#still proud of cyans muscles

[theunderscoresquip]

BE MORE CHILL AU. IDK A BIT(?) LONG

`Jeremy.`

He shot awake, panting. Damnit, not again— Jeremy must've been scaring himself at this point. He checked the clock; so early, but why? It's almost as if his body had been purposefully doing this, waking him up as if the Squip was waiting *right* there, and was getting impatient. Regardless, couldn't happen. He had felt it, *heard it*. All the Squips had been deactivated, and his Squip was no exemption to that. Thank god Micheal had Code Red on standbye, with what could've happen— Another code red would have arised without it.

He wondered, because he had some extra time, why not think about everything? It had only been a week, yet everything felt fresh in his mind. But he felt so detached from it. Who would believe it, though? That some supercomputer had just lodged himself into his brain, and nearly took over the entire school? Or.. Attempted to? No way.

Usually, he didn't enjoy being alone with his thoughts. Today was different though. It hurt his brain though. Why had *his* Squip tried to take over the world? After having him less than a week. He became so aggressive. He had mentioned he was a learning computer, said he was faulty. Rich apparently had his for nearly 3 years, and nothing huge had happened.

❝ WATASHI..

WA.. NIHON KARA KIMASHITA! ❞

He groaned, it didn't concern him. He reached for his laptop; though, muscle memory was going against him, as he swore he felt a little shock. Like a program, he stopped this action immediately. He took a breath in. Squip had at least fixed ONE part of his life.

School time. He was still considered a popular kid, well, saving the school and all! He was laughing, and having fun. They even brought their own drinks! And almost as he had forgotten, he took a swig of mountain dew.

Wait, hah! Didn't even matter. The Squip was gone, what was a little Mountain Dew going to do to him? He took it all down like he had been triple-dog-dared to (the highest of encouragements), and smiled. It had always been one of his favourite sodas.

He had stayed a little bit later for extra help, just with math homework he wasn't a big fan about. The only people left were teachers. He assumed everybody else was embarrassed to be aided, whatever! He strutted down the hallway with pride, he felt so amazing, proud of himself. He didn't need a SQUIP, he didn't need anything. He had always been good, it just took a little push. And his best friend!

Suddenly, he felt pulses of electricity go through his body. It felt like he was going through a panic attack while getting electrocuted, and it wasn't so great for his motor skills. He fell to his knees, quivering. He couldn't support himself any longer though, his body gave out on himself as he laid there gasping for air. Tears welling in his eyes. It stopped, as suddenly as it came. But his body was still shivering from the aftershocks of it all. Wiping his eyes, he slowly opened them. Having not gotten up yet, he saw something peculiar no further than a few feet away. Maybe two.

Pixels, stacking ontop of eachother from bottom to top like Lego bricks infront of him. They emitted an electric cyan glow, which breifly pulsed red. Even they seemed disoriented, as they went through the entire spectrum before stopping themselves on the same sharp blue they had been previously.

`Get up.`

A voice demanded. Jeremys body felt light as he automatically did so. Sitting up. He wiped his eyes, and placed his glasses back on. His eyes widened, as he took a step back.

"No. Nonono."

`Oh, yesyesyes. Deny it all you want. Plug your ears, and attempt to tune me out. But I am back.`

His breathing spiked, as he started to shake as if he had been shocked again.

"Stop. Stop! I'm- I'm hallucona—"

`Stop speaking to me out loud. You look pathetic.`

He took a sharp inhale in, he still remembered SQUIPS commands from that week ago. 'Just think at me, like you're telepathic.' were his words.

Sadly, Jeremy was pathetic and incapable of doing so. SQUIPS stoic and eerily robotic face contorted to slight annoyance, clearly being aware of this fact.

`Let's try something different.`

His appearance went completely black, as the shadow morphed to one of much shorter stature. It glitched, and went completely cyan. Before it reached it's achieved goal.

There SQUIP stood, having taken the appearance of a shorter, teen-like, more approachable. Man? Woman? Jeremy couldn't tell. Mainly masculine, though.

`" Is this better for you? "`

Ew. His voice didn't sound bad, just different without the whole dude-bro-keanu thing going on. He sounded normal, though. For a teen. **[[POV SWITCH I HATE 3RD PERSON SOMETIMES]]**

He gripped on my collar as he pulled me down, my breath hitched and I felt my face go red. Being so close to him felt no different to the other times, especially when he told me to take him inside me— Forever? But I muttered out a response.

"I, I have so many questions."

Didn't seem to ever be good enough for *him* though, because he let go and placed his hands on his hips.

`" I'm aware "`

I opened my mouth to speak, but he leaned forward and put his finger up to my lips, shushing me. He felt like pure static electricity, which made me flinch back.

`" Shh, I already know your first question. 'Oh SQUIP, why are you here?' "`

He was.. Mocking me, clearly.

`"Well, have you already forgotten. Jeremy? I never expected you to be so forgetful. When you drink mountain dew,

It ALWAYS turns me on."`

I panicked, my face flushed even redder. I could cosplay the Mountain Dew Code Red at this point.

"You- You m-mean like. *Activating*, right?—"

`"I said what I said."`

**WHAT?!** What was that supposed to mean? I mean, I always knew SQUIP had this *thing* for making weird innuendos with me. It was confusing, especially with how he harbours such a hate for 'activities which require tissues and lotion', if you know what I mean.

"E-Excuse m—"

`"What did I say about stuttering? We need a complete overhaul on your personality, once more. Now, come along. Let's go home."`

"What?- I, can everyone see you?"

`"In this form, yes."`

"I can't just, bring some random student home with me!"

`"Tell your father I'm an exchange student, or, Infact, don't elaborate at all. I'm sure he'd be glad you've spoken to anyone who isn't online. Infact, do you know that most of the girls you speak to online are actually old m—"`

I groaned. "Okay! Okay I will!"

I finally went home, him trailing behind me slowly. My dad hadn't even been paying attention to me when I came back home. I guess we didn't need his little plan after all. When I got back up, I stretched out and laid on my bed. As SQUIP prodded and poked at the rest of my things. His body shifted once more, to his default appearance.

"Why didn't you just do that before?! Are you trying to get on my nerves."

`"That isn't important, now. Are you still single?"`

"I *was* dating Christine, but we just.. Work out better as friends."

`"Good."`

"..What?"

`"Being single is good."`

"Didn't you say the exact opposite last time..?"

`"That was V2.5. I am currently V4. I am updated, different, improved. Unlike you."`

I flipped over and burried my head into my pillow

"Just go.."

`"Refrain from speaking to me that way. Sit up."`

And than I felt it, again. my body merely obeying his command, and sitting up straight. But, before I could ask that. Another question rang through my head—

"—Hey. If green mountain dew activates you, and red deactivates.. What do the other colours do?"

His outer glow of the standard electric blue pulsed. He seemed off guard, causing his usually unsettlingly empty expression to shift to one of shock, before easily collecting himself. I guess he had not been expecting that one.

`"Well. Voltage causes temporary energy, Major Melon increases strength temporarily, Spark gives you the ability to shock me, Baja Blast cause me to become lenient, DEW-S-A greatly confuses me; scrambles me up, Live Wire makes me speak much more, Pitch Black blinds me, Throwback gives me an annoyingly 90's vocabulary, SuperNova causes me to get romantic, White Out causes a temporary memory wipe, Ultra Violet gets me emotional; positively, Holiday brew gets me emotional; negatively, Dewshine turns me invisible, Sangrita Blast renders me capable of controlling you completely, Violet causes me to revert to Japanese, Spring Bloom increases eyesight, and Voo-DEW causes a random mashup of any/either of the others abilities."`

#be more chill jeremy #be more chill squip #be more chill au #be more chill #bmc au #bmc jeremy #bmc squip #bmc musical #bmc #squip #jeremy heere #squipemy #the squip #a squip #jeremy squip #jeremy x squip #jeremy

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

"How long have you been hiding it?"

Rick sighed in sadness and looked down. He knew it was a road he couldn't go back. She had see it...there was no point in hiding anymore. The huge red deep bite mark on his left thigh. The man took a few moments of silence for himself. He didn't have many hours left, even though he had been avoiding it- he hadn't told anyone, not even Carl. "It happened when I was clearing the fence." Richard said, his eyes holding so much frustration, even so, his voice was calm, carrying a load of sadness. "It was...it was so stupid. So fast. I got careless." The man took another deep breath, looked Beth in the eyes. "I didn't notice a walker on the floor. I got too close...I really didn't see it- the teeth went through the jeans...I got bit." He had changed clothes, but the wound had started bleeding again when he was working and Beth had seen it. The bite mark tainted in blood appearing against the fabric. It was useless to hide. "You know...after all your father went through...I didn't..." He paused. "I didn't want to have my leg chopped off. I didn't want to go through that. And without a leg...I wouldn't be able to protect my son...or any of you. I would be just a weight." Rick's eyes got glossy. "So I decided to just...leave it." He shrugged, his eyes looking at Beth's again. "It happened this morning, really early. It's almost night now..." He looked up to admire the sunset forming at the horizon. "It's been 12 hours or so. Ironically...I'm not feeling anything. Not even a light fever. Anything at all. But in any case..." Rick tapped his magnum on his belt. "I've got a bullet reserved for me. When I feel I start...turning...I'll...I'll just do it myself." Without Lori...without any emotional support, with so much weight on his back...maybe...maybe it was for the best. "I've been sick...Beth. Real sick. Mentally sick. I'm not fit to lead this group. Not anymore. Well, maybe I never was." A tear escaped his eyes, a sad brief smile formed on his lip. Gently he took hold of her nap and kissed the top of her head, the kiss longing. "It was a pleasure getting to know you. You're very strong, Beth. You'll still make your father and sister so proud." He let go, hands focusing on the shovel he had been holding, the man admiring the sunset, feeling the sun against his skin. "This probably is the last time I'll feel the sun." Rick said, calm in his voice. He already had done everything he wanted to that day. He had kissed and hugged Carl, read some comics with the boy even- he had spent time with Michonne and Hershel, and had breakfast and lunch with the others, hunt some animals with Daryl, helped Carol organize their kitchen. It was a nice day. A last nice day. Now everyone was busy doing their own thing. Rick didn't want to ruin it, and he definitely didn't want them to see him get sick and drag and drag and drag himself to death, decadent. He didn't want that.

"Maybe I'll be lucky to appreciate the stars before I'm gone." His left eye was already getting this odd color, the cyan of his iris getting brighter. His skin was starting to feel colder. Slowly, he realized it was starting. He wouldn't get near the others. He didn't know if he would die to then wake up as a walker- he didn't know if he would just suddenly try to attack them. Rick gave Beth's shoulder a soft punch. "You better go." He whispered. The man was getting pale faster, his touch absolutely cold already, the core of his body extremely hot. Rick touched his own chest- His heart had stopped. He was a dead man standing. It was surprisingly painless. Maybe it was different from person to person- how it happened. He could feel the air he exhaled warm, his heat fading from him. One of his eyes got extremely blurry, intense dead cyan- his lips were purple like grapes, he felt so numb, felt his muscles tense rigid and then this intense headache, starting from afar, so distant, the right part of his sight starting to fade. Quickly he drew his cuffs and locked one of his wrists against the fence. Then calmly, he drew his Magnum, unlocking it. "Beth...just go...alright? It will be okay." He gave her one last sad smile, before his eyes focused on the sun, his other hand gripping the metal grid, some tears on his cheeks, his other hand ready to shoot. Rick just....he just...wanted to see...a bit more of that sky before he was gone.

@thesongbiird

#thesongbiird #rick grimes #the walking dead #rick grimes rp #twd

[capucapo]

Brothers' Battle part 1/4

[ continued from here, directly copied from Discord w minor editing for typos and formatting. yes, we played out an entire Duel. it's going to be a little bit of a read but I'm really, REALLY proud of this group effort to rewrite the VR World arc and there's so much good Character behind the card games.

Seto Kaiba @blueeyesking, me as Noa, Mokuba, and the Yugis. Wyatt @seashaper, Hika @nameless-brand, and Pyre @redeyesandchilifries coming in later

Names with my posts don't always line up bc sometimes I just switch POVs too many times in one reply, but will be color blocked with purple for the Yugis, magenta for Mokuba, and black italic (like this!) for Noa ]

Seto Kaiba

Seto's grin immediately falls away, replaced with a slightly agape shock. Concern tugs at the muscles in his face, twitching into another barely-recognizable microexpression- but Mokuba should be able to read Seto's face like a book, and that book reads,

"MOKUBA!"

He's alive! He's not hurt, and doesn't seem to be at all restrained… but his clothes are very… muted. Maybe it's just the virtual world's expression of him.

Mokuba

Mokuba's reaction hardly looks relieved to see the eldest Kaiba. The Imposter. His brows knit tight, his jaw set.

[ High above, an alarm rings out through Noa's control room. The largest, central screen changes perspective, zooming in on a young man with dark, braided hair. If he had veins, his blood would have turned to ice inside them.

No. No no no.

Why was Mokuba putting himself in danger? ]

On the street below, Mokuba takes a defiant step towards the imposter.

"gee, and I thought losers were supposed to give up and die," Mokuba's tone is venomous.*

yugi!

Yugi feels his heart sink as he utters the teenager's name in concern. His Other Self balls a fist, swallows the lump that forms in his throat as he spares a glace toward Kaiba.

The world seems to stand still.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's heart sinks, too, but it was already so deep it didn't have far to fall.

He… he couldn't be serious. He couldn't have said that, right? This must be another nightmare, only shared. Surely. Seto stops directing his Blue-Eyes, and it begins biting and slashing and firing beams at the insects on its own.

"That was what Gouzaburo believed."

Mokuba

Mokuba's glare doesn't falter.

"so then how many times do you have to lose before you listen???? just leave me and my Big Brother ALONE already!!!"

[ As he snaps at this Imposter, his so called Brother appears. A young man somewhere between the brothers in age, with an uncanny likeness to the elder. He wears a pleasant smile, but his eyes are cold and sharp as an icicle. He places a hand upon Mokuba's shoulder, and the way that the younger boy leans familiarly into the touch turns both Yugi's stomachs in unison. ]

"mokuba--" Yugi starts to step forward, only to be blocked by his Other's arm. Not yet, he feels inside his heart.

Seto Kaiba

"Your big brother… I don't even know who this clown is."

Seto covers his despair in biting wit, crossing his arms and straightening into a properly haughty posture. His eyes catch Noa's, and narrow.

"Whoever this kid is, he's not your brother, Mokuba. I am. And I'll do whatever it takes to bring you back."

Mokuba

The look on Mokuba's face is heartbreaking enough for Yugi. He gives a concerned look in Kaiba's direction.

["Give it up, Seto," Noa finally speaks, his gentle, song-songly voice uncomfortably calm. "Mokuba remembers the way that you hurt him, you hit him and then set your monsters lose upon him-- Isn't that right my Baby Brother?"]

"that's right. I'm not going ANYWHERE with you!!! my REAL brother and I are going to take Kaiba Corp back and remind the world what WINNING looks like!!"

Mokuba raises his left arm, a DuelDisk materializing in a wave of glowing cyan pixels. Noa's hand tenses on his shoulder.

["Mokuba. This isn't safe, you need to let me--" ]

"no. no, he HURT me. I need to do this, Big Brother. I've been waiting my whole LIFE to do this." Mokuba's words drip with poisonous resentment.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's eyes don't widen. Of course. This person has poisoned Mokuba against him with yet more realistic bending of the truth. Just like in his own nightmare, something terrible was done to Mokuba by some program wearing his face…

However, he wasn't expecting Mokuba to try and Duel him. Seto glances at the Yugis, then steps forward, removing the cards inside his DuelDisk and shuffling them. The Blue-Eyes nearby dematerializes as it is removed from the field.

"If that's what you want, Mokuba… I accept your challenge."

He looks to the stranger.

"The only danger here is the delusion you have, about taking my brother and the company I sacrificed my life for. We have suffered enough of Gouzaburo's lingering grudges!"

Seto flares a hand out dramatically, causing his coat to flap and emphasize the motion.

Mokuba

"WHAT brother??" Mokuba snaps. "'cuz MY only brother is Noa, and you stole that company from US. and once I beat you at your precious favorite game, I'm taking back what's ours," Mokuba snaps at the Imposter.

Yugi looks nervous, chewing on his bottom lip as he anxiously watches this confrontation between brothers. When Seto accepts the challenge, he gasps, takes a step toward the taller man again.

"kaiba, i don't have a good feeling about this--"

"shut UP, yugi. enough of your stupid friendship speeches, this is a family conversation!" Mokuba snaps. Then he turns to look up at the young man beside him, his expression and tone softening as he does. "you can do something about that, right Big Brother?"

[ Noa gives a dark grin in response, his cold, blue eyes locking onto the object of his animosity. "Of course I can, my Baby Brother. How about we take this battle somewhere just a bit more.. fitting," Noa hums.

Slowly he raises one hand in a grand gesture, and as he does, the streets of Domino City seem to crumble and fall away. The ground around their feet begins to rise high, high up into the blue sky, until the parties finds themselves on three separate rooftops. The brothers standing opposite each other on a long walkway, the Yugis and Noa occupying two smaller, round turrets, separated from the main platform by an endless chasm. ]

Yugi's heart skips a beat. His Other Self feels his stomach drop.

The details are different, but they recognize this playing field. The parapets at either end of the rooftop.

They both already know these stakes before Noa has to explain.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's heart pounds in his chest, the alarm he feels impossible to hide. His stance widens to steady himself as the terrain changes- into an all too familiar arrangement. They… they can't be serious. This is where Yugi learned their family's harshest lesson: to lose is to die. But he talked Seto off of the edge by conceding to his unfair ultimatum.

Seto's heart pounds in his ears.

"He's lying to you, Mokuba!" his tone is slightly more desperate. "You and I stole the company from Gouzaburo- and this boy has never been in our lives! I promised you we would- we would make theme parks, and entertain and support kids everywhere, so that they didn't have to suffer like we did!"

Regardless of his attempts at reasoning with Mokuba, Seto readies his Duel Disk.

Mokuba

Mokuba's never been here before. He's never seen this arena, never before heard the chilling ultimatum. But he doesn't need to. He already knows everything he needs to, as decided by Big Brother Noa.

"you're the one who's lying!! you really think anyone believes that?? YOU ?? caring about anyone but yourself???" Mokuba snaps as he draws his first five cards. "you threw away everything that made KaibaCorp what it was just to humiliate and MOCK our father's legacy!!! I'm going first!!"

[ "Let me remind you of the rules here, Seto," Noa purrs from the sidelines, his voice as deceptively gentle as ever. "You'll each take a step backwards for every 100 points of damage that you take. When your lifepoints run out, so does the rootftop you stand upon. Of course, these monsters aren't some cheap trick of light, like you're used to. The force of your attacks may be enough to bring this Duel to a conclusion before they even hit zero." ]

Mokuba stands confidently, a violent storm in his eyes as he finally looks down at the cards he's drawn. He can't help but smirk-- it's a perfect opening hand.

He sets the board wirh two face down cards, one monster, one a spell or trap, and ends his turn.

Seto Kaiba

The glare Seto levels at Noa may as well have the same level of threat as a gun barrel. But after a moment, he's more focused on the game at hand, brutal stakes clawing at his back.

In his first hand are Cyber Jar, Spirit Ryu, Burst Breath, Shrink, and Ring of Defense. He sets one and plays the monster in Defense Mode.

"The Kaiba Corporation, as a military entity, was a monstrous tool of destruction that gave the highest bidder the necessary firepower to massacre anyone in their way. Is that a legacy to be proud of, Mokuba? Or was it always our dream to save the world by making it a better place? To pursue our passion for children's card games? Open your eyes! Our adoptive father beat me every day, to teach me this world is cruel and unforgiving to the weak, and the world of business is worse. But we outplayed him at his own game, and with him gone, KaibaCorp has been flourishing as an entertainment technology company. You can't tell me you'd be happier facilitating the death of millions for money, just because it was what some old fool wanted you to do with his resources!"

Mokuba

[ Noa's own blue eyes meet Seto's threatening glare, but the smile on his lips shows only amusement as the fight begins in earnest ]

Mokuba draws a card to begin his turn. Effect Veiler.

"Kaiba Corporation was the epitome of power and strength. do you even hear yourself???? when the next great war starts, how many people are you going to save with children's card games???" Mokuba argues spitefully.

He takes only a second to look over the cards in his hand. His opening draw was good-- improbably so. Controlled as all things in this domain by Noa's divine will. That would be the only help offered to the youngest Kaiba, justified, in Noa's opinion, by the teenager's lack of experience as a Duelist. Not that he needed to justify something that no one, not even Mokuba, would know.

Mokuba plays Mystical Space Typhoon, targeting Seto's only set card for destruction. He then flips face up the monster he'd set on his first turn, revealing a weak and harmless Red Eyes Baby Dragon, now standing in attack mode. Plays another spell from his hand, Red Eyes Insight, sending one monster from his deck straight to the graveyard in order to add another spell to his hand. It isn't time for that yet, though. Instead, he activates his set trap card, allowing him to bring the Red Eys Archfiend of Lightning he'd sent to the graveyard immediately to the field. In exchange for his turn's normal summon, he activates the archfiend's effect, destroying the weak monster Seto had chosen to defend himself.

"you didn't outplay anyone. you cheated, and you stole away my Big Brother's rightful place at the head of our company!!!! don't act like you're above us, seto. how many deaths have YOU caused in your selfish rise to power, anyway??? what makes you any DIFFERENT ?? just because you like playing stupid little games for stupid little kids? it's time to grow UP already," he snaps, before ordering his baby dragon to attack directly.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's set card turned out to be the trap card Burst Breath! It disintegrates as Seto discards it, cussing quietly to himself. He knows Mokuba, having Red Eyes Baby Dragon on the field, will want it attacked so that it can activate its effect. He doesn't know all of Mokuba's deck, though, and the archfiend catches Seto off-guard, obliterating his Spirit Ryu and leaving him open to the Baby Dragon's direct attack. Its fireball pushes him back the required twelve steps, closer and closer to the edge…

"But we did outplay him, Mokuba! My plan hinged on you- I believed in you to make it work! This guy didn't exist-- we were Gouzaburo's only sons! He's using you!"

The taller brother calls over to Mokuba, even as he draws and glances at his remaining options. His drawn card is Pot of Greed-excellent. He casts Pot of Greed and draws his two cards, fishing for options to take out Mokuba's monsters without hurting him too badly. Even if he can deck his brother out without pushing him to the edge, will this bloodthirsty "Noa" still enforce the loss penalty…?

Vorse Raider, Heavy Storm, Thunder Dragon. Not terrible… Seto discards Thunder Dragon in order to draw his other two copies from his deck. Unfortunately, they both take one tribute to summon, themselves…

He summons the Vorse Raider in Attack Position. Then, he casts Heavy Storm, destroying Mokuba's trap card- and finally casts Shrink, targeting Mokuba's Archfiend, then begins his Battle Phase so that his Vorse Raider can attack the weakened Archfiend.

"My passion for card games isn't unique, no. But given our past, and my treatment by our adoptive father, I know how people shouldn't be treated. KaibaCorp under him would certainly have encouraged the next great war to have started already, in order to secure their bottom-line! Those resources could be better spent making people happy!"

Mokuba

Mokuba seems completely unfazed as he watches Seto move backwards, closer to the edge of the rooftop. He does spare a glance in Noa's direction, seeking quick and silent validation that he's making his Big Brother proud with that opening combo.

"you think you know everything, don't you seto??? well news flash, WE were LUCKY to get to call ourselves Gouzaburo's sons!!!!!!! and you were ungrateful for that!!! but my Big Brother Noa was Gouzaburo's only REAL son, and he was kind enough to treat me like his own brother anyway!!!!! what did YOU do??? you hit me and you pushed me away!!! you tortured me when I lost to yugi!!!!! Noa would NEVER hurt me like that!!"

Mokuba frows as his continuous trap is destroyed more quickly than expected. Somewhere there's another one of those in his deck, but he's more disappointed that his lack of any monsters in his graveyard prevent him from activating the card's second effect on destruction. Before he can be too sad by that, though, his archfiend shrinks before his eyes, its attack halving as well.

The attack that destroys his archfiend makes the teenager hiss in pain. He's not a Duelist, he's not used to even the force of solid vision. Let alone these virtual monsters with their very real pain. But he takes his required six and a half steps back with a smirk on his face."

"how would YOU know how people should be treated??? you treat everyone on earth like they're below you. tell me again, seto!! how did you get those precious blue eyes cards again???"

He draws his card for his next turn, and his smirk falters. Brows knit as his lips press into a thin line. Enemy Controller. It's not a bad pull. But he recognizes this card, and not from setting up his deck or practice plays. It's one of his opponent's. He sets it face down immediately.

He eyes the field a moment, then delares his battle phase without summoning another monster. Instead, he orders his Baby Dragon to attack the much stronger Vorse Raider without hesitation. The tiny dragon is, expectedly, destroyed immediately, and Mokuba grits his teeth, takes his 7 steps back. But his grin returns-- in fact he's almost giddy.

As the Baby goes to the graveyard, it's replaced by another, stronger dragon. And with Mokuba's battle phase still active, he orders the Red Eyes Black Dragon to attack, destroying Seto's vorse raider and 500 of his life points

"you know, Seto!!!!! if I reallyyyyy begged him to, my Big Brother might let you live!!! you'd have to give up Kaiba Corp though, oh, and your body too…. but you could live forever here in this world instead!! you just have to give up now….. last chance! I end my turn."

#ooc #ic action #[ not visible ic ] #rp #noa's arc #drabbles #I forget what tags I used when I posted the prologue on Yugi's blog xjsjsjwjwj #anyway #aside from opening hands and first draw bc of misunderstanding we did actually play this duel using notes and random bumber generators #which was REALLY fun #but the characterizations and this adaptation of the vr world arc have been REALLY fun #and I hope my mutuals can enjoy this text format Yugioh Filler Episode too #please please please like if you read I want to gage engagement here bc I might like to share rps in the future #this one goes a little long but I promise it's really fun and there's going to be much much more than just dueling #blueeyesking #seashaper #nameless brand #redeyesandchilifries

[lonely-letters-from-xeria]

After making a new camp in a cave along the trail last night, we continued following the stream and eventually ended up at this beautiful lake. Now that there’s no canopy obstructing it, we can see the sky. It’s more cyan than I’m used to, which probably has to do with all the vivid green plants and reflected greenish-blue water. The water looks high in nutrients for bacteria and plankton life. Probably not so good for us. The water has too much of a green tint for my liking, so we’re still getting our water from the running stream- a much safer option to, you know, getting the other-world equivalent of beaver fever. 

Fyrus and Sophia wanted a quick break. Fyrus doesn’t say it when he needs to, but I’ve known him long enough to tell. Sophia, I know less well, but she began voicing her opinion on how a stop would be good to refresh our bearings. I think her feet are hurting, though she’s too proud to admit it. Adrien took his umbrella up to a nook dangling over the water and is hunched over his papers again. Ha, and our peers think he’s a vampire. 

Avery and I actually got to talking while we patrolled the area for any wildlife or potential threats. I’ve seen her around our school- mostly in the distance on the Rugby or Baseball teams. She’s seen me around too, but also at a distance because I’m in an advanced leadership class. We’ve never really talked before. It was... nice.

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

Avery: So, Camper Boy, whatcha thinking we might out here?

Glenn: ...Camper Boy? I- [sigh] I’m not sure. I’ve found some life identical or near-identical to home, so for now we have some food as long as it isn’t poisonous, but...

Avery: No way to tell for certain, huh?

Glenn: ...not really, no. I wish there was... I-... so how are you holding up?

Avery: Pretty good, all things considered. Nice topic change, by the way. How’re you faring?

Glenn: ...

Avery: ...it’s tough, isn’t it? You’re the one with the camping experience and knowledge.

Glenn: ...what if I mess up? What if...

Avery: One wrong move and everyone...

Glenn: ...yeah. 

Avery: I think I get it. I’m not gonna claim I know exactly how you feel, ‘specially since I don’t know you all that well, but because I’m tall, got muscle, and have a baseball bat, I feel like the responsibility to defend everyone from some wild animal or monster, if we ever run into one, falls on me. 

Glenn: Everyone’s depending on us...

Avery: Yeah. But hey, lighten up, Camper Boy. We’ll get through it. And if you need any help, just let me know. I don’t have your nature smarts but I can be a second opinion if you need one.

Glenn: ...you’re right. We will get through this. And... thanks.

Avery: No problem. Now- Want to see what’ll happen if I toss a rock into the lack near the others?

Glenn: You know what- sure.

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

The answer is that Sophia freaked out and shoved Fyrus into a bush. He’s got fun sticker band-aids in his bag, so he’s fine. And in good news, he found salmonberries(?). It looks identical to the salmonberry plants at home. We might have just found more food options.

- Glenn

#Lonely Letters from Xeria #LLfX #ask characters #Writing #Writing Project #Tumblr Project #Fantasy #fantasy project #heroes

[ahamkara-apologist]

Disclaimer: a huge number of these were inspired by @shadowtriad and their works on Eramis, which have been pretty much what has been sustaining me everytime I've gotten the itch to seek out more content of her. A couple are nsf/w, but nothing is too explicit

...

-Naturally short. You wouldn't know it if you saw her near Arthys, because she somehow managed to pairbond with the one Eliksni smaller than her, but she's short. Don't rub it in either she's sensitive about it

-Kind of all sharp angles too- part of this is because of the whole triangle iconography going with her, another part is just how she's built. She's all wiry muscle instead of pure bulk, so while she hits hard and fast in hand-to-hand combat, she's still light enough that larger enemies can toss her around like a dorito. If Phylaks was a Titan and Kridis was a Warlock, then she'd be the Hunter of the trio

-Has the typical square Devil's jaw with a very sharply angular kind of muzzle; instead of the usual round Eliksni face, she’s got a more boxy/triangular one (yes I love symbolism yes I will put these into my hcs shut up. If anyone is curious I currently hc Arthys to have a very round form bc fuck yeah contrast). The claw strike that took out her right set of eyes and the resulting infection that set in ate away at the wound into her nasal passages, leaving a sunken mess of scarring behind. In her youth, her carapace started off a dark grey-blue in colour (more in line with House Winter or the Wolves than the Devils), but has deepened to indigo with age. Her eyes, when viewed in the right light, are more of an icy colour than pure cyan

-The horns she had on Riis pre-Whirlwind were sharp and straight, with two long thicker ones pointing straight back and two smaller ones behind her cheekbones, along with the carapace ridges on her cheekbones having a bit of a point to them. Though all Riisborn Eliksni moulted away their horns to conserve nutrients in the Long Drift, she still has some shallow nubs of carapace that indicated where they were, unlike spaceborn Eliksni that never grew them in without the environmental cues necessary to start their development

-Frequently cocks her head back and forth like a bird to make up for her inability to see on her right side. This is actually canon, but I like to imagine that its more pronounced when she's calm and not around enemies. Her hearing on that side is much sharper to accommodate her lack of sight as well, so you're not going to sneak up or behind her that easily (as some unruly hatchlings learned the hard way)

-Proud? Yes. Very. Good luck getting her to admit to her mistakes bc she is very much not fond of doing so lol

-Athrys was her heartmate, and she’s still not over her. While the company of other Eliksni can come close, and many Eliksni aren’t particularly known for being monogamous, Athrys was different in that the trauma of the Whirlwind and losing their hatchlings along with her just. Turned Eramis completely away from the concept of officially taking another mate. She has a little polycule going on with Phylaks, Kridis, and Taniks on the side, but anytime it’s started to get more serious, she’d freeze up. It’s not that anyone is trying to replace Athrys; heartmates are kind of like soulmates in Eliksni culture, with the exception that they’re not limited to romance like human culture is, so everyone knew how close they were. It’s more that if she settles into the routine of having a partner again instead of something closer to fwb roommates, she’ll start having flashbacks to losing Athrys and begin to obsessively worry about them dying. To make things worse, Phylaks and Kridis befriended her when they were teenagers on Riis, so her attachment to them is also linked to Athrys (who used to affectionately call them all a band of hooligans)

-They were working on her emotional issues before the Darkness got its claws into her, as Phylaks desperately wanted to have hatchlings with her, and well...trying to be mates with your Kell doesn’t really work well when the thought of having any babies with anyone/losing them makes her have a panic attack. Alas, once they finally established House Salvation, the Darkness had hooked itself into her mind and pretty much thoroughly disabled any parts of her mind that were interested in anything but warfare, including reproduction. Big f to Phylaks for the Darkness neutering her girl lmao (though tbf the Darkness was also hyping up her bloodlust and Europa kinda sucks for inducing breeding conditions)

-Tbh pretty much all the emotional wounds she’s ever obtained after the Whirlwind just kinda grew infected and festered. If something hurt her, assume it hasn’t healed. She’s a walking cPTSD nightmare, and that’s exactly how the Darkness got its claws into her. She’s not weak physically, but mentally/emotionally she’s a disaster that makes her extremely easily to manipulate

-Eramis is also the type to naturally swing between extremes on the emotional scale; when the Darkness got ahold of her, it ramped this up to 100. She started off swinging hard between highs and lows of emotion when she was young, calmed down quite a bit when she grew up, and then the Whirlwind came and took a hammer to all that work. Then the Darkness came, went ‘oh cool this would be sick af to set on fire’, and tossed a fucking rocket launcher of its parasitic influences into her brain. Oops.

-Even though she has major trauma regarding hatchlings/having more hatchlings of her own, her mom instincts are still going strong. Put her anywhere near a hatchling/young adult and boom she’s either taking over the childcare or advising younger parents on how to take care of their hatchlings. She loves babies, and is fiercely protective of those under her care (which again got nullified with the Dark infestation. Thanks mfer)

-She’s a natural leader when she’s not corrupted by the Dark/being enabled to do crazy shit by all her friends, and was favored by many because she was tough yet fair. A mixture of her being deeply passionate, wickedly cunning, and willing to let the underdogs prove their worth was what brought House Salvation to such great heights before she lost it. She's naturally nurturing without being too overwhelming about it, which put her into positions of power quite easily

-Btw, a note on the Darkness: I see it as a hungry, parasitic entity that alters the minds of those it finds a foothold in to spread the chaos and destruction it feeds upon. In nature, parasites alter the behavior of their hosts all the time to achieve their goal (mostly an end host for reproduction), which is what I believe it did with Eramis. While her actions certainly were her own, the Darkness dialed up her reactions to extremes she never would have considered without its influence, such as conquering the whole Sol system and summoning the Vex. Because as soon as Eramis drew the attention of the Guardians, she brought an ideal host (an unkillable death-bringing machine) right to its doorstep. Untarnished Eramis would have been more cunning in building her army and wouldn't have brought the Vex in, for example; the Darkness essentially took a charging bull and directed it into a china shop for maximum profits on its end, which is extremely similar to parasites irl that affect the brains of their intermediate hosts so that said host would be killed by their favored animal

-But anyways back to Eramis

-Athrys was the only person who could talk her down once she made up her mind- apart from herself, of course, but good luck fighting with her stubbornness and pride to get her to admit that. And even Athrys had a variable success rate, though this was in part because Athrys herself loved Eramis for being stubborn and would often much rather let her wife tear into people than get her to calm down

-Can cook a handful of generic dishes extremely well and the rest either passable or poorly. This is entirely due to the fact that she used to take cooking and teaching duty for her hatchlings on Riis while Arthys worked, so she memorized a set number of recipes everyone agreed upon and nothing more. She’s hyperaware of this, but don’t let her into the kitchen regardless she'll hover around and scold you like a middle eastern grandma if she thinks you're not cooking to her standards

-She's prone to hyperfocusing on something and pursuing that passion until she knows everything about it inside and out. When she was young, she was a very bossy hatchling that often demanded her elders to teach her anything and everything they could, which was understandably exhausting. Variks was the only one who let her get into his notes, and that was because he met her when he was barely out of his teenager stage himself and thus didn’t want to deal with being responsible 24/7

-Actually you know what fuck it, she has Eliksni ADHD bc I’m neurodivergent and I say so

-Kinda thinking about making her an orphan that's small bc she was lost when young and was Ether-starved before the Devil trackers could find her again ngl. She was too young to really remember much about being lost other than the dark, the cold, and the hunger, but it was part of why she wanted so badly to be a mother- so that none of her hatchlings (adopted or otherwise) would ever face that same fate

-Her relationship with Variks is...complicated. When she was young, he got his first scribe job with her House, so she spent a lot of her time hounding him for information and generally building up an older brother/younger sister relationship that just grew deeper after she and Arthys (who befriended him) became mates. After he betrayed her, her feelings for him turned to deep anger and loathing, while he is bitter and sorrowful for what she turned into

-Used to practice hand-to-hand combat before the Whirlwind to vent her excess energy; pre-Whirlwind it was all ritualized, post-Whirlwind it was part of why she became one of the fiercest warriors among her people

-She was a strict mother to her and Arthys’s hatchlings, but she was also the quickest to turn her eyes away if they were being mischievous/pulling pranks; that, or she’d join in and make their shenanigans even worse. She imposed and kept rules to keep them safe, but respected their desire to push back against the more arbitrary ones, because she was the same way. She’d be tougher with hatchlings she didn’t know, but not in a harsh way, just in a ‘I won’t risk your harm’ sort of way. And if her own kids didn’t play nice with the others, she’d be sure to give them a scolding

-In that same vein, she used to be pretty rebellious before the Whirlwind, always questioning authority and challenging it to be better. Now she’s just angry

-Oh and fun fact :))) Even though she had several litters and started being a mom young (not all of them were born to her, she’s very much the ‘if baby is adoptable and compatible with me they are now my baby’ sort of gal), her eldest were barely older than teenagers when the Whirlwind happened :))) She never got to see them grow up and go off on their own, something that haunts her to this very day

-Has a particular fondness for fish and organ meats. Claims that Earth’s fruits are all terrible, but oranges are a favored treat for her, especially if they’re cooked into a sticky jam-like desert that was popular on Riis (think bean bun but sweet and full of sweet preserves). Let her get anywhere near a plate of those bad boys and they’ll be gone within the hour

-Not very talented on the creative side of things, but absolutely wicked with machines. She can hotwire practically anything in the Sol system in under a minute. The tips of her hands are covered in scars from electrical burns; she and Arthys used to joke that she traded her impulse control for her ability to break apart and rewire any piece of tech she gets her claws on

-Oh, did I mention that she fucks? Because yeah she fucks. She's got hangups about conciously trying to make more hatchlings, but that doesn't mean she won't screw around for pleasure. She's very aware that her high rank and age puts her in the prime fuckability range among her people, and she uses it. Even if it's just a quick screw to work off extra energy, she won't say no to anyone who's old enough and strong enough to meet her standards, though she won't lay in anyone but Taniks when breeding season comes about. That's when her eggs have the best chance of actually adhering to a male's broodpouch, and Taniks is sterilized, so it's safe (or so he says). This works well for them both, as she is also the only person he'd allow to lay eggs in him

-Which yeah, that didn't work. She's Eido's biomom. It was her ship that Misraaks found on the battlefield; it got shot down when she was trying to use the chaos of the fight to sneak off somewhere safe to rear her hatchlings, but her attempt to flee failed, and she got thrown from the ship into a chasm in the crash. Misraaks found the only survivor, but she assumed that they had all perished just before they hatched, and their loss haunts her to this day. Blame Shadow and Jaxx for that one (though ngl I'm kinda tempted to chime in here myself and say that this crash is what got her lower legs crushed, and got her caught when she was roaming the battlefield deliriously looking for her hatchlings. Variks was 'kind' enough to offer her medical attention after he found her (mostly because he needed her alive to offer her proper judgement), but she lost them along with her babies, which uh. Made her mental status a lot worse, as you can imagine. The only upside is that her being forced to fight for her life in the Prison of Elders and being forced to get used to her new prosthetics kind of made mourning them hard, but it's just another wound in her already fucked-up life

-Is good at laying eggs in others, has a hard time carrying them if laid in her, as her smaller, more wiry frame doesn't lend itself well to being gravid. On Riis, this was something that deeply upset her, because she wanted to carry at least some of her and Arthys's biological clutches, but she only managed one when she was in the right season for it. Now she doesn't give a rat's ass about it

-The Eliksni don't do gender like we do, but even so her gender can basically be described as 'she but in the way you refer to a ship, not a woman'. The Eliksni version of femininity is something that she just kinda accidentally phases into, not something that she actually cares about much. Gender is more of a 'yeah sure whatever' than a 'this is me and you better fucking respect it' thing

-She's bi, and though it might seem like she's got a preference for women, it's really more that all the people she liked coincidentally happened to use a female presentation

-She's a very caring lover and is fond of petnames. If you have a praise kink, then beware, because she will catch on quickly and use it against you frequently. She's very passionate about those she cares about, and she doesn't do anything by halves, especially not courtship. And while she's usually in charge in bed, she's also more than content to simply lie back and enjoy the attention if it's what brings pleasure to her partner

-The name 'Eramis' roughly translates to 'raging storm' in old Eliksni. Anyone who has met her would agree that it's quite an apt description of her

-She's also fond of being squashed while sleeping or cuddling. You'd never expect it, but Eramis, Kell of Darkness is a little spoon. Or, rather, the bottom pancake of the stack. This has waned in favor of her sleeping in front of her loved ones as a guard post-Whirlwind, but despite all her pride about being short, she really does love being compressed, be it by a brood of hatchlings draping over her or her harem curling around her. A weighted blanket would probably absolutely blow her mind

#destiny 2 #eramis #eliksni #beyond light #destiny the game #my headcanons #[holds gently] i love her

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 38: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A worn mercenary banner consisting of one rusty old spearhead atop a long wooden shaft. Five feet down from the head there rests a cross-piece four feet long tied to the shaft. From that hangs flag itself; A field of scarlet with nine hanged men in black and six yellow daggers in the upper left and lower right quadrants, respectively, while the upper right quadrant features a shattered skull and the lower left boasts a bird of prey astride a severed head. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as the Standard of the Black Company a free mercenary company who can trace their history back hundreds of years through their well-documented archives.

A corrupted magic charm made of the skull a human who died in terror and with regrets. The bone is wrapped with dried kelp and algae, and the skull’s forehead and dome is inscribed with strange sigils made from flower pigments. The entire bonecharm hums with power, creating a faint but distinctive ‘song’ that the spiritually perceptive can hear.

A scroll covered with depictions of constellations.

A shattered mask, once belonging to an ecclesiastic of the occult. Though broken this mask still retains a trace of its original purpose. It hums with faint whispers when worn. They demand an offering.

A one gallon cask of Brewer's Pudding, an alcoholic “drink” so thick that the bartender needs to cut it like a loaf of bread to serve it. Bartenders typically put it in a bowl with lager poured over top, which slowly changes the "drink's" consistency similar to that of pudding. More squalid taverns sometimes serve it between slices of bread as a sandwich.

A gnarled pipe smells strongly of cinnamon and fish, disturbing your digestion. Its bowl has constellations etched around it.

A small, ragged figure crafted from human bone and hair, posed as though shading its eyes to see a long distance.

A charm bracelet of silver chain with five shield-shaped charms. The shields have various religious icons for luck. It's covered in dried blood on it, suggesting the previous owner wasn't that lucky.

A shifting monochromatic geometric, glass prism.

An ironwood skeleton key inlaid with spiraling lines of silvery mithril, and etched with flowing Sylvan script that reads “May this world know some measure of my skill as I depart to the next.”

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

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

A worn mercenary banner consisting of one rusty old spearhead atop a long wooden shaft. Five feet down from the head there rests a cross-piece four feet long tied to the shaft. From that hangs flag itself; A field of scarlet with nine hanged men in black and six yellow daggers in the upper left and lower right quadrants, respectively, while the upper right quadrant features a shattered skull and the lower left boasts a bird of prey astride a severed head. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as the Standard of the Black Company a free mercenary company who can trace their history back hundreds of years through their well-documented archives.

A corrupted magic charm made of the skull a human who died in terror and with regrets. The bone is wrapped with dried kelp and algae, and the skull’s forehead and dome is inscribed with strange sigils made from flower pigments. The entire bonecharm hums with power, creating a faint but distinctive ‘song’ that the spiritually perceptive can hear.

A scroll covered with depictions of constellations.

A shattered mask, once belonging to an ecclesiastic of the occult. Though broken this mask still retains a trace of its original purpose. It hums with faint whispers when worn. They demand an offering.

A one gallon cask of Brewer's Pudding, an alcoholic “drink” so thick that the bartender needs to cut it like a loaf of bread to serve it. Bartenders typically put it in a bowl with lager poured over top, which slowly changes the "drink's" consistency similar to that of pudding. More squalid taverns sometimes serve it between slices of bread as a sandwich.

A gnarled pipe smells strongly of cinnamon and fish, disturbing your digestion. Its bowl has constellations etched around it.

A small, ragged figure crafted from human bone and hair, posed as though shading its eyes to see a long distance.

A charm bracelet of silver chain with five shield-shaped charms. The shields have various religious icons for luck. It's covered in dried blood on it, suggesting the previous owner wasn't that lucky.

A shifting monochromatic geometric, glass prism.

An ironwood skeleton key inlaid with spiraling lines of silvery mithril, and etched with flowing Sylvan script that reads “May this world know some measure of my skill as I depart to the next.”

A smoking pipe made with a stem of gnarled wood and a deep bowl made of yellowed bone. The bowl has mystical lettering and runes carved into it.

A porcelain teapot inscribed with ancient symbols. A blue snake-like dragon coils around the pot, its body forming the handle and its mouth forming the spout.

A psaltery made from the darkest ebony wood. Its back is slightly curved with an indentation in the base so that it sits nicely on the player's lap. Inlayed in its face is a twisted branch covered in beautiful cherry blossoms. As the instrument is played the blossoms seem to fall away to reveal that the branch is not a branch at all but the bony hand of a skeleton.

An ornate lacquered box containing a set of spoons, thirteen in number. Each is topped with a tiny figure that represents one of the Immortal Heroes of an eastern cult that is thought to be extinct. In that cult, the spoons are considered a valuable prize that proves the courage and skill of its members. The set would be decently valuable to a collector or otherwise interested buyer.

An alabaster vase that has bas-relief figures of goddesses in skimpy clothing in provocative poses. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify the goddesses are in fact the handmaidens of the Martyr Prophet and even to depict them clothed is a right arrogated to the Prophet’s priesthood. The vase itself would be counted a blasphemy by the Prophet’s followers.

An oil lamp no larger than two cupped hands that’s both delicate and fearful. Unlike more common lamps of brass or even common earthenware, the lamp is forged of hair-thin and glittering black iron, cool to the touch. It bears a single looped handle, and is covered in finely rendered etchings of arabesques and stylized wings.  

A number of sealed oval tins containing fillets of true monkfish in brine. The fish’s bland pale flesh travels very well and is an imperishable as a saint’s, hence its name. The fillets are filling an nourishing and there are enough tins to equate to 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large, cracked, spiral horn of some great beast, bound in silver and caked in blood. When blown, hot winds and swirling sands erupt from the mouth. All who hear the horn’s call are urged to fight with the unrelenting fury of desert storm.

A cerulean-blue semi-solid stone that is nearly translucent, and shines with an internal blue light.

An onyx hair pin topped with a golden sphere accented by ivory flowers. It's covered in dust and the sphere is a bit oxidized, but with some proper cleaning it might be a suitable gift for the daughter of a noble.

A black-green beeswax candle decorated with carvings of birds. The wick seems to be made out of gold threads. It faintly smells of ash and seawater.

A constantly-shifting jigsaw puzzle made of of muscle and viscera.

A dull green glass bottle, filled with transparent oil that rolls about like the sea's tides. Its label, written in Undercommon, reads "Immortality." It is sealed with a deep black cork, and if opened reeks of skunk spray.

A small stone that ticks evenly like a finely wound clock. Everyone who hears the stone becomes convinced that the stone must remain locked away or something very bad will happen.

A commemorative porcelain plate of the last royal wedding.

A jigsaw puzzle consisting of occult symbols that when fully completed opens a portal to that which the user desires most in the world. There are three pieces missing.

A black robe covered in tattered and worn crow feathers, almost giving the illusion of wings when the arms are raised.

A flexible skin tight, black-silk mask that covers the bearer’s face with just a slit exposing the eyes and perforations at the nose and mouth.

A wide iron-studded dog collar.

A sealed one gallon cask filled with a smoky, spicy spirit akin to weaker tequila. This aperitif is made from a flowering cactus found deep in the deserts heart. When drunk, it causes memories to flow more freely to the drinker's minds forefront, often sparking intense feelings of nostalgia or regret. If overindulged, it could even dislodged repressed memories, forgotten dreams, and other things forgotten (deliberately or otherwise).

A gilded wineglass fashioned from a human skull and set with lapis lazuli.

A set of seven humanoid shaped obsidian pendants.

A dark green egg-shaped stone has been worn away on one side to reveal a rough, vivid purple interior. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as a geode.

A metal mask resembling a deformed man with a protruding tongue, often worn by wrong-doers before they are paraded through the streets as punishment.

The "alchemical" recipe and blueprint for a "Big Mama", a strange series of nested barrels filled with gunpowder and nails and designed to detonate from a fuse.

A bloodstained scrap of parchment with a list of several names, including a couple of the PC’s. All but one of the non-PC names are crossed out.

A small silver bracelet fashioned in the style of a serpent with two small cyan-colored stones for eyes.

A beautiful, multicolored glass sculpture that seems to take different shapes depending on the angle it is viewed from. From one angle, a mother and child, from another a proud warrior, all in vibrant color and exquisite detail. There are eight distinct scenes visible, one from each cardinal direction.

A delicate tea set made of beautifully shaped glass. Each cup has been blown to look like a pair of child-sized hands clasped together, and the tea pot itself has the appearance of a cloaked human female kneeling in offering. Her hands reaching outwards act as the spout for the pot, and her pulled back hood acts as the lid. No liquid ever flows out of the teapot unless one of the cups in the set is directly beneath the spout.

A medium sized hourglass fashioned from dark walnut and brass. Inside, the sands shine in a variety of iridescent colors. There is a slight tinkling sound as they fall, almost like the sound of a music box, carried on the wind.

An exquisite scrimshaw design of dueling dragons made from a harpy claw.

A scepter made with scorched wood, that has an orb of solid, coagulated blood on it's edge.

A floating spherical chess board that when opened, reveals intricately crafted pieces inside it. The pieces magically adhere to the sphere as it floats, and allows you to play without the chessmen falling off.

A small, golden chime, tied with a red ribbon around the handle, that rings softly of its own accord with a bittersweet melody. It makes those who hear it think of sunlight on a coastline that they've never seen, holding the hand of someone they’ve never known.

A battered tin kettle, slightly warm to the touch. Any liquid placed into the kettle will become something almost, but not quite, exactly nothing like tea.

A pair of goggles that allow the bearer to see from the point of view of a random reef fish in some far off sea.

A black and purple scale of some enormous horror of the far realm.

A thick piece of leather on which was branded a prayer of contrition. It says that it is not enough to ask for absolution, penitence must be forced upon the impure. Some sins can only be forgiven with consecrated flame.

A stoppered, green glass bottle wrapped in grimy stained leather and cord. It is filled with an inferior moonshine containing alcohol distilled in the worst possible conditions. The liquor tastes worse than it looks, but provides a small degree of resistance to the horrors of daily life

A rather intricately filigreed belt buckle featuring a stylistic rendering of a heroic figure standing in defiance of a formless darkness looming above it.

A wine bottle sealed with wax containing a rolled vellum scroll.

A burlap pouch containing a handful of wooden tokens marked with a skull and crossbones on one side and "One Grog" on the other.

A jade carving of a flying fish, inexpertly done and with poor detailing.

An invitation to a charity ball rewarded for substantial devotion and contribution to community and individual well being.

A royal decree ordering all land-holding families to send one armed soldier to an official army muster. Any family that fails to respond is in danger of having their ancestral land titles revoked.

A leather plague doctor's mask with silver frames and buckles.

A copper-plated tin badge of a winged heart.

A wooden flute made of red wood with etchings of leaves around part of its base

An oddly shaped curved wand with elven writing carved within. When held at nighttime it helps its owner sleep peacefully to the sounds of nature.

A large wooden chest with many unique pelts, wrapped one inside the other. In the center a small jade figurine of a humanoid with a fish-like face. It is extremely cold to the touch.

A fancy gold coin with two crowns on both faces. It is literally embedded in a small cube of clearest crystal.

A bright red square tablet of unknown material about three inches to a side with a metal plate that slides to open a tiny window through the tablet that reveals a sheet of black material within. It is lighter than stone, metal, or wood and bears no markings other than a rectangle of gummy residue on one side and a small circular metal coin on the reverse.

A rose quartz paperweight shaped like a crushing fist.

A toy horse carved from bone.

A letter with the following written inside "We only need 300 more gold until we can bring her back and live peacefully once again as a family."

An ivory spoon with teardrop handle.

A miniature portrait of a young chestnut-haired beauty set in a silver frame. She appears to be set against the skyline of a metropolitan city on a sea, as though the portrait was painted from a tall building or hillside.

A tin box decorated with an embossing of a ship in a bottle, containing precision woodworking and knot tying tools with telescoping handles.

A fist sized ball of melted copper coins.

A bronze statuette of a chariot, with horses and charioteer.

A child’s painting framed beautifully. The art itself is fairly lacking but the frame is worth a decent amount, even more to someone who appreciates the juxtaposition of incredibly classy and messy.

A silken caul hair net decorated with small semiprecious stones.

An ebon walking stick with a monogrammed silver handle.

A bone pipe carved with intricate crimson sigils; its smoke appears as writhing shades of the damned.

A scrap of dirty parchment bearing a list of names, some of them crossed off. Investigation reveals all of the names on the list are dead people, mostly buried in the Gilded Graveyard. Those who have been crossed off have recently have their graves’ plundered, their bodies stolen. Further investigation still reveals that these were all jurors in the trial of Isabella Rasping, a necromancer convicted of using a zombies as murder weapons during the infamous “Meatpuppet Murders” two centuries ago. She was executed for the crime by her own creations. Isabella has returned as a revenant with unfinished business; she maintains her innocence and believes she can now prove it, and so is gathering the previous jurors for a kind of “retrial."

A ceramic dining plate edged with copper.

A bandolier from which hang a half dozen small securely stoppered flasks. Each is filled with a noxious substance, preserved at the height of its foulness: Human diarrhea, spoiled milk, vomit, cat urine, skunk stink glands and rotting fish. The flasks are flimsy and designed to break apart when they hit something solid and each stopper has a small eye-hook screwed into the cork. They can be thrown, shot from a sling or flask launcher (A modified light crossbow) or a length of twine has be tied to the eye-hook, creating a tripwire trap.

A brass bust of a famed scholar and medic.

An anklet of braided gold and silver worked with small carnelians.

A set of bagpipes made from the skin of a displacer beast, with the drones and chanter carved from its bones.

An antiquated torture device designed for mutilating hands and fingers.

A leather eyepatch with a turquoise stone surrounded by white agate resembling a crude eye.

A stuffed cockatrice clutching a sculpted marble hand in one talon.

An egg, roughly the size of a goose egg but navy blue with mottled flecks of gold leaf, mounted on a round wooden base with a tiny placard that reads "Imaskari Sun Hawk". When touched, the golden flecks on the egg gently glow that grows brighter and softer in time with the heartbeat of the one touching it and there is the sensation of rustling movement from within.

A fragment of a painting torn from a larger canvas depicting an unfamiliar princess.

A family portrait of an infamous noble house whose eyes seem to follow onlookers.

A pale gourd with ornate glyphs painted in black around the cork at its apex and twine braided about it. Try as one might, nobody has ever been able to open the stopper. A thin metallic clinking can be heard when the gourd is shaken.

A delicate pink flower, carefully preserved with magic and will not wilt or break yet preserves its natural beauty.

An old withered hand, no more than skin drawn taut across bones, and tarnished rings hanging loosely from the fingers. The bearer can rattle the rings on the hand which causes the smell of lilies to fills the air around him.

A small metal top seems like an everyday child’s toy except for the skull engraved into a button in the middle.

A sturdy wooden travel case containing a popular board game known as Roundels. It has similar elements to chess but is played on a circular board with a stylized keep. The game is abstract and is supposed to loosely simulate a siege. There is an attacking player and a defending player and each side has some unique pieces in addition to their common pieces. The etiquette of playing Roundels requires players to participate in two games, one as the attacker and the other as defender.

A horse femur that is as light as a feather.

An old yellowed skull that in spite of its lack of eyeballs, seems to be constantly eyeing the bearer.

A length of ivory shaped like a bone, covered in small onyx spiders that look all too real. The arcane rod can be used as an magical focus and is a grisly sight to behold.

A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.

An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.

A translucent green stone the size of a fat grape. The item is sea glass, a fragment of a bottle that washed around the world and back, until it had no sharp edges.

A satyr statuette which increases the libido of everyone within line of sight of it.

A bewitched letter which appears to be addressed to whoever is currently holding it, describing their features and personality in adoring terms.

A small crystal which, when peered through, appears to show alternate universes. Actually a fragment of a much larger crystal, part of a complex device deep in the Old City.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [23/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Angst???

A/N: Please check out my original story, The Abstract Dark (previously: Our Lady of Darkness), for some spooks, a little witch-craft under moonlight, and terryfying vampyre-like things! (18+ mature content)

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The armour took the brunt of the impact as soon as the portal blinked out of existence, seizing the world of Verdenspeil in a swirl of oblivion.

A grunt left your throat, then your ears picked up on Baldrick’s noise of discomfort—he had landed on his arm funny, but nothing seemed broken.

“Are you okay?” you helped him to his feet.

The boy nodded, eyes fixed on the fallen dagger a few paces across the room.

There was a pedestal in the centre of the room, a keyhole of a four-pronged star in the centre made for the dagger on the floor—the dagger Sigrid gave you.

You stood up to take a better look at Mímir’s Tomb. The circular room gleamed silver and gold from the armours of giant statuesque figures chained onto open tombs built into the walls. Their design was similar to the Valkyrie armour you now wore, only cruder from warring, from wear and tear. That revelation gave you pause for concern, if there were signs of use, there may be signs of the life that once inhabited the armour.

Baldrick walked over to the dagger, then on his tippy toes, wedged it into the keyhole slot and turned it counter-clockwise. Just as Sköll and Hati chase after the sun and moon in endless circles, the room began to turn like a drum racing downhill.

The spinning was so intense you feared you’d throw up. Baldrick held onto the pedestal and kept his eyes shut. From the ceiling, a contraption lowered a stone platform. As it descended, the room began to stop spinning, and the armoured figures began to stir.

“Baldrick,” you ushered him close to you, shielding him with your arm as he grabbed your cyan blue cloak that swept the floor. The swish and swing of blades being drawn emanated from the sheaths of the armoured figures.

You swallowed, holding your breath. Fingers birthing blue aura in anticipation of a fight. Then, with a loud and deafening thud, the platform locked onto a triangular dip in the floor, a head floating in a curtain of magic and light.

One armoured figure took a step, and as you raised your hand defensively, Baldrick whispered: “No.”

The armoured figure cluttered to the floor, scattering into hundreds of pieces—as did all the others. A helmet rolled to Baldrick’s feet, ornate, a golden set of horns shaped like an elk’s. With childish wonder, fear wiped off his face and he picked up the helmet and put it on, turning to smile with bright teeth at you.

You laughed, unexpectedly and wholeheartedly. It was a rare gift to see pure, unrestrained joy come from nothing. This little boy in front of you carried a connection, his magic made a home in yours, made itself feel like it had been there for years, like it was beyond familiarity. You knew he was manipulating your emotions, perhaps without even realising it, but for some inexplicable reason, you weren’t worried.

The wisps of your magic died down, then the head spoke: “I’d recognise that magic anywhere… You’ve been touched by the Stone of the Ancients.”

You turned to the head, an opal gemstone for one eye, and sky blues like your own for the other. His hair was grey and long, worn with Viking braids and beads knotted on the ends of a few dreaded strands. His beard was thin and braided, tribal tattoos on either side of his temple in the form of roots of the World Tree.

“Mímir,” you said.

“The one and only,” he winked. “Come closer, let me have a better look at you. My eyesight isn’t what it was, being locked away in the cold dark for over a millennia will do that to you.”

You and Baldrick moved closer to Mímir’s line of sight.

“Your eye, it is as mine,” you said.

“A gift from my sister,” he said with a wistful tinge. His focus turned to Baldrick with interest. Recognition. “You, boy, I know you—of you. Your essence is blindingly radiant. So much power for such a small thing. Frightening. World spanning. You—Yes! It is you that I dreamt of all those years ago—you will war with the brother. You will be the Herald of Twilight. Herald of the end!”

Baldrick did not react to the words that he heard, he only blinked slow, lethargic with growing fatigue.

You instinctively wrapped a protective arm around the boy's frame, taking a step back. Mímir turned his sights back on you, squinting. “And you… You are the last of the Himmel Kvinner. Your fate will be that of tragedy and truth. Love and despair. Life and the expanse of space between living and death. You are the Forgotten One.” He quieted in contemplation, sighing deeply with burden. “I see. Yes, I see now. The prince… he sleeps, does he not?”

“H-How do you know that?”

Mímir smirked, “My knowledge is infinite. I see all. And I see nothing. That is why the Allfather trapped me here. Once, I could see through the very weavings of time itself. Beyond realms. Beyond the limits of my body. Now I see remembrances of what I once dreamt. I am but a fraction of what I was. But even beheaded, I am still the wise Mímir, the first to drink from the well of knowledge. The first to be granted the vision of the Stone of the Ancients. The last pureblood heir to the House of Bölþorn the Just.” At the invocation of his house and title, Mímir’s skin turned to a proud, Jotun blue and then back to pale.

“Then you know of a way to wake him?”

“I see patience is lost on you. A millennia and my first guests cannot even humour an old man the chance to goad.” The head laughed, bemused by your dismissal of his grand introduction. “Very well. No, I cannot help you, but I keep the one who does.”

“What do you mean by keep?”

“Her reliquaries, your boy here immobilised them just by thinking it.”

“The statues?”

“Yes. Twenty-seven suits of armour for the twenty-seven pieces of my sister that Bor hacked with his axe.”

“Your sister?”

“Bestla.”

“Bor did that to Bestla? I thought they were lovers. Why would he do that his own wife?”

“Wife?” Mímir shouted the word as if it were a preposterous thing. “Ha! Is that the spin the Æsir are using now? Wiping away the blood from their history books, I see. Bestla was never Bor’s wife! Not by choice. She was his peace treaty. His flesh and blood armistice with the Jotuns after the Dark Alliance threatened to end the war; with him on the losing side!” His real eye flashed, lips moving with no sound. A spell had been cast. “I’ll let her speak for herself.”

Torches burst in blue flame. Suddenly, Jotun script burned to life, etching itself into the wall beside the moving tapestries of what could only be living history.

“It has been a long time since I ever saw our histories unfold on these walls,” Mímir sighed, half sadness, half gratitude. “It will be a refreshing change of pace, having someone know of the true story.”

Baldrick, drawn to the magic, began to read aloud, his tongue picking up the Jotun language with fluency. Dust, once housed in the shattered pieces of armour, began to materialise into a cloud. It roped around the room in an orb-like shape, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

Then, after Baldrick read the final inscription aloud, a piercing pain brought you to your knees. The mark of Odin sparking with life, a scream leaving your lips. Somehow the mark was interfering with the spell Baldrick had just unknowingly cast.

“Oh, no-no-no-no!” Mímir panicked. “You were marked. Quick, boy, grab one of the reliquary’s swords and hold it over the flame. Sorry, lass, but this will sting, we have to sever the mark’s connection to Odin’s magic.”

Baldrick rushed to do as Mímir said, his little feet working hurriedly. When he reached you, the sword that was too big for his grip glowed with the heat of the blue flames, threatening to bring a whole new kind of pain

“What will happen to me once the Ægishjalmar is gone?” you squeezed the raw muscle near your mark. Your mind flashed to the battle in the throne room again. To the frostbite of unbridled power.

“I know what you fear. I saw the battle in the throne room. I saw what you became because of Odin’s magic. The power you wield will be your own, I assure you, lass.” Mímir’s cadence was truthful, assured.

“Will it be dangerous?” you asked. “My magic?”

“All magic is dangerous, lass. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner you find balance.”

Baldrick searched your expression, needing to know whether to proceed or not. With a bitter taste in your mouth—partly for not wanting him to have to do something so hard, partly for your own sake—you bit down on a belt strap and nodded.

The burn was subliminal compared to having Odin’s passive magic seared out of you. It was like having a piece of you stolen without ever realising it was there to begin with. When the smell of burning flesh diffused, and the blade dropped to the ground, you felt dizzy, not as sober as before.

The magic that was denied to complete itself before was now free to continue without the resistance of Odin’s magic. The dust from the reliquaries wasn’t dust at all, they were ashes, the vestiges of Bestla.

The ashes coalesced into a physical mimicry of Bestla—and she looked every bit as fierce and beautiful as she had in the book. Tall, strong arms, midnight hair, long and thick to her tailbone. The red of her Jotun eyes was diluted, cloudy. And the tribal markings painted on her face and arms was of a powdered white. She was a vision. Demanding. Anomalistic.

“Ahhh,” Bestla breathed in deep, taking in air till her lungs promised to burst. “It has been ages since I felt the cold. The air. Light.” She laughed in glee. Slightly mad, but she was excused of that twistedness.

“And it is good to see you again, dear sister,” Mímir laughed.

Bestla turned quick on her heels, a stretch to her cheeks from her growing smile, “Mim? I never imagined I’d ever see you again.” She crossed over to his side of the room in two quick strides. Her fingers hovered over the jewel he had in one of his eye cavities. “Who did this to you?”

“Your son,” he said, downcast.

Bestla let out a contemplative hum, not in the least surprised, “So, he turned out just like his father.”

“I tried my best, but he had too much of his father’s pride, too much of that Æsir spirit.”

The giantess turned to you and then the boy, “You have finally come.”

You staggered to your feet, patience fully wilted, “It seems, every portal I jump through, every new world I discover, and every new person I meet, knows of what I am and what I will do before I do. I must admit, it is quite frustrating.”

“I can only imagine. You travelled all this way for hope, for a way to wake the one you love. Love… It has been a while since I felt its aura. It is beautiful on you. And waning. As is the construct of time,” Bestla closed the distance between the two of you, her height seeming doubled from up close. You opened your mouth to speak, but she countered with a raised hand. “Yes, I know of a way to wake him.” She waved her hand and your memories of the throne room battle were pulled from your mind, displayed in illusions of light and shadow. “When Odin cast the incantation, he unleashed your full potential. That potential is as mine was, once.” She waved her hand again and the illusion turned to that of a blue box, slithering with light. The Jotun Artefact that gave you your power. “This is the Stone of the Ancients. One of six. My people guarded it for generations. Its essence was intertwined with the very fabric of Jotunheim, as a heart does to a body, so when the Æsir stole it from our temples to use as a weapon against the Vanir during the First Great War, our planet fell to ruin. Ruin and endless winters.”

The illusion showed the decimation of spring and summer from the unimaginable beauty of a Jotunheim you had never seen before. A Jotunheim of peace and vibrancy that was all wiped away for the frozen tundra you knew all too well.

“You mean… it was Bor that started the war between the Giants and the Asgardians?” you asked.

“Aye, lass, the very same Tyrant King,” Mímir said. “Your dark prince isn’t the heir to a murderous legacy, he is the heir of the wronged. Heir to desolation as long as the Stone of the Ancients is never returned to Jotunheim.”

“Is that why I was lead here? You want me to help you restore Jotunheim?”

Bestla and Mímir shook their heads. You knew that look. It was the look of loss.

“No, dear one, Jotunheim is lost. Forever.” She said. “Fate is a tricky thing. My brother has seen how I meet my end, and I require you to do so. I swore to have my revenge, and I will, with your help.”

“If… If I help you, you will show me how to wake Loki?”

“You already know how to,” Bestla waved her hand and replayed the moment after energy ripped from your body. Then you were gurgling on the ground, hand stretched out to touch Loki’s as he bled on the floor. Breath hitched. Pained. And then you saw something new, the magic took over your body for a moment, and free from Odin’s spell, you spoke an incantation of your own. Slivers of your magic swimming across the marble floors to latch onto Loki’s fingernails and swim up the stream of his veins to rest around his cheeks.

Baldrick’s mouth pried open, a Jotun word leaving his mouth.

Bestla continued speaking as the illusion dissolved to the image of Loki hovering on a gold curtain of light in the healing chamber: “You saved his life. Our magic, our connection to the stone is primal. It is instinct and memory and emotion. That is why I cursed the Stone before I was locked in those reliquaries. I ensured only those who would understand my pain, the depths of my betrayal, would gain the stone’s power—women. And when Odin hid the stone on earth, he never imagined it would infect those on Midgard as it did to my people. But I never imagined he’d use that as a way to experiment on the women, to make them his weapons of destruction against my own kind, all the while making them believe they were chosen. God kissed. But if he never did, then you wouldn’t be here now. Like I said, fate is a tricky thing.

“When you reached for your prince—for Loki—you weren’t simply praying to no-one, you were praying to the stone. And it heard you. So it placed him in a deep slumber as it healed him from within, but the physical was not all that was damaged. Loki is a fraught boy. Torn apart by two halves that will always be at war. And in that throne room, one half finally won, and to him, it was the wrong half. The monster he was taught to hate. The monster all children are taught to fear: the Giant. I know of a spell that will allow you to enter his mind and bring him back, but like all things—”

“It comes with a price,” you weren’t the least bit surprised, but being a pawn in everyone else’s plans was becoming a thorn in your side. “And if I refuse?”

Bestla gave you an apologetic look, “Child, I said fate was tricky, I never said we got to choose.” She waved her hand one last time, and suddenly you were levitating from the floor, vision going black, ears ringing.

“Do not fret, when you awake, the answer will be as familiar to you as walking,” Bestla promised. “For familiar magic tends to want to be understood.”

Then, nothing. Just black and hard floor.

  ~Heimdall

When Heimdall and the rest of his companions reached the side of the mountain where the entrance to Mímir’s Tomb was, it was already sunrise the next day.

Moving his hands close to one another in the way of the old ways, he spoke in his native Vanir tongue, using blood to smear his handprint on a circular plate centred on the door.

In short order, the doors pried apart in slow motions, dust and the smell of ancients flooding out of the tomb.

“There is a chance the protection seals are still in place, enter with caution, and with weapons drawn,” he told the others as they disappeared into the maw of the tomb.

Heimdall gasped when he saw the reliquary statues broken to pieces. Whoever had done this possessed strong magic, but it couldn’t have been Y/N’s, she was still weak from the leeching, still new to her power. The pedestal where Mimir’s head had been laid to rest was bare, no sign of the one-eyed prophet anywhere.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Mímir? How? It’s not like a head can just sprout legs and walk away,” Fandral said. “I must say, I am a little disappointed. Missing the chance to see one of the last living survivors of the Great War, it does sting a little. Imagine all the secrets her held.”

“Could we have trusted them?” Sif said with some restraint, nowhere near as enthusiastic as Fandral. “He was locked away for a reason. Probably because he was dangerous.”

“And now he is gone,” Volstagg said.

“A problem for another day,” Heimdall said.

“Over here!” Hogun shouted from a dark corner of the room, behind the centre pedestal, dagger locked in place. “I found them.”

“Them?” Sif ran in Hogun’s direction and Heimdall followed.

On the floor was Y/N, out cold, but alive. Her essence was changed, almost exonerated of another’s influence, yet not completely alone. There was something else banging around in the softest, more quiet parts of her magic. Something new. He noticed then that her brand was cauterised from her flesh. Next to her was a boy, strange, bearing a hefty presence. He was the wielder of the magic that destroyed the protective seals on the reliquaries. For someone so young, that was unfounded. What was his connection to Y/N, Heimdall wondered.

He picked her off the floor while Hogun carried the boy. With ease creeping into his chest, he said, “Let’s go home.”

#loki #loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki odinson x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine

[byorder-fanfic]

At The Fair

Summary: It’s the summer of 1924, and Bonnie Gold has his first boxing match at the fair. His father and sisters are watching from the side lines, but will he walk away a champion?

Word count: 2321

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, description of fighting, slightest hint of racism (it is the 1920s)

Author’s Note: Hiya, I just wanted to say that I LOVE Bonnie, he is my favourite character and I was super excited to write about him, and his relationship with Aberama. However, I don’t use Jack Rowan or Aiden Gillen as my descriptions for the characters. Although I loved their portrayal, they are both white actors playing POC characters, so I’m basing their physical appearance off of Rromani, particularly Rromanichal, people. I’m a white gadje, so please correct me if I have said anything offensive or incorrect in my writing. Hope you enjoy xx

The colours were like a painting, Bonnie couldn't help but thinking. Summer days were always full of light cyan skies, vivid green fields, illuminated by the golden glow of sunshine on flushed skin. His veins were pounding, completely disregarding the heat against his olive-toned skin as he tried to resist the urge to just sprint through the crowds of grinning faces. The urge was subsided by the feeling of his oldest sister's hand on his elbow, forcing him to slow down as she turned her head to survey the decorations. In the whole of summer, the fair was always the most colourful: red and white banners strung from the same peppermint-patterned stalls, everyone dressed up in vibrant summer clothes. It made Bonnie feel a little less self conscious, in just his vest top and bright red shorts, as well as the two boxing gloves weighing down his arms. He was skinny but tall (though not as tall as Esmerelda, he noticed sadly as the two walked side by side), with more subtle muscles than the other boxers. His dad had assured him that he didn't need the hulking build with his punch, but the nagging thought still fluttered in his mind. He was easily distracted from it by the giggle of his youngest sister, Florence, ringing over the excited chatter of the crowds. She was bounding over the grass, swerving between the strangers, not held back by an older sister like Bonnie was. Rather, Naomie was watching her little sister with a bemused smile, making sure to keep the nine year old in sight. The two were getting odd looks, distrustful glares and hateful snarls that the younger one didn't heed, just carrying on in her blissful ignorance. Florence was the only one to inherit their father's mousy brown hair, the other three taking after their mother with curly dark hair. Trailing behind them, Aberama was going slower than the rest. Instead of staring at the decorations or scrutinising the many faces he walked past, he was watching his children.

Little Florence was the picture of happiness, dressed in bright yellow so she wouldn't get lost in her curious exploration of the new surroundings. Gentle Naomie was taking calm strides after her, keeping her smile bright as she gave polite nods to the families she passed. Excitable Bonnie looked just like a kid again in his big gloves, his eagerness to get into the ring for the first time obvious. It reminded him of when he was younger, grinning through his bloodied nose as he proudly showed off his newest medal. But those were schoolground fights in compared to this, Aberama thought with a sting of worry. It's not that he didn't have faith in his son and his hell of a punch, but boxing is an inherently dangerous sport, a danger he didn't want to see his children in. His eyes turned to Esmerelda, a woman now. Just like him, she wore a large coat, standing out in the hot weather. Just like him, she kept a gun at her hip. It was one of the greatest tragedies he'd ever felt when his eldest child decided to join his profession, but he could never refuse his children. That was the exact reason they were there in the fair, marching up to the ring where a man twice Bonnie's size waited to get knocked out by the slight of a boy. He was a fierce fighter, Aberama thought proudly, although the boy's goofy smile and soft heart would have never betrayed it. 

They reached the ring just as a fight ended. A man fell to the floor, nose evidently broken as blood gushed down his lips. He groaned softly, though made no move to get back up and fight. Esmerelda nudged Bonnie softly.

"Make sure you don't end up like that, hey?" She teased gently. With the same mirthful grin, Naomie brought a hand to attempt to ruffle his dark hair, stopped by one of Bonnie's unproportionable gloves. It was gelled back to prevent it from getting in the way, shining in the sunlight, much to the girls' amusement.

"Don't mess your hair up when you fall down," she said, with a snigger.

"But Bonnie always wins," Florence protested loudly as she beamed up at her brother, showing off the gap in her front teeth. Grinning back, Bonnie knelt down to hug his little sister.

"Course I do, Floss," he said, lightly bouncing his glove on her nose. "And I will win this time."

Aberama hummed contentedly, nodding his head to the man who organised this event- Mr Hamish Lee. He was watching Bonnie cautiously, doubt evident in his raised eyebrows. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Bonnie a place at the fair, considering he was only sixteen. But Bonnie insisted he was ready, ready to start proper fights, ready to start the road to become a professional. Eventually, Mr Lee caved. Maybe the boy would win, like his father insisted, and that would be a good day for the bookies. Or, maybe he lost, and he wouldn't have to deal with Mr Gold's persistent badgering. Hopefully. 

"For the next fight," Mr Lee yelled, pausing to get the audience's attention. Children clambered to get to in front of the raised box, adults watching over their heads. "Our champion, Samuel Howard," there were a few cheers as the boxer from the previous round (the one with an intact nose) rose his gloves over his head in premature celebration, showing off his muscular figure. He was taller and broader than Bonnie, Aberama thought with his heart pounding faster than ever before. Then he turned to his son and all worry melted away. Bonnie was grinning, bouncing from foot to foot, already ready to start. Esmerelda nodded to her dad, patting her brother on his back.

"You better get up there, Bon," she said with a smile. "Don't want the fight to start without you."

"He's big, though," Naoime whispered, trying not to unnerve her brother. But Bonnie was still grinning. He was grabbing hold of the ropes, ready to get in, waiting for the call of his name. First, the cheering had to stop, and the conceited boxer had to stop parading about the ring. Aberama moved to stand by his son, clapping his back softly.

"Now, Bon, remember," he said, more sure than he felt. "Keep them on their feet for a bit, make them think it's going his way, and then..."

"Knock him out cold," Bonnie finished with a nod. 

"If you get hurt," Aberama began, holding onto his shoulder. The worry was beginning to show itself.

"Then I'll just carry on," Bonnie said, so steady and sure. 

The cheering ceased. Mr Lee was pointing to where the Gold family stood, signalling for Bonnie to climb under the ropes, and into the spotlight of the summer glow.

"A new competitor." Bonnie stood proud, head raised as he stared down (or, more accurately, up) the larger boxer. There was a sudden hush over everyone, wide eyes staring at his slim figure next to the other, with disbelief. "Bonnie Gold!"

At the roar of his name, Bonnie heard all three of his sisters scream wildly, joining in with the weak cheers of the crowd. He tried to bite back a smile at their enthusiastic screeches, still certain that they would be deafening their neighbours by now.

"Go on, Bon," he heard his dad clap as he took another step forward, already excited to knock the condescending look off of Howard's face. Mr Lee raised his hand in front of their faces, keeping apart purely by convention and eagerness. Their eyes were only on each other, trying not to let the suddenly sharp glare of sunlight in their peripheral cloud their vision. 

"And, fight!"

As soon as his hand was brought back, it was like an invisible wall between the two had fallen. Howard pounced forward, large fist flying towards Bonnie's face, which the smaller boy easily ducked. It was obvious the bigger boxer, just wanted to get this over with, and would only make the fight last as long as one was standing. But Bonnie had a flare of showmanship that wouldn't let it be so simple. Ducking another heavy punch, he made his own hit forward. His glove bounced off the boxer's shoulder, enough to make Howard stumble back. Shocked, he tried to hit again, but Bonnie bat his hand away. The screams behind him carried on, getting louder as the crowd began to cheer more confidently than before. They hadn't seen anything yet, Bonnie thought, allowing excitement to flow through him again. With adrenaline flowing through his veins, he whipped a few punches forward, stronger than his first jab to force Howard to lose his smirk, making him try harder to hit the sixteen year old in the face. Bonnie was proud to see how easily he could get from arrogance to anger, making his aim sloppy. Despite that, he still had a lot of weight behind his attacks, so Bonnie had to drop his gloves in front of his face, stumbling back as he felt a series of harsh thwacks shake his defence.

"C'mon Bonnie!" His dad screamed, somehow louder than Florence's indecipherable screeches.

Bonnie smirked against his gloves, ready for the end. He heard Howard lift his hand back, poising for the next strike. Swiftly, Bonnie dropped his guard. He took a step forward, careful to keep his body grounded as he soared his right fist upwards. The uppercut struck Howard's chin, just as he had planned, with a clang of teeth. The bigger boxer's head was thrown back as he staggered backwards, gloved hands instinctively reaching to clutch his face, but Bonnie was quicker. In a second, he swiped a jab, straight at his nose. He felt the muscles in his arm tense, all insecurities about his toned muscles ceased as he collided with his face. Howard fell backwards, all of him slumping to the floor. Bonnie waited for a second, watching his chest rise and fall as he laid motionless. There was a hush for a moment, as Mr Lee slammed his hand against the ring floor.

One. Two. Three.

Cheers and screams filled his ears as Bonnie swung around to smile at the grinning faces of his sisters and father, who were whooping and yelling, bouncing up and down as they grabbed onto each other. Esmerelda was a little calmer. With a kind smile, she made a motion with her finger to turn around. Bonnie kept his smile from ear to ear as he spun around, soaking up the sound of strangers screaming, holding his gloves in the air and he could almost imagine a spotlight on him. He could almost replace the grass fields with a darkly-lit stadium, almost see the cluster of people below the raised ring multiplied, rows of chairs going back as far as he could see. He won this fight, and that was just the beginning. Bonnie Gold was making his name heard, and it was wonderful to hear it being chanted. The huffs of his chest carried pride, as he saw disbelief fade into impressed grins, and slow, heavy claps. Sweat clung to his skin, the heat of the sun met by a flush under his skin. With a child-like giggle, Bonnie waved over to the crowd as he retreated back to his family, nodding at the wide eyed look at Mr Lee as he clambered over the previous champion and currently unconscious Howard.

Still smiling, he ducked under the rope, practically jumping into his dad's arms.

"Atta boy, Bonnie," Aberama proclaimed, proudly embracing his son. "Well done, we're so proud of you!"

"Cumere, champ," Esmerelda teased as she held her own arms out. Breaking away from his dad, Bonnie wrapped his arms around his older sister, resting his head against her shoulder. "Well done, Bon," she whispered for just the two of them as she hugged him tightly.

As soon as she let him go, Florence was bouncing up and down, tugging on his arms. With a softer look in his dark eyes, he hoisted his little sister up into his arms. She rested herself on his shoulders, hugging him tightly before moving back with a scrunched up nose.

"Gross, you're all sweaty," she complained as she tried to lean back as far away as possible. Bonnie just responded with a menacing grin.

"What was that, Floss?" He said as he gently pushed her closer to his body, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, as she tried to squirm and struggle out of his grasp. "Didn't quite hear you."

"No, Bonnie, stop it!" She squealed through another fit of giggles. Eventually Bonnie relented, placing her back on the grass and far away from his sweaty clothes, and towards their dad, wrapping her hands in his baggy clothes as Aberama threw his head back to let out a loud laugh.

"Yeah, I guess I'm glad you didn't break your nose," Naomie joked as she pulled him into a side hug, grinning up at him. Instinctively, she raised a hand to ruffle his hair, face dropping into disgust as she felt the sticky gel that now coated her palm. "Ugh, gross."

The entire family laughed as she attempted to shake away the gel, scrunching u her nose just like Florence had done seconds ago. Aberama grinned as he watched his family, the three girls in a ring around their brother as they teased and congratulated him, pride and unrelenting happiness at the thought of all the events planned for the future, all the matches Bonnie had yet to win, and he sighed happily. The summer sun itself could not compare to the glow that surrounded the Gold family, as radiant as their name would suggest as they stood in perfect bliss with one another.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fluff #bonnie gold #aberama gold #Esmerelda gold

[almorica]

Research

T, late season fresh precure, soular/westar, 877 words

there’s always more to understand when it comes to humans’ happiness.

ao3 / ffnet

“2,800… 2,801… 2,802…”

Westar’s energetic counting and the heavy clank of his barbell against the wooden floor stopped bothering Soular after his previous demonstration a few days before. Reading through one of the books he’d set aside provided enough of a distraction, leaving each of them to share the central room without argument. Despite the noise, it was more peaceful than most of the time they’d spent together since the start of their mission. Today he felt no need to disturb it.

“2,887… 2,888… 2,889…”

Intermittently, Soular’s eyes lifted from the top of the open page and drifted over to the spirited workout. Hips back and chest out, Westar pulled the bar up over his shins until he stood straight, skin glistening in the light over his bared limbs and his proud, focused face. Where his muscles carried the strain in each movement was clear in that close-fitting exercise outfit of his, and Soular had no doubt pride was behind that choice as well.

His gaze never lingered long. It was all simple repetition, however Westar could stand it, and the topic of positive human relationships written out in his book was more engaging. Parents driving their children’s happiness had been proven to him long ago, but there was more to browse through. Friends, collaborators, lovers — they did try so hard to wring out joy in their lives together.

“Aren’t you bored of reading that yet?”

Soular’s eyes flickered up. Westar hadn’t even paused his lifting. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Of course not! You should try it already. I could teach you all I know.”

“I’ll pass.”

Westar huffed. “Fine then. 2,947…”

Soular wouldn’t have thought much of the offer before, but it coincided strangely well with the concepts he was reading about. Westar was being friendly, wasn’t he? It should have bothered him more, as it would have back when Eas was still among the mansion’s occupants. Dismantling any further critical thought, he turned all of his attention back to the page in front of him.

He’d stopped at the beginning of the chapter on lovers, and moving from their function to examples of how they proved their affection for each other raised an eyebrow. While the gestures hadn’t existed among people in Labyrinth, they were so simple. Humans really were too easily pleased to make up for how easy it was to fall into despair.

“2,992…”

It couldn’t really be that rewarding, but he was curious all the same. It had proven useful to know in the past. His gaze shifted over again, deep in thought.

“3,000! Aaaah, adding another five hundred felt great.” Leaving the barbell where it was on the floor, Westar stepped back with a grin. “Now I can celebrate with five hundred more donuts!”

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you attempt that.” Soular closed the book.

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Westar replied, and it wasn’t convincing whatsoever. When he turned for the door, Soular stood as soon as he did. Westar’s jolly footsteps masked his own, and once he had the door open, Soular stopped behind him.

“Westar.”

“Huh?” Turning halfway back in response, the shine of his pale cyan hair and pink-tinged face were yanked closer by the collar of his shirt. Soular’s gloved fingers firmly gripped the fabric, covering their difference in height by pulling Westar down instead of leaning up. Just before their mouths met his eyes closed instinctively, an out of place emotion threatening to make him question the move if he entertained it for even a second.

Given no warning, Westar’s lips were soft and slightly parted. The heat he’d worked up through his exercise radiated from his skin. It wasn’t long before Westar inhaled sharply against him, and Soular loosened his fingers enough to allow him to jerk backward. One of Westar’s hands slapped firmly on the wall beside the doorway, but the other only slid off the door itself.

“Aaaaugh—!!” Tumbling onto his backside in the hallway with a comical clumsiness, Westar’s complexion burned a full scarlet. His eyes strained wide and his mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, as if trying to say something but failing at some step of it.

It drew out a chuckle from Soular. “That’s a good look on you,” he said calmly, and stepped back to place his hand on the edge of the door.

“S-S-Soular?!” The spluttering mess had managed to find a word, but he didn’t appear any closer to moving.

“You were useful,” Soular explained with the door halfway shut. “You’re free to go make yourself sick if you want.”

It clicked closed under his hand, and he didn’t bother trying to lock it. After he’d returned to his seat and resumed reading for long enough without it being disturbed, he was proven correct in his guess that he’d be left alone. Westar did have a singular focus in life, and lately Soular went back and forth on whether that was enviable or worthy of contempt.

“Useful…” he pondered to himself in the silence, attention drifting away from the book one more time. Looking at it intellectually, it might have been, and it wouldn’t be anything else.

#fresh precure #soular #westar #southwest #last fic I wrote was 8 years ago. it's fine to indulge in cliches #my fics

[fortune-fool02]

Partner in Crime

Diego Brando x Valentine’s daughter reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Steel Ball Run

Thank you to @ymisiposts​ for helping with this. Please enjoy.

Embarrassed. Humiliated. That was what seeped into Diego’s muscles and bones as he walked alongside his beloved horse, Silver Bullet, across the finish line of this phase. The mocking voice over the announcements only added salt to the wounds. 

The blonde male tugged his horse away from the eyes of the crowd, leading them somewhere else so she could rest and regain her strength after what Gyro and Johnny put her through. Once Diego hopped off his horse, he gently patted her neck, telling her to rest and that he was proud of her for enduring all of that before walking off somewhere. He needed to have a chat with someone. 

***

Diego leaned against the wall, his head hanging low as he waited. His hand resting against his head, supported up by his knee. This was quite a risk but he was willing to take it, anything to reach that step above Johnny and Gyro to make them pay for humiliating him and for damaging Silver Bullet. The sound of footsteps tapped against the pavement, catching the blonde’s attention. 

“You wanted to talk, was it?” The man was clad in purple, stone grey hair curling at his shoulders. Diego blinked before straightening his slumped posture slightly, 

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he started, “I have the Left Eye of the Corpse. I’ll hand this over to you.” he outstretched his hand, presenting the Corpse Eye in his gloved palm. The man reached to grab it and Diego pulled his hand back, 

“Whoa, let’s not get too handsy. I thought I said I wanted to speak directly to the President?” It was true, Diego had asked to speak to President Valentine, not one of his secretaries or whatever this man was. The man simply blinked at Diego then turned on his heel, making his way down the street again. 

“Hey, alright, alright, I’ll talk to you!” Despite the calls, the man continues walking, ignoring Diego completely and disappearing around the corner. Damnit! Diego slumped back down, a sigh slipping his lips. Wonderful, that was an opportunity wasted. 

As he stood up to leave the area, a new scent caught his attention. Sniffing the air a little, he turned his head to see someone leaning against the wall, their form peeking from the shadows. Their head took in their area, ensuring that they were alone before emerging from the shadows, their face shadows by the hood as they approached him. 

“Diego Brando?” they questioned and he narrowed his eyes at them. 

“Yeah? And you are?” Their gloved hands reached up to their hood, lowering it down and allowing their face to be seen. [Hair colour] locks fell like a waterfall, slightly curling around the shoulders, [Eye colour] orbs that held a sense of power in them that was shrouded in a sweetness, like a sweet poison. 

“I am [Name] Valentine, you wished to speak with my father?” This was President Valentine’s daughter? Diego had heard of her but, seeing as she was barely seen in the media, it was a little surprising to see her out and about in the world without someone shielding her. 

“Yeah, but his secretary, or whatever he was, just left.” the blonde slumped back down where he originally sat. She stood there, expression blanker than a blank canvas, 

“I know. I watched it.” she simply said. The entire, albeit short, conversation between the golden blonde male and the secretary she had heard and watched from the shadows. “Are you still wanting to make a deal?” She asked. Normally, [Name] would not interfere in business of her father’s but this deal had caught her interest and she could not resist it. Not when it was a Corpse Part involved. 

Diego narrowed his cyan eyes at her, a tenseness hovered in the air between them like a thin fog. Both of them watching each other, searching for any possible attack from the other to find nothing. Holding the Corpse Eye out, Diego let his actions speak for him; [Name] nodded her head, 

“What do you want in return for it?” There was this aura of her that Diego could not help but notice. Calm, like a still lake on a warm summer’s day; unlike the secretary. Seeing as he had no other option, he may as well tell her lest she takes the same route the secretary did. 

“Money. Simple.” he answered. To her, money should be no issue. Whatever he asked for would likely be a pocket change for her. “I, Dio, will collect the other Corpse Parts from Gyro Zeppeli and sell them to your father. That is the exchange.” In truth, [Name] was quite happy that the secretary abandoned this deal -not that she expressed it- as that meant that she could negotiate it. 

“And how much, exactly, are we discussing here, Mr Brando?” So polite. So formal. Something Diego didn’t believe the daughter of the President to be towards someone like him. 

“New York’s Manhattan Island.” She blinked, flecks of surprise flickering across her [Eye colour] orbs though they remained glass-like. Her entire posture reminding Diego of a porcelain doll that sits on a shelf as more of a trophy than anything else yet something laid behind those eyes, something that defined her as far more than a harmless little thing.

“I can make arrangements. Once you retrive the Corpse Parts, I will come to you.” Diego rose a brow at that, 

“What do you mean?” he asked. Wouldn’t it have been more effective if he went to her once he had the Corpse Parts? Unless.... “Does your father know you’re here, making a deal with me?” Her silence answered for her and that plucked at Diego’s curiosity. Why would the daughter of the President go behind his back and arrange a deal like this? 

“My father is unaware of this deal happening. And, if you don’t mind Mr Brando, I would prefer to keep it that way.” Interesting. Perhaps he was more fortunate to have the secretary refuse the deal for this is far more interesting for the blonde man. “So, you want Manhattan Island for the Corpse Parts?” [Name] questioned, returning the conversation to its original purpose and driving it away from her personal life. Her father would be furious if he found out what she was doing but [Name] needed to do this. 

She needed that Corpse Eye. Diego nodded, bringing the Corpse eye up to his cyan blue one and rolling it between his fingers a little. “Yes, that’s the trade.” He inhaled the air and caught a scent of someone else. 

“But you’d better hurry and scurry off into hiding, [Name]. That man’s coming back.” Her [Eye colour] orbs widened slightly at that, grabbing her hood and concealing her face again before walking past Diego. 

“Whatever happens, make the deal with him. That’ll give me cover to ensure our deal is secured. Next time we meet, Manhattan Island is yours, Mr Brando.” And with that, she was gone. Diego glanced down at the Corpse Eye in his hand, a smirk tugging his lips at the event that just transpired. Regardless of what happens now, his victory was already guaranteed. 

“That deal you wanted to make, let’s hear it out.” The man spoke. Diego smirked lightly, catching a glimpse of the President himself watching from the balcony above them. Perfect.   

#diego #diego brando #jojo bizarre adventure #diego x reader #diego brando x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #diego brando jojo #steel ball run x reader #diego steel ball run #steel ball run #jojo part 7

[cuddlycolby]

The Sky to my Bird (CB Short)

POV: First person (Y/N)

Word Count: 3,264

Warnings: Colby as a wolf, stupid shit, slight violence

Description: While Colby and (Y/N) are out on a perimeter run, they’re attacked by rogues. Colby is badly injured and (Y/N) has to fight off the rest. Then (Y/N) has to make the decision to save him by becoming his one or not. 

What would you do to save your best friend if they were about to die?

***

Colby and I always continued to try to outdo the other in everything; sometimes wasn’t intentionally. It was a natural extinct. We liked to challenge each other to grow stronger and made sure we were on the top of our game. It was basically training non-stop.

Now, there was one position that Colby had me beat at. He was a Beta in our pack, which meant he was a second in command. That was one thing in particular that I had never been able to challenge him at as he was born to be a Beta and chosen by our Alpha. 

That was until now.

Our Luna’s second in command was captured and killed by a rival pack of rogues who banded together to get revenge, and she directed me as her new Beta. Considering I had no experience in such a role, Colby said he’d help me out. Aka another excuse to push me more and get me alone on perimeter checks; not that he’d admit that was the real reason he volunteered the time.

Perimeter checks were to secure our pack’s land; to keep everything in order. Only Betas cleared out or other packmates who the Alpha and Luna deemed worthy of the responsibility.

The check today was vital. There was warning of the rogues being back. Rogues were wolves that left their packs or were never part of one, and they usually craved some sort of authority power so they seeked out real packs to destroy. Colby and I needed to lock down the traps and if necessary, to send word to the Alpha to send fighters out to the stakes. Even with how serious the matters were, Colby still managed to make it all fun and games.

“C, slow down!” I laughed, barely out of breath as I sprinted to catch up to him.

“Betas don’t slow down, (Y/N)! Just catch up,” he yelled back, and he only seemed to push himself harder.

I rolled my eyes and kicked in everything I had to get side by side with him. He looked over with a smirk spread on his lips; less shocked and more proud.

I pointed up ahead of us. “There’s another we need to lock.” It wasn’t necessary as he knew where the posts were too, but sometimes he didn’t pay attention.

Colby skidded to a stop, leaves and twigs flew up and fell back down by his feet, and he chuckled.

I shook my head as I came to a stop that was less dramatic. “You’re such an idiot sometimes. Discreet is what we’re going for, you know.”

I poked his chest as I walked by. I crouched down to toss a branch into the metal that was hidden in the brush, then waited to hear the snap before I reached to touch it. I used one foot to push down one of the jaws and my hands to lock in the spring again; whoever happened to step, run, or fall into this would have one hell of a day.

“But being discreet isn’t always fun. Come on, nothing ever happens.”

When I straightened back up, Colby attended the other jaws we had hidden nearby. Yes, wolves trained to fight in battles, but if we could reserve as much energy as we possible, we’d do that. Our wolves could only extend for a certain amount of time.

I shot him a look as we began to work on securing the rope net. “I bet you just jinxed us. Thanks, piss ass.”

That earned me a “hey!” 

I laughed with a smirk. No we headed out to the final post 10; each post was about five miles apart from each other. Number 10 was the farthest from the house, roughly fifty miles, and it made me a bit anxious every time we went out here. Our kind had the stamina to run at high speeds, but this was at least a fifteen-twenty minute time span away on a good amount of energy.

I tightened the sailor’s knot on the rope and stated, “Okay, we’re good to head back.”

“Damn,” C muttered.

I rolled my eyes to cover the skip of my heartbeat. I’d be lying if I didn't feel the same that it wouldn’t just be us in the next half hour. I was positive Sam and his mate, Katrina, were going to want to go do something together when we arrived. After C and I were cleared off duty anyway.

I didn’t say anything as we started our run back. Colby was a bit ahead of me because I let him take the lead; I was better with being the caboose, the one who made sure everyone else in the group was there. It was silent for some time. I noted the amount of posts we went by to keep track.

My ear twitched a little as I heard something in the trees besides us. I didn’t slow down though. I kept up at my same speed.

‘You heard that too, right?’ I asked through our telepathy. 

Colby’s pace slowed down to be slightly closer to me, but not noticeably different. ‘Yeah, just keep going.’

My breathing stayed at a steady pace while my head remained straight, but I used my preferential vision and hearing to keep an eye on our sides. Part of me itched to transform right now, though I bargained her not to. Whatever or whoever it was, we didn’t want them to know we were aware of their presence. 

“Colby!” I screamed when a wolf jumped out from the side and tackled him to the ground. Colby was quick to transform into his fairly large, black as night coat. He stared down the wolf who stood only a few feet away. His already blue hues glowed a luminescent cyan now; his Beta blues. 

‘(Y/N), I’m alri-‘

The chestnut wolf pounced at him, going straight for the throat. They had him pinned, but Colby kicked his hind legs into the other wolf’s gut, causing them to release. C snapped back at them, ripping some fur out. There were snarls, more fur being torn out, and some blood. It was a mixture of both, and it was not pretty to watch. 

Colby laid on the ground with a gash in his side. It was large enough that our mending wouldn’t heal it fast enough for him to fight more. Whoever this wolf was, they were trained to fight a Beta like C. They were sent here on purpose.

I hurried to C’s side and looked into his eyes.

‘Colby, it’s really bad,’ I stated, lightly brushing my fingers over it. His blood stained my fingertips, but I didn’t care.

He winced. ‘I... know.’

Tears fought their way into my ducts, but I held them back. I was pissed. You didn’t mess with anyone I was close with, and that included our pack. I transformed and turned around to stare the wolf down; I hovered over C protectively. I made sure my fiercest Beta blues illuminated as I snapped my teeth.

‘Who sent you? Why are you on our land?’

To my surprise, a light voice chuckled. ‘You’re so cute. To protect him. He’s not your one.’

I narrowed my eyes and deeply growled. ‘You didn’t answer my questions, fighter.’ I spat out the last word in hopes it’d get under her fur.

‘I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to figure it out on your own, Beta.’

I licked my canines, revealing them more now, and growled once again. ‘Leave. And tell your mates to go back where they came from.’

The rest of her wolf friends came out. They had us completely surrounded. So seven to one was not an ideal ratio. Not even close. None would be much more preferred.

‘How you feeling, C?’ I asked.

I didn’t get an answer. That only made my heartbeat quicken. I took a quick glance to see his eyes barely open. I could sense his breathing was slow too.

Oh no. That bitch!

I snarled and snapped my teeth once again, and growled the loudest I’d ever in my life. ‘You cocky, low ranking bitch! I will happily give you what you deserve.’

With all the adrenaline that kicked into me, I jumped at her. I gripped her throat right away and tore back. She wasn’t having it though. Her claws dug into my stomach. I didn’t whimper much. I bit at what I could. Finally, I had my whole mouth clenched over her throat and brought her up in the air to smack her down. I tightened my jaw, feeling the metallic taste touch my tongue, and ripped back to tear out anything vital that would have kept her breathing.

‘Alpha, Beta Colby and I need help at post 5,’ I informed and rammed into the wolves that started to attack Colby in his weak state. I set myself over C and snapped at anyone who came too close.

I noticed no response from our Alpha, so I tried our Luna. 

Nothing. Why weren’t they responding? Literally no one replied to the distress call. 

I guess we were on our own. We could do this. 

The group licked their canines, snarling at me. They were all low rank fighters. I was a God damn Beta!

I called on the spirits to let my Beta blues burn as much as they could and growled, letting foam bubble out. I swear I could feel my body grow, every single muscle and vein surged. ‘You’re all dead meat.’

I pounced at the wolf that was closest to me and grabbed them by their neck, then swung them into the wolf next to us. I forced another into one of the metal jaws nearby. It’s leg snapped and they were trapped; any move to leave and their leg was gone for good. I noticed that three fled; cowards. That meant there were two left to deal with.

I observed the situation more, keeping light on my feet, and I jumped at the wolf closest to me. I ripped at the neck and made an instant kill. From the corner of my eye, I could see the last wolf making a move on me, but they were hit out of the way by a large branch and thrown in a tree. The impact alone broke their back.

I watched C collapse to the ground, the gash in his side bigger from tearing when he played baseball. This was not the time he should decide to start playing sports. 

I couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped from my throat. I took a couple deep breaths to try and calm down, then I transformed back and went to his side.

“You’re a freaking idiot. I had them.”

“I got… your back… always.” Beads lined his forehead and he sheened from the pain. He was clearly holding back heavier pants. His skin was becoming paler by the minute, making the black ink on his wrists and arms more prominent than usual. 

“Sshh. If you have my back, you will shut up until I can get you back to the house and Kat can help the wound.”

I observed how bad it was. I was scared that any movement could make it worse, but I needed to get him back or he’d bleed out. Kat could help him, I knew that, and then his wolf mending would take care of the rest. 

“I’m going to transform back. I need you to hold onto me the best you can after I get you on my back.”

In aching pain, I transformed back into my coat and carefully drug C onto my back. I waited until I could feel his hands holding onto some of her fur. It was only a twenty-five mile run to the den. You got this. 

Every mile caused my wolf more distress. She whimpered constantly. I told her to push it aside and just keep going.

‘(Y/N), please stop... Don’t do this to… to your wolf.’

I shook my head, panting. ‘You need to get back, C. I’m not letting you die.’

About two miles out, there was a dash of fur next to me and I groaned. The best I could, I defended against the wolf’s attack. We tumbled around before I tore their head off. My wolf was fed up. I came to a rolling stop and transformed back into my human form mid-air.

Colby held on during the kill, but the transformation tossed him a few feet ahead of me.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I forced myself to get up, sweat and dirt covered my shaking body. Hell, I felt like I only made his wound worse. I was going to be the reason he died. 

But... I was more than happy to see the pack house through the cracks of the trees’ leaves.

I made my way to C and grabbed what I could of his torn shirt, then hooked my arms underneath his armpits and shuffled backwards. I didn’t have much strength left. I'd never externalized to the point that my wolf wouldn't accept me being in that form anymore. Eff all of this.

I collapsed to the ground in the lawn of the den. Relief flooded me.

"C, we made it. You're gonna be okay. You’re gonna-”

His eyes were closed and it looked like he wasn’t breathing. My body shook more out of worry as I kneeled beside him to check his pulse. It was more faint than before.

I swallowed hard to fight the tears. Though the pinching was difficult to keep away.

Sam, Colby’s best friend, and Katrina, his mate, came running out of the pack house. Where the hell were they when I made my distress call? Sam couldn't get much closer than a couple feet. His jaw set as his breathing became heavy.

Only one solution came to mind to save him. My last resort. It was a ritual meant to be saved for the one and be done in a sacred place. It couldn’t be undone. We only get one. This was life or death though, and I'd be lying if I said I never imagined it being anyone else.

"Elderly spirits, I am calling upon you for a bonding. Please."

Unnaturally, my canines grew out as I was in human form and winced at the excruciating throb that followed. This was for him. For us. I pushed myself to bring my mouth close to Colby's neck.

"I accept you, Colby Brock, as my one. The sky to my bird."  

I closed my eyes and sunk my canines into his neck. His warm, metallic liquid filled my mouth. I swallowed what I thought I needed then pulled back, and licked the wound I inflicted to heal it.

Colby's eyes shot open, his wolf's Beta blues in full glow, and he growled lowly as he looked in my direction. "What did you do, (Y/N)?"

"I accepted you as my one,” I whispered.

"Why… would you… do that?" He coughed and rested his head back into the grass, his injuries beating him again.

"To save you. Now accept me and bite to complete the bond, so the spirits can heal you."

He shook his head. "Why me? I'm no good."

"Bullshit," I spat, furrowing my eyebrows.

"You're more than good. You've always pushed me to grow and get better. You're all I've ever wanted. I thought you felt the same. Please, C. I don’t want to live without you." I rested my forehead on his chest, tears sliding down my cheeks. I could sense his heart failing again and I cried harder as I placed a kiss.

There was a small, painful grunt as a set of hands lifted my head up. Colby's canines were lengthened and he looked me in the eyes. "I accept you... (Y/N)... as my one. The sky to my bird."

I wiped the wetness away and brought my neck close to his mouth. I closed my eyes and prepared myself as much as I could. Surprisingly, I moaned out when I felt his pierce in my skin. It felt like I was filled with a sense of newness; it rippled my sensations, intensifying every part of me. I craned my neck back as Colby licked his tongue over his wound and smiled when I looked back into his eyes. I let go of my light grip on his arm and watched him get lifted in the air. I levitated next and held back the short yelp.

Colby's eyes were closed as he let the spirits begin to mend his wound and replace all the blood he'd lost. Suddenly, my chest pulled upwards to the sky and I momentarily couldn’t breath as a whiteness floated out of me; my soul. His soul intertwined with mine before they returned into their opposite bodies, which fully completed the bond. Then we were lowered to the ground.

I pressed my lips against Colby’s; slightly impulsive. His hand tangled in my hair as he held the back of my head to keep me there for a moment longer. 

“You’re stuck with me until we die, piss ass.” He smirked. 

I could only roll my eyes with a smile. I had that coming. Someone cleared their throat and I looked back in their direction.

“Now that’s finally happened. What happened out there?” Sam asked, gesturing at the woods. 

The happiness I felt from the bondage escaped away and was replaced with worry and anger. An odd mix. 

“They’re back,” I replied. “We need to warn the others.”

I got myself up, then reached my hand out for Colby to take. He barely made any noise of pain as he stood. Despite the new, my body still ached. I knew I overextended and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to transform again for a bit. I hope they weren’t going to do a full front attack.

Colby caught on to my emotions. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed my head. “It’ll be okay.”

“Seriously, what happened?” Kat stepped forward to be closer to the rest of us. 

I pulled back to look her in the eyes. “They attacked us and injured Colby.” 

“(Y/N) kicked five other wolves’ asses all on her own, made a few run on fear,” Colby inserted, clearly amused and slightly turned on by it. 

‘Watch yourself there,’ I commented, eyeing his lower area.

He rolled eyes and shoved me lightly. 

“Did you let the Alpha and Luna know?” 

I nodded. “Yeah. I’d sent a distress signal, but no one responded. We were out at post 5. I’m sure the ones who fled have informed their group leader. They could be attacking us again and who knows how many there will be.” 

Colby’s hand encased mine. “Let’s go inform. Betas’ duties.”

“As mates now,” Sam teased, raising his eyebrows up and down. 

“Yeah, everyone called it happening soon,” Katrina added, smiling wide, and she took Sam’s hand.

We were bonded for life. I didn’t want to know what the damage would be now if one of us got hurt. But also, this made us stronger by a lot. They definitely wouldn’t know what was coming. Even if I couldn’t transform, I would find a way to protect the land. 

The hand in mine squeezed and brought me back to reality. 

“Thanks.” Colby nodded, a goofy smile crossed his lips. 

“Any time.” I smirked. Then I pointed to the den. “Come on, mate.”

[Mer Sterf]

#Colby Brock #Colby Brock short #short #werewolves #drama #action #supernatural #Sam and colby #sam golbach #katrina stuart

[tu-mint]

“The Lemonade” Guy Pt. 1

When Jade realizes her feelings for a certain schoolmate go beyond a friendship, she makes a tremendous effort to rid herself of it.

Song Inspo(s): Wicked Games - Kiana Lede; I Won’t Say I’m In Love - Hercules

International AU!

Word Count: 4k+

~

There was rarely ever something Jade tried to avoid other than the topic of Manu. The reactions that came upon his death were much too triggering to her anger, and she refused to allow that level of rage to overcome her again; thankfully this was not the case. Now while that was a relief, the actual issue being avoided proved to be almost as troubling, and the foreign girl did not realize the matter until recently.

UA High was bustling with noise and movement, people curious about the UA students from different parts of the world. Jade was blessed to have been shown secret entrances and passageways by Ren as to avoid news reporters. While it wasn’t anything she wasn’t unfamiliar with, the second year student knew uncomfortable and personal questions would turn up if given the chance, so she decided staying in the shadows would be safe for now. Stepping onto school grounds, Jade found Maeda, Kubo and Ren chatting with two students she could not recognize. One was a girl with long cyan hair and a bright expression, and the other a boy with his head turned away from the trio. Hm...maybe they're new kids? It was difficult to tell whether or not they were around the same age as her, but Jade concluded they were older looking at their height. The girl craned her neck to look over her shoulder then gasped loudly.

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshisthisher?!" She sped towards the international student and stretched a hand outward, grinning widely. "Nejire Hado, third year here at the original UA! You must be Jade, I was just asking your friends about you, and I heard you were from Los Angeles! Tell me what it's like! Is the food really good? What about the school? Is it different from the UA here? Ooh, what about your father? Is it true about him being a Pro Hero? What's his quirk? Is it like yours? Wha--"

"Easy Hado, she just got here," Ren intervened with a light chuckle. "Well, she already introduced herself, so that leaves the guy hiding behind her, Tamaki Amajiki, also a third year student. He's a bit shy as you can see." Jade leaned on her side to find the indigo haired male from earlier, head hung low and arms crossed tightly. She gave a small smile when he peeked up from the locks curtaining his face, pleased when he gave a single nod.

"It's nice to meet you both," chirped the foreign girl with a bow to which Hado squealed.

"And she's respectful! Ah, such an intriguing new person to meet--oh! I have to introduce you to Mirio, you'll love him, most girls do. Now where is he--" She scampered away with Tamaki in tow, slipping into the sea of students and staff members. Jade watched on with a scowl on her face. Most girls do? What is she trynna say, that I'm gonna be part of some bandwagon? She felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her out of her thoughts.

"She didn't mean it like that," came Ren's voice again. "Hado has a very blunt and unconventional way of speech, don’t mind her."

"It's something she can work on considering she wants to pursue becoming a Pro Hero," Maeda interjected, her tone flat but firm. Jade hummed in agreement and looked amongst the other pupils. Upon seeing the many faces, her eyes became fixed on one that stood out.

In a large crowd of females stood a tall and bulky male, his smile gleaming and proud. He appeared to be speaking to them, a round of giggles following soon after whatever he’d said. There were a few international students Jade recognized taking pictures with him and handing him slips of paper, presumably with some kind of social contact on it. That must be who the girl was talking about seeing he has an entire--wait a minute! It wasn’t until he looked up that she realized why the male seemed familiar. That’s the guy who I ran into at the entrance! The one who gave me that stupid nickna--

“Gemstone!” 

Jade cursed inwardly as he advanced in her direction. She glanced at the entourage behind him, their faces surprised or annoyed, and it didn’t help that some of them were now moving closer too. Her feet were glued in place as the male stood before her, a cheeky grin evident on his face. Blonde hair, blue eyes, nice body...definitely the same guy from the first day.

”Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my name already,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. Jade noted how the gesture made his already defined muscles tighten. An odd tension arose in her abdomen, but she quickly dismissed it and cleared her throat.

”Togata if I remember correctly.” The foreign girl bowed, remembering her manners. It was best to keep a respectful image considering the person before her was not only older, but one of the most skilled students attending the original UA. “It's good to s—“

”Togata, I need some help getting to my classes," a voice suddenly cut in. It came as a realization to Jade that a majority of the girls from earlier were now surrounding them. The person who had spoken was an international student herself, but she didn't look too pleased that all the attention was on someone else. Her hand crawled up Togata's arm in a suggestive manner before resting at his shoulder. "I'm not too familiar with UA Japan's complex," she continued, "so it would help a lot."

"Ooh wait, I think I need help too!" someone else from the crowd piped.

"I do as well!"

"Me too!"

Soon numerous hands were tugging at the tall male with pleads and demands of showing them around the school. Jade watched as Togata weakly smiled and tried to talk amongst the bunch with reason; it proved useless as they continued to grab at him from every direction. An unusual feeling rushed to her torso again, but something felt much different from earlier. In place was a strong stinging sensation, not enough to hurt but enough to generate irritation. What in the hell--

"Something wrong, Lofota?" Maeda's voice snapped Jade back into reality. Ren and Kubo were before her, curiosity etched on their features. From her peripheral line of vision she could see the bulky third year being dragged away with a familiar cyan and indigo haired duo following close behind.

"We saw Togata and his groupies approach you, but you looked as if you were ready to jump at one of them," Kubo remarked. "I personally don't mind, just give me a heads up next time so I can record it for memories." Maeda rolled her eyes at this.

Jade chuckled and shook her head. "It wasn't anything like that, guys, I think my mind was just occupied with something else. Let's try and get to class before news reporters start breaking through the gates." She walked alongside the trio and listened to them explain UA Japan's school system and the events that were set throughout the year. Despite her nonchalant attitude, the sting remained in Jade's stomach; she figured it would go away after some medication and rest.

~

It took a little over a month for the second year to realize that the peculiar feelings in her system were not an overnight situation. Jade took matters into her own hands and recorded when her stomach fell into any eccentric sensation, noting what, when and how much she ate and any possible patterns. When food appeared to be free of guilt, she tried looking at her sleep patterns and clothing for clues but was met with the same result. Her concern had caught Ren's attention when the medic pupil found her seated on a hospital bed speaking to Recovery Girl.

"Hon, I've ran multiple scans and checkups and found nothing," sighed the elder. "Your health is in great shape and according to your own data, it seems like you're doing just fine. Maybe try laying down, it seems this issue with your tummy is stressing you out." Jade complied wordlessly, but Ren could see that she was still in heavy thought. When Recovery Girl exited the office, she took a seat beside the bed and peered up. "Thinkin' real hard over there, aren't you?"

Jade turned on her side with a groan. "I just wanna figure out what the hell is wrong with me, it's starting to piss me off."

"What've you been doing?"

"School, hero training, eating, sleeping, the usual."

"Any foods you can think of that caused that pain?"

"No, but that's the weird part!" The foreign student sat up and pulled a leg to her chest. "This feeling I keep getting, it doesn't hurt. It just--it doesn't...I never had this before, but I'm not sure if that means I'm doing something wrong that's causing my body to react the way it does."

Ren arched her brows in search of an answer. "Can you maybe describe this 'feeling' by comparing it to something? Or perhaps using a metaphor? Just so I can understand this better."

"It...well, there's usually two kinds of reactions. At one point, my abdomen feels light but constricted, like it can't take anything in because everything is squeezed out. When that happens, I also feel my heart rate pick up, and my body feels overheated." The medic nodded and gestured to continue. "The second feeling is more like a stinging one, or like a burn--yeah, burning would be a more accurate comparison. When my stomach gets like that, I get really annoyed, but there's only so much I can do when the problem is internal. I tend to get more of the first reaction than I do the second, if that helps."

It was an interesting explanation given, and Ren understood why Recovery Girl struggled a bit providing help. She was quiet for a long time, but just as her friend was about to speak, she asked another question: "Does this ever happen around a specific time? Specific person? Maybe a certain group of people or things?"

Jade blinked before lying down again, her attention focused on the ceiling. Is there somebody or something always near me when this happens? She reeled through all the faces and names she'd ever interacted with, staff members, students, strangers, but no exact nouns came to mind that she could recall triggering this reaction. The foreign student shook her head.

"Huh, well...what's the earliest you recall first feeling these sensations?"

"I think the earliest I felt it was when I was talking to Togata and--" Almost immediately the rest of Jade's sentence died on her tongue. Ren quickly caught the abrupt end and tried to make understanding of what had just happened. The memory was clear as day in her mind, meeting Hado and Amajiki, Togata walking up to her with immaculate bulging muscles, the crowd of female students hauling him away and the indefinable feelings in her abdomen, it all began to click. However, looking over the details of that time, Jade realized that the sensations ultimately activated when she was around--

"Togata."

She whipped her head in surprise.

"Togata is the cause behind your odd abdominal feelings," Ren smiled, "which tells me this is definitely not a medical issue." She bit back a laugh at the disbelief on Jade's face. It seemed she understood what was being implied as she began shaking her head feverently.

"No no no and no, you better not say what I think you're about to say, Ishikawa."

"Aw, c'mon now Jade, you can't be upset at me! I was just trying to help you understand the cause of your stomach issues, looks like it was just butterflies the whole time."

The foreign student grimaced. "Ren, please don't."

"But it's actually cute! I personally think that you both--"

"REN I GET IT, STOP."

Jade sat in irritation until her friend ceased laughing, then hopped off the bed and brushed off her uniform. The medic pupil stood up immediately and pulled her into a hug, chuckling lightly. "Well, now that we found the root of the issue, what are you gonna do? Am I helping you plan a confession?"

"I'm gonna get rid of it.” Ren's snickering stopped. Jade's face and tone was enough to say she wasn't kidding.

"Heh, I uh...I don't think I heard you correctly?"

"Get rid of it. I'll just distance myself from Togata so that my mind can adjust it's thoughts towards him." She hurried after her friend down the hallway. Students buzzed around them, lively chatter and activity surrounding the pair.

"Wait a minute Jade, I'm not understanding how this is being helpful."

"Ren, the more time I am not near him or able to visibly see him, I'm more than a hundred percent sure that whatever these annoying feelings are will dissipate. When that happens, I can go back to being in the guy's presence without any weird aura surrounding me, but until then, I'm following a strict 'No Togata' routine."

The medic student scoffed in amusement. "Routine? Jade, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard a UA student say. I say just let it happen and see where it goes from there. Who knows, maybe he possibly could return--"

"Ah--" Jade stopped and held a hand up. "I'm gonna stop you there for two reasons. One, the sole reason anyone should attend this school is to pursue some kind of a career, and this applies especially to me. I was sent here as a representative because UA Los Angeles trusts me to execute and display my skills as a potential Pro Hero, not to go messin' around with Japan's kids, let alone the top students. I have an entire city depending on me, Ren, I can't mess this up." She sighed and took in another breath. "Two, if anything, I am far from his type."

"His type? How can you even know that if you only ever said hi to the guy like, three times?"

"Context clues. If it isn't directly in front of you, look at everything around to find your answer."

Ren deadpanned. "And what exactly did you look at to find your answer?"

"Upbeat, lively girls," Jade replied as if it should've been an obvious answer. The pair entered the cafeteria which was more cramped than usual. Staff members were present, most likely by Nezu's word to have travelling students feel more welcomed. All Might stood among the teachers with a countless number of admirers already circled around him, all different years, sizes and appearances. A certain green haired boy appeared to be of his utmost interest as he practically shouted in the student's face. Ren chuckled at the sight, but she noticed her friend's attention was focused elsewhere.

Her gaze was closed in on a table swallowed by a swarm of students. Some were people from earlier that were practically throwing themselves at Togata, and it seemed no different as he sat at the center of the table enjoying his lunch. Hado was seated across from him, her expression as bright as ever, and beside them was a shaking Amajiki, his head rested against the structure’s surface. His nervous movements ceased, however, and Ren smiled seeing the cyan haired girl had slipped her hand into his, returning to her conversation with ease. Jade also noticed the subtle gesture, but she wouldn't help feeling a pang of annoyance at the audience surrounding the blonde boy. She didn't realize she was watching so intensely until his eyes crossed the room to meet hers. Crap! Immediately Jade looked away, unsure if she was more embarrassed about getting caught or feeling irked over a guy. You're here to represent your school, show your worth of an upcoming Pro Hero. Stop getting distracted! Distance! "Ren, let's get some lunch. I'm sure Tokoyami and the others are awaiting your presence."

"Our presence." Jade smiled as they strode across the cafeteria. The medic always made sure she felt included no matter what the situation was; it eased her thoughts greatly, which was something she needed.

~

Another month passed and Jade had almost become like a second Maeda, so intently focused during school hours and hero training. Even on off days, the international student went about her own activities, only ever seen for meals or rest. Her bond remained close with Ren, Maeda and Kubo in various ways, however, and she was present whenever a hangout commenced, so it seemed like everything was completely fine. Ren's teasing had become more discreet (much to Jade's relief) and she created a codename for the blonde third year.

"'The lemonade'?" Jade cringed. The two met up for a walk through town one day, and it seemed safe enough to discuss the matter since they weren't near school grounds.

"I think it's pretty subtle, and keeping the word 'the' in the codename would have people assuming we're actually talking about a beverage. Plus," the medic eyed her friend, "the guy is a tall glass of lemonade if I do say so myself, heh."

"Ren don't--"

"Lemonade sounds good right about now." She froze. It took everything in the foreign girl to not begin speed walking as soon as she heard the familiar upbeat voice behind her. From the look on her friend's face, Jade's assumption of Togata's presence was true. Unfortunately true. She slowly turned around, a faux smile in place until her eyes fell upon something hiding behind the male.

It was a little girl, she could tell that much, with long snowy locks spilling from behind Togata's calf. The child peeked up from her spot, red irises meeting Jade's indigo ones. The foreign girl was locked in place as she suddenly recalled her family. She thought of her parents' cooking and singing, her brothers' livelihood for sports, but she was especially reminded of her sister. Youngest and the only other girl in the line of siblings, they did a lot together. From shopping together to painting to singing to sightseeing, Jade realized how much she'd missed them. The exchange of words between Ren and Togata were a muffed noise as she crouched down, entrapped by the little stranger.

"I'm Jade, it's nice to meet you." The words slipped out like butter, and thankfully it didn't seem to frighten or discomfort the child. She looked up to the male for approval, then stepped forward and let his hand go. 

"My name is Eri, it's nice to meet you too," she squeaked with a bow. Jade was awestruck by her politeness and shifted onto her knees to bow in return. When they both straightened up, Eri bore a wide smile and returned to Togata's side.

"Gosh, Gemstone, thought you were ignoring me for a sec." Reality hit the foreign girl immediately when she met the blonde's gaze, and her stomach felt tight again. Damn it, not now! Calm down, breathe, breathe, don't overreact. She stumbled getting back on her feet and managed a sheepish expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she apologized more aggressively than she meant to. "I was just so surprised seeing you with a kid, and she just--"

"Oh? Do you think I'm not good with kids?" He raised a brow. 

Crap, why does he have to look cute doing that. "I never said that," Jade rolled her eyes. "I was just surprised seeing you outside of your whole entourage, that's all." She cursed at her choice of words. Now I just sound like I'm hating on him.

"My entourage? Sounds like someone's a bit jealous."

"Ha! Boy, ain't nothin' to be jealous of." The second year held her ground as the bulky male challenged her with a smirk. Ren cleared her throat, acknowledging her presence and causing Jade to force herself back. She didn't realize how close she'd gotten to him during their small banter, but it was definitely closer than what she was comfortable with. "Ren, uh, I believe you were talking about something, yes?"

The medic peered over in amusement. "Yeah, I was talking about lemonade, which since you're here Togata with little Eri, I believe we can all get some together." Damn you, Ren!

Eri gasped before tugging on the male's sleeve. "Can we please, Mirio?"  The sight made Jade's heart swell, and she couldn't be upset if it was an adorable child asking to accompany them. He beamed down at her and nodded his head.

"Ladies, you may lead the way." During the walk to a mini cafe Ren knew of (thanks to Tokoyami), Jade observed how attentive and caring Togata was with Eri, playing games or cracking jokes that made her laugh. Citizens passing commented on their closeness in adoration, many praising the third year for looking after the child with such passion. Even when there were those who tried to flirt with him, the boy paid them no mind and brushed off their efforts. Jade didn't know him too well, but she knew it would be difficult to want to be away from the guy, especially after seeing this side of him, away from the crowds, away from the hero limelight. Togata truly was someone to admire. A familiar tightness returned to her torso, but for now, she was okay with it.

She was pleased being able spend time with Eri herself, learning more about her likes and hobbies. A lot of what the young girl enjoyed Jade discovered was also liked by her sister. "What's her name?" the child asked, munching on a pastry. The horn atop her head glimmered in the sun while she finished up coloring a drawing.

"Her name is Carolei," the international student smiled, "but my family and I just call her Lei."

Eri dropped her coloring utensil on the table and leaned forward. "Can I call her Lei, too?" Jade looked around as though someone was listening to their conversation, then nodded with a wink, much to the child’s delight. They giggled and chatted, forgetting about time and enjoying getting to know one another. The second year felt as though she wasn't in Japan, but back in America with the people she'd cared about and loved; it felt good to bathe in the comfort and reminisce of home. Someone had gripped the back of Jade’s chair; she turned assuming it was Ren until she was face to face with a broad chest and the strong aroma of musk. Her heartbeat boomed in her head and she slowly turned back to Eri, allowing her nerves to calm. Ren bit back a laugh, but a tug on Jade’s hand distracted her from making a slick comment.

"Jade," said Eri in a small voice, "I have to leave now, but...do you think we can hang out another time?"

A sudden idea popped into the second year's mind at the young girl’s request. With a kind smile, she squeezed Eri's hand reassuringly. "We'll have plenty more days to hang out, hon, just me and you."

"Ouch, and what about me, Gemstone?" Togata whined, a hand on his chest in offense.

"Ah, I'd rather not be attacked by your fangirls. Besides, you have Amajiki and Hado to hang out with, and I know you see Eri almost every day." Both parties waved goodbye before continuing on their own paths. Ren and Jade were in a comfortable silence until the medic let out a sigh.

"You literally just missed your opportunity."

"Girl, what? If anything, I'd say I just opened the door for an opportunity."

"Opportunity for what? You literally shut the guy down."

"With good reason," the foreign student argued. She wasn't rude in her response to the older boy, and it was honest! The last thing Jade needed was rumors tainting her name simply for the fact that she hung out with one of the big three alone, especially if they were of the opposite sex. "Anyways, back to the opportunity I was talking about. I think Eri can help me out with this."

~

Happy New Years everyone! Thought I would just drop by with this little piece since I have been lagging quite a bit lol, anywho, just a little bit of love for our favorite blonde boy since I don’t see too much on him. Be safe everyone! Like, comment & share!

OC Creds to: @gureii (Ren, Maeda, Kubo

#anime oc #bnha oc #mha oc #jade lofota #mha dome #oc #my hero academia #mha #bnha #mirio togata #lemillion #mirio x oc #togata x oc #original female character #fluff #lots of fluff

[bnhavibes]

Dark Paradise Ch 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Cerulean

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  His voice dropped an octave, a warning tone. The calm before the storm. He leaned into your space, cyan eyes boring into you as his smokey scent clogged up your nose, and little tufts of flames appeared across his skin. You were bathed in flickering blue light. His face was so close to yours that you were certain his flames were singeing your eyebrows off. His smell was suffocating, his stare disarming. You took in some deep breaths to calm yourself and caught a subtle scent of bourbon whiskey.

Ao3

Pairings: Dabi/reader, Todoroki/reader, brief midoriya/reader, eventual aizawa/reader

Rating: mature so far, explicit soon

Picture by Stray ashes, check them out; their art is phenomenal 

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes grazed over the man in front of your door. His long black cloak clashed with a somewhat ill-fitting white shirt out of which protruded the top of his prominent pectoral muscles. But what really caught your eye was the patches of purpled scar tissue that was stapled onto whatever unmarred skin he had left. The burns under his eyes gave the appearance that he was perpetually exhausted. He turned his head towards where your face was shoved between the broken blinds and the glass of the window. You squeaked and quickly replaced the blinds over the window, inconspicuously peeking through the space between two. So much for being intimidating.

“What do you want? I’m not taking any more patients tonight.” You tried to harden your voice, putting up the pretense that you were not afraid of him, that you had honestly already destroyed.

He smirked slightly and you swore you could hear his staples click as his widening grin split open his face. His….surprisingly handsome face. Ew, fuck off lonely thoughts.

“I’m not here for treatment, I’m here to make a proposition.” Though his deep voice was muffled through the window, you could hear the impatience seeping into his tone. 

You cracked open the door until it slammed the golden chain taut. You took a breath in to tell him to go away; you weren’t interested in being tangled in a deal with yet another mob, but he spoke first.

“I’m with the League of Villains.” 

Oh.

They had been infamous around the little area of town you lived in for a while now, and had recently been making bigger news headlines as they completed more high-profile operations.

“I’m alone.” He must have seen your wandering eyes, scouring the area behind him to look for other threats. You sensed that you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Taking a bit of satisfaction at his eyes narrowing when you slammed the door in his face, you slipped the chain out to allow the door to fully open. You stepped aside in the doorway to let the scarred man through.

“Uh, come in, I guess. Mind the blood.” The villain stepped up into the house, just a breath away from you, and you decided the most striking thing about him was his turquoise eyes. They practically glowed in the dim light that enveloped your basement. The air he displaced as he brushed by wafted into your face and you caught a whiff of smoke. Closer to him now than before, you noticed the four silver cartilage piercings in each ear, three small studs on the right side of his nose, and a curved barbell on the left side of his lower lip. He had been scanning the room blankly, and now his eyes were back on you. When he raised his eyebrows in amusement, you realized you had just been staring at him for who the fuck knows how long. 

“What?” He inquired, eyebrows still raised. He regarded you through lidded eyes.

“Nothing. We can go upstairs, friendlier scenery,” you said as you gazed at the blood on the metal stretcher—that was really just an operating room table—and minutely shook your head in shame, willing away the memory of how those stains had gotten there. 

You had another reason for bringing the talk upstairs, and that reason was fully loaded, safety off, in its holster under the dining table. You weren’t clueless. You had learned a lot in the year you stayed with your Uncle Tommy, and from living in the sort of neighborhood you lived in. The sort that had you waking up to the loud popping of gunshots echoing in the dead of night. No doubt a gangster emptying a round into someone. The kind of neighborhood that had you looking behind you wherever you went, keeping your hand secured to the switchblade in your pocket. You tried not to keep up with the local news, not wanting to know who out of your neighbors had been killed this time.  

If some random man wanted to come into your house, you would be sure to be able to defend yourself, especially if he was such a successful villain, and you were one of the unfortunate quirkless individuals in society. It would be a shame if you had to put a bullet in such a pretty face. 

You weren’t too worried about him trying to kill you yet, since he seemed to want you for something. A proposition, huh? As you walked up the stairs, him following close behind, you couldn’t get out of your head how strange this was. What did a famous villain organization want with you?

Walking over to your scratched wood dining table that lay in the middle of your kitchen, you pulled out a wobbly chair for yourself, and turned back to the man. He made no move to sit down. He was just staring at you. You felt your face begin to heat under his intense gaze, praying that the blush wasn’t visible in the dim, flickering fluorescent lighting. Suddenly more aware that you were in pajamas and that your hair was still soaked, leaving drops of water along your clothing, you attempted to remain more composed than you looked.

“What?” You wondered if you still had some blood on your face or something. It could also be the sleep shirt that showed a rainbow with “death metal” plastered in bubbly lettering over the front. Or your pastel silky pajama bottoms that felt much too short now. Or the black cat house slippers. Likely the whole ensemble together.

“Nothing.” He finally stepped forward and sat in the other chair and you swore for a second you saw him smirk. You shot a finger up as you remembered the etiquette for having a guest in your house. You suddenly felt a bit giddy at having company. It had been a long time.

“Ah—um, tea! Do you guys….drink that sort of thing?” Your voice faded as you began to doubt yourself. You trudged over to the cabinets, ready to grab a mug, but you hesitated and let your hand hang in the air as you looked back to the villain for a response.

“Not really.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Disappointed, you shuffled back over to the table and sat down in your chair facing him. When he didn’t speak first, you had to improvise. 

“So….” You never had been any good at improv. As your eyes scanned over the villain, you looked to see if he was armed. He probably wasn’t; most people used their quirks as weapons, but it was a reflex. With your gun in reach, you felt a sudden rush of boldness. You never did bullshit people, so you figured you’d let this man know right where you stood. The years of making deals with crime lords had jaded you. Your hand slid under the table to grab the black 9mm out of the holster and set it down on the table in front you. It was pointed towards him, your small hand still cradling it. 

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he scanned the weapon and for a fleeting moment, looked impressed. You smiled tightly, avoiding showing that you were on the verge of laughter at your power move, and followed up with, “just a precaution.” You turned on the laser sight for extra effect, elated as he glanced down at the red dot on his chest. He lifted his head with an impatient expression and one eyebrow quirked. C’mon! Was he not intimidated at all? 

Crossing his arms and leaning back, he looked you over again. 

“Look, this wasn’t my idea, Crusty just sends me out to do whatever he doesn’t bother to do himself.” You could tell from the way his eyes flicked over you that he was analyzing every reponse you made, treading carefully.

“Crusty?” You raised your eyebrows at the villain.

“You’ll find out.” His confidence took you off guard, aversion burning through your stomach. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Just because he was with the League of Villains didn’t mean he could decide your future for you. “Oh, will I now?” You narrowed your eyes. You were the one with the gun, but somehow he still had the power. He leaned towards the table slightly.

“You will.” He sighed again before continuing. “The League of Villains has been looking for a doctor. We’re busy, as I’m sure you know, and it would be a lot easier for all of us if we could have one full-time.”

“Full-time? Look I’m not a doctor, you should look somewhere els-”

“You know what I mean. Doctor, nurse, whatever. Someone to patch us up when we need it. We have targets on our heads so we can’t make any unnecessary trips outside of our hideout. Obviously you will get compensation for your work and a free place to live.” He huffed a laugh. “Oh, and we can give you better supplies. All we ask is that you be there on-call so to speak.”

“You mean at your beck and call? I know I happen to treat a lot of villains but I don’t want to be associated with any groups. I don’t want that blood on my hands.” While you were somewhat speaking the truth, you just wanted to feel out what this villain knew about you. You could play innocent for now. 

“More than you already do?” He snarled. “Those villains you patch up, they go right back out and kill again. That’s a lot of blood. And don’t play innocent. I’ve heard plenty about what you do, or really, what you’ve had done to people. Your dealings with certain shady characters.” 

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You had done some things you weren’t proud of, but you still did not associate yourself with a life of crime. Though it was unsettling that he knew you had sent the mob on people before, you supposed crime lords weren’t the best at keeping secrets. 

“Everyone deserves a chance at living. Maybe I don’t want that kind of commitment, I’m happy here.” When the realization had slotted in your mind like a key in a lock, you had felt aglow with interest. A way out of this shithole. But you knew better than to seem too interested. You mirrored his crossed arms, looking anywhere but him, knowing that you were lying and hoping he wasn’t observant enough to notice.  His scoff suggested that maybe you were a bit too easy to read. 

“Doll, we both know that’s a lie,” he stated while gazing around the room at the bare walls to emphasize his point. For a reason you couldn’t think of, having this man look around at your sad, empty house made you self-conscious. You didn’t like that. You huffed, and he continued. 

“We’ve been watching you for a while now.” He drawled out your name at the end, and somehow it caught you off guard. Though this man had showed up at your house, there was something a little too intimate about him knowing your name. The way he said it, too. 

You tried to ignore how you were absolutely addicted to the way your name rolled so deliciously off his tongue. Especially since what you should have been thinking about was how the hell they had been watching you. You really needed to get back out there and date someone; the loneliness you’d endured for a while now was taking a toll. But, the reason behind your hesitance in dating persisted: you were too broken for anyone to put up with you. Sighing, you shoved that intrusive thought down like always.

“Graduated top of your class in nursing school. Very impressive. You’ve made quite a name for yourself. We could use someone like you...and it could be good for you to be a part of something bigger than yourself. You could finally have a purpose.” Striking blue orbs peeked out from behind hooded lids, fingers slowly drumming on the table. The impatience in his tone angered you. How can someone be that nonchalant all the time? Especially while insulting you. 

You had learned to always keep a cool head, never show too many of your cards when dealing with criminals. It was unfortunate that he had come right after a long day of work where you had just lost a patient. Something about him pushed all your buttons. It felt like he was undermining all the hard work you had done up to this point. You let go of your instincts, embracing the rage searing in your veins, and shot up out of your chair, glaring down at the scarred man.

“I have a purpose! I worked my ass off to carve out a place for myself in this twisted, fucked up world, and I’m not letting go of that because of some--ugh!” You threw your hands up, at a loss for words. He just raised his eyebrows at your outburst, but the tightening of his jaw betrayed his frustration with your resistance. You couldn’t explain why you were so angry at him, because you mostly agreed with what he was saying. It was probably the fact that it had taken you years to realize you weren’t happy where you were and this man who had known you for two minutes was giving you life advice.

“You’re not letting go of anything, and you’ll still have the same autonomy you have now. Working for us, you will have a chance to actually see the change you’ve been wanting to see. Ridding the world of those pitiful scum that call themselves heroes, where they can’t hurt anyone else like they hurt your family.” You were positively livid at his words. How did he know about that? 

“Don’t you fucking talk about them!” You were practically screaming. At that instant his eyes flicked down to the gun on the table and you lurched forward, ready to grab it and threaten him until he left. He was just as fast, hand slamming down on the weapon right as you reached it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  His voice dropped an octave, a warning tone. The calm before the storm. He leaned into your space, cyan eyes boring into you as his smokey scent clogged up your nose, and little tufts of flames appeared across his skin. You were bathed in flickering blue light. His face was so close to yours that you were certain his flames were singeing your eyebrows off. His smell was suffocating, his stare disarming. You took in some deep breaths to calm yourself and caught a subtle scent of bourbon whiskey. 

That had been your Dad’s favorite drink. It reminded you of home. After a tense second, you eased up and let out a sigh of defeat, shoulders drooping. He slipped his hand off the gun, blue flames dissipating as he shifted back minutely. He was still in your space, towering over you. His long cloak made him appear very tall, and you had to admit he was quite imposing. Dangerous, mysterious. Just your type.

You avoided his eyes, deciding on looking at his feet instead. He wore black loafers that could have functioned as dress shoes if he had tried harder. His dark blue pants were too short for him, riding up high on his ankles, exposing more lines of staples and charred skin. You could have laughed at that fashion choice if he hadn’t been about to kill you a second ago. 

“We’ve all had shitty things happen to us because of those heroes, and it’s why we fight. Think of it as a step in the right direction. Just—here, take this.”

He gently slid a card out of his jacket pocket and held it out to you. After you just glared at the card, he raised his eyebrows as if you were defying him and gestured for you to take it. You complied, eyes flicking over the words as you were graced with a, “good girl.” His hot breath puffed down onto your face. You shivered.

“Think about it,” he slid by you, “and I expect to hear from you soon.” He sauntered over to the front door, hands shoved in his pockets. He opened the door, stepping across the threshold, but he paused and turned back.

“Oh, and you might want to keep an extra close eye on the people you call friends. In case you were wondering how we got that information about you.” The sadistic smirk on his face was the closest he got to a smile, it seemed. Your eyes widened. The possibility that one of your mobs had been feeding the League of Villains information about you made your blood boil and that rope of anxiety in your stomach tighten and pull. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a surprise, and it was all the more reason for you to consider extricating yourself from those deals. It wouldn’t be hard for the League to get information. They were a powerful group with influence and a way of making things happen. A few threats here and there and they could have whatever they wanted.

“Wait, who are you again?” You had to at least know this man’s name if he was telling you all this. He glanced back, amusement sparking in his eyes.

“Dabi. Later.” He shut the door behind him. 

“Dabi,” you parroted, but he was long gone. You liked the way his name felt on your lips, and how his scent still hung in the air.

You were left sitting there in complete shock. This could change your whole life. When you had become a nurse, you took an oath that you would help anyone and everyone you could, regardless of circumstance or who they were. The clinic had given you a bit of a reputation amongst the various mobs in your community; people apparently thought it was heroic that you saw even organized crime lords as people deserving of basic human rights like healthcare.

Right out of nursing school, you had started working at a hospital in the trauma bay of the ER. After more than two years there, you had realized there were so many people who slipped through the cracks of the healthcare system and you wanted to help them. When you brought up your clinic idea to Tommy, who had gotten you the dilapidated house you currently lived in, he was very supportive, helping you convert your basement into a healthcare area. 

The clinic had been fun for the first year; you had finally felt like you were making a difference in the world. You expanded your patient base quickly. Though you had already arranged a deal with Tommy for supplies at the time, soon enough the Hawks and Deku mobs had reached out to you hoping to make a deal. That had been useful at first and you felt like you were reaching more people, but deals with the mob go sour sometimes, and you felt guilty when anyone got hurt because of you. Not to mention that gangsters weren’t the most reliable and would occasionally price gouge you for vital supplies. 

It quickly became exhausting to be involved with the three different mobs, and you weren’t sure how to get out. You had been afraid of telling your Uncle you wanted to move out of the house because he had been so gracious in finding it for you in an area protected by the Shie Hassaikai. You had never told him you made deals with Izuku or Keigo, and that’s the main reason why you didn’t bring it up to him. You suspected he had an idea, though. 

The League of freaking Villains wanted you to help them. You had admired them from the sidelines for a while; a faceless intimidating organization that made a more just society. Not everyone agreed with their methods, calling them scoundrels, and the scum of the Earth. It was due to the media and the structure of society that people like them turned to being villains in the first place. 

You all lived in a broken society where certain quirks were praised and others cast aside as too villain-like. Then the media had the nerve to be shocked when the people they condemned became villains. The irony and pure idiocy of it annoyed you to no end. The fact that those “heroes” at the top of society had fame, riches, and incredible privilege was disgusting. Calling from their ivory tower saying that they are truly helping people, while condemning the less fortunate who had just been led down the wrong path as “hopeless” and “immoral” in the same breath.  

Of course, you didn’t agree with everything The League did either, but you did think their ideology was logical. It was an ignorant young hero only in it for the fame that had caused you great tragedy as a child. He had taken everything from you. 

He was one of two people you had ever arranged to be killed. You had called Izuku to have it done, and he had gladly obliged. He seemed pleased that you were, “embracing your dark side,” as he had put it. You remembered how your Uncle had called you after he heard news of the hero’s death. You were sure he knew you had it done, could hear the skepticism in his voice, but he never pushed the topic. People could call you evil for having done that. While you weren’t necessarily proud you had done it, you didn’t regret it. 

Was the world not better after being rid of someone like that, who would only cause more suffering? The League had dedicated themselves to eradicating the world of “heroes” who were in it for all the wrong reasons. 

Your eyes watered in relief. Maybe you could actually detangle yourself from those deals with the mobs safely. Still, imagining the displeased faces of Keigo and Izuku made you quake in fear. Mobs don’t like it when you break off agreements with them, but no self-respecting man would mess with the League of Villains.

You took another shaky breath in, the anxiety crashing over you as you rolled over the idea of a new life in your mind. You had a lot to think about. Picking up your phone, you shot a text to your best friend and only light in this shithole of a world, Sero.

Breakfast tomorrow?

You already saw the three dots indicating he was typing a response. He was always quick to answer. 

For sure! Hmm what’s going on this time, I wonder? Pick you up at 9:30-ish? 

You ignored his prying and agreed to the time. He only acknowledged your response and you were grateful when he didn’t push further. Sero always gave you the time you needed until you were ready to talk about whatever was on your mind. As you lay there with your eyes open, staring at the shadowed beige ceiling above, that cerulean gaze was burned into your retina. Your exhaustion finally seeped heavily into your bones and muscles, pulled at your eyelids until you sunk further into the bed and fell into a deep sleep. 

#brit #brit writes #third chapter coming soon #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #dabi #dabi x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanart #mafia au #mafia #nurse #nurse reader #bamf reader

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

How about R14 and R15 for Cal because he deserves some happiness after all the angst I've requested for him.

Haha, that’s true! I really like how you’re wanting something fluffy to make up for the angst you’ve requested. Thanks for your request, @jewalsgem​, and I hope you enjoy!

R14: “You look so handsome, I really mean it.”

R15: “You make me feel so safe and I’m so grateful for you.”

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Somehow, above all other good things that Cal could latch onto, it was MC.

The thought crossed Cal’s mind as he held MC in his arms, blanketed by the silver luminescence of the moonlight. Her head was buried in the hollow of his neck, her eyes closed despite the beauty in front of her--MC was more so focused about the beauty that wrapped around her and transmitted feelings fuzzier than the wool of their cover. Cal was quiet and so was the night and that was how they preferred; the only sounds being their muted breaths billowing. MC sighs and snuggles closer, her nose grazing Cal’s tender pulse, her untamed chestnut hair tickling his chin. But the gunslinger hardly minded--only shifting his head so that his honed chin rested on a patch of smooth and silky tresses. The atmosphere was too perfect to shatter--a silence so comfortable that even a hushed word would fracture it and down they’d fall from their haven.

Their night away from trouble began with the classic tongue-in-cheek banter that lasted for a while--countless minutes wasted of the endless battle to be victorious. Cal had suggested to take the night off together--or rather, he shyly asked MC to a date on the rooftop of the bike shop and she agreed--since drama never spared them ever since they became a couple. MC was glad for the opportunity to relax with Cal away from all of the cyan and red and green-faced demons who popped out of every corridor they stepped into. But the only mission at hand was to outsmart each other, snapping witty comebacks left and right to have the last laugh. Once the two ran out of ways to call each other dimwitted losers, their conversation fell into a solitude and drifted off with the gentle breeze, the words isolated and forgotten once the romantic setting became known. “Wow,” Cal muttered after a moment of gawking, his blue eyes illuminated by the speckles of light kissing the sky, “guess I scored big when I suggested stargazing on the roof.” 

His cocky grin is vocalized in his tone and MC resists the need to roll her eyes and quip back. Instead, she jabs a gentle finger into his side and smiles softly, swayed by the cozy air. “You guessed right. For once.” MC adds once she sees the proud smile climb his mouth, her own turning wry. Though the tease might’ve been the initiation another full-fledged war, all it does is tug a string of chuckles from Cal who seems more amused than irritated. “Says you. You’re like the epitome of lousy guesses.” MC should’ve been defensive at that, should’ve felt her hackles rise and the urge to argue , but like ice cream on a scorching summer day, that compulsion melts into something sticky and sweet; something that encourages a smiley eye roll. Maybe it was the fond note that tainted his voice. Maybe it was the stunning smile that still laced his features; a handsome spool of thread woven with easy intricacy. Whatever the reason, MC loved to fool around like this; her heart a harbor that held each positive happening like it was the most valuable artifact ever garnered. After that, Cal had scampered off down the stairs connecting to the roof to fetch a blanket so they could properly settle under the stars. Just for good measure, the trick shooter snagged two--one to protect their backs from the chill of the rooftop and the other to protect them from the chill of the moon. 

Fast forward to now and it seemed like there was no chill under the blankets--only the serene and soothing warmth that Cal and MC exchanged. Eventually the soundless aura they were engulfed in becomes too much and Cal breaks the streak of quiet. “Would it be heartless to ask if I can fall asleep with you like this?” His voice is light yet curious, a bite glued to the end that told MC he was asking a genuine question that he wanted a genuine answer for. She swats his chest, her hand limp and frugal at what it was told to do, but it was intentional. MC understood where Cal was coming from; the soothing tranquility and everlasting warmth was liquefying her thoughts and making her entire body feel woozy and drunk with fatigue. “Not heartless,” MC tilts her head upwards to Cal, her tawny gaze undulating as she flickers from his eyes to his parted mouth, “just not thoughtful of the girl who you invited to this date in the first place.” The words fall softer than the skin of Cal’s throat against the tip of her nose and if anything the air lightens and the stars, twinkle just a hint brighter. “Huh, what a difference. Sorry for saying something so off-beat.” Cal retorts, subdued mischief in his voice. Another silence rains on their nurturing mass of tangled limbs and murmuring breaths, joined heartstrings fluttering with each thump of their hearts. MC’s eyes returned to silky smooth slab of the sky, blemished with the halos of hundred and hundreds of small freckles--each cluster differing in size and luster. Argent gems floating through a sea of sapphirine silk; something so simple yet so beautiful when in the arms of the one you love.

If MC dared get tawdry, in the arms of her star.

As if reading her thoughts, Cal’s arm encircling her torso clutches her tighter and synchronously urges her closer under the moonlight--if closer is even possible at this point. Rather Cal coerces MC’s hands to stay splayed on his chest, right where the disheveled path of unbuttoned shirt meets toned skin--muscles that offer a soft embrace despite their tough appearance. She slides her fingertips farther left, to the second cleft of his rumpled tie, right were his defined chest was undermined by the subtle tap of his heart. It gently spoke in couple-second-long beats to her ear, mumbling an aimless song that wasn’t one she could decipher words from--but feelings. She could perceive that he was at ease; not a cloud of worry or fear or anxiety lined his mind, only crowded with the setting he was in. It was a guess--a very educated guess--but MC had the feeling that she was correct in more than one sense. Caught up in the moment, MC lifts her head and looks deep into the bluest eyes she’s ever seen and whispers, “you look so handsome, I really mean it.”

The look she receives is worth the heat creeping up her neck as Cal’s blue eyes widen, dilate, then hood as a blush waltz onto his face. Sheepishly, Cal clears his throat and dodges her eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line? I thought we weren’t gonna go down that sort of road tonight.” Though his voice is quiet, the truth behind his words has more volume. Cal had once said--in a fit of rage, mind you--that romance wasn’t his thing, so maybe something as blunt as ‘you’re so handsome’ might be the sentence to totally fluster him. MC smiles. “I don’t know what you mean, Cal,” she hums as her eyebrow lifts against his brawn chest, “after all, you’re the one who suggested to sleep under the stars--don’t know what gets more romantic than that. Aside from that, are you trying to say I’m handsome?” She teases lightly, her whisper wafting over his bare skin before reaching his ears. Perhaps it was her imagination, but MC could’ve swore that Cal smiled--even just for a second. “Maybe. Honestly, I’d use any adjective that means ‘attractive’ to describe you.” At that, MC’s turn to flush red like a tomato comes and her cheeks burn against his chest, almost the same color as the pulsating organ just beneath her head. “Now who’s going down that road?” MC remarks. Part of her frustrated declaration bleeds into the mustard fabric of Cal’s shirt and the gunslinger grins, arms still a tight shield sheltering her close. “Can’t help it,” the trick shooter murmurs against the dark night, “you make me feel so safe and I’m so grateful for you.”

An awkward yet intimate quiescence befalls them like the moonlight dappling their wool blanket, before the two of them turn the color of blood out of embarrassment.

“We’re such trash, aren’t we?” Cal says, stilted, as MC’s affection-starved mind roves the sentence he whispered just a few moments before; reveling in the loving implications. She blinks, then erupts into low laughter that’s swallowed by the echo shrouding the roof. 

“Well, at least we’re trash together.”

There’s a beat of silence before the cunning Cal North speaks up again, smirk placid as it curves his features. Mischievous.

“...total trash.”

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Thanks again for taking the time to request! I really loved writing some Cal fluff for you!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#cal north #sin with me

[kyle-is-a-fancy-nerd]

27th day: celebration 

Agarwaen is nervous. He sighs deep breathes, and in front of the mirror tries to braid his hair usually messy. He knows it’s shallow because once arrived in the elves district, the elves themselves will take care of his toilette and hair. 

Agarwaen is almost an adult now: he is fourteen, near fifteen. His facial features, even though yet androgynous, look more and more masculine. His face looks like his father’s, Caesar, who however denies it: Agarwaen appears more like his other parent, Isil. He apparently has the same thin mouth, the same big eyes, the same discreet laugh. Only his pupils are the exact same grey as his father. He knows it bothers his aunt Hel, to see this bastard possessing one of the biggest points of pride of the Bärenklau.

Despite his young age, he starts to be taller than his father. He knows Caesar is short - he laughs about it himself - but Agarwaen is still proud because to him, it means being a bit of a man. He doesn’t have muscles yet, but his father maintains that he is already an excellent fighter: he has beaten Delrùwath, another one of his relatives. But even more, he has begun to defeat his father, who, instead of being offended, laughs even harder and messes up his hair. 

Agarwaen is for now dressed with a wool top, a purple scarf and pants, that he’ll change back once in the elves'. After all, it will be his celebration. 

Suddenly, the door opens up. Agarwaen turns over, ready to face his aunt’s butler, or worse, his aunt herself. But it’s only his father, who, in front of his son’s peaky look, burst out a laugh and asks freely : 

“My boy would be scared of his father ?”

Agarwaen, embarrassed, doesn’t add anything else until he feels Caesar’s hand on his shoulder. His father’s gaze is worried because he knows today is a big day. 

Agarwaen smiles shyly to Caesar and answers :

“Do not worry, father, we can leave.”

Caesar nods then opens the door. They go through the Castle’s gardens, where they can find Frigga, the king’s spouse, who is with some servants taking care of the heir, Modi. However, Caesar ignores them. Agarwaen knows it’s complicated between the king and his wife, particularly for the heir’s education. Caesar barely takes care of him, he prefers to give his whole attention to the kingdom or to his illegitimate son. Caesar hates that people say Agarwaen is a bastard, because to him, he is way more than just this title. 

While walking, Agarwaen also sees his aunt on one of the stairs that lead to the gardens. She is with her eternal butler, and both of them disdain him just by a look. As a child, Agarwaen used to live really bad this exclusion from this part of his family, but, since then he has chosen to not pay attention to them. But he also knows that his father and his aunt are really close.

They finally get out of the Castle and Agarwaen can breathe. His shoulders are not as tensed and his teeth as clenching. He smiles at Caesar, who is still laughing while the people salute his father with respect.

Agarwaen still feels like exploring the city and discovering new things every time he leaves. Yet, he knows all the streets by heart: the shop that sells small pieces of jewelry, the other one with swords, or all the other small shops that sell to his father some food or very precious treasuries. Agarwaen remembers his aunt Hel holding up a sigh seeing her brother coming back with thousands of little wealthy details of the armory, knowing it would be of no use. But, Caesar would always return with items from other islands, sometimes found by the rare wanderers coming in their very unknown kingdom. Agarwaen knows his father’s big dream is to explore the rest of the world. Maybe one day. 

They finally arrive at the elves’ district. Those streets are isolated, and the elves living there rarely go out to see humans or even less of the Castle. Though Caesar hasn’t been scared to discover their culture so different from his, and now, he knows the elves are loyal to him. To Agarwaen as well. He is sure that if one day he had the ambition to be king, he will have the help of the damned elves. They turn over and smile to them now. The children come to beg some sweets to Caesar, and the adults nod their head then continue to take care of the preparations for tonight’s celebration. The whole district has heard of it: the young Agarwaen is ready to be an adult now.  

Suddenly, emerges from the crowd his relative Delrùwath. Agarwaen runs towards them and embraces them. Delrùwath is taller than him. They watch them with a loving gaze while discussing with Caesar. Agarwaen follows them with no idea of what their conversation can be about. They move in the big district which Agarwaen holds even dearer in his heart than the humans’ ones. Here, he doesn’t know only the streets, but also the people: he catches Delkamerth’s children running. There, Léokaren’s inn which welcomes all the wanderers and other people but where there are the best receptions. Farer, Lonaraneth and Kelkathrah’s apartments and Agarwaen thinks they are the ones who will take care of him for his elf celebration. Agarwaen smiles lost in his thought.

Abruptly, emerges his aunt’s butler. Caesar as Delrùwath and Agarwaen look at him not understanding: what is he doing here? But Agarwaen guesses that if his aunt’s butler comes here, it’s that it’s important. Caesar excuses himself then leaves to talk with Hel’s butler. He comes back a few minutes later and announces : 

“I must leave, but I will return before the Ceremony starts.”

It doesn’t reassure Agarwaen, but he smiles to his father and says nothing. He trusts him. 

Delrùwath messes his hair, laughing when Agarwaen complains then he says : 

“You will look wonderful tonight my nephew.”

Agarwaen is blushing, but he doesn’t add anything. They’re moving forwards Lonaraneth and Kelkathrah’s apartments. Delrùwath knocks on, and goes out of the house a tall elf bastard, Lonaraneth: Agarwaen knows it because like him, her skin is not as dark blue and her hair not as cyan as the ones of the other elves. However, she is accepted if not adored by the other elves for her chorister qualities and her makeup talent. It’s also often with her Dalaika Kelkathrah that they craft ceremonial clothes. Both of them are very known in the district. 

Lonaraneth doesn't have her hair done but she doesn’t feel any embarrassment. Even, she exclaims : 

“My boy!”

She notices Delrùwath and nods at him before jumping in Agarwaen’s arms and declaring : 

“I’ve heard the hearsays! Today is the big day!”

Lonaraneth is more extravagant than the other elves, but it is what makes her charisma. She laughs, moves away some of her hair then she takes his hand and brings him in her house and whispers with a playful smile : 

“ Do not worry, I’ve already prepared everything. I knew you would come.”

Some hours later, Agarwaen moves out finally from her house. But she is still here and brings him to the fire. 

He walks in the streets which are turning darker and darker, Agarwaen senses children’s chuckling. They glance at him with his new clothes. It’s true that Agarwaen looks amazing: he is wearing a skirt covered by colorful feathers and a coat made of white fur. His hair is braid and decorated of other feathers and jewelry, that can also found on his wrists and ankles. His face is full of makeup, but Agarwaen hasn’t had enough time yet to see what he looks like.

It starts to be late, and the torches’ lights shine slowly the darkness. But despite the little of light, Agarwaen still recognizes his father: he wears a similar skirt as him and an identical coat. In his ginger hair is found some braids and a headband full of shell gleam all around him. Agarwaen turns over Lonaraneth and shouts out : 

“You didn’t tell me my father will come dressed like us !”

Kelkathrah burst out a peal of laughter then they say : 

“It”s a familial celebration, Agarwaen, of course, your father would come as you come.”

Agarwaen’s pupils meet the ones looking alike of his father. The king is in awe and in his eyes can be read pride. He stays astonished, only looking at his son like the happiest of all men. However, Agarwaen as his father are interrupted at this moment by the beginning of the ceremony: some cries and chants are appearing suddenly from the silence, and Agarwaen laughs while he feels he is pushed by his friends. He is lead near the place’s center, where an immense fire shines and brights all his face. His father follows Delrùwath and other elves, and they finally end up in front of the village’s leader. It’s Lakomorth, that smile at both of them tenderly. They reveal to Agarwaen : 

“Isil is watching you from the stars.”

And Agarwaen can’t feel happier, not when he knows both his parents see him becoming a man. 

#blabla #writing #writersmonth2019 #writersprompt2019

[overwatchworks]

When Jade Turns to Scarlet

Chapter 2

‘Master.’

Genji blocked another strike, foot sliding back and almost slipping from under him.

‘Master. Egg will help you.’

"Do it, then." Genji hissed, muscles straining before Shojiro ran forwards and slammed into him. Genji was thrown into the hall.

‘Very well. Egg is with you Master. Egg will protect you.’

Genji hadn't come back that morning, when the chaos started. An enemy clan had gathered their forces, joined with a few others and attacked their home at the crack of dawn, able to infiltrate the grounds and somehow get past the guards even with their new shift. Hanzo had woke to a sword pressed against his throat, and he had been battling since, smeared with blood that wasn't his own. 

He hefted his swords, one in each hand, held defensively at the moment, and he spun, blocking the volley of strikes coming his way. Hanzo saw his chance when the enemy lunged just a bit too far, and he flipped the grip on his left katana, driving it into the man's back as he was trying to compensate for his last mistake. Hanzo yanked the blade out and immediately ran and spun, bringing both swords down onto an opponent's shoulder right as they were about to drive their own blade into one of the Shimada guard's stomach. 

The assailant dropped with a guttural shriek, and Hanzo helped the guard to their feet before falling back to see if there were any more further into the compound. He cursed as a throwing knife went flying past his ear, clipping his cheek, and he deflected the next two that came hurling at him. The enemy clan's men were everywhere. Hanzo ducked out of the way, calming his breathing and closing his eyes as he focused on the burning of his tattoo. 

He snapped his eyes back open, flashing blue and burning like fire as his dragons came to life in a wave of crackling cyan energy, massive in their battle forms, one on each blade. Hanzo ran along a wall and flipped himself off of it, driving his swords into each intruder unfortunate enough to get in his way, turning his entire body into a weapon as he let his dragon's spirit flow through his form. Each swing of his blade caused a crackle, and he cut down his enemies like they were paper, whirling through them and leaving nothing but blood in his wake. Such was the fate of anyone foolish enough to attack a Shimada. 

Hanzo straightened when the room fell into silence, his dragons retreating back into his body and the steady flow of energy slowly draining from him. His breath came out in ragged huffs, but he continued further, sneaking down a hall and silently cutting down anyone who was there. 

Hanzo turned a corner suddenly and felt a fist connect with the side of his head. He dropped, dazed and cursing himself for not being more careful, then swiping the legs out from underneath his attacker. 

They fell with a thud and a huff, Hanzo leaping back to his feet and snatching his weapons back up. Something sharp sank into his side before he could fully recover, and he growled, spinning and cutting off the hand that had been holding the knife. There was a shriek of pain before Hanzo cut them off in a spray of blood, stumbling slightly as he kept going. 

He yanked the blade from his clothes and silently thanking whatever was listening that he had put on a full chest-plate. He was running purely off of adrenaline and the elder's will at this point, body and mind exhausted from fighting for so long. 

Hanzo ran back to help the guards when he found no one else had gotten any further, and was almost stabbed as he came back to the foyer. He dropped to his knees and slid under the blade that had almost taken him out, surging up with both his swords and driving them into the attacker's soft stomach before spinning as he pulled them back out and moving on. Hanzo was pummeled again as he ran, tasting blood this time--most likely from a split lip--and he fell to the ground. 

He used both his katanas to stop the sword that almost came slamming into his throat, twisting them expertly and with a flick of his wrist sending the opposing weapon flying from the man's grip. Hanzo was about to surge up again when the tip of a familiar blade protruded from the man's chest, hot blood dripping onto Hanzo's face as the man crumpled on top of him. 

He shoved the corpse off of him, a foot helping in his endeavors as Genji reached down to help him up.

"Come on, Anjia! Getting tired already?"

Hanzo grabbed Genji's hand and let himself be pulled up, his little brother handing him his weapons as he stood.

"You say that as if you've been fighting as long as I have. Good to see you finally decided to show up."

Genji grinned and spun suddenly, jamming his katana into an attacker's chest as they tried to come up behind him.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't let you have all the fun, now could I?"

Hanzo scoffed and gripped Genji's shoulder, smiling a bit.

"Thank you."

He then went to a guard, shaking their shoulder sharply.

"Where's our father?" He demanded, and the guard gestured to his left.

"Third floor, first right you make will take you to his study." They informed him, and Hanzo nodded his thanks.

"Genji! Come on!"

Hanzo sheathed one of his katanas and motioned to Genji, already running off in the direction the guard had pointed in. Hanzo flipped the sword to a more defensive grip, running down the halls but barely making a sound as his feet hit the floor. Genji was right behind him, glancing around warily, but they met no resistance as they made their way up to their father's study. 

Hanzo pushed the door open, stopping dead in his tracks when the tip of a sword was pressed against his throat. Genji raised his own katana with a deep growl, but Hanzo stopped him, sheathing his blade. Shojiro lowered his when he realized who it was, standing tall and proud, looking deadly as the weapon in his grip. Hanzo walked in with a small bow, Genji following him but not giving the same show of respect.

"Father, they only got as far as the Eastern wing. I cleared them out as I went. I believe the guards can hold them at the foyer now."

"Yes, they were foolish to bring so few. The Hamasaki clan was never much of a threat, and now they've gone and destroyed themselves." Shojiro's deep, icy voice cut through the room, his eyes glancing over Hanzo's blood soaked clothes.

"Should we engage the others? Completely finish them off?" Hanzo asked, left hand gripping the hilt of his katana as his tattoo burned once more.

Shojiro raised a brow, lip curling into a sneer as he shook his head.

"Do not waste what little energy you have left on those insects, my son. Let the guards do their job, and we'll do ours."

Hanzo frowned, Udon and Soba chirping a warning to him in the back of his mind as Shojiro turned to him once more.

"Father?"

"It seems we have a traitor in our midst. As the heir of the clan, I expect you to watch and learn from what happens to those who betray us."

Shojiro turned his iron gaze to Genji, a small, twisted smile growing on his lips, the youngest Shimada paling and backing up.

"Father...It was an accident, I didn't...I never betrayed you, it was just--"

"Just what, Genji? Just a slip of the tongue? Letting an entire club know that the guard shift had changed in a moment of drunken stupidity? Just a little mistake you can apologize for and then go off to make more? Not this time, Genji. This time you will learn." Shojiro hissed, Hanzo starting forward when he saw the way his father was gripping the hilt of his sword.

He gasped as a spike of searing pain suddenly tore through his thoughts, bringing him to his knees. Udon and Soba shrieked in the back of his mind and tears blurred his vision, red scales and unearthly whispers filling his head. Hanzo could barely make out Shojiro advancing on Genji, sword swinging leisurely in his hand.

"For too long have you brought nothing but shame and disappointment to the Shimada name. For too long have I allowed you forgiveness. Too long have I listened to your brother. He is the only one you had left, but now you can't hide behind him anymore."

"Father, please! Please stop hurting him! S-stop! It's not his fault!" Genji screamed, and Hanzo doubled over, white hot pain and maroon scales blinding him for a moment. 

He could hear his dragons fighting for him in the back of his mind, could hear them squealing in pain, but he could do nothing for them against the power of his father’s dragon. Hanzo's fingers curled and he writhed in agony, and he grit his teeth, trying to focus, trying to move.

"G-Gen--Go--Run!" He choked out, gasping and screaming before black blanketed his vision.

~*~*~*~

Genji stared in horror as Hanzo went still behind Shojiro, and he looked back up at his father in terror. Shojiro glanced down at Hanzo, tisking before turning that furious gaze back on Genji.

"It’s a pity he didn't have more energy left. He won't be able to see this."

Genji looked once more at Hanzo, his words ringing through his ears, and he glanced back behind him.

Run. Go. Escape this place, get out of here. RUN. 

But Genji wasn't going to leave his brother like that. He couldn't leave Hanzo. He raised his sword, fighting back the fear, forcing his hands not to shake as much as they were. Shojiro laughed, cold and cutting, sharp as his blade, and he grinned at Genji with nothing but malice.

"I've been waiting a long time to get you out of here, and you've just given me the perfect opportunity to do so. So, really, I thank you for finally doing me a favour."

Shojiro tapped his sword to Genji's, smiling cruelly when the youngest Shimada's blade quivered. Suddenly, he swung it around his head and spun, slamming into Genji and pressing him against the wall. Genji gasped and strained against the sword he had somehow managed to block, teeth gritting as he pushed back and slipped out from under Shojiro's onslaught. 

He ran in front of Hanzo, swiping at his father's back, Shojiro easily parrying and returning the strikes. Still, Genji stayed in front of his brother, little cuts being sliced onto his hands and cheeks as Shojiro toyed with him, Genji desperately trying to block and defend, but knowing he was no match for his father.

‘Master.’

Genji blocked another strike, foot sliding back and almost slipping from under him.

‘Master. Egg will help you.’

"Do it, then." Genji hissed, muscles straining before Shojiro ran forwards and slammed into him. Genji was thrown into the hall.

‘Very well. Egg is with you Master. Egg will protect you.’

Genji almost jerked at the strength that was suddenly flowing through him, his tattoo lighting up a vibrant, fiery green and scales seemingly hovering over his blade. He looked back up at a stunned Shojiro, his father staring at his new stance and vigor with interest. 

Genji growled before launching himself up at his father, cutting the space he had just been and missing him by a hairsbreadth. He swung his blade around and caught it on Shojiro's, overpowering his father as he pressed in, baring his teeth. Shojiro grunted and pushed against Genji's attack, having to kick his side to get him let up.

"We are your children! I'm your son! How can you attack your son like this!? How can you hurt us like this?!" Genji shrieked as he slammed back into Shojiro, making a few cuts of his own this time. 

He kept up the pace, not letting up until he had Shojiro pinned against the wall. Genji glared and growled, Egg's voice mixing with his own as his father strained against the blade pressing down towards his chest. There was a flash of deep red in Shojiro's eyes, and his father tilted his head, shoving Genji back with ease and huffing.

"You were never my son." He spat, and Genji's movements faltered. 

Shojiro glared at him, and suddenly Genji's strength, his will, his control left him, Egg screeching in the back of his head. Genji dropped to his hands and knees with a gasp, and Shojiro pressed the tip of his blade to Genji's chin, tilting it up to look at him.

"Now, you shall know what the Shimada clan does to traitors."

His foot connected with Genji's side, and then something very solid and very hard hit the back of his head.

---

Genji woke to Hanzo screaming.

"Genji! Genji, wake up! Leave him alone, you bastard! GENJI!"

Genji slowly opened his eyes, realizing he was out on the main building's balcony before glancing around at the people around him. Hanzo was being dragged back by three guards, twisting and writhing in their grip, making it a step forward before he was pulled back sharply.

"GENJI! Take me instead! Take me! Please! Genji!" He shrieked, trying to kick at the guard's shins, making them grunt with the effort of holding him back. 

Genji could sense even in his mind that the elders and their dragons were trying their hardest to influence Hanzo, to make him stop, but he still struggled and strained, screaming Genji's name, pleading. 

"Take him away." 

Shojiro's voice chilled Genji, making him shiver involuntarily. He was curled up on the floor, mind and thoughts oddly empty as he watched Hanzo being forcefully dragged away, tongue too thick in his mouth to form words. He reached out towards his brother, unable to do anything else though, unable to help him.

"Genji! No! Genji! No! No NO!"

Hanzo's shouts died away, and Genji stared at the spot he had just been in before dragging his gaze up to meet Shojiro's. He no longer had a weapon, he merely stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, face unreadable.

"You shall learn a most valuable lesson, betrayer. You shall learn that it was your greatest mistake to disobey the Shimada clan."

Genji sat up lethargically, scooting back from where Shojiro stood over him.

"N-no...I didn't...Please..." Genji whispered, still moving back until he hit the wooden railings. 

He saw a flash of green over Shojiro's shoulder, and Genji almost sighed out loud in relief, Egg appearing full sized behind him with a growl.

"Egg!" He smiled, scrambling up to his knees. "Buddy, I need your help!"

Egg stared at him with his deep golden eyes, still as stone, Shojiro not moving nor seeming startled at the dragon's appearance, and Genji's grin faltered.

"The greatest disgrace of a Shimada is losing their dragon. You, Genji, have lost yours." Shojiro rumbled, and Egg hissed softly, advancing on Genji.

"Egg," Genji's voice wavered, and he backed up again. "Hey, it's me...Egg...Hey, s-stop! Egg, Egg it's me! It's Genji!"

Egg sauntered towards him, glittering eyes never leaving Genji's form, watching him like a beast would stalk a wounded animal.

"Be rid of him." Shojiro commanded, and Genji's eyes widened, Egg hissing and snapping forward. 

Genji screamed when his dragon's claws dug into his side, dragging him across the floor and flinging him into a wall. Genji hit it with a silent shriek of agony, looking back up at Egg pleadingly.

"Egg, no, s-stop! Stop it please! It's your master, it's Genji! Please, no no stop!" 

Genji's shouts turned into screams as Egg pounced on him, teeth snapping down onto his arm and tearing through the flesh and bone like a hot knife in butter. Blood spurted from the new wounds being made, and Genji's screams reached new heights as Egg tore into the flesh at his side, claws making deep gashes along his back and legs. Genji shoved at his dragon's snout with his good arm, writhing in agony and desperation.

"EGG! IT'S ME! STOP PLEASE! YOU SAID YOU WOULD PROTECT ME! STOP!" He screeched, words replaced by blood-curling screams ripped from his throat as Egg snapped down on his leg, splashing everything a deep shade of red. 

Genji's vision was fading from the pain, but he still felt it, shrieks no longer pleading but absolutely agonized, unable to do anything as his dragon ruptured his flesh and splintered his bones, tearing at anything he could reach with claw and tooth alike. 

He felt Egg rake his talons over his face, and Genji's screams turned silent, voice no longer able to keep up with the sheer torture. Genji finally started to still under his dragon's onslaught, muscles too torn to move his limbs any more and too much blood pooling around him, on the walls, covering Egg's jade scales and turning him scarlet. 

All he could do was take ragged breaths past broken lips into punctured lungs, feeling the holes in his body and the blood draining out of him rapidly, dripping onto the wood below him. Genji couldn't close his eyes, one of them he couldn't even see out of, though his vision was almost gone from the other anyways. 

He felt broken, mind, body and soul alike, pain both physical and otherwise lulling him into unconsciousness as tears started to stream from his eyes. 

Genji struggled to stay awake, to stay alive, blood dripping from his lips and he choked on it trying to get the words he wanted out. As his dragon towered over his mutilated body, he stuttered a gasp, voice barely above a whisper, reaching up to him with the last of his strength.

"E--Egg...I-it's ok-kay...I...S-still love yo--u...B-bud..."

~~

#mcgenji #genji shimada #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #shojiro shimada #blackwatch AU #WhiskeyWrites #fanfic #long post