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hisuianhellion · 6 months

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Reality. Realization. Resolve.

Kleavor. A name given to a Pokémon capable of some of the most wild feats known of their kind. Without being gods of a fashion themselves, they were the Chosen. The Pokémon that this 'Almighty Sinnoh' had blessed with power normally unfathomable to the masses of young, old or even experienced within Hisui. And Rose was catching herself on the ground and springing right back up with a grit of her teeth as she was assaulted by one.

The sound of her sandals scraping the dirt beneath them as she hopped up into a more advantageous position was cut off by the deep roar of the viciously glowing Noble. A Pokémon of absolutely massive stature, standing nearly twice her height and wielding rocky axes upon its arms. Cleaving claws, the rather on-the-nose name the only solace in a life-or-death moment.

This Pokémon was out for blood, and it didn't even seem to realize it was. Its dashes were madly chaotic, the feral rage within them blinding it to all but its target. Leaping along the side made Kleavor attempt to come to a stop, but a resounding crash into the rock face of Grandtree Arena gave Rose a monumentally clear shot.

Balms, settled along her hip and bag for easy access, filled with a mixture of berries and Plump Beans, loosely tied to allow their release upon impact. It wasn't foolproof, but the more it happened, there was visible staggering from the creature she was facing off against. It was small, but progress was being made!

Another impact against the rocks, and she noted a moment of reprieve. There was a crack in Kleavor's frenzy. And she knew what Pokémon were all about. They did it to grow. They did it to settle disputes. They did it simply to pass the time.

They battled.

She pulled out a Pokéball. And with a fling, it released the Dewott Nanami had become in the week that followed Rose's initial trial. She and the otter both nodded at each other as Kleavor snapped out of their stupor and let out another roar of violent madness. And the battle truly began.

The Noble swiped horizontally, and Nanami ducked. Itcleaved downwards, and the otter was beside it, immediately wreathing themselves in water at Rose's behest to crash right into Kleavor's jaw. And the splash alone seemed to deal damage, followed swiftly by the impact! Yes! Go, Nanami, go, you've got this! His typing was fantastic for this, and as Kleavor staggered back, it tried to take a stance ready to attack far harder and faster than before.

This was met, rather handily, by Rose calling for a Water Pulse, which knocked the wind right out of Kleavor's sails, balms flying like crazy soon after. The way the cloths dispersed the substance within as it covered the Noble's head and shoulders allowed so much breathing room. But it wasn't done. They had been defeated once, but with the calming effect came a rather unintended side effect.

The less frenzied Kleavor became, the smarter it began to act. Instinct was making way for thought, but the feral ferocity it was showing hadn't faded. It was now being bolstered. And instead of a charge like Rose had been expecting... it spun. And those axes flew wide, fast and hard.

Cloth ripped. Rose gasped. And a small splatter settled on the arena, staining the dirt.

Blood dripped from Kleavor's axe. Blood dribbled down Rose's left arm, her eyes wide and her ears pounding in her head as she had been sent careening multiple feet to the side. And almost all became silent for what felt like an eternity.

Kleavor approached. It still wasn't itself. It still had the rabid energy coursing through its body. It still had everything in its power to deal the finishing blow, and both Warden and Clan Leader were powerless to step in lest they share Rose's fate, bleeding on the ground in a daze. Pokémon had the durability to handle attacks like this, able to bolster their defenses in ways that allowed almost supernatural steadfastness.

Humans did not. And Kleavor simply didn't seem to realize this. It saw a stunned opponent, not a victim. It saw a combatant. And it poised to dash. This time, Rose was barely able to react. She saw it coming. She knew she'd be completely knocked cleanly out at best, and losing her life at worst.

Pokémon truly were dangerous if left to become as frenzied as this Noble was. It was exactly the same fear she felt when she saw Nanami and Patrice fall to that Alpha. And now it was for herself.

"VUI!!"

A Pokéball had burst open. An Eevee boy, one affectionately named Barry, had come right out, countering the charging Noble with a burst of dark energy. Shadow Ball, catching them just as equally off-guard as the human had been for that horizontal slash as Rose looked on in shock. A crash sounded out as the massive being collided with the ground, crackling with the energy the attack forced into its body through the impact.

But there was something different. She could barely look at Barry. At first, she thought it was the sun. But the glow almost seemed to be reflecting off of Barry's fur. That didn't mak--... oh. Oh! That wasn't light reflecting off of him! It was light COMING from him! This sassy little protector of his non-battling sister had decided to come to Rose's defense, and from what Laventon had told her, it wasn't uncommon for an Eevee to evolve in times of stress like this to better adapt to its surroundings!

A ribbon gently coiled up and outwards. It gripped onto her injured arm firmly, and wrapped around the cloth to try and close it up in an attempt to help the girl feel safer. And as Kleavor stepped back up onto its feet... so did Rose. Scuffed, bruised and bleeding from the arm Barry was supporting, she grit her teeth into a vicious smile.

The light from her Eevee burst. White fur, pink ears and eyes shimmering with a gentle blue. Ribbons curling along from two bows upon his chest and ear, tipped with the same pink and blue hues. And as Kleavor dashed, the duo moved in sync, swerving clear out of the way with Rose skidding to a stop and patting Barry's back gently. "Once more! Shadow Ball!"

The energy coalesced in front of the newly evolved Sylveon, and with a leap, they shot it right out, smashing into Kleavor's back. It roared. It took a knee. Rose's excitement grew as she ripped her good arm down and into her bag, grabbed one more balm and aimed true. She pulled back. Barry kept her steady with a nod and a trill of "Sylv!" in support, grinning just as confidently.

It flew from her hand as Kleavor's head turned to look. And upon colliding with its cheek... the golden glow of the frenzied energy burst out. Wind flew out with the raw power of the Noble's sickness, Barry holding Rose steady as she put a hand up to cover her eyes... and it promptly stopped.

Kleavor's eyes focused. Its size had reduced notably, now only being a small bit taller than Rose rather than the gargantuan stature it had been before. With a slow shake of its head to get the cloth of that final balm off of its cheek, it looked at Rose in wonder. Barry practically cheered, looking right up at his human with unrepentant glee.

She panted. She couldn't really hear much over the thumping in her ears. With a glance at Barry, she smiled. She reached down to give him a pet. As her hand settled on it... her legs gave out. Promptly and perhaps expectedly, she collapsed right there, still panting and smiling. Barry was mildly panicked for the half second he saw this, only to sigh and smile at her as she let her hand still rub along his head, slumped downwards as she was.

"... s'my boy... I love you, too."

#rosy recountings #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon roleplay #pokemon rp #blood cw #blood tw

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faereun · 9 months

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GENESIS KHALDOTTIR. daughter of the forest queen, mielikki, and an unnamed elven ranger, whereabouts unknown. circle of the land druid.

genesis began communing with her mother at a young age, not long before her father walked out on her. scrappy by nature, she quickly learned how to live off the land, praying oft to her mother and living by her teachings like law. through her mothers guidance she eventually stumbled upon a druid grove that took her in and raised her as their own, delighted to have found such an innately talented soul who was also devoted to the forest queen's teachings.

her mother never visited her outside of dreams and prayers, of course, and genesis never questioned it. her mother was a goddess, of course, she had much more important things than to worry about her many children. still, it stung...mielikki oft spoke to genesis about her last chosen, who had died valiantly protecting their grove. she whispered honeyed - promises to genesis; 'if you prove yourself worthy, i might make you my new chosen,' 'if you serve me well, my dearest earthly child, i will bestow you with powers beyond your imagination,' 'continue to live by my teachings and you will be rewarded greatly,' and she drank in every honeysuckle - sweet word like a feral cat lapping up warm milk.

her father hadn't wanted her, had left her to her own designs the moment she was old enough to lace up her own boots and nock an arrow in her bow. even the grove that had taken her in so eagerly grew weary of her presence eventually, made uneasy by her quick temper and penchant for violence. the only constant was her mother, with her soothing hymns and cloyingly saccharine white lies.

that all changed when mielikki selected her new chosen — and, of course, it wasn't gen. it was the leader of her grove, a young archfey who was still wet behind the ears, if you asked her. in that moment she had been consumed by a godlike rage, something she hadn't known herself capable of. it was as if she'd been possessed by the fury of mother nature herself — her mother's powers. that which she'd hidden from genesis all this time, grooming her to be the perfect disciple, afraid of what she might do otherwise. when she comes to, her leathers are splattered in blood and her fist is raised, the handsome blond elf pinned beneath her. devil child, the grove whispered, did you see how her eyes were glowing? she didn't give them a chance to exile her.

she takes the few things she owns, leaving behind her scripture and her studies and her journals, bringing only what she needs. she barely sleeps, and is thankful for her elven origins in those moments, mielikki unable to traipse into her dreams. she travels aimlessly for a year or so, living off the land just as she had before. after a near brush with death, the crushing weight of loneliness begins to suffocate her, and she aches for civilization. had she died out there, no one would have known. no one would have cared — no one would have missed her. she journeys to baldur's gate, seeking refuge and perhaps and apprenticeship as a healer, using her knowledge of herbs and medicine to ensure her survival.

she's in the city for all of three months before she's taken, infected with an illithid parasite. she wakes up on a mindflayer ship, and in a confusing whirlwind she makes a tentative alliance with a githyanki warrior, and saves the life of a sharran cleric. then, when all seems lost, she wakes up on a beach. she's bloody, battered, and bruised, but against all odds — she's alive. she prays to her mother for the first time in that year between her leaving the grove and winding up in baldur's gate. her prayers go unanswered. and every prayer after that, every dream, is just the same. crushing, devastating silence. she has been forsaken.

#GENESIS. study #GENESIS. arc i #MEDIA. text

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celestialscribbler · 2 years

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Hay look i did a thing >.>

@letssofia3006 did this rad mashup of Alex Lawther (phillip’s VA) reading this monologue with the Belos theme and it was just to perfect. I also copied their good good art of Phillip at Caleb’s grave for one of the shots (with permission) so go love their beautifully rendered version.

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maddieautobot273 · 11 months

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Silk & Cologne (14)

A Miguel O’Hara x OC Series - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 14 - Calm - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Female OC

Words: 2.7K+ words

Warnings: PG13 for intense violence/action, and brief/minor description of assault

Summary: it’s the calm after the storm. Will things change between Lisa and Miguel.

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Miguel’s P.O.V. - 20 minutes ago

Miguel didn’t think. The second he emerged on the edge of the rooftop of a building across from Lisa’s apartment and his enhanced eyes peered through the window seeing a version of himself standing over Lisa, he snapped.

The talons broke through as he snarled, erupting a roar as he fired his web shooters, the red glowing hue of his web sling sticking to the floor as it flew through her window.

“Get your shocking hands- OFF OF HER!”

He catapulted himself forward, his body flying through the open window as he soared into the apartment and tackled the imposter off of Lisa. Their bodies tumbled, banging into the front door before toppling to the floor. Miguel was much quicker to react as he grabbed his twin by the collar and slammed him into the door before punching his gut and face senselessly.

He then grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him to the side, throwing him into the kitchen as his body glided over the kitchen counter and toppled to the floor, knocking over various objects and appliances.

“Lisa, RUN!” His red feral eyes poured into hers, begging her to listen.

He caught the sight of her scrambling to her feet, making a break for the window before the groaning of his doppelganger snapped his attention towards the kitchen. His mask re-emerged on his face. If things weren’t ugly before, it was about to get a lot more ugly now, and he would rather not get blood splatter on his face and scare Lisa more than she already was, rightfully so.

The doppelganger’s groans turned into a coughing fit of dark laughter as he pulled himself up to his feet. They both stalked in a circle around the kitchen counter, watching each other.

“Not a bad trick there,” Miguel complimented. “You really caught me by surprise,”

“Cut the bullshit, pendejo,” Miguel growled. “It took a hot minute to piece everything together, but this stops now. Take the mask off, Chameleon,” - stupid

The doppelganger stopped his pacing, watching Miguel closely. He laughed again, before slowly reaching for his hair, getting a firm grip on it before he pulled his incredibly lifelike face mask off. He revealed a white metal plate mask that completely covered his face except his eyes and mouth.

Chameleon laughed again, his accent morphing into a Russian one. “Zdravstvuyte, mister O'Khara,” - Hello, Mr. O’Hara

“How long have you been a mole for Osborne?” Miguel interrogated, his teeth snaring as he tried to fight the urge to flash his fangs.

“Long enough to gather all the intel that I needed,” Chameleon shrugged his shoulders with a care-free expression.

“Tell me what you know,” Miguel demanded, raising his voice as the veins on his neck looked like they were on the cusp of popping. “NOW!”

“No can do, O’Hara. My lips are sealed,” Chameleon chuckled softly. “But I will tell you this,”

Chameleon glanced down at himself, taking in his arms as the rest of his body still wore Miguel’s suit and took on his appearance. Miguel could hear the grin on his face as he spoke.

“Mr. Osborne was kind enough to give me a little upgrade. So now when I disguise myself, I don’t just copy their looks or their voice. I gain their strength,” Chameleon snickered as he cracked his neck before rolling his shoulders in a threatening manner. “Your strength,”

Miguel growled at him as his claws sharpened, his back muscles tensing as he watched Chameleon closely, waiting for his move.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll show Lisa just how strong I can be,” Chameleon threatened.

Miguel leapt before he could say anything else. His mask snapped over his face and he was on top of Chameleon before he could breathe another word. They fought in close combat, throwing punches, kicks, and clawing at each other. Miguel quickly realized he wasn’t joking. He really did have his strength. But Chameleon didn’t have his brains either.

“As if I’d let you go anywhere near her again!” He yelled, punching him in the face as his fist connected with the metal mask.

It made a dent into it as Chameleon toppled over the couch and smashed into the coffee table, breaking it. Chameleon coughed harshly, rolling off his back. “Did I strike a nerve? I thought after losing your daughter, you’d be incapable of love?”

Miguel snarled at him, his eyes glowing red under his mask. “¡¿Qué acabas de decirme?!” - What did you just say to me?!

“If you thought hearing her screams was bad, don’t worry, I’ll make sure when Lisa screams for you again, it will be much worse,” Chameleon bellowed with an evil laugh.

Miguel roared at him as he tackled him, the pair exchanging more blows. As he punched and clawed at him and blocked his own attacks, he hated that what he was saying was right. Losing Gabriella was painful in every sense of the word. He knew how cold and crass he had become after that and how difficult he could be.

But when Lisa looked at him. He wasn’t sure what it was. But he felt his ice cold heart melt away bit by bit. Maybe he was incapable of love, but with Lisa, he felt he had a second chance at it. No matter what form it took, no matter how small. That was why Miguel fought to protect her.

“Lyla, do you have his Gizmo frequency?” Miguel growled as he punched Chameleon in the gut. Hard.

“Yes!” Lyla popped up. “Opening a portal now!”

“What?!” Chameleon snarled.

A portal opened up at their side as Miguel grabbed Chameleon but the collar and with a heavy heave, hoisted him up into the air, his feet dangling.

“I needed to distract you long enough to allow Lyla to hack and steal back access to that Gizmo you stole from me,” Miguel glared daggers into his soul.

He reached out, snatching the Gizmo from his wrist.

“You won’t be needing that anymore,” Miguel said harshly. “I better not see your face in this dimension again,”

He then tossed Chameleon through the portal back to Earth-1997. He didn’t care where, so long as he was stuck there for the rest of his miserable life. Lyla quickly closed the portal shortly after that.

“I’ve blocked that dimension’s frequency. They can’t use their Gizmo’s or day passes to get here or Spider-Society HQ anymore,” Lyla spoke quickly.

Miguel breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling. “Thank you, Lyla,”

Miguel looked around, seeing the state of the apartment. Such a mess. He hated that he had a part in that. He’d make it up to Lisa. Make it good as new. Better even.

Lisa. . .

“Lyla, where is Lisa?” Miguel asked as his gaze went to the window that she climbed out of, his face filled with worry.

“Her Gizmo coordinates says she’s up on the roof,”

Miguel was already on the move before Lyla could finish.

//////////

Lisa’s P.O.V. - now

Miguel carried me back inside, not wanting me to slip on the slippery water coated steps of the fire escape. We were both soaking wet from the rain, but that was the least of our worries. The cops would be at my door any minute now. As Miguel searched for a towel, I took in the state of the apartment and my heart sunk.

There was no hiding the look on my face from Miguel as he squeezed my shoulder gently before pulling his cape away and swapping it with a towel, gently drying off my cheeks.

“Here, dry yourself off and change quickly, if you can,” he spoke softly.

“Thank you,” I spoke softly in response, watching as he pulled the curtain back, and I briefly shivered at the memory of his evil twin doing the same thing.

But Miguel was more gentle, and caring as he motioned for me to sit down, making sure I was okay before pulling the curtain closed again gently to give me my privacy. As I dried myself off, I heard ruffling as he shuffled about. He was trying to clean up some of the mess.

Lord, bless him, I sighed softly as I tried to dry myself off as best I could. My suit was soaked, and even if I could dry myself off completely, the suit would become damp at best. After drying myself off as best I could, I tugged and pulled the damp spider suit off of my body, changing into another set of pajamas.

“Lyla, initiate casual clothes protocol,” Miguel commanded. “Nothing too flashy, alright?”

“Got it, boss!” Lyla’s voice chirped through the room.

I saw a quick flash of blue through the curtain, startling me. I peeked through the curtain after I finished changing and found Miguel no longer wearing his spider suit. He wore a gray sweater with a white tank top underneath, long gray sweat pants and slip on sneakers.

I wasn’t sure what I was more impressed with. The fact that he was wearing actual clothes other than his spider suit, or that he made the illusion fit so that those clothes were also damped and soaked with water. My eyes trailed down to his tank top, the water damping the fabric just enough to tease a look at his skin.

“Miguel. . .” I stepped out of my room, my voice calling out to him.

He turned quickly to face me, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink, “Hey!” He quickly shook off the nerves. “How are you feeling? Does this look convincing enough or–?”

“No, no, I think–” I waved my hands reassuringly at him as my lips smiled softly at him. “I think it suits you just fine,”

Miguel smiled softly back as he walked over towards me, making sure the towel was still safely tucked around me. He briefly took another look around the apartment again. “I, uh, I’ll try to fix all of this,”

“It wasn’t your fault, Miguel,” I reassured him as I gently squeezed his hand. “But I would appreciate the help in cleaning up,”

“Gladly,” He nodded before groaning with annoyance. “Once all this shocking mess is done,”

Shocking? That’s right, in the comics, that what he says to replace saying–

“Miguel, incoming footsteps down the hall,” Lyla warned.

Miguel gave me a reassuring look, his large fingers brushing damp locks of my hair away from my face, “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” I nodded.

Miguel guided me to a loveseat chair that wasn’t broken or smashed from the fight and set me down gently just as a knock came at the door. “NYPD, open up!”

“Stay there,” He gently commanded me before breathing heavily, ruffling his hair with his hands as he psyched himself up. Miguel opened the door and a pair of New York City officers stood in the hallway. “Officers, thank goodness you’re here!”

“We got a call about a disturbance here,” The male officer explained as he tilted his head to the side, spotting me. “May we come in?”

“Yes, please,” Miguel gulped in some air as he stepped aside, allowing the two cops to walk in.

They took in the state of the apartment as the female cop slowly walked over towards me, a calm expression on her face. “Miss, is this your apartment?”

I nodded firmly, my body trembling slightly at their presence. “Yes,”

“Can you tell us what happened? We received calls of screaming, and fighting?” The female officer asked me as I could see the male officer glance over at Miguel and I could see the look in his eyes. He was already thinking it was him.

Well, not quite far off.

“I was getting ready for bed, changing while–” I glanced over at Miguel and he gave me a calm, reassuring nod before I continued, “-my boyfriend stepped out to smoke. I thought it was him coming back through the window and when I turned–” I choked out a sob as I recalled what had happened in my mind and I pulled the towel over me a little bit tighter.

“Was it someone else in your apartment?” The female officer wager a guess as she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, kneeling beside me.

“Some psycho,” I sniffled, tears perking up in my eyes. “I screamed, calling for help. If he didn’t come back when he did, I think that guy might have–”

“It’s alright, I think we understand,” The female officer nodded firmly before she glanced over at her partner.

“You’re the boyfriend?” The male officer finally spoke.

“Miguel O’Hara,” He nodded.

“Can you explain what happened from your point of view, Mr. O’Hara?” The officer asked.

“I stepped outside to take a smoke, get some fresh air,” Miguel brushed a hand through his hair, his body tense as he looked at me with guilt written eyes. “It’s my fault, I left the window open and I thought I was the only one out there,”

“So the fight was you attacking him for breaking in?” The male officer asked.

“Yes,” Miguel sighed, taking in a steady breath. “I tackled him off her and we threw some punches. He was. . . out of his mind,”

The officer looked around and noticed a bloody rag on the counter. It was only then did I notice Miguel’s bloody knuckles. Oh my god. . .

“So you knocked enough sense into him that he took off after?” The officer raised a brow.

“Where did you go, miss while they were fighting?” The female officer asked, noticing my damp appearance.

“I ran out the window and climbed the fire escape to the roof. I couldn’t handle seeing the fighting so Miguel told me to run. I hid there and watched the intruder run back out the way he came,” I explained. A half lie but a partial truth.

“Did you see where he took off?” She asked.

I shook my head. “No, the storm made it impossible for me to see him clearly, but I could hear him going down the fire escape,”

The male officer walked over to the window, taking a peek outside as his eyes scanned the fire escape. “It’s gonna be hard getting solid footprints with this rain,” He took out a notebook and pen, walking back over to Miguel. “Can you describe him?”

I listened as Miguel described the intruder to the officer. He mentioned a Russian accident before going into physical details.

The female officer regained my attention as she cleared her throat. “We’ll do what we can to keep an eye out for this creep. You’ve never met that man before until tonight?”

“No, it was completely random,” I shook my head.

“Well, if it’s random, I think the odds of him coming back here are very slim, especially since you got your knight in shining armor with you,” she smiled reassuringly.

I smiled softly at her before my gaze turned to Miguel, admiring his face. More like my Spider-Man in a glowing nanotech spandex suit but close enough.

“Okay, I think that’s everything for now,” The male officer cleared his throat. “We’ll alert your neighbors who called that the danger has passed,”

“Thank you, officers,” I nodded in appreciation.

Miguel politely escorted the officers out of the apartment and shut the door behind them. The room was quiet except for the rain falling outside. Miguel’s footsteps were gentle as he calmly walked towards me, his clothing hologram fizzling out as he changed back into his spider suit, kneeling beside me. Only then did I turn towards him.

“Are you okay?” He asked calmly.

Tears perked in my eyes as I closed the shut, lowering my head. He gently reached a hand out and cradled the back of my head. “Better now that you’re here,” I answered quietly.

His fingers curled ever so tightly after hearing the pain in my voice, his thumb gently rubbing against my hair. “What do you need?”

I managed enough courage to look into his eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Can I. . . stay at HQ tonight?”

“Of course,” He sighed in relief. “You rest. I’ll pack a bag,”

I nodded softly as he gently moved away before talking over towards my small bedroom nook, finding my duffel bag and putting it aside on the bed. I watched calmly as he packed a change of clothes, putting my damp spider suit in a plastic bag before tying it and throwing it in the bag. As I watched him, my heart fluttered again.

After tonight. . . how different would things become between us?

We’re now officially passed the stage of tolerable, respect-earned, acquaintances.

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Tagged: @0eye0, @sadgurlstar , @uhnanix , @r1dd1kulus, @the-lululemon, @kirablommuwu @kenacole @kuinnoa, @devotedlyatomicdeer @hltendo , @r0sib3lleeditx @noahspector

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toast-com · 1 year

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The Death of Night (3-13-23)

"It's over Tamlin." Rhysand sneered at the Lord of Spring, as the Inner Circle stood behind him, ready to back their High Lord if need be. "You've lost, I've won." The Lord of Night smirked. "Although, I must admit, this game was fun." Tamlin didn't rise to the bait, merely staring past Rhysand and at Cassian. None of the Inner Circle knew it yet, but the grounds of Rosehall would be their resting place.

Cassian coughed, finding it hard to breathe. Was the air thin? He could've sworn it hadn't been a moment before... Rhysand was too caught up in his gloating to the air around the Illyrian general was... thinning. He coughed again, a bright splatter of blood coating his palm. Alarmed, he looks up, meeting Tamlin's eyes.

"I'll have to admit Rhysand," The Lord of Spring's voice is measured, quiet. "I do find it...amusing, to be frank."

"Amusing?" Rhysand arches a black brow. "In what way is your defeat amusing?" At that, Tamlin chuckles, the sound eerie.

"Defeat? Rhysand..." Tamlin's eyes are vicious and feral, glowing iridescent with the tempest of the immense power within him. He cocks his head, the gesture unsettling, inhuman. "You've been the unwitting prey this whole time, stumbling into a trap."

Behind Rhysand, Cassian makes a pained cry as he feels his lungs rupture within his body. Blood bubbles out of his mouth, and his heart begins to beat at a manic, frenzied pace, tearing itself apart. The Illyrian general falls to the ground with a thud, blood still seeping out his mouth. Azriel launches himself at the Lord of Spring, dagger raised. The shadow-singer explodes to pieces a moment later, body parts and gore falling to the ground.

"Tamlin!" Rhysand watches as Mor begins to shriek in fear as thorns burst through her skin, blooming into blood-red roses. She collapses to the floor in a heap of bloodied stems and limbs. Amren's eyes flash silver, but the ancient creature is pulverized by the very atmosphere itself, reduced to a bloody smear on the soil.

In a fit of rage Rhysand calls upon the darkness, but before he can act, Tamlin lunges at him, in his beast form, pinning the Lord of Night beneath him. His jaws clamp around Rhysand's throat, and his claws dig deep furrows into Rhysand's chest. Rhysand struggles, as Tamlin rips a bloody hole in his torso, exposing the fae's beating heart.

"You say you are the most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian," Tamlin's voice is guttural and beastly. "But you bleed the same as any of us." With a single, vicious motion, Tamlin rips Rhysand's heart out, piercing the organ with his claws.

#toasty's writing #tw blood #tw body horror #tw gore #tw character death #acotar tamlin #pro tamlin #eldritch! tamlin agenda 2023 #rhysand and his cronies get murdered #acotar rhysand #pro tamlin going eldritch and turning rhysand inside out #anti rhysand #anti inner circle

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askatrigenderlgbt · 11 months

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Marvel prompt? Marvel prompt.

Steve has developed feelings for Tony, wanting to just drown him with love and affection... And to also help him develope better habits for his health.

Sadly the one person who is blocking his path in order to ask Tony on that first date is someone surprising: not a villain, not Pepper or Rhodney, not Fury, no it was Bruce out of everyone blocking him.

Bruce, shy and very introverted, blocked Steve at every turn. He didn't want Steve to hurt Tony's feelings, knowing full well thanks to the many talks he had with Tony himself that things in the past had been harsh for him. From daddy issues to abusive relationships, Tony didn't have a good easy life that most assume. Bruce knew what it felt like from his own experiences, abuse and daddy issues.

Both knew what it was like to be so very lonely.

So when Steve tried to ask Tony out for the first time? Bruce was calm talking to Steve, but everything in Bruce's aura screamed Feral and Protective. Steve backed away smartly. He didn't want to be a blood splatter on the floor.

It was now a puzzle of Steve trying to ask Tony on a data while also trying to earn Bruce's approval. Which turned out to be much simpler than expected when Steve got it after beating Tony's ex's into a bloody mess after they made some... nasty comments about Tony. They were lucky Steve had restraint and mercy, otherwise they would be dead. Bruce had less restraint and had to be drugged and held back as he wanted to rip those fuckers into two prices.

Tony, this entire time, has been oblivious and not understanding what was happening around him and still didn't get it till Steve confessed his feelings. He also thanked Bruce for looking out for him and got some cuddles from his personal bodyguard!

Bruce still flashes green, glowing, eyes at Steve as a reminder from time to time. It makes him happy.

#marvel #fanfiction #tony stark #steve rogers #bruce banner #stony #science bros

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ebbing-terror · 20 days

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All dolled up in blood and gore, the curse's hand that had once been full of knives then reverted back into normal digits. He turned, uncaring about the crimson that stained his face - his sole focus upon the weakling he called his own.

It would seem some humans decided to venture into the sewers. That just wouldn't do. Regardless if they were harmless or not, he struck them down with brutal efficiency. There had been no time to waste, not when he had more important things to do.

Mahito leaned down to be closer to her level; mismatched eyes staring upon with unblinking, a reminder he didn't really need to and only did it as a benefit to the humanoid form he was born with. The quiet expression was one that simultaneously simmered with an unspoken feral-ness to it. It likely didn't help when he mimicked a smile a moment later.

The curse leaned closer, his lips brushing over her cheek as he exhaled softly near her ear, "Go back home." It was a simple command. He had bodies to deal with, things to consider - like if this base was a proper cage still. Hands reached down to grip her by the hips and turn her around, a silent ushering. Surely she knew better than to make him state something twice.

Lynn stared upon the scene she found herself in. It happened so fast- it always did.

The sound of obnoxious, drunken laughter and breaking glass had lead the monster right to those bumbling fools and once found they were cut through.

Blood, guts- the stuff was everywhere. The poor bastards barely even had time to scream, the echoes hadn't finished running through the tunnels before their bodies hit the pavement in chunks. Red blotted the one light in the passageway, thick and slow as it dripped down and coated the bulb, diming the environment even more. Heavy shadows cast over everything, intensifying the carnage and the presence of the one who caused it.

Black and scarlet painted a grotesque mural before Lynn's very eyes, one she watched Mahito create with awe. Her expression was rather blank, simply observing, admiring, absorbing as much as she could while she could. It always happened so fast. Those gentle eyes lingered on the knives Mahito made of himself, watching as blades changed into a more dangerous weapon- his hand.

She was unsteady as the monster turned his sights upon her, hunching down to look her straight in the face. The air was suffocating, each breath pulling the putrid odor of blood, spoiling meat and city filth into her lungs. Lynn's brain was always buzzing afterwards, unwell only in the mind- in the sense she had some wires crossed in her brain.

All she could think about, was how amazing Mahito was, how horribly beautiful he looked splattered with blood and glowing after a slaughter. She was helplessly enamored, that freakish smile making her heart jump in the opposite fashion of how it was supposed to. A hand reached out, softly grabbing hold of the creature's garb, wanting him closer when he drew near.

Lynn had been expecting something, holding her breath as she waited for it, for a kiss. The placement didn't matter. Her skin tingled where his lips lingered, so agonizongly close as she peered over Mahito's shoulder to the mess he made- waiting.

All she got was an order- a tease. Suspense had been yanked out from under Lynn and she fell into disappointment. Hope launched again with hands grasping her hips but that too broke apart and plummeted as she was turned around before she could embrace Mahito.

But she did know better, knowing not to interfere with what he had to do. Did she really have to go? Couldn't she just sit quietly and watch him? Lynn didn't pester Mahito with such questions, settling for one more look back at him before she ventured away into the darkness.

Once the gunk and gore was smeared off her mind enough to think Lynn found herself pausing as her path split in two.

Plip...

Plip....

Wait....

Home...Did Mahito mean Home home? Her apartment? Or was he telling her to go back to their residence in the heart of the sewer? The fact Lynn even debated the thought in the first place said alot.

Well, she didn't want to walk home by herself, there were creeps and killers out there...She didn't want to be alone either... So Lynn went right- deeper into the labyrinth.

Once she reached the 'room' she and Mahito shared Lynn removed her shoes and shuffled over to the hammock strung so high above her. She had no chance of getting up there without help so instead she curled up on the hard, dirty ground, pulling her hood up and using her arm as a pillow and buffer from the germs.

It was frigid all the way down here and Lynn brought her knees into her chest, pulling them under her hoodie. She could've been home right now, snug and warm and clean in her bed yet she chose to wait for Mahito with bloody clothes, cold and all alone in the dark dinge of the sewer.

Home is where the heart is.

- And Lynn's was here in the elaborate innards of the city, hiding out with a monster.

#lynn x mahito #SGHFL FINALLY GOT THE BRAIN JUICE TO MAKE A GOOD REPLY #Poor Lynn better get smooches later

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negrowhat · 1 year

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I had this dream of BossNoeul that I'd thought you'd appreciate.

It took place in some kind of old abandoned facility of questionable science. Most of the power is gone and the buildings have been started to be overtaken by nature. There's one place where power is still be kept.

Boss is a mercenary/treasure hunter of some kind tasked to explore the place - to see if there's anything worth salvaging or worth something. Most of it is just science results and failed experiments. But he does find the room where power is still being used. It's actually an artificial field with real grass and flowers but an artificial sky and sunlight. Boss can see white rabbits bounding peacefully around. But the truly interesting thing about this whole room is the huddled form a boy in white just resting in the centre of the field.

Curious, Boss approaches the boy. It's Noeul, and he's a bit feral. Once Boss gets too close, he's blasted back what seems like a strong gust of wind. Confused, he stands up and tries to get closer to the boy again. This time Noeul actually snarls and Boss can see his eyes glow a little before being blasted back. (Here I don't know if dream brain picked telekinesis or wind manipulation as his powers.)

While a boy with powers is a miraculous found - Boss doesn't trade or deal with people as prizes, he won't be telling his employer about finding him. Instead Boss spends the next couple of weeks trying to befriend the boy. Noeul is again a bit feral and wary and probably had been experimented on while the facility had been running, so it takes time before Boss stops getting blasted. Instead, Boss works on befriending the rabbits Noeul very clearly loves. He brings them leafy greens and other rabbit friendly food - he also brings carrots and other more people friendly food in the hopes that Noeul will eat too. (He's small and thin and probably has been living on what the field can provide.)

Eventually he does gain enough trust that he rarely gets more than a little nudge to move away. As long as he doesn't make any sudden movements, Boss can sit almost 4ft without issue. Then one day he lies down and falls asleep in the warm sunlight. When he wakes up, Noeul has rested his head on Boss' calf - though he immediately runs away once he realizes Boss is awake. It's progress.

But then, other mercenaries come. They somehow caught wind of Noeul and have come to take him - violently. They're the shoot first ask questions later and Boss gets injured while being caught in the cross fire. Noeul goes berserk and destroys them all. How dare they hurt what's now his. Boss is in awe of his power. Rightfully afraid, but he realizes Noeul won't hurt him after watching the boy destroy a squad of highly trained and weaponized men - for him. Once the carnage is over, Noeul comes over, his white clothing splattered with blood as he fusses over Boss' wounds.

The dream ended there, but they definitely fall in love.

Basically my subconsciousness is telling me I want another BossNoeul series! xD

Hello Anon! That was quite a vivid dream you had! Maybe you should turn it into a fic. Do you write? But also, we definitely need a new BossNoeul series ASAP!

#bossnoeul #love in the air

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vaultscavver · 7 months

Text

wasteland, baby!

falloutober2023 day six: MONUMENT (5.2k // eventual nora x hancock x maccready)

a/n: so october is over :( happy november!! i'll still write all the amazing @falloutober prompts just for funsies bc i like the prompts and also im really sad that i didn't get the time to write last month. also i wrote this in the middle of the night on my phone after i woke up weirdly inspired for a kind of gory, creepy chapter with hella angst so tw for mentions of blood, panic attacks, puking, drug usage, feral chomp chomps, nora's sad memories overlapping her horniness for hancock, and uhhh rlly long paragraphs sorry

synopsis — med-tek research is a maze of ferals and dead-ends, but this crew of stubborn miscreants are determined to find the cure maccready needs. days go by in those hallowed walls; what’s the price for saving a life?

─ ─── ──── ─── ♠ ─── ──── ─── ─

Nora clawed at her gasmask, choking on her own sobs as she suffocated. The ventilation system was clogged, preventing her from getting any air in. Her hood was already torn off, thrown to the ground with her jacket – funny, she had tightened the straps of her mask as much as possible, thinking it would save her life, not kill her quicker.

Bodies laid sprawled around her, the blood and goo of half-decayed ferals clinging to every inch of her body, her gloves slick with it and her boots sliding in it. Her mask stuffed with feral guts. Every inhale was rotten, every gasp putrid.

Her knees hit the floor with a crack. Unable to get the mask off, Nora began to hyperventilate, tugging uselessly at the straps, her own modulated gasps filling the air, the sounds of machinery overlapping her cries.

Distantly, she heard the uneven footsteps of more ferals running along the aluminum floors and wondered if they were coming to finish her off. Gunshots rang through the air, far from her – too far.

Nora had fallen; she didn’t know how far, but she had fallen through broken floorboards and had landed right on top of a glowing feral and its friends. They had attacked instinctively. She had barely survived the fight.

“Nora?!” Someone shouted, too far away.

She struggled to respond, barely managing to whimper as she tugged on her mask, tugging, tugging, tugging – she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, the damn mask wouldn’t come off –

In an instant, it was like the world was clear again.

Heaving, Nora fell to her hands and knees, inhaling her first breath of unfiltered air in weeks.

Then, she promptly turned and vomited.

Hands were on her back, her neck, scooping her short hair out of the way and rubbing her shoulders in soothing circles as she gagged and coughed, blinking hot tears out of her eyes. Breathing raggedly, Nora only managed to keep upright thanks to those hands, which held her gently as she trembled, jitters taking over as she panted, gasping for air.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Nora breathed in square rotations, trying to come to her senses. Those gentle hands moved her to sit on the ground, away from the ferals and puke, propping her up against the metal walls and peeling her gloves off, dropping them on the floor with her coat.

“Nora?” A deep, guttural voice asked so tentatively, so carefully.

In front of her, looking worried and a little lost, Hancock knelt, his red frock coat splattered with blood and feral gore.

Her mask dangled from his fingertips. The straps were frayed like they’d been sawed off. In his other hand was a switchblade.

Oh.

“Thanks.” She managed to grind the word out, her voice thick and uneven, sounding strange to her own ears without the modulator making her sound like a robot.

Hancock didn’t respond. He was so uncharacteristically quiet, not even sparing her one of his trademark smiles as he dropped the mask and stowed his knife, digging through the endless pockets of his coat.

An inhaler appeared in his hand, extended towards her.

Nora just stared at it, feeling a million miles away. She’d seen him use it before — what had he called it? Jet?

She’d never used an inhaler before, though she knew the mechanics of it. There were a lot of so-called chems to be found in post-apocalyptic Boston, but she hadn’t touched any of them (except when MacCready stabbed her with what he called a stimpack, but that hardly counted) and she certainly wasn’t brave enough to try Jet on her own when she didn’t know what it was supposed to do.

But… she was desperate. And she certainly wasn’t alone now.

Her stomach roiled as she reached for the inhaler with shaking hands, feeling like the entire world was twisting and she didn’t get the memo.

Trembling, Nora almost dropped the plastic. Hancock carefully put a hand around hers and brought the inhaler to her lips, his other hand cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he slowly pushed the canister for her. The metering valve was sent into the actuator with a click, followed by the hiss of aerosol.

“Breathe in and hold,” Hancock instructed in that growl of a voice.

It tasted like shit. Literally, the aerosol tasted like actual shit. Still, Nora did as she was told, holding her breath until he gestured for her to exhale, lowering the inhaler.

And then she felt very, very cold.

The Jet worked almost immediately — the world moved in slow motion as a billow of white smoke swirled from Nora’s lips. Light filtered through the particles of dust hanging in the air, the room bathed in a green glow thanks to the radioactive ferals accompanied by Nora’s Pip-Boy screen, the brightness turned all the way up to work like a flashlight, so she could actually see the zombie-like feral ghouls she had nearly been killed by.

MacCready had been very stern that they were not zombies, they were ferals; ghouls that had gone feral with irradiation, madness taking over what was left of their mushy brains. They didn’t attack because they were violent creatures or because they wanted to eat people. They attacked because it was all that was left of their survival instinct. They were human, once, then ghoul, and had simply gone feral. Sometimes, people went from human to feral in a matter of minutes, if the radiation was potent enough. Sometimes they stayed ghoulified for hundreds of years – MacCready had told her that there were still ghouls from before the bombs; people that had never gone feral, who had survived for two centuries in the wastes. Nora didn’t know which fate was worse.

Wondering how long it would take herself, a pre-war vault dweller with minimal exposure to radioactivity, to go feral, Nora felt the Jet start to ease off as quickly as it came on, and her mind flooded with everything she’d been trying not to over think about.

They were in some lower level of Med-Tek. MacCready wasn’t kidding about the ferals being no easy task, but he hadn’t known just how large the building was. His old buddy had barely breached the entrance. The cure, the medicine Duncan needed, could’ve been anywhere — even with the help of their comrades, it had taken more than a day to get through the patient quarters and into the basement, where Nora hoped all the still-processing medications would be stored.

If her worst fears came true, both Nora and MacCready could end up childless. She doubted she’d ever see her son again, with how many times she’d utterly failed in hunting down his kidnapper. Seeing her closest friend go through that as well… They had to find this cure. They had to save Duncan, no matter the cost, no matter how long it took.

“You still with us?” Hancock asked, and as Nora’s focus returned to him, she realized that he was holding her jaw, his rough fingertips pressed firmly against her pulse point, feeling her heart race.

“Whatever that was,” Nora answered, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth, “I want seven.”

Cracking a grin, the ghoulish mayor slid his hand down her cheek until he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Good news, I have more. Bad news, I’ve seen your face and I’m a changed man. Nothin’ is gonna be the same for me here on out. Shame on you.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You also saw me puke my guts out, so take your pickin’ of shame.”

Giving a short laugh, Hancock dug around in his red coat again, depositing his Jet and procuring a silvery flask, which he uncorked and held out for her. “And here I thought you were hiding some kind of wicked scar. Lemme guess, you didn’t want your pretty face getting mucked up?”

“Something like that.” The whiskey burned its way down her throat until the flask was empty and Nora finally felt warm again. She hadn’t liked whiskey in her old life.

Handing the flask back to the ghoul, she tried to stand, stumbling twice. Hancock helped her up and kept a grasp on her shoulders as she swayed, feeling dizzy and too loose, too relaxed.

“Give it a few minutes.” He muttered, gently rubbing a hand up and down her shoulder as he led her away from the glowing feral corpses. “Jet’s not always my ride of choice, I’m more of a Mentats ghoul myself. Makes me feel intellectual and shit.”

“Hm. Can I try that one?”

“Only if you promise to take it easy,” He said, already taking the tin out of his coat, popping the lid and taking one for himself before extending it to her.

Nora took one of the small mints with a careful hand, still feeling sluggish. It was grape flavored, the sweet and fruity mint spreading in her mouth with a cold, sharp feeling. And, like a light switch, Nora felt herself become more alert, more aware of their surroundings. The sluggish feeling melted away and she was left jittering, blinking quickly as she took in their room with a new fervor.

“How many floors did I fall?” She asked Hancock in a single quick breath, turning to look at the damaged floor above them.

He gave a hapless shrug and picked up his shotgun. “Around two? This shithole goes on forever. I followed you down, but there’s no telling where the others got to.”

Nora checked and double-checked her pistol, furrowing her brows. He had followed her? Jumped down two stories of broken flooring? She turned to look at the corpses of the glowing ferals, her Pip-Boy’s internal Geiger Counter giving a few warning clicks.

Without the lenses of her mask, the world seemed… bigger, clearer. Every detail of the ferals was like a pinprick on Nora’s heart, stabbing deeper and deeper; they wore lab coats and scrubs, torn apart and stained and ruined. They were human, once. They were alive, once. And all that life had been taken from them and they had spent two centuries trapped in a metal building, going insane with radiation until they were glowing with it.

She tore her gaze from them and side-stepped, circling the room and taking in the crumbling walls and ceilings, the broken lights and the machines that were beyond repair. Med-Tek was a medical research facility, and a lot of useful med gear had been left behind – Nora was quick to pocket any spare gauze, a first-aid kit, and the few sanitary products she trusted enough to shove into her bag – into MacCready’s army green duffle bag, slung over her shoulder.

Nora anxiously raked her short hair out of her face. Mac was somewhere above them, in some upper level of this shithole, hunting for the cure to save his son. He was with Nick Valentine, who was a detective, and MacCready had scoped out Med-Tek before – they had more luck finding the cure than Nora and Hancock did.

Spinning on her heel, Nora met Hancock’s attentive gaze. He had been watching her investigate every drawer and table in the room, and looked amused at her sudden attention.

With her mind still going a mile a minute, Nora found her curiosity piqued by the ghoul mayor, especially considering the fact that he was a ghoul in the first place – the first one she’d met and the only one she’d consider herself to be friends with.

“What’s your story, Hancock?” She asked, turning to shuffle through more drawers, unable to keep still.

His crooked smile widened. “My favorite subject! Let’s see... I wound up in Goodneighbor about a, uh, a decade ago? Had smooth skin back then. While I was busy making myself a pillar of the community, I would go on these, like, wild tears… I was young, takin’ any chems I could find, the more exotic the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind, and only one hit. Oh man, the high was so worth it… I’m livin’ with the side effects now, but hey, what’s not to love about immortality?”

Thinking over his words, Nora slowly shut the file drawer and raked her hair from her eyes again. Her hair, a deep brown and cropped just under her ears, was greasy and tangled with neglect, knotted where her gas mask had rested on it for too long. She wondered what she would have to do to get her hands on some real soap, maybe a comb.

How much radiation would it take for Hancock to go feral? Was that even a possibility, if he was the only ghoul of his kind? His last word clicked, then, and she was repeating it as a question before she could over think his meaning. “Immortality?”

Leaning his shoulders back against the wall just as comfortably as he could’ve done in a fancy bar, Hancock gave a half-hearted shrug. “Not exactly. Ghouls just age really, really slow. Something about the rads, maybe? Who knows.”

“Hm.” Nora did one more turn around the room, making sure she didn’t miss any supplies. “All those drugs certainly prepared you for a career in politics.”

“Don’t go bringin’ me down, Sunshine,” He gruffed out, metal tin rattling as he plucked out another grape-flavored Mentat for himself. “People respect me ‘cause I don’t put myself above them, alright? I sling and shoot just like the next guy.”

Backtracking quickly, Nora turned back to Hancock, raising her hands palms-forward as a gesture of peace. “I just meant you could’ve gotten yourself killed. Experimental radiation drugs don’t sound exactly… safe.”

It sounded lame to say it out loud, and felt lamer when Hancock’s smirk grew into a teasing grin. “I like to think of death as the ultimate drug trip. When it happens, I’ll be too busy enjoying it to have any regrets.”

This was a different world, Nora reminded herself. Drugs – or chems – weren’t too dangerous in comparison to the lives of survivors out in the Commonwealth. Still, she just shook her head, checking her ammo for the third time. “You’re a hell of a risk-taker, Hancock.”

“You only got one life. Why not try it all?”

Before the war, all Nora had wanted was a quiet, gentle life. She had tried her best to stay within the lines, not to branch out too far or reach into dangerous waters. She had done a good job for the most part, working as a barista in the morning and a librarian in the evening, dabbling with old cars in her spare time like her grandfather had done her entire childhood. It was nice and sweet, until she’d married a soldier who was more of a stranger than a friend, was widowed at twenty-three years old, and willingly got locked up in a freezer with her infant son for two centuries.

The rest just felt like bad dream after bad dream, save the few good people she’d met and the friends she’d made in the likes of MacCready, Preston Garvey, and the new residents of her old neighborhood, Sanctuary – where the self-proclaimed Minutemen had taken root, building the old buildings back up and making a decently safe place for drifters and farmers alike.

She had to go back, eventually. Even if it hurt to look at the two-bedroom suburban dream with a blue front door, her late husband’s name on the lease and her son’s bedroom still decorated with constellations and rocket ships.

Those memories hurt, like a knife to the gut that she only felt if she twisted back to look at all she lost. So, instead of dwelling on her grief, Nora turned towards the feral-infested hallway and decided to just keep moving forward. MacCready still needed that cure, no matter the cost.

“Let’s keep moving.” She said aloud, popping her knuckles on the grip of her pistol.

“Right behind ya.” Hancock replied, readying his own weapon.

They walked silently through the dark halls of the research facility, wary of the ferals lurking around every corner.

Machines that hadn’t been touched in decades made the air brassy and metallic, the thick scent of blood and decay mingling with a dusty oldness that made Nora want her mask back – but with the straps broken, and feral guts in the vents, it wouldn’t have helped much.

Stomach churning, Nora just grit her teeth and continued onwards. Endlessly onwards.

Where had her family been when the bombs fell? Her grandparents and their old farm; were Ma’s dainty pink lace curtains still hanging at the window above the kitchen sink? Had the tea she brewed daily just been sitting on the counter for two hundred years? Was Pa in his shed when the world blew up? Did they die together, or were they yards apart?

She imagined them hearing the news and running to find each other as quickly as their old knees would allow, falling to their knees together in the wildflower grass. Future archeologists would find their remains held so tightly together that they wouldn’t know whose bones were whose.

Except Nora was in the future – it could be Nora that found the remains of her mother’s parents, of the old-fashioned couple who had raised her.

She felt sicker with every thought, but she couldn’t stop the barrage of memories and worries that surged through her. Maybe the Jet and Mentats were a bad idea after all.

Maybe old Ma and Pa had turned the radio on and heard the news with enough time to get dressed in their finest church clothes and shiniest shoes. Ma would’ve painted her nails and worn her lace gloves. Pa would’ve needed help with his tie, and he would’ve combed his white hair back carefully, the way he’d done for forty years. Maybe Pa had sat at the piano and played his wife one last love song. Maybe they’d held hands and sat on the back porch, sipping tea in their last moments together.

That was a better thought. No hassle, no running or screaming, no pain or worries. They had never been the kind of people to run about.

“Ferals up ahead.” Hancock’s gruff mumble pulled Nora from her thoughts. He took hold of her waistline with one hand, tugging her into a doorway in one of the medical hallways.

Nora blinked herself into focus, glad for the ghoul – if he hadn’t been there, she would’ve walked right into danger, still thinking of her long-dead grandparents.

Ahead of them was a machine room, where over a dozen ferals were shuffling around, some on the ground, as still as corpses. They looked anguished and half-rotted in their scrubs and lab coats. There was no way Nora and Hancock could get through the room unscathed, no way they could sneak around a hoard this size.

“We should go back, loop around.” Nora muttered under her breath, half-turning towards Hancock, who stood behind her, her nose brushing his cheek. They were nearly the same height, though Hancock’s dramatic hat and long coat gave the illusion that he was the taller of the two.

His foggy grey eyes flickered to hers, “Loop around where? There’s gonna be ferals in every nook ‘n corner of this place.”

The lights flickered and clicked above them, where the fluorescents were dangling on thin wires from the ceiling, powered by fusion energy, like most of the wasteland. Power seemed to be thriving in the Commonwealth, even if everything else was dying.

Nora had never seen Hancock this close; the grey tint to his skin seemed purplish in the darkness, his eyes voids of grey and black, like some distant galaxy. It was hard to read his face; typical signs of micro-expressions were gone from the ghoul, who had no nose or eyebrows, whose lips matched the rest of his flesh. He wasn’t half as scary as he seemed to be the first time they’d met. In fact, he seemed kind of… attractive, in a way Nora hadn’t considered before. The cut of his jaw, the sharp curve of his mouth, the softness around his eyes.

The hand at Nora’s waistline tightened, reminding her of his proficiency with a pocketknife, of his inhuman ghoul strength and sight, of his reputation as the fearless, rebellious ghoul mayor. She wondered what was beneath all of the talk, beneath the colonial costume, the killer outline—

A distant scream echoed through Med-Tek. MacCready.

They both flinched, whirling back to the ferals, who became agitated at the sound. A few of them broke from the group and ran down a nearby hallway, into the darkness.

Nora locked eyes with Hancock — their wide, panicked stares having a silent mutual agreement in an instant. No questions needed to be asked. Nothing needed to be said.

Together, they raised their firearms.

The hoard of ferals were cut through like the red sea. Blood splattered and corpses fell. A particularly fast feral caught Hancock’s sleeve — Nora shot it down, only to be bombarded with more.

The world spun. Her vision went red. Adrenaline and fear coursed through her alongside the chems, and Nora was moving without thought, firing without flinching. She felt detached from her body, in a way. Dissociative and panicked, she just fired, again and again, feeling nothing at all.

And then they were running, guns blazing, down the metal hallways, a hoard chasing them.

“Heads up!” Hancock yelled, tossing a lit bottle over his shoulder.

The Molotov Cocktail shattered, an explosive wave of heat rolling through the hallway as the ferals screamed — Nora didn't dare look back.

Skidding to a stop in what looked like some kind of office, Hancock whirled around to slam the door shut, dragging a metal filing cabinet in front of it for extra security.

The room was occupied by two ferals, who shrieked as Nora took them down.

Propping her hands on her knees, feeling icy, her lungs burning, Nora heaved, struggling to catch her breath, her heart racing.

"This place is trashed." MacCready's voice was distant but clear, with a tremor that told Nora he was in a lot of pain but trying to brave about it.

"You expected something fancy?" Piper Wright, the over-observant writer who ran the most popular (and only) newspaper press in the Commonwealth, sounded closer than MacCready, her voice echoing through the nearest stairway.

Nora immediately started towards the stairs, not bothering to be quiet. As she turned the corner at the base of the metal staircase, she was met with the barrels of three guns.

"Don't shoot," Hancock advised from behind her, "I'm the nice kinda ghoul, I swear."

Nick, his beige coat splattered with blood, gave a heavy sigh, lowering his shotgun. "Can't deny how relieved I am to see you two alive. This place is crawling with ferals."

The other two guns lowered. Nora was at MacCready’s side in an instant, her hands grasping his arms as she checked for wounds. It was dark in the lower levels of MedTek, but she could clearly see that the green fabric he wore was drenched in blood – it was so much that it was impossible to tell where it was coming from or even if it was his own.

"Where'd you get hit?"

"I, uh..." He stammered a little before shutting his mouth.

Nora looked up at her closest friend, eyebrows raised.

While Hancock was around her height, MacCready was nearly a head taller, and she could see him much more clearly without the foggy lenses of her gasmask. She had never noticed his freckles before, or how the grown-out stubble along his jaw had an auburn tinge, different from his ashy brown hair that he kept hidden under that green cap.

But, the blood – he was covered in it, the side of his head slick with an inky redness that was half-dry and thick, dripping down the side of his face and neck, coating his left shoulder and arm, blood running down his back and staining his beige-green duster.

"Mac," She spoke again, more clearly this time, meeting his eyes. "Where did you get hit?"

He just stared at her, wearing a vaguely panicked expression, his crystalline blue eyes wide and bordered with crow's feet wrinkles from years of squinting through sniper scopes.

"Might wanna cut down on the intensity, Sunshine." Hancock drawled with a chuckle. He was leaning against the wall by the stairway, packing a carton of cigarettes.

Nora gripped MacCready’s non-bloodied arm tighter, her other hand reaching for his cheek so she could turn his head and check for a scalp wound. She shot Hancock an annoyed look over her shoulder, “Intensity? The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. His silver-plated lighter cast a fiery glow over his pocked face, highlighting his sharp grin. “They haven’t seen ya without the mask, sweetness. You’ve got one of those hundred-yard stares that can bring a man to his knees. Probably will, if you’re not careful.”

Scoffing, Nora turned back to MacCready. “You’re drowning in his blood, ‘Cread. Tell me it’s not yours.”

“It’s… not mine. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Got nicked. I’ll be fine.”

“Liar.” Piper spoke up, and they turned to her as she plucked the cigarette from Hancock and brought it to her own lips, her expression gaunt like Nora had never seen her. “He got bit by a feral. The thing took out a who chunk of shoulder. Most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”

Nora’s heart stuttered.

“Excuse you, I could’ve died.” MacCready half-shouted, as easily irritable as ever.

“Good thing you got it off, then.” Piper rolled her eyes, handing the cigarette back to Hancock, smoke curling from her lips. “We gonna keep going or not?”

The four of them trudged onwards, with Nora and MacCready leading them, staying as close together as possible.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?” She asked quietly, giving him a worried glance.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at her, his hawklike eyes intent on their surroundings. “Nick wrapped it up. Stimpack and clean gauze and everything.”

From what Nora had seen on television as a kid, and from what she’d gathered from her time in the Commonwealth, you don’t want to get bit by a zombie – even if they’re called ferals instead. The virus might not be the same as it is in Hollywood, but the rot was bad for sure, and the radiation was no joke. A stimpack could only go so far – MacCready needed sanitation, Rad-X, and probably medical care beyond what the detective could do. A whole chunk off his shoulder… he likely needed stitches, too.

They came into what looked like a patient holding area, with rows of beds in their own chambers sealed behind locked doors, a feral in every one. Beyond them was another locked room, with a terminal and pin-pad key – medical testing, if Nora had to guess. They were close.

“Nora. Stop worrying.”

She turned back to MacCready as he raised his sniper to his good shoulder, casting a glance her way before scowling down the scope. Crossing her arms, Nora watched as he took out three ferals in a matter of seconds. “You’ve got the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Tell me about it,” He huffed a short laugh, standing again. “But I’ve got a feeling it’s about to get a lot better.”

Nick broke through the terminal, his hacking skills on par with MacCready’s sniping skills.

As the door slid open, a green glow washed over them all – and a bloated ghoul prowled out, glowing so brightly and hotly that Nora’s entire body reacted to the radiation, rolling with nausea and heat.

MacCready raised his rifle, Nick raised his shotgun. Three more ghouls darted from the once-locked room and lunged at them, tackling the two men to the ground. Hancock and Piper raced forward to help.

The glowing one went for Nora, who had hesitated, terrified.

Bullets poured into the feral, but it was unperturbed, scrambling towards her with a gurgling scream. She dodged its first lunge and readied her gun again, firing .99s into its skull – to no avail.

The second lunge caught her leg and Nora went down with a yell, kicking it with her other foot, twisting her gun in her hand and bringing it down hard against the thing’s wrist.

Its hand broke off on the third hit and it screamed again. Nora’s boot met its face and it reeled back, groaning, its handless wrist coming up to its face.

Holy shit, could they feel pain?

Scrambling backwards, Nora snatched up her second pistol and fired again, unloading her entire stock into the glowing feral, backing herself against a wall as she put as much distance as she could between herself and the radioactive fucker.

A shot to the eye had the thing’s head exploding, green goo splattering as the body fell back with a wet thump on the linoleum floor.

Nora gagged, her Pip-Boy clicking irritably at her. Luckily, she was mostly out of the splash zone, but her leg burned and she was nearly completely out of ammo.

The other three had just finished off their hoard of ferals when Nora edged her way into the square room.

“You okay?” MacCready breathed out, clutching his shoulder. Hancock had an arm around him, holding him upright – the sheen of sweat on MacCready’s placid face glinted green thanks to the glowing feral’s corpse.

Nora barely nodded, worry clutching at her chest. She looked around the room, which seemed like a surgery center or some kind of testing lab.

“Have fun with this junk,” MacCready grunted, taking a rest atop one of the three gurneys in the room, lying back with his good arm flung over his face. “I have no idea what any of it does.”

He almost sounded uninterested – like he’d rather not help search for his son’s cure, in case it wasn’t here at all, like he couldn’t stand the thought of having come all this way just to find nothing.

Nora was determined not to leave empty-handed.

The room was decently sized and absolutely packed with all kinds of medical gear, with a long table covered in tools of all kinds, including scalpels, glass vials, bottles of pills, and flasks of mystery liquids. There were three empty gurneys, a broken cooler, piles and piles of scattered papers and files – and, finally, on a tray next to a surgical table where a skeleton had been strapped down, a little foam-lined red box labeled PREVENT.

Duncan’s cure. It had to be the cure. Nora was never given a name – she wasn’t sure of MacCready himself even knew the name of the medicine, but this had to be it. It had to be. And if it wasn’t… well, there was a plenty of Med-X on the long table. Maybe that kind of power could substitute the mystery cure that Duncan needed.

Nora clicked the box open to examine the syringe within, grinning at the sight of it. Her internal compass told her she’d found exactly what she was looking for her. This was the first thing she’d done right since setting foot in the Commonwealth. She clicked it shut again and turned to her best friend, holding the red box up. “Look alive, MacCready.”

The other three went very still as MacCready carefully sat up, each looking ready to run out of the room if the syringe ended up being the wrong thing.

But, as MacCready took the box into his shaking, bloodied hands, tears shone in his icy eyes. “We did it... Holy crap, we did it!”

He swept Nora into a tight hug, her feet coming off the ground, a broken laugh escaping him. She held him just as tightly, heart aching for him and his son. Into his shoulder, Nora murmured, “Duncan has a fighting chance.”

“Yeah,” MacCready wept, trying and failing to hide his tears. “I-I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for this… I owe you big time.”

Pulling back, Nora thumbed tears off of his face. “All I care about is curing your son.”

“I know you do.” He met her gaze – actually seeing her, without the mask, without looking away. “I’m… I’m just tired of taking instead of giving. Maybe one day I’ll get my priorities straight.”

Nora shook her head, pressing the red box more firmly into his palm. “Don’t worry about it, ‘Cread. Where to next?”

“Daisy, in Goodneighbor. With her caravan contacts, she’s the only one I trust to get me to Duncan on time. This is the last favor I’m going to ask, I promise.”

She really, really hoped it wasn’t. But… Mac was going back to his son, in the Capital Wasteland. Would he even come back, now that he had the cure? The last favor. Something in Nora trembled at the thought of it. Still, she smiled, taking a step back and putting space between them. “Let’s go.”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #fo4 companions #rj maccready #fallout 4 companions #scavver #john hancock #nick valentine #sole x hancock x maccready #sole x hancock #sole x maccready #piper wright #fo4 hancock #blood tw #panic attack tw

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rwac96 · 1 year

Note

My writing prompt for you today,

Hulk vs Thragg’s Viltrumite Empire!

The “Worldbreaker” vs the strongest alien race from the world of Invincible.

Viltrumites are essentially a weak combination of Kryptonians and Saiyans, they possess great power and get stronger every time they survive a near-death experience, but Hulk would smash them all!

Hulk can die, but he will always revive through the green door. Hulk and Bruce are an unstoppable force from Hell that can’t be caged so easily, unless they want to be.

If Thragg and his army were to try and fight Hulk, they might beat him by a thread, but Hulk would revive and finish them off before they could recover! They’d show Thragg who really is “the Strongest One There Is!”

Say Hulk ends up on the Viltrumite home planet and rampages, only to be seemingly killed by Thragg, who begins to berate his soldiers for failing to stop a mindless beast.

Thragg will then claim that it was easy for him to do so, since he’s “The strongest one there is” only for the not-so-mindless beast to get up, his wounds having healed and ask with a feral smirk, “You sure about that?” They then proceed to go all out, with Thragg’s empire being reduced to nothing but ashes and rocks, and he gazes upon the Green Goliath in shock, before his head is smashed open like a bloody piñata, ending his cruel reign upon the universe.

The dreaded roar of the Incredible Hulk echoed throughout the skies of the Viltrumite Homeworld. What is considered an omen and a sign to flee on Earth, to the race of conquerors, was a challenge. They charged toward the rampaging Green Goliath, who tore through them. He leaped into the air, tossing soldiers around like rag dolls; splattering the advanced city in their blood. The Hulk crash lands once more, pummelling through a horde of Viltrumites.

As the Hulk raises his bare foot over an injured Viltrumite, he was struck by a red & white, speeding blur. The jade giant bounced a few times, then is struck with a devastating left hook to his jaw. Hulk roared in anger, punching General Thragg. The murderous despot responds by driving his right fist into the Gamma Giant's chest, causing dark green blood to spew from his maw. The Hulk lay limp, seemingly dead. He drops to the ground, turning his glare to his soldiers.

"This was what gave you trouble?!" He points to the defeated beast, enraged at his soldiers. "I took him down easily, you weak pathetic wretches!" Thragg spat, berating those who fought for him, those who survived but had gruesome injuries from the battle. "It is to be expected for my victory to be swift. I am the strongest of this universe!"

"You? The strongest," the deep, guttural voice of the seemingly mindless beast spoke. The beast Thragg thought he had slain, The Hulk, rose up to his feet, his wounds closing up. "You sure about that?" The Green Goliath said with a smirk, his eyes glowing brightly.

General Thragg found himself struck with a heavy left hook to his jaw, being hurled away. The shockwave of the punch reduced the city around them to rubble. The soldiers around the pair were crushed and reduced to bloody, red mist. Hulk jumped after his opponent, and the Viltrumite stops himself from hurling wildly. He thrusts his left fist at the Monster, who launches his own at the conqueror. Their fists met, creating another destructive shockwave. The earth around them quaked, and the planet violently shook. Buildings came tumbling down, and Viltrumites who didn't flee were crushed underneath the ruination of the civilization.

They traded blow after blow, making Viltrum shake and tremble due to the aftermath of their fists meeting. Though, Hulk began to gain the upper hand, as Thragg became bloodied and beaten. The green-skinned beast grabbed the General, slamming him down onto the earth. He smashed his fists onto his torso, causing blood to spew from his maw over and over again. Thragg's vision was blurry, but he saw his empire crumbling down all around him. His body was battered and broken by what he thought was a mindless, dull creature. The General turned around, seeing the Hulk's fists raised once more. The last thing he saw was a blur of green, as his head was cracked open like a bloody piñata. Hulk roared in triumph, as his opponent lay dead in the ruins of his empire. His brutal reign upon the universe had come to an end.

#answer #answered #answer posting #answer prompt #crossover #crossover au #invincible #the incredible hulk #hulk #bruce banner #general thragg #cw blood #cw gore #cw death

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geminmyeyes · 10 months

Text

Chapter 6 - Beyond Light and Shadow (Tumblr Backup)

<- Previous Chapter

First Chapter (Includes Tags, Warnings, etc)

Next Chapter ->

Morning sunlight only started to grace the earth when Goku Kyubi had brought the muscular Oni back to the Youkai World.

Shutendouji couldn't count on getting away this time. That wicked kitsune, she had dragged him into a chamber where the demon queen awaited him, alongside that child with way too much summoning power. Not for execution, but for some sort of alternative that she had been cryptically hinting at.

The two Goku leveled youkai chartered for a bit, explaining her plan as Shuten was restrained, only his thoughts aiding him in preparation for whatever the hell this was going to be.

“Foolish Oni,” Goku Hyakki-hime spoke up in her lifeless voice. “If you were any weaker, I would have killed you myself. However, you have strength similar to an extinction level threat that’s too hard to ignore, so allow me to awaken that sealed potential within you.”

Goku Hyakki-hime raised her hand, a bewitching dark aura coming off of her fingertips like black smoke. A delicate hand brushed a wicked finger on the restrained oni’s chest, more of that inky aura becoming more and more intense.

“Seal the emotions that confine you, hold you back from your full potential,” Goku Hyakki-hime began to recite, her eyes glowing a more intense ruby red all the while, voice not raising a single emotion. Not even as Shuten screamed in bloodcurdling pain. “Let only the primordial instinct to fight and kill be the only things beating in your heart.”

The screams subsided, silence filling the room for a moment. Soon, it was replaced with guttural growls and hisses, a shadowy aura leaking off of Shutendouji now. He had transformed into something that was recognizable, but somehow deeply horrific. Fire that didn’t radiate, but rather darkened was eternally burning on his body.

“The process was a success,” Goku Hyakki-hime commented in her usual cold tone.

The reactions of the others differed. Chiharu’s being more close to his master’s, cold and calculating, fearing that any emotion would show weakness. Deep down, he was absolutely horrified at the oni turned feral creature in the oni’s skin.

Karna also tried to play it more emotionless, though he had trouble concealing it. Like Chiharu, he was pretty mortified that this could even occur, but tried to keep his composure like a part time employee in their last hour, desperately counting down the minutes.

Goku Kyubi showed delight, evilly grinning ear to ear at the monster. What a beautiful creature he was! Perfect, better than the original! Only issue is that he may try to steal her thunder, and she would have to fight if that were to come to fruition.

But, Chiharu’s expression would morph from dullness to being far more alarmed.

Almost immediately after being given enhancements, Shutendouji made an instinctive, almost feral dash right at Chiharu. The boy didn’t have time to think about calling forth help from a Genma.

His eyes looked into the ones belonging to the corrupted, feral Oni, blue and soulless with a faint glow. Yet, full of anger and detestment.

Within a blink, Chiharu felt like he had been cut open across his left shoulder and chest, with blades that felt like they were on fire, bringing a painful burning and stinging pain across his body. Splatters of bright crimson filled his view, pouring from his chest and onto the floor. Was this guy always capable of this?

He remembered when he was asked to hunt down this Oni, and how he held nothing back. Chiharu had delighted in beating up Shutendouji, his mind influencing the powerful Genma and Kenbumajin at his fingertips, until he was so battered he had no choice but to obey if he wanted to even dream about living.

Fresh blood dripped from Shutendouji’s much larger claws. He gave a primal snarl, ready to do it again, and again, and again. All until the kid was reduced to nothing.

Before the oni could get to shredding him, a few sunlit arrows struck Shutendouji, hissing in response.

“Chiharu, I’ll take care of this! For now, run like hell and go through the nearby Ungykiako,” Karna instructed, Chiharu looking worried before silently nodding.

Fear beat through his heart as he hesitated to start sprinting, blood feeling like it was spilling out faster and faster as each pulse in his chest increased in speed. Why was he feeling this? He was the queen’s perfect knight! He shouldn’t be feeling this way!

Yet, the words of the one shouting at him to run for it was someone he knew he valued more than a tool. A lesson the Kenbumajin had to teach him, that they were friends.

Chiharu went through one of the Ungykiakos and never looked back. Even if a part of him was screaming over if his friend was going to be alright.

Though, while he made it safe, he wished it wasn’t right in front of some girl who responded by screaming bloody murder. Of all places he had to end up in a neighborhood…

“Oh my god, oh my god…are you alright? What happened!?” The panicked voice asked, belonging to Saki. She had merely been walking to school, only for a kid her age, dressed in vintage emo subculture clothing and bleeding out, to appear right in her way. “I can get you to someone, my mom is a surgeon, she can help you!”

Chiharu was silent for a moment, taking off his scarf to try to soak up the blood. But as he did, it was clear he was struggling, his legs feeling shaky, the world starting to spin.

“No…” The boy managed to speak, his voice not wanting to admit such humiliating defeat. It wasn’t long before he passed right out on the ground, Saki screaming slowly fading out.

————————————————————————————————

To Chiharu’s shock, he wasn’t dead, but being laid down in a cold, white room made him feel like he was in hell. Gods no, anything but back there…

Thankfully, as the scenery became all the more clearer, it seems to have just been a guest’s room with more basic, lightly colored walls and bed that upon inspection, made it clear he wasn’t stuck in a hospital again. A sigh of relief was heard in the quiet room. Afternoon sunlight peered through the windows, Chiharu only now noticing the older woman in the room having looked over him.

“Hey, you, you’re finally awake,” The older woman greeted, her aged eyes still having a spark in them behind those round rim glasses. The boy groaned as he began to wake up, hissing a bit in pain as whatever painkillers he was on had worn off, and the stitches around the wound.

“Unnghh, what the hell happened, and who are you?” Chiharu asked, the girl from earlier walking in.

“Oh, she’s my mom! I told you she was a surgeon, Dr. Inaho Misora,” Saki answered, the older woman looking proud of herself.

“You wouldn’t expect lil’ ol’ me to have a PhD, but I do!” Inaho grinned, before going back into a more professional look. “Right, back to you kid,”

“...Chiharu Shimamura. My name is Chiharu,” Chiharu answered rather coldly, but earnestly.

“Right, Chiharu, do you know what happened to even cause these sorts of gashes?” Inaho continued to inquire, Chiharu looking distant.

“A uhh…ermm…a wild bear?” Chiharu answered, figuring the older woman wasn’t in tune with anything supernatural.

Silence filled the room, Inaho taking a moment before delivering her analysis of the situation to the troubled child.

“Well, had that bear hit you half an inch to your right, one of your most important arteries could have been hit beyond any help. In other words, you would have died. Consider yourself lucky that you survived.”

Deafening silence seeped into the room, the hair on Chiharu’s back standing up. Once he had tried to claim power and had a near encounter with death, and now it’s happened again. Why was he so weak? Why was his brushing up so close to death twice in recent memory?

Seeing the look on Chiharu’s face, Saki felt it was best to try to comfort him. “Hey now, I know what mom said was horrifying, but you’re alive and well, which is a good thing.”

“...Is there anything else to life other than prolonging the inevitable embrace of death?” Chiharu questioned, seriously shaken by the whole encounter. So badly, he wanted to explain the horrors he witnessed, the pure wrath of that oni, but simply was unable to find the words. If he were to try to give a supernatural exclamation, they’d think he’s crazy, out of his mind.

“I’m sorry that experience must have been a lot, but I assure you there’s a lot of nice things in life! Like video games! And the summer breeze!” Inaho tried to cheer up, but offered a comforting arm to the frightened child. “Do you know where your parents are? Got their number?”

Chiharu thought for a moment, his thoughts racing all at once. Parents? He didn’t live with anyone as far as he could remember…even then his memories were hazy at best. When he tried to remember it was things like recording studios, television sets, hospital rooms…Not a person he could call mother or father in sight of them.

But, there was at least one person he knew.

“...I have a friend I live with. He…He’s like me, an innocent soul whose birth mother and father threw him out to the river.” Chiharu finally had the courage to admit. “I don’t know where I put my cell phone last, do you know where a payphone is by chance? They seem to be hard to find.”

“A what?” Saki asked.

“Whatnow?” Inaho added in.

“...Nevermind, I’ll figure something out. Is it alright if I stay here for the night?” Chiharu perked up.

“Sure thing! You don’t seem like you got anywhere to go, huh?” Inaho asked.

Chiharu, in response, simply just nodded. Sure, he technically belonged somewhere, even was indebted to them. But now, he was starting to question if he belonged in such a hazardous place.

——————————————

Later in the evening, after school, a few familiar friends gathered in their usual meeting spot to discuss and discover any new cases. Of course there were the core three members, but Shirogane considered himself an official unofficial member now. Sure he was college bound, had a few odd jobs, and was one of the sacred king’s armory kenbumajin on top of all of that, but he could manage listening in on any possible cases.

“Did anything weird happen today?” Akinori asked, the two other teens shaking their heads.

“No not really, aside from Akira doing daily fortunes, but that’s more of a him thing,” Touma answered.

“Ehhh, most exciting thing is the school wide camping trip, but that’s not until two weeks from now. Still gotta ask my mom if it’s okay for me to go,” Natsume answered.

“Typical adult stuff for me,” Shirogane muttered.

“Even if there’s nothing new, we still got a lot to sort through,” Akinori began, unveiling a massive, rambling pinboard that took up at least most of the wall.

“W-What on earth is that?!” Touma asked, Akinori responded by slamming his hand into the board covered with pins and various colored strings.

“With the bombshells Natsume gave us after her mom talked with her, I’ve started to piece a lot of stuff together!” Akinori exclaimed, looking enthused about the whole board. “So far what we know is the following: Something caused The King of a Hundred Demons to start the reawakening process, first his sister woke up and started recruiting members. That Chiharu kid and his motormouth Kenbumajin being one of them, as well as various youkai who have been corrupted…Dark Youkai and Dark Arcs were the terms your mom used yeah?”

“Yeah,” Natsume answered, Akinori looking to be in a deep think as he thought on those terms for a bit.

“This is just me but I feel Dark Arcs and Dark Youkai are a bit corny without much punch, why not something with a better ring. Like I ‘unno, Maverick Arcs and Maverick Youkai or something? New age, we may as well update the terms, yeah?”

The other three simply remained silent, not even some of the youkai who hung around offered not a peep in retaliation or a better answer.

“I’ll take that silence as a resounding yes. Maverick Youkai it is.”

“Right, and I believe mom said Goku Hyakki-hime, the Queen of a Hundred Demon’s goal was to spread as much violence as possible to ressurect her brother now that a perfectly cloned human is somewhere…” Natsume kept going, Akinori looking somewhat puzzled.

“Natsume, are you sure your mom is okay? Cloning to that level only happens in movies…right?” Akinori questioned, a little worried at the possibilities. Touma decided it was best to chime in.

“There have been some advancements towards that kind of research, but a lot of major medical researchers refuse to delve into it further,” Touma brought up, trying to think about some of the ramblings he could hear his mother and father have in the brief times that they were home. “Cloning physical structure but also memories, that’s…that’s unbelievably dangerous to have in the open…”

“Debating ethics and if we’re in a sci-fi movie or not, what matters is that The Hundred Demon Queen Dushala is back and someone ended up getting cloned to be the key in bringing back her messed up brother!” Natsume tried to reason, the older man among the detectives looking shocked, and not in a way of delight.

“Wait, you said her name was Dushala? That can’t be her, it just can’t,” Stammering through his words, Shirogane looked distraught, his face painted with horror. “I knew her, she would never dream of such a horrible thing…”

“She made a vow after the sheer amount of casualties in The Great Throne Wars, appearing before my brothers and I. Truly, she absolutely despised all of us, especially one of my older brothers most of all, but she vowed to end the cycle of violence that left both of our families nearly extinct.” Shirogane recounted, remembering being coordinated as one of the first kings of the new era of youkai history.

He remembered her face, how tired, distraught, angry, and then finally at peaceful resolve when she made that vow at the coordination. After that, neither he nor his brothers ever saw her again, to live her remaining days in peace.

Since then, the Youkai World has been peaceful, for the most part at least. Incidents only seemed to spur up after hiking in those mountains to retire…But thankfully, nothing as horrifying as The Great Throne Wars had happened since.” Shirogane exposited, filling in blind spots about the Great Throne Wars era. He closed his eyes for a bit, sighing.

“As for the incident involving Ms. Amano’s mother and father, I wouldn’t have a clue since we weren’t reawakened at that time.” Shirogane sighed, opening his silvery eyes after being closed for a while. “I don’t want to think she would bow out on such an important vow. Until I see her face to face, it’s best to assume this is merely someone using her name dirty like that.”

The usually bustling room with activity and theorizing was quiet. Things sunk in in a way they hadn’t before.

“This may be a lot more dangerous than we thought…” Akinori admitted. “Sure, we faced Rasen and Soranaki, but this feels…bad. Like if someone who was rooted in pacifism broke their oath, and now her brother who’s best known to us for smacking down three legendary Watchers like it was nothing…man…”

“I don’t think it’s hopeless, there’s still your brothers, right? Wasn’t one of them famous for breaking demons in half?” Natsume tried to cheer things up.

“Rakshasa is the term used where I was from, but one of my older brothers is known for that. All of their exact locations, I don’t know myself. I know the majority of us were likely reincarnated as humans, whereas my eldest brother is hidden deep in the Youkai World. Both are like finding needles in a haystack…” Shirogane answered, looking defeated and even…wistful. “I just…”

The younger teens tilted their head a bit, a silent way of asking him to go on.

“It’s just…I just…it’s lonely when you don’t have any of your family, you know?” Shirogane admitted, Touma most of all seemed to understand his predicament most of all.

“I understand…” Touma answered, the two motioning before wrapping into a platonic hug.

“Yeah, we’ll help you find your brothers, stop the demon army, and bring peace once more,” Natsume answered, bringing light to the dire situation. “...Speaking of which, Akinori, did you see if there’s any new cases?”

“Oh right, yeah, about that, the only things on Usuranura are about bear attacks, and it doesn’t seem like a supernaturally charged sitation,” Akinori answered. “I had a youkai named Kiborikkuma come by and confirm they aren’t behind it, nor are any bears they know.”

“Perhaps it might be something other than a bear?” Touma suggested.

“Maybe, I’ll keep everyone updated on the group chat if something pops up, even if it’s 3 am or something.”

——————————————

Across the seas and land, it was still late morning in France, about to shift over to noon. A week had passed since accidentally ending up back in Japan, and with the watch inherited from Fumika, it was time to find somewhere that might help Ayame get a much needed upgrade. So that perhaps, when she would find a way back, she could be of use.

She had heard a few things about a watch shop on a particular street, right across from a clock tower in the uptown area of the nearby town where she attended school.

The clock shop looked to be as expected, antiques and clocks of all shapes and sizes stacked high and low. Occasional dusty books were squeezed between a shelf of porcelain, slightly strange looking figures of everything from animals to angels.

A small ding from a little bell on the door verberated through the quirky shop, the sound of footsteps running down some squeaky wooden stairs being heard.

Usually an older person was expected to run this sort of joint, middle aged at the youngest. So it was a surprise when a girl with spiky platinum blonde hair and icy gray eyes ran down the creaky steps, wearing a hoodie so large it was almost like a wizard’s robe, complete with a few faded patches that looked like stars.

“Hiya! I’m Britain’s greatest Watcher, Monique Perry, this is the historic Mister Milligan’s Ticking Antiquites!” The girl, Monique answered with a bright grin, holding a handmade staff with a strange orb-like object on it. “And who you might be?”

“I-I’m Ayame Himeno, I’m not sure if I’m in the making to being one of France’s Watchers or not…didn’t know there were ones outside of Japan,” Ayame answered, Monique pointing an index finger upwards as she got closer to inspect things.

“I’m actually from Wales myself, but I moved first to England and Scotland for a wee bit, then I was in Ireland briefly, until finally to France because of my gramp’s work. Been around the British Isles quite a bit before settling in the land of The Franks.” Monique explained, pointing to the odd golden orb on her staff With a press of a button, its lid was flipped open, and had a watch face of its own. “Though my watch here is a replica from 16th century Germany. I reckon it works maybe somewhat like yours.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Ayame answered, a press of the watch’s button flipping open the frilly pink exterior, a light coming on as the radar started to hum. With a simple motion, it was closed again, and put onto the counter. “I’m looking to get it upgraded to be able to use arcs.

“Ah, this watch…this watch right here,” Monique observed, holding the cutesy pink watch. “This is either a replica of or dare I say, the very original watch used by one of Japan’s legendary Watchers! Are you sure you want me to tamper with this?”

“Right, inserting internals to accept arcs shouldn’t be much of an issue, you want to keep the original color scheme or not? The pinks seem to really suit you well, miss Himeno.” Monique observed, shocked she was even holding such an artifact.

“Of course, it would be wrong to try to change what isn’t broken,” Ayame laughed a bit.

“Right, before I begin, there will be a bit of a catch. Watch upgrades in different regions are strange since everyone switched back to Arcs following the disastrous collapse of Yopple Inc. The grooves on Yokai Arcs from Japan and Faerie Keys from Europe are going to be different. In layman's terms, the only Arcs you’ll be able to use are Faerie Keys from here, but I’ll keep the medal functionality if you can find a youkai, faerie, deva, asura, mogwai, or what have you still using them.”

Ayame thought, thinking this through. She hadn’t heard or seen faeries before ever since she moved here to study abroad. Then again, she only very recently got a watch of her own, so perhaps they might be more drawn to her if she does have a watch.

“Hmmm…” Ayame hummed, Monique giving a smirk.

“Fret not, I’m way nicer than most other watch places and will thrown in a Faerie Key for no extra charge,” Monique answered with a glimmer in her voice. “Though I’d have to find one suitable for you and your skill level, as well as your general vibe.”

A pause, before finally an answer. “Sure thing, I’m interested, I want to see what I’ve been missing out here!”

“Alright, I’ll get you started!” Monique gleefully said, taking the watch to a workbench to start working on it.

The sound of different magical bits and bobs coming together filled the quiet, almost deserted antique shop, Ayame taking a seat on a nearby chair as she waited for the upgrades to be complete.

Like magic, and a lot of hard work, the platinum haired girl returned with a grin on her face

“Apologies for taking a while, it should be all done and ready to go! But before you go, please take this as promised,” Monique finished, presenting not only the upgraded Watch but also a pretty elaborate arc, a deep blue color with silver accents, the base part where a drawing of the youkai would go being sculpted to resemble a stylized Pegasus. The reverse side depicted some sort of knight with a sword. In terms of length, it was a lot shorter compared to Youseiken by a mile, being more of an arc that someone went to town like a decoden phone case.

“Oh is this the arc, err, key you were talking about?” Ayame asked, Monique giving a hearty nod.

“Yep! This is a Faerie Key I feel should belong to whoever is this town’s Watcher. In your case, that would be you,” The clock shop clerk answered, sounding a bit more serious. “It’s a yokai whose duty is to protect you. Besides, what’s a Watcher without a butler, eh?”

“Oh I would prefer a cute, fluffy, reddish feline myself,” A voice from a cat spoke up, being a reddish mix between a tabby and a mainecoon. He looked normal, aside from…the little booties on him? Who gives their cats boots?

“W-What the!?” Ayame gasped, the shock through her being so strong, it nearly undid the ribbons holding her twintails together.

“...Don’t mind him, he’s my familiar.” Monique answered, giving a shushing motion towards the cat. “Best be on your way, find and befriend those fairies, yeah? Though, they may not be as friendly or as plentiful as those across the pond, just a warning.”

Ayame never forgot the strange cat in custom tailored shoes, nor the absolute wizard of a girl her age who upgraded her watch.

But the thought that Fairies were lurking, and potentially more dangerous. Such things made the girl be ever so more vigilant, and wonder what secrets were kept right under her nose.

—-----------------------------

Finally, the dead of night had arrived. Hours when only the most devoted of night owls or crafty youths who had gotten into contact with a helpful Baku were awake. Only a few places dared to keep their doors open, convenience shops and bars mostly, and the dwellers were night owls or extra early birds.

One of these places was a bar, not the fanciest but not run down either, great place for drinks or a simple karaoke machine to sing “this is no good, no good, no good at all” to get one’s woes out.

A frequent patron of such a place, simply known as Regulus, was a certain older woman with violet hair, round glasses, and a PhD. She remembered when she first started coming here, was it a year ago or two? She wasn’t quite sure anymore, she knew the Regulus bar had three key things.

Firstly, drinks. Plenty of great liquors and bourbons on offer, both of the more common and rarer varieties if she was feeling fancy. Of course a few appetizers like chips were given as well to help sober up.

Second was Karaoke. Inaho was never good at it, never claimed to be, but something about at least trying was alluring. Corny 80’s bubblegum pop songs about being a princess? Sure! Soulful ballads about how everything has gone down the drain? Oh yeah! Hard, harsh metal duets about picking yourself back up from the absolute worst of rock bottom? Now that’s the stuff! It was all fun to try at least once. Or twice. Thrice, even.

Last but certainly not least by a longshot was the bartender that would pretty much always be at her aid. He was the finest combination of what the domestic pop scene and Bollywood had to offer, dazzling, sunkissed coppery skin framed by long messy black hair, and the right amount of facial hair to be a somewhat grizzled bad boy.

And of course his name, the one and only Akihiko Hisakawa.

“Hey there Ms. Misora, how things been going for you and your kid?” Akihiko asked, Inaho noticing some pretty gnarly bandages covering parts of his arm, the older woman looking concerned.

“Yeah we’re good, but I’m more concerned about you, should you even be working?” Inaho gave concern, the bartender laughing it off.

“Oh please, it was just a small scuffle with a bear, and you know I’m built strong physically and mentally,” Akihiko reassured, going through the bar to get out a glass. “The usual?”

“Yeah you know it,” Inaho instinctively answered, before thinking for a moment.

As drinks were poured, Akihiko broke the silence a bit. “So, does Misao still sting?”

She hadn’t had a drink, but something about Inaho’s voice changed, becoming more harsh, jaded. Something about that name set her off a bit. “Pssh, nah, he left me heartbroken at first, serves him right to get hit by a truck. That ain’t even the worst heartbreak in my heart. The worst one made me despise the starry sky.”

“A bit cold, but I can see your heart is in the right place,” Akihiko answered, serving up the drink. He had remembered when Inaho first started coming here, her husband, Misao, had rather violently decided to split things off without even going to get it sorted out officially, according to the surgeon at the very least. He had a lot of anger problems, and would get angry if his wife left but a crumb, it made one wonder why they were even together in the first place.

A sobbing mess had greeted Regulus that night, Akihiko on shift. He heard her woes, and helped ease it with some stiff drinks. The balance between making a good paycheck and not leaving her absolutely plastered was a tricky tightrope walk, but he managed.

But perhaps getting plastered twice every week probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Have you…umm, been open to dating again?” Akihiko inquired, Inaho nearly spitting out her bourbon.

It had been three years since, well, that had happened…and she was open and single again. But did any guy or girl want to date her? Sure she was a surgeon, that was attractive enough for some people, but while she greatly prioritized rent, food, and anything Saki needed, any free money she had went to…well, things a 41 year old woman like her shouldn’t be indulging in. Cute plushies, model kits, action figures, the looks she’d get browsing the local toy and hobby shops.

“I don’t know man,” Inaho spoke up, only about one sip into her drink in.

The next response would result in Akihiko having some nice bourbon be splashed across his face like a frenzied hose.

“Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” Akihiko asked, sealing his fate.

He WHAT?! Akihiko!? He didn’t have a partner after all!? He was a free bird!? But…but he was too handsome, too good looking, too nice for someone like her! She was pathetic, a loser, a failure! Not even being a surgeon could mask the fact she barely left the house outside of work or going to Regulus. What had gotten into this man…

“Uhhmm…uhhmmm…yeah?” Inaho answered a bit flabbergasted. “I have another kid staying with me at the moment, doesn’t have a home and was attacked by a bear. Do you know what in the tar of nation a ‘payphone’ is?”

“A kid asking about something they shouldn’t know about, interesting,” Akihiko commented, getting out a pad of paper. “How about somewhere outside of the bar, but maybe not too adventurous?”

Inaho thought for a moment, before looking at him. “How about you see my place? I don’t think I’ve had Saki meet you before, and you seem like a nice enough guy.”

Akihiko smirked. “Sounds like fun. Plus I get to see all those Sailor Piers figures you have and keep talking about. Heard those 35th Anniversary Dolls are something worth the high price tags.”

“They are!” Inaho answered, seeming to be in a much better mood, or it was the booze kicking in. “I can’t promise any homemade gourmet stuff, maybe just some takeout and chill. Anything you got in mind?”

“As long as it doesn’t have any beef I’m good to go,” Akihiko answered, the two chattering some more as they figured out a good day and time to try at this whole dating thing.

#yo kai watch shadowside #yokai watch shadowside #shadowside

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