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vintage-writes · 3 years

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I Got Jealous (Bakugo x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: None, this is a Fluff fic. The reader is also gender neutral. Bakugo is aged up though, they are no longer U.A. Students. A Reader who doesn’t take shit.

Summary: Bakugo is getting incredibly Jealous as a certain someone continues to eye you up. Unable to control his Jealousy he drags you away and to a corner to ravage you.

Word Count: 1 396

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The crowds are dense as you move through the thick mass of bodies. Soft apologies being thrown as you bump into, what feels like, a million people. Right now, You and your boyfriend, Bakugo, are currently half jogging down the pavement. You're on your way to the very first Hero convention being held by U.A and you’re bursting with excitement. Bakugo’s excitement is simmering beneath the surface, he has a scowl on his face but you know him well enough to know he’s excited to see All Might, after leaving U.A.. The paths are completely packed by strangers and students alike. U.A. is buzzing with life.

However, Your excitable pace matched with the bustling crowd makes it hard for Bakugo to keep up. He’s trailing behind you at a jagged pace as you dart through the crowd.

“Oi, wait a second”, he shouts at you.

You glance over your shoulder at Bakugo who has fallen a little too far behind. You nibble on your bottom lip, feeling a bit guilty. You are well aware that perhaps you are moving a bit too fast but there’s a hero you really want to see. They’re your Idol. But some idiot decided to put their section on the complete opposite side of campus.

Right now, Bakugo’s speed just isn’t cutting it.

As Bakugo catches up, you decide move to the side, where it's quieter. You walk along the brick wall and notice as Bakugo’s mood continues to sour. Is it because you’re moving too fast? Does he not want to see your idol? A wave of anxiety and annoyance hits you all at once, unsure of what to make of the situation. Your excitement dies a little. You don’t want to deal with boyfriend issues.

Your footsteps begin to slow. You turn to watch Bakugo, however, to your surprise, he’s not paying attention to you. His line of sight is directed elsewhere. You look to where he’s currently death glaring and make eye-contact with Monoma. His blonde hair has been combed to the side. His grey eyes light up slightly as he smiles at you. He waves.

You smile and raise your hand in greeting. However before you wave, Bakugo suddenly appears behind you. One hand laces into your raised one, other hand landing landing on your hip. Monoma stops dead in his tracks as Bakugo drags you away, and rounds a corner, shoving you into an alleyway. He pushes you against the wall, trapping you between his strong arms. He leans in. His breaths are ragged. He smells musky, but the faint smell of burning sugar lets you know he’s activated his quirk. His jealousy has him practically frothing before you. He’s so close you can feel his short breaths fanning against your lips. Sparks are literally flying.

And he’s diving forward. Two lips meeting. His presence engulfs you. You’re drowning in his sweet taste. Bakugo pushes you flat against your back. He’s pinning you against the wall, you’re stuck, flush against him. He’s hot. Very hot. Your lips are dancing against each other as he devours you. Your tongues fight each other for dominance, but Bakugo’s anger has you caving into him. You let him take the lead as he completely dominates the space between you.

He pulls away, but stays close. He places a kiss on your forehead before moving to rest his head on your shoulder. He takes his arms off the wall and wraps them around your waist.

Suddenly, the angry chihuahua has receded into himself. Too embarrassed to look at you while you desperately try to catch your breath. You bring your arms up to hug him.

“Babe, what are you doing?” you ask, breathlessly. Bakugo, is normally not one for any sort of PDA, sometimes, he won’t even hold your hand. You’ve become rather accustomed to it seeing as Lord Explosion Murder melts into your hands when alone at home. Never in a million years would you expect him to drag you away during an incredibly busy convention to kiss you silly in a barely hidden corner.

Bakugo’s head is currently buried into your shoulder. Upon hearing your question he turns his head and places a shy peck to your neck.

He mumbles, “I’m sorry, I got jealous.”

Jealous? He’s Jealous?

“Of Monoma?”, you ask aloud.

Bakugo’s head immediately shoots up, as if in sudden denial. His red eyes are bursting with rage.

“That Extra was being way too cocky, eyeing you up like that!”

“He waved”

“AND HE WAVED!!”

“That’s really not what I meant”, you say.

“Is it such a big deal? Monoma and I are just friends”, you ask.

“Is he aware that you’re just friends!?”

Feeling your anger suddenly flare, you blurt out, “I’m not seeing the issue Bakugou. Can I not have male friends? What if I’m also into girls too? Should I now delete Momo’s number?”

Bakugo looks like he’s about to spit fire. His mouth opens to protest but no words come out. He huffs. He looks to the sky. He better not be asking for patience, as far as you’re concerned, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re the one who should be asking for patience. It’s not like you told Monoma that you were single with an open bedroom door. You barely had the chance to wave at him.

“No”, he says reluctantly, “No, you’re right. I think I might’ve blown up a bit. But that extra is always eyeing you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Love. It’s more that I don't like looking at his sleazy face sending you looks as if he has a chance.”

You laugh. Bakugo’s anger has risen significantly, his scowl is baring teeth. But God Damn you, if he’s not the most adorable you’ve ever seen him. Despite his rising anger you can see he’s really trying his best to calm down and remain calm. It’s not really working. You imagine that Monoma’s head is currently roasting on a spit in his head. Your chuckles begin to subside at his confused expression. His face is the picture of innocence.

You reach forward to grab him, pulling him into a hug. His hard body presses against your own. Despite Bakugo’s initial confusion he wraps his arms around you anyway. You couldn’t believe that he would go so far because he’s jealous. Bakugo isn’t exactly reserved but he is often reluctant to show affection. Most people are still unaware you’re even dating. He prefers to remain in his own world.

“Babe”, you say, “It’s okay to be jealous. I know I would probably bury anybody who thought they could flirt with you, but maybe next time, just tell me. I would rather you tell me, instead of going ape shit.”

You lean up and place your lips on his. This kiss is softer, it lacks the original aggression and desperation but it still feels heated. Possibly, everything that has anything to do with Bakugo, will always feel heated. This man sets the world on fire, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You pull away and move to the entrance of the alleyway. There you have a clear view of Monoma who looks over. He glares at Bakugo and looks at you with a look that simply says, “I’ll kill him if you want,”

You shake your head. Men are so hormonal. Instead you turn back to Bakugo and place your hand on his cheek, rising onto your tippy toes, you peck his lips. You make sure Monoma has a clear view.

Bakugo’s face completely whitens at your bold public display of affection. His surprise reflects on Monomas face as well. Good, that solves that problem.

You reach for Bakugo’s hand and begin to drag him away. His face is still white. His expression is still hollow. His brain is probably still processing. It’s hard to believe that this is the man who was so bold not even 5 minutes ago.

“Eh?”

You giggle up at him. Adorable.

“You know, Babe”, You say, “Maybe you wouldn’t be so jealous if you kept up with me.”

With both hands entwined you break into a sprint. Bakugo’s face finally cracks a smile as he runs beside you.

“Now we’re late!”, You shout.

“I’ll make it up to you Later!” He laughs Back.

#Soft!Bakugo #mha #mha fic #bnha #bnha fic #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #fluff #some soft shit #mha fluff #Bakugo fluff #Cute Bakugo #jealous bakugou #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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weaselle · 3 years

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Ant Cthulhu

Tumblr ate my story! Goodbye to. just. so many thousands of notes. This was one of my first stories that people on tumblr liked. So I’m making it a new post, so that people can find it. Plus, of all the thousands who read the first one or two installments, not nearly as many discovered that I had written a third and final installment that ends the story, so here is a chance at that.

The story was inspired by a pair of observations on Tumblr, where users probablybadrpgideas and 20thcenturyvole said, respectively

“if Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants? The answer is they should be.” and “Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.“

It gets just a little dark, but any story named for Cthulhu surely must have some death and destruction, right?

ANT CTHULHU

That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name. And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor. And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?” and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever. And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done” …. _____________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile another colony of ants invades your house, and evidently that last ant has gotten some of them to join her in a circle and taught them the ritual because you’re coming out of the bathroom one day and you hear the ants singing your name. Sure enough it’s that ant, but she’s dark and fucked up now, and she’s like, “kill the queen. I will rule this colony” and you’re like, sure, I guess I kinda owe her, and you do it. And she manages to become queen, and they worship you. Which is cool, you’re not, you know, very important in the human world, but to these ants you’re practically all-powerful.

Your beloved Naya doesn’t understand your fascination with the ants at all, but you easily train her to leave them alone. She’s such a good dog. The ants are horrified that you command such a beast.

You begin to realize can’t be just, doing everything a bunch of ants tell you to all the time. When would you watch Netflx? So you tend to only show up for super important ants; you teach them some extra words and when hear them you go see what’s up. Usually. Also though, you’ll show up to just your name, if you’re bored and you hear it. And, sometimes some of the ants are like, tell us more human names, and you’re kind of jealous of the idea of some other human diluting your private godhood, so you refuse. Your roommate Greg is like, yo, that’s fucking awesome, I want ant worshipers! But whenever he approaches any, they run away, because it turns out that the illusion of control from the named summoning is what makes them feel safe around you. That’s great, because Greg is a dick who never does the dishes, and one day you decide to teach Greg a lesson. So you show up at the colony, and you’re like, “yo, witch queen, did you think there would be no price for all these things? Your colony must do something for me, go to the Room of the Housemate, I will meet you there.” And you go sit on the couch and play Overwatch for a while. You’re like, right there, you can clearly see the ants all marching along the wall to Greg’s room, but to them you’re not even there, you’re so far away they can’t see you. It takes them, like, an ant week to make the journey. They have to figure out ways to get over and around things. Some of them drown, or get stepped on by the dog, or whatever. You win a game, you lose a game, you look over, and they’re trying to get through some cobwebs… looks like they’re mostly going to live, you keep playing, you look over, okay they’re all in there, and you stand up and walk over and by the time they’ve chanted your name once, you’re there. “right, hold on” and you look around and you see a twelve-pack of Greg’s precious fucking soda, that he keeps in his room and refuses to ever share, even though it’s a communal food household and you share your hot chocolate with him all the time. So you gather the ants unto you, and you poke a little hole in each of the sodas and you leave the room to the sound of the ants rejoicing. Greg will suspect of course, but he’ll never be able to prove the ants didn’t chew holes in the plastic and steal his stupid drinks.

He actually tries to blame it on Naya. What a prick. You insist with wide eyes that the ants must have found it somehow — maybe he shouldn’t leave soda pop laying around his room. But later, while you’re at work, Greg destroys most of the colony in a rage, and you come home to find the witch queen gasping her last. “The Dew of the Mountain, which you had us steal, was cursed - and so I lay my curse on you” she manages, and then she dies. Well first of all, you don’t really believe in curses, but last month you didn’t believe ants could know your name, so that’s unsettling. And second of all, you feel kind of bad. You know, not SUPER bad, cause she’s like, an ant. But still. And most importantly, third of all, Greg must pay. Like some kind of movie villain, you pet your loving Naya and say out loud “Oh yes, and pay he will.”

But Greg has done more than kill a bunch of the colony. As you wait for eggs and pupae to replenish the ant population, you discover he has found some ants that didn’t go on the Mountain Dew raid, and he’s spared them, told them his name.

He’s made himself a good sized cult in YOUR fucking ant queendom. Greg has started locking his door. So now you NEED the ants. Once again you direct the ants loyal to you to journey to Greg’s room. You meet them at the door. A locked door means nothing to the ants, they don’t even know there is a door, and can barely perceive the difference between it being open and shut - either passing the threshold on the floor regardless, or being on its surface no matter the position. But you need them to get inside. You’re going to put itching powder in his underwear drawer and leave a raw fish under his bed. So you instruct the leading party of ants how to go into the Cave of Keyhole, and position the Magic Megaliths inside just right to enable the opening of the Great Door and allow you to pass into the Realm of Housemate. Crouched by the door, you can hear when your ants are met by a party of Greg Cultists, who insist that if the Great Door is opened, the colony will be doomed. There is fighting. Your ants prevail, the lock tumblers are moved into place, and you swing the door open… To find Greg! In his room all along! It’s a trap! His cultists attack you! I mean, they can’t do much real harm, but it kind of hurts and it’s super annoying. You order your ants to attack him, and they do, but he storms over and pours bleach down the colony entrance.

It’s the end of their world. Now you and Greg are at war, and you both understand the unspoken rules to your fight. You can’t do things directly to each other, why, that would be assault. But anything you can get your ants to do is fine, because “she told the ants to do it to me” isn’t going to get very far with any authority figures that get involved. Later, nursing your anger, you confer with your few remaining ants and stare moodily at your new prize, the ant farm that came in the mail. It will take time to integrate them- your ants have to get access to the new ants’ scent marker chemicals and go undercover. Meanwhile, you’ve got a laptop schematic to go over with your high priestess. It’s finals week, and if you time it right, he’ll lose everything. … You look down into the summoning ritual. The current high priestess, Zé, is an ant of great influence and personality - you quite like her, inso far as a human can be friends with an ant that worships them. You thought the new queen would become the next high priestess, but according to Zé the queens don’t like to come out of the colony after they shed their wings. Plus they are very busy laying eggs and supervising the care of their ant larvae. Zé says it’s a better deal for you, this way your high priestess can have the time and energy to really serve your interests, and wield an authority among the colony that is purely yours - no conflict of interest, and no baby making duties. It’s really just what’s best for both you and the colony queen to have her as high priestess, she informs you, making you laugh at her flattery-wrapped ambition. There’s no laughing this evening though. It’s serious business on the docket tonight. “O wise and ancient entity of power, you grace us with your presence!” and for formality’s sake, she intones the additional ritual greeting from their holy books “You Look Fantastic, Have You Done Something New With Your Hair?” Ants don’t really understand hair. You respond as you have become accustomed “Thank You, Yes.” It’s just easier. They mean well. Mystic greeting complete, Zé and the rest of the dark clergy move straight to business. Several 10s of them line up in formation, creating a diagram of the apartment complex. You had to coach them into how to make it, as far as they are concerned it’s a complex sigil that conveys knowledge to you - for creatures that traverse the building in long journeys along the pipes in the walls and in the spaces between the lower ceiling and upper floor, it looks nothing like the apartment complex as they know it. Zé claims to understand it, but secretly you suspect she’s just mostly cementing her authority among the clergy. She has, usefully, memorized which parts of the sigil correspond with what parts of the building, and that’s good enough for your purposes. “O mighty being, we have done as instructed. Our scouts had to search wide for them, but we have left the corpses of many termites in all the locations you specified, every night this week. “Very good,” you assure them, “and the Greggorites?” “Our spies among them have learned of their next attack. We should be able to influence their timing somewhat.” “Good. And..” your eyes narrow, “the other thing?” “Ah, yes.” Zé’s antennae wave and dip in that way you know means she is uncomfortable. “to the best of our ability to find out, the… Antifreeze initiative was entirely conceived of by the Demon Lord Greg.” “Just Greg,” you tell Zé with bitter hatred as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. “Greg is not a lord, just a fucking prick who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I swear by all of creation he will.” “Is there…” Zé trailed off and tried again. “O Deity of my heart, far be it from me to question Your Exaltedness, but help your poor servant to understand… your plans have become, ah, they seem perhaps, I am sure I am wrong, but they seem, overly audacious? Your recent change in demeanor has made some of us nervous - not me! - but some of the less devout among my sistren, have become… concerned.” Your fists clench. “I don’t expect you to get it. I’m pretty certain none of you could possibly understand.” Your voice breaks. You clench your teeth. You won’t, you won’t cry in front of your ant worshipers. You lean down and say in the strangled half whisper that is the only way you can force the words past the lump in your throat, “He killed my dog, Zé…” The ants flee the sound of your terrible wailing. The great Finals Erasure had worked to more devastating effect than you had anticipated, and things had… escalated. Then Greg proved himself to be less human than the ants , who themselves had turned out to be such surprising little beings. So. The orders for the heinous deed did in fact come from him. Now, there are things that have to be done. You call the ants back out of hiding and get to work. In the end, it was easier than you thought it would be. You talk to all the neighbors, without Greg. You hide the relevant pieces of mail. You have the scuba gear and the stuff from the sex shop shipped to a friend’s house. You ensure your spies among the Greggorites have escape plans, though Zé assures you they are ready to sacrifice themselves to the cause. “I’m not that kind of Deity,” you tell her. The night before, your ants slip a double dose of tylenol p.m. into Greg’s milkshake. You almost laugh; all your efforts to make sure there is only soup to make for dinner, and he comes home with Burger King. He sleeps so soundly that he never comes close to waking the whole time you are attaching the padded bondage equipment to his limbs and hiding with him in the closet. The walk through by the company inspectors that morning is a tense moment, but as you suspect, they don’t open the closets. After they leave to do their work outside, you finish your work inside, tying Greg to his bed. By the time he starts to wake up, you are sitting in a chair in the doorway to his bedroom, with your mask on. The air is beginning to thicken and discolor. Greg coughs around his ball gag and opens his eyes. You feel curiously calm and empty. “Hi, Greg.” Your voice is muffled, “You like my dive mask?” Greg makes an angry questioning noise, spread eagled to the full extension of his limbs. “Oh, yeah, that must be uncomfortable. Can’t give you enough slack to jerk against the ropes, though, or you might leave tell-tale bruises through the padding.” More angry noises, coughing. “Hhhmm? Oh, did I forget to tell you? It’s termite day, Greg, they’ve tented the house. That’s Sulfuryl Fluoride you’re breathing. You’ll cough for a bit, you’ll throw up, and your heart will stop.” He’s thrashing around as much as the ropes will allow, which isn’t a lot. He’s pretty energetic about it, though; maybe he can’t hear you over his efforts. “You shouldn’t have meddled around with godhood, it didn’t suit you. Power compromised your judgement. You definitely shouldn’t have fucking killed my dog, Greg” You’re suddenly filled with rage. You need to know he hears you. You stride over to the bed and grab him by the throat. Not too hard, you try to remember through your anger, no bruises. The grip is enough to make Greg stop thrashing and look at you with wide wide eyes. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING KILLED NAYA YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! WHY? WHY? HOW COULD YOU!? SHE NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!” Just as suddenly, your anger is gone. You feel tired. You look down at him and shake your head.”Time to die, Greg.” You cross the room and sit back down in your chair in the doorway. Watching him die isn’t easy, but it’s not as hard as watching Naya suffer through acute kidney failure. Afterwards, you take off all the bondage gear, throw it in a duffel bag. You leave through the back, rolling out from under the fumigation tent against the back fence, and packing the scuba gear into the duffel before you climb into the neighbors yard. A month later, you’re moving from town to town. The colony has become so large you’re going to need a bigger truck full of clay for them to live in. Maybe an old Uhaul. The ants bring you a newspaper. They bring you everything now, food, money, information. Word of how you value the life of each individual ant has spread through the colony, and reports brought back from the apartment by scouts confirming your status as a godslayer has …elevated… their worship of you. You open the newspaper to find Greg’s death has made the papers. No suspicion of foul play despite the exterminator company lawyers insisting on an autopsy. Tylenol p.m. in his system accounted for his presence in the building, it was decided, and the failure of the inspectors to notice Greg in bed during their walk through was settled out of court, paid off by their insurance. The ants bring you a conga line of grapes, peeling them for you while you stare off into space. A small line of ants brings the peels back to the colony larder. You’re going to have to teach them how to disable cameras - the leaked security footage of hundred dollar bills slipping themselves out under the bank doors has caused a bit of a stir on some parts of the internet… you eat another grape, and count your money. As usual you put half of it in an envelope, uncapping a sharpie to write “From Naya” on it. The ants will slip it under the door of the local animal shelter for you tonight. END

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so, looking back, I feel I should tell you that when I wrote the final chapter of this I had just become homeless and had to leave my dog in a better home than I could provide. It’s cool, we still see each other a lot these days, I was just real sad about it and it effected what I wrote. Anyway, that’s the Ant Cthulhu story

#ant cthulhu #ant #ants #writing #fiction #story

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unpeumacabre · 3 years

Text

soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: prologue

Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.

If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wangxian, Xicheng, Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1.5k

next ->

One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.

Lan Zhan!

I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.

I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.

Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.

Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.

Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan!

Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.

It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!

Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.

But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.

Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan,

No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.

Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.

Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.

It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.

I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times.

I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!

***

Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,

I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian

Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.

Best regards, yours sincerely and most humbly,

Sect Leader Jin Ling, Lanling Jin sect

#wangxian #xicheng #upm works #upm #cql #wwx #lwj #jiang cheng #lxc #jc #mdzs #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #wei wuxian x lan wangji #jiang cheng x lan xichen #wei wuxian #the untamed #lan wangji #lan xichen

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mintenochian · 4 years

Text

what other people want added to Minecraft: g u n s

what I want added to Minecraft

•Birds

-For multiple biomes, but mainly for the forests.

-Songbirds would add SO MUCH life to the otherwise quiet areas of the game

-Ravens and crows would be awesome and could use some of the parrot mimicking AI

-Cardinals in the snow biomes would bring a GORGEOUS pop of colour into the white atmosphere

-Seriously we need something to populate the sky, parrots do NOT fly like they should

-nests in trees, can find eggs in them

-doesn't really add a use but fun new feather types would be cool

•Owls

-technically still a bird but would go really well in covered rooftop forests and snow biomes

-we're already getting larger avians added in the form of vultures so why not more large birds?

•Mice and / or rats

-absolute precious babies

-sadly would go well with owls :(

-with cave update coming we need adorable rodents scurrying around

-lil bastards could make mouseholes inside of blocks

-will they be tameable? idk.

-adds the necessity for cheese

•Deer

-MOJANG this is a MUST, this is a NEED

-You literally have pigs, chickens, cows, and sheep spawning in forests what the fuck

-Deer with spotty baby fawns??? Yes

-Young bucks with different stages of antler growth? Yes

-Fawns frolicking in flower forests bc they feel safe

-Stripped wood appearing on trees where bucks scrape velvet off their antlers

-Being able to collect sets of antlers when they fall off periodically (would NOT be attainable by killing the deer, you have to wait for them to shed)

•Elk and Moose

-Same vein as deer

-Bigger, much bigger, neutral instead of passive, less shy

-Snowy biomes

-Better additions than fucking llamas tyvm

-Sidenote but savannahs could also really use some endangered deer-like species to help raise awareness for their status

•Squirrels

-Mojang plz

-Adds nuts to Minecraft ;)

-Black, grey, red, and mixed colour squirrels and breeding

-Brings life to forests like songbirds and deer

•Bears

-Mojang bby you literally already have a neutral bear in Minecraft why have you not reskinned it for grizzly/brown/black bears?

-Bear caves

-Hibernating mobs

-Brings more use to the beehives and bees, bears could be attracted to any area that has more than one bee hive with honey

•WOLVES AND DOGS

-They NEED the ocelots and cats update

-More wolf types (red, timber, snow, black, etc)

-Actual wolf packs (the AI would be difficult to program but the doges are worth it)

-Please let the howl at the moon, if foxes get to say ringdingding all night long wolves deserve to be allowed to howl

-More dog breeds (I know that there's no reason for domesticated dog breeds in Minecraft but ACTUALLY THERE IS)

-Hunting dogs like springers that can jump and run faster

-Foxhounds :D

-Most Important Goodest Boy: Herding dogs like collies and sheepdogs

-Herding dogs could be found in plains where cows and sheep spawn and create herds

-LET DOGS LAY DOWN FOR FUCKS SAKE

•Herding

-Instead of having to pen up and enclose your livestock you could form herds of cows and sheep

-Your Goodest Boi herding dog would protect them and move around with them when they graze

-Just soft peaceful minecraft tingz

•Salt licks

-Something SO SMALL but would make SO MUCH HAPPINESS

-Drawing new cows into your herd by putting up a salt lick

-I'm soft

-I guess salt would be a new ore???

•Bird feeders

-idk I think it would be cool

-excess seeds used for SOMETHING

•Raccoons

-The coolness of wolves, the chaos of foxes, the cunning of cats

-thumbs

-be gay do crimes

-can open chests (trigger trap chests to catch them?)

-Fantastic little shits

-Not tameable but will trust players like foxes do

•Snakes

-I know it's a lot to ask and it would be hard to make them look good

-But??? Imagine a tiny lil garter snake in your garden

-unlikely but would be so fantastic

•Rope

-climeable

-please Mojang we need this so badly

-imagine the ships? The bridges? The bell towers and everything?

-super easy to add, just reskin vines and add a string crafting recipie

•Butterflies and Moths

-Bflies could be a unique mob to flower forests and friends with bees

-if moobloom is added they would all be BEST BUDS

-get it "buds" ahahaha

-help with flower polination but just gives a TON of life to flower forests

-We literally have lanterns in minecraft why do we NOT have moths? Such a cool aesthetic addition.

-helps fill both the daytime and nighttime sky

•Hummingbirds

-fourth member of BEST BUDS

-just soft baby

-i love birbs okay

-the only avian who does not work for the bourgeoisie

•Fireflies

-10 million of them please

-they give great hugs

-adds so much atmosphere to the night world

•Cheese

-We have milk

-We have, presumably, goat milk

-Quit being cowards and add butter and cheese

-Butter churn job block for villagers

-V funny bc they have no arms to churn with?? Oh well

•Seashells

-Something decorative and beautiful that could 1) liven up beaches and 2) have snails and crabs inside!

-Mojang plz do not add sand dollars to the game people already don't know how to tell if they're still alive before trying to take them home

•Whales

-WHALES.

-Imagine something as massive as the ender dragon but peaceful. Allows you to stand on them (idk how but make it happen Jeb)

-WHALE SONGS.

-Being so deep and far out into the ocean, and when the moon is high in the sky and you're sitting in your boat, you just hear the beautiful melancholy sounds of the whales in the distance

•Jellyfish

-Idk if y'all know this but the glow squid is a bad idea

-Dream buddy you fucked up, please use your influence to get in contact with Mojang and have them redo the vote. People would have so much regained respect for you if you tried to fix your mistake.

-Also why does a speedrunner get to tell millions of people what mob would bring more life to Minecraft? He's only playing the game for 5 minutes smh

-aNYWAYS

-Jellyfish could literally do everything the glow squid is going to and look better for it AND possibly be neutral instead of peaceful

•Orcas

-Not much to say but it would liven up the frozen water biomes a bit

•Penguins

-You already know why

-Imagine giving a new home to all the Club Penguin players? Legendary.

-Gender doesn't exist in Minecraft but we all know penguins would be hella gay

•Lobsters

-I think they would be cute

-You would NOT BE ABLE TO BOIL THEM ALIVE THANK YOU VERY MUCH

•Mermaids

-Never going to happen since passive mobs are generally real life animals but it would be so cool

•Otters

-they can hold hands

-brings life to the rivers

-super cute

•Frogs and possibly toads

-Swamp gods

-Absolute mad lads

-maybe grow from tadpoles

-wouldn't do much but needed

•Fairy Forests

-NOT Twilight Forests. Not a new dimension.

-Just gentle hidden groves in forests

-ADD FAIRY RING GENERATION TO MINECRAFT.

•Big cats

-Tigers, lions, bobcats, panthers

-Literally anything that could finally add a strong predator possibility to savannahs and jungles

•Zebras and Giraffes

-Shy and skittish

-cannot ride (their skeletal structure is NOT MADE FOR CARRYING HUMANS)

-Super cute tho, brings much needed life to savannahs

•Camels

-The better llama

-Can honestly just be a reskin

-brings much needed life to the desert

-spits and wears carpet and forms caravans like llamas

•Lemurs

-Easier to add to "jungles" than monkeys

-it would be really cool if we could just get a Rainforest biome

-King Julian stans awaken

•Red pandas

-we need them

-cuter than normal pandas and you can @ me

-better idea than sloths or koalas

•More Eldritch Horror Hostile Mobs

-Fun fact time

-The enchanting table language already has Lovecraftian references

-"phnglui mglwnafh cthulhu rlyeh wgahnagl fhtagn" is literally a quote from the enchanting table

-translates to "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming."

-Bet you didn't know that fun fact

-aNYWAYS add the Kraken to Minecraft instead of the shitty guardians. Thanks.

-imagine how cool it would be to see lights slowly extinguish as something terrifying and dangerous slowly moves in for the kill

-torches get extinguished and can get relit

-if not relit fast enough Something will be waiting

•Ice statues

-We have giant fossils and ship wrecks and cool stuff like that but please imagine finding a GIANT humanoid ice sculpture in an ice spikes biome

-maybe bones inside to show you that... That wasn't carved or naturally generated.

•Skeletons

-Not a mob but a decoration block

-Found in temples, mineshafts, and caves

-implied to be the remains of miners and explorers

-rare

-also implies that every skeleton you kill has some backstory since they look the same

•Constellations

-Not real world star maps but completely unique to Minecraft

-chance for LOTS of fun references

-The stars are your only companions in an apocalyptic world where you are the last of your kind

-Space is gay minecraft is gay thus minecraft space is gay

•Corn

-we have butter in this list

-we have salt in this list

-popcorn. That is all.

And finally

•Leeks

-mostly a joke but would be a cool crop

-100% a reference to Hatsune Miku the creator of Minecraft

DISCLAIMER: I recognize that mobs are added to Minecraft to serve a purpose within the game and that many of these mobs would be better in mods and such, but I also feel like many of these suggestions would really bring so much more life to parts of the game that really need it. Even if they don't serve a huge purpose, they would still be really amazing additions imo.

I would love to see the ideas and suggestions that other people have for what they want added to Minecraft, please TAG ME if you make a post like this, I wanna hear and read it!

#minecraft #cave update #caves and cliffs #mojang #minecraft update #minecraft ideas #video games #mcpe #mc #minecon #minecraft earth #minecraft dungeons #minecraft live #minecraft design #game design #mineblr

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Note

hi! paul headcanon of the reader confessing her feelings to him and he’s hesitant at first because you know vampire and he might snap and drink from the reader and accidentally kill them so he just kinda brushes it off at first with a happy ending maybe hehe 🥺💗

OOOOOH OKAY. So I love this because this is a bit of a Take™. Like this is definitely one of the reactions to a confession that I haven't done before so let's do it!!! Also, I love Paul so immediately I am down for this!! I'm using some of the prequel script for this imagine btw!!

Paul x Fem!Reader Confessing to Him

You and Paul had been fast friends. He was friendly, nice, and flirty with almost everyone. It really didn't take a lot for you to fall for the boy, especially when he made flirty comments towards you on a daily basis. It didn't help that he was gorgeous. That teased blonde hair, perfect smile, and baby blue eyes?? It was no wonder that you were crushing on him!! He looked like a rockstar! So, one day, you decided to confess

Paul hadn't known what to do. You two were going to grab some snacks from the boardwalk for the rest of the boys when you'd confessed, and he'd almost dropped the haul of food in his hands. Sure, Paul was used to getting babes and flirting! But romance? Someone actually liking him more than wanting to make out with him? Someone wanting to date him? That was uncharted territory.

Paul hadn't had a girlfriend in the eighty or so years that he'd been a vampire. It wasn't that he was opposed, it was just that he was a killer! What if he snapped? Dating meant sexy times and, usually, that meant a meal! Paul wasn't sure he could separate the two after eighty years of mixing them. Sure, you were hot and he totally liked your entire vibe. You always made him laugh and maybe he'd lean down when you hugged him to catch a quick whiff of your scent. And it wasn't like he spent time thinking about how small your hands were compared to his...or that one time he'd let you borrow his jacket and it had just been so big on you. Those things didn't matter! He and Marko had been the first to feed those many years ago, and it was cause they literally couldn't control themselves. He knew himself too well, and he knew better than to think he could control himself around you. So, he took a big gulp of his soda and tried his best to just brush it off. He didn't want to reject you, so he just acted like he thought you were kidding. He could tell very much by the way your heart was beating that you weren't, but you didn't know that. He felt guilty when he watched you laugh it off, and he was cursing himself all the way back to the other boys.

Still, now that he knew that you liked him, he found it harder to ignore his own developing crush. He could hear the way he made your heartbeat race. When he held your hand to keep you from getting lost in the crowd, he couldn't stop thinking about how warm it was. And the one time he'd caught you staring at his lips? God, he wanted to tease you so bad. But he knew that would just be a tad bit cruel. Plus, he didn't want to think about what you could possibly been daydreaming about. He told himself over and over that it just couldn't happen. He would snap during an intimate moment, forget who he was with, and he'd rip into you. The thought of hurting you was enough to bring him back to reality. For a bit. But the idea of a girlfriend, of that girlfriend being you, had wormed its way into his head. He wondered what it would be like. To have someone for more than a night. To have that person be you. The other boys had the pleasure of having to hear his thoughts trail to what it would be like to be more intimate with you. While he sipped his soda, his mind played out what it would be like to kiss you. To have you under him. Making sounds for him. Marko punched his arm to bring him back to reality, both because they didn't need to see that and because his cup had started making obnoxious empty suction noises. When you two went back to the cave, Paul had cracked. The others had expected it (obviously), and they'd given the two of you an unusual amount of space.

Paul had gotten high, which was a fairly usual occurrence. He just happened to get a little higher than usual. He'd laid his head in your lap, and he was humming as you pet his hair. It felt so nice. You were so nice. He had to tell you. "You're so nice," He'd whispered, and he'd heard the way you'd giggled. "Yeah?" You replied. "Mmhm, so nice. So pretty." You'd paused your petting for a brief moment, your mind short-circuiting a bit at his words. Pretty? Did he really just call you pretty? He turned, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your stomach. "Oh, yeah?" You asked, only slightly urging him to continue. You has resumed your petting, making him completely turn into jelly. You thought he didn't like you. Only saw you as a friend. To hear that he thought you were pretty? It was a little bit of a surprise. "Yeah," He hummed. "But I'd make a bad boyfriend." He finished, and you could barely believe his words. You thought back to how you'd confessed earlier that night. So, he hadn't thought you were joking. His subtle rejection had only been because he thought he wasn't good enough. Not the other way around. "I don't think you would." You whispered. Saying the words had been hard enough, but the silence that followed was horrible. After a moment, Paul let out a heavy sigh and he looked uncharacteristically sad when he lifted his head and sat up. He placed one had on the other side of you to hold himself up, and the other gripped the back of the couch. Boxing you in. For a moment, he reminded you of a lion. A predator. Trapping you in. "You don't know any better." He said, and you scoffed at his words. You knew him well enough. "I'm not good at controlling myself." He mumbled, and you watched as his eyes trailed down your face. They paused at your lips, and then at your neck. You didn't know what he was, so you didn't understand what he meant. You thought he just meant sex. You could feel your heart rate pick up at the assumed suggestion. It was then that you realized he was so close. Only inches away. You reached out to touch his cheek, and you watched as he sighed and leaned into your hand. He held your hand to his face, his skin cold under yours. You thought he'd just had cold hands, but even his cheek was lacking any usual warmth. But you could barely focus on that. Not when his eyes had drifted back up to your lips. "Well, we could...we could go slow." You suggested, and you felt like your heart was climbing into your throat.

He frowned a little, his eyes flicking back up to yours. He looked confused, with his brows furrowing. As if the idea had never occurred to him. He didn't seem entirely pleased, but you supposed he wouldn't. You knew him well enough to know he had been used to getting whatever girl he wanted the night he wanted her. "How slow?" He asked, and you laughed lightly at the way he said it. As if the idea was completely foreign to him. You reached up to cup his face with both of your hands, part of you finding his confusion completely adorable. "We could go on a few dates. Just test things out. Start with some small stuff. We won't even out a label on it until- Until we're sure." You rambled, and he stared at you for a moment. You could practically see the gears turning in his clouded brain. After a long moment, he said, "Okay. Dates. Small stuff." And nodded to himself. As if he was reassuring himself that he could do that. He was quiet for a moment, and you thought that you'd never heard him be quiet for a more than a few seconds. It was a little jarring. You were almost a little worried, and you wondered if he was going to change his mind. But his words broke the tension and made you laugh. "Does this mean we can makeout?"

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #paul the lost boys #the lost boys paul #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Prodigal Return. Yan Fugo x Reader

tw: emotional manipulation, implied isolation, unhealthy relationships and degrading language

word count: 2k

You wouldn’t call yourself a coward.

Not in the traditional sense of the word, you’ve proven yourself. When faced with a trying problem, you roll your sleeves up and set to work. Some issues will only grow worse when left unattended, spreading their roots so deeply into the ground and corrupting everything around it in the process. Killing off any forms of life in the blink of an eye, too late and entrenched to remove. This is how you’d describe your relationship with him.

You’ve put in the effort to earn your say, having poured hours into improving what you can. This is the conclusion you’ve come to, standing here in three inch heels at four in the morning, life falling apart by the seams. No matter what he might say, you know that you’ve done every reasonable possibility. Caving into more of Fugo’s absurd demands is where you draw a line in the sand, and what led to an explosive argument earlier this night.

To be fair, venomous words were spat from both of you, though yours were justified. Fugo’s chilling indifference when speaking down to you is a memory that brings a fresh set of goosebumps, haunting you when you close your eyes. He spoke with an air of indifference, belittling your friends and you by extension. Concocting ridiculous lies about how they ogle over you, or only want to take advantage of you.

“It’s for your own good,” he had told you. “You obviously can’t be expected to take care of yourself.”

What an asshole, is all you can think. The sheer audacity had been enough to still your tongue, words escaping you as your vision went red. It’s what led you to yell vulgarities at him, taking your phone and calling a friend to pick you up for the night. It wasn’t the first time Fugo planted seeds of doubt in your mind, cultivating it with every snide comment about your choices. Storming out gave you the perspective you desperately needed.

Anyone that didn’t earn his approval was spoken of in a condescending way. When Fugo disliked a person he’d put no effort into hiding it, even around the person in question. Almost no one reached his ideal way of thinking -- not even you at times -- so it’s a common occurrence. One that you would no longer stand for. Too many tear stained nights and crushed spirits piled up.

The conviction born from pep talks with your friends begins to wane, now that you’re on your own. They cheered on your new decision. Dressing you up in a short evening dress, and giving you a night on the town, to celebrate “dumping that insensitive prick”. Your phone was plucked from your hands and turned off at their behest, they said checking it would go against what you earned. You agreed, knowing that Fugo would be texting and calling you all evening.

After a full, exhausting night of club hopping, you’re standing in front of your shared apartment. What little alcohol you limited yourself to is kicking it, your body swaying even when you stand still. In the whirl of the earlier events, you forgot your wallet at home. When you lamented about forgetting it, they encouraged you to pick it up before taking you back.

That leads you to now. You silently pray that he’s asleep, imposing threat not lost on you. There’s no telling what would happen if he sees you like this, wearing revealing clothing that hugs your curves. The thought alone makes you bite your lip, already picturing the slander that’d be flung your way.

Throwing caution out the window, you finally work up the courage to unlock the door. It’s pitch black inside your apartment, adding to your unease. Your purse should be on the dining room table, all you need to do is sneak in and get it. It’s deadly quiet in the familiar territory, but not enough to make you lower your guard. Slipping off your heels to avoid making unnecessary noise, your pulse quickens as you saunter closer to your goal.

After this you’ll never see him again. The thought bubbles up hope within your chest, plans for the future fresh and exciting. Newfound zest motivates you to improve yourself, now that the opportunity to reclaim what you’ve lost is within reach. For now, these thoughts will go on the back burner, your mission taking the utmost priority.

It feels suspiciously empty, devoid of any signs of life other than you. Did Fugo decide to crash at his friend’s place? You can’t imagine him doing that, not after how much he complained about their untidiness. Not that it matters, as long as you can sneak in and out. Feeling around in the dark, adrenaline pumps through your veins when your hand comes into contact with the corner of the table.

Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you start to walk forward. It’s been a long day. You’ve earned a nice day off after this stressful breakup, internally making plans of going out for breakfast. This is the key to opening up your future, that has been stolen from you. Feeling around for the leather purse, you frown at how long it’s taking. Surely, it’s somewhere around here...?

That’s when a low, menacing growl makes you freeze in place, your heart dropping. Survival instincts kick in, hair standing up on the back of your neck. This is a noise you know, an unspoken threat.

With a dreadful click, light illuminates the room in an instant. Your cover is forced away, leaving you painfully vulnerable and afraid, like a deer in headlights. Now’s not the time to complain, an immediate problem making itself known. You recognize the sight in front of you, hunched over and drool leaking from its mouth. Purple Haze is breathing heavily, staring you down with deeply hurt eyes. Out of reflex, you back up and into the table, horror setting in at the unfolding situation.

“I was wondering what Purple Haze was upset about.”

At the sound of Fugo’s voice, you whip your head around. He pulls back from the light switch on the wall, leaning against the door frame of your bedroom. You take note of the tell way his jaw clenches, posture rigid and arms set across his chest. Knowing Fugo’s intelligence, all it takes is one look at you to guess what you’ve been doing.

He gives you a once over, sneering as you expect him to. An onslaught of demeaning words forms on his tongue, clearly betrayed by your unsightly actions.

“Already whoring yourself out for others? It seems I was right about you.”

Your cheeks flush, indignant at his snide tone and equally cruel words. The hazard Purple Haze holds is all but forgotten as you consider Fugo, eyes narrowing to match his own infuriated countenance. “I’ll have you know I did no such thing. I simply went out and had fun with my friends, that’s it.”

“Not that it’s any of your business anymore, Fugo.” you add for extra measure, showcasing your intent on leaving him. He doesn’t acknowledge your last comment, instead unpacking your first comeback.

He rolls his violet eyes, clicking his tongue. “Oh, I’m sure you enjoyed yourself. They must’ve been tripping over themselves to get in between your legs.”

Memories of a similar conversation from earlier resurface. Fugo’s hellbent on the concept that everyone around you is a negative influence, stopping at nothing to force you to think the same. Remembering how they banded together to comfort you in your time of need throws gasoline onto the already roaring fire, tears stinging your eyes.

“Again with that...! I have no clue where you’ve gotten any of these stupid ideas from. They’ve been nothing but welcoming to you, Fugo,” you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand, not caring how it smudges your mascara. “Whatever, I’m not here to deal with this. I’m leaving.”

Pivoting on your heels, you return to your previous task. Your purse now in your possession, you intend on getting out of this situation before it grows worse than it already is. Purple Haze blocks your path of escape, the Stand alternating between looking at you and Fugo. Breath hitching at the new obstacles in front of you, options swirl within your mind. Purple Haze has never once been violent towards you, but would that change after your argument with Fugo?

It’s a possibility you don’t want to test. You’ve seen the capabilities of the virus with your own eyes, how it eats at people from the inside. It’s a fittingly menacing ability for him, you suppose.

Fugo doesn’t comment as you walk towards his Stand, instead glaring at the back of your head. Purple Haze regards you with wide, doe like eyes, adoration for you clear as day. In the moment the fact that he represents Fugo’s soul escapes you, the stark contrast between the two making it difficult to tell.

It’s oddly painful to see him clearly upset, the Stand has always been fond of you, to the point where even Fugo finds it embarrassing. By the look of things it wouldn’t be in your best interest to test it any further. Unhinged is how you describe Purple Haze, ready to pummel anything that upsets it. You were too hung up on what actions to take to notice Fugo shutting the front door, effectively trapping you in here. The damning noise brings you out of your thoughts.

This is the last thing you wanted, the worst possible outcome to be tortured with.

Words aren’t a necessary evil to hold you in place, not anymore. A virus wielding creature is capable of doing that with far more effectiveness, guttural snarls leaving its lips whenever you so much as move a hair. All you can do is stay locked in place as Fugo peeks out the blinds, a heavy sigh leaving his lips at what he sees. He doesn’t bother hiding how upset he is from you, fists clenching until the skin of his knuckles go white.

“Text him to leave.”

You put together what he means, thinking back to your friend waiting for you outside. When Fugo senses your hesitation, he speaks up again to silence your unspoken doubts. “I’ll go out and tell him myself if you don’t.”

Swallowing thickly, you unlock your phone and speedily send off a poor excuse to your friend. The air is thick with unspoken tension, your eyes closing and shoulders slumping in defeat. Navigating the minefield that is Fugo is an exhausting waltz, one that you’ve never pulled off. He doesn’t utter a single word, the sound of a car turning on and speeding off sealing your fate.

Seemingly pleased with the fact you’re staying, Purple Haze’s expression returns to a familiarly enthusiastic one. The Stand practically clings to your side, and you’re too exhausted and defeated to shoo it off. Tonight returned you to a world of nightmares, darkness surrounding and consuming you.

“I’ll start a bath,” Fugo calls over, beckoning you towards your shared bathroom. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

Body aching and head pounding, there’s no resistance to offer. He knows he’s won, switching back into a disgustingly domestic behavior in the blink of an eye. Fugo never admits it, but he takes pleasure in doting over you; molding you into a perfect yet unrecognizable version of yourself. It’s been this way for far too long, a loop you can’t escape.

It’s easy to blame yourself for returning -- it’s what lead to this outcome -- yet you know better. Had you avoided to the best of your ability, it’d still end like this. Fugo’s connections within Passione are unlimited, fully capable of pulling the strings to bring you back to his side.

There’s nothing for you to do, pits of despair opening to swallow you in your entirety. You bend to his cruel whims, following him to your personal circle of hell; one that he creates special for you.

#fugo panacotta #fugo x reader #fugo panacotta x reader #yandere fugo panacotta #yandere fugo #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #Jojo Part 5 #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #yandere fugo x reader #yandere fugo pannaccotta x reader #jjba #yandere jjba #jjba x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jjba imagine

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hellflame-for-a-reason · 3 years

Text

Ingenium Fracta

Chapter one: the day the world caved in

Tw: mention of trauma, fire, vomit mention, implied major character death.

It had been yet another field trip- they really should stop going on those. Aizawa had been told to take them on a normal trip for once, so they were going to the mall, they probably should have been doing more normal teen things anyway. It really wasn't his fault this time, but it was obvious he was going to feel guilty. He had just been sitting on the bench when he saw her; a young girl, around the same age as his students, but she was definitely no hero, her blonde hair was pulled into space buns and her teeth were sharpened into fangs. The girl, Toga Himiko, made eye contact with him, smiling sweetly as she waved.

"Hiya EraserHead!"

"Oh god no." He stood up, putting his coffee down, glancing around and realizing he could only see around five of his students. The goggles went straight on, and he locked eyes with the girl, "where are your friends?"

"You mean the league?" She giggled as he began to walk towards her, "they're everywhere, just waiting for my signal! You can't do anything Eraser, you can't erase them if you don't know where they are!" Another giggle, this mini villain was really trying to test his patience but Aizawa wasn't going to let her get to him. Putting a hand up, he clicked the button in his hand, it was primed to send a message to the students' phones informing them to meet back where Aizawa was waiting for them. "Huh? What are you doing?" The girl asked him, tilting his head slightly, her smile pausing for just a moment.

"I'm bringing my students to me, so they know you lot are here." He turned to see the few that were closer look over and panic, recognising Toga.

"Sir!" One of his students, Ojiro, ran up to him, "why is a villain here??" Others quickly joined, crowding around him.

"Can someone go and alert security that there are villains here? Thank you, now how many do we have?" He began his headcount as Ojiro ran off again, quickly realising that they were seven short. He scanned the crowd again, "who are we missing?"

"Bakugo, Kirishima, Mina and Kaminari are still in hot topic, sir. I think they put their phones on silent," Sero spoke up, pulling at his tape nervously. Aizawa knew this boy cared deeply about his friends and of course he was bound to worry about Bakugo after their last run in with the league of villains.

"Alright, go and alert them, who else?"

"Sir," Todoroki spoke up in his usual tone, only a tad shakier than normal, "Midoriya, Uraraka and Iida are still missing, I believe they're likely together."

Aizawa internally cringed at that, the idea of those three being alone and possibly having to face a member of the league; Uraraka was less troubling and maybe Iida could be trusted to keep Midoriya in line but Aizawa wasn't sure he could trust Iida to run away after that Stain incident- especially if he was dealing with Stain devotees. He was about to ask Todoroki to go and fetch them when the mall intercom sounded.

"Attention all shoppers: a villain has been spotted on the premises. We ask you all to quickly but safely evacuate the building without panicking or use of your quirks; children must be attended to and the staff will be with you to help with any injury or stress caused."

"There," Aizawa looked back at Toga, who was standing there smiling, "now you can't use your signal."

"But that was my signal," a cold chill ran down his spine as she said those words, it dawned on him that he had been tricked, "thank you EraserHead!"

A blast of blue fire came from the nearby coffee shop, where the villain known as Dabi pulled off his trench coat disguise and aimed to kill. The fire was stopped by an ice wall pulled up by Todoroki, who seemed to struggle to keep his wall from melting. "Thank you Todoroki," Aizawa acknowledged him, "alright students, time for some impromptu fieldwork I guess; help the civilians evacuate then do so yourselves, if you get hurt, leave, you do not need to fight, please leave that to the pros. Other heros are on their way but I can handle it for now."

His class lept into action as he wrapped the small villain in his scarf, stopping her from moving, "you're staying with me, young lady, where the hell are your parents?"

"They cut me off," she giggled, "thought I was a lost cause." As much as this girl was a villain, to hear that someone's parents would do that, though not surprising, was very upsetting; this girl was school age, she still had her entire life ahead of her, yet she was already branded a villain. Aizawa wondered if there was a way a blood quirk could be useful for a hero…

That was besides the point, though, as he turned his eyes to Dabi, glaring daggers at the man as his scarf reached out another tendril to grab him. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Believe it or not, EraserHead," he started, swatting the scarf away with a hand, "we don't want to bother you, we didn't even know you'd be here. We just wanted to rob this place."

"I don't believe you." Aizawa glared at him, not sure whether or not he was telling the truth, it was an awfully odd coincidence afterall, and it wouldn't be the first time the league went after a student.

"Don't then, I'm not bothered with whether you believe me or not, I just want to get this done and go home. I'm sure we can both agree on that."

There was no way in hell that Aizawa was going to let this villain out of his sight, no matter what happened, he did want to keep his distance, however, as he didn’t want Dabi to free the girl. So he turned to the side, keeping himself between the two villains without letting his gaze leave the young man at all.

Villains, if there was anything that made Tenya Iida's blood boil just as much as the oil in his engine, it would be villains. Especially the league of villains, those mangey Stain worshippers pushed him close to the edge by their mere existence. So when he heard the announcement over the intercoms and saw the leader of the league press his hand to a support beam, he saw red.

"Midoriya!" He yelled to his small friend, "did you see where Todoroki went? He could help stop the ceiling from collapsing."

"Oh! Ah, no, I didn't see which way he went!" Poor Midoriya seemed to be panicking slightly, and Tenya had to admit he was also very worried. This didn't turn out to be the fun shopping trip that the class had been looking forward to. Iida hadn't wanted to go as much, but he adored his classmates' excitement so he was just as ready for the trip as they were- but he wasn't ready for this.

Uraraka was already touching bits of rubble as it began to fall, "I can hold some of it up while you go get him! Hurry Deku!"

"Why do I have to go? Iida's faster!" He had to admit, Midoriya was right; he was faster. Unfortunately, speed wasn't the only thing they had to account for.

"You're the smallest of the two of us, you will be able to get through even if part of the ceiling collapses on the escalators. I, on the other hand, would likely become trapped."

Midoriya paused for a moment, staring up at him in silence. Tenya couldn't help but wonder what was going on behind those shining green eyes of his, he hoped to one day be privy to such thoughts. After a mere second of silence, Midoriya ran off towards the escalator, aiming to find Todoroki or someone else who could help.

Iida's attention turned back to Uraraka, who was struggling to keep the ceiling from falling as that ashen villain laughed and mocked her, calling her all sorts of things. A glance to the side told him that there were still many shoppers stuck on this level, so he raised his hands up, climbing up onto a bench. "Everyone! Please use the escalator and stairs on the left side to get to a higher floor! Don't shove one another and try to remain calm whilst moving as quickly as you can, my classmate and myself will do our best to keep this villain at bay, and there are other UA students present who will do the same until the pro heros arrive! Hurry please and be safe!"

The crowd seemed alright with obeying the orders of a child, heading up the route furthest from the villain. Although Tenya did hear some mumbling about UA's general unsafeness striking once again and he felt a pang of pain for the paperwork this would cause poor Mr Aizawa. He pushed that aside, however, when he heard the villain laughing.

"Aren't you that boy whose brother was left crippled by Stain? To be defeated by such a villain, your brother must have been quite the failure, mustn't he?" The villain's voice was hoarse and raspy, but his words were slow and he made sure that his words were obvious. His lips were incredibly chapped and he had a severed hand hiding his face, much like the other hands on his shoulders and arms. The words the villain spoke made Tenya's blood boil, but not only that, his engine started up of his own accord, heating up slowly on standby mode. He glared at the villain, revving his engines in warning, he didn't want to resort to violence again, but this man was testing his nerve with words like those ones. The villain just smiled, "oh, your parents must have been so disappointed, imagine how they'll feel when they hear you've fallen to a villain as well."

The villain's laughter filled the air as his fingers twitched, but all Tenya could hear was his own engine, roaring in his ears as his legs began to smoke, burning through his pants. He glared at the villain, bowing his frame slightly as he brought his hands up, ready to charge this fiend. "Ha… what are you doing now?" The villain didn't know much about Iida, he likely assumed that the boy was preparing to run away but Iida had too much pride to let such a villain say things about his elder brother.

"Reciprio burst! !"

Rushing forward, he heard Uraraka cry out, "Iida! No!" It was too late by that point, as there was no point Tenya had time to register her words, let alone brake. He crashed into the villain, plowing through into the wall behind said villain. He heard the wall crack against the impact, as well as the crunch from one or two of the villain's bones. That sound made him feel nauseous, he didn't want to hurt people, he hated the idea of causing harm but sometimes his anger got the better of him, and he'd rather this villain hurt than all those civilians.

Hands tried to grab at him, the villain was trying to hurt him, but Iida wasn't going to let that happen, he took the man by the wrists, holding him against the wall as they both slid to the floor, breathing heavily. The villain hissed up at him, the hand having slipped from his face, "you're disgusting, such a wonderful hero aren't you? Causing such blatant damage, even though your friends have warned you not to." Tenya didn't have to look up to see that he was right, the impact from the crash had broken even more of the wall and ceiling than had been broken before and there was a large chunk of wall threatening to fall on them.

He didn't have time to think about the villain's words, he was filled with too much fear and adrenaline. His anger had subsided by now and it took all he had not to panic, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do at this point. Glancing back, he saw Uraraka looking like she was about to be sick from overusing her quirk. "Uraraka!" His own voice sounded a little hoarse at this point, due to his dry it had gotten, his yell had startled her and she looked over at him with worry on her expression, "float me!"

"I can't!" She cried out in response, looking close to tears, "I'm already lifting too much!"

It was at that moment that Todoroki turned up, shooting a wall of ice to help hold up the ceiling. Midoriya followed close behind him, "what's happening?" He cried out, seeing the scene before him.

"Iida can't move without the villain touching him!" Uraraka decided to explain for him, "I can't float him because I'm alre-" she had to choke down puke before continuing, "I'm already carrying too much."

"I can't do much about that," Todoroki admitted, looking concerned but really not sounding it, "but I can try and keep the ceiling up so you carry less?"

"Please..?"

More ice shot up and to the ceiling, trapping some of the falling chunks above the walls and sheets of ice. Tenya could barely see it though, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the villain struggling beneath him. This was the head of the league of villains he believed, and it was very freaky to look down at the guy that had tried to hurt his classmates, the guy who had kidnapped Bakugo and the guy that was currently trying to grab his wrists. Tenya had never feared for his life quite as much as he did in that moment, all he could concentrate on was keeping the villain down and not letting his hands slip, though they were soaked through with sweat.

Drip, drip, drip. Water was dripping down onto him, his breath hitched as a droplet slid down his cheek. "What's happening?" He demanded to know, he was scared, and the only way to keep his voice from shaking was to speak it like an order.

"My ice is melting, it must be the heat from the fires upstairs!" Todoroki had to yell over the screams and explosions that were happening above them but his words were clear to Tenya. The rocks above him were going to fall… that villain's words were a self fulfilling prophecy.

"We have to get out of here!" Midoriya was panicking, you could hear it in his voice, "what do we do?!"

"I'll grab Iida!" A glance behind him let Tenya see Uraraka's hand reaching out to touch him, to make him float, to help him to safety…

then the ceiling caved in.

#iida tenya #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #todoroki shōto #aizawa shoto #eraserhead

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

flying like a bird to you

pairing: alina starkov/genya safin

fandom: shadow and bone (tv)

rating: teen and up

word count: 2424

warning: referenced rape, mentions of death

summary: Alina doesn’t feel like she knows much of anything in her new life, but she does know that Genya is very pretty. (canon compliant angst)

(i caved in and wrote this for my genyalina feelings. made myself sad. i miss them. hope you like this ????)

read on ao3

Alina struggles to understand much of her new life, as strange and unfamiliar and confusing as it proves to be.

She doesn’t know where Mal is, or why he hasn’t sent her any letters yet. Surely he must be trying his hardest to find her, she’ll convince herself to believe it. She doesn’t know why Zoya hates her so relentlessly, stubbornly and unwavering, or what she ever did to deserve her stinging words.

And she doesn’t know what to do with this power, despite being told what feels a million times - to close the fold. To save the world. She doesn’t understand what she did to be called a saint, to deserve the power and glory that comes with such a title.

Alina feels like a fraud. She feels like that little girl she used to be, running away with her best friend because she had no other choice, fear set deep in her bones at the thought of change.

Well, now that change has caught up to her, that’s for sure.

Alina doesn’t feel like she knows much of anything, but she does know that Genya is very pretty.

This must be obvious to anyone, she concedes, the redhead’s beauty. But it’s what struck her when they first met, unlike all the other first meetings in her life. Genya is not the first pretty girl she’s seen, of course, but this is different, it must be.

Alina can’t deny her loveliness; in fact, it didn’t exactly wash over her when the tailor walked in through the door, rather, it was when a delicate thumb was raised to caress her cheek. She must’ve frozen right there and then, albeit Genya was only removing the bruises from her face.

And so Alina finds it rather hard to look away from the girl, who wakes her up with elegant robes and touches up her lips and tries out colorful pigments on her eyelids with a single sweep of her fingertip. She’s quite unsure if the redhead notices her staring.

In all honesty, she’s not sure if she wants her to notice.

When the day came of her showcase, when Aleksander expected her to flash her power and shine like the trophy he’d found for himself, Alina just found herself looking into the crowd of the hall, until she found Genya, and there her eyes stayed. When the tailor’s light blue eyes meet her own brown, they shimmer in a way she imagines the ocean to do, and it brings her a sense of safety.

Genya smiles; a soft raise of the corners of her mouth, one that Alina allows herself to receive, as if it is meant for her and her alone.

Her lips are pink and face is flush, she finds it hard not to notice this, which is why Alina also notices Genya turning her head and looking toward the Fabrikator who visited them in her bedroom at sunrise - David, she recalls.

Alina feels, in this moment, unlike when Genya walked her down the halls arm in arm, significantly less pretty. Maybe the redhead’s smile wasn’t meant for her after all. But the Tailor looks back, and she knows, she’ll tell herself she knows, that Genya believes in her, even if she doesn’t believe in herself. Mal would believe in her, but he’s not here. She’ll have to stop reminding herself of that.

She fulfills the General’s wish, her first task of being a seemingly flawless saint.

But her feeling of flawlessness is imagined, a performance, and the prettiness that the Tailor makes her feel dwindles again, like the light in her hands disappear, and the Sun Summoner is once more Alina Starkov, a Grisha who’s barely learned to be Grisha yet.

Genya keeps looking at her until she walks off the stage. She wishes she could talk to her, but the General doesn’t let her, too busy parading her around to the royals. When Alina searches for the redhead again, she’s missing from the crowd entirely.

When Alina wakes her from her slumber to the touch of a hand, she doesn’t flinch, somehow, because she knows the person is not there to hurt her. Zoya’s not in the palace anymore, she hasn’t come back, and her room is the most guarded of them all, regardless.

She’s not shocked to adjust her vision in the dark to Genya’s face looming over her, but the single tear threatening to escape the corner of the redhead’s eye does surprise her.

Her hand rests lightly on Alina’s forearm, neither of them speaking a word.

She has a feeling she knows. She knows why the Tailor has come to her in the middle of the night, but she doesn’t know why her.

It scares her, the pretty girl with the crystal eyes, and the sadness doesn’t screw up her beauty, not at all, but it hollows out Alina’s chest in return, because how could anything- anyone dare to make Genya cry?

She can tell the redhead is trying unbelievably hard to hold it back. Alina lifts the blanket without hesitation, and Genya seems hesitant, yet not removing her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she tells her, barely above a whisper.

Alina shakes her head. “You shouldn’t be,” she replies, the steadiness in her voice surprising the both of them.

The redhead’s forehead furrows when she keeps the tears at bay, and she thinks she hears a sniffle, too, and Alina can’t think of anything else to do than ask. “Can I touch your hand?”

Time seems to be moving at snail speed, but Genya nods, and so she does, touches it, holds it faintly so the redhead knows she can let go, easily and immediately. She doesn’t.

She feels another fear. Alina’s known fear all of her life, known how to suppress it, more than anything, but she fears, now, that Genya will slip away from her. She wishes she could comfort her, but it couldn’t be enough. Yet she finds herself trying, anyway, “Do you want to stay?”

Then, the Tailor smiles. It reminds Alina of the smile she was given back at the dinner, soft, but the sadness so overwhelming she wants to stand up, call back the sun in her hands, bathe the entire palace in light if that is what it takes to take the tears away from Genya’s features.

Or rather, she feels a dire urge to walk. Walk until she falls upon the chambers of the king, she ponders, what sort of damage, what amount, her light could do. That’s the first time Alina’s thought of hurting someone.

But she knows deep down she’d do a lot more than hurt him. And she can’t find any way to feel bad about it. He knows what he did. He knows why Genya has visited Alina’s room. He knows why Genya doesn’t feel safe.

She also knows that she cannot possibly carry out that plan. Alina wonders which one of the many soldiers, the royals themselves, or the General, who would kill her first.

Instead, Alina does the only thing she can and needs to do, because if she can make Genya feel safe in the way she gave it upon her back at the showcase, even just for one night, it’s more important than any saint’s mission, she decides.

The Tailor’s thumb is touching her pinkie finger, and Alina wraps two fingers around it. “If you don’t mind,” Genya then says, and Alina pushes the blanket back a bit further.

“Not at all.”

And so when the redhead lies down beside her on the covers, carefully tending to the blanket and that it’s wrapped around the both of them, Alina needs to remind herself to not stare too much. They’re both looking to the ceiling, lying on their backs. When she lies alone here, she sometimes imagines she’s gazing upon a starry night instead of the palace walls.

Then they both look at each other, incredibly synchronized.

Genya looks pretty, even in the darkness. Alina can’t make out all her features, but she knows, she’s still impossibly pretty for her to describe. But even more so she’s kind, and helpful, and in pain .

“I apologise for waking you,” her Tailor whispers, and the apology hurts in her chest, again.

“Don’t,” Alina says, then frowning at herself, a sense that the word might’ve come out too harshly, “You can come to me anytime. I know you’d do the same for me.”

The tear rolls down Genya’s cheek then, disappearing into the pillow. She blinks more away, still smiling, and moves up a bit.

When a few seconds pass by, Alina thinks the redhead might not answer, and she just wants her to be okay, as okay as she can be. Genya surprises her with a question, the both of them still not looking away from each other, “Would you… it’s alright if you say no. Would you spoon me?”

“Of course,” Alina answers, with no hesitation. It makes her just a tiny bit nervous, but her voice doesn’t waver, her gaze stays, because she’s scared that if it does Genya will feel bad, be mad at herself, feel that it was wrong to ask, when it isn’t.

The girl turns her back to her, and she wraps her arms around her feather light, fear, again. The Little Palace traps you. Alina doesn’t want to trap Genya, not for the life of her.

When the Tailor moves into her embrace a little more, her heart jumps a couple of times, into her throat, pleasant and painful at the same time, which she didn’t know was possible until now.

And when she wakes up once more to sunlight streaming through the curtains, her arms are empty and Genya’s nowhere to be seen, until the door pushes open and the pretty girl tells her good morning. She smiles. Alina smiles back immediately.

Her heart sincerely hopes Genya slept peacefully that night, if at all.

Alina Starkov will no longer be a caged bird under the command of General Kirigan, or the king, or anyone else. That much she knows.

Much else she can’t think of, much else she cannot do than want, need and try to escape. Get on an empty carriage, pray to whatever sainthood she possesses that it leads to her freedom. But she thinks of Genya. She has to find her.

But in the guise of darkness in the courtyard, the Tailor finds her instead.

She doesn’t call her name, and Alina doesn’t call hers, but they know . Genya’s white and gold kefta trails after her feet, she doesn’t run, it seems she’s almost floating, and the crystals in her eyes are glazed over with worry.

Alina would very much like to kiss her, she realises.

She doesn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. She wishes she had, because now is not the time, now there’s no time, and the footsteps heard from inside the palace feel like a whole other world away. But she can’t hesitate.

Alina saw a carriage the furthest way back, with a chest lodged on the carrier. She’ll hide there. If the residents riding it try to capture her she’ll have the light as her weapon, she’s in control, as much as she can be without letting fear take over.

And when the pretty girl opens her mouth but shuts it again, immediately, Alina says the first thing that comes to her mind, “I’m going to run.”

The redhead seems to consider this.

Her eyes never waver from Alina’s own, even when she moves just two steps closer. Genya could give her up to the army so easily, she ponders, but the trust she has in her, there’s no way that’s misplaced. The tailor doesn’t smile, but nods.

“Alright.”

“Come with me,” she finds herself blurting. It feels right, Alina thinks. The question is right. She wants Genya with her.

With her, she feels stronger. Safer. At the palace, she’s the Sun Summoner, the savior, a foreign thing to herself. Before, she was Alina Starkov, a stubborn version of herself that somehow seems just as far away.

But with Genya, she can be both. She’s herself.

At the suggestion, the redhead smiles, but it’s not accompanied by Alina’s cheeks flushing and her mind telling her to stay , because the smile is melancholic and doesn’t look like the Genya she knows. Alina’s scared to hear her answer.

“I don’t think the General will like that,” she says.

Her own fist comes to a clench at the thought of his face. “I don’t care what he likes.”

It’s enough to make her blood feel like boiling, and the sun to break out from her fingertips and beneath her skin, if it wasn’t for the Tailor’s gentle fingertips appearing, as if from thin air, and fixing a stray lock of Alina’s raven hair behind her ear.

The hand stays on her cheek long, grazing it down to rest on her chin, that Alina considers acting. Mere inches would connect her to her red lips and somehow, she knows it would feel nothing like wielding her Grisha powers. It’d feel different. New. Millions of times better, like she was soaring.

But she finds herself unable to do so because the sound of the army grows louder, and Genya’s smile grows sadder.

“You know I can’t go with you,” the redhead tells her, “I want you to be safe.”

So her thumb finally leaves her chin, comes to rest at her hips, faintly wrapped arms like she’s protecting the both of them from what’s lurking behind them, continuously moving closer and closer. And because Alina doesn’t know what else to do, she raises her own thumb, the urge to touch Genya’s bottom lip too strong to ignore.

She’s moving slowly, too slow. The Tailor doesn’t stop her. Her smile becomes more familiar; like an embrace, like a kiss, almost.

Her lip is even softer than she imagined, for the quick seconds she does feel it. The smile radiates off of her, becoming all the more tangible. And warm.

Alina can hear her own heartbeat.

But Alina also has to run now, she knows it, and the pretty girl knows it, nodding once again, proof of an unspoken secret locked away in between them. She’ll keep her safe, as long as possible, anyway.

And so when she ultimately has to move out of her space, Genya’s ring finger draws upon her lip, where Alina abandoned the touch of her own. It feels like a goodbye.

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thejollyroger-writer · 3 years

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THE WASTELAND - INTO THE DEEP, DARK THICK OF IT (11/?)

Hey, everyone! It's been literal weeks since I've posted anything, but I'm coming at you today with chapter 11 of THE WASTELAND, my @cssns 2020 fic! (With lovely cover art by @spartanguard and chapter art to follow!!!)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

On AO3 (follow this link to get there!)

David pulls the map from the tree, holding it between his hands, and the rest of them crowd around him to look over his shoulder at it — except Emma, who keeps her distance. She doesn’t know if it’s from what happened in the Echo Caves or from finding half of their crew taken again, but she feels sick to her stomach, and taking slow, deep breaths is less than helpful in the thick, humid air of the Neverland forests.

But she is still close enough to hear their conversation:

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Killian, but isn't that—" David says, only to be cut off prematurely by Killian.

"The Dark Jungle? Aye."

Mary Margaret tries next: "And that's where you told us—"

"Never to go? Uh-huh," he says bluntly.

"But this map is leading us—” Robin tries, but this time, David cuts him off.

"Directly into the middle of it."

“And we’re walking right into his trap?” Mary Margaret asks.

“I don’t really see another option, do you?” David asks, and Emma turns to them just in time to see Mary Margaret reach out and take David’s hand, sharing a small but obviously love-filled glance with him. Though she has seen it many times before, has been watching her two best friends share displays of affection for years now, this simple gesture makes her stomach turn again.

She didn’t know she was such a cynic. Sure, she’s been having sinking feelings about the validity of true love and things like that, but she never once imagined actually saying those things out loud.

To Killian. To a dying man who pretty much confessed his love to her.

But she did. She didn’t even know she felt that strongly about it until she was already spewing her secret in the Cave, but once the words were out, there was no way of taking them back. Maybe that was Pan’s plan all along, to cause a rift between just her and Killian, because it doesn’t seem to her like anyone else was as affected by the Echo Caves as they were.

Milah clears her throat, and they all seem to remember simultaneously that she is there. As the rest of the group turns towards her, Emma focuses on Killian, watching his face change as he looks at her. A rollercoaster of emotions crosses his face, his features softening before hardening again, as if remembering everything she told them in the Caves. “I’ve spent a lot of time on this island, and have learned some of the ways around. This map is sending you right through Pan’s camp, where all of his henchmen stay. It’s almost definitely a trap.”

With that, his features soften again. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long after Liam was killed and I thought they killed you. Pan offered me a life away from the War, and since that was all I ever wanted, I accepted before realizing it was a trap to keep me here.”

“That’s twelve years, Milah,” he whispers, and something in the way he says her name makes Emma’s heart stop — or so it feels like. Every inch of her is weighed down by it, by the incredible familiarity that every inch of him exudes. Milah hurt him so much, Emma could tell by his response to her in the Cave. She hurt him, yet he still seems to have feelings for her.

That’s what she wants, she realizes, standing there taking it all in. She knows she crossed a line, completely disregarded Killian’s feelings, and she wants to be forgiven. She wants to go back to how it was before they went into the damned Cave, before Pan pitted them against each other.

She only hopes it’s not too late.

“And how do we know that whatever way you take us isn’t also going to be a trap?” David asks, and Emma is glad that someone else feels a little leery trusting the woman who just revealed herself to be the mother of Prince Baelfire.

“I have no way of proving my allegiance to you,” she says. “Only that I have spent my time here — twelve years, if Killian is right, though it only feels like a few months — as Pan’s prisoner, and though time may flow differently here than in the regular places of the world, I have grown to hate him more with each day I have spent here. If I could do anything to get off this island, I will, but if defeating him is something that could happen in the process of that, I'll do whatever I can to help.”

David turns to Killian, who just shrugs. “What do you suggest we do?”

“It’s a bit of a more treacherous path, to be honest, but doesn’t cut through Pan’s camp. Hopefully we’ll run into less Lost Boys that way.”

“Lost Boys?” Mary Margaret asks.

Milah nods. “That’s what they call themselves. Or what Pan calls them, I’m not sure who started it. I’ve always felt that they were trapped on this island like I am, but I have no way of proving it. All the ones I’ve been able to talk to seem pretty content to be here.”

They stay silent for a moment, shifting their packs on their backs, until finally, Killian says, “Well, let’s go, we’re wasting daylight,” before gesturing for Milah to take the lead and following behind her.

Robin and Mary Margaret take off after them, but Emma pulls David back, keeping a few steps behind them all and out of earshot.

“Do you really trust this woman?”

“No,” he says, keeping his gaze on the woods in front of them. “But the way I see it, I don’t really have another choice, do I?”

Emma shrugs. “I just… have a bad feeling about all of this,” she says, pulling down her ponytail to put it back up and keep the flyaways out of her face as best she can. She's never been to a place as humid as Neverland, and while she was never one to give much care to the state of her hair, she has been finding it much harder to deal with over the last few days.

“So do I,” he says. “I’ve had a bad feeling about all of this, since that first day when you called me from the hospital. But if listening to this woman — to Prince Baelfire’s mother — is the best chance we have for saving Killian’s life, then who am I to fight it?”

“You do have a pretty good track record for trusting those you probably shouldn’t,” she jokes, knocking her shoulder into his.

He chuckles. “That I do.”

"And who do we have here?" King George leers, glaring down at her from his throne. For the first time since he sat down beside his father earlier that morning, David feels pulled to look up.

He had no idea what to expect, but a girl no more than twelve or thirteen, kneeling on the marble-tiled floor between two armor-clad guards, is certainly not it, though that's what he finds. Though each of their hands extend far past the end of the girl's shoulders, they seem to be pushing her into the ground much harder than David feels is necessary.

She says nothing, only spits on the floor in front of her. He doesn't blame her, really; just by the looks of her, he can tell that her life has been nothing like his own, that she has spent most of her life living on the streets.

The streets of his kingdom. Or, what will be his kingdom one day. He’s thought about the people who are lesser off than he is, thought about those who don’t live the kind of privileged life that’s been handed to him — but, somehow, these thoughts have never included the idea that people his age could be living on the streets.

Right here, with this girl right in front of him, it hits him a little too hard in the face. A tremor quakes through his body.

“Tell me your name, girl,” his father demands, but all she does is glare at him — at them, together on the throne.

“We found her in the royal gardens, your majesty. Trying to steal food,” one of the guards says, his gloved hand flexing against her shoulder as it keeps her on her knees.

“Stealing from me, eh? Do you know what the punishment for that is?”

“Father, you can’t,” David says, surprising himself more than anyone else.

This time, King George’s glare is directed at him. “Excuse me?”

David clears his throat, gulps, trying to hide his embarrassment, his nervousness. “The least you could do is cut her a break. She doesn’t deserve to go to the dungeon.”

“She stole from me, David. From us, from the royal garden. The penalty is a night in the dungeon, no matter who you are.”

“Just look at her.”

King George turns away from his son to look back at the girl kneeling on the floor in front of them. For a moment, he is silent, his arms crossed over his chest, before turning back to David. “Okay, fine. What would you do, son?”

David sits up a little straighter, running his fingers through his hair, if only to try to get ahold of himself. “The first thing I would do would be to offer her a meal.” Though King George’s eyes are on David, the prince is watching the young girl, who looks up at him when he says this. “She’s obviously hungry, or she wouldn’t be stealing from the royal gardens. Gods know we have more than enough food.”

King George nods, looking back at the girl for a moment. “And then?”

“Why take any more action? There was no malicious intent. It’s our job to take care of our people, not throw the hungry ones in prison.”

King George smiles at his son, and for a moment, he feels hope. Maybe, just maybe, his father will see the truth in what he is saying, will be fair for the first time in his life.

But then he stands up, wiping his hands on his black dress pants. “And that’s why you’re not king yet.” He turns to the guards. “Take her to the dungeons. And give her a piece of bread or something, I suppose.”

Before David can say a word, King George turns on his heel and walks out of the throne room. As the girl is hauled back to her feet, David tries his best to give her a look filled with sympathy, but he has no idea if she took it that way.

One day, he’s going to be a benevolent king. One day, none of his people will go hungry, and they will certainly not be sent to the dungeons just for trying to get a bite to eat. For now, though, maybe all he can do is be nice to this one, single young woman. It really is the least he can do.

He waits until he is no longer under the watchful supervision of his father, until he has finished the rest of his duties for the day, but then he makes his way down to the kitchens.

“Hey, Granny,” he says, knocking on the door to the kitchen, though it already stands open. He knows the woman has another name, must have been told of it at some point, but everyone just calls her Granny — except his father, who refers to her only as “the cook,” even to her face. In reality, though, she is much more than that. Though she does not technically run their household, she does most of the work related to it, from running the kitchens to making sure the maids and servants do their jobs as they should. David knows the household would fall apart without her, and therefore always offers her a smile when he finds himself down in the kitchens, or when he runs into her in other parts of the palace.

“Good evening, your highness,” she says, turning her attention to him for only a moment before turning her attention back to the pot in front of her on the stove. As always, she is stoic, unsmiling, but he has learned that is just how she is, and not to take offense of it, even when the rest of their staff always manage a smile in his direction — and a fake one when his father is around.

It’s no secret that the household staff prefer the prince over his father. Sometimes they even whisper amongst themselves about how someone as rude as King George could have raised a son like David, who has grown into a polite and understanding young man.

“What brings you down here this evening?”

“My father threw a young woman in the dungeons earlier for stealing from the palace gardens, and I would like to make sure she gets a nice, hot meal.”

This pulls one of the very rare smiles across Granny’s face as she puts down her spoon and wipes her hands on her apron. “Gods bless you, sire.”

“It really is the least I could do,” he says, leaning back against the doorway, his eyes watching the old woman puttering around the room but the rest of him unmoving. “I tried to talk my father into letting her go — all she wanted was a meal — but he threw her in the dungeons nonetheless.”

“I was a little girl when your grandfather was king,” she says, adding a few pieces of bread to the tray. “And have lived most of my life in this palace, seeing firsthand how the citizens of the Gale have been treated.” When she turns to look at the prince, his eyes have fallen to the floor, so she takes the tray in her hands and stands before him with it, waiting for him to look up at her. “I’ve been waiting for a ruler like you my whole life, your highness. I only hope that I shall live to see you take your father’s place on the throne.”

He smiles at the woman, taking the tray of food out of her hands. “The rumor around here is that you’re never going to die,” he says with a wink, then turns and leaves the kitchen, another small smile spreading across the old woman’s face as she shakes her head.

He’s happy to see that the guards placed her in the first cell, the one that gets the most light during the day through the old iron gate at the top of the stairs. She is sitting alone in the corner, as far from the door as she can get, and her eyes follow him in what’s left of the light as he walks the few paces down the hallway to reach the door of her cell.

Neither of them speak, even as he sets the tray of food down on the ground and pushes it through the slot at the bottom of the cell. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, running his index finger along one of the cold iron bars, but then he sits down on the floor, his back against the bars, facing away from her. He wasn’t planning on staying, certainly wasn’t planning on making conversation with her, but there are words coming from his mouth before he can stop them. “My father is an unjust ruler, but there’s not much I can do about it for now. All I can do is go behind his back and try to be the kind of king I want to be someday when he’s not looking. Today was the first time he even asked for my opinion on something, but certainly not the first time I’ve spoken out to him about it, though you saw how he responded to it.” He doesn’t dare to turn his head towards her, but out of the corner of his eye, he notices that she’s slowly moving towards the tray of food, taking the sandwich off the tray. “I’m sorry for the way my father treated you today. I would really — I would like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

Her voice is soft, but still the fact that she speaks startles David a bit. “You have helped me already.”

David smiles, fully turning to her and happy to see she has accepted the food he brought as she takes a bite of the sandwich. “I mean once you’re out from behind these bars.”

“What do you think you could do for me?” There is spite in her voice again, spite that must come from years of being on her own and learning not to trust anyone, David realizes, but does not want to push her to the point where she thinks he is overdoing it.

He turns away from her again, hoping to keep her trust. “If you’ll allow me — and if you would like — I can try to get you a job working for someone at the palace. I could at least promise you a meal or two a day, though I may also be able to find you a place to stay, depending on what you would be willing to do.”

For a while, she is silent, slowly eating the sandwich before she begins picking at the pile of grapes. “What would I have to do to have a place to stay?” Her voice is small, showing David a side of her that he doesn’t think very many people get to see, a vulnerability that he can tell she has learned to hide under a thick skin.

“Have you discovered any powers yet?” He’s not sure how old she is, if he has become of age for her abilities to begin to show themselves.

“No, not — not yet.”

“And what about your parents? Did they have powers?”

“I… never knew my parents. I was left on the steps of one of the temples when I was just a few days old.”

He’s quiet for another few moments, thinking about it all. “I think the palace healers are searching for an apprentice, actually. I’ll go check with them this evening and come back in the morning to free you and see what I’ve come up with.”

He stands to leave, not expecting anything else from her, so when he hears a very quiet “thank you” come from behind him, he can’t stop himself from turning back towards her, though he has nothing to say.

“Why did you help me?” she asks, and he backtracks the three steps he’s taken away from her cell.

“I would like to be the kind of leader who helps as many people as I can, and it’s never too early to start.”

“You’re a good man, your highness.”

“David. Please, just call me David.” He wants to ask the question that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he’s also afraid to; he knows that sometimes orphans are left without a name, but he feels a deep calling to befriend this small, blonde girl currently sitting in his father’s dungeons. So he asks it anyway: “Would you like to tell me your name?”

They share a smile. In this moment, Emma decides on a surname for the first time in her life. “Emma. Emma Swan. And thank you… David.”

“Can we stop for a minute?” Mary Margaret asks, leaning against a tree right off the path. “Please?”

None of them refuse. Killian even looks a little relieved, though he tries to hide his face from them as he digs through his pack, searching for snacks. Most of them dive straight into their supplies, searching for something, since Emma hasn’t yet honed the ability to conjure food like Belle and Merlin have — though, thankfully, most of them still have a fair amount of the food they packed in the first place because of the powers of their more magic-inclined friends.

Water, however, she is more than able to conjure, filling everyone’s canteens and bottles as they pass them to her — even with Milah insisting that the water on the island is more than safe.

"We don't want to take any unnecessary chances," David explains, handing Mary Margaret her bottle back. "Especially since we are no longer following the map Pan gave us. Who knows what kind of tricks he still has for us."

Killian, though he doesn’t seem to be listening to their conversation, has pulled the map out of his back pocket and has spread it across his legs, his attention on it instead the rest of the group. But his mind is very, very far away, the same place it has been for the last few hours, save when he has needed to point out something along the trail.

He's torn. Torn between the choices lying before him, and torn apart by everything that has been thrown at him recently. He never imagined he would see Milah again, especially never imagined that he would have to choose between two women with Milah being one of them. Part of him — most of him, if he’s honest with himself — doesn’t know if he can even trust her, knowing what he learned in the Cave. The mother of the man that has become his enemy, the man who killed his brother and tortured him.

And then there’s Emma. Days ago, even hours ago, he thought he was in love with her. His only question was whether or not he was going to make it off this island, whether he would have the chance to spend some of his life beside her.

But now he knows their connection is fake — or, Emma believes it’s fake. Killian realizes, looking across the path to where she is sitting against a tree, her eyes shut, that, to him, it doesn’t even matter. Magic or not, prophecy or not, he’s in love with her.

Turning to Milah, he finds himself surprised by his lack of feeling for her, even as she smiles warmly at him. A smile that he has missed so much over the last twelve years, a smile he never thought he would see again. Still, he feels nothing. Not even hatred, not anger — just… nothing.

Well, there’s his decision then. He’s not sure that he will ever get past Emma’s disdain towards their connection, but he at least knows that she is the one he chooses.

If he makes it off this island.

A twig snaps behind David, bringing up the rear of the group, and he cannot quite move fast enough to simultaneously whip around and pull his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, calling for Emma's attention. At the last moment, he watches as the young boy that has appeared behind him knocks an arrow on his obviously-homemade bow, and he readies himself for the impact of the crude arrow into his flesh, his finger unable to pull the trigger with an enemy who looks so young.

But the impact never comes. When he opens his eyes, Emma is standing in front of him, her hands out before her — and the hazy waves emitting from them are holding the arrow, mid-flight, in the air between them.

Suddenly, a battle cry sounds in the forest around them, other young boys armed with spears and arrows (and David even thinks he sees a slingshot) appear from behind the trees.

Their group stands unmoving, though their weapons are drawn, as the boys start to move around them, none of them able to bring themselves to fire their weapons at an enemy that looks so much like young boys.

"They're enchanted, I told you this!" Milah cries, the only one of them unarmed, and she tries to cower behind Robin, who is having none of it. "They look like boys, but they're not!"

Another one, this one significantly taller and older-looking, pushes through the trees, the smile on his face somehow calling attention to the large scar that runs down his cheek. "And I can assure you that nothing will hold us back from killing you."

This is apparently the push Robin needs to act, and he releases an arrow at one of the closest of Pan's followers, catching the arm of his jacket and pinning it against the tree. He and Mary Margaret continue with this approach, successfully taking four of the boys out of battle, but it's almost as if they're immediately replaced with four more.

And each of them are looking towards the tall boy with the scar for their orders.

When Emma realizes this, she focuses all of her energy on him, though it takes all of the concentration she has to try to hold him still, her powers in battle still very new to her.

They're still afraid to act, even as the boys begin loosing arrows in their direction. When Emma realizes that freezing their leader isn't helping, she releases him, trying to find somewhere better to focus her powers — and she finds it in a protective barrier around them, stopping many of the boys' arrows.

But not all of them. Just as Emma begins to feel more confident in her abilities, she senses something came through anyway, and it almost breaks her concentration to turn her head for a moment in the direction she thought she felt it.

She wishes she hadn't, though, because all she finds is Robin laying on the ground, the twig-end of one of the boy's crude arrows sticking out of the flesh of his thigh.

"I can help!" she says, but the rest of the group seems to shout No! at the same time, and Milah kneels beside him.

“Can’t you do something… more?” David asks, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“I’m doing the best I can here.”

“You’re doing great, love,” Killian mutters from beside her, bumping his shoulder into hers, then fires a shot at one of the boys, the first shot fired from any of their pistols. It just hits the side of the boy's leg, and he falls to the ground gripping it — but the rest of the boy's stop in their tracks, eyes wide and directed at Killian.

Silence has fallen around them.

"What is that?" the oldest of them, the one with the scar, asks, staring at the pistol in Killian's hand.

It never occurred to them that the Lost Boys haven't seen newer, updated weapons. It never occurred to most of them that Pan would have boys on the island who can't age, who have been stuck here for gods know how long.

"It's a pistol, you dunce," another of them says, aiming his bow once more —

— and, somehow, Emma is overcome by a surge of power, emitted from her hands in a blinding flash of white light, sending all of the Lost Boys flying backwards and knocking many of them unconscious.

"Bloody brilliant, love," Killian mumbles, knocking against her shoulder again as he returns his pistol to the holster.

Emma whips around, first towards Robin before realizing that David has also come out of the battle wounded.

"Alright," she says, helping David sit against a tree, her hand pressed against the scrape on the side of his ribs. "Am I allowed to help now?"

She tries to smile at David, but it doesn't really take — and David certainly doesn't return it.

Because when she lifts his shirt, the gash on his ribs has already started turning black. She glances over her shoulder, searching for him, but she knows he is seeing the same that she is.

"Dreamshade," Killian mumbles, kneeling beside her on the ground. "What bloody luck."

#captain swan #cs ff #wordsbymeganmichael #my writing #the wasteland #sorry tumblr sucks #and sorry theres no cut bc apparently you cant do that on mobile anymore #anyway heres chapter 11 #that i thought i posted but apparently did not #which was like a late christmas present to me #since i was stressin over ch 12

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easnuppa · 4 years

Text

The Cave

A little one shot I was requested to write, I hope you all like it.

A hugh thanks to @of-storms-and-sadness for beta reading, you are awsome girl!

You stumbled as you got up to your feet. It was dark, pitch black in fact. You couldn’t see your hand in front of you, even with how hard you tried to. You reached out and tried to feel your way around. Sharp rocks met your sensitive fingertips. You felt dizzy and you knew that you probably had a concussion. You sat down on the sandy ground and pushed your hair out of your face and tried to think back and figure out what happened.

You remembered Carol’s frantic chase through the woods. She had seen Alpha and was dead set that now was the day that the evil woman was going to die. The only reason you had joined this mission was to show your support and maybe make it clear to the man your heart was beating wildly for, that you were worth his time. Carol was important to Daryl, and Daryl was the only reason you were still breathing. You had felt this way from the first moment you laid eyes on him. Not only had you been knocked off your feet by his strikingly good looks, but you had soon discovered that his heart was as pure and good as it could be. The only problem was that he didn’t seem to notice you. At least not in the way you would like him too. You knew he cared about you, but that was how Daryl was, he cared about his family, and you were a part of that family. You had been with the group from before the prison fell. You had lost track of how many years it had been.

You had tried different things to show Daryl how much you really cared for him. Every time you went out on a run you had been on the lookout for weapons or bolts for him to use. As soon as you all arrived at Alexandria and Daryl had started working on his bike in Aaron’s garage you were constantly searching for bike parts that he might use. Daryl never saw your attempts to get closer to him the way they were meant. He looked at you the same way he looked at Carol, Rick, Maggie, or any of your other family members.

You inhaled shakily; the air was filled with dust but not as much as you would recon it would be from the explosion. The explosion inside the cave that you all had crept through, the explosion Carol had caused. Everything had happened so fast, you were all trying to get out, walkers and whisperers had been on your tail. You had all been fighting for your lives. Then, almost like it was god sent, you had spotted the small hole in the rocky roof above your head. You could feel the draft of fresh air against your skin and you had guided the group to where the entrance to freedom was.

At some point the cave had started to give in from where you all had made the exit hole bigger, your companions had tried to help everyone out while trying to hold the roof of the cave steady, but Carol had disappeared and you knew Daryl would never leave the cave without his best friend. Daryl had wanted to run after her, but you had stopped him, and told him that you would go, you would find her and bring her to safety. Daryl knew you were a strong and capable fighter and that you could handle your own, you had proved that time and time again throughout the years.

You had searched through the cave the way you had come. Your hand gripping the torch Daryl gave you before you walked back into the maze of rocks. You must have taken the wrong way at some point because suddenly you could not hear anything, it was like all sound and air was sucked out. It was then the explosion happened. You felt the ground shake underneath you; the rumble was echoing through the halls. You knew you were in trouble, you had turned and blindly sprinted back to the entrance, but you were knocked off your feet and as you fell you felt a sharp pain at your temple and then everything had gone black.

Now you were sitting there in the dark with a splitting headache, confused and disoriented. How the hell were you going to get out?

Your hands searched over your body, at least nothing was broken. Your body felt sore as all hell, and you figured you had a gash that was seeping blood from the sticky substance that met your fingertips, but you were alive. A fact that would not be true for long if you did not get out. You got down to all four and started crawling. You cursed as your hands and knees bumped against sharp rocks and pebbles. If you got out, you were going to have a serious talk with Carol. Enough was enough. You could only imagine the pain she felt after losing her adoptive son to Alpha, but for months she had acted reckless, and put the rest of your group members in danger. She had put Daryl in danger and that was not something you could accept any longer.

Daryl rolled around and jumped to his feet. He started climbing the pile of rocks that now was covering the group’s escape route.

«Help me get these rocks out of the way, we need to go back and find ‘er, » his voice broke as he desperately started to throw the heavy rocks to the side. He felt Aaron’s hand on his shoulder, and he peered over his shoulder at his friend with wide frantic eyes.

«There’s no way she would have survived that explosion, the roof of the cave gave in from it, » Aaron gently said with sorrow filled eyes, but Daryl would not accept that for a fact. You had been a part of his life, his family, for so many years. He could not imagine you not being around. He couldn’t imagine not seeing your beautiful smile, feel your gentle touch or hear your soft voice as you spoke. He needed you, he cared about you. For years he had known that he probably cared about you more than he should, more than you would welcome. You had stolen his heart, but he had been a coward and not found the guts to tell you. He regretted his decision to stay quiet now, who cares if you didn’t return his feelings, it didn’t matter, what mattered was that at least you would know that you meant the world to him.

«Daryl, we all know how much you care about her, but you need to let it go. This place will soon crawl with walkers. The sound will attract them from miles away. We need to go back home, » Aaron continued, and Daryl knew he was right. Digging through this pile of rocks was useless, he needed to find another entrance. He climbed down and grabbed his bow. He felt someone grip his arm and he violently turned towards Carol who was standing in front of him. Her eyes were pooling over and her lip quivering.

«Daryl please, I didn’t mean for her to get harmed. »

Daryl shook his arm free from Carol’s grip and took a step back, scowling at the woman he had considered to be his best friend almost since it all started. The woman who he had thought had his back through everything. He now realized that Carol was too far gone at this point. Her thirst for vengeance had drawn a gap between the two of them. A gap that probably would never be possible to fill.

«Don’t touch me, » he snarled out, «ya knew how much she means to me. She went back for ya! (y/n) would never let anythin’ happen to ya! That’s how she is! ‘er blood is on yer hands. This ridiculous need ya got to bring down Alpha gotta stop! It is putting everyone in our family in danger! »

Daryl turned to Aaron. «Bring everyone back to Alexandria! »

Aaron nodded, but his eyes were filled with unspoken questions. Daryl knew exactly what his friend was silently asking.

«I’m gonna look for another entrance. Even if she were killed in the explosion, I need to find ‘er and bring ‘er home. I ain’t gonna leave ‘er to turn under a pile of rocks. She would do the same for me, for all of ya’ll. » The lump in his throat that threatened to choke him made his voice break once more and he felt his eyes well up. He turned away from everyone and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. Just thinking that you were no longer breathing was too painful.

He forced his legs to move. One foot in front of the other. It was almost an impossible task, but he needed to find you and bring you home. He needed to bury your body within Alexandria’s safe walls. You needed to be put to rest at the place where he had watched you blossom and thrive. Where your laughter had filled the streets, where you had seemed so carefree and happy…

You felt the hunger claw at your stomach, the thirst was unbearable. How long had you been trapped in this darkness? It felt like an eternity and you still had not found your way out. You knew that your time was slowly running out. The dust you continued to inhale was making your throat and mouth feel like sandpaper. You had at some point started talking to yourself, trying to encourage yourself not to give up, that you were going to make it. In a short time you would find yourself lying in your bed back home, safe, clean, and well fed. The dust and the lack of water had made your voice hoarse until it stopped working completely. You were so tired. Your body was aching and heavy. Your eyelids felt like bricks that threatened to trap you into darkness forever. At one point you had given in and your body had collapsed onto the floor where you had surrendered to the peaceful sleep that you thought would last forever.

Two and a half days had gone by since the cave had collapsed but Daryl had not stopped searching for you, he could not give up. He had been back at Alexandria to stock up with water, food and flashlights and continued the search. As he moved through the humid caves it felt like your voice was calling on him. It was almost like his heart led him through the narrow halls.

The light from his flashlight lit up the dusty ground, his strides had been hurried until he stopped dead in his tracks. There in front of him, lit up by the yellow light from his flashlight his eyes landed on your blue top. It had been your favorite, he knew because, even how worn and torn it was, you still seemed to wear it all the time. He hurried over to your limp body, whispering your name over and over like it would bring you back if he repeated it enough times. He turned you over to your back. Your body was limp, and your skin was covered with dirt and sot, still you were as beautiful as ever. His hands shakily cupped your face. Your skin felt cold to the touch. His fingers traced your skin down to your throat, frantically searching for a pulse. Could he feel a weak throbbing or was it just wishful thinking? He grabbed his backpack and tore it open, fishing out a water bottle. He uncapped it and lifted your head and parted your lips

«c’mon girl, don’t ya give up on me now. I’ve got ya! » he rasped out as he slowly started tilting the bottle. He could feel his hand getting soaked from the water spilling over your lips, trailing down your cheek and onto his hand. He needed to get you out. You had been so brave; you had almost made it out. Daryl had stumbled over an entrance only a couple of hours ago and his gut feeling had told him that this was it. He shouldered his backpack again and lifted you up. He needed to get you out, out into the sunlight where he could see if you were still breathing or if it was just his imagination. He jogged through the narrow halls. It felt like he was holding his breath until he reached the entrance and he took a step out into the fresh air. He sunk to his knees with you still in his arms. He pushed your hair out of your face and stared at you.

«C’mon (y/n), I can’t lose ya. I need to tell ya somethin’ I should’ve told ya a long time ago, » he forced his voice to work. It broke into sobs several times, but he needed to let you know. You could not leave this world without knowing.

«I love ya (y/n), I have for years, and I’ve been an idiot for not tellin’ ya. You’re beautiful sparklin’ eyes and yer pretty smile have been my only reason to get up in the mornin’. How can I go on without seein’ ya every day? Ya need to stay with me! » He felt the tears making his cheeks wet. He leaned over your limp body and he pressed his forehead against your chest. Inhaling your familiar scent. «Don’t leave me (y/n), I can’t go on without ya, » he continued to sob.

It was so weird. You heard a faint calling in the distance and you felt your face heat up from a bright light. Something or someone was tugging on you. How could you feel all these things if you were dead? How could you form a thought if you were a walker?

Your senses sharpened as you started to regain consciousness and then you heard it again. The same raspy thick southern drawl that you loved so much. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared right into the light blue sky. How could that be? When you had closed your eyes, you had been surrounded by darkness. It had swallowed you and you had given up on the thought of ever seeing daylight again. You tried to will your limbs to move. Suddenly a face you loved so much blocked out the clear blue sky and you stared into a pair of blue pools that always made your heart skip a beat.

«(y/n)? » you heard that raspy voice say. You tried to form a word, a sound, anything, but your mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. Your lips chapped and dry. Something cold was pressed against your sore lips and soon your mouth was filled with cold water. You swallowed and gulped, and you felt the water tickle your skin as it trickled down your neck, where you coughed what you could not swallow.

«Daryl?» you asked and his blue eyes locked with yours.

«I’m ‘ere girl, don’t speak, I’ll get ya home. »

You felt how he was about to move away so you grabbed him. Even if your grip was weak it stilled his movements. «I thought I was never going to see you again, » you whispered. Daryl tried to shush you again, but you needed to get something off your chest. Something you should have shared with him a long time ago.

«I love you, Daryl, » you continued to whisper. If you were going to die, then at least he would know how you felt, how you had always felt about him. You felt his movements still for a moment. Your eyes were searching his for any type of reaction. His blue orbs softened, and you felt him lean over you and press his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle and so soft that for a second you thought you had just imagined it happening. The next words that were mumbled against your lips though, they took your breath away. Those were words you had never thought you would ever hear from those same lips that had been pressed against yours just seconds ago. Those words were the reason you had been fighting through the dark tunnels. The hope that had led you to this very moment.

«I love ya too (y/n), always have. »

Now you knew that everything was going to be alright. You could fight to survive; you could make it through. You had his heart and it would give you the strength to take on anything.

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon/ Reader #Daryl Dixon oneshot #daryl dixion imagine #angst #hurt/comfort #twd fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #romance

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skysybil · 4 years

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Penumbra Superlatives: Most Likely To Be A Dark Matters NPC

The people demanded it, and I am indeed a magnanimous conspiracy theory machine, so here is my incredibly ridiculous reasoning behind my “who is in the dark matters simulation and who is fake” ranking, found here. Thank you to my partner for listening to me yell about this for 24 hours straight now. Man, I am gonna look like an idiot if this isn’t a Dark Matters induced simulation or dream in the end with how all-in I’ve been going with this.

Also, if you guys ever want me to lay out every fucking tiny detail I’ve seen that I think points to it being a simulation, I’ll do that too. Please validate me.

This is insanely long, it’s like two to three paragraphs for every member of the space family. This is kind of shameful, I almost feel bad. I’ll be your best friend forever if you read it all. Also, I’m putting it below the cut for everyone’s sanity. Anyway, let’s go lesbians, let’s go!

First, in the “definitely an active participant” category: Rrrrrita!

I’ll admit, it’s genuinely really hard to tell what discrepancies in the story are suspicious simulation details and what is just Rita being a particularly unreliable narrator. However, my first general point towards Rita being an active participant/player/whatever you want to call it is the fact that we’re experiencing this through her perspective! I think it would be really cool to tell the story from the perspective of a caricature puppeted by Dark Matters, but I feel like it would be way more obvious in gaps in her thinking patterns if she was fake. Honestly, I personally think it would be impossible to run it from the perspective of one of these NPCs (as i’m calling them) anyway, because... you know, they probably don’t have much in the way of thoughts in the first place.

Plus, out of everyone in the group, she is most likely to be plucked out of a group of criminals by Dark Matters to recruit. Sasha knows her (or at least knows of her) and how good she is at her job. I’m sure she’s got a target on her back as someone that’s too powerful (seriously, I pray for the universe the day Rita realizes just how quickly she could take over the world--see: my THEIA Rita AU that i came up with this morning which I might post about later), but I’m also pretty sure killing Rita would be seen as a wasted opportunity. This could just be another test, just like Day That Wouldn’t Die but in an even more controlled environment. The perfect trap, the perfect test--hopefully for perfect results. And with how she tends to get caught up in glamour and drama or get distracted so easily, she’s one of the easiest members of the group to trick into not questioning the little discrepancies that comes from living in a lie.

---

Next, Vespa. Love of my life and the only other member of the Carte Blanche crew that I’m almost totally sure is sharing space in this simulation.

She’s in a similar position that she’s a valuable asset for Dark Matters to try and take on--especially if they can use her past debts as blackmail or something along those lines. She’s a damn good assassin and they tend to specialize in making people disappear. Why wouldn’t they seize the opportunity to test her and see if she could truly work for them? Dark Matters also seems to lack an ethical core, to say the least, and if they consider her past trauma and her illness to be an issue, I’m sure they wouldn’t be against trying to “fix” her in their horribly scummy ways just so she could be a better killer for their organization. It could also be related to her skills as a doctor with the crew, to be fair--while Rita is off building robots and trying to break into a super secret base, Vespa is repairing the entire medical wing, an incredibly suspicious task when apparently enough of the ship survived that Rita’s computers are okay, the entire crew is unscathed, and the Ruby isn’t a warped hunk of metal.

Though she is also very likely to be nabbed by Dark Matters as an opportunity, the main condemning thing against Vespa being an NPC is the conversation we overhear with Buddy. No one else knows that Vespa considered or decided on leaving the crew. We can’t say that’s a part of Rita’s mind affecting the simulation around her because Rita doesn’t know, and it’s not information that could be hacked, either. It was just in her mind. Unless Dark Matters has their hands on new mind reading technology (oh god, not this shit again), there’s no way that the scene with Vespa and Buddy could exist unless Vespa is also inhabiting the simulation. Every scene they choose to include is deliberate. To rule Vespa out of the plan, all it would’ve taken was likely just Vespa being her normal defensive self. Why would they include a scene with a look into that vulnerability if it didn’t matter?

Speaking of the Vespa and Buddy scene--but why would Vespa snap at Rita that badly if she’s real, you might ask. You’re right, Vespa is aggressive but not that aggressive normally, and it stood out in the few interactions we saw. In Vespa’s defense, if she is participating in this simulation, she is understandably freaked the fuck out. Vespa spends every day of her life hyperaware of what might be real and what might be fake around her. She’s most likely to figure out that something is very wrong first simply because of that trait. How much of her mind is Dark Matters manipulating? Would DM have to simulate her hallucinations, or would that come naturally along with her mind being stuck in this simulation? I imagine that for every discrepancy we’ve picked up on, she’s picked up on six--but she no longer has the explanation of it being a hallucination. I imagine it’s frustrating and terrifying for her. I’d be on edge, too!

---

Moving into our next category: “probably in the simulation”, with our only candidate Buddy.

Buddy is my question mark character. We barely interacted with her this episode. From what I can tell, most of what we saw from her seems in character, and she had some wicked fucking lines. I’m sorry, I refuse to give Dark Matters credit for the line “If you imagine all that could go wrong, all you’ve done is drag yourself through a thousand disasters. And even in the worst-case scenario, you will only need to live through one.” Because it genuinely made me feel better in real life, goddammit.

Buddy is mostly in this category for lack of evidence, both with the lack of interaction and with how Rita kind of glazed over the family meeting with her distractions. So, it’s hard to say. I’d love to hear others’ theories on Buddy’s place in this.

---

Now, we cross the threshold into those that are probably not in the simulation, or are acting incredibly suspicious: the “on thin fucking ice” category. First, Peter.

Can this bastard decide on his personality for two whole minutes so I can get a handle on the little intricacies of the new Ransom persona? No? Goddammit. It’s hard to tell how much of the way he acted was genuinely suspicious and how much of it is the mask he’s put on for Peter Ransom. While he’s adopted the old name, he hasn’t adopted his old personality, so it’s near impossible to get good points of comparison on this new view. We’ve seen inside his head with this persona, sure, but we can’t compare the way he spoke and acted in his head with how he holds himself in front of Rita--he’s always going to choose his level of vulnerability based off of the least trusted person in the room. He’s not to that place with Rita yet. He’s going to have walls and facades up that he won’t have in front of Juno, or in front of himself. He can’t make it easy on him.

But that does not mean I can’t be suspicious of him, because I am. Fuck you, Nureyev, I’m still coming for you. Mainly, I’m squinting at his reaction to Rita’s plans and his lack of reaction to her openly talking about the two of them in an established relationship. We know damn well that Peter and Juno are not at that place yet. Why, do you ask? Because I trust that Sophie and Kevin wouldn’t take that moment from us. We’ve had three and a half years of slowburn buildup on Jupeter! We would not skip from “tentatively talking and trying to learn communication through ‘’’’’’poetry’’’’’’ and shit” to “established lovey dovey relationship” without being let in on it. I doubt Peter would let comments like the ones Rita made really slide in front of Juno--after all, the last time he admitted he was in love, Juno fucking left, and I bet there’s a lot of reluctance or trauma surrounding that. Yet he let it slide anyway.

Still, because Peter is a wild card, there’s still a possibility that his non-reaction was a defense mechanism or part of the Ransom facade (after all, he had to pretend he was in better standing with Juno than he actually was at first to keep his place in the family). The most suspicious thing he did in that conversation, in my opinion, was agree not to let anyone else know about the plan. He knows damn well that he is on thin ice with everyone in the crew except for Juno and Rita. Trust is in short supply for him and keeping his position in the family is incredibly important to him, both so he can find a way to pay off his debts and so he can pursue this shaky relationship he’s started to piece back together with Juno. Yet he hops right in with barely any pushback when it comes to keeping this Incredibly Vital And Important Plan a complete secret. Plus, you know, he supposedly couldn’t even stand, yet walked all the way to the computer cave. Sure, maybe Juno carried him, but I’d fully expect something like Juno picking him up to be a joke written into the script. I feel like it was deliberately left out.

Still, the only real glimpse of Peter that Dark Matters has ever had was of Rex Glass, and Peter definitely isn’t acting like his Rex persona, so how would they really know to get his personality around the Aurinko family to where it is? I suppose that could be attributed to Rita, Vespa, and/or Buddy shaping the simulation around them.

Tl;dr on the Peter section: He’s almost definitely an NPC but nothing is certain with a man whose entire sense of self is based off of an elaborate web of lies and inconsistencies.

---

Also probably an NPC, but I’m not sure, thus on thin fucking ice: Jet.

You cannot tell me for one fucking second that Jet doesn’t know the Ruby 7 inside and out. That car is his baby. He’s torn the car apart and repaired it more than anyone else, and you’re telling me he doesn’t understand the core functions of the car--the engine, the fuel tank? No fucking way. I don’t have 3.5 paragraphs of speculation for Jet, I’m just so hung up on the fucking car thing. His personality fits well, which is the one string I’m holding onto that makes him maybe possibly an actual human being, but I feel like Dark Matters fucked up by trying to fill in the blanks on the Ruby 7. That’s where I think the issue comes from--the reason there’s a part in the Ruby that Jet doesn’t understand is because DM doesn’t know how the Ruby works, and they tried to put in what they imagined could power it or fuzz over the details. But I will cry if the Ruby was actually destroyed in the crash, there’s no recovering from that.

---

And finally, if you’ve made it this far and not left after whispering to yourself holy shit, she’s insane, she’s absolutely insane, how much does this woman talk, we have the final category: unfortunately an NPC. And holy shit, is Juno 100% not in this simulation or being almost entirely puppeted by Dark Matters.

I genuinely can’t get into all my reasoning behind Juno being a puppet here without going on forever and doubling the length of this post, and I’ve put you through so much already. But every inch of Juno is suspicious, down to his tone of voice. Look, I’m happy to see him happy. But it just seems like a jump--just like as I discussed in the Peter section with the Jupeter relationship. It feels like we skipped something, or missed something. This is my theory: Juno has been crafted based off of how Sasha Wire knew him when she saw him last. He doesn’t have reactions that are quite right to the computers, to Peter, to anyone, really. Everything felt just a little off--until he got frustrated. Then he became more realistically Juno. I think this might be because Sasha is basing a comfortable and happy Juno (the one she assumes he must be around the people on the ship, especially Peter if she knows they’re romantically involved) off of the Juno she interacted with when they were younger, which is just off in comparison to the Juno we know now. She can build a more three dimensional Juno in the situations she’s familiar with, like a bored Juno, a frustrated Juno, or an angry Juno. She’s got the one-liners down, I’ll give her that.

I’m also just in general not surprised if Sasha is just keeping him separate from the rest of them. Possibly to try and talk him out of the family, get him untangled from the Dark Matters mess? Plus, he’s incredibly perceptive, and might be considered a risk to the simulation if he was in it.

Also, the out-of-universe evidence: I am 100% convinced that the reason the episode script came out late is because it had to be edited to remove some of the directions, possibly suspicious things like “too cheery”. Specifically, I think one of Juno’s significant directions is missing. It’s hard to put exactly what kind of direction is missing into words because I don’t know anything about script writing, but I just... I have a feeling. Trust me on this. I’ve seen other people on Twitter talk about it too, I’m not the only one. I stand by it.

---

Anyway, since I want to keep my Juno-specific speculation as short as possible, that’s all, folks. If you stayed this long, genuinely I love you so much and I would give my life for you, message me or mention it in the tags that you made it all the way and maybe we could be mutuals or friends!! I love to ramble about this kind of thing. Follow me for more aimless speculation, hopefully not 2.5k words next time. If you have any questions or other stuff to discuss also mention it and I might post about it later!

Update: If you’re interested in the simulation theory, here’s the link to a post I just made laying out all my conspiracy theory evidence for it.

#holy shit i am SO SORRY this is so long #this is a lesson in being careful what you wish for #tpp #the penumbra podcast #tpp spoilers #tpp s3 #tpp s3 spoilers #s3 spoilers #tpp junoverse #simulation theory

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 23

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because Tavra’s a spider now. It be like that sometimes.

Last times in book: On the way to Ha’rar after failing to retrieve the firca of Gyr the Song Teller from the Tomb of Relics, Kylan discovered Tavra was an imposter. He, Naia, and Amri manage to outsmart and trap her and discover that an angry spider called Krychk had taken control of Tavra’s body at the behest of the Skeksis. Kylan does a dream-stitching which puts Tavra’s mind in Krychk’s body and leaves Krychk to die in the mess it made of Tavra! He’s not sure how he did this actually!

Chapter 23

Tavra-Spider explains it all, the group turns around to go back to caves

Tavra-Spider gets right into it, no pausing to adjust to her new existential nightmare, and tells the group they’ve got to head back to the caves.

She jumps on Kylan, who understandably jumps at a spider crawling on his arm and has to fight the urge to swat her off.

“... but you’re a spider.”

Fully extended, her legs were almost the length of his fingers, but needle-thin and shining black. She easily climbed his sleeve to sit on his shoudler, wehre he could see eight faceted eyes in her tiny head, like miniature crystals set in the stone of a pendant. Her small voice was much more audible from there.

“And alive, thanks to you,” she replied. “It’s not ideal but it doesn’t matter.”

Its not ideal but it doesn’t matter

Tavra, you are killing me again!

She is taking this exceptionally well!

She’s got her duty to follow and dangit she’s gonna do it. If they don’t act, the Grottan could well be wiped out and she will not stand for that.

Tavra also mentions that Krychk had been using a Crystal shard to communicate with the Skeksis at the Castle.

The Skeksis have invented crystal cell phones and the best the Gelfling have is courier! Dangit!

Kylan, still having more trouble coming to terms with this than Tavra herself, asks Tavra what they should do with her body.

Tavra says that they’ll have to leave it (no time to pause and bury or cremate it) but to grab the Crystal shard (not that one) and a pearl amulet from within her cloak. The pearl is so that spider-she can prove her identity when they eventually reach Ha’rar. She has a lot more faith in this group’s ability to ever reach Ha’rar.

No one was eager to search the Silverling’s cloak, so Kylan did it. He found the shard and the amulet, a pearl drop on a silver chain. The pearl itself was shining, white and blue, wrapped in a silver cage shaped like tiny Vapra wings. The shard was small enough to hold in his hand, black as obsidian, though he sensed a flicker of energy from deep inside it, like the sound of voices just muffled enough to be incoherent. At first he was drawn to it, wanting to peer further into it to see what waited on the other side, but Tavra pricked him with her spider feet.

asdfsdf

She pricks him with her spider feet!

Oh my god. She’s a spider and she’s poking Kylan to stop him from looking into the crystal shard like a palantir.

Tavra tells them to destroy it AND NOT LOOK INTO IT so the three Gelfling smash the shard into dust with a large rock.

Naia thanks the finger-vines because she’s polite, they pay respects to Tavra’s body really quickly, and then they hurry back toward camp to retrieve the supplies they left there.

“I’m sorry,” [Kylan] said as they hurried back along the trail along camp. “I didn’t mean to... do whatever I did. I just didn’t want you to die. I hope you aren’t angry with me.”

“I’m not angry. My body will return to Thra. When my work is done, I will join it. Until then, I have no time to worry or complain. We need to go to the tunnels north of Domrak.”

Tavra is handling being a spider now REALLY WELL. She’s very philosophical about it.

Kylan also realizes that Krychk’s plan HAD BEEN to go to Ha’rar so it could spy on the Gelfling’s plans for the Skeksis. Which got completely upended by Kylan and Naia chasing sidequests ha ha. He also realizes that since he barely interacted with Tavra in Shadows and since Krychk was Tavra for most of Song, he doesn’t really know Tavra at all.

“Are you all right?” he asked, not knowing what else to say. He tried to imagine being in her predicament, but it was impossible. There was no way to know how Tavra felt, after the terror at the castle and being a prisoner in her own mind while Krychk controlled her withered body.

Despite all that, Tavra’s response was stoic and loyal.

“I will be all right when the Skeksis are stopped and our people are no longer living in their shadow.”

TAVRA PLS you’re too powerful! Are you the Gelfling Captain America??

They reach camp and retrieve their stuff and Tavra sets to Planning. She asks Amri what would be the fastest way to get to the tunnels that connect Domrak to the Grottan Sanctuary.

Amri isn’t much help since he’s not really familiar with the aboveground but Naia suggests Kylan check the Raunip book’s maps.

While Kylan gets out the book, Tavra decides to exposit and fill in some plot gaps.

Tavra couldn’t wrest control away for long but left the DO NOT TRUST HER message. It was vague because Krychk stopped her from finishing it. I’d guess that Tavra sensed she’d lose control so chose HER vs TAVRA because fewer letters. She also confirms that Krychk couldn’t read.

I SUSPECTED.

Tavra feels like crap for being too weak to not be body-jacked by spider but Naia tells her “Let’s agree to all be sorry and all forgiven. And then... move past this so we can stop them.”

Presumably except for Amri who might as well think ‘excuse you I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. I just got here.’

“The crystal spiders are an ancient race. I don’t know how long they have been working with the Skeksis, or how long they have been using weak and dying hosts to spy on the Gelfling. They are not under power, like the creatures that look upon the darkened Crystal or its veins. They are loyal to the Skeksis by will.”

So, yeah, like I mentioned last time. Seems like the spiders are just unapologetically evil in this take.

Also, any Gelfling could be under control of spider. The correct response is to be paranoid forever.

Kylan remembers that horner that attacked them back in Stone-in-the-Wood and wonders if that too was controlled by a spider. It did just pas out after Neech found a crunch snack in its fur.

Wow, there’s no unwoven plot beats in this book! The blue mouth tree that tried to eat Kylan and Naia inspired his trap against Tavra and the darkened Horner might have been controlled by a spider!

At the least, it demonstrates the amount of paranoia learning about the crystal-spiders would engender. Who knows whats secretly controlled by spider!

“Krychk called on the Skeksis while we were in the Tomb of Relics. When it confirmed that it had destroyed the firca, its spider brethren took Domrak by surprise. We were already headed away and in the opposite direction. The Grottan didn’t stand a chance in Domrak... Many fled north, toward the Sanctuary. That is the last I heard, this night when Krychk spoke to Lord skekLi through the Crystal shard.”

“skekLi!” Naia exclaimed. “A Skeksis... Could he be urLii’s other half?”

“I do not know. Krychk was in contact with many of the lords, but skekLi was its master so far as its mission to find you, Gurjin, and Rian. It was promised the Grottan caves as payment for its loyalty.”

SPIDER BROKE THE FIRCA I KNEW IT OR AT LEAST SUSPECTED

Also, I gotta say I love the incredibly blunt attempt to draw a connection between urLii and skekLi because I guess we’re too far into the book to set up another conspicuous injury for them to share.

And I love Tavra just brushing past the question.

Tavra-Spider says that if they can reach the Sanctuary before the spiders, they might be able to fight back. To Naia’s doubt. They almost got their asses kicked by a small swarm just now and the odds will be worse against more spiders and in tunnels.

Tavra asks if Amri knows anything about the Grottan Sanctuary but all he knows is that its one of the most ancient places in Thra, that it was entrusted to the Grottan, and that urLii travels there often to “commune with the singing mountains.”

Kylan gets excited because the singing mountains were supposedly formed by the bell-birds.

“The same,” Tavra said. “The Sanctuary was a nesting place of the bell-birds. When the spider destroyed the firca, I wanted to tell you that your plan was still a good one. There’s still hope. It is possible that there may be bones left of the bell-birds, though they died out many trine ago. If the Sanctuary has been untouched, and protected by the Grottan, then we may yet have a chance.”

May yet! Firca Quest is back on!

... I really want a point-and-click Dark Crystal adventure game. It feels made for the genre.

Amri points out that even if there is a bell-bird bone, that’s not the same as having a firca and making it into a firca doesn’t mean it’ll have the same power as Gyr’s.

But Naia just decides that Kylan can make a firca like that. Such faith in him!

And her confidence makes Kylan confident enough to want to try.

Best friends!

Kylan finally finds something on the map, an underground tributary to the Black River called the Tide Pass that’ll bring them close to the Sanctuary.

Amri warns them that its a mostly submerged underground channel. But its the only path that will get them to the Sanctuary in time. Going back through Domrak would put them in the highest concentration of spiders. Its the Tide Path or nothing, and at least Naia can breath underwater and Amri can see in the dark.

“What do you think, Amri?” Naia asked. “Is it possible, or will we die for sure?”

“You and I wouldn’t die for sure,” he replied, but his assurance ended there.

I mean that’s not funny but its not not funny and I laughed.

Amri does say that if the other two are willing to try, he’ll do whatever it takes to see all four of them through. But Tavra’s spider body doesn’t require a lot to live so she’s not in a lot of danger really either.

The person most at risk is going to be Kylan AND the one they most need to succeed.

So it has to be Kylan’s decision.

But Kylan would be blind in the Pass, half or more submerged in deep, dark cave water. He was tired of tunnels and being underground. In fact, there was nothing he wanted to avoid more than another crawl through the dark, needing help from the others just to move or breathe.

Despite her new arachnid form, he couldn’t help but imagine Tavra as she once had been, touching his cheek in the same way and saying the same words. He had not been able to do anything to help his own clan, but maybe there was something that could be done for Amri’s. For once, there was something only he could do, and that was what he had wanted all along.

He committed the map to memory and packed the book.

“Then what are we waiting for? To the Tide Pass we go.”

Heck yeah, Kylan

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Amri #Tavra #but she's a spider

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dzamie-oc · 4 years

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Smaugust 21 - Hydra

While the dragon's away, the kobolds will... commit shenanigans. (1908 words)

Just outside of a wide, rocky cave, a dozen distraught kobolds of all sorts of horns and colors surrounded a blue-scaled dragon. Four kobolds sat patiently in bags hanging off the dragon's side, along with several of his favorite things.

"I'll just be gone a week or two," he said in a soft voice that clashed with his outward appearance of tough scales and sharp claws, "the festival is not something I want to miss, and I can take the opportunity to start these four on their new task." The little lizards in the bags chirped their enthusiasm.

A teal kobold with short, rounded horns approached. "But what if someone comes to steal from your hoard?" she asked.

"Then you shall stop them," came his calm answer. "The VitAzurel den does a fine job working together; why, losing a kobold is rare for us, AND it's rather uncommon for me to have to face adventurers, myself, unless I particularly want to." The dragon turned and carefully stepped over a couple of his kobolds, preparing to take off. "Oh, and if - not when, but if - you do lose a part of my hoard, make sure to note what the thieves look like. I'm much more lenient on a full stomach, after all." With that, he sprang off of powerful legs, flapping his broad, blue wings to soar towards the nearest friendly town.

The twelve remaining kobolds looked at each other. "So... we have our assignment," started the teal one, "we just need to figure out how to guard our lord's hoard."

"A dragon's hoard is best guarded by a dragon," a white-scaled one pointed out, only for a red one to interrupt, "but Azurel isn't here, and another dragon might try to claim it for themselves. So his hoard can't be guarded by a dragon."

They chatted amongst themselves, offering ideas for traps and encounters to dissuade or kill adventurers. While several were accepted as helpful minor things, and more were discarded out of hand, the kobolds couln't quite come up with anything big. Nothing could beat a dragon guarding a hoard.

Just before the den was going to return, fruitless in finding an idea to protect Azurel's hoard, the black-scaled kobold gasped. The others turned to see a big, eager, sharp-toothed smile on his muzzle. "Guys, what if... what if WE were the dragon protecting his hoard?"

There was a brief period of assorted muttering before the teal kobold came up and placed her hand on his shoulder, two pairs of yellow eyes locked onto each other. "...we're kobolds. We're not dragons. There is a truly insurmountable difference between us and Lord Azurel, and us and other dragons, even though he IS exceptionally amazing." Several kobolds behind her nodded as sagely as they could manage.

The black kobold shook his head, still smiling. "No, not an actual dragon. But Azurel encourages us to be sneaky and tricky to keep unfair fights in our favor, right?" There was a general murmur of agreement, so he continued, "so, we're small, and dragons are big, but there's at least ten of us, and we're scaly like dragons."

"And we have tails, too!" a green kobold helpfully offered from the back of the group.

"So, what if we trick adventurers that we, together, are one dragon?" the kobold continued, undaunted, "we have scaly, we have big, and they'll be expecting a dragon so they'll totally believe us!" His tail whipped back and forth in excitement. This got the group talking, some of them planning out a costume, others just gossipping about the mimic that Teal was getting to be a little too close friends with.

"We don't have a breath weapon or wings!" one pointed out, but another called out, "multiple heads! Our fake dragon's breath weapon will be more bites than a silly adventurer coul possibly imagine!" A cheer went up, and, invigorated, the den of kobolds hurried back into the depths of Azurel's lair to work on the disguise.

---

The white-scaled kobold pushed away from her part of the costume, dangling from the ceiling by a rope. "Okay, how's this?"

The green, black, and teal kobolds wriggled into position, drawing the aperture of the necks closed around their own. They looked at each other and tested out their controls, wiggling the heads around and occasionally bumping into each other, then grinned. "Functional and sturdy! I swear, Raktor," the green one said, "if I didn't see you make this in front of me, I'd think you had done some magic on it to get it to work so well!"

Teal turned around and called down to the body disguise, comprised of a kobold per leg, plus one to move the tail. "How's it working down there, guys?" She got several chirps of approval, and the fake, three-headed dragon took a step forward to test. More chirps. "Great! This is coming together really w-"

Suddenly, the group was interrupted by a pink kobold slipping out from one of their small kobold tunnels. "Intruder alert!" he called out, "a human traveler is in the lair!"

The green kobold gasped. "A human traveler is in the lair?" The kobolds looked at each other, gauging how ready they were for their first test of their dragon costume.

"Protect the hoard!" the pink one loudly reminded them.

"We must protect the hoard!" the green kobold relayed, and the eight dragon-bolds maneuvered between the entrance tunnel and the start of Azurel's huge cache of gold, gems, and other shiny things. The other four grabbed weapons and retreated into ambush points, waiting for the interloper to make an appearance.

Instead of the menacing adventurer, armed to the teeth, that they had expected, a young woman with curly, brown hair in a yellow sundress stepped out, smiling brightly when she saw one of the hiding kobolds in his normal spot. "Hey, VitAzurels! It's Penny. Is your dragon around?"

The green kobold opened his mouth to answer, but the black one started faster and replied, "foolish human girl! Your adventure was futile! This Ah-shoo-rell you speak of does NO LONGER exist in this lair!" Hidden claws moved the kobold in a fake dragon neck closer, looming over her. "Now flee, flee before you face the wrath of TAM!" The pink kobold made eye contact with Teal and Raktor, silently assuring each other that nobody else knew that was what he was going to call the fake dragon.

The woman seemed amused by this show. "Oh, huh! I thought he'd be back by now. So, do you kobolds wanna hang out? Feels a shame to waste all the time I spent coming up here, and I'm in a very playful mood."

"SILENCE!" the black kobold shouted. "Do not waste your time here, Penny-girl, for we have clocks numerous and beyond your feeble human brain! And-"

"I don't think that's working," Teal said, "gotta be more direct." She turned to face Penny. "Look. Human. I'm Tam, the dragon who now lives in this lair and protects its treasure from humans."

"Yeah, but you guys know me. If I was going to steal from Azurel, I'd save all of us the time and effort, and just climb down his throat directly."

"I... don't know what 'guys' you speak of, strange human," Teal lied, poorly, "now leave, or I will eat you, as that is what we dragons do to humans who try to steal treasure."

"Okay, then, eat me."

The three kobolds blinked. "What?" they said in near unison.

Penny pointed at Teal. "Eat me. Send me down that throat and into that belly. I don't think you're a real dragon; prove me wrong."

The baffled kobolds looked at each other, then the black and green ones stared expectantly at the teal one. Her scaly hands gripped the controls for her neck disguise. "Uh... okay, then," she said, and dipped down towards Penny.

"Wait, what?" The human took a half-step back and froze in shock. Right when she was above Penny, Teal spun the lever letting her have a snug fit in the disguise. She let go of the controls, reache out, and pulled Penny under her body and into the disguise's neck, pushing her out of the way before taking the controls once more and lifting back up with her green and black denmates.

Penny slid smoothly down the costume's neck like it was a slide, in large part because it was a slide, until she came to a stop in the empty cavity where the leg and tail kobolds stared at her. The human looked at them, rolling onto her back to better see all of the kobolds. "Huh, and from here I guess you could start beating on an adventurer..." she mused, "clever. Anyway, so what do we do now?"

The red kobold glanced around. "Uh... we could undo one of the flaps and let you out through there, I guess." There was a level of tension in the costume that all six of them could sense, but none of the kobolds were willing to break it.

Fortunately for them, Penny was not one of the kobolds. "Let me rephrase, guys and girls. Ahem," she fake-cleared her throat before putting on an exaggerated voice, "oh, heavens me, here I am all alone, deep in a dragon's lair, and hopelessly surrounded by kobolds. I wonder what ever might happen next!"

Purrs and soft growls filled the base of the dragon costume as multiple sets of scaly hands went to grab at her clothes...

---

"...so we only got through her modeling, like, a quarter of the casual outfits you keep for princesses," Raktor explained to Azurel, "plus, when she left the first day, she suggested mixing and matching stuff, so that was us set for the rest of the week. Oh, and yesterday she and Jimothy came over for House-Rules Parcheesi, so Teal and Irnat are almost done cleaning that up."

The blue dragon lifted one of the necks of the limp costume in a paw, peering at the mechanism inside. "Well, I'm glad to see my creativity has been rubbing off on you," he said. "How'd this do versus an actual threat? Looks well-used by now."

Raktor fiddled with her horns, a little sheepish. "Well, actually, only two tried; one ate the brownie we helpfully labeled 'poison,' and the other got mimic'd. It looks worn because we all wanted a go at quote-unquote 'eating' Penny, and she liked the slide." The white-scaled kobold perked up with a wicked smirk as she recalled one more detail. "Oh, and Norak is now called Tam."

"Oh, that's a fun development. Who's best to ask about that?"

"Probably Teal. She and Vernda were closest to him when the thing happened, and Vernda..." she trailed off.

"Doesn't have a way with words," Azurel supplied. "I'll look forward to hearing it from her, then. Now be a dear and get a couple others to put away the bags and the sword Kassar no longer needs." He yawned as he walked through the wide main caves. "Oh, and see if one or two will volunteer for basic shining duty; I'll be napping after that long flight, so it's perfectly fine if they can't get much of my scales."

Raktor chirped and darted off through the kobold tunnels as everyone fell back into normal motion again, the absence of their dragon remedied and new memories passed around as gossip.

#dragon #smaugust #hydra #kobold #writing #writers on tumblr #smaugust 2020 #text #ocs #oc: azurel

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spectraspecs-writes · 4 years

Text

Korriban - Chapter 83

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 82. Chapter 84.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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Well, that’s interesting. The Star Map on Tatooine was obviously in a cave, but this one is more like underground. But not like a natural cavern. It was constructed, or at least constructed around. Bastila isn’t in the quarters when I wake up, so as soon as I get dressed, I head out into the main hold. Carth’s in there, sitting in front of an untouched cup of caff. No idea how long it’s been there, or how long he’s been there, but the cup isn’t steaming so it’s obviously cold.

Bastila’s in there, looking a little dazed, but when I come in, she sits up and looks at me. “You felt it, yes?” she asks, “Another vision? The Force continues to work through us; showing us the Star Maps unearthed by Revan and Malak.” She looks a little unsettled now. “There are some who believe Korriban is the birthplace of the Sith… this planet is an evil place. There are secrets here best left uncovered.”

I sit down next to her. “It looked like the Star Map was underground somewhere.”

“Yes, during the vision I felt cold and trapped, almost as if I was buried alive. It felt… it felt like we were in some kind of tomb. No doubt things will become more clear once we discover the Star Map's location.”

“Right, about that ‘we,’” I say, “I think if you go out there, the Sith might recognize you.”

She resituates herself. “Hmm…” she says, “…maybe you're right. Most of the dark Jedi would only know me by name, but there are a few among them who might recognize my face. For the safety of our mission I must remain on the Ebon Hawk while we are on this planet.”

“That seems wise,” I say.

She gives a small nod. “Have you thought about who you do want to accompany you?” she asks, “I know you prefer to have both a ranged fighter and a Jedi.”

“Yeah,” I say, “Obviously can’t bring you. And Juhani - she’s already been to the Dark Side. I don’t want to put her back in that position. Which leaves Jolee.”

“I agree, he is the smart choice,” she says, “He’s powerful enough in the Force to shield your presence from the Sith. And for a ranged fighter? HK-47 would fit right in, I’m sure.” She grins at that.

“I’m sure he would, but I’m taking Carth.”

“Damn right, you are,” he says. Which is the first indication I have that he’s actually awake.

Bastila’s not a big fan of that. “I see,” she says in that disappointed neutral tone she has, “Rena, may I speak to you in private?” I shrug and follow her. She goes into the communications room and closes the door. “Are you sure bringing Carth is wise?” she asks, “After all, your feelings for him are quite strong. Or are you going to deny them again and insult both our intelligence?”

Oh, God, this again? “It doesn’t matter how wise it is, I wouldn’t be able to keep him here if I wanted to,” I say, “Jordo said his son is here, if I don’t bring him with me, he’ll go off looking for him himself and get us all in trouble, blow our cover. No, he’s coming.” I hate that look on her face. “And by the way,” I add, “my feelings for Carth are none of your business.”

“Rena…” she says in that disapproving teacher voice she gets, “I’ve said before, and it’s even more relevant now. These feelings for Carth could lead you to the Dark Side.”

I hate that! Even after the conversation with Jolee last night, which I would love to tell Bastila about and explain to her all of that, even though I know she would never listen to me. And I - you know, I could be patient enough to explain it to her if she wasn’t so damn holier-than-thou all the damn time! “You’re one to talk!” I exclaim, “Listen, I know how close you’ve gotten with Canderous. Hell, I’m pretty sure I heard the two of you having sex the other night! And you’re telling me about my feelings and the Dark Side? Like hell! Why do you get to have something and I don’t? Huh? What the hell kind of double standard is that?”

“Rena, that’s not what I meant…”

“So what did you mean?” How is she going to back away from this?

“I only meant that, those feelings, here, are incredibly dangerous!” she says, “Anywhere else, they’re foolish but understandable. But here on Korriban - the homeworld of the Sith! The Dark Side is particularly strong here already! I don’t want your feelings to cloud your judgement when it’s so easy for you to fall.” She stops and looks at me. “You don’t believe my reasons, do you?”

“Get the hell out of my head, Bastila,” I say, and I start to leave. “And for the record, no, I don’t. I’m frankly sick of your holier-than-thou attitude about this whole thing, and in general. You’re not my master, you’re not my mother, and you’re making it difficult for me to consider you my friend!”

“Calm down, Rena,” she says. Like hell! “Anger can lead…”

“Shut up about the fucking Dark Side! I get it, okay? God!” I know, I know, I’m fine. I take a deep breath and try to speak more calmly. “If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it.”

“Very well,” she says with a big sigh, “I will leave you be.”

I walk out a lot angrier than I mean to. I just need to calm down a bit. I almost crash into Jolee, but I stop myself before I barrel full-force into him. “You all right, lass?” he asks.

“Just a bit riled up,” I say, trying to take deep calming breaths, “Bastila giving me crap again. Would you come with me onto Korriban?”

“Yes, I think that would be a wise idea,” he says, “When would you like to leave?”

“I want to swap out my implant, then we can go,” I say, “I’ll wait by the ramp.” He gives me a small nod and we part ways. I go back to the starboard quarters and swap out the adrenaline implant I’ve got in there with one that should calm me down a bit more. The adrenaline was great when I was having allergy problems - now, not so much. And no, I don’t think the adrenaline caused my reaction to Bastila. It didn’t help, but it didn’t cause it. Either way, going out this angry is not a good idea. I need to focus, on the Star Map mostly but also on finding Carth’s son. And on not standing out.

Czerka controls the docks here, like the last two planets, but it seems different here. We walk up to the dock master. “Ahh, I see,” he says, “Another Jedi come to small Korriban, yes? Good to meet you.” He’s a lot nicer than the other Czerka dock masters.

“Jedi come here often, do they?” I ask.

“There are many people who come to Korriban from throughout Sith space, hoping to join the academy. Some of them are Jedi who have left the order. You will get into the academy for certain.” Who, me? “I understand Jedi who have left the light side are made very welcome.”

Seems like a cover has been established for me. Nice. “So I imagine.”

“But enough about that,” he says. Right, he’s about to ask me for money, I should get ready to tell him otherwise. “It is very nice to see that the Ebon Hawk has returned. I have not seen that ship for some time, indeed.” Wait, what? That really threw off my rhythm. “Since you're a regular to our little colony, the docking fee is only 25 credits.”

“Uh… sure,” I say, “Here.” I pull out my datapad and transfer the credits.

“Excellent,” he says, “Continue on through. Please be aware that the colony is under Sith jurisdiction. I'd advise you to stay out of their way.”

“We usually do,” Jolee says, and we walk on through. So now I’m out twenty-five credits. Which isn’t a big deal in and of itself, I can just sell a blaster pistol and make that back twice over. I’m just a bit more surprised that I gave it. But whatever, I shrug it off.

Trouble coming. The first of a lot of trouble. “No,” I hear a human man scold, “that is the wrong answer. Again! You pathetic hopefuls can't possibly all be this stupid, can you?”

“P-please, Master Shaardan!” someone pleads, “Give us a chance! We'll do anything to get into the academy!”

As we get closer, I can see this Shaardan. God, what a prick. He’s the kind of guy who would kick a puppy for laughs. And now he’s got three people feeding his ego. He huffs pridefully. “I'm no master… yet… but I like the sound of that,” he says, grinning, “Alright, one more question, though the lot of you are trying my patience. Alright. Let's say you become a Sith and I am your commanding officer. I give you an order to spare the life of an enemy. Do you do it?”

Hell, I know the answer to that one. In that situation you would kill both the enemy and your leader, who’s obviously gone soft. That’s the Sith way, anyway. But these guys are a bit desperate. “Oh, of course, Shaardan!” one of them says, “Anything you command us!”

“We would never oppose you!” another says.

“No, no, no!” Shaardan says with a sigh, “Do you honestly believe that the Sith are in need of such sniveling cowards? Mercy is a weakness. If your leader shows weakness, it is your duty to kill him and show true authority, true power! That is why the Sith are strong.”

Oh, God, he’s going to kill them and they know it. “Th-thank you, Shaardan,” the third stammers, “We, uh… we understand now!”

“No, you don't understand,” he says, “And you probably never will. You wouldn't survive five seconds in the academy - the other students would tear you apart!” They start to tremble, as hard as they’re trying not to. “Bah!” he exclaims, “I can't be bothered with fools! Perhaps… I should… hmmm…”

And then he turns to me. Oh, shit. “You! Jedi!” he says, “You're looking to get into the academy, are you not?” Then he scoffs a moment. “Of course you are - why else would you be here? Let me pose a question to you. These hopefuls will never survive in the academy. A lesson must be taught, here, but I am at a loss as to what form it should take.”

Carth scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, this is rich,” he says under his breath.

Jolee takes a more adversarial approach. “Well, if you can't think of anything cruel you really shouldn't be out here, young man, should you?”

Shaardan sneers at him. “I wasn’t talking to you!” he shouts at Jolee. Then he acknowledges me again. Oh, good God, that look on his face, he thinks I’m attracted to him, because of course I am, he’s the greatest person and the strongest Sith on the planet, isn’t he? Maybe even in the sector, maybe even the galaxy! God, I hate people like that. I’d punch him, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea right now. Shaardan walks closer to me, and talks like he’s ordering a meal. “I'm thinking to spare them the effort of being killed and do it myself,” he says, “Perhaps I shall turn their skin inside out? Or Force Lightning? It is a most impressive display. Or perhaps a bit of humiliation is in order? I could easily strip off their tunics and make them run through the colony. Or they could lose all control of their bodily functions… What do you think, darling? I just can't seem to decide.” Did he just grab my ass?

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jolee holding Carth back. Which is a good idea - I’ve got this. “You know,” I say, leaning into a bit of a sultry voice, “I think you should let them go.”

He moves away, out of either shock or disgust. I don’t care - if it gets his hand off my ass so be it. “Let them go?” he repeats, “And what could possibly convince me to do that?”

“They aren’t worth your time,” I say, still with the sexy voice. He’s not as into it anymore, but it certainly helps feed his ego. I’m not going to take him down a peg now. I’d much rather get these people out of the way.

Shaardan sighs. “I suppose not, but you're as boring as they are.” Good, I can relax. He turns back to them. “Fine, fine, go on, all of you. Hopefully you've learned something here.” They run before he can change his mind. Shaardan touches me again before he leaves.

Carth is incensed. “If Jolee hadn’t held me back, I would have killed him,” he says.

“Believe me, I wanted to punch him, too,” I say. At least he’s gone and we can go.

More trouble up ahead, of the same arrogant variety. Thankfully, there’s no innocents to get out of the way this time. Just a group of Sith Academy punks who missed their chance to be bullies as kids. “Look here, my dear friends,” says their ringleader, a human - a woman who would be pretty attractive if she wasn’t such an asshole, “We have some newcomers to the colony… led by a Jedi, no less.”

“Great,” Carth mumbles, “just what we needed. Some punks come to steal our lunch credits.”

“I don't believe I've seen any of them before, have you?” she says.

Jolee does a small scoff. “Well, if you'd seen us before, we wouldn't be newcomers, would we?”

She laughs. “Smart-mouthed newcomers, to boot.”

“Looks pretty fresh to me, Lashowe,” one of her friends says.

“That's what I thought,” she says, “Well, stranger, I don't know whether you're aware of this or not, but here on Korriban the Sith do as they please. And we are Sith. Quite literally, whether you live or die depends upon our whim. What do you think of that, hmm?”

“I think threatening a stranger is a weird thing to do,” I say, “Does that sort of meager power trip make you feel better about yourself?”

“Those are brave words for such an insignificant person,” Lashowe says, “Do you not realize how many Sith are here in Dreshdae?”

“Twelve?” Jolee says, “No, wait, thirteen!”

“Is this a raffle?” Carth says sarcastically, “How many guesses do we get?”

One of Lashowe’s friends gets pissed. “Let me kill this one, Lashowe! Let me do it!”

“Now, now,” she says, holding him back, “let's not be hasty. Perhaps our friend here could yet offer up some amusement.”

“You want amusement, hit the cantina,” I say, “I’m not a dancing girl.”

It feels tense between me and Lashowe for a moment before one of her friends laughs. “Looks like this one's not afraid of you at all, Lashowe.”

She gets mad at him. “Are you going to let us be insulted?!”

“Oh, get over yourself already,” he says, “I’m tired of this.”

A third agrees. “Yeah, this one's got some backbone, at least,” he says, “Let's go.”

Lashowe, obviously overruled and obviously upset about it, leaves with them. “Fine,” she says, not fine, “I'll deal with you later.” Ooh, I’m all a-tremble. Get real.

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