#hunter kind of sick and not bad for a woman HOWEVER

[fruit-salad-ship]

I took a run at the Viking/Druid AU. This one’s a ‘married for political rest, hate each other at the start, then learn to appreciate.’

Story draft under cut

This particular group of Vikings might be a bit of an off shoot, they were led by peachs family for a fair few generations sucessfully, a notoriously violent lot, theyve come to be knows for their brutality. BUT that was peachs mother, the generation before, and the world needs a calmer head sometimes, so when peach was handed the reigns, her mother dead in battle as she'd always wanted to go, the weight of the village was suddenly on her shoulders. sure she'd prepared for this, but she thought she had more time to goof off and be young and free. alas, this shift fored peach to grow up, to watch her people die through her bad choices at times, to see them hungry or sick, and have to learn on the job how to avoid this, or fix it. Older generations have tried to overthrow her, but she proves she is the best fighter, if not the biggest, certeinly the fiercest, and smartest. She is tall and muscular, but her real edge is in her ability to be five steps ahead. She keeps a calm head unless shes in a besrker rage, something she doesnt do unless she ABSOLUTLEY has to. Triggered by a cocktail of plants, a tonic of strength essentially. the recipy was taught to her by her mother, and her mother before her, and so on, back many generations, and is unique to the family tree, a secret to them only. Peach goes and forages for the plants and parts often. so a few years later, with several mutinies squashed, a village of now healthy, fed, happy people, who trust her leadership, and believe that the young blood in this case has done well, is an accomplishment. Grey is her captain of the troops, hes vital, her confidant, her child hood friend, a guy whos very level and reasonable, traits she has been TRYING to get people to adapt to, and reduce how much bloodshed her people have brought to others.

They still raid and fight, but they pick and choose more wisely, taking from those who have more troops and more to lose, pinching from farmers and villagers is a cowards fight, they have pitchforks, and nothing worth taking. but kings? lords? princes? ohhhhhoho, they got shit they can stand to lose, their lives included. so they target bigger fish. arguably their trade with local hunters is also quite key, being good on the waters means fishing is their lifeblood, and many neighbouring villages have built a tentative truce with the viking settlement in order to trade and barter. it is...hard to work with, as her people are prone to fighting, but peach manages to delegate and calm raised tempers with a surprising level of reason. This same reason extends to the druid population. Her faimly have...perhaps been known to slaughter them upon sight. She has seen it, she had watched her blood strike down witchcraft in a heartbeat through fear, and peach does not wish to extend that fear further.

that being said, she is kind of terrified of druids.

low key tho

so when the druid council arrange a meeting with her, no weapons, no threats, a simple plea for peace, she is open to hearing it. Peach and her council go to discuss, and a peace can be arranged if there is a show of trust. Notably, marriage. A viking leader, to a Druid patron of the gods. if this can be done then surely they can trust in an alliance together. Peach is SO not here for it. She however is overruled by the council, they all agree this is a very reasonable arrangement, and peach is left taking one for the team, so to speak. and its honestly something that puts her in a foul state of mind from the get go

she has no clue who shes being married off to, and goes home sulking, telling grey everything over drink, and he is roaring with laughter. the towns most unapproachable, inhospitable woman has finally been shackled down. he cant even believe it, and does not give a rest to the pokes and prods of his taunting. A fortnight passes and no news, nothing from the druids save for a charm of favorable winds for their ships that arrives by raven. Sure enough the ships do prosper, the winds are behind them, and the fish are plentiful. Peach begrudgingly watches her village flourish, and dreads the next step, one she alone has to venture forward with, one she is honestly mortified about. She toughs it out, and soldiers on. And then the letter to the ceremony arrives. She is to meet her betrothed in a week, and the first meeting will be within the druid community, where peach will come with no more than two escorts to agree to terms, and collect the person in question to return home with. There is no exit clause, this means peace for their people once and for all.

and that long long hike to the heart of the woods where the druids exist is...hell. Shes got real nerves, doesnt even get like this for battles, in fact she states on several ocasions that she'd rather be in the thick of a war in the mud and the dirt and the blood than in the calm of the woods. its almost too calm, lets her mind wander to what kind of awful person shes been tied to for the rest of her life. she pictures an old crone, a witch of the woods, a crusty old being, and shudders, while her two companions make jokes that she'll have to have horrible weird druid sex with an old person. and shes there trying not to throw up.

the druids welcome them in with more hospitality than expected, this is of course a negotiation for peace, and peach activley hands in all her weapons, right off the bat with no arguing. she has to berate the other two ONCE, and no more, to do the same. So theyre in a community of 75-100, all of which follow this weird and wild magic, all somehow touched into natures way, and the vikings are just there, strangers in a foreign land, and people are very wary of them. They are taken to the leaders, sat, offered food and drink, to which peach is feeling too sick to really partake in all that much, picks at best, but her attention is toward the new setup of what is to be rules on how their people interact with each other. No more unnecessary deaths. The work of it all nearly lets her mind slip from the end result, her people will no longer hunt druids, offer trade, military aid and services should need be, and for all forward purposes consider them allies, unless violent action is taken against them, in return they will gain access to medicine and the occasional charms to aid the villagers, magic to bolster their people. It is a truce. A good one. A better one than peach was expecting to get. their negotiations go on into the early hours, and finally the leader of the druids says its late, and peach must be eager to meet his daughter. She pauses, looks up, processes, and then recalls the arrangement. she had NO idea this man she talked with was to be family, she'd have tried to be a little more impressive and imposing, but perhaps her subdued and calm approach was fine. they walk to a rather lovely building, draped with vines and hidden deep into the mossy dirt, he sighs, and looks at peach. a warning is given, his daughter was...not, thrilled about this situation. she may be fierce in her actions and words.

peach is left to knock the door, her brides father not entering, simply waiting a few paces back, calling in a name, a pet name from the sounds of it, and from inside peach can hear the light footsteps of someone. the door opens, plum sticks her head out, glares past peach to her father, shouts 'NO' and slams the door. Peach cant help but laugh.

he sighs, waves a weary hand, and turns to go stating taht peach best get acquainted with his daughter, this is out of his hands. and so peach tries again, calls in to at least ask her name, and gets no response. just told to go away. their conversation starts on a hostile point, and peach sits against the door and tries to reason with her. plum is every bit as stuborn and hard headed as peach is, but shes really throwing a fit about this. peach ends up just as mad, as if this is ideal for either of them?! but its not about them, its about their people, and moving forward with a sense of peace. surely as a druid, of all things, plum could reason with the notion of peace? and thats when the door opens, peach tumbles back, lands looking up, met with a VERY mean glare, plum saying she has no idea what druids should or shoudlnt reason with, that shes just some bloodthirsty idiot with nothing between her ears. harsh but fair. the girls row. and fight, and argue, and get to understanding that they couldnt be more further apart. this goes on for hour, until it becomes a fight, and peach is trying, TRYING not to take the bait, shes twice as big as this little druid and not about to break the truce on the first night. plum however does not care, and eventually peach has to defend herself. it is a close quarters, brutal little spat, and they both end up scraped and bruised.

by the morning peach is ready to go home, black eye and bites and scrapes adorned, the truce is made, plum has been appeased by her father and a whole host of others, she is in NO WAY happy about this, but has come to the bitter conclusion that its for the good of her people. the travel back is mind numbing. plum stops to look at things all the time, shes never really ventured out of her territory for fear of vikings. they have to slow down, get caught in rain, get their path crossed by a bear. the two with peach go to attack it, she tells them to back down, leave it be, and plum at the VERY least appreciates that she lets it pass unbothered. by the time theyre back at the village its all hands on deck to get ready for the festivities, everyones happy to see them, but peach suggests she'll hold a meeting tomorrow once rested and settled, to introduce her...betrothed (she is still mad about it) and inform everyone of the events. natrually some of the older vikings are not happy with plum there, they eye her with hatred, and skulk away. peach doesnt notice, those old farts are always angry, theyre old, its what they do, but plum gets a bad read off them. peach and plum go back to the girls new home together, a longhouse with fair space and one too many weapons. Plum is mildly interested in some of the strange trinkets peach has stolen, but doesnt ask, she is given a bed, a space her own, away from peach, and shown around enough to feel at home. it is very much laced with snide jabs and comments from both sides. things plum does notice: peach makes her own beserker tonic, and seems to be mid-way making a batch now. peach of course doesnt reveal what is in it, nor what its for, it is none of plums concern, and plum pulls the 'well ill be your wife soon enough you may as well tell me now.' card. peach hates it. doesnt cave.

it is another restless night for the girls, they bicker and fight about every little thing. plum kicks her shoes off anywhere, peach never remembers to throw a log on the fire in time, plums constantly tripping over things shes used and not put away, peach cant stand the smell of the tea plum drinks, a home blend. By the time the meeting in the village comes the next day, peach is hardly awake, grouchy, and fed up. but the information of a truce is given, plum is introduced, and the village sets about trying to come to term with the change. Grey is the life saver, he is very calm, and offers to show plum around, giving peach a break. one that she spends the entire time sleeping through. grey and plum actually get on fine, she finds him much less irritating, and perhaps even nice, if she can put aside his murderous skills. she learns the village, the people, the trades, the buildings, she pets the animals, she sees some of them trying to farm, others hauling in fishing nets from the boats. all in all, plum is quietly surprised the vikings have this level of civilisation built, tales and stories would suggest theyre all mindless brutes who do nothing but kill and steal. she is at LEAST pleasently surprised.

she gets home to peach fast asleep by the fire, on a number of furs, and proceeds to dump a jug on water on her, for the fun of it.

the 'i have to marry you, i dont have to like you' comments they share are laced with seething disdain, peach goes to fish, plum goes to forage, they dont see each other unti the next day, and its over a very hostile breakfast. Eventually peach is thankful to leave to fight, and plum is left home to her own devices. This raises issues. While peach is out doing her thing, the older villagers start to fuck with plum, and she has to recall the truce, and not to hit back. they say some horrible things to her, perhaps even get in her face, but it never gets physical, so she leaves it be. She can tough this out for her people, the village will get use to her, shes just new. peach and her raiders get home a week or so later, they haul in goods stolen, and peach has cleared her mind of rage, and tried to be the bigger person...not literally, she already is, but she has returned, and gets home, and doesnt say a word about the tea smell, instead pulling a rather pretty broach from her pocket that looks like a branch of blossom in golds, inlaid with some kind of pinkish gemstone. A peace offering. Plums right, she does have to marry her but he doesnt have to like her, but maybe if they just, got along this could all be a little less shit. Plum says nothing, sees peach is battered and hurt and tired, her body is on the rebound off beserker tonic, so she needs rest. She slinks off, runs herself a bath, and tries to soak her aches out. plum sits and looks at the broach and doesnt say much, rolls over and goes to sleep by the fire. peach finds her curled up, pulls a blanket over her, and goes to her own bed to try and do better tomorrow. well that doesnt quite work out. the next two weeks the girls are slowly at each others throats more and more, its becoming obvious to everyone.

they foil each others fun, ruin each others things, have spite for one and other that extends to their personal space and privacy. Grey watches them both get run ragged by the endless torment they throw at each other. And then finally, the wedding arrives. The dreaded day. it is traditional viking style, with a few tweaks to include the druid nature of one of the brides, and honestly everyones just there to feast and drink afterwards, something the two new wives hardly do. well. peach drinks. a lot and plum throws berries at her for the boring bits. they go home, sleep at opposite ends of the house, and try to just get on with this. its for their people, both say to themselves in the quiet of night. every time peach has to host to other leaders plum is subtly spiteful, makes her look bad tbh, which is fine, but after one particular disaster of a meeting with a local leader who could have been a useful allie, peach sees them off and turns to plum to remind her, NOW she is fucking with pech's people, and another reminder, they are now HER people, shes the chief's wife, she is one of this village too, and shes shooting her own in the foot because shes a spiteful witch. peach is furious, she needed to barter that better, this is less than ideal. plum finally sees that perhaps she went too far. this isnt just a dig at peach, and she hates to say it, but peach is right. these are now her people. and most of them, save for a few, have been nothing but agreeable towards her, some even nice. plum sits up, peach is asleep turned away, ad the druid has time to do something good for once. she sits up and starts to do what she does best.

peach awakens the next day to a myriad of smells she does not know, and finds plum still awake, concocting a whole host of small bottled items. plums things are sprawled out, she hardly notices peach, and when she does, she doesnt say anything, feeling a little bad for the day before. peach asks, has to, its taking up half the house, and plum says shes working. thats as good as peach will get, she knows that, she leaves, goes to help with building a new barn, and doesnt go home until late that day. this goes on for two more days, before peach wakes to the house quiet, no plum, no things out, the chaos has subsided, its cleaned up, mostly. herbs hang and dry neatly, a huge mortar and pestle sits clear of debris, theres a bowl of petals drying, some jars of unusual powders all lined up, its like...plums settled in. her things have places, and has become part of this setting. weeks of not getting along or finding her place here, and finally it seems to be happening. Peach doesnt find her in the yard out front, not the woods when she goes to check the perimeter, nor alogn the lakes edge where plum goes walking. No. Peach finds her in the village, she spots the drift of her curls and peaks out to see what shes doing. Going around offering help, she found the man with the bad cough, the kid with terrible itchy skin, the mother who cant sleep, the man with no luck, even the cow with a funny limp. Plum has made a fix for most of the ailments. She is not the bitter twisted little shit peach has been presented with now, she is calm and kind and open, and seems to radiate true druid energy while doing this kind of work, she is a different person. Peach doesnt say a word, but they clock each other, theres no smile shared, no look of taunt or smugness, they just...they know. they know that plum took on board that these are also her people.

and dare peach say it, shes thankful for her, for once. The villagers repair, thrive even, but some still do not care for her meddling. Peach catches her back at home, coming in late, hands full of splinters, a fresh batch of jerky brought in from the drying racks, she traded a few bits for actual apples too, nice ones from a farmer that came through! She's in a surprisingly good mood, but there is still caution coming home. She doesnt want to cause any more arguments. She tells plum about the apples, to help herself, and leaves her alone to go soak her hands and try to get the splinters out. it is a slow process, but methodical, she quite likes the joy of excavating a big splinter, getting a good sharp blade and sitting in the bath to start this process. She has since become numb to plums tea, she actually has even started to like the smell perhaps, its certainly not nice, but its definitely a smell of home to her now. It shocks her when plum comes to sit with her, the first time ever. Neither talk immediately, peach is trying to catch the wood i her hand and pull it free, so her focus is mostly taken up, and plum is poking at the fire with a stick, sipping her drink, not really paying much attention. its quiet company. after a while, Peach syas she's grateful, her people benefited from plums skills today, she got a lot of people telling her that druid magic helped them with this and that. plums short 'mm' back is enough. they continue in quiet, peach getting slowly more frustrated by one stubborn splinter, going to cut into her hand to get it out, until plum notices and stops her, wordless, takes the knife, finds the problem, and carfully pries it out. takes two goes, and the chip comes free. there is a BRIEF moment where she still holds peachs hand, and looks at her like shes looking for something in her gaze, before giving the knife back and going back to the fire.

this quiet existence is a nice change to the arguments. for weeks after they bicker less, but still of course snap and disagree over so much, but certainly have less quarrels, and come together to put on an air of power should people visit for talks of trade or alliance. peach gifts plum a shawl that was her mothers mothers, a hand woven thing that holds a lot of meaning, and displays her families mark clearly, its not a huge deal, but it kind of is. the girls play it down, but peach is quietly happy to see plum wears it when the chill in the morning air is too much, or when shes wandering the village working. their marriage was not conventional, nor chosen, but they are finding a midground. even if they annoy eachother endlessly. its for their people, not them. but with time the things that bugged them start to hold less weight. Plum can no longer find irritation with peach not putting things away because shes changed, she does actually return items to where they belong. The endless weapons have their own storage, she doesnt leave them lying around. There is never a leak in the roof she cannot fix, and for such a merciless killer (plum thinks, shes never seen her fight) peach holds a calm note to all decision making, and typically never puts her own wants above others in terms of whats good for the masses. She has very little, and gives what she can, but somehow it comes around, and she is never left wanting. Her good nature, and speed to help her own pays back. Plum sees she is not all harsh edges. Peach however has also come to herms with plums temperament. The woman knows when plums going to kick off in a meeting and always manages to calm the situation. plums need to create went from an annoying clutter in the house to something peach finds joy in looking over now.

theres even a quiet love for plums cooking, which is arguably better than she thought it'd be, somehow she expected druits to chew on twigs and berries, but no, plum can and does make many nice things, and so they can take turns and give each other breaks from that task. peach even likes when plum is busy weaving and shes carving some wood and they sit quiet;y by the fire together. its...calm company. quiet. Is peach horny 24-7? yes, but again, shes had to put that aside and ignore it, this is not a marriage of joy, its one of peace.

the scalding tone of 'oh, so you survived then.' every time peach gets back from a trip has become welcoming, plum does not care, she knows, but at least she acknowledges her entering the home now. its something.

it is on one of these late nights, when peach gets in from a volatile battle, the village hit with a violent downpour, the people are struggling to pull the ships in, everyones out to lash them to post and stop the waters taking them, even plum is out helping as best they can to calm animals and settle people. when peach is away, plum acts in her stead, she is the wife, she has to. so shes out, in this miserable weather, and while everyones busy trying not to lose ships, peach notices she cant see plum. not anywhere. with things under control she goes looking. plum however has seen a bunch of goat bolt, a pen left open, a crack of thunder spooking them, and chases them down. cant lose a flock like that, she can get them. but it was a trick. those old vikings, ones who saw peachs mother rule with her bloody iron fist, do not care for this new alliance, and have been compelled to kill plum and break the truce, they dont like this peace with witchcraft users, they liked things the old way. Plum is busy trying to get these goats to come to her, a quiet whisper to them that they understand, to calm, to come to her, and they do. She only turns in time to see three villagers coming at her with an uneasy look, plum says its ok, shes got the goats, asks if they others wrangled the boats? and they dont answer, she takes a step back when she spots theyre armed, and starts considering the peace pact, the tentative nature of this situation. they attack her, and she can retaliate, but it'd scare the villagers, potentially break the peace, peace she'd finally managed to come to terms with herself. she tries to talk them down, reason with them, but they spew old world hate, words plums not heard in the mouths of men for a while, they want the druids gone, they dont trust nor like them.

she winds up a low powered warning spell, firest it at the floor and tries to spook them, but theyve fought druids before, and dont fear her small show of strength, shes pulling punches , big time, and they keep advancing. So she charges up an even bigger hit, warning them, telling them, urging them not to risk the peace, and they dont hear it. In the raging weather, they dont hear the person running in, the three villagers swing weapons, and plum fires a defencive spell. Both hit, but not as they had wanted. between them both peach stands, she has redirected the spell, pointing plum upwards, and taking a fair brunt of whatever she cast, and her other hand wields a weapon blocking the one at the front who swung first. Chief is back and pissed, she barely stepped off the boat, she didnt even get to see the villagers, she didnt have a moment to rest, and now her own are beign traiterous bastards to the peace. She tells everyone to step down, cool off, this is not worth it. She will let the three leave with their lives if they stop now. They made an attempt on her wife, she will not allow them to stay, but in any other situation, theyd be put to death for it. She is giving them a chance to pack, and leave by morning. they dont hear her. Plum is completely preoccupied with the spell she fired off, it was a harsh one, one thats settled under peachs skin, not a direct hit but plenty enough to graze her, she can see her words are a bluff to some degree, shes tried, she was hurt when she got back, now shes more hurt because of her. The men do not back down, calling her a coward in the shadow of her mothers wake, and so peach is forced to fight. and boy does she fight. harder than ever, with a brutality plum has never seen on her. She is fast, and precise, and despite injury plum thought would slow her, peach fells three and is still standing.

she however is now very much out of momentum, she looks plum over, shes fine, the goats are fine, the boats are tied, and she drops as soon as the relief hits. plum is left trying to turn her from drowing in the rain, goats chewing on her hair, being shooed away, plum eventually being found and helped, they get peach in her home and she for the first time ever, tends to the injuries. She is exhausted, the effects of the spell that grazed her are very much settled, and her injuries from the battle are painful but not fatal. Peach will live, but she really pushed herself. plums wondering how she has druid resistance, the spell she cast shoudl have done a lot more damage than this. She doesnt know the tonics peach has ingested all her life have built her tolerance to some things, and she doesnt know peachs family are old school druid killers, all dead now, but peach technically is her natrual enemy. not that plum knows that. peach groggy with pain awakes inside, warm under so many furs and throws, the fire crackles, she can squint out details in the low light, and plums there, asleep next to her, the cold cloth in her hand fallen but still held to her head. Its a very surreal moment. peach is convinced she died, this is not her wife.

she shifts and in that shift plum startles awake, seeing peach now somewhat awake, if not a little hazy. they have their first civil ish conversation after nearly half a year of marriage.

there is a quiet thank you in plums actions, not her words, she wipes blood from peachs skin as they talk, a soothing that chief didnt think she'd ever want, nor need, yet here it was like being cradled, her body cried out for contact, this long with nothing but hostility, this was a welcomed change in her sorry state. plum does tell her she was stupid to redirect magic like that, it was dangerous, and peach can only think of the peace brokered, how fragile it is, now scared people would be if a death was caused by a druid and not her. No one will question it if she cut them down in defence of her wife, thats a reasonable motive for deaths, she warned them, she gave them a chance, they didnt take it. on their head be it. for the first night ever, peach settles on her side, and plum does not go to her own bed, she stays by the fire and lies down and they drift off together. This whole thing does not stop the girls arguing, but their bickering seems mostly laced with concern, or reason. they grow mildly closer by the day, its slow, tentative process, but plums starting to see the joy in her big strong wife, who is surprisingly calm and patient, and peach cant help but notice how intelligent and beautiful the druid is, convinced she might be going mad but accepting it. Its not like anything would happen between them anyway, this whole thing was for the people, not for love of any kind. She is resigned in the thought that she gets to watch plum fuss over a potion or incantation, and sit quietly and see how the light hits her just so when shes by the window grinding up herbs, wiping her brow and ending up with all manner of colours on her face.

it is quiet admiration from a distance, on both parts, too resigned by the situation to act on anything, even when they catch the other looking. even when plum helps peach with a minor injury, or when peach brings home "too many flowers" for a dye, and just happens to leave them for plum on the table. They have a quiet language between them, and their bickering really does mask it day to day. Eventually however theres a new person in town. Another druid brought in by hunters, they found her wandering hurt, and with the new alliance, they offered help as agreed. chief and her wife are overjoyed at this show of hospitality, her people are learning! its a big step, and so with some digging, they find this druid has no allegiance in this area, and had no clue about the treaty. She is weary and seems to drift directly towards peach, who to most holds a very calm reassuring presence, so this is not unusual. They welcome her in, ask if she has any family, she is put up in a small hut, given a job, shows their ways, and once healed seems happy to be part of things here. Plum wakes often to find this new woman with her wife talking, she watches from the house as peach and the druid chat while working, seems like shes always close to her, and certainly is quick to help should anything go wrong with Peach. Plum saw her patch up a cut, and pull a splinter, and hang fish to dry, all simply to spend time. Seems no matter where peach geos, somewhere close, that new druid hangs by. eventually plum catches peach alone at home, night a welcomed break, and tells her to keep an eye on that one, shes got an odd feel to her. peach just laughs, says she sounds jealous if anything, in a mocking kind of teasing tone. The accusation causes an argument, and they end up sleeping on opposite sides of the house in angry heaps of furs.

this continues, the closer the druid gets, the more peach pulls back from her duties, plum picks the slack up, starts to notice peach doesnt come home for longer, is less talkative and interested in plums day to day goings on. This was a marriage of peace, of politics, not of love. so why does she feel awful seeing this? then one day peach goes missing. no one can find her, plum has to take on the role of leader, and calm everyone, reassure them they will find her, and oddly, the other druid is gone too. whispers start to spread. People really like plum now, shes helped so many, proven shes good natured, and cares for them, and start to worry if this is some scandal. Plum reassures them its probably nothing, and sets about working out where peach has gone. she puts an appointed council in charge and gathers her things and does what she does best, using magic and logic to track the path peach last took. it winds plum into the forest and grey catches up to see if she needs help, something she is fine with, theyve grown to be good friends. they wander deeper into the woods, noticing a path, keeping on it. The druid might manouver these forests with ease but if peach is with her, then she will be as haphazard as youd expect of any viking going on a nature trail.

they come to some kind of clearing after a while of travel, signs of a struggle, theres blood, its not animal, its human, and the trail seems to lead further up, a small mountainous peak ahead. they amble up, following the blood drops into a rather discrete cave half way up, slinking further in. Plum feels no natural life here, everything in this area is dark and twisted, the energy here is...disturbed. uncomfortable even. they peak around a rocky outcrop as the muttering of a person is overheard, finding the druid at some kind of alter surrounded by bones of many kinds. sat on her knees behind the other druid, peach, her gear pulled down to reveal her top half streaked in red, blood? no doubt, the druid also seems to have slapped on the same markings with hands, as if she adorned them both with warpaint. her mutterings are so low plum cant catch the incantations, but nothing like this is ever good, and the energy is all off, whatever god she's pulling from, its not a decent one. Plum goes to cast a block, to stop whatever happening, but its not strong enough, bounces off, and also alerts the other druid. So here they stand, Grey tries to be the valiant fighter, and he is good sure, but magic like this trumps anything a sword or axe can do. He is knocked back, not by a spell, no, peach has gotten up, turned to face them, and is brandishing her weapon. her eyes are not her own, the bloody markings all over her skin look like theyre hot from burning, she gets between her wife, grey, and this new druid, and takes a stance to defend the new witch.

if peach fought like a demon before, this took it to a literal point. plum can tell somethings residing in her body, a vessel for something, the runes drawn on her seem to hint at that too, and greys struggling to keep up with her at all, hes getting hurt. an almighty fight plays out, mostly of plum casting double time to not only try to knock the other druid down but defend and bolster grey enough to stand up to whatever peach has become. its exhausting, but quickly they realise grey is not a threat, the real problem is plum, and both attackers go for her, target the caster specifically. this works well, but plum gets to pull one some big-bollock kind of spells shes never got to use before, tells grey to run out of direct sight, and he does, before she casts. the cave is flooded with light, searing, cleansing light, her druidic hail mary, and its fantastic, downs the druid, and dislodges whatever is in her wife, but that things stubborn, got its claws in her. Plum cant think to do anything when shes grabbed and thrown down hard, peach now on top of her, it is not her face, or expression, or eyes, thats not her, but shes in there, plum can sense it, shes hesitating. where peach didnt before, she seems to be now. Plum cant think of anything else to do, so frustrated with seeing what was a good woman in this state. she gets free for a second of peachs grip, lunges forward and kisses her. one last spell, a cleansing one, needs direct contact, these kinds of spells dont tend to work so well without thre being real oomph behind them, a real tether to the afflicted. Plum can move away and cup her wifes face, peach has comepltly stopped, focus flickering from fierce and full of hate to a far softer one. plums little 'come back to us. come back to me.' that no one hears, pulls, and pulls, and drags whatever evil was in there kicking and screaming out.

they can leave there, and leave with their chief dazed, and a little confused, but alive. Greys got under her arm, plums taken the journal from their dead foes body, a coded druidic shes slowly figuring out, unravelling the truth of what happened. Peach was charmed, heavily, from day one, and lured away thanks to that deeply ingrained charm to be a willing receptical for some kind of evil spirit. to bring it into the human world. the druid she killed was essentially a cultist, and a good one at that

very nasty, very devious, knew about the druidic treaty and took advantage of it

it is once peach is home, her people calmed now shes been found, the situation explained, in a way that was careful not to put fear of druids back in them. plum handles it very well, and can go home to her wife, who she now realises she quite enjoys, and sits with her quiet as ever by the fire. she gets peach to try and rehydrate, gives her some of her tea, with WAY too much honey in it, but peach likes it that way, and tries to get her to rest. Peach is so confused, she doesnt recall the last week, her actions werent her own, whatever happened she totally lost herself. plum fills the blanks in, and gets to the point where she cant NOT tell her wife, a woma nshe was bound to in marriage out of oath, not love, that in fact she saw her with this other druid and felt... sad. a flash of peachs old teasing comes back 'jealous much?' and plum laughs, smacks her arm gently, not too hard, peach took some serious damage, but they seem to be acting like normal.

for the first night ever, peach curls up in her bed, in so much pain, trying to find comfort, and plum comes in and crawls over, she could hear peach in the dark struggling, and joins her, a small incantation to repair, like a gentle healing aura, the best she can do for her wife right now. She gets in as the big spoon, and peach feels relief from her touch, the magic helps her sleep, helsp the pain slip away, and they can recover in peace.

they still bicker nd argue, peach has a slow but steady recovery back to full health, but something always resided in her after, something that kept her up at night, something that made her see things in the darkest shadows. Whatever spirit was put in her, plum suspects it left somethign behind. None the less peach leds her people with patience and care, and plum, despite her awareness of peachs new problem, finds ways to improve her situation, and the situations of all the villagers. They are her people too, after all. the wives slowly find new ways to love each other. plum likes the water, so peach takes her out to swim, knows a clear calm river in the wood thats perfect for it. they girls get to drink together on long windy nights, and talk about their families, about each other, about what they like, dont like, where they love being, where they'd want to go and see. they find beauty in each other. It doesnt take too long before they finally find themselves FINALLY getting intimate, as most married couples do

#viking au #fruit salad #brainrot #doodle

[photogirl894]

Hello! I was wondering I could request 4, 8, 23 and 24 with Crosshair x fem!reader? like Crosshair and the reader have crushes on eachother and reader knows her feelings but Crosshair doesn't and he's just so new to physical affection and he's like "what is this? Am I sick?"

Hey there, friend! Aw man, that's such a cute concept and I love it! I hope you like this one!

"Lovesick"

4. A hug after not seeing someone for a long time

8. Brushing hands by accident

23. A hug that some might consider as "too long"

24. Confusing a handshake for a fist bump

Pairing: Crosshair x fem reader

***

Crosshair wasn't certain when he suddenly found himself attracted to you...and it was making him question things about himself.

Had it started when you had first met the Bad Batch after being assigned to them as their medic? When Hunter made him be polite and offer a handshake in greeting and instead, you'd given him a fist bump to try and catch him off guard? That first day, the squad learned pretty quickly that you were a quirky, bubbly, optimistic woman; a kind of person they were certainly not used to. Though, the others had seemed to warm up to you pretty quickly. It was still taking Crosshair a little bit to get used to you, though.

Or had it started when you both had reached for a bacta patch in the med bay one day when you were attending to him and your hands had accidentally brushed together? He swore there had been a light electric shock sent through him upon feeling your skin in such a gentle way. It felt smooth and pleasant to the touch, though he would never say that out loud.

However, recently, you had been temporarily reassigned to another Clone squad who had lost their medic and needed a substitute medic until they were given a new one. You'd been gone for a few weeks now and Clone Force 99 was starting to miss you. Even Crosshair found he was missing you...and it was messing with his head something fierce.

There was just something about you that made it so he couldn't get you off his mind. Was he going soft? No, that wasn't possible. He was a soldier, there was no way he could go soft, especially not over a woman. Perhaps there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was sick or something. That was the only way to explain why you were the only thing he could think about and focus on.

One day, he snuck Tech's datapad away from his brother and snuck out into the cockpit of the Marauder. He tried using it to scan his temperature and bodily functions to see if he was sick in some way. Though, every time he looked, things looked normal. That couldn't be right.

"Worthless thing," he muttered, smacking the side of it with his hand.

"What are you doing?" he then heard Tech's voice ask and when he turned, he saw both Tech and Echo standing just a few feet away.

"Your datapad is broken," Crosshair replied.

"That is impossible. I calibrated it myself," Tech stated. "Perhaps it is user error."

Crosshair just sneered at him before tossing the datapad back to him.

"Why were you scanning yourself?" inquired Echo.

"I thought I was sick or something, but it doesn't matter," said Crosshair, folding his arms across his chest.

"It has to do with (Y/N), doesn't it?"

Crosshair's head whipped around so quickly, he almost gave himself whiplash, his eyes flashing with irritated shock.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out. You've been different; more distracted since she left," Echo clarified. Then a slight grin crossed his face. "You're not sick, Crosshair...you're just lovesick."

"Stow it, I am not," Crosshair shot back.

"Then perhaps it will please you to know that she sent word that she will be returning to us and will meet us when we arrive on Coruscant," Tech then said.

Despite his best efforts, Crosshair couldn't fully hide the delight in his eyes upon hearing you'd be coming back and both Echo and Tech exchanged knowing glances.

Before long, they reached Coruscant and saw you were already on the landing platform waiting for them. You ran to each member of the Bad Batch and gave each of them a quick hug, exclaiming "I'm so glad to see you guys again!" as you did so.

When you reached Crosshair, he tried to refuse and resist your advance, but you weren't going to let the grumpy Clone off that easy. You wrapped your arms around his slender waist and hugged him the tightest, having admittedly missed him the most in your time away. Crosshair stood there awkwardly with his arms out, wondering what he should even do. He expected the hug to be quick like it had been with the others, but you weren't letting go yet. He had to do something instead of standing there like an idiot. Gradually, his arms came down and barely touched your shoulders as if touching you was going to harm him. However, as he looked down on you, he felt his entire body beginning to warm up at your embrace; a warmth that felt different than anything else he'd experienced before. All of a sudden, his arms enfolded you into him and he hugged you back just as closely.

Your absence had seemingly left a hole inside him he hadn't realized had been there until this moment. Your presence in his life, even if you were a bit too enthusiastic at times for his liking, was something he found he needed and never wanted to lose. He supposed he was more used to you than he initially thought. Your hug was lasting longer than he expected, but deep down, he never wanted it to end, feeling as though he could hold you for forever. You were too precious to him...and he was glad to finally understand why he'd been feeling so off in recent weeks.

"Don't ever leave me for that long again, do you hear me?" he whispered into your ear, only realizing too late he had said "me" instead of "us".

You chuckled, a sound that was music to his ears. "I won't leave you, Crosshair, I promise," you said quietly back. Your arms tightened around him. "I missed you most of all."

"I--I missed you, too," he said.

Crosshair supposed Echo had been right: he was lovesick...and you were his only cure.

Physical Affection prompts

More Crosshair fics

Bad Batch Writing Requests

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch crosshair #bad batch prompts #crosshair x reader

[smartycvnt]

The Demon Skank

Title: The Demon Skank Pairing: Ruby (1.0) x Reader Prompt: 3. "Hunters, always thinking with their blades." NR WC: 874

The call from Sam and Dean to check in on Y/n's uncle had not been a welcome one. Y/n had begged Bobby not to get entangled with those boys, who more often than not spelled trouble for any other hunter in their vicinity. Despite his niece's warnings, Bobby still went out of his way to look out for those boys. Y/n was sick of it, and this call terrified her. Dean had mentioned something about a blonde demon, and Y/n immediately feared for the worst. It wouldn't be that hard for them to find a woman who looked like Bobby's dead wife to lure him into letting them inside. Y/n had broken more traffic laws than she knew existed on her way to Bobby with the hope that he'd still be breathing when she arrived.

"Uncle Bobby!" Y/n shouted as she busted open the front door.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the crap out of me!" Bobby exclaimed as he jumped in his seat. The man was clutching his chest, and for a second, Y/n feared that she had accidentally given her uncle a heart attack. However, he seemed to recover just as Y/n caught her breath from having sprinted all the way inside from the car. "What the crap are you doing here?"

"Sam-," Y/n panted, "-and Dean, they told me to come check on you. You've got a demon on the property. I came to kill it."

"There's no need." A feminine voice spoke up from behind Bobby as a woman made her way out of the kitchen. Y/n was somewhat relieved that the woman didn't resemble her dead aunt. Instead, she looked a little bit more like a girl Y/n had hooked up with a college once. "Those idiots don't realize that I'm trying to help them, so killing me would really be counterproductive."

"Sam and Dean are a lot of things, but they wouldn't accept help from the likes of you. Now get the hell out of here before I send your black eyed ass back to hell."

"And just how do you expect to do that?" The woman asked as she stepped into Y/n's personal space. Y/n looked down her nose at the blonde, almost certain now that she knew whoever this woman was in life.

"I've got my ways," Y/n said as she pulled a knife out of her pocket.

"Hunters, always thinking with their blades."

"I'm not a hunter," Y/n argued. The woman sniffed her before turning away.

"Looks like a hunter, smells like a hunter, breathes through its mouth like a hunter. I'd say it's a fucking hunter, but it's okay because I want to help you too. She likes you," the woman said. Y/n shifted on her feet uncomfortably as she stepped back from the woman. "I guess it's nice for a girl to see a familiar face."

"Who are you?" Y/n asked.

"Ruby," the demon introduced herself. Y/n and Ruby stared at each other for a couple moments before Bobby cleared his throat behind them.

"Do I need to leave the room?" Bobby asked.

"N-no, I'm gonna go put my stuff upstairs. If she's even half as bad as what Dean's told me, it won't help to have another person around to keep an eye on her," Y/n said. Bobby sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The boys had a point about Ruby, she was a demon, but Dean had been a lot harder on Ruby than he should have been. She was untrustworthy, but had yet to show that her interests aligned with that of their enemy.

"Careful, Dean says I'm a skank, and that man knows them better than anybody else," Ruby joked as Y/n ran upstairs. Y/n put her things up and then went to help Ruby fix the colt in the backyard while Bobby was busy making dinner in the kitchen. He knew exactly what Y/n was hoping for, and if there was one person he cared more about than Sam and Dean, it was Y/n. "I don't know what kind of stuff you're into, but this body got excited when she saw you."

"The girl inside, she's still alive?" Y/n asked. Ruby nodded as she handed Y/n a piece to the deconstructed gun.

"I kind of like having her around, it's nice not to feel so alone all the time," Ruby mused. Y/n smiled as she lifted the gun up and aimed it at the target that was set up across the backyard. It hit perfectly, the bullets sizzling as it went through the target drawn in demon's blood. "What did you do?"

"I fixed the sights, it was skewed pretty badly. Bobby's great with weapons, but he's a little old to be messing with one like this. Now, if you want to help prove yourself as something other than the 'demon skank' as Dean has so lovingly referred to you as, help me make a few more bullets," Y/n said. Ruby smiled at her, unsure of who exactly was reacting to Y/n's presence, her or the meatsuit.

"Gladly."

#ruby x reader #ruby #ruby 1.0 x reader #ruby 1.0 #supernatural x reader #supernatural #my writing

[rubyfists]

hello!!! is there an info post about elora?? their tag is super sick and id love to know more about em!

hello there!!! i do, but it mostly serves as an art gallery rn. here is the page anyways tho! it is on toyhouse, and has just basic info, but It Exists. ive been wanting to make a more detailed page but alas i am Grad Student. EVENTUALLY ill make an actual info page tho. eventually.

ill ramble a lil bit to compensate

(art by @/inksycat)

this is miss elora lavain!!!! she lives a life on the run, so she goes by a few other names as well such as maris starseeker & nerine rubystar. she is a moon elf :3 she's also a bisexual trans woman (she/her)! as for class, she is a swashbuckler rogue w/ the pirate background

elora is a dnd character i made for a faerun campaign i played back in 2018... not as my pc, but as a major npc. i played that campaign as my other oc, arahana rubyfist. elora was her girlfriend that disappeared under ~*mysterious circumstances and served as arahana's motivation to adventure. there was other stuff going on as well, but the crux of arahanas story involved chasing elora thru her past & discovering the Truth of who she rly was

cause u see elora lavain was a persona made to conceal her past as the Infamous Pirate Captain Maris Starseeker (tm). yeah she got a pretty big bounty on her head from Pirate Crimes and so after her crew was destroyed, she decided to retire. despite losing her crew she had quite a lot of treasure hidden away and decided to Retire in Luxury, posing as nobility. she relocated to waterdeep and the plan was to lay low there as long as she could until Whoops. she fell in love. she was pretty torn btwn not wanting arahana 2 find out who she rly was & her Impeding capture (she had a lot of bounty hunters after her)... and so when she left it was Already too late.

she was captured & sentenced to death, awaiting her execution in a high security prison known as the dreadvault. arahana DID manage to bust her out with the help of her friends though. and they were able to reunite!!! and reaffirm their love for eachother!!! and swear to be honest with eachother from that point on!!! and it still kills me!!!

busting someone out of a high security prison garners a lot of heat tho and so arahana & elora hid away in a cozy lil mountain cabin. during that time they worked on their relationship and eventually got married!!! they're still married and i love them to death. they are my Favorites. that's where her story ends for now!

more on the personality side of things... so ill first of all say, that eloras personality is pretty Fragmented. shes got bits of herself split up among her various identities. usually each identity is based on one facet of herself, or a fantasy, and it develops into a Character thru that. for instance, maris starseeker is Definitely a power fantasy and is a pirate queen thru and thru... while elora lavain fits more of the Princess Role. her ability to Fully immerse herself in these roles helps her evade capture cause she is able to present herself as a Totally different person to most ppl. however, if you know her well enough, there Are consistencies. for example, elora is generally pretty extroverted. she's the kind of person that draws attention, and is a Born Leader. she is confident, bold, fun, flirtatious, ambitious, competitive, and adventurous. she is pretty charismatic as well! she is also a compulsive liar, as she's so use to having to Lie about everything that she is that its just Natural to her at this point. she's also crafted a life where she doesnt rly have to deal w/ hard emotions, so she's able to give an air that she is Above it all when really shes just bad at dealing w/ emotions LOL. she is the embodiment of this

only walking out means completely leaving the area and creating a new identity. #girl

anyways this is. a lot im so bad at summarizing shit but i think this serves well enough as a primer into the Elora Lavain experience. she is by far my favorite oc and is my Everything girl. and thank you so much for asking about her!!! :)

#mearan.txt

[sithsecrets]

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction

[shorkbrian]

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g 

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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

“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t.  But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect.  How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed.  The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged  with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same  attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before.  A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words.  There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.

#kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #bnha kirishima #kirishima x you #yandere #Yandere kirishima #tw.death #tw.suicide

[qqueenofhades]

what is it about helnik that you love?

Aha. Many things, anon. MANY things.

First, as is VERY well established, I am 100% always a sucker for enemies to lovers, and Helnik, after all, goes enemies-to-lovers TWICE, which is like an extra square on the bingo card. The Bickering, the Fighting, the Lust, the Pining, the Angst, the Guilt, the Betrayal, the Reconciliation, the Tenderness... mmm yes. That is the good stuff. Inject it directly into my veins.

I love the trope-y simplicity of “witch hunter falls in love with witch” as a setup, Ravkans/Fjerdans are also hereditary enemies which makes it extra juicy, and Matthias is like the Archetypal Himbo: noble of heart, thicc of ass, zero of brain cells. Except he’s actually and genuinely honorable to the point where he’s able to perceive (after due struggle) that he’s grown up in a deeply dysfunctional and patriarchal society that has a lot of its own problems, and that hunting witches has been, after all, generally regarded as a Bad Thing. He is the one who has to change his beliefs and behavior the most to become a good partner to Nina, to support her not just as a woman (which itself is a big step considering the Nonsense he’s grown up with) but as a Grisha, and to respect her power and help her in using it and nurse her through the jurda parem sickness at the end of SOC. He becomes that guy who’s just like “man I miss my wife” at all times whenever he’s not around her, and I love that for him. He goes into the Ice Court, where he has grown up and which represents everything he used to want to be, and he still chooses her and tells Brum to eat a dick, even after being so angry at her for a long time. The people said amen.

As for Nina, obviously, I love her sass and the way she constantly calls Matthias out on his bullshit, in the finest tradition of garbage man/feisty lady ships everywhere. I love her heart and her passion and how she also has to confront her own prejudices and the way both of them have to actively choose to be their best selves with each other and to let go of their screwed-up pasts and preconceptions. I love that she’s a plus-sized woman who is comfortable with her body and sexually liberated, that she’s constantly portrayed as beautiful and desirable, and that Matthias has a brain glitch every time he looks at her. She does as much as he does in choosing to challenge the Grisha philosophy/beliefs that she’s been brought up with, that Fjerdans are always bad at all times, and likewise has to go against her own kind to defend him. Their flirting is goddamn adorable, and I Cackle every time I rewatch episode 6, featuring them failing hardcore at not instantly falling in love and being completely in denial about it. I really was not expecting to get this invested in a ship in a YA novel before I even saw the show, but then I did, and I actually woke up in physical pain over them at goddamn 3am the other night. Sigh.

However, I am delighted to report that we are 35k words into the Modern AU Marriage of Convenience fic that I originally wrote as a prompt fill for them about a week ago, and there are So Many Tropes afoot. I’ll start posting it possibly when I finish chapter 5, and yes. I am having all the fun.

Stay tuned.

#helnik #matthias x nina #im love them okay #anonymous #ask

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

My work can be found on AO3 (Use the title above)

Please note all this is a series and after the events of Resident Evil 8. Everyone has survived and lived. I’m still open to requests but I’m writing two stories on the side so your request may take an extra day to write.

Requests: Open

Word Count: 4.3K

Being in the chopper held no safety over the male blonde. He could have been dead, free from all this mess but plans had been changed last minute to ensure his safety. And now, he was sat next to his wife, Mia, cradling their child close to himself as he became derealisation. Just under the 24-hour mark, the male had to repeat the worse of his days once again. It seemed no matter what breaks he was given; he was never able to truly escape the grasp of lies being floated around him. Even having his child in his arms, knowing his understanding of being all mold, he felt as though something was still missing- he knew something else was missing...but what?

Light taps had been hitting his shoulder, yet he chose to ignore them. He wouldn't be able to pull out his mind for a while to come, and yet he didn’t see why his thoughts that engulfed him should be interrupted. He had every right to ignore everyone. All the thieving liars. “Ethan, we know your mad.” His wife’s words had reached out to him, leaving him to hold their child closer to his chest. The movement went unnoticed by his wife luckily. He wouldn’t let his baby girl go, not after everything that had happened to them both in this shithole of a village. “Please Ethan, speak to us.” Mia’s voice had sounded desperate, as though she truly meant she wanted to hear him talk back.

“Tch.” The simple sound left his lips as he moved to look upon his once everything, the person he was really meant to truly love yet couldn’t find the lingering feeling of that word at the given moment. To him now, it seemed Mia was nothing but a classic wolf in sheep’s clothing. “And say what exactly,” He sneered, shaking his head as he gazed down to stare at his daughter who was sleeping soundly as she cuddled closed to his sanded coat, she was wrapped in. “And say I forgive, that we can be a normal happy family.” Mia bit her bottom lip, fingers twitching to place on her clearly shaken husband’s arm, yet she didn’t dare to touch him anymore after his words directed at her show no mercy in actually wanting anything such as a civil conversation with her.

“I know I lied- many of us did to you, but we are trying to protect you!” She leaned forward in her seat, trying to capture Ethan’s attention. His eyesight never left the bundle of his girl but his facial expression shifted into furrow brow and a forced small smile.

“Protect me. Everyone says that- even in those cheap romantic movies they say that. How can I be the one to be protected when our daughter here was almost killed for someone else’s sickening needs. That someone you knew clearly well. You're protecting me? Since when have you ever protected me. All this trouble, everything that has happened was all because you let yourself get mixed up in all the trouble you see.”  

“Ethan,” A deep warning tone came from the front of the chopper. A wider male leaned his body to the side to peer over the chair he was sat in. He stared at the two partners that sat on a metal bench with an intense glare that was mostly was directed at the male. “Anger doesn’t get any of us anywhere. We have explaining and so do you.” His words cancelled out any further arguments between the married couple, leaving them all in silence as the mixed of harsh and soft breathing had been heard through the headsets they all wore.

Ethan took a deep breath in and out, calming his racing heartbeat that was making him feel slightly dizzy “Is there anything else I should be aware about,” Thankfully, he was quickly responded back by Redfield, the wider male at the front who wasted no time in explaining everything that seemed important.

“Those...Lords have been found alive and are being taken by other members of my squad to be reported back at the base. Seems you never actually killed them. We are planning to run tests on them and then we will let the higher ups decide what out next move shall be with them.” The mention of those Lords sent a sick bug down Ethan’s throat. Knowing they were alive had him questioning his own safety now. Would they want to kill him for trying to kill them? Because they are mutated like himself would he be placed to go against them, for all of them to become Lab Rats to the BSAA? What would happen to his daughter-

“I do not give any consent for my daughter to be used as some Lab Rat,” his lips became dry as the words left him. No, he wouldn’t allow his daughter to have such tests run on her. She was a baby. A small, fragile, and the only person Ethan felt like needing in his life.

Redfield had moved to face forward, not wanting to respond to the father’s words. The BSAA would surely need Rosemary for a few days to make sure everything for her was okay, was stable and that she could be placed into a society where she could be kept safe. Chris sighed and leaned back, watching as the horizon of the sky lightened up. Soon...soon things will calm down and until then, there was sure to be violence between all parties in this situation. The Lords, Mia, Ethan and of course himself. “I mean it Chris; any sort of harm that comes to my daughter I will have to do things I wouldn't regret.” The tone of venom hadn’t been ignored by anyone that was listening in on the headsets. Ethan had truly changed; he was no longer the sweet loving husband everyone knew of- instead he was rather the hunter, the lion willing to protect its cub.

Ethan stepped into the base of the BSAA. Mia had been moved by other agents to go somewhere else to split the two and to ease the tension both of them brought and Ethan was glad for that move to be made. The shining lights and its agents running about had him questioning how much actually were these people prepared for. Looking around, checking for any danger, Ethan followed Redfield and a few agents into an elevator with Rosemary in his arms still. He had refused to let her out of his sight until he knew she was truly safe. The elevator had taken them up 30 floors in total and the ride had become very uncomfortable for the standing agents. They could feel the anger flying off between the two men only for it to be cut short when they finally excited the cramped space. Ethan had once again followed Chris to a room where more agents stood and two lone white coats around a large office table with a whiteboard at the furthest end from the door. “Ethan, I want you to meet the people who would be working with you.” Ethan sent a short nod to everyone in the room, adjusting Rose in his hold to have a secure hold around her small body.  

A woman outstretched a hand towards Ethan with a bright smile. “I’m Sherley, I’m somewhat a case worker for you. Any troubles you want speaking about; I’ll will send them to our higher ups for the matters to be discussed.” Ethan ignored the hand, choosing to sit down around the large wooden table.

“I apologise for Mr Winter’s manners. He has been through a lot.” Chris responded, sending a kind smile to Sherley who nodded and began to sit down as well, sitting closer to the head of the table at the other side facing Ethan. Chris sighed and shook his head towards Ethan, showing his disappointment in the lack of manners before going to sit at the head of the office table. Other agents and the scientist sat down in the unoccupied seats, however leaving Ethan’s side empty. Raising a finger to his earpiece, Chris sent a quick message to all responsive. “Send them in.”

Ethan glared at Chris, his words finding more questions to raise into the father’s mind. Who was ‘Them’? It seemed he didn’t have to wait long for the familiar voices to catch his ears. Before Ethan could speak up in any protests, a swarm of flies had swarmed in with crackling voices. They were soon followed by the familiar Lords Ethan had tried killing- but leaving them alive. Lady Dimitrescu walked in first, her eyes ignoring the sitting blonde and instead standing behind her three daughter who had placed themselves together in three seats. Next to walk in was Moreau who held a metal container in his hands. Ethan dropped his gaze to his little Rose, who was slightly awake but dropping her eyelids to sleep again. Soon more people had entered, the high pitch doll had Ethan looking up and glaring at the doll with a glare that would’ve killed her. “Keep her quiet, my daughter here is trying to sleep.” The power of his voice sent Angie to be silent, she still knew what Ethan could do if he wanted to- she held tightly onto Lady Beneveinto finding fear for the blonde who had almost killed her and her Lady. They sat closest to Chris, Angie prompting Donna to do so, so she could stay away from Ethan’s murderous glare. There was only one empty seat next to Ethan now, and he could hear the boots of who would occupy that seat coming closer.

“Am I late to the meeting,” The voice had crackled out, stubbing his cigar against the door frame and dropping it to the ground before entering the room seeing everyone together. “Ooo, everyone looks scary,” His sarcasm had left him with an angered Vampire and a sigh from Redfield. Finding amusement in the situation, he plopped himself in the chair next to Ethan and gave him a flashy smile.

“Look at me again and I will make sure to finish the job,” Ethan smiles back, watching as Heisenberg’s face shifted from his flashy smile to a croaked smile. He slowly faced away from Ethan, his eyes landing on his ‘older sister’ who was holding back an amuse smile of her own.

“Maybe the father isn’t all bad,” She cooed, watching as Ethan messed with his daughter’s outstretched hands.  

“So, I’m glad you’re all here.” Redfield spoke, getting rid of any attention on Rose and her father. He stood up out his chair and placed his arms behind his back in a soldier-like manner. “We are all here to discuss what will happen with you all since...you know-” Chris struggled to find the words, what was he supposed to say? What should he call their indifferences?

“Because we are all monsters?” Ethan piped up, his eyes still not leaving his daughter who brought a weird warmth into his heart that only a child could achieve.  

“I wouldn’t say that but because you’re all different from regular people.”  

“Just get on with it, I haven’t got the time.” Ethan had really changed in Chris’ eyes. He was more demanding, only now taking power over any situation and wanting to have control of it. ‘Father Instincts’ Chris had brushed it off as. He was sure Ethan would go back to being the man he first met after the incident at the Baker’s house- well he hoped he would go back to that version of himself anyway.

“Right. So, for starters we are placing you all in a close proximity neighbourhood for safe checking and safety for you all. Any arguments against that?” Suddenly the Lords begun arguing and Rosemary had started to cry. Dimitrescu was stating her daughters would easily die. Moreau was stating he had no home since he was a water base monster, Angie was speaking up for Beneviento stating being close to anyone in general wasn’t good on her Lady’s health and lastly, Heisenberg had shouted out over everyone else that he had no need to be kept a close eye on as he was the safest one of them all- the statement got a lot of eye rolls over from everyone in the room. One by one, Chris had silenced them to the point he could be heard again if it wasn’t for the cries of Rose and Ethan’s gentle vice soothing her down. He raised his hands to his temple to rub away the headache he was getting from the loud noises before speaking again after Ethan had successful quietened Rose. “It’s just for now, other living arrangements may be made later on in time. Please, be the grownups you are in this society and accept what you are given. Now agents, is there anything you want to speak about with the Lords of the Village?”

Ethan watched as his daughter fell asleep, he toned out the agents talk. He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips, seeing his daughter so peaceful away from danger now gave him a reason to also feel safe. He will protect her, not the protection Mia had provided him but he would do better for his baby. Ethan rubbed his mutated hand against her cheek, watching her smile in her sleep and rub against the trunks of his loss two fingers. “You’re not a bad father,” A voice spoke next to him. Soon his smile changed to a scowl, he looked over at Heisenberg watching as the rugged man looked down at the sleeping Rose.

“And what would you know about fatherhood?” Ethan snarled back, keeping his voice quiet to not draw attention to himself. Heisenberg released a chuckle that only Ethan heard and leaned back further in his seat, letting himself slouched down backwards.

“I know to be a father you need to place your children first...which is exactly what you did,” He mummed out, looking back at Ethan to see him no longer looking at him and rather back at his daughter. Ethan slowly nodded, giving his face a break from having an angered look at the other and instead rested his expressions.

“If you know little, then why did you try to use my daughter as a weapon?” He questioned the Lord, looking towards him still ignoring the speaking agents who were now speaking more towards Angie than Beneviento. The room felt a little more open now, being settled around enemies was a scary thought at first to the father but now, it seemed as though he may be settling down fine with them seemingly, they all now shared a sort of connection. The Lord had lifted himself out from his slouched position and sat straight, completely facing away from having his chair facing the other side of the table to now be facing Ethan fully. Heisenberg, having his back turned facing Redfield, used this opportunity to talk to the father he so desperately wanted on his side for the fight.

“I never wanted to hurt your daughter, I’m not like that bitch Miranda. I just needed to use her to break Miranda’s powers. I’m not good at socialising with good words, I probably phrased my needs wrongly and I never wanted that. We were supposed to be a team Ethan, you and me destroying the Bitch of Crows.” Ethan fell silent, watching as Heisenberg stared at him from behind his shades.

“You need to work on your social skills.” The point that came from Ethan had Heisenberg holding back a loud chuckle. The father was right but the sudden response of that sentence had put Heisenberg off his serious demur.

“I’ll work on them one day. For now, how about we start over?” His question lingered between Ethan and himself. It took a few short seconds and careful thinking before Ethan had responded.

“Maybe...” Although Heisenberg didn’t get a full ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, he was still pleased either way. He and Ethan could do so much if he agreed. Heisenberg was already strumming ideas in his mind such as them building together, or annoying his ‘older sister’. So much now that he had some of his freedom he could do- and who better to spend his freedom with the man who saved them all.  

“Are we interrupting something?” Chris had spoken up with a raised brow. Ethan shook his head, staring at the other man. Heisenberg moved his chair back to its original position and also shook his head, tilting his hat to cover a little more of his face feeling the eyes on him by the agents. “Okay...so you will be going to the neighbourhood after this meeting and settling in your homes. Please note you may be moved in the future depending how well all this goes. As for you Ethan,” Ethan had physically shrunken back at the mention of his name. Why did he have to be a part of all this? “You need to decided whenever you want Mia living with you since that flight you both seemed a little distance from each other.” The blonde had wasted no time to answer, having no second thoughts.

“I want nothing to do with her.” Chris was taken back from Ethan.  

“A-are you sure? She’s your wife-”

“No. I want a divorce this minute. I can’t handle any more lies Chris. And I certainty can’t stand her own mind games.” Before Chris could ask for further explanation to his reasons, Sherley spoke up.

“I’ll have the papers sent to her straight away Mr Winters.” She had quickly gathered her own folders off the table and left with two agents trailing behind her out of the meeting room. The three daughters had begun to whisper amongst themselves, Ethan hearing the sentence of ‘what is a divorce’ coming from Bella’s mouth.

“E-Ethan. Think about this.” Chris wanted answers, he wasn’t going to be left out. He wanted to protected Ethan and now he was going to make sure that Ethan’s happiness was also something to be thought about with all this.

Ethan looked down at Rose again, not daring to look back up. It seemed Rose gave him the calmness he had been searching for all his life since meeting Mia. “She’s a bad person for me Chris. I believe I’ll be better off without her.”  

“But what about the young one?” It was a scientist that spoke up this time, pointing with a pen at the baby cradled in her father’s arms.

Ethan swallowed, he needed to think. And quick. There were really only two options to that question and he could either be a bad parent, or be the decent guy. “She can have half custody over our child, but I wish for her to not be anywhere near me or my home where I’ll be keeping Rose safe when she is with me.” The agents and scientist were jotting down notes, clearly his every movement was being recorded and Ethan was stuck thinking if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Clicking the pen down, the same scientist spoke back up.

“Okay and that’s all we needed to know. Please remember Lords that you will have tests run on you to ensure our safety as much as your own. There is only so much we can give you at the moment until you complete all tests. Your first tests will start tomorrow. Have a good rest of the day.” They all quickly packed up, leaving Chris, Ethan and his spawn as well as the Lords alone in the room. However, the room wasn’t completely private, a small camera being in the corner watching over the whole table.

“So... this is it?” Angie asked, looking around the whole table. “We will be kept alive?” Hope was evident in her tone, it seemed she was just as glad as the others to be alive.

“You are allowed to be spared. I’m not going to lie, at first the BSAA were going to make sure every last one of you were dead for caution reasons...but it seemed Winters had the better judgement of the matter and the actions has led the organisation to believe you are allowed to live because of his judgement.” Chris smiled as he saw a small amount of red leak onto Ethan’s cheek. He hated having attention brought onto himself, and Chris knew that all too well.

Moreau was the next to speak up. “So, because of him, we are allowed to live?” Chris answered with a nod of the head. Moreau started to jump up and down in his seat, clearly excited at the news. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Mr Winters, I have so much to thank you for! Even if I did follow mother’s orders a lot...”  

Ethan’s face flushed a darker red, only on his ears however as he tried his best to shake off the words of Moreau. “Don’t thank me- who knows what they’ll put you through with the tests.”

“It doesn’t quite matter yet though. You’ve practically gave us freedom we all never thought to ever have.” Dimitrescu leaned back up to stand, after leaning over all three of her daughters in the meeting, placing a hand on her hip as she faced Ethan who was sat down and trying to turn away from all the attention. Dimitrescu bowed slightly, earning a gasp from all three of her girls. As she stood straight back up, she coughed into her closed fist and gave a warm smile. “Thank you for giving us it.”

“Guys honestly, don’t thank me. There is nothing to be thankful for,” His whines came out of deaf ears as Angie was next to scream out appreciative words to be joined in with Moreau after and Dumitrescu daughters. Chris smiled, finding all this amusing and... warming almost.  

‘They really are just people at the end of the day’ He thought, frowning a little at the realisation that they are only like this because of what Miranda had done. True people stripped of their right and humanity all for a small girl to come back... it all failed either way. “As much as I’m sure Ethan enjoys the attention, it's time for you all to head to your new housing area. Leave the meeting room and agents will escort you to cars that will bring you to your neighbourhood. Any requirements you need, state them to the agents in the car and we’ll do our best to bring them to you over time.” Chris nodded his head to the room before being the first to leave. Next to follow was Angie with Lady Beneveinto, next after them was Moreau with a scowling Dimitrescu following behind complaining about the stench he was carrying. Her daughters followed her also, asking if they could have their coats that were taken off them when they set foot into the building.

Left in the room was Ethan with his child and Heisenberg who didn’t make any sort of movement of leaving. Ethan waited a few minutes before starting to get a little annoyed with his presence. “Aren’t you going to go?” He asked, looking towards the Lord who seemed to stare into space. Not getting an answer, Ethan huffed and adjusted Rose to lay in one of his arms before using the other to shake Heisenberg’s shoulder. It worked as the Lord was taken out of his mind.

“hm? What? W-What did you say?” He asked, taking his shades off and placing them into his trench coat’s pocket. Ethan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I asked aren’t you going to go as well, to your new home?” Heisenberg rested his eyes to stare at Ethan.  

“Are you also coming papa?” He asked back, smiling as Ethan groaned.

“Stop calling me that, just call me Ethan.”  

“Okay...Mr Winters.” The lord teased watching as the other was getting riled up. With a kick of the leg, Heisenberg laughed as Ethan laid back on his chair and started to kick one of the Lord’s knees. “You call that a kick? C’mon you hurt a lot more back in the Village.”

“Just go Heisenberg, you got your freedom now go.” Ethan stopped kicking the other Lord, resisting the urge to smile. It felt nice to be playful...even if it was with an enemy of the past. Heisenberg had a kind smile, it wasn’t his usual smirk but something much different, a lot better.

“And do I get the honours of spending my freedom with the man who gave me it?” The question left Ethan speechless. Heisenberg wanted him to be spending his life with. The lack of an answer left Heisenberg's smile to falter a little, seeing the father so hesitant with his words. “It’s aright if you don't want to. I get it, you got a lot going on and I’m sure me being there will worsen things-”

“We are neighbours remember?” Ethan spoke up, standing out of his seat and looking down at the shorter male. “I suppose you can pop around whenever, just don't do anything that will get you into trouble with me.”  

Smiling again, Heisenberg stood out of his seat with much enthusiasm and nodded sharply. “Yes, sir no sir, there will be no trouble with me.”

“You’re an idiot,” was Ethan’s last words as he spoke in a happy tone before he left the meeting room with Rose cradled in his arms just about waking up.

“Wanting to be your idiot.” Heisenberg spoke to no one, plotting more ideas for himself and the father. Maybe after tomorrow’s first test, he could give the blond a visit.

#Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #ao3 #resident evil 8 #resident evil #lord heisenberg

[plus-size-reader]

Robbing the Cradle

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1932 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Dean falls in love with a younger reader, and really struggles with it.

——————————————————————————————————

Dean had put up a huge fight when it came to you, at least at first. 

He didn’t want to be in love with you, and he didn’t want to admit how happy you made him. He didn’t want to but clearly that didn’t change the fact that he had fallen so deeply in love with you that he couldn’t dig himself out.

You were nothing more than a child, at least as far as he was concerned. You were only twenty-two years old, practically still in pampers and he felt weird about it.

After all, why didn’t you want to be with a man your own age? Didn’t you want to have a normal relationship? Why would you want to be with someone like him when someone better was right around the corner. 

Dean wasn’t the most thoughtful, or well adjusted man in the world, and that wasn’t a secret. 

He knew that there was someone who could be better for you.

Still, you showed no interest in anyone other than him. It shocked the man to his core, that you never once talked about what you were missing out on, or wanting to do anything other than what you were doing. 

He just didn’t get it.

From Dean’s point of view, you should have been desperate to get out and experience life but who better to show it to you than Dean? That was the only thing that you ever said when he brought it up. 

You just didn’t understand how he could ever worry about something like that. After all, how many guys your age were going state-to-state, hunting monsters and saving lives?

Dean Winchester was one in a million...whether he chose to believe it or not.

Take today for example, you had tagged along with Sam and Dean to track down a poltergeist that was committing a series of gory murders in a small town. 

It had been a ridiculously stressful hunt, and it could have been dangerous but you had never felt more alive. You were obsessed with the thrill of the hunt. In fact, there was only one thing you liked more.

...And that was drinking. 

You had learned early on that going to the bar with the guys after a hard case was the best way to unwind. There was honestly nothing like it and you had never passed up a chance to go after everything was over. 

Which was good, considering the fact that Dean also really liked to hit the bar when he was stressed. 

...But he wasn’t the only one. 

There were a ton of guys with really hard lives and things they’re running from. Everyone had things they were trying to forget and liquor just aided in that journey. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing liquor did. 

It also made some men lose their tact, which with a beautiful woman around, was never good. It was a bad combo and Dean was really figuring that out tonight. 

“What’s wrong Dean?” you wondered, in a sing-song tone, even going so far as to throw your arm over his shoulder casually. 

The action was a little goofy with the slight drinking you’d been doing but you were in no way drunk. 

You had just been trying to get him to play pool for an hour now and tonight he was practically a bump on a log. 

...It was no fun at all. 

Especially not considering how much fun Dean was when he was in a good mood. You just missed it tonight, and you had no idea what was on his mind.

  “Nothing’s wrong, just got a lot on my mind” he tried, but you knew better. 

He may have been older than you but sometimes his pouting made you doubt it. You and Dean had been together for too long for that to work. 

The two of you had nearly died today and all he could think about was the hunt. It was kind of unbelievable. 

However, you were missing the biggest part of this whole thing. You had no idea but you and Dean weren’t alone in your casual affection. At some point, you had caught the attention of a group of strangers. 

...But you hadn’t noticed yet. 

You thought that there was something wrong with you, or that he was bored of your company. 

“Please Dean? Can’t we just play? I wanna have a good time and forget about the monsters” you begged, your voice nothing more than a purr in his ear. You were desperate for a little fun, especially after such a long and stressful day.

Though, you still didn’t know that across the bar stood that group of younger guys, not much older than you are. 

They’d had their eyes on you since you two walked in, and it was really starting to bother Dean.

He couldn’t stand it. 

Dean had been around the block before, and he had been that sort of guy. He knew that they were talking about him, and that they were weighing their options about what their chances were with you. 

They thought that he had robbed the cradle, and they were planning on taking you away from him...and why wouldn’t you go?  They were young, and built and they could offer you the world.  

How was he supposed to compete with that?

“I’m not really in the mood tonight, why don’t you play without me?” he suggested, waving over to the table begrudgingly. He felt bad about it but he just couldn’t fake it tonight. 

These were the sorts of things that really got to him about the age gap that you two had. Other people constantly had their eyes on you, as if you didn’t know what you were missing out on. 

Though, you both knew that wasn’t the case. 

As far as you were concerned, you weren’t missing out on anything, and Dean didn’t ever get that far. He was fully in love with you, and as long as you wanted to be with him, he would take it. 

...But not tonight. 

Tonight, he just needed to sit by himself and stew over everything that was bothering him. 

It was the way the Winchester men dealt with things, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

You nodded, taking the hint and heading over to the table. Luckily, you were able to reach out to a few people at the pool table and join their game. They were nice, but you found it really hard to take the distraction. 

You were just worried about Dean. 

So worried, in fact, that you completely missed the one brave guy out of the pack who approached you. He had just chugged an entire beer can, and he was feeling on top of the world.

Clearly, that had led him to believe that you wanted anything to do with him. Even if you were putting out every single signal telling him that wasn’t the case.

As far as you were concerned, it didn’t matter if this guy was David Beckham or the queen of England. 

The last thing you wanted right now was for some average Joe to bother you. 

Not that your very clear body language kept him from coming. 

Before you could say or do anything about it, his arm was slung around your shoulder, a clumsy stumble following. He wasn’t smooth by any means, but weren’t too worried about it.

You were a literal monster hunter. You could handle a handsy frat boy that was too far out of his depth. 

Both you and Dean had handled worse. 

“Can I help you?” you wondered, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you shrugged him off, not even bothering to drop your pool cue. You didn’t imagine this would take too much time at all.

The Bozo to your right only laughed, smiling at you with a lopsided grin. “I was thinking more along the lines of how I could help you” he suggested, the words leaving his throat in a sick tone.

It made you want to be ill. 

This guy was a creep and you knew for a fact that he had nothing to offer you. Though, before you could inform him of that simple fact, an all too familiar hand fell down on his shoulder. 

...Because as it would turn out, Dean couldn’t just sit by and watch.

He knew that you could handle it, but he couldn’t help himself. As much as he tried to stay out of it, it made his blood boil to watch someone paw at you like that. 

It wasn’t in his nature. 

“Is there a problem man?” the younger guy wondered, looking at Dean as if he’d committed some sort of serious offense. If only he knew what he was getting himself into.

You could tell that Dean was doing his best to keep calm, which was good. However, you couldn’t be sure how long that patience would last. 

If you knew anything, it wouldn’t be long at all.

Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but patient wasn’t one of them. 

“No, there’s no problem at all...except for the fact that you’ve got your hands on my girl” he started, his jaw tensed slightly as he addressed the frat boy by your side. 

He seemed just as upset as you could have expected, though he was doing a pretty good job of keeping it hidden. 

“Wait, hold up, this is your girl? Is that what you’re telling me?” the stranger laughed, looking between the two of you with a grin on his face. 

...Obviously that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but you didn’t get it.

There was nothing funny about it and as soon as he said it, you found yourself getting angry. Not only was this guy a creep, but he was also gonna question a man like Dean? 

He must have been an idiot. 

However, before you could step up and make that point, Dean stopped you with a calm glance. 

You hadn’t been prepared for that reaction, but Dean had. From the moment that you two started doing this whole thing, he had been waiting for these kinds of reactions. 

A guy like him had no business being with a woman like you, and he knew that. 

“Look man, I get it...but yes, this is my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you backed off” he suggested, knowing it wouldn’t go down that easily. Though, he wanted to give this kid a chance. 

After all, he was just a young guy trying to have a good time and Dean understood that, not that he was going to let this whole thing slide if he kept it up. 

...And of course he kept it up. 

“Oh yeah? You’d appreciate it?” he scoffed, glancing down at you. “Can you believe this guy, honey?” he just kept going, laughing. 

You could have killed him. 

There was only one thing that you knew in this moment, and that was that this wasn’t going to end well.

*Bonus* 

“Are you alright baby?” Dean checked, smiling at you in a tired sort of way. It had been a long day, but you nodded, anyway. 

“I’m fine, are you okay though?” you hummed, returning the favor. He seemed alright, but the bruise blooming on his cheek proved potentially different. 

That jerk had got one lick in before Dean knocked him out. 

Little did you know, but in that moment, Dean had actually never been better.

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x ps reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x plus size reader #supernatural x ps reader #supernatural imagine #spn x reader #spn x plus size reader #spn x ps reader #spn imagine

[tsukikoayanosuke]

Behind the Fic: Trivia Cards Collection - Ruggie and Trey’s Family’s Names

When Twisted-Wonderland give you chance to make new year holiday cards or memes, but you decided to use it for something useless as character trivia cards.

Remember: most of these are not canon. 

Ruggie’s Family

Grandma: Sienna Bucchi

Name meaning: English name derived from the vocabulary word sienna, meaning "reddish-orange."

A reference to Little Red Riding Hood's grandma and the red hood itself. A sick woman who is the mother of Ruggie's late mother. Later she became Ruggie's sole guardian.

Father: Sawyer Bucchi

Name meaning: Occupational name for someone who earned his living by sawing wood, Middle English saghier, an agent derivative of sagh(en) 'to saw'. Americanized form of some like-sounding Jewish surname or a translation of Seger.

A reference to the hunter/woodcutter and the forest itself. A working man who tried his best to feed his family, switching job in various shift. He unfortunately died from exhaustion just a few months after winning custody from his abusive wife.

Mother: Aldofina Bosco

Name meaning: English origin name with the meaning "noble wolf."

Surname meaning: Means "forest" in Italian.

A reference to the wolf who ate the grandma and later Little Red Riding Hood. On the outside, she's a kind woman, however, she's abusive toward poor Ruggie everytime her husband is out to work. After the divorce, she lost custody of Ruggie who moved with his father and grandma.

Son: Ruggie Bucchi

Name meaning: The closest to his first name is 'Reggie' which means 'mighty counselor-ruler' (English) or 'powerful ruler' (German).

A vague reference to Little Red Riding Hood. After his parents got divorced and his father died not long after, Ruggie had been jumping around accepting odd jobs in the street as long as he could feed his grandma.

Trey’s Family

Father: Lowell Clover

Name meaning: From an English surname that was derived from a Norman French nickname, from lou "wolf" and a diminutive suffix. The surname was borne by American poet and satirist James Russell Lowell (1819-1891).

A reference to the Big Bad Wolf who died from being boiled alive. Trey's father has a low immune system which resulted in him getting fever frequently. He, however, died when Trey was still young. He once worked as a teacher and always felt guilty knowing that his wife gave up her dream to be with him.

Mother: Carmen Clover

Name meaning: Medieval Spanish form of CARMEL influenced by the Latin word carmen "song". This was the name of the main character in George Bizet's opera Carmen (1875).

A reference to the Disney song "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?". A fiery woman who once a theater star before dropped out after marrying Lowell because of his health complications.

First Son: Trey Clover

Name meaning: English name meaning "three". Originally a nickname for a third-generation son, as in Thurman Thackeray III, Trey is now being given to others, and it has also expanded to Treynor and Treyton. The name also is popular among basketball fans: It's another word for a three-point shot

A vague reference to the three little pigs, more specifically, the number 3. After his father's death, Trey must become the man of the household, being his mother's helper. He learned how to bake from his mother and her friends, and soon become the main baker of his shop.

Second Son: Milford Clover

Name meaning: From an English surname that was originally derived from various place names all meaning "ford by a mill" in Old English.

A vague reference to the pig's straw house which got blown down by the wolf. A timid boy who is the twin of Clematis and has a soft spot for romance novels.

First Daughter: Clematis Clover

Name meaning: From the English word for a type of flowering vine, ultimately derived from Greek κλήμα (klema) meaning "twig, branch".

A vague reference to the pig's stick house which got blown down by the wolf. A loud and aggressive girl who is the twin of Milford. She's very easy to be provoked and will not hesitate to headbutt on the stomach.

Second Daughter: Diamond Clover

Name meaning: From the English word diamond for the clear colorless precious stone, the birthstone of April. It is derived from Late Latin diamas, from Latin adamas, which is of Greek origin meaning "invincible, untamed".

A vague reference to the pig's brick house which the wolf failed to blow down. The youngest of the Clover siblings who unfortunately inherit their father's low immune system. She couldn't get out of the house too much and needs to drink a lot of medication. But, she has a passion for singing.

Family Friend: Deborah Karuta

Name meaning: From the Hebrew name דְּבוֹרָה (Devorah) meaning "bee". In the Old Testament Book of Judges, Deborah is a heroine and prophetess who leads the Israelites when they are threatened by the Canaanites.

Surname meaning:  Japanese playing cards that were introduced to Japan by the Portuguese traders during the mid-16th century.

A reference to the honey tree from "The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh" episode, "Three Little Piglets". A friend of Carmen who taught her and Trey how to bake.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcanon #twst headcanons #trey clover #ruggie bucchi #behind the fic: trivia cards collection

[sayuricorner]

Miraculous Ladybug x Identity V: The Oletus manor diary of a ladybug: Chapter 3

Chapter 2        Chapter 4

Prompt concept

Warning : English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing !

Warning 2 : This fanfic content salt if you don’t like don’t read !

Here’s the chapter 3 in which Marinette meet miss Nightingale and get some answers to her questions!

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

21/04/2015, Oletus manor :

Today I felt a little bit better, I'm still feeling like I was victim of an akumas stampeding, but I had more energy than yesterday.

So when docteur Dyer came to my room to see how I was feeling since last night, I asked questions about the manor, she seem to be hesitant to answer when we have been interrupt by a woman with a quite interesting style.

Her name was miss Nightingale and was apparently the stewardess of the mansion and has been tasked by the manor's owner to make my ̎ stay ̎ in this manor as comfortable as possible.

(I know I shouldn't feel like that but I'm supposed to be Ladybug, the guardian of the miraculous box ! I should be at the hotel, with the miraculous box, being ready to teleport in Paris whenever an akuma is attacking, not being sick and being stuck in an unknow manor and having it's habitants being forced to disrupt their daily lives for my sake... Like the burden I always am...)

A-anyway, miss Nightingale also informed me she will also answer any questions I might had, under the condition I don't say a anything about whatever I was going to learn about the manor to anyone from ̎ the outside world ̎.

And I agreed with it, after all, first : telling whatever secrets this manor would not bring me anything and second : even if I say something no one would -no- will believe me...

Ssssoooo, after my discussion with miss Nightingale here's what I learned :

-The ̎ Oletus Manor ̎  is apparently a place where people ̎ at the edge ̎ came to, I quote, ̎ find a way to erase their dark past ̎.

-The people invited to live in the manor are participating in a kind of ̎ cat and mouse game ̎ in which they're sorted in two teams, the ̎ Hunters ̎ and the ̎ Survivors ̎ and the winner will be give the thing they desire the most by the manor's owner as a price.

-The reason why many of the ̎ manor's tendants ̎ are dressed in old time clothes is because the manor is like stuck in space and time, most of the tendants are from the Victorian era and didn't age since they entrered the manor, in fact they somewhat became ̎ immortals ̎ and will not die from old age as long as they live in the manor.

-Some of the tendants are, in miss Nightingale's words, rather ̎ specials ̎ and some of them can be ̎ difficult ̎ and she told me to tell her immediatly if one of them is bothering me.

-And finally the reason why she is able to told me all this without fearing I might tell everything to the ̎ outside world ̎ once I'm able to leave the manor despite taking the oath to not say a word about the manor's secrets is because the manor's owner felt something about me which make me ̎ more than meet the eye ̎.

… I'm gonna be honnest this is a LOT to take...

After that conversation docteur Dyer and miss Nightingale left to let me rest and as soon as they closed the door, Tikki get out from where she was hidding and we spend a good time to talk about everything we just learned.

Althrough all this story of mysterious manor stuck between space and time which bring deseperated and wierd people to play a bizarre game to get their deepest desire becoming true and not aging as long as they lived in the manor was... confusing... that wasn't what was worrying me the most.

What is worrying me however is the ̎ more than meet the eye ̎ comment the manor's owner apparently said, which imply he may knew about me having a link with the miraculous, which mean he probably know about the miraculous, which is not. good. at. all !

After all this place, the whole ̎  deseperated people playing a cat and mouse game to get what they want the most in a manor which keep them from aging ̎ thing, the manor's owner who seem to be determined to stay anonymous and this strange chill which when down my spine yesterday...

I can't help it but being very wary about this whole situation, what if this owner is hidding something shady behind his hospitality ? What if he is like Hawkmoth ? What if he plan to take Tikki and later the others miraculous ?

Tikki assured me that she didn't think we were in danger in this manor, according to her despite the strange chilling atmosphere of the manor she didn't feel anything which could be bad at least toward us.

I trust Tikki, I really do, however I can't just let my guard down, as Ladybug and the guardian of the miracle box I must stay on my guards, anything can happen especially with my state !

For now I will rest, Tikki remind me the most important thing to do right now for me was to recover  and she's right !

I need to recover fast so like this as soon as the rain stop I can leave this place and stop being a bother to those people, get back to my class and being once again ready to go protect Paris in case an akuma attack.

I must recover quickly, all Paris and the kwamis count on me ! I wont fail them ! I can't let them down !

I just can't !

—————————————–

TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)

@diana-berry

#ml salt #identity v #miraculous ladybug #ml salt fic #ml fanfic #miss nightingale #marinette dupain cheng #emily dyer #tikki #oletus manor #diary entries #marinette deserves better #class salt

[thetravelerwrites]

Sheng (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Yeren Additional Tags: Exophilia, Yeren, Chinese Yeti, Bigfoot, Sasquatch Content Warnings: Slavery, Indentured Servitude, Gladiator Words: 5545

The conclusion to the story commissioned by @floral-and-fine​! After three years, the reader returns to repay Sheng's generosity. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Sheng’s friend Rantha was a large, black minotaur, you discovered. He and Sheng had been raised together at the arena. Rantha had had the makings of a top-winning gladiator when he was young, but he left after he killed a man during a bout, deciding that fighting wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life.

He now made a living as a hunter and was married with two sons, living in a quaint cabin in the forest, which is where he took you when you left the city. You had given Edgar the extra papers you’d found before you made your escape, not certain what they were, but hoping Edgar could do something with them and help other people unjustly imprisoned find freedom, or at least justice.

Mercy, Rantha’s wife, was a cheerful and accommodating woman. She had a shriveled left arm, an affliction she’d had since childhood, but she managed to do things one-handed with little to no trouble at all. When you told her about how your own family had sold you into slavery to pay off their debts, she had told you about being left here in the forest to starve by her mother.

However, it was only because of that that she was able to meet and marry Rantha in the first place. She knew she was lucky, though; if Rantha hadn’t been here and she’d been left at an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere with no help, she wasn’t sure if she’d still be alive. As much as you empathized with her, it did make you feel better knowing that her own sad tale had a happy ending. You hoped you and Nhemi had a happy ending waiting for the two of you, as well.

Nhemi, who’d grown up a slave, wasn’t used to not having any work to do and was a little confused by the change. Honestly, you were feeling out of sorts, too. Rantha and his family gave you food and shelter with no expectation of reimbursement. Being a guest after being a servant for so long felt unnatural to the both of you.

That evening, Rantha slept in his boys room and gave you, Nhemi, and Mercy the large bed.

“I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,” You whispered to Mercy as the three of you began to prepare for sleep.

“It’s no trouble at all, love,” She replied. “Rantha has been helping folks escape hard lives in the city since before the two of us ever met. He was able to walk away from the arena freely, but a lot of the friends he left behind weren’t as lucky. I think he’s always felt guilty about that.”

“I get that,” You said. “I wasn’t close with many of the other slaves besides the children I helped raise, like Nhemi, but I still feel bad that I’m here and they’re there.”

“I can’t tell you how to feel, of course, but considering you were working off someone else’s debts and that you were being held illegally, you’ve more than earned your freedom in my opinion. You don’t have to feel bad that you’ve finally received what you deserved in the first place. Trust me, that was a lesson I had to learn myself.”

You smiled. The three of you climbed into bed with Nhemi in the middle. She’d only ever slept on a thin cot before, so the plush bed was something she was unfamiliar with. She adapted quickly enough, and was dead asleep in a matter of minutes.

Despite the exhaustion due to the three day flight from the city to Rantha’s hidden cabin, you lay there unable to doze off. You stared up at the ceiling, the uncertainty of yours and Nhemi’s future made sleep slow in coming. Where would you go? You were now a fugitive on the run. If you or Nhemi were caught, it was the gallows. Rantha said there were options, places you could go where the people would protect you, but that seemed dubious to you. You knew better than anyone that everyone had their price.

Rantha had told you that Sheng had provided you with a care package of money and papers recommending you for work wherever you chose to go. You weren’t even sure where you should go. Where would be safe? Honestly, the safest thing would be to leave the country altogether.

You could go to the port in Shoreton and beg for a place on a ship. You didn’t know anything about working on a boat, but you were a fast learner. Every ship needed someone to mop decks and cook. You’d need to buy some trousers.

What about Nhemi? Would she be able to work on the ship? You knew there was an orphanage two towns over. Should you leave her there? You didn’t like the idea of leaving her with strangers, but it may be what was best for her.

With the future uncertain, you fell into an uneasy sleep, visited by tense dreams that were gone when you woke.

Three Years and Five Months Later

You stepped off the gangplank in Shoreton, adjusting your hat and looking out over the port town with a smile on your face. Shoreton was built on the ruins of an ancient elvish city, long decayed. What it’s original name was is lost to time, but now it was a town full of life and livelihood with fisherman and sailors and working girls. It felt more like home than any home you’d ever known, despite you spending a collective few months there.

You had managed to get a job on a merchant ship. Their merchandise was of questionable origin, but they hired you and Nhemi as deckhands, mopping the deck and scraping barnacles off the bow. Much like in the arena, you had worked your way up into owning your own small transport ship with a handful of crew, including Nhemi, who could climb the rigging like a spider.

Despite being a woman, your reputation for getting cargo where it needed to go regardless of seas or circumstance had garnered you a lot of business. In three years, you were now a captain of a small fleet of ships and a loyal crew. Your habit of humming as you navigated had earned you the name “Sea Sparrow” by your crew, a nickname that had caught on with the other sailors.

Next to you was your first mate, Neeta. Neeta was a siren who’d fallen in love with a crew member of yours. She was also the secret to the success of your business. The crewman she loved had died during a pirate raid, and the two of you had hunted them down and slaughtered them in his honor. Afterward, she swore allegiance to you, becoming a trusted friend and helping keep the seas and weather calm and favorable on your journeys. Staying on the boat allowed her to remember her departed lover and stay close to her home, the sea.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” She asked.

“Yes,” You replied. “This was always the plan. I told you that from the beginning.”

“I know. Far be it for me to question your decision,” She said sardonically. “It’s not as if I’ve ever left my whole world behind for someone I loved, after all.”

“That’s only part of it,” You replied evenly. “I have unfinished business in Dunmountain. Clearing my name is important to me and so is repaying Sheng, but there are people out there who need to pay for wronging me, and people who are still being wronged. Someone has to do something about it.”

“Does it have to be you who does it?”

“If I don’t, then who will?”

Neeta gave a conceding nod. “That’s fair. Do you think you’ll come back to the ships when you finish your work? I can certainly run things in your absence, but the seas will be sadder without you on them.”

You smiled. “That’s kind. I’m not sure. Sheng talked about a small cabin in a small town, and I want him to have what he wants.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ll get what I want, regardless,” You said, smirking. “I always do eventually. The key is convincing people your patient, when really you’re just stubborn.”

Neeta chuckled and crossed her arms, looking out over the port town.

Nhemi stepped up next to you on your other side and took a deep breath, looking up and grinning toothily at you. She wasn’t much taller than she had been three years ago, but she stood straighter and with more confidence. She had earned quite a bit of respect herself, having become an invaluable member of your crew.

“Ah, there you are,” You said, crouching down so that you were eye-to-eye with her. “Now, you remember what I said, you hear? Listen to Neeta, keep close to the rigging, and take care of yourself. When you come of age, one of these boats will be yours. You’ve earned it. And who knows? One day you might be my competition.”

“That’s right, I will!” She said brightly.

You twitched her nose and kissed her cheek. “You be good, alright? You’ll see me again before long.”

“I better,” She said, hugging you around the neck. You returned it and stood, giving Neeta a firm handshake, and headed out into the town to hire a carriage.

It was a nerve-wracking six days to reach the city. Not much had changed, especially the arena. The sight of it when you rode past it made your heart lurch. Was Sheng still there? Did he think of you? Had he been hurt again since you’d been gone? Had he gotten into trouble for helping you?

You’d thought of sending him a message, but Rantha said it was dangerous. The only thing you’d been allowed to do was send a missive to Edgar with the words “All is well” and hope he passed it along for you.

You found an inn uptown and set your belongings in it. You’d sent a letter to a magistrate in the city asking to meet, and the date was set for tomorrow. The waiting was agonizing. You wanted this to be over. You wanted the slavemaster and your family in jail. You wanted to see Sheng. But, you reminded yourself, you had decided not to meet Sheng until all this business was done. Sheng was the final piece.

The next morning, you went to the magistrate’s office with the papers you had kept on your person for the last three and a half years. You were so sick with nerves that you hadn’t been able to eat your breakfast, but you kept a stern and stoic face. You imagined you were quite the sight for the land-locked city, wearing a sword on your belt and a fine overcoat. Not to mention the well-tailored trousers. Tasteful women didn’t wear trousers. Not in this city.

“The magistrate will see you now, madam,” The attendant said to you. You nodded to him grimly, and he stepped aside warily to let you pass.

“Judge Andrews, good day,” You said as you entered.

He looked up from his papers. “Ah, good day, madam. You’re my appointment, I assume.”

“Yes,” You replied, and he gestured for you to sit. “You received my last letter, I trust?”

“I did,” He said, laying down his quill and sitting back in his chair. “And those are some serious allegations you’ve leveled against the slavemaster, serious enough to be taken to a higher court than mine, should they be true. I assume you have proof of your claims?”

“I do,” You said, handing him the envelope with the papers. “I also believe you should be in possession of a sheaf of similar documents from an anonymous source, correct?”

“That is correct,” He replied, looking at you curiously. “Though, without a formal complaint, no action could be taken. Are you making such a complaint on behalf of those referenced in the documents?”

“I am,” You said. “Should you need time to peruse the documents, I will wait. I’ve waited this long.”

“You aren’t doing yourself any favors by coming without a legal representative, by the way. Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer?”

You shook your head. “I trust myself and my own competency, not the competency of someone who wants my coin. Especially when lives are at stake.”

He scrutinized your letter with a furrowed brow. “This is indeed the slavemaster’s seal.”

“And you’ll note that the dates and balances are after my original imprisonment.”

“That’s so,” He replied. “It would be very difficult to forge a letter like this. The slavemaster’s seal in particular is quite intricate and nigh impossible to duplicate. I would need a professional sealmaker to inspect it against the slavemaster’s, but this is strong evidence.”

“That’s good news,” You said. “So, how much time will we need to conduct an investigation.”

“No reason not to do it now,” He said, standing from his desk. “We can collect the sealmaster from on our way.”

“Wha--” You rose from your seat as well. “On our way to where?”

“The arena,” He replied. “If what you say is true, he’s had plenty of time to destroy valuable evidence. If we want to catch him red handed before he gets rid of anything that could incriminate him, including his own slaves, we should act fast.

Though he was an older gentleman, he was a spry fellow and quick on his feet. He flagged down a carriage and let you get in first. The two of you spoke on various things, mostly about your imprisonment. He kept the conversation light, but he often attempted to steer the questions toward your escape. It had been illegal, but since the statute was up he couldn’t touch you. He could, however, prosecute the people who assisted your escape. You appreciated his desire to uphold the law, and playful banter though it may have been, you refused to implicate anyone and carefully hedged the subject. After a while, he gave you a knowing look and ceased his attempts to glean information from you.

He made a brief stop at the sealmaster’s shop, grabbing the sealmaster and explaining the situation. He and the magistrate appeared to be associates, and though the visit was abrupt, he did acquiesce to accompanying the two of you to the arena to confirm the validity of the seal.

The arena loomed over you as you approached, it’s shadow an oppressive presence. One last time, You told yourself silently. Just this one time, and it’ll be over, either way.

This was the first time you’d ever walked in the front gate as opposed to the slave’s entrance. Your natural instinct was to lower your gaze, but you reminded yourself that you weren’t a slave anymore and you kept your eyes straight ahead.

“Pardon,” Judge Andrews said, catching an attendant’s attention. “Could you please notify the slavemaster that Judge Andrews has arrived and would like a meeting with him.”

“Of course, your Honor,” The attendant said. “Can I show you to a lounge where you may wait?”

“Please do, young man,” Andrews replied. “Bring wine.”

“Yes, your Honor.” The attendant turned and led you to the upper ring to one of the nicer private sitting areas.

“Young man,” Andrews said to him before he left. “Do tell the guard to be on alert but say nothing to anyone else. Bring two of your strongest to guard this room.”

“Yes, your Honor,” The attendant said, clearly disturbed but excusing himself to follow the judge’s orders.

Wine was brought, and the three of you sat discussing various things while guards arrived and flanked the doors of the sitting area. You recognized one of them, but you looked a bit different than you had when you were last here, so you weren’t sure if he knew it was you.

The attendant returned and said, “The slavemaster is available, if you’ll follow me.”

“No,” The magistrate said. “No, the slavemaster will come to us. And tell him to bring his seal. We have very important paperwork to go over. Tell him that.”

“Uh… yes… your Honor,” The attendant said uncertainly.

“Oh, wait, before you go,” You said, catching him as he turned. “Is… Does Sheng still fight for the arena?”

“Yes, madam,” The attendant said. “He has a fight today, in fact.”

“I see,” You said, keeping your voice level. “I will sponsor today’s event, then. Can that be arranged, or does he have another sponsor today?”

“He does not, madam,” He replied. “I will inform him that he has a sponsor and arrange for a meeting once he has become presentable.”

“Thank you,” You said, and tossed the boy a coin. He accepted it with a bow and left.

Judge Andrews raised an eyebrow at you. “It costs a pretty penny to sponsor a prize fighter, even for one round.”

You sipped your wine delicately. “I have a debt to repay.”

“Hmm,” He said, and drank his own wine.

The slavemaster took a full hour to drag himself to the meeting, and when he arrived, he did not look pleased.

“It’s good to see you, Judge Andrews,” He said, not at all looking as if he meant it. “To what do I owe this unprompted, unannounced visit? I was told something about documents to go over? Was this not something that could have been done from the comfort of my office?”

“Did you bring your seal, Master Owens?” Judge Andrews asked, ignoring the slavemaster’s questions.

The slavemaster sighed and produced it from his robes.

“Cornelius,” Judge Andrews said, gesturing at the sealmaster, who took the seal and fixed a jeweler’s loupe to his eye.

“What’s this about, James?” The slavemaster asked, crossing his arms.

“Pitting is identical,” The sealmaster said, examining the seal in reference to the document. “Grooves are the same. Moreover, I was the one who made this seal for the slavemaster. I can say with confidence that this document was not forged.”

You smiled slowly. Got you, you smug bastard.

“Forged? What are you talking about?” The slavemaster said.

“Read for yourself,” Judge Andrews said, handing the paper to the slavemaster. He snatched it from the judge’s hand and scanned it. His face then paled. “I also have these,” The judge said, retrieving the papers you had left with Edgar from his coat pocket. “These also have your seal on it, and I’ll eat my chair if they don’t match. What have you to say, Master Owens?”

“They’re forged!” The slavemaster protested. “They must be! I’ve never seen them before, I swear it!”

“Ah, but you see that’s why I’ve brought Cornelius, here. He was the one who made your seal, as he stated. He, himself, has judged them to be genuine documents.”

“Nonsense! I want a second examiner!” The slavemaster insisted. “I demand a proper investigation be done!”

“You can demand all you like from your jail cell,” Judge Andrews said. “Guards, arrest the slavemaster.”

The guards stationed outside the door entered and took the slavemaster by the arms, dragging him backward. You stood up and watched as he was forced, kicking and spitting, from the room.

“Did you want to say anything to him?” Judge Andrews asked.

You shook your head. “No. That’s done. Nothing needs to be said.”

He nodded in understanding. “Very well. I have much paperwork to do, so I shall be going. Please come by soon to sign some papers, will you?”

“Of course.” You held out your hand. “Thank you for your help, your Honor.”

He took your hand and shook it. “It was my privilege, dear lady. Do take care.”

“I will.”

He and the sealmaster left, and you sat down, sipping at the wine and waiting for the attendant to retrieve you for the fighting match.

You were led to one of the private sponsor’s boxes in the upper ring. This was all so surreal. You’d been in every inch of this arena, but never as a guest. You almost felt like you should get up and sweep the floor.

There was a roaring cheer that made you sit up in your seat and look down eagerly. There, striding out into the ring, was Sheng. His fur was shiny and glowing. He held up his hands and drank in the praise from the crowd. Seeing him made your hairs stand on end, but you also smiled. At least one thing hadn’t changed.

He stopped in the center and waved to the children, like he always did. He then bowed to the crowd. Finally, he turned to the box where you sat, and though he couldn’t see you from this distance, he bowed more deeply than he had to anyone else.

His bout was incredible, and you watched it on the edge of your seat, breathless. He was so graceful and athletic, even for his size. Your memories of him were nothing compared to him in real life, and you couldn’t wait to see him face to face again. You just hoped he would still see you as a friend, after all this time. Three years was plenty of time to change a person’s feelings. Not enough to change yours, but that was beside the point.

As expected, he won, and he was showered with applause and flowers from the crowd. You wished you had one you could throw to him, even if he didn’t know it was from you. He bowed again to you before he left the ring, scooping up several of the flowers that had floated to the ground and holding them up in salute to the audience.

“Madam?” You heard from behind you. It was a second attendant, a woman that you didn’t recognize. “A room has been prepared for you with refreshments while you wait for Sheng to get ready. If you’d follow me, please?”

“Of course, thank you,” You said, rising from your seat. “Are you a slave?”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised by the question. “Yes, madam, I am.”

“Whose debts brought you here?”

Her face soured. “My husband’s.”

“And where is he?”

“Drank himself to death. I inherited his debts.”

“Hmm,” You said. You took a few coins from your pocket and passed them to her. “To freedom. From one slave to another.”

“Thank you, madam!” She said. “Thank you very much!”

“You don’t have to call me madam,” You said, smiling. She returned the smile. “What’s your name, love?”

“Anya,” She replied.

“Well, Anya,” You said, linking your arm with hers. “Why don’t you relax and have a drink with me until Sheng is ready?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” You said. “The slavemaster would sell me in a heartbeat.”

“Today is your lucky day, Anya,” You laughed. “Come on.”

She sat with you until another attendant informed you that Sheng was ready to meet with and to collect your sponsorship fee, at which time Anya excused herself. You took a deep, shaky breath and waited.

Sheng entered the room, looking glorious, and smiled at you. You knew him well enough to know when he was trying to hide when he was tired.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” He said, his deep voice reverberating throughout the chamber. “If I might ask why you decided to sponsor me today? Have you seen me fighting before?”

“Oh, many times,” You said, smiling and trying to keep your heart from jumping out of your chest. “Though, it was usually from the very cheap seats. This is the first time I’ve been back to the arena in several years.”

“Welcome back,” He said. “How was the view from the sponsor’s box?”

You chuckled. “If I’m honest, I preferred the old view.”

“And why is that?”

You sucked in a breath. “Sheng,” You said softly. “Don’t you know who I am?”

He blinked, and his smile slipped. “I’m sorry, my lady, but should I? Have we met?”

You sighed. “Well, I guess it’s not surprising you don’t recognize me. Cut my hair, and it’s a bit sun-bleached, too. I wear pants now. I didn’t do that when you knew me. I got a tan and lost some weight. That can happen when you’re on a boat for over three years.”

“A boat?” He said, confused.

“Yes,” You said. “I begged my way onto a ship after I… left. Worked my way up, and now I’m very successful. It’s why I sponsored you. I had a debt to repay.”

“A debt to me? Why?” He asked.

“Sheng, do you really not know who I am?”

He held out his hands in exasperation. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

“Then let me remind you,” You said. You reached for your bag and pulled out a brush. “Come and sit.”

He eyed you warily, but he complied. He was still wearing his breastplate, but he’d taken off his bracers and neckguard. You reached up and carefully ran your fingers through the fur of his neck and began to brush in long, broad strokes. After a few seconds, he stood up abruptly and swung around, his eyes and mouth wide open.

“It’s you!” He said in a quiet voice. “You came back!”

Your eyes filled with tears as you laughed. “Of course I came back, you lump!” You jumped up into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist. He gripped you to him tightly.

“Oh, I thought I’d never see you again, little one!” He said into your hair. “What have you been up to all this time? Is that a sword on your belt?”

You snorted a laugh. “Yes,” You replied. “It’s helpful for fighting off pirates.”

“Pirates?” He asked, pulling back to look at your face. “What work has you dealing with pirates?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” You said, crying. “Whatever you want. I’ll tell you anything.”

He kissed you. It wasn’t the same as the one he’d given you when the two of you had parted over three years ago, which was soft and feather-light and spoke of a long farewell. This was rough, hungry, and needy. Heat flared between your legs and you moaned against his lips.

He put you down on your feet and took your hand.

“Come on,” He said. “Let’s go somewhere more private, where we won’t be disturbed. You remember the way to my quarters?”

You smiled. “Some things one never forgets.”

He grinned back at you and the two of you sprinted to his rooms. Once there, the two of you began shedding clothes like they were on fire. Your breathing was ragged and his hands were shaking as he reached to touch your body.

“I’ve dreamed of this for three years,” He breathed. “Longer. I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you from the arena, peeking into the ring. That was lust back then but even still I cared for you. I didn’t realize I loved you until it was too late.”

“It’s not too late, Sheng,” You said, carding your fingers down the fur of his chest. “I’m right here. I’m here because I chose to be. I chose you.”

He picked you up bridal style and tossed you lightly onto his wide bed. You bounced up and down with a giggle.

“You did lose some weight, but there’s still plenty of jiggle in those parts of yours,” He said, laughing as he climbed over you, pressing you down into the bed with his body.

You snickered and slapped his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

“You like it,” He said as he kissed you. His kisses moved to your ear, then your neck, and to your breasts. He squeezed and kneaded them while he sucked on your skin. You sighed and pulled up your knees as he settled his body between them. Your back arched as he moved lower, kissing and sucking your belly and lifting your legs up and open.

The first press of his tongue against your slit was like lightning in your body, and the muscles of your stomach clenched. The sheets were balled in your fists as he sucked at your core, teasing the lips with one of his fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” You wheezed.

“Where did you hear such language, missy?” He asked.

“I’m a sailor now, remember?” You said breathlessly.

“I thought that ‘cursing like a sailor’ thing was an old wives’ tale,” He said.

“It mostly is,” You said, looking down at him lying between your legs. “Can we discuss it later?”

He grinned wickedly at you and went back to his task with renewed vigor. You moaned and bit your lip as he eased a finger inside you, crooked and rubbing the sweet spot. You felt yourself coming to a climax, but just as you were on the cusp of falling over that cliff, he stopped, much to your dismay.

“Now, now,” He said, pulling himself up your body, kissing your skin as he went. “We don’t want to burn ourselves out before the main event.”

“I can go for hours,” You replied.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” He chuckled, kissing your lips. You rolled him until you were straddling his waist. He was rock hard underneath you, and you slicked him in the wetness from your slit, rubbing yourself against him. He gripped your hips and groaned, his eyes closing.

“Is this as good as your dreams?” You asked, bracing yourself on his chest.

He touched your cheek and made a fist in your hair, pulling your head back. You laughed.

“Better,” He said. “Infinitely better.”

You pushed up on your knees while he reached between the two of you and held his cock in place so that you could slide slowly down upon it. There was a little bit of pain due to his size, but you gave yourself a minute to adjust, and began to rock gingerly. You bent down to kiss his chest and fondle his nipples and he bucked a little underneath you.

“You’re going to make me pop too soon,” He huffed.

“That’s alright,” You said, sitting up and bouncing faster. “You got me pretty close, it won’t take much to make me cum now.”

He grunted and his fingers dug into your flesh as he drove up into you from below to meet your hips as you came down on him. The two of you were beyond words at this point, moving in sync with each other. Your thigh twitched as you came suddenly, gushing down his shaft as he released inside you with a drawn out groan of pleasure.

You collapsed onto his chest with a deep sigh of satisfaction. He wrapped his arms around you and held on tight. Eventually he rolled so that you were tucked into his side and he breathed deeply, as if asleep.

“Are you still awake?” You asked.

“Aye,” He said quietly. “Though my vision went fuzzy for a moment.”

“You can’t die yet,” You said, kissing his chest. “You still need the cabin in a quiet town. The little tadpoles. I’m going to make your dreams come true. It’s why I came back for you.”

“What about your dreams?” He asked, opening his eyes to look at you.

“You’re half of them, and I’ve got that now. The other half I’ll have to work on, if you’ll support me.”

He hugged you in tight. “Anything you want.”

By the time you were pregnant with Sheng’s first child, you’d taken a position at Judge Andrews’ firm and started working your way up, like you always did. Even though women were not allowed to actively participate in politics, the two of you began petitioning for fairer treatment for slaves as well as making it illegal to sell family members into slavery to pay for their own debts

There was plenty of pushback from people who liked the system the way it was and didn’t want things to change, but you were just as stubborn as they were. You went through all of the cases of the current slaves at the arena and made sure the ones who were being held illegally were freed with reparations. You also ensured that the responsible parties were arrested and tried for their crimes. You had to do all of this through Judge Andrews, which meant you didn’t get any of the credit, but that didn’t matter as long as justice was served.

You made sure Sheng got his cabin and his garden outside of the city. Commuting to the city for work was a bit of a pain, but you were happy to do it if it meant Sheng was happy. He loved being a househusband and a stay-at-home father, and as much as he wished you’d slow down when you were pregnant, he knew by now that he couldn’t stop you. If you had a mission on your mind, you wouldn’t stop until it was complete. He knew that. It’s one of the things he loved about you, even if it frustrated him at times.

You still had a long way to go, but some things were going to take time.

You were patient. You could wait.

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#Exophilia #Yeti #Bigfoot #The Towns #Sheng

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 55

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Neo had confirmed the presence of an elderly woman that only Winter Schnee was allowed to see. She took her tea green so I did in fact get all the information I wanted. Fria was her name. And she was the winter maiden, at least if Tyrian could be taken at his word, which in this case, why not? Did it really matter if she was winter or summer? Not for my purposes.

Aside from Tyrian's location, Aurum had informed me of another of Merlot's laboratories in a place called Mt. Nibel. It was above a small dust mining town that Neo and I reached on a combination of train and foot.

He also promised to put me in contact with a group of ex-workers who could tell me about the General's secret project. A group called Avalanche. They had some little favors they needed from me first but they'd talk. At least according to Aurum. They just needed a little help with something first. No biggie for someone like me. I was a favor guy. I was a problem solver.

Nibelhiem had all the usual dust amenities and I took the time to resupply my dust where it was cheap. Cheapest in all the world. Especially with the embargo driving up supply and decreasing demand.

They were practically giving the stuff away and I had my pick of crystals from a vendor near the mountain.

"Burn and shock crystals. Uncut is fine." He nodded. The uncut ones were a little cheaper. Not that it mattered much to me. I still was swimming in cash even after the train rides and the private airship.

"You headed up the mountain?" He asked as he set crystals on his counter.

I nodded. "And a bit of weight, please." He nodded and he pulled out a purple crystal and set it next to the array of yellow and red crystals.

"Well you might need a guide if you're goin' up the mountain. You got a place in mind or are you just out hunting?"

I took them and put them in my crystal pouch. They clanked together in the pocket and I'd need to consider a new way of carrying them to make sure they didn't blow up on me and destroy my face in the process.

Nothing bad had happened yet but that was no reason to tempt fate where I was concerned. I had the worst luck. Like the absolute worst.

"What do you think Neo? Do we need a guide to take us up the mountain?"

She pursed her lips in thought at me. She raised a finger. I took that however I wanted.

"We're headed to an old laboratory up there. You ever hear of it?" I asked. "Run by this guy named Merlot at some point in the past?"

"I haven't but I'm willing to bet you could find a guide who has in a young girl. She's been training to be a huntress up here. Her name's Peach Locheart."

"And do you know where I might find this young girl?"

"She's usually in her teacher's dojo. Zangan's his name."

I nodded my head. It was entirely possible a guide would be necessary up in those mountains. The wind seemed to course over them fast enough to whip up a blizzard and even trained huntsmen like yours truly could get lost in that kind of weather.

It was unlike the last laboratory which we sort of knew the location of based on our conversation with Godo. I was coming in here a little blind.

"She's not like a kid, is she?" I asked. "My friend here isn't fond of kids." I gestured to Neo with both hands.

"She's a bit on the younger side. Mature for her age, though, if that helps." He pointed the way to Zangan's dojo down the street.

I thanked him for the advice and the dust and made my way there.

There was a young girl in a pink combat skirt firing off kicks against a dummy punching bag. She was maybe fifteen, old enough to kind of understand the world. Old enough to start to be a huntress. An older gentleman turned to look at me as I walked in.

"Howdy," he greeted unironically. He actually said howdy this far north. "What brings you in here?"

"I'm headed up the mountains, into Merlot's old laboratory. I need a guide to take me there. A dust vendor outside recommended someone named Peach."

"That's me," the young girl delivered a punch and a kick to the bag for emphasis.

"She can take you up the mountains. I've never heard of a laboratory being up there, though."

"He must mean that old white and grey bunker up there." Peach cut in. "I've seen it. Never been inside though."

"What do you say kid, want to take me up there?"

"What's in it for me?" She asked. I liked her style. She was more worldly than Yuma had been. Less of that naivety. It would make her harder to trick but that was at once a good and a bad thing.

"I have Lien. Set your price," I told her.

"I don't need Lien." She punched the bag in time with her words.

"Everybody needs something, kid. Everybody has a price."

"I'm not a kid either. You said you were buying dust?"

"That's right." I palmed a crystal from my pocket and showed it to her.

"You know magic, then? You're a hunter." She took in the massive weapon at my back. Her eyes flicked over my shoulder.

"Only a little. I'm better at using it to set explosives," I informed her.

"Teach me."

"Hmm." I hummed at that.

"I don't need your money but I'm going to be a huntress. I need to know about dust if I'm going to be any good. You teach me how to use it to make explosives and you've got a deal."

She held out a wrapped hand.

I reached out and shook it.

"You've got yourself a deal, little miss."

She flushed a little red. Maybe she was nervous.

"Peach…" Zangan warned. "Be careful. And you better go ask your father."

"Not to worry sir, I'll keep her safe," I told him. "She seems like quite the student."

She rushed off out the door behind me to do as her teacher bade.

"She is. She's very dedicated. You know how it is with the young'uns. They want to be hunters so bad they'll miss the forest for the trees. They don't know what it'll cost."

That most hunters died young. I understood.

"We don't all get to live to be as old as you are." He was only forty or so. Middle aged.

He grunted at that. "How old are you kid?"

"Twenty."

"And the Miss with you?"

Neo held up a warning hand.

"Neo? I'm not sure. She doesn't talk. Plus it's rude to ask a lady her age. We've been traveling together for a while now, though."

"Well don't be shocked if her father wants to meet with you before he sends you off with his daughter. He's not a huntsman himself but he understands a little."

"But not the whole picture."

"They rarely do. Rarely can." He leaned against the counter in front of the dojo. "He's paying me a pretty penny to teach his daughter. She's hungry for it. You met the type?"

I thought of Yuma Kisaragi and I thought of little Ruby Rose. Plus there was me, myself, before I knew my memories were fake and my dreams were dead.

"Once or twice."

"You ever seen it work out well?" He seemed to be genuinely asking me. Like he wasn't sure himself.

"They're alive." I managed. "So it's sort of too early to tell."

"They your age?"

"Yes sir, one. And another is your Peach's age. A little huntress to be out of a place called Wutai. You heard of it?"

He shook his head.

"It's a small town. Down near Mistral," I went on.

"That where you're from?" He asked.

"Near Mistral? I suppose. But I was trained and raised in Vale, though." And that was the truth, near as I could tell.

"Been all over, have you?"

"A bit."

"The traveling mysterious huntsman type. I ought to hate your guts."

"Sir?"

"You ought t' know. Be careful with my apprentice. You should know how young hearts are. You were one more recently than me, as you pointed out."

I ran a hand through my spiky hair and sighed. That seemed to be good enough for him because he nodded.

"I'll look after her. Nobody will get hurt on my watch," I swore.

"And if someone is?" He leaned over at me.

"I'll bring her right back here."

"There ain't a hospital in town."

"She's a huntress. She has aura."

"Huntress in training. You know they're not the same thing."

"I'll be as safe as I can be. I'm promising to train her in explosives for gods' sake. There's only so safe you can be. Besides, if you think she'll be good enough by being trained in a dojo, you've got another thing coming. Does she want to make it into one of the Academies?"

Zangan nodded.

"Then she needs to fight Grimm. A lot of them. The sooner the better. I trained at Beacon. Initiation started with launching us into a Grimm infested forest."

"Lords above. So young..."

"Seventeen isn't that young. There was even this prodigy that was her age there and she was better than me. Still is. Well maybe." I wasn't sure how I still might stand up against Ruby. I was fucking dangerous. If she plateaued, then I might have the edge on her.

Peach came back with an older man in tow.

"Father this is...um…" Her pink eyes flickered to mine. Oh to be young. Ever.

"Cloud Strife, sir." I shook his hand firmly and saved her. He was a touch shorter than me with brown hair unlike his daughter's blonde. And his eyes were a dark red. But eye colors could be weird in Remnant. Ask Yang.

"I hear that my daughter wants to take you up the mountain in exchange for some training."

"That's right. I was going to show her some of what I know about dust."

"You mean… like magic?"

"Maybe a little. I know some but my real experience is in using it to make explosives."

"Peach…" he trailed off looking down at her.

"Dad I need to learn this kind of thing. He can show me. Sifu-Zangan doesn't use dust."

"Never needed it," Zangan grunted.

"You’ve never killed any big fish, then," I said. “Big. Game. Goliaths and the like.”

“Tha’s a dangerous sport.”

“Hunting can be. There are sharks in these rivers.”

He looked away and I thought of Tyrian and Raven. There were also big Grimm which would be difficult to kill without dust. The Nuckelavee was like that, too.

"Well what do you think, Zangan?"

"The kid seems trustworthy." He shrugged. "He can teach her things I don't know. It might save her life one day. He also attended Beacon. He can let her know the sort of life she'll be in for at the Academies."

"Beacon… were you there when it went down?" Peach's father asked.

"I was," I answered easily.

Peach looked up at me with her bright pink eyes. "You were at Beacon? What was it like?"

I laughed at her curiosity.

"Peach." Her father warned. I waved him off.

"It's alright. My time at Beacon was the best. It was a lot of hard work though."

"Did you fight big Grimm?" She asked.

"I did."

"I knew it." She pumped a fist. "He fought real Grimm."

"I can show her some of what I know. I can teach her how to fight them."

"You had to fight Grimm while you attended?" Her father asked. "Or just when the academy went down?"

"Both," I waved a hand and answered. "Initiation was us fighting Grimm."

"I see…" He looked deep in thought. "I don't want you fighting a lot of Grimm. The idea makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm going to be a huntress. That's the whole point."

"You're right. Of course you're right."

"And I've been that high up in the mountains before. I've fought Grimm like that. It's just Beowulfs and Creepers. I'll be safe. It's all a learning opportunity."

"Very well. Mr. Huntsman, Strife, was it? You'll look after my daughter?"

"No harm will come to her. You have my word."

She pumped a wrapped fist in the air. "Dust explosions here I come."

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We made our way into the mountains, out of Nibelhiem, and needed to set up our tent for the night. It was not as long into the journey as I would have liked. In typical Neo fashion she sat and watched me set up everything and cook dinner.

"So how do you set up explosions?" Peach was shaking with excitement. "And will you show me some of your magic, too?"

"It's not real magic," I explained. "You'll occasionally run into a real dust sorcerer. Someone who can do all kinds of things with dust. I just know how to use it in its raw form. Primal. I don't even know how to eat it"

"Eating it?" She laughed.

"It's not actually eating it. It's putting it in your body so that you can use the power. You can actually eat it I suppose or you can just stick it in your flesh and it sort of slides into you. Into your aura."

"But it's still magic, right?"

"A little. But it's like comparing a first aid kit to a hospital staffed with doctors. I'm a bit of a neanderthal."

"Oh I don't believe that. You seem smart."

"You've only just met me. Give it a minute."

She laughed again, her eyes were bright. "Show me how to use dust to make explosives."

It was easy enough. I showed her how to set it up with a circuit, a battery, and a switch.

"The switch is the complicated part. You might want to learn about how radio signals work if you want to be able to blow them up remotely."

"But that's it. Just a circuit and a crystal and that's it."

"It's not rocket science. It's really simple. You can pretty easily make a landmine like this. Just bury it with a trigger on a plate underground and bing-bang-boom. You've got yourself a trap. I cornered a pretty big Grimm like that once."

"What else can you do?"

"You can throw it really hard."

She gave me a questioning look.

"Look you just throw a dust crystal hard enough and fast enough and it works. It explodes and unleashes the effects."

"That sounds too easy. It's supposed to be all hard and complicated."

"Well it shouldn't surprise you. They have to move it around all safe in containers for control. Too much disturbance and the stuff just goes off. Even in powder form."

"But you don't use it in powder. Because you can use it raw."

"That's right. Let me show you."

I handled a yellow crystal and crushed it. Lightning ran up my arm and I cast an arm forward. Lightning struck the tree from my open palm and burnt a hole in it and part of the tree to ash.

"Wow…" she breathed. "That's what you meant."

"Yeah. It's not quite what a real dust sorcerer can do but it's closer. I just unleash the power a little more controlled."

"And that's not the same as eating it."

"No. And I can't show you because I'm not a dust eater, either. But as I understand it you can just shove the crystal through your skin or into your mouth and the crystal becomes a part of you. It changes your aura."

"I see. Can I try?"

"Which one?"

"That blast that you just did, not eating it."

"Sure. Why don't you try fire? It's very dangerous so after you crush the crystal you'll be able to feel the power. Then you've got to let it go or it'll explode in your face. It's still risky."

I handed her a red uncut crystal and she held it up to the light. She was looking at how it shone unlike any other substance in the world. The light always came through it red. It always seemed to bounce around impossibly inside the meta-material.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.

"I just crush it then I let it go?" She asked.

"Pretty much. You'll be able to feel the power. It'll feel hot, like your arm is on fire."

She nodded.

She crushed it and murmured, "I can feel it. I feel the power."

"You need to let it go!" I told her urgently. She was just standing there with the power coursing through her.

She tried but the flames blew up in her face and knocked her on her ass. Her jacket was singed slightly, revealing her tank-top underneath.

"I told you to let go."

She wiped her ash cover hands off on her pants. "Thanks. I wasn't sure how though. Can I try it again?"

"I messed up my first few times too." I handed her another red uncut crystal.

She inhaled deeply. Then she crushed the crystal and I watched the flames run up her arm. Then she cast her arm forward and a fireball shot free. It struck the same tree I did and the pine roasted for a pleasant smell.

The snow was coming down hard enough that the fire wouldn't spread. It was too damp and too cold.

I pumped a fist. I wasn't an incompetent teacher. And she hooted.

"That's how it's done," she called out into the night.

"Well done."

"Can I try it again? With the lightning ones maybe?"

"Not tonight, no. You might like to change now. I hope you brought a spare coat."

She looked down at her arm. "Oh shit, I didn't even notice. The heat of it all. Yeah I have a spare one."

She walked over to her bag and changed her coat.

"Thanks Cloud, you really helped me."

"It was no problem." I smiled. This felt like real good. It had been a long time since I felt that. What with all the murder and chaos and all. It made me feel like I was a good person again. Even if it was just for a moment.

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-WG

#jaune arc #cloud strife #rwby #ff7 #ffvii #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!Jaune arc #tifa lockhart #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #war of the roses #white rose #whiterose #whiteknight #white knight #lancaster #neo #neapolitan #motion sickness

[malfoysqueen54]

Beginning Of The End  Part 1

Dean X Reader

Warnings: Illness, cussing.

Dean had known her seven yrs, how could he not know, not be able to tell. How could someone he would never look twice at change his life. What happens when he changes hers before it ends?

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Y/N was a lot of things but mainly, she was the Winchester’s research assistant. However to Dean, most of the time she was sarcastic , biting, homely and unpopular. Technically he didn’t know her like the others did, she wasn’t the woman anyone would notice when she walked in a room. Yet, even though he and Sam had known her for the same amount of time, going on seven years, his little brother knew her better. 

It led to the conversation in the bunker library one night between the brothers after watching her leave. Y/N never really looked up, never spoke to Dean directly unless she absolutely needed too. Her behavior had suddenly changed towards him and once his mind started working, it piqued a curiosity. Why was she like that with only him? What had made her change around him? She had never pulled punches when it came to their few encounters before.

Dean set his beer down and looked at his brother who was still buried in a book. “What’s Y/N’s deal?” It was an odd, left field question.

Sam set his book down, brow furrowing confused, “What do you mean?”

“Well, we have known her the same amount of time, yet I know nothing about her,” Dean replied like he finally realized that himself.

Sam gave a soft laugh, “Well that’s because you don’t Dean. She has no patience for your bull in a china shop personality. Plus, it’s not like you even notice her 90% of the time she is here. No need for you to know her. She isn’t your type.” Sam shrugged and picked his book back up.

Dean’s face twisted in an offended manner as he slapped his beer down. “Hey, I am not all about looks!” He exclaimed pointing at his brother which got him a dry derisive look.

“Ok I am not ONLY about looks. She has always been snappy with me though. It’s off putting.” He pursed his lips picking up his beer once again.

A snort from the taller brother garnered his attention. “Right, Dean. Sure, that’s what it is.”

The elder Winchester slammed his beer down again. “ I am not vain about women,” he protested.

Sam actually looked kind of pissed as he slapped his book down. “Dean, she isn’t voluptuous enough for you. You wouldn’t care if a  woman couldn’t recite the alphabet,if she is pretty, it doesn’t matter,” Sam shook his head, “you would still screw her. You don’t have meaningful relationships beyond a few hours or a night. That’s just you. Plus, Y/N has no time to waste, so she doesn’t bother with vain romantically self-centered males.” Dean was put off by his brother’s words, and peeved tone.

“I am not, I can have a meaningful relationship and they don’t have to be a ten,” he snapped in response. Irked that his brother thought so low of him. He chose not to drag a woman into this life with him. The uncertainty, the danger, the consequences. He had a heart, he could love, but he steeled up a wall to prevent that years ago. His decision.

Sam shook his head, “Does not matter Dean, truly. She wouldn’t give you the time of day, she is good at protecting herself.”

“Woah, Woah, what does that mean?” Dean asked, taking his feet off their resting spot on the table and leaning on it towards his brother.

“It means she knows better. You would never look at her twice, even with her crush on you.. She is the strongest woman I know. Everything she has and is going through. You can’t tell. She is here as soon as we call with whatever we need, every day, every crisis, anything we need,” his little brother almost growled. “So, what now? Years later you suddenly realize she is there and happen to ask, fuck you can be a dick sometimes.”

He was flabbergasted, he blinked furrowing his brow. “Wait, a crush? On me?” he asked pointing to himself.

“Well yeah, it’s why she steers clear and stays in the shadows,” Sam replied with pursed lips.

“Also what exactly has? Or is she going through?” he asked.

Sam clenched up like a clam with that one though. His face slackened and his lips smacked shut shaking his head, “none of your business.”

“No, no! You tell me.” He followed his brother who was packing up to retreat to his room. “What’s up with her? She can tell you and others but not me?”

“You don’t talk to her, Dean,” Sam whirled, snapping on his brother. “You don’t even notice she is alive more than half the time!”

Dean stopped in his tracks. “Of course I do,” his face twisted. “I always see her or notice her. What is up?”

Sam scoffed and sighed. “Not in any way Dean, you don’t.” He paused looking to the floor,“You should at least appreciate her because before long, she won’t be around.” Sam’s eyes met his brothers. “She has cancer, Leukemia.” With that bombshell he turned and walked away from his elder sibling, leaving Dean gobstruck. 

Y/N did not look ill. She never showed signs of health issues that he remembered. His brow creased as he looked to the ground trying to flush through his memories of her in the bunker. Quiet, reserved till prodded, besides hunting or fighting. She was always there, did everything and anything they needed. Deans hand ran over his mouth in shock, she couldn’t be that sick, could she?

“Why is she living with this, why doesn't she just get Cas to heal her?"

"She wants to live her life the way it was intended to be," Sam said simply. 

"Well thats fucking stupid." Dean took another pull from his beer.

Sam scoffed, turning to leave. “Not really if you consider it. Look at our history.” Then he disappeared down to his room to research leaving Dean to stew in his thoughts.

Over the next few weeks, Dean watched Y/N discreetly, but his eyes were trained on her. She seemed pale at times, but not all of them. She breathed shallow it seemed. Breathing issues; after researching, seeing the things he did and asking an aggravated Sam, he realized she was in treatment. Chemotherapy was ravaging her system, yet there she was smiling with the fellow hunters, and his family every day. Him, he noticed it once he really looked, she wouldn’t show it but she left any room they were in alone together, she went out of her way to avoid him, from speaking to eye contact. If she had information, she asked someone else to relay it. It made him think, this confident, well besides when it came to him, woman was struggling personally and never talked about it unless prodded. Well, from what Sam and Castiel says. She never brought anyone down, she always had an answer, and maybe it was an everyday look but she was beautiful. She just didn’t feel she was. He recognized that insecurity in her eyes. That is one thing he could see. Dean knew it was probably because of her illness, also if Sam was right, it was because of her crush on him. The man that only dated 9’s and 10’s , when it came to women. He huffed heavily letting his head fall back to the wall behind his bed, he had to do something.

That is what led to the encounter in the kitchen. Y/N and Sam were making sandwiches for everyone laughing, which ceased once he entered to grab some beers.. He looked at the two of them and she switched her feet nervously betraying her unease. 

 He watched them for a second before opening his beer.  He took a gulp of it and started a conversation. “So, y/n how have you been?”

Sam and her both looked at him like he was crazy, pausing what they were doing, which made him rear his head back some.

“What I can’t ask?”

“No, you can, you just never do,” she replied snarkily, “but I am fine. Thanks for asking.” She then returned to her task of sandwiches.

Dean bit his lip “What are you doing Saturday?” He questioned, suddenly getting an idea. Sam and Y/n both turned back to him. Sam’s eyes widened when he realized what his brother was doing.

 Y/n looked at him, “Nothing.” She wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

“Well, you think we could go out then?” He asked, leaning on the counter.

She looked confused. “No.”

She said it so simply. Like the idea was absurd. He was taken aback by that. He saw Sam shaking his head behind her back. “What? Why not?” Dean continued though.

“Did you lose a bet or something?” was her reply.

Dean chortled. “No! Why?”

She finally turned to him, eyeing him. Sam was motioning not to do this emphatically. “Because I am nowhere close to the realm of females you date Winchester. Plus, you don’t know, and barley speak to me.”

“That is also on you, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”He smiled pointing towards her and ignoring the glare from his brother. She just looked at him- skeptical. “Please?” Dean added with that charming smile.

She sighed, “fine. Saturday.”

His grin was huge. “Saturday. I will pick you up at six?”

She nodded and then turned and left stunned by what just happened. He watched her walk away smiling till Sam smacked him in the back of the head. “What the hell, Dean?”

The elder shrugged. “What’s that for?”

“Really? This is not going to go the way you think” Sam shook his head. “Just, don’t hurt her.” With that he turned and left the room, leaving unfinished sandwiches. Dean couldn’t understand what was wrong, why this was a bad thing. He could take her on an amazing date, they could have a great time. Why was it bad that he could do that for her? It was the least he could do. Little did he know Sam was right.

@thorne93​ @pegasusdragontiger​ @my-proof-is-you​ @emoryhemsworth​ @winchest09​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @magellan-88​ @waywardbeanie​ @katehuntington​ @atc74​ @anathewierdo​ @janicho88​ @talesmaniac89​ @deanwanddamons​ @superfanficnatural​ @flamencodiva​ @jensengirl83​ @smol-and-grumpy​

#Dean Winchester Dean Winchester Fanfic Dean Winchester Fanfiction Supernatural Fanfiction Supernatural Dean Winchester x reader

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Ablaze - aka Obi-Wan learns the truth about what happened to Anakin post Mustafar Oneshot

Whatever Obi-Wan had hoped for, it wasn’t this.

He had been convinced when he turned his back on his past, tears blurring his vision as he left Anakin - his brother - behind by the molten lava lake of Mustafar, that that would be the end of it. He had known the twins once born must be hidden, concealed from the Empire and Palpatine. He had held them in his arms, as he watched Padmé’s life leave tear filled her eyes. As he watched her succumb to a broken heart, as her time ran out.

Obi-Wan had hoped that in spite of everything Anakin had done, every deed committed out of some sort of misplaced idea of justice to save his wife, he’d have passed on to find peace. There was the guilt, crippling and heart wrenching as it weighed heavy on his shoulders, looming over him every waking moment. Like a phantom, he wandered lost with only one purpose. One foot on the ground, one already in the grave as he watched over Luke faithfully. It was his only mission, as heeded the Lars’ warnings of not coming too close. Of not getting to know Luke personally. He watched as the boy grew to resemble his father more with each day, bringing back still painful memories of Anakin as a padawan, of Anakin questioning him, initiating arguments yet always returning for comfort and solace.

He had prayed that, much as it had destroyed him, Anakin was finally free from the demons that had plagued him so.

Anakin; who had been lured and manipulated into becoming a disciple of the Dark Side. Anakin; who had always been good, and kind, and just. Anakin; who loved so deeply, so truly that he stifled the air in Obi-Wan’s lungs. His brother, his son, his best friend - all in one. Anakin; whose final resting place lay among ashes, fire and brimstone. Obi-Wan considered it his cross to bear, and perhaps one day, he might have the courage to tell Luke the truth. Once Luke was old enough to understand, and to feign for himself. With the truth, danger would be sure to follow. The eyes of Emperor Palpatine were everywhere.

He had been wrong.

The first time caught wind of rumours regarding some mysterious empirical Enforcer cloaked in black, purging the remaining Jedi from the Galaxy on behalf of the Emperor - he felt sick to the stomach. Nauseous and dazed, losing focus the world became a blur as he casually continued to eavesdrop. He'd caught whiff of the grim news by accident from some bounty hunters normally located off planet, on one of his rare trips to the Cantina of Mos Eisley. At first, he told himself he must have misheard them. But the more he listened, the more he heard, the further the claws of dread sank into him. Suffocating him.

A menace clad all in black, face concealed. A Force wielder, one of the bounty hunters had professed. The other denied the existence of such a thing, but did affirm she too had heard some tall tales from a couple of drunk Imperial cadets, matching the description.

A regular smuggler was quick to chime in, in a foreboding low voice, that speaking of the devil might as well conjure him forward. Obi-Wan should have asked, then. But he couldn’t bear it. He’d prefer being unwise, uncertain as to the identity of this cloaked assassin. Deliberately ignorant by omission. Still, a voice at the back of his mind screamed at him to trust his gut feeling.

So, for a few more months, he buried it. He ignored the inquisitive part of himself, the one wanting desperately to pry and find out more. The one wanting to either reaffirm, or deny, what he was already suspecting. Eventually it got the upper hand. Hood pulled over his head, one night he surrendered to the urge. Travelling by land speeder with the intentions of visiting that same Cantina, back to the same area.

While it was not likely he’d be approaching the same crowd - bounty hunters never stayed long without Jabba the Hutt personally acquiescing - there might be other visitors willing to share their knowledge. Or perhaps suitable victim to coax information out of, via mind control. Against better judgment, Obi Wan found himself considering kidnapping, or at the very least stunning an unsuspecting stormtrooper, simply to pull the soldier away from public eyes for interrogation.

As luck would have it, he needn’t have worried. Ears perked, senses keenly attuned to his surroundings, he was quick to pick up on a rushed, impatient tone. There was a note of distress, of distinct dread radiating from the person speaking. Letting the Force guide him, Obi-Wan found himself drawing near to a small, scrappy docking area on the outskirts of the small city. Three ships anchored neatly aligned, all in beat up condition from bad to worse. The vessels would fly, but not much more. Pacing back and forth by the cargo holder of a battered YT-freighter, was a young twi’lek male. Lekku twitching, sharpened teeth bared. His company consisted only of a human woman, who looked about the same age but less antsy.

“How can you be so sure he won’t find us?”

“Because rumour has it this planet is off his radar,” said the woman, with clear disinterest. “We’ll have time to repair the ships. Turk'll gather up some credits, and then we'll go undercover. The Empi--”

“We’re not talking about the Empire, Oma!” hissed the twi’lek, and Obi-Wan felt the tension of anticipation pouring into his bones, as he pressed his back closely to the wreckage of what was once another clay building.

“It’s all the same, he is no different. He can’t be everywhere at once, surely he must have more important clientele to keep up with. We’re only possible associates at best, and even then he has no evidence.”

“You don’t understand!” the twi’lek raised his voice, before catching himself. "He doesn't need a justifiable reason to give chase!"

In an instant, the man's wide eyed stare darted madly around the location. Obi-Wan waited patiently, seeking aid from the Force to remain unseen and concealed. He had perfected the expert craft of hiding his Force signature, all to stay alert out of sight and mind from the Empire. For four years, it had worked to his favour. Still, he pulled his robes tight around himself, nodding in greeting as a random stranger - a Rodian - passed by in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan was considering wiping the encounter from her memory, but the woman disappeared into the night and it seemed an unnecessary endeavour.

With a hushed tone, the twi’lek piped up again as he inched closer to Oma, his female companion.

“He knows we aided that young Jedi. He knows we docked on I’qka, we’re in the Imperial records. The kid told us himself he was being hunted! Don’t you figure if there’s a kid on a planet that rarely ever receives visits from outside travelers, and this kid disappears with the one ship that has been knowingly recorded, that’s going to raise suspicion?”

“Which is why we’re going to make repairs only on The Japor, and trade this ship in for something more inconspicuous,” said Oma, still as unbothered as before. “You think too much about it, if anyone’s gonna raise suspicion, it’s you with your fidgeting. Pretend you never met the kid, and it’s gonna work out a hell of a lot better for us.”

“No one’s gonna want this junkyard of a ship,” the twi’lek huffed, glancing with a doubtful expression back at their vessel.

“There’s a constant demand for functioning scrap parts here, we’re gonna make a fortune if we pick it apart. Might even trade some parts off to the Jawas. You get in their good graces, and they’ll find you whatever you need.”

“Better be. I just don’t understand… aren’t you afraid of him?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I’m afraid or not, what matters is that we keep running. It’s only a problem if he catches us, and as long as we’re one step ahead, he’s no threat.”

Oma sounded calm and collected, but Obi-Wan could sense a fleeting tinge of dread through the living Force of her bloodstream. He could sense her palpitated heartbeats, sense her shortness of breath. He must condone their bravery however; hiding and assisting a Jedi fugitive under the Empire’s nose was high treason, punishable only by death penalty. Helping a Jedi was just as bad as being one, and the two must have been aware of that when they decided to act out of compassion. He couldn’t do much to aid their flight or ensure their safety, given the risk of blowing his own cover and subsequently Luke’s, but he was going to ask the Force be with and guide them. He hoped it’d be enough. Perhaps the Jedi was someone he knew, so he would wish him too a safe haven.

“So, we just keep running forever and hope he never catches us?”

The twi’lek sounded dejected, his lekku twitching in distress as he padded over to slump down to sit on the lowered landing pad. Obi-Wan felt his sadness as clearly as were it his own, even as Oma placed a hand on his shoulder to offer what appeared to be a supportive squeeze.

“Isn’t that what we do best? Let’s just hope the kid will get by and find a safe place to stay. That would make it all worth it, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but if… if he comes after us, at least we’ll know he probably hasn’t found the kid. He’d need us alive, right?”

“Right,” Oma nodded, although that possibility didn’t seem to particularly put her at ease.

Obi-Wan sighed softly.

If the rumours of the Empire’s treatment of traitors was anything to go by, he’d presume a swift death was to prefer. More than one person had whispered of torture, and torment to force an approved testimony out of prisoners. It was frightening, how low the morals of those in power had stooped in such a short amount of time, since the fall of the Galactic Republic.

He had fought bravely in The Clone Wars for freedom, for justice. Was this his reward? Was this what the Jedi and their troops had laid down their lives to preserve? Then, on the other hand, Anakin too had been adamant to protect freedom. Had been adamant to end slavery, never able to overcome his own traumatic childhood raised on this burning sand planet as a slave to Watto. Mournfully, Obi-Wan regretted that he had never taken the time to speak about that experience in depth with Anakin. Regretted that he had not trusted Anakin’s visions of Shmi’s death. Perhaps, if his mother had lived, he would have resisted Palpatine’s lure.

It all came back to Anakin.

Every waking moment, Obi-Wan's mind would wander aimlessly until memories of familiar, mischievous blue eyes flashed before his inner vision. When he slept; nightmares of Mustafar, the stench of burning flesh and shrieks of anguish haunted him. Pleas for help, begging for him to come back. Begging him to stay. Every time, Obi-Wan tried to will himself to stay. Longing to turn back around, to hurry to Anakin’s side. To hold him in his arms, as they both perished in a burst of flames and embers. Instead, he had no control of his own limbs as he walked away. The sound of Anakin’s pained howls, and the gurgling noise that replaced them as the heat withered away his esophagus ringing in his ears.

“Are you afraid?”

Obi-Wan startled, at first convinced that the voice had spoken directly to him. He blinked his eyes, looking up only to realize it was Oma who had broken the silence. The twi’lek craned his neck to glance up at her, her dark eyes unreadable in the distant light spilling out of the freighter they called home. The twi’lek exhaled heavily; only to offer a sharp nod, eyes once more scanning their surroundings as if he’d been reminded of their vulnerable state.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“If he was so intent on killing a kid, what’s to say he’d hesitate to kill us just out of spite? I...” he paused momentarily, tone almost inaudible as he spoke again and if Obi-Wan hadn’t been so attuned to their conversation, he would have missed it.” I know people opposed to the Empire. They’re… attempting to align. To form some sort of resistance. Either way, a childhood friend of mine, M’naaka, works in close contact with their organizations.”

Oma only nodded to confirm she was listening, but he expression spoke of curiosity. It was clear she had never heard of this before.

“So, M’naaka has never met him directly, but--” the young twi’lek’s head shot up abruptly, his entire body strung out like a prey animal sensing the close proximity of a predator.

When nothing happened, no ambush forthcoming - Oma herself beginning to look increasingly uneasy - he settled back down into his tale.

“But she’s heard from her companions. They say that if Vader’s got reason to keep you in his sight, you’ve already lost.”

‘Henceforth, you shall be down as Darth… Vader.’

No.

No.

“Vader has bigger problems to cater to, if what you’re telling me about your friend’s contacts is true.”

Vader.

The name left Obi-Wan cold - the same sickness of that first mention of an assassin of the Empire cloaked in shadow had brought forth. The nausea returning, head spinning. He had pleaded with Master Yoda years ago, as they rid the ransacked and destroyed Jedi Temple of clone intruders, pressing that he must watch the holographic surveillance recordings. That he must see who had massacred their peers; the people he had grown up with, the only family he had ever known. The only life he knew, laid to waste. Children chopped to pieces, young men and women cut down in their prime. Whoever he had imagined to be the perpetrator, it was not Anakin.

Even now, he couldn’t believe Anakin could be capable of such vile acts. Yet, the holograms didn’t lie.

Now the sinking feeling Obi-Wan had experienced in that horrifying moment - as he'd watched Anakin kneel obediently before the now revealed true identity of Sith Lord, Darth Sidious - had returned tenfold. The sorrow.

He'd watched Anakin take on the mantle of Darth Vader; apprentice and second in command only to Palpatine himself. He'd watched all his hopes for his former padawan as a young Jedi crumble to ashes, scattered to the wind. Molding to become one with the sand dunes of Tatooine nightfall as he was brought back to present day. The bitter cold of the air was matched only by the block of ice forming in his chest cavity. He shut his eyes, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

The memory was still fresh, still vivid and tangible. Anakin, body set ablaze. Eyes a sickly yellow; bloodshot and animalistic as he poured the full intensity of his rage, his hate, his fear into the already heavy, charged air of Mustafar. His clothes, his hair, his skin aflame. Obi-Wan could not bear to watch the man he had loved as his own brother succumb. He abandoned him. Had left it up to the Force. He had assumed that the Force would take pity on Anakin - the man who was supposed to be The Chosen One - despite the monster he had become.

There were so many question, nothing made sense anymore.

How?

How had Anakin lived? Why? What must he look like? What agony must he be in? How might anyone survive being set afire? Obi-Wan had assumed that Maul was alone in his conviction, his ability to feed off of the Dark Side to sustain himself despite his mortal wounds. Had Anakin relied on similar tactics? Where was he now? Was there anything left of the man Obi Wan had raised and mentored? Did he know where to find his former master? Was he coming for him?

Vader. Of course.

Who else would be so consumed by spite, as to hunt innocent Jedi children to purge? Who else could be so petty, so insidious, so self absorbed? Anakin had been good, at heart. He’d been flawed, he’d been human. He’d been lying, he’d bent the rules, he’d become too attached. But he’d been well meaning, he’d been gentle and loyal and caring.

The shadow that had taken his place seemed to feed off of death, as if the blood on his hands made no difference to him. And why would it? Obi-Wan had seen the children lying lifeless on the cold stone floors of the Temple halls. In that moment, he had known there was no saving Anakin. He had refused to kill Anakin, had been adamant Master Yoda go in his stead. Anything at all, but that. In the end, he was left with no choice. Left with a naive belief, that maybe he could help Padmé bring Anakin back to sanity. Help him see reason. In the end, it was all for naught. In the end, Padmé faded away to become one with the Force. Leaving behind Anakin's estranged children; children he must never be made aware of.

Anakin died that day.

The Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan had known, burned to dust upon shores of ash. The man reemerging in his place was changed; twisted, evil and unrecognizable. The man who had taken his place was but a pawn of the Emperor, serving his master’s bidding at his beck and call as a slave. There could be no other explanation. The man in Anakin's place had nothing left to live for, no one left to save.

Why hadn’t Anakin told him about Padmé? He must have known it was an open secret. He must have known Obi-Wan had already suspected it for several years. How could he hesitate? How could he stubbornly go on, wrestling in silence with his own fears and the expectations placed upon him by outside forces? How could he find Palpatine a better confidant?

Padmé had died, and Anakin with her. And with Anakin’s death followed a part of Obi-Wan.

As he swallowed down the stone cold terror of truth welling up in his chest, biting back an inexplicable urge to weep over the pitiful fate that had befallen his brother in arms - Obi-Wan somehow found enough strength for his legs to carry him back to his land speeder. Enough energy to take him home; home to safety and solace, where he may still serve his purpose of guiding and watching over Luke.

A man like Vader would not hesitate to twist Anakin’s son into something as cruel, and vicious, and unyielding as himself. But despite the fact that Obi-Wan refused to acknowledge Vader as Anakin, refused to believe Anakin had ever possessed the ability to overstep the line so grievously - deep down, in his heart, he knew it was a poor man's comfort. But if he dared set it the truth free, dared allow himself to dwell upon it, he feared he too would lose his mind.

Deep down, he knew that the love he had harbored for the boy had never been enough. It seemed, he had never really known Anakin at all.

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

I always did want to write something like this, a piece where Obi Wan tackles the realization that Anakin is still alive under the mantle of Darth Vader. Here's my take, until canon inevitably offers us an official version, of a possible look at that. I had fun writing Obi Wan though, and his denial of Anakin's true self as a juxtaposition to Ahsoka's acceptance of the truth.

If you ship Obikin, you can always look at it that way too. It is written to be canon compliant, however!

Enjoy!

Link below to the Ao3 post, and subsequently my account:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636756

Lose Companion to Lifeline:

https://stuffilikeipostno2.tumblr.com/post/634787175881474048/lifeline-ahsoka-reaching-out-for-anakin-post

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578304

#obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi wan #obi #kenobi #ben kenobi #star wars #sw #revenge of the sith #post rots #anakin skywalker #anakin #skywalker #darth vader #vader #lord vader #tatooine #luke skywalker #canon compliant #ewan mcgregor #james arnold taylor #sir alec guinness #ot #pt #prequels #originals #swr #rebels #anakin and obi wan

[lyriquette]

RWBY farming au

Conceived in the Frosen Steel server, a RWBY farming / hydroponics AU. I’ll probably use some of the ideas in this for Rising Snow. Mostly background with scattered pieces of actual fic. - lilac 

If people don’t mind this format, I’ll probably post similar world-building AUs in the future.  

Featuring: Penny Polendina, Oscar Pine, Whitley Schnee.  

Because of the freezing cold and the years of industrialization in Mantle, Mantle/Atlas soil is incredibly poor for growing plants. Most food product is imported from Vale, and in turn Atlas supports Vale in terms of sharing their technology. It's why the two Kingdoms are more modern in appearance than the other two kingdoms, not to mention that they were originally good allies during the Great War.

In this AU, Watts develops his murder machines first and ends up winning whatever contract Atlas was offering. The Penny Project is later realized by Pietro, and Pietro later resigns as he picks up on the increasing militarization in Atlas as if General Ironwood was preparing something big - and he wanted his daughter not to be involved.

Pietro decides to move down to the Crater in Mantle to facilitate that. That way no one would know about Penny. He then creates a small shop to help repair electronics and create prosthetics for the unfortunate. It’s through this change in locale that Penny learns how bad things are down at Mantle. 

The main reason is food. Though Atlas and Mantle do have greenhouses, they're only able to supply food for a small amount of people - and it's usually just to the rich who want to eat fresh produce up in Atlas. The rest of the food is imported and thus expensive. In a way, food is a means to keep Mantle underneath Atlas's thumb because if its citizens don't work, they can't eat. If they quit, someone else would gladly take that job just to feed themselves and their family. Thus, a cycle of control is created where people simply can't break free of the poor conditions nor could they really complain, because to them it's happening everywhere. 

The SDC is the main actor in that, given their non-essential businesses are everywhere. If they decide to forcibly close down those businesses, many many people would be out of a job and likely die. Whether the government would act or not is a coin flip - the SDC needs Mantle for labor, but Atlas could run effectively without it - they have robots for labor, the rich for funding, and a military arm in the form of Atlas Academy. 

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

Most of the Faunus who lived in the Crater did not trust Penny and Pietro at first, but given Pietro's generosity and Penny's kind demeanor, they slowly warm up to them. The White Fang within Atlas is more of a community hub that supports each other because they can't afford to be militant; attacks of SDC buildings end up having extremely bad repercussions on Mantle Faunus which includes unofficial anti-Faunus hiring policies or firings - the whim of the SDC can easily kill a couple thousand of them from that alone. 

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

Penny initially started this project, not because she wanted to change the world, but because her father had been getting more sick lately, getting thinner, and starting to get sores in his gums and bleeding more easily. She later on would learn that these were signs of malnutrition - scurvy - things that those living more centrally in Mantle or up in Atlas didn't get but was a problem now because of where they lived. Though buying vitamin supplements did help, it didn't quite replace actual food - and nutrients were often better absorbed and palated in the form of food, especially when it came to the nonessential but still important minerals. 

However, she knew that things simply did not grow in Mantle. And the things that did grow were usually hardy weeds turned poisonous due to absorbing heavy metals from the ground. It was all too common to see a desperate man or woman just collapse shaking from eating too many wild weeds because they couldn't eat anything else. Maybe one day, they could plant enough weeds to help improve Mantle's soil quality, but it didn't help her dad now. 

She's heard of hydroponics before. It wasn't exactly a secret; however, the science was in its infancy stages. Part of it was because people in the food importing business did not want others to grow cheap, domestic food - greenhouses were already bad enough for them. However, the main reason was that people didn't quite know what made plants succeed in growing and creating produce (farmers were the least likely people to work in permanently cold Solitas) - usually the plants failed to germinate, died drooping (overwatering), or end up growing but don't create produce (never bore fruit). Even though there was limited success, the yield would be extremely poor, and the amount of time and energy could've just be used to create another greenhouse instead.

But this was okay for Penny cause all she really had was time and energy. And it wasn't like she was selling food. She just wanted to grow produce, so her dad could eat healthier. 

Her dad supported her efforts by getting the short experiment logs of the initial hydroponics projects at Atlas. And it became clear to Penny that there were many holes in that research with the main factor being that there was not an actual farmer to help with the research. And with the arrogance of Atlasian scientists (Watts being the archetypical example), who would bring a down-to-earth farmer who knew nothing of science and the like? Lacking expertise and knowing that the entirety of Atlas would be of no help, Penny sought the CCT for assistance. 

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

Oscar didn't particularly like farming. He wanted to become a Hunter, but his aunt wouldn't let him. Too dangerous, she said. He might end up mixing with the darker elements of Mistral because of it, not to mention the fact he’d be fighting the Grimm on a regular basis. Better to be a farmer in central Mistral with a nice stable income like how his parents and their parents and their parents' parents lived. 

Still, he never complained out loud. After going to school in the morning, he helped worked the fields in the afternoon, the same as the other farmhands like his uncle and his cousins.  He was living under their roof, and he knew it was hard to provide for a thirteen-year old who was just starting his growth spurt. He probably ate more than his aunt and his baby cousins combined now. And their family generously paid for his living conditions without forcing him into anything he didn't want to do. 

As of late, he's been a bit happier with his lot in life. Using the CCT, someone from Solitas had contacted him in regard to farming - about how they wanted to grow things in Mantle and potentially revolutionize the lives of people there. But they couldn't due to the soil being bad. In what way, he didn't particularly know. They discussed the issue with each other through voice-chat, talking about their very different lives and even the possibility of something called hydroponics - honestly, it felt like finding a kindred spirit. And he looked forward to the days he could talk things out with his new friend. 

"Hey, wait. Check this out," Oscar said as he checked the CCT forums, "Your thread got replied too." 

"Really?" said a bewildered voice on the other line. 

"Yeah, a Penny123 is asking about farming in Mantle too. Even mentioned hydroponics." 

"...Let's try bringing this Penny in." 

"You sure, Whitley?" 

"Yeah. As much as I want us to keep the credit, it's not like we're going anywhere right now. Maybe this person will have new ideas." 

==========

So a duo became a trio. And Whitley was right. What Penny brought to the table was the scientific expertise. She might not know how hydroponics actually worked, but she did have the means to analyze the soil content (retrofitting some of her sensors for more specialized purposes) and simply put - she was a scientist. On the other hand, Oscar had the farming expertise - he knew what soils worked well with which crop, the habits of each plant he grew, he knew what plants liked more water and which ones preferred less, and what a plant should like when it was growing well.

Whitley was the odd duck in the group. First of all, he wasn't quite doing it for altruism's sake. He was doing it because he disliked his family - and really hated the Schnee Dust Company, seeing that it's responsible for his mother's drinking, his parents' loveless marriage, Winter abandoning the rest of the family for Ironwood and the Hunters/Huntresses, and Weiss's likely plans to abandon ship on him too (he's angry at her for that, but after having Oscar to confide in, it wasn't as bad as being left alone and isolated completely.) 

He's also responsible for making sure that his two partners weren't murdered in their sleep. Going this route infringes upon the interests of several major corporations including the SDC and the food import companies. Seeds and food products coming from and going to Solitas were tracked very closely. Penny is also given some chilling news from Whitley: people have tried building greenhouses at the Crater before, and all of them were destroyed without a perpetrator to be found.

The danger was serious enough that Oscar was also planning to move to Solitas to not implicate his aunt and uncle when he and Whitley finally started the project in earnest. With Penny around, Oscar potentially had a place to stay (Oscar also was like "i can do heavy lifting, the dishes, cooking, farming, etc" as part of his self-advertisement). 

Even Whitley acknowledges that he himself might not be safe. One wrong move on his part - and well, if his father was able to endure nearly a decade of loveless marriage just to take over the SDC, there's no telling what he'll do when he realizes he's working against his interests. 

Penny needs some time to think. She now knows that her tiny project of letting her father eat better is connected to the livelihoods of so many and also brings a lot of danger along with it. Not just to herself but to her father - her dad would also be a target if things go south. With her partners’ agreement (since it's inevitable Pietro would get wind of things since the project will be occurring in his house), Penny talks to her dad about the hydroponics / farming project. He's worried for her but understands what she wants to do - she's filled with purpose now and wants to help the people out. As much as he's scared for her and doesn't want her to do this, he can't help but feel a bit of pride about his daughter growing up. Still, he makes her promise that as soon as things start looking bad, they'll stop. They'll quit and not look back. He asks to speak to the other two, not quite realizing they're a pair of thirteen-year olds, and extracts the same promise for their sake. 

------

As plans for moving and gathering soil samples are being made, Pietro starts building Floating Array. 

Penny begins dragging several abandoned shipping containers to the "backyard" of their store, saying her dad needed some raw material for experimentation when in reality it's gonna be where the heart of their project is. 

Weiss starts getting worried about her younger, now constantly sneaking around and speaking to the scroll in hushed tones. She overhears part of his conversation - about how he'd get in a lot of trouble for a certain course of action (directly smuggling goods in using his authority) - and worries that he's getting bullied. 

Oscar tells his family that his friend found him a job working as an engineer's assistance in Solitas, and he'd like to stay there for a year. His place of employment has already paid for the transcontinental ticket.

#rwby #rwby fic #rwby au #penny polendina #whitley schnee #oscar pine #farming au #lilac writes #throws my au at the universe