#ideas make you a target but silence makes you a slave

[fanfic-obsessed]

What the Fuck

You know, I have a fair amount of fondness for what could be considered light Qui Gon bashing, specifically in regards to how he raised Obi Wan. I wonder if any of you could tell?

Along those lines I there is one thing I would love to see more of, the High Council finding out much later (like during the war) the fucked up parts of Obi Wan’s padawanship and just go ‘Fucking what????’

Walk with me for a minute while I explain.  Also this is an idea for an AU not a commentary on any version of cannon. 

There are 10,000 Jedi. There is no way the high council could be personally involved with all the Master Padawan pairs, not to mention not all the members during the war were members during Obi Wan’s padawan years. So let’s start from the premise that Qui Gon and Obi Wan had the normal amount of interaction with the High Council. This is, in part, because Qui Gonn lies like a rug for 90% of their reports to make them seem more normal than they actually are.  In this idea Qui Gon is also at the very least emotionally abusive and negligent, if not physically abusive as well. 

So Obi Wan grows up thinking things like being left in a Cantina for hours to days is normal Master behavior, or being lost in bet (both intentionally to track slave rings and just because Qui Gon did not have as good a hand as he thought), or being forced to meditate his needs away for days, or the crippling anxiety that Qui Gon seemed to be deliberately instilling. Obi Wan never does these things to Anakin (Obi Wan just cannot convince himself to treat Anakin like he was treated, but justifies it to himself that it was Anakin that had the strange padawanship because he came to the temple too late and too early. He does always feel like a failure of a master for the fact that he couldn’t do it). 

Obi Wan doesn’t talk about it to other Jedi, not out of shame but out of the sincerely held belief that every padawan faced the same, that it would be boring. He does not tell Anakin because he does not want to make his padawan feel bad for having a strange padawanship. 

He does give utterly horrifying answers to any member of his battalion that asks questions about his padawan years, which convinces the clones that the Jedi need to be protected from themselves. 

Now that we have set the stage, I think this should be a random time not tied to any specific set of events. Though It should be after Ahsoka is assigned to Anakin. I kind of want the Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex present and the High council has just finished the “official” part of the meeting and have moved on to just chatting, or maybe it was before the meeting began, or perhaps it is semi official where they are talking about some Cantina in the mid rim that would be useful in an upcoming mission. 

No matter the situation, Obi Wan fondly reminisces about the proprietor and how they (the proprietor, Obi Wan, and some of the regulars) had worked out a routine where Obi Wan would lure in slavers that targeted children, the proprietor would drug them, and the regulars would steal their things and figure out where they were hiding their ‘product’.  

There is confused silence among the jedi present. At last Plo Koon goes ‘I know you looked young without your beard, but I didn’t think it was that young’ while thinking that he didn’t think he was that bad at judging near human ages. 

Obi Wan laughs and goes ‘oh no. This was when I was 14, though I was a bit stunted after Melida/Daan so I did look a few years younger. Master Jinn like to gamble around the corner whenever we had a mission that brought us to that sector, he got great tips about the slave trade. I was so scrawny that I didn’t make good collateral until I was 16. So he left me in the Cantina’. He then muses thoughtfully that the proprietor always seemed angry with Master Jinn when he came to collect Obi Wan. 

There is a dead silence, every member of the High Council turned silently to stare at Obi Wan.  Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex looked shocked while Cody looked somewhere between tired and murderous as he stared into the middle distance. 

Mace Windu asks, in that careful voice people can get where they don’t want to let on that there is anything wrong, about being ‘collateral’.  Obi Wan answers with the air of someone who thinks their experience is much more universal than it was. Every answer he gives sparks more questions and more horror. 

Obi Wan is so used to thinking that his experiences were universal that it takes him several questions before he realizes that no one is reacting as if this is normal. He starts to try and explain, you know trying to make himself understood because he assumes that it is merely him explaining badly, which makes it worse and worse and worse. Anakin is near hyperventilating because that was decidedly not how his own padawan years went (and explained some of the strange questions that Cody has asked him over the years).

Cody is actually relieved that the Jedi appear to be just as horrified over all of this as the clones were.

Each and every other member of the High council is both internally and visibly going ‘Fucken what????!!!’ with every statement Obi Wan is making.  Just a straight up hour of being horrified, not evening being able to move onto guilt that no one noticed because of the sheer volume of WTF.  Interspersed with various Jedi thinking about how they are going to need to get a therapist that is dedicated specifically to Obi Wan, and probably a therapist for the therapist to avoid burnout.

[tinytinyblogs]

Is it hate or love?

Hate or love? Their mixed signals are driving you crazy.

(Ot8 skz reaction, non-idol, lil angst)

Hyung line Maknae line

💬I genuinely enjoy this one; it brings a smile to my face as I write. However, I must admit my mind is currently devoid of any ideas. If you have any requests, feel free to suggest, whether it's a one-shot or a reaction.

Stray kids masterlist here

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

The fluorescent lights buzzed like angry hornets, each flicker echoing the storm brewing within you. Another mountain of paperwork, another impossible deadline, another unwanted gift from Chan, the CEO who seemed to thrive on your suffering. He was an enigma, admired by the masses, yet your tormentor in disguise. You were done. Done with the endless demands, the relentless pressure, the suffocating feeling of being his personal pack mule. It was always you, drowning in work while others sat idle, their days filled with gossip and coffee breaks. Sleep was a luxury you barely remembered, your nights consumed by spreadsheets and reports. Enough. With a growl that surprised even yourself, you rose from your desk, sanity taking flight. His office, usually a sterile haven of power, became your target. No meek knock, no announcement. You barged in, the door slamming shut with a finality that mirrored the one building inside you. Chan, caught mid-keystroke, his gaze flew up, meeting yours. You held his stare, your emotions a tightly packed bomb, ready to detonate. "Shouldn't you knock?" His voice was a smooth, practiced drawl, but the surprise in his eyes was genuine.

But a voice, surprisingly gentle, stopped you in your tracks. "No," it said, and you whirled around to find Chan still seated, his gaze fixed on you. He seemed unperturbed by your outburst, his body radiating an unexpected stillness. "I wouldn't find another employee," he continued, his words a quiet counterpoint to the storm raging within you. Your questioning look, a blend of disbelief and lingering anger, seemed to crack his facade just a bit. "You're not quitting," he said, his voice losing its usual edge. "Take a week. Rest. Come back." You scoffed, frustration twisting your gut. "Chan, I'm done. All of it. What do you even want from me?" He leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "Attention," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Yours." The revelation hit you like a punch to the solar plexus. Attention? him, the man who seemed to thrive on stoicism and distance? "Wanted the attention you give everyone," he elaborated, his voice laced with a vulnerability you'd never heard before. "But no matter what I did, your eyes were always elsewhere." He glanced at his watch, a flicker of something akin to regret crossing his face. "Go home, rest. I'll visit you after I finish my work today. We can…talk about it."

You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Your legs took two determined steps forward, each one a declaration of your rebellion. "Yeah, I should," you spat, your voice raw with pent-up frustration. "But I'm done with formalities, Chan. Done with playing your game." He pushed his chair back, his full attention on you now. "The file, I presume?" You scoffed. "You know me too well, don't you? Always up to your neck in demands, yet blind to the idleness around you. I work myself to the bone, barely see the sun, while others twiddle their thumbs and collect paychecks." Your voice, once a whisper of resentment, now roared with righteous anger. You ripped the employee ID card from your neck, a tangible symbol of your servitude. "I'm done, Chan," you declared, flinging the card to the floor, its plastic clatter a punctuation mark on your declaration of freedom. "Done being your slave. Done with this charade. This isn't work, it's a prison, and I refuse to be your inmate any longer." The ID card's clatter echoed in the room, a final punctuation mark on your fiery declaration. "Find someone else to do your dirty work with a smile," you hissed, turning on your heel, ready to escape the suffocating confines of his office.

Minho

As the creak of the nursery door echoed through the silent house, your eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing Minho slumped on the bed. A fresh gash marred his usually stoic face, sending a wave of concern and exasperation washing over you. You tossed your untied hair back with a frustrated sigh, the loose strands framing your worried expression. "Are you out of your mind?" your voice was sharp, laced with disbelief as you approached him. Minho remained silent, his gaze distant, refusing to meet yours. It was oddly endearing, this uncharacteristic vulnerability, but the anger at his recklessness still burned inside you. "It's kinda fun to hear you fight because of me, isn't it, Minho?" you quipped, your eyes scanning the room for a first-aid kit. It stood sentinel beside him, a silent witness to his recent skirmish. "Since when do you care if anyone mocks me?" you challenged, stepping closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Weren't you the one who started it all?" Your words hung heavy in the air, accusation mingled with confusion. As you leaned in, gently tending to his injury, the air crackled with unspoken emotions. Minho, once an impenetrable fortress, seemed to soften under your touch, his eyes holding a depth you'd never witnessed before.

"I never start anything," he finally rasped, his voice rough with unspoken apologies. "I never made fun of you in front of anyone. I wouldn't." His denial hung in the air, tinged with desperation. You looked up, meeting his gaze, his eyes seeking yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "Aren't they your friends?" you asked, your voice barely above a breath. "Didn't they just repeat the gossip you started?" Minho let out a heavy sigh, his hand reaching out to grasp yours, stopping your ministrations. His touch sent a jolt through you, and you instinctively looked up, drawn into the maelstrom of emotions swirling in his eyes. This simple gesture, this unexpected vulnerability, opened a crack in the facade he'd carefully constructed. And in that small opening, you glimpsed a truth that threatened to rewrite everything you thought you knew about Minho. What lay beneath the surface? Regret? Guilt? Something more? The tension in the room hummed like a live wire, charged with unspoken words and the weight of shared secrets. The air, thick with anticipation, waited for the next move, the next truth to break through the silence.

The air between you and Minho crackled with tension, as thick as the silence. His grip on your hand was like a vise, holding you captive in this charged space. "They're my classmates," he finally spoke, his voice low and tight, "but that doesn't mean they blindly follow my every word. Don't paint me as some villain, spewing lies and manipulating them. Stop assuming the worst." You yearned to pull away, to break free from his hold, but the intensity in his eyes pinned you in place. "Because you always act like one, Minho!" you countered, your voice rising in frustration. "This hostility, this constant antagonism toward me – why? Why do you harbor such animosity?" His gaze, once defiant, softened, a flash of pain flickered across his face. "Who said I hate you?" His voice echoed in the quiet room, bouncing off the walls, almost drowning out the distant school bell. "If I truly hated you, wouldn't these wounds be scars on someone else's face? Wouldn't I be far away from you, causing trouble elsewhere?" He looked at you, his eyes raw and searching. "No one," he continued, his voice dropping back to a whisper, "ever told me those things about you. Open your eyes, Y/N," he gestured to his injury, "see past the persona you've built for me. I'm not the monster you think I am."

Changbin

The lunch bell clanged through the bustling cafeteria, a jarring contrast to the turmoil brewing within you. The midday sun, streaming through the glass walls, felt like an unwelcomed spotlight on your skin, highlighting the insecurities the toxic whispers had planted. Your fingers trembled as you checked your watch, the numbers mocking your empty stomach. Lunch should be a joyous break, a chance to refuel and recharge, but the thought of food tasted like ash in your mouth. Every bite felt like a betrayal against the chorus of taunts echoing in your head, the unsolicited advice on your weight a constant weight on your chest. "What's with you?" a voice cut through your misery. Changbin, your perpetual shadow, loomed over you, his presence as unwelcome as the stale cafeteria air. "Forgot your lunch money? Or just another dramatic attempt at starvation?" His words were laced with a familiar bite, designed to prick at the raw nerve endings of your insecurities. You clenched your fists, the urge to lash back crackling in your veins. But you knew the futility of engaging, of feeding the flames of his negativity. "Go away," you muttered, your voice a mere whisper against the cacophony of laughter and chatter.

You turned your gaze towards the window, seeking solace in the blur of the bustling city below. The endless stream of people, each with their own stories, offered a strange comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone in this struggle. Changbin, however, remained a persistent fly in your ointment. "Eat something, you idiot," he rasped, his voice a touch softer than usual. "I don't want to lug your unconscious body to the nurse again." A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you met his gaze, his untouched lunch sitting accusingly between you. "Don't tell me you're on a diet, Y/N?" his voice was laced with concern, but it grated on your already frayed nerves. "Yeah, well, they keep reminding me how fat and ugly I am," you spat, bitterness clinging to your words like smoke. "Satisfied now? Go eat your lunch somewhere else." He didn't move, his stillness a stark contrast to your turmoil. Instead, he rose from his chair, his gaze unwavering. To your surprise, he didn't leave. Instead, he returned moments later with another lunch set, placing it gently in front of you. "Sometimes, you can be unbelievable," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Just eat whatever you want and be happy. Why let their words dictate your joy?" His words hung in the air, a gentle challenge to the self-imposed prison you'd built around your insecurities.

You looked at the food, the vibrant colors and inviting aromas a stark contrast to the darkness in your mind. The tension in the air had softened, replaced by something unexpected - a fragile truce. He sat across from you, his lunch forgotten as he focused on yours. "Beside," he mumbled, eyes glued to the colourful mountain of food on your plate, "you totally look fine in my eyes." His words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual barbs and banter that defined your dynamic. You, the prickly defender, and him, the relentless challenger, had somehow stumbled into an unfamiliar territory - one where kindness was laced with gruffness, and concern masked by playful threats. It felt surreal, like waking up in a parallel universe where the sun rose in the west and Changbin, of all people, was complimenting your looks. "Beautiful as always," he added, his gaze meeting yours, a flicker of something... new... dancing in his eyes. It was a look devoid of mockery, devoid of the usual cynicism, and it made your stomach do a strange somersault. He waited, a silent encouragement for you to dig in. You hesitated, the familiar spoon feeling heavy in your hand. "If you skip a meal again, I'm not kidding, I'll make sure you eat something myself."

Hyunjin

The morning light, usually a welcome friend, felt like a harsh spotlight on your throbbing head. The ache in your body was a symphony of protests, each muscle groaning its disapproval at the mere thought of movement. A groggy groan escaped your lips as you tumbled out of bed, the world tilting precariously before righting itself. The fridge, however, refused to cooperate. Its barren shelves mocked your rumbling stomach, a cruel reminder of your impending grocery trip. You winced, the effort of just standing feeling like a Herculean feat. Then, like a bad penny, he materialized. Hwang Hyunjin, your resident thorn in the side, stood there, a smirk playing on his lips. "You look dead," he chirped, his voice somehow grating on your already frayed nerves. Ignoring him, you focused on putting one foot in front of the other, each step a battle against the leaden weight of your body. Hyunjin, however, wasn't done. A hand, surprisingly cool against your burning forehead, stopped you in your tracks.

"Street walking with a fever? Not your brightest move, dumbass," he drawled, his voice laced with a sardonic concern that only he could pull off. You swatted his hand away, a weak attempt at defiance. "Not claiming any awards for genius today," you mumbled, your voice thick with fatigue. "But starving is worse." Hyunjin's smirk softened. He could be infuriating, that was for sure, but even through the haze of your illness, you couldn't help but notice a flicker of something else in his eyes - maybe concern, maybe something more. Every step felt like a betrayal, your body screaming its protest with each groan. Yet, you pushed on, fuelled by a desperate need for the cool embrace of sheets and the sweet oblivion of sleep. Then, amidst the symphony of aches, a hand materialized, grabbing the very item you craved from the shelf. Another hand, warm and surprisingly gentle, nudged you closer to the checkout. You whirled around, expecting the worst, but instead, you found Hwang Hyunjin, the familiar scent of Hyunjin's cologne a sudden anchor in your sea of dizziness.

"You really gonna make a scene by collapsing in public?" he muttered, his voice surprisingly gentle. He pulled you closer, his arm a surprisingly strong shield against the encroaching crowd. His body heat, a stark contrast to your feverish chills, radiated comfort you couldn't deny. You stumbled a little, your vision swimming, but his presence, a steady anchor in the storm, kept you upright. "You don't need to care," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the supermarket din. You looked up at him, his face etched with a concern that made your heart skip a beat. He hummed, a low rumble that somehow soothed the storm raging within you. "I think so," he confessed, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. "But you always make me worried, and care." He squeezed your arm gently, the gesture both firm and reassuring. His gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment. His eyes, usually filled with mischief, held a depth you hadn't seen before. "Hurry up, I'll cook the meal. You should get your medicine, thank me later after you feel better."

©Tinytinyblogs

[voidtouched-blue]

FFXVI verse starter for @ifritmade

She could not take it anymore.

Cyra was tired of hiding. She was tired of running. She was tired of all of the people who kept trying to use her in an effort to obtain their false idea of immortality through her unique abilities. She was tired of all of the experiments, and the people poking and prodding at her to understand the differences in her body. Her unique figure was a credit to human cruelty and their lack of understanding. Even after she had heard the call of the otherworldly darkness, their whispers torturing her with every hurt repeated over and over again in an endless loop every night was driving her mad.

In her sleep she could not have peace. Not since she had accepted an offer for the power to defend herself against the malice of humanity. Yet, ever since the nightmares that once labored her sleep had spilled over into her waking hours. For a time, it had left her nearly comatose. It left her vulnerable.

Seated in a caravan set to transport branded from one corner of Storm to another, the other slaves that had the misfortune of being in the same wagon as herself were terrified. The hushed whispers, the maddening phrases she had spoken in her sleep had kept them silent for the initial stretch of the journey.

They hurt you. We must hurt them back. Make it hurt, make them suffer. Make it hurt, make them suffer. Make it hURt, MaKE THeM SuFFER.

The eerie voices that hissed in her head had not stopped repeating the same phrases in days. Not even in sleep could she have peace. The chant continued, and she just snapped.

She would return the malice to their pitiful and weak forms tenfold.

The girl did not hear the commands of the soldier at the door to the slaver's wagon shouting for her to exit. She barely remembered how he had died, but yet she stood there with his eviscerated corpse lying a gurling and bloodied mess at her feet. The sounds of screams around her, and angry shouts only added to the pandemonium in her head.

"You little shit-!" A soldier had charged at her, sword drawn and ready to strike. Her hands twitched, already slick with the dark essence of life that dripped from her dangerous fingertips. She felt the wind shift around her as the blade whistled through the air, her body reacting before she had even told it to, and the metal met nothing but dirt.

In her silence, her slitted eyes stared into the face of the taller man. The fear in his face told her that he was not yet ready to meet his doom, but she would be his reaper all the same. Her lips curled into a wicked snarl, every pointed tooth glistened in the light of the campfires. Such pitiful lamps would be swallowed in nothingness once she was done.

Another blink, and the second soldier had been gutted, and kneeling at her feet. Even in his clearly written fate, he begged her for mercy with pathetic wails. As her hair fell over her face in dark curtains, she focused on the agony writ in his face.

Feel as I feel. Suffer as I have suffered. You will see no mercy from me, worm.

Blackened tears leaked from her eyes as she permitted the void to guide her hand. Feeding on her anger, her rage, her despair...She gave it to them willingly. Cyra had spent her whole life in servitude. She had spent her whole life praying and hoping for a kinder placement. But the Gods never answered, and her body continued to be broken. She was a thing, to humans. And to even think that she had looked like them at some point in her life made her feel sick.

The things they had done to her, the violations of her body, her mind, her soul, they had built up within her. Unchecked rage, and a wrath she dared not even try to understand until the pressure had the emotions pouring out of her in a thick black ichor as viscous as the blood that boiled in her veins...and the blood that stained her hands.

She left the screaming man to his fate as she sought out her next target. She had truly become the hunter. Her vision blurred as the whites of her eyes flooded with the ichor of the Void, its malice pouring out of her eyes, streaking her grey skin with black. Her shaking hands clenched in violent, gory fists at her side as she hunched over.

This...this anger... This is not who I am! But... they deserve this.

"They deserve this." The words rolled off of her tongue as an ominous growl. "You did this to me! You made me do this!" She screeched out into the night.

"I am the suffering. I am the hate. I am the rage of human malice. And I will clean your stain from the land."

It wasn't only her voice that rang out through the fearful cries, but an inhuman chorus of whispers. As she stalked towards an armored man who had fallen trying to flee the demon that walked the field before him, she smiled. Her head had been tilted to the side, knuckles cracking as her fingers itched to be bathed in that warm flesh that stumbled as she approached.

"P-Please! H-have mercy! Gods have mercy!" His voice was a pathetic wail.

"You beg for mercy? Oh, how your sins sing to me in the guise of faith.." The wicked voice answered. She scowled as she shot forward, her body a blackened blur as deadly hands found their mark. In a crimson flurry, her talons bit into armored leather, and then into the softer flesh that lie beneath. She cackled as the man shrieked beneath her.

"Look what you've done! You, humanity, have created a monster." She sang out as the meat of the man's chest laid bare, open, and brutally gored. Yet it still wasn't enough. When would it be enough? The thought had given her prey's breath beneath her came to a gurgling stop.

"When will it be enough?" Cyra cried. She liked how the blood slicked her hands, how it glistened in the fire-light. She liked hearing their howls of suffering, just as she had heard it so many times before through her own voice, or through the cries of another. Her hands traveled from the body beneath her to run over her face, leaving black and red trails up to the wicked horns that curved up and back from her forehead. A devil she had been called, and that night a devil she would be.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Dank farrik!

Summary: Out of slavery but not yet out of danger Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Warning(s): Future Smut 18+, Implied Sexpollen, DubCon/NonCon Word Count: 1,091 Notes: I haven't written in like 10 months or more guys so go easy on me. I really just wanted to start this idea and see if anyone had any interest.

“Dank farrik!” 

You raise your eyebrow and stifle a laugh into the rough fabric tossed around your shoulders. Blanket would be too kind a term for this pathetic thing.

“DANK-” the Trandoshan’s curse is interrupted by a quick smack to the back of his head by your Mandalorian captor. Captor? Savior? Truth be told you weren’t sure.

The Trandoshan had kept you as his slave for some time now. It wasn’t until this evening it looked like your fate may change. You’d been sleeping on your usual mat in the corner of his sleeping chambers when a figure had crept into the room. The Mandalorian. He had pointed his blaster at you for only a split second. Your wide eyes told him that you obviously weren’t his intended bounty. A quick nod of your head, pointed him in the direction of your slave Master. The Mandalorian had made quick work of detaining the Trandoshan. Without a word exchanged you were shuffled out the door and onto the man’s awaiting ship along with your Master. 

“Are you okay?” The modulated voice asked. It took you a moment to realize he was speaking to you. You’d become quite accustomed to never speaking out of turn for fear of punishment. “You’re a slave aren’t you?” 

Still opting for silence, you nod politely. 

“I’m going to throw this piece of trash into carbonite,” the warrior said, hauling your former boss to his feet. “Will you be okay until I return?”

Another nod. 

The ship itself seemed void of luxuries. You had only seen hints of storage containers and some weaponry upon entry. You doubt you could find, let alone use, any weapon with success against the Mandalorian. If he had detained the slave master and asked about your well-being, perhaps a conversation wouldn’t be the worst. Despite the condition, he had offered you a blanket. 

A throat clear alerts you to his return. How did he move so silently with that armor? “Where is home? Anywhere from here to Nevarro would be easiest fuel wise…” He trails off awaiting your reply. 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You gaze at the helmet and hope you’re connecting with the eyes behind the vizor. “A slave can be passed from one master to another by many means.”

“I don’t do slaves.” The finality of his words is clear.

“I’m a good worker,” you beg. It isn’t your most proud moment. You hear some measured breaths from his mask. You would give anything to know what he’s thinking. You just need some hint so you can get in his good graces. You were good at reading people. The mask made it near impossible. 

“You must be tired.” The Mandalorian shows you to a small bunk with an equally pathetic cushion to match the blanket. Regardless, the kindness isn’t something to turn your nose at. 

***

The following days in deep space were uneventful; however, you had learned more about your Mandalorian savior. He had confirmed he was in fact a bounty hunter and had been looking for your master for some time. He also shared that he had more bounties he was going to detain on his way back to Nevarro. Kind as he was, he still had to make his living. You tried to make yourself as scarce as possible and stay out of his way. He seemed content being alone and stuck to his routines much as if you weren’t on the ship with him.

You sat in the small bunk he had led you to a couple nights prior, slowly eating a small ration pack when you heard the various compartments opening. This was new. 

“I’m going out.” Well that certainly caught your attention. “My target is here. I’ve dropped the Razor Crest about an hour or so out of town. You should be safe here until I return.”

You still struggle to find words to converse with the shiny helmeted man. It was like staring into a void. “When will that be?”

The helmet cocks slightly to the side, “You gonna miss me?”

If you had to guess the words were said with a smile. This wasn’t the first time he’d teased and taunted you; but this time the tone was different.  

Feeling safe to speak freely, “You’ll be back?”

“Well I’m not gonna leave your pretty little self to manage the ship all on your own.” It looks like he had completed packing his supplies and was loaded head to toe in weapons. You couldn’t quite figure out why his leaving made you anxious. 

“Be safe”

***

You’re jarred awake by the Razor Crest’s loading hatch opening. The Mandalorian had told you that he may be gone days and yet it was only hours past nightfall. Gently, you pad to the main cabin. 

He’s sitting at the small table in the cabin. Nothing looks out of place but something is dangerously wrong. The Mandalorian is rigid. Waves of something sweet waft off his armor in a golden pollen. 

“Mando?” You try to get a response. He’s staring straight at you, stoic as stone; yet his breathing comes in deep rasps. “Are you injured?”

“No” The one word reply comes out closer to a moan than a formed word. 

Hesitantly, you reach towards his pauldron hoping to shake him from whatever stupor is affecting his body. His gloved hand snatches your wrist out of the air. The grip is firm but not painful. 

“Mando?” You can hear the fear in your voice. The man who had been your savior, the only hint of kindness to you in stars-knows how long, and now here he was clearly unwell. 

“Not. In. Control.” The words are choked off in his helmet modulator. What could he possibly mean? 

Before you can think, you're babbling, “Let me just get you a medkit. One second. I’m sure I can find them.” His hold on your wrist tightens. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Next thing you know the cold metal of the Razor Crests hull is pressed firmly against your back. Mando has you pinned under him against the wall. You’ve never been this close to him, yet you knew his scent from the blanket and pillow of the cot. The notes of cedar and blaster discharge were comforting as you drift off to sleep each night. Now, it was pungent and radiating. If you weren’t so terrified you would have found the scent calming and pleasant. Instead it set every nerve of yours in high alert and your brain screaming that you were in danger. 

[puppetoffthehook]

Just a snippet of an idea I had. I don’t have the muse to write it but if anyone else wants to use it they can. I was basing it off of this song and it was gonna be about Billy going back to California and leaving everyone behind, making it big as a model or an actor, and growing exhausted by all the Hollywood bullshit. Maybe even reconnecting with an old crush. 😉

“So this is it, huh? Defeat Vecna and you think you can skip town without saying goodbye?”

Billy and Max stare at one another in silence for what feels like an eternity in the light of the rising sun. She should’ve been in bed still but maybe he hadn’t been as careful as he’d hoped while packing up his shit from the trailer. The blonde drops the last box in his passenger seat with a sigh.

“Didn’t wanna wake you up this early. It’s the weekend, you should be sleeping in.” It’s a piss-poor excuse and they both know it. She scoffs at him and Billy can’t help but smile. “… I know it’s shitty of me, Max. We’re still working on us getting along and shit and I feel bad, but.. I don’t think I can ever really heal in Hawkins.”

He can see in the redhead’s eyes that she understands what he means. There’s a lot of heavy shit in Hawkins for him; being a slave to Vecna’s will, all the people that died, nearly dying himself, the pain that comes with it all. Then being targeted again as a sacrifice but they managed to stop Vecna before he could be killed. The guilt that several others died before they could figure out how to win.

“California?”

“Nowhere else for me, kid.”

“Here. There’s here for you.” She gestures to the house, the road, and by extension Hawkins. “There’s him for you too.”

Billy looked up at her sharply only to be met with a sad smile. “You never told me but I figured it out. I didn’t say anything because I figured you were just trying to dodge Neil. But he’s gone so I figured.. if you wanna talk to me about it..”

[writingwhimsey]

A Mermaid Princess and A Pirate King

The next installment of my mermaid AU of Motonari's route! I hope you enjoy!

Reunion

I wasn’t sure exactly how many days it was, but we were eventually making port back in Aki. I was feeling somewhat stronger, surprisingly. Hiroyoshi had continued to bring me my meals while I had been on the ship.

“Just remember when ya get yer big tearful reunion with yer buddies, ya sing my praises.” Motonari told me. “And I’m Shojumaru.”

“Yes, yes I know.” I snapped at him. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Heh, heh sure ya ain’t, fish girl.” Motonari replied, grinning at me. “Just make sure ya fix yer face and have that big ole smile on when ya see yer buddies again.”

“I would think being kidnapped and put up for auction would be enough to traumatize anyone.” I replied. “So, if I don’t fix my face as you said, that would make more sense.”

“True, but I bought ya ‘fore anything too terrible could happen.” Motonari countered.

“Pretty sure I’d have preferred being bought by just about anyone else.” I replied. “I could have easily taken them down.”

“Ya talk a big game, Princess, but ya sure ain’t proved none of it yet.”

“Take this damn binding off of me and I’ll show you.” I replied, glaring at him defiantly.

Motonari’s smile only widened. “Heh, maybe one o’ these days when my plans are all done and the world’s the way it should be, I will.”

“And just how is the world supposed to be?” I asked him. “With you in charge?”

“Hell nah, I don’t want that shit.” Motonari replied. “I don’t want anyone up top. They do nothin’ but take and prop themselves up. Lookin’ down on everyone and makin’ ‘em their slaves.”

“If you don’t wanna be the one in charge then…what do you want?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

“I don’t care…just no one standin’ up top above everyone else.” Motonari answered. “No one tellin’ me what ta do.”

“Telling YOU what to do?” I asked.

“Just shut it.” Motonari commanded, glaring hard at me. “I don’t owe you an explanation fer nothin’. Yer my property and ya’ve got one purpose.” For someone who just down-talked slavery, he sure loved treating me like his property.

I felt a pang in my chest at the quick change in pace. He had seemed to be letting something slip, but then stopped, slamming that door back closed. But it did give me an idea. If I could get Motonari to trust me…maybe I could eventually get him to let me out of this damn bracelet and then I could take him down. We spent the rest of the walk back to his merchant house in silence, me contemplating how best to get him to trust me.

When we arrived back, I was greeted by a very relieved-looking Hideyoshi and Mitsunari. Hideyoshi seemed to forget himself and was pulling me into a tight hug. “Ava, thank gods you’re alright.” He said. “We have been so worried about you.”

I returned the hug, feeling tears sting my eyes at his warm kindness. He really was just like a big brother. “I’m so happy to see you again.” I replied.

“You have no idea how hard we have been searching for you, Lady Ava.” Mitsunari agreed. 

Hideyoshi released me from his hug and then turned to Motonari. “Thank you so much, Shojumaru. We owe you a great debt for finding and rescuing Ava.”

No. No you don’t! I internally screamed. He’s the reason I ended up captured in the first place!

“Think nothing of it, my lords.” Motonari replied, giving a deep bow. “I only wish I could have found the princess sooner, before she even had to go through such a terrible ordeal.”

Yeah, a terrible ordeal YOU put me through! I internally screamed.

“I should have known that scoundrel Motonari Mouri would target the princess.” Motonari continued.

“The important thing is Ava is safe now and that’s thanks to you.” Hideyoshi replied. “Now, we just need to find that bastard and make him pay, not only for what he did to Ava, but for what he did to Azichi and to even his own home.”

“Yes, it is a tragedy, indeed. The most heinous of crimes.” Motonari agreed.

You know, with as much as he pissed me off, I had to give the man credit as an actor.

“Were you able to get any closer to finding him?” Mitsunari asked.

Motonari shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, my lords.” He answered. “But I will keep looking and I swear to you, I won’t stop looking for him.”

Hideyoshi nodded resolutely. "We understand and really appreciate your efforts." He said. "Any information you can find we will greatly appreciate."

Motonari nodded and bowed. "Might I make a request that I believe will help us all in the matter of information sharing?"

Hideyoshi nodded. "Of course. What is your idea?"

"To accompany you back to Azuchi, my lords." Motonari answered. "That way when my contacts send word to me I can bring it directly to you and your lord right away."

So THAT was his plan all along! Oh, I hate saying this but he's good. Ugh, we could really use his intelligence on our side. I thought, though I worked hard to keep my expression neutral.

"That is a brilliant idea. I am sure Lord Nobunaga will be pleased." Hideyoshi replied after thinking for a moment. 

"Yes, and especially after your rescue of Lady Ava." Mitsunari agreed.

"I'll also be able to have the items you requested delivered sooner this way, my lady." Motonari said, looking at me, a polite smile on his face. Though his ruby eyes told me he had everything going according to his plan and I'd better play along.

"Oh, that would be most excellent, Shojumaru." I replied, hoping my tone didn't sound as sarcastic as it felt, as I held his gaze my own eyes showing my defiance. Yes I'm playing along with you for now, but that is all.

Motonari's smile took on an amused look. It was as if he found me entertaining. Clearly he was thinking Yeah right, fish girl!

We stayed in Aki a few more days before we were setting out back to Azuchi. This time with "Shojumaru" in tow. During the ride back, Motonari made sure to stay close to me. Though he had me completely under his control thanks to the damn shackle on my wrist, he didn't seem to trust me alone.

We were about one more days ride away from Azuchi. We were all camping out anf most everyone had gone to bed. I was feeling restless and was sitting by the fire, needing reading a book on medicinal herbs. It was more or less something to occupy my mind though that kept wandering.

"You're awake awfully late, my lady."

I sighed as I looked up at Motonari. Clearly he was keeping up his act in case the night watchmen were close by. "Just restless and decided to do some reading." 

He smiled at me. "Well, then hope you don't mind if I keep you company." He said as he plopped down at my side, though not too close. "What are you reading?"

I held up the book so he could see. "About medicinal herbs. Never hurts to know about as many as possible."

Motonari looked genuinely intrigued. "You really are a hard working Princess."

"Just trying to do my part. There's already enough pain and death in the world. I may as well do something to help alleviate some of it." I replied, giving my honest feelings.

Motonari snorted derisively. Then spoke in a low voice so only I could hear. "Ain't no way anyone's that kind. What do ya get outta takin' care o' everyone else, huh? What's yer game?" He asked glaring at me.

I glared right back at him. "Believe what you want, but I really do care. I DO WANT to help. I'm a healer first."

"That healers heart is what got ya in trouble in the first place, fish girl."

"For now." I reminded him. "Though clearly you are scared that the power won't hold, since you won't leave me alone."

"Just makin' sure my investment pays off." Motonari replied with a toothy grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever asshole." I replied, shutting my book and standing up. "Goodnight Shojumaru." I was then walking off towards my tent.

Motonari got up and followed me. "Night, fish girl." He told me as we reached my tent.

I fought the urge to slap him as I stepped inside my tent grumbling incoherently about that damn pirate. I got one of the worst nights of sleep I’d had in a while and the next day on the last leg of our ride, I was feeling very irritated.

“Is there something the matter, my lady?” Motonari asked in his SHojumaru voice as he rode beside me.

“Terrible night of sleep.” I answered, glaring hard at him.

“That’s a shame.” He replied. “I might be able to find you some herbal teas that can help with that.”

“Ava, you should definitely let Shojumaru find you some tea. Or I might have something in my stores when we get back to Azuchi.” Hideyoshi added. “Sleep is very important.”

“Says the man who gets the least amount of sleep in all of Azuchi.” I replied, giving Hideyoshi a fond smile.

“We were talking about you.” Hideyoshi replied.

“Deflecting as always.” I replied. “Take care of yourself too, dear big brother Yoshi.”

Hideyoshi’s cheeks seemed to turn a bit pink at my teasing, which made me smile. Though with Motonari around and the difficult situation, it really did feel great to be reunited with a portion of my new family.

I happened to look over at Motonari and noticed he was watching me and Hideyoshi. He seemed to have a rather grumpy look on his face. That went away as soon as Hideyoshi looked back at him however and the Shojumaru mask was back on.

“I am sure Masamune will have a feast prepared.” Hideyoshi told him. “Have to give you a proper welcome to the castle and thank you for saving Ava.”

“I am honored.” Motonari replied with a bow. I happened to catch sight of the side of his face, a deep frown had appeared, but was gone by the time he came back up. I’m really starting to think of Shojumaru as “Customer Service Motonari.”

We soon arrived at Azuchi castle and were greeted at the gates by the rest of the found family. When I dismounted my horse, Masamune was soon sweeping me up into a tight hug. “Welcome back, lass! Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Hey, I wanna hug the Princess, too!” Keiji declared with a pout as he pulled me from Masamune and was crushing me against his chest.

“Ooof!” I grumbled, but wore a happy smile as I returned each hug.

“Hey, it’s my turn! Don’t you big meatheads hog Lady Ava!” Ranmaru practically whined as he was then coming for a hug as well.

“I didn’t realize you guys missed me so much.” I said, smiling, feeling like I was being welcomed home by the best group of brothers.

“Things are never as fun without you, little mouse.” Mitsuhide replied, giving me his usual cheshire grin. “And you did give us quite the scare when we heard word of your kidnapping.”

“Yes, I commend you on coming back in one piece, Fireball.” Nobunaga greeted me, giving his usual haughty smile. Sharp carnelian eyes were then meeting red eyes as he looked at Motonari. “And I hear we have you to thank for her safe return, Shojumaru.”

“I am only happy I was able to do my part.” Motonari replied, bowing deeply to Nobunaga.

“Alright, come on. I made a big feast to celebrate your safe return and our hero of the day, Shojumaru!” Masamune declared. “I made all your favorites, lass.”

I smiled warmly at Masamune. “Your cooking? Say no more. Just lead the way!” Despite the binding on my wrist and knowing I was stuck bound to Motonari until I could figure my way out… I was happy to be back with the Oda forces. I would find a way to protect them all.

We gathered in the main hall to feast and catch up. Motonari stayed close to my side the entire evening. The man wouldn’t take his eyes off me. He seemed to watch me especially close whenever one of the Oda forces would come over to chat with me.

“Lady Ava, what are you doing here with Master Shojumaru? You should join the rest of us!” Ranmaru declared, giving Motonari an especially disgruntled look.

“Forgive me for taking all the lady’s attention.” Motonari said, smiling at Ranmaru. Though his smile was friendly his eyes were sharp. 

“You do appear rather attached to my lucky charm.” Nobunaga commented from his place on the dais.

Motonari was moving away from me then and going to bow low before Nobunaga. “Forgive me my lord, but I have completely fallen for Lady Ava and I can’t help but want to be near her.”

I blinked. Oh, what fresh hell is this?! I screamed internally. A new ploy to keep close to me and by extension the rest of the Oda forces.

“Shojumaru, I don’t think this is appropriate…” Hideyoshi scolded.

Nobunaga waved his hand dismissively at Hideyoshi. “It is alright.”

“Forgive my audacity, my lord.” Motonari said, looking like the picture of contrition. “But I can’t help to have fallen for my lady. And if I may, I have a request.”

“Go ahead.” Nobunaga said with a casual nod.

“While I am in Azuchi and awaiting word from my contacts, might I accompany the lady as her guard? I would like to keep my lady safe.” Motonari said, still bowed low. “I am afraid that that monster Motonari Mouri will try targeting her again and I would like to protect her.”

“I don’t think that’s really necessary…” I tried to speak up, but then Nobunaga was dismissing me.

“You are my lucky charm and I will decide what is best for your safety.” Nobunaga told me. “I grant you your request, Shojumaru.”

I fought off a grumble. Fuck all of you! Just take my freedom and my personhood and cut it up and serve it like cake. Why don’t we?! I internally screamed.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to trust Shojumaru with something as important as protecting Lady Ava?” Ranmaru asked, clearly having not fallen for Motonari’s act. At least someone knew how to smell a snake around here!

“I have not given him my trust. I am only choosing to use whatever tools are available to me.” Nobunaga replied.

“I see.” Ranmaru replied, frowning, but knowing he shouldn’t argue further.

The party went on for a while. Motonari was watching me as closely as ever. Though I was observing him as well. I would find a weakness. There had to be something I could use against him. He seemed to frown every time he saw me interacting with the Oda forces. The other odd thing I noticed was that he didn’t touch his food nor his sake. I wasn’t sure what this signified, but it meant something. Perhaps he was worried about poison? Didn’t want to have his senses dulled around his enemies, perhaps? These were things I could think and ponder on as I tried to solve the puzzle that was Motonari and stop whatever his plan was.

[harmcityherald]

Ideas make you a target but silence makes you a slave.

[themultiversebundle]

Abused 1

Silence. Other than the hisses and creaks of the robotic joins of his master, silence was all Kurai heard. He dared not speak at the moment, afraid of what would happen if he did. Not that he could speak really anyway, since his whole throat was damaged from the recent light magic injected into his body. It hurt to breath, but Kurai didn’t want to complain about it. Not after the trouble he was in.

    It wasn’t that long ago that Kurai was kept in some prison and torture place for Dark beings. It was awful, and Kurai could still feel them picking and poking at him. Pushing him to see how fast his speed really was, and even at points refusing him food and water just to see how it would effect his running time. They were even fascinated over the fact he already had a collar on him, acting as if he was some kind of lost pet.

    The hedgehog gave a shudder, which made Metal pause in his walking and look over. Kurai didn’t say a word, and even tried to pretend nothing was wrong until the robot started to walk again. Kurai honestly wasn’t sure if being in that miserable place was any better than being back in the hands of his creator. The dark being was trying to escape the robot’s grasp when he was caught by hunters for the prison, and now he was back being a slave.

    Although a part of him was thankful the robot had come for him and broke him out of that horrible building. At the same time though, Kurai had to be punished for trying to escape. That is when the searing pain of the light magic from his collar was released. That was why it hurt to breath or swallow. There was no reason to talk. It would end up making Metal angry, not to mention he might get another punishment.

    Once his master stopped, Kurai did the same. They were still for a few moments before Metal pointed ahead. “The emerald is ahead.” Kurai felt like shrinking under the robot’s gaze, but instead directed his own gaze to the ground. “Fetch.”

    That was an order. Kurai took a deep breath before running ahead into the town. He wanted to ask Metal where the target was exactly before he left, but knew that the robot wouldn’t have the patience for that. Thankfully the emerald wasn’t hard to find, as it was within a store window. With a quick motion Kurai had broke the glass and grabbed the emerald. The alarms went off. He was going to run off back to Metal when he realized there was a bakery right next door.

    His stomach growled, reminding him of the fact he hadn’t eaten since a night or two ago. Most likely because it was part of his Master’s punishment for him. It wouldn’t be hard to enter the building and steal some bread, although that wasn’t what Metal sent him to do.

    There was only two choices: steal the bread and eat it, with the chance of Metal finding out and the hedgehog getting punished, or going right to Metal with the emerald.

    One of his hands went to his collar, a bit afraid of getting light poisoning again. That is when he heard voices and sirens. Any chance to grab food was gone now, he had to leave. With great speed he ran back out of the town, slowing as he got back to Metal, who was only a little far from the edges of it.

    “You took too long.” Came the robotic voice. Kurai felt as if Metal was glaring at him, although he knew the robot always looked that way. The hedgehog presented the emerald to the robot, who gladly took it from him. Giving it a quick examination before turning to walk away. “…But at least you delivered. Come, dog. We have to make up for the mess you have made.”

    “…Can…Can I have something to eat?” Kurai flinched as Metal turned back towards him. The hedgehog’s voice sounded awful and raspy, but what was worse was the idea he was about to get smacked for such a request. He tried not to pull away from Metal, as he tensed his body, ready for any sort of pain the robot was going to give. When it didn’t happen the hedgehog gave a peek up, seeing that Metal was staring him down, but appeared to be thinking about it.

    “…I suppose you have learned your lesson.” The robot turned away, and Kurai felt a bit relieved. “Yes, we shall get you something to fill you in the next town. Come, let us go.” With that he started to walk. Kurai followed. Sure, Kurai wished he wasn’t in this situation, but at least he knew he would never starve like he did in that horrible building. At least he knew he’d be kept alive.

    For now.

[amuseoffyre]

Generational Trauma in OFMD

Entirely boggled to learn there's a subset of #OurFlagMeansDeath fandom who think that Ed isn't canonically a BIPOC character? Because they don't say aloud that he is? My beige dudes, the actor is Māori. They cast a Māori actress to play his mother. This was not an accident. 

Taika has always been proudly vocal about his mixed heritage and the fact they canonically gave Ed a white father and a Māori mother is so important in the context of Ed's character. The show is set at Peak Empire, when England (and Europe) colonised everything.

There's a powerful thread of subtext of this history within her characterisation and this show doesn’t do anything accidentally: she is a house servant, trapped in poverty, abused and controlled by her white partner, and conditioned to believe that "it's not up to us, it's up to God".

For anyone unfamiliar with European colonialism, the role the church played in it is toxic. The stolen generations and the people descended from the kids put through the Christian school systems are a legacy of it: children of indigenous people abducted and forcibly cut off from their culture to be ‘civilised’ through Christianity and assimilated into a white-centric culture. The entire system was a genocidal horror story perpetuated in the name of God for centuries in almost every single colony. The children were abused and conditioned to believe they were lesser, better than their heritage but still never good - ‘white’ - enough. “We’re not that kind and never will be”.

So when Ed’s mother says “it’s not up to us, it’s up to God”, that is the voice of a child of colonial violence repeating what she was taught by abuse and by rote to make sure she knows her humble place in the world order created by the Christian Empires. The fact she’s a servant is also so integral to this. The Christian schools trained the children to be workers but most specifically in low-level manual/domestic work. The people running the show didn’t want them getting ideas above their station, after all. 

Not a word of this show is incidental. The history is there if you listen to it and it makes the red silk scene devastating because we are seeing a woman from a colonised culture literally and metaphorically pass that trauma on to her son. 

Think of the first time we see the silk: it is immediately in the aftermath of Ed’s encounter with the French Captain. This is the moment when Ed is faced with the same level of racial abuse as Frenchie and Olu get from the white Navy officers in episode 1 - “made by savages”, “silence, slave!” “your master may tolerate uppity behaviour”.

The Captain refers to Ed as “your kind”, immediately designating him as something Other and Uncivilised by comparison to himself. Ed reels as if slapped at that alone, asking tersely “what’s that supposed to mean?”. The man derisively says “a rich donkey is still a donkey”.

But no, sure, tell me there’s nothing inherently racist about a posh white man describing a brown man in terms of a beast of burden, something meant for manual work, carrying things for its owner and known for being beaten into submission. /end sarcasm. In many documents from that era, this was a common way for white (especially English) Europeans to write about anyone not white, regardless of rank, culture or history: comparisons with animals, beasts, lower creatures are all over the place. (eta: it has also been confirmed that donkey itself was commonly used as a slur against Polynesian and Pasifika people, which makes this a deliberately targeted racist insult)

Ed, unsurprisingly, does not react well. The fact that this is the thing to make him lose his temper for the first time underscores how distressing it is for him, especially when it segues into the flashback to his mother, repeating that same lesson to him.

The way these two scenes overlapped is so important because not only does it define Ed’s history but also demonstrates that - even decades after the fact - the legacy of generational trauma has not and will not go away. 

[fangirleaconmigo]

Prince Jaskier x Gladiator/Bed Warmer Geralt Fic Idea

Part one

Part two (in the reblog)

Part three:

The next morning, Jaskier is invited to take a meal with the royal family. He recognizes that this is another good sign. It means he performed well the day before. He convinced the king that he appreciated the gift of the warrior's body. 

However, he is not the same man he was yesterday.  He is no longer confident and boisterous. Today he is anxious and afraid. He made promises last night, and he has no idea how he will keep them. The champion's golden eyes burn in his consciousness. The idea that Jaskier could fail him threatens to take him apart. 

He asks for Yen and Milva to be invited to the meal as well, because he needs some familiar (if not, in the case of Yen, friendly) faces.

It helps, and is probably is what saves him from exploding when the queen asks how their champion was last night. Was he obedient? Was he sweet? He didn't try anything did he? Sometimes he's jumpy with new people.

Jaskier feels the hot coals glowing in his gut, but he manages to keep his mouth clamped shut. Milva, however, does not. Her shock that Jaskier took a bed slave for the night is too much. The entire room hears her outraged yelp. She never could hold her temper. Her outburst is quickly silenced by Yen. Jaskier knows that hand motion. Yen is performing magic. Soon, Milva is nauseated, and Yen excuses them both from the room. "My deepest apologies, our noble archeress has fallen ill."

There is consternation on the part of the king and queen. The queen mutters something about the savage probably being unused to food that has been washed before consumption.

Jaskier feels horrified, yes, but also a bit relieved. They have forgotten about his answer, so he doesn't have to pretend that he ravished the warrior.

Before Yen leaves with Milva propped on her arm, she gives Jaskier a stern look. He knows that look. It says...do not burn this fucking place down while I am gone. It is his desire to prove his worth to a dubious Yen that helps him keeps his wits about him.

He waits for the conversation to slip into a pleasant lull filled with sipping and the clattering of dishes. He clears his throat and says that watching the games has woken something in him. He wants to learn to fight. A man, especially a leader, should be strong. He asks to spar with the champion. To train with him.

The king laughs. He says that Jaskier will learn everything important in his kingdom. To fuck and to fight. He says that Jaskier's father sent him a boy and he will return him a man.

Jaskier feels somewhat better having a plan to see the warrior again. He does just fine the rest of the meal. He treats it like a performance. When he overcompensates with exaggerated charm and insincere flattery, he is quite able to fake it with the best of them. It is a talent he never even knew he had. Also, delivering an arsenal of veiled, passive aggressive insults that his targets are too arrogant to pick up on, makes him feel a tiny bit better.

His slight satisfaction dissipates when he returns to his room. The moment he closes the door behind him he is seized by the collar and thrown against a wall. 

"If I had known the sweet little brat I've put years of my life into training would turn to conquering hero," Milva spits bitterly, "the moment he is offered the slightest royal privilege, I would have put an arrow in him..."

Yen subdues Milva once again, only without magic this time. She pulls the archeress off of the prince.

"Calm down, Milva. Take your hands off his highness. He didn't...conquer...anybody."

"No? They certainly thought you did--"

Jaskier pleads his case. He didn't touch him! In fact, the warrior touched him. Just one whisper of a callous down his cheekbone while he was asleep. At least that is what he thinks. Maybe it was a dream. He touches his cheek and looks into the middle distance.

Yen laughs. "His highness is sweet on him, don't you see, Milva?"

Jaskier splutters and reflexively tries to deny it. 

Yen shakes her head. "Why do you think he has been so obedient when his parents have forbad him from cavorting with noble ladies and lusty wenches? Why do you think he looks so flushed and pleased when one of the noble knights winks at him in the stands? He loves warriors. And this one...this one with the sad story. He's like fisstech in his veins."

Jaskier is furious. It is true, ok? But it is also wrong what they are doing to the warrior. He tells them that the warrior tried so hard to stay awake that he didn't surrender to sleep until after daybreak. He tells them that when he woke the warrior, the man almost leapt out of his skin with shock and fear. Jaskier says that it broke his heart. It shattered it. He wants to free the warrior. They have to help him figure out how.

Yen reminds him that they cannot change anything here until they can get some kind of leverage or power. He needs the treaty, and he needs the marriage. And what's more, he agreed to exercise restraint. To keep his mouth shut about these kinds of thing until they were in a better position to fix them.

Yes, he says, but he didn't *know* what that really meant when he made that promise. He knew it in his mind, but it was another thing to see it. To feel it.

Yen tells him she understands, but that he will learn. It is like this in almost every kingdom. How many sorceresses in king's courts are treated as nothing more than bedwarmers? She says that in her first assignment, that is how she was treated.

"Does that make it right?" asks Jaskier.

"No!" she retorts. But the warrior is not the person to whom Jaskier owes a sacred duty to protect. That is his people, and they are suffering. She reminds him of the collapsed mine, the impending hunger and poverty. She reminds him that his mother is ill and needs a steady supply of the river algae from this kingdom. If he abandons his subjects and loved ones because of his eager cock and his impulsive heart, he will fail his father, and he will fail them all. After all, he didn't even look at the princess the entire meal. He needs to do better than that. "Your highness." she adds on the end.

Jaskier's face takes a journey while Yen is speaking. First, he is angry. But at the mention of his people and his mother, he looks so dejected that Milva takes pity on him. She throws her arms around him, hugging him tight. She is relieved that he is still the sweet little brat she knows him to be.

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. The guards are there to escort Jaskier to his training session with the warrior. Yen and Milva's jaws both drop open in shock.

"You have a training session, your highness?" Yennefer asks, her voice so shrill it almost squeaks..

The guards motion for Jaskier to follow them. As their backs turn, Jaskier looks back at Yen and Milva, smiling sheepishly. "I meant to tell you. You were just talking so much I couldn't get in a word edgewise." He shrugs and Yen almost turns purple. 

"Fuck that," says Milva. "He could crush your skull like a grape. I'm going too." She pulls on her bow and moves to join him. Jaskier has turned to follow the guards but he flips around and plants his feet. “No. If I bring an assassin with me, he isn’t going to trust me.”

“So you’d rather be dead?” Milva asks incredulously.

“I won’t die. I trust him.”

Yen rubs her temples. “Dear gods.”

"Besides," says Jaskier. "The palace guards will be with me."

"I don't trust them to protect you the way I would."

Jaskier shrugs again and follows the guards, leaving his advisor and his protector fuming and frustrated.

----

Geralt is inside the gladiator quarters doing calisthenics. He has spent the morning suffocating every feeling the young prince provoked in him. He has been focusing on his next match, and on the form of his body as he performs the training exercises. He has just managed to banish the image of the handsome young face and the feeling of hot skin under the tip of his finger.

Just as he is crouching, about to perform a long jump, he hears the sound of a musical, haughty voice outside his door.

"No, it has to be the White Wolf. I only want the best."

Geralt loses his balance. As he hits the dirt, skidding to a stop on his knees, he looks to the sky. The barracks are under the coliseum, so in truth he looks at the rafters. He has never believed in the gods, but it doesn't stop him from muttering what sounds like a prayer.

Give me strength.

PART FOUR

-----------

My Note:

I am not sure if these posts, which are sort of like summaries or descriptions of what I'm going to write, (but are not full fics), are what people want to be tagged on. So I'll probably wait to use the tag list until I start posting the full fic.

I will probably post one or two more of these, but at some point I'm going to just start posting the full fic instead. Because as I plot and outline, there are a ton of details I need to weave in to complete a plot.

For example, Milva and Yen popped up in this one. Now that I have a full plot, Yen is going to be his father's top political advisor who accompanies him. She is extremely nervous about having an amateur on this mission. Milva (a character from the books) is going to be his archery instructor (and official national emissary to Brokilon) who is serving as his security on the trip.

Alright! Tell me what you're thinking.

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[nevermore-the-kitsune]

Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: In a world where the different Jedi sects co-exist, Ahsoka Tano and her Master Obi-Wan Kenobi are waiting for a stranger in the desert.

AN: I have started a new WIP.

Ahsoka had learned quite a lot since she had become her Master’s Padawan. Mostly she had been taught how to fight, take down opponents twice her size, how to defend and protect others by building walls higher than anyone could climb, and not get lost in the screaming, tear-stained horror of war. Perhaps it was not the padawanhood that Ahsoka had imagined, but she wouldn’t trade Obi-Wan for any other Master. He was patient, kind, and never lost his temper with her, even when Ahsoka made a foolish mistake, and the day had been longer than a week.

Her Master always kept busy, running around organizing one thing or another. The evidence of his exhaustion was visible in the bags under his eyes he didn’t quite manage to hide behind meditations anymore. He was relentlessly trying to find a way to end this war earlier, to save more people, to lessen the burden on each and every person he loved. Ahsoka would be glad if they could cease fighting within just a few short months, but even she knew that the chance of peace was dwindling with every life lost on either side.

And they certainly weren’t on Tatooine to talk about peace. At most, they were hoping to negotiate non-involvement from the Hutts – at least superficially, of course the Hutts would continue with their underground dealings, even the GAR relied on it – and use of their hyperspace lanes.

“General, if you don’t mind me asking, who are we waiting for?”

Ahsoka was glad that Cody had spoken up. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to keep her silence much longer. She hadn’t wanted to pester Obi-Wan with questions, but she was curious why they had landed in the middle of the Force-forsaken desert in the middle of the night and not anywhere near Jabba’s palace.

“We are waiting for an informant,” Obi-Wan said. “An old friend, if you will.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to ask what kind of friend Obi-Wan had on Tatooine of all places when she saw a figure approaching on a speeder. Immediately, everyone looked up. When a few of the more blaster-inclined clones of their small squadron reached for their weapons, Obi-Wan gave them the hand sign to lay low. They exchanged curious looks but dropped the guns, trusting him completely. Ahsoka hoped that she could inspire such trust in her someday.

The person parked their speeder just outside of their camp. From what Ahsoka could see, they were dressed entirely in dark robes, cut not dissimilar to those of a Coruscanti Jedi, while their face was covered by a dark scarf. Various trinkets hung from their belts and arms, as well as twin blasters, making the barest of noises when they approached the camp. Golden jewelry glinted in the light of their fire, feathers, pouches, bells, and something that could be bones chimed sweetly with the wind. The figure stretched, then they took notice of Obi-Wan. Quicker than Ahsoka could have stopped them, they had crossed the remaining distance and thrown themselves at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan!”

Her Master just barely managed to keep his balance as he accepted the hug of the other person. They embraced tightly, an eternity passing in which dark leather-gloved fingers dug into her Master’s back, then let go of each other. The figure removed the dark scarf from around their head, let it fall around their neck, revealing tanned skin, a human face, and dark blonde hair that was framed by little golden feathers tugged behind his ears.

The person smiled openly, rolled forward on their toes and only then spoke. “It’s been a while.”

Their voice was surprisingly soft, melodic almost.

“That it has,” Obi-Wan agreed, smiling just as welcoming, the Force lighting up in reciprocal. “It has been too long since we last saw each other, Anakin. Thank you for meeting us here, even if the circumstances are not ideal.”

The newly named Anakin just shrugged. “I was in the area and really, making an extra stop at Tatooine for you is no trouble.”

The two looked ready to forget about just everyone else still standing around the campfire, watching them, and so Ahsoka decided to do her duty and coughed. “Master, would you be so kind as to introduce us?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Apologies, Ahsoka.”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin mumbled, then snapped their fingers, alight with recognition as they faced Obi-Wan. “Your Padawan, correct?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin grinned, pointing at Cody next. “And then that must be Cody. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Anakin Skywalker, he/him.”

He bowed formally with both his feet firm on the ground, one hand clasped over his heart, the other on his back. Delighted, Ahsoka copied the gesture. It had been ages since she’d been at the temple and someone had greeted her with all the respect Jedi usually gave each other.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Ahsoka returned his greeting, still trying to figure out who this Anakin was that her Master had decided to talk to him about her.

“Anakin here is a Teepo Paladin—”

“Sort of,” Anakin interrupted Obi-Wan, tilting his hand and shaking it in a so-and-so matter. “I haven’t been back to our temple in years, so I’m still not technically a Paladin, but still a Knight on their Search…”

He stopped talking when he realized that nobody had any idea of what he was talking about. Ahsoka didn’t know much about the Teepo Paladins. They were a relatively small group, and unlike the Altisian or Corellian Jedi, they hadn’t joined the Republic Army and stayed mostly on their own, following the Force. Ahsoka had learned about them, and all the other groups the ordinary sentient threw under the header Jedi, in her classes, but she’d never actually met a Teepo Jedi.

“Doesn’t matter,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “How can I help you?”

“We need to negotiate with Jabba,” Obi-Wan said, not wasting a single minute. “Do you think you can tell us something that would be useful?”

“Uh,” Anakin put his head in his hands. “Yeah, he’s a bastard and gates my guts. If he sees me around you guys, it’s definitely not going to be pleasant.”

“What did you do to him?” Ahsoka asked, curiosity taking ahold of her tongue before she could stop herself.

Anakin didn’t seem to mind the interruption; he only eagerly continued his narration. “Decided to steal his latest shipment of slaves and then some. With Coruscant, Corellia, and the Altisian bores—”

“Anakin.” Her Master’s voice rang out sharp, reminding Ahsoka of the times he scolded her.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, the Altisian Jedi all running the Republic army, the rest, who hasn’t sworn allegiance to a planet or a system, is just doing damage control all around. I’ve wrecked a couple dozen pirate ships already, or so it feels, at least. But yeah, long story short, I won’t be able to help with Jabba, but I can provide backup if it goes sideways?”

Obi-Wan sighed, but even so, he still felt happy and comfortable to Ahsoka’s senses as he hadn’t in weeks. “We’ll take what we can get. I’ll call the Council. Do you want to stay with us for the night?”

Anakin gave him a thumbs up. “Already told my mother I was staying. And I brought my own food, so you don’t have to spare your rations. I think I might even have some sweets.” He glanced at Ahsoka and winked conspiringly, making her giggle.

Obi-Wan’s expression softened. “Alright, alright, I see, you’re set for life. Get comfortable then.”

He turned around to walk a little away from the camp, but from the way his shoulders twitched, Ahsoka assumed that he definitely heard Anakin’s shouted: “Not without you!”

As her Master had ordered, everyone who wasn’t on watch gathered around the campfire and broke out the rations. Anakin did, indeed, share his candy with her and handed out more of the local food to the clones.

“My mother packed it,” he said when he shared more of the salt-covered blackberries. “It would be a waste not to share it.”

Sitting around the fire with them, he fit right in despite not looking much like a warrior. If anything, his attire, decorated with trinkets that had to stem from various planets, reminded Ahsoka of a traveler. But if she were to believe his stories, he must be quite the fighter. Ahsoka knew that more and more pirates were growing powerful and influential without Coruscant’s oversight, but she hadn’t known that the other sects had stepped up to deal with it. She wondered if the Council knew. Though, Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed surprised by it, so they were probably aware.

“So, do you not carry a lightsaber?” Ticker, one of the younger clones, asked. “I only see your blasters. I didn’t know Jedi carried those.”

“The Coruscant sect doesn’t,” Anakin agreed and then turned to Ahsoka. “Though, I think you’re still all taught how to? I know Obi-Wan’s wickedly good with a sniper rifle.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka replied quickly. She got her blaster sessions with the best marksmen of the 212th, who all ensured she should be fine if she ever lost her lightsaber.

Not that Ahsoka was planning on it.

“Right, my Order carries blasters additionally to our lightsabers.” He moved his robes and revealed his lightsaber. “I just keep it a little more hidden away. It makes it easier to work sometimes if people don’t see from a mile away that you’re a Jedi.”

Ahsoka found herself agreeing with him. It made sense and she knew that there had been at least five missions that would have been easier if their target hadn’t immediately spotted that she was a lightsaber. She knew that her Order carried the blades openly purposefully so that they could be easily identified, they had to be as they were an officially recognized member of the Republic, but Quinlan and Aayla didn’t. Most Covenant Jedi actually didn’t, ensuring they could do their work in the shadows. Occasionally, Ahsoka wondered whether she was supposed to know so much about how they operated, or if that was just a benefit of Obi-Wan being close friends with Quinlan.

“And where’s the difference between your… everything and the General’s?”

“Don’t ask me for details,” Anakin said. “Haven’t had one of those discussions in a while, but our differences aren’t that huge. Most of the differences stem from the Republic backing of the Coruscant sect, I think. The members of my Order just also carry blasters and fight entirely submerged in the Force. We also don’t really do missions, which sucks for budgeting because we still have to get funding, and just go wherever the Force takes us. We don’t really have the numbers to provoke the big changes, that’s more up Coruscant’s or Corellia’s alley. We try to help the small people on the ground and hope the big guys make sure we can leave one planet in safe hands and travel to the next.”

That sounded familiar to Ahsoka. The Coruscant sect was the largest, so they had the most influence, even if too many Senators only played pretend at listening to their suggestions. At least the Chancellor trusted them.

“What do you mean, fight submerged in the Force?” A different clone, Storytime, ever the curious, spoke up. “Is that different from the General and the Commander?”

“Oh! Right.” Anakin laughed. “So basically, we cover our eyes and ears during a fight?”

“You do what?” Cody’s alarmed tone made Ahsoka only snort. She still remembered his attempt at getting Obi-Wan to wear a little more armor by pointing at the Revanchist folks that had accompanied them on one mission.

It had been an absolute train-wreck, but they had managed to succeed. Somehow.

Anakin only grinned in reply and reached for the golden feathers behind his ears. He took them off, revealing that they were not, in fact, feathers, but electronic devices with small buttons. 

“I tap these, and they block out any and all noise and cover my eyes. Then I trust the Force to keep me safe and tell me where I need to pay attention.”

“That sounds… risky.” If Ahsoka didn’t know better, she’d say that Cody was having a heart attack. His assessment of that fighting style had been exceedingly polite given that he looked as if he wanted to cuss it out.

Anakin shrugged as if it were no big deal to him and, having grown up in such a way, it probably wasn’t. “It wasn’t that difficult to get used to. I grew up here on Tatooine. The sand and the heat steal away plenty of your senses already.”

“You weren’t raised in your temple then?”

Anakin shook his head. “No, not really. We do have a temple, a rather small one, not even a tenth of Coruscant’s size. We raise children there, but most of the time, everyone is just on their Search.”

He emphasized the last word so that Ahsoka concluded it must be a special ritual that wasn’t like their Search for younglings.

“My Master was on his Search when he found me and since the Force didn’t call him home, he continued to travel with me.”

That sounded like a strange childhood to have. Ahsoka hadn’t known anything of the galaxy but the temple walls and Ilum until Obi-Wan had accepted her as his Padawan. Since then, she had seen plenty of other planets, even if she hadn’t had too much time to appreciate their beauty. She wondered how Anakin had gotten his education. Ahsoka had attended many classes of dozens of teachers in the temple. His childhood didn’t appear to resemble hers a lot, but she could easily picture a small human boy trailing after another masked Jedi, chatting with just the same cheer he was talking now.

“Sounds fascinating,” Storytime breathed. 

“Once the war is over, feel free to come to visit us. I know of at least one other Paladin who has attached himself to a Clone squadron and is planning to take them home for a visit at least once.”

“That would be very kind,” Storytime replied.

“No problem.”

Anakin then suddenly turned his head, his motion so rash that the clones instinctually reached for their blasters. Thankfully, they recognized Obi-Wan quickly enough that nobody got hurt accidentally.

Obi-Wan only blinked at them and then sat down next to Anakin. “What a lovely greeting.”

Some of the clones sheepishly packed their blasters away while others just shot back a look that was as dry as Obi-Wan’s words. They were on Tatooine; it made sense to be even more on guard than usual.

“And? What did your Council say?” Anakin asked, handing Obi-Wan a plate with food.

“Coruscant is not taking any responsibility for any outside agents who might get involved in this mission,” Obi-Wan replied, the flow of his words so steady that he had to be reciting the words of another.

“That’s council speak for ‘let him do whatever he wants’, right?”

Obi-Wan paused with his meal to confirm his question. “Yes, Anakin, that means you can do whatever you want. But if you get invited by the Republic for a hearing, we’re not backing you up either.”

“Yes, yes, I had expected nothing else from you sticker-to-the-rules Coruscanti.”

“Says the head-in-the-clouds Teepo,” Obi-Wan retorted in the same manner, matching Anakin’s intonation, quoting old stereotypes that used to be hurled as insults but have since only become something almost akin to terms of endearments.

“So, when are we going to leave?” Ahsoka asked. She wanted to know if she should go to bed early or prepare herself for a long night.

“Tomorrow before the sun rises,” Obi-Wan said, glancing at Anakin for confirmation.

“Yes, best to leave early on Tatooine. I’d also suggest trying to get some sleep. Negotiations will be exhausting.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. “You know what that means, Ahsoka.”

“Yes, yes.” Ahsoka stood up. “Bedtime for me. I’m not a little youngling anymore, Master. I know when to get my sleep.”

She bid them goodnight and headed back towards the ship, ready to sleep curled up in the small med-station of their transport that was as close to a proper bed as she could get. She didn’t know how much longer her Master and his friend stayed up, but both looked well-rested when she got up the next day. Her Master, perhaps, even a little less exhausted than usual.

[keys-to-the-kinkdom]

i see medical/examination kink on your list 👀 maybe someone (take your pick) examining ciri? perhaps she's a sex slave they're getting ready to sell??? - 👽

Aiden was at the slave market under contract. Despite his reputation, he did tend to prefer his partners consenting, but a grieving widow had put out a contract on a slaver and Aiden had been too much of a bleeding heart to say no. Lambert was going to laugh himself sick when he heard. The problem he was having was that his target was back at the slave pens. The public weren't allowed access to the slave pens without being a buyer. Aiden didn't want to buy a slave, not even to kill one of the slavers. 

He was leaning against one of the pillars in the auction room, trying to look dangerous and unapproachable while he worked out how to fulfil his contract. He was barely paying attention to the stage, just enough to spot a threat if one was to emerge. A flash of white caught his eye. His first thought was that Geralt was here chasing the same or another contract. A closer look showed just how wrong he was. 

Ciri was standing, tall and regal in the middle of the stage. She was completely bare. Even with her cunt out and her nipples teased to stiff peaks, she radiated serene regality. Aiden adjusted himself subtly in his breeches. Like all the slaves, her hands were tied behind her with sturdy rope and there was a thick leather collar around her throat. The leash was held by the auctioneer. 

'Our next lot is a young woman, approximately twenty five years of age, healthy and strong. She would be suitable for any work, including manual labour and bedsport. She is not untouched. I'll start the bidding at 300 crowns,' the auctioneer called. 

Aiden’s hand was in the air before he had a chance to think. Ciri was a Wicher in all but mutations. She’d be able to help him fulfil the contract. He also owed it to the wolves to rescue their youngest from a situation that she probably didn’t want to be in (although she looked comfortable enough on the stage). Those were the reasons he’d have given if anyone had asked him what he was doing. The reality was though, that in that moment, he saw her and he wanted and he had the means to take. 

The bidding spiralled up from 300 to 500 to 700 and Aiden began to sweat. He’d had a good season on the Path, starting out with new gear from the caravan and picking up a few very lucrative contracts early on, but he wasn’t made of money. Not like some of these people were. Just as he really began to worry, Ciri bared her teeth and snarled at the greasy, portly man that was attempting to outbid Aiden. Her sharp teeth glinted in the light and the glare was as feral as anything Lambert could have produced. Aiden’s dick twitched in his smalls. His opposition on the other hand, shrank back, put off by the sight and he missed his chance to bid. 

‘Going once! Going twice! Sold to the man with the red hair!’ the auctioneer called. He handed Ciri’s leash off to an attendant and the next slave was dragged out. 

Aiden made his way through the administrative process as quickly as he possibly could. The attendant that led him back gave him an indulgent smile. 

‘She really is something to look at, that one, isn’t she?’ he said conspiratorially.

Aiden swallowed and nodded, ‘Yeah.’ His voice was raspy. ‘I can’t wait to find out what she’s like in bed. Seemed to have some fire in her.’

Of course, he knew Ciri’s fire well. The idea of it leashed under his control was doing things to him that he didn’t really want to admit to. He was learning a lot of things about himself very suddenly. 

The slave pens were in a large warehouse at the back of the auction building. There was an open space in the middle where the sold slaves were tied to hitching posts, waiting for their new owners. Aiden’s eyes snapped immediately to Ciri’s white blonde hair. He walked towards her like he was the one on the leash. 

When he reached her, a lean, rat-faced man stepped forward and took the token that provided proof of sale. 

‘Watch for this one,’ he sneered, ‘she’s a feral little thing.’

He reached out to tweak a nipple but froze when Aiden clamped a hand around his wrist.

‘She’s mine,’ he hissed, ‘and you will not touch her.’

‘Quite right, Sir,’ the man said with an oily smirk, stepping back. ‘Will you inspect the goods before you leave?’

Aiden had heard of the practice, of course. As a Wicher it was impossible to not be introduced to the seedier sides of life. As a Cat Witcher who was less picky about his contracts than schools like the Griffins or the Wolves, it was expected that he’d have contacts in the underbelly of society. As such, he knew what he needed to do here. He knew he should feel reluctant, but all he felt was desperate. He wanted to get his hands on that pale, creamy flesh and show her who she belonged to. 

‘Yes, I’ll inspect her,’ he said, stepping forward.

They were nose to nose now. He could feel her little puffs of breath hitting his chin. Her warmth was intoxicating. He leaned closer, placing his lips by her ear.

‘Hello there, little pup,’ he whispered. 

She shivered, very lightly, but enough that he noticed. 

He stood back and looked her over. 

‘Good. She knows to hold position at least,’ he said, eyes flicking to the slaver.

He reached out and tilted her chin up. Her skin was soft and warm. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched. He’d helped train her after all and spent several winters in the wolves’ keep with her where they all wrestled and sparred. This deliberate touching of her naked skin was different though. Electricity sparked along his fingertips which felt like they suddenly had a direct line to his cock. 

‘Where did you get her?’ Aiden asked. 

As he waited for an answer, he lifted first one eyelid and then the other. Her eyes were clear and bright and she didn’t waver under his hands. He burned with the trust it implied. He ran his fingers down over her cheeks, stroking her hair back from her face and coming to rest cupping her jaw. She blinked once, slowly. 

‘Found her running around in Ebbing, asking questions she shouldn’t have been. Didn’t take much to shut her up,’ the slimy arsehole crowed. Aiden longed to silence him. Permanently. 

He focused on Ciri. Her light, sweet scent filled his nostrils and calmed him. He was where he needed to be to fulfil the contract. He swore to himself there and then that he would kill this odious man before he left. How dare he think he had the right to touch Aiden’s Ciri? She deserved better than his disgusting hands on her sweet, perfect body. 

He lifted her top lip and slid one finger in, running it around her teeth. They were all in place with no cracks or other damage. He breathed a little easier. Ciri didn’t have the same mutated ability to grow new teeth if her original ones were damaged. Her training had focused a lot on protecting her face. He pulled his finger back and hooked it across her bottom teeth, pulling her mouth open. She allowed it and he swallowed hard at the sight of her little pink tongue, sitting there so innocently. He imagined it licking at his cock. He slid two fingers in, as deep as he could. She breathed deeply around them but didn’t otherwise react and Aiden felt himself beginning to leak. Her mouth was warm and soft and he wanted nothing more than to push her to her knees and sink his cock in. He couldn’t though. He had to keep his cover. He had to hope that Ciri knew what he was doing and that she wouldn’t hate him afterwards. 

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them down her throat, spreading the wetness and making it glisten. As he trailed over the collar he felt her breath hitch and he paused to tug on it a little. Her scent deepened, ripening with arousal. He tugged harder and she whined. He considered teasing her some more, but resisted, instead moving to slip his hands down her arms, checking her muscle definition. He tested the rope around her wrists and subtly loosened it enough that she could slip out if she needed to. He desperately hoped she’d stay where she was, but at least she now had the ability to leave if she wished. The leash was looped around the pillar but it wasn’t tied. A good pull would have it free in seconds. 

His fingers skimmed from her wrists over her ribs where he frowned over how clear it was that she hadn’t been eating enough. She blinked at him again and relaxed into his hands. 

‘Did you not bother feeding her?’ he asked, venom dripping from his voice.

‘She’s alive, ain’t she? She ate enough.’

‘I prefer my partners to feel less like I may break them the first time I throw them down to fuck them properly,’ Aiden spat. 

Ciri’s moan was almost certainly too quiet for anyone else to hear. It was barely audible to Aiden’s Witcher enhanced ears, but it was audible. He smirked at her. He could see a muscle jumping in her thigh where she was clenching her legs. He preened at the knowledge that she was turned on by him. 

From her ribs, he slid his hands up and cupped her breasts. He paused with his thumbs hovering over her nipples, which were still taught and peaked in the slightly chill air of the room. 

‘Are you sensitive?’ he asked her, his voice dripping like dark honey between them. He should be kind to her, but there was a beast inside him, rising up and screaming for her ruin. 

‘Yes,’ she whispered. 

‘Yes?’ he asked, giving in all at once to his basest instincts, ‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, Sir, I’m sensitive,’ she replied, louder now and more confident with something to push back against. 

‘Hmm.’

He pinched them, quick and hard and she arched back and wailed. Each breast was barely a handful, but they were soft and round and tight. Her nipples were small and he applied himself to teasing them, alternating sharp pinches and light brushes in an unpredictable pattern. He could see her struggling to stay still, wanting more. Her back was bowed into an arch as she pressed forward into his hands. He thumbed over both nipples, gave them a sudden hard twist then let go entirely. Her voice rose in a reedy wail. 

‘You are sensitive,’ he purred, ‘Does that apply to everywhere, I wonder.’ She opened her mouth to answer him, but he interrupted her. ‘You only need to speak when ordered to. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut unless you’re moaning on my fingers.’

She closed her mouth and nodded. He pulled the leash rope free from the low railing it was attached to and tugged her forward. She fell into him, off balance. He used the opportunity to grab a handful of her tight little ass which she wiggled. He pressed his hand between her legs and found that she was soaking. Slick dripped freely from between her folds and she moaned as soon as he touched her. 

‘Eager little thing, aren’t you,’ he murmured. ‘So wet for me. You’re going to make such a good slut.’

He spun her around and pressed one hand to her hip and the other between her shoulders.

‘Bend over and put your hands on the rail,’ he ordered. 

As soon as she complied, he kicked her feet wider, exposing her most intimate places to his view. She was flushed red and dripping. The scent of her arousal wound around him and intoxicated him. He had to have her. He wound the leash around his fist and pulled it, forcing her head up and her back to arch so that she was presenting to him. 

‘I’m going to touch you now and you’re going to come on my fingers like the greedy little slut that you are,’ he told her. ‘If you’re good, I’ll give you my cock, but you have to earn it. I want to hear you scream, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ she whimpered.

‘Good girl.’

His finger circled her clit and she whined. He laughed, low and a little cruel. It wasn’t going to be that easy. 

‘Have you ever been fucked before, little slut?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied, gasping for breath as he pushed two fingers into her without pause. He wanted to wreck her. He wanted to own her, to possess her so utterly that she would never look at another man again. The intensity of his own feelings overwhelmed him and he pushed another finger in, leaning forward. His hard cock pressed against her arse and he thrust, groaning at the friction. He leaned forward, draped half across her back so that he could hiss into her ear.

‘Look at you,’ he growled, as deep and resonant as any Wolf, ‘You were made for this. You were made to be my little slut.’ He dropped his voice to a quiet rumble so that no one but her would hear. ‘What would Geralt think if he could see you like this?’ he asked. ‘His precious daughter spread out on my fingers, whimpering for more. What would your Uncles say? Do you think they’d be disgusted to know that you’re nothing but a little slut? Or do you think they’d want a turn?’

Ciri gasped and moaned at that, slick leaking out around Aiden’s fingers to drip onto the ground. He pushed the fourth in and reached down with his thumb, circling her clit with a lazy, light pressure that did nothing more than frustrate. 

‘Oh, you like that idea, do you? You like the idea of your father and your uncles lining up behind me, ready to take their turn with my precious little slut? Is that what you want? I can make that happen,’ he growled twisting his fingers and pressing down with his thumb at the same time.

Ciri came apart with a wail, loud enough to turn heads in their direction. Aiden preened, knowing that everyone could see how good his little slave was. She shook apart under him, cunt clenching and fluttering around his fingers. He hooked them forward and pulled, twisting and pressing as she came. Slick gushed out, running down her thighs and soaking his hand. He purred at the feeling. 

‘What a good little slut,’ he whispered. ‘So good for me.’

‘Thank you, Sir. Thank you,’ she whimpered. Her voice was scratchy from the screaming. 

He drew his fingers out and pulled her up. Her knees were shaking and she fell back against him. 

‘You’ve made a mess,’ he said. ‘I think you should clean up after yourself.’

He offered her his hand and she stuck her tongue out, darting little kitten licks to clean it of her slick. She moaned as she did so and he couldn’t help but grind forward, pressing his cock against her pert little arse. She pressed back. The friction was both delicious and terrible. He wasn’t going to come in his braies like a kit. He wasn’t. If she didn’t stop that though, he might not have a choice. He pulled his hand away. 

‘Enough now,’ he said. He barely recognised the sound of his own voice. 

‘Are you happy with your purchase?’ the odious little man asked. Another man had joined him while Aiden had been distracted and he barely resisted the urge to curse. This was his target. The slaver that he had been sent after. Before he could react, Ciri had shrugged out of her ropes, ducked down and pulled the knife out of his boot. Her throw was textbook, exactly as he had taught her, and it embedded itself in the target’s eye. 

All hell broke loose as his body hit the ground.

[fuckyeahzevranarainai]

Zevran: Mmm... what? I... oh.

Zevran: I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet.

Warden: That could be easily rectified.

Zevran: Of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled. If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?

Warden: You seem awfully glib for a prisoner.

Zevran: (Chuckles) It is my way, or so I am told.

Zevran: Let's see, then. I assume you kept me alive to ask me some questions, yes? If so, let me save you time and get right to the point.

Zevran: My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.

Warden: I'm rather happy you failed.

Zevran: So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career.

Warden: Too bad for you, then.

Zevran: Yes, it's true. Too bad for me.

Warden: What are the Antivan Crows?

Zevran: An order of assassins, of course. Out of Antiva. I suppose you wouldn't hear much of them out here, but where I come from we're rather infamous.

Warden: Not for being good assassins, I see.

Zevran: Oh, fine. Is that what you Fereldans do? Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty.

Warden: So you came all the way from Antiva?

Zevran: Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.

Warden: Who hired you to kill us?

Zevran: A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was? Yes, that's it.

Warden: Does that mean you're loyal to Loghain?

Zevran: I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes?

Zevran: Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.

Warden: And now that you've failed that service?

Zevran: Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.

Warden: And between you and me?

Zevran: Isn't that what we're establishing now?

Warden: When were you to see him next?

Zevran: I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know.

Zevran: If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.

Warden: If you had failed?

Zevran: What can I say? I am an eternal optimist.

Zevran: Although the chances of succeeding at this point seen a bit slim, don't they? Ha, ha. No, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you?

Warden: How much were you paid?

Zevran: I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand.

Zevran: Which does make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.

Warden: Then why are you one?

Zevran: Well, aside form a distinct lack of ambition I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe.

Zevran: But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy.

Zevran: Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.

Warden: Thanks. I'll take that under advisement.

Zevran: You seem like a bright fellow. I'm sure you've other options.

Warden: Why are you telling me all this?

Zevran: Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely.

Warden: Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?

Zevran: Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.

Warden: I'm listening. Make it quick.

Zevran: Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will.

Zevran: Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.

Warden: Can I expect the same amount of loyalty from you?

Zevran: I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing.

Zevran: That's not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you're the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I... don't come very well recommended, I suppose.

Warden: And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?

Zevran: To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child.

Zevran: I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch.

Zevran: Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you.

Warden: Won't they come after you?

Zevran: Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help.

Zevran: And if not.... well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?

Warden: What do you want in return?

Zevran: Well... let's see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you.

Zevran: And somewhere down the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?

Warden: Why would I want your service?

Zevran: Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks.

Zevran: I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more... sophisticated... now that my attempts have failed.

Zevran: I also know a great many jokes. Twelve massage techniques, six different card games? I do wonderful at parties, no?

Zevran: I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?

Warden: You must think I'm royally stupid.

Zevran: I think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous.

Zevran: Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. I'm only hoping that you're the sort of fellow that takes a chance every now and again. Ha, ha. Yes?

Warden: Very well. I accept your offer.

Alistair: What?! You're taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?

Warden: Don't worry about it. We could use him.

Alistair: Hmmm. All right, all right. I see your point.

Alistair: Still. If there was a sign that we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.

Morrigan: A fine plan. But I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on, were I you.

Zevran: That's excellent advice for anyone.

Zevran: I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation... this I swear.

[amiramorozova]

Dual Summoner and the Darkling pt. 27

Darkling's pov: 

The day of the winter Fete I'd returned early to make sure Amira was ready. Walking down the hall I saw her looking out the window in her usual Kefta being curious about what was outside. I knew she hadn't gotten out much with my mother keeping her constantly training and the only time she had freedom was during the week I'd taken her to the north to see what the first army was like.

"Does it amuse you?" I asked her, she looked at me for a second, surprised to see me before she looked back out the window. "Can we go out there?" Amira asked

"Out to the circus the Queen has hired? People might recognize you." I said knowing the Dual summoner had gotten around to people but her identity of being such to the people had been kept out of range except her name.

"Please Aleksander. I am tired of being locked up in the little palace and I loved being outside the little palace feeling free." Amira begged

I walked over to Amira, taking her hand bringing it up to where I could kiss the top of it as my eyes never left hers. Her yearning for the outdoors of this place is evident on her face from being denied out of here. Debating what was the best course of action to take with her before I decided to give in to her wishes. Leading her down a path I had a cloak and put it over her shoulders to conceal her Kefta then placed my arm around her as I led her around. 

Watching her curiosity of what this circus the Queen had come here was enough to make her happy. For a few moments as we walked and I let her enjoy her time to take part in what was going on it felt different. Being with her always felt different than when I had one of the 2nd army around. It felt almost like we were not generals and soldiers or 2nd army Grisha but normal people. I knew better than to let that thought linger she and I would always be Grisha and eternal but the fact she was so sheltered here was noticeable. Noticing people staring at us I kissed her and she responded which helped us blend in even more.

We walked for a bit afterwards as the circus had a performance to represent her defeating Volcra. I couldn't tell at first if she was scared of the idea or she was upset with the representation but like most people were looking at her for the sun. Leading her away I saw she started to cry and wiped her eyes. "Don't cry, it's not worth your tears." I told her

That night at the Fete I greeted the royals as usual before I walked around. Most of the Grisha were doing their performances when I sensed her before I saw her. She was leaning against the wall, her black silk Kefta perfectly framing her and to know she was going to be my wife someday was the best feeling. 

"Ah there you are." I said as she seemed statledosing her concentration. "You are breathtaking, Amira."

"Thank you." She said with a curtsy 

When the music started playing I offered my hand to her "Would you like to dance?" I asked as she put her hand in mine. I was glad that she was very comfortable with me as we danced but I knew that I had plans for tonight. Keeping hold of her hand I was able to slip the ring off of her without her noticing as I was going to ask her officially but I got her over to the stage and we did our performance. As I slapped my hands together to make it dark then turned to her as she did her part of the performance I knew she was only doing half of her power as she looked at me once it was done. Offering my hand to her I knew exactly what to do as I kneeled down in front of her seeing her surprised.

"Amira Silina, Dual Summoner, will you marry me?" I asked her 

I could see she was in surprise being this was in front of everyone at the Fete but she could say no or she could say yes. 

"Yes, General Kirigan." Amira said 

I slipped the ring back where it belonged on her hand as I led her through the crowd but many people wanted to talk with her. I amused the nobles for a bit to talk to our Dual Summoner as they gave her regards for the engagement and then they were talking of high hopes for destroying the fold. If they called her a sun summoner I would mention that she was not just that but a Dual Summoner accepting all of her was vital. Soon though  I noticed she wanted away from the others so I used my powers to conceal us and got both of us to the war room.

"I don't remember this on the schedule." Amira jokes

"I figured you wanted away from everyone." I said

Hearing her laugh a bit seeing her happy to be alone was great but she caught me off guard as she pulled me to her kissing me. I kissed her back, my arms wrapping around her securely. I lifted her up on my war table as we continued to kiss. I'd been with others over 400 years but something about her always felt different than the others. Things had been going slow and it felt like this might be our next step in our relationship so I pulled away from her for a second.

"Are you sure?" Aleksander asked

"Yes, I am." I said

I claimed her lips again in a kiss before we started to make out again, things getting very personal as her arms went around my neck. We had to stop when there was a knock on the door. I could see she wasn't happy about it but also she smiled at me as I kissed her once more before heading over to the door seeing Ivan.

"What?" I asked

"The Tidemaker was attacked in the room. Amira was the target." Ivan said, "We have the suspect in custody and there is word on the stag."

"I'll be right there." I said 

I walked over to her and put a hand on her cheek seeing that she looked worried. I realized if she'd been going into a dressing room how much she could have been hurt. Her father would probably kill me or try to if she'd been hurt or worse killed.

"Is everything alright?" Amira asked

"Wait here guards will be outside the room. Don't leave." I said assuring her, "I need you safe."

She put her hand over mine as she looked at me "I'll be waiting and Aleksander I think you're right. Let's get married after the stag is found." Amira said

The idea of having her walk down that aisle with the intention to marry me was an idea that I liked. I knew already about the soulmates and how I'd seen her initials on my wrist. I removed my hand as I started to walk away before coming back and kissing her as she smiled then I left. I couldn't have been gone more than ten minutes when I came back and she was not there anymore.

mother.  I thought 

I heard the tracker found the stag but refused to come and give its location that he was wounded. I ran out to look around the grounds for her when I heard the commotion and I saw the carriage going. Her standing there on it's edge looking and holding on.

"AMIRA!" I yelled 

I saw her get pulled into the carriage not knowing if she was taken hostage or if she left on her own but that was enough. I put the order out to find her no matter what and that I wanted the tracker to be sent to a healer so he could tell me where the Stag was.

"Shame isn't it?" Baghra said from behind me

"You did this." I said 

"You intend to get the stag and put it on her, making her a slave." Baghra said 

"A regular Sun Summoner would be useful but she is a Dual Summoner, she has become everything. The Future of our people, more than I am." I said

"Yes, but where is she going?" Baghra asked

"Careful, she's more important than you right now." I said 

"Good Luck finding her Aleksander, I would guess you'd need a skilled tracker to track her movements. I may be less important to you but she looks at me as an example." Baghra said 

Days went by as I got reports from people who were looking for her and yet no one had seen her! How could she sneak past so many guards and where was she hiding? I decided to leave the little palace and search for her on my own with a few people to come along. I started to think about what Amira might be doing as she'd never been on her own and of course we'd noted Marie and Nadia were missing too so I knew she had her assigned guards with her. Those three would be a force to deal with on their own but I thought of where she might go.

she wouldn't go seek her parents, would she? I thought

When it came down to the truth we went about looking over every city knowing she hadn't gotten past the fold. I could feel it she was close and when I looked at my wrist pulling the kefta down I saw her initials faintly there so I knew we were on the right track but when they faded again once we went a certain direction I questioned where she was hiding.

I will find her. I thought

Amira's pov: 

I kept watching on my wrist as it was there but then it faded as I gave a sigh of relief knowing that there was another city close to Keramsin. We were to wait out there and it was hard not to want to leave but we stayed down in the basement where it was easy. If grandma Catalina was answering the door it was just someone bringing the usual milk.

"Are you ok?" Marie asked

"He isn't looking at his wrist to know if I'm close." I said

"That's good." Nadia said

We waited there in silence that felt like forever until I heard the sound of the front door again and the person walked into the house. I had my dagger in case I needed it ready to attack but when grandma came down I calmed down. I put my dagger away when I saw my parents and I went over and hugged them.

"Amira, you're safe." Father said

"You are safe Amira." Mother said

"We need to get moving, Morozova's stag is somewhere." I said

I heard the sound of someone else coming down and I saw Nico, he seemed surprised where I was. I questioned if he was still on my side or was he working with my fiance. When he walked over and hugged me I was surprised but I hugged him back.

"We need to get moving. Your name is in every town looking for the girl with the black engagement ring." Nico said as he took my hands and removed my gloves seeing the engagement ring. "So you are going to marry him?"

"It was arranged and he did ask in front of nobles I couldn't say no." I said

"Are you still going to go through with it?" Nico asked

I looked at my wrist as I knew that the letters were not there but I traced his initials on my wrist. My father must have noticed cause he grabbed my free hand and he made me look at him. I knew the truth that his arrangement was not what he thought.

"He's your soulmate?" Father asked

"Yes." I said

We decided over a plan as we discussed it before I saw someone come in a woman with a little boy who had a bracelet like I had once. I knew what he was before I even had to say anything as I just knew. Yet I didn't know who she was as I looked a bit curiously knowing that there were many things I didn't know about this family.

"Who are you?" I asked

"I am Analise, this is my son Adrian." Analise said 

"Hello sister." Father said 

"Hello  Alejandro." Analise said then she looked at me "you're Amira, the one the Darkling is looking for." 

"My daughter, Amira. Dual Summoner." Father said 

"So is my son but he is Inferni and Tidemaker" Analise said 

I was in shock but I knew that there was no time and we all decided to leave as a group. Turns out my grandparents saved every dime to get their own carriage so we were able to use it to travel and the cloth covered the windows so I was concealed. Inside the carriage with me was Father, Mother, Marie, Nadia, Analise, Nico and Adrian. My grandparents were leading the carriage while Nico had given coordinates where to go.

I closed my eyes to try and sleep while we were going and somehow I was able to but once we made it so far we had to go on foot. I told everyone we should split up if I was caught by my fiance they didn't need to get caught with me.

We split into three groups of two groups of five so that way we would be able to keep the power even. Nico was a tracker but he was going with me if I had to get the stag before Aleksander. We split up in the woods as we were moving. Nico focused and it was like he could feel it as we were waiting to get through.

I happen to look at my wrist seeing the initials again seeming brighter than last time. I knew we would come face to face no matter what I did. I was glad things were going well but once we were close I told dad to get Nico out of there but mom did. The Stag made itself known and I was ready or so I thought. While looking at it though, my consciousness that told me I wasn't a killer came back and I fell to the ground in front of it. 

I can't do this. I can't kill such a magnificent creature.  I thought with a few tears

I felt something nudge me with it's nose as I looked up seeing the stag and I wondered if there was another way to do this. I placed a hand on it's snout and the radiant power that went through me was amazing as I carefully stood up. I smiled looking at it feeling it's power merging with my own but then I felt pain on my side and I fell from the stag. 

"Amira!" Father said as he got over to me and he carefully picked me up

"Easy, I wasn't going to hurt her." Aleksander said 

I saw him forming shadows and instinct took over as I put light up knowing that the bulletproof Kefta was a lifesaver for me. I could run out of power if not careful as I looked at him knowing that he figured it out that I was going after the Stag.

"I'm disappointed in you Amira, I thought we were on the same page of things. You were coming after the stag this whole time." Aleksander said 

"You just want to kill it for its power." I said 

"It's for you." Aleksander said 

"Lies, if you kill it you get the amplifier." I said 

"Believe as you want for now but you can't protect it." Aleksander said 

I wanted to deny it but the stag ran in fear and before I knew it he killed it before my eyes. I'd failed at what Baghra wanted and asked me for but I was starting to drain my energy from holding this.

"Now please hand her over." Aleksander asked

"No." Father said 

As my hand fell from holding the light the last thing I saw was a flash of light and the feeling of being carried. I was in and out of consciousness from being tired but I heard father say he was going to hide me for as long as he could.