#killing. and exploding. and ripping things to shreds with my teeth

[zakurohampter]

Cleaning the apartment (horror music in background)

[trashyswitch]

The Guilty, Shady Thief

Moon had stolen one of Monty's most prized possessions: his star-shaped shades. But Sun will only bring out Moon if Monty calms himself down. But no need to worry! Cause Sun knows the perfect trick to ease Monty's anger-induced mind.

This fanfic was suggested by @Puzzle_piecea on AO3! Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy!

“Ho ho HO! Look who’s come to visit the Superstar daycare!” Sun declared, jumping circles around the large, green animatronic as he stormed into the Daycare. 

“Bring out Moon.” Monty ordered. 

Sun froze. “Uhhh...” He muttered. 

“He stole my star sunglasses.” He told him. “Bring him out, or else…” Monty ordered rather aggressively. 

Sun widened his eyes and stared at Monty. “.....And if I don’t?” 

He growled and stomped up to Sun. “Then I’ll rip you and your crooked brother to shreds.” Monty spat back. 

Sun stared at Monty with slight fear…though the fear wasn’t really written on his face. His face couldn’t really contort into a different face other than the ‘bright smiley face’ he showed off constantly to the little children. But inside, Sun could feel the programmed nervousness building up in his chest. 

{Don’t do it!} Moon pleaded, his voice cracking from fear. {He’s gonna kill us!} 

Sun decided to stand his ground in an attempt to save his brother. “Nah.” Sun replied casually. 

Monty growled and narrowed his eyes at him. 

Sun’s built-in smirk was the perfect look to match his mischievous mood. “I will only bring out Moon on one condition…” Sun told him. 

Monty growled a slight bit more at those words. “...What.” He spat through his teeth. 

“You’ll need to calm down and take a few deep breaths…” Sun told him. 

“WHA-” Monty growled and took in a big artificial breath, before letting it out. “Okay, okay.” He muttered, before morphing his face into a calm expression. “There. I’m calm.” He told him. “Now can you let Moon out?” Monty asked. 

“What’s the magic word?” Sun asked in a teasy voice. 

Monty sighed. “Can you pleeease let Moon out?” He asked. 

“Hmmmm…” Sun rubbed his chin like a man with a long beard. He clicked his artificial tongue a few times. “Mmmmm…” He looked up at Monty and lowered his hands. “Nah.” 

The reaction was immediate. Monty took in a big breath and let out a DEEP, BELLOWING ROAR. The previous anger had completely enveloped his body and tripled in intensity in what felt like a millisecond. Monty actually looked like he was going to EXPLODE from anger! 

…And Sun’s cackly laughter was NOT helping matters. Apparently, seeing Monty explode with anger, was absolutely hilarious to The Daycare Attendant! Sun was doubling over, holding his belly as he cackled and laughed at Monty’s reaction. 

{I admit…that was funny…but…Please be careful…} Moon said telepathically to Sun. 

{I know, I know, Moon.} Sun said back to him within his head. 

And Sun’s laughter had quickly stopped the moment he heard rapid stomping heading towards him. Sun used his elasticity to his advantage and jumped over Monty right before he tackled him to the ground. Monty fell into the wall, and stopped himself with his arms before turning himself around. 

Monty charged at Sun once again. “GET OVER HERE!” He shouted. 

Sun yelped and moved out of the way again, before watching Monty screech to another halt. 

“Please stop!” Sun ordered. 

“TURN INTO MOON!” Monty shouted at him. 

“NOT WITH THAT ATTITUDE.” Sun yelled back, readying himself for the next charge. 

The moment Monty charged at him for the third time, Sun tried to jump over him again. But Monty saw it coming this time! He ended up grabbing his ankle and throwing Sun to the ground in front of him. “MOON, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Monty shouted. 

{SO SOMETHING, SUN!} Moon ordered in his head. 

“UH-Uuuuh-” Sun did the first thing he could think of: He reached out and scratched at his side. 

{Tickling him!? That’s all you could think of?!} Moon asked. 

{YOU try wrestling a giant alligator!} Sun yelled back. 

But Sun and Moon both stared at the animatronic. Monty had frozen in place for a few moments, looking almost shocked. Though he didn’t exactly look happy, he did stop trying to destroy them. 

{Do it again!} Moon ordered. 

{B-But-} Sun tried to argue. 

{DO IT!} Moon ordered telepathically. 

Sun skittered his fingers in his armpits next. 

“aAH!” Monty jumped, attempting to cover his left armpit with his right hand. “S-Stop-” Monty ordered. 

{It’s working!} Moon reacted. {Do it again!} 

Sun moved his fingers to his neck and tickled there for a change. And when Monty jumped and attempted to hide his neck with his shoulder, that was when Sun recognized a good solution to calming Monty’s anger: 

Tickling! 

Sun skittered his fingers against his left armpit again, and watched as Monty unintentionally incapacitated his left arm. With his left arm out of the way, Sun scooted himself out from under him, and jumped on top of him to resume tickling the spots he knew thus far. 

“HEY! GET OVER HERE- aAAH! GAHAHA!” He guffawed, crash-landing onto his large yellow belly. “S-STOP IT!” He ordered before rolling onto his side, hugging himself. 

Sun moved his fingers closer to the line where the chest and the belly split for contorting reasons. All the main animatronics had this same split between the belly and chest. Even Sun himself had this little horizontal split! But he mainly did this because he was curious as to whether the splited area was also ticklish. If not, then he’d try somewhere else. But if so…That would be an amazing spot to go for!

“NoNO! BAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE! NOHOHOT THEHERE!” He fought and bellowed. 

Looks like that’s a big fat yes! 

{Oooh! Good one!} Moon reacted. 

“Not here? Not your poor upper belly?” Sun asked out loud with a little giggle of his own. 

“YOHOHOHOU’RE EHEVIL!” He shouted at him. 

“Call me whatever you like. I’m just trying to settle a restless gator!” Sun told him. 

{Who knew Monty was so ticklish!} Moon reacted. 

{I know, right?!} Sun replied to Moon. 

“IHI’M GONNA KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!” Monty shouted at him. 

“Awww, you don’t mean that, do you?” Sun asked. 

{Probably.} Moon replied. 

“YEHEHESSS!” He yelled back. 

{Told you.} Moon added. 

“Well, we’re just gonna have to change that, aren’t we?” Sun said rhetorically to both Moon, and to Monty at the same time. 

Sun continued to tickle right on that sweet little line across his lower chest. “Such a ticklish little hatchling~ And nothing to do, except laugh, laugh, laugh.” Sun teased. “Whatever will he do?” He added. 

“KIHIHILL YOHOHOUUU!” He shouted, falling onto his back. 

Sun climbed onto Monty’s hips and resumed tickling in the same deathly ticklish spot. “Now now, those words are not allowed in Superstar Daycare. You know this.” He reminded him. 

“GEHEHET OHOOOFF MEEEE!” He shouted as loud as he could. 

{Poor baby…} Moon muttered in his head. 

“Poor little baby…” Sun repeated in a slight baby voice. “Do you think he’ll calm himself down?” Sun asked. 

{I hope so…} Moon replied telepathically. 

{That was rhetorical, Moony.} Sun told him. 

“NOHOHO! NEVEHEHEHER!” He shouted at him. 

“Oh! Well if that’s the case…” Sun smirked and scratched his fingers on the joint line a little faster. 

“NONONONO-NOOOOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!” Monty cackled, sounding absolutely manic as he rolled back and forth like a rolling hotdog. 

“Maybe some more tickles could convince you?” Sun offered. 

Monty shook his head and turned his right hand into a fist. “IHIHI’M GONNA KIHIHILL YOHOU! HAHAHAHAHAHA- IHIHI SWEHEHEHEHEAR!” He shouted at him. 

{He’s never gonna calm down. Not at this rate…} Moon said secretly. 

{We gotta try something else.} Sun told him back. {Maybe…lighter tickles?} He asked in his head. 

{No way! He’ll punch us in the face!} Moon argued in his head. 

{True…but what else can we do?} Sun asked telepathically. 

{I have no idea, but tickling him lightly is NOT the way to go.} Moon warned him. 

Sun sighed and stopped his tickle attack. 

{What are you doing?!} Moon asked. 

{Trust me.} Sun said back. 

Sun watched as Monty went completely limp on the floor. The alligator’s laughter died down to simulated breathless giggles as he attempted to recuperate himself and prevent his body from overheating. 

“You okay?” Sun asked. 

Monty huffed and puffed. “Ihi…I…” He muttered. 

“Are you…calm now?” Sun asked. 

Monty looked up at Sun, and let out a big sigh. “I guess…Yeah.” He replied. 

“Okay. I’m going to let Moon out.” Sun told him. 

{Wait, WHAT?!} Moon yelled from inside his head. 

Monty sat himself up and looked at Sun. “Okay. Thank you.” He said. 

Sun walked into the darkness. {Come out, Moon.} Sun told him. 

{What?! No!} Moon reacted. 

{Now, Moon. You stole his property, and he wants an apology.} Sun told him. 

{He’s not calm! He’s clearly faking it!} Moon reacted. 

{Fake aggression or not, you stole his sunglasses…And you will give them back to him right now.} Sun ordered. 

Moon rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders with a sigh. {Fine…} He took over Sun’s body and put the nightcap onto his head. “There. Happy?” Moon muttered. 

{Not yet. Sunglasses.} Sun ordered. 

Moon grumbled. {You’re no fun.} He muttered back. 

Moon grabbed the sunglasses off the front desk that was nearby, before walking out of the shadows. “Why hello, Monty…” Moon greeted with his usual smirk. “Look what I have here?” Moon said, showing him the sunglasses.

Monty walked up to him and took the sunglasses. “Little thief.” He grumbled as he clicked his sunglasses into place. He tested them by moving the sunglasses onto his eyes, and raising them up above his eyes. 

He repeated this a few times before turning his eyes towards Moon. “So…” He walked up and leaned in towards him. “Your brother has an interesting way of protecting you…” Monty told him. 

“Y…Yeah…” Moon muttered. 

“Though, I will admit…” Monty smirked a bit more. “Sun gave me a good idea for a punishment…” Monty told him. 

Moon widened his eyes. “P-Punishment?” Moon asked. “For…for what?”  He asked next. 

“For stealing my sunglasses.” Monty replied. 

“B-But, I returned them! Things should be alright now.” Moon admitted. 

“Oh really?” Moon smirked. “You really thought you were getting away with just a slap on the wrist for stealing my sunglasses?” Monty asked. 

Moon stared at him with fear. “Oh no no no…” Monty picked up Moon and placed him over his shoulder. “I think Sun has given me a wonderful idea.” He told him before tickling the back of his thighs. 

“WaitwaiTWAITNOHOHOHO!” Moon shrieked. “STAHAHAHAP WAHAHAIT!” He yelled. 

“I hope you’re ready for some hefty tickles~” Monty declared. 

“NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!” 

…And yet another tickle fight had commenced.

[bittofeverything]

We All Die In The End

An: Please don’t repost on other platforms or copy in any way without my permission! It was originally a fanfic from a fandom I’m not in anymore but I loved the story too much to let go of, so I decided to rewrite it.

Tw: Gore, violence, gun

To whoever is reading this, this is your warning. Don’t trust the dead. That mistake cost me everything. So if you survive this, take it to heart.

——————————————————————————

The apocalypse looked so much better in the movies. That was the running joke ever since this mess started three months ago. Ever since the group decided to wait for the bodies to decay before rebuilding life, except they weren’t decaying.

We were eventually forced to start searching for food and water as we ran out. We had a few lucky escapes before the world finally came crashing down around us. Eki was infected.

Even though he tried to play it off it quickly overtook his body and mind. We foolishly tried to find a cure whilst keeping him locked up until he broke out while I was out hunting and killed Elio. My younger brother that I had told to stay behind so he was safe. His last words to me echoed through my head as I stared in horror at his corpse, mangled beyond recognition. The only reason I knew it was him was the shredded green bandanna scattered near his remains. The one I had given him when this nightmare started years ago. I was supposed to take care of him. Protect him. Yet I couldn’t even do that in this hell that is reality.

The one thing I could think to do was sit next to him and cry as I gripped a chunk of his bandanna tightly in my hand. This couldn’t be happening. It was all a bad dream. Except I knew it wasn’t a bad dream. If it was I would have woke up a long time ago.

Hours pass before I forced myself to get up to investigate the noise from the basement, pistol I had found at the beginning of this hell held up to the doorway with shaky hands.

He appeared in the doorway out of the darkness and looked at me with the life completely drained from his once familiar eyes. He wasn’t Eki. He’s wasn’t my friend anymore. The once familiar face that I used to have wrestling matches with in the grass. The one I used to race to school with. Only his fleshy shell remained.

My hands started to shake worse as he charged me. I had no choice but to fire a shot and watch the doorframe explode into splinters as he sunk his teeth into my shoulder.

I could only bite back a scream as I hit him in the head with the handle of the gun still clutched tightly in my hand.

He staggered back a little and growled with anger in his glazed eyes as I backed up, clutching the bloody hole in my shoulder as blood squirted from between my fingers.

With gritted teeth I clumsily cocked the gun, hissing as I burn my clumsy finger tips on the hot muzzle. He bit at me again as I tried to hold him away from me, slipping on the blood under me and slamming into the soaked concrete below me with a sickening splat as he ripped into my chest. It took all that was in me to weakly put the gun to his head and pull the trigger one last time.

He collapsed onto me as I could feel tears slide down my face. I could only apologize to his corpse as I looked around the bloody bunker. I failed. Poor Elio. He was too young to go through this. I just wish I could have given him a more peaceful end.

So this is your warning. Don’t mind my corpse. I made sure to leave some lead in my head before I was turned. If there really was a god he would have saved us. I have no hesitation over taking it into my own hands. I would rather meet the nothingness we call death with open arms on my own terms than at the jaws of those wretched creatures. We all die in the end.

[caniscreamintoanabyss]

‘THEY JUMPING ME! THEY JUMPING ME!’

Gift for @angelbicuspids

Tw: intense gore. Like. Intense intense. Ya boy’s getting viciously ripped apart.

A/n: I am not tagging this because what the fuck did I just write. I did not know I was capable of this.

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Kill some Hilichurls, take down their camp, and then go back to Mondstadt and. Do whatever he was supposed to do.

It was supposed to be a one-two done mission.

Kill some Hilichurls, take down their camp, and then go to Angel’s Share for a chance of seeing his brother, no matter how slim it may be.

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

Kill some Hilichurls, take down their camp, and go babysit—

Flesh ripping away from bone forces Kaeya out of his thoughts as he screams in pain for the ninth time that night, vocal cords feeling like they’re shredding in his throat.

They might break from my screaming first before the Hilichurls get them.

Kaeya isn’t even given the time to laugh at his poorly constructed joke before he feels teeth digging into his throat, ripping out his skin and flesh and-

The Knight finds himself unable to physically scream this time.

Oh, I guess they-

Long and sharp things dig into Kaeya’s chest, ripping it open- exposing his ribs hidden under all those layers.

Nothing but mindless agony explodes from that area, and he opens his mouth to release a soundless, agonizing scream.

Only for his jaw to be torn off, hitting the base of a nearby Hilichurl tower.

And now, all that’s left in Kaeya’s mind is the agonizing pain, ripping away at his mind. It screams so many thoughts, so many thoughts of pain that the knight can’t even hope to digest them.

His leg is ripped away from the rest of his body, thrown off to somewhere else.

Kaeya doesn’t know what he’s feeling anymore.

There’s so much going around him, too much to take in and counter against- too much to do anything with.

Something on his arm rips away.

It’s too much.

Something inside of his chest is torn away, making an awful cracking noise. Kaeya can see a flash of white as that thing is pulled out of his chest.

It’s too much.

Kaeya’s vision starts to blur, and he feels something wet on his cheek. The smell of blood invades his nose soon after, followed with something long and wet pulling out of his stomach.

It hurts.

There’s something.

Something bright, something fiery, something red glows at the corner of his vision- a corner where there aren’t Hilichurls crowding his face.

The faint color comes closer, closer, and Kaeya can feel the smallest bit of warmth from it.

Warmth, like a blazing forest fire, set out to consume everything in its path and leave behind nothing but ashes.

His savior.

If he could smile, he—

A sharp pain stabs into Kaeya’s heart, and his body goes limp.

[ellievickstar]

Chaos and Conspiracy (Part 4 of 8)

Ship: Eris x Reader

Warnings: none just a little violence

Previous Parts: Rejection (Part 1), His Second Option (Part 2), A Shock and A Secret (Part 3)

A/N: Hello loves <3 I am on part four and have still no clue at what part will I end this series. I need help T ^ T. I have read replies and honestly I have to say that you made me cry happy tears. Anyways let’s move on to part four of this beautiful, chaotic, improvised, series. (Yes the whole thing is being improvised as I go, well- most of it not really the whole thing but you know what I mean) This is a short one but I promise it’s worth it :D

The room exploded into chaos.

Azriel lunged for Eris, teeth bared, ready to rip skin from bone only to slam into a wall of hardened air, credits to Feyre. Everyone was on their feet as the night court worked on keeping Azriel at bay while everyone else scrambled to be out of the danger zone, a select few decided to keep close just incase the two males decided that they really wanted to shred each other apart after the shield came down.

“Azriel!” Feyre’s voice was as solid command on it’s own, “Calm down, now!” Azriel stilled all of a sudden before he snarled at Eris, “How!?” Eris just shrugged in return, “Well, I did some digging and I realised that the mother is faithful after all. When two mates are not compatible it’s possible to have another. Extremely rare, of course, but possible none the less,” He inclined his head to me with a wry smile, I returned it with my own.

“Well then,” Mor suddenly spoke from where she had been silent the whole time, “I believe congratulations are in order however, I do believe we have a ceremony to finish and a bat to chase out,” Azriel growled at her. However, Rhysand’s dark night curled around him as it forced Azriel to walk out of the room.

“Be careful,” Azriel chuckled darkly, his voice suddenly a preternatural calm, eyes looking back at me with a mad gleam in his eye, “Maybe you should have checked your drinks,” As let loose another creepy laugh. Eris and I shared a nervous glance when suddenly his eyes widened as he fell to his knees.

“Eris?” I asked, fear flooded my mind as the love of my life slumped to the floor unconscious as blood pooled from his mouth, his nose. Azriel cackled once more, his voice sounding more like, “Jurian,” Rhysand breathed as Azriel’s shape morphed into the slimmer male.

“Be careful who you trust from now on, Y/N Archeron,” Jurian hissed before he winnowed away, leaving the ceremony with my mate on the floor.

Next part is out now!

A/N: I know this one is really short. really hope you all don’t kill me.

tag list: @hideing @moonfawnx @younxii @flightlesslittlebirdie @bolaurel @starlit-terror

[blzzrdstryr]

Prize of war

Yandere!Morax x water deity!reader

Wordcount: 1459

CW: Yandere, violence, confinement, sexual harassment

The archon war is at its peak, when an oceanid, Periboea, brings sudden news to you - the deaths of Guizhong and sealing of Osial. The former produces nothing but a sly smirk - the Dust Goddess, despite her kindness and wisdom was still a formidable opponent, another competitor for the title of the Seven.

The latter, however, makes you both frown and sigh in relief - the Vortex Lord was your ally, a needed help to fight and defy Morax of Guili plains, yet he also was a future enemy - the grounds of your so called alliance were shaky, unreliable, ready to change at any moment like dark waters you both command.

Now, with him sealed away you don’t have to worry, you don’t have to worry about Osial turning against you, you have to worry about facing the Lord of Rock alone instead.

“Out”, you dismiss Periboea, sensing the forming headache. What should you do? What should you do? With the Guizhong out of the picture it would be easier for both you and Osial to finally overpower Morax and take over the plains if it wasn’t for him being sealed away.

You stay motionless and deep thought for a while, thousands of possibilities appearing in your mind - none of them a clear solution, a path to absolute victory. Suddenly water spirits visit your abode, bowing in both fear and deep respect - Morax has made a new step in this bloody version of xiangqi. You stand up then, gritting your teeth and taking your weapon - war never waits.

With no reckless but also insanely strong and fast Osial by your side, Morax’s power shines in a new light - his presence is felt everywhere, despite his figure still being unseen. You call to the power of the seas, sending wave after wave to look for your enemy, until a voice booms nearby.

Ah.

That’s why you couldn’t see him.

Morax looks pitifully small and weak in his human form - with a razor sharp talons and long serpentine body replaced by the soft mortal flesh he doesn’t inspire usual awe or terror, yet you keep your guard up. He stands on the shore, surrounded by his lackey adepti near some strange machine.

Guizhong was working on that ballista, you realize, focusing your eyes a bit longer.

“[First]”, Morax says, his usually calm voice now gravelly and dead - Guizhong’s passing must have been hard on him.

“Morax”, you reply, understanding his intention - it’s the last battle then.

You start to fight - adepti lunge at you, while their lord stays on the ground, fiddling with the ballista. You keep an eye on him, while carefully evading the blows from his lackeys - they might be lesser creatures, but even a snake can kill a lion, so you keep a distance, slowly but surely approaching the sandy shore.

“Now”, Morax yells, to his adepti, not you. You quickly turn in his direction, alarmed of what he might do next, only to see a bright glowing bolt shooting your way. The time freezes, as you scramble away and somehow you succeed, projectile grazing only a side of you.

“Huh”, you whimper, seeing how the nearby waters turn red from your blood - oh, Morax will pay for that. You will make him pay for that.

“Oceanids!”, you command your servants, voice travelling through the entirety of the seas: “rip Morax’s loyal dogs to shreds”, a thousand of voices echo your war cry, water spirits finally emerging from the blue deeps.

With the loch folk on the surface, the tides of battle turn against your opponents, as you shift your look on the Morax again - he feeds ballista his energy, hastening the next shot - you won’t have it. Focusing hydro energy is easy, forming your own water mimic is even easier.

You send the replica of a great leviathan to Morax’s direction, the volume of water splatters everywhere upon crushing on the shore, breaking Guizhong’s last masterpiece. This prompts Morax to finally face off you, with his spear in hand and fierce amber eyes burning brighter than any star.

“You will pay for that”, he whispers, the dragon evident in each syllable.

“We’ll see”, you taunt, finally taking out your weapon. Your battle looks like a dance, with your moves fluid and flexible, yet fast and unstoppable, like a river flowing in the spring. A laugh escapes your lips, the thrill of the battle getting into your head, so you don’t notice his lackeys disappearing from the battlefield.

“Now”, Morax says again, looking past you.

A blindingly bright bolt flies into your direction - you haven’t destroyed the ballista completely - there's not enough time to dodge.

It goes right through you.

You scream.

Everything fades to black.

***

You wake up in the unfamiliar room, clothed in the unfamiliar clothes and surrounded by unfamiliar things. You can’t sense the call of Celestia, meaning that you’re either outside the Teyvat or in someone’s pocket dimension. This is bad. You almost jerk, but you can't - a burst of pain explodes in your solar plexus upon the slightest of movements.

With a shaking hand you touch your midriff, feel a hastily sewn hole and then you come to a horrifying realization - you can't feel your hydro. A distressed noise escapes you as you caress the injury, a lack of elemental core crushing you better than any humiliation or defeat.

Consumed by your grief for the lost powers, you miss the moments someone enters the room. It’s Morax again - he looks vastly different now, with all hints of his usual bloodlust and cold fury gone, he resembles a kind and wise dragon from the fairy tales human parents tell to their children.

“[First]”, he starts, taking one slow step after another, careful not to scare or enrage you: “I am happy you’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for a while now”.

You look at him with angry, accusing eyes, all of your grievances temporarily forgotten: “I can’t believe you did it, I thought you were an honourable person”, he lightly tilts his head, feigning ignorance: “You ripped out my core! I bet you were enjoying every second of it, you sick bastard!”.

“None of that”, he deflects your insults: “your core was destroyed by the ballista, not me. The last projectile went through you and subsequently your core”.

“Well”, you rise from the bed, despite the agonizing pain: “you stole me too! Ballista has nothing to do with this!”

“It’s either that or the eternal seal”, he adopts the patronizing tone and you want to kill him just for that: “with your core gone, I doubt you will restore even a fraction of your power, so sealing you away will be a waste”.

“A waste”, you repeat, remembering that Morax is not only a god of martial arts, but also business and commerce: “What is there to waste? I have no power now, no reason to live”

He wordlessly comes to you after this phrase, his hand touching the bandaged torso, before his amber eyes glance at you momentarily. You know that look, have seen it during the countless battles - cold, calculating and thoroughly fixated - a shiver goes through you.

“I am the one who defeated you”, he finally says, so quietly that even you with your superhuman hearing have to strain your ears: “You belong to me now, I can give you a new reason for living, I can make you accept and embrace it”.

You look at his eyes and the hand he laid upon the injury, fear caused by his words alone paralyzing your whole being. A whole tornado of thoughts appeared in your mind, each one of them anxious, nervous and unsettling.

“You should have expected this”, Morax mutters, noticing the dread that clings to you: “your insufferable taunts and your little tricks, you wanted to be my first thought in the morning and the last in the night, you have succeeded”.

A warm hand cups your face, and you can’t find any comfort in it, as strong fingers pry open your lips. He forcefully kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth, as you desperately battle the panic. Finally you take control of your body back and quickly shut your teeth together, biting him, tasting a coppery blood”.

He leans back, still collected, despite the blood escaping past his lips: “I should have expected this”, he says more to himself than to you and then he shifts his eyes back to you: “Still, I have a lot of time to tame a wild sea beast like you”.

He leans in again, his hand forcing your mouth open with a renewed strength: “Water can take any shape, [First], and I’ll guide you to the shape I want you to be, my prize of war”

[tasmparkerr]

Hostage

Part 2

Part one - Part two - Part three

Peter Parker x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: violence, angst, talk of death and killing, kidnapping, blood, broken bones, etc.

summary: Lizard wrapped his hands around you once more as his plan to harm Spider-Man happens to involve you…

A/N: this won’t make any sense if you haven’t read part one, so go check it out!

————————————————————————

The door flew off the hinges with the awful sound of shredded wood. Peter flew back, landing on his feet of course, as the large lizard like creature seemed to sliver in. His mask was already recovering his face.

“Ah, Spider-Man,” it’s deep and raspy voice bellowed, “I knew I would find you here with her scent…” it’s pure black eyes traveled to me. Those eyes made my blood run cold, my ability to breathe seemed to vanish.

Peter crouched down, his muscles flexing as he prepared himself. “Alright, you Godzilla wannabe, what the hell do you want?”

The creature hadn’t taken its eyes off you, his teeth glittering as it smiled. “I want you to feel pain. I want to rip everything from you, Spiderman. I know what you’ve done and who you’ve hurt… you’re not the hero people think you are. You destroy lives without mercy.”

Peter slowly began to creep towards you, wanting to be in between you and the monster but not wanting to trigger any attack. “You gotta be a bit more specific, big guy, what have I done that makes you hate me so much?”

The lizard growled, flexing its back muscles. “Darla… she died during one of your little shows. You and that green man… one of the bombs killed her, and you didn’t do a damn thing! You just let her explode like she was nothing. You didn’t even show up to the memorials of those who died in the accident. So I’m here to show you what that pain is like. I’m gonna rip the most important thing to you into little pieces and shove them down your throat… Peter Parker.”

Peter froze at the sound of his name. It knew his identity? How is that possible…

“Yesssss,” it slithered, “I know who you are. Your scent is very clear… Even though you’re barely an adult, you’ve already caused so much pain. It’s time for you to suffer too!”

In that moment, it lunged. Peter, still in shock, didn’t have the time to react. The monster already had its hands on me. I screeched as it’s scratchy, scaling arms scooped me up with ease.

“Y/N!” Peter cried, moving to try and reach you but it was too late. The large creature snagged me off my couch, smacking Peter hard into the wall, and leaped out the window, glass shattering everywhere. I screeched as we plummeted to the ground, expecting immediate death when the monster landed with ease, it’s taloned feet cracking the side walk underneath it.

The sudden whiplash made me wince, my head seeming to swim, but the lizard gave no care to my condition and sprinted forward.

Webs began to appear as Peter finally caught up. He swung around, looking for an opening. He kept screaming taunts and threats to the creature but it couldn’t care less. If anything it seemed… amused?

Peter was getting sloppy. I could tell by where he shot his webs and how he swung… it was off. And as if on cue, the monster grabbed Peters current web and yanked down hard, causing Peter to smack into the ground. He rolled until he smacked into a traffic light, not moving.

“PETER!!” I screamed, instinctively reaching out for him, my heart blasting with the fear of him being hurt. I didn’t see him move before we turned the corner and dipped into the subway. It became very very dark…

I don’t remember much after that, the image of Peter slamming into the ground replayed over and over again in my head. I didn’t even noticed when we slowed down.

It was a dark and muggy open space, clearly underground with very little light source. Just a few dim lights that hung from the high ceiling. The lizard shuddered, it’s scales shifting across its whole body.

I was shaking involuntarily, knowing that I was probably going to die. It’s words were very clear… I was the main target. A small ping of relief lingered knowing Peter wasn’t it’s main target, but I know Peter would never stop if it managed to kill me.

There was a small circular opening, similar to the manholes in the city, but with a cage like grate instead of a slab of metal. The lizard easily popped off the grate and seemed to sigh.

“I do want to apologize, young one. I do not wish to harm you specifically… I promise I’ll make it quick when the time comes.” It purred, it’s large eyes looking down.

My heart rate quickened, my body reactively beginning to squirm. “P-Please don’t-“ I whimpered, knowing it was useless.

“Shhh,” it cooed, lowering my into the small hole, “It won’t be long. Parker will find you, and when he’s here, he’ll watch me kill you, I’ll do it swiftly, and once you’re already gone I’ll do the worst. You will not suffer. He, however, will suffer tremendously.” The grate was returned and the sound of scales got quieter and quieter.

I sank to the damp ground, the tiny enclosure seeming stuffy. All that had happen in the past 24 hours was clanking around in your head. You nearly died only hours ago, you were just with Peter and now you were stuck underground somewhere being held so you could be killed in front of Peter.

I pressed my back against the cold wall, the low temperature setting in as I shivered. I was only wearing a pair of jeans and a light t-shirt. My jacket was in your apartment…

I’m not sure how much time had passed while I was sitting there, shivering. Hours maybe? I didn’t move from my position until I heard a low growl. Peter was close.

Fear and anxiety swarmed in my chest for so many reason. My upcoming death, Peters possible death, Peters reaction to my death… Jesus Christ.

The gage creaked as it popped off, the large taloned hand reaching down. “Come, little one,” it said almost sadly as it gently lifted me up. It sat me down on the floor as it crawled around me, observing me. “I promise to keep my word. I will end your lift swiftly. You don’t deserve this… I’m sorry, again.”

I swallowed with difficulty and nodded, not sure what else to do. Peters web became audible. It was almost time. The lizard sighed, moving to get in front of me to pounce, allowing Peter to see it first handed, I assumed. My brain flipped through every scenario and moment that could possible help me in this moment until I landed on one. Peters voice telling me to stall.

It was when he was running late to an interview, and he really needed the job so he sent you in to flirt with the interviewer… he sent you to stall until he got there.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, my heaving making it hard to breathe, “I’m sorry about your partner. S-She didn’t deserve to die.”

The monster jerked, seeming to wince. It snarled and shook its large head. “Don’t speak.”

“Really! I love Peter, I do, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain. No one…”

The lizard huffed, “Except Peter Parker… good bye, little one.” And it lunged.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the teeth or the claws to sink into my skin, but they never did.

When I opened my eyes, Peter was there. Webs were shooting left and right as he seemed to dance with the creature. I fell back, crawling to the edge of the room, trying to avoid the fight the best I could.

They seemed to take turns being in charge. Peter using his webs to pull chucks of rock and cement into the lizard, the lizard grabbing hold of Peter and throwing him around, it really was like a dance. Until it threw Peter a little too hard. I could hear a bone snap, followed by Peters god awful cry. He wriggled on the ground, clutching his side.

The monstered heaved, turning towards me once again. It’s eyes were red and it’s mouth was dripping with saliva. It crawled over to me quickly, it’s breath hot against my face. “Now, perish!” It snarled, wrapping its hands around my neck just like it did hours ago. I gasped as I was lifted and it’s grip tightened. “Look, Peter Parker! As I drain her life away before your very eyes!” It said, swinging around to show Peter but… he wasn’t there?

An explosion came out of no where, from our left. The lizard was in such shock that it dropped me, and before I could even hit the floor a familiar pair of arms latched on to me as he quickly shot a web.

We dashed through the underground tunnels as more and more blasts echoed through the room we had just left, the sound of the monster screaming slowly being dulled out.

My fingers dug into Peters neck as I clung onto him for my literal life, his web yanking us from out of the ground. The night sky was barely fading to signal the new day.

Peter didn’t stop until we were at his favorite spot, the top of the Empire State Building.

Very very slowly, as if I was as fragile as an egg, he sat me down. As soon as he let go my legs gave out, which he of course caught me to help me sit down.

Peter pulled his mask off to reveal a face of pure agony, his eyes flickering all over my body to check for any injury or blemish. “A-Are you okay?” He barely whispered, kneeling in-front of me.

“I-I…” I whimpered, my body coming down from the adrenaline rush. The tears collected as I met eyes with him, so many emotions running through my head.

Peter leaned forward and took my face into his hands, “Just breathe, (Y/N)… it over now”

to be continued…

[ladyartemesia]

The Terms

◐ PART III of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 2300

Author’s Note: As promised, this chapter is twice as long as the previous two and a lot of what people have been speculating about in the asks is discussed in this chapter... along with a few surprises...

“Luna rex provocatione means ‘the moon king’s challenge.’ It is never invoked lightly as its consequences are grave indeed... If an alpha believes that he is the true Alpha and the goddess has placed another in his path as a test of worthiness and dedication to the pack, then he will acknowledge his acceptance of this test by declaring luna rex provocatione. Once the challenge has been set forth only the death of the Luna’s first mate or the total surrender of the challenger can satisfy it...”

Text of the traditional speech given by a chief elder to begin a luna rex provocatione ritual [7th century]

“I know you won’t understand, but this isn’t personal-”

Jimin offered his rival an overtly feigned smile.

“You plan to kill me and claim my mate. Which part of that could I possibly take personally?”

Tae snorted somewhere in the background and Yoongi elbowed him hard.

Tradition dictated that both alphas meet with their second-in-commands in the chief elder’s chambers to discuss the terms of combat.

Namjoon brought Min Yoongi and Jimin had somehow ended up with Taehyung.

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to make Tae his second...

It just sort of happened somewhere between calming his hysterical mother and quickly reading up on archaic pack law.

The chief elder coughed uncomfortably. Goddess, this ascension was supposed to be easy. He never in a million moons thought he’d be in this position.

The last chief elder who oversaw a luna rex provocatione ritual had immortalized it in his journal as “the single most horrific moment of my life,” describing in detail the Luna howling in torment at the loss of her mate and the victor collapsing over the corpse of his foe in misery and guilt.

As in the past, the outcome of this conflict was already decided by fate...

Pain and regret weighed heavily on the older man as he considered the younger of the two alphas.

Park Jimin was going to die violently and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Because Kim Namjoon issued the challenge, his opponent will decide combat form. Your choices are human form, half-shifted, and wolf-form. After your choice is declared, Namjoon may add a minor alteration if he so desires. Park Jimin, please declare form.”

“Human,” he answered softly - and every single occupant of the room recoiled in response.

It was bad enough to witness a fight in wolf form or half-shifted... but to engage in ritual combat as a human-

It would be brutal - even psychologically disturbing - without the benefit of a wolf’s hide to mask the savagery.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly.

“I request teeth and claws.”

Not quite a half-shift. Teeth and claws allowed for attacks using lengthened canines and claws.

It could make a kill slightly more... humane.

Jimin nodded and the elder pressed his seal over the first of the terms.

The were no windows in the small, stuffy chamber and between the heavy ceremonial garb and the nearly twenty braided praesidium bracelets wrapped around his wrists, Jimin felt as if the blood in his veins was literally coming to a boil.

Though he dared not remove them to relieve his discomfort.

Each bracelet represented a prayer to the goddess. They were given as protection to a loved one before a great trial.

His mother had not stopped making them since the ascension. She’d torn apart her most expensive dress and spent hours twisting the fabric strips into intricate traditional braids while she prayed...

Jimin’s fingers sought them out for comfort as the miserable parade of ritual legalities marched past the two hour mark.

Many agreements (like Jimin’s insistence that his mother not be allowed to attend the fight and Namjoon’s pledge to financially support the Park family in the event of their alpha’s death) were settled quickly, however the sheer number of details to be solidified was overwhelming.

“I think it best if we adjourn for a short recess,” the chief elder sighed wearily and Taehyung nearly ran Yoongi over in his desperate scramble to finally use a restroom.

Jimin turned to leave, but a hand on his elbow drew him back.

“I want you to know, I did this for you as much as for the rest of them.”

His tone was low and carefully respectful, but Jimin’s wolf snapped irritably at the elder alpha’s presumption.

“What an... interesting statement to make.”

He pointedly removed Namjoon’s hand from his arm with calculated nonchalance.

“No one expected you to be chosen... Jungkook, or even Hoseok, would have been an understandable alternative, but you’ve never taken being an alpha seriously-”

“According to you,” Jimin fired back, finally allowing his voice to harden in cold fury. “I have always known and valued what I am. I simply never felt called to your version of it.”

Namjoon tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Park Jimin might not look particularly dangerous ... but for the first time, the Kim alpha considered that he may have underestimated his opponent.

“Either way - the pack does not trust you. They are not confident in your ability to lead them,”his hands fisted reflexively at his side as he considered the weight of his next words, “...but if you beat me, they will never question your strength.”

Jimin’s hands tightened into fists.

Namjoon might be an overconfident windbag, but he had a point.

He faced an uphill battle to subdue a restless pack as well as increased threats from rival clans looking to expand their own power and territory.

The challenge was a chance to establish his claim.

Or die trying.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he chuckled and Namjoon bristled indignantly.

“I have devoted my life to the pack. I have never questioned my duty to them.” He leaned forward a bit, holding the younger alpha’s gaze with purpose. “That is why I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of the Luna?” Jimin wondered in mock contemplation. “Do you think she will take kindly to the loss of her mate if you win?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. The Luna was clearly a sore subject.

“If I win, then you were never really her mate were you? Your entire existence boils down to nothing more than a sacred test in my destined path.”

Silence stretched heavily as the two alphas regarded one another with open hostility.

“I will fight you till the last shred of life is ripped from my body,” Jimin snarled.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine, though he was far from intimidated.

“At least now you sound like an alpha,” he scoffed.

Then he was gone.

Jimin waited till the sound of the older man’s footsteps faded before slamming his fist into the table.

He needed air and to be alone with his thoughts for moment before he could civilly resume the endless negotiations.

Unfortunately, the only place offering both of those things was a cluttered balcony near the back of the building.

The room traditionally designated for luna rex provocatione proceedings had been used as a storage closet for at least the last hundred years (and therefore needed to be hastily cleared after Namjoon’s inconvenient declaration). Consequently, the room’s former contents (piles of toys from this season’s charity drive) were now strewn haphazardly across the narrow outdoor space like debris from a brightly colored bomb.

Jimin carefully navigated his way to the balcony’s wooden rail and lifted his eyes to the moon.

“Please,” he begged softly “... send me a sign.”

“If he did not hate me before, he surely does now,” you sighed, staring morosely at the lights flickering in the old chamber building. Somewhere within the bowels of that archaic fire hazard, your mate of less than twenty-four hours was negotiating a nightmare.

“This is not your fault, Luna-“

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “That’s who I am. I’m the Luna, if I could just accept another mate without someone getting their throat ripped out, then none of this would be necessary.”

Jin sqeezed your hand sympathetically.

The council placed you under guard in a small cottage across from the elder’s chambers in order to prevent the alphas from having any contact with you. Since then you kept a constant vigil from its rickety porch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man whose life you had ruined.

“Would you do it then - if you could?... Would you accept another mate to spare the Park alpha?”

Bitter tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, “...I think I’d do almost anything to save him.”

Comfortable silence settled between you for several minutes - until a small flutter of movement drew your gaze to the chamber balcony.

Then he walked out.

And just the sight of him was enough to slam your heart up into your throat.

Jimin...

Jin quickly turned to your guard and unleashed a wave of pheromones that would have knocked out a grizzly bear. The guard whined and abandoned her post to follow him inside without a second thought, leaving you conveniently alone.

Male omegas are a rare and dangerous breed, you observed wryly, before retuning your attention to the man across the path.

A painful ache twisted hungrily in your gut as you watched him tilt his face to the sky. Somehow the relentless beauty of his features was even more captivating in the moonlight...

Suddenly a strong breeze braided though the air around you, playing with the loose strands of your hair and carrying your scent away from the small cottage and up to the balcony where the young alpha sought solace.

Jimin’s eyes shot open as the rich, unforgettable essence of you exploded over his senses. His gaze immediately locked with yours, cutting through the distance and darkness with an intensity that left you reeling.

You could not see his face at the ascension - instead the blindfold left you burning with curiosity as your mind conjured a thousand variations of how he might have looked on you in that moment...

Yet every last one of them fell short.

You could never have imagined the naked longing - the fierce desire - that burned boldly in his regard.

A strange, desperate frustration overtook you.

He was too far away - and Namjoon was going to take him from you before you could touch him again - before you could breathe him in again-

The cruel wind continued to pull your fragrance toward Jimin like an erotic incense, yet it offered you no such gift in return. You could not discern his scent and you wanted to - needed to - with a voracity that was almost blinding.

Please...

A mournful whimper tore from your lips and Jimin’s body reacted instantly to your distress.

Suddenly he was digging through the piles of mismatched trinkets and toys on the balcony, tossing aside all manner of discarded treasures till he finally found what he was searching for.

“Jimin-hyung! Where are you? Chief elder wishes to resume-”

Jimin glanced toward door as his fingers worked frantically over the object his hands.

“I’m on my way!”

His eyes found yours one last time, then he drew back-

A muted thwack echoed a few inches from your shoulder as whatever Jimin threw embedded itself into one of the porch beams.

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you reached forward to retrieve (what appeared to be) a pointed metal dart - probably from a wall-mounted Darts game someone donated...

A length of braided cloth was tied tightly to the shaft and you recognized it immediately as a praesidium bracelet.

Soothing waves of Jimin’s scent drifted up from the fabric where it had rubbed repeatedly against the glands in his wrist.

Your body calmed instantly. Cold desperation gave way to the soft warmth of tenderness.

He knew.

He knew what you needed and he found a way to send it to you.

Your hand closed tightly over the bracelet as you crumpled to your knees and sobbed.

A gentle knock sounded at Namjoon’s door and a familiar figure slipped inside.

“...Yunli?”

Namjoon blinked for several moments in confusion before closing his evening read to approach her.

“Yunli... why - what are you doing here? It’s late - the ritual set to begin at sunrise.” He glanced at the door behind her, “Is Yoongi with you?”

She shook her head.

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he considered all the ways his best friend’s younger sister sneaking into his house (in the middle of the night no less) could go horribly wrong.

“Ah. Well... that’s ...not good,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Are-um - are you here to wish me luck for tomorrow?”

He reached for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“No. Frankly I hope Park Jimin beats you to a bloody pulp.”

Water sprayed comically out of Namjoon’s mouth as he began to cough violently.

“What?!” *wheeze* “Why?!”

She offered him a sad smile.

“You know why, Kim Namjoon.”

He did know why.

Yunli had loved him (or believed she loved him) since she was a little girl.

He sighed heavily.

“Yunli, we’ve been over this-”

“One week. The change comes to me in one week-”

“You’re Yoongi’s sister-”

“I’ll be twenty years old, and for the last time I’m not your sister-”

“Goddess above, Yunli!” he shouted, “You’re just a child!”

Yunli’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

“I am not a child!” she growled.

Then her mouth was on his and every single thought he ever had disappeared.

There was only her.

Heat poured through him like heavy syrup as his senses surrendered one by one. His arms wrapped around her without the slightest hesitation, as if their sole purpose was draw her in.

Sweet... Oh goddess, she’s sweet.

Yunli whined needily and a possessive growl rumbled from his chest in response.

Then she was pulling back - wrenching herself away from him with an anguished sob.

Bitter tears flowed freely down her impossibly beautiful face and Namjoon - who spent the majority of his life barely acknowledging his heart - suddenly felt it shatter.

“You should have waited for me,” she whispered.

“Yunli-I-” he tried calling out to her, but it was no use.

She was already gone.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Jimin offered his second a distracted smile and nodded. His room looked the same as it did the morning of the ascension, yet his entire life was different...

“You were great today, Taehyung. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tae felt his chest swell with pride. He didn’t want to think about what sunrise might bring, but he was determined to serve his old friend well.

For as long as he could.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, recalling that he fell asleep on his feet for three entire terms before anyone noticed. “You’re a surprisingly ruthless negotiator. I barely contributed.”

“I wasn’t alone though...” Jimin whispered, “and when Namjoon first issued the challenge... I thought I might be.”

Taehyung gulped, pushing back the oppressive sorrow settling in his gut in favor of some levity.

“You - uh - you actually missed the wildest part of the whole day.”

“...I did?”

“Yeah it was bizarre. Did you notice the table was different after our break?”

Jimin shrugged. His thoughts had been... elsewhere at that point.

“We couldn’t find you at first, so you missed the whole ordeal but - when we all came back to the room, that big oak table was split in half.”

Hello my precious readers! If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments.

(If you are already on the taglist, I will automatically tag you in all future chapters, you do not need to ask to be tagged again.)

Please please please PLEASE let me know what you think! This chapter was HARD and I genuinely aganized over it. Your feedback and support are what kept me pushing though. Truly. I would love to hear from you! I treasure every word of feedback like diamonds.

End Note: Yoonji was mentioned earlier in the story. She is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. Yunli and Yoonji are separate characters.

[brutal-nemesis]

Saltwater Day 2021: Dinner Date with an Eel 💕

Feel that ocean breeze, baby! Cries in lives in a very landlocked area I hope y’all are having some fun in the salty spray ✨Today we finally get to see a Castys misadventure that I’ve talked about in the tags before: the big boy drowning incident! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the agony <3

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning, animal attack, self harm to escape danger, sort of self amputation, gore, broken bones, suicide for convenience (immortal)

Castys had jumped off of higher cliffs before. Granted, he had done it because he was too lazy to walk to the bottom, and he’d landed on solid rock, and it had been very painful for all of two seconds, so this didn’t make him any less terrified of being shoved off of this one. And yes, that’s right, he was going to be shoved off of this one, into the crashing waves below, which was certainly how he’d planned on spending the morning. Nothing better to start the day than a pointless execution!

Oh, but why are you being executed, Castys, you’re so good and noble and also immortal so this isn’t going to work is it. No, no it’s not going to work. And Castys was being “executed” because, well...turns out people don’t take too kindly to finding out you’re the dreaded Pirate King Ragnarok. As usual, he’d fought and tried to get away, and as usual he’d failed miserably. So here he was, wrists chained together behind his back, ankles chained to a stupidly large rock, and a cloth tied tightly around his mouth.

He tried not to think about having to deal with this arrangement once he was underwater, which was something he was less than excited for. There was already quite a large crowd gathered so, hey, at least he was popular. Actually, scratch that, based on the looks he was getting, he was definitely unpopular. He shifted a bit, causing the men gripping his arms to tighten their grasp. He huffed, wishing he had the ability to tell them to chill the fuck out.

“People of Meruna, we are gathered her today for the execution of the notorious-“ oh my FUCK nevermind just push him off already this whole thing was already bad enough without a speech about all his crimes and whatever. Not that he didn’t love hearing about his exploits, because fuck if he regretted any of it, but the sun was hot and he was tired of standing. That water was going to feel so good...until it was filling his lungs ugh nope don’t think about it like that he was just going for a nice swim that’s all. He was going to be in the nice, cool water without any of these assholes glaring at him, and he’d get out of these chains somehow and come back in ten years and release all their goats and that would show them.

All of a sudden, the hands on him started to push him towards the edge of the cliff, a third guard rolling the rock he was chained to along using her foot. Fuck, fuck the speech was over they were doing it he was going over the edge he’d just been joking earlier he really didn’t want to even if the water would feel good he’d rather stand out here all day because that sure as hell was better than drowning over and over and over the edge the air was rushing by the top of the cliff was getting farther and farther away any second now he-

Castys screamed into the gag as he slammed into the cold water, wasting his last breath of air like an idiot before he started to sink beneath the crashing waves, pulled down by the boulder attached to his ankles. He could only squirm uselessly as he sank deeper and deeper, the soaked-through gag filling his mouth with the taste of saltwater, just to make things even more unpleasant. His arms were killing him, and, you know what, they took the brunt of the impact with the water, so they were probably fucking broken, weren’t they? At least they would heal after...after he drowned for the first time. Already his lungs were starting to burn, but thankfully the rock had finally hit the bottom, so he wouldn’t sink any further and therefore the painful pressure on his ears wasn’t going to get any worse, at the very least. 

Positives, positives, since he was probably going to be here for a while...it wasn’t so stupidly hot anymore, instead it was stupidly cold, and already his fingers were starting to go numb-nope, nope, not a positive, let’s try again. It was rather pretty down here, despite the fact that black spots were starting to cloud his vision, and also things were starting to get kinda...woozy, a little bit, a little, hell-o and goodbye, wasn’t it time now? Yeah, yes, the burning was too much it hurt hurt hurt everything was black and black was good bec-

He didn’t bother counting how many times he drowned. Maybe it would have helped pass the time or something, but, let’s be real, there were better things to focus on than how many times he’d experienced the horrible burning in his lungs and that awful lightheadedness. His broken arms had healed up, so that was something, but they were still very much shackled behind his back. If they were free he could at least get that stupid gag out of his mouth and try to fuck with the chain connecting his ankles to that dumb rock. He settled for looking around the underwater landscape surrounding him, glad that sunset was still a ways off. As far as he could tell.

When he could see and think clearly, it was kind of cool to be down here, circumstances aside. All sorts of fish, many of them varieties that he knew what they tasted like, swam around between the wavy water plants. There was even a really big lookin’ boy off in the distance that he’d seen out of the corner of his eye a few times, though it was coming closer now, and he was just starting to be able to make out...wait-was that a-great. Absolutely fantastic, just what he needed. A fucking shreilian eel. How dare he drown over and over in peace, no, no let’s add a vicious man-eating monster to the mix! At least he wasn’t bleeding, so the creature wouldn’t be immediately drawn to him. He’d get to keep his limbs intact for a little longer-wait wait wait. Okay that was absolutely crazy and sounds entirely unfun, but...it might just work.

Castys mustered as much strength as he could, ignoring the ever-present burning of his lungs, and began to clumsily bash himself against the nearby wall of stone. It was coated in barnacles and the like, but their sharp edges were just what he was looking for. Soon enough, he felt the awful sting of saltwater in the many small cuts that were now littering his arm. Fuck, that was nowhere near enough blood to get that eel over here, and his vision was starting to go dark. If he didn’t get that damn thing over here now he’d die and heal and have to do this bullshit all over again no no no get over here you stupid thing fuck yeah that feels like a nice gash it burns to high hell but so does everything and look at all that bloody water or maybe it’s just getting too dark because it is dark and...so...hurt…

When he came back to life, there was a small cloud of blood swirling in the water around him, but it was dissipating more and more by the second. He couldn’t see the eel anywhere, and if that bastard disappeared on him after all that...Instinctively, he tried to take a deep breath and ended up sucking a bunch of water up his nose like an absolute idiot, his nostrils now burning just as much as his even more waterlogged lungs. His body tried to cough, but it was just painful and useless like everything else he’d done while stuck down here, and he just ended up thrashing around like an injured fish.

Just what the eel had been waiting for.

It felt like he’d suddenly been hit by a mace, slamming him into the rocks, his arm lighting up with the pain of a thousand hot spikes, almost too intense for him to even process, the salty water magnifying every little agony tenfold. Castys was certain he would have been screaming if he had the air, and as much as this was absolutely fucking terrible, he hoped the eel would do it again. It had bitten off a good chunk of his arm as far as he could tell, but not enough to completely sever it and free him from the restraints. And for once, his horrid luck regarding avoiding pain paid off. The eel rammed into him again, ripping off more of his arm with its razor-sharp teeth and causing the bones of his forearm to crack. 

Sensing his chance, Castys grabbed the manacled wrist of his shredded arm with his good hand, bit down on the gag, and pulled. He couldn’t give up, couldn’t stop, not after enduring this much, he could feel his flesh tearing, sending out sparks of agony unlike anything he’d ever known, and he had to keep pulling, pulling and jerking and tearing and twisting and praying, praying that he could rip it off before he drowned again, which, hey, kind of a weird thing to want, not that he hadn’t had to amputate his own limbs before, but weird that it was happening again, and honestly, this hurt way more than the other times, but wasn’t that always the case-and fuck there was no way he was going to be able to just snap his bones like this, and he needed it to be completely severed, and there was no time, wedge it against the rocks and pull pull pull until there was a snap and a burst of unholy agony, so intense it almost smothered the relief, so fierce it made him forget he was drowning up until the moment his oxygen-starved brain lost consciousness. 

Castys’s arms were free. Well, one was free, and the other one was still manacled, attached to...what was left over after all that. He ripped the gag out of his mouth, resisting the urge to suck in mouthfuls of air that were absolutely not there. Looking down at his ankles, he wasn’t sure if-his body exploded with pain as the eel rammed into him again, taking a chunk of flesh from his side, which was definitely not where he wanted to be bitten. Gritting his teeth against the anguish that almost consumed him, he grabbed the wrist of his severed arm and clumsily smeared blood around his ankles, hoping it would entice the monster to attack them and help set him free. 

It worked, and it didn’t. The eel attacked him again and again, no longer pausing in between bites to circle him. Castys wasn’t even sure where it was biting him anymore, he just knew that everything hurt, the saltwater in his wounds magnifying the pain so much that there was no discernible source. He didn’t try to fight the eel off, hoping it would just do enough damage to his legs that he could get free, but he wasn’t sure if he could have even tried to get it away from him if he wanted to. Things were getting so dizzy so fast, all of a sudden, there was nothing to do but wait and die and hurt…

When he came back to life, Castys was disappointed to find that he was not floating to the surface. In fact, one of his ankles felt kind of weird, like it wasn’t shackled anymore, but still...for fuck’s sake. One of his ankles had been freed, torn enough to shreds before he’d died that the manacle had come off, but the other one was...well the manacle wasn’t around his ankle so much as it was…in his ankle. How the fuck that had happened, he had no clue. He just knew he had to deal with it. Looking around, the eel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, probably full to bursting after its meal, and though his heart sank a little at the thought that he couldn’t rely on it anymore, he was also slightly relieved, because that thing had been vicious. It had, however, left a parting gift. He swam downwards and grabbed the smooth fang off of the sandy ocean bottom, gripping it tightly. Just a little bit more. 

He had endured so much already, felt pain more intense, experienced sensations more gruesome, but this...this was more active than everything else that had happened down here. More visible. He had to make every stab and slice deliberately, had to watch the tooth do its damage, it wasn’t mindless bashing or praying he’d get bitten in the right places, but an active choice to cut his flesh away, inviting burning seawater into a wound once again, and it was difficult. Part of him wanted to stop, take a break, please, I don’t want to have to do this anymore, I want to let go, just for a little bit, please, but he knew he couldn’t, because he had to get this done before he drowned again or he’d have to start the whole damn thing over. 

Relief like he’d never known washed over him as he finally managed to worm the manacle out of his shredded ankle and he felt himself start to rise. The lightheadedness was getting worse, and he wasn’t sure if he’d make it in time, so he wormed his finger into the pouch around his neck and let the death stone’s magic take him before the lack of air could. He was still rising when he came back to, and he propelled himself towards the surface with renewed strength, despite the pain of his ears popping and the odd ache in his joints. 

Finally, blessedly, he made it to the surface, and air had never tasted so fucking good. Not that it wasn’t salty, but it wasn’t as salty as saltwater, and he sucked as much of it as he could into his waterlogged lungs. He looked up at the cliff towering over him, now painted with the orange of sunset instead of the gold of sunrise. He...he had been down there all day just...downing. And getting eaten. Kinda fucked. Seeing a nearby rock, he swam over to it and scampered on top, collapsing on its damp surface as he coughed up far too much fucking seawater. Fuck, his head was spinning and his joints hurt, like they probably would have if he could grow old. Well, nothing that one last death can’t fix, now that he was finally on land again.

Castys opened his eyes and sat up, feeling perfectly fine besides the awful, salty taste in his mouth. He looked over at the cliff smugly. Those bastards had tried to get rid of him for good, and they’d failed miserably. He folded down his middle fingers and placed his thumbs over them, a rude gesture in this part of the world. Seeing the remnant of his arm dangling from the manacle still attached to his left wrist, he had a devilishly gruesome idea. 

The next morning, the whole town was awoken by the screams of a young couple who had gone out for a stroll.

Right there, in the middle of the town square, was part of a crudely severed arm, its fingers frozen in an obscene gesture, its skin slimy and already starting to slip off. A manacle was clamped around its wrist, attached by a short chain to the other one, which had been broken open. 

The execution had failed, and that heinous pirate had escaped.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words

[arts-and-drafts]

Legacy (Part 2)

(Continuation of my first FWT fankid AU fic, in which Dream faces his consequences and Fundy goes after his reckless son before it's too late to save him. Enjoy!)

(Tagging @midnightmagi @rose-icosahedron @amazonprimebox @colorfulsiren @strawberrylemonz)

-

Dream shifted, the first real movement Theo had seen from him. "...I don't have a son." He spoke, his tone low with an unreadable emotion. Theo flattened his ears.

"Actually, you fucking do." Theo snarled, his anger overriding his caution. "But you wouldn't know, since Dad was too afraid of you to say anything."

Dream went still, his mask tilting up to seemingly search Theo's face. "'Dad'...do you--Fundy?" Dream asked, a shred of desperation present in his question.

"Yeah." Theo spat. "Fundy is my dad. He ran away because you cheated on him, and you were gonna start another fucking war."

Dream flinched, only barely, but Theo caught it with a fierce satisfaction. He found the nerve.

"I thought--I thought Fundy was dead--" Dream muttered. "And you...you're mine?"

Dream raised his hand towards Theo, but snatched it back when Theo raised the trident to his throat. "I'm not fucking yours. I'm here to hurt you the way you hurt my dad. Don't get fucking chummy."

Dream paused, again. Theo wished he could rip that mask off to see what he was really thinking.

"What's your name?" Dream asked, slowly and carefully. Theo's lip curled.

"You don't deserve to know."

Dream gently pushed the trident aside, putting his hands up as Theo jerked it right back to his vulnerable chest. "Kid--" Dream started, but Theo cut him off.

"Do you have any fucking idea what you did?! He loved you, and you just threw him into the dirt!! I'm ashamed to share your fucking blood." Theo exploded, spitting all the venom he could muster.

"Listen--" Dream tried to interrupt, his body language tensing the more Theo ripped into him. Theo silenced him by jabbing the trident points against his godly father's chest. "No! YOU fucking listen!!" Theo snapped.

Dream's energy suddenly violently shifted, making the fur on the back of Theo's neck stand on end. Dream grasped the neck of the trident with an iron grip and easily twisted it out of the fox's paws as if he was snatching a toy from a child.

Theo stepped back with wide eyes as Dream advanced, throwing the trident aside carelessly while keeping his undivided attention on his son.

Theo's back hit the strong stalks of bamboo, halting his frantic reversal to escape Dream. He bit down a yell as his other father grabbed his arm and pulled him close, his grip tight and unyeilding.

"Where is Fundy." Dream said. It was not a request, it was an order. Theo bared his fangs. "Fuck you."

"Tell me where he is!!" Dream yelled, yanking Theo closer as he tried to pull away. Theo clenched his free fist and felt it charge with green magic.

"Get off me!!" Theo snarled, his glowing fist being Dream's only warning before it swung dead center into his smiling mask.

Dream flew backwards, Theo crying out in pain as the god pulled the fox's arm hard enough that he heard a small pop in his shoulder before Dream's grip finally broke. Theo's vision blurred with white stars of pain as Dream landed in the pond below, thrown a significant distance from the force of Theo's blow.

Theo gasped and clutched at his arm, a throbbing ache from his shoulder forcefully taking his breath from his lungs. He staggered over to the discarded trident and picked it up with his left paw, holding it close to his chest as his right arm lay useless at his side.

Theo's eyes slowly widened in fear as Dream rose from the pond, crackling bolts of a familiar green energy encasing his entire body. Theo could feel his fury from 50 blocks away.

Theo tightened his grip on the trident, his ears flat to his head as his father started to float menacingly towards him. He was lightheaded with pain and one arm short, but refused to admit defeat. Theo stood his ground and bared his teeth as Dream closed in.

-

Fundy paced the length of Logstedshire's walls, his mind addled with worry. Theo hadn't been seen since he awoke, something that wasn't abnormal. His son liked the early morning. What worried Fundy was the fact that there was no note telling where he ran off to like there usually was, and he was not in his regular places of comfort outside the walls. He just simply disappeared.

"Could've forgot." Tommy wondered aloud to Fundy from his spot next to the Prime Log. His uncle had been looking for guidance from the vessel all morning, but was met with silence from his deity.

"No." Fundy instantly shot him down, turning in place to pace down the south wall again. "I rammed it into that kid's head to always tell me where he was. He wouldn't have forgotten."

A gust of chill from behind halted Fundy's nervous movement. He sighed and flattened his ears.

"What do you want, Wilbur."

"Hello, Fundy!" Ghostbur greeted cheerfully, unperturbed by his son's cold acknowledgement. "Is little Theo back yet?"

Fundy turned to face him. "You saw him leave?"

"Yes!" Ghostbur said. "He said he needed to take care of something and told me not to tell you--...oh." Ghostbur's face flickered. "Frick."

Fundy moved to grab Ghostbur's arm, his paw passing right through his father's transparent form. "Wil, tell me where he went." Fundy demanded, his voice rigid with fear. Ghostbur's face twisted in guilt.

"He said not to say anything," the spirit said hesitantly. Fundy flattened his ears tight to his head.

"Wilbur. My son is in trouble." Fundy said, driving every spot of desperation he felt into his words. "He's gonna fuck himself over and he's gonna get himself killed if you don't tell me where he went. For once in your fucking existance, Wil, be a good dad."

Fundy exhaled and looked at the ground, blinking tears from his eyes. "If not for me, then--at least for Theo."

Ghostbur had gone very transparent, his eyes far away. For a tense second, Fundy feared his dead father would disappear until he forgot again.

"He went to Technoblade." Ghostbur murmured dazedly, blinking. "He said he needed a weapon."

Fundy ran his paw over his head, his core filling with dread. "Shit. Shit." He tried so long to keep Theo hidden, to protect him, to keep him safe, and it was all falling apart.

Fundy cursed himself. He never should have told his son the truth. This was all his fault.

Fundy looked back up to Ghostbur, desperately searching his eyes. "Is he still there?"

Ghostbur shrugged, and Fundy wanted to tear his fur out.

"He...asked about Dream? I don't know why. He seemed very interested in your marriage." Ghostbur commented. Fundy squeezed his eyes shut, old scars flaring up at his father's words.

"He's going to the SMP." Fundy breathed. He snapped his head to Tommy, who mirrored his look of fear. "Tommy, we have to find him--oh shit, shit, he's going to get himself killed--"

Tommy's hands grabbed Fundy's arms, though the fox didn't notice him rise from the Prime log.

"Fundy--I-I can't go there. Dream will kill me." Tommy said, his voice only imperceptibly trembling. Fundy's shoulders began to shake. "He'll die if we don't, I--"

"Fundy, I can't go with you." Tommy reiterated in a pleading voice. "But you're not exiled like I am."

Fundy blinked. "So--I'm--I'm on my own." He realized. Tommy didn't respond, only pressed his mouth in a thin line.

"I'm--I can't. I can't die." He said, and Fundy could see regret and shame and fear behind his uncle's eyes.

Fundy stilled. "I...understand."

"You won't be alone!" Ghostbur piped up from behind them, his voice already back to its raspy happiness. Fundy set his jaw.

"Ghostbur. You need to stay with Tommy. You'll just fuck it up." Fundy stated, disdain dripping from his words. He turned away from his uncle and the ghost of his father, steeling himself for leaving Logstedshire for the first time.

"Fundy." Tommy said, and the fox paused. "Take whatever you need." His uncle said. Fundy turned to see Tommy gesturing to the storage house.

Tommy was a hoarder. After the visits from Dream, the boy had squirreled away everything he could get his hands on, hidden from the explosive fate that all the rest of his belongings had suffered. Tommy was possessive and greedy, but here he was, opening his entire supply of preperations to his nephew.

Fundy swallowed, a task that had suddenly become difficult. "Thank you, Tommy." He struggled, never one to know how to express his gratitude in his words. His father was the poet, after all. Not him.

Tommy nodded regardless, and Fundy got the feeling that he knew what his nephew was trying to convey.

Fundy made quick work of packing. Food, armor, axe. A golden apple just in case. He stopped, and then grabbed a second.

There was no such thing as too careful against Dream.

Before he sealed his pack, Fundy took a deep breath. Time was a medicine, and had helped Fundy heal from his former husband shattering him into pieces.

Going right back to the man who hurt him so badly could only end as such, and Fundy would never attempt it on his own.

But the greatest gift that came from Dream was Theo, and he meant more to Fundy than anything else in the realms. He was not about to abandon him to the fate of his divine father, no matter how bad it would hurt to go back.

Fundy clipped the top of his pack together and slung it over his shoulder.

For Theo, he would do anything. If that meant facing his hell to save his son, then so be it.

Ghostbur was gone when Fundy returned, and he didn't care. Good riddance. In the past, he would have felt a small twinge of guilt, but that was a long time ago.

Tommy saw him off, waving solemnly from the walls of Logstedshire. Fundy knew Tommy had done all he could, but the fox couldn't help but feel a very small twist of abandonment. Fundy was more than willing to risk his life for Theo, and a part of him wished Tommy was too.

Fundy shook his head. That was unfair to think. He focused on the horizon, his breath fogging in the morning air, and sent a silent wish to whatever god would listen that his son would be okay when he found him.

[blue-bird-kny]

The Decoy

Finally got this out of the drafts! Its been a hot minute but I hope everyone is doing well, enjoy!~Amanda

Warning: Cussing, Gore 

(1.3k+ words)

You bathed under the dazzling city lights as you took in every moment of the district's nightlife. You’d only ever heard stories of this buzzing city and all the crazy endeavours you could partake in. While you were the epitome of enthusiasm, your brute of a boyfriend was not as animated beside you.The atmosphere surrounding Sanemi was deathly; his face sagged in a deep scowl as he prowled at your side like a predator searching for its prey. Sanemi was sent to the Red Light District in hopes of finding and killing a demon who had been disguising themselves as a wealthy nobleman, promising women a hefty pay for their time. As hilarious as it would be, Sanemi would never pass for a decent lady in drag, so it was only obvious you tag along to act as the decoy.

“Hey look at this candy Nemi’! It's shaped like a dragon!” your eyes sparkled childishly at the glassy pulled sugar stick for sale on the vendors station. Sanemi growled in mock annoyance a few feet behind you, his arms crossed over his bare chest, “How fucking old are you? We’ve stopped at every damn stand” he complained. You paid the old man selling the treats, slipping in a few extra coins of gratitude, before shuffling over to your brooding shadow, offering an affectionate smile, “Come on Nemi, lighten up!” you chastised. Yea like that was possible, as if he wasn’t about to ship you off to some monster so he could touch you for sport, “Let’s go L/n”.

You found yourselves hidden between two tall buildings, using the shade as a rendezvous spot. “How do I look?” you joked, desperately trying to alleviate a little of his stress. His eyes wandered over your silky yukata, painted in brilliant blue shades with blue ombre blossoms and white accents adorning the sleeves. His eyes narrowed further as he passed your cleavage on complete display for any hungry eyes, wanting nothing more to sink his teeth into the exposed skin of your neck, to mark you as his. Your finger lifted his lowered grimace up to your far softer expression, holding him there, “Sanemi I volunteered, you don’t need to be so worried about me. I’m just the bait, you get to have all the fun” you giggled. His furrowed brows crumbled, revealing something softer for a moment, a moment meant for just the two of you.“Don’t do anything stupid, Stupid” he poked your forehead gently, silent confessions filling the small space. As he watched your retreating form from the side lines, Sanemi swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, even at the expense of the mission.

You walked around the large house alone, trying your best to blend in with the scantily clad women around you “maybe I’m overdressed”. You peered above at the poles that lined the roof where you felt Sanemi’s gaze following you. In your periphery you spotted your target, pretending to stumble on your own dress and falling at the feet of a very tall man, “show time”.

“I-I’m sorry, I lost my balance” you pleaded to the man from the floor, gazing up at him innocently. His domineering chuckle was deep and cocky, offering a hand out to you. “You’re new right? I’ve haven’t seen you around” he questioned, his amber eyes boring into your soul. He pulled you uncomfortably close to his chest, forcing your face near his, “I’d remember a face like yours”. You averted your eyes to the floor nervously, to him it looked like you were submissively falling into his touch,“All I need to do is get him away from everyone else”

“Come, let's go somewhere quieter” he wrapped your smaller hand in his larger one, pulling you away to an empty part of the house blocked off by a thin curtain.He sat himself down in a plush chair, gesturing to his lap, “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite” yea right. You gulped before awkwardly climbing onto his clothed thighs, trying everything in your power to not grimace.

Sanemi was two steps away from exploding as he watched the scene unfold before him, his eyes lighting with fire and dripping with bloodlust, wanting to rip that thing to shreds. It took every fiber of his being to hold out and watch every insufferable second of you being handled by a demon, but he needed to trust you. He knew that you didn’t need him around, that you were capable of killing the demon using the small blades hidden in the strap around your thigh, but he wasn’t willing to see how much of yourself you’d have to give for that to happen. Sanemi gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white while the man's hand languidly trailed your bare shoulder, slowly pushing the fabric lower and lower.

You giggled obnoxiously for the tenth time, laughing at whatever nonsense the demon was spewing. His touch was like ice against your skin; searing against your warmth, leaving an icy chill with every stroke. You stealthy moved your hand out of sight, flexing your fingers into the signal you and Sanmi had agreed on when the demon snatched your wrist, raising it to his long fangs. “I’m offended you think I’m so stupid, little girl”

Everything happened too quickly; before the demon could sink his teeth into your skin, Sanemi was  already standing there, sword raised against his neck and hand ripping the hair off his scalp. “Move even an inch and I’ll send your head rolling asshole” Sanemi growled. The three of you sat motionless, the sound of your faint breathing filling the tense space. “I must say, you’ve got me” the demon started, “But your only mistake was not grabbing her first” he sunk his teeth into your veins, biting down almost to the bone. You parted your lips in silent screams, blood gushing out of the wound as Sanemi severed his head, prying his teeth off the torn skin.

Tears spilled freely as you lay on the wood floor clutching your battered arm, praying for something, anything to ease the pain. “Shit” Sanemi breathed, frantically tearing a piece of his clothes to act as a bandage, “You should have fucking stayed home!” his words were lost in your whimpers. Your lips twitched, desperately trying to form words, but the world was fading fast and the last thing you saw was Sanemi before everything faded away.

“I almost died”

It was the first thought you had once your eyes finally opened, the warm blanket you'd been wrapped in falling to your hips. You remembered everything while you admired the crafty stitch work that lined your arm in intricate loops, wincing when you probed the tender skin. “Don’t touch it dumbass” a harsh voice called. “Hey Nemi” you greeted shyly, instantly recognizing the nickname. A million questions rushed to roll off your tongue, instead, morphing into one solemn “I’m sorry”

“You were right, I had no reason to be there. All I did was prolong the mission and hurt myself in the process” your voice quivered as you spoke, your eyes not able to reach his. Loud stomps marched towards your bed spread, Sanemis rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t say that shit. You did your part of the mission while I hesitated and let that prick hurt you. So dammit don’t say sorry because I’m fucking sorry!” his tone grew higher and higher to the point where he was practically yelling, but it didn’t bother you. You smiled softly, nuzzling into his palms, grasping your flushed cheeks, turning slightly to place soft kisses on each one. “We’re a mess sometimes, aren’t we?” you yawned, pink washing over the both of you. “Whatever, just go back to sleep” he mumbled, pushing against the mattress. “Hey Nemi guess what?” “What?” “Now we’ll have matching scars” you laughed, eyelids already growing heavy “That’s not funny, dumbass!”

“Are you going to stay?”

“Of course”

Masterlist

This isn’t my favorite, but I 100% headcanon Sanemi using your last name as a term of endearment. 

[potato-an0n]

Hi, so I came across Escapism from Steven Universe and this question came up "what if this was what Hange was thinking throughout s4 as commander that lead to her fate in ch 132?" (or at least, that's what she convinces herself to think). Especially when Hange would say "I'm tired."

AO3 link here

I guess I have to face

That in this awful place

I shouldn't show a trace

Of doubt

"I'm saying the next commander of the Survey Corps, will be you, Hange Zoe," Erwin announces.

Hange looked at him shocked and a bit unsure.

"Eh? Me? But I don't understand.....do I even have the qualifications to even lead a whole military branch? Is there anyone else you could've picked? Like Armin!" Hange says, feeling unsure if he made the right choice choosing her for this role.

Erwin shook his head and gave her a serious look.

"Hange, you are more than capable of taking on this role. You have a brilliant mind, the experience of leadership, you're calm under pressure, you trained with the Scouts the longest therefore our soldiers know and respect you. I have great faith and confidence you'll lead humanity to victory."

"Oi, Hange."

Hange snaps out of her thoughts and looks around her office to see Levi standing at the doorway, making his way towards her desk.

"Oh Levi hi. Sorry, I've been caught up with all this paperwork. It's a lot more work than being a mad titan scientist researcher," Hange says letting out an exhausted chuckle. Levi knows that look all too well, so he lets out sigh, went in front of where she was sitting and leaned back against her desk.

"When was the last time you slept? Or bathed? You smell like shit, not like that's new," Levi commented. Hange chuckled a bit at his usual sarcasm. "Good to know you're still your usual grumpy, clean freak self," she says as she lets out a sad smile but then returned to a frown when she felt the stress get to her.

"Hey Levi, do you think....maybe Erwin made a mistake? That maybe-"

Hange felt him grab onto her shoulders and looked into his eyes in shock.

"Listen here four eyes and listen well, if anyone can take Erwin's place it's you. I don't know who told you or if someone said anything, but the Scouts need you! Paradis needs you! We need you...." As Levi finished his little speech, he felt Hange face planting into his chest. He sighs and rub his hand over her greasy head.

A few minutes has passed and Hange wasn't saying anything. Levi was starting to get concerned.

"Oi, you better not be asleep!"

Hange grumbled a bit," but I feel so comfortable right now, just a few more minutes please."

Levi pushed Hange's shoulders back away from his chest, "tch, not with your hair all gross and filthy, go take a shower."

"But the paperwork-"

"Will still be there when you're done, plus you need a break."

Hange pouts but gives in, "fine." However, an idea sparked in her head as she got up, so she gave Levi a mischievous grin and he knew exactly what that meant.

Before she could say anything, Levi found a towel and threw at her.

"Don't even think about it!"

Hange bursted out laughing as she took the towel off her head and left. She didn't notice Levi softly smiling to himself when he heard her genuinely laugh for the first time in a while.

--

But pulled against the grain

I feel a little pain

With Eren grabbing her by the collar screaming if she has a plan, the whole island doubting her leadership, trying to figure out Eren and Zeke's true plan, Levi being away technically babysitting Zeke, and the sudden rise of the Yeagarists, it was all too much for her handle, not to mention, she’s still grieving over the loss of Moblie and Erwin, but here she is, locked up in a jail cell with the remaining 104th squad, Niccolo and Onyonkapon.

After hearing more about the Yeagar brothers' plan to enable the rumbling, she was furious! 'Are you fucking kidding me?! Mass genocide?!!!’

After all the sacrifices, all the countless lives risked just to keep him safe, it all leads up to this. She needs to get out of here and come up with a plan to stop this.

Luckily, she and everyone else were able to get out of jail, only for her to stumble upon a lying body in the grass, who happens to be Levi.

Panicked, she ran straight to him and felt his pulse, praying to God she’ll feel a pulse, but she did and allowed herself to relax a bit.

“I have no idea what happened, but we’re lucky, our number one threat here is all bloodied up,” Hange heard Floch said.

“Lets shoot him in the head!” a Yeagarist exclaimed.

“He’s dead,” Hange announces after hearing the Yeagarists wanting to kill Levi. ‘Like hell they’ll lay one finger on him.’

“He got caught in the explosion of a thunder-spear point blank range. I’ve seen similar accidents during training, but beyond external wounds. Internal organs would be ripped into shreds and death would be instant,” Hange tries her best to convince Floch, but he doesn’t buy it.

“I can also take his pulse. Let me check,” he says eyeing her suspiciously.

Hange looked at him in panic and had to think quick. She spotted the river next to her and quickly dove in.

That I would rather do without

She emerges from the water with Levi in her arms. She laid him down and began the CPR procedures.

“Come on Levi! Don’t die on me please!” She screams as she continues giving him CPR. Tears were falling down her face and when she felt hopeless, Levi started coughing up water and Hange flipped him to his side as he catches his breath.

When he was able to breathe a little bit easier, Hange wraps her arms around his neck and starts bawling her eyes out. “Thank god you’re alive!”

Levi turned to look at her, caressing her hair as he laid back on the ground to allow his body to relax a bit, despite the pain he feels on his face and hands. As he feels Hange’s sobs die down, he felt her head get heavier on his chest. He smiles and quietly whispers to her “thank you” as they both slip into unconsciousness.

I’d rather be free

“I’d rather the two of us just live here, right Levi?”

Free

“If we keep running and hiding.....where will that get us?”

“Oh, so you heard me talking to myself?”

Free

“I know you four eyes. You won’t be able to stay out of the action.”

‘Fuck, he’s right. Looks like that dream has to wait I guess’

“You’re right.....I can’t.”

Hange’s voice cracked a bit as a tear slides down her cheek.

I’d rather be free

There’s no way the plane will take off in time, and the colossal titans are close!

"The plane! It won't take off!" Onyonkapon exclaims.

"We don't have much time left! The rumbling is getting closer! We need to hurry!" Hange hears someone yell.

"I'm doing the best I can!"

More panicking ensues as Hange is thinking of a plan.

"Your death is the only way the Alliance will survive and save the world."

'My death?'

"You've been suffering for so long Hange. The sudden responsibilities of being commander, while on top of that, grieving the loss of Moblit and Erwin. Don't you want that all to disappear?"

"Wouldn't you rather be free?"

'I can't....'

"It's either you die or everyone else dies."

"What will it be Hange? You have until then to decide."

Hange gripped her hair and gritted her teeth, frustrated with the stressful situation situation she's placed in. The voices in her head, everyone panicking outside, and the sound of the rumbling, it's driving her crazy, she feels her head is about to explode.

'Wouldn't you rather be free?'

'Sacrifice.....myself.....'

Hange takes a look at the colossal titans coming closer, and the plane is still struggling to take off. 'This is the only way huh?'

She thinks about whether she should go through this or not, knowing she'll be leaving the Alliance behind, leaving Levi behind.

They only had each other left. She wanted them to live together when this was all over, but looks like that won't be happening, after all, he did say they couldn't.

"What's the point if we just run and hide?"

"I know you, you won't be able to stay out of the action."

'You're right, Levi. I can't.......we can't....I'll do it.'

After Hange formed her suicide plan, she went to the deck to find the Alliance. She appoints Armin as the 15th commander of the Scouts and headed towards the colossal titans, until she heard footsteps following after. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Levi.

“You understand. It’s finally here, you know? I want to look as cool as possible right now, so please, just let me go will you?”

'I'm sorry Levi."

She waited for his response, scared of what he might say. She saw Levi coming close to her, eyes loosing his color. They look so cold and dead. He raised his right fist and bumped it onto her chest, where her heart is.

“Devote....your heart.”

Hange felt herself about to cry with the way her lips are quivering. Before she could think about changing her mind, she took off, but not without saying one last thing to him.

"Wow, I never heard you say something like that before!" she says as she tries to maintain her positive aura, but who was she kidding?

She ran towards the colossal titans, and flew up in the air with her ODM gear.

She looked below her, feeling their heat.

‘Is this what you wanted right?’

She took a deep breath and smile sadly.

“Titans.....are truly wonderful.”

'I hope you'll forgive me.'

Free

All the emotions she was feeling right now, all that anger, pain, sadness and despair, she let all out as she knocks down every colossal titan one by one.

"What are you really doing this for? To save the alliance or yourself?"

Hange paused for a minute to look at the plane that looks like it's about to take off.

'Am I?'

"Are you?"

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt her cape catch on fire and spreading throughout her body. 'Fuck....well, there's no stopping now.'

With what little strength she had left, she kept fighting, screaming out her emotions with angry yet sad tears spilling out of her eyes as she slices as many colossal titans as she could until she couldn't anymore, falling to her death.

Free

She wakes up to a plane noise, and sees it flying in the sky.

“The plane!” she exclaims to herself.

“It took off,” a deep voice said.

Hange turned around and saw Erwin, Moblit, Mike, Nanaba, the rest of the veterans, and even Marco and Sasha was there to greet her.

“You did your duty well,” Erwin says with a proud smile.

Hange was still in shock to see everyone again, but lets out a soft smile as Erwin helped her up.

‘But, I just got crushed by-‘ she pauses herself and decides to meet up with her comrades to tell them everything, only for the moment to pass by in a blink.

"There's so much to talk about...I don't know where to start..."

"We have all the time in the world," Erwin says as he reached out his hand and helped her off the ground.

From here

(If you want to stop here, you can, but I'm a sucker for happy endings and I also have my own speculations with how love is perceived in AOT that I want to write about or why Ymir chose Mikasa to be the one to decide the fate of the world pretty much, and i was think 'how about both eremika and levihan both be living proof that love isn't a like shackle or something to be a slave to?' and this whole thing I wrote is basically like a test for Hange, if she genuinely wanted to kill herself or actually did die not just for humanity, but for the Alliance to survive, also I kind of wanted Hange to have a bit of a conflict with what she really wants. Anyways, this got a lot complicated to write than I thought so hopefully, it's not too messy)

--

“So this is it then. This is how the great 14th commander of the Survey Corps Hange Zoë dies.”

Hange opens her eyes and sat up, only to see nothing but darkness. She swore a moment ago she was telling her fallen comrades about what happened after the battle to take back Shiganshina.

She stands up and walks around trying to find anything that can help her figure out what’s happening, but it’s no use.

“What’s going on?! What’s happening?! Where am I?! What are you?!”

Suddenly, she’s no longer stuck in what looks to be a dark void. There’s somewhat of a galactic sky above her, sand beneath her feet and in a distance this light that’s in a form of a giant tree. 'Am I in paths?'

She turns around and sees a little girl with blonde hair, eyes closed and a frown staring at her.

"I assume you must be Ymir Fritz. The original founder of the titans."

“Indeed I am. And as I stated earlier, you're Hange Zoë, 14th commander of what's left of the Scouts and leader of the Alliance. Everyone views your death as a noble sacrifice for humanity, but is it really a sacrifice for humanity or was it something more personal? Perhaps, even a little selfish?”

Hange gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. She did not want to deal with this right now, but deep down, what she's implying might be true.

"What are you trying to say? I had no other choice. They all would've been dead! This was the only way!"

"Even if it meant leaving that Ackerman behind? You did say you wanted to live with him when all of this was over. I envied what the both of you had for each other. You both could've been something more if you stayed. You say you sacrificed yourself for humanity's sake, but I sense there's a more selfish intent. I could tell in the look of your eyes you didn't truly want to die, perhaps because you had strong feelings for that Ackerman. But he wasn't enough....wasn't he? Your desire to free yourself from your responsibilities as commander and grief were much stronger."

Hange felt anger surge into her veins, so she grabbed Ymir by the collar and looked her in her closed eyes as she gritted her teeth in anger. However, in the back of her mind, Hange knew Ymir was kind of right about her. She did had a selfish reason, she was tired, and frustrated. She couldn't handle the responsibilities that just kept on coming, along with learning the politics and general information of every new country discovered and having to rely information from the Marlayans that showed up, along with the books Grisha left in the basement.

The more paperwork and planning she had to do, the more she started loosing herself. Everyone saw it but didn't say anything, that included Levi, but she couldn't blame him, she was too far gone. There were so many times she wanted to die, but stopped herself every time.

'Not the right time. They still need me,' she would tell herself. It wasn't until Eren started getting rebellious and the rise of the Yeagarists that really pushed her on edge. She felt so hopeless, and was lost. When Eren started provoking her in the cell, it was a sign to her that she wasn't meant for this position. She lost control of the situation and felt it was her fault. Hange felt that she wasn't useful anymore, even if they've managed to save the world and prevent Marlay from attacking Paradis.

However, without her sacrifice, the Alliance would have died with her. She didn't want to drag them down with her when they had a chance of saving humanity and living a peaceful life after the war. Even if it meant abandoning her dream of living a peaceful life with Levi.

She calms herself down and lets go of Ymir.

"You're right about one thing, I did have a selfish motive. I wanted to be free from the responsibilities and the grief I've been feeling while I was still alive. I know I'm a coward for wanting to die, but that's not the sole reason why I sacrificed myself. Not only me, but the Alliance and the rest of humanity would've been killed because of the rumbling the Yeagar brothers started! As much as I wanted to stay for Levi, I wanted him to experience a life of peace, same with the Alliance. And even if that means sacrificing myself, and giving up my future with him just so he and everyone else can live a better life after this war, then so be it." As Hange finishes her long speech, she started feeling tears streaming down her eyes.

Ymir just stood there, looking at Hange with her eyes still closed. It was silent for a bit, and then Ymir spoke up, "Very well then."

In a blink of an eye, the two appeared on what happens to be the top of Eren's spine in his founder titan form.

Hange looked below them to see the Alliance fighting past titan shifters and more titans forming. She already picked up that it was probably Ymir's doing. 'Looks like my sacrfice was worth something.'

"Why are you showing me this?" Hange asks suspiciously.

"Your friends succeeded into coming here to stop Eren from flatting the Earth with the rumbling. Everything is all going according to Eren's plan," Ymir explained.

"Why are you willing to help Eren? What is his plan really? And why is he doing this in the first place?" Hange asks, super confused on what's going on.

"You'll see if he succeeds or not. It's all up to what Mikasa decides."

"What does Mikasa have to do with any of this?"

Ymir doesn't respond and turned into some sort of a pig creature. Hange looked at her shocked and is really confused of what's happening. 'What the hell?!'

The pig creature took off and went to search for Armin. Hange sighs, knowing she can't do anything, but watch it all unfold.

'What's your true motive, Eren? And how does this connect to Mikasa?'

She winced a bit when the Alliance were struggling to keep up with the fight, and was itching to go in there and help, until, she saw something fly by. ‘What is that?’

Her eyes widened with joy when she saw Falco’s titan.

"Oh my god! HE HAS WINGS?!!! HE CAN FLY!!!! OH MY GOD THAT'S SO COOL! I CAN'T TOO- oh right.....I'm dead....." Hange sighs and continues watching over the Alliance.

Eventually, the events played out as it should and as Mikasa took the final blow (cutting Eren's head off), suddenly Hange ends up in front of Levi who's slumped against a giant rock and behind are their fallen comrades. 'Where did they come from? Ymir has to stop doing this...'

She takes a good look at Levi and can't help but feel sorrow. She regrets not being mentally strong enough, and not being a part of the fight, even if she did her part, but she doesn't regret doing what she had to do in order for everyone to survive.

It still hurt her that she couldn't be there for him physically, and experience what life would be like at the end of the war. She wasn't ready to move on, but she had no choice, this is the last time she'll see him again. She put on a sad smile, and saluted him as she and their comrades slowly faded away.

--

It was dark again and Hange couldn't see a thing. 'Not again.'

"Hello?!" she calls out to into the void. No response.

"Anyone here?!" she calls out again. Still no response.

'Am I in hell?'

"You should know by now this is not hell," a familiar voice says in a distance.

'That voice.....it sounds....familiar.....'

"Hange, it's me, Eren."

Hange's eyes widened in shock. "Eren?! What the hell is this? What's going on? Why are you doing this?!" Hange responds in anger.

The dark void suddenly transformed into some sort of starry night, galactic scenery. She's back in paths except, Eren is standing in front of her.

"I know you're upset. You remember our conversation back in the forest right? Where you and Levi settled for the time being."

Suddenly, the conversation started playing like a film in her head and she shouldn't have listened to him.

"In order for the Alliance to succeed in stopping me, you must sacrifice yourself by fighting the colossal titans."

"You've been suffering for so long Hange. The sudden responsibilities of being commander, while on top of that, grieving the loss of Moblit and Erwin. Don't you want that all to disappear?"

Hange grits her teeth as anger flows through her veins and punched Eren in the face.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! This was your plan all along?! All of these deaths I've experienced throughout my years in the Scouts.... my death......it was your doing all along?! OUR COMRADES EREN! AND 80% OF HUMANITY!!! I hope you're fucking happy because your plan fucking worked!"

"I know, I don't expect you to understand, but I brought you to apologize for the things I've said to you when you locked me up in the cell and in paths while you were in the forest was uncalled for, so I'm sorry about that and I haven't really given you a proper thank you either. For teaching me how to use my titan powers, and being like our second parent...same with the captain."

"Thank you? Seriously? What the fuck Eren?! You just destroyed 80% of humanity and committed mass genocide! This will take more than a mere 'thank you' and sweet talk to make up for all the cruel things you've done!" Hange says with anger in her tone.

"I understand you're angry, but I did this in order to free the world from titans. For the Marlayans to stop seeing us as 'devils' rather, I set them up to be heroes. Actually, it was more thanks to Mikasa's decision to kill me that convinced Ymir to left the curse of the titans."

Hange calmed a bit, but is still fuming with anger, 'what the fuck is wrong with this guy?!' However, she is curious about something, "I have a question though. What does Mikasa have to do with this? Why her?"

"That's something I'm not so sure either. The only person who knows is Ymir Fritz herself, however I do have a theory." Before Eren can continue, he walked towards the tree and motioned Hange to follow.

She hesitantly followed him into the tree only to end up in what looks to be a snowy mountain with these greenish blue light waves in the sky.

"The Northern Lights," Hange whispers in awe. She's read about them before, but seeing it in person was an experience, but she's starting to get distracted. "What's this theory of yours?" Hange asks getting straight to the point.

"I assume you know the true story of Ymir right?" Eren asks.

"Yes, you told me in paths back when Levi and I were camping out in the forest. Ymir was not actually the goddess cults worshipped her to be, she was a slave to the Eldian king. 2000 years ago, Ymir Fritz set a pig free and was caught. As punishment, the king set her free, but was hunted by his soldiers. One day, she stumbled upon this tree for shelter, but fell and gained the powers of the titans, thus she becomes the founding titan. She then went running back to the king despite him doing the cruelest things to her, and bore his daughters, Maria, Rose and Sina. She then sacrificed herself for him when a surviving Marlayan soldier threw a spear at him, and the king forced his daughters to eat Ymir in order to gain her powers and here we are now. Am I missing something?" Hange sarcastically asks.

"No, and good to know you remembered. I encountered this in paths when I met her, that her submission to the king, must be because she was in love with him, as hard as it is to believe in, but that's the true reason why after all this time, she continues to submit to him. For 2000 years, she's been in pain, a slave to love wishing for someone to set her free from it. She kept waiting, and waiting until finally the person arrived. And that person, was Mikasa." Eren finished explaining, but Hange was still confused.

"Hold on, so you're telling me it was all because Ymir was in love with her abuser? You've got to be kidding me....but after listening to that, I'm guessing that Mikasa killing you, despite having feelings for you is the result needed in order for Ymir to lift the curse am I right? Ymir needed to see proof that you just because you love someone doesn't mean you're a slave to them, and Mikasa killing you but still loving you was proof of that," Hange said and paused for a moment before asking a question that's been on her mind for a bit, "just wondering, did you love her too?"

"I still do. As much as I want her to be happy and be happy with someone who truly deserves her, I don't want her to move on from me," Eren says as he's tearing up. "I didn't mean anything I said to her, nor Armin. I told Mikasa that I've always hated her when that was the biggest lie I ever said in my life, but I needed her to hate me so she can kill me. I remember when you said you wanted to run away with Captain Levi and live together in the forest, I wanted to do that with Mikasa. I wanted to abandon everything and spend the remaining years I had left with her in the mountains."

"Well that makes two of us. Those Ackermans are strong aren't they? Then again, they don't call them humanity's strongest soldiers for nothing," Hange coldly chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, they really are," Eren agreed. "By the way, were you and the captain dating? What's your story with him?"

Hange sighs, she really doesn't want to talk about it, especially to Eren of all people at the moment, but since she's technically stuck in here, might as well entertain him.

"Our relationship is......complicated to say the least. We don't have a label, and we didn't need one. We knew we love and cared for each other, why do we need a label for it? At the end of the day, we're just Hange and Levi. However, I believed after that night in the forest together, I started thinking about our future. I thought to myself, 'what would life be like for me and Levi if we decided to settle down here?' I wondered if Levi ever felt the same way. Instead, he snapped me out of reality, reminding ourselves that we're soldiers first, and he was right." Hange paused a bit to wipe her tears only for Eren speak up.

"How did you first meet?' he asked.

Hange started reminiscing the moments and memories she had with Levi. She told Eren how Levi, Farlan and Isabel joined the scouts and how he almost stabbed her when she first approached him because he thought Hange about their plan to kill Erwin at the time. She went into some detail about how the deaths of Farlan and Isabel impacted him, how Hange handled it and how their relationship with one another grew. 'I miss him so much.'

"Do you still love him?" Eren asks.

"I never stopped loving him, even if it meant parting ways with him just to save humanity from the destruction you caused and also freeing myself from my personal baggage. It hurts that we can't be together, but I don't regret my decision. As long as he's alive and not alone, even if it meant I'm not there, then I fulfilled my duty. That's all I ever wanted, " Hange answers.

"I see. That's all we needed to hear."

"We?"

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, they were back in paths. Hange was now faced directly at the tree with Eren and Ymir standing on both sides of the tree.

"Mikasa isn't the only Ymir chose. It's obvious both you and Levi have something special that could blossom into something more, and you both could've ran away together, but you didn't, instead, you gave that up to ensure him and the Alliance would save humanity and finally live in peace, while Levi gave you up because he knew you wanted to be free, so he let you go. We can't bring back someone from the dead, but there is something I can do."

Suddenly, the light from the tree grew even brighter and before she could react, the light engulfed her body as she felt herself fading away from paths.

--

"Hange"

"Hange!"

"HANGE!"

Hange's eyes instantly opened as she woke up in a cold sweat and heavily panting. She looked around the room she ended up in and saw that she's in a bedroom.

"Oi, four eyes, how long will you be staring at the wall for?" a familiar grumpy voice asks.

Hange turned to her left and saw it was Levi sitting next to her. The right side of his face was scarred and his right eye turned white. She looked down at his hand to see it was holding hers and his two fingers were still missing. Suddenly she felt tears coming down her right eye, leaving Levi confused and worried.

"Hange? What's going on-"

Before Levi could finish his question, Hange instantly wrapped her arms around him and buried her head onto his shoulders, sobbing her heart out. Levi, despite being confused, stayed silent and held her close, comforting her as she cries.

A few minutes passed and he felt Hange's cries die down to sniffles.

"So, you want to tell me what was that all about?" Levi says.

Hange pushed herself back up to wipe the tears from her face.

"I missed you so much Levi! I'm so sorry I left you behind. The truth is, I did want to kill myself back there, at least, that's what I thought I wanted. I guess what I really wanted was for you and the Alliance to survive and live in peace once the war was finally over, but when I saw you against the rock, I couldn't help but feel sad. I wanted to be with you and we were so close, only for me to die at the last second. But where am I? What is this? I thought I died, did I die? Are you dead as well? I swear to god please tell we're-"

"Ok, one thing at a time four eyes. First off what do you mean died?" Levi asks. Hange was genuinely confused, "Didn't you see me die when I was fighting off the colossal titans? There was no way I was going to make it."

"Hange, did you hit your head or something? Or just somehow forgot 3 years worth of memories?"

"THREE YEARS?!!" Hange exclaims. 'Have I been asleep for three years?'

"Hange what has gotten into you? Was your nightmare that bad?"

Hange was so confused at what's happening, was she dreaming this whole time? Or sent to another universe of some sort- wait a minute.

"Hey Levi, where are we?" Hange asks attempting to stay calm.

Levi looked at her concerned and a bit nervous that she might be going crazy.

"Our bedroom? In the house we've living in ever since the war ended. We found an unused cabin near Odiha. Hange, are you sure you didn't hit your head last night?" Levi nervously asks as he grabs her head to examine it, seeing if there's any bruises.

"No I didn't! It's just that, one moment I was watching you guys fighting titans on top of Eren's spine, and then I was with our comrades seeing you for one final time, only to end up in paths with Eren and Ymir standing next to a tree and then suddenly, a bright light appeared....wait a minute," Hange mumbled to herself.

"We can't bring back someone from the dead, but there is something I can do."

'Is this some sort of dream or am I actually in an alternate universe... wait, did they send me into an alternate universe where I didn't die?'

"Oi, four eyes!"

Hange snapped out of her thoughts, theories still developing in her mind.

"Levi, what happened back when the plane couldn't take off in Odiha 3 years ago?"

Levi gave her a really confused look, but answered anyways.

"I saw you running out of the deck and overheard you appointing Armin to be the 15th commander of the Scouts. Those brats knew about your suicide plan so they convinced you into letting them help you take down as many colossal titans as they can to buy time, and you caved in. Luckily the plane took off in time before you and those brats started getting exhausted. I assume you know the rest."

'So, they did send me to an alternate universe. The one where I didn't die....'

"Sorry Levi, it's just that, in my 'nightmare' I fought those colossal titans alone. I burned to death and got trampled on. To be honest, back then, I did want to die. I thought being free from my responsibilities as commander was what I really wanted, that death would set me free, but it didn't. Instead, I started feeling more regret that I left everyone I care about behind, that includes you Levi, but even if I realize that now, my death was inevitable. Either I go, or you guys die with me, and if my sacrifice was the price, then so be it."

Hange felt Levi pull her close and felt his hand caress her hair.

"We're here now Hange. It's all over, we can finally rest and live the life we've always dreamed of. And for the record, you were a great commander, without you, the world would've been flattened."

Hange eyes glistened with tears when heard that. She leaned in closer to Levi's embrace, taking it all in.

They stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes until they heard knocking on the door.

"Must be Gabi, Falco and Onyonkapon, maybe you can explain to them your dream. Can you get my wheelchair?" Levi asks as looks for his shirt and pants on the ground.

"You're in a wheelchair now? Awee Levi, is age catching up to you?" Hange asks teasingly.

"Just get the goddamn wheelchair Hange! And for the record, I permanently broke my left leg saving your guys' ass three years ago," Levi grunted.

Hange went to get his wheelchair that was lying against the wall in front of their bed, and helps him sit.

"You should change or at least fix your hair," Levi suggests.

"Do I have to?" Hange whines.

Levi glares at her and Hange rolls her eyes and pouted.

"Ugh, fine," Hange grunted.

As she made her to way the bathroom to get dressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she felt genuinely happy to see her reflection. A reminder that she's alive, and she can finally experience a peaceful life with Levi and the Alliance, not to mention, traveling around the world.

"Hey Levi!" Hange calls out.

Levi was about to wheel his way out of the bedroom to answer the front door, but paused when he heard Hange calling him.

"What?"

"I'm so glad to be alive."

Levi was kind of stunned with the sudden out burst, but he found it endearing and didn't care, as long as she's happy.

"Me too, four eyes."

[honourablejester]

I’m rereading Wishsong of Shannara because it came up recently and I wanted to read my favourite bits again. And I got to …

Right. Spoilers. The bit with the Jachyra. The first one. And I love it so much. It breaks my heart and I love it to death

I feel like a thing people tend to forget about Allanon is that, while he is a druid and a wise man and the quest giver and the mentor and all of that, he is also 7ft tall and fully willing to beat and burn his enemies to death however seems best at the time

Like. Allanon is a tank. He’s lean and tired and haggard and cranky, he’s on a quest he knows will kill him, but he’s also seven feet of spite and stubborn in a black cloak, and you do not ever want to get into a fight with him. Even if you happen to be, say, a primordial eldritch demonic thing from the dawn of time that cannot be conventionally killed and feeds even on its own agony

To demonstrate (again, spoilers):

“The Jachyra spun back around toward the fallen figure of Allanon. Astonishingly, the Druid was on his feet again, black robes shredded and stained dark with his blood. Seeing him risen, the Jachyra seemed to go completely berserk. Howling in fury, it sprang.

But this time the Druid did not try to stop it. Catching the Jachyra in midleap, his great hands closed about its neck like a vise. Heedless of the claws that tore at his body, he forced the monster backward to the ground, the hands squeezing. Shrieks rose out of the Jachyra’s damaged throat and the reddish body twisted like a snake that has been pierced. Still the Druid’s hands crushed inward. The muzzle split wide, teeth snapping and ripping at the air.

Then abruptly Allanon’s hands released and jammed downward into the open maw. They thrust deep into the monster’s throat. From the clasped fingers blue fire ripped downward. Convulsions shook the Jachyra, and its limbs flung wide. The Druid fire burned through its powerful body, down into the very core of its being. It struggled to break free for only an instant. Then the fire broke out of it from everywhere, and it exploded into a blinding flash of blue light.

Brin turned away, shielding her eyes against the glare. When she looked back, Allanon knelt alone atop a pile of charred ash.”

--The Wishsong of Shannara, Terry Brooks

So. Things to remember about Allanon the Druid:

he will get back up after being basically shredded to death by an immortal regenerating sado-masochistic hell demon out of sheer spite

he is very much a fan of full-contact magic and when fire on its own doesn’t work he will accept being shredded to death some more in order to full-on bodyslam a demon into the dirt and start choking it to death the good old-fashioned way

if the demon then makes the mistake of opening its mouth, Allanon will ram his clenched hands down its neck to flash-fry it from the inside out, successfully disintegrating it

the fact that this and the previous shredding with cause his own death will not stop him in the slightest

The fact that this is his death-fight is so fitting. All the things I love about his character are there. The sheer raw stubborn of him, the willingness to get hurt to accomplish his goals, the dark, forbidding, terrifying nature that is so much part of him, that becomes awesome because he turns it to terrifying effect against evil things

Allanon is seven feet of spite and stubborn in a black cloak, Allanon will fight the good fight to death and beyond, and Allanon will terrify (and burn) ancient demons to death doing it

I love him. With all my heart and soul. I love him so much

[imagine-darksiders]

Could I request something super fluffy and light if you have time? Just lost my fur baby 5 days after getting back to college.

I’m so sorry to hear that. Losing pets is heartbreaking. 

I’ve had this fluff in my drafts for a while now, seems an appropriate time to break it out. XXXX

----

There are very few things in the world that can stop a Trauma. And bullets – you're sad to discover – are not one of them.

The hulking mass of flesh and muscle advances slowly, pressing you further back against an overturned lorry that blocks your path, as though the universe itself has decided to punish you for sneaking out of the Maker Tree – alone - to hunt for supplies. 

One thought breaks through the panic. 

Your best friend, Jones, is going to kill you if you make it back alive. 

Of all the demons whose attention you could have drawn, it would be one of the largest and deadliest variety. The tusks jutting from its jaw gleam with copious amounts of stinking, viscous drool and when it opens its mouth to roar, flecks of the vile spittle manage to spatter onto your face and arms as you raise the meagre revolver you'd brought with you for defence.

Another round explodes from the chamber and like the others, sinks no more than an inch into the demon's head before its momentum is brought to an abrupt halt by the toughened hide. Helpless, you can only watch as the Trauma gives its skull a rough shake and the bullet wiggles loose.

Your eyes follow the tiny projectile down to where it lands, tinkling softly on the tarmac and rolling to a stop near your feet.

There it lays, innocent, devoid of even the slightest inkling that it's done anything wrong by you.

Reality hits you like a sack of bricks. This is it.

You can't run...

You certainly can't fight. And there's no way Ulthane will hear you from the tree if you scream. Even if he could, he'd never be able to reach you before the Trauma gets its jaws around your neck.

Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, you remain frozen to the spot, but there's just enough fight left in you to try raising your head up in a final show of defiance. If you're to die, you don't want the demon to know you're afraid. Although, the fear rolling off you in palpable waves is liable to be picked up by those flaring nostrils.

“Come on then!” you holler, scrubbing furiously at the river of tears that stream from your eyes, “W~what are you waiting for!?” The shape of its jaw doesn't allow for much expression, but somehow, you just know the demon is smiling, as if enjoying this terrifying game of cat and mouse, and if there's anything worse than knowing you're going to die, it's waiting for it to happen.

Before the Trauma strikes, a fat, bulging tongue lolls out of its mouth and it drags the slimy muscle slowly through the saliva coating its jagged fangs, savouring the taste of your fear.

And then suddenly, faster than you thought it could, the demon lunges.

An enormous, meaty paw swipes at you from the left and you let out a scream as it connects, knocking you sideways and onto the hard ground. Your jaw is the first thing that cracks against tarmac and immediately, your vision turns white before little spots of colour start to bleed into view, crawling about like bugs on the insides of your eyelids.

Gasping for air, you heave yourself onto your back and bring your hands up to brush gingerly over your throbbing chin. Teeth grit through the shrill ringing in your ears, you have all of a second to register what had just happened when the Trauma's palm suddenly appears above you and drops down heavily onto your midsection.

Another scream tries to leap out, but you hadn't had the time to draw in a breath. What comes out instead is a pathetic wheeze that you wish you could take back when the demon starts to press down, hard, crushing the air out of your lungs until you aren't sure what will break first. The road beneath you, or your bones.

Two claws, each longer than you are tall, sprout from the Trauma's knuckles and you peer up through the gap between them, frantically scrabbling at the ground to try and find any sort of purchase that might help you dislodge yourself from beneath the ten-tonne goliath. Alas, you know there's about as much hope of that as there is of a mouse fending off a hungry tiger.

The Trauma's bulbous head looms down towards you and you'd swear the grunts and chuffs that roll from its throat are some, twisted form of laughter. You can't help it. A scream rips out of your mouth before you can swallow it back down and your captor responds by revelling in the sound, its nostrils flaring excitedly.

With an agonising slowness only meant to torment you further, the demon pries its jaws apart and your ears are abruptly met with a tumultuous, infuriated roar.

Only....

The roar doesn't come from the monster above you.

You barely have time to contemplate the pounding footsteps that rattle your teeth and amalgamate with your heartbeat before something big slams into the Trauma's side and the weight that had been slowly flattening you against the pavement is suddenly gone.

With one, tremendous gulp of air, your lungs are once again filled to burst.

Overhead, the Trauma bellows, and this time, it receives an answering howl of outrage.

Squinting through the haze of dust kicked up by the newcomer, you see your former assailant wrestling valiently with another creature, one that's equal in size.

You've seen all manner of demon since the world ended. Big and small, fat, thin, ugly and some, even arguably beautiful.

But never have you seen one quite like this.

A silver titan stands between you and the Trauma on a pair of long, graceful legs with plates of armour strapped to almost every inch of its body. Even the tail that sprouts from the middle of the creature's back has plates of metal affixed to the tip. The entire appendage curls up and over its head like the tail of a scorpion, poised and ready to strike at the Trauma, whose yellow eyes are still bulging out of their sockets.

With a hiss, the newcomer grabs its opponant by a tusk and gives it a brutal shove, effectively forcing the Trauma to stagger back several metres, teetering on its disproportionately small feet as its weight is thrown off balance.

You swiftly decide you don't want to stick around and find out if it wins the fight.

Aware that this may be your only chance of escaping to see another day, you scramble up onto your feet and make a run for it, barrelling clumsily past the armoured giant.

The blood in your ears is pounding so fiercely, you don't even notice that behind you, there's a screech, and before you know it, you're jerked to a sudden halt when a long tail darts out and curls around your waist.

Crying out a frantic, “NO!” you begin to struggle, slapping your palms on the warm metal and grunting with the effort of trying to wriggle free from the strangely gentle grip. Your new captor lets out a sharp bark that sounds more avian than canine before it deposits you on the ground right behind its heel, your back to the upturned lorry once more.

As its tail unwinds from your torso, you roll your gaze up the monstrous body standing protectively between you and the Trauma and wonder what the Hell its motivation is. Why would it stop you from trying to leave?

Whilst the demon shakes itself and paces agitatedly, assessing this tall, lanky threat, the silver giant turns its head to glance briefly down at you, and for the first time, you meet its luminous, golden gaze. The eyes burn into you for what feels like an eternity, unblinking, devoid of any pupil or iris and your throat turns dry as you realise something chilling.

They're the eyes of a predator.

Suddenly, you can't seem to swallow. Only when it turns to face the Trauma once more do you realise you'd been holding your breath and you gasp, sucking in a deep lungful of oxygen.

Perhaps if you move slowly and quietly, you could escape its notice and make a break for the nearest alleyway, one that's too narrow for either demon to slip down. Steadying your nerves, you begin to edge your way along the lorry, never once taking your eyes of the creature in front of you.

Glancing back at you, the beast's mechanical jaw parts and out slips a growl as it lowers its tail again and uses the rounded edge to block your retreat, nudging you back into place behind its legs, all the while ignoring your squawks of protest.

You can't help but feel somewhat like a bone that's being guarded by a ravenous dog. Because that's all this is, isn't it? This silver titan is doing nothing more than defending its next meal from a contender.

A gutteral snarl snatches your attention and you glance through a pair of towering legs to see the Trauma.

Apparently, it has grown tired of sizing up the newcomer and lumbers towards you with its arms spread to its sides, the claws protruding from its knuckles pointed forwards like the tusks of a charging elephant, ready to gore.

Heart booming, you blurt, “Look out!” though why you would ever warn the silver giant is beyond even your own comprehension.

Still, it hurls its gaze forward again and raises its left arm, and you only then notice that what sprouts from its sinewy shoulders is less of an arm and more of a long, daunting rifle, as though someone had sawn the appendage off at the elbow and welded a gun in its place.

The Trauma is almost upon you as the strange appendage lifts to meet the demon's chest and before you can clap your hands over your ears, an explosion of gunfire erupts from the barrels. Round after round, the silver titan fires on the Trauma, who now seems far less incensed and tries to spin itself around mid charge, its flesh torn to pieces before it can get too far.

You have to wonder where the bullets keep generating from because they leave their chambers with no sign of slowing or running dry. When the lumbering demon turns to cover its head, it instead finds its back shredded to ribbons by the neverending hail of ammunition and in just seconds, the Trauma crashes heavily to its knees. Even when it crumples, dragging itself away on its belly, the second creature doesn't relent. It takes a few, long strides to the downed demon and swings its gun up, emptying dozens of rounds into the thick skull.

You're so perturbed by such a display, the prospect of getting out of there yourself slips your mind and by the time you realise you should be moving, the gunfire abruptly cuts off.

Smoke trails lazily from the barrels of that terrible weapon as its wielder's silver helm slowly swivels in your direction.

“No, no! Stay back! G-Get away from me!” you half shout, half plead with the angular beast when it tilts its head to one side and treads over to you, and though its weaponised arm is lowered, you're all too aware that this thing poses a sizeable threat.

It stops in front of you, still regarding you with wide, almost curious eyes. Then, gradually, it lowers itself down into a crouch, legs bending at the knee and ankles until it rests back onto its haunches.

After a few more moments of silence, the silver head drops down close, far too close for your liking. You'd need only reach a hand out and you could touch its chin. The horns sweeping forwards from the sides of its face hover to your left and right and it feels very much like being surrounded by the bars of an impenetrable cage. 

Licking your lips, you stammer out, “Wh-what do you want?”

Predictably, it doesn't reply. It instead continues to stare, the slitted nostrils winking open and closed, sniffing. 

Then, without warning, its jaws part and you let out a squeak, slamming your eyes shut so you won't have to see the grey, pointed teeth that sit behind its metallic lips. A slow second ticks by in which you wait for the inevitable and painful bite that’ll end your pathetically short life, and then...

Your fear is momentarily thrust aside to make room for disgust.

Something rough and warm and wet smacks against your bloodied chin and suddenly, your whole face is engulfed in the sticky softness of what you're almost certain is the creature's sandpapery tongue. It drags up over your features in one, long swipe before flicking off your forehead and a throaty rumble fills the air around you.

“EUGH! Gross!”

Spitting an unthinkable globule of your lower lip, you wipe frantically at the stuff coating your eyes, coughing and spluttering like you'd just survived drowning.

Once your vision is no longer obscured, you blink rapidly and find that, as you'd expected, the beast is retracting a dark, slimy tongue.

It occurs to you that it might be having a preliminary taste but before you can ponder too long on whether or not it finds you appetising, the creature begins to...

Well... shrink.

Metal plates slide over one another as its body collapses in on itself and the purple mane billowing from its head shortens and is swiftly replaced by spiked, black hair. The tail that had scooped you up retreats between a pair of shoulder blades and in just seconds, you're no longer staring up at a colossal beast. Instead, you're looking at a man, dressed from head to foot in a full suit of bizarre and alien armour. 

Although he's still heads and shoulders your superior in height, he's nowhere near his previous stature. An ounce of dread fades from your chest.

The man rolls his neck, a hand pressed to the back of it for a moment before he seems to remember where he is and he suddenly snaps his gaze down to you again, a soft huff drifting out from beneath his mask.

You simply gape back, speechless. If you hadn't just seen the transformation with your own two eyes, you'd never believe it had happened at all. Hell, part of you is still in denial.

Gradually, you feel words start to form on your tongue. “What the he~EEY!” 

In the blink of an eye, the stranger cuts you off mid sentence by throwing himself at you, arms wide. You try to dodge him, failing miserably when he swiftly scoops you up into his thick, metallic arms and promptly buries the front of his mask into your hair. The action is so far from what you'd been expecting, you stop putting up a fight altogether and merely dangle limply from his grasp with your feet hanging just below his knees.

Clearing an awkward lump from your throat, you sputter, “Uh... I'm sorry. Have... have we met?”

For a moment, you feel the man's hard chin rub against your hair as he nods and you're about to ask where on Earth you'd met him when he suddenly stiffens and drops you back to the ground, stepping away to frantically shake his head. A sound starts up in his throat, like he's about to speak, but seems to reconsider a second later and you hear the distinct snap of his jaw as it falls shut. 

While the behaviour is odd, you decide it best not to provoke a man who can turn into a twenty five foot monster at the flip of a switch. So instead, you gesture to the Trauma behind him and offer what you hope is a genuine smile, despite the edges of your mouth quivering in protest.

“Um.... Thank you?” you whisper feebly, “I-I'm assuming you meant to save my life?”

The man's chest jerks as he snorts and nods again, but otherwise remains silent.

Curious as to his wordlessness, you cock your head and ask, “What's the matter? Can't you talk?”

He hesitates, hands clenching into fists and a look of uncertainty flashing across his amber eyes. Then, following several, awkward seconds, he shakes his head.

“Oh... Bummer.” You purse your lips, at a loss until you start to wonder if he's expecting some kind of repayment. “I'm sorry.” You anxiously begin to tug at the hem of your shirt. “I really am grateful, but I don't have anything I can give you to say a proper thanks.”

It's as if you'd dealt him a physical blow. Immediately, he backs up and throws his arms forwards, hands waving hastily as if he were appalled by the very idea.

Inwardly, you sag with relief. “Oh, well. In that case, I guess we'd... better be on our separate ways.” Turning to walk away, you’re stopped when the man suddenly leaps into action, striding in front of you and blocking your path. 

“What!?” you blurt, startled, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, “What’s wrong”

He points insistently down the street you'd emerged from in your attempt to flee the Trauma. Glancing after his hand, you realise he's indicating the Maker tree's uppermost branches that are poking out from behind some of the distant skyscrapers. Blinking, you pause and watch as he points to you, then the tree, then back to you once more.

“You're... asking me why I'm not going back to the tree?” you guess.

Huffing, the man simply folds his arms across a broad, silver chest and stares at you expectantly.

Just then, you're struck by a thought and a slow frown creeps across your forehead. How would this stranger know that you came from the maker tree?

He hasn't done anything wrong, so far. But something about him doesn't sit quite right with you.

“I... I can't go back. Not yet.” You edge around him, never once turning your back. “You don't understand, I need to get more supplies before I return.”

Your unusual rescuer doesn't seem to like that response one bit. His eyes suddenly flash white-hot and he takes a single stride towards you, reaching out to grip your shoulder and only holding it tighter when you try to pull away. This time, he raises his other hand slowly and jabs a finger right in your face, centimetres from the tip of your nose before the appendage swings in a wide arc towards the maker tree.

Ah. He wasn't asking you why you weren't going straight back to the maker tree.

In fact, you don't think he was asking anything at all.

As though he'd read your mind, the armoured brute suddenly swivels you towards the tree and moves his hand down to give you a gentle yet direct nudge in the small of your back.

Apparently, this is nonnegotiable.

“Okay, okay! No need to push. I'm going.”

Beneath his mask, you don't see the man's frown ease, nor the way his lips part to release a small sigh of relief.

---

At the risk of sounding like his eldest brother, Strife reminds himself to give you the sternest talking to you've likely ever received once he delivers you back to the safety of Ulthane's tree. 

As Jones, of course. 

As Jones. 

[sparklingpax]

What It Costs

Love is sweet, love is loyalty, love is unwavering, love is....sacrifice. Sometimes, one does not remember the last part until it is simply....too late. 

///

A/N:

-Angst. This is angst. If some of y’all don’t like that stuff and/or are bothered by it, click off or scroll by, please. Thanks. 

-Hhhhh speaking of that, I’ll have you know I’m terrible at this kind of writing. I gave it my all, however. I hope I did passably, at least...^^’’

-Um......I am very sorry if I made any errors, be it a typo or misinformation about something/someone, etc. I wrote a lot of this very late at night or at ungodly hours of the morning.....so that might explain a little of it ^~^’’ I’ll read through it as many times as possible after posting so I can catch and fix as many of those mistakes as possible....

-I’ll make this quick; sorry again to anyone who saw this the first time ^^’’ But this time, I’ve posted it intentionally so I hope you enjoy!! :’D 

-This is only one, long part so dw about cliffhangers or waiting 10 centuries a long time for me to finish it :3 

-Set in the TFP universe! And obviously, my attempt at some official OptiRatch content! :)

The sky was a dull, bleak grey.

Icy rain pelted the earth, pouring from the stormy skies with a vengeance as harsh winds tossed them around with an ominous whistling.

Yet the real storm had materialized inside the rocks—in the simple silo base where the Autobots resided.

               Today, the children had not been able to come to the base.

             Miko was in detention, Jack was busy working overtime at his job, and Raf was studying for a exam.

             It was just one of those days.

             “Thank Primus for peace and quiet!” Ratchet would have remarked as he usually did on days such as this.

             However, things were all but calm—even as a prickly silence filled the air.

///

             “I…I cannot let you do that…” Optimus stammered at last. He bowed his head and shifted his gaze to the left, clearly uncomfortable. “It is only a mere relic, not worth the life—”

             A fist pounded the wall, leaving a blackened scuff mark in the metal.

             “DON’T YOU CARE?!” Ratchet practically screamed. Optimus’s eyes rounded with guilt as he turned his gaze back to the medic sharply.

             “Of course I—”

             “Then GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD, OPTIMUS—” he hit the wall next to him once again, with more force. “It’s not about you!!!”

             He spat those words so coldly, so jarringly sharp, Optimus felt his spark twist.

             Old friend…I do not think you understand my intent at all…please be patient with me…

             The Prime opened his mouth to speak, but Ratchet flashed him an even harsher glare, silencing any further words. Optimus again cast his eyes momentarily to the floor.

             Pushing past his leader, Ratchet raised his fist, not turning to face Optimus, and flipped up his middle finger.

             Optimus would have given an amused laugh.

             ‘Did one of the children teach you that custom?’ he wanted to ask jokingly, teasingly.

             Agent Fowler had done it enough times for Optimus to understand what it meant.

             But all he could do was stare after his medic as the older mech stalked over to the groundbridge controls. All kinds of alarms were going off in Optimus’s head, and yet all he could do was…watch.

             Perhaps he could take no more of Ratchet’s harsh attitude—the anger that emanated off his old friend.

             Perhaps he really wasn’t making the right decision, but Ratchet was.

             Or perhaps…

             You’re a coward, Optimus. A big, strong, coward.

             “I’ll find the relic myself,” Ratchet announced to the other bots. Up until then, they had, unmoving and tense, watched the argument which had preceded all this.

             Don’t go, my Starlight…or at least…let me go with you…But the Prime stood immobile, watching the old bot speak.

             “I’ll find it myself and win us the war,” he repeated, still trembling with rage from minutes before. He turned that sharply angered expression—now laced with disdain—at the Autobot leader. “And I don’t need any backup.”

             A swirling portal of green, white, and purple roared to life when the medic shoved the lever downwards, his expression only grim now. Without saying anymore, he then turned and transformed. An ambulance raced through the portal and disappeared seconds later.

             While the Prime lingered absentmindedly near the bridge, eyes focusing on no one thing as he stared around, deep in thought, Bumblebee carefully padded over and pulled the lever up. The swishing, humming noise quickly faded as the groundbridge portal did, and silence rested over them once again.  

             Except that silence was still not peaceful.

             Optimus soon found himself speaking, not really thinking as he did.

             “Woah—you sure, Optimus?” Bulkhead asked, eyes widened a bit nervously. “I mean, no offense but…Ratchet might rip you to shreds…”

             ‘He looked pretty mad,’ Bumblebee agreed quietly.

             “If something were to happen to him, it would be my fault,” Optimus found himself saying. “For that reason, please reopen the groundbridge.”

             You scared of the blame, Optimus?

             You don’t want to be incriminated?

             Are you making this about you?

             Do you really care?

             Optimus didn’t want to shake those questions away just yet. He was unsure of their answers. The Prime wished his mind was where his body was, yet as he transformed and drove through the bridge, his thoughts continued to wander.

             They taunted him, echoing his medic’s scornful words.

             Why don’t you go after the relic, the one thing that could save us? Who cares if Megatron is there with all his troops? What makes that different from any other of your confrontation with him?

             A heavy feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach—a foreboding sense.

             Often—they say—if your loved one is in danger, you can feel it.

             Optimus pushed harder on the gas, thinking only of what was going to take place if he did not reach his friend quickly enough.

             The day was dark, cold, and rainy.

///

             Ratchet pressed his back against the side of a tall rock, not daring to peer again at the action taking place in the center of the clearing. He heard the footsteps of some vehicons heading his way. They drew their guns as they got closer.

             Above him, the dead-looking gray skies has stilled, leaving the air feeling taut—like it was holding its breath and ready snap any second.  

             The storm from Jasper must be close by, considering I bridge to—

             Ratchet gritted his teeth and snapped himself back to focusing on the current situation.

             The medic felt his spark racing. His arms began to tremor uncontrollably as he drew them upwards to get into a fighting stance.

             They saw you. They saw you and it hasn’t been more than 8 minutes you’ve been here. What a successful mission. It’s just you against Megatron and hundreds of vehicons. And—

             He glanced down at his leg a little worriedly.

             He’d jumped into action a week before and received a blow to the leg he was still healing from. At this very moment, in fact, he felt a faint aching start up again in his knee.

             Ratchet let his head fall against the rock, eyes squeezed shut, swallowing hard and drawing out his own blades.

             You idiot.

             He counted the seconds before attack.

             Optimus was right.

             “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! BRING HIM TO ME NOW!!” Megatron’s furiously growled order broke the tense silence.

             Instantly the slow footsteps became sets of scrambling feet, quickly heading for the rock. A second later, Ratchet watched (and heard) a shot of crimson red blaster fire whiz past his helm. Instinctively, he let out a cry of shock and stumbled to the side—right out from behind the rock.

             Before he could regain his footing to even turn around, the silence exploded into the deafening sound of hundreds of shots aimed for him. The medic turned and faced it, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath as one or two grazed his plating.

             He charged, strangely feeling almost a little….detached from his own body. Like he was on autopilot.

             “For Cybertron!!!” He heard a voice shout.

             What….am I doing here?

             “FOR VICTORY!!!”

             Oh…it was his voice. Right.

             The orange-white-plated mech swerved past the blaster fire, swinging his arms—now blades—back, forth, up, down….

             Optimus, forgive me. I was a fool. I was a prideful fool.

             He ducked a shot and kicked out, catching the vehicon by surprise and knocking him off his feet. Almost one motion, the old bot maintained his momentum and swung his blades at an oncoming opponent.

             The con dodged smoothly. He raised his gun and fired.

             Just as Ratchet thought to spring in the other direction, his knee gave out beneath him. Ratchet tripped over himself, grabbing his knee.

             Right in the path of the vehicon’s shot.  

             A shot ripped through his shoulder, followed by another closer to his neck, tearing from the medic such an ugly, guttural cry that even the vehicon flinched. The medic crumpled to the floor in a writhing heap of short, agonized exclamations.

             Meanwhile, the vehicon’s gun wavered a bit, drawing back a second. Ratchet’s pained noises faded from the air of the clearing, replaced only by the sound of his tremoring breath. Clearly struggling, the medic reached over and clasped his shoulder so hard his digits shook. A small flow of energon began to leak through, soiling his servos and the dirt surrounding his figure. Turning his face to the con, he let his eyes show off his anger.

             In a smaller, quavering voice, he managed to say, “C-coward…hold y-your…w-w-weapon….straight why don’t you—” He spat out, wheezing a bit, then falling limp into the ground. Not unconscious, but simply out of strength.

             Or…will to live.

             The Vehicon shook its head and held the gun firmly upwards again. The weapon was trained directly on Ratchet’s helm.

             Just at that moment, the skies snapped.

             A bellowing rumble of thunder sounded, the clouds suddenly looking bigger, darker, greyer….

             It’s pointless…we’ll just lose, won’t we? Like we always do. Megatron will have his way today, and he’ll have his way until he kills all of us and ends this fragging war….

             Ratchet looked up, hearing a low, gravelly cackle.

             Speak of the devil and he doth appear—is that not the phrase?

             The medic let out a little moan, rolling over onto his side, still clasping a hand to his bleeding wound. His gaze, sharp with pain and yet dull with exhaustion, stared ahead to see the vehicon back away twitchily.

             Megatron’s footsteps shook the ground a little as he stalked in Ratchet’s direction. The huge figure of the ex-gladiator soon towered over Ratchet. He smirked a little, slowly folding his hands behind his back and tilting his head.

             “Ratchet….” he paused to chuckle. “Tell me, what ever did you think you were going to accomplish?”

             “T….the relic—” he hissed tightly, breaking off abruptly to suppress a noise of pain as his shoulder burned with pain under his grip. His optics, trained on Megatron’s sneering face, spoke more than a thousand words of hate and fire.

             Megatron laughed out loud.

             “Oh, you must mean—” he turned and make a rough motion at the vehicons behind him. The one holding the escape pod immediately scurried across the clearing to them. “This trinket?” He asked, grabbing the object from his  soldier.

             The pod hadn’t been opened yet.

             The pod hasn’t been opened yet. The weapon is still inside.

             Ratchet let his mind fixate on that one thought.

             There is time still….if I can just…..

             Megatron started one of his small monologues, something Ratchet wasn’t listening to. He switched on his comm link as discreetly as he could. Pride was not of importance now, Ratchet told himself.

             Optimus had been right, and he knew it. It would be entirely foolish not to try to—

             “Ratchet?”

             Megatron instantly stopped dead in his tracks. His head whipped around as he processed the voice. His eyes darkened when he registered.  

             “I see.” Was all he growled in a chillingly quiet voice.

             “Ratchet, what is going—”

             The medic fumbled to switch it off again, internally kicking himself for so stupid a plan. Of course his idiot sparkmate would call out to him the instant his switched on his comm lines again!

             He meant well, Ratchet. He loves you. He cares about you. Keep that in mind.

             Ratchet let out a grunt of both pain and frustration.

             Optimus, hurry! There isn’t anymore time!

             Ratchet watched as Megatron dropped to his level and grabbed his chin. Mustering all his confidence, the medic stared with an unwavering gaze right back.

             “You’re a fool, Autobot. Much more foolish than I remember you being,” he snarled.

             Ratchet narrowed his eyes and fired back, “Not as much of a fool as you—and unlike you, I’m not a pile of—”  

           “SILENCE!!!!!!!”

             Megatron’s roared command silenced the medic instantly. Ratchet was not afraid, just startled.  Around him, all the vehicons nearby had flinched and taken steps back—even though they were as far away as they were. The Decepticon leader gave another growl, indignant and angered at his prisoner’s insolence.

             He released Ratchet, cursing under his breath.

             Now the Prime is coming. I can’t just leave.

             The huge figure of Megatron paced around, his grey metal looking oddly shinier in the greyish lighting the skies were providing. He was formulating a course of action.

             A plan.

             His eyes lit up and he straightened again, looking once more as if he was in control.

             Just at that moment, a terrible rumble that Ratchet felt all through his body sounded in the air.

             The storm had arrived, and the great roll of thunder was its announcer.

             Megatron looked around casually, then back at Ratchet. There was a dry amusement dancing in his optics.

             “Today shall be the day another one of you dies,” he spoke with a terrifying finality.

             The medic’s spark skipped a beat. He felt a cold fear run through his veins, and sit at the bottom of his stomach—like  a rock. Yet it was not fear for his own life.

             “How can you be so certain?” Ratchet fought to keep his tone level—steady.

             Blinding white flashed through the air, accompanied by a tearing, cracking sound that rang in everyone’s audio receptors. However Megatron stood, and had not flinched. His eyes held a dangerous light of unbending desire.

             “One of you will die by my hand,” Megatron repeated himself, turning away. “For it is as I will.”

              Then, the ex-gladiator stalked back across the clearing. Vehicons immediately scurried to form a circle around Ratchet, two of them coming even closer to guard him, guns drawn and ready to fire.

             Softly, gently, unrelentingly, drops of moisture began to fall from the sky.

             Rain.

             Ratchet closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the odd sensation of those thousands of drops of liquid created when they repeatedly hit his plating.

             With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Ratchet let his head fall into his hands.

             Optimus….my sweetspark…..forgive me…

             He jolted as a vehicon reached over and slapped his helm harshly.

             “Up.” He snapped, holding up stasis cuffs.

             Ratchet sincerely hoped, with all his spark, that he would be the one.

///

             “Ratchet? Please respond, Ratchet.” Optimus repeated himself once again, speeding down the empty road in alt-mode. He finally rolled to a halt, transforming and taking a look around.

             Dark clouds poured rain, the rising winds causing the little droplets to mercilessly pelt his plating from all sides.

             “Old Friend,” he tried his comm for what felt like the hundredth time. “Sweetspark, respond.”

             Urgency laced his tone, concern burning clearly in his gaze.

             Please, my love. Something happened, I am sure of it. But….what?

             Static sounded in his audio receptors until, with a sigh, the Autobot leader switched his link off again.

             I must find him on my own, then—

             He perked up suddenly, hearing a faint noise of….blaster fire?

             A cold, sick feeling twisted in his stomach. Dread weighed heavily on his chest.  

             Hang on, my Starlight….!  

             Without a second to spare, driving as if a fire chased his tailpipes, Optimus pushed his engines to the max. He sped closer, feeling that dread and despair sink further into him as he could more clearly make out the sounds of a fight.

              All he wanted was for Ratchet to be okay.

             All he wanted was for Ratchet to come home.

             Maybe he was selfish for not wanting to attempt to steal that relic, but Optimus knew that he couldn’t go on if anything happened to his teammates over some weapon. The war was not worth anyone’s life.

             If he could save yet just one more, he’d take that option first.

             You will come home alive. No matter the cost. I will not fail you, old friend.

             He pushed the brakes and skidded to a halt, catching sight of the commotion. There was a space between two towering canyons below his road. In that rocky clearing, Optimus saw an orange-white-plated mech darting from left to right, fending off as many of the oncoming vehicons as he could. Sure enough, Megatron was also there. At present, he simply stood by, watching.

             Enough was enough. Ratchet needed help.

             Optimus transformed and gripped the side of the mountain he’d been driving up, vaulting off the top and landing with a huge ‘THUMP!!’ on the road below.

             He cared not for the huge crater that now lay in the road.

             Optimus ran as fast as he could, drawing out both his guns and firing as soon as he was in range of the fight.

             “STEP AWAY FROM RATCHET!!!” Optimus commanded, nailing two vehicon soldiers with two shots as he continued to cross the distance of the clearing. Some of them scrambled back, many others turned their fire on the Prime, charging at him with a strange confidence.

             Optimus felt his blood boiling. The rain seemed to intensify as another bolt of lightning ripped through the sky with great ferocity. Almost like it had hit Optimus himself, he put away his guns and drew his swords, feeling electrified—powerful.

             I am not afraid of you, Megatron. Nor of your legions of breakable troops which you care nothing for.

             He saw the warlord, standing far across the clearing, arms folded.

             “FACE ME, MEGATRON!!!!”

             And with a powerful war cry, Optimus bolted forward, swords drawn. Vehicons poured in from all sides, shooting at him and trying to throw themselves in the Prime’s way.

             He didn’t notice pain from shots that ripped through his armor, the blows that landed on his chest—before he grabbed his attackers and dismantled them one by one.

             The Prime had but one target.

             Optimus wanted Megatron, and he wanted the end of this selfish, futile war.

///

             Megatron inspected the pod, wondering if he should open it now or wait until—

             “Step away from Ratchet!!!” He heard the enraged command from across the clearing. Before his eyes met the scene, Megatron already knew who it was. He grinned, baring his teeth with excitement.

             Ah, yes, Optimus. That’s right. Come closer. Let me finish you once and for all…

             With an unchecked level of anger, he yelled for Megatron to face him, tossing away the corpse of yet another dead vehicon as he spoke. The Decepticon warlord stood, unmoving, gazing with a taunting amusement in his eyes as he watched Optimus fight his way through the vehicons, tearing them apart as they would approach him.

             At last, no one dared to approach the Prime. The rest of the vehicons there had either fled or threw themselves behind rocks to hide. Optimus stood for a second, panting, energon spattered all over his body and swords. He looked around to find Ratchet passed out in a heap, far to Megatron’s right. No vehicons stood guard.

             Of course, with Megatron there, guards were not a necessity.

             You’re a fool, too, Optimus. You all are.

             Thunder rumbled, louder than before.

             “So, you’ve come to rescue your lapdog, have you?” Megatron asked, sneering through every word he said. Optimus seemed to vibrate with anger. He didn’t respond, eyes a sparking electric blue behind his battlemask.

             “You can take him, Optimus,” as the Prime twitched to move, Megatron held up his arm—the one with the fusion canon—and added, “For a price.”

             Optimus looked ready to rip his head off.

             He had clearly seen Ratchet’s wounds, and the new ones from a….punishment. Minutes after the medic had tried to escape, Optimus had arrived.

             It was almost like they were going to succeed!

             However, the large grey-purple mech had also made absolutely sure Ratchet would not escape, no matter what.

             Megatron thought he’d feed his ‘old friend’s’ anger.

             Or perhaps…his guilt.

             “While you were busy tearing vehicons to shreds, Ratchet was able to be successfully contained. We had to rough him up a little, as a result of his foolish actions…..but he’ll live…for now.”

             He gave a little chuckle as Optimus made a quiet exclamation.

             “You might have succeeded had you kept yourself focused on getting your friend out of here, Optimus!”

             “You will let him go.” He growled, taking a fighting stance.

             “Make me.”

             “Very well then,” The Prime drew his sword and started towards Megatron. “I shall.”

             Megatron dropped his canon. “Or…listen to my offer.”

             Optimus stopped, dropping his arms a bit.

             “Speak.” He let his gaze burn with a terrifying electricity. “Quickly.”

             Megatron was of course, not even slightly fazed. “My terms are simple,” he paused to make a gesture to the clearing in which they stood. “Fight me now, unarmed. If you win, I’ll let you and the medic here return to your base. No one will harm you as you leave.”

             It was a simple proposition.

             It was a simple goal.

             Ratchet would be safe.

             You could fail…Optimus, you could fail and get Ratchet killed…

             The rain poured from the skies ever harder, a storm unrelenting and harsh.

             Megatron took a few steps until he stood right in front of Optimus.

             The third stroke of lightning lit up the skies, flashing in the reflection of Optimus’s blue optics. Megatron grinned, tilting his head. He reached out his hand.

             “So?”

             Without a single hesitation, Optimus took it.

///

A cold, familiar ache in his shoulder.

Burning sensations of pain from fresh cuts and dents in his body.

Merciless rain battering his plating.

Ominous, loud whistles of wind sounding in his audio receptors.

             Ratchet’s optics snapped open when he heard the resounding clang of metal on metal.

             “IT IS FUTILE, PRIME—GIVE IT UP!!!”

             “NEVER!!”

             “MAYBE I SHOULD KILL BOTH OF YOU!!”

             There was another sound of impact, punctuated with a short cry of pain. The voice was Optimus’s.

             The medic sat up, looking around briefly to see that any remaining vehicons who hadn’t yet traveled back to the warship—hovering a short distance away—were cramming themselves behind rocks, flattening themselves to a corner. Others were presently trying to escape the scene.              

             Clearly, they wanted no part in any of this dispute.

             But I do.

             Ratchet hoisted himself up despite the way his wounds stung.

             I must.

             He watched Optimus and Megatron for a few moments. Neither one seemed to be using their weapons—it was simple combat.

             Except there was energon splattered around the grounds where they fought.

             Who said swords and guns were the only things that could kill?

             “Well, then,” Megatron laughed a chilling, malicious laugh. “Do you surrender yet, Optimus?” He bent down and thrust his face into Optimus’s, while the Prime struggled to get up. Optimus retracted his battlemask, gritting his teeth with anger and in an attempt to stifle pained grunts of effort.

             Energon stained the side of his face, dripping steadily from his mouth. He flinched back from the warlord and pushed himself to his feet, taking a fighting stance again.

             Ratchet stood, mesmerized.

             The sight that lay before him was nearly poetic, in a strange way.

             Not the “good” kind of strange.

             Rain poured from the heavens, the air was cold, and the winds raced noisily about. Smokey breath billowed from Optimus’s mouth as he panted, looking ragged and angry. His gaze fixated on Megatron.

             “This ends today, you lunatic—” he forced out, gripping one of his newer wounds gently. “Even…even if it kills me….”

             Megatron grinned. “Oh, it will,” he said slowly, deviously, not moving an inch as Optimus began to circle him. They eyed one another, anticipation hanging in the air as one silently dared the other to make the first move.

             I will be the victor today, Optimus, and then I shall win this war!

             Time seemed to slow, and suddenly Optimus couldn’t move—yet nothing held his limbs in place.

             Instead, his eyes were trained on Megatron as the warlord had suddenly turned.

             He chuckled lightly and aimed his fusion canon at Ratchet, who was standing frozen, watching them.

             The medic seemed to snap out of his trance and flinched, taking a step back defensively. Optimus felt a new rage form in him. Something unseen tore another war cry from the Prime and he charged at an almost desperate-looking pace.

             “LEAVE HIM ALONE!!”

             He threw himself at Megatron, knocking the huge mech to the ground. Megatron gave a short cry of surprise, then immediately locked his jaw, biting down on his tongue. Optimus’s eyes burned with such a ferocity that the ex-gladiator had not seen—not for a long time.

             Not since he last fought a wild beast in the arena of Kaon.

             Never from the soft eyes of Optimus.

             “YOU….KILLED THEM,” Optimus snarled, pinning Megatron to the dirt. Rain pelted down, bouncing limply off Optimus’s frame. He glowered over Megatron, seething at him. “YOU DID ALL THIS, YOU MONSTER!!!”

             Megatron looked surprised only for a moment, then narrowed his eyes belligerently.

             He could only grin. A sick, twisted grin that said, ‘I don’t care.’

             Limbs burning with exhaustion, Optimus began to pummel Megatron. He swung side to side, pounding his opponent with all he had. Wordless cries of anger poured from him as he punched…harder, harder….

               “Optimus!”

               His servos began to tear and feel numb. Streaks of faded blue and purple stained his plating.  

               “OPTIMUS!!!”

               Distantly, a voice registered in his ears. What was it trying to say?

               “OPTIMUS, WAIT!!”

               All the Prime could see was a blaring, bright red. Steady clanging of metal on metal against the static rain sounded loudly in his optics.

               “ORION, PLEASE!!! LISTEN TO ME—”

                           Optimus felt as if an electric shock had been passed through him. Hearing his name, he froze, panting, trembling, blood roaring in his head. Beneath him, he could feel Megatron tremoring. Yet the silver-purple mech still bore that scrap-eating grin.

             He knew something.

             Something he won’t tell me, the Autobot leader thought, feeling some of his frustration return. He glanced up again at Ratchet, who was still backing away. The air around them began to vibrate, waves of hot air joining with and drowning out the blustering, icy, rainy wind.

             Something was definitely wrong.

             Optimus narrowed his optics and raised a readied fist above Megatron’s face.

              “What are you not telling me, Megatron?” Optimus gripped his rival by the neck. Nothing but a feeble-sounding laugh met his words. The red optics staring back at him squinted with fatigue and fell shut.

             Optimus knew Megatron was still awake.

             “I’m more than finished with all your little mind games, this war, your treacheries,” he spat. “What else are you trying to take from us all now?!” His voice rose with every word as Optimus began to work himself up again. Centuries of anger and sadness began to pile on his spark.

             Waves of warm, stifling air drew closer. A reverberating hum sounded in Optimus’ skull. Something like….a ship.

             All the same, sound faded out around him as he zeroed in on Megatron.

             Finally, he was at his fingertips—his mercy. Finally, Optimus thought, he could bring a final peace to—

             “You lose,” Megatron sneered, a new fire lighting his optics. Beneath him, the Decepticon leader tensed and felt as if he was about to make a move. Optimus gritted his teeth and held steady, tightening his grip on Megatron’s throat.

             “OPTIMUS, YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!”  

             Ratchet sounded on the verge of tears, practically shrieking at his partner.

             He realized in an instant what exactly Megatron had meant before.

///

             Every wound made itself known, throbbing with pain. Megatron could barely move.

             Yet victory buzzed through every cell in his body, giving him just enough strength to carry out the last step to complete his grand plan to end it all.

             Farewell, Orion. Ironic that it was your uncontrolled emotions that led to your downfall.

             Optimus, fist raised, opened his mouth to ask again. Megatron suddenly let loose a surge of strength, pushing up and thrusting his legs under his opponent’s torso and kicking outwards. Optimus’s blue optics widened with shock and he uttered a short cry as he was thrown a few feet across the clearing.

             He landed and instantly got to his feet again, activating his battlemask.

             The Prime stared for a moment at the odd scene before him.

             Megatron stood—albeit shakily—and began to back away, pulling Ratchet with him. No vehicon stragglers were in sight, and even more odd…the rain had begun to let up just a little.

             Soft rays of sunlight began to show through the clouds. His mind drifting, Optimus turned slowly to gaze up at the clouds. He was met with the huge mass of metal and a blast of air and sound.

             It was the Nemesis. A huge canon under the ship readjusted itself with an audible whirring noise.  

             “NOW, SOUNDWAVE!!”

             “OPTIMUS, RUN!!!!!!”

               Ratchet….I’m sorry I failed you….

             In the time of a split second, the world around Optimus lit up in a brilliant, blaring flash, and a deafening explosion filled the air.

             Never before had murder seemed so ethereal.

///

             “Ratchet?”

             No response.

             “Ratchet..?”

             Nothing.

             “RATCHET!!” Miko tried, her loud voice jolting the medic out of whatever trance he’d been in moments before. He turned slowly from staring at his screen, a dead-looking gaze meeting the children’s.

             “Do you…need something, Miko? Rafael?”

             “Oh—well, it’s uhm….it’s nothing….I’ll let you get back to work…” Raf mumbled, suddenly sounding nervous as he fumbled to hide the object he’d been holding. Miko rolled her eyes.              

             “After all the work I did to get his attention!” She followed her friend back to the lounge area. Ratchet watched them, not really processing what they were doing. He then turned back to his task.

             What was I doing again?

             “Hey, Ratchet,” Bulkhead greeted, coming from the hallway. “How’s your, uh…data surfing going?”

             Right.

             “Very well. I am nearly finished with three of the four sectors I was to organize today,” Ratchet heard his voice respond.

             He looked up to see Bulkhead staring at him, eyes rounded with concern and worry. However the moment he raised his head to see him, he switched his expression to a normal, casual one.

             It was fine if he did that, Ratchet thought to himself. Everyone had been doing it for the last two months now, anyway.

             “Well…that sounds good! A-anyway, I’m gonna…go for a drive…” he responded, sounding awkward. Ratchet nodded an acknowledgement and turned back around. Feeling guilty, Bulkhead looked as if he wanted to say more.

             But he knew better than to bring up what it was they were both still thinking about.

             He turned and transformed, then left. Meanwhile, Ratchet tapped at the screen, barely thinking about what he was actually doing.

             Some small part of him wished for a warm touch on his shoulder as he was finishing up.

             A warm, baritone voice to calmly whisper, “Good work today, my love. Come, rest with me in my quarters.”

             It’s not your fault…it’s not your fault….there was nothing you could do!

             His mind repeated what the others had gently murmured over and over on that day and every day after.

             But it was…

             He heard the small voice protest. He clenched his fist and locked his jaw.

               It’s not your fault, Ratchet. You didn’t kill him!

                           The medic felt a lump in his throat. With all his might, he swallowed it, controlling himself.

             But I did…I killed him.

             “Ratchet?”

             Jack. It was Jack’s voice.

             Ratchet felt his arm quivering, his gaze and body frozen in one place, as if someone had hit the pause button on him.

             “Yes?” Everything felt distant now. He felt his arm drop and his head turn to stare at the small human teenager.

             “So…how’s it going?”

             “Fine.”

             “Oh…well, it’s raining cats and dogs out there!” He joked, pointing at his shirt. “I got a little of it..”

             “You did?”

             “Yep. Might wanna tell Bulkhead to be careful on the roads, right?”

             “Right.”

             “Right…so, I guess I’ll leave you alone, then…” Jack backed away, saying something to Miko and Raf as he neared the couch and TV. 

             All of a sudden, Ratchet was aware of how cold his shoulder felt.

///

HNNNN THIS PIECE OF GARBAGE O///O’’ THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AT AA >///< Sorry, I know I’m not good at angst. But I wanted to write this anyway.....

If you like, listening to this for the last 2-3 parts of the story might....set the mood  better..? Idk. For me, I heard that recording and instantly felt my heart twist. And had this idea. So.....^^’’ (yes, I know about this piece btw I just like the slowed version because,,,aesthetic,,,,jsjdsjsd) 

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely eveing/day/whatever time it is where you are!! <3 

Feedback, likes, reblogs, and all that stuff is always welcome!! ^///^ 

// Kuni out :’3 //

[spookyspaghettisundae]

What Would Follow the Healing

The warrior's axe trailed behind him in the dirt, dragged by a weary hand too weak to lift it any longer. He lurched and stumbled, weary not from the sun's relentless rays beating down upon his bare bronzed torso, but from the numbness that gripped his body.

A shambling gait to keep moving forward, ever forward, was the most strength he could summon. Gravel crunched underneath his sandals, and he kicked up dust whenever he tripped, oblivious to the pain throbbing from the snakebite in his calf—to the venom that had long spread throughout every limb.

At this crawling, miserable pace, he had wandered the desert for long enough to have lost all sense of time and expected death to greet him any moment now. Yet he wanted to live. To fight another day. To not perish to the bite of some lowly creature after having braved so many battles for his god against able-bodied men.

His pride—his determination—allowed him to hold on. He wiped the sweat from his brow and paused to catch his ragged breath. He coughed through chapped lips, hacking, wheezing, reeling, and almost keeling over.

The world blurred until he squinted hard enough to spot his destination. He blinked and struggled to see past the distortion of unbridled heat rising from the scorched tawny rocks and sands. To see where he had lumbered off towards to seek his only hope at salvation.

Where the grounds sloped down, a beautifully shimmering stream emerged from jagged stone and mounted into a rippling pond, around which a small oasis of palm trees had arisen. A thin plume of smoke trailed into the skies from the chimney of a quaint sandstone hovel, squat on the edge of the oasis.

The Witch Crossing.

He picked up his pace, driven by hope again.

Loose rocks tumbled down and he caught himself upon some dried exposed roots as he descended the final slope to the tiny dwelling. The stones cracked and clattered and rolled down alongside him and one of the rocks bounced off the trunk of a palm tree. His axe lazily clanged against a rock as he marched on, finding new vigor and energy even if he could not shrug off his awful condition, no matter how much he tried to will it away.

Only as he neared the dingy little shelter did his impaired vision afford him glimpses of more unsettling details: stacks of bleached human skulls bunched together upon piles of stones, animal skeletons crudely roped together with coarse twine to form strange magick fetishes, and eerie arcane symbols etched into boulders with the sharp edges of simple stone tools.

Halfway across the oasis, she suddenly appeared.

The witch.

He had blinked, certainly; fighting with all his might to stay awake and alert, no doubt; but in one moment, the cloth curtain covering the entrance to the witch's hovel had stood closed, and in the next, she stood in front of it, staring at him through wide eyes.

Amber, piercing, unblinking, more unsettling than the strange decor that surrounded her eerie abode. Her olive skin was covered in dirt and black hand-painting that matched the glyphs upon the stones, contrasting those bright and cruel eyes.

Her attire took him aback, for she wore nothing but a skirt of hide and vulture bones, breasts bare for him to lose focus on.

"What is it you seek here, pilgrim?" she asked. Raspy was her voice, authoritative her speech, hungry in a way—reminiscent of smoke and the crackle of embers exploding from a fire. "Are you so daft to not heed any warnings?"

He coughed and his knees wobbled, and he did his best to remain standing.

He knew that she knew. Her piercing gaze said it all, wandering up and down his figure and studying him.

She knew what condition he was in.

He looked like death.

"A snake bit me," he said.

She scoffed. "Yes. I see that."

Between more ragged breathing and the ensuing silence growing longer and longer, a twinge of anger welled up in his gut, making his heart beat even faster yet, and leaving his vision clearer than from before the venom starting to dull his senses.

"Then help me, witch! I have treasure! I have gold. You can have anything you want from me," he said, wheezing in between the last words.

"Anything?" she said with a smug smirk.

"Anything!"

He pawed at the tiny pouch hanging from his belt. Fingers fumbled with the knotted cord that kept it by his side, then gave up. He furiously ripped at it and the string snapped. He tore the little leather satchel open and emptied its clinking contents onto the ground. Coins of different color and bearing many different crests, and a small emerald and a beautiful ruby, they all glittered and sparkled in the sun as they plummeted down, landing softly in the sand.

The smug smirk vanished from her visage.

"Fool. Am I to scoop that up from the dirt like a dog?" she said, glaring at him.

Her face never flinched. The dried black paint upon her face lent her statuesque features a fierce and fearsome air.

With a groan, he dropped to his knees and hastily started gathering the coins and gems again.

"I don't want your riches," said the witch. "What would I spend them on, fool? Those who share your creed are the ones that drove me out here. I do not trade with the people you call 'civilized'. Your coin is worthless to me."

He groaned again. Slammed a fistful of coins into the dirt. Then he met her cruel stare with an angry glare of his own.

"Then name your damned price. Is this not Witch Crossing?"

She arched a brow and asked, "Which crossing?"

"Witch Crossing. Witch doctor, are you not?"

"Which doctor?"

Though her play on words was lost on him, he knew she was mocking him.

Though the jumble of emotions and the torrent of pain afforded him no space to let go and relax, lest he lose his consciousness and die miserably without her aid, he knew better than to offend her. Likely, she reveled in the power she currently held over his life, like a sword hanging from a thread that dangled above his head.

Right now, she was the only thing standing between him and the jaws of death. The hollow eye sockets of skulls piled up nearby stared back at him, empty and uncaring and foreboding of the grim fate that awaited him.

He shouted at her, "Enough, woman! Do not mock me! I have slain capable warriors!"

"And you threaten to kill me before I can heal you? You are truly a foolish fool, pilgrim."

"I am no pilgrim," he said, sighing with resignation. Breaking eye contact, for she truly held all the power. He was at her mercy. "I am of the warriors who hunt down the savage cult of serpent-worshippers out here."

"Yes, I recognize the bronze symbol you wear around your neck, you fool. Martyr. Martyr and fool. You martyrs are all fools."

"Watch your tongue," he hissed at her.

His vision immediately blurred. Did she grin again in response to his threats? Or did his words simply not reach her, unable to penetrate a black heart devoid of all mercy?

"A cult hunting a cult, nothing of which I should concern myself with. Do you reckon I should draw their ire by aiding you?"

"Please," he begged.

He clasped his hands together, almost as whenever he did in prayer before the imposing statues of his god. Just as empty then, his gesture was empty now—all self-serving. Only a hoarse rasp escaped his throat, and words failed him.

She, however, continued to chide him, "Or must I expect your fellow faithful to march upon my home to harass me if I leave you out here to waste away from your own stupidity?"

"Please. Heal me," he croaked.

She suddenly stood closer. Had he even blinked? Having disappeared from her doorstep to standing suddenly in front of him, ten paces closer, eliciting a surprised gasp from him. He fell back, too much weight coming to rest upon his swollen leg—it had doubled in size since suffering the bite—and he emitted a piercing shout of pain before crumpling onto his side in response.

She crouched down beside him and grabbed him by his cheeks, squeezing and scrunching his face uncomfortably in between the fingers of one hand and her thumb as she wrenched his face around to stare into his eyes, up close.

He dared not resist. The sharp reminder, the throbbing agony flaring up from his snake-bitten calf, it pressed him to be wiser about crossing the savage witch of Witch Crossing.

In this unforgiving desert, where the snake worshippers reigned supreme and he had lost all his companions in battle against the heathens, this lonesome witch now posed his only hope.

After piercing his soul with her baleful gaze, she sneered at him and released him from her grip.

"Savage is what you call me."

"I have never," he protested. But not too loudly.

It was true that he had never named her thus—out loud. In his thoughts, however, that was exactly what she was to him.

Hex-bearer. Poison-maker. Child-slayer. Beast-lover. Man-eater.

"But your kin have, and you would ape their words in a heartbeat, just like you all ape your prayers to a god that never answers."

He bit his tongue.

She said, "Answer me honestly, for your life depends on it. Were the tables turned, would you aid me if I beseeched you?"

He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing a handful of gravel and grit. Her stare drilled deeper into his soul, and he knew better than to lie.

"No," he finally breathed.

Said the witch, "Truth. You would laugh in my face and leave me to rot among the sands and the beasts."

"And you would have me die like this? To right a wrong before it is even committed?"

He pleaded with her. With every fiber of his pain-wracked being, he pleaded. Not even by words, but by appealing to whatever shred of goodness might be left over in the darkest reaches of her being. He pleaded with his eyes, with his continued kneeling before this unbeliever.

"You are useless to me. I cannot even eat you, as envenomed as you are," she said.

She grinned at him. Toothy, bright white teeth, flawless. Too perfect for one who was said to taste human flesh. A grin that did not reach her eyes, all wicked and marveling at the pain that had brought him this low before her.

These were no idle words, he sensed. She truly ate people.

This was why they called her savage. Witch.

Monster.

The grin faded from her lips, hiding her teeth again. Could she read his thoughts?

"Perhaps you can be useful after all," she said. "If you do one thing for me, I shall do one thing for you. Your coin is of no use to me, but the arm that wields your axe may serve another purpose. It still holds strength and can carry your sorry hide on one more quest."

He gasped. Neither in confusion nor in pain, but in surprise.

"Name it," he breathed. Swallowing another lump in his throat.

The chance of living dangled in front of him while he spotted a mirage on the horizon. A gleaming light, a vision of his god, beckoning him to march on as bravely as he ever had. All in his mind, he understood, but it was his hope manifesting.

"Please, tell me what to do," he begged, focusing on meeting her unsettling gaze once more.

She pointed down the stream that crossed her oasis.

"There is a cave downstream. Follow the flow of water and you cannot miss it. In that cave dwells a beast, as strong as three men and all tooth and fang. Bring me its head. And I will heal you."

The shining light of his god on the horizon faded, making way to the shadow of death, creeping closer towards him once more.

"Y-you—you are out of your mind. As strong as three men? I am but one, and not even at full strength with this snakebite," he said, shaking his head. Breaking eye contact.

So close to salvation, yet so far. The silence she left to drape over them was deafening.

Motes of sand carried by the breeze lazily swept over them. Wind howled through the hollow of the skulls and the witch's hovel.

The skulls smiled at him. Mocked him just like she did.

Meeting her gaze again, he nodded in resignation. Unlike the skulls, she did not grin any longer, but the derision in her very existence got to him. It fed the anger in his belly. The futility of releasing it upon her was abundantly clear to him, only shoveling more coal into the flames of his impotent rage.

Yet—he now reckoned he could always kill her after she healed him.

He nodded again and groaned as he gripped one of the glyph-covered boulders and heaved himself back up onto his feet, swaying and wobbling where one of his legs failed to support him and his body threatened to stop obeying him altogether.

She helped him stand. Calloused fingers grazed his shoulder with surprising softness, sending tingles down his spine. To his surprise, she folded his fingers around the grip of his axe, ensuring that he held it firmly.

No more of her awful grins saw him off.

Instead, she pointed down the stream, prompting another nod from the warrior, for it took him more than a second to regain his sense of vision and discern which way the water flowed. The world spun around him in his dizziness, and every finer detail blurred into the bright sun's blinding light.

Though his hand gripped the axe more fiercely now, the weapon's blade soon trailed behind him in the dirt again, dragged in a weary hand too weak to lift it any longer, the head of the axe now scraping against rock and sand until he reached the edge of the water.

He lurched and stumbled downstream. By the time he was out of earshot from the witch, he recoiled and then bent forward, emptying his stomach of its contents, splattering the naked rock before him with his vomit.

The wind howled again, carrying dust across the rocky desert.

Once his shambling gait had carried him over the bend of several boulders, out of sight from the witch, she smiled to herself.

She smiled because she harbored no hopes of him ever slaying the beast. The saber-toothed cat that lived in that cave was her beloved pet. She had reared it from the day it had been a whelp.

She had lied as much as she could to the warrior-zealot, reckoning that he would have killed her once she healed him. The witch could have ended his life once he laid down to rest and eaten the warrior with ease; the venom in his flesh would not have harmed her. Nor would it harm her beloved cat.

However, she relished the thought of providing her pet with an easy snack.

She disappeared back into her hovel to continue working on her stew.

The warrior would never be seen again.

—Submitted by Wratts