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ethantalkstoomuch · 2 years

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Fighting Family

Tommy escapes to London when his outburst with Arthur becomes to much to handle and Alfie helps him see sense.

A fix it for s2 e2 when Tommy goes off at Arthur, this made me really emotional and annoyed with tommy and because i'm a walking red flag i made a 'fix it' where i make tommy to be burnt out and Alfie provides some solutions. idek lmao

Tommy is fuming as he stormed into Alfie’s London house. It’s past supper time and his visit is not expected and appears to be a spur of the moment decision. Alfie stares at him wide eyed over a book as Tommy looms in the doorway of the living room breathing hard.

“I can’t fucking deal with him,” he spits and Alfie makes the quick decision this is a blood boiling situation of a less than lusterous type. Putting the book down and his glasses on the table, he gestures to the couch beside him.

“Sit down, love, tell me what's happened,” Alfie says lightly. Tommy’s anger was a thing to behold and fear. He stomps over to the couch, slinging his coat, suit jacket and gun onto the floor. With cold hands he rubs at his face with frustration.

“Arthur beat another apprentice to an early grave. His head is about to go under, and I’m sick of fucking dealing with it. I have enough on my fucking plate. Can’t leave loaded guns, can’t leave rope I’m fucken’ tired of this nonsense. I shut the door on the war he needs to as well…”

And Alfie lets Tommy rant. Silver words fall from his lips with an air of whisky and broken with Romani. He has never liked Arthur, yeah? He’s made that clear from the fucking start. But he knows that what Tommy is saying, the venom he spits is not all that it seems. The tensions between the eldest brothers had been brewing since adolescence but the war left the company business behind and strengthened their bonds. Only now it seems like it was tearing them apart.

Deep down, Alfie realises, this wasn’t real anger. Tommy can be cold, ruthless, cunning, dangerous and downright fucking cruel. But not to his family. Arthur is no exception. This isn’t Tommy calling it quits on his brother, sickened by the way his older brother's head was about to be washed down the drain. In between the angry words and the muffled groans into his hands, Alfie could hear the fear and the exhaustion.

Fear of losing his brother. Fear of failing to be a better brother, to stop Arthur’s mind from going topsy turvy. And exhaustion. Bruises lick below Tommy’s eyes and blood still stains the milky whites of his eyes. Sabini’s beating had not been resolved as usual. It was fucking cracked, and there is only so long before Tommy shatters.

The boiling rage appears to simmer after a good fifteen minutes and Tommy slumps into the sofa, Alfie’s arm around him and the fire warms the ambience. Melting his frosty exterior.

“Sounds like a right fucking ordeal,” he says eventually. His mind's eye briefly envisages Tommy grilling his youngest brother into covering for their older brother's actions. Finn has changed so much in the past few months, Alfie reflects. As Tommy inched the company closer to expansion the fourteen year old had suddenly grown into himself. He roamed the streets with a rag-tag gang of moxi teens.

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbles tiredly and his suddenly sedate disposition leaves Alfie with a sudden moment of attention.

“Can I talk freely for a second, mate? Where you give me an honest chance to talk before blowing my fucking brains out?”

Tommy tilts his head up with a cynical gaze but without protest.

“Arthur’s a fucking nutjob, right? We both know that he’s never quite going to be on his rocker. But…and listen to me okay, please just listen. I have this fucken’ suspiciousn, like one of those rocks in your shoes that aren’t really there, yeah? I suspect that you ain’t actually thinking Arthur needs to be disposed of before he goes proper mental, I don’t really think you're sick of him. Radical thoughts I know but hold on.” Alfie feels Tommy shift in his hold and knows there's nothing he can do if he suddenly decides he no longer wants to be a part of this conversation.

“You’re actually, just really fucking tired. Of being the bloke in charge and sorting shit out. Only a few weeks ago you was fucking beaten half to death by some nut job. That shit fucks you up, sweetheart. Makes it harder to cope when other things go wrong, because you're still figuring out how to cope yourself.”

The silence is tense and prickling for the minute following Alfie’s speech. Alfie waits for the violent outburst that rips them apart. It never comes. He stares straight ahead into the slowly dying fire and feels a sudden shift against his side. Something like a face being burrowed into his chest, but he doesn’t turn to check. Like stalking deer, no sudden moves. But then something hot and damp starts to bloom through the shirt and against his skin. Seconds later it's followed by a shaking.

Then and only then, does he move to wrap his over arm around Tommy’s small form. It’s a quiet embrace, but Tommy appreciates the weight of the arms around him. They cocoon him from the world full of his own failures which he can’t bear to face right now.

“I don’t know how to be better,” he chokes into the waist coat that rubs against his face. “I need to be fucking better and I don’t fucking know how.”

Alfie brings a hand to card through Tommy’s hair. “You don’t need to be better, Thomas. You just need some rest.”

“I can’t fucking rest,” his voice takes on an agitated tinge. “It’s not just problems in the company. I was approached for Irish business, can’t fucking tell anyone about that or we all end up dead. Fucking coppers causing problems again. Someone once decided I was the fucking boss for better of for worse and now I’m stuck with it.”

It breaks Alfie’s fucking heart just a bit. Hearing the burnt out tone in Tommy’s voice. He tightens his hold around Tommy’s tense shoulders. “You’re not alone in this, treacle. We’ve joined forces now. Take a sabbatical, I can deal with things. Fuck, I’ve even got Ollie proficient enough at holding down the fort.” Here, Alfie chose his words very carefully. “Take the rest you need, we’ll manage to keep the company standing.”

His words seem to calm Tommy’s outburst and he lets his head roll back against Alfie’s shoulder. But the quiet only lasts for a few minutes.

“I don’t know what to do about Arthur,” Tommy whispered to the glowing embers of the fire.

That stumps Alfie just a bit. He has no fucking clue either. “Well,” he starts, mulling it over. “I’d say you too need to stop having conversations that end in screaming matches. Not the best resolution, then again. Like I can fucking talk. Before I met you Ollie was hiding a body every other week.”

The idea brings a smile to Tommy’s lips.

“Nah…he needs a rest. You too. Margate or some such shit. He’s got his head the wrong way around. Boxing when he’s angry makes his brain think he needs to be angry when he boxes, not a good idea. I know you don’t like the shit the quacks gave him, but it’s probably a good idea that he’s on it.”

Tommy rubs his hands against his face and groans. “You of all people have the right ideas about keeping people calm and I only manage to fucking rile them up.”

He laughs and drops a kiss into Tommy’s hair. “That’s because I’m not his brother, darling. Easier for me to see the solutions when I don’t care about him the way you do.”

Tommy settles for that answer and they settle down again. A few moments pass and Alfie rises to throw another log on the fire and it roars in the background. It fills the room with warmth, and neither of them can find it in their souls to find the energy to leave their spot on the sofa; leaning into each other, hands entwined in their laps.

#alfie x tommy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #ao3 #sholomons #tommy shelby x alfie solomons #fix it fic #im a walking red flag

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toadeyes-miqote · 7 months

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Prompt #21: Grave

Note - 20 and 21 can actually swap/share prompts.

Time passes in the Central Circuit, artificial light slowly giving way to night. Estinien answered the door to the smile of Ameliance who was accompanied by Tataru and the three musicians. With a single hand gesture, a basket of fresh clothes was shoved into Estinien’s hands while Tataru alone entered the commandeered infirmary.

One by one, the trio handed baskets of food to him. The trio too were close to Hylnyan. Her brother and sister-in-arms and adoptive brother(-in-law). They had been most helpful fending off unwelcomed curious would-be visitors while having their representatives at the official debriefing party above to be their eyes and ears.

Stews and grilled food mostly recipes from the Northwestern Shrouds, Ishgard, Doma and the Steppes. The scent of flavourful food to lure the huntress back into their fold. The trio looked to Ameliance, who smiled at them with assurance, a polite nod of understanding and they retreated.

Ameliance had gotten an in dept report of what the group had went through from Alphinaud, she had put her weary son to bed and now she came for her daughter.

"Thancred? May I come in?" Mere formality to acknowledge the group dynamics that the physical fighters of the team had. She knew well who he was and the role he had taken on. Her father-in-law would have been proud of the chain of mentorship that the former urchin had established. That Alisaie had came to benefit.

"Please. My lady is ever welcome." He placed a comforting hand on Alisaie's shoulder to reassure her before attending to Ameliance.

When she near the sickbed, she noted that Thancred's coat had been neatly folded and placed beside the Miqo'te’s pillow, along with Alisaie's jacket, a set of gloves, scarf and one of Tataru's missing hat. A smile grew on Ameliance's face, she had trusted a hunch about the flavourful food that she brought and the Miqo'te hunter sense of smell.

"Thancred, please. For her sake get some rest and freshen up. It would hearten her to see you at your most dashing when she wakes."

He gave her a dazzling non-committal smile that might have worked on disarming the unsuspecting. But she deflected him with a hand on his arm, a firm grip. The warmth in her eyes that she knows what they had been through. He swallowed a non-existent lump in his throat and closed his eyes. Daring to hold her hand momentarily in thanks

"G'raha? Is the spell you are using mainly to ease Hylnyan's pain? Or is it something complex from your wealth of knowledge?”

The miqo'te ears perked up, at first he looked to Thancred for a cue. "Umm.. it is a basic spell."

"Would you mind that I hold Hylnyan's hand while you and Thancred refresh yourself?" "Uh no. I guess not."

"I'm not going home." Alisaie stated as Ameliance sat down on the floor beside her. Estinien had not follow the other two men but remain far enough from mother and child for privacy. He had Tataru for company instead.

"Not unless you wish to. " Her daughter slumped against her shoulder allowing her to sling her free arm around her shoulders. “I don’t want the cold comfort about Hylnyan's tales of heroics, mama. I don’t want glorifying of the what she has done when the why of it is more important.” Alisaie started while her mother gently rubbed her arm. “I want her hitting me with her tail to get my attention, to focus. I want her singing her silly Ishgardian songs about Estinien and goading him into taking it out the enemy.” “Hylnyan meant a lot to you?” “She’s different from the students here. She made it feel like life is not a chase for better academic results. That one must always compete to be the best. She doesn’t shoot down my ideas just because I’m younger. And she’s willing to find alternate solutions instead blindly following destiny. She makes me feel that I can get the best results when I shoulder part of the burdens of her responsibilities.... She recognise that I am not an extension of Alphi... ”

Her daughter had become much more people aware from her trip. She had no answers that could make her daughter feel better, the most she could do was sit with her for a while and see if brighter minds can come up with a solution. Someone would need to keep an eye on this lot to make sure they don’t hurt themselves in the process.

#book 6 - endwalker #FxivWrite #FFxivWrite2023 #a dreamless sleep #Writing by the Seat of my Pants #uncharted writing territory Wheeeeee~~~~~~#all my words are belong to prompt and general plot #Do not expect a conclusion because in game I got none but a handwaving and a fantasia to take a break as a male miqote for a month #my fics

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

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I Could Save You [Dark Link x Reader]

Summary: You’re an unwilling hostage in Gannondorf’s castle. One day you hear his deadly creation stumble back, gravely injured. You help him despite your fears.

Genre: Fluff

Date: February 19, 2014

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You woke up with a jolt. Something had just stumbled into the castle, and whatever it was, it wasn't quiet. You lay motionless in your old, rickety bed; your eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and terror. The only thing that allowed you to see into the dark crannies of the room was a half-melted candle that you had smuggled from Gannondorf's room. Gannondorf had kidnapped you a while back and had worked you like a slave, ordering you around like one of his lowly servants.

In return for your hard labor, you had gotten a cramped room with no windows and a moldy bed. In your opinion, it was quite a horrible bargain; working your butt off in exchange for a ratty room was definitely not worth the effort. However, you presumed that it was better than nothing. You guessed that the room would appear to be uncomfortable to most people, but after time, you found it cozy. (Or- at least however cozy as it could get under the care of Gannon.) In your room, you could put your back against the wall and know that you were safe; that no one was going to sneak up from behind and kill you. The reason for this paranoia is because almost everyday, Gannon is throwing one of his servants out of the castle and into the lava pit below for one reason or another. The workers in this castle soon realized that in order to survive, they had to be one of the Dark Ruler's favorites- thus begins the bloodshed. One after one, servants disappear "mysteriously," but no one seems to care- not even the Dark Lord himself. Although you were pretty sure that Gannon knew what was going on, he didn't do anything to stop it. In fact, he seemed to like watching his servants kill each other off to compete for his favor- it was almost like some kind of sick entertainment for him. Even though more than half of the servants have been killed off, there were two people that the workers wished to get rid of the most. You, and another human-like boy your age. His name was Shadow Link. He was always dressed in black and whenever you two happened upon each other, he'd simply sneer and turn his head like you were nothing but a piece of dirt. Both of you knew this wasn't true. Even though Shadow Link had nabbed the prize for being Gannon's absolute favorite, you followed close behind. Perhaps, even a little too close for your sake. Being the only female in the castle, Gannon looked to you for not only free labor, but... For his sickening relief. You miraculously managed to slip out of it each time, though. You'd excuse yourself to pour him a cup of tea (which, more often than not, you'd add sleeping potion to.) and afterward, if he was still awake, you'd give him a short shoulder-rub, hoping to lull him to sleep. Discreetly, you'd slip away before anything else cold happen. After these sessions, you'd scrub your hands until they were raw and red. For days on end, you'd unconsciously rub your palms on your shirt to wipe off the reminder of Gannon's ghastly massages. The little competition of winning Gannon's favor soon began to get out of hand, freaking you out a bit. In the past month, you had to throw out nine good meals because the Stalfos who had brought it to your room added something that smelt funny into it. A few days ago, you spent hours retching up some kind of rodent-control pills hidden in your eggs. Yesterday you cut your tongue on a small but sharp razor put into your apple. The attempts to kill you were only getting more and more frightening, and you were beginning to get paranoid. See, you would've gone downstairs if you weren't so frightened. Who knew what it could be? It could be some kind of trick to lure you down there so that they could kill you once and for all. With these attention-seeking ghouls, anything could be possible. There was no way you were going down there. You heard the person downstairs stumbling around like a drunkard, knocking over some pots and slamming into the wall. Even from your room, you could hear heavy panting and clumsy footsteps. You held your thin covers closer to your body, wishing for the noises to stop. Couldn't they just shut up before you changed your mind and went down there? You were beginning to believe that there really was an injured person down there, and that maybe it wasn't a plot to erase you from the castle. You listened carefully, debating whether or not to go downstairs. It could be an innocent stranger who went into the wrong place to look for shelter. It could be someone sent from your village coming to rescue you. Then you heard it. You heard someone groan. It was slow and agonized, as if they were in terrible pain and all hope of living had been sucked out of them. You sat up in your bed, eyebrows knit together. It sounded so human. Another pitiful moan echoed in the castle, bouncing off the cold, brick walls of the mansion. A wave of pity washed over you, and you grimaced. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be acting. The little whines of pain sent cold shivers up your spine, and you felt the pitiful noises pulling at your heartstrings. That was it. You couldn't take it anymore. Slipping on a coat to cover your nightgown, you decided that you'd just take a quick peek to see what was causing such a ruckus. You picked up your flickering candle and stood up quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up. You tiptoed out of your room and down the torch-lit hallway. Sounds of suffering get louder and louder as you quietly descend the stairs and you find yourself wincing at the heavy breathing. When you reach the bottom of the winding staircase, you hear something crash onto the floor, making you jump a few feet into the air. The groaning stopped. You narrow your eyes and peer around the corner of the staircase divider, making sure to be extra sleathy. You raise your candle slightly to give yourself a better perception of the thing laying on the floor. When you realize what- or who- it was, you nearly drop your candle in shock. There, on the cement floor, laid a passed-out Shadow Link. It was the first time you had seen him so helpless and defeated, every time you had ever encountered him, he looked so confident and powerful. Now, he was reduced to nothing but a bloody, mangled mess. Honestly, you considered just leaving him there to rot. He always treated you like a dog anyway. Just looking at him, though, made you feel like a horrible person. No one deserved the pain he was enduring. Plus, if he died, the only person those servant freaks would devote 24 hours of constant attempts to kill was YOU. You weren't really looking forward to anything like that. From your point of view, you could see knives embedded in his legs. A large puddle of blood was gathering around his unconscious body and seeping into his dark clothes. Surely there were more injuries, but you couldn't locate anymore of them from where you were hiding. You bit your lip and decided to take the risk. If he was going to kill you, at least you'd be able to escape the hell that you had to endure for the past few months. Besides, you'd rather not deal with the wrath of Gannon after finding his "perfect creation" dead in the middle of the castle floor. Quietly, you stepped away from the stairs and inched toward the shadow warrior. You kneeled next to him, cautiously placing your fingers upon his neck. You breathed a sigh of relief when you felt a faint pulse. Slinging one of his limp arms over your shoulders, you grunted and stood up. For a shadow, he was pretty heavy. You took a few steps toward the stairs, tottering this way and that before finally balancing him next to you. You felt his bloodied clothes stick to your coat and you grimaced, trying to ignore it. You managed to haul him up a flight of stairs and onto the second floor before you realized you had no idea where his room was. Brilliant. For a moment, you stood there awkwardly, supporting the tall male, unable to figure out what to do next. You didn't have the heart to leave him, but you sure as hell weren't bringing him into your room. You shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. The candle in your shaking hand was growing dimmer with every passing moment, and you knew that you had to make a decision soon. You chewed on your lower lower lip, eyeing your door with a thoughtful gleam in your eye. Creak You whipped your head toward the end of the hallway, eyes wide. "Oh no..." You groaned, hearing the clattering sound of bones inside of a rusty piece of armor. There was a servant Stalfos, and although it hadn't spotted you yet, it was headed in your direction. Biting your lip, your eyes darted back and forth between Shadow Link, your room and the approaching Stalfos. Making a small noise of distress, you blew out the candle to cape the two of you in complete darkness. Using this to your advantage, you slipped into your room and silently closed the door behind you. You placed Shadow Link on the bed and listened carefully for the Stalfos. When you heard it walk right by your door, you sank to your knees and breathed a sigh of relief. You tossed the candle onto your nightstand and dug into the drawers, looking for matches. You spent a minute searching before you gave up and instead, tried finding your scanty collection of medical supplies. After scrounging around, you found some gauge, a clean towel, a couple of adhesive bandages and a bottle of alcoholic solution. Shrugging at your lack of supplies, you quickly got to work. You started at the lower-half of the Shadow's body, surveying his knife wounds with sympathetic eyes. Gingerly, your fingers traced the handle. If he were awake, it would be impossible to get this out without causing him severe pain. You carefully wrapped your fingers around the bloodied handle, bracing yourself. With a single, fluid motion, you yanked out the knife. You felt sick to your stomach once you saw the knife. It had little hook-like teeth embedded on the edge of the blade, and you couldn't even imagine the pain for a second without becoming wanton. You heard rustling, and looked up. Shadow Link's face was as calm as the night sky, and you would've believed he was asleep, but you saw hands clenching the sheets until his knuckles turned white. He had been awake. For a second, you were petrified. He could easily lash out at you and kill you. Although you were both favored by Gannon, you were just an errand girl; everybody knew that. He was a fierce warrior and a trained killer, no one dared to mess with him. Then another realization dawned upon you. He had trusted you enough to let you pull a knife out of his leg. Perhaps it was safe to continue. You tried to steady your trembling hands, gently putting the knife on the floor before dabbing at his gaping wound with the towel. "Well, well, well," He choked out, his voice scratchy and guttural. "If it isn't the Dark Lord's little whore." You felt a stab of pain when you realized that most of the workers here probably saw you like that. "I never did anything with him." You mumbled quietly, pouring a cap-full of cold alcohol onto his wound, making sure to get plenty inside the gash. Even though it could be seen as an action of hostility, but you just wanted to make sure he wouldn't get an infection later. Shadow Link tensed noticeably, but made no noise as you added another dose of the searing liquid to his injury. "You'd think I wouldn't know that?" He hissed, pressing his head into the pillow. "You need to hide those bottles better. Try the incinerator instead of the good ol' garbage." You moved to the next leg, ignoring him and wondering if the knife had the same hook-like teeth as the last one had. Grasping it tightly in your palm, you pulled it out as quickly as possible. Like last time, Shadow Link didn't even blink an eye. You heard a small ripping sound, and shifted your gaze to his hands. His nails had torn through the blanket. You pursed your lips and glanced at the knife. Although it didn't have teeth, it looked equally as menacing as the last one. The metal blade was about as long as your forearm, and you steeled your guts when you became aware that the knife had most likely gone straight through his leg. You repeated the procedure of sterilizing his leg, and sat back. You heard Shadow Link's labored breathing, and you couldn't be sorrier. The alcohol may have done him well in the long-run, but you knew that it must've felt like hell right now. You saw that his hands were still prying away at your bed. You guessed it was a silent way for coping with the pain, but you couldn't afford to have him break your only bed. You clasped your hand gently over his arm, removing it from the the covers. Only then did you realize his arm was covered in blood. You blindly felt his gloved arm for a gash, but couldn't locate one. "I..." You stuttered "I can't see." Shadow Link grunted, and although you could barely see his face, you knew he was glaring at you; making you ten times more nervous than you already were. He shifted his arm, holding it so that his palm was facing up. "...Do you have a candle?" You nodded and hastily grabbed the abandoned candle off the table, holding it out for him. Without warning, a fire flickered up in his palm. The small flame danced in his hand, stunning you. Although you had heard about the Shadow's powers, you had never seen it in person. "What are you waiting for?" Shadow Link asked, his voice strained and impatient. Before you could catch the flame with the candlewick, he gasped and his hand wavered for a second as the fire went out. You sensed his shuddering, and you began wondering if he was as strong as people said he was. Why was the legendary Shadow Link so impacted by a few knives in his legs and arms? He steadied his arm again, igniting a steady, blue fire with his hand. This time, you quickly swooped in to catch the flame with the candle. Shortly after you did this, he dropped his arm as if it took a big effort just to keep it up. You shone the light over Shadow Link's arm. Although it was covered in blood, with the glove on, you couldn't see anything. "...Sir, may I take off-" "Link." He intervened, his eyes screwed shut. You were about to retaliate. He wasn't Link. He would never be the courageous warrior or light, but you decided against it; for both your sake and his. "Link," You let the name roll off your tongue, experimenting with it. "I think I need to take off your glove." He only nodded, not sparing you a glance. He mumbled something, but you didn't catch it. "What?" You asked dumbly. He moved his head so that his face was turned away from you, and in the light of the candle, his silver hair shone. "I said, Cut through my leggings so that you can bandage my leg as well." You blinked at the back of his head. Was the renowned Shadow Link being shy? With a small smile, you moved to his legs again. You held the candle over him, picking up the knife that had impaled him before and cutting through the thin fabric until you could roll it up to the gash. It was worse than you thought. You were right when you said the knife had cut clean though his leg, but it looked like it had been twisted and tugged at. The skin around the wound was burning hot with what you hoped wasn't an infection. Grabbing the gauze, you wrapped a generous amount around his calf. You repeated the procedure with his other leg, cutting through the thin layer of cloth and wrapping the white bandages around it. You moved back to his arm, holding the candle close. You couldn't see any visible cuts. "Link?" You whispered, inspecting his arm, "Where's the last cut?" He didn't respond to you immediately, but he slowly moved his arm over his stomach. You moved your candle over his stomach and grabbed the edge of his tunic with careful fingers, looking at him for permission. He didn't move a muscle. daintily, you lifted the black tunic high enough to see his injury. It had taken all of your willpower not to puke right then and there. Closing your eyes, you realized what had happened to him. All that time stumbling around and gasping in pain was an understatement of what pain he was going through. You were shocked that he could even stand. His lean stomach bore a horrid hole, as if something had stabbed him multiple times in the same place. That wasn't the only thing wrong. It looked like the skin around the wound had been charred, as if whatever had stabbed him was searing hot. "How...?" You asked, your voice almost inaudible to even your ears. There was a pause that hung in the air before he answered, "Master Sword." Ah, yes. The Master Sword was deadly to anything that wasn't part of the light. You took a glance at the bottle of alcohol sitting next to you, feeling scared for the Shadow entity. Would he be able to handle such immense pain? You shifted the candle so that the light flickered over Shadow Link's face. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he refused to open his eyes. He looked like he was trying to block out everything around him. Gently, you brushed your fingers around the burnt flesh. The reaction was immediate. The Shadow shuddered, arching his back off the mattress and groaning. "D-Don't..." You retracted your hand with eyes full of empathy. Reaching behind you for the bottle of antiseptic and the towel, you poured half the bottle on the towel. You knew that pouring the liquid directly onto Shadow Link's cut would cause immense pain, so dabbing the slash was the best you could do. You held the candle higher, and brought the towel down to Shadow Link's stomach, wincing when he started clawing at the bed again. This time however, you didn't bother stopping him. You pressed against the gaping cut, eliciting a low groan from the Shadow. He tossed his head to the side, hiding his pain-contorted face in the pillow. You set the candle down on the nightstand and in a moment of sympathy, you touched his hand with yours. Urgently, he took your hand in his, grasping it as if he was holding onto the last shred of his life. This surprised you, but it Shadow Link was probably suffering so much that even his own thoughts were cloudy. You pressed against the wound and made sure that there would be no chance infections, and your face distorted when you felt Shadow Link envelope your delicate fingers in a vice-like grip. He tried to control his shallow, uneven breathing in vain. After what seemed like hours of this torture, he gave one last shudder before his grip on your hand became limp and his body fell from it's tense position. You sighed, giving him kudos for being able to withstand the pain for so long before passing out. You finished sterilizing the fatal laceration, used the rest of the thick gauze to wrap around his stomach three times. You peered at the Shadow Warrior and brushed away some of the hair that stuck to his face due to sweat. He was actually quite charming when he wasn't scowling. His breathing had gone back to normal a while after he fainted, and his features were no longer twisted with misery. You yawned, eyes drooping. It would only be fair to give the Shadow the bed, so you left him there. You moved to pull the covers over him, but realized that he had practically ripped them apart. Without a second thought, you shrugged off your warm coat and placed it on him, covering as much of him as you could. Leaning over to the candle, you blew it out quietly. You settled next to the bed, slipping your hand in his again, and drifted off to sleep.

#legend of zelda #fanfiction #reader insert #dark link #dark link x reader #old work

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jaggedcliffs · 3 years

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On to the Yin Iron roadtrip arc of my CQL rewatch, episodes 8-10! Including: more Xue Yang, and of course the scene that sparked my love for Wei Wuxian/Xue Yang:

At the beginning of Ep. 8, I really like that little scene of Wei Wuxian going to Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s place just to say goodbye to Wen Ning. It solidifies their friendship and the fact that Wei Wuxian does have a bond with them already, especially when Wen Qing and Wen Ning will be the people saving Wei Wuxian in the next few episodes, in big and small ways.

Wei Wuxian sees Nie Huaisang as a friend with benefits...those benefits being a comfortable place to rest his arm, since Nie Huaisang’s shoulders are the perfect height to sling his arm around for long periods of time without his shoulder getting tired. And also the benefit of raising him from the dead to solve a murder mystery

It’s interesting that in the WWX, LWJ, & NHS group, Wei Wuxian is still the one to take point in social interactions. I suppose that of the three, he’s charismatic, out-going, and confident, which is good combo for your social-interactions guy.

I wonder if the old man taking care of the Dancing Goddess Statue is supposed to be the same old man/possible ghost taking care of the Wen graves in episode 2

I am constantly torn between: “Man I wish we could have seen more of Wei Wuxian using his sword when he still has his golden core” and “I fucking love how Wei Wuxian doesn’t just go straight for the sword battles even when he has a core, showing off his creativity, innovativeness, and out of the box solutions to problems -- which are often more effective than just using his sword/fighting skills, and sets up how he can still be incredibly effective when he no longer can use a sword”

Wen Qing saying “so what if the Wen Clan is messing with you? What can you do about it?” reminds me of the line I’ve heard from the book about Jiang Cheng: “Whatever family you offend, you cannot offend the Jiang family; whoever you offend, you cannot offend Jiang Cheng“ (translation by @neuxue). It’s your choice or not of whether the quote applies to CQL, but it’s a quote hurts. Wen Qing’s line is just putting on airs of the line in front of other Wen soldier, so that she can go undercover speak to Jiang Cheng; but she’s copying the usual attitude of the Wen Clan, in particular people like Wen Chao and Wen Xu. It’s even a line you could apply to Jin, embodied with people like Jin Zixun. And that line from the novel makes it sound like Jiang Cheng -- in order to prevent anything like the burning of Lotus Pier from ever happening again -- made himself and Yunmeng Jiang into sects that have hurt him the most: the Wen and the Jin. He’s armored himself in their attitude -- they are not a sect to be messed with, to be touched. Who cares if they offend you, you should care whether you’ve offend them. It’s a Clan than can and will torture people to death, not the carefree, heart-following Jiang Clan of previous generations.

I don’t like to headcanon CQL!Yunmeng Jiang as being the Clan that you cannot offend, simply because I can’t see Wei Wuxian finding his place in a sect like that. And you can’t have Yunmeng bros reconciliation without factoring the Yunmeng Jiang sect into it.

I just realized that the Significant Look that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged at the graveyard means they both figured out what was going on with the Dancing Goddess/Yin Iron and decided to question Wen Qing further.

Wei Wuxian be like: “I HAVE TO interrupt my serious interrogation of Wen Qing and technical magic explanation to tease Lan Zhan. It is simply a must.”

Every time Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing address each other as “Wei Wuxian”/”Wen Qing,” whereas Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng address each other as “Jiang-gongzi”/”Wen-guniang,” I’m reminded of that one joke post about WWX & WQ having a secret handshake and JC can’t even get in a word

Try being nice to her didi if you want her attention, instead of pretending the rest of the her family doesn’t exist and/or advocating for their extermination!!!

The difficulty of liking Jiang Cheng’s crush on Wen Qing and kind of shipping it in theory VS knowing that in practice, Wen Qing deserves better. And knowing that Wen Qing also knows she deserves much better

Anyway onto another ship:

Very sexy of the CQL writers to make every make every interaction between Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang incredibly flirty.

Like they start with the rope talisman that Wei Wuxian used to flirt with Lan Wangji? And then “feeling up” Xue Yang while he’s tied up??? The whole “shameless” speech??? Their little private conversation when Xue Yang is tied up????? Every little thing in between???????

~✨~Absolutely Inspired~✨~

I wish I knew the connotations of Wei Wuxian calling Xue Yang “little friend” -- if that’s just to indicate that Xue Yang is younger than him, if he’s literally calling him short, or if there is a sexy spin you can put on it. For fan fic purposes.

Speaking of ages, Wei Wuxian says Xiao Xicheng is about the same age as him, and calls Xue Yang “kid.” But Xue Yang calls Wei Wuxian a “young lad” and himself “a full-grown man.” Maybe this is something lost in translation. Maybe this is a goof because the CQL writers are just winging it with the Yi City crew’s ages, since they aged them up from MDZS. But I honestly don’t know how old Xue Yang is supposed to be.

Wei Wuxian’s face when Xiao Xingchen mentions Baoshan Sanren :(

It’s true that Wei Wuxian makes family wherever he goes, collecting siblings like there’s a competition and he’s winning it. But every now and again we see his longing for the family that he lost so long ago he can barely even remember them, for that connection to his mother -- and the crushing disappointment when he thinks Xiao Xingchen is telling him that meeting Baoshan Sanren is impossible.

But then when Xiao XIngchen notices and tell him that Baoshan Sanren would want to see him, there’s just that longing and wistfulness in his eyes. The hope at even the tenuous connection.

It’s all about the family, found family and blood family, and it’s easy to forget that with all Wei Wuxian’s found family and the love and connection he shares with the Jiangs, Wens, and Lans, Wei Wuxian still misses that connection to his parents. Especially earlier on in the series, combined here with his questions about Cangse Sanren at Cloud Recesses.

Okay so judging by Xue Yang’s giggling when the Gusu trio discuss how great Meng Yao is, Xue Yang is definitely already planning something with him

Oh!!! oh!! Nie Huaisang is tapping his fan in his hand in Ep. 10 as he waits for Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao!! Foreshadowing! Or...past-shadowing?? Anyway, it’s a hint, if you happen to remember details about the batshit insanity of those first two episodes

Talking about foreshadowing I think this is our first “no choice” from Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao:

In Meng Yao’s conversation with Nie Mingjue, he throws in “I saw him personally letting Xue Yang escape” and then five seconds later “All I’ve said is the truth! I swear!” like...buddy...I’m sure the rest was the actual truth but now you’re going and casting doubt on the rest of it.

I like the little details of Nie Huaisang being very bad at leader-ing and formalities with Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. His ineptness now helps with his future reputation, especially when it comes to Jin Guangyao - Jin Guangyao sees him as a continuation of the inept, hapless teen that he was, and Nie Huaisang never lets him think otherwise.

Okay so I absolutely love the headcanon that bby!Lan Wangji was Big Mad that Lan Xichen had a new best friend in Nie Mingjue and wasn’t paying attention to him. BUT Nie Mingjue is also the only non-family member with “Wangji” rights, loooong before any sworn brotherhood. So to combine canon with fanon, at some point along the way LWJ warmed up to NMJ, or NMJ coaxed him into seeing him as quasi-dage figure. Somehow

#jagged watches the untamed #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan wangji #jiang cheng #wen qing #xue yang #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #xiao xingchen #wen ning #wei wuxian/xue yang #the untamed #meta #If you’re wondering about my feelings on jgy I see him as more of a walter white type than one of my sympathetic villain types

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

It was late and the sun had long gone down. The villa was quiet. Scott had wandered off to bed early. It had only taken a glare from Virgil to instigate his movement.

The words he had with his eldest brother earlier in the day were obviously taken to heart. Either that or the threat of calling in Grandma if he didn’t get himself some decent sleep had the effect Virgil desired. It didn’t really matter as long as Scott managed some shuteye.

His eldest brother needed management otherwise he’d work himself into an early grave.

Gordon had used his leverage as the injured brother to corner Alan into watching Buddy and Ellie with him after dinner.

Virgil attended to the situation before it became explosive.

Alan was ushered off with a video game and a plead from Virgil to go take a shower before his clothes gained sentience.

Alan’s remarked that John’s discarded trash gained sentience and it had worked well for his brother so, it might not be a bad thing.

The fact the video game in his hand let out a god-awful squawk and died after that statement was probably something Virgil, or at least John should investigate, but as it would probably teach Alan a valuable lesson in keeping his mouth shut, Virgil was willing to let it go for a little while at least.

He doubted Eos would do too much serious damage.

Gordon still had his feet up in their home theatre stuffing his face with popcorn and cheesewhiz.

Consequently, there were large portions of both all over the floor, the seat, his fish brother’s clothing, and the sling wrapped around his left arm.

A comment on Virgil’s behalf about vermin attracting vermin was received with a snort.

Gordon’s distracted answer was that there were no rats on Tracy Island and for the other creatures available, he was helping to keep the ecosystem running.

Virgil commented that he was pretty sure his brother might be capable of encouraging new types of mould.

Gordon told him to go be tidy somewhere else where he wasn’t interrupting a search for the giant cyclops.

Virgil rolled his eyes, checked his brother’s bandages and his vitals -mostly just to annoy him - and left him to it. After all, he had better things to do than tackle lost causes.

He ran into Grandma in the hallway and they swapped family reconnaissance. He knew Kayo was in Brazil for the night, but he hadn’t seen Brains for most of the day. Grandma reported that he had been fed and watered and had possibly developed a new polymer that could be used in the scuff pads on their uniform to help prevent what happened to Gordon from happening again.

It was no surprise. When technology failed, Brains got angry and solutions were the result.

Sometimes several.

Hell, that was how his exosuit was born.

Brains had been so angry that by the time Virgil made it out of hospital, there were five exosuits ready for testing.

Brains saw mechanical failure as personal failure and acted accordingly.

Gordon’s injury was small on the Tracy Scale, but the thirteen stitches in his arm were enough to ignite the genius engineer into a minor inventing fury at least.

Grandma’s hand on his arm squeezed just gently before she drew Virgil into a hug goodnight. He returned her embrace, as always so surprised at just how small his grandmother was, yet so strong.

Letting her go, he headed down to the comms room to chase up the one remaining human occupant of the Island.

John had been missing all evening and while that wasn’t unusual, Virgil felt the need to check on him before bed…otherwise he would be left wondering.

Wondering was never good for sleep.

He had his suspicions of where his star brother might be, so when he found the comms room empty, he wasn’t surprised. A step out onto the balcony and the second most likely place to find John also proved fruitless as the pool glistened in the starlight amongst the empty loungers.

Virgil looked up at the sky. It was a still night. Only the ocean lapping against the Island interrupted the silence. There was no breeze, no rustling of palm or pokey trees. The occasional bat chattered and a disturbed bird muttered, but it was eerily still for their exposed position in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

But the stars told him where to find his brother.

-o-o-o-

It was ever so silent as he made his way up the side of Tracy Peak. The steps he and John had carved into the volcanic rock did their job beautifully, though Virgil would admit that there was no way he would want to do this in bare feet.

That and it was dark despite the subdued lighting. He shone a hand-held torch on the stairs and tried not to kill himself on the steep climb.

He had begged his brother to light the steep ascent, and it had taken some persuasion even to allow the dim red lights that barely outlined the way. Light pollution was a thing and John was a little protective of his midnight vista.

Virgil always made a point of carrying his own torch for a touch of extra safety. After all, it would be really stupid for one of the famed Thunderbirds to kill themselves tripping on stairs in the dark.

As he neared the top of the steps, he lowered his light and shielded it as to not to betray his approach. It was likely John already knew he was there, but there was no reason to disturb his night vision more than necessary.

The observatory was little more than a rock platform high up on Tracy Peak. It sat at a natural lookout point and during the day you could see for miles.

At night it was just shadows and starlit ocean.

It was a good, few metres across and they had used some of the stone they had carved out of the mountainside for the stairs to build a balustrade around the platform’s edge and put in some very basic seating.

John had since added to it with a weatherproof cabinet and storage space for one of his telescopes and there was some technology up here as well.

But they had never built a shelter. John preferred to keep the sky as open as possible and be able to see as much as he could.

And tonight was just spectacular.

Virgil stood a few steps down and killed off his torch, allowing his eyes to adjust fully.

John was talking.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not listen to Gordon?”

“It would help if you hadn’t told me an equal amount of times that I should listen to Gordon. I do believe one of your threats was to ‘swap my processors with a pocket calculator’.” Eos’ voice issued from John’s tablet most perturbed.

His brother sighed. “It is situational. You know that. Gordon acting as an International Rescue operative is far distant from Gordon acting as the brother from hell.”

“And how am I to decipher the difference?”

“The bottle of purple dye and the fact he was requesting entrance to my personal quarters rather than docking with Thunderbird Five should have been a clue.”

“I fail to see how I could possibly have predicted the use of the dioxazine.”

“Then hopefully you have learnt from my suffering.”

“Noted.” There was a pause and Virgil opened his mouth to interrupt. “Should I electrocute Virgil who is currently on approach?”

“What?! No!”

John spun in the shadows and the sparkle of his eyes sought him out in the dark. “Virgil?”

Virgil bit his lip and unshielded his torch a little. “Parenting troubles?”

“Brotherly troubles. An injured and bored Gordon is a menace.”

“You mentioned dye? Shower rose?”

John’s grunt was the only confirmation he needed.

Virgil considered himself to be a nice guy and really, other than revenge, he would never suffer a brother the curse of dye in their shower rose. But he was still a brother and as a brother, a loving brother at that, he couldn’t help but raise the torch in his hand a little to illuminate his younger sibling.

John squirmed under the bright light and Virgil only flashed it up long enough to catch a glimpse of the purple patchwork of his little brother’s hair.

He had to bite back hard not to burst out laughing. The almost pyrrole orange of John’s hair actually worked quite well with the vivid purple streaks all through it.

Once Gordon was recovered all hell was going to break loose.

It was never wise to piss off John.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

“Did you have to do that?” The astronaut rubbed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Well, he wasn’t going to lie.

John huffed. “Does he need a reason?”

“No, I suppose not.” A sigh. “You got a plan?”

“Not one I’m willing to tell anyone.”

“You don’t trust me?”

John snorted. “It is situational.”

“Gee, thanks.” Though John did have a point. He let out a sigh and killed off the torch. “Do me a favour and wait until I’m off the Island. Better yet wait until Scott is away as well. He doesn’t need it and I don’t want to listen to it.”

“FAB.”

There was definitely a smirk in that voice.

But Virgil hadn’t come up here to plot revenge on the Fish. He had come up here to check on his space brother who had kindly come down from on high to assist while Gordon was off rota.

Virgil straightened and settled his shoulders. “How are you, John?”

“Apart from purple spotted?”

“Apart from purple spotted.”

“I’m good.” John took a step away and looked out over the ocean so far down below. “Settling in. It’s a good opportunity to refresh a few skills I haven’t used in a while.” He looked over at Virgil. “And I’m getting to spend some quality time with you guys.”

A snort. “And paying the price.”

“And paying the price.” He looked back over the water again and Virgil followed his gaze. The night was moonless at the moment and, in the middle of the Pacific, the sky was an ocean of stars.

“Spotting some old favourites?” Virgil knew his brother could see far more from Five than he ever could here, but there was something special about this place.

“Yeah. Eos had some questions and I wanted to show her the difference between space-based star study and Earth-based star gazing.”

“A little daddy-daughter time?” That earned him an exasperated grunt.

“You could put it that way.” But his brother sighed. “I’m not sure I’m communicating the entire concept.”

“You said it felt like home.” Eos’ voice was tentative.

Virgil blinked.

“I did.”

“But home is on Thunderbird Five.”

John turned to look at Virgil. “Yes and no.”

“That is not a viable response. Further explanation is required.”

“Home is where the heart is.”

“Are you intending that anatomically or metaphorically?”

“The latter. My home is where my loved ones are. Which is why my home is both here and on Thunderbird Five.”

“You love the stars?”

“I love my family.”

Virgil was staring at his brother. John’s expression was somewhat hidden in the darkness, but the emotion in his words was clear.

There was a pause before Eos replied. “So that would make Thunderbird Five your family’s home as well when you are aboard.”

“Partially, perhaps. Though they would have less attachment to the station than I do.”

“Less attachment to me?”

“No, you are not Thunderbird Five.”

“Then Thunderbird Five is my home.”

“Yes.”

“But only when you are here.”

Virgil found himself holding his breath.

“That depends on your feelings, Eos.” John’s voice was quiet.

There was silence after that. The AI left them hanging. Whether it was from indecision on her part or a decision she didn’t want to or hadn’t thought to share.

“She is amazing.” The words slipped from Virgil’s mouth without thought. Perhaps it was the setting with the world beneath and the universe above. Perhaps it was just hearing a simple truth uttered by his usually very private brother.

Or maybe it was just the distance that usually separated John from Virgil that made sharing a moment like this so difficult.

“Yes, she is.” It was almost whispered, but Virgil could hear the smile behind it.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around his brother’s bicep. “It’s good to have you down with us, John.”

“I’m happy to be here.” A grunt. “Despite the gravity.”

“Worth the purple?”

It was almost a reluctant whine. “Worth the purple.”

Virgil grinned and squeezed his brother’s arm. Gordon was walking toast.

“Are you going to be long?”

That earned him a glare. “I can stay up past my bedtime.”

“Hey, I’m just concerned for your health. You don’t want to push it. You’ve only been down a few days.”

“I know the procedure, Virgil.”

“I’m just saying. Better me than Grandma.”

That earned him another grunt. “You may have a point.”

“I know I have a point, so don’t stay up here too long.”

John opened his mouth, but he paused and shut it again before turning away and walking over to the telescope that had been ignored the entire time Virgil had been up here.

“I’ll be down shortly.” It was said begrudgingly.

Virgil took his cue and aiming his torch at the stairs, flicked it on and started heading down.

“John?” Eos whispered his brother’s name.

“Yes, Eos?”

“Am I worth the purple?”

Virgil kept making his way down the stairs and he didn’t hear his brother’s response.

But he smiled anyway.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #nuttyfic reblog

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jjba-hell · 3 years

Text

Repaid

Day 3 and its time for some spaghetti western shenanigans.

Listen... I don’t like Westerns but I did have way too much fun writing this so do with it what you may.

Reader stays gender neutral in this house, no real warnings save for some guns and violence. Enjoy.

The dull ache in your right eye socket is really starting to get you. You’d figured you could sleep it off if not for the scratchy material of the tavern sheets under your skin.

Wait.

How did you get to the tavern again? Last time you checked Miles was a few days behind you and he had the money. The plan was to camp.

Camp... camp... oh right camp! You sat up to look for anyone else awake- someone should be on watch but there’s no dying campfire beside you. There was nothing beside you, not even a horse to say you’d been left behind. All that stretched around you was an infinite amount of desert sand painted pale blue by the full moon above you.

“Shit.” You hiss out between your teeth as you push yourself up on your feet. Not even so much as a sleeping mat was underneath you and god this stupid eye of yours was foggy. Must be some sand caught in your eye- wouldn’t it scratch though?

You didn’t have much time to consider pondering as a shadow- that’s the best you could describe it- pushed its shoulder through you and continued a sluggish walk ahead of you to fuck knows where.

“Where are you going?” You found yourself asking with a voice much too hoarse to be your own. Not only was it hoarse but it brought awareness to just how dry and cracked your mouth and throat were. If you’d been out here since sundown or ever before that your throat was probably bleeding. Might explain the taste.

Without feeling like you had much choice you started walking after the shadow. The longer you walked the worse every annoying itch turned into an ache- the scratchiness in your throat only seemed to get worse the more you huffed a breath to continue walking. If you were following death, honestly you’d just laugh.

After what felt like hours you were no longer alone- a few other figures much like the one you were following seemed to join you in blindly walking after the leader. You couldn’t see much of them either, not that they were close enough to look at anyway. The town’s dull yellow lights seemed to brighten every step you took but it wasn’t enough to convince your body to cooperate. The closer you got, the heavier your limbs, the harder the steps until your knees gave out under you and your face acquainted itself with the dirt.

All you could remember after that was the feeling of hands clasping themselves under your arms and your feet dragging behind you.

“That’s the only memory I have of that night. I had no idea I even spoke to you.” You admitted to the man whose saddle you were slung over. “So unless you plan on selling yourselves out for a little bounty money I don’t see why this is fucking necessary.”

When you’d woken up from that night you found yourself more coddled than you’d ever been in your life- swaddled in soft sheets and even softer pajamas, wrapped up in bandages like you were a porcelain doll.

Didn’t last long and now you owed this gang money for your stay and a doctors visit. You promised you’d pay them back but you didn’t have a fucking penny on you. Their solution? Tying your hands in front of you and slinging you over the saddle of the one with the weird eyes.

“You admitted to being from the McRoys gang- that’s loyalty bonded by blood.” The gruff voice above you commented, not doing anything to qualm the painful pounding your stomach was getting from the horse’s steps.

“My sister married a McRoy for fuck’s sake, those fucks don’t mean shit to me!”

“Swear that on ya daddy’s grave?” Came the question after some audible hooves clambering to get closer to your head.

“I’ll do ya one better- I’ll put ‘em in his grave and THEN swear they ain’t mean shit to me.”

Their boss slowed down to a stop and you’ve never wanted to slide headfirst into the sand more than you did in that moment. “This the place?”

You were hauled off of the horse and onto shakey legs. True as hell you stood at the sign for the McRoy ranch and to even a bigger surprise your goddamn horse stood at the troth drinking water with your saddle on and all.

“Why you fucking- untie me right now.” You held your bound wrists at the giant man that had lifted you off.

He only gave an amused huff of air from his nose as he cut you free so you could stomp through the hot sand on bare feet.

“And you leave me? After hauling you out of your fucking mother all those years ago, I topple off you once and you fucking high-tail it?” You angrily grab the knapsack from its back to rummage through for some clothes- wasting no time to slip over your head and over your ass to replace the pajamas.

“Are you sure you were riding alone?” The brunette with the ponytails asked.

“Yeah. I don’t even remember why I toppled, let alone where or how..” You peered at the team once more. “My boots?”

They all seemed to share a laugh as the blonde coughed it up and you humiliatingly stepped straight in them.

“Right. So now that we’re all on equal footing... what do you really want from me?”

Being an outcast in any group was difficult, LaSquadra was no different. You’d have to risk your skin more than once to finally be able to earn even a bit of trust from their boss specifically and what you’d deem your cut was quickly snatched up by Formaggio for drinks until one day Risotto handed you your cut of coin and instead of quietly handing over the money, pulled a gun at Formaggio’s head- the first right move you’d pulled in weeks.

You’d soon learn each of them held a bounty over their heads- deciding to stick together instead of trying to haul each other’s asses to the nearest sheriff. And with your handiwork all over the McRoy ranch heist (clean as you’d tried to keep it), you’d find yourself with a bounty almost comparable to Risotto’s.

It was only when your place among them was solidified that you found yourself suggesting more and more outlandish schemes for a bigger cash grab.

“But we gotta start thinking logically about this- if we burn down every sheriff’s office there’d be no evidence to incriminate us.” You had jabbed at Illuso as you two ducked under an overturned table. One moment you were offering a stand off in the town square, the next thing you knew the bar was being blown sky high by some awfully desperate lawmen.

Risotto’s bullwhip slid across the shattered glass from the neighboring table and that what all signal you needed. “And all of this because ONE wanted poster showed you having a mole on your upper lip.”

“Did you not see the size of that thing??”

Risotto kicked the overturned table to slide into the crowd- leaving you enough of a gap to between the bullets to crack the whip into a couple hands- those viper venom soaked bone shards woven into the end was doing enough damage to the holder’s hand to knock ‘em out of the game for the count.

You got enough of them down to give Ghiaccio the chance to fire a few shots and Melone to bust open the window where Pesci awaited with your way out.

Risotto slid in behind your table and handed the loaded pistol for your round of shots. Not that you missed half as much as the men your travelled with.

Your right eye never did stop being foggy- Melone suspected cataracts but you saw targets much too easy with your foggy eye to cover it up completely. Maybe you were taking “deadeye” too literally though.

After 5 out of 6 rounds now lodged firmly in some lawmen’s thighs you hopped out the window last and took off after the rest of your team.

“If we have to pay for one more bar’s repairs I swear to god I’ll turn myself in for a hanging.” Formaggio huffed as he dropped onto the dusty floor beside you- fingers outstretched for the bottle of moonshine you were only passing around- that shit was vile.

“They’ve been hot on our trail for a while now- you think the townspeople are sick of us?”

“Somehow I doubt they’re willing to take their chances with Ciocolatta’s cronies, must be something else.” Prosciutto lowered himself to your other side, offering a cigarette which you did accept. “You don’t think it’s the new governor?”

“That little blonde pipsqueak? No, there’s no way- he probably got that job from his daddy and doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, let alone getting lawmen to run us down this consistently. Illuso, you’re the one making people squeal when we stay in town, no rumors that could have sparked this?”

“Carne’s allegedly dead but he’s not big enough for the people to let their guards down now.”

“Well we might be finding out soon.” All your heads spun to Risotto as he walked back into camp from the first watch. “There’s someone coming this way.”

“I’m guessing you think we can take them?”

“Sick of running. Anyone who’d come this far after us at least deserves an audience.”

You’d packed everything up except the fire in the camp- if it was going to be a shootout, at least you’d be ready to leave. You were about to mount your horse when Risotto stopped you. “I’m gonna let you stand up front-“ he handed you his bullwhip and two more casings of ammo. “If anything goes south, you’re our best shot.”

So you nodded and led your horse to the front, the others waiting behind you as the group- matching your own in numbers- came to a stop.

“You calling the shots?” The one with long white hair cascading under the brim of his hat asked.

“Nah- just the front line. What you come out all this way for? The moonshine’s shit unfortunately.”

“Precaution. We’re not here for any arrests, though.” Mr Black Bob came to his partner’s defense- the rest only seemed to wait.

“No arrests? You say that with a lawman right next to you?” You gave a nod to Mr Moonhair.

The click of a pistol had the hairs on the back of your head stand up. You didn’t know from which side it came from but it was like a cascade of 13 other pistols pulling back their hammers.

“Perhaps we should talk before we jump to conclusions. Name’s Bucciarati.”

“Well Bucciarati it sounded like that pistol cock came from your side first. I don’t know if I can trust a bunch of snakes that lie to my face.”

It was surprisingly not Mr Moonhair that removed his revolver from its holster. It was the one with the bandana over his head.

Another cascade of metal slipping from leather as they all pointed at one another, save for you and Bucciarati. “Got some trigger-happy subordinates there, Bucci. Who do you work for?”

“The governor.” All charm had left his voice and now you were left to the stiff formalities of a man serving.

“Ah. So you ARE lawmen.”

“We have no idea what sinister grip you have over the townspeople but it will not continue like this. We’re here for an ultimatum. Disappear from your business and all bounties will drop- no lawman will arrest you and the warrant for your hangings will be dropped.”

“Mhm and if we’re caught doing our usual business?”

“Then all charges are doubled.”

You couldn’t help but give an earnest laugh as you broke the stare off between you and Bucciarati. You leisurely turned around and mounted your horse. Risotto gave you a knowing look as you did, stealing yourself to look into Bucciarati’s ocean blue eyes.

“Do yourselves a favor- go visit Reaverbrooke. Ask some questions... shit if anyone is still there... and get a feel for the service we provide. Make sure you report all of that to the little blonde boy’s boot you’re lickin’ and maybe then we can talk on ultimatums.”

The barrels lowered as you spoke, watching Bucciarati keep up his attempt at a death stare.

“But since you’re lucky, you’re dealing with the bleeding heart of this gang- we’ll lay low until you come back to us. Same time next week?”

Bucciarati wasn’t given much time to answer as you led your squad out of the camp. Once enough distance was put between you, Risotto came up beside you.

“You’re leading us to their base? What are you mad?”

“Someone’s gotta put that pipsqueak back into his place. Who better than us?”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo part 5 #risotto nero #formaggio #prosciutto #illuso #Ghiaccio #pesci #lasquadraweek2021

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calamitycrew · 3 years

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Intro to Merrick

❝ they say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite ❞

that’s actually MERRICK ‘MERRY’ JUGSON. he is a 21 year old PUREBLOOD wizard/werewolf who is A BARTENDER AT THE HOG’S HEAD / ILLEGAL INDEPENDENT OBLIVIATOR. he is a RAVENCLAW alum and the child of MAGNUS MULCIBER and ALITHEA MULCIBER NÉE JUGSON adopted child of MIDAS JUGSON and ORIANA JUGSON NÉE GIBBON. he is known for being CYNICAL, RECKLESS, FAITHLESS, VENGEFUL, and AMORAL but also RESOURCEFUL, INNOVATIVE, ADAPTABLE, HARDWORKING, and CLEVER, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song BAD MOON RISING BY MOURNING RITUAL and WASTED POTENTIAL, A FAMILY FULL OF SECRETS, BEING WRACKED WITH INNER TURMOIL, STRUGGLING TO STAY AFLOAT, and A LIFE BUILT ON OTHER PEOPLE’S MEMORIES. i hear he is aligned with NO ONE, so be sure to keep an eye on him.

Trigger Warnings: child abandoment, chronic illness, death, murder, violence, violence against a child, poverty

Born Merrick Mulciber his surname was legally changed to his mother’s maiden name when he was adopted by her brother and his wife. Merry is a childhood nickname that only certain people are allowed to use.

His parents both died when he was very young, he doesn’t actually remember them. In truth his mother ran away not long after he was born. He has always been told that she died along with his father because his adoptive mother thought it would be less cruel than telling him the truth - that his mother straight up abandoned him because she fell in love with another man.

Oriana Jugson is an angel amongst death eaters. Her husband has been in azkaban for years leaving her poor and with a young child, and then she took in a second child. Kind of mother who wholeheartedly went hungry most nights so her children could eat. By the time she took in Merrick her health was already failing. She’s still around now but is still gravely ill - honestly, at this point she’s just holding on so Merrick won’t be alone.

As far as Merrick knows he is the only child his parents ever had. ( His mother actually had a secret child with her first love, and a third child with the guy she ran away with. ) He doesn’t think of himself as an only child though, he will always refer to his cousin/adoptive brother, Roman, as his brother.

Now, Roman, can’t introduce Merrick without a section on him as he is so intwined with Merrick’s life... up until now BECAUSE DOVE KILLED HIM. He was sixteen years older than Merrick so by the time he was adopted into the family Roman had already left school to get a job and earn money. With Oriana’s failing health Roman helped raised Merrick as well, and was the only male figure in his life.

Money has always been a struggle, it eased up a little when both Roman and Merrick were able to work, but was made harder when as a child Merrick was turned into a werewolf by Greyback. Those monthly wolfsbane potions are expensive and there have been months when Merrick has had to go without.

Roman is the reason Merrick has never become a death eater. Mostly because of Greyback. Ever since Merrick was turned Roman has done his best to keep Greyback away.

Merrick always did really well at school. His studies weren’t often his main focus, but he enjoyed them. ( I kind of imagine him like Sokka when he’s trained by his master - perhaps not the conventional, or even right, solution but a good, out of the box, solution none the less ). He would have left school early like Roman, but stayed and did his NEWTs, he did want to do them, but mostly because the school provided him with wolfsbane potions.

He already a part time job at the Hog’s Head so simply went to full time straight after leaving, so he’s been there for years now. His other work has taken time, Merrick’s just gotten to a place where he’s built up a good reputation. He’s an independent obliviator, and obviously a lot of people are wary of having someone so young mess with there minds. However, it helps that for the right price Merrick with remove any memory - including those based around illegal activties.

Now that Roman is dead his work as an obliviator is even more important as it’s all on Merrick to pay for his potions and Oriana’s care on top of day to day necessites. Death Eaters have started circling trying to recruit him, definitely using Roman’s killer, an order member, to their advantage.

Merrick is aware that Dove is responsible, and he is slowly trying to plot his revenge, but for now he believes doing nothing is the best revenge. Merrick believes that it is far more frustrating for her if he does nothing that she can react to. If he attacked, then Dove could defend herself. Besides, no one would ever take the side of lowly kid associated with the death eaters over a Longbottom whose an Order member. This doesn’t mean Merrick won’t sling insults at her or direct his grief towards her if the two ever come across each other. He’s only human.

He also believes that just because she thinks she was righteous in her decision to murder Roman that doesn’t mean she’s not evil. If the death eaters are truely so evil then they’d be the only ones doing the killing. That’s how he sees it anyway - which, aside from Roman, is why Merrick hasn’t joined a side. He’s amoral, but also logical.

#[ merrick || intro. ]#potterintro #child abandoment tw #death tw #murder tw #chronic illness tw #violence tw #poverty tw #violence against children tw

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 4 Part 6

Hello all, here is the thrilling conclusion to Midnight Striga, Episode 4! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!!

They roared, furious at the intruders who had dared to wound them. The lesser one had struck them with an infernal sound, the weight and force pinning them in place. It was humiliating as much as it was painful. How did the little pest challenge them? Why did it believe it could? Still, it had ceased. They pounced, using the walls of the not-tree/nest/den to propel them towards their foes. They would not lose this chase!!

As the Beast rushed them, Luz jumped up, a spell forming in her hands. “Light-Make: Shackles!!” In a flash, chains and bindings of light surged forth, clamping harshly around the limbs of the Beast. Luz allowed herself a moment to grin, only to pale as the Beast effortlessly ripped through the bindings, screaming in fury. “Boscha!” She yelled, hoping her warning came in time. It didn’t.

With a cry, Boscha rushed in, rapidly moving to spin up a spell with the opening Luz’s spell had created, only to blink in shock at how easily the Owl Beast destroyed the bindings, backhanding her into the far wall, much to her pain. “Gah!”

“Boscha!” King yelped, rushing to her side. He may not have liked her, but she didn’t need to die!!

“Guh, I’m okay, my ribs are just a little sore,” She bit out through the pain, waving off King’s concern.

At the sight of Boscha’s status, nowhere near as bad as she’d feared, Luz felt a smidge of relief… that was quickly squashed as she realized she was still falling towards the Owl Beast. The Beast roared, lashing out again, sending Luz hurtling towards the others. With a yelp, the two moved to catch her, just barely bracing themselves in time for her to crash into them.

“Well, looks like a full frontal assault failed!” Luz chuckled painfully, getting a snort from Boscha, and a flat look from King. Her sheepish grin dropped into seriousness. “But still, I don’t think we’ll have long until it charges again. King, do you have enough to launch another spell?” She didn’t think he did but…

King raised a finger, taking a deep breath, only to painfully cough. “Nope.” He croaked. “I’m tapped out. Still haven’t shaken off our spar.” The two bit back curses. With a fighter officially down, they had to change strategies.

With a tisk, Luz slung a startled King over her shoulders, breaking out into a run, Boscha right behind her. As they ducked down the halls, they heard the Owl Beast roaring behind them, it’s weight crashing through the halls in pursuit. “Shit!” Luz cursed, King jostling against her back. “We’ve got to figure out how to slow it down!”

“I think we’ve already established that!” Boscha snapped. “But how are we actually going to, you know, do it!?”

“What the interloper said!” King shouted, sending Luz’s ear ringing.

Luz wracked her brain, trying to find a solution. Then, an idea struck. “Well, we need to find a light bright enough and big enough to stun it. Your light spells and explosions don’t last long enough, and my Light-Make spells aren’t bright enough.”

“Can’t you use that Flash spell from before!?” Boscha asked incredulously.

Luz gravely shook her head. “Nope. An annoying condition of that spell is that it has to be built up and prepped ahead of time. I always have it stored in case I need a quick getaway, but it takes at least a day to charge up again.”

“Then why the heck did you waste it on me!?!?” Boscha demanded.

“Because you would have died if I didn’t!” Luz fired back, bewildered.

Boscha made to shout, then shut it, cheeks flushing.

“As fun as this is,” King drawled, a note of hysteria creeping in. “We still don’t have anything that can distract that thing, and it’s gaining on us!!” He shrieked, pointing at the encroaching Beast behind them.

Luz cursed. “Eda’s gonna kill me for this.”

Before they could ask what she meant, Luz whirled around, essentially running backwards, and formed a spell. “Light-Make: Tree!” Slamming her hands in front of her, she summoned up a mighty tree, tearing through the ceiling and parts of the floor, and let it tilt, tearing down part of the upper floor with it, creating an effective barricade. The Owl Beast screamed in protest.

Grinning in satisfaction, Luz turned on her heel. It turned out to be a mistake, with a painful twist, her foot slid to the side, eliciting a sharp scream, pitching her forward. King and Boscha both cried in worry. “I’m fine!” She said tightly, clutching her leg. “It’s just a sprain, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’s not too bad.” She carefully shifted pressure off the offending limb, hissing in pain, much to the two’s worry.

“I-I can see why you said Eda would be mad.” Boscha tried to joke. Thankfully, both King and Luz gave half hearted chuckles; they appreciated her trying to lighten the mood. As they gave the barricade a closer look, they noticed that it seemed to be stable, with no hints of the Beast trying to dig through. They sighed.

“Okay, we’ve got to move now. No telling how much time before it finds a way to us.” Luz stated, putting on her game face. She placed her hands on the floor, moving to push herself up, only for King and Boscha to each push down a shoulder, sporting matching looks of disbelief.

“Yeah no.” Boscha bit out, torn between concern and anger. “You just said you have a sprained ankle; that isn’t something you should be putting any pressure on.”

“I am not having my most loyal follower after Francois cripple herself!” King declared, arms folded in defiance.

“B-But!” Luz stuttered. “We need to get going!!”

“Yeah.” Boscha said casually, stooping down, much to Luz’s confusion. Confusion that grew as King forcibly dragged her forward. “That’s why I’m gonna carry you.” With a bolt of alarm, Luz started squirming, only for Boscha to aid the little demon, using her position to forcefully bring Luz closer and sling her over her shoulders.

“This is humiliating!” Luz whined. She didn’t whine often. She only really did it when she felt helpless in the physical sense. She didn’t like being reminded of that time in her life, not that they knew.

“Sorry to hear that, but suck it up.” Boscha replied. There was no way she was letting Luz potentially permanently damage herself when she could help. “So, what are we gonna do?” She asked, hoping it closed off Luz’s whining before it got bad.

Luz hummed to herself, thinking. As she wracked her brain, she recalled that video from before, and more importantly, the symbol. ‘Please be what I think you are.’ She pleaded internally. Out loud, she said, “I have an idea. I’m not totally sure it’ll work, but we need to get back to my stuff.”

“You’ve got something that can help?” King questioned.

“Would’ve been great of you to mention before we tried to snatch the thing.” Boscha grumbled.

“Ah, cut me some slack, I just now thought of it!” Luz complained. Her eyes sharpened. “Besides, it still may not work. While I’d hate to do it, that confrontation gave me an idea; if we can collapse enough of the house, we can box it in until the rain ends.” She carefully ignored the painful clenching in her stomach at the thought of destroying Eda’s home to save themselves, even if it turned out to be necessary. “And, if the worst happens, at least Boscha can still get away.” She smiled faintly at the thought that at least one of them could live if it all went to hell.

“Yeah, I ain’t doing that.” Boscha flatly stated, smoothly jumping over a bit of furniture, having gotten moving while Luz was talking, King scrambling behind her to keep up.

“What!?” Luz exclaimed. “Are you insane!?”

“No!” Boscha retorted, being mostly honest in it. “I do like living, you know, but I’m not gonna run away from my problems again!!”

“Again?” Luz questioned.

“Not important.” Boscha bit out, sliding around the corner, wincing at the sound of King crashing into the wall behind her. She faintly mapped out what she could remember of the building, and her memory of where Luz had left her stuff, ear tuned to the sounds of the Beast.

“I really think it-” Luz started.

“Oh look, we’re here!” Boscha said, just a little too chipperly. Eyeing her suspiciously, Luz grumbled as she slid off her back, stifling a shout as her ankle hit the ground. “You okay?” Boscha asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Luz said stoically. “Just help me get to my notebook. What I need should be inside.”

“On it.” King panted, having caught up to them and just barely caught what luz had said. Rushing for the pile while Boscha helped Luz to her feet, he quickly riffed through the materials before finding the notebook. “Found it! It was pretty close to the top.”

“Thanks.” Luz said, cracking a pained grin. Hissing, she eased herself to the floor, pulling the notebook before her. As she leafed through it, she grinned as she spotted the page she needed. “Found it.” She said, gesturing to the picture inside.

“A symbol?” Boscha asked confusedly. She shot Luz a look. “Is this some kind of Human Magic thing?”

“Nah, if anything, this is a form of Witch magic.” Luz calmly replied, at least externally, as Boscha and King exchanged glances. Internally, Luz was begging and pleading that this worked. “And if I copy it, it should,” Luz continued, her internal begging increasing, “do this!” She declared, and as the piece of paper she ripped out to test the symbol crumbled up, and formed a ball of light, she mentally screamed with relief.

“How is this happening?” Boscha hushedly said, King staring in bewildered awe.

Luz gave a tired shrug. “Beats me. All I know is it showed up in the recording of you testing the light spell.” She replied tiredly. As King and Boscha processed her statement, she turned to look at the ball of light floating before them. “If I’m right, if I can draw that symbol big enough, I should be able to make one of these strong enough to stun the Owl Beast and feed her the potion, all I need is-”

“SHRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!” The sound of the Owl Beast’s roar, painfully close, ripped through the room.

“Time.” Luz glumly finished. “Something we don’t have.” She turned her gaze to Boscha. “You sure don’t want to bail?”

“I already said I wouldn’t.” Boscha said gruffly. She breathed. “Besides, if it’s time you need,” she fought every impulse inside that screamed for her not too… and let the flames bloom in her hand. “I can get you it.” She finished, a grave look on her face.

“...Okay.” Luz agreed, knowing she couldn’t talk her out of it. She turned her head to King. “You ready to help me draw this thing, your Highness?”

“A King looks after his own.” King repeated her words from before. “I can’t help Boscha fight, but I can help you. Just try and stop me.”

Boscha cracked a grin at the two as they set to work, before resolutely marching for the sounds of furniture and walls being smashed. Her smile faded. This was gonna be where it all started for her… or where it all ended. The fire felt warm in her fist.

They screamed in rage, fury building at the sight before them. A false-tree-light had born before them, tearing through the not-tree/nest/den’s ceiling, bringing the not-tree wood crashing before them. They had been denied their prey. The Light-Dancer had tried to bind them. Yes, the invaders would die slowly for this transgression. They tore through this infernal domain, furious at the indignities they had suffered.

As they searched high and low for another route to their prey, they felt a familiar itch, one they had thought long gone. The anticipation of a truly challenging hunt. They gave a growling chuckle of amusement. Their prey had shown to be clever, using strange tricks to distract them, and impressive fortitude to survive their blows. It was impressive; not enough to dissuade them for killing those who had wronged them, but impressive nonetheless. The chance at a truly challenging battle against a worthy rival was a heady thing.

A scent filled their nose, causing them to perk up. They sniffed deeply, tasting it, letting it fill them. Prey. A growl tore from their throat. Their prey had moved close enough to them to scent. How fortunate. With a leap, they tore through the halls, giving no thought for the uselessness surrounding them, their talons ripping anything they fell upon to naught but shreds. As they reached the intersecting paths with the heaviest scent, they inhaled… and bellowed.

“SHRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!”

They growled in pleasure. Either their roar would rouse their prey to battle, or it would send them scurrying in fright. Either way, they would enjoy it; a battle to the finish, or closing in the fearful and the weak. Oh, it would be glorious. As they prowled down the confined wood-tunnel they pulled back to roar once more… and leapt back from a barrage of flames smelling of blood and ashes.

“The only way you’re getting at them is if you make it past my stone-cold corpse, ugly!”

They narrowed their eyes at the sight of one of the intruders; it was the three-eyed youngling who had hidden from them and led them on a chase before. They growled, low and deep. This was a long time coming.

Boscha took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, calming the nerves that were threatening to come at the sight of her flames. She didn’t have time for that (she would deal with it later). This thing was threatening people who needed her, who were depending on her. She idly noted that the flames burned out without spreading, leaving blackened wood behind; good to know she wouldn’t have to risk burning down the house at least.

With a shout, she rushed as close to the Beast as she could, a move that surprised it if it’s failure to react was anything to go off of. As it glanced down in bewilderment, Boscha cocked her fist, and smashed it across the jaw, watching in glee at the Beast reeling a good five feet back. Not giving it time to retaliate, she leapt in again, feeling flames coat her leg as she reared back to kick, sweeping the Beast’s frontal talons out from under it. As the Beast’s head started to fall, she pulled back and gave an uppercut, grinning in vicious glee as the Beast’s head snapped back. She sprinted forward, ready to deliver another combo… only for the Beast to catch her outstretched fist in its talons, a look of furious glee coating its animalistic face.

They were enraged. The Three-eyed-one had used fire against them. Fire was almost as bad as light! And even more, the three-eyed had HURT them!! It made no sense, such a small thing should not have the strength to move them, let alone wound them. A familiar wet feeling filled their mouth, eliciting a growl. The three-eyed was clever, it seemed, but it had the look of the newly strong, those that had yet to learn what they wielded. They had much experience putting those like the three-eyed in their place.

With a snarl, they threw the three-eyed back after they caught her predictable attack, almost scoffing at how simple it was. With a shriek, they lunged forward, talons flashing to rend the feeble thing’s flesh from her bones. To their shock, the little thing caught their talons in her own. Still, it was far weaker, as evidenced by how it faltered beneath their might. Twisting they and the shell’s shared form into baring their fangs, they pressed the attack. Sparks started building in the little thing’s opposite set of talons. With a roar, the three-eyed shoved forward, flames leaping for their face. Screaming, they pulled back, unintentionally leaving them vulnerable.

Boscha rushed for the Beast’s bared belly, flames raging in each hand. “Eat this you KNOCK OFF GRIFFIN!!!” She shouted, slamming both fists into the creature’s bulk, trying her hardest to tune out the screams of pain that sounded far too familiar to not be in her head. With a roar, she delivered another blast into the massive target in front of her, doing her damnedest to block out the screams filling her head. “I won’t let you hurt them!!” If she just kept shouting, just kept blasting, this would end, the fight would end, the screaming would stop.

They howled in agony. The three-eyed had burned their body, coated them in flames!! But… it was unfocussed, they could sense it. If they timed it just right… NOW!!! With a scream, they slammed the raging youngling to the side, rushing forward to the remaining prey, the youngling screaming behind them.

“NOOOO!!!” Boscha screamed, scrambling to her feet. She couldn’t fail, she couldn’t let them down!! But it got past her! How!? Was she really… so weak? Of course she was. Gritting her teeth, Boscha shook her head, clearing out the painful thoughts. Rushing forward, she hoped King and Luz had finished in time.

“SHHRRRRRYYYYYAAAAAAAKKKK!!!!!” Luz and King flinched at the fast encroaching sounds of the Beast. They were almost finished, having a few false starts at first trying to get in sync, but they had almost gotten it. They just needed a few… more… seconds!

They lunged into the burrow the intruders had hidden away in, spotting them making peculier markings alongside the den wall. Screaming, they lunged forth. Whatever manner of trick this was, they would not let them complete it!!!

“Luz, look out!!” King screamed, scrambling back as Luz turned. The world slowed down. The Beast bore down on her, talons flashing in the dreary light. Luz’s life started to flash before her; watching the games with her Mama as a kid, training with teacher, those miserable days in that cage, the adventures she had had exploring those “ruins”... her days trapped by the Oroboros. A tear came to her eye. She was going to die.

“NNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!” Boscha’s voice screamed, a massive surge of heat coating the room. The Owl Beast screamed, rearing back. As Luz gaped at what she strongly suspected had been Boscha saving her by the skin of her teeth, she glanced back at the giant glyph behind her, the giant COMPLETED glyph behind her!! Lunging backwards, she slapped her hands against it as hard as she could, watching in relief as the wall was consumed, an absolutely colossal sphere of light forming. The Beast screamed again, this time from another form of pain, as it desperately clutched at its face.

NNOOOOOO!!! They could not abide by it! They Could Not Stand The Light!!! It Burned Them Too Much!!! Please!! STOP!!!! A familiar scent filled their nose, a splashing sound echoing through their ears as a familiar taste filled their jaws. POISON!!! It was all a trick to give them the poison! They wanted to silence them! To bind them in the shell again!! Tears pricked at their eyes. Please… don’t do it. Please do not send us back to sleep…

Please…

Eda grumbled, blearily blinking her eyes. With a yawn, she stumbled to her feet, wincing at the slight pain all along her body. “Ah Titans! What happened?”

“You forgot to take your potion.” King’s voice sounded.

Eda sighed in relief. “Oh, so I just forgot to take my- FORGOT TO TAKE MY POTION!?” She shot to her feet, panic and alarm racing through her body. Frantically glancing back and forth, she spotted King, casually leaning against the counter, looking exhausted and smug. “King!” Eda cried, rushing forward. King’s eyes widened in surprise as Eda bodily picked him up and pulled him tight. “Oh Titans I’m glad you’re okay!” She cheered, a relieved grin splayed across her face, before shifting into worry. “Luz wasn’t hurt, was she?!?”

“Nah, not by you at least.” King shrugged, as she opened her mouth, he explained. “She twisted her ankle after bringing down the ceiling to get you to stop chasing us for a bit.”

“Bring down the-!? You know what, forget it!” Eda stopped herself before she could get going. “I’m just glad the two of you are okay. Mostly at least. Any cleanup is something I can handle later. Now, where is the kid, anyway?” She asked.

“Saying goodbye to her friend.” King blithely stated.

“Friend?” Eda asked, incredibly confused. “What, did a Snaggleback show up?” She asked half-jokingly; she thought the things were fake, but if someone had gotten in during the rain…

“Yeah, but they only stuck around until the rain stopped.” King replied, stretching out as he led the way. Eda bit her lip as she took stock of the damage. This rampage had been a lot worse than usual, and it nearly got her roommates killed, not to mention Hooty! “You know that girl Luz had to shove that Devil Slayer Lacrima into?” He queried.

“Yeah, the one who went pyromaniac on her, what about her?” Eda retorted. She had a feeling about why, but she wanted confirmation.

“Apparently, one of the things that fusing with it did to her was make it really hard for heat to hurt her; she’s basically immune to Boiling Rain now, and got caught in it when it started up earlier.”

Eda felt her eyebrows raise into her hair. That wasn’t something you heard every day. As the two of them made their way into the living room, they spotted Luz slipping a small metal box into a three-eyed girl’s hands with a wink, prompting a blush from her as she turned to leave. Now, Eda would normally tease Luz about that… but she was more concerned about what had happened, and that blush didn’t look like a romantic one either, so it wouldn’t be in good taste. She had some standards for teasing, thank you very much!

As they walked into earshot, with Eda catching sight of a snoring, scratched up Hooty, much to her embarrassment, Luz turned to them, her eyes widening in shock. “Eda!” She shouted. Eda expected a lot of things at that moment… but the girl running up to her and tackling her into a hug wasn’t one of them. “Oh man am I glad you’re okay!” She turned her gaze up to Eda, letting Eda see the tears pricking at her eyes. “From now on, me and King are going to be making sure you take your potions every morning! You hear me Miss Wild Witch!?”

Eda chuckled, reciprocating the hug, feeling herself relax at the reassurance that yes, her kids were okay, and no, they didn’t hate her for keeping this a secret from them. She had a feeling they’d be holding it over her head a lot though. “Okay, you’ve got it Little Miss Mage.” She chuckled slightly at the puff-cheeked pout she got from the girl; for all she acted so wise and mature, she really was just a kid who’d be in Hexside. She shifted her grin into a wry smirk. “So, what happened while I was in Rawr-Rawr Land?” She asked, hoping it wasn’t too bad.

Boscha sighed, feeling her hands shake. The way the voices had surged back into her head before, when she had used the fire… it scared her. But it was something she’d have to get over, one way or another. With a grunt, she brought out the lighter thing Luz had given her, flicking the head. At the sight of the tiny flame at its tip, her stomach grumbled. She popped the flame into her mouth, letting the smooth minty flavor spread. She moaned in delight. Luz had really come through with this thing; it was definitely going to help her keep the whole “I-eat-fire-now” thing under wraps.

“THE EMPEROR SAID WWWWHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT!?!?!?”

And it looked like Luz told the Owl Lady the story. With a chuckle, and feeling just a smidge happier about the whole ordeal, Boscha made her way home. It wasn’t much, but she had a hint of what path she wanted now. Just a hint though.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #boscha the owl house #luz noceda #king the owl house #eda clawthorne #magic #owl beast

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years

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Trinkets, 31: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

An ocarina carved from a large acorn, with a wyrm carved in relief.

A heavy lead disk that depicts writhing tentacles and widespread destruction. The rim of the disk has the word “NEVINYRRAL” on it.

A white tabard bearing a golden sunburst impressed upon a crimson shepherd’s crook embroidered over where the bearer's heart should be.

A small turtle shell intricately scrimshawed with aquan script. If translated, it’s a bawdy merfolk limerick.

A tall banner pole emblazoned with the holy symbol of the Goddess of Spiders. Adorned in skulls and the webbed and dried husks of many offerings, it oozes with an evil aura. From out of the great webbed void, a multiple-eyed arachnid gaze, looks down upon the battlefield, with slaughter reflected in its blackness. When the wind moves the tattered banner, it flutters soundlessly, like so much webbing. Yet, ever so faintly, the furtive noise of scuttling can be heard, or perhaps the clicking and chittering of steel-hard mandibles.

A square digging shovel with the grip and handle stained red with blood. Touching the grip with bare hands allows the bearer to hear the anguished cries of the grave diggers who have died on the job with the shovel in their hands.

A porcelain mask featuring a beautiful womanly face with closed eyes. The porcelain has a slight golden hue and gleam to it.

A single, thumb sized, intricately carved gemstone, that upon professional inspection, is completely fake.

A limestone ashtray inlaid in obsidian forming folk symbols said to protect against fey influence. It is of fine workmanship.

A small brooch made of a translucent stone carved into a lily with too many petals. It seems to resonate with power when its bearer casts a spell.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.