#| he who wears hope on his chest ( STRONGER THAN FEAR. STRONGER THAN CHAOS ) |

[plush-rabbit]

Secret Admirer

Request: Do you think Shigaraki would play the part of ‘secret admirer’ with his crush for a while before confessing? Like just leaving little gifts in their room from time to time, with small notes saying it’s from their secret admirer?

I like to imagine he enjoys seeing how giddy they get

A/N: I had a fic where he met a new recruit and was like oh?? What's this feeling?? Sickness?? But it was just him having a crush and thinking they were cute. And i really enjoyed that one, never got around to a part two tho

-

Being locked in a room and forced to comply with the principles of his mentor led to Tomura being unsure of what to do with his feelings that aren’t destruction and chaos. He’s never had a crush, was never allowed to grow as a child and instead was kept with a foggy understanding of the feelings that bubble inside of him when he sees you. He isn’t sure what to do with these new types of feelings that he has for you. At first, he thought it was just his friendship with you but then he felt his face start to get hot, he felt himself become excited to see you and now he doesn’t know where he sits when he thinks of you. He isn’t sure why it’s you. Maybe it’s the way that you’re nice to him and always make sure to tell him good morning and save him a piece of toast. Maybe it’s how you listen to him ramble about everything and how when he looks at you, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

His feelings are too much and he doesn’t know who to go to with these feelings. Kurogiri isn’t around, Dabi isn’t exactly the romantic type, Twice and Toga would both run to you the minute they knew- accidently and purposefully- and Spinner is similar to him in the lack of understanding on what to do with these types of emotions. He ends up going to Mister Compress, nervous and feeling too much like a child and it’s awful, but he’s the only logical option. He’s given all sorts of advice that leaves him irritated in the way that a child does when they’re teased for having a crush, but he eventually settles on the secret admirer path. He doesn’t know how you feel about him and he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship that he has with you, so he rather be secretive about it.

Luckily, he knows you, so it isn’t hard to figure out what your interests are in order to get you nice gifts- or at least gifts that you would like. He’ll stockpile all the gifts and even bribe Mister Compress to marble some away so it isn’t too suspicious on why he has loads of items that are obviously not for him. It’s annoying and he has to find small containers to label in order to make sure that he knows what he’s going to give you. It’s annoying and tedious work that makes his hand ache and in turn writing sloppy, but it’s for you and he wants to make sure that you enjoy your gifts.

The gifts are well thought out- things that you mentioned liking, items that you’ve favorited on a shopping site for some reason, and even just things he knows you’d like by context clues- however, the wrapping is where he struggles at. Even with the gloves, it’s hard to break out of habit, and the tape sticks together and the paper crinkles too much and he’s just frustrated. He’s already asked Mister Compress for too much help and he doesn’t want to bother him any more than he already does, but the thought of just having all that done by a professional grows more and more tempting with every crooked line that he makes. You’re lucky that he has strong emotions for you or else he wouldn’t be putting this much effort into making the gifts look nice.

It’s an increase in the complexity of the gifts. First it’s flowers that he can see are in a vase when he walks by your room, then it’s chocolates that you hide in order to not share with others, and then it’s stuffed animals that he sees laid out in your bed. He’s glad that you like the gifts and he can’t help but feel a bit prideful at how you start to smile more and more everyday, how you wear the things he gets you no matter how small the accessory is. He wants to approach you and comment on your items but he’s unsure how. He doesn’t want to make it obvious that it’s him and while he can keep a secret, he also just wants you to know that it is him. But the fear of rejection from you is stronger than the curiosity that dwells in him.

Tired of the longing stares and the scratching that has started to make the pining boy’s neck raw, it’s Mister Compress who comments on a necklace that you wear. He asks where you got it from, leaning close to you and unsuccessfully trying to pull the pining boy towards the conversation. You, on the other hand, can only shrug, twirling the silver chain between your fingers as you say that it was a gift from someone special. It’s easy to tell that you really enjoyed this gift from how you smile, the corners of your lips stretched and unbreaking.

Perhaps he’s a bit jealous with how you pull Mister Compress to a closed corridor with shifting eyes to make sure that no one else is around to listen, but he can’t blame you. Maybe if he were to have commented on your necklace, then it would have been you pulling him close, your lips over the shell of his ear as you tell him- he doesn’t know, but he knows that you’d tell him something and then maybe he could confess to you. But even then, it’s not certain that you would return his feelings. He knows that rejection would hurt. He’s supposed to be some powerful leader in order to destroy hero society and everything that comes along with it, but he still has feelings, he still mulls over the decisions he’s made when he’s around you, he still tries to stare discreetly at you and sit behind you in order to just hear you talk to him. But he can’t have that, not with rejection so clear in sight.

Whatever Mister Compress said to you, it has you talking more and more to him. You’ve always been friendly towards him, but now, it feels so much more. He wonders- No, he knows that Mister Compress led you to his direction and he doesn’t know whether to be angry at the thought that his secret was possibly spilled or if he’s glad that he doesn’t have to do a reveal. No matter, you’re talking to him. You’re pulling him to your room and showing him all the things you received, and when he reaches out to touch a cheap gift he had bought you- a squishy animal- you stop him. You smile at him and pull the animal close to you, commenting how someone gave it to you and that you’re weirdly territorial on gifts you've received. He nods and in his chest, his heart beats rapidly. When he’s about to leave, he notices that the flowers he’s got you are gone. He doesn’t even realize his mistake when he asks you what happened to the flowers. You only stare at him, shaking your head and telling him that they dried out and that the petals are inside a jar.

A part of him wants to confess to you. He wants to tell you his feelings just to get the rejection over, but even so, a part of him still holds out hope that you like him the same way that he does. Even then, he still likes giving you gifts, he likes to see you wear i and pull Mister Compress aside and talk about your new gift, or when you go to him and tell him how you got a new gift- a soft, strawberry scented sloth that you can’t stop holding when he’s around you. He wants to tell you, but he’s unsure how.

Tomura confesses to you the way that it all started. He stands at your door, waiting for you to open and when you do, he bites on his tongue as he pushes the gift towards you. It’s different when he enters your room now, it feels much more private, like he’s invading a space that he shouldn’t as if he isn’t there, but watching through a window. He doesn't know what to say except that he is your secret admirer. He likes you and he didn’t know what to do but to give you gifts to smile and when you would think of the secret admirer you would smile and in turn, you’d be smiling at him, because of him. You make him feel all sorts of new things- freedom, happiness, content, the inevitable feeling of something warm that bubbles inside of him, and it terrifies him enough. He keeps his eyes on the jar full of dried petals from his flowers and he can understand that if you don’t feel the same, he won’t blame you, but he just needed to tell you. When he feels your hand above his, he tenses, his head turning to you and in a blink of an eye, your lips are pressed against his cheek, smooshing the little fat there is and he nods, a smile forming and he’s left with your arms around his shoulders.

#bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #tomura headcanons #tomura shiragaki #bnha shigaraki tomura #i love him so much #i just wanna kiss him #and give him head #please #why can't he be real #im geniunely upset #like i lve in texas #im not getting a lanky boi anything soon #ahhhh

[6rookie-writer0110]

Heaven is not waiting for me anymore

Clark Kent x Male!Reader Kent

Request - where y/n is the son of Clark and Lois from the injustice universe. He has kryptonite in his system where he is unable to use his powers because clark (injustice) made an example of him so he can show fear. After that he has been cold to others and distance with people including Barbara who he has feelings for but so much has happened. So he has to relay on martial art from training. with bruce, he also has a bat suit. He also have a deep hatred for his father (injustice superman).

Earth 2- Injustice Universe

You lost your mother Lois because of the Joker. Your father Clark snapped, he became a different person. Now he is starting to kill criminals and doesn't care about anyone or you. He doesn't stand for hope anymore now he stands for destruction. You feel that you lost both of your parents, you don't wear the symbol of hope anymore.

You made a plan to stop your father. You didn't think fully out the plan, but you have kryptonite inside a gun. You are half Kryptonian and kryptonite is still your weakness.

You have been tracking your father, he is about to kill a criminal robbing a bank. But you stepped in and punched him in the face. Everyone saw what you did, they take out their phones and start to record. Now you and Clark start to fight each other.

“You are destroying everything! You are no god!!” You yelled.

“I am a God. Everyone bows down to me and you would bow down to me” Clark said.

You take out the gun, you pulled the trigger. But he used speed to grab the gun and there is one bullet left. Now he will make sure everyone will watch what he will do next. He has his hand around your throat, you are struggling to breathe and tears go down your face.

“Anyone who tries to disobey me or think they can kill me, this will happen!” Clark yelled.

He aimed the gun on your chest and pulled the trigger. Everyone is in shock at what happened, he throws you to the ground. You are in pain and you try to use your powers but can't. Barbara arrived at the scene, she used Batarang to distract him. He left and Barbara picked you up and takes you to the bat cave.

---

A week later...

You have been in a coma for a week, Barbara and Bruce have been taking care of you. You wake up and you see Barbara looking at a computer screen.

“What happened?” You asked.

She turns around and walked towards you.

“You have been in a coma for a week. The kryptonite was close to your heart. You lost a lot of blood and it was too much kryptonite in your system” Barbara said.

You touch your chest and you see the scar. You sighed and she gives you a cup of water.

“Thank you, Barbara. But I have to go” You said.

“Your father thinks you are dead. Don't do anything stupid, you almost died and if it happens again he would kill you” Barbara said.

“He needs to be stopped,” You said.

“I know. But he is stronger than you, you are thinking reckless” Barbara said.

You take out the iv from your arms and take off the hospital gown. She gave you a hoodie and sweat pants.

“Where are you going?” Barbara asked.

“Dont worry about me,” You said.

She watched you walk away and she called Bruce and told him what happened. You went to a rundown motel and you want to be alone. Your father thinks you're dead and he is still killing criminals, no one can stop him.

Days went by, you didn't leave the motel room for anything. Barbara didn't check up on you, she wanted to give you space. And she has been busy with Bruce designing a suit.

You are in bed watching tv, you hear a knock on the door but you don't get up. She starts to knock louder, but you don't move.

“Y/n! Open the door now” Barbara yelled.

You sighed heavily then got out of bed and opened the door.

“What!?” You yelled.

“Are you done with the pity party!?” Barbara asked.

“How did you find me?” You asked.

She walks in and you closed the door. The motel room is a dump.

“Wasn't hard. I put a tracker on the hoodie you left with. I know you still want to stop your dad, so come with me” Barbara said.

“Why should I? Plus he still thinks I'm dead” You said.

“To train. You are still weak if you went to fight him now well he will break like a stick” Barbara said.

“Fine,” You said.

You leave with Barbara, she took you to Bruce’s mansion. You and Barbara have feelings for each other, you told her, and you were going to ask her out but tragically struck. Her feelings for you haven't changed but she wants to be there for you. She wants you to open up to her but you won't.

“Y/n, how are you,” Bruce said.

“Why do you want me here?” You asked.

“To help you train and stop your father,” Bruce said.

“Okay,” You said.

---

Bruce and Barbara started to train with you in Martial arts. Today you are fighting against Bruce, Barbara, and the League of Assassins. Some are friends with Bruce and they agreed to train you. They are pushing your limits, they don't let you rest. Any mistake you make will let you know and make you train harder.

During the night, Bruce is training you with weapons. Barbara shows you how to use the weapons, you did struggle to fight with weapons. Bruce and the league of assassins easily knocked the weapons out of your hands.

After training Barbara would want to spend time with you, but you would lock yourself in the bedroom. She gives you space and she goes back to the bat cave.

“Here is your dinner, master y/n,” Alfred said.

“Thank you. You don't have to call me ‘master’, Alfred” You said.

“Master, y/n you shouldn't hide from the world. Yes, you are going through a tough time but that doesn't mean you can't be happy in the end. You should let yourself grieve for your mother, she was a wonderful woman and she was strong” Alfred said.

“I wish everything didn't change,” You said.

“We all feel the same way. But now you have a chance to create the life you want a new one. what would your mother say right now?” Alfred said.

What made you think what he said, he walks out of the room. You start to eat the food and keep thinking about what he said.

✯ ✬ ✫ ✬

A few weeks later...

Bruce and Barbara have been designing a suit for you. They finished with the suit and they watched you test out the suit. Last few weeks, you were training from dawn until the next day. You mastered fighting with weapons and learned new combat moves. You are still distant from Barbara, two days ago you got into a huge argument with her.

You are still in love with her but you want to protect her from your father. You don't want to see Barbara get hurt.

“What do you think of the suit?” Barbara asked.

You take off the helmet.

“I like it and I can move in it,” You said.

“You are okay with the symbol?” Bruce asked.

“I like it,” You said.

The suit is all black, the Batman symbol is red, the eyes are red, the gloves have sharp claws, and the suit protects you from kryptonite. Barbara and Bruce start to suit and you put the helmet back on.

---

You three found Bruce in the city, you stopped him from killing someone.

“Son, you came back from the dead” Clark said.

“This ends today,” You said.

“I see you are wearing a new symbol -”

“You ruined the legacy of being a Kryptonian!” You yelled.

He used heat vision to attack you but you dodged it. Now Clark is fighting you while Barbara and Bruce are trying to get the citizens away from the fight. Clark punched you and you hit the ground, he used speed to grab you by the neck.

“This time I will make sure you are dead,” Clark said.

“You are not the same father that I used to have. He is dead to me!” You yelled.

You took out, you tased him, and he lets you go. You and Clark used heat vision at the same time, you used more strength to not fall. You throw Batarang at him and it started to explode.

He fell then you start to punch him in the face over and over. All the anger you have for him starts to come out. You take out the kryptonite dagger and you try to stab but he has his wrapped around your hands.

“Y/n! Y/n don't kill him” Barbara yelled.

“He deserves to die!” You yelled.

“That is an easy escape for him! You are much better than him, don't become like him” Barbara said.

Something clicked in your mind.

“I want you to suffer until the day you die. I lost my mom and my father” You said.

You moved away from him and he starts to stand up. Bruce played a video of Lois on the big screen and starts to watch, you your father cry.

The moment where Clark held Lois before she died.

“I can't lose you” Clark cried.

“I will always love you, Clark. I will always remember you and y/n, please be there for each other. He is going need to you. Tell him, I love him...”

You start to cry and it would be the last time you hear her voice.

“Son, I am sorry for the chaos I caused,” Clark said.

“I don't believe you and I will never will. You killed my friend Shazam and many others. You are lucky I didn't kill you because of Barbara. This is the last time you will see me” You said.

You take out the Phantom Zone projector and you sent him to the Phantom Zone.

✯ ✬ ✫ ✬

Time Skip...

You and Barbara became an official couple. She makes you happy and you carrying boxes into her apartment. You are going to live with her and she is very happy about that.

You and Barbara sat on the couch and she gave you a peck on the lips.

“So happy that was the last box,” Barbara said.

“Now we have to unbox everything,” You said.

“How about we go get something to eat and we do it later?” Barbara said.

You kissed her on the lips.

“Sounds good to me,” You said.

Later, you and Barbara spend half of the night unboxing everything. You did use speed to do it faster which Barbara is happy about. You and Barbara would save the city together but you don't kill criminals who rob a store. You would kill if it's a life and death situation only.

#x male reader #male!reader #dc imagine #superman imagine #superman x son #x son #Clark Kent x son #clark kent x male!reader #clark kent x reader

[vrishchikawrites]

Some Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian friendship please?

Like wwx was the first person to understand that Nie Huaisang was a "useless" young master only on purpose.

You can choose if :

Post cannon?

Cannon divergence?

Cannon divergence: where he's a better friend so he makes him joint he Nie clan? Or something? who knows?

You can also choose if Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang are friends.

(Imagine NHS-WWX-LWJ are buddies since cloud recesses days and go forth, lol. Canon divergence from the point of JC denouncing WWX)

“Listen to me for once!”

Nie Huaisang didn't mean to shout, not really. It is never a good idea to shout at his da-ge because it only provokes anger in return. But Wei-xiong is in danger and no one is helping. Nie Huaisang may be a useless cultivator in many people’s eyes but he refuses to be a useless friend.

The desperation in his stone catches da-ge’s attention and his older brother looks at him with a severe frown, “That boy is cultivating the ghostly path, Huaisang! Even his sect leader distrusts him!”

“Exactly! Da-ge, I’m not stupid, no matter how much you like to believe I am-”

“I don’t!”

Huaisang ignores him, “I know Wei-xiong. He may be mischievous but he’s not evil. If you don’t believe me, ask Lan Wangji! You can trust his word, yes? If you can’t trust your own brother’s.”

“Watch your tone,” Nie Mingjue growls, “You have earned every bit of my suspicion, Huaisang. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Huaisang winces, “I’m not dismissing your concerns but I need more than just your instincts to intervene. Do you have anything more than ‘i know him, da-ge’?” His brother asks and arches a brow.

Huaisang takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. Hundreds of little observations, pieces of a puzzle too scattered, swirl around in his mind. He has held these pieces close to this heart for years, knowing that it would’ve been disastrous to reveal them during the war. But Nie Huiasang can no longer afford to be silent. Every time he hears someone spitting out his best friend’s name like a curse, something in him burns.

Wei Wuxian is so genuinely good-natured, he will accept everyone as they are. Wei Wuxian is always willing to step between an enemy and a friend, ready to take the blow of them.

There are few people in cultivation as honorable and compassionate as Wei-xiong and Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to see that light diminish.

Da-ge is silent, as though sensing Huaisang’s turmoil.

He straightens and tucks his fan away, meeting his older brother’s gaze head-on, without hesitation. That is enough for da-ge to frown and gesture towards an empty seat. Huaisang quickly goes about making tea as he speaks, “Please be patient with me, da-ge,” He begs, “Let me explain the full picture so you can see what I see. All of this may seem like speculation, but I have proof, circumstantial, but proof nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression is now serious and placid, like he’s fully willing to listen to what his brother has to say.

“You… you don’t know, Wei-xiong. He cherished his cultivation, da-ge,” He explains, “It is no accident or act of fate that he was so good at it - good enough to even challenge Lan Wangji. He did the work to get there; he was brilliant but he was also incredibly hardworking. His cultivation was the result of years of refinement. Suibian was his constant companion and he wielded it like it was his soul.”

His brother is still because he’s not stupid.

“Is it not strange that we hear rumors of Wei Wuxian being captured by Wen Chao- by Wen Zhuliu - and see him return with a new cultivation that doesn’t require a Golden Core?”

His da-ge is definitely paying attention now.

“But is it not stranger that the Wens claim they had taken Jiang Wanyin’s core, only for Jiang-zongzhu to come back stronger? His cultivation is so refined and powerful, he is now a force to be reckoned with. Is it not strange, da-ge, that a man that couldn’t push his core even after years of diligent training managed to strengthen so significantly in a matter of months?”

“What are you saying, Huaisang?”

“I’m saying that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a Golden Core. He hasn’t had it for the entire duration of the war. He lost it during or before those three months he was missing. I’m saying those rumors about him being tossed into the Burial Mounds are likely to be true. I’m saying that Wei-xiong is exactly the kind of person who would use word games to make people believe otherwise. He’s also the kind of person who would do everything in his power to protect his martial siblings.”

Nie Mingue looks stunned, “He walked into war without his Golden Core?”

“I am absolutely certain he did.”

Nie Mingjue stares at his brother, “But you… don’t believe Wen Zhuliu took his core.”

Huaisang hesitates, “This is where I hesitate, da-ge. My instincts tell me it's not that simple. I have known both Wei-xiong and Jiang-zongzhu for a long time. We lived in close quarters and I may not be a good cultivator, but that doesn’t mean I miss small details. Jiang Wanyin feels just as powerful as Wei-xiong did, back then.”

“And you believe that’s impossible?” Da-ge arches a skeptical brow, “You, by your own admission, don’t like him.”

“Wen Qing nearly published a paper on Golden Core transfer. Wen Ning rescued Jiang Wanyin from Wen Chao’s grasp.” He takes a deep breath, “Wei Wuxian just gave up everything to repay a debt that Jiang Wanyin admitted he owed.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t know everything, but he has had years to figure out enough.

Suddenly, all the skepticism leaves his older brother’s face.

“Let’s speak with Lan Wangji.”

---

Wangji-xiong takes it like a blow to his chest.

Huaisang sees him flinch and he sees Xichen-ge step forward in concern, “Wangji...” Xichen-ge looks like he doesn’t know what to say and how to reassure his brother.

Huaisang may consider Wei Wuxian his best friend, but he firmly believes that no one cares for him more than Lan Wangji.

The Hanguang-jun believes him. That's clear from his expression.

Wangji-xiong has likely been aware of those scattered puzzle pieces as well. He just hadn’t put them together until now.

“This is all speculation,” Xichen-ge tries to interject, “There may not be any need to worry, Wangji.”

“Wei Ying’s heart hasn’t changed.”

Xichen-ge stills and Huaisang watches as icy resolve settles on Wangji-xiong’s face, “I’ll bring him.”

“Wangji-”

“Wangji begs your pardon, xiongzhang,” The Hanguang-jun turns around and walks swiftly towards the door. He offers no other word or explanation.

“Huaisang,” Xichen-ge’s voice is displeased, “You should have come to me with this first. Wangji is… attached to Wei-gongzi.”

Surprisingly, it is da-ge who intervenes.

“If you can give Meng Yao the benefit of the doubt, you can extend the same courtesy to Huaisang and Wangji’s friend, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue is scowling, “We have more reason to fault his character than Wei-gongzi’s.”

It is probably the harshest thing da-ge has ever said to Xichen-ge and it shows. The First Jade visibly calms himself and nods graciously, but there’s a glint of displeasure in his eyes. Jin Guangyao has been a bone of contention between da-ge and Xichen-ge for several months now. Huaisang should probably look into the matter a little more but Wei-xiong’s situation demands all of his attention.

Now that Jiang Wanyin announced Wei Wuxian’s defection to the entire cultivation world, he’s a free agent with a powerful ability and an even more powerful tool. With the Jins and their successful rumor-mongering, Huaisang fears they don’t have much time. Jin Guangshan has already driven a wedge between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. How much more can they accomplish if Huaisang doesn’t intervene somehow?

---

Wangji-xiong doesn’t return with Wei Wuxian. He brings Wen Qing and wears an expression of outright fury on his usually stoic face.

“I transferred his Golden Core into Jiang Wanyin.” Wen Qing declares with a straight back and a steady glare. She looks right into da-ge’s eyes, “I helped Jiang Wanyin recover from his captivity and then agreed to perform the procedure.”

Huaisang sits down as his worst fear is confirmed.

He had hoped… he had desperately hoped he had been wrong but as Wen Qing goes on to describe everything, explaining how the procedure worked and what Wei-xiong had to endure for his martial brother’s sake, he becomes certain she is telling the truth.

And this is exactly what Wei Wuxian would do. It would be too far-fetched and outrageous for anyone else, but Wei-xiong- his capacity for self-sacrifice has always worried Huaisang and Lan Wangji.

“Where is he?” Nie Mingjue demands, “Did you leave him in the Burial Grounds? In his state?”

“Wei Ying refuses to come,” Lan Wangji says, his expression pale and tight, “He must keep the resentful spirits at bay and protect the Wens. There’s a child among them, barely two years old.”

Xichen-ge sucks in a breath, closing his eyes in dismay.

“He’s injured.” Wangji-xiong continues, “He was gutted by Jiang Wanyin in a staged fight.” Huaisang looks up sharply, “He hasn’t healed and yet persists to place himself at risk.”

“Wangji, we will help him,” Xichen-ge assures, “I apologize for not understanding the situation, but now we know and we will help him.”

“So they fought to spare the Jiang Sect,” Huaisang speculates with a frown, “But… why not just tell us? Surely Jiang-zongzhu knows he just had to mention his debt to you, Wen-guniang.”

“We have misunderstood Jiang Wanyin’s character greatly.” That is a big condemnation coming from the Hanguang-jun himself. Huaisang is certain that Wangji-xiong isn’t inclined to be charitable now. Jiang Wanyin did hurt Wei Wuxian seriously, after all.

“He won’t move until we do something to help the Wens.” Huaisang concludes, opening his fan in a snap and waving it furiously, “Because he’s just that stubborn. If he owes Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi a debt, nothing is going to move him, not even Wangji-xiong.”

“I have never been able to move him.” Lan Wangji says icily and it seems like they’re feeding off each other’s ire.

Really, Wei-xiong is so frustrating to deal with sometimes. He doesn’t know how Lan Wangji handles being in love with him, Huaisang already feels nauseous. Wei Wuxian is in such a precarious position now that if they don’t act fast, he would…

He would likely be imprisoned or killed.

“Let’s offer the Wens some protection then.” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huaisang,” Da-ge warns, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He demands, turning towards his brother and Lan Xichen, “Will the Jins retaliate? If both Lans and Nies stand together on the matter, what will they do? The Wens don’t need to be free, they need to be safe and healthy. We can keep them contained in a small farming village, forbid cultivation and absorb any children into one of our clans. Let’s take Wei-xiong into the Nie clan and let the Wens settle in the northern reaches. The area is fairly remote and life will be hard but safe, better than the Burial Mounds at any rate!”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on his face but da-ge looks faintly amused, “You’ll take on the Jins?”

“If I have to!”

“He means that much to you?”

Huaisang swallows and thinks of days spent in merriment and comfort. Of a friendly arm tossed around his shoulder and a laughing voice dragging him into all sorts of mischief. He thinks of warm silver eyes that never looked down at him and nods, “Yes, he does.”

Wei-xiong has always helped him and treated him with respect. It is time for him to return the favor.

---

It is a near miracle that everything works out as planned. Well, almost everything. No one is pleased when the Lans and Nies band together to take over the Wen remnants. Fortunately, the Jiangs don’t have any room to object. Da-ge doesn't hesitate to reveal that Jiang Wanyin owes Wen Ning his life. Jiang Wanyin's honor is called into question but he suffers no other consequence for his dishonesty. Nie Huaisang doesn’t care but he notices how it guts Wei-xiong.

Apparently, when Wei-xiong and Jiang Wanyin agreed to part ways, Jiang-zongzhu only needed to say Wei Wuxian had left the Jiangs. There was no need to outright state that his sect brother had betrayed the entire cultivation world!

Either Jiang-zonghzu is incredibly naive or he deliberately placed Wei Wuxian in a difficult position without his knowledge.

Either way, Nie Huaisang is content to see that relationship severed. In his humble opinion, he makes a much better martial brother. And Wei-xiong could certainly benefit from being under the thumb of someone as protective as da-ge. He’s entirely too willing to place himself in harm’s way!

Humming under his breath and happy that everything turned out according to plan, Nie Huaisang turns around the corner and pauses. He quickly takes a few steps back until he’s out of sight. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he hides a grin behind his fan as he sees Wei-xiong fall off a tree and right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

Huaisang bites back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stays in place, arms around Lan Wangji shoulders and eyes peering up at the Second Jade.

He had been suspicious about them since Lan Wangji all but dragged Wei Wuxian to the Unclean Realm. His best friend arrived with flushed cheeks and suspiciously red lips but everyone pointedly ignored it, too eager to avoid that particular mess.

He smiles, chuckling under his breath when Wangji-xiong pulls Wei Wuxian closer and dips his head.

Turning around, he starts walking away, leaving the lovers to their business.

Besides, da-ge would want to know about this.

#short prompts #nie huaisang #lan wangji #wei wuixan #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #nmj is proud of his bb bro for standing up for what he believes in lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XVIII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

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

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: I actually think we’re closer to an end then the beginning. My goal is to finish this before moving onto anything else but that might be my original stuff so I might take a little break after this series to figure that out! Your patience and following along has meant the world to me. <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

MASTERLIST

In the coming days, trunks were opened and stuffed with clothes, blankets, and miscellany. The servants did much of the work as when you were asked what to bring, you chose three plain dresses for you and several more outfits for Elina. Zemo tutted and ordered his staff to fill the chests.

There was no distinct urgency however as the horses were to be re-shoed before you set off and the baron seemed content to enjoy the summer sun with your daughter. He would sit with the two of you under the tree or take her on a walk of his sprawling green or dangle some ornament before her to reach for.

Your mind didn’t retreat from the prospect of your departure. He said a fortnight at longest, you had to leave before that. You worried about Elina and how she’d miss him and how she’d fare on the road. She was a healthy child but you couldn’t help but think of all that could go wrong.

The third day after the announcement of your looming trek, you sat on the balcony as Elina chewed on berries and Zemo sat with a book. The air was thick and damp from the heat but the sun was tamped out behind the gathering clouds. He wore his shirt untied at the top so that the fur of his chest peeked out and you wore a sleeveless cotton gown in a pale blue.

“Do you intend on negotiating? Truly?” you asked as your mind wandered.

He looked over the book and reached over to scoop up a slice of strawberry from Elina’s shirt and flicked it into the saucer, “what do you mean?”

“Are you going to try to seal the alliance they want or is it all a ruse?”

“My liege has given me leave to approach their proposal however I wish. If they present some benefits for us then yes, I should like to have peace but… they’ve not offered anything before that we couldn’t find elsewhere,” he shrugged and lowered the book, “are you concerned for them? The people who let you suffer as such?”

“It is still my homeland but that is not what I’m worried for. I wonder how long your patience can wear on,” you said.

“We have spoke on this, we both know--”

“Yes, I know, but… how long should I have left with my daughter?” you hissed.

“You think I mean to take you from her? Perhaps march you to your death?” he scowled.

“I know however this turns out, my place in it is perilous,” you retorted, “do not mock my fears.”

“I do not--” he took a breath and his sneer softened. He chuckled as he leaned forward, “you are stronger than before, you know that? You snap like a lioness. I thought you underestimated me but I see you only misjudge yourself.”

“You are vague with me so how can I trust--”

“I have seen you through your recovery, through a labour, and a life beyond that,” he said, “I only ask a little more for all that I’ve done.”

You sat back and cupped your chin. You looked at Elina, dark juices smeared around her lips. She was entirely undisturbed by the bickering of adults. You reached over and took her tiny, sticky hand. 

You thought of Lord Barnes and if you should face him again. The idea made your blood run cold. Would he hate you? Would he still want you? You did not doubt he would have some cruelty left for you but as you were, scarred and hobbled, would it be different? And if he discovered your daughter, what then?

“He can never know about her,” you said softly and cautiously looked at the baron, “please, he can’t--”

“If he ever sees her, he will only know her to be mine but I have no intent upon my daughter being near that brute in her lifetime,” he growled. No little baroness but ‘my daughter’. You smiled at Elina and she squeezed your finger.

“I am grateful for all you’ve done for her. I know you didn’t have to--” your eyes strayed beyond the railing as some distant movement flurried beneath the sun. You squinted and leaned on the arm of your chair as you tried to see the specks along the horizon.

Zemo followed your gaze and stood. He went to the golden scope he kept on the balcony and put his eye to it as he adjusted the sights. He tilted it and stood stalk straight as if he’d been struck. The scope bobbled and he steadied it.

“Get her to your rooms,” he said, “lock the door and don’t make a sound.”

“What? What is it?”

“They are early,” he hit his open hand with a fist, “the letter… it could not be. The king must’ve assumed and sent the party prematurely.” He went to Elina and lifted her. He kissed her cheek and waved you up to your feet, “go on, take her. Keep her quiet as you can. I will house them on a lower floor but they cannot suspect you, understood?”

“How do you--”

“The banner, it is all I can make out,” he said as he grabbed your cane and rushed you back through his cool chambers, “you will lock the door and I will have Ulrich keep watch over the corridor.”

“You didn’t see who it was?” you asked as he opened the door and thrust you out into the hallway.

“You will know when I know,” he assured, “keep your candles unlit and draw the curtains.”

“My lord--”

“I did not plan for this,” he said as he marched you down the hall. You tried not to stumble as he still had your cane and you only had him to keep you from falling, “my lady, I do fear you will not make it to the Creek as we planned.”

He stopped at your door and you hugged Elina as you leaned against the wall. She was entirely untroubled by the sudden upheaval, ever a happy baby. “My cane,” you pointed to his hand as he gripped the silver topper, “please?”

“Oh, I-- Yes,” he handed it to you then reached to open your door, “keep that close…” he said, “just in case.”

“We’ll be as quiet as we can,” you assured him as you held Elina against your hip and limped with your can into the dim chamber.

“I will have Tess secret up some food before their arrival but you do not come out for anyone but me. I will knock,” he tapped a pattern on the door, “like so.”

“Yes, my lord,” you squeezed Elina as the nerves stormed inside of you.

He sighed and gripped the door as he leaned on it, “I only have a few hours to hide the evidence of you and all we’ve done to see you off. Even so, they will not suspect anything unless they are fed crumbs, yes?”

“I understand, my lord,” you stiffened and forced back the panic, “we will see what comes and do as we must,” you swayed Elina as she began to fuss, “for her.”

“For her,” he repeated, “now I must go.”

He closed the door and you set Elina down on the rug with the mouse Tess had sewn for her. You went to the door and twisted the latch into place. You turned back to watch your daughter as she tossed the toy and giggled. She pushed herself up to her feet, more certain everytime she stood. The time was passing much too quick.

🏰

You tried to distract yourself by playing with Elina and keeping her quiet. You worried however, the few times she made noise, that you would blow it all. When Tess brought the food, it was easier as your daughter grew hungry and restless. Once she had a proper meal in her, she was ready to lay down. She dozed beside you on the bed as you listened to the activity below.

First, you heard the horses through the window and the rattling carts and carriages. The voices were too distant to discern above a muffle and you weren’t so foolish as to peek out, even from so high up. You calmed yourself by watching Elina sleep but you knew you would not rest that night.

The sun sunk further behind the clouds and the evening approached with a dullness which forewarned of storms. You flinched at every noise, even floors below, and waited and waited and waited.

You had faith in Zemo, he was a great pretender. It was that very quality which kept you wary of him for so long. 

When Elina stirred again, you quieted her cries with your tit but she wasn’t taking to your nipple as eagerly as before. It calmed her for a while but she was soon awake again. You let her explore the chamber but not far from you and kept her away from the clacking wooden blocks gifted her by the baron.

And then the knock came as the sky blackened and grey clouds rumbled above. The rhythm drew you to the latch and Zemo slipped through the door. He was quick to lock it again as you ambled without your cane, afraid to tap the floor too hard with it. Elina greeted him with a shrill cry but it was blanketed by the bluster of the rising chaos in the heavens.

“The storm will frighten her but it should also help hide her,” Zemo said plaintively, “I hope.”

“They are here and settled?” you asked.

“Yes, so they are,” he confirmed as he picked up Elina, “They are too concerned with themselves to worry about any dead women hidden above.”

He sat in the armchair as the girl played with his beard as she liked to do. He smiled and let her, poking out his tongue until she did the same. He bounced her on his lap and she gibbered noisily.

“They are floors down, you should be safe to exist but if she cries, you will have to be quick to quiet her,” he girded.

“Anyone we know?” you asked as you sat on the foot of the bed and rubbed your hip.

He was silent and kept his attention on Elina. He raised his hand and let her bend his fingers to her will. She grabbed onto his ring and twisted it around his knuckle.

“My lord, is there--”

“Yes,” he huffed at last. He kissed the child’s forehead and set her down to crawl across the carpet, though she didn’t go far before she was distracted by her stuffed mouse.

“Who is it?” you asked as you folded your hands.

He rubbed his forehead then pushed his head back, “it isn’t him,” he assured, “if they were callous enough to send him or he was fool enough to come, well, we wouldn’t be having this placid conversation.”

“Who?” you asked again.

“His dog, Lord Rogers,” Zemo spat, “I don’t know which is worse. The man was watching Melinda as a wolf would watch a deer. I don’t even know the girl has flowered yet and he would be sniffing at her skirts. Despicable.”

“Rogers?” you breathed and your chest knotted. 

A roll of thunder boomed at that very moment and made you gasp. Elina stopped playing and her lip began to quiver. You slid off the bed to your knees and went to her and gathered her up. You cooed and hushed her and she clung to the collar of your dress. You watched her face as the fear retreated and she turned to watch the window flash. The terror turned to curiosity in an instant.

“Ha, look how brave she is,” he snickered.

You nodded, speechless still. Your nose tingled and your eyes burned. You were so overcome at the idea of that man being so close. You recalled that day in the forest, your singular mistake, then the scene in the carriage, and that on the staircase when Zemo himself had kept you from his perversions.

“My lady?” he said, “you look unsettled.”

“Take her,” you murmured then cleared your throat, “please, take Elina.”

He got up and took her from your arms. You pulled yourself up by the bedpost and leaned against it, your grip tightened around the carved wood. Your chest pattered in time with the downpour against the castle walls. You shook as you felt the scar along your face and those that led down beneath your dress. It hadn’t just been Barnes.

“Lady?” Zemo got closer as Elina babbled.

“I… can’t breathe,” you said and turned to fall back onto your rear, the mattress dipping beneath you as your fingers clung to the post, “I can’t…”

‘A bird, a bird, high above the cloud…’ he began to sing as much to Elina as you, a tune in his own tongue, ‘a wing, a wing, flaps without a sound…’ he rocked the girl but kept his eyes on you, ‘an angel, an angel, looking down on me. A blessing, a blessing, cast upon the lea…’

He reached with one hand and drew you up to your feet. He let you lean against him as he embraced you against your daughter and kept swaying in time to his voice and the sudden onslaught of the storm, ‘a lady, a lady, spinning at her wheel. A mother, a mother, her will as strong as steel…”

You clung to his sleeve and buried your face against the thin cotton. He kept singing until Elina was quiet and the rattling of your bones stilled. You were embarrassed at the sudden emotion which overcame you and the dampness on your cheeks. He carefully sat you back down and shushed.

The rain continued but the thunder passed. He moved carefully to lay Elina in her cot and stood as you hid your face behind your hand.

“I’m…” you uttered.

“No, that man. I remember that day,” he sat beside you and gripped his knees, “I know what he would’ve done and I am wise enough to know it was not the first he’d touched you.”

“It was long ago,” you said, “I shouldn’t be so… frail.”

“You are...strong. You must stay strong for her,” he sniffed and touched your elbow, “but you feel it now.”

“Feel what?” you blinked at him.

“The longing… for vengeance?”

You stared into his dark eyes and your chest continued to twist. Your spine went rigid and your jaw clenched. “I do,” you nodded and looked over at your daughter, “I feel it so very deeply.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #hue and cry #steve rogers #peter parker #spider-man #captain america #winter soldier #mcu #marvel #au #medieval au #medieval!au #falcon #sam wilson #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit. 

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu #fanfic

[lordrethandus]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 9

Colors/Disappear ( @daily-writing-challenge​, @serararku​ )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Content Warning: Violence and gore.

The haul was good for once. The first good haul in many moons.

Heavy wooden crates were carried down the gangway by burly men still covered in soot, mud, and blood. They were exhausted from the raid- they all were- and narrowly avoiding Limsa Lominsa's new navy was no easy task for pirates set in the old ways. The quaint little cove they stored their precious loot in would serve them well but not forever; the tide would rise come summer and the sea would swallow this place whole.

"Put yer backs into it!" The First Mate bellowed, impatiently shaking his weighty fist. "Ye wanna rest, do ye?! Sooner we unload, sooner we can drink! Come on lads! Move it move it move it!"

Captain Tranter wasn't afraid of a little manual labor and was already poised to crack open these chests to find out what exactly they pillaged. He gripped the sledgehammer with both hands, lifted it over his head, then brought it down on the heavy iron lock keeping the first chest sealed tight.

THAACK!

One good swing was all it took. With the steel-plated tip of his boot the Captain kicked off the crumbled metal and popped the chest open with a flick of his ankle. The orange light from the fading sunset bounced off the contents at the perfect angle, mimicking an aurora on the dull grey limestone ceiling. Even the crew gave pause to stare awestruck at the lights before the First Mate barked at them again. "Beautiful…" was all the Captain could mutter, enthralled by the myriad of colors glimmering from gemstones of all shapes and sizes. He blinked the trance away then gestured to his helping hands to haul it to the back of the cove with the rest of his treasure; they may go hungry if none of these crates and chests contained any food, but sleeping in a bed of gemstones would certainly be worth waiting till the morrow to get something to eat.

THAACK!

Next came the slaves. Almost a dozen Highlanders were ushered out from beneath the deck and across the gangway to endure a new life of suffering. The blood of their loved ones were still warm on their bodies as they stepped barefoot on the cold, wet, and jagged rocks, traumatized from being ripped from their homes and former lives, only to be sold to the highest bidder in the coming week. None knew exactly what would happen next, but they all had the same idea; judging by the lustful grins of their captives, there was a long and painful night awaiting them. Yet as an impatient pirate stepped forward to grope one, a black leather whip came cracking over his head to keep his urges in check. “Ye know the rules! Cap’n gets first pick! Then officers! Then ye can have ‘em warmin’ yer beds after that!” A long crooked finger was jabbed in the pirate’s face. “But if ye gettem pregnant, the babe and loss o’gil is yours!”

Captain Tranter gave the lineup a once over, but his mind was still orbiting that chest of gemstones. His eyes swept over their sniffling faces before he made his decision. “Aye, the blonde broad. At the end o’ the line. Getter in me favorite dress and make sure she ain’t cryin’ when I get done bustin’ open these chests.”

“Aye Cap’n!” The fairest of them all shivered with terror when she was unshackled from the others and ushered toward the back-end of the cove. The Captain ignored her pitiful weeping, instead returning to smashing open the rusty iron locks with the hopes of finding another one filled with gemstones. One was filled with linen. One with popatoes. Another was filled with old rags. It seemed their luck was beginning to wane, but at least they could make a fine fish stew with the popatoes to keep their bellies warm for the ni-

“What…? What in the hells is that?!” One of his crewmen blurted out as he pointed back at the ship; ignoring him would be a simple matter if the rest of his crew didn’t begin to gasp and murmur amongst themselves. Captain Tranter paused with the sledgehammer over his head to look at them, furrowed his brows at how pale and shaken the man looked, and followed his trembling finger.

In the crow’s nest knelt a fair-haired figure wearing a stained and tattered wedding dress, that flowed and drifted with even the faintest breeze. A dense fog cascaded from its form, and before long the growing cloud would swallow the ship whole. When Captain Tranter dropped his hammer and squinted to get a better look, the figure stood up straight, revealing the grey face of a woman, with a slender sliver of ice in her grasp.

“I-it’s the Mournin’ Maiden…!” A pirate cried out, recognizing the forlorn spirit. “B-bane of the seas… she feasts on the skulls o’ the unfaithful sailors…! All who break their vows are doomed men!” Just about every pirate within earshot shuddered in terror.

All but the Captain. “What are you idiots gawkin’ at?! Ye got guns aye?! Send this spectre back to the afterlife!” He whipped his revolver out of its holster and fired first, and two dozen of his men followed his lead. Blam! Blam! Blamblamblam! Blam blam! By the time they stopped firing, the spirit was gone.

“Did…” the First Mate stuttered as smoke drifted from the barrel of their pistols. “D-did we get em?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

What a horrible sound! The shriek rushed across the cove like the wind to test their resolve! They gripped at their ears and staggered from the piercing noise- some dropped to their knees and cried out in terror, while others abandoned their brothers and dived headfirst off the edge into the sea below. Some of them misjudged their jumps and smacked against the jagged rocks protruding from the waters, or bellyflopped onto the shallow end; either fate was surely better than the apparition rending their souls from their bodies? “Oh no…! We angered her!” One of them collapsed to his knees and soiled himself. “The ship’s the only way out…! We’re trapped! We’re doomed!”

“Use silver!” Captain Tranter barked, popping open his revolver to replenish his shots with polished silver rounds. He had to wrestle back control of this situation if he wanted to live to see another day. “Silver’s deadly t’monsters! We can banish her with one clean sh-!”

Out from the freezing fog she came skittering down the gangway! “Fire! OPEN FIRE!” A hail of bullets ripped the air in half to tear her into pieces, but her erratic movements made her damn near impossible to hit. She leapt high into the air when the bullets tore through the rocks around her, only for her to vanish in a sudden puff of fog. Captain Tranter held his pistol tightly with one hand, and the handle of his silver rapier with the other; he would love nothing more than to bash this spirit with his sledgehammer, but she was too quick for that. “Steady…!” He commanded, keeping his eyes peeled for her to appear again. “No ghost needs to dodge…! She’s mortal and livin’! Just watch yer backs and prepare for another ambush!”

The First Mate looked up just in time to see the flowing wedding dress cascade over his body and blind him from the others. “MMMPH! MMPH!” The roegadyn clawed frantically at the ensnaring cloth as his crewmates watched on in horror. “MMMPH! MMURK-!” His arms and legs twitched before he collapsed to his knees. Captain Tranter raised his pistol and fired, and the spirit vanished again- only to reveal the First Mate’s head was missing!

“Up there! The ceilin’!” All eyes shot upward to witness her slowly crawling along the stalactites. She lunged at them, spiraling through the air while billowing fog from the holes in her mask. “Wait! WAIT! N-AAAUGH!” A long sliver of ice slipped from her gown and severed limbs to claim the arms, hands, and knees of anyone who dared step within reach.

It was chaos! The Maiden moved like a fluttering leaf in the wind, spinning and weaving between them, claiming life after life! Grown men dropped their weapons and gripped at their bloodied stumps to squeal in agony and terror- other pirates open fired with no regard for the others, missing the Maiden to cripple or kill each other with friendly fire. “KILL HER! KILL HER NOW!” The Captain bellowed, fumbling with his spare bullets when the Maiden leapt onto the shoulders of the Gunner before claiming another head.

Few pirates tried- but every shot missed, and every attempt with blade or blunt object was met with curdling screeches and agony! The Quartermaster tried to make a run for it, but the Maiden outran him from behind, skittering up his back to swallow the upper half of his body with her deadly embrace! “FIGHT! FIGHT YE COWARDS!”

Soon what little resolve they had managed to cling to until now had abandoned them, and any pirate still standing tripped over boxes, crates, and corpses as they scrambled into the thinning fog to board the ship for their escape. Captain Tranter grit his teeth as he blindly fired, hitting the legs and backs of several crewmates- but there was little else he could do to punish betrayers and mutineers that disobeyed his commands. With a pistol now empty, and the fog closing in around his feet, he stared down the Mourning Maiden. She stood there in silence, hovering over the headless corpse of the last of his officers, seemingly ignoring both the fleeing cowards and the shackled women in the corner.

“What do ye want…?!” He demanded, dropping his pistol. “Revenge? Trinkets? Does this treasure belong to ye?! Go on- take em back! Just let me live!” There was no response. She simply kept pumping fog from her form until the freezing cold gripped his skin tighter than his own clothes. “Answer me, apparition! What do ye want?!”

Suddenly she lunged forward, skittering in a straight line toward him! Fear stirred his stomach but he kept his nerve, drawing his rapier to fight to the last! SHWING! He parried the razor-sharp spike of ice with his rapier, the blistering ice creeping around and catching his blade! The spirit was stronger than he had hoped, and the longer she had him locked against her, the more ice that formed on his last line of defense. He stared helplessly into the mask, with frost freezing the droplets of sweat on his forehead. Then suddenly she yanked herself away, ripping the rusting blade from the hilt and sending it careening off into the fog! He reached for his boot knife and went to slice her chest open- anything was better than standing there to die!

SHLURK!

"Aaauugh!" His hand and his knife vanished into the white haze. Agony bit into the back of his knees and sent him falling onto his face; beneath the rolling fog he began to crawl, desperately reaching for his pistol. If he could just reach it and get another bullet in, he could-!

Her foot came down on his hand with a wet crunch! "Nnngh!" Captain Tranter stifled his groans when she ground her heel into his wrist before finally stepping off; he looked down in defeat when he saw how mangled and twisted his fingers were. “Guuughh…! Auuugh… haahhhh…! Gods no…! W-wait…!”

All he could do now was look his killer in the eyes. The Mourning Maiden's wedding dress was discolored by the salt of the sea, and stained with blots of blood both brown and old, and red and recent. Her hands were a moldy grey and bloated, with seawater dripping down her bony fingers. Captain Tranter strained to look up at her face; she wore the cracked stone mask of a weeping widow, with water stains running down the eye slots and barnacles fused to her cheeks and forehead. Shimmering in the light were two off-colored blue eyes that pierced his soul.

“Please…!” Captain Tranter soiled himself before this terrifying banshee. “I beg o’ye…! I don’t wanna die…! I’ll do anythin’! I just wanna-!”

Floosh…

The tattered wedding dress lashed out and draped over his body.

As the fog began to filter out, the pirates who made it to the ship, without breaking their ankles sprinting blindly, managed to get her sailing again- and not a moment too soon. They looked on to see the Mourning Maiden holding their captain’s head aloft at them- taunting them. Terror gripped their souls as they panicked aboard their vessel, pulling free from the makeshift dock and almost drifting into the side of the cove on their way out.

“Please, spare us o vengeful spirit…!” The Highlander woman the late captain picked for his bed barely managed to squeak out her words. “We aren’t pirates…! We’re prisoners! I beseech your forgiveness for any wrongdoings we may have done…!”

“You have nothing to fear from me.” The Mourning Mother turned to face the prisoners, who were all huddled up and cowering together in their shackles. She approached them in silence, dropping the severed head; but when she lifted her hand to her mask and pulled it off, the womens' fear quickly turned into confusion.

Soft black cat ears popped free before the living face of a Miqo'te woman was revealed. She pulled the veil off and massaged her jaw, then looked down at the women with a warm and welcoming smile. "My name is S'era, and I'm here to rescue you." The silver of ice in her grasp melted and hissed, revealing a steel uchigatana. They flinched when she raised it over her head- but a loud ringing bang later and their chains crumbled at their feet.

"Wait… so you're not the Mourning Maiden?!" One woman asked, rubbing at her wrists.

S'era lifted her gown and slid her sword back into the hidden sheath. "Ha- definitely not. I decided to use their pirate superstition against them, and it worked like a charm. Sit tight and try to relax, okay? A ship is coming to take you to Limsa."

“But… that scream…” Another started, still thoroughly confused. “How did you manage to make such a terrible sound?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Their savior gave them a perplexing look. “I didn’t make a single-” She turned her back to the group of women and pressed her fingers to her temple. "Yes- S'era reporting in, the prisoners and stolen property are all secured… most of the pirates are aboard their ship, sailing out now… yes… the captain is dead… yes… mhm… understood. Okay, S'era out." She rummaged through her dress and pulled out a small metal switch before pointing at the fleeing pirates.

BOOOM!

The ship rocked and heaved from the chain of explosions, traveling up each mast and lighting up the stern beneath the seawater. "Hahahahaha!" S'era crossed her arms and nodded approvingly at her handiwork; she then pressed her fingers to her temple again before turning to smile at the freed captives. "Yeah, back her in. The captives are ready to be lifted out."

“Thank you…!” Tears began to stream down their faces. Relief washed over them like the tide, but they were too weak to openly celebrate. “Oh gods, thank you so much!”

“Just hang tight.” S’era assured them, glancing out toward the mouth of the cove again. “We’re going to take you to Limsa Lominsa to check your injuries. We have soft beds and warm meals waiting for you on the ship once we’re airborne.”

They looked around as the fog finally dissipated. Aside from the limbs scattered around the cove at the appropriate blood stains on the wet rocks, they were safe enough to breathe. The pirates were either dead or on their way to be arrested again, marking a righteous and sudden end to the Black Powder Buccaneers. The blonde woman stood over the remains of Captain Tranter, before spitting on his corpse. Because of him her family and seaside village were gone, but he would never harm another person ever again.

A low rumbling hum traveled through the ground to vibrate their feet. They saw the tide shake and tremble before a flying ship slowly dipped beneath the roof of the cove to back herself in; sails as white as clouds folded against the metallic silver underbelly, as ceruleum-powered propellers whipped up the wind. The women covered their faces and rose to their aching feet when the doors swung open, following their rescuer onto the Skydancer to be lifted out of this nightmare.

Several galleons were already headed toward the pirate ship that remained dead in the water, and by this time tomorrow they would all be swinging from the gallows. As the last glimpse of the sun dipped behind the horizon, as the Skydancer zipped across the sea before raising its nose up to ascend into the sky, an ethereal woman stood on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Her bridesmaids held the ends of her fraying dress to keep it from dragging on the ground as she approached the edge, with tears streaming down her rotting face.

In silence she watched the Skydancer vanish into the clouds, and in the blink of an eye, the real Mourning Maiden disappeared.

#dwc2021 #day92021 #{ the desert demon }

[strafethesesinners]

Tagged by @blissfulalchemist to post a fic from a year or more ago (? I think that’s how it goes). None of my Far Cry 5 is a year old yet, but I’ll take this opportunity to post this Dishonored oneshot I did back in 2016. 

(I’ll tag some people if you want to do it or just want to read @risenlucifer @nightwingshero @chazz-anova @smithandrogers @madsismad @amistrio @chyrstis @consumedkings @faithchel @shallow-gravy)

Spoilers for the Knife of Dunwall Dishonored DLC Warnings for violence and gore Words: 2392  also on AO3

Daud was drowning. The icy, stinking water of the Wrenhaven River grew darker and darker above his head as he sank further into its depths. Daud was a strong swimmer, but something had a hold of his legs, pulling him down. He looked below him and screamed. Hundreds, thousands of corpses clogged the riverbed, clinging to his legs, his arms, and tearing at his clothes with rotting claws. Water rushed into his throat, but he could not close his mouth or his eyes. The more he struggled, the harder the bodies gripped him. They were screaming, moaning, begging for mercy. The water became blood: the blood of every person he had ever killed. It was choking him, yet he could not die. The pleading eyes of the corpses turned black and Daud understood: he was already dead and this was his hell. Still he fought against it, trying in vain to break free and reach the surface, but the ghosts clung on, all of them wailing as one.

“Mommy!”

Daud woke up shaking, his stomach curdling. He sat up and dry heaved over his blankets, but nothing came up. He tore off his sweat soaked shirt and tried to stand. It took him several minutes to regulate his breathing and bring his mind back to reality. It was barely after sunset, judging by the faint light coming through the glass-less windows. Daud lit a cigarette and walked out onto his small balcony on the top floor of the Chamber of Commerce building. He took a deep breath, welcoming the cool air on his sweaty face. The Flooded District smelled of Weepers, dead rats, and whale oil, but it was a familiar smell, and lately, Daud had been latching onto anything even vaguely comforting. He was starting to think his assassins were right, and he was losing it. He could sense them losing confidence in him day by day, and he was grateful none of them were here right now to see him trembling, and sweating, wearing only his trousers: terrified of a dream. But as his mind grew clearer, it seemed odd that no one was around. Daud’s eyes scanned the rooftops carefully. There were no Whalers in sight. A different sort of unease pricked at the back of his mind, as he tossed his cigarette butt away. Instantly, he was alert: listening, watching. He tensed. His scarred hands gripped the iron railing, the Outsider’s Mark glowing faintly on the back of his left hand. Daud was about to turn back into his room when he heard a click behind him, and the cold metal of a pistol pressed against the base of his skull. 

He froze. There were only two people in the world that could sneak up on him undetected. Not sure which one he was dreading more, he spoke.

“Billie?”

“Yes.”

The shock of hearing her voice was colder than the hands of the nightmare ghosts. Daud now knew he would have gladly taken the Royal Protector over this; he would have taken anything over this. Daud’s mind was reeling, but he kept himself absolutely still, and his voice calm.

“You’re here to kill me.”

“Yes,” she said again, although it had not been a question. His dream came rushing back to him, and he was suddenly afraid. All these years he had often longed to die, but now a terrible thought occurred to him. What if these dreams were glimpses of what was to come? He never asked the Outsider, but he assumed that his spirit would go to the Void after his death. What if his fate was an eternity drowning in blood in the Void; tormented forever by those he had slain? 

I don’t want to die, he thought, almost frantically, I can’t die. His heart was beating hard, but still he remained outwardly calm. Billie kept her pistol at his head, but had not moved to pull the trigger. Daud took her hesitation as a good sign. This would not be an easy thing for her. Daud had not become the most feared man in the Empire through violence alone; he was as cunning as he was ruthless, and he had talked himself out of sticky situations almost as much as he had fought his way out. If he could somehow convince her to spare him…..

“Billie…” he began.

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this one, Daud,” Billie said. Her voice was clear; she wasn’t wearing her mask.

“You know me too well, Lurk,” he said wryly.

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing and you’re not going to change my mind.” The slightest tremor ran up her arm; Daud could feel it through the pistol point. 

“Kill me then,” Daud said. She did nothing. Daud took a chance, and turned slowly around to face her. She did not lower the pistol, but neither did she fire. Billie’s eyes were wide, but there was a determined set to her jaw. It was an expression he knew well. She had the same look when they had first met, and she had dared to face him: clearly frightened and yet too stubborn to back down. 

“Can at least ask why I’m about to die?” He looked her in the eye.

“You’re weak,” she replied coldly, “and old. This outfit needs a new leader. Someone to get us through this plague, and the chaos you caused by killing the Empress. I don’t want to do this, but it has to be done.”

“Does it now?” Daud snapped. There was an awful pain in his chest. Worse than any physical wound he’d ever had. It was a pain he hadn’t felt since he realized he would never see his mother again. “I always assumed one of you would kill me and take my place,” he said more softly, “ I just never thought…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He knew he was too compromised to get out of this one by talking, Billie was much too close to him and had learned all his tricks over the years; the realization made him sick. He had never felt so vulnerable. 

“You’re right, Billie,” he said, “I always thought of myself as clever, but clearly I was a fool for ever trusting you.”

Billie smiled her little apologetic smile; the one she would wear when he scolded her for killing one guard too many, and she knew he didn’t really mean it.

“There’s more to it,” she said, “you deserve to know the truth. The woman you’ve been seeking, Delilah,”

“What about her?”

“She…..came to me, a while back. She offered me so much…...showed me a new way to see; she gave me so much more than you ever did. More than you could ever hope to give.”

Daud could hear the contempt in her speech and it hurt. But now anger was starting to burn in his veins. Of course it all came back to her. Delilah. She had taken his best fighter, his best friend even, certainly the only person he cared about in the world, and turned her against him. A familiar itch clawed it’s way down his arms, making his fingers twitch and ache for a blade. The sun went down behind the buildings, and the Flooded District was doused in the cool grey glow of twilight.

“The power she has, Daud,” Billie was saying, “you can’t even imagine. She’s stronger than you, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. And all I have to do to be at her side is…..get rid of you.”

She stared at him and her eyes were sad. Daud’s head was pounding.

“I’m sorry, Daud,” Billie said. 

“Me too,” he said. 

Daud’s hand flashed up and grabbed Billie’s arm, forcing it to the side. Her shot went wide, and he twisted her arm hard. She gave a gasp of pain, and the pistol fell over the railing into the muddy water far below. Daud transversed past her back into his room. He snatched his sword up from beside his bed, there was no time to grab anything else. Billie drew her sword. The metal floor was cold on Daud’s bare feet as they circled each other for a moment; the Outsider’s Mark burned hot. Billie sent a wristbow bolt at his head, and he dodged, then drove forward with a quick thrust at her midriff. She blocked it just in time, and pushed back against his blade. She stomped down on the top of his right foot with her boot, the pain made him falter and she beat his sword aside and punched him in the face. Daud hopped backward, ducking as another bolt flew over his head. He spat out a mouthful of blood with a curse, and then transversed behind her and struck. She turned and parried, and he blocked her retaliatory slash. They battled back and forth across the metal walkway that served as Daud’s bedroom for what seemed like an hour. It was hard to measure time during a fight. But Daud was the better swordsman, and he was closing on Billie when she crouched, opened her mouth, and screamed. 

The sound was like a physical force. It lifted Daud up off his feet and sent him tumbling over the railing into his office below. He landed hard on his desk. For a brief moment he lay stunned; the air knocked out of him. Then her heard the sound of Billie blinking down next to him and jumped up as quickly as he could. He wasn’t quite fast enough. Her sword missed its target of his neck, but cut his shoulder to the bone. The pain of it spurred his desperation, and he attacked with everything he had left. Billie was never taken off guard, but his fury did seem to rattle her some. He managed to get in a few cuts of his own in as her first few blocks came too slow. But against her padded leather whaler suit, the damage was nowhere near as bad as when she hit him. Soon he was bleeding heavily from wounds to his forearms and chest, in addition to his shoulder,and his strength was starting to fade. He could barely lift his sword arm high enough to parry her strikes. He curled his Marked hand into a fist and sent a call out through the Void, but no assassins appeared. Billie must’ve told them ahead of time what she planned, and killed anyone who objected. Daud wondered if Thomas was dead, or if he had also turned against him. He retreated across the room. He tried one of the doors, thinking of escape, but they were barred from the other side.

Of course he thought grimly. He spied the open window behind his desk, and blinked over to it, using the last of his energy. He turned to locate her before he jumped. Billie was standing in the middle of the office. She raised her hand, and sent a shower of several shadowy darts flying at him. He blocked some with his sword, and covered his face with his other arm. But there were too many. One went through his thigh, three into his unprotected guts, and one into his chest. It had missed his heart he know, or he would already be dead, but he could tell it had punctured his lung. He fell to one knee, struggling to breathe. Billie came towards him, but stopped at his desk, just out of reach. Daud still gripped his sword tightly. She approached him slowly. He attempted one last weak slash, but she grabbed his wrist and wrenched the sword from his hand. Gently, she set it down on his desk. 

“It’s over, Daud,” she said quietly. 

“Looks like it, huh? I taught you too well,” he laughed, and blood came bubbling up his throat. He choked and coughed, the blood spattering down his bare chest and onto the wooden floorboards. He slumped back against his bookshelf. Billie stood watching him. When he looked up at her again, her eyes were wet. Daud had never once seen her cry. And yet, staring into her eyes, Daud knew she was still going to go through with it. He wasn’t ready to face the Void, but, now that it seemed inevitable, he wasn’t so afraid as before. There was no point. The best he could hope for was that he was wrong, and that there was nothing after death. And the worst…..Daud wondered if it was possible to fight ghosts in hell. He wanted to laugh again, but it hurt too much. Blood leaked steadily from the holes in his gut. 

“It was always going to end this way, Daud,” she said, “You and me. It’s our nature. But you’re not as weak as I thought.”

“Thanks,” Daud coughed again. The pain was agonizing. “Could you find it in you to end it quickly?” he gasped out. Billie continued to stare at him, unmoving. Daud didn’t know how long it was going to take to die, maybe up to an hour depending on how bad the wound in his chest was, maybe even longer.  But maybe that was all part of it. He never thought Billie hated him so much. He tried to reach up to her and she flinched back, still wary.

“I’m not going to fight you anymore, Billie, I just need you to do it now. If you ever had any….feeling for me at all, don’t let me die like this, make it a clean death.” She still did nothing, looking at him almost in disbelief now, as if she didn’t quite trust what she was seeing. “Billie, please,” Daud said, “don’t make me beg.”

Without a word, Billie took his sword from the desk and knelt down so she was level with him. She reached out and cupped his face in her gloved hand, and then drove his sword into his heart with all her strength. He convulsed once as his life bled away.

“Sorry, Daud,” Billie whispered. 

Her whisper went on and on and turned into the haunting hiss of runesong, which became the mournful cry of whales. The pale blue light of the Void crept over his sight, obliterating everything else, and the Knife of Dunwall was dead.

#Dishonored #Daud #Billie Lurk #the knife of dunwall #dishonored fic #ok so I read this again and #y'all it's pretty damn good #if I do say so myself #Sorry about tumblr making it all single space i know it makes it hard to read #my writing #fanfic tag game #posting in the middle of the night but I'll reblog later

[bonjour-rainycity]

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 14

Link to previous part:

https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/638547377817550848/odins-ward-chapter-13

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 3943

Warnings: Mentions of violence (non-graphic)

True age: Y/n: 1449 // Loki: 1575 // Thor: 1827 // Audunn 3213

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 23 // Loki: 25 // Thor: 29// Audunn: 51

Loki’s POV

“He planted his seeds in my half of the land,” the farmer spits, red in the face with anger. Odin’s expression is calm, but I, as much as this annoys me, know him well enough to tell when he is putting on a facade.

“I should get what’s sown! It’s my land!”

“But they’re my seeds,” the other farmer counters, face equally splotchy.

I sigh deeply, unfathomably bored with these trivial exchanges. It’s the third Thursday of the month, a time when peasants and nobles alike can bring their concerns before the Royal Family. We occupy the throne room, an intricate chair for us each placed in an intimidating line. I sit to my mother’s left, Thor to Odin’s right. A familiar anger boils within me. Of course the Golden Child sits at the King’s right. Not that I want to be any closer to Odin, but Thor’s position clearly communicates his status: he is next in line for the throne. The bitterness builds. Really, was there ever any contest?

Without warning, Farmer One lunges at Farmer Two, knocking him over the head with a sharp punch. I keep my calm exterior, but internally, my interest piques. Maybe this won’t be a completely wasted day after all.

But to my disappointment, four guards quickly put the skirmish to an end. Both men are taken to the dungeons.

Problem solved, I guess.

The interest I felt only seconds ago abandons me as I see a nearly identical pair to the last come forward.

I slouch.

“Stop her!”

The shout, which comes from a guard outside the throne room, is followed by a loud clamoring as armored guards chase after an unknown offender. And although I logically know it’s probably just some widow trying to cut in line, my hand inches towards my mother, ready to take her to safety if need be. Thor stands, putting on quite the show of a dutiful son. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Against all odds, the noises don’t subside—they get closer to our location. Mother shoots Odin an alarmed look.

But when the intruder enters the throne room, my stomach drops to my feet.

I straighten, back stiff with tension and I can do nothing but stare on in complete shock. I feel my fingers straining with the grip they have on the throne’s arms, but I barely take notice. All I can notice is the shaking, muddy, tear-stained and windblown woman standing in front of me.

It’s Y/n.

A messy, frightened version of Y/n, to be sure, but it’s still her.

My heart aches with a feeling I thought I had long-ago purged.

Thor is the first to break from the shock and hurries down to Y/n, waving away the guards who have attached themselves to her arms. Noticing her tattered dress and shivering form, he takes off his red cloak and wraps it around her, looking at her with the concern and surprise I’m sure we all wear on our faces.

In a hoarse but firm voice, Y/n addresses us. “May I approach the King?”

In a pinched voice, Odin responds. “You may.”

Y/n curtsies as best as she can and takes two wobbly steps forward. Thor hovers near her uncertainly, obviously wondering if she’s about to collapse.

Y/n gives me a fleeting look and my mouth runs dry.

She turns her attention back to Odin. “I’ve come to request aid from Asgard. Two days ago, my husband raised an army against my father. Since then, the realm has been thrown into chaos. Brother murders brother and citizens switch sides as the tides of the battle change. It’s civil war.” She swallows, finding it difficult to continue. “Casualties are estimated at three thousand so far, but I have been gone for several hours. That number has likely risen.”

Odin has the nerve to sound dubious when he speaks. “And just how did you end up here if the realm is indeed engulfed in chaos as you say?”

Through my shock, I still find room to be annoyed by Odin.

Y/n seems to steel herself and looks him right in the eye. “My husband locked me in the dungeon with others deemed to be a threat to his reign. I believe he would have killed me if it were not that his claim to power dies with me. He’s been so preoccupied with trying to overthrow my father that those loyal to me were able to take advantage and help me and my maidservant escape. It took a long time but we were finally able to sneak through the castle and into the observatory, where we took the Bifrost to Asgard.

Odin purses his lips, seeming unaffected by Y/n’s story. “And this maidservant. Can she corroborate your tale?”

Y/n’s face flushes. “It’s not a tale! Your Highness, people are being slaughtered. Look at my shoes!” She kicks one off and holds it up for us to see. Mother stifles a gasp. Y/n’s shoe is caked with blood. Dark, clotted blood sticks all over the bottom and side of her shoe. Upon further inspection, I see that it continues over her ankles and the lower parts of her dress. “Blood like this is running through the castle halls. I can only hope the fighting is confined to the castle and that the carnage has not yet reached the lower town.” Y/n takes another step forward, stronger this time. “Your Majesty, please. They may live far away, but they are still your people. I fear that if we wait much longer, Audunn will take control and anyone loyal to me or my father will be executed.”

Odin squints, mulling over his options. “My help does not come freely.”

Oh how I hate this man.

Y/n grits her teeth but nods. “Then let us negotiate quickly.”

“Asgard’s army will step in and restore your father to the throne. Your husband and his supporters will be put to death or imprisoned.”

Y/n’s lack of reaction is noticeable.

“Your husband’s death does not trouble you?” Odin’s voice seeps with judgement.

“Audunn has made his choices. He must suffer the consequences.” Knowing Y/n so well allows me to detect the malice in her voice. I stifle a mirthless chuckle. So it seems we’ve both been hardened by the world.

Odin nods. “Very well. Since you will be without a husband and my son is still unmarried, I propose the obvious solution.”

My heart stops.

No.

“You and Thor will wed.”

“Father!” Thor’s explosion is the loudest, but Y/n provides her own objections as well. I swallow mine down, retreating into myself. He will get everything that was ever dear to me. I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, nor feel the hurt, but still, it stabs deep into my chest. I put a lot of effort towards not letting my pain show.

“Father, you are well aware of my intentions to wed Jane. I love her! Y/n is like a sister to me, I would never consent to be her husband.”

“I will not have the next Queen of Asgard be human!” Odin slams his staff into the ground. “For all I care, you can take Y/n as your wife and keep Jane as your mistress. But make no mistake, Jane will never be your wife, nor will her children be heirs to my throne.”

Odin’s proposal clearly sickens Thor, but Y/n just looks blankly at the ground, noticeably quiet now. The two men continue in their argument, each getting louder than the other with every new point.

“Thor please,” Y/n interjects, her voice breaking on the last word.

Silence rings through the room as all eyes turn to her.

She addresses Thor directly, desperation evident in every inch of her body. “My people are dying. An entire realm will be condemned to slaughter and chaos if we cannot reach an agreement today. I am familiar with a husband who keeps mistresses and am very good at being discrete.”

The heart that I thought had long ago hardened breaks a little.

“I promise our marriage will not interfere with any more aspects of your life than absolutely necessary. We can work out the specifics later but for now, I beg for your cooperation.”

Her earnestness is clear and, with a defeated nod, Thor agrees to make my once lover his wife.

Unable to stand it any longer, I stalk from the room.

Y/n’s POV

Loki strides out of the room, looking bored. That’s it?

It’s not like I expected loud objections and an offer to marry me himself,—it has been over two hundred years and all—but I did expect, at the very least, some recognition. Loki gave no indication that he knew or cared who I was. Even through the shock and exhaustion and fear, hurt still manages to find its way into my heart. I try to shake it off. The task at hand is much more important than my feelings.

“If you are ready, Your Majesty, my people will be eagerly awaiting Asgard’s aid.”

Odin doesn’t look at me. Instead, he gestures to a guard. “Have the warriors gathered and ready within the hour. Thor and I will accompany them to Alfheim.”

Frigga interjects before I can. “What about Loki?”

If he stays in Asgard with me and Frigga, the people might view him as cowardly for not going to fight with the men.

Odin purses his lips unpleasantly. “He has not yet regained my trust.”

What?

Frigga looks away, her mouth set in a hard line. Odin exits the throne room, sparing no one any further glances. As Thor passes me, he gives what I think he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“All will soon be well, Lady Y/n.”

I nod, hoping he’s right. When he’s nearly exited the room, I remember his cloak.

“Wait,” I call, hurrying to him. He drops slightly so I can throw the cloak over his massive shoulders and secure it under his chin. Shame keeps me from looking him in the eyes. After all, if he dies, it will be my fault. I don’t want to marry Thor, but he was a dear friend to me at one point, much like a brother. I don’t want to lose him. “Be safe.”

He nods and gives my shoulder a hesitant squeeze. Then, without another word, he follows Odin out of the room. I can tell it will take him a long time to accept our eventual marriage.

Not like it will be any faster for you.

“Come, sweet Y/n.” Frigga’s voice startles me and pulls me from my thoughts. “I believe you need a hot bath, some supper, and a change of clothes.”

I let out a noise that sounds scarily similar to a heaving sob. “Yes, please.”

{***}

The water is hot and the steam curls the ends of my hair. One servant scrubs the dirt from my nails and another, my back. I sigh, feeling some of the tension finally beginning to leave my body.

Then, comes the guilt.

I’m here in Castle Asgard being pampered by servants, sitting in the company of the Queen, while my people are dying. To distract myself from the strong desire to wallow in guilt and despair, I decide to question Frigga about something that’s been bothering me deeply since my arrival.

“Is Prince Loki alright?” I try to sound casual but don’t quite pull it off. “He seemed…not like himself.”

Frigga exhales heavily, and heartbreak settles in her expression. My stomach clenches in anticipation. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. “It is not really my story to tell…but you have a right to know and I doubt he plans on telling you himself.”

I dare not breathe as I wait for her to continue.

“Odin and I have never been the perfect parents. We’ve made many mistakes over the years, but one has stood out amongst them as the most damaging. And my poor son bore the brunt of the hurt from something that isn’t even his fault.” Frigga takes a moment to fiddle with her hands, not meeting my eyes. “Loki is adopted.”

What? I feel my brows furrow as I try to make sense of this. How is someone just adopted into the monarchy? Royalty is based on blood and marriage, not adoption.

“During the last major war with the Frost Giants, Odin came across a baby. A Frost Giant baby — a son of Laufey, no less.”

I heave a sharp intake of breath. “What?”

She continues, giving me a teary-eyed look. “The baby had magic and unknowingly used its abilities to capture the likeness of an Asgardian child. Odin felt for him and brought him home. You have to understand, Odin and I had been trying for another child for over two hundred years, without success. It had seemed Thor would be our only child, but then the gods dropped this blessing into our laps.” The tears fall then, and she cuts me off as I try to interject with questions. “Because Loki is a blessing, you see. He is my son just as much as Thor is, and I would not trade him for a biological child.” Her voice takes on a desperate, scratchy quality that I’ve never heard from her. “I love Loki. He is my child. And he is part of this family!” Frigga sniffles pitifully and, if I were not naked and soaking with suds and water, I would jump up and hug her. “Unfortunately, Loki does not see it this way. He did not find out the truth from us, but by accident.” A pained look crosses her face. “He thought he was a monster. He still thinks that. And yes, some of his recent actions have been like those of a monster, but I know he isn’t. My poor child is hurting, and he does not know how to handle it.” She takes a steadying breath and turns her eyes to the ceiling. “Odin has essentially sworn Loki off, and Loki has done the same for the rest of us. He still holds some affection for me, but all is lost for his father and brother. He even tried to kill Thor and Jane. Thankfully, the attempt was unsuccessful, but that makes it no less terrifying. It’s a horrible thing to have your sons on opposing sides. After that, Loki—” she shudders violently. “He—he fell off the Bifrost. Well, he was going to fall, and Thor tried to pull him back up, but-but Loki let go.” Her voice breaks and the tears fall freely now.

He…tried to kill himself? I feel a lump rise in my own throat and my breath stops all together. The bath water seems to turn ice cold. My mind races to try and draw the connection between the Loki I knew and the Loki in Frigga’s story.

What happened to him?

“He fell for who knows how long. It was many months before he resurfaced again, though he was not the same person. Not at all. My poor son! He had been brutally tortured and his anger only amplified during his time of isolation.”

I feel my muscles tense and lock into place. Someone tortured Loki? The fury I feel surprises me, scares me even. Never have I wanted to hurt someone like I want to hurt the person who caused Loki pain.

“Loki had grown up his whole life to believe he was destined to be a king. When he realized his true parentage, Loki knew Odin would never allow him to rule.” She frowns. “Odin should not have encouraged him so during his childhood only to rip the possibility away later. But the entity who tortured him—he still won’t tell us who—made Loki believe that he could be king of Midgard. Loki used the Chitarui to attack a Midguardian city and try to force the realm into submission to him. Many people died.”

My heart beats so loudly that I’m sure everyone in the room can hear it. I’m surprised the vibrations aren’t causing waves in my bathwater. As much as I want to cover my ears or run out of the room and denounce Frigga’s words as lies, I can’t. Because no matter how horrifying and outlandish this story sounds, I can’t ignore the fact that the Loki I saw an hour ago was not the same Loki I knew two hundred and fifty years ago. Yes, people change, but not like that. Something really, really awful must have happened to bring about this new Loki.

Frigga continues, sounding weary. “A Midgardian fighting group Thor associates with defeated Loki and the Chitauri. Loki was brought back to Asgard in chains. Odin sentenced him to a five hundred years of imprisonment. There was nothing I could do to lessen the sentence and, of course, Loki has too much pride and hatred for his father to try and lessen it himself. But not long after his imprisonment, the Dark Elves launched an attack on the Nine Realms.”

I furrow my brow. I hadn’t heard of this. How had Alfheim not been aware?

“Loki broke out of prison and aided Thor in the fight against the Dark Elves.” Frigga gives a tearful smile. “Finally, they were on the same side! Loki nearly died in the fight. He protected Jane with his life. Thankfully, Thor was able to bring him back to Asgard in time and the Healers and I saved him with our magic. At mine and Thor’s behest, Odin begrudgingly ended Loki’s imprisonment. We all agreed that Loki’s sacrifice and willingness to protect the Nine Realms atoned for his crimes. I truly thought that was the turning point and that my Loki would be back.”

She sighs, looking at her hands once more. “But Loki is still a changed man. The lies, betrayals, hurt, and anger penetrated too deeply into his soul. Now he is cold, distant, spiteful, and he always wears a mask. No one can ever guess what he is feeling, because he refuses to give any indication of it! I worry he is not letting himself heal. And he is trying to push away the people he loves most.” Her voice softens, and she places a tender hand on my soapy cheek. “Do not be surprised if he does the same to you.”

{***}

Since my most immediate needs have been taken care of, I have ample energy to worry.

My stomach, in a near-constant state of unease since my escape from the dungeons, churns. My mind darts from thought to thought as I try to cope with fears for my people and my father, my anger at Audunn, shock at all I’ve experienced, pain and frustration at my engagement to Thor, and deep, deep hurt for Loki. There’s some anger there, too. Maybe more than some.

I huff.

Definitely more than some.

How could he be so stupid?! Yes, it’s absolutely terrible what he went through, but resorting to realm-domination and murder? Uh-uh. No way. Unacceptable. And the attitude on him! What the Hel is that?

“Ugh!” Some of my frustration leaves me at the spot where my foot kicks the table.

It immediately returns upon registering the pain.

“My Lady, please sit down!” Ragna worries over me, trying to pull me into a plush, high-backed chair. “You have been through so much, you need to rest.”

I scoff, yanking my arm from her grip. “There’s too much going on to allow time for rest, Ragna. And yet there’s nothing I can do about any of it!” I drop my arms to my side, defeated. “I hate that there’s nothing I can do.”

She frowns, unsure of how to help me. It’s then that I notice how tired she looks herself. A deep scratch runs from her temple to her hairline—she got that from a rogue guard when we were escaping Alfheim. She’s been through just as much as you have.

I give her a weak smile, hoping I look reassuring. “You and I both have been through a great ordeal. Please, let me call a servant to show you to your quarters. Take as long as you need to bathe, eat, rest, whatever you need.”

Ragna hesitates, but she’s so tired that she’s swaying on her feet. I nod encouragingly. “Al-alright, My Lady. Thank you.”

“Of course.” I go to the wall and pull on the string that will ring a bell in the Servant’s Quarters. Within minutes, a young serving maid enters the room with a knock and a curtsey. I send Ragna away with instructions not to come back until she is fully fed, cleaned, and rested.

But once I’m alone, the thoughts come racing back. While there’s nothing I can do right now to help Alfheim, there is something I can do to help myself.

I let out a loud, guttural groan, knowing what I have to do.

{***}

I haven’t been in the palace in over three centuries, but little has changed. Queen Frigga insisted I retake my old living quarters, so the path is one I know well.

He doesn’t seem surprised when I bypass a servant and enter his chambers without knocking.

“Leave us.” While my throat feels tight, the command is clear, and the five servants hurry from the room.

Loki doesn’t look up from his book when he says his first words to me in two hundred and fifty years. “Well, that was rude. What a terrible first impression the future queen of Asgard has given them.”

I scoff, crossing my arms, trying not to let the jab at my imminent marriage to Thor hurt me. “You want to talk to me about manners? All you do is scowl and stalk out of rooms.”

He gives an unaffected shrug. “Think what you like.”

The silence weighs on me and I can feel my heartbeat echoing through my body.

“Stand up.”

Now it’s his turn to scoff. “Why? Planning on impaling me with your dagger?”

Tempting. “Stand. Up.”

He sighs but humors me, setting down his book to stand with his arms spread mockingly wide. “Happy?” He fixes me with a hard, emotionless look.

I steel myself and barrel forward, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug.

He stiffens. “Lady Y/n, whatever you hope to achieve—”

“Shut up.” I squeeze tighter, turning my face so my cheek is against his chest. He sighs again and lets his arms hang, refusing to hug me back. I press on, forcing myself to say what I came here to say. “Listen. You’ve done some really bad things and turned yourself into a pretty awful person to be around.” I swallow, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “But regardless of where we stand or what is in the past or future, you need to know that I am always on your side. I want you to get better. I don’t want you to feel pain or be sad or hurt or anything bad. But you have got to stop self-sabotaging. You need to let yourself heal. The people who love you can only protect you from so much.”

I push away from him and leave the room without another look.

A/n Happy New Year! My requests are open so message me if there’s something you would like for me to write :) Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639618035738607616/odins-ward-chapter-15

Masterlist

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki @jooordanharrrop

#loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki post #loki imagine #loki reader-insert #loki x reader #loki x reader fanfiction #thor #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader-insert #thor fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x female #asgard #odin #frigga #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki laufeyson #friends to lovers

[stubbychaos]

Saviin’ika Chapter 11 Sneak Peek

Hey guys! I just wanted to thank you all for being so sweet and kind lately!! :) It’s always so lovely seeing so much support even though I haven’t been as present on tumblr as I usually am due to my personal life being a little hectic at the moment.

Anyways, I’m sorry this sneak peek is a couple days late!! I was making a bunch of changes to the plot in this chapter and wasn’t sure what part I wanted to post, but I still hope you all enjoy this little preview :)

“Hey, it’s okay” You reassure Paz before he can argue and dig himself into a deeper hole with the armorer, since it seems he’s already testing her patience, “She is right, if I really want to be a part of the tribe, I can’t let you always speak for me and make my decisions Paz.”

“Okay,” He sighs, clearly not wanting to leave you alone with the matriarch of the tribe, though he knows you’re right, “Fine. I’ll take him back to the nursery and meet you in our room later. Just… please think about what it is you are being offered, okay?”

You give him a fervent nod as he squeezes your shoulder before turning to the little one still hiding behind your leg. You half expect Odi to stay there, refusing to face the Mandalorian who’s currently holding a gloved hand out for him to take, though you’re pleasantly surprised when the boy lets go of you. Paz has to lean over the tiniest bit as Odi grabs two of his fingers and if your stomach didn’t suddenly feel so queasy, you would have grinned at how big Paz appeared standing next to the child.

You frown when Paz turns his helm to look at you over a broad shoulder, “Cyare, don’t--”

“I’ll be fine,” You remind him with a kind smile, “Was it not you who told me that you think I am getting stronger and stronger every passing day, or were you lying to me to make me feel better?”

He huffs at the knowing expression on your face and Ima giggles when his shoulders fall, head cocking to the side and you’re certain he wears a soft glare of exasperation underneath his blue helmet. 

Wrapped up in his arms in the darkness of his room, you’ve felt the way the smooth skin between his brows wrinkles with irritation when you ask him about certain tribe members that have a knack for causing chaos within the covert or when he’s concentrating hard on something. Or even all the time his plump lips tug downwards and his forehead lightly creases whenever he hears your own responses to the little questions he asks about growing up in the rough city above his covert.

You can still feel the way his lips feel against yours and how they always seem to curve up into a little smile whenever he kisses you for the first time after a long day and you think he must always be incredibly expressive underneath the dull blue helmet.

Right now, you’re certain he’s scowling as Ima makes fun of him for calling you ‘cyare’, and you smile fondly at the way he slightly elbows her away from him.

The alor sits at a small table in front of the lit forge and your anxiety intensifies upon remembering how the two of you had sat in those chairs while you recalled the entire incident with the Trandoshan, Paz seething at your side. As soon as the two warriors and Odi are out of sight, you let out a deep breath and turn around to sit across from the ever intimidating armorer; you try not to focus on all the rusted and scuffed up scraps on the table, but rather her intriguing visor.

“It seems as though you have already made some new friends during your stay,” The armorer hums, almost sounding amused as she speaks of Odi, “It is always a struggle for the newest foundlings to become accustomed to our ways.”

“He is a very sweet child, I am sure with a few more weeks, he will grow more comfortable.”

“And what about you, little one?” She wraps her hand around the handle of a blade, the tip of the blade jagged and broken, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest, “You have been here for six rotations now. The last time I saw you was when you protected Din Djarin’s honor.”

You’re confused and slightly on edge, wondering what she’s trying to get at, “I like it here very much and the work I am doing--it feels far more rewarding than it did when I was working in the village. I am… I am extremely lucky and grateful that I was accepted.”

The armorer continues to inspect the blade as she speaks, “And so you wish to stay with us?”

Your fingers dig painfully into your thighs and you fear that this is it--that perhaps she will kick you out without Paz even knowing. Maker… you had told Odi you would always be here for him, what would he do if you just disappeared?

Perhaps you’re still emotional from the rough previous night you and Paz both experienced, but your throat closes up as you nod fervently, “Yes, I would like to stay for as long as Paz would like to have me here.”

“That is not his decision to make, I’m afraid.”

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester​ @auty-ren​ @theocatkov​ @oloreaa​ @talesfromtheguild​ @blindedbyyourgrace17​ @datmando​ @dartheldur​ @miscellaneous-mando​ @karpasia​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @whatababeleia​ @maybege​ @aerynwrites​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @lackofhonor​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @crazy-kat-in-the-hat​ @roxypeanut​ @mandolovian​ @honestlystop​ @teaofpeach​ @macabrefaerie​ @acynicalcat​ @spaghetti-666​ @readsalot73​ @lanatheawesome​ @absurdthirst​​ @anakinsittinginsand​​ @yes-music-is-my-religion​​ @tangledlove27​​ @justrunamok​​ @peqchynero​​ @haloangel391��​ @awhiskeywithawinchester @aliciaxglasgow​​ @bonesaldente​​ @kawaiitimecharm​​ @karaabove​​ @clydesducktape​​ @misssilvertongue​​ @heartxheat​​ @pazvizslasgirl4ever​​ @drownedbytears​ @lokiaddicted​ @hayley-the-comet​ (Please let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be taken off!!)

#lol I had this all formatted and the taglist all typed out and then my browser refreshed itself #was I slightly devastated? #maybe lmaoo #sneak peek #also i am still losing my mind over the s2 trailer lmao

[mcytrabbithole]

The Crash (Prologue Pt.2)

The second part of the prologue for my new fic! This is a fic about what would happen if the members of the Dream SMP and Hermitcraft got thrown into a new situation together.

If you want to read the first part of the prologue, you can read it here   

Tags: @shineisalive , 

Warnings: Suffocation, vomiting, sudden muteness, SMP members feeling some pain

Word Count: 2473 

It was a...normal day on the Dream SMP. At least as far as their normal days could go, which was to say that it was the most chaotic thing possible. Todays chaos involved the fact that things had finally boiled over for the seventeenth time. Now it was time for another showdown, this time the showdown was going on right past the fear sign that was outside of Pogtopia.

This was it, another battle for Pogtopia, another battle towards gaining their freedom. At least, it was looking like it was going to be another. The whole server was there, some watching, some ready for a fight. Niki and Eret were watching, because Niki didn’t have enough armor and Eret just couldn’t bring himself to fight. Seeing the people who are your home fight for the right to go back to the place they once called home isn’t something that many people would want to see. 

Through out the day, as time led up to the battle, things had been...odd. Not just normal SMP odd either, odd like things had been going weird odd. Dream had noticed this as he always did, because as the admin, or the ‘god’ as he was jokingly referred to, he had to know what was up with his server. So if that meant sometimes he had to watch the chaos a little bit before he understood what was going on, then so be it. 

Tommy had lost his pickaxe twice, even though he and Techno both knew it had been in his bag, and it reappeared in a chest that was by the potato farm. They hadn’t even been near the potato farm. Well, Techno had been but Tommy hadn’t been down there so they didn’t know how it had ended up there. Dream knew Tommy had had the pickaxe in his bag, he had seen him with it, so he knew that that had to have been a glitch. No biggie, one glitch isn’t a problem.

Then Dream had had the weirdest glitch he had seen in a while pop up.

Nihachu has burnt to death

The_Eret has burnt to death 

The_Eret: Me and Niki weren’t even near one another and I wasn’t near any lava so I don’t know what just happened

Nihachu: I was just working on fixing some holes in a wall and then I just died? Dream could you take a look and see what happened?

Dream: Yeah, did you guys lose anything?

The_Eret: Nah, it says I burnt to death but all my stuff is where it was when I died 

Nihachu: Same here. 

Dream: I’ll take a look at it 

Dream sighs as he reads over the messages a few more time, he didn’t really use his admin powers for much besides getting people their stuff back and giving people the supplies they needed. He double checks to make sure that he’s alone, which he was considering he was by himself in his house, and then he takes off his mask, allowing himself to see the code and take a look at it. 

He didn’t take his mask off a lot for many reasons, but it was mainly so that he wouldn’t have to focus on the code that he could see thanks to being an admin. For some admins it was a case of needing something so they could see the code, for others it was a case of needing something so that they couldn’t see the code. 

As he looks over the code to try and figure out what was wrong, he frowns. Everything looked right, but something just felt...wrong. It was like that itch at the back of your throat that you get even when you feel healthy as can be. Maybe he just hadn’t looked at the code in a while, maybe it was just the nerves that came with every battle that he fought in. Just because he’s a good fighter doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get nervous before a fight. Especially one like the one that was going to go down outside of Pogtopia, because that fight meant a fight against his friends. 

He checks the time, the frown remaining on his face as he realizes how little time he has left until the fight. Dream takes a deep breath, taking one last look at the code before he puts his mask back on. Dream begins to make his way over to Pogtopia, trying to ignore that feeling at the back of his throat. It was just nerves, just his connection to the server being a bit stronger because of what was about to happen. 

When he arrived, he saw that the sides were slowly beginning to form. Seeing Fundy, George, his team, fight against him wasn’t something he wanted, but he was willing to put aside his feelings. Dream looks over to where Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno were standing; they were quietly talking about something. Dream acted like he was middle ground, standing in between the two groups that had begun to form. 

He couldn’t help but listen to the Pogtopia side of things, being an admin allowed for these moments. Allowed for him to listen in, figure out what people were saying and feeling without having to let himself get close. Some might call it rude, but he knew he needed to hear how the people he was going to fight alongside were feeling, even if he couldn’t reveal that he was fighting alongside them yet. 

“Wilbur, are you sure you can handle going up against him? He’s still your son, even if he’s a traitor.” For once, Tommy wasn’t yelling and screaming. He was worried, worried for his friend. Wilbur sighed, taking a deep breath,” I can handle this, Tommy.” Though Dream could tell, Wilbur hated doing this. Going up against his son, it was something Wilbur never pictured happening. “Wilbur,” Techno spoke, using that same voice, but they could tell he was serious,” Am I allowed to hurt him? Cause I don’t wanna accidentally stab your kid if you’re not cool with me stabbing your kid.”

“Techno,” Wilbur looked at Techno, he sounded tired, looked tired,” If you absolutely have to, then stab...and if there is no other option, go for the kill. He’ll just respawn and be a bit pissed at you, or me...probably me.” Techno nods, he was always glad to go into another fight, but he also didn’t want to be the one that killed the people that they didn’t wanna kill. 

Dream decides to stop listening to the conversation and just take a second to look around. He wouldn’t listen to the Manburg side, not even what Fundy had to say right now. Dream could see that those who were watching were the ones who couldn’t fight, though if they end up needing them, he’s more than willing to drop the gear that Niki needs or that Eret may need. 

Finally, after quite sometime, the sides have spoken quietly to each other and now the real talks could begin. Dream stayed where he was, in the middle, but he was fully prepared to make a break for it and run for the Pogtopia side if he had to. The talks began calmly enough, with Wilbur saying,” Are you lot quite sure that you want to do this?” And Schlatt actually laughed, being far too arrogant for a man who didn’t wear armor,” Oh we’re quite sure, Wilbur.” 

Dream sighed, looking between the two sides. He figured taking a shot at one last civil conversation was worth it. “Before you guys decide to go all out and murder one another,” He glances between the two groups,” One last chance to change sides, one last chance to talk things out peacefully, like adults.” He takes a deep breath and freezes at the sudden tightness he feels in his throat. 

Both groups had been paying attention to Dream, so when he suddenly stopped talking, they all noticed. Dream tries to take another breath, but he can’t, and suddenly he’s gripping at his throat hoping to god that he’ll be able to breathe again. He’s gasping for breath, and people are trying to figure out what’s going on. 

“Dream?” George says his friends name, concern for his friend running through him just as it did for everyone else, besides Schlatt. “He’s just faking it to buy time.” Schlatt says this easily enough, but everybody looks at him like he’s just snorted a bunch of blaze powder. Dream could swear that he was starting to see spots, unaware of the fact that he had started to shake. Fundy almost took a step, but he was sure that Dream would be fine.

Then it hit Dream again, and he hit the ground, landing on his hands and knees. “Dream!” George, Sap, and Bad went running towards their friend. Schlatt puts an arm out to stop George,” Don’t.” George just gives Schlatt a look,” He’s my friend and I’m going to check on him.” Then he pushes past Schlatt and heads over to Dream. 

Dream was gasping for breath, trying to get in any air at all, but it just wouldn’t happen. “Dream, can you hear us?” Bad asks this, carefully crouching down next to his friend. “Does anybody have any water?” Sap looks towards both groups, war bedamned, his friend is in pain and he doesn’t want to see him in pain. Niki digs around in her pockets, finding a glass bottle,” I’ll get some water from the river!” She went running towards the river, Dream was a good guy and he needed the help.

Dream manages a nod, he could hear them, but things were getting faint. “Can we take the hood off of your head?” Bad was doing his best, so he figured yes or no questions were the best ones to ask right now. Dream nods again, getting the hood off might help. Bad carefully pulls the hood off of Dream’s head, and it helps for a moment, but then the pain comes back a thousand times stronger, causing him to let out another gasp. He could feel the lack of oxygen getting to him, could feel the bile in the back of his throat from how much the pain made him want to vomit. 

“Dream, I think we’ll need to take the mask off of your face.” Bad says this carefully, knowing that Dream hated taking his mask off around people. Dream manages to think about it for a moment, then manages to shakily lift one of his hands, moving his mask just enough for his nose and mouth to be uncovered. That did help, allowing him enough air to breathe for longer than a moment. 

Then suddenly, the pain stopped, and he was breathing again, though right after this, he does vomit. Bad rubs his back as Niki comes running up with a bottle of water, which she hands to George, cause she still doesn’t want much to do with Sapnap. George thanks Niki for the water as she heads back over to the sidelines where she and Eret had been. 

Once Dream had stopped vomiting, George handed him the bottle of water and Dream practically downed it. Once he had finished the water, he went to thank George for it...and couldn’t speak. He frowns, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. Dream couldn’t talk, he couldn’t talk, oh this could not be happening. George frowns,” Are you having trouble talking?” Dream nods, sitting up as best as he can. 

“What on earth is happening?” Wilbur seemed confused, concerned for Dream, but confused. “I think he can’t speak anymore.” Sap frowns, this was weird. Dream never felt any level of bad, so for him to have something like that happen...what on earth was going on? 

Dream tries to speak again, but nothing comes out... and the pain comes back, except now it was in his chest. He doubles over, hitting the ground on his back this time. “Shit!” Sapnap and George both looked like they had no idea how to help and Bad was so freaked out that he didn’t even bother to say language. 

Wilbur decides he’s going to take a step forward and see if he can help...and then the pain hits him straight in the chest and he hits the ground. “Wilbur!” Tommy is at his friends side in an instant, Niki running over to see what was going on. On instinct, Fundy reacts,” Dad!” He takes off towards them, Schlatt tries to stop him, placing an arm out and saying,” Don’t. Let him suffer.” Fundy responds to that by whacking Schlatt upside the head and ducking under his arm. Unfortunatley the pain to hit him a moment later and send him to the ground not too far from the midline of what had been the land between the two groups.  

Schlatt frowns,” What kind of display of weakness is this?” Was this some sort of weird trick? Surely this was the only reason Dream and Wilbur would both be doing this. They had to be playing some sort of trick on him, that was the only thing that made sense. 

Tubbo saw Tommy hit the ground and he almost went to him, almost went to his friends, but he didn’t want to risk it. Then he sees Eret hit the ground and he runs over to see if he could possibly help him. Right now, Eret was technically neutral so surely helping him wouldn’t be a bad thing. As he reaches Eret, the pain hits him and he ends up on the ground near Eret. 

Then it starts to hit them all one by one, eventually everyone had hit the ground from pain...the only one left standing was Schlatt. “Ha! Look at all of you acting so weak! What kind of weird trick is this?! You think you’ll get pity from me just because you’re all in a little pai-” Before he can finish his rant, which was probably something about how strong he is, the pain finally hits him and he hits the ground. 

As the pain hits them, they all shut their eyes, hoping that the pain would stop. That’s when they felt the change, the shift, the feeling of their code suddenly being moved somewhere else. Dream felt it the most, felt the way the server changed, he could practically feel it in the very beginnings of his code. 

Suddenly, the pain stops, and when they opened their eyes, things were very different. Some were in an open field, others were separated from one another...but no matter where they had ended up, they weren’t alone. All they knew was this was not the SMP that they knew, at least, not entirely...and the people they saw were definitely people that weren’t in the SMP. 

#dream smp #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade #nihachu #fundy #jschlatt #sapnap #badboyhalo #georgenotfound #tubbo #mcyt #mcytrabbithole #rabbit writes #the crash

[whitherliliesbloom]

hope for the future

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #25 - wish ]

[ wol/alphinaud ]  ★ [ 1,595 words ]  ★ [ post-canon ]

illya skawi & alphinaud leveilleur ♡ occurs an undefined amount of years after canon. 

and we will build bridges up to the sky. and heavenly lights surrounding you and i

"They say a prayer upon a shooting star grants any wish."

The navy of his eyes glisten with sanguine as they tilt up to gaze out the window upon the midnight sky. And while he had momentarily been captivated by the brilliance that was the shimmering gems of stars hung upon a majestic pitch black curtain, his eyes were quickly stolen away by the luster he found his fingers threading through. Each strand like the milky way, its pure white hue as radiant as the sun and moon combined. He'd run his hands through her hair from the roots of her silken diamond like hair down to her back, watching as the other half of its length cascaded and pooled around her on the bed.

He'd brush her hair with his own hands in search for a single knot he could gently tug apart - a husband's service to the woman who was his entire world.. and yet even as he'd find none, he continued to stroke her head, pulling the lalafell closer to his chest as he does. He likes this excuse to stay close to her - knew he’s already missed out on a thousand lifetimes of getting to touch her and hear her. He wishes not to miss any more. 

The woman on his lap hums, shifting ever so gently to turn her head up and poke the tip of his pointed nose with the supple pad of her finger tip.

"I think I of all people should know if that saying is true or not, Alphinaud." There's a hint of red mischief glimmering in the midst of tranquil violet in her eyes, but he's long learned to not think any differently of her regardless what hue her eyes shone. "I'm an astrologer. The constellations are meant for divining the future."

"Ah, yes. And you are also, among other things, a non-padjali white mage. AND the most dangerous sorceress I've ever had the fortune to meet." Alphinaud's grin widens, and he reflects the mischief in her eyes twicefold as he dips his head down to nudge his head against hers in a manner that reminded her starkly of a needy puppy. "Need I mention an accomplished artisan?"

Sometimes Alphinaud found the mood to tease her - listing the many and more talents she possessed that he'd looked up to as she'd scurry away and shrink herself into a flustered, blushing mess. It had been his foolproof way of eliciting that adorable reaction out of his eternally bonded, and a way to help her curb with her less than ideal self-esteem both.

"Oh, and your singing of course.. how could I forget the voice of the most captivating songbird in all of Eorzea?"

"A-alphinauddd pleaseee..." Darling Warrior of Light is thoroughly flushed in the face now, and she's resorted to burying herself into his chest to hide her embarrassment while he it was all he could but to laugh heartily, and the boyish glee in his voice that rose in volume stirs at her pounding heart even more.

There were many things he loved about his lady, the woman he'd been so blessed to reunite with - so utterly undeserving of her gaze as he was. Even their past lives aside, he was a flawed man who so nearly saw the last grains of sands that was his second chance slip through his fingers and wash away into the sea of souls for good. If Illya had not been courted by a taller, darker, stronger and more gifted person, fate surely would have stolen her light from him. 

She bloomed like a rose, beautiful yet laced with thorns. Her spirit was like the ocean, tranquil and still on a calm night, yet her might amidst a midnight storm was dangerous and unparalleled. And more than anything, he saw an angel in her, selfless and ever boundless in her blessings to others. 

And in the midst of reflecting back on her many deeds, a finger gently tracing the discolored scars that lined her skin across her collar bone and shoulder, he wondered silently with some amount of melancholy what exactly the world has done in return for their savior. Certainly not enough - not even close.. and he, of all people, has the most to repay her for, a debt he owes her across the span of countless stars.

If she could wish upon a shooting star - just what kind of deepest desires did her heart hold?

“Make a wish, Illya.” Alphinaud whispers, as he leans back against the headboard of the bed and moves his hand to gently clasp hers. His wife moves back ever so slightly to look at him with wide, curious eyes. 

“A wish?”

“Aye.. if you could have any wish in the world granted, what would it be?”

The lalafell pauses, pursing her lips as she thought in silence, and glances out the window upon the myriad of glittering stars. She contemplates for a moment, before furrowing her brows and looking back up at the elezen.

“I would wish for eternal world peace.” 

Oh, typical. The answer had entirely been predictable, but Alphinaud was no less disappointed after hearing it. Ever the sacrificial hero, a girl who would sooner give her life than to forsake the world even in an imaginary scenario. 

But it was odd to hear that whilst she wore her dainty little night gown, feet in woolen slippers and her body held close in the safety of his arms. The room was warmly lit by a mixture of golden light fixtures and glowing pink lily lamps, the scent of lavender and chamomile drifting through the air. And atop their bedside table left a pair of matching aetheryte rings, and a silver locket bearing a glowing amethyst gemstone whose shine was only second to Illya’s eyes. 

This was their home - their safe haven.. a place he made doubly sure would keep them safe, and most importantly - make Illya feel at ease.

He didn’t want to hear the wishes of the Warrior of Light - the front of a hero she has to wear every waking moment of her life and the bravery she’s proven many times over to already possess. He wanted to hear the wishes of Illya Skawi - the woman whose smile he swore to preserve for the rest of eternity. 

“That’s.. very valiant. But I want to hear your own wish.. a wish you have for yourself.”

Illya tilts her head with a slight frown.

“Wishing something for myself when the world is ever in desperate need somehow.. isn’t that selfish?”

“Illya.. I think you’ve earned every right to be selfish. You more than any other person in the world.” His hand raises to gently nudge her chin up, and he tilts his own head down to plant a gentle kiss upon her forehead before exhaling heavily. His breath tickles her, and he smiles at her singsong giggle. 

“But for the sake of easing your constant need for philanthropy.. Let’s say your wish for world peace comes true. What then?”

Her silence is lengthier this time as she contemplates his question, turning to obscure her eyes beneath the shadow of her bangs as she rummaged through a hundred different thoughts in her mind at once, searching for any glimpses of selfishness she has had to bury under a mountain of responsibilities. 

She finally thinks of one - a simple and basic wish.. but one she never dared hoped she could attain so many summers ago. And that fear still lingers even in the present, for as ideal of a scenario as Alphinaud proposed, she and he knew that the world will never truly be at peace for long. 

But the world was ever wanting for heroes such as they, fighting through as many presents of chaos as it takes - hoping and wishing for a happier, brighter future - much like her own selfish desire.

“I wish we’ll be together forever..” Her voice is soft, sheepish from her embarrassing words, and she presses her face against his neck as she murmurs her remaining words against the warmth of his skin. “To be happy.. and.. for you to be as well.”

It takes a good amount of his will for Alphinaud to not crush her in a tight embrace then and there, and he so nearly does as his arms circle around her waist to pull her closer. His eyes blur for a moment, lips parting in an effort to speak against his speechlessness at her pure, honest wish. But he fights against his own habit of speaking excessively to let the peaceful silence hang in the air, and only when Illya finally looks up at him in a silent request for a response does he finally reply in a whisper.

“Of course we will be... I’ll make sure of that.”

Illya beams up at him, her effervescent smile stealing his breath away again, and Alphinaud finds the corners of his lips curling upwards in turn.

“And what of you? What would your wish be, Alphinaud? In the event of um... world peace, that is.”

“Me?” 

The man hums, narrowing his eyes for a moment.. but it doesn’t take long for him to grin brightly once more, before slipping his hand down to rest against Illya’s tummy. 

“I already have my wish.” His heart soars as he hears Illya laugh heartily, and he leans forward to speak to his future with a gentle stroke of his hand. “Isn’t that right, little one?”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #kiwisffxivwrite2020 #YEAHEYAEHAYEAHEY WOOO WOWOO WOOOOOOOO I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE TEETH ROTTING FLUFF IM WOOOOO

[thehattertheory]

untitled s/k

I accidently reblogged a prompt list to the wrong blog and @cakeit0n requested 63. I forgot to forget. Given Cake has brought back the DDN/GMDDN and is an awesome human in general, I’m stoked to oblige.

I’m not sure how well this works for the prompt, my brain just sort of blurted it out.

Rating: G

Tags : Modern Era, CanonDiv, Kagome never goes back to the past, youkai politics in the modern era, romance, inu yasha has zero patience for these two idiots, drabble? nah my hand slipped, unbetaed, kind of rushed but im going out of town with no internet so now or never

When he met her again, she was covered in blood, working with a petite youkai to try and keep a wounded creature from pulling the fang in it’s thigh free. That the fang was easily the width of his wrist and buried in the thigh of a dragon meant little. He’d come to investigate the disturbance itself.

Finding her in the thick of it seemed fitting, twenty first century be damned.

When she looked up at him there was the briefest flicker of recognition before her features settled into determined lines. “Either you can go and get that sword of yours or you can help me make sure he doesn’t get that far.”

With only one real way to help, he clipped the dragon’s head, stunning it senseless. “How did this happen?”

“He’s not up to answering questions right now, we need to get him stabilized and moved,” She muttered, wrapping bandages around the fang to keep it from moving, a series of curses escaping as she finished the job. “Sesshoumaru, can you pick him up, we just need to get him into the truck.”

“Miko,” The petite youkai hissed, staring at him, then swinging her gaze back to the woman.

“He’s fine,” The miko dismissed. “We need to get this one out of sight, asap. Sesshoumaru?”

“You would have done this without me,” He reminded her, amused by her lack of decorum.

“But having a man around helps,” She shrugged. “Unless you want the news to get him on camera.”

With little option, he slung the youkai over his shoulder and followed her to the van parked in the next alley, dropping the stunned creature into the back with a modicum of grace and watching as the petite youkai got in the back, the door being slammed shut in his face.

“Don’t mind Souten. She’s paranoid of the elders.”

Him. She was paranoid about him. “Is she a criminal?”

“We both work a clinic.”

A clinic, not The Clinic, the same one they’d been searching for as the conflict between the youkai factions had begun escalating. He knew better than to think they weren’t the same thing.

“You’re being forthcoming.”

“You won’t turn me in,” She shrugged.

“Presumptuous.”

“Then got on with it or let me get him somewhere safe.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I don’t care.”

He frowned. The crux of it. “You’ll take me there.”

“No.”

“Miko-”

“You can’t go back, Sesshoumaru. You called me by my name,” She reminded him with a pinched frown.

“Five hundred years is enough time for the formalities to reassert themselves.”

She had the gall to roll her eyes at him. “I’m not leading you there. We just moved again.”  Just as abruptly, something shifted, she looked back up at him, her exhaustion peeking through the mask she’d been wearing. “Please, just- Just this time. Let us go. Forget you saw us.”

Exhaustion, frustration, even a little fear. But resilience too, the girl he’d known a scattered blueprint for the woman standing in front of him. “I owe you no favors,” He said slowly, seeing her go rigid, steeling herself. “But I owe a debt to the girl that saved my ward, a very long time ago.”

Her shoulders sagged, naked gratitude replacing the fear.

“Thank you,” She breathed, her only acknowledgment before slipping into the van and starting it.

Despite himself, despite the laws he’d helped compose, that he’d sworn to uphold without exception- He watched her go, and did not follow.

########################

Tensions continued to rise, tempers and minor conflicts sparking among youkai in the city, even spreading outside of Tokyo, spreading them all thin. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first war that chanced being caught on cellphones and city CCTV, the entire world wired to take notice of them.

He didn’t seek out the clinic itself, but he did search for Kagome. It should have been simple to find a miko, especially one with blue eyes, one that healed anyone, regardless of species. What should have been simple had turned to an exercise in futility, the last tangible rumor of her from a residency that she’d completed, not a whiff of magic about her.

Then nothing but fragments of whispers.

So it was surprising to be called to a hearing, only to find himself face to face with her.

“And who is this?” He asked, biting back surprise.

“It turns out the miko Sango has been the one giving haven to the wounded, instead of bringing them to our attention.”

Sango. He remembered that name, remembered the huntress and her younger brother. Memories tied up in Rin’s life, and her death. “Sango, is it? Do you understand why you’re here?”

Fierce, rebellious blue eyes rose to meet his gaze without flinching. “I’m helping them. Most of them don’t have any choice. Their leaders are forcing them to fight-”

“They all have a choice,” Another of the Elders interrupted, as if bored with the proceedings.

“If someone disobeys their clan head they’re cast out. Are you you going to take care of them?” She countered, fury spilling over, voice echoing through the room. “Tell me, who’s going to help them if they’re hit by a car and can’t explain walking away? Or what about the ones that require weekly seals for their unstable blood? Will you see to it they can survive the modern era?”

“Passionate, coming from a miko,” One of his peers sneered.

“If you want to end my interference, do your jobs and end the conflict between the clans.”

It was the nail in the coffin. He could see the decision writ clear across their faces.

“Perhaps it is time she go to one of the holding areas, so we may discuss this matter,” He suggested.

“Bind her, force the truth out of her, clear out the clinics,” One of the others said with ease, as if he wasn’t suggesting the most horrific punishment they’d inflicted on their worst criminals.

“I think it is a matter that should be discussed,” He repeated. “Take her to the eighteenth floor.”

The two youkai that had been hanging back nodded their assent. Kagome didn’t allow them to touch her, following peacefully between them.

“We need access to the youkai she’s protecting,” One of the Elders muttered. “It’s the only way to find the instigators.”

She wouldn’t give up the youkai or her clinic, not that he was going to inform the others of any such thing. The agreement rose around him, where it fell apart was the how of it. Every elder had their own opinion of how to proceed. None of them agreed, and none of them was willing to cede.

They adjourned, nothing solved.

###############################

“Sango?” He asked, walking into the holding area. Little more than a small bedroom with a toilet and sink in it. One of only a small handful, all of them spelled to hold even the most dangerous of youkai and miko.

“I didn’t want them finding my family.”

“You’ve been doing this longer than the current conflict.”

“There’s always been a need for a clinic,” She shrugged, watching him warily. Whatever ease she’d had in his presence before was gone.

“You sacrificed yourself so your patient could escape,” He accused. “You would not be here otherwise.”

She remained silent.

“Foolish.”

“You would have done the same, once.”

“You speak as if I’ve changed so much.”

“Haven’t you?”

“You haven’t given me much chance to prove otherwise.”

A flicker of shame. “I’m sorry. It’s-” She stopped, shook her head. “It’s hard to know who to trust now.”

“I don’t need your patients,” He finally admitted. “Only the clans they belong to.” She opened her mouth in protest and he raised a hand to silence her. “We have no solid proof, not yet. We need something. Names of clans, at least. We only have suspicions, for now. We have to have more than that to do our jobs,” He reminded her. “Even we have due process.”

Her mouth twisted in distaste. “You want me to spy.”

“More or less.”

“And my freedom hinges on betraying trust?”

“No. I’m going to see you escape here regardless,” He said, unable to stop the smirk tugging at his own lips. Utterly dumbfounded. It was nice to see her that way, when she’d been so in control before. “The spells and seals have been nullified. You can walk out.”

“What about you?”

He was older, stronger, and more wily than most of them. “They’ll never know I was here.”

She got to her feet, walking past him slowly. “I won’t betray my patients,” She challenged, already opening the door.

“I understand.”

She slipped out. He had no doubt she wound find her way out of the building. The engineered chaos on the twenty third floor, a loosed youkai with both a temper and a penchant for fire had the guards undivided attentions.

###############################

Hands inspected his chest, poking gently at the area that throbbed with pain. He hissed, the pain radiating out, then disappearing completely. “This isn’t how I expected you to gather information,” A quiet voice murmured. “If I’d known you would go to these extremes, I would have just asked someone to come forward.”

A dark room greeted him, Kagome hovering over him, examining him in an impersonal way.

“You wouldn’t have anyway.”

“I did,” She corrected, continuing her ministrations. “Why did Mouti attack you?”

“How did you know it was Mouti?” He grumbled.

“Pheasant’s eye roots works a lot like morphine for youkai,” She huffed, giving him a slight smile. “You may have let a few things slip.”

“I hope nothing embarrassing,” He groaned, pushing himself up.

“Only how much you admire my blue eyes,” She teased.

“They are lovely, but I doubt they were the first thing on my mind.”

“Which brings up back to Mouti.”

“It is my concern,” he dismissed. As ever, she ignored the implicit command.

“It might be mine.”

“Oh, do tell?”

“I purified him,” She declared quietly, pulling her gloves off and snapping them into the trashcan by the bed. “I felt Bakusaiga. I haven’t felt it in years, like lightening. I couldn’t, it wouldn’t let me ignore it. And then I found you both, and somehow he’d wounded you-” She shook her head, looking down at her hands. “I haven’t killed a youkai since I got back.”

It struck him then, that she was a doctor, and no matter what she’d done as a youth, a doctor’s first priority was to heal. Not to kill. She was carrying that weight for him, because of him.

“Mouti is an architect of the current conflict,” He finally admitted. “You killed the man that has kept your clinic so busy.”

It didn’t help.

“I don’t believe he’s the only one. Nor that the clans will stop, even if we were to put an end to the scheming. They’ve been given too many ideas, now they believe it’s possible to take over.”

Kagome dropped onto the bed, clearly exhausted. “I thought that might be it.”

“Kagome-”

“I’ll get names of clan heads for you,” She whispered, eyes clenched shut. “Just end this, Sesshoumaru. We don’t have the means to make this work for much longer.”

The clinic, with it’s myriad needs, to say nothing of the frequent moves. “Let me help.”

“You can’t endanger your place on the council right now-”

“Let me worry about my place on the council. I’ve held it for longer than you’ve been alive,” He reminded her dryly, earning a startled, broken laugh. A hand clapped over her mouth and bright, tear filled eyes lit on him. He could see the shock, the mortification and amusement in them, and offered a dry smile of his own in return. “I sound like your grandfather.”

“You do sound like my grandfather,” She huffed, hand dropping to her lap. It was a sad thing, her laugh, a puff of air and little more.

“Do you see them?”

“Not since this started escalating. I don’t want to chance it.”

He paused, because some things needed saying. “Inu Yasha-”

“He found me, when I was still in medical school. I know.”

Older than them both, aged and with children. Older, maybe even wiser than them both.

“Don’t tell him about this. You know how he is.”

It was genuinely amusing she thought his brother hadn’t been keeping tabs on her since she’d been born. The utter lack of information on her had probably been his brother’s doing to begin with. “You have my word I won’t bring him into this.”

“Thank you,” She breathed.

###############################

The child stared at him with eyes too bright, too vivid to be human. Even contacts couldn’t accomplish the array of colors that whorled as she stared up at him.

“Can I help you?”

“This is from the bird woman,” The hanyou announced, handing over an envelope.

He accepted it, and the child bolted. He attempted to follow, stunned to see- Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. As if the child had never existed.

Bird woman. Shaking his head, he opened the envelope, stunned to see two names written in a feminine hand, with a single line beneath it.

I don’t want to see you in my clinic again.

Shaking his head, he looked over the two names again, then promptly destroyed the letter.

###############################

The strange hanyou came to his apartment five more times, each time with a message from the Bird Woman. Every message with at least one name, sometimes more. Names of clan heads and nothing more. No more personal messages, nothing to hint at who had written them, or what the names meant. But they were all her handwriting, a tidy feminine script that he recognized immediately as hers.

And just as immediately, he destroyed them all, quietly repeating the names, forming plans of how to expose and judge them.

###############################

There were two cities, in Tokyo. The city humanity walked, with it’s myriad bright lights and bustling corridors, full of a thousand dreams and nightmares, pulling people into the consumerists cycle of styles and creations, art and politics.

The Tokyo behind it, below it, was one that had been cultivated centuries before, thriving. Until now. Now it’s tensions were breaking, leaking into the humans Tokyo, threatening to spill into the sunlight. Threatening to expose all of them.

It was the exact reason his brother had shown up. Not that it was helping his temper as he scoured maps, looking again and again for some sort of reason.

“There have been bodies showing up,” Inu Yasha observed.

“I know.”

“She wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I know,” He ground out. The child with the messages had stopped coming as well.

“Have you found the clinic?”

He’d had no need to find it, had known where it was the moment she’d moved, kept tabs on it because it meant keeping tabs on her. “She hasn’t been there. Shippou and Souten haven’t seen her.”

“Why would they take her? She’d get a hearing, at least,” Inu Yasha muttered.

Something suspiciously akin to guilt needled at him. “She did. I got her out.”

“She’d still have a formal arrest, you’d know-”

“She’s been feeding me names of clans, so I can try and figure out who all is involved.”

“You let her- Sesshoumaru, what the hell were you thinking?” His brother snarled. “She’s a doctor-”

“I know,” He snapped, unable to contain his frustration. “I know she’s a doctor and it goes against her ethics. I know!”

His brother stopped, pale gaze widening. “Holy- You care about her.”

“What are you on about?” He snapped.

“You wouldn’t do this for any spy. You care about her.”

“Stop projecting your moronic fantasies onto me, Inu Yasha.”

“Don’t lie to me. Just- Tell me the truth,” Inu Yasha demanded, voice quieter than it had ever been. “I just want to know the truth.”

“It’s my fault,” He admitted. He’d asked for the information, he’d used it. It had only been a matter of time before someone had been able to connect all the dots. He should have been more careful, and because he hadn’t, she’d been taken.

A hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing once. “We’ll get her back.”

###############################

Finding her was more simple than anticipated, knowing her energy, knowing her. It had only taken scouring the city, district by district. It was easier on foot, easier and faster for them than it would have been for humans.

Finding her was also stunning, the derelict building lacking any real protections.

“You will not have my bride!” The spirit shrieked at them, it’s shrill voice piercing, making his ears ache as it rang through him.

Bride.

Kagome sat at the table, dull blue eyes focused on nothing. She was still wearing jogging pants and a shirt with a bright pink stain on it, as if she’d been taken while out on a morning run. Taken and drugged to be the thing’s bride.

Tenseiga was quick. Quicker than the spirit deserved.

###############################

“As bad as the past,” Inu Yasha huffed, shaking his head. “Fucking figures it was someone trying to marry her.”

He glared at his half-brother.

“You should ask her about it sometime.”

“Why are you still here?”

Inu Yasha’s expression grew smug, a sly smile stretching his features. “I want to see what you do when she wakes up,” He gloated.

“Ensure she arrives home safely.”

“You moron,” Inu Yasha groaned. “You’re both in the middle of a war. She almost had something completely unrelated kill her. Are you really going to sit on your thumbs?”

“I truly abhor this conversation.”

“She’s worth it, you know,” Inu Yasha said, abruptly changing tactics, growing serious. “She really is.”

“Just because you loved her doesn’t mean everyone will.”

“But you do, don’t you?” His half brother challenged.

It was irrelevant. She didn’t want him at her clinics, in her life. She’d made it clear.

###############################

He was there when she began stirring, bruised, blue eyes squinting open first, then slowly widening, a groan escaping. There was nothing particularly beautiful or delicate about it, as if she was being dragged back to consciousness completely against her will. Leaning back in his chair, he watched her shift, blink resentfully at the window, then look over at him.

“I’m not married, am I?”

“No.”

“Good,” She breathed, closing her eyes again and snuggling down into his pillows. “Thanks.”

“The girl calls you the bird woman.”

A light smile, the shadows of resentment vanishing. “I helped Suki last year, another miko had tried to bind her youkai blood completely. She’s been my eyes since then. I don’t know why she calls me that. She just always has.” Her eyes opened, and she looked far ore at home in his bed than he really knew what to do with.

“Inu Yasha is here,” He advised, unsure of what else to say as she stared up at him, waiting for something. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that, her expression falling. “He saw the signs, and came of his own accord.”

“Oh.”

“He’s been worried about you.”

He watched her push herself up, left her alone in his room, in his bed. Inu Yasha was glaring at him, pointing at the door even as he exited. He ignored it, going back to the kitchen. An exasperated sigh erupted behind him, the hanyou disappearing into his room. He heard the joy in her voice, how it changed when his brother appeared.

Unashamed, he listened in.

“He’s an idiot, forgive him.”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“It’s stupid. You’re both in love-”

“Inu Yasha, you need to stay out of it.”

“I’ve had to listen to you-”

“Yasha-” She hissed.

“And he’s been insane trying to find you and then pretending-”

“He can hear you,” Kagome muttered, voice pitching.

“Then let him hear it. That’s constipated jackass for I love you, I should know-”

His entire body burned, unsure of how to stop his brother’s meddling without doing something that would prove the bastard right. “I think you’ve upset her enough,” He ground out, humiliated by his brother’s display. The door to his room opened, Inu Yasha stomping back out, Kagome behind him.

“I should never have removed the subjugation beads,” She muttered.

“Get off your high horses already,” Inu Yasha huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m going for some food. Have this solved by the time I get back.” Without further aplomb his brother left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“I lied. He sounds like my grandfather,” Kagome muttered, cradling her face in her palms. “Another suitor.”

He felt mortified despite himself.

“Not you, not- That you are a suitor,” She amended quickly. “The spirit.”

“Inu Yasha mentioned it was something of a pattern.”

She rolled her eyes. “When I was fifteen. I was pretty sure I’d entered untouchable spinster territory.”

“Not at all,” He demurred. “You’re more than you’ve ever been.”

She flushed, pink burning up her neck and cheeks. “Thank you. You-” She paused. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”

“I thought you made it clear.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You told me not to come back to the clinic.”

She was the one to close the space between them, her hands taking his, bringing them to her heart. He could feel it beneath his palms, thrumming in a steady, reassuring tattoo. “I didn’t want you to come back as my patient."

He felt foolish, having it spelled out for him.

As if she understood, she brought his hands up to her lips cautiously, as if unsure of her welcome. Slowly, she began kissing his fingertips, lips barely brushing over them in myriad kisses. Featherlight, as if she couldn’t stop exploring his hands, she kept kissing the callused flesh. The hands that had killed hundreds, thousands of youkai and humans, some dozen within the last week. Watching, stunned, he didn’t know what to do until she pressed a kiss to his palm, her breath shuddering out of her.

She meet his gaze evenly, vulnerability and resolve.

#s/k #that one from way back #god please forgive any glaring errors ill def clean it up by the time i get back #rushed bc i gotta get to the mt where there is 0% internet access like now #THANK YOU CAKE FOR MAKING IT SO EASY TO COME BACK

[serararku]

The Mourning Maiden

The haul was good for once. The first good haul in many moons.

Heavy wooden crates were carried down the gangway by burly men still covered in soot, mud, and blood. They were exhausted from the raid- they all were- and narrowly avoiding Limsa Lominsa's new navy was no easy task for pirates set in the old ways. The quaint little cove they stored their precious loot in would serve them well but not forever; the tide would rise come summer and the sea would swallow this place whole.

"Put yer backs into it!" The First Mate bellowed, impatiently shaking his weighty fist. "Ye wanna rest, do ye?! Sooner we unload, sooner we can drink! Come on lads! Move it move it move it!"

Captain Tranter wasn't afraid of a little manual labor and was already poised to crack open these chests to find out what exactly they pillaged. He gripped the sledgehammer with both hands, lifted it over his head, then brought it down on the heavy iron lock keeping the first chest sealed tight.

THAACK!

One good swing was all it took. With the steel-plated tip of his boot the Captain kicked off the crumbled metal and popped the chest open with a flick of his ankle. The orange light from the fading sunset bounced off the contents at the perfect angle, mimicking an aurora on the dull grey limestone ceiling. Even the crew gave pause to stare awestruck at the lights before the First Mate barked at them again. "Beautiful…" was all the Captain could mutter, enthralled by the myriad of colors glimmering from gemstones of all shapes and sizes. He blinked the trance away then gestured to his helping hands to haul it to the back of the cove with the rest of his treasure; they may go hungry if none of these crates and chests contained any food, but sleeping in a bed of gemstones would certainly be worth waiting till the morrow to get something to eat.

THAACK!

Next came the slaves. Almost a dozen Highlanders were ushered out from beneath the deck and across the gangway to endure a new life of suffering. The blood of their loved ones were still warm on their bodies as they stepped barefoot on the cold, wet, and jagged rocks, traumatized from being ripped from their homes and former lives, only to be sold to the highest bidder in the coming week. None knew exactly what would happen next, but they all had the same idea; judging by the lustful grins of their captives, there was a long and painful night awaiting them. Yet as an impatient pirate stepped forward to grope one, a black leather whip came cracking over his head to keep his urges in check. “Ye know the rules! Cap’n gets first pick! Then officers! Then ye can have ‘em warmin’ yer beds after that!” A long crooked finger was jabbed in the pirate’s face. “But if ye gettem pregnant, the babe and loss o’gil is yours!”

Captain Tranter gave the lineup a once over, but his mind was still orbiting that chest of gemstones. His eyes swept over their sniffling faces before he made his decision. “Aye, the blonde broad. At the end o’ the line. Getter in me favorite dress and make sure she ain’t cryin’ when I get done bustin’ open these chests.”

“Aye Cap’n!” The fairest of them all shivered with terror when she was unshackled from the others and ushered toward the back-end of the cove. The Captain ignored her pitiful weeping, instead returning to smashing open the rusty iron locks with the hopes of finding another one filled with gemstones. One was filled with linen. One with popatoes. Another was filled with old rags. It seemed their luck was beginning to wane, but at least they could make a fine fish stew with the popatoes to keep their bellies warm for the ni-

“What…? What in the hells is that?!” One of his crewmen blurted out as he pointed back at the ship; ignoring him would be a simple matter if the rest of his crew didn’t begin to gasp and murmur amongst themselves. Captain Tranter paused with the sledgehammer over his head to look at them, furrowed his brows at how pale and shaken the man looked, and followed his trembling finger.

In the crow’s nest knelt a fair-haired figure wearing a stained and tattered wedding dress, that flowed and drifted with even the faintest breeze. A dense fog cascaded from its form, and before long the growing cloud would swallow the ship whole. When Captain Tranter dropped his hammer and squinted to get a better look, the figure stood up straight, revealing the grey face of a woman, with a slender sliver of ice in her grasp.

“I-it’s the Mournin’ Maiden…!” A pirate cried out, recognizing the forlorn spirit. “B-bane of the seas… she feasts on the skulls o’ the unfaithful sailors…! All who break their vows are doomed men!” Just about every pirate within earshot shuddered in terror.

All but the Captain. “What are you idiots gawkin’ at?! Ye got guns aye?! Send this spectre back to the afterlife!” He whipped his revolver out of its holster and fired first, and two dozen of his men followed his lead. Blam! Blam! Blamblamblam! Blam blam! By the time they stopped firing, the spirit was gone.

“Did…” the First Mate stuttered as smoke drifted from the barrel of their pistols. “D-did we get em?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

What a horrible sound! The shriek rushed across the cove like the wind to test their resolve! They gripped at their ears and staggered from the piercing noise- some dropped to their knees and cried out in terror, while others abandoned their brothers and dived headfirst off the edge into the sea below. some of them misjudged their jumps and smacked against the jagged rocks protruding from the waters, or bellyflopped onto the shallow end; either fate was surely better than the apparition rending their souls from their bodies? “Oh no…! We angered her!” One of them collapsed to his knees and soiled himself. “The ship’s the only way out…! We’re trapped! We’re doomed!”

“Use silver!” Captain Tranter barked, popping open his revolver to replenish his shots with polished silver rounds. He had to wrestle back control of this situation if he wanted to live to see another day. “Silver’s deadly t’monsters! We can banish her with one clean sh-!”

Out from the freezing fog she came skittering down the gangway! “Fire! OPEN FIRE!” A hail of bullets ripped the air in half to tear her into pieces, but her erratic movements made her damn near impossible to hit. She leapt high into the air when the bullets tore through the rocks around her, only for her to vanish in a sudden puff of fog. Captain Tranter held his pistol tightly with one hand, and the handle of his silver rapier with the other; he would love nothing more than to bash this spirit with his sledgehammer, but she was too quick for that. “Steady…!” He commanded, keeping his eyes peeled for her to appear again. “No ghost needs to dodge…! She’s mortal and livin’! Just watch yer backs and prepare for another ambush!”

The First Mate looked up just in time to see the flowing wedding dress cascade over his body and blind him from the others. “MMMPH! MMPH!” The roegadyn clawed frantically at the ensnaring cloth as his crewmates watched on in horror. “MMMPH! MMURK-!” His arms and legs twitched before he collapsed to his knees. Captain Tranter raised his pistol and fired, and the spirit vanished again- only to reveal the First Mate’s head was missing!

“Up there! The ceilin’!” All eyes shot upward to witness her slowly crawling along the stalactites. She lunged at them, spiraling through the air while billowing fog from the holes in her mask. “Wait! WAIT! N-AAAUGH!” A long sliver of ice slipped from her gown and severed limbs to claim the arms, hands, and knees of anyone who dared step within reach.

It was chaos! The Maiden moved like a fluttering leaf in the wind, spinning and weaving between them, claiming life after life! Grown men dropped their weapons and gripped at their bloodied stumps to squeal in agony and terror- other pirates open fired with no regard for the others, missing the Maiden to cripple or kill each other with friendly fire. “KILL HER! KILL HER NOW!” The Captain bellowed, fumbling with his spare bullets when the Maiden leapt onto the shoulders of the Gunner before claiming another head.

Few pirates tried- but every shot missed, and every attempt with blade or blunt object was met with curdling screeches and agony! The Quartermaster tried to make a run for it, but the Maiden outran him from behind, skittering up his back to swallow the upper half of his body with her deadly embrace! “FIGHT! FIGHT YE COWARDS!”

Soon what little resolve they had managed to cling to until now had abandoned them, and any pirate still standing tripped over boxes, crates, and corpses as they scrambled into the thinning fog to board the ship for their escape. Captain Tranter grit his teeth as he blindly fired, hitting the legs and backs of several crewmates- but there was little else he could do to punish betrayers and mutineers that disobeyed his commands. With a pistol now empty, and the fog closing in around his feet, he stared down the Mourning Maiden. She stood there in silence, hovering over the headless corpse of the last of his officers, seemingly ignoring both the fleeing cowards and the shackled women in the corner.

“What do ye want…?!” He demanded, dropping his pistol. “Revenge? Trinkets? Does this treasure belong to ye?! Go on- take em back! Just let me live!” There was no response. She simply kept pumping fog from her form until the freezing cold gripped his skin tighter than his own clothes. “Answer me, apparition! What do ye want?!”

Suddenly she lunged forward, skittering in a straight line toward him! Fear stirred his stomach but he kept his nerve, drawing his rapier to fight to the last! SHWING! He parried the razor-sharp spike of ice with his rapier, the blistering ice creeping around and catching his blade! The spirit was stronger than he had hoped, and the longer she had him locked against her, the more ice that formed on his last line of defense. He stared helplessly into the mask, with frost freezing the droplets of sweat on his forehead. Then suddenly she yanked herself away, ripping the rusting blade from the hilt and sending it careening off into the fog! He reached for his boot knife and went to slice her chest open- anything was better than standing there to die!

SHLURK!

"Aaauugh!" His hand and his knife vanished into the white haze. Agony bit into the back of his knees and sent him falling onto his face; beneath the rolling fog he began to crawl, desperately reaching for his pistol. If he could just reach it and get another bullet in, he could-!

Her foot came down on his hand with a wet crunch! "Nnngh!" Captain Tranter stifled his groans when she ground her heel into his wrist before finally stepping off; he looked down in defeat when he saw how mangled and twisted his fingers were. “Guuughh…! Auuugh… haahhhh…! Gods no…! W-wait…!”

All he could do now was look his killer in the eyes. The Mourning Maiden's wedding dress was discolored by the salt of the sea, and stained with blots of blood both brown and old, and red and recent. Her hands were a moldy grey and bloated, with seawater dripping down her bony fingers. Captain Tranter strained to look up at her face; she wore the cracked stone mask of a weeping widow, with water stains running down the eye slots and barnacles fused to her cheeks and forehead. Shimmering in the light were two off-colored blue eyes that pierced his soul.

“Please���!” Captain Tranter soiled himself before this terrifying banshee. “I beg o’ye…! I don’t wanna die…! I’ll do anythin’! I just wanna-!”

Floosh…

The tattered wedding dress lashed out and draped over his body.

As the fog began to filter out, the pirates who made it to the ship, without breaking their ankles sprinting blindly, managed to get her sailing again- and not a moment too soon. They looked on to see the Mourning Maiden holding their captain’s head aloft at them- taunting them. Terror gripped their souls as they panicked aboard their vessel, pulling free from the makeshift dock and almost drifting into the side of the cove on their way out.

“Please, spare us o vengeful spirit…!” The Highlander woman the late captain picked for his bed barely managed to squeak out her words. “We aren’t pirates…! We’re prisoners! I beseech your forgiveness for any wrongdoings we may have done…!”

“You have nothing to fear from me.” The Mourning Mother turned to face the prisoners, who were all huddled up and cowering together in their shackles. She approached them in silence, dropping the severed head; but when she lifted her hand to her mask and pulled it off, the womens' fear quickly turned into confusion.

Soft black cat ears popped free before the living face of a Miqo'te woman was revealed. She pulled the veil off and massaged her jaw, then looked down at the women with a warm and welcoming smile. "My name is S'era, and I'm here to rescue you." The silver of ice in her grasp melted and hissed, revealing a steel uchigatana. They flinched when she raised it over her head- but a loud ringing bang later and their chains crumbled at their feet.

"Wait… so you're not the Mourning Maiden?!" One woman asked, rubbing at her wrists.

S'era lifted her gown and slid her sword back into the hidden sheath. "Ha- definitely not. I decided to use their pirate superstition against them, and it worked like a charm. Sit tight and try to relax, okay? A ship is coming to take you to Limsa."

“But… that scream…” Another started, still thoroughly confused. “How did you manage to make such a terrible sound?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Their savior gave them a perplexing look. “I didn’t make a single-” She turned her back to the group of women and pressed her fingers to her temple. "Yes- S'era reporting in, the prisoners and stolen property are all secured… most of the pirates are aboard their ship, sailing out now… yes… the captain is dead… yes… mhm… understood. Okay, S'era out." She rummaged through her dress and pulled out a small metal switch before pointing at the fleeing pirates.

BOOOM!

The ship rocked and heaved from the chain of explosions, traveling up each mast and lighting up the stern beneath the seawater. "Hahahahaha!" S'era crossed her arms and nodded approvingly at her handiwork; she then pressed her fingers to her temple again before turning to smile at the freed captives. "Yeah, back her in. The captives are ready to be lifted out."

“Thank you…!” Tears began to stream down their faces. Relief washed over them like the tide, but they were too weak to openly celebrate. “Oh gods, thank you so much!”

“Just hang tight.” S’era assured them, glancing out toward the mouth of the cove again. “We’re going to take you to Limsa Lominsa to check your injuries. We have soft beds and warm meals waiting for you on the ship once we’re airborne.”

They looked around as the fog finally dissipated. Aside from the limbs scattered around the cove at the appropriate blood stains on the wet rocks, they were safe enough to breathe. The pirates were either dead or on their way to be arrested again, marking a righteous and sudden end to the Black Powder Buccaneers. The blonde woman stood over the remains of Captain Tranter, before spitting on his corpse. Because of him her family and seaside village were gone, but he would never harm another person ever again.

A low rumbling hum traveled through the ground to vibrate their feet. They saw the tide shake and tremble before a flying ship slowly dipped beneath the roof of the cove to back herself in; sails as white as clouds folded against the metallic silver underbelly, as ceruleum-powered propellers whipped up the wind. The women covered their faces and rose to their aching feet when the doors swung open, following their rescuer onto the Skydancer to be lifted out of this nightmare.

Several galleons were already headed toward the pirate ship that remained dead in the water, and by this time tomorrow they would all be swinging from the gallows. As the last glimpse of the sun dipped behind the horizon, as the Skydancer zipped across the sea before raising its nose up to ascend into the sky, an ethereal woman stood on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Her bridesmaids held the ends of her fraying dress to keep it from dragging on the ground as she approached the edge, with tears streaming down her rotting face.

In silence she watched the Skydancer vanish into the clouds, and in the blink of an eye, the real Mourning Maiden disappeared.

[revan-posting]

Dying stars

Summary: “It was pointless to think about the past, they both were suffering and now the rush of emotions washed them over, captured in a searing kiss. Death or fear had no place in the room, not even the time have a meaning, an abyss collapses and consumes their solitude. What about the war? What about the conflict? For them, for now there's no factions nor  reasons to fight, the moment has vanquished the war. There's nothing else around.”

Pairing: Rex and Ahsoka, Rexoka, Rex x Reader-Ahsoka (let’s say whatever be your age is Ahsoka’s).

Warning: During Order 66, angst, tenderness/fluff, some lemmon or smut (I am not sure, honestly) tragedy, death, and my tired broken heart.

Word count: 6.2k wow

a/n: Well, this was requested by @bitch8901​ <3 I truly hope you like it and I apologize this took too long to be shared.

This Rexoka prompt was inspired by Sarah Connor’s romance in Terminator because of this post. It hasn’t been easy, it’s my very first fic written in English, so I apologize if there are grammar errors or spelling mistakes. Yeah, the title isn’t great as well, I’m not good naming things lol but all this was made with love. And others who might read it, hope you like it as well <3 criticism will be well received.

The Siege of Mandalore has finished. All that chaos has stopped, flames still burning and is raining ashes, blood and corpses everywhere, just for Maul to get the attention of Master Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. It seems such an obsession. What a waste! It was necessary all this? He wanted something else after killing Skywalker?

Ahsoka and the rest inside the Venator already, she couldn't stop to think if she did right to not mention to Master Yoda all those crazy things Maul said. Within her, something started to ache, her chest feels like it's burning gradually. Maybe it was the recent battle, the fear and darkness sensed because of Maul caged on that mandalorian device. That shouldn't happen.

Still, those words he said about the Republic, justice and order, she couldn't forget them:

"The Republic already has fallen, and you just can't see it! There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it!"

Those damn words, his scared voice screaming, begging to be left to die, echoing on all her way to the bridge.

Rex was already there, looking at her, smiling until see her expression through his helmet, sad and worried. Every one salute her with respect and joy. Noticing this, Ahsoka tries to left behind her thoughts and salutes them back a bit happier for the welcome. She really missed them but also realize there are many less on board, incluiding those who weren't in the beginning of the reunion, like Fives. Where are his jokes, imprudence and laughs?

Ahsoka approaches to Rex with no words but a smirk for him; he take his helmet off to see her better. Looks so tired and of course there's something annoying her. Rex knows her so well to realize she's not entirely ok.

"Hey, Rex" the former jedi feels the need to hug him after all this chaos and losses, but she resists the temptation. Rex's chest started to pound so hard once his name was released from the lips of the togruta close to him.

He tries so hard to not rise his hand to her cheek, feel her skin, hug her and comfort her. So much to say, still, so much to hide.

Regs must be obeyed, they both have a code to be followed, emotions to bury alive, even if they don't know what they feel for each other.

It was irrelevant, Ahsoka wasn't a Jedi anymore but Rex is still being a soldier, and a good soldier follow orders, despite what he considers is wrong or right.

"It's been a while" Rex responds with such a low voice, a delightful tone for her ears.

"I know, my friend. So much has happened, so much...", she hesitates to keep talking. Her eyes try to look at any other point instead of those golden eyes. Ends to look at her feet while one hand grip her elbow.

"Hey, are you alright?" Rex rub her forearm with his to get her glance again. "Let's hang out of the bridge, do you agree?"

"Sure. It would be good for both", nods while lift up a shoulder.

The couple of friends leave the command center and the ship jumps to hyperspace; far enough of the rest of the clones, Ahsoka snag her arm with Rex's and keep walking through the hallways.

His body shudders as she gets closer to his side, both upper arms together. Gladly, the trooper armor hides his shivering body but the recent sweat on his forehead couldn't be hidden, and would be weird put his helmet on again.

Ahsoka sighs, distracted, distant. It took the attention of Rex, forgot his shyness and fear, and finally dares to speak.

"'Soka, what's wrong? You look... troubled. What is it? It's about Maul?" his face changed after name that murderer. Thinking about all the mess he provoked, all the pain caused to his men: Jesse felt so guilty and sick 'till the point he would prefered to die instead. Sure Rex was tortured with the Force once, and being choked wasn't an experience he would like to remind. Neverless, Jesse took the worse part.

"I'm sorry, Rex." she stopped sharp without releasing his arm. Drove a hand to her temple, like feeling a headache. Rex's eyes were looking for hers with no luck. "I should tell them about what he said. About that vision of him. And I must control my emotions, block this fear inside of me, but for now seems impossible to do so." Finally, the togruta takes her arm away from his. Cross both arms pressing her tummy and the self-distrust starts to invade her.

Like ignoring her friend, keeps walking. Feels suffocated, afraid, lonely and desperate; she needs to cry out to the sky for some reason. Seems that all the lessons learnt are gone, all those years in the Jedi Temple vanished. Felt so empty and confused, her eyes started to water and flick because of that. She wanted to run and hide, above all, hide her sorrow from Rex. She didn't want him to see her crying or being weak or-

"'Soka...". The togruta hears and feel a hand on her shoulder stopping her from behind. She turns around and Rex looks at her for a moment, drops his helmet and hesitating tug her from her shoulder to his body to finally hug her.

Rex tight his hold, sinking his temple on one lekku, caressing it carefully. Whilst Ahsoka stayed shocked for seconds until feel a warm in her chest wich was heavily pounding and her hands didn't know what to do, if surround him or keep them away. Clenchs her fists for a while trying to avoid the urge to hold him, such flames burning her chest to the point she cannot resist it anylonger and disposes to place both hands on his back.

The soldier was afraid to be not reciprocated until he feels her arms leaned on his body. Kept his eyes closed afraid to open them and see it was just a dream, but no, he actually was holding her as close as possible that could even feel her heartbeat through his armor. 'No more nightmares, no more pain' he was thinking. Something alike Fives said before he died on his arms. This moment feels like that: compassion and relief.

Ahsoka feels the same, exactly what she needed, relief from all pain and the compassion of a friend. It was no pity nor shame, it wasn't a negative comfort, it was a selfless act from a good heart of a great man. 

The embrace dies slowly full of calm like an expected departure. She was ready to release him from her arms, so he was. She sighed deeply, feeling her cheeks turning into red, smirks because of it. Rex takes a hand to his head and trails it to the back of the neck with the same red colored cheeks on his face, made a beautiful combination of colours with that tan skin he posses.

At the same time, Ahsoka and Rex rose their faces to look at each other and smile. Ahsoka giggles to see him blushing, that laughter melted the Captain's heart. Within him borns the want to feel her face, caress her cheeks, touch her lips; he cannot stop to admire her. Ahsoka wonders what's going on his mind right now? Longing to place her hands on his chest whether he's using an armor or not, or maybe take his hands.

She looks at the dropped helmet and bends to take it to its owner. Before Rex could take it back, she draws the marks and patterns the helmet has with her thinny fingers; after that, she looked at him again to indicate he can take the helmet.

Suddenly, a tear falls from one of Ahsoka's eyes, she feels it and frowns due the sensation. She was about to dry that it but Rex was faster, so with the thumb of his free gloved hand took that tear away and his heart skipped a beat. By the stars! Even wearing gloves, Rex could feel how warm and soft her skin was. A burning desire appeared from nowhere to feel more and more of that sunset skin. He clenched his jaw to suppress those thoughts, shocked his head in denial and stepped back.

"I apologize, Commander. Such an offense I have committed, it won't happen again, ma'am", said nervously with no idea where to look at now.

Ahsoka confused and a bit worried, parted her lips thinking of something to say to make him stay. "Rex! Please wait!". She could reach him taking his forearm and then his hand with both of her hands. She tugged of them to force him to return where they were, even going further back.

Rex obeys her demands intentionally like she was stronger than him to keep him under her power and submission.

"Please, let's talk, okey?" Ahsoka asks as it could be the last time they could talk.

"Lead the way, Commander" Rex answers back with that deep and sensually calm voice that gives her goosebumps.

She keeps holding his hand afraid of lose it during their way to somewhere more... private.

Rex indicated a way to her quarters, he thought Ahsoka would need a place to relax after all the mess it was to come. It was well settled and equiped with the necessarly, incluiding more pillows that usual. A refresher and new clothes, a jedi robe placed on a table close to the refresher, takes the fabric for a moment, the nostalgia hits her for a second, until heard Rex's sweet voice.

"I thought you would like to take a nap or something. I know is not as big as you use to-" the nerve betrays him, his voice started to cut off. For the very first time they're comepletly alone in a room, Ahsoka looks so tranquil and quiet. Rex felt like an idiot. Why he's so nervous? Being at the bar and sober wasn't that hard, surrounded by his brothers and girls they invited wasn't a big deal, nor even drunk. Now he's alone with the woman he cares to the point would rather die before losing her. Such an attachment, such bond they have created, should be forbbiden. It is forbbiden!

"Rex, it is okey, I didn't think I could need it, actually. I just, please, let's talk" she sighs again and takes sit in the bed. Rex didn't know what to do or where to go. There weren't chairs or anything else, Ahsoka invited him to sit next to her on that bed. That made him blush again, she giggles. Rex leaves his helmet on the table with the jedi robe and doubting to sit yet. Ahsoka takes his wrist and tugged on it to make him fall aside her. She laughs again, such a beautiful smile on her face, those blue cristals shining like the first time he saw them. 'Yeah, it's been a while' he thought, 3 years being partners, saving each others life, having each others back, 3 years of friendship. 3 years and couldn't do enough for her when she was accused of sedition. Yes, he also said he knew her perfectly to know she wouldn't murder another clone, anyways he hunted her along side her Master and others. She must have felt betrayed. And then, thought in Fives. What if... what if he was right about all he said of the Chancellor and those inhibator chips?

His laughter stopped and the torment showed off on his face. His wrist was safe and sound on Ahsoka's hands yet, looking at him with tender and a smirk. Until see the new expression he had now. In shame, Rex looks away and removes his arm from Ahsoka's grip. Stands up and just walks around, took both hands to his temple. He gets to the door, Ahsoka fears he leaves the room but Rex turns around to look at her again. Lained on the door with crossed arms and downcast eyes, he sighs, thinking well his next words, but it seems his mind doesn't want to speak but his heart aches ready to voice itself.

"Where you've been all this time, 'Soka?" Rex downhearted alleges to her, he denies to watch her face but Ahsoka stares to him worried due his change of tone. "Rex?" she wonders. "Tup died, Fives died, we found Echo almost brainwashed and tortured, where were you?", he sounds angry but weak. Never meant to blame her but, guess he needed her there with him, maybe, just maybe, Ahsoka could help Fives to survive, who knows? Maybe all he needed was her support, her presence to comfort him like she used to do in the darkest days, in the harderst missions.

"You know what he said? Fives. He said..." Rex hardly swallows and continues, "Fives said the Republic implanted inside us an inhibator chip to control us. A damn chip ready to use it against the Jedi", there were anger and pain on his glance, clenched his jaw like it could help him to control the incoming tears. "We tried to stop him, he was scared, desperate, we had no choice and... and Fox... Fox..." his voice broke down making it harder to keep talking. Ahsoka rose up as fast as she could and ran straight to him.

Took him by the shoulders seeking for his eyes. Rex tried to evade her, ignore her glance but failed. She placed both hands on his face, Rex with eyes wide open plunges on her soft touch.

"Rex, there was no day I didn't suffer to be far from you. Believe me, I would give anything to go back in time to mend all that happened. My days on the lower levels of Coruscant might be over, I don't know, but I learnt so much being there. The Jedi are not the heroes I thought they were." she trailed her hands on his shoulders again.

"Wait, you've been in Coruscant all this time?" Rex asked while taking her wrists down. "Yeah, it's been a mess, but I saw what people think about us, and I kind of agree with the-" Ahsoka shrugged and Rex cut her off "No, wait... You've been there all the time and never saw you." Rex said hurt and dissapointed of himself for some reason.

"Maybe you should take me to that famous bar you all frequent someday" Ahsoka bantered to ease the the mood taking his hands carefully to not take him by surprise. Rex notice this, with both thumbs caresses the back of her hands. He smirks by the idea of taking Ahsoka to the bar with the boys. He focus on the ceiling of the room thinking about it between laughters, Ahsoka sighs admiring the man close to her.  Such a delightful view to see her man laughing after all... 'My man?' she thought. Yes, my dearest friend, my beloved partner.

While Rex kept holding her hands, she took them to her lower back so he could hug her again. He got it and placed his hands on her middle, Ahsoka gazed at him one last time before embracing him again. Rex, again, felt like an kriffin' idiot for being so rude towards her. 'How could I blamed her about Fives? Damn it'. Rex's eyes wide shut because of that while tugged her closer, Ahsoka had no idea what's on Rex mind but could feel him troubled.

"Rex, what's going on?"

"I...I apologize for all I said, I don't know what I was thinking of"

Ahsoka stared at him and standing on tiptoe, kissing him close to his lips to interrump him. Rex swallows nervously and the blush started to burn his skin. "You don't have to apologize, there's nothing to be sorry about", Ahsoka caresses his top cheek softly, her fingers travel to his lips like her eyes.

She wonders what was that stir inside her chest, that burning flame warming her body, she wonders if Rex feels the same way, if there is the chance... She took both hands to the back of Rex's neck to pull him closer with no objection, their lips were almost together. Both hearts racing, there's nothing else around, nothing to think about. That until Rex stopped her sharp:

"Ahsoka, wait" Rex set her aside. The togruta almost lose her balance because of Rex moving her. "Wha... What's wrong?" she asks hurt. Rex walks around of the room trying to escape maybe.

"'Soka, this can't be."

"Why?" her eyes started to water again.

"'Soka..." Rex approaches to her, "Ahsoka, I..." heavy breathing being released from his mouth, his chest aches as hell, holds her by her upper arms firmlly.

"We can't!"

"Is there someone else?"

"No, Ahsoka, no!" his hands go cupped her face carefully, "Ahsoka... I'm a soldier, you're a Jedi. It is forbbiden, you know that!"

"No, Rex, I'm not a Jedi anymore! I-" she holds his hands without take them away.

"No, you're a Jedi, whether you like or not, you can't deny what you are." removed the tears on her cheeks. "Remember all those missions together, all the lives you saved, the lessons you have learnt and taught... Doesn't matter how I feel, I'm not gonna break the code, you're not gonna-"

"Do you feel something for me, Rex?", her eyes wide open, shining like two kybers newly found, the pounding heart in need of answers. 'Can it be? Is it truly happening?' questions inside her mind, anxious to know if all those beautiful moments, whether they endured or not, whether they were private or not, meant the same to him like they meant for her. The laughter, the jokes, the protection, the journey. The moments they healed each other wounds, telling stories, training together, do all those days matter for him?

"I shouldn't told you that" his hands released her face. Went to the table where his helmet was, ready to go cursing his words. 'I'm sorry, but I can't stay with you' he said to himself. "Forgive me".

With the Force, she manipulated the control panel to ensure the door. "What the... Commander, what are you doing?" he quarrelled her through his helmet nervously. 

"I'm sorry, Rex, but I need to know, please" tear drops kept falling from her eyes. "I care for you, Rex. Days after leaving the Order, I realized I might not see you again, possibly ever. The thought of that broke my heart. I knew what happened with Tup and Fives. The thought of that could be you instead broke my heart. Watching Maul murdering every one of you, torturing you, and that I could lose you in my turn... Rex", Ahsoka getting closer to the soldier looking for his hands. "Have you ever fall in love, Captain? Have you ever met someone you would give your life for? Because that's what I feel for you".

Rex couldn't believe what he listened, elated and surprised under the helmet. His heart pounding violently that thought it would escape from his chest, he wanted to stop arguing with the desire dwelling inside. Maybe this is the time.

"Rex?" Ahsoka takes his helmet off one more time.

"I still remember the day I met you on Christophsis, naive and eager to fight. The sparkle in your glance, the fire in battle was nothing compared to that light of yours. Every mission I feared it might be the last one, it wasn't until I arrived to the base I could breathe knowing you'd be okay. Every night I tried to sleep without dreaming, having the picture of you always in my mind didn't help. When you left, I used to draw your skin marks in any area I had in front of me, wondering where were you? If you were safe, if you were... I'd cross a thousands systems just to ask if you're happy now and if have you ever thought of me, at least once. I love you, Ahsoka, I always have, and because of that I'd give my life for you.

Rex held her hands caressing them again, Ahsoka couldn't feel happier. Hopped to embrace him and wraped her arms around Rex's neck. Whatever was aching his chest it stopped, felt like breaking chains to breathe again, the taste of freedom. That's what he thought until Ahsoka got off her grip and pulled his shoulders down to kiss him. Holding him again around his neck this time glenter in case he tried to escape again. Such a impassioned kiss made Rex tug her closer by her waist, unfortunately the armor was damn nuisance to enjoy the moment. Rex pushed away for a bit to breathe, Ahsoka gave him the chance to recover himself but in no time approached his face to hers to keep kissing him with the same passion.

"Ahsoka, wait" he breathed. His hands went to her jaw and neck, joined both foreheads like a Keldabe kiss, it helped to keep breathing, though.

"What is it, love?" she smirks heavily breathing.

"I... think, I think my chestplate is leftover, don't you think?" he sighed and smiled. Ahsoka gave a mischievous glance, Rex looked kinda scared.

"I think, more than the chestplate is leftover, Captain", trailed her fingers all the way of his arms. Rex swallowed and Ahsoka moved aways to give him the chance to remove not just the chestplate, she expects.

Rex was shivering, it made harder to put everything off of hi body, trying to breathe steady didn't work for now. 'Trained to work under pressure, yeah sure' he thought, not like this was a kind of work to do or something alike. His mind was a mess. Ahsoka came closer and surrounded his waist with her arms from behind. Leaned the side of her face in his back on blacks and sighed, rocking as slow as possible, "Do you need help?" she offers. "Don't worry, I'm almost done" he gazed her with his peripheral.

Chestplate, shoulder pads, upper and forearms bands, gloves and belt removed; Ahsoka couldn't wait for him to put off the legplates and greaves, almost gave him chance to remove his boots. She turned him around, the embrace were more pleasant than before, by far! His chest softer and warm, those strong arms covering her perfectly. Ahsoka rose her sight up looking for another kiss of her man, Rex didn't need words for it, cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, this time with no hurry or despair. His hands felt like heaven, Rex could feel this as well, for the very first time his bare hands caressed her skin and they were looking for something else. 

The kiss were turning deep gradually taking the same rhythm it had firstly, the passion through their tongues, sucking each others lips, their breathing increasing with difficult, Rex barely could remain standing so he drag her mate with him to the closest wall and his hands went to her hips to pull her body against his. The excitement was noticeable, it seems Rex didn't realize of it but it pulled a moan out of Ahsoka among their kiss while she tried to get closer to him to keep feeling that sensation down there.

Their kiss grew deeply, even more every time like it wasn't enough for both. Rex trailed his hands down to her asscheeks, squeezed them and spread them a bit. Ahsoka lifting the head stopped sharp the kiss to murmur his name, that gave Rex the chance to kiss her chin and jaw, lick her neck, trailed his mouth to a part of her collarbone. He couldn't kiss her further or bow lower, so he lift her up enough to Ahsoka wrap his waist with her legs and held her against the wall making Ahsoka to moan again. Rex felt the goosebumps again after that, breathed on her throat and kissed her gently. Her body started to feel hotter, like burning inside, something in him felt as hard as the beskar she's wearing, something Ahsoka could feel between her thighs while Rex kept kissing and sucking her neck carefully, she hummed in response for every kiss, tugging the fabric of his blacks. He missed her lips and the taste of her tongue and so did she.

"Take me to the bed... Rex" she begged.

"Are you sure?" he asked frowned.

"That's all I ask" she breathed. "Unless...Do you... do you want to...?" she asked as well, maybe he wasn't ready.

"You needed to ask, cyar'ika?" he drew a wide smile.

"Okay, then put me down".

Rex wondered what she was thinking of, whatever it is, he was eager -and nervos- to see. Ahsoka moved him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed, she push him by his bare tan chest to make him lay down. She stared at him for a while and started to take of her clothes, the blush on her face was burning her cheeks, shivering and giggling. Rex couldn't help but smile admiring her from the bed.

Ahsoka disappears for a moment to place the beskar pieces on the table, Rex takes advantage of her absence to remove the legplates and greaves that couldn't take off earlier, put kept the tight black pants on, for now...

Ahsoka shows off before his beautiful golden eyes with nothing but her headdress, crossing her knees and one arm barely covering her breast, blinking flirty. With his jaw dropped, Rex stared at the woman in front of him: his eyes were shining like dying stars, breathing between laughters, posing both elbows on his knees. He wished he could freeze the time just to preserve the current picture: the women he loves looking impressively ravishing and gorgeous. Nothing else mattered for him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Ahsoka bantered.

She crouched to the bed, Rex's legs were between Ahsoka's and then she sat on his lap. What kind of man had in front of her now? The narrow and precise soldier she met on Christophsis, the man made of regs and stone, honest and experienced, gone for now, for her. Ahsoka thought about the times when Rex was distant, quiet and even angry. Nothing could turn his mood easily, nor his brothers or the General Skywalker. She tried to be there, in all those bad moments or mostly of them, being an incorrigible chatty, weird and brisk, talking about silly shit she learnt from Fives or joking about any thing related to Kamino and its tall people.  Sometimes it worked, some other times, it was useless, causing the beaming 'joy' of the togruta vanish 'til death thanks to his monotonous tone of voice.

It was pointless to think about it, they both were suffering and now the rush of emotions washed them over, captured in a searing kiss like there’s no tomorrow. Ahsoka took away that tight t-shirt of his and touch every inch of his bare torso softly like she'd been afraid to rip his skin with her fingers. Rex's hands cupped her breast while licking her collarbone, could sense the vibrations from her throat that her moans were causing. His tongue were going lower and lower to kiss the middle of her chest, lick and suck each bosom, the sweet sound of hers just made his excitement increase and Ahsoka knew it. She stopped again, lay down his body for a better posture and travels her hips on his, Ahsoka started to grind down against him, Rex moaned with such a deep voice that made Ahsoka crumbled inside. The sensation was so electric, so addictive, Rex couldn't help but rock his hips up against hers, her entrance getting more wet due the rub they were doing. 

"Rex!" she gasp, the massage tingles her inside her lower abdomen, meanwhile Rex caresses her breast and squeezes them. Travels his hands to her waist  moving her a bit harder against his hips. His fingers tightens her bottom manipulating it because of the touch of her entrance with his erect member. It seems that Ahsoka was getting close to the peak of pleasure, her legs were starting to lock up, shivering, Rex notices this without knowing what to do but enjoy the view clutching at the sheets, relishing her taste, the taste of her tongue, her body. "Rex" she cries out again, the man holding her small waiting for orders of her commander. 

"Rex, I... I want you, I want you inside" she begged out of breathe.Rex heed, rose up to embrace her and switch positions, carefuly placed her body in the bed. One arm held her shoulders tugging her closer to his chest, his free hand posed in her tummy feeling her heavy breathing. Such a want in her eyes, a burning desire glowing on her countenance, Rex trailed his fingertips to her bottom lip, the top of her cheek, her jaw. Placed his hand on the curve of her neck and kissed her again. 

Seduced by the blaze, their bodies intertwining, being like a whole, rolling on the bed. There's a point that Ahsoka wraps his waist with her legs to immobilize him,  Rex buries his arms under the pillow letting his body go down taking over Ahsoka's skin. Rex rubbed his hips against hers, both gasped loudy in the moment he gets inside her. Ahsoka opened her eyes as wide as she could due the spiral of rushing pleasure she was experiencing, Rex smirked looking at her expression and kept planting kisses over her temple and going down her jaw. Ahsoka sank her fingers over the heaving back of Rex as he was thrusting against her hips a slow rhythm, overwhelmed by the passionate pleasure burning inside of him; Ahsoka licked his neck while Rex squeezed her breast, releasing heavy groans by his part. The vibrations from his throat were exciting, erotic. Such stimulation provoked an increased rhythm on his movements, taking her hands above her head, Ahsoka closed her eyes letting being drift by the satisfaction and thrill. 

"'Soka" he mumbled, she could barely hear him. His thrust were going faster and forceful every time, she was about to explode out full of passion and-

"Rex... Oh, Rex! I am... I-" whimpering weak until the burning pleasure dwelling inside of her core reached out to the highest point. A loud moan escape off of her lungs, but Rex wasn't done yet. Ahsoka was trembling and moaning, Rex still enjoyed her captivating body. Lied his head on the crook of her neck with his fanned breathing over her chest, his hips meeting hers insistent, faster thrusts until he finally came... Rex was labored breathing, his limbs were shivering, despite his current fatigue, his hips gave another couple of thrusts releasing a low groan after each one before pull out his erect member of her body.

"'Soka... I-" he breathed. She stared at him with tenderness and a quiet passion.

"Rex..." Ahsoka announced softly, looking for his eyes. "I love you". Rex gift her a wide smile over her confession and caresses her hot flushed face.

"Mesh'la," Rex kisses her, "Cyare," kisses her again, "I love you, too" kisses her one more time, "and my life is yours".

Even being tired and weak, Ahsoka found the strength to get up enough to embrace him, forcing him to lay back. Both gave into another passionate kiss to culminate their love. At the end, death or fear had no place in the room, not even the time have a meaning, an abyss collapses and consumes their solitude. What about the current war? What about the conflict? For them, for now there's no factions nor reasons to fight, the moment has vanquished the war. There's nothing else around.

* * * * *

Exhausted as hell, they sleep cuddled to recover energies. As expected, Rex is a man of light sleep, because of this, wakes up hearing his device was receiving a message. Carefully he abandons the bed trying to not to wake Ahsoka. Before taking his holo device, Rex puts on his blacks again to answer the call.

Rex watches the hologram, he's receiving new orders from a dark robed figure: "Execute Order 66".

"Yes, Lord Sidious", Rex responded.

Ahsoka was awaken already.

"Rex? What is it?" Ahsoka feared the worst, not because of the message, but the nightmare she had about her old master Skywalker and forced her to wake up.

"Find him... Fives, find him!" Rex looked chaotic, desperate. His voice was different, threatening.

"Rex...?" Ahsoka tried to approach him.

"FIND HIM!"

Rex started to shoot. Ahsoka evaded the blaster shots but is not enough, with the Force stopped him against the door. Unlocked it and pushed him out. She was scared, confused, her heart was racing as hell. The nightmares returned, she closed her eyes to concentrate about those dreams she just had. No doub it was about Anakin, something went wrong; so much suffering, chaos, anger... And now Rex is against her, why?

"Why he wants me dead if... He said he loved me, why he...?" her chest was aching so much, but she needs to calm down, she must know what just happened! She went for her clothes and lightsabers, got ready and the first thing she had in mind was Maul. He said this would happen, he must know something more.

Exiting the room, Rex wasn't there, looked everywhere to ensure the hallways were empty. A door opened and there he was with a bunch of clones by his side aiming her, ready to kill her.

"No, all of you go to the prision area and kill the sith. I'll take care of this, personally", Rex commanded.

Ahsoka couldn't understand but wonder what's going on and how she's gonna stop this maddnes? She knew about Tup and Fives, she knew something went wrong with them and died. Rex said "find him", and that's what she's going to do.

"Rex, what are you doing?", Ahsoka begged for an answer.

"The Jedi commited treason against the Republic, all of your kind must be executed", Rex said with conviction and coldness. "No exceptions".

* * * *

It's been a couple of weeks after the massacre against the Jedi Order, it's been a couple weeks the Venator crashed onto the surface of that moon. Rex and Ahsoka buried the bodies of the fallen clones found among the debris. Rex equipped the Y-wing bomber he piloted to escape from the Star Destroyer alonside Ahsoka.

She was mourning the soldiers, Rex watched her from behind drop her lightsaber on the ground in front of the fallen. Maybe to make it seem she died with them, maybe 'cause she couldn't do enough for them as a Jedi. Maybe she dropped her saber because she wasn't a Jedi anymore. Who knows.

She turned around to Rex and started to walk, Rex was approaching to her as well.

"Ahsoka?", like a man that used to have an strategy all the time and now has no idea of what's next since everything went to shit, tried to find some answers from his partner.

"We must go" Ahsoka couldn't watch him to his eyes. Her voice sounds so empty and scattered.

"'Soka...", Rex held her by her shoulder, took her upper arm and pulled her over him. "C-Cyare..." his voice were almost broken. 

Rex embraces his mate from behind leaned his head on her montral. Ahsoka was hurt and hopeless that she couldn't be afraid even. What is the point of the Dark if it cannot control what's teared into pieces. Forsaken and broken, what else she could be? What else she could do?

Felt her legs too weak to keep standing up and just slipped down to the ground. Rex tried to keep her up but was useless. He ducked in front of her to see what's going on. Her intense blue kyber crystals started to cry, quietly sobbing took her hands to her face to cover her shame. Rex couldn't see her crying, he would do anything to stop her tears from falling, but for now, he comprehend she needed to let it out, all the frustration, the sadness, the failure.

"Forgive me, Rex. I-I can't... I can't for now", she sobbed. Rex didn't say a thing. He had no words to share, however, even if he didn't know, his presence was everything for her. It was a gift that the man she loves had survived, still, as a Force user, could feel the chaos and death provoked by the clones. It is such a wound inside that seems can't be healed. But now, she has to learn to live with that wound and the pain it causes to her. She must find a new way live, a new path to follow, and Rex would be there with her. Nothing matters now.

Ahsoka stands up, Rex helped her carefully. Look at his sad golden eyes for a moment and Rex caressed her cheek. Embraced her once more and said "Thank you for saving my life once again, cyar'ika". "You would have done the same for me, dear", she retorded.

Rex smiled her weakened, dried a tear from her cheek with his gloven thumb, and both aboard the Y-wing ship ready to go wherever the Force take them from now on.

#rexoka #rex x ahsoka #order 66 #fic request #captain rex #clone trooper rex #ahsoka tano #lady tano #darth maul #formely maul #maul #the clone wars movie #rex x reader #rex x reader ahsoka #yeah thats weird #took me a while but Im proud

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Headfirst for Halos (ch. 5)

*does a fortnite dance* this took me wayy too long to write

Ship: Tate Langdon/fem!Reader

WARNINGS: allusions to both physical and emotional abuse from a family member, actual physical abuse between a freshman and a senior, allusions to mental illnesses such as depression, student v. student violence. A certain way an event was phrased could be considered an allusion to molestation. strong language. a reference to homophobic slurs (none were used)

general comments: the american rock band My Chemical Romance was referenced in this story, yes it doesn’t work with the timeline, no I do not care. pretend mcr was around in the 80′s and 90′s. overall, I’m pretty proud of how this turned out. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 FOR AMERICAN HORROR STORY AHEAD. pre-death tate, pre-shooting tate, pre-beau death

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

 It's cold. My blood runs like ice through my veins, the image of my mother still fresh in my mind. The cops had arrived at some point, their red and blue flashing lights coming through the windows. The neighbors must've heard me scream. An officer attempted to console me, but I couldn't register his words. Everything is just so cold, and that's all I can focus on.

             I refused to let Delilah anywhere near the house after I saw the body. I picked her up and held her, the chilling numbness of shock consuming me. I'm shivering, and I can't tell whether that's due to the cold or the scene. I think I threw up, I can't remember. Everything is all blurry, the only thing I can remember clearly is her cold, empty, horrific gaze. Hundreds of muffled voices surround me, each of them fading away with each passing second. One familiar voice cuts through the mob of unending murmuring.

“Y/n? Hey, Y/n, are you alright?” Pluto’s worried eyes meet mine. “Shit, Y/n, I came over as soon as I’d heard.” 

“Why?” My voice is weak, my throat is sore from screaming. I don’t intend to come off bitter, I’m genuinely asking.

“Because I thought you’d want a familiar face around in this chaos.” Pluto says firmly, their eyes not leaving mine. Their concern is comforting, the knitted sweater they’re wearing softly brushes against my skin as they envelop Delilah and I in a tight embrace. 

“She’s dead.” I say quietly. “She’s dead. My mother is dead.” The tears spilled over onto my cheeks as the realization set in. The shock faded away, and the raw emotions consumed my body causing my senses to numb and my chest to tighten. Whenever I close my eyes I see her. I see her stare. I see the deep gash in her throat, the remnants of a petrifying fear in her eyes. It isn’t long before I’m in hysterics, catching the attention of the officers around us.

It’s only then that two paramedics exit my house, carrying my mother’s corpse on a stretcher. The thin sheet over her body is blown by the wind, revealing her upper torso to me once again. I guess the initial shack shielded me from seeing the extent of her injuries. She looked ghastly, dark bruises covering her face. Scratch marks ran down her arms, her fingers broken; she looked as if someone had beaten her down before slitting her throat. The sight does nothing to sooth my sobbing, it only fuels my emotion as Delilah begins to cry, too. It’s going to be a long night.

________

“Tell me again, in your own words, what were you doing when you found your mother.” Officer McCoin asks, his cold eyes glaring at me from across the metal table. 

“I took my little sister, Delilah, out for ice cream. We left around 4PM and got back around 7PM--”

“You were out for three hours? Getting ice cream?” I nod.

“We went exploring for a while. We wanted to stay out of the house.” I noticed the officer’s eyebrow twitch.

“Why did you want to stay out of the house?” I stayed silent for a moment, and Officer McCoin took my silence for advantage. “Miss L/n, what happened to your face?”

“I-.. uh, I-” My thoughts are jumbled, the mixture of shock and pressure making my brain go fuzzy. I know what’ll happen; if I tell them my mother hit me, they’ll find some way to connect me to her death. That’s how cops operate-- make the evidence shown reflect who they personally suspect. “Some kids at school roughed me up a bit. It’s nothing too serious. We wanted to stay out of the house because of the heat. The air conditioning in our house is broken, it’s much cooler outside with ice cream.” That wasn’t totally a lie-- our AC was broken. Thankfully, Officer McCoin is quite gullible. He simply nods and makes notes on a small pad of paper beside him.

“What were you doing earlier that day? Before you left?”

“I had a friend over and we listened to music for a little while. After that he went home and Delilah and I left.” I explain.

“Could you give me the name of your friend?” Officer McCoin grabs the notepad and pen, preparing to take notes. “And, uh, your relation to this person.” My jaw clenched at McCoin’s insinuation.

“His name is Tate Langdon, and he’s my… friend.” Wait, fuck, are Tate and I just friends? Does getting each other off on occasion count as a relationship? Probably not, but I’m still not quite sure. Officer McCoin’s eyebrow twitches once I say Tate’s name.

“Alright, Miss L/n, that’s all for now. You’re free to leave.” I immediately stand up, turning to exit the interrogation room. Officer McCoin speaks once more before I leave. “Miss L/n? Be careful around that Langdon kid. He’s bad news.” Anger ripples through my veins as I walk out the door. Who does that asshole think he is? Tate isn’t bad news, hell, he wouldn’t hurt a fly! The rush of emotion makes me feel like I’m spiraling with no one to catch me. That is, until I see Pluto outside the police station.

“Pluto--” is all I can muster before I collapse into their arms, clutching them like they’re my last hope. My fingers dig into their shoulders as I steady myself, letting my emotions out in one good hard cry. Pluto informs me that Delilah was setting up at their house.

“Y/n, you’re going to stay with me for a while, okay?” I simply nod, any attempt at a verbal confirmation diminished by my sobbing. Everything went so wrong so fast-- I was falling and I needed someone to grip onto. I know I can’t trust Pluto, not after our previous interactions. Suddenly, he pops into my head.

“Tate,” I say quietly, my voice thick with tears. “I want to see Tate.” Pluto gives me a weird look.

“You wanna see Langdon? Why?” Pluto inquires, gently leading me out of the police station towards their car.

“He might’ve gotten hurt or seen someone or something. He was coming from that direction last time I saw him.” I neglected to mention the fact I also wanted to see Tate because he made me feel safe. Pluto doesn’t need to know that, hell, I’m not sure they care. This is just another charity case for them, isn’t it? Well, I don’t really care. I need a place to stay, and Pluto has one-- charity case or not. 

“... alright. I’ll give him a call--”

“No!” I snap. I’m not sure why, but I’m the one who needs to do it. Admittedly, my outburst was out of left field. “Uh, no. I’ll call him.”

I’m quick to compose myself, wiping away the tear tracks on my face and blowing my stuffy nose. My voice was still low from my screams and cries, but it’s much stronger than before. Pluto and I drive in silence, their dark eyes trained on the road. Eventually, I break the silence. 

“Why are you doing this?” Pluto hesitates.

“Because you’re just a kid.” That’s all Pluto says on that topic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to say all that stuff back there.” “Yes you did, Pluto.” I said firmly. “It’s okay, I understand.” Pluto looks hurt but I don’t really care. They exit the room with a huff, leaving me in silence. I sit there for a minute, taking time to breathe. Things have changed so quickly, but at least I still have a few constants. I grab the phone and quickly dial Tate’s phone number.

Ring

I still have Delilah

Ring

I still have myself

Ring

I still have Tate.

Ri-- “Hello?” It’s so nice to hear his voice again.

“Hey, uh, it’s Y/n.” My voice sounds unnatural and odd, but I don’t really care.

“Oh my god, Y/n, are you ok?” Tate gushes, and I can practically see his face contorted in concern. “I’m so sorry about your mom, I really meant to call earlier but I thought I’d give you space--”

“It’s okay, Tate. It’s good to hear you now.” A voice echoes slightly on the other line, and Tate is quick to cover it with his own. I can tell it was his mother, and I can tell that she was angry. I felt defensive, the last thing I want is for Tate to have to experience what I did. 

“Hey, uh, do you wanna, maybe, come over like… right now? I think you could use a hug.” Tate laughs ever so lightly.

“God, yes, I just want to see you.” I sound desperate. I am. “I’ll be there in 10.”

“See you then.”

“Bye, Tate.”

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

#tate langdon #tate langdon fanfiction #ahs tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #Evan Peters #AHS Evan Peters #AHS #ahs murder house #ahs fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story fanfiction #headfirst for halos #irl dont look

[pinkjeanist]

untitled fantasy work - opening scene || nanowrimo 2020

note: captain tenning is indigenous. or, at least, i based him off of an indigenous person, because idk yet what “indigenous” means in this fantasy setting. i just thought i should let yall know that. also adolen is a little shit. hes 29 years old and he wakes up every morning and chooses chaos. this is unedited because i don’t fear God. anyway @lirinstaalem i love you

---

It wasn’t often that the king called upon anyone but his own servants for aid, but even as a recognized medic and healer of His Majesty, Adolen was starting to think that being hired by him twice was a little more than strange. And yet, he felt the silent tremors in the earth of a creeping gorgon, a steed of the King’s Guard, which could only mean that Captain Tenning had come to the Orchards for him. 

Even while anticipating a knock, Adolen still jolted at the firm few beats against his door, and covered the cauldron over the extinguished fireplace before answering it. Of course Tenning was waiting for him on the other side, his helmet under one arm with the other clutching the hilt of the sword at his belt. The strands in his two black braids had become askew from where they sat on his shoulders during what could have only been hours of flying from the capital. The flight was apparent in the heaviness of his eyes, as well. 

Adolen cleared his throat. “Good evening, Captain.” 

“Good evening, Doctor.”

“Fey is fine,” Adolen replied, looking out into the night passed the man in front of him. His gorgon was tied to one of his nearby apple trees, though the rope was merely a suggestion to the strength of those creatures. They were bigger than carriages and stronger than all the horses that pulled them combined. Such was expected of the descendants of dragons, not to mention the steeds of the King’s Guard. 

Remembering the cooling cauldron behind him, Adolen inclined: “Have I done something wrong?”

“It’s what you’re able to do correctly and efficiently that has brought me here. Have...have you done something wrong?” Tenning’s brow furrowed. Adolen coughed. 

“Oh, no. Just an anxious thought. Please, come in.” Adolen stepped back and held the door open, allowing Tenning to make his way inside. It had been over two years since they’d first met and last saw each other, but Adolen had always wondered why Tenning walked so fast. It was like he’d never taken a slow step in his life. 

He began moving books off of chairs to make room, but Tenning cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to trouble you. I won’t be here long.” 

“What do you mean? Are you going straight back to Brenne?” Adolen continued to move things around, despite Tenning’s request.

“I was just going to find an inn for the night.” 

“The only inns in the Orchards are the two in Pyr. Are you sure you want to travel that far off course?”

“Well, I’m not going to trouble you-” 

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain. Sit.” Adolen cleared a seat at his dining table, which was always used for non-dining purposes, and grinned to himself as Tenning relented. He made a seat for himself across the table. “I believe it’s custom to offer a drink to visitors outside of the Orchards, but I’m afraid I have none besides rubbing alcohol. I hope water will suffice.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fey. You’re very kind.” 

“Kindness is always a given here.” Adolen set a glass in front of Tenning before sitting. “What kind of business do you bring?” 

“Ah, I’m afraid it is again unofficial. From His Majesty,” Tenning added. Adolen moved various books and bottles on the table to make room for his arms. “There’s been an incident at the palace in Brenne.” 

“What kind of incident?”

“A theft. And a very horrible one. Someone has stolen the King’s Jewel.” 

Adolen blinked. “Well, I’m sure he has plenty of those. Why’s this one so important?” 

“This jewel is worth more than money. Its thief knew this well.” Tenning’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if there were anyone else in a mile radius nearby. “It must be returned to His Majesty.”

“With all due respect, Captain- what am I supposed to do about that?” 

Tenning downed all of his water in one go. Adolen grabbed the pitcher. “I have been tasked with assembling a skilled group of people to retrieve the jewel. His Majesty requested only you specifically. He told me that you are to be his assurance.”

“Assurance in what?”

“In this company’s success, as well as its survival.” 

Hearing the word “survival,” Adolen paused for a long moment before he pleaded: “Captain Tenning, I’m not sure I’m the person you need for this venture. I’m just a healer.” 

Tenning shifted closer. “I am aware that this is not your typical job, Mr. Fey, but I ask kindly that you hear what I have to tell you.” 

“I apologize for dismissing you. Please, continue.” 

“I understand your doubts. There is no need to apologize.” 

Adolen grinned across the table. “You are very kind, Captain.” 

Tenning’s eyes went wide, followed by a quiet “thank you” and an inkling of a smile. Adolen wondered how long it had been since someone complimented him. He then proceeded: “The pay you earn from this job will be enough to last the rest of your lifetime, and if it doesn’t, His Majesty is willing to give you more. I cannot stress how important this job is.” 

Adolen would be lying if he said Helnian money wasn’t appealing. He’d seen those expensive satchels in shop windows the last time he had visited Brenne, and he hadn’t forgotten. He hummed. “Of course.” 

“I currently have another person out to hire the other three members of this company. They should already be in Brenne by the time we arrive tomorrow.” 

“Is this person also joining the company?” Adolen reached for his own glass and the pitcher, but stopped. “Pardon. Tomorrow?” 

Tenning gave a hesitant nod. “Yes, I’m afraid. This quest must be ventured as soon as possible.” 

“Uhm…” Adolen gripped the edge of the table, taking a brief glance around. He didn’t have anyone scheduled, but he had no doubt that his magic would be needed sometime within the next week. It was spring- the children would be learning to climb trees. And learning what it felt like to fall from them (for most, it was inevitable). But he pushed those thoughts away. He had agreed to listen. “...Okay.” 

He knew that Tenning was seeing right through him. Tenning saw everyone, whether or not they wanted to be seen. But alas, the captain continued. “The thief is a woman. She will be wearing the King’s Jewel on a collar made of corundum.” 

“Wait, what’s corundum?” 

“Red jewels.” 

Well, he hadn’t seen red jewels before. “Okay. What does the King’s Jewel look like?” 

“It’s a diamond.” 

“Uh...just a diamond?” 

“Yes, but it…” Tenning leaned closer with a sharp intake. “...it’s an enchanted one.”

“Enchantment, as in the type of magic that Helnian kings have outlawed since the third age? The very thing that people are executed for practicing?” Adolen deadpanned. Tenning gave him a stern look. 

“Yes. That thing.” 

“Well, that’s very hypocritical of His Majesty.” 

“You do realize that you are speaking to the Captain of the King’s Guard?” 

“What are you going to do, arrest me?” Adolen poured his water and kept his eyes on Tenning’s. He could tell that Tenning wanted to laugh at that remark, but was keeping it to himself. He allowed himself to smile again, though.

“You seem like someone who doesn’t fear death, Mr. Fey. Very unbecoming of someone who saves lives.” 

“Facing death for a living is what keeps me alive.” He filled Tenning’s glass once more. “However, I have never been one for danger, and this job seems very dangerous. Give me a reason to go.” 

“Is the money not appealing?” 

“It is, but money has no value here. Try again.” As much as he wanted those satchels, Adolen was telling the truth to himself. Tenning didn’t seem too stirred by it. 

“I’m sure you Orchardians aren’t too swayed by glory, either.” 

“The Orchards are glorious enough. You should see the blooms of spring in the day.” 

“Just seeing them in moonlight kept me awake during my flight,” Tenning smiled, then gripping his glass as his smile faded. “Though I am not sure what else I have to give a man who has everything he needs.” 

Adolen pondered for a long moment. He felt magic pooling in his fingertips from days without a patient as he tapped them against the table. He paused to look at them. “How many others will join the company, again?” 

“Four. They are all skilled in their own ways, but none are advanced in medicine of any kind.” Tenning’s voice grew soft as the lanterns grew dim. “I know not what His Majesty wishes of you, but I know that you will be needed, if only by the company. I fear that they cannot last on this mission alone.” 

Adolen finished his water. He felt something blooming in his chest- anxiousness, he thought, or perhaps excitement. He settled with both. “You know, Captain Tenning, we can’t have had more than three conversations together - this one included - but you are a very persuasive man.” 

“And that means…?” 

Adolen drew a sharp breath. “What dangers will I face?” 

Tenning’s back straightened, slipping back into the rigid posture he’d walked in with. “The world beyond these orchards is a very cruel and treacherous place. There are beasts both in creatures and men. As far as I’m concerned, there are no others who know of this mission besides those involved, but...it would be unwise to let your guard down.” 

Adolen leaned back in his seat. “That’s certainly vague.”

“I will discuss this further once we reach Brenne. That is, if you accept this offer...?”

“Well, yes. I thought I made that clear. Apologies if I didn’t.” 

“No, no need to apologize. I am very much relieved.” Tenning showed as much as he leaned back and sunk into his seat. The exhaustion Adolen had seen under his eyes had now reached the rest of his body. “I’m glad that you didn’t take much convincing. I was prepared for an argument.” 

“I have a hard time saying no,” Adolen smiled, “and I’m sure you would have had to kill me if I’d said as much. I’m sure I know too much after this conversation.” 

“Well...I probably would have helped you get a ship to the Isles. You’re very kind, after all.” Adolen gave a laugh, and Tenning finished his water with a grin. Setting his glass down, he said: “Oh, but His Majesty also said that, once you’ve found the thief, that you “would know what to do,” or whatever that could mean. He seems to have a lot of faith in you.” 

Adolen’s brow furrowed. “Well, I’ve only met him once. I don’t see how I could be very trustworthy in his eyes. But I’m flattered, I suppose.” 

He refilled his glass, emptying the last of the pitcher, and wondered what exactly the king was asking of him. Though, it wasn’t ever in a governing body’s best interest to be exact or honest with their people, and knew he shouldn’t expect much else information.

“I believe I must start preparing,” Adolen suddenly hurried, standing from his chair to grab the worn satchel hanging by the door. He’d had it commissioned by the only leatherworker in the Orchards to carry glass bottles of medicines and ointments securely some six years ago when he’d returned from university. It was a kind of craft he wouldn’t find in Brenne, he thought with a lightness. 

Tenning turned in his chair as Adolen began speeding around the cluttered room. He was lucky enough to know his way around the comfortable clutter as to not trip over books and tablesides.

“You will have to carry lightly. Pack less than what you need,” Tenning advised, standing. “I will return at dawn to retrieve you.”

Adolen found his common stash of medicines and started selecting them carefully. “You’ll be staying here tonight. There’s no point in flying clear to Pyr.” 

“It can’t be more than an hour-” 

“A trip there and a trip back would be two hours of lost rest. I’ll get my guest room ready. Can you find the wrenna wart in the meantime? It’s these little red, purple plants packed into a small bottle. It’s labelled, you can’t miss it.” 

Adolen gave Tenning no time to accept nor decline before he was making his way up the set of stairs behind a discreet curtain, leaving the captain to stand in a cluttered room with no beginning or end to bottled plants, amongst everything else. Needless to say, Tenning hadn’t found the wrenna wart by the time Adolen returned, grinning. He hadn’t expected him to, either. Wrenna wart didn’t exist. 

#nanowrimo #my writing #not bnha