#reblogging to pat the moss

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 41

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: it's thursday and i'm thirsty.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You have no tears left. When you’re still and silent, standing in Odin’s arms, slumped against him, the birds sing a little louder and the sun shines a little bright. You feel almost cleansed despite the hollow at the pit of your stomach. You lift your head and wipe your damp cheeks as he slowly lets his embrace fall away from you.

You sniffle and peer back through the garden, towards the house. You’e not ready to face them all, not with puffy eyes and a heavy heart. Odin pats your shoulder gently, rubbing your arm as he coos your name.

“I have something else to show you,” he says and offers his hand.

You take it and gulp down the last of your grief. He turns you away from the great Odinson manse and leads you around the fountain. Leaves rustle softly and the water trickles soothingly. He guides you down a path hidden behind a cluster of bramble, overgrown with moss and ivy, littered with winged samara and sprouting blooms.

The noise of the fountain fades behind you as you enter an archway formed by outstretched maple branches, canopied in the spring leaves. There’s a small structure ahead shrouded in purple wisteria. A gazebo, smaller than that on Laufeyson’s property, forged in stone with rounded windows upon each side. Within, the walls have benches jutting out, another doorway opposite the entrance, looking out into a shadow swath of untrimmed foliage.

“It is old, a bit unkempt, much like myself,” he chuckles as he lets you go.

“It’s beautiful,” you preen as you admire the neat lines between each stone block, “wonderful… I… I love it.”

“It’s a perfect hiding place,” he muses, “a perfect place to have one’s breakfast without disturbance.”

You turn to him, a question stitches between your brows.

“I will fetch you tea? Yes? Perhaps some fruit and something more substantial?”

“I…”

“Dear, you think overly much of others and not enough of yourself. Sit, enjoy your solitude while you can, and I will return with all you need,” he insists.

“I can’t, Mr. Lauf–”

“You let me worry for my son,” he interjects. “I’ve no doubt his part in your despair.”

You don’t argue further. You wouldn’t dare. You lower your head and sit along the stone bench against the wall and turn to peer out the window. It is wonderful there. Like a little world of your own.

You glance over but he’s already gone. You barely even heard him with the buzz of insects and scratch of sneaky critters all around. You turn back to the long window and watch a dragonfly skim along the ground, whizzing up, down, and back and forth. It’s as if you escaped into a book you read as a girl, where everything was magical and spectacular. You don’t think you’ll get a happy ending though.

Your mind wanders through the greenery and back to the house. The bedroom, dark in the small hours of the night, laying awake, staring at the wall, Mr. Laufeyson’s warm breaths puffing into your neck. Those moments when he doesn’t seem so intimidating but remains perplexing. One moment, wrapped around you, the next toying with you like a puppet.

Your core tingles and you bend your legs on the bench, squeezing them together. The sensations swirl in your mind with the shower steam. As delightful as it all was, your heart rents with shame. The way he left you on the tile, the expectation you would get yourself up and go to him, ready to be used again. As always, you have a duty.

Mr. Laufeyson does not care for you as a person, you doubt you’ll ever be that in his eyes. You are just another possession, like his records on the shelf, or that telescope he polishes so vehemently. Just another number in his collection.

You hear a snap and blow away the anxiety as best you can. You can’t worry about it so deeply, you know what you agreed to. He has given what he’s promised; you’ve been fed, clothed, and housed. You need him more than he could ever need you.

You turn to the doorway as Odin appears again, a tray in his hands. He brings it to the next bench and sets it down. There’s a cup of tea and a stack of square waffles beneath a dusting of sugar and heaps of berries. It smells delicious as your mouth waters for a taste.

“I’ve brought this as well,” he stands straight and takes a book from under his arm, “I hope it will keep you entertained.”

“Oh?” You watch him set it down.

“Today is for you, dear, you won’t be disturbed, I will see to it,” he declares, “Walpurgisnacht approaches and we all must be ready for the spring. Lay the past behind so we can start again.”

You lower your eyes, “thank you, Odin.”

“No need for that,” he says, “I only ask that you do one thing for me,” he nears and pets your head. You peer up at him as you heart seizes. “You will be kind to yourself.”

“I… I’ll try.”

“You should take care of her,” he points to you, “I rather like her a lot and I hate to see those I care for suffer.”

You smile, “I will.”

“Better,” he grins and retreats, “I will be in to check on you periodically.”

“Thank you,” you call after him and he gives a half-salute before he’s off, whistling into the air.

You exhale and let the last of the tension slake away. You drag the tray close and cut into the fluffy stack. You remember how you always wanted a waffle maker. Instead, you always had the frozen waffles you slid into the old overheating toaster. These are much better, they’re sweet and oh so yummy.

Sitting there, in the small gazebo, amidst the wilderness, you feel like a bird in a nest. Safe, cozy, and alone.

✨

You lose yourself in the pages of the book. The sun shifts as you move with it, keeping the ink in its light as you imbibe every word like sweet nectar. It’s like staring in a mirror as you feed on the tale of one, Jane Eyre.

Your literary meditation is splintered by the sudden ripple of a shadow and the clearing of a throat; gentle, almost reluctant to tear through the serenity. You look up at Odin as he stands in the archway, a small curve amidst his thick white beard.

“Apologies,” he says as he comes forward to gather up the tray, “I’m afraid it’s time.”

You deflate and close the book. You stand and hold out the book, “I can get all that.”

“No, no, I can manage,” he assures you, “and that is for you, dear. Keep that as your own.”

“I couldn’t–”

“You have some to go, haven’t you?” He eyes the book, “please, I have enough books.”

You look down at the book and hug it. It’s like a new best friend. You just want to spend all your time amidst its pages.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever you need,” he backs out of the gazebo, “come with me now. Let us put our masks on.”

You giggle and follow him. He says it so well. It’s like slipping back into a costume. You feel the peace chipping away and the tension once more has you rigid. Back to the real world.

“Now, we cannot give ourselves away,” he halts just out of sight of the veranda, “I shall go ahead and you will follow that path,” he turns and nods behind the row of hedges, “follow it around the front and you may slip in.”

“Oh, uh…” You blink and look over your shoulder, “that way?”

“Yes, it will take you right around to the front door.”

“Right, thank you… again.”

He bows his head and steps forward. You turn off in your own escape as the slippers on your feet clap against the ground. You come out in the golden sunshine and tramp across the stonework of the arced drive. As you come up the steps, the door opens from within. You stop at the middle stare and gape up.

“There you are,” Mr. Laufeyson greets, almost an accusation, “where’ve you been off to?”

Your brows pop up and you peer around, “reading.”

“Reading? You couldn’t do so in your room?” He challenges.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I broke the rules.”

“You broke the rules– get inside,” he points you inside as he steps back. You obey and he snaps the door at your entrance, turning towards you with a finger in the air. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I’m very sorry.”

He sighs and drops his hand, gripping his hip, “where were you reading?”

“Outside.”

“Outside– be straight, where?”

“In the garden,” you say plainly, lips down turned, “I only wanted to watch the butterflies.”

You look up at him, a pout in your lower lip, and bat your lashes. You clutch the book tighter and his eyes fall to squint at it. He reaches and curls his fingers around the top, wiggling it free. He flips it over to read the spine.

“This is a first edition,” he states as he examines, “where did you find this?”

The disbelief in his voice makes you nervous. First edition? 

“Is it very old?” You ask.

He winces and looks at you, his green eyes lit, “1847… I’d say so.”

“Oh?” You bat your lashes.

“Not in its original form,” he turns it over, “it’s been rebound into a single volume. The first print was in three parts and this cover… it can’t possibly be so ancient.”

You gulp and purse your lips.

“So I have to wonder, where you found this,” he sneers at you.

“Well, I… your father gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you? To read? He lent it to you?”

“Um, he just said… to keep it as my own,” you shrug.

“Do you--keep it? A first edition Bronte?” He sounds ready to explode, “so that is where you’ve been? With my father?”

“I saw him, Mr. Laufeyson, but I was mostly alone,” you sniff, “I shouldn’t have gone out. I’m sorry. Again.”

“Is that all you’re going to say? Sorry, sorry, sorry?”

You nod, “sorry.”

He closes his eyes and pinches his nose, “you will stay close.” He offers the book back to you, “put this away and put on some proper shoes,” he looks down at the oversized slippers, “I’ve some errands to run for mother and you will come along. Do your duty.”

✨

Mr. Laufeyson is quiet throughout the drive. So are you. You accept your penance and roil in the thick silence, fingers twiddling and twining restlessly. His sighs make you flinch as you await further reprimand.

He pulls in before a shop front of white trimmed in red. He gets out without waiting and you follow after him. You trail him inside as he strolls across to the counter where women in red aprons and caps smile back at him. 

“Hello, I’ve come to pick up an order for Odinson,” he declares flatly.

“Frigga? Oh yes,” the shorter of the pair flits into the backroom.

“You don’t remember me?” The other woman asks. Laufeyson’s eyes shoot darts at her and his brows arch.

“I recall you spilled vodka on my wedding shoes, yes,” he scoffs.

“Oh,” she makes a face, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten that part.”

“Mm,” he hums and taps his fingers on the shining countertop.

The other woman returns and slides over a large white box, a red seal stuck along the corner to keep it firmly closed. Laufeyson takes out his wallet, “how much then?”

“Paid for,” the woman proclaims, “all yours.”

“Right,” he slides the box off and pivots smoothly. 

You peer back before you scurry ahead of him to the door, opening it as his hands are full. That woman was at his wedding? Did she know Sif? Was it a big event? Did everyone go? You don’t ask any of the questions that flood your head. You’d rather not know.

He balances the box in one hand and reaches into his pocket for his keys, unlocking the trunk. He tucks the box firmly against the emergency kit to keep it in place. 

“Whatever it is, it should be kept cool in here,” he shuts the lid, “though I wonder why mother couldn’t have it brought with tomorrow’s delivery.”

You don’t say a word. You wouldn’t know either. He strides back along the side of the car and dips into the driver seat. You mirror him as you get in on the passenger’s and he presses the button to turn the engine. He sighs and rests the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. He glances in the rear view.

“I’ve another stop to make.”

That’s all he says. It isn’t a question, just a statement. Though you wonder why he even made the declaration. You don’t need to know, you just go along.

He backs out and rolls out of the lot into the street. You distract yourself with the other storefronts and the veneers of city buildings. He drives onto an avenue and slows along the curb, shifting to a stop before he once more shuts off the engine.

Again, he gets out without instruction. You follow. That’s all you can do. He heads up to the grey brick house. Where are you? It isn’t until you’re at the front door that you notice the metal placard mounted on the wall; Bragi Skald, Antiques and Artifacts. 

Laufeyson clangs the large knocker on the door and checks his watch. You wait. It’s quiet. You see no light through the windows but the curtains are drawn flush to the windows, as if they’ve been sealed.

The hinges whine suddenly as the door swings inward, “Ah, Loki!” A blond man at least head shorter than his visitor greets, “wonderful to see you again. I did have it in my ear that you were about, I was curious as you when you should darken my doorway.”

“Bragi,” Laufeyson replies tersely.

“And who is this gorgeous creature,” the man’s crystal blue eyes surprise you as the bow in his lip deepens. He sends you a wink and offers his hand, “forgive me, sweetheart, I nearly missed you there, and how could I overlook such a ravishing woman.”

“Enough,” Laufeyson girds.

“I haven’t even introduced myself–”

“This is Bragi,” Laufeyson introduces the man then utters your name pointedly in return.

“Ah, beautiful name but that hardly answers my curiosity. Who is she? Oh, don’t tell me, you’re marrying again–”

“Hardly,” Laufeyson swipes away the thought with his hand, “I only need to be away from my family.”

“Yes, yes, of course. With Walpurgisnacht, I can only imagine–”

“Be glad you only have to imagine it,” Laufeyson scowls. “Are you going to welcome us in or shall we continue to stand on your porch like tramps?”

“Come, come,” Bragi opens the door wider, “Lady, please, don’t mind the clutter.”

Laufeyson waves you ahead of him. You enter and hold back your shock at the interior. You can hardly see the walls for the stacks of books all around, many with sheaths of paper jutting out. It smells like cinnamon and hint of dust.

“What are we in the mood for? Tea? Or something stronger? I’ve some absinthe–”

“Don’t be mad,” Laufeyson rebukes, “tea will do fine. Just tea, none of your tricks.”

“You speak to me of tricks?” Bragi hums, “is that a sense of humour I sense, oh, dour Loki.”

You lock your jaw to keep from gaping. You’ve never heard anyone talk to Mr. Laufeyson like that, not anyone outside his family, and even Thor did not mock him so lightly.

“Do you want tea?” Laufeyson looks over at you.

“If it isn’t any trouble.”

“Tea,” Laufeyson snaps his fingers at Bragi.

“Do you like scones, lady?” Bragi turns his attention to you.

“I’m not very hungry, thank you–”

“Lady!” A squawk makes you jump, drawing your attention to the flutter of blue feathers that descends to perch on the banister post. A great blue parrot tweaks its head and repeats the word.

“Oh, hush,” Bragi shoos away the bird but only receives a nip of its sharp beak, “don’t listen to Fossegrim. He talks too much.” Bragi shakes his head and retreats down the hallway, “tea, tea, tea…” he chants as if he might forget.

Laufeyson tuts, “he speaks of talking too much…”

You stare up at the blue parrot as it stares back at you. Around its eyes and mouth are bright yellow strips. It’s a pretty creature.

“Lady,” it bawks again and hops off the banister, winging around the space to land on your shoulder.

You gasp as Laufeyson takes a step back. He just sends a troubled look to the bird and glances around, “in here,” he points you through the doorway behind him.

“Um…” you move carefully, trying not to disturb the bird.

In the next room, a large harp stands in one corner, a piano the other, and a litter of various instruments on shelves mounted on the walls. There’s a twelve-string guitar on the sofa, leaned against the armrest as if it was left there haphazardly.

“Be very careful,” Laufeyson returns, “it bites.”

“Bite!” The parrot squawks and snaps in Mr. Laufeyson’s direction. He sighs and once more eludes the bird’s breadth.

“Wish he’d lock that thing up,” he mutters.

You stand like a statue, nervous. You turn your head slowly to look at the parrot. It leans in and nuzzles your hair. You stay as you are, paralysed as you fear it might snap at you too. A grating chitter rises from its throat, softer than its former screech. It continues the purrlike noise as it rocks on your shoulder.

“Is it singing?” You ask as Laufeyson stares with arms crossed.

“I have no idea. Let’s hope it’s not growling.”

You frown and clasp your hands tight. If the bird keeps Mr. Laufeyson away, it can’t be so bad.

[thepascalofus]

Growing on Me - Chapter One

AO3

Din Djarin x botanist!Reader

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: The Plant Species Inventory Project is a one hundred day expedition in the forests of Nevarro. You’re Nevarro’s best (and only) botanist, which is something Karga doesn’t want to risk losing. Making sure you’re safe on this years expedition, Karga hired a Mandalorian to protect you—Mando.

Series Content Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, swearing, completely made up species and/or irl species instead of canon ones, inaccurate descriptions of Nevarro (it has forests instead of lava plains), lots of biology and environmental stuff (I promise I won’t go too deep with it [i have a bio degree]), 70% strangers/30% enemies to lovers, semi-slow burn, lots of tropes (because what are tropes if we don’t use them am I right?), canon violence, eventual SMUT, eventual FLUFF, reader is described as gender neutral as possible but has female sex organs and is occasionally referred to as a girl, no Y/N, hurt/comfort, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: I have had this idea brewing in my mind for a while now. I’m so happy to share this with all of you. I truly love the topic I went to school for (biology), so this is mostly for me, oops. There will be lots of biology related stuff in this series, but I promise it will be “comprehensible”, not textbook jargon. Every single like, reblog, comment, smoke signal (that’d be a fun one), and ask truly means the world to me. Sharing my writing is a new thing for me and I’m enjoying it so far. Alsssoooo, I’m planning for this fic to be a long(er) series. 

Leaves crunched underneath your hiking boots with every step you took into the forest. Further and further in, green soaked into your vision and found its home. The forest was moderately dense. Trees of various shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the land. Distances between tree trunks varied, but gaps still allowed for traversion.

The understory was spectacular. Biodiversity could be defined in a dictionary, and a picture of this landscape would take up two and a half pages. Tall, leafy plants with elongated petioles and broad leaves gave the small shade plants cover. Tiny collections of different mosses littered the surfaces of landlocked rocks. Vines found their way up tree trunks and retreated back down, hanging from branches as thick, green ropes.

Light peeked in from the gaps in the forest canopy. Small lizards basked on rocks where the light shined especially bright. Happy, buzzing pollinators made their way from flower to flower in search of sweet nectar.

The light also reflected off of Mando’s silver beskar, and right into your eyes.

You squinted at the white splotches that harassed your vision. In response, you turned your head and ignored the man that stood in the corner of your eye. Your feet continued to weave between plants, careful not to break too many with your steps. With each step, the brown rucksack on your back bounced against your torso and your blaster patted against your thigh.

Karga lent you the rucksack to hold the maps and forms needed for the expedition. It was one hundred days out here. You’ve done longer land surveys and experienced plenty of joy from doing them. But you were with your university mentor then.

Now you’re with Mando.

Karga insisted that the Mandalorian come with you. You sauntered into his office this morning to retrieve the rucksack and its contents, and were met with two men instead of just the High Magistrate himself. Karga pulled you aside and told you to, “think of him as more of an assistant,” but you knew he truly hired the man donning beskar to protect you.

You rolled your eyes in response, but thanked Karga nevertheless. The Plant Species Inventory Project was in its third year, and you were on your third year of running it. Every year you hiked through the surrounding forests of Nevarro for one hundred days to document the species of the forest.

But last year you had to stop early due to receiving a venomous bite from a lizard. Karga called in an airlift and had you rushed to the hospital. The doctors said that if you had arrived five minutes later, you would’ve been dead.

This year, Karga decided that your knife and blaster weren’t good enough against lizards. Instead of getting you better self defense tools, he bought a Mandalorian to protect you. From the lizards.

Right before you passed another rock with a lizard sunbathing on its peak, Mando made his way over to you and put his body between you and the rock. You huffed in response. The lizard had brown, pointy skin with splotches of blue along its back.

“That one is harmless, Mando,” you deadpanned to the man.

“Yeah? How do you know?” He quipped in response.

Taken aback by his sudden eagerness to talk to you—he hasn’t said a word to you since you both left Karga’s office—you quickly explained, “The harmless ones, Glendia ropensis, have blue spots on their back. The venomous ones, Glendia frediama, have green spots.”

Mando turned his helmet to look at you. You stared back at him, directly in his black visor. Other people have told you bits and pieces of folklore about the Mandalorians. The galaxy’s best warriors. They trained to develop their fighting skills as soon as they were old enough.

Yet, the beskar man didn’t phase you. Karga wouldn’t send you into a remote forest with a man he didn’t trust…right? You trusted Karga and his judgment, therefore you trusted Mando to not kill you.

“I thought you were a botanist?” The shiny man stated in confusion.

“I am,” you replied, “just because I know plants doesn’t mean I can’t know animals.”

His helmet tilted in a “fair enough” motion and you two continued to trek through the forest. Mando cleared his throat, “Karga said you were Nevarro’s best botanist.”

“I am,” you repeated, then continued with tight lips, “I’m also Nevarro’s only botanist.”

The man hummed, the sound crackling through the helmet. Facing forward, your gaze drifted downwards to the array of plants on the forest floor. Different leaf shapes popped out at you. Some plants had bright flowers while others lacked them.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Your watch went off, signaling for the first sampling. Bringing your rucksack around your shoulder and in front of you, you plopped it down on the ground and opened the sack. A holopad and two cubes were held in your hands as you brought them from out of the brown bag. 

Flipping the switch on one of the cubes, you tossed it to Mando. He stood there, examining the device, while you pulled up the proper programs on the holopad. One program mapped your hike while the other helped you record the species you sampled. You tucked the holopad under your arm after setting up your sampling preferences.

You looked up to see Mando fiddling with the cube you gave him. Your hand whose arm wasn’t holding the holopad flicked the switch on the corresponding cube.

A hologram square projected out of the cubes, the devices corresponded to two diagonal corners of the square. You walked closer to the Mandalorian and the square shrunk. You walked further and the square grew.

Selecting a small rock protruding from the ground, you set the device on top of it. Mando picked up on your motions and found a log to prop the corresponding device onto.

“Don’t all of the sampling plots need to be the same size?” The silver man questioned.

You retrieved the holopad from under your arm and tapped the screen to initiate the calculations on the size of the plot. Looking up from the holopad you pointed to the screen, and replied to Mando with a hint of sass, “The programs standardize everything, so the sampling plots don’t need to be exact.”

His gaze bored into yours while the program calculated the dimensions of the plot and ran other diagnostics of the area. You raised an eyebrow at him, shifting your weight to one foot, “Do you not trust Nevarro’s best botanist?” You asked jokingly, yet with a tone of seriousness.

At first Mando didn’t respond in words, but his shoulders rose, as if he let out a silent laugh at you. He shook his head, helmet rotating from side to side, “It’s only been a couple hours, we’ll see,” Mando drawled. Light glinted off the beskar donning his head as he turned to observe the surrounding woods. 

Bending down, you began to assess the leaves of the first plant to identify. The veins were parallel, running side by side to each other. Leaf arrangement was alternate, no two leaves shared the same growth point on the stem. No vein on the plant touched. They all went and came from the same direction, never meeting.

The second plant had net-like veining on its leaves. Veins crossed and morphed into each other. Leaf arrangement was opposite. Pairs of leaves pinched the stem with their petioles and crossed it perpendicularly. Every feature on the small herb met and weaved together. Each vein could only be minutely distinguished among the web of veins working together to keep the plant alive. 

Stenica aparinese and Wortanum tortanumus.

The pair of you haven’t met before. You knew nothing about the beskar man, besides that he didn’t talk much. But it had only been a few hours, as Mando said before, and you still don’t feel like your paths have crossed. Even though you two have been walking side by side. 

—

You completed ten samplings before you decided to call it a day. Squatting over plants and counting petals wasn’t mentally difficult, but it was physically. Knees aching and thighs burning, you two made your way through the maze of trees. The holopad glowed in the fading sunlight and aided you in finding the nearest safehouse. 

Footsteps created a chorus of crunches that echoed off the tree trunks. Your gait was focused on avoiding the small, rare plants on the forest floor. Occasionally, you’d stop to get a closer look at some—having never seen them before. 

Mando would pause behind you. His large hands settled on his belt, palm resting near his blaster. The helmet swiveled from side to side as he dragged his gaze over the forest. He would wait patiently near you as you took notes about the species, attempting to identify it. 

“Are we good to go?” He’d grit out after a couple minutes. 

You stood up from a squat and clicked the holopad off, throwing him a quick nod. The crunching chorus resumed, feet finding pockets of common grasses and clovers. Mando’s heavy boots tried to fall within the same pockets of green that yours did, but his success was debatable. 

Sunlight shining down from the canopy became scarce, but not obsolete. The blaster hanging in a holster on your hip tapped against your thigh. The crunches caused by footsteps were accompanied by a cadence of muted pats.

Mando cleared his throat, a sound that choked out of the helmet’s modulator, “Do you know how to use that thing?” The beskar man asked.

You turned to face him, stopping in your tracks. You’ve never had to shoot it, the blaster hung from a holster just in case you needed it. But it can’t be that hard, right? Just point and shoot.

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “you just point and shoot.” Thinking that was an acceptable answer for Mando, you turned to continue towards the safehouse.

“Just point and shoot?” Dry exasperation churned out like gravel from his helmet. 

Lips became a line on your face, and your torso faced him again. Before you could start speaking, he cut you off. “You haven’t used it, have you?” Mando sighed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, exhaustion took over your expression, “Why does it matter? Does a Mandalorian need back up?”

Head turning, your footsteps resumed towards the safehouse. The holopad indicated it was less than fifty meters away. A warm shower and a comfy mattress sounded better than a shooting tutorial—from a man destined to be far better at it than you—would be.

Mando sighed and continued behind you. “What’s the point of carrying a blaster if you don’t know how to use it? If you’ve never shot it?” His helmet gave his tone a sharp edge.

“So I can look like I know how to use it. I don’t want to use it.” 

It was true. You didn’t know what you would do if you actually had to use it. Your biology courses always talked about the fight or flight response, but they rarely talked about freeze.

That’s probably what you would do. You’d freeze. 

“Firing bad shots at someone who does know how to use it, makes you look like you don’t know how to use it,” Mando said matter-of-factly. 

Shoulders dropping, you sighed and trekked forwards. “Look, I know that the bolt comes out of the barrel and to point it at what I want to shoot. And pulling the trigger fires the blaster. I feel like that’s good enough for now,” you rebuked. 

Thankfully, Mando dropped the subject, since the gray exterior of the safehouse came into view. The small building formed a basic cube of cement walls. Only a few windows interrupted the slabs of stone, and they were dark, bleak. Near the tree-brown door was the only sign that the safehouse wasn’t a long-lost monument—a glowing, yellow keypad. If you were the only humans in the forest, the safehouse shouldn’t have been used since last year. 

Approaching the brown door, you dug into your memory for the code that allows entry. Karga asked you what code you wanted when he had them built throughout the forest. 

That’s right! The code is your birth date.

You pressed the corresponding keys, the yellow glow bathed your fingertips in a warm light. The brown door slid open once the last key was pressed. Before you could even find the kriffing lightswitch, a crackle came from behind your head.

“What’s the code?” Mando asked with intention.

Mando must have assumed that you knew where the lightswitch was, because he continued his path over the threshold and directly into your back. The momentum from his body ramming into yours made you stumble, falling towards the wooden floors. You brought your arms up to brace yourself for the harsh impact.

And they hit nothing.

Instead, a large, gloved hand settled on your stomach and pulled you upwards. The muscles of his arm pressed against your side and burned their warmth into your skin. Suddenly, you were back on your feet and the lights were turned on.

You turned around, eyes wide in shock at the speed of events. Mando’s gloved finger dropped from its position under the switch. “Sorry about that,” he sighed.

Acting like he didn’t just seamlessly haul you back to your feet with one arm.

A feeling that was foreign—but not too foreign—seeped from your chest down to your stomach. The ticklish warmth emanated throughout your body in all directions. The same feeling you opted to tune out at while you were at university. Shit.

One guy put a hand on you and now you have butterflies? C’monnn. 

Just like every other time, you blockade the warmth from spreading too far out. Mentally, barricades went up before the feeling could leave your torso. It’s better to stay focused on the task at hand.

Shhkt.

The Mandalorian pressed a button that triggered the door to slide closed.

“Um…”

Were you supposed to thank him? Scold him? Leave it at that? Your mouth tightened and you gave the Mandalorian a curt nod and a, “Thanks.” 

Before receiving his reaction, you turned your back to him to assess the layout of the safehouse. A small, cozy living room with a fireplace filled up most of the space to your left. Knit blankets were draped over the thick cushions that sat upon the wooden furniture frames. 

The space continued into the equally small kitchen. Basic silver appliances filled up most of the kitchen space. Simple, gray pantry doors blended with the small, semi-shiny machines. On the right of you were two doors, one you assumed contained the fresher, and the other containing beds.

Turning to your left, you removed your bag and plopped onto the thick cushions of the couch. The burning in your legs made you unconcerned about making food for dinner or discussing sleeping arrangements.

The burning—or maybe lack thereof—in Mando’s thighs didn’t dissuade him from being persistent.

Mando sauntered over to the couch you were laying on. The thunks of his heavy footsteps became louder as he grew nearer. “Are you going to tell me the code?” Mando’s helmet came into your line of sight as he towered over your slumped figure.

You groaned, “Are you going to stop walking into me?”

The horizontal line of his visor tilted in your view, signifying a, “really?” emotion. His shoulders dropped, “I just want to be able to get in and out of the houses.”

Begrudgingly you told him the code, “It’s my birthday,” you explained.

“Oh, uh, happy birthday.” He gave you a curt nod and turned to walk into the kitchen.

A small smile spread across your face, and you sighed once more, “Today isn’t my birthday, metal man, the code is my birthday.” You propped one of your elbows on the couch to look over the back of the couch at him. He stood against the small metal sink, arms crossed. His large hands grasped his biceps on each side of him. The Mandalorian made the sink look like he stole it from a child’s playset. 

Once your gaze landed on him, his shoulders slumped. The T-shaped visor looked away from you and towards a map displayed on the wall. Silence ensued over the space. You too glanced at the map—yet there was nothing particularly noteworthy about it.

Mando’s visor pivoted on his shoulders and returned your gaze. After a few seconds his helmet crackled to life, “You’re getting a shooting lesson tomorrow morning.”

Your brows furrowed together and slanted downwards. “Ugggghh. I thought I told you I was good for now,” you gritted out. You let your elbow give out from underneath you and you flopped back down onto the couch cushions. 

A rumbling noise came from over the back of the couch. Footsteps followed. The heavy boots Mando wore sent muted dunks your way—then they ceased. A black T framed by silver entered your view yet again.

“I’m not good with it. Tomorrow morning after you eat,” Mando finalized.

You maintained “eye contact” with him after you rolled your eyes. Instead of staying awake—sore—and putting up with his banthashit, you willed your body to get up and to one of the wooden doors on the right side of the safehouse. Bending down, you scooped your bag onto your shoulder. Hopefully the room was the fresher.

A few paces. The turn of a doorknob. Creaking door opened. A sink, similar to the one in the kitchen, welcomed you with—metal arms? Either way, you were glad to be able to get to clean yourself after a long day. The heavy backpack slid from your shoulder and onto the floor in front of the silver sink.

Turning to close the door, you look up and Mando’s stare is directed at you. An eyebrow of yours raised, directed at him. He began to saunter over to the door next to the freshers’. His bag hung from a large, closed fist at his side.

His frame passed the threshold, making the rectangular entrance appear much smaller. A heavy object hit something soft. Hopefully Mando was finally laying down so you could be left alone. You paused for a couple seconds to see if the heavy footsteps would resume—but nothing.

Relief flooded your body, giving you the idea to close the door and get ready for the night. Water washed away the remnants of soil, tiny pieces of bark, and fragments of shed leaves from your skin. Liquid that once ran dark down the fresher drain steadily turned clear. Your body was a sponge, sucking the warmth from the water into your bones.

You finished your pre-sleep routine and ventured over to the room that contained the beds. Calling it a bedroom was too homey for this space. It was more of a room bunk beds would be kept in at camping lodges. Except there were only two adult-sized beds. And Mando’s confusedly still-silver frame covered most of the bed he chose. He laid on the mattress like someone was giving a eulogy—for him.

Peeling your gaze away from the Mandalorian’s mummy-like body, you peeled back the blankets and shuffled onto the mediocre mattress. You faced away from Mando, getting a nice view of a generic forest picture framed on the wall. It was the only decoration in the room.

“Night, metal man,” you murmured. He was already asleep, why not tease him again?

The helmet crackled to life.

“Metal man earned you one lesson. Say it again and you’ll earn another,” the words gritted out from the beskar helmet.

You laid in your bed, wide-eyed. Not knowing what to say, and honestly too tired to have this conversation, you opted to say nothing. After a couple moments, you heard shuffling from over your shoulder. The helmet crackled once more.

“Night.”

Your eyes drooped once your brain knew that social interaction was no longer required for the night. The pillow beneath your head lulled your slumber closer and closer.

“Ruus,” came from behind you.

Too tired. So sleepy. You’ll ask in the morning.

—

You woke up to birds chirping. Their calls and songs came in through your cracked bedroom window. Naturally, your brain deciphered the individual calls.

Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.

Shrrrrrk. Shrrrrrk.

Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki.

A common house sparrow, a buzzard, and a finch.

You shuffled around in your bed seeking a couple more minutes of comfort before your alarm inevitably went off. Mattress providing a soft cushion of support for your body, pillow delightfully cold against your face, and your eyelids heavy, your body absorbed your surroundings and let them influence you. Everything influenced you to stay the fuck in bed. Shifting in and out of consciousness, your blurry dreams pulled you further into a deeper slumber. 

Dawn quickly approached, signaling for the birds to scream at each other that they’re awake. Bird calls blared through the air like tiny sirens. The rays of sunlight shone through the slits in the window blinds.

The extra-loud bird sounds snapped you out of your dreamlike state. Your gaze was trained on the warm glow of sunlight seeping into the room. Everything was natural. Ethereal. In sync and calm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Dank farrik. Whipping the duvet off your body and swinging your legs to let your feet touch the ground, you hurriedly zipped open your bag to find the holopad. Once your hands found it between clothes and your notebooks, you clicked it on. The bright screen made your eyes squint at the device. Clicking the screen once more, the alarm was silenced. Now that the blaring ceased, your mind began to catch up to your surroundings. 

Oh kriff, the alarm probably woke up Mando. Your voice was a whisper, “I’m sorry if that woke yo–.” You turned towards his bed and the silver frame of his body was no longer there. Once you noticed his absence, you quieted yourself and listened for any noise. Nothing.

But then you smelled caf. 

Your brain put two and two together. Your thoughts slowed down. After a second, you rummaged in your bag for a change of clothes and your toiletries. Once your outfit was changed, you strode over to the door and aimed to enter the fresher.

The wooden door opened to reveal Mando sitting on the couch, reading something on his holopad. Hopefully the helmet muffled any sounds you could make. You took one sock-clad step over the threshold. Then another. And another. Only a couple more until you reached the other door.

“Morning,” Mando’s speech crackled.

You turned towards him, holding up a hand, offering a quick, “Morning,” back. He didn’t say anything afterwards. Slunking into the fresher, you closed the door behind you and began your morning ritual. 

Mid-teeth-brushing, you remembered last night.

“You’re getting a shooting lesson tomorrow morning.”

Fuck.

Well, wouldn’t Mando remind you the moment he saw you in the morning. You didn’t even set one foot inside the safehouse before he demanded the code for the door. Maybe he forgot. You can only hope.

The wooden rectangle swung on the hinges, opening the fresher. You stepped out and made your way to the kitchen. Before you entered the pantry covered space, you glanced over Mando’s shoulder to see what he was reading. His gloved finger clicked the holopad off before you could get a good look. Silver beskar filled your vision as he leaned forward to place the holopad on the empty table in front of the couch. 

You continued to the kitchen, too hungry to care. Reaching into a cabinet, you retrieved a mug, then poured a generous amount of caf into it. In the adjacent cabinet were ration packs and miscellaneous hiking-friendly snacks. Trail mix. Jerky. Protein bars. Cans lined one section of a shelf—in case anyone wanted to craft their own meal, instead of tearing open a ration pack.

Being Nevarro’s best botanist had its perks, and one was that you helped Karga set up these safehouses. So your favorite ration packs were always in stock.

You reached for one and opened the pack, eager to satiate your stomach. Your fingers found the lip of a drawer and pulled, revealing small piles of cutlery in a wooden organizer. The same fingers danced over the utensils, determining which one you preferred. Opting for a spoon, you took the utensil and fed yourself generous spoonfuls. Hiking did a number on your hunger, plus you needed the energy.

After a few sips of your caf, finishing half the mug, and a ration pack, you leaned against the counter and observed the back of Mando. His large frame nearly spanned across an entire couch cushion. Silver donned his shoulders and traveled its way down his arms, towards his hands. He spread his wingspan across the couch, exaggerating his size—not that he needed to. The Mandalorian’s leather-clad fists also donned beskar on top of them. One of his fists flexed and relaxed in a slow rhythm. 

Bubbling began at the center of your stomach, threatening to boil over into the rest of you. Heat bloomed near your face at the sight of him.

Nope. Not happening.

You peeled your gaze away from his figure and went to wash the mug. Thoughts wandered and yours landed on how Mando still hasn’t mentioned the lessons. Maybe you got off this time, you got lucky. Warm water poured over your grasp. Suds coated the shiny surface of the ceramic drinkware. The faucet let out a steady stream of water, and it dribbled against the metal lining of the sink. Soundwaves from the water traveled to your ears, which blocked the sounds of Mando’s footsteps approaching the kitchen.

You shut the faucet off and turned to place the mug back into the cabinet. The Mandalorian’s towering beskar figure standing in the space between the living room and the kitchen made you gasp in a lungful of air. 

The modulator in his helmet crushed the tone of the sentence he spoke, “Let’s go, time for your lesson.”

Shit.

—

“You’re holding it wrong,” Mando stated sternly.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at him, “I’ve been holding it for, like, ten seconds. Not even.” Instead of focusing on the black T stamped on his silver helmet, you shifted your attention to the stump of a fallen tree. It was covered in moss and mushrooms, decaying. The fallen trunk with dense branches sprawled out on the forest floor behind the stump. Light could barely make it through the thick foliage.

Metal man insisted that the lesson should take place at a location far from the safehouse, “to keep it hidden, in case anything hears the blaster shots,” he reasoned. You supposed that it wasn’t a bad explanation, but the hike before your lesson was challenging. Mando guided you through the forest for so long, you thought he forgot about the lesson. But he didn’t. And this lesson sucked.

You were having more fun looking at the ground around you. A couple different leaf shapes popped out at you from below. Flowers were scattered throughout the area, and you matched them to their respective leaves, giving you quick identifications. 

Mando used one of his gloved fingers to tap you on the shoulder. The gesture returned you to the present moment from your resentful thoughts. His leather-gloved hands gripped his own blaster. It was much larger than yours, yet his grasp consumed the handle of the weapon. Another broad, gloved hand covered the one gripping the handle. 

Your hands attempted to match him on your own blaster. It was clear that you were struggling. Eyes in slits and brows furrowed, your gaze repeatedly shifted from his grip to your grip. Fingers stumbled to find their rightful places. Instead of giving up, you settled on something that sort of resembled the position his hands were in. 

His helmet tilted downwards at you and cocked to the side, another expression of, “really?” This gesture seemed common with him. Metal clicked onto metal when Mando re-holstered his blaster. Then, his hands were on your blaster, giving the weapon a slight tug to release it from your grip.

You thought he was going to demonstrate on your considerably smaller blaster. Instead, he grabbed the barrel of the blaster and pointed the handle at you. His other hand reached for your wrist. Worn, warm leather slid against your skin. A wide palm rested against the back of your hand. Thick fingers formed a loose—but stern—grip around the base of your palm. 

His hand was so warm. And strong. Every movement was done with purpose and confidence. The grip he had on your hand guided yours to the handle. Once you grasped the metal you expected him to let go, but his hold remained. Small flecks of light glinted off the barrel of the weapon when Mando turned your wrist.

Light shined off the helmet as well. He leaned down to check if your fingers were in the right places. Spotting an incorrect placement, he used his other hand to nudge a finger downwards and onto the handle. He nodded, “Good.”

The short praise sent heat flying towards your face, and you willed for it to sink back down. His thumb shifted on your wrist, giving you slight goosebumps. How could his fingers be that thick? And his hands so strong? What would they feel li—.

You backtracked in your head. Nope. You didn’t want to go there. You had one hundred days in this forest with this guy, and you had a job to do.

Mando took your other hand with his other hand, and placed it on top of the one gripping the handle. The hold he had over the new hand tightened. In exchange, your own grip tightened over the handle.

“This hand,” he tightened his grasp once more, “squeezes down on this hand,” he rasped as he shook the wrist holding onto the warming metal. Each squeeze threatened the bubbling in your stomach to evaporate into the rest of your body, but you repressed it. Managing to control your pointless butterflies, you did as he explained, and the hold you maintained felt better than it did previously. 

As you raised the blaster up towards your eye level, Mando stepped away. Shutting one eye, you looked down the barrel and at the old tree stump. Your arms were both steady and relaxed. Remembering only the second half of Mando’s lecture from earlier, you spaced your feet shoulder width apart, and squeezed your grip around the trigger.

A bolt shot out of the end of the silver barrel and into the top of the tree stump—much higher than where you aimed. Crackling came from your right, “The piece of metal at the end of the barrel needs to line up with the notches above the trigger.”

You let out a heavy exhale, that information was in the second half of his lecture, “That’s what I did,” you told him. He let out an exhale in response, but his was in amusement, “Well, you didn’t hit the center,” his head jerked towards the stump to make his point.

He stood with his hands on his belt, shoulders back, with one knee out. Chrome plated armor gleamed from the sun coming in through the forest's canopy. His dark leather and clothing contrasted the bright metal. Without seeing his face, you knew he had a smirk on it. 

You huffed as you turned towards him, “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?”

He gave you his signature head tilt towards the side, “You know that I would hit it,” he stated.

Honestly, you knew he could. The man is fully decked out in beskar armor and carries several weapons with him at all times. But you were fed up with the slight smugness he exuded. “Do it,” you challenged him.

Before you could even register he was doing so, he pulled his blaster from its holster. With a firm grip and confident aim, his blaster bolt hit dead center into the tree stump. Just as quickly as he pulled it out, he re-holstered his blaster and looked at you. 

His incoming responses went through your mind, “It’s because I don’t suck,” “Don’t even bother,” “Why’d you buy a blaster in the first place?”

“Just try again,” his helmet gritted and the black T shook from side to side, “I’ve just been doing this longer than you have. It takes practice.”

Without thinking, you responded, “And what is ‘this’?” The Mandalorian gave you a stare—not like it wasn’t always a stare—but his helmet didn’t move a bit, unlike the usual tilts and shakes you had been getting. 

“If by ‘this’ you mean shooting, then I’ve been shooting since I could hold a blaster. If you mean my profession, my occupation has required shooting since I’ve been an adult,” his voice stated, sounding like churning gravel.

Both of your eyebrows lifted and your eyes widened. You tried to hide it, but you probably failed. Only a few professions in the galaxy required shooting all of the time.

“So you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked with confusion, your mouth semi-dry.

Mando nodded, “Yes, now try again,” he pointed towards the stump.

‘Okay cool, we’re just going to gloss over that one?’, you thought. Instead of voicing your inner monologue, you raised the blaster once more. The metal lined up with the notch and you squeezed the trigger. Your shot landed half a meter above Mando’s. It was far from his shot, but much closer than your previous one.

“Better. But you flinched,” Mando critiqued. His gloved hands rested on his hips and his visor bored into you. 

Trying again, the notch lined up with the metal as you peered down the barrel. Instead of holding your aim and then getting ready to fire, you fired as soon as your barrel lined up with the center of the stump. Energy left the end of the blaster and shot into the decaying wood. It landed about fifteen centimeters above Mando’s.

You heard crunching on the ground as the Mandalorian walked towards you. Lowering your blaster, you pointed the barrel at the ground. Maker, if he showed you how to hold the blaster again, you were going to lose it. Once he reached you, he stood in front of you, hands clasped in front of his belt buckle.

The helmet crackled to life, “Good job. Those were better than my first shots,” he stated plainly, then turned, “Let’s get going.” Before waiting for your response, he continued on into the dense forest.

—

The section of the forest you just entered was darker than any other area the pair of you had been in previously. Light barely made its way down from the forest canopy. Shade-loving plants bathed in the lack of light. Small rodents scampered from shrub to shrub, picking the fruits off of their stems. Scuttles were heard in all directions, creating a chorus of sounds influenced by food-web interactions. 

Mando decided to lead the way. His helmet remained on a swivel as he constantly scanned the area. You had been this way before and knew there was nothing harmful, it was just dark and ‘scary’.

Then the scuttles stopped. And in response, Mando stopped. Which made you run right into the back of him. “Ufff!” You let out as your chest collided with his back. Rough, black fabric scratched against your face. It smelled like wood and musk, but in a good way. Did he usually smell like that or was it just the forest?

You pushed yourself off of him and stayed behind. Mando held a hand out to his side in a, ‘stay behind me’, signal. Everything froze, and left you freezing with it.

Then you felt it.

The ground shook softly. A steady rhythm of shakes became increasingly more intense. Trees sensed the waves too, as their leaves rattled above. You looked downwards and noticed that Mando retrieved his blaster from its holster. His stare was locked forwards. Almost as if he was looking beyond the dense foliage into the distance.

Dun. Dun. DUN.

Each shake caused your feet to vibrate in your boots. And then they stopped. In front of you, the large silhouette of a creature made its way through the foliage and towards you both. You squinted into the darkness in an attempt to identify the creature.

And Mando fired his blaster.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Comfort Part 2: Gale of Waterdeep

A continuation of "I don't feel well so I want fluff and hurt/comfort". If you haven't read the first part with Wyll, you don't have to, but I highly recommend some more wholesomeness for you.

Enjoy!

(if you like it, reblogs are appreciated!)

---

It's been a long day.

One of those days where nothing could go right, as if the universe itself were fighting against you.

Exhausted and upset, you open the front door, golden light spilling out around you.

Tara is the first to greet you.

She chirps her welcome, jumping down gracefully from her perch and winding around your legs. For all she is a Tressym, she is still a feline, after all, intent on giving you enough love to trip you over.

It's a soft balm to your soul.

Hanging up your things, you can't help but smile as you hear the clattering of pans. For all that Gale is a prodigy of magic and an accomplished wizard, cooking is one of the few things he doesn't without too much accompaniment.

One of his simulacrums greets you as you step into the foyer.

“Greetings, love. If you're hearing this message, I'm in the process of making us both a delectable feast. There is a surprise upstairs for you to put on before dinner.”

You can't help but wince.

It was date night, wasn't it.

Your feet throb in your shoes, and getting dressed up sounds like the worst thing you could possibly imagine. Your entire way home your body had ached, and all you'd dreamed of was a comfortable night in.

You sigh. “Tara, could you ask Gale if we could do something a little more…cozy? It's been a long day.”

She mrts in response, ignoring the simulacrum entirely as she slips into the kitchen.

You head upstairs to wash up.

Hanging on your closet door is a beautiful outfit, graceful and made to fit only you. You'd grown used to little gifts like this, as Gale loved to spoil you rotten.

Your fingers grace the fabric, and you sigh.

Another night, perhaps.

Instead, you change into something comfortable and loose, and head back downstairs.

No wooden landing greets your tired feet, however.

Looking around, your eyes widen. Stars form a rich blanket across the night sky, the smell of loamy earth and moss filling the air. In the distance, there are trees, and you are brought back to a different time.

This time, instead of a despondent and solemn Gale, your husband smiles up at you lovingly from a picnic blanket.

“Tara told me you might be in need of some comfort.” He pats the spot next to him, stealing a kiss after you sit down.

“Gale, this is…”

“Only a fraction of what you deserve? I agree. Which is why I also brought some books we've been meaning to read together, and whipped up a little something extra for dessert. I hope you like strawberries. If not, I can turn them into something else.”

You laugh fondly, shaking your head. “It's perfect, Gale. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.” As he serves you both dinner, Tara curls up between you two, her soft warmth comforting against your thigh.

You couldn't have imagined a better ending to an awful day.

[solariized]

hi, i wrote a little ethubs fic based off of this post :)

you can read it here, under this little section or on ao3 !!

—

Bdubs wakes up well into the afternoon. Not because he had fallen asleep late, no no, he went to bed at the same time he always did. Right as the sun is halfway between going down for the day. He wakes late in the afternoon simply because Bdubs is a creature of sleep.

He goes through his usual routine. Check his hair to see if it’s gotten too greasy and decide if he wants to shower or not, it sticks up in weird ways and he can’t smooth it down for the life of him so. Bdubs takes a quick shower so his hair will actually cooperate. He dresses how he normally does, throwing on his cloak made of moss before heading outside for the first time that day. The sun is shining bright, thankfully not blinding Bdubs as he walks away from his home.

Hermitcraft season nine is coming to a close soon and Bdubs can’t help but be sad as he looks around the landscape. It really is a beautiful place, barely any corner untouched by his friends. It’s always weird to think of how this place will go abandoned pretty soon. Their builds will become overtaken by nature gradually. Bdubs kind of wishes he could see what the world will look like in another year, after it hasn’t been played on for awhile.

After walking for a few minutes, Bdubs gets bored. He equips his elytra and readys some rockets. He fires and jumps, the wings on his back unfurling with a few clicking noises and sending him into the sky. His destination is Tango’s brilliant build of Decked Out. Where some of their Hermits will all be let loose into the dungeon to run it one last time as a group. Excitement swells in Bdubs chests as he thinks about it, and the previous tiredness he felt wears off quickly.

Instead of landing at the front of Decked Out, Bdubs flies directly through the entrance and lands in the room where the door to the dungeon is. There’s already people standing in a circle, and he hears voices overlapping as he lands.

“Hey look who decided to show up!” Grian says with a teasing smile. He knocks his shoulder against Bdubs own.

“I made it just in time! Even with time to spare!” Bdubs shouts at him, taking a defensive stance. Grian snickers at him, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“Just wake up ‘Dubs?” Etho speaks from behind him, amusement in his voice. Bdubs whirls around towards him. Etho is leaning against the wall, seemingly content in watching his fellow Hermits bickering amongst each other. Bdubs hadn’t even noticed he was here until he spoke, somehow not remembering that the two time champion of Decked Out will also be partaking in their shenanigans today.

Bdubs bounds his way closer to him, glaring up at his masked face. “Nuh uh! I’ve been awake for hours, actually!”

Etho’s eyes crinkle up in a smile, Bdubs watches in subtle amazement as he huffs a laugh and then reaches a hand out to mess with Bdubs’s hair.

“Hey!” Bdubs shouts at him, whacking his hands away and then running his own fingers through his hair to try and fix it again. Etho laughs at him again.

“Alright!” Grian says, clapping his hands together. “We’re all gonna have the same compass, and basically whoever gets out with the artifact is deemed the winner!”

Tango passes out compass, Bdubs turns his around in his hands. He’s a bit terrified of the fact the artifact is in the Deep Frost, letting a deep breath out. Etho pats his shoulder from beside him. His eyes crinkled again and Bdubs just knows he’s smiling under the mask. Bdubs gives him a smile back, and then immediately puts on a look of confidence.

Grian enters a shard into the barrel. As the doors begin to open, he and Cub complain of how high the clank will get with all of them in there. Tango tells Grian to take the cart, and the rest of them are instructed to follow him behind the scenes to reach the dungeon. Following Tango is a mess. Etho gets lost, the rest of them are snickering and tripping over cobble. Stepping over redstone lines and trying not to smack into any of the floating pieces of Decked Out while they fly. After a few minutes of this, and Grian sitting in the minecart waiting and laughing at them, they finally reach a spot where Tango places a bed down. They all set their spawns, then unload any stuff into their respective shulker boxes.

“Are you guys ready yet?” Grian asks, sounding bored. Bdubs can imagine him looking at his nails for lack of anything else to do.

“One moment!” Tango shouts. He digs a hole, motioning towards it then dropping down it himself. The Hermits all follow after him. Bdubs makes a weird noise as he hits the ground, Etho looking over at him with his eyebrows raised in amusement. Bdubs just smiles back at him.

“Okay, we’re good!” Gem shouts, and Bdubs can hear as Grian clicks the button as his minecart starts rolling.

It goes about well as you’d expect when you put a handful of Hermits into a space with other dangerous things wandering around. A few of them make it to the Deep frost, though Bdubs is not one of them. He watches from the screens in the lobby as Grian, Etho, and Cub anxiously move around the bottom level.

Cub makes it out of the Deep Frost first, followed by Etho. Grian gets close until he’s blasted by a sonic shriek and Bdubs watches as he practically explodes, his compass and the map laying on the ground where he was. Bdubs winces, knowing his ears are going to be ringing when he respawns.

Cub dies to an angry Vex. Since so many of them were in there, they generated a bunch of clank very quickly. Vexes are swarming the second and first levels of Decked Out. Everyone cheers Etho on, until he reaches level two and it becomes clear he has to do the chain parkour in order to make it all the way out.

He misses the first time because of course he does, it’s poetic at this point. Gem and Tango seem thrilled that this is happening again, laughing as they watch from the screens in the lobby. Bdubs bites his nails nervously. It would be funny if Etho failed once again due to the chain parkour. But he also thinks it would be cool if he actually got past it and got out.

He doesn’t. Tango tries to lure the ravenger away but as soon as Etho pops his head out from the death hole he is in, its target switches right back to him and Etho gets whacked once before he dies.

Everyone lets out groans of half hearted disappointment, all of them teasing Etho for letting that happen again.

They play a few rounds of other games in Decked Out as well. Bdubs is grinning widely by the end of it, adrenaline still pumping due to having to sprint away from Grian or ravengers. They’re all huffing and giggling while standing in a circle in the lobby.

“Thanks guys! That was really fun!” Grian says. He clasps his hand on Etho’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Last time in Decked Out, how we feeling?”

“You know the world will still be playable right? Just not on our official server,” Tango replies. He has a wide smile too, the sleeves of his dungeon master’s cloak swaying as he swings his arms back and forth.

Grian rolls his hands and shakes Etho a little harder, Etho side eyes him questioningly but lets the action continue. “Well yeah! But that’s different then actually being here and doing it. I’m going to miss seeing this giant building when I fly away from my base.”

Tango huffs a small laugh at him. All the other Hermits chime in with how they’ll miss Decked Out, commending Tango on how amazingly built it is.

“Right, well!” Grian cuts off the complimenting. “I’m off, got to make some stops before X closes the world down. I’ll see you all next season?”

There’s a chorus of yeses and goodbyes. Grian smiles at them all, and goes to pull his hand away from Etho’s shoulder. Etho turns his head toward him at the same time, though. And as Grian’s hand pulls away his finger catches on the strap of Etho’s mask. Grian seems to panic as this happens, pushing his hand forward again even though the mask strap is still around his finger.

Now, Bdubs doesn’t know why Etho covers his face. And honestly he hasn’t ever had any intention to ask. Every Hermit has things they hide, and every other Hermit respects that. Bdubs has never had any desire to see what was under Etho’s mask.

So, as he notices Etho’s mask is being accidentally unhooked, Bdubs flings himself in front of Etho. Standing as tall as he can with his arms out. Once he thinks he’s standing in a good spot that the other Hermits won’t be able to see Etho’s face either, he pulls his arms back in and covers his own eyes with his hand. He hears slapping noises, Bdubs suspects that the others also quickly covered their eyes with their hands after noticing what had happened.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” Bdubs hears Grian shout out. Followed by another slapping noise as he too covers his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Etho replies from in front of Bdubs.

“What did I just walk in on?” Says another voice, and the accent makes it easy to distinguish that it’s Pearl.

“Good, Etho?” Bdubs whispers to him, and he hears a small hum from in front of him. Bdubs knows that means yes, or some kind of variation of it. So he removes his hand and looks over to Pearl. She stands at the opening of the lobby, looking around at them all.

It must be a weird sight. With Bdubs standing close and face-to-face with Etho. (Or, chest-to-face but, whatever.) Everyone else still has their hands over their eyes.

“You guys are good now!” Bdubs reassures.

“Dude! Bdubs you were like a superhero, jumping in front of Etho like that. I didn’t even realize what was happening until you covered him!” Tango praises, a look of surprise on his face as his hands fall away to go back to his sides.

“Yeah, man. That was crazy,” Cub chimes in. His tone showed no signs of being surprised, but his eyes are a little wide as well.

“Seriously,” Pearl speaks again. “What did I walk in on?”

They all laugh. Grian apologizes a few more times, Etho continuing to assure him that it’s fine and was an accident. After Grian had seemingly accepted that will be Etho’s only answer, he says his goodbyes again and leaves.

The rest of them hangout for a while before departing. Bdubs walks out of Decked out groggy from all the physical activity they had done. Etho’s by his side, quiet as ever. When they get out to the landing Bdubs stops to put on his elytra and turns to Etho.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Bdubs says, standing on his tippy toes to press a kiss on the outer corner of Etho’s eye.

“‘Course,” Etho replies and puts a hand in his hair to ruffle it up.

Too tired to cause a fuss over that, Bdubs smiles at him and steps back. He fires off a rocket and heads back to his base, thinking about his soft bed the whole time. As soon as he gets home he sheds off the elytra and falls right asleep in his bed.

Etho, on the other hand, flies home and finds he can’t fall asleep. It’s silly, really, he’s still thinking of earlier. When his mask almost came off and Bdubs jumped in front of him with his eyes closed to protect Etho from the others seeing what’s under the mask.

It’s not like there is anything insanely secretive under it. It’s just Etho’s face, though he’s always been protective of people seeing him. For reasons tied to his childhood, he’s covered his face since he was a teenager. It’s simply become a staple of who he is now, and the thought of losing that makes him shudder.

The thing that’s keeping him up is that Bdubs had jumped in front of him the moment he realized what was going to happen. He had protected Etho’s secret, and had his own eyes closed to not see him himself. It’s… weird. Etho always thought the hermits were curious as to what he looks like. He figured that if the chance ever did come up, they would look. They wouldn’t cover their eyes, much less put themselves in between Etho and other people.

Leave it to Bdubs to completely throw Etho off. It’s not the first time, it probably won’t be the last. Bdubs always has done things differently than what Etho thought people are normally like. He surprises Etho constantly, it makes Etho’s head spin sometimes. He always thought he knew how people were, how they would act. Bdubs makes him off kilter.

In an attempt to keep himself busy, Etho goes to walk around his base for probably the final time. The world will close tomorrow, though the Hermits will gather together so Xisuma can send them all off one by one. All of them go off on their own for a bit until X has the next world sorted and pulls them back together. Most go to their own private worlds, others go to other multiplayer worlds. They’re permitted one shulker box to take with them, usually filled with clothes and other sentimental belongings the Hermits can shove in there. Etho has his packed already, which leaves him to do nothing but wander around his base.

He got a late start, so it’s not the most grand thing. But it’s pretty and it’s his, so who really cares. He likes it. He experimented with blocks he doesn’t normally use and it pulled together well. Bdubs is always really good at taking whacky blocks and making them work together. He’s a really talented builder, Etho loses his breath every time he sees something Bdubs had built.

Bdubs had jumped in front of him, Etho thinks again now that he was thinking about Bdubs again in the first place. Etho groans, he still can’t help but wonder why Bdubs did that.

Knowing he isn’t going to get any sleep, Etho decides he should just go bother Bdubs about it. He puts his elytra on and exits his base to fly off. Heading to Bdubs’s home. The night air has grown a little chilly and it feels nice against Etho’s flushed face. The sun had gone down a little bit ago, Etho knows Bdubs will most likely be asleep by now. But he knows Bdubs won’t mind being woken up as long as it’s no one else but Etho himself.

It’s second nature for Etho to fly to Bdubs’s base and let himself in. He goes to the bedroom, creaking open the door. Like a creep, he stands there and watches Bdubs sleep for a beat or two. Bdubs always looks so much more peaceful when he’s sleeping, the creases he normally has on his face are smoothed out. He snores lightly, his mouth hanging open. It’s not like it’s the prettiest sight but Etho still gets butterflies. (Someone calling him a “gay loser” rings through his head, it sounds suspiciously like Cleo.)

“‘Dubs,” Etho whispers after deciding he was being too creepy staring at his boyfriend sleeping. He walks further into the room, crouching at the bed so he’s face-to-face with the sleeping Bdubs. Questions still burn in the back of his mind as Bdubs stirs. Etho pokes him on the forehead. “Hey, wake up.”

Bdubs groans sleepily, turning onto his back. Etho chuckles quietly at him. Bdubs has never been easy to wake up. The guy can sleep through a tornado.

“I’ll lay on you,” Etho threatens with a tilt of his head. Bdubs still doesn’t make any moves. Etho stands up again. “You asked for it.”

He lets himself fall forward, landing on Bdubs. The smaller man in question makes an “oof” noise, his hands automatically coming up to push at Etho’s shoulder.

“Ack! Get off of me!” He shouts, seemingly now wide awake. Bdubs wiggles from under him, struggling. “You’re heavy!”

Etho huffs a quiet laugh, “I warned you.”

Bdubs struggles for a little longer. Twisting around and trying to shove Etho off of him. He resorts to cheating and pokes his fingers into Etho’s side.

Etho jerks, “Hey! No tickling!”

“Then get offa me!” Bdubs retorts back, shoving at his shoulders once again. Etho relents, chuckling as he rolls off of Bdubs. He sits cross cross on the bed, smiling at Bdubs as he dramatically makes it seem like he was catching his breath. He sits up, glaring at Etho half heartedly. “What are you waking me up for?”

Etho reaches out to ruffle his already messy hair, “Wanted to talk.”

Bdubs stops his attack of the hand Etho has in his hair, he tilts his head questioningly before his eyes go wide. “Oh! You’re breaking up with me, I knew this day would come!”

He says dramatically, falling back down to lay on his pillows to add to the effect. Etho laughs at him and shakes his head. He grabs one of Bdubs’s hands, intertwining their fingers together.

“No, no. Not that.” He looks at their hands, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of Bdubs’s thumb. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Hey!” Bdubs squawks, jerking their hands around. Etho laughs again.

“No, I just… had a question, I guess.” Etho says, not knowing how to explain it. He’s never been too good at talking about his feelings, though it’s something he's working on. He had come to Bdubs to talk about it when it was bothering him in the first place, that’s already an improvement. He used to let these things sit with him until it drove him mad.

“Oh?” Bdubs questions, sitting up again. He pulls their hands into his lap and leans a little forwards. Putting all his attention towards Etho. “Go on.”

It goes quiet as Etho gathers his words. Bdubs waits patiently, squeezing his hand in the pattern of a pulse, something he does occasionally when they hold hands. Etho wants to ask why he does that but he’ll have to save it for another day.

“Earlier, when we were at… uhh,” Etho loses his train of thought as soon as it gets to him.

“Decked Out?” Bdubs asks, smiling small at him.

“Uh, yes. When we were at Decked out earlier. And Grian had.. he.. um.”

“Pulled your mask?” Bdubs asks again, finishing the sentence for him.

Etho nods and clears his throat. “Yeah. You had.. you jumped in front of me.”

Bdubs’s eyes squint in confusion, he looks like he’s waiting to see if Etho has more to add to that. On his side, Etho has run out of words. He squirms under the Bdubs’s stare.

“Yes? Is there more to that?”

Etho’s head is spinning again. He had already said what he needed too, but Bdubs finds it so normal that he doesn't pick up on the question. On the “why?”. He sits there, with his hand doing the same repeated pattern, with a curious and searching gaze. It’s kind of driving Etho mad.

“Well, why?” Etho asks, the two words being the only things coming to mind.

Bdubs stares at him. Then, tilts his head again. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

Etho huffs and looks away. “Why would you do that? Are you not curious?”

Bdubs face lights up then, and his mouth forms a small ‘o’. He giggles and leans back, “Oh Etho. You are silly, you know that?”

Etho, now the one confused, squints his eyes at him. “What?”

Bdubs smiles. He resituations himself, turning so his back is to Etho and then leaning back in one fluid motion. He keeps their hands held together, pulling Etho’s arm around his shoulder. His head is pressed against Etho’s chest and he tilts it back so he can look up at him, Etho himself looks down.

“Nah, I’m not curious.” He says softly. That one sentence is enough to derail Etho’s assumptions of other people. “I don’t think any of the other Hermits are either. Do you want us to be curious?”

Etho shakes his head, “Not really, I guess. I just figured, yknow, you hide things from people and they get curious.”

Bdubs hums at him. “You should already know this by now, but Hermitcraft is different. We all have secrets. We don’t ask why Grian sometimes has eyes following him around, we don’t ask about Iskall’s eye, and we don’t ask about your mask. It’s up to you if you want us to know or not, Etho.”

“Oh,” Etho replies and looks back up at the wall ahead of him. Bdubs chuckles at him, he gets up and turns back around again so he’s facing Etho. Bdubs has never been known to sit still, once he finds a position he likes it only takes a matter of time before he moves again.

He breaks apart their hands and instead raises his hands so they’re holding onto the side of Etho’s face. “I love you, yeah? I don’t care if you never show me your face.”

Etho swallows, he bends forward until his forehead is pressed against Bdubs.

“Okay,” he replies quietly. His question now settled.

“Okay,” Bdubs echoes with a small laugh. He sits back again and kisses Etho’s forehead where his headband would normally be sat, but he had rid it earlier when he got home. “Can we go to bed now?”

Etho snickers, “Yes, yes, sleeping beauty.”

Bdubs whacks him before quite literally, wrapping himself around Etho. They fall asleep about an hour later, because neither of them will stop bickering with the other.

—

i wish gay ppl were real :(

REBLOGS ARE AWESOME 🫡

tagging @redraindrops bc they asked to be reminded when i write it :3

[whaleofatjme1920]

Back again on my bullshit :3

But Freya preening the wings of a winged reader? I would context if it's romantic or platonic is entirely up to you!!

Camaraderie Amongst Valkyries

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: you guys don't realize how much I love God of War!! Lil tidbit, I worship and work with Freyja. I have uh, admittedly been slacking on my deity work so this is just a love letter to her,,,,,,]

[Reblogs are appreciated!]

The Queen of the Valkyries is surprisingly less formal than you had expected her to be. When Odin had recruited you from your mortal life to be one of the newest Valkyries to grace the gleaming halls of Asgard, you'd been more than honored.

You grew up a young fledgling hearing stories of them just waiting to take flight alongside them. They were the mistresses of war themselves, choosing who would go to Folkvangr or Valhalla - what a privilege! And here you were, chosen by Odin himself, to serve under his queen Freya.

You expected a lady of regal standing who had little time to work alongside those who she ruled over, but instead, you were faced with a goddess of true beauty. She was kind, and caring, witty and oh so sharp, but understood her power above you. She protected her sisters, and now that you were one of them, she protected you.

"Hold still," she chuckles, her voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk. "I know that it's a new sensation but it has to be done! I will not let a Valkyrie show themself with unpreened wings." Her fingers grip the special fish-bone comb, beak shaped for optimal usage, with a certain ease as she glides them through your long feathers.

She's gifted you the wings of a Tawny Eagle, something gorgeous in their own right. You adore them. It was a gift better than your wildest dreams. She had given you something truly beautiful.

"I don't know how you deal with these things," you playfully complain.

Freya laughs softly and shakes her head. "I have had my wings for centuries! You have only had them for a few months. In time, you will grow into them." She gently pats your shoulder as she continues to move the fish-bone comb through the tangled feathers on your back as the scent of the naturally sweet smelling oils they produce spread further across them. "They suit you well."

You smile softly at her maternal love shining through and nod. "If you say so," you reply as you stretch and fan your wings out a bit further for her, making the process just that much easier.

The dark haired goddess chuckles and nods. "I know so."

With a silly grin on your lips, you lean your head back slightly and relax, enjoying how her warm, gentle hands gingerly handle each individual feather. Though it's soft and barely audible, you can hear her humming. It's something old and ancient, whispers like the wind as it twirls between the trees, soft like moss, and smells like the earth after it's rained. Vanir, no doubt, and a sign of her growing love for you.

[fathersothoth]

Welcome to Church of Lost Souls

((Everything in this blog is all fiction and it does not reflect the author's view on religion. This askblog might contain some horror and dark content)

A pale priest sits down on his seat and begins to sort out his papers in proper order, "A blessed day, mortal brothers and sisters. You may call me Father Sothoth or Father Yog Sothoth. I'm here to answer any questions about our Lord Jesus and listen to any confessions you might have. All of them would be transferred into this wooden box right here."

He pats the wooden box right next to his desk. " Before you put something in this ask, we have to establish some ground rules, all written by a mortal only to be known as Q. Once again, thank you for coming to this humble abode."

Lore Tidbits (could change in time)

He is the ancestor of Francis Mosses, believe it or not. He was a mortal in the medieval times and had a child. That child had children etc. until we got to Francis Mosses. Also applies to Anastacha as well.

Quachil Uttaus is his daughter from Ishtar Ereskigal from an unholy ritual.

He is no longer associated with Ishtar Ereskigal but he does look kinda fondly at their times.

Askblog Rules (From Mod Q)

This askblog has a lot of religious and horror themes. If you are not comfortable with it, it's best you go elsewhere.

I can do some NSFW stuff. However, I'm not going too explicit with it as I'm still not comfortable RP'ing with it yet. It would fade to black if that were to happen. All NSFW stuff would be tagged as #forgive thy sins. Respect this rule please!

Any ask that is hateful towards any race, gender, sexual orientation etc. goes out the bin. The Church of Lost Souls accepts anyone no matter what race, creed or orientation you are.

Any controversial asks would not be answered.

Remember that I might take longer to answer as I do have life.

Anything else is good to go. Most asks took place in different universes.

Anon List

☠morbid - #pastoral list:☠morbid

horny anon - #pastoral list: horny anon

Tag List

#the confessional box - asks

#church of lost souls - RP reblogs

#forgive thy sins - suggestive/NSFW tag

[twwpress]

Weekly Press Briefing #62: August 27th - September 2nd

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from August 27 - September 2, 2023! Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing! 

Challenges/Prompts:

The following is a roundup of open challenges/prompts. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

@callixton is hosting The West Wing Pride Week (@twwpride here on tumblr) September 17 - 23. More details here! 

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from August 27 - September 2:

Allison Janney posted a screenshot of an article in the LA Times about her niece Petra Janney’s non-profit Amelia Air. 

Amy Landecker posted a series of photos of Bradley Whitford apparently enjoying getting patted down by airport security. 

Dule Hill posted a photo of himself and his daughter Kennedy along with a sweet birthday wish. 

Marlee Matlin posted a photo of her wedding invitation in honor of her 30th wedding anniversary. 

Marlee Matlin posted promoting the launch of the NFL ASL collection by LOVE SIGN.

Peter James Smith posted a photo and video of himself and Kimberly Stanphill at the Sony picket.

Rob Lowe posted a photo of himself on a football field in a jersey with LOWE on the back. 

Donna Moss Daily: August 27 | August 28 | August 29 | August 30 | August 31 | September 1 | September 2

Daily Josh Lyman: August 27 | August 28 | August 29 | August 30 | August 31 | September 1 | September 2

No Context BWhit: August 27 | August 28 | August 29 | August 31 | September 1 | September 2

@twwarchive: August 27 | August 28 | August 29 | August 30 | August 31 | September 1 | September 2

Editors’ Choice: 

We may have missed National Dog Day last week, but here are a few of our favorite fics featuring pups (real and hypothetical)!

Our Family Has Grown By Four Feet by BimadaBomily | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | And this family of five just became a family of six. [JD + kids somewhere around present day.]

Academic Adjustments by hufflepuffhermione | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | While Josh thought getting out of the house would have been good for him, he finds that he doesn’t enjoy teaching his class from his office. He misses Leah insistently sitting on his lap, or Noah in the corner with his schoolwork rolling his eyes as Josh tells another story he’s heard a thousand times, or Josie spread out on the floor of his office with a coloring book as if she couldn’t have found a single other place to do it. He misses the chaos of the classroom, and at home, he gets a little hint of that chaos. When classes go online, Josh has to make adjustments both as a professor and as a parent.

Abby Lyman by pipisafoat  | Series - see each tag for ratings and pairings | In Progress | An ongoing series of completed fics where Josh gets a service dog. 

Living in a Pseudonym State by snowdarkred | Rated G | Sam Seaborn (Gen Fic - No Pairings Listed) | Complete | After Orange County, Sam disappears for a while. (Or, in which Sam goes off the rails a little bit, rescues a giant Godzilla dog, and writes a lot of questionable sci-fi novels.)

I'm Seriously Thinking About Getting A Dog by AndAllThatMishigas | Rated G | Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet | Complete | President Bartlet accidentally got high on painkillers and Charlie has to take him back to the Residence. Abbey comes to help out

Stay posted for this week's fic updates in the reblogs!

[aeide-thea]

i love literature but this sort of literary chauvinism drives me fucking batty. like. you’re really going to pat yourself on the back about how

Tenderness is deep emotional concern about another being, its fragility, its unique nature, and its lack of immunity to suffering and the effects of time. Tenderness perceives the bonds that connect us, the similarities and sameness between us. It is a way of looking that shows the world as being alive, living, interconnected, cooperating with, and codependent on itself. Literature is built on tenderness…

when the original blog is the commonplace book of, and reblogged by, hedgehog-moss, who used to be vicious terf sespursongles before she remade and went crypto (i don’t have receipts offhand but i have seen them), and blocked me for objecting to her claim that a designer getting excited about concepts and forgetting about practical concerns was somehow an Inherently Male phenomenon?? like... clearly all her engagement with literature, which is obviously pretty extensive, has not in fact instilled much humanism in her when it comes to not just writing men off categorically!

and in general i just feel like—sitting by yourself imagining your way into sympathy with another imagined person or people is great! but absolutely does not necessarily translate into actual interactions with actual people you can’t just shut the book on when you aren’t in the mood to deal with them.

[clone-whore-99]

Hunted

Imp! Hunter x Rebel f!Reader

Warnings: Soooo much smut. Dirty smut. Very, very much smut. Minors I will yeet you into the ocean if you interact. Pred/prey kink, dom!Hunter, unprotected PiV (wrap it irl), sex pollen, oral sex, sex in the forest, orgasm denial, teasing, chasing, bondage and gagging, porn with little to no plot LMK if I need to add anything else

Summary: Hunter's chip activated, and he works for the Empire. Reader is a rebel who had to gather some information. You can figure out the rest.

Authors Note: So, we may or may not have had a very horny discussion in a certain Discord server, that led to the creation of this.... And the main reason for me writing this may or may not be @wolveria Please remember to hydrate, it's a lot

Also, if you like this, please like and comment and maybe even reblog, it means a lot to me, okay, thanks, bye 🥺👉👈

Oh shoot. Shoot, shoot, shit, kriff, kark, fuck, karabast, dank freaking farrik. You did everything right, so how in twelve hells did you trigger that alarm?

As soon as the alarm sounded, you shot the door panel to keep it from opening. That would buy you some time. Under no circumstances could you get caught. You had to get this information to the rebel alliance, lives depended on it. There had to be a way for you to get out of there. Another door, a window, or a... Bingo!

You had just managed to close the vent, when the imperial troopers had blasted the door open. A part of you wanted to stay and watch the confused men look around for you, but the longer you stayed, the higher the risk of you getting caught. Instead, you began worming your way through the rather small space, hoping to find some way of getting out.

"They're gone!" you could hear being yelled from the room, you had just escaped.

"They couldn't have gone far. Get the Hunter!" Get the what? Nevermind, no time to find out.

Faintly, you could hear the sound of nature traveling with the air through the vents, and knew that had to be the way out.

Turns out, there really is light at the end of the tunnel. And a lot of fresh, foresty air. And a huge drop to your certain death, if you were not careful. Luckily, you had the right tools for this in your utility belt, so you could climb down to the ground safely. Man, you really thought of everything, didn't you?

Though, you didn't have much time to pat yourself on the shoulder, as the sound of heavy boots and shouting was already closing in on you.

On one hand, heading towards your ship would be a good idea so you could get as far from the imperials as possible. On the other hand, there was files on that ship that the Empire just could not get their hands on. And if you got caught heading towards the ship? Game over. Your ship was well hidden. It was in an underground cave, about half a rotations walk away from the base and had enough of the worlds flora covering it, so that it wouldn't show up on any scans. You made sure of that, when you landed.

Your best odds was probably to find some place in the forest to hide. Probably somewhere with a lot of flowers or moss or something like that to hide your scent, just in case. Then you could find your way back to your ship, when things had calmed down a bit.

At least, that was when you were gonna say, when someone asked why you ran in the exact opposite direction from your ship. You definitely didn't do it because of the adrenaline taking over your body and the pure panic of being caught.

The forest was thick. In some ways, that was more than ideal for your escape, since chasing you would be harder. In other ways, you would scratch yourself on several branches and you could barely even see where you were going.

As you were getting further into the forest, further away from the sound of soldiers and further away from the rays of sunshine, you stumbled into a ditch. Great. At least you landed in a flowerbed, of sorts. The pollen from the flowers began to glow from the impact, which was the last thing you needed. You couldn't try to hide from the empire, while glowing like a neon sign hanging in a dark alley.

You looked desperately around. There had to be some kinda river or anything of that sort, that you could use to wash this pollen off of you. And maybe even cool you down a bit. It had gotten oddly hot, all of sudden.

Desperately, you reached for your water canteen. The sudden change in temperature hadn't only made you sweat. You were thirsty. Frantically, you let the remainder of the canteens content not only fall into your mouth, but drizzle down your body in the hopes that it would cool you down. It did, but only temporarely.

The empty container hit the ground, as you began walking again. You knew that you needed to run, but you just couldn't. You were feeling so weak, so feverish, so thirsty -

Before you knew of it, you were pinned to the ground by a man in black armor.

"Thought you could escape the Empire, rebel scum?" The modified voice taunted behind a helmet.

Kriff, what was happening to you? You were squirming beneathe this stranger, gasping for air and you weren't entirely sure if it was in an attempt to escape.

"You know, you almost managed to get away." He continued, his hand caressing your cheek and you had to cover your moan with a struggling grunt instead. "But then you had to go and do something stupid like this."

You finally managed to wiggle one of your hands free from his grasp, and you reached up in a pathetic attempt to punch his face. Your muscles felt like jelly, and though you couldn't get enough momentum to do any actual damage, you did manage to tilt his helmet off of him and dammit, he was hot.

The soldier had loose locks hanging down the frame of his face, with only a bandana to keep them from falling into his eyes. The entire left half was tattooed like a skull and his lips looked so soft and kissable. His eyes though, his eyes were filled with lust as they found their way back to yours. This time, you couldn't cover the moan that escaped your lips.

"Those flowers you landed in?" He grabbed the wrist you had managed to free and with jusy one hand, he pinned your wrist over your head - an action that made your back arch. "They're poisonous to humans. But not only can they kill you - they also happen to make you very, very horny."

The soldier brought his free hand up towards his mouth and with the help of his teeth, he liberated the hand from it's glove. Your walls clenched around nothing at the look of this and somehow, he looked like he noticed - but that was impossible, right?

His hand found it's way down the rim of your pants, a motion that made you writhe with anticipation. His fingers barely even made contact with your sex, before your toes started curling and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from begging him to take you.

Seemingly satisfied with your reaction, he pressed his forehead against yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes, as he spoke his next words. "And it was the oh so sweet aroma of your arousal that gave you away." He paused to take in a deep sniff. "If only you knew what it did to me. I should just take the files and leave you to die, but," At last, after what seemed like forever of his fingers teasing around any other place but where you needed them, he finally pushed two digits inside of you with ease. "You look so delicious like this, all helpless and desperate, allowing your enemy, to finger-fuck you in the middle of the forest. How could I let this option go?"

You could barely even comprehend what was said to you. The way he managed to just exactly avoid the spots you needed him to hit was torturous. You did accomplish to make out some of the things being said, though. "Yo-hng-you're the hunter?" you strained yourself to ask.

"Not 'the' Hunter, mesh'la. Just Hunter. You've heard of me?" he had moved down towards your neck, letting his lips ghost over the sensitive skin, while he inhaled in your scent.

"Nnno - THERE!" He finally hit the spot, he had so purposely been avoiding. "Right there, please!" you begged, all the dignity you had left going out the window.

Hunter chuckled deeply, the sound going straight to your arousal. He had added a third finger by now, and was rapidly moving them in the most incredible way. His thumb was rubbing circles around your clit and as your orgasm was about to hit it's peak, you grabbed onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Ah-ah-ah." Hunter tutted disapprovingly, instantly removing his fingers before you could hit your peak. You moved your hands to cover your face and muffle your frustrated scream, while your hips were grinding against nothing but air, desperately trying to regain some friction.

Wait, when did he let go of your wrists? You moved your hands down just far enough to uncover your eyes - and what a sight you were met with. The soldier was sitting upright on top of you, licking his fingers clean from your slick, while looking down at you with the sexiest look you had ever seen.

You gasped loudly at the sight, while your hand automatically reached down to give your pussy the attention it needed, before you'd go insane.

But Hunter was quick. Before your hand could even reach half way there, he had already grabbed it and forced it back up over your head together with your other hand. This time though, he used his bandana to tie your wrists together. Odd, since he had handcuffs hanging right there by his hips.

"If you want to cum, you gotta keep your hands right above your head, understood?" he asked, as he unsheathed his knife from it's place on the gauntlet.

"Please..." You were on the verge of tears, desperation to be relieved from this tension inside of you being almost too much to handle.

"Understood?" His voice was more stern this time.

"Yes, please, just, fuck me, please." Stars you sounded pathetic, begging the enemy so desperately to fuck you.

"Now, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" and just like that, the blade of his knife cut through your shirt, leaving your upper body exposed. Hunter licked his lips hungrily, his gaze fixated on the way your breasts bounced with each frantic breathe you took.

Next, he moved onto your pants. Fortunately, he decided to just pull them off you, instead of cutting them off. That way, you at least had some chance of covering yourself once all of this was over.

With one swift motion, you were left completely bare for the galaxy to see. If you hadn't been so turned on, you might've been embarrassed by this. But right now, you just needed to be filled.

Hunter pressed his nose against your groin and inhaled deeply. You whimpered at the sensation.

"So wet, mesh'la. So needy. Are you sure this is all because of those flowers?" He took a broad lick across your folds and you nearly screamed at the sensation. "Because you taste like it's all because of me." He teased, before taking another broad lick.

Normally, you would've used your hands to muffle your sounds of pleasure, but you didn't dare to move them from the spot over your head. Instead, you dug your nails into the dirt to keep them in place.

Hunter was lapping up your juices like a starved man. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping them seperated for him and keeping your hips in place, no matter how much you tried to buck against him. And although you couldn't see him, you knew his eyes were fixated on you, making sure you didn't disobey his orders about keeping your hands over your head.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Wave after wave of pleasure overtook your body, as his tongue worked wonders inside of you, while his nose rubbed against your clit in the most magical way.

"Pl-ease," You begged once again, your voice now hoarse from moans and screams of pleasure. "Nee... Need more. Please fuck me."

"Well, only because you've been such a good girl and followed orders." He moved up your body again, his face covered in your release. "But first, we gotta do something about that screaming of yours. Can't have anybody find us like this, now can we?"

Quickly, he grabbed your arm and forced your still bound hands around his neck. As he picked you up, he took your cut up shirt along with him and moved so you were pressed up against a tree.

Hunter kissed you, deeply, passionately, forcing you to taste yourself on his lips and tongue. He then broke away, shoving the ruined shirt into your mouth to keep you quiet.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" he looked so damned satisfied with himself. If you hadn't been so desperate for his cock, you might've tried to tease him back.

With a swift motion, Hunter had your legs resting on his arms, giving him full access to your thrubbing cunt. And with a loud thump, his codpiece hit the ground and his dick was released from it's restraints.

Even with the gag in your mouth, you still managed to gasp loudly at the sensation of his silky head rubbing through your folds. Hells, you nearly came again, just from that feeling alone.

"So needy for my cock, aren't you?" He whispered into your ear and with one swift roll of his hips, he was fully buried inside of you.

Stars, he was bigger than you thought. He really filled you to the brim and if it weren't for the effect of the pollen, it would definitely had hurt you.

Hunter instantly started thrusting into you, wasting no time at all. It was almost overwhelming how he handled you. How you were completely helpless against him and how he had managed to turn you into a sobbing, begging mess in no time. You wanted to tell yourself that it was all the pollens fault, but deep down you knew it was only a small part of it.

"Kriff, how are so fucking perfect?" Hunter mumbled through gritted teeth against that very sensitive spot on your neck. "Your smell is so intoxicating, it's driving me crazy."

He moved a hand down to rub rough circles on your clit, igniting every nerve in your body with nothing but pure bliss.

"You taste sweeter than the greatest nectar juice. And your pussy is gods. Damned. Perfect." Hunter thrusted harder into you with each word of that last part. "I might just have to take you in anyways. Keep this pussy available to me at all times."

You couldn't hold it anymore. The way he was drilling into you, reaching that particular itchy spot hidden deep inside of you over and over. The way he was spewing such lewd words while his mouth was roaming your body. The way his thumb was mercilessly attacking your clit. You just couldn't take it anymore.

You threw your head back, as your vision turned blurry and the dark forest turned brighter than hyperspace. Your nails was desperately grasping onto the back of his armor in a helpless attempt to ground yourself, before you truly descended to heaven.

Hunter took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting it, accomplishing the impossible that was, making you feel even better than you already did. You wanted nothing but to experience this feeling forever.

As you were slowly coming down, your stomach was starting to cramp up for how much you had cum. Your release was not only dripping down your own cunt and ass, it was going down Hunter's armor, staining it and creating a small pool on the ground beneath you.

You pressed your forehead against the crook of his neck, when you felt the hot ribbons of the soldiers seed, filling you completely with him. "Now you got something to remember me by."

None of you moved for a while. Well, you didn't have much of a choice, but still. You were just standing still, gasping desperately for air, coming down from the most mindblowing orgasms you had ever experienced.

Slowly, Hunter let you back down on your feet, though he kept supporting you untill you could regain your balance.

"The pollen should be out of your system now, right?" He asked, grabbing your face so you were forced to look at him. The look in his eyes were oddly caring, nothing like they had been when you first met.

You nodded slowly in response.

"Good." He removed your gag. "Join the Empire. We could use someone on the inside of the alliance and I could use more of this perfect cunt of yours." with a finger, he pushed some of his seeds back into you. "And you could get my dick as often you'd like. All you gotta do is swear alligence to the Emperor."

You'd be fooling yourself, if you said you didn't consider it. The way his eyes were looking so somberly into yours and how he seemed to care so much about your wellbeing right after having given you the best dicking of your life? Of course a part of you wanted to throw everything away to spend the rest of your life with him, but alas...

"You know I can't. It goes against everything I stand for."

Hunter moved your arms over his head again and released your wrists from his bandana. "You know, I can just take you in. Make you my prisoner and have you as often as I'd like." He threatened, while making his way back over to your pants.

"You won't, though." You were overly confident in this statement, but the way he had looked at you and seemingly cared for your wellbeing, you were certain it was true.

"Such a shame though..." He said, in a way that sounded more like he was thinking out loud rather than talking to you. While doing so, he started looking through the different compartments of your utility belt.

"Wait, what are you doing?" You tried to run over to stop him, but your legs were still weak from everything that had just happened, and you fell to the ground instead.

"How I was too late. The poison had already overtaken your body, there was really nothing I could do." He found the datadisk you had just stolen from the Empire. "But at least I managed to retrieve this."

And with that, Hunter picked up his helmet and started walking back towards the base.

Tag list: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @tech-deck @in-the-crosshairs

Sorry if anyone who has asked to be tagged on my series also wanted to be tagged here, I wasn't sure if you only wanted to be taglisted for the series or for smut too

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

When the Rain Fell on Both of Us, Thousands of Plants Grew on our Coats

tags: god!reader au, f!reader, needy zhongli brainrot, its fluff i swear, pre!3.0

a/n: oh nizar qabbani, thank you again for giving me good title ideas with your bomb ass poetry. after the angst that was the reincarnation fic, i’ve wanted to write something where god!reader is alive in modern times. i firmly believe that if you left zhongli with your houseplants, they’d probably still be alive by the time you come back. also the flowers mentioned by the reader are flowers native to the middle east and africa uwu

chat with me about the god!reader au and reblogs appreciated!

Zhongli feared the effects of erosion.

Geo was a stubborn element.

A rough element.

An element of loyalty one might even argue.

Where there was erosion to be found, however, not even Geo could fully withstand it. It could come from the beating of waves, slowly but surely washing away stone. It could come from soil weakening overtime as it becomes more infertile after many uses.

Erosion came for the yakshas, slowly confused by their karmic debt. It came for Azhdaha, now sealed beneath the earth in his madness. And it would one day come for Rex Lapis.

“Jiějiě, why don’t you just use your Vision to fix them?” Yiran's confused pout brought Zhongli back to the present at hand. Her small hand pointed at your Dendro Vision, set in the symbols of your homeland, unaware that it was merely a prop. “Wouldn’t it be faster?”

You tapped your index finger gently on the girl’s nose with a click of your tongue before you continued repotting her glaze lily saplings. “There are some things you just shouldn’t rush, Yiran. Visions shouldn’t be relied on for everything.” When you finished the task at hand, you grinned brightly in satisfaction. “Dr. Baizhu has a Vision but he still makes sure to have his assistants gather herbs instead of just making them himself.”

The girl didn’t look impressed but you continued on in your lecture. Your husband smiled softly to himself, nerves beginning to calm down. While you objected to using your abilities now, Zhongli had seen the affects your powers of Dendro had on the land of Geo.

He watched in amusement as moss would spread from your fingertips like green fire setting across the horizon against a building you were passing. “Darling, I’m not sure Ying’er would be pleased to see moss on her shop.” He would hold your other hand tightly as you chuckled, arguing you were adding a splash originality to the architecture.

He saw the way you’d play your games with the children of Liyue Harbor, ushering them to the grass in search of four-leaf clovers. Every time, every child would leave with a four-leaf clover in hand, none the wiser to the glow of Dendro on your palms blending into the grass.

Yes, Zhongli feared the effects of erosion, but Geo would always welcome the growths of Dendro along its rough surface.

“[First],” He called for you, chest warming at the warmth of your own gaze. “We should get home soon so you can finish packing. We have a reservation.”

You stood up at his reminder. “I haven’t forgotten.” You reassured before you turned to pat Yiran’s head. “I’ll be sure to get you some trinkets from Sumeru. I’m sure by the time I return, that sapling will be a beautiful glaze lily!”

“Do you have to go?” Yiran hugged you tightly. Zhongli could agree with the sentiment, even if this was a trip he knew was coming.

You returned the hug with vigor, “aww, I’m sorry, little one. I have to visit my family. I’ll be back before you miss me.”

Zhongli was sure that was quite impossible.

If anyone were to come to your home, you doubted anyone would believe two gods resided in it. Along side some of the walls were historical memorabilia Zhongli had acquired, plenty of shelves were full of his antiques. Meanwhile your trinkets from Sumeru and houseplants filled the rest of your space.

You were sure you never could have imagined home being anything but the forests of Sumeru in your younger years. However, everyday this was the home you returned to, happily so. “Once I finish sorting the last of my things, we can get to that reservation of ours. I should be done in ten.”

“Of course.”

As you took your drawers to pick the remnants of your clothing most suitable for Sumeru weather, you eyed the man in amusement. “You know, I would be fine with just staying in before a trip.”

Stubborn as Geo was, it was no surprise that your suggestion was refuted immediately. “Nonsense. If I’m forced to be apart from my wife for even a day, I’d like to send you off with fond memories.”

You decided not to remind him that you had plenty of fond memories. I didn’t know I would be marrying a charmer. You snicker to yourself. The Morax, or Rex Lapis as the Liyue natives referred to him, you fell in love with many years ago was a far cry from the calm and romantic man you knew today.

Morax was a warrior god who would cast spears upon the earth to create a forest of stone.

Morax was also the same god who took to adopting a mortal form and spreading the story of Morax and Amur through many a commissioned artwork over the centuries.

A total sap, as Hu Tao would describe. The same sap who was now draping his tall form over you, holding you close to his chest.

“Can you stay a bit longer?” Zhongli whispered before pressing his lips on the junction between your neck and shoulder. “The Rite of Descension is in a few weeks. Liyue will be in quite a stir.” All the more reason to head Sumeru for a while. The sages and Kusanali will be quite stirred.

“One of us might be planning to retire in the grandest way possible but one of us still has the duties of a god, dear.” You wouldn’t dare pretend that you were a god with the level of importance as an Archon, especially with your title. Most of the year, you made Liyue your home throughout the many forms you took throughout the millennia. Yet on occasion, you’d leave to your homeland to check on your people and maintain connections with the God of Wisdom. “It’s just for a few months.” 

A blink of an eye for the two of you. Especially your husband, one of the longest lived individuals in Teyvat. Patience was something he had in spades, at least most of the time.

“Then I should accompany you this trip. Mortals enjoy these things called ‘vacations’.” Zhongli didn’t fight you as you pulled away from his embrace to continue your packing. “It wouldn’t be strange for a husband to accompany his wife to another nation, especially if it’s her homeland.”

“You still have to observe if Liyue can handle itself without its Archon.” You remind Zhongli pointedly.

“All of Liyue will also be wondering how Amur will fair without her husband.” Zhongli replies persistently.

At that, you cease your packing in favor of pecking your husband on the lips. “It’s a good thing Amur doesn’t truly have to find out.” The unadulterated feeling of relief you feel cause you to kiss your husband once more deeply. 

Geo would always outlast Dendro, you always knew that much.

Plants were a lot more sensitive, maybe more akin to mortal beings in that way. They’d wither under the extremes of heat and cold. Leaves would fall with the pressure of strong winds. Even the most stubborn roots of a tree could be uplifted by a powerful enough storm.

If a cataclysmic event were to take place, Rock would outlast Plant by many moons. Which was why you were thankful for even this much after the wars and horrors you’d witnessed.

You wondered a long time ago if you were more akin to unwanted moss clinging onto a rock. Thankfully, you found that your affections were very much returned and that that moss could continue growing and spreading unhindered. You were sure if your love was a living mosaic, it would be covered in moss, lichen, lotuses, jasmine and desert roses. Not forcing its way through stone, but nestling it carefully in the bosom of life.

“I wonder who the gods pray to”, a friend once asked not knowing of your divine nature.

Who indeed, you thought, as you prayed for many more moons and seasons with the God of Contracts.

“What if you join me at a later date? Sumeru will have some holidays coming up while I’m away, it’ll make sense for you to leave then.” You murmur once your lips part. Amber eyes look pleased with the suggestion. “Just as long as you can find someone you can trust with my plants.”

[supernovafeather]

The Forbidden Room

Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Content : nudity (not sexual), slight pining.

Synopsis : Reader is a soldier coming back from exhausting military drills. Due to renovations in the castle she can't shower in her quarters and has to go to the men sector and meets the Duke there.

Please comment and reblog!

No word could possibly match your anger. Coming to your quarters extremely late due to an intensive military drill you ended up naked in your shower, your palm pressing the button that was supposed to deliver that hot water you have dreamed of all day long.

"Of course they forgot to turn it on." You groan before stepping out.

Leaving your uniform soiled with dirt, blood and sweat, you put some night clothes on - black thick woolen pants and a blue shirt - then tied your hair up hoping the dried mud in it would get away with some water. Once you got your soaps, towels and another pajama you to wear on your way back you prayed not to cross the path of some officer that would have came back at around the same time.

Water may be turned off in your sector due to the renovation work, but the showers reserved for the officers must still be working, at least that was what you could only hope for. The last week had been so animated that you couldn't bother trying to remember the exact dates.

Once the empty corridors left behind you, you sigh in relief as your bare feet start patting on the grey tiles looking similar to marble. Only similar of course, you had no right to appreciate such luxury for such commodity. But as right now you needed to take that shower no matter what you weren't expecting for anything better. Even a lake could have sufficed. The man sign above your head doesn't put you at ease but as the female parts are closed due to the renovations as well you don't have much choice remaining.

"Hello ?" You call out loud as you walk past the doorless cabins. "Is anyone there ?"

The fun part here is the lack of intimacy for male officers. Now that's something you despise but as everything is silent maybe you could go behind this tree growing in the center. Its roots are buried deep down under the Caladan castle, the thick and curvy brownish trunk covered in moss and red ivy. No way to see its majestic branches and leaves from there, the fancy side of its existence stopping at the beautiful vegetal colors in this mineral and modern room. They built around this fully grown oak, preserving its old age from their saws. Wide by around 15 inches, this tree deserved better that being erased in favor or a septic tank.

You found a shelter in one of the open cabins at the back, invisible to any possible eye that could come into your temporary heaven. Not that you got used to this constant paranoia of getting spied on, but did you really had any choice remaining ? Most of your colleagues were certainly eating in their quarters or sleeping after collapsing from fatigue.

Undressed, you face the wall, and closed your eyes as the warm water welcomes you. You don't need much more to sigh happily, tension leaving you completely as you start to apply soap in your hair and all over your body.

"A shame I don't have anything that smells better than that," you mumble as you turned around, "strawberry smell could have been great."

Due to your responsibilities you couldn't take care of yourself as much as you used to. The best you could do was the occasional massages on spa days - around one every five months when you had two days off - or some good food around the same periods where your diet wasn't scrutinized.

Once your skin covered in this uniform blue soap, you let the product act for a few seconds, your arms crossed as you watch the immense and uncanny room. It's too calm and you're too exposed. You don't like it. You cover your breasts and crotch as you shiver, counting the seconds so that any bacteria got eradicated by the product. After ten seconds you turn the water on.

"Fuck fuck fuck no no no !" you thought.

The freezing water condemned your body to get paralyzed under its fall as you kneel down, tempted to shield in a fetal position. You are used to cold showers but why had it to be. At hing tonight ? You only want some rest and warmth, you are tired of dirt, cold nights and promiscuity.

You step out of the shower, your skin besieged by the hundreds of goosebumps as you stare at the wet greyish tiles with pure hatred. At least you are clean now.

"Is everything-"

Your brain needed some seconds to process the voice erupting and the hasty footsteps, too late apparently as the intruder stops dead in his tracks and walks away, behind the tree you thought.

"I'm sorry lieutenant, I thought someone was attacking you."

Suddenly, crying sounded like a seductive option. You only wanted to take a shower in your quarters, not to end up getting caught in the men's showers. They could have prepared something for their female counterparts, at least for safety reasons. Or add curtains or anything. And apparently this man knew you. Well there aren't many women here and they must be used to watch you once your back get turned to them. How distinguished.

You wrapped in a towel in total panic, your breath barely starting to get back to normal now that adrenaline rushed through your body. Turning around slowly, your brain melted into some mercury-like liquid as you recognize the Duke himself.

Fortunately he is dressed, staring at the void away from you with a towel in his hand and maybe some soap in it.

You are in serious trouble.

"My Lord I am sorry for violating the privacy rules," you said in a high-pitched voice, "there was no water in my side of the castle and-"

"It will be alright for this time, I wanted to make sure you weren't getting attacked." He stated before walking away. "I'm going to the other side."

Tension left your body as the Duke disappeared by your right in a corner behind the tree. From where you were he couldn't be seen and same for you, but just in case you check twice in case someone else could have came with him.

After drying yourself at something similar to light speed, you put your other pajama on, took your stuff and kept your eyes focused on the greyish tiles when you walked past the tree as you pass by a path perpendicular to the Duke's cabin, your stuff pressed against your chest.

"I didn't mean to scare you lieutenant." Your ruler says calmly.

You stopped after walking past his cabin. Still out of sight, you could hear the water hitting the ground with some droplets running down to the hallway.

"I wasn't supposed to be there my Lord, there is no excuse needed."

According to the sound he was massaging his scalp through some thick foam. After all he came back in almost the same state as yours.

"Alright. You said there was no water in your quarters?" He asked before blowing through his nose.

"Yes sire. And the female baths are in the same state."

"I see. Thank you for letting me know, I am going to send a warning to the workers." He added before you heard his hands rubbing his face and beard. "It was supposed to be done by this morning right before we came back."

The slight annoyance in his voice made you smile a bit nervously. You hoped it wasn't directed to you.

"I guess you don't have water in your quarters neither ?"

"You guess well." He sighed loudly.

"Thank you for not sanctioning me my Lord. I am going to let you take your shower in peace now."

The workers were definitely in some trouble if they weren't even able to turn the water back on for the Duke himself. Not that Leto Atreides is known for his cruelty, but it was some serious mistake to make.

"Lieutenant, wait a second please." He called you out.

"Yes sire ?"

No matter how many times you saw him bare chest during a medical exam, you looked away immediately. It didn't feel appropriate to let your eyes examine him and the towel wrapped around his waist didn't change anything. Yourself wouldn't dare to violate his intimacy in such a way.

"I wasn't following you and I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." He said seriously when you risked a glance at him. "I thought it was one of the male officers that was already there. It's when I heard your voice that I thought you could be in danger."

"I trust you my Lord." You mumbled as you pressed your towels against your chest.

"Good."

In any normal circumstances you would have appreciated the beauty of his features as it would happen regularly and anonymously. But seeing him with his hair soaked and dripping without being bothered by it disturbed you. You shouldn't be there. You were no maid, no wife, no mistress.

Shyly, you turned around and walked towards the door. At least the Duke didn't sound like one of those perverts you could have encountered tonight. He might have seen a glimpse of your body at some point but this thought didn't make you half as uncomfortable as you felt after arriving in this room. After seeing him so professional on the battlefield you couldn't set your mind on a defensive mode despite how guarded you should remain anytime. Honestly it was tiring to never be able to trust the people around you.

- - - -

Thank you for reading, please comment and reblog if you liked it ! 😊

@salome-c @stevenngrant @lavenderluna10 @one-hell-of-a-disappointment @dailyreverie @thecursivej @lady-targaryen @general-latino @harrys-tittie @laura-naruto-fan1998 @later-gators12 @geo-winchester

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 V

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The court celebrates the harvest.

Note: I’m a goddamn liar and ended up writing this after work and staying up past midnight because I have a problem people. I need help but until then I’m gonna keep posting so here ya go, my lovelies.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

The week of the harvest celebration had come, though time seemed to stand still. Each day dragged on dreading the next. Anxious of what the king should do next, of how the court should roil once more, of your own part in the brewing mess. Even as the waters calmed it did not comfort you. Peace only assured you that chaos was on the horizon.

Rose continued to stew in her anger. You dared to think it was jealousy. While the king persisted in his prolonged stares during rehearsals, your partner did not ease matters as he passed along his master’s messages. Each added to the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that stabbed you each time you looked at the queen. Though you did not encourage it, you felt your part in it just as grievous.

And your father. When you met again, he did not spare a word. His disappointment, his frustration, his anger all spent upon you. Your disobedience had nearly cost him. Never mind that it kept your reputation in tact, that it gave hope to a future betrothal. He didn’t want an earl’s wife, he wanted a king’s mistress. The baubles you refused to accept, the promise of a title greater than his own father’s. You factored little in his desires outside your ability to fulfill them.

The saffron brocade was stiff across your chest, cut much lower than your usual gowns. Each woman was to wear a different shade of autumn for the performance. The king and queen would lead in goldenrod yellow as satins and silks of auburns, scarlets, and moss would swirl in. In imitation of a rush of leaves falling from the barren trees, heralding the change of seasons.

A seamstress knelt at your feet and pinned the skirts. The queen ran a finger along her throat as she considered you. It was the final fitting before the banquet; you were the last of the women to attend their measurements. 

You could barely look Eleanor in the eye. Hearsay was rife as it always was but did she believe the whispers. Did she think the king truly enamoured by you? Did she know of the letters? The gifts he sent along with them? The ones you would not open, that were sent back untouched.

If she did, she did not betray herself. She smiled as she neared and touched the golden border along the top of the bodice. “Tighter around the waist,” She suggested to the tailor. “A half inch lower here.”

You looked down at your chest. You blinked. You really didn’t need less fabric there. As it was, your cleavage was more than noticeable. You bit your lip but did not protest.

“The colour is marvelous,” The queen looked you in the face. “Are you well, my lady?”

“I am but…” You hesitated as the seamstress pinned the bodice. “There are matters we should speak of, your highness.”

“Yes, I think there are,” She nodded and gestured to the seamstress. “If you would excuse us a moment.”

The other woman acquiesced with a bow and quickly retreated. The door closed behind her and left you alone with Eleanor. She smiled and swept away from you to sit on a cushioned bench as the pins in her ashy blonde hair caught the light. She patted the cushion next to her.

“Sit, let us talk of what worries you so.” She cooed.

“Your highness,” You approached reluctantly. “I do not think myself fit for this. I am a poor dancer.”

“You are not so bad,” She said as you sat beside her. “Heavy-footed but not entirely hopeless.”

“Hopeless enough.” You grumbled. “Especially in a place such as this.”

“I know you shall do just fine.” She smiled. “But you do not refer to only the performance, do you, lady?”

“No, no, I do not,” You looked at your lap. “Surely, you’ve heard.”

“There are no secrets at court,” She returned. “I know my husband’s attention has strayed again. I hear Lady Rose and her detest, her complaints of her neglect. And it makes me most happy.”

“But the king…”

“The king does as he wishes. I cannot stop him but I can abide it so long as I am not met with nonchalance and scorn.” She held her head high. “I can stand any mistress but none who would shame me so openly.”

“I...I have refused the king. Every time. I do not wish to involve myself in your marriage. Your highness,  I admire you too much. I would never--”

“You’re a smart girl. I trust you are able enough but this court is perilous. Allies are rare but should be welcomed,” She pulled a loose string from the tail of your hood. “So long as you are...covert, I would have no reason to mind the dalliance.”

“P-pardon? Your highness, I don’t understand--”

“Do with my husband as you please. I know you, my lady. You are loyal and you will not so blatantly degrade me. If I must bear this marriage, I shall bear it with a mite of dignity.”

“I please none of it and yet he does not relent. If you are truly my ally, can you not stop him?”

“He will not relent. He never has and I’ve never been able to stop him. No one has.” She sighed and her long lashes flicked. “I do prefer you to Rose. Oh, I do very much.”

“You…” For a moment you gasped for air. The realization struck you in the chest. “You have maneuvered me thus, haven’t you? Because you knew the king would never tolerate your mistreatment of his mistress and so you thrust me before him.”

“I did not thrust you, my lady,” She smiled. “You were merely well-positioned at a most opportune moment.”

Your mouth was bitter with betrayal. The queen had seemed the only genuine character at court but in a moment, she revealed herself to be just as vile as the rest. Perhaps it was easy to pity a scorned woman but it was little excuse for the disgrace of another. You could not forgive her crime on the grounds of another done to her. You clenched your hands together as you tried not to scowl.

“And you expect me to appease him? To forfeit my virtue to him?” You stared at your skirts.

“I expect you to do as you think necessary,” She said, “But my husband gives little heed to what is necessary. To what it proper. He will take as he pleases, not as you please.”

You looked up at her. Terrified. “And you would not stop him?”

“Cannot.” She shrugged and a glimmer of regret flashed her in eyes. She pitied you. “It is not so bad. You will be taken care of after. A husband will be found, or if that does not please you, a household all your own. I swear it on my honour.”

“Your honour?” You scoffed. “You bartered me to your own husband.”

“A barter you could only dream of,” Her green eyes sharpened. “You don’t know, cannot know, what is like. To be ridiculed daily. To be tied to a man who can never love you, a court that will never accept you as their own.” She shook her head. “I did mislead you, I admit it, but only because I know you to be honest. To be without presumption. You would not bring me further shame because you fear it yourself.”

“Do you not realize that you’ve already brought shame upon me?” You stood and crossed the room. You couldn’t stand to be near her. “You are not a friend to me, my queen. I am...alone.”

Silence. You heard the rustle of her skirts but she did not near you. You turned as she reached the door. She adjusted a pin in her hair as she reached for the handle. She exhaled softly. 

“You will change so that the dress may be altered and you will go. And you will never speak to me as you have again. I am still your queen.”

👑

The day of the harvest arrived. The feast hall was draped in golden and bronze silks as the court gathered along the trestles. The benches did not overflow as dancers hid beneath the canopy just beyond the doors, awaiting their grand entrance to the plucking of lutes and trill of flutes.

You stood quietly, head down, hands clamped together as you recited the steps in your head. You weren’t prepared. No matter how often the master led you through the steps, you’d never be ready. You weren’t a dancer and you were too distracted to retain the simple choreography. 

A shiver went up your spine as a familiar voice met your ears. The space was tight and the performers were close. Steven’s laughter boomed in the small space and you looked up. The king and queen were at the front of the procession, several pairs between you. He was drawn by your movement and grinned at you before you shied away. The queen batted her lashes and took her husband’s hand. Her response was not heard.

“You should not be so nervous,” Lord Barnes intoned. You’d forgotten his presence beside you. “You are not so tragic as you think.”

“Ever gracious but a poor liar, Lord Barnes.” You huffed. “I have noticed how you’ve padded your boots.”

He chuckled. “Of the dozen pairs among us, do you think we would stick out so sorely?”

“I hope not,” You said. “Thought I apologize if I should make fools of both of us.”

“You are much too cynical.” He stepped closer. “You deny yourself even the slightest error. How can one find any pleasure in life with such suffocating restraint?”

“As a lord who would never face consequence for his lack of, I doubt you could understand the caution of a lady.” You returned. 

“Surely not. I could never be so pious. So...boring.” He mused.

You bristled and turned your face away from him. You looked around at the other dancers as they chattered and fidgeted in their impatience. Rose snarled as she caught your eye and shrugged off Lord Alan. You blanched and tucked your chin to your chest.

“I was teasing, my lady,” Barnes leaned in. “You needn’t take it so heavily.”

“I am aware, my lord. I can understand humour, as poorly as it may be presented.” You looked to him pointedly. “I may be plain but I am not simple.”

He laughed again. He glanced around and you followed his gaze to the door. The king peered between the bodies and watched intently. You stiffened and returned your attention to your partner.

“So I’ve noticed.” Barnes said. “As has he.”

“And you, his infiltrator?” You arched a brow. “Do you recount our every word?”

“I might be a loyal companion to the crown but I am no informant. What we speak of remains between us, I swear it.” He assured you. “But I might tell you something...most intimate.”

“So you would?” You prodded.

“I’ve known Steven since we were children. I know him better than any. I know him beyond the courtly disguise he wears.” Barnes faced you and took your hand. He drew you close. “As I stand near to you, he watches, he seethes, because he is quite taken by you.” His voice was low. “And the more you refuse him, the more taken he shall be.” He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “And he has rarely been refused in his life...he will not stand for it long.”

“Is this a warning or another message?” He dropped your hand and stepped back.

The queen’s voice rose above the babble and she clapped her hands. “Lords, Ladies, we are due. Positions, please.” 

She turned and the king raised his hand for her to take. Each couple mirrored them and you took Barnes hand as he stood side by side with you. He looked to his feet and pretended to kick the dust from his toe as he spoke under his breath.

“It is both, my lady,” He whispered. “A king’s requests quickly become commands.”

👑

“May I?” Barnes was beside you before you could flee. 

You’d hoped to cling to the wall until you could manage to sneak away. As late, you’d grown much too conspicuous for that. You turned back to him, caught in your retreat, and sighed. He was not the only to note your attempted escape. Your father sneered from his seat and the king raised his head above the queen’s as they spun along the boards.

“I wouldn’t pain you or your toes further, my lord.” You replied. 

“I can bear it,” He assured you. “And there is no other partner I wish. They’re all rather dull.”

“Dull of foot might be more painful than dull of wit.” You returned and he grinned.

“The wit does outweigh the foot, my lady,” He offered his hand. “Come on.”

Your eyes were drawn back to your father. He tilted his head dangerously. You couldn’t tell if it were to deter you from dancing or from leaving. You forced a smile and took Barnes’ hand. He guided you onto the floor lithely. His feet were swift and kept clear of your own.

“Did I mention how wonderful you look, tonight?” He marveled as you turned in time with the room. “The cut of that dress is quite complimentary.”

You kept your head high and did your best to follow the steps. “Thank you, my lord. That is kind of you to say.”

“Not so drab as that habit you wore before,” He japed. “Was it the queen who recommended the brocade?”

You stared at him. You struggled to piece together the puzzle. Did he operate upon his own resolve? Upon the kings? Or perhaps he was just as much the pet of the queen? Your lips pressed together as you peeked again across the room. Both king and queen watched you as they moved their bodies gracefully to the music.

“The queen did,” You answered evenly. “She was certain to see that all her ladies were attired fittingly for the event.”

You avoided his gaze as he watched you. As you tried to decipher him, he did the same to you. Your foot came down on his but he did not flinch as he smoothly guided you along the floor. The music swirled around you with your skirts as you were led in the jig. Your head spun with the candlelight and crowd of satin and silk.  He squeezed your hand and you looked to him. He smirked as the music eased to the next tune and he bowed to you. 

“My lady,” He said as he led you by your hand. 

As he turned you, you found the king waiting. You searched through the crowd, the queen was already swept up by Lord Samuel. She paid no heed to her husband’s ploy. You wondered if she were not a party to it. Lord Barnes released you and nodded to his king. “Your highness.”

“Would you allow me a dance, my lady?” The king coaxed.

You fought not to dissemble. You glanced around and found your father still watching. He leaned forward as he nodded. His hand was in a fist on the table. You didn’t dare resist. You took the king’s hand and let him lead you to the melody.

“My lady, you are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” He said breathily. His eyes did not meet yours as they wandered to the top of your bodice. “I’ve found it most difficult to think of anything but you this night ...truly every night.”

“You flatter me, your highness.”

“I am honest. I bear myself to you.” He said. “And you still refuse my gifts? Still refuse me?”

“You know I cannot--”

“I know you are afraid but you haven’t reason to be. I shall protect you; from the queen, from the court. You shall be mine and I shall make certain you are kept well.” His blue eyes burned down at you. “I only long to give you everything. To give you all of me, all I ask in return is you.”

“You are married--”

“But not in love.”

“You are king and I am an earl’s daughter. Unwed and without betrothal.”

“As king, I can see to your future. I can give you title, a castle, lands…”

“So I shall lower myself to courtesan for you?”

“No, no, never. I shall raise you, my lady. Hold you in the highest esteem.”

“You shall ruin my reputation.”

“Can you not see how I suffer? My lady, you torment me so.”

“Your highness,” You stopped short and he nearly stumbled. “It cannot be. To prolong it will not change the circumstance that divides us. I do not seek infamy, I do not seek controversy, nor will I lower myself to be your mistress.”

“Lower…? I do not ask you--”

“You do. For what shall people say? What do they already whisper?” You rescinded your hand. “Your highness, you have not considered fully what you ask of me. You have not considered me.”

“I--”

“Excuse me, your highness,” You touched your stomach as it knotted. “I think I am unwell.”

He blinked, stunned. He bowed his head and you backed away from him. You readied yourself for his pursuit. For him to stop you. He did not and when he was hidden by the crowd, you turned and scurried to the door.

You didn’t slow until you reached an alcove just along the corridor. You were shaky as you leaned against the stone and caught your breath. Would the king be upset? Surely your father would but you could face his wrath as you had your entire life. You recalled Barnes’ words. Would the king cease to merely ask?

And who could save you? The king had a dozen allies and you had not one. The queen would not stop him, nor would his leal friend. Your father, surely, would find a way to assist him. Your own blood would sell you into scandal. You were so very alone.

A sole scuffed upon the stone and drew you from your reverie. A shadow loomed just around the corner and you tucked yourself into the alcove. You flattened your skirts with your hands and held your breath. The footsteps neared and you didn’t dare to move.

The king’s tall silhouette appeared before you. He walked past the alcove as he looked around. He sighed softly and hung his head. He tapped his toe as he stopped and hooked his thumbs in his belt. You watched, paralysed. 

He let out a disappointed grumble and turned back. The toe of his boot caught the hem of your skirt as it splayed out from your hiding spot and he stopped. He looked over and his eyes met yours in the dim of the lanterns. They pierced you through the shadows and his lips curved.

“My lady,” He greeted, “Why do you run from me?” He stepped forward. “Hide from me?” He lowered himself to his knees as he reached for your hands. “Can’t you see how desperate I am? How I am completely at your mercy?”

“Your highness, please,” You begged as he gripped your hands tightly. “Please, this is indecent.”

“My lady,” He brought your hands to his lips and laid a dozen kisses upon them. “I cannot wait. I’ve never waited so long and it pains me deeply. Every second I am away from you, I cannot think. I cannot live.”

“Your highness,” Your voice was coarse as you tried to escape his hold. “You would tarnish me.”

He released your hands and you tried to brush past him. He caught you around the waist and pulled you against him. He pressed his face to your stomach and kissed the taut brocade. He nuzzled into you and raised his chin to look up at you over your bosom. You caught his shoulders as you struggled with him.

“Please, please…” You could barely speak. You were terrified at his strength, at how easily he held you there. He walked forward on his knees as he pushed you back into the alcove until you met the wall. “Please…”

He dropped his arms and you felt your skirts lift and you sobbed. He lowered his head as he tugged at your skirts and you felt the cool air on your ankles. He bent and you pressed yourself to the wall. You could barely breathe as you watched him. He lowered himself until his lips met your slippers. He kissed both and sat back on his heels.

“Can’t you see, my lady?” He peered up at you. “You have me on my knees?” He bent to kiss them again. “I am yours.” He declared as he sat up once more. “Entirely yours.”

You clasped your hands before your chest. You were trembling. You could not speak as you stared down at him. He let your skirt fall back into place as he stood. His shadow enshrined you as he reached out to touch your cheek.

“Are you afraid, my lady?”

You nodded and turned away from his touch.

“You needn’t be for I shall find a way for us to be together. A proper way.” His fingers trailed down and he dragged his thumb along your lower lip. “I promise you, I will.”

For a moment, he held your face. His hand firmly cradled your chin and he leaned in until his breath was upon your lips. His thumb traced your lips and he closed his eyes. He let out a long sigh and pulled away from you suddenly.

“I will wait,” He said, though he spoke more to himself than you. “I will wait.” He opened his eyes and bowed to you. “My lady.” 

You watched him back away, too stunned to move as his shadow faded down the hall and his footsteps softened to silence. You cowered in the stone alcove until you were certain he was gone. At last, you found your strength and stepped into the amber light of the lanterns. 

Lord Barnes’ foreboding rang in your head; ‘A king’s requests quickly become commands.’

[mollymauk-teafleak]

whose brow is laid in thorn (chapter five)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Sorry this took so long! Online teaching is...well...

Huge thanks to my wonderful friends/betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who are so endlessly supportive and wonderful.

Please reblog! Please leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Caleb watches his prince flounder through this war he didn't start and, as things go from bad to worse, he  realises the only way he can truly help him.

TW: I feel like the mentions of violence increase in this chapter. I mean, Lorenzo's here now. so. you know.

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

The forests were as silent as they had been the last time Caleb went through them. A fierce wind was whistling out on the moors and there was even some snow on the air just beyond their close knit embrace but, under the thick canopy, it was as if it didn’t exist. It was as if the world didn’t exist. The bitter air and slate grey clouds, it had all been swallowed by the leaves and the bark.

Caleb remembered how they’d swallowed his sobs the same way, the last time he had passed through here.

He stroked his horse’s neck as he rose further up in the saddle to look ahead through the trees. Though he hated leading Mollymauk’s side, his prince had insisted he be part of the scouts, saying he had the best eyes in the company. And anything Caleb could do to help right now, he would not leave it undone. They couldn’t afford to.

It was peaceful, at least. He had lost the hour in the silence, it was all just darkness and quiet and the beat of his own heart in his lungs. Even his horse’s hooves made no noise in the soft forest floor, carpeted in moss and pine needles. He would never have even known an entire company of armed warriors shared these trees with him. He could have been the only person on the planet.

Which meant no threats in sight as well, nothing his eyes or ears could pick up even in the stillness. Caleb cast a searching spell forward just to be sure but the only sparks of life were the nests in the boughs up above and a family of foxes curled up in their den. No hidden enemies to speak of. Not a hidden archer in the leaves or a sword wielding scout behind a trunk.

Which, inexplicably, didn’t sit well with Caleb. 

He frowned and passed a hand over his horse’s neck again, to comfort the animal and, partly, to comfort himself. Unease had settled heavily in the bottom of his stomach on the very first day they’d ridden out from Asarius, a weight that had only grown as this campaign went on.

They’d all flashed so prettily in the sun that day, as the light had caught and turned to red silk pennants on the tips of their spears, Mollymauk in a suit of plate enamelled in purple and looking more a god than a prince, though a god that stopped to wink at maidens and accept flowers from their hands, who ruffled the hair of children who ran alongside their column, who passed jokes back and forth with common tradesmen. It had been more like a fair than a force riding out to war, Molly had known his role and he’d played it well. Caleb must have looked like a sour spirit, haunting his left shoulder all in black, but something had just felt so wrong that day and it felt no better now, a week on.

He sighed, his breath misting in the damp air. No one but a Volstruker would be morose at not meeting a single enemy yet.

Maybe it was just being here that put the tension in his stomach. This was the path they’d taken back into the empire ten years ago, after his...his disgrace. The word didn’t come to him as easily as it one had, the shame wasn’t so quick to rise. It was an old misery he felt, the memory of the loss and despair, how it had opened a pit inside his younger self to think he’d never see Mollymauk ever again. He ached for that young wizard, in pain and confused and so scared, chained in the back of a cart and bouncing painfully along to a fate he didn’t want to imagine waiting for him in Rexxantrum, crying to a love that couldn’t hear him and trees that paid no mind.

He deserved it, a voice that sounded like a whip crack hissed in the back of his mind, curling Caleb’s lip, he deserved that awful fate.

But the voice was distant, like it wasn’t coming from inside him but behind him. Caleb swallowed down a faint taste of bile and answered it vaguely it certainly was an awful fate. That would satisfy it for now.

He was getting better at it. Feeding the thoughts that had been placed inside him to fester and grow, giving them just enough and no more, aware of the distance between them and his own. It was a difficult game, one that could hurt him very easily, one he had to play with steady hands and cautious nature. Two things that Volstruker training had, fortunately, gifted him with.

Caleb took a deep lungful of the air and thought of that boy again, weeping softly and steadily in the back of that cart, unable to stop no matter how many blows his tears earned him. Unwilling to stop.

I’m getting better at it, he promised the boy.

Caleb patted his horse’s neck and turned back towards the column. He’d seen enough.

The tents had sprouted up like strange canvas mushrooms under the shelter of the trees. Good, flat ground was scarce so they were more scattered than Caleb would have liked, clusters of them growing together rather than as one cohesive unit. Too much space for any intruder to thread through and reach the heart of the camp.

But the tents were already coming down as he rode hard back through the outer ring of defences, the company waking up to begin another day of marching. Perhaps there would be better ground up ahead. Perhaps they would finally break through the trees.

And what would be waiting for them when they did?

No one called out to Caleb as he dismounted by the hastily strung up horse paddock, no one offered a greeting or asked about his ranging. Soldiers merely talked around him, laughing and joking and grumbling to each other as they woke up and rubbed the sleep from their eyes, acting if he wasn’t there. Caleb didn’t mind, he was used to it and there was no real malice in their disengagement. Something about his black uniform of office and the rumours that clung to it turned idle conversation away, it was the whole point of wearing it. That was the whole point of being Volstruker.

“Rest now, Frumpkin,” he murmured softly to his horse, patting their neck, “I need to go make my report but I’ll come back and see you get a good rub down before we have to set off.”

“Gods, you’re not still calling the poor animal that name, are you?”

Caleb turned to see Beau leaning against one of the posts hastily driven into the forest floor, smirking at him. She was dressed in a cold weather version of her usual monk robes, more parts reinforced with leather for better protection. No one was taking any risks on this campaign but it was still strange to see the old friends he’d last known as children dressed for war.

He was glad they hadn’t had to grow up as quickly as he did, that they could still be considered too young for this.

“Why would I call him anything else?” Caleb answered smoothly, “It’s his name.”

“One of the finest horses I’ve seen come out of the palace’s stables and you saddle him with a name like Frumpkin. It’s an insult.”

The corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched into a smile that he dampened. He didn’t need to smile around Beau, he never had. She’d always taken him as he was and was the first of them all to slip back into doing so after he’d come back. While the others were still unsure how to fit him back into the place the old Caleb had occupied in their lives, Beau was cursing him and scowling at him and punishing him in the training yard like she always had done. Perhaps it was easier when what you had wasn’t the conventional idea of being friendly.

Whatever the reason, Caleb was grateful for it.

“Thank you for keeping him for me all these years,” he said quietly, putting a gentle hand on the horse’s flank.

“Stubborn beast wouldn’t take anyone but you,” Beau shrugged, “Like rider, like horse, it’s the same as ever.”

Caleb grunted, “Where’s the prince?”

“In the command tent,” Beau rolled her eyes as she said it and for good reason. The idea of the Mollymauk they all knew in charge of armed soldiers was absurd, however good the act he’d been putting on for everyone else was, “Anything to see out there?”

“Nothing,” Caleb said, “Nothing but the wildlife whose homes we’re trampling through.”

“I’m starting to think the Jagenoths keep their brains in their damn swords,” Beau frowned, “Did they seriously send out an invading army but didn’t think to put at least some force on the borders?”

“The Jagenoths don’t,” Caleb said, voice flat and serious, “And they wouldn’t.”

“So we’re missing something,” Beau followed the thread of his thoughts easily and liked it no more than he had.

“We are. And we will not be ready for it when it comes.”

With that grim assessment, he began walking through the croppings of tents, making for the one at the centre with the royal standard looking rather forlorn outside it’s entrance, no wind to lift it. Caleb did not want to scare his friends and doubt his prince but his strategic mind was in despair at everything he saw around him. They were nearly as short on weaponry as they were the hands to wield them, food as the mouths to eat it, the bulk of the royal army’s resources having gone with the king to meet the main Jagenoth force.

Or, as it appeared at the moment, the only Jagenoth force. Caleb would have loved to believe that.

He’d wanted to be back before his prince woke up but he’d not been sleeping well and was already up and at his desk when Caleb ducked under the flap. When Molly saw him standing there framed in predawn light, the frustration and helplessness in his red rimmed eyes eased into relief. He knew he didn’t need to pretend in front of Caleb.

“It’s good to see you back,” he exhaled, “Any news?”

“Nothing,” Caleb put his hands behind his back, standing tall and drawn, “The forest ahead is clear, no sign of any enemy out postings or even anything to suggest a large group of armed soldiers are approaching from the border. No smoke, no hoofprints, not so much as a flattened fern.”

Molly frowned, setting down his quill, “The border? How far did you ride out, Caleb?”

“Three hours out, your majesty.”

Molly groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Gods, Caleb, that's so far. If you’d gotten into trouble, no one would have seen your signal, you’d have been on your own!”

“If I had the enemy would be down as many as they’d seen fit to set against me,” Caleb said evenly, “And we would know more about what they are planning than we do know.”

Molly didn’t seem to think that justified the risk, still frowning down at the map in front of him, eyes tracing the path Caleb must have taken on his scouting run.

“Just...don’t do it again. Please. I know we’ve not run into any trouble yet but if the first time we did was you getting hurt or...just don’t, please.”

Caleb felt a stab of guilt, not the sort that came from disappointing a liege he was sworn to or disobeying an order, the deeper sort that came from causing a friend to worry.

“I’m sorry. It just frustrates me, still knowing so little about what they’re planning. We should have at least met border patrols by now, if the Jagenoths are half of what they’re rumoured to be. If Lorenzo truly is at their head.”

Molly grimaced, standing and moving to where his armour waited on the stand by the cot he slept on. He always waited until the very last moment to put it on while simultaneously knowing he couldn’t let any of their soldiers see him without it. Before long the captains of the night guard would be coming to give him reports and he’d run out of time to move freely and breathe comfortably.

If they saw him without the gilded plate and the glittering swords, they might remember that they were being led by their scandal sodden rake of a prince. That act had kept Mollymauk going after Caleb had been taken from him, it had been all he’d had through his darkest moments. And now it had to be packed away like a winter coat in spring, now its absence was all that kept this company together.

He was doing his best to hide it from their friends but the nakedness Molly felt without it, the vulnerability, was painted across his face when it was just the two of them.

“Perhaps their bloodlust has made them stupid. Perhaps this isn’t an invasion at all, just a tithe taking. Perhaps all Lorenzo wants to see is my father’s head on a bloody pike.”

Caleb winced internally at the defeat in his voice, “Your highness…”

“Caleb, I just…” Molly shook his head, the frantic, panicked edge fading from his voice, “I’m under no illusions about what will happen when we finally do encounter enemy forces. Let me have every moment until then. And...gods, please don’t let it be you in their way.”

Caleb exhaled, finally bowing his head, “As you wish.”

There was a long moment as Molly held his lobstered gauntlets in his hands, staring down at them like he was holding hands with a stranger. He was clearly rolling something around in his mouth, words he wanted to say but couldn’t. Caleb merely waited, patient.

“Has it been getting better?” his prince eventually murmured, pitching his voice lower as if Caleb’s intrusive thoughts were a physical presence with malicious ears, “The avoidance strategies, have they been helpful? I did worry coming through here again might be difficult for you.”

Caleb softened, managing a smile even as he still had to answer carefully, “I have found the last few days more comfortable than I expected.”

And he wasn’t lying. Feeling pity for the boy he’d been, as painful as it was to remember that hurt, it was so much better than hating him. It was such a delicate business but having Mollymauk quietly cheering for him, listening to him as he tried to work out what sentences were acceptable and what would make his old wounds throb with remembered pain, holding him when he slipped and stepping back when the intrusive thoughts roared too loud to allow Caleb any comfort.

In some ways, the close proximity of the camp, so much more intimate than that castle with its stone memories, was a blessing. Not many ways, but some.

“I’m pleased, Caleb,” Molly turned away from the armour and smiled back at him, expecting nothing, just genuine in his relief, “Help me into this damnable oven of an outfit?”

“Of course,” Caleb stepped forward gladly. If any part of him were to wonder why he took so much comfort and delight in being close to Mollymauk, he would answer it smoothly and confidently. He was Volstuker, why would he not hasten to armour his prince and be certain that he was as closely protected as possible?  

Why would his heart not quicken as he slide a shirt of fine mail over Molly’s head, so carefully and deftly making sure it didn’t catch on his horns, as he sank down on one knee to carefully lace each fitted plate into place, working from the ground up until they were nose to nose?

Molly cleared his throat as they realised neither had spoken for some time, that silence had settled in now the sounds of metal scraping on metal had silenced. He fixed a playful smile onto his face, “Now, go tend that horse of yours. If you went that far before the sun’s even in the sky, you must have ridden poor Frumpkin hard. After everything that poor boy does for you, keeping his head high with a name like that.”

Caleb chuckled, a brighter sound than any he’d made all morning, “The name suits him, as I’ve told you all plenty of times…”

Molly nudged him gently towards the tent door, grinning, “It’s very you, I’ll give you that. I’ll see you when we ride out.”

Caleb gave him a quick bow in answer, striding back out into the gathering dawn. His stomach felt lighter than it had since he woke.

The days crept by with a maddening slowness as they skirted along the border of the kingdom. It was the same flat, barren landscape with it’s cropped dark grass and those black mountains in the distance cutting a ragged edge on the grey sky. It was impossible to tell what thin, pebbled soil was theirs and what was the Empire’s, the bleak sameness of the landscape doing little to honour the people who’d shed blood to forge it centuries ago.

Caleb wondered why all his training had neglected to mention that war was an awful lot of tedious plodding forward.

They poured over maps, they talked in the command tent long into the small hours of what would have been the morning if any of them had any concept of time anymore, debating in endless circles what the Jagenoths were planning, how the king was faring, what to do next. Molly would listen, unafraid to look exhausted and worn down in front of his friends, and eventually bring his hand down on the table for silence and give them the same, flat answer. They would do exactly as they were instructed. They would push on until they either met his father’s forces flush with victory or discovered their corpses mouldering in the dirt.

Birds would take wing, messages would be ferried along by magic, the same report would fly every day. And every day there would be no answer.

Caleb could tell Mollymauk felt abandoned. But he also knew it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to his prince.

Not that it made watching him go through this any easier. In fact, it was more of a sting, as Caleb would sit by Molly’s cot and stroke his heaving shoulders as he twitched and moaned through more nightmares. That he was having to go through this at the king’s command, after everything he’d done to him. That there was so little Caleb could do.

That same sense of frustration and helplessness drove him on that night, scouting again. He moved quickly over the short bursts of open ground, keeping low to Frumpkin’s neck and trusting his magic, his horse’s dark coat and his uniform to keep him cloaked in the shadows. When in the smatterings of trees, he walked him slow and steady, knowing the damage a hoof or boot crunching down on a stick at just the wrong angle could do. Moving like that, he very quickly lost sight of the company behind him, lost their slow creeping mass and the lights of the outer torches over a rise in the landscape.

Before too long, it was him, the wind and what stars could be glimpsed through the clouds. The whole plain seemed to open out, something inside him itching at the thought of the answers that could lie out there beyond the next rise of shadow. All he would need was a glimpse, one raiding party, one enemy torch in the distance, one footprint in the grass to tell him who had passed this way and when.

Caleb felt a tug in his chest and remembered his promise to Mollymauk. He’d reached the outer limit of what could reasonably be expected of him as a scout, more than halfway through the time his ride was supposed to take. If he went any further, he would be coming back after dawn and it would be impossible to hide the fact that he’d disobeyed. If he really pushed it, he would have to camp out here or risk Frumpkin coming up lame.

But then he would think of the exhaustion in Mollymauk’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he turned to his armour and faced another day of wearing this personality that didn’t fit him. He would think of his prince, his friend, crying hoarsely into his pillow and not hearing Caleb as he tried to comfort him, sounding for all the world like a lost child unable to understand why his father had left him behind.

Caleb took a long slow breath of cold night air and pressed his heels into Frumpkin’s side, urging him forward. Just a little further, he would return just shy of dawn. After all, his only promise to Molly, technically, was that his blood wouldn’t be the first spilled. And if his training was worth anything, it wouldn’t be.

More bursts of frantic speed across the hills bracketed by near silent creeping through copses of trees. Caleb poured all of his energy into his senses, hearing everything from a mouse skittering down by Frumpkin’s hooves to an owl’s call from high above his head, seeing every shift in the texture of the darkness around him, even smelling deeply to try and pick out the sour scent of unwashed solider from the bite of night air. If he was going to disappoint Mollymauk, he would at least be as careful as possible.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, he lost himself in the glut of information flooding through him and the regular rhythm of his ride. It was tasks like this that brought him the most peace, when he could fully give himself over to his magic, float along through repetition and the hard drag of air in his lungs, when he could feel purposeful while disengaging entirely from the tangled magpie’s nest that was his brain. Times like this, Caleb could remember why he’d always had this ravenous hunger for magic, why he’d loved it so much.

He remembered why he’d fallen prey to Ikithon so easily.

But right now, it was his and no one else's. He was pushing forward to save his home, to help his prince.

The border with the Empire was the clean kind, the neatly cut kind formed by politics rather than geography. With the land changing so little, the only reason Caleb realised how far he’d actually gone was when the sky shifted from black to the hazy grey of dawn.

Guilt stabbed through him at the sight, the only thing in hours that had jolted him out of his razor sharp focus. He brought Frumpkin to a halt in the middle of a collection of trees that couldn’t even be called a wood, only now realising how his poor horse was breathing hard underneath him. He patted his neck, pulled an apple from one of his many pockets and murmured softly, knowing that Mollymauk and his friends wouldn’t be so easy to forgive him. They must be worried sick about him, he was meant to be back at camp hours ago and it would be half a day yet before they knew he was okay.

He couldn’t hear the whip crack, not quite, but his scars prickled with a heat the cold morning couldn’t possibly hold and there was a sharp echo reverberating between his ears.  

Cursing himself for a fool, Caleb slid from the saddle, pulling the aches and strains he felt closer rather than pushing them away and knowing he deserved to feel every one. He pulled his water skin out from the saddle bags, letting it trickle out in a steady stream so Frumpkin could drink first, their breaths misting in the clammy dawn.

“I am a pig headed idiot, Frumpkin,” he sighed, pushing fingers through his horse’s mane, “All this effort and I don’t even have anything to show for it. I was just so certain…”

Just as he was about to rest his forehead against Frumpkin’s nose and let himself have a moment of self pity before getting back into the saddle, he felt something shift on the very edges of his magic. It was like seeing a shadow flicker in the corner of your eye, a second’s movement that threw everything off balance but was so hard to catch.

But there was very little faster than Caleb. He’d been through Volstruker training twice.

He left Frumpkin to crop at the carpet of leaves underneath them, moving forward on foot. All doubt, all emotion of any kind was locked down tight as he broke through the tree line and slunk forward in the direction of that single vibrating thread. It led him forward, over to the next ridge, though the closer he got the more some instinct pressed him down further into the shadows until he was crawling on his belly to peer into the bowl of the hills.

And when he saw what was cradled there, hidden down where it would be hidden from any view but the one Caleb now had, made him glad he’d hidden. What he saw was an army.

Not a raiding party. Not a band of cutthroats sent to harry the border towns. Not a company like theirs. He saw a full, broiling Jagenoth army. He saw racks of arms ready to slice the air in two, along with whatever stood in their way. He saw mercenaries with smiles as dangerous as the swords at their hips. He saw slavers, spearmen, archers, crossbowmen, rank upon rank of soldiers who fought at their masters command. He saw twice, three times, four times their own numbers and, in the middle of all of them, a standard that was rarely seen outside of Shady Creek Run but, when it was, brought blood and terror.

And, out at the edge, where no eyes but his own would see it, he saw a collection of black clad figures sparring against each other with blows that even from here looked brutal, the weapons they trained with had real edges on them. The smell of magic that came off them was thick and smoky like gunpowder, though heavily masked. Masked to everyone but those whose own skin reeked of it.

They were Volstruker.

Caleb felt no surprise, he was sunk too deeply into battle mode for that. He simply inhaled slowly and steadily, very deliberately not looking for any familiarity in the way they moved and struck out. Another moment to make sure he’d catalogued absolutely everything that lay before him while feeling absolutely nothing, then he slipped back down the hillside. Back to Frumpkin, kicking himself into the saddle and riding out without another moment’s pause.

He had to get back to his prince, his friends. He had to tell them their doom lay less than a day’s ride away.

Mollymauk’s hair ached deep at the roots by the time he heard those hoofbeats, the ones he knew immediately belonged to Caleb.

He hadn’t allowed the camp to break, insisting they stay exactly where Caleb would know to find them, refusing them even an inch until he was back and safe. Later, he would realise that his fit of pique had earned them all another day to live.

But not that moment. That moment had been nothing but relief as he’d pushed past Yasha and burst out of the command tent, seeing a lathered, wrung out Frumpkin drawing to a halt right in the centre of camp. An equally exhausted Caleb slid from the saddle, thin shoulders heaving and wiping spit from his cheek. He came down so heavy that Beau had to jump forward and catch him, barely keeping him on his feet.

Molly couldn’t even muster any anger, it was just joy to have him whole and back in the fold of his protection. He ran up and took him from Beau, gripping his shoulders tight, and grinning like a fool.

“Thank all the gods, Caleb! You must have ridden halfway across the kingdom, look at you! Come in, we need to get you something warm to eat, I-”

His mildly frantic relief died as soon as he saw Caleb’s eyes. Even as the rest of him was exhausted and ragged, his eyes were alert and hard like chips of ice.

“Molly,” his voice was low so it wouldn’t carry amongst the tents, to the many eyes that were on them, warily curious as to why the prince’s Volstruker had been gone all night, “We need to talk.”

Once inside the tent, Caleb wouldn’t so much as look at the broth Caduceus was determined he drank, standing stiffly in the centre with his hands wrapped around the bowl. Molly searched him up and down for any signs of injury but the only thing that was troubling him was clearly the weight he carried behind his eyes.

“Your father will ride out to the north and find nothing. The Jagenoth army is here, every man of them not a day's ride from where we sit. Lorenzo’s standard flew outside of the largest tent, though I didn’t see him personally. Their numbers outstrip ours by far and they are better outfitted, by what I could see in the torchlight. I’d estimate just below ten thousand warriors, a third of them mounted, another third with some kind of long range weapon. And…”

He seemed to steel himself, something like shame creeping into his eyes, “They have Volstruker. Five of them by my count.”

His words drew soft curses, widened eyes, stiffened shoulders as the shock rippled outwards. But Mollymauk turned inside himself and found nothing, only a bleak kind of amusement. It seems your pet monsters have gotten loose, Father. I hope it tastes bitter.

Caleb bulled on before any of them could ask him how he was feeling about that, “We have no hope of defeating them in battle and we are too close to skirt them. Our only hope is to turn now and ride hard back to the capital or even try and make it to the King’s army. Even then, we will still be short of numbers and exhausted but it is all we have.”

“We can’t lead them back to the city,” Caduceus shook his head, usually placid face tight with anxiety, “It is practically undefended and full of innocents.”

“Without that option, we have nowhere to run even if we do manage to get clear,” Yasha’s voice was tense, “And if they catch us in a full retreat…”

“It would be a bloodbath,” Beau finished shortly, her arms folded so tight it was like she was embracing herself and trying to give some comfort.

“A bloodbath from the rear or a bloodbath from the front,” Fjord snorted, tapping his foot as he always did when he was stressed, “Those are our choices, then?”

“Is there any way to get a message to the king?” Yasha’s brow furrowed as she thought, unused to being trapped in situations she couldn’t maneuver herself out of either with her mind or her greatsword, “Surely he’ll have noticed by now that he’s riding to meet an enemy that isn’t there?”

“His Volstruker will have some kind of magical manipulation to bait him on,” Caleb’s voice was still flat, even when he spoke of people who were supposed to be his, “An illusion or a mirage of some sort, torches in the distance, flattened land to suggest they are withdrawing perhaps . And you can be sure any messages we send out will be noticed from this close, as powerful as they are. Even if we could, there would be no time for his forces to reach us.”

“Then why didn’t they notice you?” Beau countered tightly, “If you got that close? If these are your people, isn’t there some secret way you know that can take them down?”

“I know the same tricks they do,” an edge of emotion entered his words now, a tension that threatened to snap, “I know the same magics. But I am only one against five, weaker than they are into the bargain, less firm in my faith. I am not enough.”

“That’ll do.”

Molly spoke for the first time, voice calm and commanding the way he’d been practising since he was a child. He rose from his camp chair, drawing every eye to him, trying to stand tall enough to shoulder their fears and doubts.

“I’ve made my decision. We are going to ride out and we are going to meet this army.”

“My prince, there is no way-” Yasha started to say but Molly shook his head.

“We’re not going to give battle, not at first. I’m going to do the one damn thing I’ve ever been good at with this job. I’m going to call for parley and I’m going to talk to Lorenzo. Whatever rotten deal my father made that has gotten us into this mess, maybe there’s something I can offer the Jagenoths that will make it right again. Gold or wardship or...or a marriage contract with some Dwendalian countess, I don’t know…”

He daren’t look up at Caleb in the beat of cold, heavy silence that followed those words.

“But there will be a price and that price may not necessarily be blood.”

There was a collective intake of breath, whether it was admiration or despair Molly daren’t ask.

“And...if Lorenzo isn’t the type to be bartered with, your highness?” Yasha asked evenly, letting the ‘which you know he isn’t’ go unsaid but lie underneath her words.

Molly hardened his eyes and gripped the swords at his sides, “Then we take as many as we can down to hell with us. Every Jagenoth that falls will be one less to threaten our city walls. Caleb?”

“Yes?” his friend sounded so much further away than the tent would allow.

“If it comes to that, your job is to kill Lorenzo. Not to take out the other Volstruker, not to protect me. If we must fight, he does not walk off that battlefield alive, understand?”

He wasn’t used to ordering Caleb around, the words felt sour on his tongue as did the silence that followed. It was only a moment, barely a heartbeat, but from a man that had been trained to obey it was an eternity that very clearly showed his upset.

But finally, his Volstruker murmured, “I understand, my prince.”

“Thank you,” Molly let his sincere gratitude show in his voice and that crack let the emotion start to bleed in, let his shoulders start to tremble, “All of you...you’re all my dearest friends and you’ve done so much for me. If any of you want to turn back now and leave this company, you go with my blessing. Asking you to die for me...I refuse to do it.”

Beau was the first to answer, giving a derisive snort and coming up to nudge him sharply with an elbow, “We’re not dying for you, idiot. That murderous asshole is standing in our home thinking we’ll just roll over and give it to him. Seeing the look on his face when Caleb spills his guts? That’s worth dying for.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,” Yasha gave Beau a fond roll of her shadow ringed eyes, “But the sentiment is the same. This will be something we finish together.”

“However it ends,” Fjord nodded firmly, loosening his blade in its scabbard.

“And you are rather convincing when you want to be, Mollymauk” Caduceus chuckled, “Perhaps it will come to peace after all. Stranger things have happened...like us all standing here facing impossible odds with smiles on our faces.”

That broke the lingering tension, making them all giggle helplessly like they were children again, facing their first time sneaking out of their bedrooms after dark. Like this was the start of some grand adventure rather than the end of one. Molly felt such a rush of warmth in his chest as he met Caleb through teary eyes and saw him chucking too, for a moment there was nowhere else he’d rather be than in this cold, filthy tent facing death.

“Well then,” he eventually sighed, jaw aching from grinning so hard, “Let’s put this silver tongue of mine to the test.”

Mollymauk tried so hard not to appear afraid. He really tried.

For once he was glad of his ridiculous horned helmet and the way it shielded his expression from the soldiers around him.

The Jagenoth army came into view over a rise in the landscape, a neat, black row of ants in the distance marching towards them in perfect step, banners snapping in the wind and sun catching on the deadly points of their weapons. They came in perfect synchrony, row after row of them, one two, one two, one two, devouring the distance between the two forces.

And they just kept coming.

Yasha and Fjord held the enormous black banners high, where they couldn’t possibly be missed, but as those soldiers came on and on and on, as Molly’s tongue dried to a desiccated fruit rind in his mouth, he couldn’t suppress the certainty that this lot of trained killers would just ignore their request and plow right through them, trampling them into the dirt without even a pause.

But finally, at the last possible moment, the Jagenoths halted. There was a thin strip of land still between them, less than a league separating him and his friends, the soldiers who followed in devotedly, from death. The silence that fell was broken with the snorting of horses and the restless clank of people shifting nervously in suits of armour but it still weighed heavily.

After a moment, Caleb spoke softly at his side, eyes filmy with magic, “He’s beckoning you.”

Mollymauk didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Well then,” his voice cracked on the very first word and he had to hastily clear his throat and start again, come on you fool, you’ve been an actor more than half your life, you won’t flub your lines now, “Well then. Yasha, Caleb, Fjord, with me. Beau and Caduceus, hold the army. If you see anything done that breaches the terms of parley, attack.”

With that, he urged his horse on, never daring to look back and see if his friends would actually follow him. When they did, of course, he’d hate himself for doubting them.

The fact that only one rider broke from the mass like a droplet of black oil, ploughing forward to meet them, showed exactly what Lorenzo thought of the threat they posed to him. As the formless shape of hulking iron resolved itself into a vaguely humanoid silhouette, Molly took a meagre scrap of comfort from the fact that he was at least in his human form. When he was coming for their blood, he would look much different.

They stopped their horses a few metres from each other and walked the rest of the way, Molly flanked by his friends, Lorenzo needing nothing but his bristling carapace of sooty metal, swathed in hooks and cruel leather straps, and the glaive stowed at his back. The closer that got, the more Molly realised how his pretty, glistening armour with all its jewels and shine made him look like what a foolish boy would dream a prince wore to battle. He was a tawdry illustration from a fairytale. Lorenzo was an experienced killer.

“Well, well, well…” Lorenzo spoke first while he was still loping up, hailing them as if they were friends, his voice a low pitched drawl in an approximation of a nobleman’s polite tones that showed how he’d risen from dirt to lead his army on the backs of slaves, “It’s awful decent of you to come offer yourself on a silver platter. Saves us the trouble of carving those pathetic excuses for soldiers I see behind you into meat.”

Molly swallowed hard and drew himself up, acting as if he hadn’t heard the insults, “Lorenzo. I assume you speak for the Jagenoths?”

“I’m killing for the Jagenoths, boy,” Lorenzo removed his warhelm so they could see his lazy grin, the anticipation in his eyes, “But aye, I speak with their voice in this matter.”

“Then I offer this to you,” Molly kept his firmly on, “Whatever wrongs my father has done to you, whatever snags there have been in your business dealings, surely all out war is not the best way to seek repayment?”

“Depends on what you’re repaying,” Lorenzo sneered, “And I bet you don’t know half the mess your daddy’s gotten himself into. Allow me to educate you instead, gold don’t pay some debts, boy. Sometimes blood’s the only way to tip the scales back.”

“Then you and your kingdom are fools,” Molly replied, letting some contempt creep into his voice as the insults rubbed some already frayed nerves raw, “Out there in Shady Creek Run, you have no resources of your own. Your crops file nine harvests out of ten, there's no metals of any use in those mountains of yours, no lumber, no gems. Hence why you trade in flesh, a commodity most kingdoms turn their noses up at. Think of what I’m offering you. Money, trade, the chance to rise as a kingdom by marrying its crown prince to whoever you choose. I’m offering you the chance to actually see your people grow, rather than scraping out a living in the swamp and selling their children to you when they can’t make their rent.”

There was a moment’s pause after he finished before Lorenzo burst out laughing, showing rows of plaque chewed teeth as he guffawed.

“By all the gods, boy, haven’t they trained you up nice, eh? Got you all dressed up and taught you the right words to say, just like a pretty little parrot. Convinced you that you were a prince.”

Molly felt Caleb shift beside him, magic crackling in the air. He shot him a desperate glance, pleading with him from behind the metal slits in his helm. They absolutely could not afford to be the ones to break the peace here.

He swallowed hard and tried to put some more measure in his voice, “Perhaps if you brought my offer to your lords and let them decide whether they would rather see profit or-”

“You don’t understand, do you, boy?” Lorenzo was still chuckling like this was the funniest thing he’d seen all day, “What my good lords of Jagenoth want isn’t profit or trade or to see some pretty tattooed whore of a prince in their daughter’s bed. What they want is to see your father suffer. What they want is your head.”

That struck Molly somewhere just below his chest, “Mine?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo nodded idly, eyes creeping up the length of Molly’s body like he was deciding where to make the cut, “Your daddy stiffed them once too many times so they’ve decided his son and heir will be their price. However unimpressive that son may be.”

Molly hated the fear that chilled his bones at those words, that strangled the words in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Why’d you think we went to all that trouble to fool your daddy, get him to ride out on a wild goose chase after our shades and set you off on some busywork? It were never him we wanted. We wanted you, just as you are now with a handful of farmhands at your back and a pretty piece of glass for a sword. And didn’t it all work out so nice?”

Molly’s mouth twisted, “I see Ikithon has been giving you more than just Volstruker.”

Lorenzo spread his mailed hands and gave a wry smile, “You’re the losing side, boy. Got to expect the smarter rats to jump ship.”

“So…” Molly shook himself, forcing the words up, “If I let you take me, do whatever you want with me, that will be the end of it? My people go free?”

He’d expected the sharp, poorly concealed hisses of rage and dismay from his friends, the hands flying to weapons. He was ready with a raised palm, willing them to hold themselves, praying their loyalty outstripped their love for him.

“How very noble of you,” Lorenzo cooed in a mocking tone, before his voice turned to iron again, “And maybe that was the plan my lords gave me. But now I’m here...now I see that rabble you call an army...now I have your capital city just a few days ride from here...maybe now I want more? Maybe now I’ve got me a thirst.”

Molly felt sickness roil in his stomach, “You’d go against direct orders? You’d start a war that would cost you hundreds of soldiers without their permission?”

“Do you think they’ll give a flying fuck about permissions when I hand them the crown of Dosal still red with your family’s blood?”

“Dawn,” Molly croaked, “Give me until then and I’m yours. To kill or to carry back to Shady Creek Run, whatever you wish. On your word that that will be the end of it.”

Lorenzo smiled, a thick and nasty smile, his hand flexing, arm raising, “Do I look the patient type to you, boy?”

Molly saw how it all would happen. The barest second and that glaithe would be free, the blade would come swinging with it’s sharp whistle, no time to dodge, no time to free his own scimitars, all his hours of training meaning less than nothing as that razor edge bit into his neck and severed his head neat as snipping off a stray thread.

He saw it all. But it didn’t happen.

“What in the fuck-” Lorenzo grunted, his arm stilled in the air, muscles tight as iron chord but unable to move.

Beside Molly, Caleb had his hand out and his eyes were hard, the smell of magic rising off him like steam, “Drop your arm. Turn and walk back to your own. This parley is done, you have your terms.”

“You godsdamned pup-'' Lorenzo spat, eyes full of hatred as they fixed on the source of the magic holding him back. His face reddened and the smell of his own magic began to rise.

“Lorenzo!” Mollymauk raised his voice, the sickness turning to panic as he realised that the glaive was now fixing to whistle out at Caleb instead of him, that if it did battle would erupt and so many would die, “This is a parely for gods’ sake. We’re under a peace banner. You’ll get to kill me in less than a day, let it be enough.”

“Molly!” Caleb groaned, pained, his magic starting to slip in his distress and letting Lorenzo’s arm move an inch more.

“No,” he snapped, voice firm and tone hard, “Both of you, stand down. Lorenzo, you want it to get back to your lords that you can’t even keep to terms of parley? How long do you think they’ll keep feeding an oathbreaker?”

Lorenzo’s lip curled but at the very last second it became a sneer rather than a roar of rage. He relaxed his muscles and Caleb dropped his spell.

“I ain’t no oathbreaker, boy, but pay mind to which oaths I made and which I didn’t. Dawn it is then, you come out weaponless and alone before the light touches the base of that hill there. And be warned. You know my trade. You see my ink. You know that I can make you pay hard for every second you’ve made me wait.”

“And that will be the end of this?” Molly pressed, feeling strangely little for someone who had just signed away his life.

At that Lorenzo only smiled and let his eyes roll over to Caleb, poorly concealed hatred crackling in his gaze. It was clear that this wasn’t a man accustomed to being bested, even in the smallest ways. Caleb had dared to stay his hand and now Molly suspected he’d slipped down one place on the list of people Lorenzo wanted to kill tomorrow.

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

At that he turned and strolled lazily back to his horse, never once giving them so much as a glance.

It was odd, to feel so alone in the midst of other people.To feel like the only person in the world when your friends were at your elbow.

They’d fallen back a little ways to set up a camp as best they could in the windswept plain. There was a hush about the company now, a dismay like they were all reeling from what just happened. Seeing the hope on Caduceus’ face fade, seeing the bitter anger flare in Beau’s eyes as she realised what had happened, it was all too much. Not waiting for permission, Caleb had rode Frumpkin past them, unable to bear it.

And now he stood alone at the paddock, running a brush over and over across his horse’s black coat even after it did nothing, just needing to do something. His duty pulled him towards the command tent, towards Mollymauk, but the thought turned his stomach. How was he supposed to watch his prince, his friend, retreat further and further into himself, dull his eyes and shut himself down as he waited for death? How was he supposed to stand by and watch it happen and know he could do nothing at all?

So instead he hid. He was ashamed at himself for it but at this point it was like pouring a flagon of water into the sea.

He replayed the parley over in his mind, turning it over to look at it from different angles, even when it’s sharp edges cut into him. He saw everything he could have done differently, all the ways he could have turned the tide. He could have snapped Lorenzo’s arm, found the strength from somewhere. He could have slipped into his mind, changed his words, made him take it back. He could have cut him down where he stood.

And it would change nothing, you fool.

Hopelessness crashed over his head like a tide again and it was all Caleb could do to keep his feet under the weight of the myriad ways he’d failed and everything it would cost.

Still wallowing in self pity instead of doing something useful I see.

At first Caleb thought it was just his own mind berating him as it often did. But then it sunk it, a moment too late, that the voice was so much clearer and sharper than it usually was. And it wasn’t his own.

An overpowering sense of revulsion filled him as his mind was invaded, enough that he couldn’t fight back. He’d felt it before but the sensation of someone else seizing control of your brain was so awful, so gut wrenchingly wrong in every way, that having it done brought him to his knees every time. Helpless, alone, no one around to see his distress, all Caleb could do was bend double and retch into the grass while his master slipped into his mind as easily as sliding on a well worn pair of boots.

I would have hoped to find you stronger, Bren. This is the Volstruker’s element and yet you are here whining instead of glorying in it.

Caleb could only moan thinly in response, mouth full of bile. His master only used his old name when no one else could hear them, they were supposed to shed them, burn them away, when they joined the order. But each of them knew that the master kept them carefully catalogued, ready to be used to hurt them as effectively as any torture device.

Well, at least you now have a chance to please me and show me you remember who you are...and who your master is.

“I don’t...please…” Caleb whispered, tears running from his cheeks to soak into the ground below.

Silence, Bren. Listen. It appears our relationship with Babenon Dosal has reached the end of its life. You are to defect, immediately, and present yourself to Lorenzo of the Jagenoths. He will find a use for even such as you.

Caleb’s brain could hardly take in what was being said to him, every inch of him shaking like electric currents were running under his skin, “No...no, the prince is my-”

The prince is what I say he is to you. And now he is nothing. I appreciate that you can, at least, summon some loyalty to your former position but I am hereby changing your directive. You serve Lorenzo now. Leave immediately. Do not let me down, Bren. You know the cost.

The revulsion fled as quickly as it had come on and Caleb was left to slump on the ground, tremors still running through him, stomach still painfully contracting as his body tried to remember what it was like to master itself.

It was a long time before he could rise, before there was enough strength in his limbs to hold him. His mind was a flurry of whip cracks, his back burned as if the wounds were minutes old rather than years, his fingers itched to tear his shirt away and find some relief in the night air.

You know the cost.

It was only an echo but upon hearing it, Caleb’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to hold still, he dredged up every scrap of training he could remember, filling his nose with the smell of smoke and burned wood to remind himself who he was and what he was.

Just once, he turned back and looked at the command tent, glowing with warmth at the centre of the camp just a few meters away from where he stood.

“Molly,” he rasped, voice raw and pained, “I’m so sorry.”

He knew his prince couldn’t hear him and saying it out loud brought him no comfort.

Caleb left Frumpkin tied where he was.

It would be easier to approach the Jagenoth camp on foot.

Molly paid little attention to the hours in between hearing Lorenzo’s last words and ending up back in his command tent, slumped down onto his cot while his friends sat around him, too stunned by dismay and grief to even argue much. All he could think of was that smile Lorenzo had worn as he’d turned away, what the cost of that smile could be.

I’m going to die, he thought vaguely, trying it on for size, trying to get his brain to accept the fact. He found he could muster little in response to it.

“We cannot let this happen!” Beau raged for the third time in the last half hour. And just like the other times, no one had anything to say to her.

“It’s our one chance,” Molly found himself saying, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice, “If he can have me, he might leave the rest of you alone. He might leave our people alone.”

“Might,” Yasha repeated, her voice bleak and hard like ice.

“Yes, might,” Molly sighed, “Might is better than nothing.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Beau snapped, tight and tense as a drawn bow as she paced back and forth, “You’re just going to walk up to them like a lamb offering itself up to be slaughtered?”

“It’s the only thing I can do,” Molly leaned back against the canvas, eyes closing though all he saw behind them was that smile again and the image of his father’s crown covered in his mother and sister’s blood, “I can’t fight him. I can’t lead you all to some insane one in a million victory. I can’t talk to him. But I can let him have me and then...then maybe…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to muster the energy to even find the words. Beau’s anger ebbed, showing the fear beneath.

“I’m a terrible prince,” he eventually murmured, eyes opening to not even meet their eyes, voice low and thin as a candle nearly out, “I can’t lead people, I can’t sway people or save them, I can’t ease their hunger or soothe their worries. I thought...I thought maybe I had enough base cunning and enough patter to act like a prince but...that’s all it's ever been. An act. A role I never even wanted. And now...well it’s all caught up with me, hasn’t it? The best hope I have is to die with some dignity and hope it's enough to save all of you.”

“Molly…” Yasha groaned, her voice a soft, sad whisper but it couldn’t reach him.

“An hour before dawn, all of you are going to retreat,” he continued, “Before that even, if you can manage it. I’m putting the lives of the company in your hands, save as many as you can.”

“Molly!” she was exasperated now, her usual calm completely fractured.

“This isn’t a debate anymore,” he shook his head, making himself stand though it was like moving a puppet with half its strings cut, “Just do as I ask. Let me try and accomplish something good with my death. And...if you ever get the chance, if the gods allow it, drink to my name.”

They had no answer to that. It was something of a relief.

“I’ll say my farewells in the morning,” he waved them out limply, “Just send in Caleb and…”

Finally, something pierced through the fog. Frowning, he lifted his head.

“Where is Caleb?”

“After the parley he, uh…” Fjord shrugged helplessly, “He was upset. I think he went to stable Frumpkin, you know how he does.”

“That...that was some time ago,” Caduceus put in slowly, “Hours.”

“I’ll go get him,” Beau shrugged, “Whatever…” She disappeared through the flap, still stomping, shoulders tense and face flushed. Yasha looked after her with soft, sad eyes but didn’t follow, she knew her well enough.

Molly expected the fog to close up around his head again but it didn’t. Something ran around under his skin, a sensation that something was wrong. Which was laughable, seeing as he was about to be killed as soon as the sun came up and possibly all of his friends alongside him at the whim of a madman.

Still, it was there and it irritated him just enough to keep him alert and frowning as more time than should have passed by.

And it was enough that he wasn’t surprised when Beau walked through the tent again, all of her anger replaced by complete and utter shock.

“A messenger,” she said, voice hoarse like the words surprised her even as they left her lips, “A messenger from the Jagenoths, she had the insignia and everything. She gave me this, said it was for your eyes only and just...left.”

This was a piece of paper, folded and sealed with a clumsy black seal like a smear of soot. The design was a crude hook shape. As Molly took it the feeling got worse until it was buzzing like an insect trapped in his skull. It was enough that he hesitated before breaking the seal but their eyes were on him, wary and hesitant and needing to see their prince be brave.

The writing was done in a hurry, the ink splotchy and smudged. Molly had one of those moments where complete insanity threatened to take the place of dread as he imagined Lorenzo’s huge oni fingers trying and failing to hold a quill but it died quickly.

When he read the words, there was no more fog and no more distance. Everything was real and close and far too much, pushing the air out of his lungs and constricting his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

Boy, I accept your challenge. Single combat it is, me against the little pup who thought he could snap at me and not pay for it. If I lose, my army turns heel and goes home empty handed. If I win, I kill you and we consider the debt repaid. I was so looking forward to slaughtering every last one of you but your pup made a good point. I get to hold faith with the Jagenoths while my steel gets to see true battle. I’ve never tried a Volstruker before but I’m looking forward to tasting the tears of grief on your face as I push my blade through your heart.

Lorenzo.

“Molly? Molly, what does it say? Hey, it’s okay, just breathe…”

Yasha had taken his arm but Molly barely noticed, he only looked up and found Caleb’s eyes there to accept his own. Of course he’d slipped in while they’d been distracted, of course he chose now to return. At least he had the grace to look ashamed.

“Caleb...” Molly rasped, tears running down his cheeks and dripping from his jaw to strike the letter, obscuring the words as if that would mean they’d never been.

The man he loved could only meet his eyes and smile sadly.

“Oh gods, Caleb, what have you done?”

[crossroadsfossil]

Because @dadzawa-adopt-dabi reblogged that tree-eating a steak thing: 

There are a thousand ways for a soul to become trapped. Hawks could list about fifteen off the top of his head, from spells to curses to hexes to blessings of protection. It was part of his hero training.  

It was vastly incomplete. 

There are other ways of binding a soul. Ways that the commission didn’t teach because there was no proven method to recreate, and so there was no proven way to break that binding. Methods that were written off as folktales and fairy stories. 

Things that weren’t ‘real’. 

It didn’t make them any less true. 

He climbed the path and felt the ache in his muscles. Dabi was meters ahead, bounding up the side of the mountain as carefree as a goat. He didn’t bother offering Hawks a hand. To be fair, it was probably for the best. He didn’t want Dabi to look too closely at it. He might be able to see the discrepancies, to see that it wasn’t actually Best Jeanest in the bag. Hawks knew he was being paranoid- there was no way Dabi would be able to recognize subtle things about the top heroes, but there was always a chance he could or that he could have some item of power that would let him know falsehoods. 

The path leveled out suddenly, and his field of vision was filled with the sight of a too-big tree. He’d seen trees like this only in children’s anime and books. It was massive, with moss and greenery growing over its limbs and bark. There were hollows pitted throughout the gnarled, looping roots. He wondered if this was where the league had one of their hideouts. It certainly looked like there could be tunnels under there. Dabi was sitting on one of the roots that protruded out of the ground. There were many that did, standing taller than most men and showing how deeply ingrained the tree was with the surrounding forest. He was hit with the feeling of how unreal this all was. At the same time, it felt too real to be a product of magic. It felt as old as it looked and that was a different type of magic entirely. 

Dabi grinned at him, too wide and with too many teeth as he gestured to a spot. Slowly, the roots groaned and creaked and a spot opened up the length and width of a man. Just perfect for Hawks to dump the corpse in. 

He grimaced and shifted the bag, watching as it fell loose-limbed into it. 

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

He could never find the tree without one of the LOV leading him to it. For the longest time, he wondered if there was a cloaking spell on it, but test after test revealed nothing. Eventually, Spinner cornered him after catching him running tests one day, catching him off guard. They stared at each other, one hand on his feather in case he needed to cut his losses and bail. Spinner sighed and sat down next to him, pulling out a makeshift grimoire. It was a tiny thing and was straining at the cords that held it closed. 

“I have been trying for months to figure out what is up with this tree. Here- I’ll save you some time and maybe you can see if I missed anything.” Spinner said, cracking the book open. A puff of sparkling magic escaped, tickling his nose and setting off a sneezing fit that had Spinner laughing and teasing him about his tiny kitten sneezes for weeks. 

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

Dabi loved the tree. Dabi hated the tree. Dabi expressed the most energy and emotions when around the tree. Where Shigaraki thrived in the dark urban areas where things whispered and flitted about in the half-light of the street lamps, Dabi came alive as soon as they entered the forest where the tree resided. It usually meant that Dabi was faster in dodging Hawks’ attempts at small talk, walking faster than Hawks could keep up and still retain that casual, easygoing stride. Once at the tree, it usually meant that Dabi took to the branches to escape, and once there, no one but Shigaraki could find him when he didn’t want to be found. Even then, Shigaraki had a significant failure rate. 

Research on the tree turned up nothing. Neither he nor Spinner could find anything about it. There was no mention of it in the records, both digital and paper. Trees that big and old were almost always noted, as they were places of power and ritual and, depending on the part of the country you were in, usually had some sort of seal on them. For a tree to be that big and for there to be neither word nor seal on it was unusual. It rubbed Hawks the wrong way and thrilled Spinner’s more conspiracy-like tendencies. Well, conspiracy if one followed the commission’s definition since there was a great deal of folklore on that list of potential answers. 

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

Hawks learned to love the tree. Despite the logical part of him warning that there was something wrong with it, that there were too many questions left open for it to possibly feel safe, he felt at home there. The nightmares he would be subject to faded as soon as he stepped foot on shared soil, and fatigue fell away like blown away leaves. The weather felt milder and the air breathed a bit cleaner. 

It was home, as much as any wild place could be home. 

The others seemed to share the thought. They would arrive and the weight would just fall from their shoulders. The conversation was lighter and touches were accepted, encouraged even, with them trading pats and hugs and casual affection. Much more than Hawks was used to and far more than he saw the league perform when they were in the city. 

Even Shigaraki was content. He would bitch and moan on the way up, but once they were within the clearing, he’d make as quick a beeline towards the tree as Dabi did, often scaling up the trunk to his favorite perch while Dabi stood with a hand resting on it. If it wasn’t so wildly unlikely, he’d assume Dabi was talking to the tree. 

It was one of the nights where they were spending the night in the clearing. It was beginning to get cold in the city. Out here, it was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. A few blankets were added to their overnight bags but aside from that, they didn’t need much else. Even a fire was forgone as they bedded down for the night. 

Toga and Twice were closest to the roots, settling in a nook on the trunk just above where they started. Spinner was above them, tucked into a split where a branch veered off at a sharp forty-five-degree angle up. It looked uncomfortable how contorted and twisted Spinner made himself, but apparently, it felt better than resting in the hollowed spaces. Those hollowed spaces were where Magne and Kurogiri and Mister would stay. They had the most bedding out of everyone and would deck it out like a small tent in there. Ever so often he’d hear shouts as they awoke to find an owl or a fox had bedded down with them. 

He didn’t know where Shigaraki slept. That man disappeared into the foliage and it was like he turned into the cobwebs that dotted the upper branches. Dabi either slept near the nest-like area that Hawks would build (so shoot him, it was nice being able to literally make a nest) or he would go the route of Shigaraki and just vanish into thin air. Most of the time though he’d sit on the same branch as Hawks, usually bringing something. A branch with leaves or a pad of moss or even dried, sweet-smelling grasses. All items that he knew could go into the nest. Should go into his nest. They went into his nest and Dabi settled further out on the branch and either watched Hawks fuss or would look out into the forest, seeing things even Hawks couldn’t. 

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

Some of the people from the liberation front had followed them to the tree. Dabi had been twitchy all afternoon as they hiked and they all knew something was off. The air felt too-thick and razer sharp, nothing like the usual ease that greeted them. 

Lightning crackled and then struck the tree and they all realized the wrongness of the forest was due to one of their quirks. 

The fight was quick- Hawks liked to think it was because of him that it was wrapped up so quickly. He had left them alive, tied up as they discussed what to do. Hawks’ eyes kept sliding over to Dabi, who was trying to hide how the fight had hurt him. He didn’t see Dabi take any hits, but he had a deep-rasping to his breath and there was a faint tremor to his hands as he gestured rudely when Spinner asked about it. As the night went on, Dabi didn’t get better. Shigaraki did his vanishing trick again as Spinner and Toga grilled their prisoners. Hawks watched Twice as he fussed, small plumes of colorful magic wrapping around the fire-user as Twice rambled at him. 

Shigaraki appeared- not like he dropped down from a branch or he walked around the tree. He was gone one minute and there the next, wisps of mist trailing his heels as he strode over to Dabi. They wrestled for a minute, neither really trying to push the other too far but Shigaraki was worried and that usually meant he withhold physical contact and just made wider motions to get someone else’s attention. It happened to be Twice who took over, manhandling Dabi until his coat was removed and they could smell the sickly odor of rotting and burning wood and flesh. A black bruise-like mark covered his collarbone, moving across his shoulders to seep down his back. The edges glittered like dying embers while the rest looked like festered wood. 

Shigaraki hissed and pointed at Hawks. Something flickered behind him. Something that wasn’t registering on his visors. If Shigaraki was a kitsune or something like that, he would have found out already, the tails would show up on half a dozen tools he had, and registered on at least three of the spells he kept running. 

“You. Keep him here. Everyone else, follow me.” Twice, Toga, Spinner and oddly Compress followed after him, Spinner taking the lead just behind Shigaraki. Toga shot Hawks a look that promised pain for him, glee for her, if he didn’t do as requested. 

He did as requested and threw an arm around Dabi, mirroring what the villain had done countless times with him. The pieces were coming together and he started to understand. 

“What will help?” Hawks asked, as if he were offering to get Dabi a soda. He was staring at the men they had tied up. The initial plan was to return them to the front and make an example of them, but he was wondering if they would be better used somewhere else. 

Dabi rasped a laugh. 

“What are you going to do, hero?” 

He gave a muffled warble, deep in his throat as he removed his arm and started down one of the roots. The men were tied up on the edge of the clearing. 

“Well, you’ve been so sweetly helping furnish my nest.. I figured I could at least feed you in return, right?” He shot Dabi one of his charming Poster Smiles. Behind him, feathers zipped and zoomed, assisting with his task. 

Dabi started laughing, soft and raspy, but laughing all the same. 

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

[perspective-series]

Rooftop Perspective (24)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: injury mention, worry, and mention of poisonous spiders

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters!)

 Patton grinned, taking a careful bite lest he squirt himself with juice. “We should really give these a name.” He commented, inspecting the red fruit.

 Roman hummed in agreement. “Well, you’re the plant expert. I think you should have the honor of naming them!” 

 “Really?” Patton looked excited, examining the fruit with a keen eye. “Hmm… what about...a Roman berry?”

 “Aww, Pat…” Roman said, touching a hand to his heart. “Why that name, though?”

 “It’s the sweetest thing I could think of,” Patton answered with a grin.

 Roman blinked and then laughed out loud. “Oh, Patton, you are so cute. But if that’s the case I think the name should be Patton berry.” Roman grinned.

 “Aww!” Patton clutched at his heart, feeling emotional. “Roman, that’s so sweet!”

 Roman chuckled. “I thought we just established that you are the sweetest one here,” Roman said and booped Patton’s nose for good measure.

 Patton laughed, his smile reaching up and crinkling his eyes. “Okay, how about we name it after both of us? The Roman-Patton berry. The...Ratton berry?” Patton tilted his head, trying out the name mentally with a slight frown.

 “Hmm...I don’t know, it doesn’t have a good ring to it. Ratton sounds too close to Rat and that is not appetizing.”

 “True.” Patton stuck out his tongue. “The Poman berry? Eh, maybe. What’s your last name? Maybe there’s a better combination for us there.”

 Roman blinked. “Last...name?” Roman asked confused.

 “Yeah, your last name?” Patton repeated. “It’s like a name you share with your family. Like I’m Patton Morality. Do you guys do that sort of thing?”

 “No, we don’t but having a second name sounds amazing! Maybe I can just come up with one?” Roman couldn’t believe humans had two names. The giant thought for a minute. “How about...Roman Royalty!” Roman exclaimed.

 “Roman Royalty.” Patton nodded to show he approved. “Nice choice! You can add a third name too if you’d like, some of us have middle names like that.”

 Roman’s eyes widened. “Humans have three names! Well, now that’s just not fair.” Roman pouted. “Anyway, I can choose that later, can we make a good name out of Royalty and Morality?”

 “Well, maybe.” Patton played with the words sounding them out. “Moralty.. Moro….Royalty...Roya...Royality? Royality!”

 “Royality! Yes, it’s perfect! The Royality Berry!” Roman held it up for emphasis before popping into his mouth. “An excellent name, I must say.”

 “I love it.” Patton agreed, taking another bite.

 “It’s perfect!” Roman went to grab more berries from his storage when he stopped and froze. He looked out towards the entrance of his cave, biting his lip. “Shoot, I think Logan is coming.” Roman turned to Patton.

 “We need to hide you!” Roman looked around, wondering where Patton could hide that Logan wouldn’t see the human.

 Patton looked around as well, trying to search for a decent hiding spot. There was no way he was allowing Logan to send him back; not now, when he had come this far. “What about the bed?” Patton pointed to it. “I could hide under the leaves.”

 Roman nodded. “Good idea, Pat.” He went over and placed Patton on the bed. “I’ll go meet him at the entrance. Hopefully, he won’t even come in.” The few times Logan had visited before they had met the humans, he had never set foot in his home. He had simply stayed outside to tell him some information before leaving. He hoped it would be like that this time too. He started heading towards the mouth of the cave.

 Patton all but dove under the covers when an incessant knocking began outside the cave wall.

 “Roman?” Logan called out, once again harboring Virgil behind his back.

 Roman peeled away his moss curtain, smiling brilliantly at Logan. “Logan! To what do I owe this pleasant visit from you?”

 Virgil shifted in Logan’s hands but tried his best to keep quiet for the time being.

 “Is Patton here?” Logan asked, getting straight to the point.

 Roman tensed. “Wh-What? No! Of course not! I haven’t seen him since we parted several days ago.” Roman lied. 

 Virgil frowned. Roman had to be lying, there was no way Patton could be anywhere else, right?

 “Are you certain?” Logan pressed on. “I happen to know that Patton did not return home last night.”

 Patton shifted slightly in his hiding place, now confused. Had Logan been watching him? But wasn’t Logan the one who had said giants needed to stay far away?

 Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? And just how would you know that?” Logan could have been lying just to get Roman to reveal that Patton was here but he didn’t think that was the case.

 Virgil smacked his own forehead. Way to be subtle. They were sure to find out Virgil was with him now.

 “Ah…” Logan paused, for a moment unable to come up with a valid excuse. “I...am very observant.”

 Roman narrowed his eyes further. “And how could you be observant if we aren’t supposed to go near the human town anymore?” 

 Virgil let out a silent groan. They really should have discussed what Logan was going to say more.

 “We are not.” Logan agreed, turning defensive. “But I knew that you would break that agreement so I went closer just to confirm my suspicions.”

 Uh oh. Patton bit his lip. Maybe Logan had been spying on him. But wait...if Logan had been spying, why didn’t Logan step in during the horrible spider incident when Patton was crying for help? The idea that Logan heard him and did nothing was too barbaric for Patton to fathom. Logan had been Virgil’s friend, after all!

 “I don’t believe you,” Roman spoke, glaring.

 Virgil had enough of this. “He knows because of me! Now is he here or not!?” Virgil called out, causing Roman to blink. 

 “What? ...Virgil?” Did he hear right?

 “Virgil?” Patton said softly to himself, confused.

 Logan groaned, closing his eyes briefly in frustration. “....yes, Virgil,” Logan admitted, slowly bringing Virgil around to the front and feeling a bit of deja vu. 

 Roman blinked as he looked down at Virgil, in Logan’s hands. A wave of anger swept over him and he looked back up at Logan to glare at him. “I thought we weren’t seeing the humans anymore! What is this?!” 

 Virgil flinched back at Roman’s anger but took in a deep breath. “We...we aren’t.” Virgil winced, hoping his stutter hadn’t been noticeable. “I didn’t see Patton and assumed he went back to find you and then I went to find Logan for his help.” Virgil lied, hating it. But this was safer for Patton, right?

 “Ah, yes.” Logan nodded, falling into the lie as well. “Virgil came to me and I offered my assistance.”

 Patton slowly peeked out from underneath his cover, trying to see if Virgil was really here. Had he really worried Virgil so much? Now Patton was feeling guilty.

 Roman blinked. “Oh.” Well, now Roman was at a bit of a loss of what to do. He didn’t want them to take Patton away but he couldn’t keep him from his friend either. He sighed, hoping Patton would forgive him for this. “...Yes, he is here.”

 “I knew it!” Virgil exclaimed.

 “Romaaaaaan.” Patton groaned slightly, coming out from hiding. 

 “Ah, there you are,” Logan said, peering over when he heard the human’s voice. Indeed, Patton looked slightly worse for wear as he stood slightly teetering on the bed. Logan approached cautiously, setting Virgil down.

 “Patton! Thank goodness, I was worried sick when I couldn’t find you.” Virgil stopped short when he saw the state Patton was in. “Wh-What happened?” Patton looked as though he had gotten into a fight or something. Had...had Roman done this. He glared up at the giant in question.

 Roman, taking a step back, put his hands in the air in surrender. “Why are you looking at me for?!”

 Virgil growled. “Did you do this?” He asked, still glaring. Roman’s eyes widened.

 “No! Of course not!” How dare Virgil even think he’d ever hurt Patton.

 “No, no no no!” Patton was quick to jump to Roman’s defense, shaking his head so rapidly he began to feel woozy again. “Roman saved me.”

 “Saved you from what, exactly?” Logan tilted his head, trying to gauge where the wound might have originated.

 “I...I was attacked by a giant spider.” Patton admitted, shivering at the memory. “It bit me and tried to drag me back to its horrid nest. Roman found me just in time, he brought me back here and cooked up an antidote and has been helping me rest.” Patton looked up at Roman fondly. “It’s because of Roman I’m still alive.”

 “A giant spider!?” Virgil’s eyes were wide. 

 “A very poisonous, giant spider,” Roman explained. “See! I would never hurt Patton. I only want to keep him safe!”

 Virgil frowned. “Well, he never would have gotten bit in the first place if he hadn’t been coming to see you!”

 Roman deflated at that, knowing it was true. “Well, I uh…”

 “That’s not Roman’s fault.” Patton insisted, bringing his hand to his chest. “I am the one who went after him. That was my decision.” Patton looked down at his feet. “I...I thought that I’d be okay since Virgil was able to visit Logan with no problem, but I guess I’m just not as strong.”

[nadinewritess-archived]

Zombie Messiah’s are Too Much Trouble

Pairing/s: Alvin Murphy/Reader

A/N: God what even is this, I don’t even know; i finished watching s4 and I can’t get enough of this bastard man. I wrote this with no particular season in mind so you can imagine whatever stage of Murphy you want. I might write a part 2 if anyone wants that?? Reblogs are appreciated!! [I’ll be tagging this with #longpost for mobile users, sorry tumblr is broken and hates us]

TW/s: swearing, graphic violence, death of zombie-reptile, sewage/garbage

It wasn’t everyday you found yourself in the sewers, let alone with Alvin fucking Murphy; who incidentally decided it would be a great idea to throw stones at a Z-bear. You figured while he was being jabbed and probed in those labs they also did something to his brain, no one could be that stupid. But apparently he was and thus, the two of you were now running through human waste.

Luckily the Z-bear hadn’t followed you into the sewers, unluckily there was now a Z-alligator hot on your trail.

“Is it still chasing us?!” Murphy shouted as you both ran. Your blood boiled as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I don’t know Murphy, why don’t you check!” You spat, annoyance dripping off every word.

“What? Me! No way, I’m the package here, you have to keep me alive remember!” He shot back.

“Don’t remind me.” You huff. As you run you spot an intersecting tunnel up ahead and grab Murphys arm roughly, running faster towards it. After throwing him around the corner and watching him stumble forward in the new direction you turn sharply and point your gun at the large, deformed reptile. You shoot it twice in the head, three times in the eye and one time in it’s open mouth. It seemed to slow down but not enough for you to be comfortable with a showdown. You turn on your heel and race after Murphy.

“Are you still alive?!” Murphy called back without looking, already halfway to the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah but you won’t be if I catch you!” You shouted, half meaning it and half only saying it to make him move faster. You could hear the sound of water moving behind you and knew you had to think fast. There were piles of garbage up ahead and you could see half of a fishing net in one closest to you and a steel pipe in one Murphy was nearing.

“Murphy grab that pipe!” You commanded, swiping the net up as you ran. By pure luck it slipped out of the pile with ease and you quickly wrapped it around your arm to keep it from snagging on anything. You watched Murphy fumble ahead of you, his head whipping around in search of the pipe before yanking it out of the garbage pile. As he did so some of the garbage spilled around his feet and you could see the look of disgust on his face as he stepped back.

You had managed to reach him and grab the back of his jacket as he attempted to shake the garbage off of his jeans. He yelped as you pulled him onward, stumbling side ways before fixing his stance and matching your pace.

“A little warning next time would be nice.” He hisses, you ignore him and take in your surroundings. Up ahead you can see the light of an obvious exit, to the right a small alcove with a door probably leading to stairs.

Cracks lined the walls with metal peices poking out from them. You could hook the net on them and slow the gator down but for how long and would the metal pipe really be enough to mercy it you wondered. You’d just have to take that chance.

“If you have a plan now would be a great time to share it!” Murphy called to you, the feeling of water on your ankles making the both of you run faster.

“Take this end of the net, when we get to that alcove hook it to any part of the wall!” You unwrapped the net and threw one end at Murphy.

He spluttered and glared at you the best he could as he ran, securing the net in his hand. You both readied yourselves before jumping into action, you spin around and hook the net onto opposite sides of the wall. The gator crashes into the net but it doesn’t stop it, you and Murphy throw yourselves against the walls as it races forward with the net entangling around it. It stops and starts fighting with the net and so you jump forward and swipe the pipe from Murphys hand.

“Jump on it’s back!” You yell.

Murphy looked at you like you had two heads as soon as the words left your mouth.

“Are you insane?!” He yelled incredulously.

“Do you really want to die by Zombie Alligator Murphy?! Jump on it’s fucking back!” You shouted, Murphy shut his mouth and steadied himself. He really didn’t want to die by Z Gator and he didn’t have many other options.

“Now!” You watched Murphy throw himself onto the large reptile with a frightened yell. You followed quickly and as it thrashed around you aimed the pipe at it’s moss covered head.

“Hurry up goddamnit!” Murphy shouts, eyes wide with panic as he watches the gators decaying jaws snap shut next to his hands. You tune Murphy out and focus on the gator, letting out a deep breath you bring the pipe down and manage to pierce it’s thick scales. After a few moments of it’s body twisting and turning it goes limp and Murphy hesitates before scrambling off of it clumsily.

You’re both panting and sweating, you meet each others eyes and Murphy begins to laugh hysterically. You join his laughter quickly, your nerves were shot and you were ready to collapse. You both stumble the rest of the way out of the tunnel and out onto the muddy forest floor.

“Let’s never do that again.” Murphy breathed out as he wiped his hands on the clean part of his jeans. He turned to you and snorted at your nauseated expression.

“Now look who’s blue.” He joked.

“Excuse me while I go throw up and have a heart attack.” you mutter back, ignoring his comment and stumbling off to a bush to empty your already empty stomach.

Murphy shook his head as he watched you, crossing his arms over his chest and wincing at the sound of you partially dry heaving and coughing up whatever was in your stomach.

“Murphy! Y/n? You guys over here?!” Murphy turned to the small hill above the opening of the tunnel and watched as Doc came into view.

“Down here Doc!” You called out, Doc’s head quickly turned in your direction. Murphy waved as you leant back over the bush to continue heaving, Doc waving back more enthusiastically than Murphy had.

“They’re over here!” Doc called behind him, most likely to the group, before sliding down the hill.

“Man am I glad you guys are okay! I thought we lost you for good this time!” Doc walked up to Murphy, about to give him a hug before noticing the muck on his pants and the rancid smell surrounding him. Doc stopped short and tried to subtly cover his nose.

“Oh man…” He coughed, avoiding Murphy and walking towards you.

“Yeah you’re telling me.” Murphy grunted, hands now on his hips as he examined his ruined clothes.

Sitting back you wipe your mouth and take in a deep breath, jumping slightly as you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“You okay Y/n? You’re looking a bit green.” Doc says, concern in his voice.

“I’m alright Doc.” You pat his hand and push yourself off the ground. As you stood the rest of the group came over the hill.

“You two okay?” Warren asked, eyeing you both as she walked closer.

“We’re fine, no thanks to the rest of you.” Murphy huffed.

“Yeah no thanks to you either!” You said, putting your hands on your hips and glaring daggers at him.

“Me? I helped! I jumped on that damn thing or did you forget that while emptying your lunch onto that bush?” Murphy snapped back childishly.

“You wouldn’t of been in there in the first place if you hadn’t thrown rocks at a Z-bear though.” Ten-K said, leaning against a large rock sat beside the opening to the tunnel.

“Yeah exactly, thank you Ten-K.” You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. Ten-K nodded in response, Murphy looking between the both of you with an exasperated look.

“No one asked you firstly, and secondly-” Murphy pointed at Ten-K, ready to whine and stomp his foot like usual you assumed but luckily Warren stepped in before he had the chance.

“Okay, okay,” Warren held her arms up and stepped in between the three of you, “look, no matter how stupid it was of Murphy to throw rocks at that Z-bear we don’t have time to stand around complaining about it.” Warren met everyones eyes as she spoke, stopping at you as she lowered her arms.

“You can kick his ass later but right now we’re losing daylight and we gotta move. Alright?” You nodded with a begrudging sigh. Adding yet another cross in your mental ‘kick Murphy’s ass’ toll.

“Okay good. Let’s go, Murphy, don’t go pissing off anymore Z’s.” Warren began back up the hill, Ten-K and Doc in tow.

You rolled your eyes as Murphy raised his arms in disbelief, as if it was surprising he was being told not to do something stupid.

“You good?” Addy asked as you walked up to her.

“I need a nap.” You mutter, making her smile as you both climbed the hill.

“Warren saw a sign for a campsite up ahead, once we check it for Z’s we can huddle down for the night.” Addy said motioning in the direction you were all now heading in.

“Thank fuck.” You sigh, rubbing your aching neck. The soreness in your legs screaming for some much needed rest. You glanced back to see Murphy trudging behind you both with his usual pouty frown, you both locked eyes and you rolled yours before turning back ahead.

For the rest of the walk you could feel his eyes on you, you were close to telling him to quit it when Warren made the sign for everyone to stop. You all crouched down and moved behind different trees. You frowned as Murphy ducked down beside you, he responded to your hostile expression with a frown of his own.

“You can’t stay mad at me forever you know.” He whispered.

“Watch me.” You whispered back, staring ahead at the campsite.

“Okay, I got three Z’s.” Warren muttered, pointing to three meandering in front of a wooden cabin which was probably once a mess hall.

“There’s two over there.” Ten-K motioned to the farther side of the camp, beside what could only be two outhouses.

“Okay, that’s not too many. We’ll take these out and check that building together, ready?” Warren looked back at everyone, standing as soon as she saw everyone nod in consensus.

Everything moved quickly and smoothly, Warren and Addy took out the three in front of the mess hall while Ten-K and Doc took out the two by the outhouses. Meanwhile, you stepped up the mess hall���s steps and peered in through the cracks in the boarded up windows. You couldn’t quite make anything out so you leant back and turned back to the stairs only to jump back into the window with a yelp of surprise. Laughter erupted from the tall figure in front of you and your expression immediately soured.

“Goddamnit Murphy.” You grumbled in annoyance.

“What? It’s not my fault you’re so jumpy.” He smirked, stepping towards the doors beside you.

“Well, I was just chased through the sewers by a mutant alligator because of you so actually…” you trailed off, crossing your arms over your chest while quirking your brow. Murphy rolled his eyes as he tugged at the door handles, the doors remaining shut.

“If you think about it, really, I did you a favour.” He hummed in typical Murphy fashion.

Warren strides up next to you, meeting your gaze and shaking her head. If it were her she wouldn’t bother asking what the hell he meant. You on the other hand, were thoroughly peeved by his comment and was not about to let it slide.

“A favour? Are you fucking kidding me Murphy?” You snap, close to grabbing the nearest broken plank and hitting him over the head with it.

“Yes! Cardio is important in the apocalypse after all.” He grinned at you, an air of confidence around him that no other human could possibly convey as well as he did.

“Cardio?!” You guffawed, ready to punch him square in the face when Warren kicked in the two doors. Immediately Z’s came racing out, Warren grabbed her machete and rammed it into the throat of a flannel clad Z. She shoved the undead corpse back which landed on two other Z’s, dragging them to the ground with it.

“I’ll show you fucking cardio Murphy.” You growled, stepping forward and pulling out your own weapon. Taking a smaller and much worse for wear Z down before lunging at the one beside it in quick succession.

Murphy had taken quick steps back, away from the oncoming onslaught of Z’s, Addy taking his spot and swinging her modified bat at the closest Z’s head. You charged further into the building beside Warren, the both of you cutting down Z’s one after another. Before you knew it you were standing in a pile of dead Z’s. Addy retrieved her bat from the last Z’s skull and stepped towards you, Doc and Ten-K following Murphy into the building.

“Well at least we know where everyone went.” Ten-K muttered, looking around at the unfortunate number of Z corpses.

“They probably thought they’d be safe in here.” Addy added, now standing beside you and swinging her bat idly at her side.

“Yeah that worked out well, obviously.” Murphy snorted, striding around to a glass cabinet, opening it and perusing inside.

“We’ll move these Z’s outside and look around for supplies, then we can all take turns keeping watch while everyone sleeps.” Warren instructs, already hooking her arms under a Z and beginning to drag it outside.

“You got it chief,” Doc said, following her lead and hooking his arms under another Z’s arms.

“You get his legs Ten-K,” Ten-K nods and throws his gun over his shoulder before grabbing the same Z’s ankles, “you got him? Okay on three; one, two…” Doc and Ten-K managed to pick up the Z and start walking it out the exit slowly.

You on the other hand watched in disdain as Murphy seemed to loot the glass cabinet he had been snooping in. You gave Addy a look before forcing yourself over to him, leaning against one of the open doors.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing whatever you just shoved in your pocket.” Murphy rolled his eyes at your comment and leant back to look at you.

“Y/n, sooner or later you’re gonna have to wake up and realise this is a kill or be killed world now. If you want something you’re gonna have to find it first or be ready to fight for it.”

You gave him a hard stare, annoyed by him already and now having to deal with his usual selfish behavior put you in an even worse mood.

“I’d fight you for it Murphy but it would be like taking candy from a baby with no arms.” You remarked grouchily. Murphy frowned, eyebrows furrowing and his eyes following you as you turned and walked over to help Addy. He watched you for a moment before shaking his head and going back to his looting of the mostly empty cabinet.

“I doubt there’s anything too useful in there anyway.” Addy commented as you helped her carry a Z outside. You grunted as you both swung it onto the small pile of Z’s.

“Not the point.” You replied, wiping your hands on your pants and turning back to the mess hall. Addy nodded in understanding before following you back into the mess hall.

After a few minutes of clearing out the Z’s, you and Doc shoved one of the turned tables up against the now closed doors.

“This should work, if anything tries to come in we’ll definitely know about it.” Doc says after giving the table a firm pat. You walked over to one of the windows and peeked through the cracks in the boards, the sky had grown considerably darker.

“I’ll take first shift, get some rest.” Warren was sat on one of the tables, she ran a hand through her hair and rubbed her eyes. She was obviously exhausted.

“Are you sure chief? I’m not that tired I could take first shift, you really look like you need some rest.” Doc asked, walking over to Warren. She smiled and shook her head.

“I’m okay Doc, you get some rest.” She said reassuringly, Doc nodded with a light shrug.

“If you say so.” Doc wandered off to another table, throwing his things on it and rolling onto his back.

On the other side of the mess hall Ten-k was already passed out, curled up in a corner with his bandana covering his eyes. Addy had found a long peice of material and layed it down as a makeshift mattress, you walked over to her and dumped your weapon on the ground.

“Got room for one more?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket and kneeling down next to her. She smiled and shimmied over a bit, patting the small space beside her invitingly. You fell down next to her with a sigh, stuffing your jacket under your head as a pillow.

Murphy meanwhile had been sneaking around the kitchen, looking for who knows what.

“Murphy get out of there and get some sleep.” Warren calls over her shoulder, watching as he searched through the cupboards.

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” Murphy called back dismissively. Warren turned around with furrowed brows, shaking her head lightly after seeing him grab something and throw it over his shoulder after shaking it.

Strolling over to where Warren was sat Murphy glanced over at you and Addy and gave a small huff. Warren watched him with a raised brow, sometimes Murphy could be an absolute mystery and right now as he stalked over to a table with a trouble she had no idea what was going on with him. She followed his irritated gaze and looked at you curled up under Addys shawl and tried to peice together what on earth was going on.

Sighing and leaning back Warren shook her head, sometimes being the leader of a group and being aware of what was happening with everyone could be exhausting. Especially when it involved a zombie messiah.