather stressful circumstances, so it was nice to have the time to truly appreciate them now. The tera crystals down here grew to gargantuan proportions, massive columns of shimmering rainbow that lit the caverns with their glow. Waterfalls fed down into the caves from above, and the pathways through the earth snaked along narrow channels, marked loosely with ropes driven into the ground with stakes by the previous research expedition. In many spots, there were stomach-turning sheer drops, and you made sure to keep away from the edges of the narrow pathways. Nemona had gone up to the edge one time, excited over a pokemon she’d spotted, and you grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. You didn’t care if she had a Rotom Phone with safety measures for falls, the thought of it still twisted your stomach. After that, she kept further away from the edges so you wouldn’t worry.

She also continued to hold your hand. You told yourself it was also so you wouldn’t worry. You knew you shouldn’t read into it any more than that.

Eventually, the two of you reached the deepest part of the cave. It had taken quite a while, but that was because you’d taken your time, enjoying the sights and searching for pokemon. Now that you stood here at the bottom, you could see the tall prefabricated buildings made of steel, looking a lot like industrial warehouses. The sight was a bit jarring in such a beautiful, secretive place. The central building was the largest and was encased entirely in tera crystal, the only part still exposed being the hexagonal airlock door that served as an entrance. This was the Zero Lab, of course, Professor Sada’s most secret facility. Out of sheer curiosity, you both couldn’t resist approaching it to poke around her lab again; however, the doors would no longer open, refusing to respond no matter which buttons you pressed on the control panel. It seemed they had powered down in your absence.

“Hmmph. That’s kind of a bummer. I wanted to look around some more,” Nemona said, poking the unresponsive buttons on the control panel.

“Yeah. Probably for the best though, to be honest. If we accidentally tripped another wacky defense protocol, that would suck.”

Nemona hummed,

“True. Oh well. We’re not here for this anyway. We’re hunting for Roaring Moon!”

She turned, eagerly returning to the search. You rushed to catch up to her, splashing through the shallow water that covered the floor of the cave bottom.

“I wanted to ask, if we don’t find Roaring Moon–”

“We’ll find them!!”

“Yeah, but IF, I mean, IF we don’t for some weird reason, um . . . I hope you won’t be too disappointed? I don’t want you to feel like this whole trip was for nothing . . .”

Nemona laughed. She turned to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Of course I won’t think that! This trip has been super fun, no matter what we find or don’t find. Anytime I get to spend with you is always amazing. Especially in an awesome place like this!”

You smiled shyly.

“Okay, I’m glad. I think so too.”

Nemona grinned.

“Good. If we don’t find anything we can still have a battle down here with all our Paradox Pokemon, I bet they’ll love that. But first let’s scour every inch of this place!”

You nodded.

“Okay. Let’s try that path over there that sneaks through the crystals, maybe?”

“Yeah, okay! C’mon Hellcat– hey, where’d they go?”

She turned, spotting the bright green and purple tiger some paces back. It was sniffing at the floor with a disgruntled expression. Nemona called,

“All right, Hellcat! Let’s go!”

The tiger took a few steps and then shook its paws, one at a time, trying to get the water off them and looking disgusted. Nemona giggled.

“Wait, really? Our big scary tiger’s afraid of a little puddle of water? You’re grass type, Hellcat, water’s good for you, silly.”

The tiger waded forward a few more steps, making a sound not too far off from a sad meow. You gestured at the big lizard beside you.

“Look, Scarlet likes the water! It won’t hurt you.”

Koraidon gave a little trill, swishing his tail in the water. Hellcat didn’t seem impressed by this.

“Well, I guess they could just return to their ball,” you said to Nemona.

“Yeah, I guess. I was trying to spend as much time with them as we can, though . . .”

You both watched as Koraidon romped playfully over to the feline, crying out to it. The tiger growled, taking a swipe at him.

“Um, Scarlet, I don’t think they like that–” you said, but Nemona interrupted.

“--hold on, let’s see.”

“But Hellcat looks angry.”

“Yeah, but they kinda always look angry. Maybe they can become friends.”

You frowned, feeling a bit uncertain.

“I guess.”

Scarlet did some happy little hops, splashing in the water a little. Hellcat hissed, backing away. You warned,

“Careful, Scarlet. Play nice.”

The lizard lowered his head, trilling in a more placating way, swishing his tail; Hellcat still looked tense but allowed Koraidon to draw a bit closer.

“It kinda reminds me of when Arven’s Mabosstiff tried making friends with Penny’s Sylveon,” Nemona chuckled. Hellcat hissed again, but a lot less fiercely that time, as if it was just a mild warning. Koraidon suddenly rolled on his back, wriggling on the ground and swishing his tail. You watched in wonder as Hellcat batted at him, in a way you wouldn’t exactly call ‘gentle’ but was definitely not at full strength. Scarlet nipped in return. Hellcat bopped him on the nose, firmly but not viciously. You marveled,

“Wow. I think they might actually be getting along.”

Nemona grinned.

“Told ya! Pokemon do love to play fight, after all. That’s why we have pokemon battles in the first place.”

“Heh, that’s true.”

The two pokemon wrestled for a bit, until eventually they were chasing each other around the cave. There were moments when Hellcat had too much and snarled, warning Scarlet to back off, but overall they seemed to be getting along pretty well. It was very heartening to see. Not to mention impressive how much Hellcat had come along in so short a time.

“I’m so happy they’re friends!” Nemona beamed, hands clasped together.

“Looks like Hellcat’s forgot all about the water bothering them, too,” you said.

“Right! It just goes to show pokemon battles solve everything.”

You looked at her, concern in your eye. She giggled,

“I’m just kidding, Jules! Heheheh, you really thought I meant that?”

“I dunno, maybe??”

She grabbed your hand with a smile, tugging you along.

“C’mon, we gotta get back to finding that dragon!”

You gladly surrendered to her pull, returning to the search.

The bottom of Area Zero’s cave was very spacious, so you had a fair bit of ground to cover. There were no maps of these caves, of course– well, Professor Sada probably had mapped them out, but you hadn’t bothered to search her messy labs for such things. Still, finding your way around wasn’t too bad. The Zero Lab was at the center and served as a good landmark, and you could more or less just follow the paths between the smaller buildings. It wasn’t even all that dark down here: sunlight filtered down from the top of the cave, reflecting brightly in all the tera crystals scattered about. You both searched the area in a clockwise fashion, investigating every nook and cranny and every pokemon you came across along the way. The place was crawling with Paradox Pokemon as well as Glimmora, but nothing you hadn’t seen before. You made sure to keep looking up, since there was a good chance you’d find Roaring Moon flying overhead, but you never spotted its crescent silhouette.

After you both made a full pass of the cave, you went back over it again, trying to see if there were any places you’d missed checking, but you still weren’t having any luck.

“I dunno, maybe we should be looking above ground instead?” you asked, starting to doubt you would find Roaring Moon at all.

“But we checked all over there too, when we were training Hellcat.”

“Yeah . . . true.”

“Plus dragons love caves, right?”

“Normally, yeah, they do.”

“It’s probably just super rare!”

“Yeah . . .”

Nemona noticed your skeptical expression.

“What is it?”

You looked to her and answered reluctantly,

“It’s nothing, I just, um . . . I’m wondering if maybe Sada just didn’t bring any here other than the one she had. Or, um, the one her AI had, that is.”

Nemona frowned.

“You mean like with Koraidon?”

You nodded.

“I guess that’s possible . . .” Nemona admitted. She looked so sad, and you kicked yourself for even bringing it up.

“B-but hey, it’s probably just super rare like you said. Those can take a real long time to find, maybe we just haven’t run into it yet,” you added.

“Yeah,” Nemona agreed, although it lacked some of her usual zeal. You racked your brains and then suggested,

“Let’s check those passageways before the Zero Lab again, maybe there were some spots we missed up there.”

Nemona nodded. You were about to speak again, but Koraidon’s happy little trill noises echoed in the cave, sounding more excited than usual, and you were distracted trying to find out where he’d wandered off to.

“Scarlet?”

Nemona pointed.

“He’s over there. Hey, did he find something?”

You both followed after the large dragon. It seemed he’d found a gap in one of the far cave walls. He quickly vanished into it. Her voice full of excitement again, Nemona asked,

“Oh my gosh, how’d we miss this before??”

As you approached the secluded corner, you commented,

“Hm, not sure. I think the way those crystals were reflecting the light, it does make it kinda hard to see over here . . .”

“Well let’s check it out!!”

You both stepped through the gap, finding a small chamber within. It was dominated by a large crystal in the center of the area, but didn’t have much else inside. Scarlet was in one corner, gnawing on something.

“Hey, Scarlet. Bring it here.”

The dragon bounded up to you and dropped a slobbery item into your hand. It was a beat-up TM case. You studied the faded label.

“TM 171. Isn’t that Tera Blast?”

“Yep! Looks like Professor Sada lost some of her stuff here, huh?”

“Seems so. I doubt anyone else would be down here dropping TMs.”

Nemona was wandering the inside of the small room, searching for anything else of note. Hellcat crawled inside after you, sniffing around.

“There’s gotta be something else here,” Nemona said. You were about to tell her ‘Not really, it could just be more cave,’ but stopped just short of saying it, not wanting to dash her hopes again. Instead you joined her in the search.

“I’m gonna get a better view,” Nemona eventually said, grabbing onto the big tera crystal and trying to clamber up it. It was really slippery though, so you went to help her.

“Wait, Nemona, your shoes aren’t sticky like Scarlet’s feet are!”

“Oof, I wish they were. Okay, help me up– yeah, like that!”

She was able to hoist herself up there with your help, then stood to gaze down on everything from above.

“Do you see anything?” you asked.

“. . . not really.”

Hellcat was sniffing at a large tera crystal embedded into one of the cave walls. In fact, the tiger had been at that spot for a while now, it seemed. You went over.

“Whatcha smelling, Hellcat?”

The tiger growled softly, its eyes fixated intensely on the crystal. At first you thought maybe the silly tiger was angry at its own reflection, which looked goofy and distorted in the crystal. But then you noticed you could actually look through the crystal, and there were lumpy shapes moving behind it. You couldn’t tell what they were, because it was far too distorted, but it did seem to be something.

“Hey, Nemona. Lookit this.”

She hopped down from the crystal and came up to you.

“What is it?”

“Look really close.”

She squinted, leaning close.

“I just see my face.”

“Yeah, it’s really pretty, right?”

“Jules!” She gave you a playful little shove and you giggled.

“Okay but seriously, look past the reflection, I think you can see through the crystal.”

She stared a bit and reported,

“Oh yeah, I think you’re right! What is that?”

“I dunno. Hellcat doesn’t like it though.”

You both stared intently until Nemona yelped,

“Wait, did you hear that??”

“Hear what?”

“Shh, listen!”

You fell quiet and held your breath, doing your best to listen. A few seconds later, you heard a soft pokemon cry, very faint but distinct. Hellcat growled, bristling.

“Oh yeah, Hellcat heard it too!”

Nemona exclaimed,

“It was a pokemon, there must be more cave back there!”

“Yeah, seems so. I wonder how we could get back there?”

Nemona frowned, crossing her arms.

“Well there’s no pathways from down here. We checked this place really well!”

“Yeah . . . weird. There has to be a way in though, right? Unless they’re living in a sealed-in part of the cave.”

“Mmm, yeah . . .”

Nemona looked thoughtful for a few moments. Then, raising a fist, she suddenly said,

“I know! Let’s bust it open!!”

You blinked at her.

“Uh. Is that . . . is that really a good idea?”

She pointed at Koraidon.

“Scarlet knows Rock Smash, right? I saw ‘em bust some rocks in that cave right by my house, remember? Back when we first met him!”

You hesitated.

“Yeah, that’s true, but . . . should we really be busting holes in here? What if we cause a cave-in?”

“No way, Rock Smash is supposed to be used in caves! The technique is designed to be as focused as possible, so it doesn’t cause any shockwaves or damage anywhere else. We should be fine!”

You considered it a moment. On occasion, Nemona could be a tad . . . over-eager to do something and rush into danger, but you trusted Nemona’s knowledge of pokemon moves wholeheartedly.

“Okay. It’s worth a try.”

“All right! Scarlet, could you come over here a minute?”

After calling Koraidon over, you all gave him enough space and instructed him to use Rock Smash directly on the large tera crystal embedded in the wall. The dragon stood on his hind legs and backed up a little bit. Then he leapt forward and with a backwards twist, smacked the crystal with a powerful strike from his tail.

The crystal exploded, shattered fragments flying all over. You reflexively shielded your face, but fortunately the pieces didn’t hit anyone.

“Good job, Scarlet! Man, that was loud.”

“Look, it worked!!”

Nemona stooped and eagerly stepped through the hole that had been created, pushing past shards of rainbow crystal. You followed after her, saying,

“Careful, Nemona, don’t get cut or anything!”

You emerged into a portion of cave that had a much lower ceiling than the rest of the Area Zero caves; it seemed about eight or nine feet high, similar to a room in a house. It was also darker here, lacking any natural sunlight at all, but there were still plenty of tera crystals embedded in the walls and growing around you, and they glowed with their own source of light. You blinked, glancing around as your eyes adjusted to the space.

“Whoa. So there really is a whole cave hidden back here. You were right, Nemona.”

Nemona turned to you, eyes sparking with excitement.

“This is so cool! What if we’re the first ones back here? Oh man, I bet we find at least a Roaring Moon for sure!”

“Well we know there’s something back here, at least, we heard it earlier.”

“That’s right! Let’s find out what it was. Hellcat, let’s go!”

The tiger pushed its way through the opening and into the new portion of cave, but when you called for Scarlet, you found he was a little too bulky to fit through the gap. You recalled him into his pokeball, deciding Hellcat was probably enough protection for the moment anyway. You reported,

“All set.”

Nemona nodded and turned, gesturing to her pokemon.

“Okay, Hellcat, take point! Let’s see where this goes.”

#pokemon #pokemon s/v #julinemo #terajules #juliana 2nd person POV #julinemo fanfic #pokemon scarlet/violet #area zero #pokemon fanfic #nemona #juliana #juliana x nemona #nemona x juliana

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dreadfutures · 3 months

Note

i feel like berries of some kind would be an innocent promise. Like mulberries, maybe because they don't have thorns and they're one of the first wild fruits kids can easily recognise and forage safely?

For @dadrunkwriting : Kieran & Mahariel & Morrigan

Words: 973

this berry prompt is bringing me so much inspiration it might be all i think about tonight

started this on the bus home

-:-:-

When Kieran first leaves the eluvian--really leaves, not just to sleep in his father's bed in cold, defensible, Vigil's Keep--he is overcome by the sheer tumult of life around him.

The between-worlds waking dream his mother had found in her eluvian had been a dead husk, an empty shell or a frozen reflection of the living world. There is no wind in his family's refuge; no insects buzz in the privacy of their leaves and the small worlds hidden in tree bark; no small creatures roam and rustle on their own inscrutable journeys. He has never known to miss their absence until this moment.

He knew it had been nighttime when his family began their journey out of the eluvian; his father had mentioned it as being past Kieran's bedtime when they set out. Kieran had desperately wanted to stay awake as Morrigan led the way through a network neither Halevune nor Kieran had known was alive, but indeed Halevune had taken Kieran up onto his back to let the boy sleep as the trek drew on and on.

A shift in the air had woken him up at last. It was still dark, and as he rubbed sleep from his eyes he had not known how much time or distance had passed while he slept. Through a corridor of hewn stone, Morrigan led them with certain steps, until the cold air grew more temperate, and the walls gave way to life.

Trees. Creatures. A breeze.

Kieran sits up, and his father swings him around to balance on his hip. The day will come when Kieran is too large for it to be a comfortable resting place for either of them, but for now, Kieran fists one hand in Halevune's quilted jacket to steady himself as he looks around.

The three of them stand at the mouth of the cave for a while, silent, drinking in the sounds of the forest around them. Halevune tilts his head back, eyes closed, nostrils flared as he filled his lungs with an incense of a season on the cusp of change.

"This is the land that shaped your father and I," says Morrigan, always the sharpest of Kieran's two prickly parents. She has never been content with staying still, and while Kieran knows their home through the eluvian has, yes, become home to her over the years, he knows she has longed for movement.

Thinking now of how she would spend hours flying in loops and circles in their magic haven, he stretches one arm with his fingers spread wide to touch the currents of air. It's an instinct, this knowledge: their safety all this time had come at the cost of the free, Fereldan air.

It blows his mother's fringe into her owl-like eyes, and then dances in her skirts as she takes the first step forward.

Halevune sets Kieran down, but it is as though he can sense how his son is pulled in a thousand directions, overwhelmed by the novel onslaught; he takes Kieran’s hand entirely into his and gives it a grounding squeeze.

As much as this teeming, thriving world seemed so different—there were some things that were the same: the feeling of his father’s callouses. The glint of his mother’s sharp-toothed smile, softening for them both when she thinks Halevune isn’t looking.

Anchored by his father’s strength at his side, led along by his mother’s sure path, Kieran lets his attention wander. His ears, round like his mother’s, drink in all the sounds he can. They come from all sides, and he knows in his heart there are more living things in this wide new world than he may ever be able to learn of. And yet he wishes to. He wants to know what whistles through the branches in a sudden burst of wings. He wants to know, intimately, what skitters away as he steps on the leaves and twigs that rot on the forest floor. He wants to know, understand—he wants to belong to this world of motion.

His parents confer with their eyes, decide on a course, and later, a campsite. They do not make Kieran aid them yet, but he watches them with the intent to learn. This, too, is a world he wants to be a part of: one of camaraderie, teamwork, companionship. His mother and his father work together on some tasks, and separately on others, to prepare this space for rest and protection in the days to come. They are familiar with these tasks and with how they are divided between two people—and specifically, between one another.

As the world grows brighter, their work changes.

“Come back to me,” Halevune says, but Morrigan instead strays to the edge of camp. She throws a cloth satchel and a weighty look over her shoulder at them, and responds:

“In my own time.”

She departs, and Halevune begins tying various pieces of rope into small loops. Snares, as Kieran will one day learn. Kieran watches, but he is preoccupied by that strange exchange of words. They have sent his thoughts into chaotic spirals, questions and ideas circling like the sounds teeming all around him, and he can’t quite hone in on any one thing before it flits away.

When Morrigan returns, her satchel full of fat, dark berries and long, pale roots, Halevune leaves with his ropes and knife. They pass one another, and Morrigan smirks.

“I returned,” she drawls.

“So shall I,” Halevune states.

Even apart, his mother and father are working in tandem to sustain their family, Kieran realizes. And among all the things he learns on this first venture into the wilderness, one thing remains with him all his life:

In the vast, unknowable, and impartial world, a promise is a vital anchor to keep one from being swept away.

#da drunk writing circle #bloodied and broken bits #old blood older still #halevune mahariel #morrigan x warden #morrigan x mahariel #dragon age fanfic

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inlocusmads · 10 months

Text

Smoke On The Water

The one fight Nora doesn't win and the one fight Trystan can never escape from. (A rewrite of Chapter 2, Crimes of Passion 2)

Characters: Nora Rose, Trystan Thorne, Lydea Thorne

WC: 2.5k | Teen+ | TW: for swearing, violence, knife-fight

A/N: I had to pick one fight scene from media, so I cheated and went with three of my favourite scenes for @choicesprompts's Rewrite Challenge. The first one covers this hallway scene from Marvel's Daredevil TV. The second one tackles this one from The Matrix and the third is this sequence from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. (also tagging @choicesbookclub)

I know, I know, pick *one* scene, goddamn it, Mads, the rules are clear as day, but this just calls for an epic action sequence, okay? Just fight scenes stacked up against one other to make this combat. I'll cover more of this in the A/N at the end. For now, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Nora’s frantic pressing did not make the elevator doors pop up faster; instead it only made the hooded intruders and their gloved hands advance further from her left and front.

Faster! Faster!

She’d managed to escape once. It was a straight route from Trystan’s to the elevator. She’d have to push the button, somehow run back, grab Trystan and charge for the elevator. The Drakovian Royal Guard, much like a Drakovian breakfast, did not make things any easy and thrived on complexity.

The detective turned slowly on her heel, her thumb hanging loose after all that pushing. Her chests heaved for air; her limbs weak and ribs tired; under recovery. The claustrophobic hallway converged into the bottomless pit that was the elevator. While lavish penthouses didn’t exactly have beautifully lit rooms, they made up for it by making their stairs out of vinyl flooring. Nora had seen that in exactly two places - a therapist’s office and a school locker room.

Nora paused, watching the assailant towards her front. Quickly, she ducked down, reaching her hand across her body to swipe the knife. The attacker at her front charged forwards. On cue, the two other hooded men to her right, sprinted headfirst. Nora gripped Trystan’s knife in her left hand, while delivering a hard blow to the man’s right cheek.

She grabbed him by the collars and pushed him into the wall. Locks of her thick, black hair fell sharply in front of her face that impaired her vision and before they could impair her even more, she pushed her fist right into the crook of his jaw, making him collapse. Her lungs heaved for air, shortly before two more attackers, one with a gold-hilted knife flanked her from behind.

“Ngh-”

The detective ducked; letting the one with the knife throw his blade across the hallway, in a failed attempt to push it into her neck. Nora took advantage of his uncontrolled motion by sending a sharp cross to his right shoulder, sending him backwards.

The one without the blade made a ravenous haymaker, which she blocked scrappily by twisting his attacking arm. She clasped his enclosed fist, the other arm pulling his chest up before hurling his heavy body across the hallway. Nora panted; the grim, airless hallway sending her into spirals of stupefaction.

A groan escaped her dry mouth. “Argh.”

When the man attempted to get up, Nora sent a short stream of weak, but effective hits that rendered his resistance futile. Even more dazed, Nora was too focused on the man beneath her to notice the hooded figure from earlier recover; pulling her back by the shoulders.

“ACK!” yelled someone in Trystan’s apartment, which set a kind of fear in Nora’s head that can only be described as horror.

The man pushed her against the wall, his hood covering all of his face and neck as he sent a fracturing jab towards her jaw. An amass of punches subsequently followed, with the now-knived man attempting to lacerate her shoulder.

Nora accepted the attacks, trying her hardest to block the men. She slipped her knife back into her pocket, making more room to hold onto both their offending fists. While the man without the knife aimed at her head, the same as the man with the knife did, Nora took the opportunity to stoop low. So did the knived-man’s hands on her shoulder and the knife-less man’s on her neck.

Quickly, she kicked her feet up, her head hitting the wall with a quiet thud. She pushed away the grip the knived assailant had on her shoulder, using her free left hand to smack the one without the weapon right across the left jaw; likely fracturing it.

“Hck!” - The man’s head flew the other way, his body thudding with a hard pound on the concrete floor.

Distant noises from Trystan’s apartment filled her head; thus setting off a distracting well-oiled gun of fear which lodged a growing bullet of parasitic doubt in her mind.

To the assailants, there was something going on. A fight where they didn’t have to hesitate. To Nora, it was a blurry scene of action versus reaction. A bully takes her snack, she makes him lose his teeth by sandwiching her science textbook between his jaws. A therapist tells her to stop fighting, she tells her to fuck off. A mugger attempts to push a knife down her throat, she pushes it right into his shoulder. A different therapist tells her she’s disappointing her dead father and mother, she tells her to fuck off.

Action versus reaction.

The man with the golden knife placed her into a headlock, plunging his knife into her exposed torso. Nora made the sloppy mistake of yanking the knife, which cut a streak of blood across her palm.

She pulled in all of his weight and with tremendous, unparalleled effort rose up to try and toss him backwards, but since her skinny, yet muscled arms were no match for his weight, they both fell on the cold hard floor. The man’s knife was sent sprawling with the force with which he’d flung it. Nora’s head took a heavy hit and it was then did she truly begin to feel the blood rush everywhere.

The faint boxy corporate lights reminded her of the school locker. The narrow, borderline psychiatric hospital hallways made her lungs heave for oxygen that never came. The dizziness finally set on her as she slowly tried to grasp her surroundings. Hallway. Elevator. Distant fighting noises. Trystan. Someone else.

“Ng--” she groaned.

The exhaustion pushed her back on the ground. A wounded man next to her stirred. The voices in the apartment grew louder. Ringing noises. Corporate lights. School lockers. Big, large, heavy books. Knives with pretty hilts. Things flew about in Nora’s vacant head, as she sent a dislocated punch to the man who rowed back to consciousness. The other man had now gotten up; using the beams in the walls to stand up. The detective mimicked the same.

Screeching in the background. Tosses of furniture.

Nora’s head throbbed, before the sound of ringing took over her. Her palm was dripping with blood, the deep singes of pain and the smell of sweat and iron gagging her. The recovered man now sent a hit right after her face, which she took with surprise. However, she stabilised quickly; attempting to fling her whole right arm with the dripping blood into the man, expecting her fist against his flesh, but hitting plainly at the air instead. Having dodged, the man used her advancing momentum to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder.

She let out a terrible shout; psyching herself out and propelling her body with the very few bits of energy she had going on. The hooded man rammed her head against the wall and with every ram, she felt her head grow lighter. She struggled to escape, only for the knived man to charge forward manically with the golden hilt clasped tightly in his palm.

Nora dodged the attack, pushing away the two men without knives in the direction of the one madman with the knife. Together, the four of them hit a wall; a horizontal stack of dominoes with trauma to the head to last perhaps, days.

The poor knived man took most of it. Nora estimated his recovery to be well above six months. His hands were so weak, he couldn’t lift the knife much less himself as he stayed, collapsed with a vacant expression on his face.

“LYDEA, YOU DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS!” rang a shout from Trystan’s apartment.

Nora’s eyes couldn’t stay open. The two recovered, knife-less men ran up to her and kicked her with such fervour she’d only noticed among teachers handing out detentions. Every quick movement of their foot to her body sent a shiver of pain that never went away. They were persistent with the foot action, like principals with their expulsion orders. Their boots had enough cleats to feed an underfunded girls’ soccer team.

There was a point where Nora had enough strength to hoist herself up and she did precisely that, using the wall to climb to her feet. They were still very, very weak and it was somewhat of a great astonishment to her that she wasn’t dead.

Grunts and groans followed her, as she deflected the men’s attacks. One sharp smack across Man A, propelling him downwards. Man B followed her as she gave him a good chase for about two seconds until Man B grabbed her by her stomach and lifted her up.

A fight’s progression is quite similar to a first date.

Every first date followed meeting up in front of a restaurant (Man B hurled her to the floor, as Nora’s body skidded to a stop in front of Trystan’s apartment), followed by dinner with some light conversation (Nora pushed Man B’s face into the crook of the door). In a place that had so many people talking at the same time (Nora heard Trystan’s hesitated grunts as his fight with Lydea took him across the whole apartment, leaving a disastrous scene) with the clinking of knives and spoons on plates (Nora grabbed her knife from her pocket).

If the first date went well, there might be a chance for a second one. And a third. Then a proposal, wedding, kids, marriage, retirement, death.

A fight was different because it took you from a lavish dinner to death.

Man C, now recovered with the blade, charged forward, skipping above Man B. B had sent Nora plummeting after a couch, but the action meant he’d collapsed just a little to have him weak in the knees. Nora heard the grunts and the groans from across the room, as Trystan was now trying to dodge his sibling’s rampant attacks.

She tuned out the noise, before kicking herself back on the floor right when Man C with the knife tackled her to the ground. Blood poured from her nose, the inside of her cheek and from her palm. As the man tried to push the blade with a ferocious growl, Nora took the moment to take her own fallen knife and pierce it right into his knee. The gold-hilted knife fell with a clang as the detective pushed her face out of the way.

“AAAAAAAAH!” the man wailed.

Afar, she heard distant coughing.

Man B rammed his head into her stomach, attempting to lift her again, but Nora sent him flying across the couch. A charged forward, following B’s path. Nora jumped up; holding the couch as support, even though she couldn’t feel her right palm anymore and sent a kick that landed straight into his diaphragm.

He hit his head on a shelf of books that collapsed under force. Man B scarpered, landing on Nora’s back as they both struggled to gain control. Nora yanked his left arm, pulling it as hard as she can ever, with the last of her strength, to dislocate it entirely. He fell down with a thud.

For the first time, there was silence.

Nora took sharp, heavy breaths; the lightheadedness setting in. Blood poured from her nose, the same from her inner palm. The detective made a wincing fist with the wounded hand, applying pressure to the cut and in a moment of desperation, pressed her tongue against the cut, licking the blood away. It hurt. It hurt so much. It hurt so much that Nora’s eyes welled up with tears, mixed with blood, that fell back into her mouth like a despicable waterfall that flew backwards.

Slowly, she got to her feet; her crisp blue shirt now subjected to wipes and shmears of red.

“Nora! Help!”

The detective had a certain limp to her feet, as she slowly moved away from the front door, away from the unconscious bodies of the masked men and to Lydea and Trystan engaged in combat. The dim, morning lights did her a disservice, as Nora couldn’t pinpoint where exactly Trystan required help. Sometimes there was a double of him. Sometimes there weren’t any of him at all. He played the game so carefully, as if he was almost afraid to get his dearest little sibling hurt.

Nora held herself against the coffee table for support, the gold-hilted knife still strong under her choking grasp and to her unimaginable surprise and horror, she saw him dodge a series of careful knives by laying as low as he could. Lydea sent knives like darts, and Trystan dodged every single one of them by stooping so low, there were hundreds of copies of him in front of Nora’s eyes.

At this point the detective could see a rubber duck and attempt to eat it, because it was all in her mind, wasn’t it? The plastic rubber duck, the multiple copies of Trystan dodging Lydea’s fast attacks. Nora’s eyes were now reduced to narrow cuts of vision, like her eyes were some sick double-slit quantum physics experiment.

She watched as Trystan collapsed to the ground and Lydea stood over him; in their armour and a pair of handcuffs dangling from their left finger. They had one more knife left, which they pointed directly at their brother’s throat.

“Time to go home, brother.” Lydea said. “You can’t dodge it any longer.”

Trystan panted, starry-eyed and in not a good way, because he was completely defenceless. The pots and pans next to him would easily be penetrable to a sharp Drakovian blade. The window with its valiant streams of sunlight were blocked by Lydea’s threatening figure as they raised the blade and the cuffs with it. For quite a while, he was figuratively and literally in the dark.

At that point, Trystan’s life did not flash before his eyes, no, rather his future flashing before his eyes. A gust of cold morning wind from the window reminded him of the dark dungeons, a ritualistic step before an inescapable execution.

“Dodge this.”

Trystan looked up instantly.

Nora pushed the gold blade into Lydea’s bulletproof vest, taking them by surprise. While the detective’s valiant efforts were more than appreciated, she was still too weak to take up Lydea Thorne in a fight. The head of the Royal Guard recovered quickly before jamming the hilt of their own knife against Nora’s wounded wrist, sending both a shockwave of pain and the gold knife as far away as possible.

Nora jumped back, as she engaged in close combat with Lydea.

A cross to their left cheek. An uppercut to her chin. A discombobulating move, as she clapped her weak, frail arms against their ears, twisting their face. Dazed, Lydea regained consciousness much to Nora’s surprise. Nora prepared for a block to her front, but Lydea noticed her defenceless right. With ferocity, they hit her across the left; the smash sending waves all to her right jaw.

Immediately, Lydea smacked her tightly near her ear, sending her backwards, before Lydea kicked their left foot up and kicked as hard and forceful as they could; flinging Nora’s body across the room and smack dab into the coffee table.

“Get out of the way, New York.” Lydea’s knife never left their brother’s throat as they pulled him to his feet; making him face a wall as they cuffed him up. “Trystan Thorne, you’re under arrest for the alleged murder of Juliana Georgescu-- blah, blah, blah. Whatever.”

They led Trystan to the front door, only to find the absolute horror Nora had left behind.

“What the fuck?” Lydea exclaimed, turning their head in Nora’s direction, who was still recovering from Lydea’s wrath. “Andrey! Ivan! Volos!”

“Nora! NORA!” Trystan screamed, in the split-second he was given. “Find Marguerite! She’ll tell you everything! Good-”

“TRYSTAN!” Nora hollered, “FUCKING HELL-- HOLD ON! I’LL--”

Before Nora could get to her feet, Lydea had already pushed their newly-conscious but yet extremely weak special agent team out the door, along with a cuffed Trystan. Silence filled the air immediately.

Things were left behind; destroyed plates, torn-up pillows and blades being examples.

Not to mention a tearful detective who banged her bloodied fists against the table; swallowing the pain and the grief that followed it.

***

A/N:

Okay, yes. Fine. I did ask you guys what you'd be more receptive to and yes you did answer you'd like more fluffy date fics but I can't, okay? Epic action scenes are my jam because I get the excuse to watch a bunch of them and discover movies and shows through this. I'm not a Marvel person, but boy did that Daredevil sequence convince me enough to maybe give the franchise a shot.

Anyway, yes, I know it is against the rules to have 3 action sequences from different movies and shows in one long shot, but if I have to pick one to submit, I'd go with the Daredevil sequence, because it occupies a significant amount of "screen" time as opposed to the other sequences.

I hope you enjoyed this! This is just another exucse for me to practice action scenes, because though I love them, I am shit at writing them and it is that *one* sub-genre that I can never seem to get, besides romance. This is a nice practice!

Plus I also love rewriting canonical scenes to fit my canon, because even though I love Crimes with all my heart, it -- doesn't have the hip mystery action scenes; just boisterous, "witty" sarcastic dialogue in the middle. Come on. Give our detectives the fistpower to fight! Give Trystan the charisma to perform a clean uppercut! Let them be the power couple who can absolutely destroy people, because they deserve to; upon all the people who did them wrong.

Okay that's it. Thanks for putting up with this lol and thank YOU for reading and supporting my bad ideas. Seriously, y'all are the absolute best. Now I really need to rest my head before I start seeing copies of my laptop everywhere, like Nora did.

Tagging:

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam

Crimes only: @cassie-thorne @peonierose @ao719 @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @fuckitweball0000 @lilyoffandoms

#nora x trystan #choices rewrite challenge #choicesprompts #w:inlocusmads #crimes of passion fics #choicesbookclub

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