#JUST FOR THEM TO PROVE THEIR STRENGTH AND WILLPOWER TO HER OVER TIME

[jazbell]

got so sad abt pale sliblings i cried 👍

#JUST. HORNET. #BEING SO COLD TO THE KNIGHT. THINKING ITS JUST AN EMPTY VESSEL. #JUST FOR THEM TO PROVE THEIR STRENGTH AND WILLPOWER TO HER OVER TIME #AND HER GETTING A SOFT SPOT FOR THEM. #SHE NAMED THEMMMMM #SHE GAVE THEM THE TILE GHOST OF HALLOWNEST AND IT MAKES ME SO SAD ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ #GETTING A SIBLING BACK JUST FOR THEIR INEVITABLE DEMISE TO THEIR DUTY TO DRAW NEARER EVERY SECOND............ #AGAIN. #dont even fucking get me started on the hollow ill straight up cry so hard ill puke #hollow knight

[feudalismoffire]

Talk about an alliance of convenience, Moorhen too scared of Burn, Burn wanting to rip Scarlet's skull in two, Scarlet just enjoying her arena fights...

This was supposed to be an art of my AU alliance, but its more like Burn and Moorhen against Scarlet, not the canon trio, but well...

Lore:

Moorhen: "Burn is a powerful enemy, I fear her defeat, for we will be surrounded by our long lasting enemies, I fear her victory, she would destroy us if she so wished. She is an enemy I don't intend to make."

Moorhen, a long-ruling monarch over the feudal warlords in region of the Mud Queendom. For long a pacifist and neutral politician and diplomat, and good friend of former queen Oasis, who both shared an alliance against an expansionist younger Scarlet and a ressurgent queen Coral. All her efforts for peace shattered as her friend was murdered in a fateful night of 4993 AS, triggering a war that threatened to sweep the continent from life.

Moorhen though, proved herself also a good wartime planner. She deliberately delayed negotiations with Blister and had her forces in a mild state of readiness, forcing Scarlet and Coral to commit some resources to their border instead of crushing Burn's forces. A strategy that would pay off in 5003 AS, as the seawing commander Tempest was murdered by rogue mudwings, causing Coral to declare war on her, who soon joined Burn's side.

Moorhen is wary of her ally, she considers Burn a brute, lacking the charisma, patience and wisdom her mother had, but she still hopes she will learn that politics also happen other ways than at the end of her stinger. Though no amount of hope ends her traumatic nightmares of the losses her people are suffering or the idea that she is helping Burn to quickstart her own expansionist war across the continent.

Burn: "Many of my commanders and subjects believe we can retreat from the Five-Tails river, into our vast desert, reorganize and counter-attack. I ask them a simple question, with what food and water will we survive there? The Five-tails hold our homes, our food, our water. Its everything for us, without it, we lose. From now on, all this talk must be erased. No dragon will fly an inch back from that river!"

Few rulers in history could say they had as bad of a start as Burn had. Within one year, her life was transformed forever, from a mere general under Oasis to the queen of a nation under threat of total annihilation. Lacking the wisdom and charisma her mother had to conquer the hearts of the SandWings, she was governing a nation in disarray. 

However, Burn had the will to make things work, her own way, of course, through brutal discipline and willpower, she mobilized the SandWings into a resistance war. The SkyWings were at her doorstep, hoping the already collapsing structure would finally fall, but it didn't. The SandWings held their capital at large casualties against Scarlet's armored army.

With the news of Moorhen entering the war at their side, the SandWings now hold their hopes in their savior to push back the SkyWings and restore their pride in facing the world.

Scarlet: "I will conquer that fortress! I will erase it from the map, slave the able-bodied and kill the rest! I will build a whole new vacations palace for me in its place!"

Scarlet, the 243rd reincarnation of Empress Carmine ascended in the throne in a fashion unique to her; By murdering her mother, sisters and other nobles in her wedding party. Since then, she built a cult of personality hardly seem since the times of Carmine herself 2000 years ago, her control of the skywings strengthed as she took their properties, their businesses and everything they had. Revolts were brutally crushed and soon everyone embraced the new status quo.

However, for Scarlet, it was never enough. She is a goddess alive, and the shadows of her wings will encompass the world. Despite for long being halted by Moorhen and Oasis alliance, the death of the later caused shockwaves through the continent, and Scarlet was quick to accept Blister as her ally and fly into the war.

Although her forces have proven incompetent in the siege of the Savannah Palace, Scarlet is confident that Burn will run out of dragons to fight far earlier than she will. The war of attrition is at the SkyWings' favor and with this threat ended permanently, the deserts will become a skywing territory and soon the continent will fall under the mighty of her armies.

Or so we shall see...

#burn #digitalart #dragonart #moorhen #scarlet #skywing #wof #dragonartwork #wingsoffire #mudwing #sandwing #queenscarlet #art #princessburn #wofscarlet #wofburn #wofmoorhen #au #wofau

[abbatoirablaze]

SDAU, Raised By Bears, Chapter 1

Word Count:  934

“Alright pledges…this is our annual test of endurance and strength…and willpower” president of the fraternity, Chris Evans smiled.  A few of the other brothers chuckled amongst themselves as they looked across the back yard. 

He gestured across the lawn to where there were four pledges zip-tied to the plastic lawn chairs.  Curtis, Lee, and Bobby were giddy with excitement, having heard about the annual tradition of where they were stripped down to their boxers.  From there, the Alpha girls use only their mouths to eat a banana from between a pledges thighs, and lick up the whipped cream that was sprayed over their covered crotches, while the alpha pledge girls were stripped down to their bra and underwear and half an orange was placed between their thighs, a healthy bit of honey in the middle that the men had to eat out. 

The brothers of the house whooped and cheered, ready to start their annual games, “now…the goal of this is to not get turned on…a member of the houses will choose a pledge, and we will put them to the test…now, since there are only four pledges that have made it this far this year…you alpha girls can choose one of them or another brother until each of your cabinet members and juniors and seniors have had a chance.”

“Thank you, President Evans,” Nat smirked, crossing her arms at her boyfriend, “we graciously accept your offer.”

And so it started.  With the alpha president Nat choosing her boyfriend.  He smiled and licked his lips, sitting down in a chair while his brothers zip-tied him down.  The vp chose Curtis.  But when the third girl came up, she immediately came to Andy. 

“I choose this pledge.”

Andy shook his head, trying not to embarrass the girl, “I don’t feel comfortable doing this.”

The men stopped cheering and looked to Andy.  In all reality, Andy didn’t have any issues with what was going on. The idea had seemed fun enough, and he was assured by Curtis that there were plenty of bears within the sister sorority.  What he did have issue with was the fact that the girl that had chosen him was not a bear. 

He could smell it on her a mile away.  She was a little omega wolf.  She was cute enough.  Petite.  She looked like she would be willing to do whatever he wanted.  But she wasn’t his type and he didn’t want to pretend that she was.  Andy’s lip curved into a snarl, “I don’t do dogs.”

The omega backed away, embarrassed of having been rejected by not only a freshman, but a pledge at that when she was a full sister in the sorority; a high ranking one at that. 

But it was Nat that walked straight up to him, and without a second’s hesitation, she put her hands on either arm of the chair, “You don’t have a choice, pledge…sister Sarah chose you…so you are going to go through with it.”

“I don’t fuck with mutts,” he spat at the woman who was older by just a few years, “she can go howl into her pillow about it…I don’t fu-“

“Pledge,” Chris growled, his alpha aura projecting through the back yard.  He may have been zip-tied to a chair, but that didn’t mean anything as everyone’s eyes snapped to his.  The alpha girls instantly submitted to him, but it was Andy who growled at the wolf, “you either accept her and let the time-tested tradition and bond between our two houses happen or we cut your ties with us.  Physically…”

“He’s saying if you don’t do it…you’re out of the frat,” Curtis whispered to his fellow bear, “look…you don’t have to give a damn about her, jus-“

“I’ll accept her if he won’t!” Bobby said quickly, raising his hand as much as the zip tie would allow, “I-“

“I want him…”

“What’ll it be, pledge Barber?” Chris said in a firm tone.

“Fine.” the bear growled, looking away from the woman.  The men cheered and the omega crossed her arms, self-conscious of what had just happened.  But she had it in the back of her mind that while the bear was obviously a species-ist, she was going to prove to him that a wolf could take care of him so well he’d be begging for her afterwards.  And then she would reject him.

Thor was the one to stop Andy from entering the house at the end of the ‘festivities.’  His brow cocked, but Thor only smiled, handing him a roll of garbage bags, “Evans said this was for your piss-poor attitude.”

“My attitude?” the young bear scoffed, “he wanted me to ge-“

“He wanted you to play nice with our sister sorority,” Thor said firmly, “I get it…you don’t like anyone other than bears…we get guys like you all the time.  Stay dating within the species…keep bloodlines pure…blah blah blah…well we’re all alphas.  And that means that when our sister sorority tries to bond with us…we let that shit happen….”

“Thor-“

“You think I want to fuck around with another shifter?” he growled, “no…I prefer humans…but I put on a brave face, and I don’t make a mockery of our traditions…that’s something you need to learn, pledge.  Hell, half the guys don’t give a shit about the girls they’re banging right now…but we do it because it’s tradition.  It’s what’s expected of us.”

Before he could respond, the trash bags were shoved into his chest and Thor turned curtly around and went inside the house.  Andy frowned, turning around as he looked at the trashed yard. 

Tag List:  @evanswife1918, @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#school days au #college #a/b/o au #a/b/o #a/b/o fic #werebear #alpha andy barber #dark andy barber #andy barber #defending jacob #alpha thor odinson #thor #thor movies #thor odinson #marvel au #the avengers #marvel

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Part 25: Comeback

This chapter is short, I know.

Happy Update though!

-----

There were two immediate things Erik could be thankful for. One, the lil lawnmower had finally died allowing him to bask in the peace of an early morning. Silence for him tended to be golden whereas for her, no alarm probably meant late for work and time was still ticking. Two, he was free for the time being. Completely free. No missions, no agenda, no place he needed to be. In this rare moment, there was nothing but the life he'd carved for himself with a lil bit of money, a couple well placed bullets, and a dream.

Look at this kid faking, he glared down hearing steady breaths, feeling the familiar micromovements.

"Like watching a bad actor on BET," he muttered in the darkness. "You're struggling," he whispered down into the skin of her forehead. "Time to get up."

Her cheek smushed deeper into his chest, her arm locked around him. He hadn't thought she could get any closer. He was wrong.. He stretched his arms in the bed with a yawn and she squeezed him tighter.

"My ribs?" Damn. She'd gotten a lil stronger somehow. Or maybe he'd been gone so long he'd forgotten. That squeeze was a 'nigga stay put' squeeze. She probably missed him more than she let on.

"Mmm," she sighed mumbling gibberish. She probably wasn't faking sleep. Poor thing, so tired. Probably had a busy day yesterday, and that was before he scared the shit out of her.

Literally. She'd busted ass all night. It was funny at first but that died quick. Let it have been anyone else, they'd have woken up on the pavement next to all their shit. 

"You lucky you cute," he muttered rubbing her arm. Her skin was so soft.

To think he let her stay in his place unattended. Even more, nothing had truly gone wrong; her stomach was just fucked up. Bubble guts. And one run-in with Swift, that was slight.

He was starting to feel the hope that his persistence was proving to bring.

"Time to get up," he repeated more seriously. "Uh-uh.. Look at me." He waited till she picked up her head looking up through tired slitted eyes. "You gotta go to work Stink Stink..," he patted on her ass. "But I'll drive you. I'll come back and get you."

"Can't we just stay here?"

Erik's bottom lip ejected itself. Everything in him fluttered at the same time. It was the tired pleading eyes and the soft sleepy voice, a dangerous combo. She couldn't know that or she'd abuse it.

"Yeah," he sighed feeling defeated. He kissed her forehead missing those characteristic chubby cheeks. She'd be mad if he pinched them... He planned to do it anyway. Angry Y/N was still cute Y/N. "Let me up."

She was already near sleep again, refusing to move an inch. His head dropped back on the pillow.

He didn't want to be too rough with her and pull away considering her arm was still locked around him. What message would that send? Still, he was past overheated and uncomfortable as he'd been all night.

"Girl I'm coming back," he assured loving and hating the attention at the same time. Finally she let him go. "Thank you..," he sat up treating his leg gingerly. He was a monster when it came to healing, still he couldn't cheat the surgeries and they came with pain and medication which he still needed from time to time.

The library of health and wellness downloaded in his brain over the years helped him to understand his body and how far he could push it. He trained it for resilience using strength and willpower. He refused to be injured. He refused to be sick. He refused to let surgery keep him down or stand in the way of a moment.

Luckily, she was still half sleep missing the parts of him stretching and rubbing his leg through his pants. Taking his pain medication. He felt good enough, he'd been through worse.

He went downstairs slowly to assess the condition of the place in the daylight. It was nothing short of expectation considering she cleaned when she was stressed or anxious. She'd done that at her place too.. clean and organize under stress. He could feel her anxiety and fear in each room he entered. She was restless.

The tables and the floors were spotless. There was still lil stuff here and there like blankets on the couch, a book by the hot tub, a mug or a candle placed here and there, the TV remote in the kitchen, but it made sense showing him glimpses of how she used the space. The house seemed lived in and a lil warmer.

Her phone was on the living room table with missed alarms. As far as he knew it wasn't like her to just skip work.

She must need energy.

The fridge had takeout, and shit he didn't typically buy, but he pulled some eggs and bacon to fry. When he checked his cabinet, there was her infamous tea brand sitting in front of his stuff. Red Refresh. He looked over the packaging and brewed it hoping it would do what it said on the label.

"Call in." He set the food up on the nightstand stretching his body at once. "Now.. Sit up. Here's your phone."

Gradually she sat up staring at nothing for a good eight seconds. It was nice to know reflex occurred before the thinking. The squeezing conveyed what words would not.

"Hurry up," he nodded watching her fake cough into the phone saying she was sick. "Your tea getting cool. Make sure you drink it," he said when she hung up.

She blinked glaring at him.

"I think I'll have coffee."

"I think you'll drink your tea and eat your breakfast."

She leaned hesitantly to grab the food.

"....Why are you staring at me?"

He'd missed being face to face talking to about something other than murder or his health. He was staring.

"What.. I can't be proud of my submissive for being obedient to her master? You followed my rules. You took care of my house," he smirked when she squinted in irritation, the exact look he was looking for. He missed that look.

"Take care of my house like you would your own," he shrugged. Though he was halfway joking, it was something that meant a lot to him. Despite the putrid filth a career of assassination had exposed him to, years of military service had made him a proudly pristine nigga. Cleanliness was a virtue and he couldn't fuck with nobody who didn't have it.

Some people in his field were sloppy.. hard on their own shit. He wouldn't trust leaving a duffelbag at their place let alone letting them into his space.

"It would've been neater if I'd known you were coming."

"Better to catch you off guard," he winked, "What you wanna do today?"

"Weeell," she grinned.

"Shouldn't have asked," he spoke dryly, shaking his head. He should've just told her what they would be doing. Now she had a fuckin itinerary.

"You just got back, nigga, let me be excited! First, I wanna watch a movie with you, I feel like we haven't done that in forever-"

"No white movies, I swear to GOD. No musicals, no slave shit-"

"Chillll," she grinned slapping the bed with both palms. "Chill. I got the perfect movie and I don't think you've seen it."

"Let me be the judge I don't trust you."

"ANYWAY. Second, I think we should chill in the hot tub and unwind so you can tell me all about your meetings and how it was after I left.. I'd love to hear how miserable and alone you were without me," she tapped his nose.

"Third?"

"I'm getting to it, damn! You so tense. That room," she leaned in. "I want you to open it."

"I knew it.. just naaasty. Yo freaky ass."

"How? I'm just curious."

"Girl we were both in that hotel room when you violated me in my sleep. No consent, no safety talk, no romance. You parked that mack truck on my face IN MY SLEEP. Then had the nerve to suck the skin off my dick.. Look at it! Skinless!"

"LIES," she shielded her eyes as he grabbed his zipper like he'd whip it out for proof. "I remember no such things."

"Is that right... Well. Since you likely don't remember last night let me be the one to inform you, you need to check your drawls. Your ass played a song too colorful for for them bitches to not have tasted the rainbow."

Her face read confusion but the part of her that understood his meaning, he could see didn't want to.

"Yeahh," he nodded aggressively. "You were dropping dirt bombs all fuckin night. I did my time in the military bae.. I'm done."

It tickled him how her face was changing with growing embarrassment. Like she wanted to crawl into a ball and die.

"It was like something crawled up and died in yo asshole... You was fuckin my ass up! I mean, just cuz yours fucked up don't mean-"

"That was yo ass you was smelling," she snapped flipping over to hide her face. "Probably yo upper lip with that tadpole ass breath."

"You wanna talk breath? I ain't wanna go there but-"

"Shut up!" A whirlwind of kicks came his way and it was funny until she kicked his leg.

"Ok ok," he blocked the next kick deciding to let her have this one to spare himself. "Drink your tea and come downstairs. Bring my weed."

"Um," she laughed nervously looking from him to the wall in shame. "I... I smoked it all."

He froze unaware of how to respond. He'd been planning to smoke and unwind.

"All?" He wondered what the feeling he felt was. Anger? No.. No he couldn't even be mad. He was impressed. "All of it," he repeated moreso to himself. Part of him wanted to cry just a little. He'd just have to get some more.

@soufcakmistress @itsieshabro-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @blackpantherimagines @blackpinup22 @muse-of-mbaku @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @dameshaemonique @hidden-treasures21 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe   @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens   @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @purplehairgawdess @indigoxsummers   @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent-blog

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #house rules

[bxldrsdraumar]

"Ah. There you are."

He hums as he closes the distance, circling around to the front where the knight stands at his appointed position - a vaunted guard of the scant remaining stores.

"Lord Sigurd." The monk flashes him a guileless smile. Stomach rumbles, but he raises his hands in preemptive defense. "Lest you worry, I am not here to change my mind about forsaking my own ration. Rather..."

He reaches to his side, casually retrieving his staff.

"I'm here to make good on my earlier recommendation, if you'll allow me."

Keranes is here too, looking straight ahead as though lost in thought. (Can't guard precious precious treasure all alone, after all. That's just asking for trouble.)

"You will, won't you? I should like to prove some manner of useful, if possible."

Sigurd was of a mind that the most extenuating circumstances showed the true mettle of a man - when he is tired, or cold, or wounded and uncomfortable, or unhappy.

Or hungry.

Most would like to assume that they were in control of their faculties, that something so base as human urges could be brought to heel with enough willpower. They were wrong - each man was a slave to their body, and more often than one might expect, it was hunger which held the leash.

He sighed, tipping his head back to rest it against the wooden wall where their stores lay, feeling the twinge in his gut, the shivering heat that wrought weakness against all of his limbs. He was a pale imitation of himself, and for the first time since reawakening all those months ago, he felt it. Keranes, when she had seated herself beside him, had glanced over him once, and shook her head in the way that people did when they thought they wouldn't be noticed.

Still, he had the faculties to notice the approach of footsteps, and though Sigurd might have scarce had the strength to stand, his grip tightened around the haft of his lance.

It did not loosen at the sight of the smiling monk, the face lined with hunger as the rest, though…

Sigurd smiled in return, took the other man at his face - he had, after all, expressed a disinterest at the physical world. Perhaps he was a truly holy man, after all.

"You cannot blame me my suspicions, my friend. I - you are too kind, I'm not sure you need to - "

But he felt it. In that moment, in spikes beforehand - during the roundtable, when all eyes weighed heavily on him, not just with expectation but with dread. Dread that such a force among them would fall so early. He felt the shame of it, that predicated failure that he could not allow.

His smile softened, and his grip loosened. "You are a good man, sir monk. It is a relief, to know that our trust in you, at least, can stand unwavering."

#in character #toaapollyonouranos2024 #aopi2024 #interaction: carefreemonk #waaaaahh azama pleading #this is late i'm sorry but waahh ty so much for sending

[hisuianhellion]

((Oh, also, 4:30 AM random post.

I just want to point out that, as a MINOR SPOILER, but one to keep Rose's character intact, the game denotes you must CATCH all of the Legendaries to be able to complete the Pokédex. However, this is a woman that GETS that this, in and of itself, is NOT SMART. You do not, I repeat, you do NOT just... CATCH the literal lords of Time and Space, the genuine fucking lord of the underworld (and anti-matter in my headcanon), beings responsible for giving SENTIENCE to people in their Willpower, Knowledge and Emotion, or the creatures holding dominion over Dreams and Nightmares. I've been laying the groundwork with this to allow her to make this decision later on. Ethical field research denotes catch and release in a way that will not disrupt the ecosystem. Only keep the ones that WANT to stay.

She will catch them. Temporarily. It will be her test to prove to them that she is worthy of their power. But her recognition will be that they do not, ever, need to obey the whims of a mortal being. Simply to understand her so that she may understand them.

Only three Legendaries will ever settle into being allies with her, with one of them being a Mythical Pokémon. One should be obvious based on previous drabbles I've written, one should be obvious if you've ever played the game. The third, I will keep quiet on.

But simply put? By the end of this story, where I will ponder moving her to a more modern region to keep her around and developing?

This girl's gonna be a hard-pressed, scar-riddled, cane-wielding field researcher capable of going toe to toe with gods not just in her grit and determination but the genuine strength and power of her team.

And she will still blow raspberries at them because she knows what kinda treats they like and we stay silly here.))

#outofroses

[not-so-rosyyy]

Your post the other day got me thinking and sparked my interest - I haven’t bought a manga in years. Do you have any recommendations, especially more current?

OMG! I love this topic.

okay, so i actually don’t know what genre you’re into with regards to manga, but judging from your other interests, i’d say you’re into Shonen/ Fantasy/ Action/ Historical

some of these you might have already heard about, but these really are my favorite from recent years, and they're all excellent:

1. Attack on Titan - set in a post-apocalyptic world where the last of humanity are stuck inside a gated community surrounded by what they call The Walls because there are man-eating giants outside to get them. this is like the Game of Thrones of manga, in that it's like super dark, gritty and harrowing. lots of mysteries and conspiracies and real-world parallels with social issues that plague us today. the early volumes are especially top-notch. everytime i read this, i'm like "humanity is shit" but also somehow i still want to root for us lol. i cried a lot here.

2. One Punch Man - about a depressed and bored superhero facing an existential crisis because he's become so strong he can defeat any (and i mean ANY) monster and villain with just one punch. lmao sounds ridiculous but that's the point because it's really a satirical look into the superhero genre. it subverts a lot of your expectations into that kind of narrative because it directly exposes tropes. really funny (like, the main character treats average things like budgeting and groceries as his biggest problems like the rest of us), but also action-packed and the main plot and mystery just gets better and better over time.

3. Akatsuki No Yona - well, this one isn't a shonen because the main character here is a woman and romance is a huge part of the story. BUT it is not the driving force of the plot. it's really more about politics, leadership, adventure, etc. the lore is really rich, too, imo. and Yona (the MC) is one of the most inspiring female characters i've ever encountered in manga. this is the story of how she, a once sheltered princess in a once "peaceful" kingdom, had to escape the palace after the emperor got murdered during a mutiny. on the run from her enemies, she soon learned that the world outside the palace is far from the idyllic place she once thought, and from her dealings with the common people, found her strength and grew to be a great leader in her own right all while trying to stop the ongoing war and take back the kingdom from her foes. (it's a very I JUST LOVE WHEN WOMEN! type of story)

4. My Hero Academia - this one I think is the most typical shonen story in this list (you know, the very untalented and weak protagonist who grew to be the most powerful one by sheer willpower coupled with a heart of gold). but it executes the genre's tropes and cliches really well, me thinks, and that's why it's wildly popular today. it's set in a world where having "quirks" or superpowers are common, and yet Midoriya (the MC) doesn't have one...even though his dream is to be the greatest superhero like his idol All Might. long story short, they meet and All Might, after seeing how Midoriya possesses the most important quality of a hero, passes his quirk onto him. and thus starts Midoriya's journey of proving that he deserves that power and living up to his idol's name. also cried a lot reading this. (lmao notice the pattern)

5. Kingdom - this is like...one of my most favorite mangas i've ever read. i'd say it's up there with One Piece as one of the best in the shonen genre. the main story is a fictionalized account of the Warring States period of China and it's told mainly from the POV of a young and poor war orphan who joined the military and rose to be one of its greatest generals. if you're into history, philosophy, politics, battlefield strategies and tactics--i couldn't recommend this manga enough. the characterization and story progression are A++. lots of epic moments and speeches that made me shiver and cry buckets. and it constantly ups the stakes and introduces allies you'll love and enemies you'll come to respect. (also...i love the female characters here.)

***sorry for this long ass answer you didn't ask for btw lmao***

#manga #attack on titan #one punch man #akatsuki no yona #my hero academia #kingdom

[negative-speedforce]

🔴🟠🟢🎱🔮⚽️ for Siv, Jay, and Cassandra :)

🔴 Red- What is a trait your OC has that those around them don't see very often? Is it seen by a rare few or completely overlooked?

Siv, despite her cold, brusque exterior, is a secret nerd. Only people who knew them in high school really know that, but they're a big time Trekkie, and they were going to go to Stanford for Engineering before the whole "hell week" thing.

While most people assume Jay would be a coward because of his soft-spoken nature, he's one of the most fearless members of the team, almost to the point of recklessness.

Cassandra is harsh, cold, and overly formal with most people, but when she's with Jay, she turns into a blushing, romantic mess. If you see her being all lovey-dovey, however, she will threaten you. After all, Cassandra has a reputation to uphold.

🟠 Orange- What is a trait your OC hides about themself from others? Do they refuse to acknowledge it or begrudgingly accept it?

Siv hides her empathy from others. They don't want to be hurt again, so it's easier to just ignore it and pretend that it isn't there.

Jay hides his judgemental side. He knows that it's there, but he also knows that it's usually wrong, so he suppresses it.

Cassandra hides her joy. She prefers to be respected rather than liked, so while she is very much aware and accepts that she has it, she'd rather not show it.

🟢 Green- What is considered a weakness in your OC that is actually a strength? What is a strength in your character that can be twisted into a weakness?

Siv's stubbornness. While it's definitely her worst trait, it has helped her get out of some pretty nasty situations that most people wouldn't be able to (see- Bloodwork), because they just won't give up.

Jay's strict moral code. Jay will not do anything that his heart tells him not to do, and while this has inconvenienced both him and others, he always finds another way that is better for everyone.

Cassandra's tightly-wound rage. Cassandra is extremely overworked and tired, so she is liable to snap at a very minor thing. However, she can get that stress out on missions, where she will (very cathartically) beat the crap out of whoever's threatening her team.

🎱 8 Ball- What situation was your OC lucky to escape from or get out of? What or who helped them unexpectedly?

Siv was lucky to escape from Amunet Black and her Meta trafficking ring. Jay arrived to save them at the last minute, otherwise, they likely would have died there.

Jay was lucky to survive the injuries that he sustained from being thrown out a window via lightning bolt. He was also lucky to make it out without becoming paralyzed or fully losing his ability to walk.

Cassandra was lucky to come back from when she accidentally overused her magic and became fully taken over by Dark Magic. While Jay will insist that the power of friendship saved her, she'll say that it was her own willpower that brought her back.

🔮 Crystal Ball- What kind of future does your OC want to have? What would they do to make it real?

Siv wants to be free. Free from their legacy, free from their father, free from the fact that they occasionally go apeshit with the full power of an eldritch god, etc. She will do anything to get that freedom, even if it means destroying everything she ever loved.

Jay just wants to be happy. He wants to settle down with Cassandra, buy a house, raise some kids, and just... be. He's the definition of that "we deserve a soft epilogue, my love" quote from that one Stucky fic. Already, he's been looking into accessible, off-the-grid housing, since they're both secret agents and have made a lot of enemies.

Cassandra wants people to respect her. Growing up as a black woman with two dads, most people saw Cassandra as the butt of a joke, or some kind of "diversity ploy". Because of that, Cassandra has always strived for excellence, to prove her haters wrong. Now, as the leader of an elite team of secret agents, she's garnered some of that respect, but her insecurity demands that she rise even higher.

⚽️ Soccer Ball- Who is someone that your OC believes in and roots for? Are they private about their admiration or do they make it well known?

Siv admires Jay a lot, because while they've been through essentially most of the same trauma, he managed to wade through the grief and make a life for himself which doesn't involve squatting in a condemned apartment and plotting murder. They're not very vocal about it, but still show their support in other ways.

Hailey really believes in Arya, because of how far they've come. When they met, Arya was a heartless force of chaos, but in the years they've known each other, Arya's really opened up and become a valuable part of the team.

Cassandra, while despising them, actually respects Siv a lot for their competence. She'd prefer if she could catch them and put them in a cell for life, but she still respects her a lot. She would not say this at gunpoint.

#ask revan #oc shit #vexic :D

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (24/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 1,137

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, funeral

masterlist

a/n: Damn. So this is it, the end of FAF. So many of you have stuck with me through when this fic started (literally almost exactly two years ago) and have been waiting for me to get the motivation to finish it. This is the fic that first got people to notice me, to give my writing a chance. I love you guys so, so much. Thanks for being on this journey with me. I hope I lived up to your expectations.

“Jamie!” You called out as you hung up another shirt, looking around the room. The coat of paint you’d slathered on the walls the day before looked good. Really good.

You two had decided to do most of the decorating yourselves, instead of hiring a company. You wanted your home to be entirely you and your family. Bucky and you had ‘bought’ the Stark family cabin off of Pepper, wanting to make it your permanent home. But Pepper never stayed there, finding it too difficult with all the memories she had of Tony there. She didn’t want to drown in the sorrow of losing her husband.

“Yes, malen’kaya?” He called out as he carried in another few boxes. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his concern, even though you had been completely safe and sound in the cabin.

Especially considering the new state of the art security system.

“I’m okay,” you insisted as he appeared in the doorway, setting the boxes off to the side. “It’s just been at least thirty minutes since you last kissed me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, even though the pink that dusted his cheeks said he was anything but put out by your neediness for his affections. “Oh, yeah? What do I get if I give you kisses?”

You’d be lying if you said you hated how mushy gushy of a couple you two were.

But in all honesty, it was addicting. Being so affectionate and loving with each other even after two years felt like a feat. People kept telling you that you’d come out of the honeymoon phase eventually (everyone except your little makeshift family, of course) and you just kept proving them wrong.

The honeymoon phase never ended if you didn’t let it.

Sure, you two had little disagreements every once in a while. You were both human. But you weren’t having big blowout fights like people made it sound would happen.

“Well… I’ll do that thing you’ve been wanting to try,” you said, letting your voice drop to be deep and sultry as you took a few steps closer to him. You let your fingers trail up your chest as you bit your lip, slowly looking him up and down.

You knew just how to play your boyfriend, how to get him hot and needy for him.

Not that it took much.

Sometimes you just looked at him or asked him if he wanted chocolate chips in his pancakes or not, and he was ready to jump you.

Not that you minded at all.

Bucky’s brows slowly moved closer to his hairline. “You mean… the thing… Number seventy-two?” He asked quietly, his hands moving to your hips.

“Number seventy-two,” you said with a definitive nod.

He brought you in for a deep, earth-shattering kiss. “Don’t mind if I do,” he growled against your lips. “That damn list was the best idea we’ve ever fucking had.”

Ah, yes. The list. The list of things you two wanted to try in bed that you’d compiled and kept adding to.

There’d been some definite winners, including semi-public sex and roleplaying (turns out Bucky really enjoyed playing dress up with you.) But there’d also been some definite losers, such as cockwarming (though that had only failed because James Buchanan Barnes did not have the willpower to have his cock inside of you and not move.)

“But… There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he said softly as he kissed down your neck. “Something important…”

A moan fell from your lips as you let your head fall back. “Mmm… Are you wanting to talk about the fact that you’re very happy to see me?” You asked teasingly as you felt something hard—most likely an erection—pressed against your thigh. You were already reaching to yank off his shirt.

“Not quite… though maybe after,” he said softly, pulling back. He looked… tense.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly as you cupped his face. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me…”

“There’s nothing wrong. I’m just nervous,” he said quietly, letting out a weak laugh.

Your head tilted to the side. “Nervous? Jamie, you know you never have to be nervous with me…”

Your heart stopped inside your chest as you watched him sink to the floor on one knee, reaching into his pocket. “Malen’kaya,” he whispered as he looked up at you with sparkling blue eyes. “You know how much I love you. Or at least, I hope you do considering how often I tell you… how often I try my best to show you. And I’ve known that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you since we were on the run.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, under different circumstances, us hopping from country to country could’ve been really romantic.”

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again,” you said with a snort, tears welling up in your eyes. “This time without me dating another man.”

“That does sound like a good plan,” he said, eyes bright. He slowly opened up the black velvet ring box, revealing a glistening diamond ring. “Will you—”

“YES!” You shouted, throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him over and over again. You knocked him over with the strength of your kisses, moaning as you straddled him. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.” Grinning against his lips, you blindly reached for the ring. “You wanna go right now? Find a little chapel? Or maybe straight to the courthouse. Just wanna be yours.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as he somehow managed to slip the ring onto your left ring finger, before intertwining your fingers and squeezing. “You know if we elope, Pepper and everyone else will throw a fit.”

“We don’t gotta tell them we’re already married. We can have a wedding and just pretend that we were patient enough to wait,” you insisted with a smirk, kissing down his neck as you worked at tugging his shirt off. “I just don’t wanna waste anymore time not being Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.”

Your fiancé let out a deep moan at the thought, his head falling back as his vibranium hand squeezed your ass. “I didn’t know that a marriage kink was a thing, but I think we might need to add it to the list,” he said.

“I love you,” you murmured as you finally sunk onto his length, the diamond reflecting beautifully in the early winter sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“I love you, too, malen’kaya,” he said, lips trying to catch one of your nipples. He finally succeeded, giving it a teasing bite before he grinned up at you, laughter in his eyes. “Though… I do gotta ask. What the fuck is up with us fucking on the floor of this cabin?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

[demonslayedher]

Currently having a crisis over how Keizo and Koyuki died bc the dojo next door tried to hide their killing intent by poisoning their water well, while Akaza died (or rather willed himself to die) when he fought two water breath users, one of which used Transparent World to hide his killing intent. Thoughts? (or any thoughts on akaza really)

I realize the crisis may be over by now for it has taken me so long to respond to this Ask. u_u;; While thinking about it in terms of battle mechanics I initially saw this in pretty basic terms—in the Taisho Secrets, we know that the heir to the neighboring dojo had a personal vendetta and hearing about Hakuji and Koyuki’s engagement set him off, and it seems it was a pretty purposeful wait for Hakuji to be absent so they’d have the chance to poison the well. Rather than hiding killing intent, which Hakuji would have only had a normal human martial artist’s aptitude for detecting, it was probably more a tactical matter of avoiding being seen. Hakuji was a protector, though, he might have been especially sensitive to threats to those he loves, and this may be why he gained such a keen ability for sensing these things once he becomes a demon. He was clearly taken by surprise by Tanjiro’s sudden ability not to emit a Battle Sense at all, which spelled a big part of his undoing.

But that’s not actually what killed him, and my thoughts have gone more into how Akaza willed himself to die. This is one of the very, very rare moments in his existence when he’s gotten to act on his own will and decisions. While he only underwent punishments when he was caught for robbery as opposed to being locked up in a prison, he was usually imprisoned in more metaphorical ways.

Being poor wasn’t a choice, but young Hakuji was willing to undergo anything as long as it was for his father. However, his father’s suicide was a denial of those choices. He stripped Hakuji of what meaning he thought his life was supposed to have, forcing him to live differently—as in, to not commit crimes for the sake of his dying father.

Though it no longer carried meaning, Hakuji continued living a criminal life, accepting that he was an “oni child” like he was always called, until Keizo overpowered him and made a decision for him, that Hakuji should be reformed. Furthermore, since Keizo was much stronger, Hakuji couldn’t argue with being put to work as Koyuki’s caretaker. Hakuji did settle happily into this life, he wasn’t exactly looking for freedom from it or anything like that, and his criminal markings were already going to limit a lot of his potential in life.

Being used to not having much say in the course his life takes, due to poverty or criminal history or simply being weaker than Keizo, following the course that others set for him doesn’t cause him much anguish because that is the norm. However, a stunning thing happens one day when Keizo gives him a choice. Would he like to marry Koyuki and inherit the dojo?

Hakuji never imagined he’d be faced with such a proposition. By the text he’s more stunned that they could be so welcoming to a criminal like him and that Koyuki would ever love someone like him, but by Koyuki’s reactions we see that she’s nervous that he’ll reject her, and she and Keizo are hugely relieved when he accepts. Hakuji has the choice fully within his power, to take that as his life’s course or reject it.

Unfortunately, sometimes choices continue to be taken away against your will. Hakuji goes into “mad dog” mode again after losing those he’s sworn to protect, and then even Muzan turns him into a demon, there was no proposition. Hakuji was in the process of telling him to get lost when Muzan stabbed him with his cells curiously wondered if Hakuji would have what it takes to survive it. There was no asking if he wanted to be a demon, and although Hakuji quickly gave up because he just didn’t care anymore, he had zero opportunity to say “no, I would rather remain a human and atone for failing to protect the people I love, and then staining their reputation by using my fists to kill people.”

Being a demon and training, for Akaza, is like when he’d go ballistic after losing his loved ones. It’s like a self-numbing behavior, and with only this desire to be strong to replace every painful memory, it’s no wonder he got obsessed. It’s not as if he could talk back to Muzan if he wanted, he continues following the course someone else set him on. Muzan lets him do as he pleases to some extent, but Akaza is still ultimately under Muzan’s thumb.

(We could dive into this lack of choice a little more by poking fun at Akaza for how everyone he proposes demonhood to says “no” while Kokushibo and Douma seem to have to trouble at convincing anyone. Haha, poor Akaza. But that’s perhaps pushing this a bit.)

Akaza does have willpower. It’s very strong, and he’s used it to hone himself this whole time, for lack of being able to do anything else with it, really. No goal to strive for, no one to use his strength to protect, being strong is only for the sake of training and getting stronger still. It’s telling that the effect of his willpower against himself is so strong that he can convince his flesh to repair itself even with his head gone, but he finally starts to crumble once he’s faced with how hollow that cycle is.

And what started it that crumbling process?

Giyuu’s declaration about protecting Tanjiro. There was a little earlier interruption from Keizo due to Tanjiro saying familiar things, but this is the point at which Akaza’s memories really start to climb their way back in, and the whole cascade starts flowing once Koyuki presses and presses him about W H Y he’s so insistent about being strong: it’s so that he can bring medicine home to his father, duh.

Even as he’s seeing all the flashbacks, he’s still trying to distance himself from them, call them stupid, he refuses to be weak, he’s even mostly built his head back until Tanjiro forces more memories of Keizo back at him, sending him back to a moment when he was given a chance to be reborn.

This is when Akaza finally realizes that the person he’s wanted to defeat all this time was himself, the guy who failed to live up to his father’s wishes, and who sullied Keizo’s teachings by using his “protecting fists” to murder people.

And this is the “aha” moment when Akaza chooses to free himself.

It’s not a matter of committing suicide out of shame, but of accepting his comeuppance. He accepts that he was defeated fairly the moment Tanjiro caught him off-guard earlier and sliced off his head, and he wants to face hell with some amount of bravery and pride.

Muzan does tempt him to stay and still prove how strong he can be, but in the end, Akaza takes his destiny into his own hands, and makes the choice to go with Koyuki.

#I suddenly had a vision of Akaza serving his time in hell and then being reincarnated as a male nurse #yes pls #Akaza #Kny fandom theories and meta #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - Part 6

Hii look at what I finally finished! sorry for taking so long to post this guys, I don't even have an explanation lol... I have something else already half written for the boys so hopefully I won't take so long to update the story again 🙃 anyways, I hope y'all like it <3

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot @sunflower1000 @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove @boxofsilence @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump @1becky1 @shameful-indulgence @whatwhumpcomments @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @starnight-whump @writingbackwards @noodlesandkareokee @mylifeisonthebookshelf @nightwhumpee

CW: forced sedation, manhandling, drugged whumpee, needle mention, aftermath of branding/burning

Part 1 here, continued from here

-

Liam can’t move. Every time he does, his arms do too and the mere brush of burned skin against pristine bandages is enough to get him on the verge of tears.

The room he’s kept in is too barren, too small to provide any kind of distraction from the constant pulse of pain – too much and never abating. No one listens or cares when he begs for medication, for anything to ease the agony. The doctor comes in to see him, give him antibiotics and check if there’s no infection, but barely looks at Liam when he whimpers under gloved hands.

The first time he takes a glance at the twisted skin underneath the wound dressing, a breathy, hysterical laugh slips out, quickly followed by a silent gasp as Chase’s initials weigh on his arms. He was always his, in the end, wasn’t he? Even after being betrayed and stabbed and kidnapped, he could never get the agent off his mind. Now he’ll be on Liam’s body as well.

It takes all of his willpower not to rip the dressings off once the doctor and nurses leave, just to stare at the hideous thing his arms are now.

But in the silent room, with nothing to do but think and despair, Liam can’t stop looking at the bandages.

He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at it – at the white itchy gauze, and the burns that hurt underneath it. At the C and the R he knows are forever burned on his skin. Like fucking cattle, marked with his owner’s name. Like the stupid boy who thought he could give his heart away to the beautiful, mysterious man that smiled at him. If nothing else, it is a good reminder of how big of a fool Liam is. If he lives long enough for it to be useful, that is. If Jonah doesn’t decide he’s had enough of Liam soon.

Horror floods him at the thought, and when his heart speeds up, Liam can’t hold it any longer. He pulls off the bandages in one swift movement, holding his breath when a wave of fire licks his arms. It doesn’t stop him from ripping out the second bandage though.

His hands tremble on his lap as Liam stares at the skin above his wrists, red with blood and raw skin disfigured into letters. It looks just as ugly as it feels.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear drips on his thigh. And then another and one more, until he’s openly sobbing, chest heaving and stomach twisting.

Lost in tears and the sight of burned skin that sinks into his heart and burns everything there too, Liam only realizes there are people in the room when a hand grabs his forearm.

“What did you do? I just bandaged that,” the nurse complains.

This time, this one time, he moves. Liam yanks his arm away from their grasp and stumbles out of the bed, away from the nurse that stares at him with wide eyes and a startled frown.

“D-d-don’t touch me,” he hisses, holding his hands as close to his chest as he can, and hissing again when sore skin rubs against his shirt. “Stay the fuck away!”

But instead of moving back or so much as talking to him, the nurse calls for the guards and starts walking in his direction.

Liam takes a step backward and presses his back against the wall, wild eyes searching for an escape, a weapon, anything, but salvation is nowhere near. “Please, don’t. Leave me alone.”

When the guards open the door and enter the room, Liam slides to the ground, as small as he can make himself, elbows on his knees, arms protecting his head.

“Get off!” he screams when hands grab at him, and thrashes in the hold. His foot connects with soft flesh, his knee with someone’s chin, but there are too many men. Too many hands for too little strength, no matter how desperately Liam fights.

They drag him through the floor as Liam writhes with every last bit of stamina he has, panic driving him to fight like he wishes he could every time he’s hurt.

A different kind of pain blooms as he squirms uselessly in unforgiving grips – one deeper, familiar, warmer. Liam still doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, he reopened the stab wound,” someone shouts over the cacophony of pain and panicked struggling. “Hold him down, now!”

Liam is pushed to the floor, and when someone squeezes both his arms to keep him there, right over the exposed burns, the world turns red, and a scream tears its way out of his throat.

“No, no, no, get off!” he sobs, kicking out even when a needle sinks into his arm. “n-n-nggh off, get, get o-off,” he tries again, but the world is already slipping through his fingers. He kicks out and thrashes as best as he can, but it isn’t enough. There are stronger bodies over him and the movement is barely there at all.

As much as Liam tries to keep his eyes open, they weigh too heavy, the drugs stronger than he is.

What isn’t?

Liam’s body relaxes against his will, slumps under harsh hands and angry stares, and all he can do is whimper when they drag his limp body to the bed.

-

Chase moves through life like a ghost, only a shell of helplessness and worry, and for the first time, his team notices. He hasn’t slept in days, not with Liam’s face twisted in agony ready to wake him up each time he closes his eyes. Has barely eaten, no appetite left when all he can think about is the boy he loves being hurt on his account.

How can he be free when Liam is locked up? How can he be the one who isn’t hurting when he is the only one who ever deserved it?

“Come on, I know that there’s something wrong,” Zoey says, crossing her arms.

If he could simply flee, he would, but with the hacker standing right in front of him, Chase knows it isn’t worth it. Even if he did leave, she wouldn’t stop trying to get the truth out of him. So Chase sighs and looks down at the blond woman who looks ready to commit murder.

“We all know it. You look like shit. What’s going on?”

It takes all of his strength to plaster a smirk on his lips and lean against the wall with a casual tilt of his head. “You guys worry too much. I’m fine, Zo. Probably could do with a little more sleep, but who couldn’t?”

As convincing as he hopes he sounds, Zoey doesn’t seem at all impressed by his acting. If anything, her frown deepens. “I know you, Chase. And you know me, so you know you can trust me. You look even worse than you did after that mission with the newspaper boy.”

Newspaper boy. If that was all Liam meant for him, maybe Chase’s heart wouldn’t be this tattered.

“Zoey. I am okay, I p– I promise.”

I never lied to you, he had said to Liam as he bled out in Chase’s arms. I betrayed you, yes, but not once did I lie. Stay alive and I’ll prove it to you.

But that was just another lie, wasn’t it? Liam is as alive as ever, and all Chase’s done is cause him more pain than any of them ever imagined possible. All he’s proven is his failure to keep Liam safe.

What is another lie when he’s already filled with them? Maybe that’s all he was always meant to be, all he will ever be – a betrayer. A traitor. A liar.

With a casual shrug that makes his stomach twist, Chase sidesteps his teammate. Before he can move farther away though, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“You are good at lying, but I can see the way your eyes have gone dull. I’m not going to force you to say it, but when you get tired of pretending to be fine, I’ll be here. Okay?” When Chase doesn’t answer, she takes a deep breath and nods. Zoey leaves him standing there, feeling dirty and raw, something stirring inside his chest and begging him to tell her everything.

Chase opens his mouth, the truth one breath away, and takes a step towards Zoey’s back. And then his phone buzzes, and reality comes crashing back as he looks at the screen and she disappears down the corridor.

Wanna see him?

It’s the first message he’s gotten from Jonah in days, and Chase holds his breath and freezes for a second at the words.

He’s rushing to his car even before his mind has caught up with his legs.

He’s standing in front of Jonah’s building in a matter of minutes, heart racing but mind weirdly quiet. Static silence, fear building up.

Jonah waits for him in the lobby this time, leaning against the open door of the elevator with a smile on his lips.

“Chase! Long time no see.”

“Where is he?”

“Straight to the point, huh. Boring as ever,” Jonah rolls his eyes. “I was feeling generous today, thought you might want to say hello. I’m not sure our dear boy will answer you, but you can try for yourself I guess.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Chase hisses as Jonah nods for him to get inside and presses the button.

“Nothing bad. He was just fussing about the pain, so my nurses gave him have a little something to relax.”

Chase steps into the elevator, two guards close behind, and fears he’ll shatter his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it.

“He also doesn’t really like his new… adornments, I don’t think. Ripped the bandages earlier today, wet the whole bed with tears.”

Jonah’s voice is light as he says it, the tone one would use to talk about something meaningless, something that doesn’t make Chase sink his nails into his palms and hold his breath. The man’s eyes are the telltale, shining with dark glee, and Chase can see the way Jonah follows his every movement like a predator, reveling at the little cracks in his unruffled façade.

“So when I offered him something to calm down, he didn’t even think before accepting,” he continues.

The doors slide open before any of them can say anything else. A small mercy.

The walk to Liam’s room is as quick as it is infinite. They stop in front of the door so incredibly soon, yet so painfully late.

“Be nice to him, I think he’s going through a phase,” Jonah chuckles as he nods for one of his men to unlock the door. “And don’t forget that this is your fault, dear.”

He barely realizes he’s entered the room until the lock clicks behind him. And then Chase’s eyes find Liam, and the world stops on its tracks, just like it always does when they are in the same room together.

He’s lying on his back, arms open and hands hanging off the bed, bandages covering the skin from Liam’s elbows to his wrists. His eyes are open, but unfocused, slow blinks that lead to nowhere even when Chase takes the first step towards him. His chest rises and falls slowly, rhythmically, a shallow blow of air through parted lips, and despite everything, Chase is happy that Liam isn’t in pain.

It is only when he stops beside the bed that Liam’s head lolls on the pillow, a sunflower looking for the sun even though no real light can reach him here. Still, he looks, and half-lidded eyes roam around the room before finally stopping on Chase’s face.

“Hey,” Chase says, curling one hand into a fist while the other clutches the edge of the bed.

“Mmgh,” Liam slurs with a shuddering breath and a crease on his forehead before trying again. “I, mm, I’m not, n-uh not feeling… well.”

“How can I help?” Chase’s voice is hoarse and low, pained, but Liam hears it. He hears it and he whimpers, shaking his head no.

Make it stop, his mouth forms, but doesn’t voice.

I can’t, Chase wants to scream, I’d give anything to make it all stop but I can’t. Instead, he softens his voice and tries to smile. “What if I do something to distract you? I… I was told you are under some strong drugs.”

Green eyes blink at him, and Chase is happy there are only the two of them in the room. He might actually lose it and punch Jonah square in the face if the man was here.

“How about I tell you a story? You’ve always liked them.”

Liam swallows, eyes darting around the room again, and even though Chase knows he isn’t listening, not really, he sits on the edge of the bed and starts talking.

“It’s about a boy who thought he could change the world, but instead changed the person who was sent to stop him.”

“Sou-sounds like a shit story,” Liam mumbles.

“Depends on how you look at it. Or who’s the one telling it, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and Liam sighs softly before talking again.

“Are you… are, are you really… here?”

The words slam into his chest, shattering anything left in there, and though Chase holds himself firmly still and keeps his face carefully free from anything but tenderness, something collapses inside of him. Maybe it’s his heart. It feels like it, and he wants to cry, to grab Liam and leave, but he can’t, and Liam strains to focus on his eyes, so Chase smiles like there isn’t burning agony rippling through him.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I, I don’t, I don’t know.” It is only a murmur, but Chase knows he’ll hear its echo in his nightmares for a long time – the uncertainty, the fear, the sadness. The helplessness.

I’m here. I would be here forever if I could.

But the words are only that – words. He can’t be here forever, nor erase all the pain he’s caused and continues to cause. So Chase picks up the pieces of his heart and pretends it doesn’t hurt to smirk and brush Liam’s hair away from his forehead like he used to do so long ago.

If he can’t take Liam away from this nightmare, the least he can do is pretend it is a dream.

“Then you should stop dreaming about me.”

“Ca-can’t,” Liam frowns, staring at the hand Chase just touched him with. “Will, will you leave? Again?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Liam looks up again, and something is missing in those eyes. A spark of life that was still there the last time they saw each other, but isn’t now. As Chase searches for the hope he always loved in the depths of Liam’s gaze, what he finds instead is sadness.

“Don’t go,” Liam breathes. “I, I, my h-head, it it it feels weird, Chase.”

“I know, love,” Chase says calmly, nothing of the wild desperation that rages inside of him seeping through the words. Not when Liam is this lost, this vulnerable. Not when it is the first time he has called Chase by his name after the betrayal. “It’ll pass.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, shifting on the bed. “But, I, I don’t remember… why.”

“You are okay, Liam. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

Liam closes his eyes and shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is only a whisper, gone even before he finishes. “I don’t believe you.”

Chase bites on his lip and creases his forehead, but none of it shows when he takes Liam’s hand in his own and gives it a little squeeze.

“I know. That’s okay too.”

But Liam isn’t there anymore to hear it. His body sags on the bed, taken away by the drugs, and Chase is left alone in Liam’s cell, watching the boy he’d kill and die for fall asleep. As he does, all Chase can think about is that he needs to get Liam out of here. Somehow, he needs to get him away, no matter the cost of it.

An hour goes by, and though it is one of the worst hours of Chase’s life, is it the first time he doesn’t feel like a part of his heart is bleeding in days. Not when he can see the bleeding part right in front of him.

He wants to wake Liam up, to hear his voice while he can, before he’s forced to leave again. But there’s peace on his face as he sleeps, and Chase can’t take him back to reality when he looks like he used to, like he could wake up at any moment and kiss Chase with a smile.

And then the door opens, and the memories vanish as Chase reluctantly gets up. As soon as he does though, Liam stirs on the bed, frail hand reaching out and grabbing Chase’s wrist before he can move away.

“You promised me… a… um, a story.”

Liam’s eyes open for a moment before closing again, but he doesn’t let go. Chase shoots one look at the guards waiting by the door and knows that nothing good will happen if he waits. He has to play nice if he wants to get Liam out.

Chase looks down at Liam again, and when he finds half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, he can’t stop his voice from breaking mid-sentence.

“It’ll have to stay for another time, okay? I’ll see you soon, love.”

Liam’s eyes flutter back closed with a soft sigh. His voice is soft as the tears that sting Chase’s eyes when he speaks. “You al–, you always leave in real life too.”

Chase can’t find an answer before he is dragged out of the room by a firm grip he knows better than to fight. He yanks his arm away as soon as the door locks him and Liam on different sides, and hears the words rattling around his head while he is lead to sit in Jonah’s office to hear what the man wants next. All the way back to his house.

He doesn’t think when he calls Zoey. All he hears is Liam.

All he can see is Liam’s lost gaze, the life fading out of his eyes. All he knows is that if he lets him in Jonah’s claws one more second without doing anything, he might actually, truly, crumble down until he can’t pull himself back up.

He is sitting on his couch, hands over his face and elbows on his knees just like they have been since he got home, when his friend opens the door.

“Oh, Chase,” she breathes as soon as she sees his face and sits beside him. “What happened?”

He doesn’t get to crumble down. Not when it’s Liam the one being hurt. The one branded and tortured and kidnapped and betrayed. Still, when Zoey’s gentle arms wrap around him, he hugs her back.

“It’s Liam,” he says, fighting to get the words out through his heaving breaths, trying to force his mind to put them together long enough for someone else to know it too because he can’t do this on his own. He thought he could, he thought he was enough, but he isn’t and he needs to get Liam out, no matter what, no matter how, he has to, he has to before the light goes out in that beautiful green gaze. “He, I, he’s caught and it’s my fault and I thought I could keep him safe but I can’t and now–“

“Chase, breathe,” she commands, and he answers. It’s all he knows how to do, isn’t it? Answer orders. Look at what happens when he’s left on his own. “Let’s start from the begging.”

So Chase does.

(next)

#whump #whump writing #drug whump #noncon drugging #forced sedation #hostage whump #needle cw #captivity #hostage situation #betrayal story #angst #manhandling #aw look at chase finally doing something :') go on babe stop sitting around and letting your boy be tortured #pity liam is not gonna remember any of this later :) and will continue to think chase left him there :) yeah such a pity :))) #so what do y'all think of zoey? i didn't want to introduce another character because who cares lol but chase really needs the help

[thedragonnerd]

Ficlet: Betrayal

(Inspired by this lovely anon)

Namaari has never seen Raya so still.

She’s used to Raya being full of energy and tightly coiled reactions, running around finding things to do, people to spar with, or adventures to get lost within. Even at dinner, Raya cannot be motionless, instead jostling her leg or bumping shoulders with Namaari, and Council meetings are a lost cause when it comes to hoping Raya will sit quietly through the entire meeting without finding some reason to escape early.

But now she lies still, her eyes closed and her lips pale and drained of blood. Namaari keeps her eyes fixated on Raya’s breathing, where the slight up-and-down of her chest is the only thing that proves Raya is still alive.

The doctor has said that if she can survive the night, she will be much more likely to make a full recovery. Yet when Namaari places her palm on Raya’s cheek, the skin is cold to touch. Her other hand clutches onto Raya’s fingers, and she tries to share her strength through sheer determination, attempting to manifest Raya’s recovery into existence with her willpower.

-

‘Maari, are you almost dooone?’ Raya asks with a whine, her lips pouting dramatically as she flops down into the chair opposite Namaari’s desk. ‘I’ve been waiting for ages already.’

Namaari lowers her paperwork for a moment, peering across at Raya with a small smile on her face. Raya hates to sit and wait in her office, and the fact that she has been quietly reading for so long already shows her willingness to let Namaari work for the afternoon.

‘I’m sorry, dep la,’ she says with a sigh, wishing she could escape and spend time sparring with Raya instead, as she had promised. Duty always seems to call, however. ‘I have to finish signing off on these policies, and I’m only half-way finished.’

Raya groans, her head lowering to the desk until her forehead is resting on the table.

‘Why don’t you go and find something to do?’ Namaari suggests, recognising Raya will only get more and more restless from here on. Raya turns her head slightly, so she can peek at Namaari’s face through her hair.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone with this tedious work.’

‘Absolutely,’ Namaari reassures her with a smile. ‘Go and have fun, and I’ll join you later.’

‘Great, I’ll go find someone to spar with for a while,’ Raya jumps up enthusiastically. ‘And if you haven’t reappeared in two hours from now, I’m going to come back and drag you outside. You need a break yourself too.’

She rounds the desk, grabbing Namaari’s face with both her hands, and kisses her deeply for a moment. Then she flees out the door with a backwards wave, Namaari watching her retreating figure with a smile.

Namaari throws herself into the paperwork with more vigour, determined to get it done so she can join Raya. She doesn’t even notice the two hours passing, so wrapped up in reading policy articles on fishing.

Raya never shows.

-

Virana comes to sit with her when the hour is nearing midnight, her arm resting around Namaari’s shoulders as they wait in silence.

‘I sent word to Chief Benja,’ she says softly after a while. Namaari nods, but says nothing else. Benja has trusted them – trusted her – to keep Raya safe during her visits to Fang. And yet here they are, Namaari without a scratch on her, whilst Raya fights for her life in the darkness. Would he ever be able to forgive them, if Raya dies? Would it cause a war between their lands?

Would Namaari ever be able to forgive herself?

‘I wasn’t even there to protect her, Ma,’ she chokes, unable to keep the tears from leaking out. The guilt is suffocating.

-

‘Raya?’ she calls, walking briskly through the palace. Dusk is beginning to move in; she feels bad for working so long without realising where the time went. Clearly, Raya also got distracted by her activities. Often when one (or better, both) of them are sparring, it draws a crowd of eager onlookers, so perhaps tonight Raya has decided to teach a lesson to anyone who wants to challenge her fighting abilities.

However, it’s been long enough that she’s also slightly concerned, especially when she sees most of the usual sparring partner culprits back in the palace, doing their guard duties or otherwise.

Still, her best assumption is that Raya will still be at the training grounds, so she hurries outside and makes her way over to the large open area.

‘Raya?’ she calls again, not seeing anyone moving in the evening light. It seems quiet…too quiet.

And then she sees a shape on the ground.

‘Raya, what-?’ she cries, racing forwards and dropping to her knees. Raya is lying still and pale on the ground, and it takes a moment for Namaari to realize the earth surrounding her is stained dark red from blood.

‘Raya…Raya, wake up,’ she pleads, one shaking hand sliding under Raya’s shoulders and cradling her close to her body, the other pressing down hard on the stab wound in her abdomen. The blood seeps through her fingers, trickling down her wrist as she desperately tries to stop it.

‘Somebody help!’ she screams into the night.

-

Ma leaves her at some point in the early hours of the morning, kissing her forehead before heading off to sleep. She doesn’t even try to ask Namaari to get some rest, knows that she won’t. Not tonight.

Not long after, there is a soft knock at the door, and General Atitaya peers into the room.

‘Princess Namaari?’ she asks quietly. ‘I can relieve you of your post if you wish to retire for the night. Keep watch over her, for you?’

It’s a wasted offer, and Namaari is already shaking her head before the other woman finishes speaking.

‘No thank you,’ she says, her eyes never leaving Raya’s face. ‘Her attacker is still out there, and I’m not going to leave her until they are apprehended.’

Besides Raya’s injuries, that is the worst part of this attack – that it must have been carried out by a Fang citizen, who has now willingly betrayed both their land and, on a more personal level, Namaari herself. She has dedicated her life to protecting her people, and the realization that one of her own could have done this leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and anger in her veins.

Namaari doesn’t even notice Atitaya leave. Her two swords sit close, ready to reach in an instant if someone dares to try and attack Raya again, and she leans forwards, tension running through her muscles as she continues her vigil.

The rest of the night is quiet, with no-one else disturbing them besides the doctor, who checks on Raya sporadically.

And then, just as the warm rays of the sun begin to filter through the window, Namaari hears a sound.

‘Raya?’ she calls, up on her feet instantly and leaning over the bed.

Raya shifts her head slightly, emitting a slight groan, and then her eyes flutter open.

-

‘Maari, come back to bed,’ Raya grumbles, her voice filled with the scratchy tone Namaari only hears in the morning. She laughs softly at the sight before her: Raya’s disgruntled face peering out from beneath the covers, her hair in a massively tangled mess around her face, and her mouth turned down slightly in the corners as she sees Namaari already up and dressed.

‘I have a lot of work to do today,’ Namaari says apologetically, although she does take a moment to bend down and give Raya a proper kiss good morning. ‘Hours of paperwork that you’ll just find boring.’

Raya wrinkles her nose at this, and burrows deeper into the bed, dragging Namaari down with her, a tight grasp on her wrist.

‘Tell you what,’ Namaari continues, attempting not to faceplant into the bedcovers thanks to Raya’s pulling. ‘If you let me go now, I’ll try to get the work done as quickly as possible, and then we can go spar together this afternoon.’

‘Fiiine,’ comes Raya’s voice from the depths of the bed. ‘Go do your boring work. I’ll bring food and my own amazing company later. And after, you owe me a fight.’

-

She finds her in the barn, tying a heavily-laden bag to her serlot.

‘Atitaya,’ she calls, and the General spins around quickly, hand moving towards her weapon before she sees who it is and deliberately relaxes her stance.

‘Princess,’ she greets, head bowing in the appropriate manner.

‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Raya has woken up,’ Namaari continues, her voice deceptively light in comparison to the blood roaring through her veins. ‘Interestingly, she’s also able to identify her attacker.’

They stare at each other for a moment, neither willing to be the first one to flinch. Then Atitaya drops her gaze to the ground, and although Namaari had believe Raya instantly when she said the name, the confirmation still hits her like a stab to the heart.

‘Ati…Ati, why?’ she whispers, and this time she can’t help her voice shaking as she tries to hold back the horror and the tears. ‘We grew up together. I trusted you with my life – with HER life. How could you betray me like this?’

Atitaya’s expression darkens at this, and Namaari sees her mouth twist into an ugly grimace.

‘Because you betrayed us first, Namaari,’ she snaps, fists clenching. ‘You bring the Princess of our enemy into our land, into our palace. You trust her with all of Fang, share all our secrets. She is your greatest vulnerability, a threat to our people, and if I did nothing, I thought she would bring death to our doorstep.’

‘Raya isn’t a threat to us,’ Namaari counters. ‘She isn’t a spy; Heart isn’t our enemy. We aren’t at war any more, Atitaya. We haven’t been for a long time. The only person who risked changing that was you.’

Atitaya raises her chin in defiance.

‘I did what I thought was right for our people, no matter the sacrifice. Just like you used to be willing to do.’

Namaari always thought her anger ran hot, a passionate burst of emotion that drove her in fights. But in reality, her rage runs through her body like a chill, and her mind feels separate from her body as a deadly calm settles over her.

‘I should kill you where you stand,’ she says softly. ‘If Raya had died, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.’

For the first time, apprehension flutters across Atitaya’s face.

‘You’re lucky that Raya is more forgiving than I am,’ Namaari finishes, and then whistles loudly. At once, the barn is filled with soldiers, all training their weapons on their former General.

Namaari turns and walks away, refusing to look over her shoulder as voices ordering Atitaya to surrender filter up around her.

She doesn’t want to waste another minute here – she has Raya waiting for her, and she’s promised to entertain her through her mandatory bed rest, duties be damned. After all, Raya doesn’t like to be still for too long.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #raya and namaari #raya x namaari #ficlet #ficlet: betrayal #sorry for making atitaya the villain #woopsie #angsty #but also sweet

[iphoenixrising]

The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

**

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal. 

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.” 

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference. 

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger.  That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–” 

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.”  And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit. 

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends. 

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

**

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him. 

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes. 

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

#dicktimweek2021 #winter writes #dicktim #back on my shit #dick grayson #tim drake #my ficlet #my writing

[aressss1]

Through Fire and Ice Chapter 2

(Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 2

< Prev Chapter | Next Chapter >

Note: I’m slowly but surely posting these here, but there are a few more chapters posted on AO3.

~~~~~~

Phil stood at the head of a long dining room table in the middle of his house, Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy and Ranboo stood to the right of the table while Wilbur, Dream, Sapnap, and George stood across from them on the other side. Phil eyed them all, before clearing his throat.

 “Techno still hasn’t come back,” Phil spoke grimly, “Whether or not there is an end to the storm, I’m going out there for him, if he’s not back by tomorrow.” Silence hung in the air. Ranboo gripped on to the chair in front of him. He had taken a liking to Techno. At times Phil could understand why, they were so similar in so many aspects.

 “I’ll go with you,” Ranboo spoke up with a waver in his voice. Phil gave him a soft smile and shook his head. Ranboos green and red eyes flicked up to Phils for a split second questioning him, before he hastily looked away. Phil heard a soft enderman sound escape from Ranboo. He was taking the news about Techno hard.

“Ranboo, I need you here,” Phil said frankly, “Techno can take care of himself. The man has the sheer willpower to keep living. I am going alone just in case the inevitable has happened and because I can cover more ground,” Phil motioned to the wings of the elytra. “This is where the rest of you come in…” Phil leaned forward his hands on the table. “I don’t think that this is a regular snowstorm.” His eyes flicked to Dream who had his arms crossed and his face covered by his mask.

 “Do you think it will ever stop?” George asked from behind Dream. Phil shook his head his eyes lowering to the pattern of wood on the dining room table.

 “Maybe?” Phil shrugged, but that was the coldest chill that Phil had ever felt. Not even the tundra felt that cold to him. “But I can’t ignore the fact that when the dragon was slain this started happening… In the middle of summer.”

 “Alright,” Dream spoke up. “You have us here, what would you have us do?” Phil thought about it for a second, his nails digging into the wood of the table.

 “We may have to go underground boys.” Phil straightened himself up, “I can build something to keep us warm underground, but first I have to find Techno.” Phil’s eyes flicked to each person in the room. “Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo, you will need to start a mine one big enough to hold as many people as we can,” Phil looked between Wilbur and Fundy, “I need you two to find and bring as much livestock, saplings, and seeds back to the mine” Both Wilbur and Fundy nodded. “Dream, Sapnap, and George are the rescue team for anyone out there.”

 “I can ask Antfrost, to scavenge around, maybe BBH will help him with that as well.” Sapnap offered leaning on the table toward Phil. Phil nodded.

 “We will need all hands on deck for this one boys,” Phil straightened up. “I would get started immediately. Make sure to stay warm.” With that the group nodded and scattered to do their tasks. Ranboo stayed back, his eyes trained on the floor.

 “What if Techno is gone?” He whispers. “I don’t want to forget him…” Phil’s heart ached for Ranboo.

 “He’s not, I promise Ranboo.” Phil was unsure, but it had been hours since they had departed from the desert. He had to keep Ranboo stable. “Techno and I have lived in tundra’s before, if anyone knows how to survive this mess it’s him.”

 “But this isn’t like any tundra I’ve seen Phil.” Ranboo clutched his memory book to his chest. His fingers twitching over the cover. “What if you get hurt out there too? Then you both won’t be here.” This caused Phil to put his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder.

 “I know the risks, Techno did too when he separated from us. I will find him Ranboo, and I will bring him back. That is a promise.” Ranboo kept his eyes to the ground.

 “You… Promise… Okay,” Ranboo let out a sigh. “Just know, if you don’t come back, I’m going after you too.” Phil thought about this for a second.

 “Alright… But I sure as hell am not leaving Kristin.” Phil squeezed Ranboo’s shoulder slightly. “I am coming back. I have to.” Ranboo nodded.

 “I believe you Phil.” He finally said after a second. “I’m going to go help the others with the mine now. You should rest up for tomorrow.” Ranboo waved over his shoulder and left to go find the others, leaving Phil alone with his thoughts.

 -

 You were still unconscious, Techno had wrapped you up in several blankets, because the cold was starting to get to him even with his fireplace on full blast, he couldn’t imagine how you felt. He thought you would have woken up by now, and it was starting to worry him that you weren’t waking up. He was lost in his thoughts. Resting an arm up on the mantle he watched the flames dance around the boiling cauldron of water. He had filled his bathtub for you a while ago and he was worried it would get cold at this rate.

 The rustle of the blankets could be heard, and he turned to look over his shoulder at you. You had balled up on your side. The blanket exposing your back which was still caked in blood. Your body was shaking, and he could see your eyes weakly open. He let out a sigh of relief and he turned to you, kneeling to cover your exposed back with the blankets. His fingers lightly grazed your back, touching some of the blood.

 ‘Slaughter.’

 ‘Kill her.’

 Techno flinched, withdrawing his hand from you quickly. Swallowing down the lump in his throat he made eye contact with you.

 “Who are you?” You managed to get out. When you spoke it invoked a coughing fit that made you dizzy. When you had stopped coughing you couldn’t stop shaking.

 “Technoblade,” He replied in his monotone voice acting indifferent to the fact that even the smell of your blood was causing the voices to come back. “Just Techno if you live.” You frown, not knowing whether he was joking or not.

 You gave your name as you coughed into the blanket; your lungs started burning.

 “Do you think you can manage a bath?” Techno asked. You nodded sitting yourself up. Your muscles started aching and you winced. Techno watched your every movement, you were definitely swaying a bit, you could feel it, and the movement made you dizzier and dizzier with each moment passing by.

 “I just need a moment.” You refused to ask him for help. You shut your eyes tight, hoping that would help your dizziness. Your nose was stuffed, and you had to rely on breathing through your mouth. You started to push yourself up off the ground. The blankets falling off your body, causing a shiver to run down your spine at the cold air rushing to your body. The muscles in your legs screamed at you to stop but you kept pushing through. Technoblade hovering over you as a safety net. You only got to two steps before you started falling forward. Techno dove for you wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing you to his chest.

 “You’re not getting anywhere on your own.” Techno towered over you. Watching you pout your lips out in determination. He could tell you were agreeing with him. His grip tightened on you, and he carried you to the bathroom with ease.

 ‘Look how pretty the blood looks on her skin.’

 ‘More.’

 He had to stop himself from shaking, this was proving harder to deal with than he thought.

 ‘You know you wanna.’

 The voices taunted him, and he wasn’t sure if you could see it in him. He let you grab a hold on the tub for stability.

 “Call if you need anything.” Techno was desperate to leave the room. You gave a little nod and with that he had strode out and shut the door behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief happy to be away from you. It wasn’t you but it was the situation you were in. He damned himself for not being able to control the voices.

 “I’m so weak.” He spat out, his nose wrinkling in disgust at himself. The urge to stab something was still strong and he made a move to the food he had prepared ahead of time to cook.

 ~~

 The water around you had turned to a rust color by the end of your bath, the heat was soothing, especially in the cold but it wasn’t long before the water started to run cold on you. Leaving you shaking in the water once more. You pushed up from the bathtub. Looking around, you find a towel sitting there with a change of clothes- his clothes. You sat on the edge of the bathtub drying yourself off, afraid you were going to fall. That would be awkward for both parties if you lost your strength again when you weren’t clothed. You felt your cheeks start to heat up from him catching you earlier.

 “You’re ridiculous,” You whispered while you internally screamed at yourself. You didn’t want to owe this man your life but here you were. Being in debt to someone wasn’t something you wanted to be in. You wanted to be alone, that way no one could use you. You were done with that. Or at least you thought you were. Your lungs burned and you felt another coughing fit sneak up on you. You spit up what you could in the sink. Your nose was still stuffed up, which annoyed you. The cold air rushing around your body was almost too much.

 You looked down at his clothes that he set out for you and sighed. When you put the brown pair of pants on, they were loose, and you were grateful for the belt he left for you as well. The white blouse was too big but doable. Stabilizing yourself on the wall you walked out of the bathroom to see Techno cooking steak potatoes and carrots. He motioned at a chair sitting next to the fireplace and you promptly sat down eager to get as much heat as you could. Before too long Techno had a plate of food in front of you.

 “How are you feeling?” He asked. Shrugging, you felt his eyes on you, he sighed and before you could stop him, he put the back of his hand on your forehead.

 “You’re burning up,” Techno said flatly, “Do you want me to waste all this effort on you just to have you die on me?” You felt a stab of guilt and shook your head. “You need to tell me these things.”

 “I’ll be out of here in a few days…” You looked him squarely in the eye. “I won’t be a drain on your resources for much longer.” The silence was deafening, and you both were left in a stare down.

 “That’s not really the issue here Y/N.” He kneeled so he was eye level with you. “Wasting resources is one thing, even in this… Whatever this is.” He motioned to the windows which showed the everlasting snowstorm. “I know you don’t want to die. So, let’s help each other out. I have places to be, places that are much safer than out there, you can stay there. I can’t get us there if you’re hiding things from me and making yourself even more sick.” You nodded averting his gaze.

 Stabbing your fork into a carrot, you sighed, you couldn’t taste most of the food you were eating, because your nose was stuffed. He huffed out and stood above you. Making a move to look out the window.

 “You’re acting like the snow won’t stop… Why?” Your question caused him to look over his shoulder at you. His golden eyes reaching your gaze. Before too long he was facing the window again.

 “…Just have a feeling, given the circumstances.” He didn’t want to tell you the full story, at least not now. When you didn’t question further, a wave of relief washed over him. The less you knew at this point the better. Some time had passed and the both of you had eaten. His eyes move over to the ruined blood-stained cloak.

 He bent down and picked up the clothing hastily throwing it out the front door onto his porch. Night had fallen over the world, the air still as the snowflakes were falling peacefully from the sky. The snow wasn’t too deep just yet, and there was still a part of him that hoped that the snow would stop. He had to wait and see if that was the case. He had only just stepped out of his house onto the covered porch for a second, and he couldn’t stand the cold. His thoughts were interrupted by your violent coughing. He turned to look at you. He had to find something to ease your sickness. He never got sick, and so he never needed to gather herbs that would help a sickness. That would be tomorrows job, going to the nearby village to see if the villagers were around to trade.

 He walked into the house closing the door behind him. Grabbing the blankets off the floor, he started wrapping you in them one by one. The fire wasn’t doing too much for you it seemed. He just had to watch you. Your body shivered next to him; your hair was still wet from your bath. He felt guilty for rushing you to take a bath, no wonder you were freezing. You had leaned into his touch unconsciously. Your eyes closed just a bit before your head started bobbing forward, you were fighting sleep.

 Techno sighed, picking you up and setting you on the ground closer to the fire. His bedroom was too cold to sleep in, so this was where both of you were going to sleep, until Techno figured out what to do. But there was a question looming in his mind.

 What was he going to do with you?

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #angst #Through Fire and Ice #mcyt x reader

[aspiring-bl-writer]

This is a short story set in the Warhammer 40,000 universe, detailing a Death Guard attack on an Imperial world. The story is told from the perspective of an Imperial Guard lieutenant as his unit is saved by Adeptus Astartes from the Red Scorpions Chapter, who are obsessed with maintaining the purity of the Imperium and protecting humanity from any possible contamination.

They lurched forward in waves, unnatural and rancid figures, resembling the Adeptus Astartes, but their countenances blighted, sullied with the stench of decay. Swarms of flies clustered around them as the figures shuffled on deformed limbs. Their rusted suits of armor were greasy with a mucus oozing from pocked carapaces diffused with sores. They held oxidized, grime-coated weapons in twisted limbs disfigured by foul disease.

Despite their decomposing appearance, these disgusting parodies of Space Marines were formidable enemies. Wherever their weapons hit, the Imperial Guard fell, strains of crippling sickness spreading through their bodies. Weapons barely even fazed them, blasts and bolts absorbed into gnarled fusions of tissue and ceramite plate. Although the Guardsmen outnumbered them many times over, nothing seemed to interrupt the lethargic, scattered march of the Plague Marines. A discordant symphony of piercing shrieks, guttural death-rattles and the buzzing of warp-spawned pests followed them.

Lieutenant Selwyn Barras cursed the day he had ever set foot on Ephesos. His regiment had come to the feudal world in response to bombastic claims that the dead were rising and slaughtering the human population. Barras’ superiors had put down the preliminary reports to the superstitious hysteria of barely-civilized serfs toiling in dark lowlands, growing meager rice in paddy fields. Following their deployment, however, regimental commanders soon assessed the blunt reality. Epidemics had ravaged Ephesos for months, but rather than alerting Terra to the outbreaks, the planetary governor had remained doggedly focused on ensuring that the world supplied its regular tithe of rice bushels to the Imperium. The governor and his staff had been the only ones off-planet to know about the hastily-dug mass graves containing the hundreds of thousands of peasants claimed by the spreading pestilence. The governor had broken his silence only when reanimated corpses had clambered out of their crude, shared tombs, ravaging all living things discovered in their paths. Fortunately, the mindless undead could not hope to match the exceptional training and veteran leadership of an Imperial Guard regiment. Rot rendered once-human bodies into soft meat easily torn apart by laser fire. Defeating the zombie hordes had proved more time-consuming than challenging, and in a matter of weeks, most of Ephesos’ key cities had been reclaimed by the Astra Militarum.

Nature had not borne the plagues, nor their horrific creations. Unbeknownst to everyone, a Death Guard warband had instigated it all, and they were none too pleased at the disruption of their plans. They had attacked the Imperial forward positions overnight, hobbling across the horizon, a slow but thorough razing of all opposition. Regimental headquarters had instructed Barras to defend a dilapidated fortification along a stone wall running from a great river to a small inlet of a distant sea. The primitive masons who had constructed the barricade, with their limited knowledge of the larger universe in which they lived, would never have fathomed that their bulwark would someday be a citadel for the Imperial Guard against infernal demi-gods.

“Not much we can do without plasma weapons, much less armored support,” Barras murmured to himself, chewing on his lower lip. He let out a troubled sigh.

Commissar Aelia Tremelle, an ever-present face on the frontlines, could read the concern on Barras’ face as they observed the Plague Marines easily routing the forward positions. “The Emperor protects!” she yelled over the din of battle. What Tremelle lacked in persuasion she made up for in force of will. She was an ardent believer in the Imperium, and it was not hard to share her certainty, to emulate her zeal and unquestioning loyalty. Usually when Barras spied Tremelle’s peaked hat and fancily decorated coat, it bolstered his morale, reminded him that the all-powerful God Emperor safeguarded humanity, against enemies both material and immaterial.

This time was different. He reckoned by morning it was more probable he and the rest of the unit would be host to maggots rather than Tremelle’s unflappable passion.

He buried his pessimism, though, knowing he could not risk revealing it. Tremelle would have used it as an excuse for a summary execution, but that was not Barras’ main fear. He was more afraid that his despair would dishearten the rank-and-file, the men and women who depended on him for strength and guidance. Tremelle inspired them with moral purity, but it was from Barras they looked for leadership. If they saw him wavering, giving in to doubt and fear, they would resign themselves to annihilation. It was unlikely they could win against heretic Astartes, of course, but victory was not the goal now. Their objective was to offer the strongest resistance they could muster, to not give a single inch freely to the approaching traitors and their Chaos overlords.

He grabbed the Aquila necklace he wore and pressed it against his lips. Readying his bolt pistol, he turned from Tremelle to face the soldiers who had fixed their wide eyes upon him, their las-rifles primed. His heart thudded in his chest in anticipation as he searched for the words. “Have no fear! We will never surrender! We fight for humanity and the Emperor! All of you: die standing! Be ready to greet the Emperor with pride!” Tremelle cheered first as he finished, a booming hurrah, which the enlisted ranks copied with raucous shouting of their own. The speech, as brief as it was, had done its job.

Barras lifted himself up, aimed toward the Plague Marines, and fired. Lasers flashed past him, hitting their targets with great accuracy, but with minimal effect. The Death Guard traitors kept up their relentless march, cascades of shells spewing from their filth-encrusted weapons. Beside him, the side of Tremelle’s head exploded in a gory mess. Her corpse toppled over seconds later. A determined Guardsman took her place. Tremelle had often spoke of her demise in hallowed, sacred terms, promising it would be a noble sacrifice. In truth, Barras saw nothing poetic or dignified about it. Instead, he just wished that he would meet his death as quickly and unexpectedly as she had.

“Look!” Barras swung his head around and saw a trooper pointing heavenward. Following the upturned finger with his eyes, Barras noticed a trail of fire blazing across the sky. It looked as though a meteor storm had suddenly broken out over Ephesos, another ominous omen to go along with the dead rising and demonic corruption. He could not long take his gaze away from the oncoming scourge; their drumming bolters would not permit them to be ignored. Each concussive shot that landed sent dirt, blood and viscera flying. It took every ounce of willpower to take decent aim and fire, and every fiber of his courage not to lose his nerve when he saw a Plague Marine disregard the shot when it landed. The only weapon he possessed still serving its function was his faith, faith in the Emperor, for it was that alone that kept him rigid to where he stood.

Providence appeared to reward that faith. As the apparent meteoroids drew nearer, gaining ever more spectacular speed, it became clear they were something else entirely. They were drop pods of the Adeptus Astartes, and with ear-popping booms they plunged into the earth to the west of Barras’ position. Rocks and rubble sailed high in the air. Almost immediately pod doors whisked open, releasing their enormous occupants.

The head of every soldier in Barras’ unit, the lieutenant himself included, had turned to gawk at the Space Marines with awe. In their power armor, they stood just over eight feet tall. To call them colossuses would barely do them justice. Despite looking their human appearance, they were nevertheless alien and threatening, exuding auras of overwhelming violence. Their faces were hidden behind their helms, muzzle-mouthed and skull-faced, with piercing red lenses. Their armor was a pale tone of gray with yellow trim, and on their left pauldron a red scorpion raised its stinger menacingly against a white circle. In fluid motions, they smacked their bulky gauntlets on the stone eagle emblazoned over their breastplates before breaking out into sprints toward the Plague Marines. It seemed absurd that giants could move with such amazing celerity.

Barras’ eyes were fixed on the goliath leading the charge. While his brothers mostly fired bolters, he carried a two-handed maul with two heads, each swathed in a powerful disruptor field. Letting out a growl that sounded distorted and wolfish through his helmet speakers, the Marine swung his gigantic hammer and pounded an unsteady Plague Marine square in the chest. The sparking force field around the hammer’s head flashed on impact, amplifying the already inhuman strike to insane levels of strength. The Plague Marine flew backwards, landing and skidding around twenty yards away. Not dwelling on what he had just done, the maul-wielding Marine shouted to his comrades: “Let free the retribution of the Emperor, my brothers! Purge the unclean!”

Unbelievably, the fallen Plague Marine rose again, a crater on his chest, dazed but not nearly incapacitated. It took a few more steps before being engulfed in a searing fireball. Many of the Marines wearing the scorpion heraldry carried flamers, and were using them liberally to submerge their Death Guard foes in infernos. The consuming blazes did little to dismay their shambling targets, and most of the Plague Marines continued firing their bolters and swinging their blades even as the flames scorched their armor and burned away their fetid flesh. Rather than seek their survival, they seemed to welcome death once it was credibly offered to them, as if it were some cherished gift.

One of Barras’ soldiers let out a whoop of deliverance, sparking a chorus of additional supportive yells. With renewed dynamism, the Guardsmen resumed firing volleys, even if it was a weak supplement to the strength and firepower of their godlike saviors.

A small quantity of Plague Marines had died, but more were closing in on the attackers. Methodical salvos of bolter, flamer and plasma fire from the loyalist Marines thrashed the ranks of the Death Guard reinforcements, but few were stopped, and eventually the two forces met. A helmetless heretic, his head resembling a moldering shriveled prune, grappled with the Space Marine commander, a humming chainsword gripped in one tremendous fist. His dark moss-colored armor leaked with an unknown sludge. The Space Marine commander tried to shove him away, but his gauntlet slid clear due to the slimy gunk. The Death Guard warrior lunged, slashing his chainsword across the commander’s shoulder and blood sprayed where the chain found purchase. The commander did not cry out; instead, he slammed his elbow into his opponent’s belly and leapt backward, trouncing his maul onto neck and head. Like the rotted fruit it resembled, the Plague Marine’s head broke open, bone and brain obliterated in an eruption of sopping carnage. The decapitated body fell away as more enemies loomed.

The scene became a festival of massacres, a carnival of blood and brutality. Barras watched as a Space Marine died, an axe plunged into the space beneath his helm, and he fell to the sound of his own gurgling blood. One of his battle-brothers swept up his dead comrade’s bolt pistol and emptied the magazine into the killer. He was instantly set upon by a Traitor Marine carrying a combat knife, which in Barras’ much smaller hands would easily have been a broadsword. The Chaos-corrupted Marine drove the serrated blade into the gap between breastplate and helmet before wrenching it out. He stabbed repeatedly, laughing a sick wet giggle, until the Space Marine collapsed. The heretic was so caught up in his mania he did not even notice the Astartes commander swinging his maul until it landed on the Plague Marine’s back, shattering his spine. The hammer rose and fell over and over, quickly turning the soldier of Chaos into mere pulp and slush.

The battle was even, with the Space Marines winning slightly, but Barras wondered how long that would go on. The Death Guard Marines, though few in number, were only stoppable by extreme use of firepower or overwhelming brute force. In a conflict of pure attrition, the advantage lay with the nigh-invulnerable plague-bearing juggernauts. They were, Barras thought to himself, avatars of the inevitable entropy in the universe, the unpleasant but nevertheless harsh truth that all things, no matter how glorious or precious, would someday collapse and congeal, falling to ruin. Even the Imperium of Man, for all its splendors and righteousness, would at some point vanish from the universe, just as the brightest suns in the galaxy would someday be extinguished….

He was shaken from these heretical thoughts by the rumbling sound of Thunderhawks howling above him, their wing mounted guns blasting away. As the shells landed, the Plague Marines exploded in a series of detonations. With almost stoic passivity, the more distant Death Guard survivors were also torn apart by over-sized battle cannons spewing high-explosive rounds, others shredded by the shrapnel created by the rounds’ shell casings. The aircrafts banked around as they passed overhead, coming in low to the ground. When they landed, they unloaded streams of Space Marines, around twenty in each. From one, an enormous war machine strode clumsily down an exit ramp, roughly thirteen feet tall and just as wide. It moved in thumping, lazy steps, and its arms were weapons: the left was a steel arm capped by a wide chainsaw fist the size of an adult human, and the right was a long cannon with coils along its length that glowed dull blue.

The battle ended soon thereafter. Barras’ men, exhausted and mortified by their brush with certain death, relaxed their discipline and slouched against the walls, some leaning on their firearms. The only thing keeping them warm and energized was the relief of surviving, of having won a gamble with fate and come out the victor. They had earned their rest. Barras felt the urge to join them but stopped when he spotted the Space Marine commander with the maul moving towards him. He snapped to attention, as nervously as he had done in the officers’ academy. He did his best to remain composed, but reflexively blanched at the noisy bluster of servos from the Marine’s armor joints.

The Astartes set aside his maul and with gauntleted hands removed his helm. Beneath it, his head was bald and leathery tan, marred with crisscrossed scars. His eyes were a light and watery blue, blank, unfocused. Barras smiled softly, hoping a relaxed and warm expression would obscure his uneasiness before one of the God-Emperor’s chosen. Of course, he knew the galaxy contained more futile tasks. “I’m Lieutenant Selywn Barras, my lord,” he managed, “and we’re extremely glad to see you…”

“I am Brother-Captain Creon Mindarus,” the Astartes interrupted, “of the Red Scorpions’ Fourth Company. My orders are to purge this quadrant of the planet. Inquisitor Xanthus of the Ordo Malleus informed us that the traitors of the Fourteenth Legion were attempting to summon a powerful daemon, a harbinger of rot and ruin.”

Barras nodded. “Well, it would appear your mission was accomplished.”

“Not yet,” Creon said quickly. “Our orders were to cleanse this planet of Chaos taint, Lieutenant, and for us, that means all who were exposed to the corruption on Ephesos. Your unit has been deployed on the planet for several months, has it not?”

Barras arched an eyebrow. “Y-Yes, my lord, to wipe out the walking dead…”

“A task you did satisfactorily,” Creon replied with a cold monotone. “Yet, it was an error sending your regiment here. Despite its many commendations, you have one inherent flaw: you are mere humans.” He titled his head to one side briefly and clicked his tongue. “Well, most of you, at least. Your regiment has squads of abuhumans, yes?”

“Y-You mean the Ogryns?” Barras stammered. The Imperium of Man believed in the supremacy of humanity over the universe, but it nevertheless utilized near-human creatures in parts of the Imperial Guard. This included the gigantic mutants known as the Ogryns, as loyal as they were big and stupid. They made excellent shock troops, even if their very existence suggested tolerance of genetic mutation, which in turn may have invited spiritual corruption. “My lord, I have nothing to do with…”

The Astartes captain raised a hand to halt the protest. “It is irrelevant. Even without the presence of abhumans among your units, your regiment has been exposed to plagues and poxes your unmodified immune systems could not resist with guaranteed success. Rather than risk allowing you to leave Ephesos and potentially infect others, spreading the Chaos taint, we will have to liquidate your regiment as part of our operations.”

Barras went ashen as the blood drained from his face. His jaw dropped several centimeters and his eyes grew wide. “T-This is wrong! We did our duty!”

“As was appropriate,” Creon responded with indifference. “Nevertheless, you cannot claim direct descent from the Emperor himself, as we can. Even few Astartes chapters truly do.” There was no pride on his lips; he spoke matter-of-factly. “To protect the Emperor’s faithful, we must cull those susceptible to the insidious corruption of Chaos. You have always been told you may give your life for the Emperor; today, you will.”

On instinct, Barras moved to run. Obviously the Astartes was faster. He reached out and clutched Barras’ neck in his gauntleted fingers. The Guardsman struggled in the grip, choking for air. Creon tightened his hold, crunching bone and cartilage with barely a tensing of his muscles. Lifted off the ground, Barras’ feet kicked for solid contact, but soon went limp. The Astartes dropped him to the ground, where he fell with a thud.

By this time, the worn and weakened soldiers of Barras’ unit had noticed the execution of their commander. As they struggled to process what they had witnessed, they failed to notice that the charcoal-clad Space Marines had encircled them–and were now pointing their bolters, flamers, and plasma guns in their direction. Creon made a small motion with his hand. The Marines fired, cutting down the surviving Guardsmen with no mercy.

As las-fire and flame reflected in his blank blue eyes, Creon said: “Purge the unclean.”

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #wh 40k #40k #40k fanfic #40k fiction #red scorpions #adeptus astartes #space marines #death guard #chaos space marines #imperial guard #imperium #black library

[neakco]

Not My Wonderland Part 3

AO3 Part 1.1 Part 1.2 Part 2 Masterlist

The final chapter and the chapter that inspired me to write the rest of the fic.

Enjoy

Marinette groaned as she collapsed into the chair across from Adrien with her lunch.

 

“That bad?”

 

It took all her remaining willpower not to glare at her friend. She leaned forward menacingly so that only Adrien would be able to hear her.

 

“Let's see, first I got locked in a forgotten store room by girls that hate me for no reason other than I pollute their space with my commoner germs.” She started to count out her fingers. “Then I end up in another dimension helping fight a rebellion against the actual Queen of Hearts for four months before returning here to some shady warehouse only 24 hours after I left. Thirdly, I am kidnapped by a fake Hatter wannabe that wants me to play a fake Dormouse in his twisted fantasy tea party. Next I am picked up by Batman after I had already saved myself and I am brought to the Police Commissioner, of all people, who I have to find some way of explaining how I ended up in a position to be kidnapped without coming across as crazy. I am then returned to my dorm with enough time to get two hours of sleep before waking up for classes.” She paused long enough to catch her breath. “To top all that off with a cherry, news of Tetch trying to mind control me got out so people keep…”

 

She was cut off by some man or boy that neither of them recognized  “Hey Alice, Did you like your unbirthday?”

 

She was fuming. Luckily, for the idiot, Adrien was an expert at picking up on her moods and placed a hand over hers to try and calm her. Truthfully it did help. He also glared at the idiot until he left. Adrien was sunshine incarnate until he glared. His glare held ions of destruction behind it and people couldn’t help the fear they felt even if they couldn’t comprehend why it frightened them.

 

“This just proves how stupid people are.”

 

“Hmmm?” His voice snapped her out of her musing.

 

“You are clearly more of a mouse or bug than an Alice.”

 

She laughed and allowed herself to fully relax, “Thanks Chaton.”

 

“Now what’s this about another dimension?”

 

She lit right up, “You would love it. Time works weird there so we could use it to get more hours of free time or catch up on missed work. It is also where Tikki and Plagg were born.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep.” She finally allowed herself to smile wide, “We can go grab the mirror later tonight and bring it back to my room, maybe yours, but I think we would probably get noticed bringing it across campus.”

 

“How big is this mirror?” Adrien leaned closer and dropped his voice.

 

“Large enough that we will likely need some miraculous level strength to carry it.”

 

He let out a low whistle as he sat back and took a bite of his lunch. “What else can you tell me now?”

 

“Cheshire looks like an older but male me and the city looks industrial if the industrial age had been developed with magic instead of science.”

 

“Despite the revolution you really loved it there.”

 

“There is just so much that I can’t put into words.” Her voice turned dreamy, “I felt like I belonged, I haven’t really felt that way since we first became friends.” She put her fork down suddenly and starred at him, “You are making time this weekend and I am taking you there.”

 

“I can’t wait.”

 

“Look it’s Alice.” A female voice this time. “Did you like the Hatter’s tea?”

 

She went to lunge at the person but Adrien had stood too quickly to grab her from across the table.

 

“It’s okay Mari, they will get bored soon. Even sooner if you just ignore them.”

 

“It’s just,” she paused to wipe away an angry tear. “In Wonderland, most teas were an emotion manipulating drug and then the tea I was served by Tetch contained a drug of some sort to ensure compliance in his puppets.”

 

Adrien came around the table to give her a hug. “Come on, we are going to pack up and head to the roof.”

 

She could only nod as She took comfort from the sense of balance he gave her.

 

“Have you been dealing with this all day?”

 

“Since I walked into the common area this morning.” Her voice was muffled and probably too quiet for anyone not blessed with feline hearing.

 

“Fuck, really Maribug. That’s it, I am buying us an apartment.”

 

“Adrien, no.” She shoved him back and began to pack up her lunch.

 

“Adrien, yes.”

 

“No, we discussed this.” She hadn’t unpacked much so she helped him gather everything so they could start walking. “We don’t plan on staying after we graduate, an apartment is just a waste of money.”

 

“We came here to escape bad memories and bullies in Paris. Escaping doesn’t really work if you are still being bullied.”

 

“I have a solution, I just need you to lend me your lawyer.”

 

“What? Why?” She didn’t have to look at him to feel the confusion.

 

“I am just going to punch the next person I don’t know that approaches me about the incident. If that doesn’t deter them than maybe suing them for psychological pain will.”

 

“You can’t just, it doesn’t work like that.”

 

She glared at him through the corner of her eyes as they kept walking.

 

“Look pigtails, if these people lose anymore brain cells they will have heads gooier than bad camembert.” Plagg piped up from Adrien’s shirt pocket.

 

She and Adrien started laughing so hard that they had to stop laughing and support each other.

 

It took several minutes before she finally calmed down, “Thanks Plagg, I owe you one.”

 

“I will except your thanks in the form of camembert filled cheese croissants.”

 

“Of course.”

 

They were discussing their separate classes and what type of apartment Adrien planned to buy them when a voice spoke up behind them.

 

“You’re the girl the mad Hatter grabbed.”

 

She had tuned and was punching before Adrien could stop her.

 

The man impressively dodged as he blocked. “I’m sorry, you were just kidnapped. I shouldn’t have come up behind you like that.”

 

That gave her pause and she glanced at Adrien.

 

He shrugged to let her know that he didn’t know why the guy was so fast. One didn’t get those reflexes naturally.

 

“I really should be apologizing for trying to hit you.”

 

“Please don’t. You’ve probably had a rough time, I know what it is like to be kidnapped and I should have known better. I react similarly when someone sneaks up behind me.” He sighed, “I am really not good at this. I just wanted to make sure you are okay and to let you know how awesome it is that you broke out of the mind control.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, speaking of, any tips you could share?”

 

Adrien shook his head, “Marinette has always been stubborn and incredibly strong willed.” He held out a hand, “Adrien Agreste, pleasure to meet you.”

 

The man took his hand silently.

 

She and Adrien shared a look of disbelief that the man somehow interpreted correctly.

 

“Tim Drake-Wayne. Apologies, I am used to everyone and there vultures knowing who I am.”

 

She smiled kindly, both her and Adrien could relate to that. “Want to join us on the roof for the rest of lunch? It is quite quiet up there.”

 

“I appreciate the offer, but I was looking for caffeine when I spotted you.”

 

“Mari has a thermos filled with her special coffee blend today, I am sure she could share.” She saw Adrien study the bags under Tim’s eyes, “You definitely look like you could use it.”

 

The smile he gave was blinding, “Really?”

 

She nodded reluctantly, part of her wanted it all to herself but he really did look like he needed the extra energy her coffee would give.

 

Tim seemed to gain energy just from the thought of coffee, “My family cut me off this week and bribed all the coffee shops in town not to sell me anything, thank you.”

 

She wondered why his family would cut him off, probably a good thing he was going to drink her coffee. It was a little strong sure but she had also magically infused it to give more energy with less side effects.

 

Adrien clapped Tim on the back and they pretended not to notice how he tensed.

 

“Excellent, in exchange for gifting you with coffee and food, you can help explain why the whole school knows Mari was kidnapped.”

 

Tim paused to think as Adrien picked open the roof door. She thought he may ask awkward questions or decide to report them but was pleasantly surprised .

 

“I found out because the Police Commissioner’s daughter is a family friend and told me this morning. She wanted me to make sure you were actually okay and not just in shock last night. As for everyone else,” He stopped to think about it as she set up her special rooftop picnic blanket.

 

“Either one of the officers told their kid or someone managed to buy an old police radio again.”

 

She poured him a small cup of coffee to make sure he could handle it, magic doesn’t mix with everyone. “People can do that?”

 

“Technically it is illegal since one of the rogues could always get their hands on it, but some officers believe it is a good way to keep dorm students out of dangerous areas.” He took a sip and his eyes widened.

 

She saw Adrien out of the corner of her eye preparing to shield the food in case Tim started coughing or spit out the coffee.

 

Instead he downed the rest and held out the cup for more as he got down on one knee, “I don’t care if you two are together, please marry me.”

 

Adrien, the traitor, just laughed.

 

She sighed, “Why does everyone think we are dating? He is just my best friend.”

 

“But?” He glanced at Adrien in pity as she refilled his cup.

 

Adrien grinned. “Tried it, liked being friends better. Now instead of marriage, how about you start with a date. She is free this Wednesday and enjoys ice cream.”

 

“Adrien!”

 

“Are you free at 6pm? She could probably meet you at the dorm entrance unless you would rather meet elsewhere.”

 

“Chaton!” Her face was hot and she could only hope he didn’t notice.

 

“Yes M’lady?” He had on that stupid innocent grin.

 

“You can’t just decide all this for him. You don’t even know his romantic alignment.”

 

“Oh right.” He looked to the stunned Tim. “I am sorry if I misunderstood your intentions, but she really is free Wednesday if you swing that way.”

 

She buried her face in her hands, maybe this is why they hadn’t made any friends yet. Adrien just kept scaring all the intelligent ones away.

 

“If Marinette is okay with it than I would love to take her out for ice cream, but only if she is okay with it.”

 

She glanced up to see him looking at her in concern. “I think I would enjoy that Tim.” She smiled sweetly at him while plotting revenge against Adrien.

 

She would enjoy tossing him at a jaberwocky.

Hope you enjoyed Not My Wonderland. Please keep alive and stay hydrated.

Final results for the vote were

Tim-4

Cass-3

Duke-2

No one-2

I actually had another ending planned in case of a tie between Cass and Tim. Maybe one day I will release that anyways for the giggles.

#maribat #timari #spotify #Hey Alice #not my wonderland #rin writes