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finntheehumaneater · 4 months

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i owe you a black eye and two kisses (pt 6)

Am I Making You Feel Sick?

now on Ao3

playlist | pinboard

(part one) (part seven) a special update loosely based on this song

taglist is open!

CW: heavy gore (kind of)

Steve collapsed onto the bed once he had finally dragged himself back into the trailer. Eddie was in the bathroom—doing god knows what, Wayne had said he had been in there for a while—and Steve was fucking exhausted.

He pressed his face into the pillow, sighing long and quiet, his hand gripping at the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. He just wanted to sleep, but he didn’t want to deal with the nightmares.

He unbuttoned the flannel and slipped it off of his shoulders, folding it and placing it on the nightstand, on top of the pile of D&D books Eddie had. That was the game that the kids liked, right? With the knights and shit? He toed off his shoes—and felt a bit bad for not taking them off at the door—and set them down at the edge of the bed.

Through the half-closed door, he could hear another door click as it opened, and Eddie shuffled in, his nose and cheeks flushed and the rim of his eyes wet and red. He had been crying more, Steve thought. Still, despite his disheveled and broken state, Eddie’s chin was held high, glaring at Steve.

Steve sighed, feeling frustration build up in his gut, twisting and clawing until he was all bloody and gross inside. What was this guys fucking problem? One minute he was angry, the next he was practically melting into Steve’s arm and leaning into his cupped hands like he never wanted Steve to stop touching him, and then he was back to angry and spiteful again. “Can I help you?”

“This is my fucking room—,” Eddie started, but then cut himself off by holding up his hand and sucking in a deep, shaking breath. “No. Sorry.” He bit out the words like they stung, grappling to hold onto his tear-stained tongue on the way out.

Steve sat up a bit more on elbows. He was aware this this was Eddie’s room—Eddie’s space, and that Eddie was allowed to come and go as he liked—but it was amusing to him to watch Eddie try and be polite. Steve did feel bad for Eddie—immensely—and he knew that Eddie didn’t want him to be here, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t here for Eddie, right now, he was here because Wayne had asked him to stay over.

Eddie sighed, muttering something that Steve couldn’t quite catch as he crossed his arms over his chest and tugged a piece of hair over his lips, which obscured his words further.

“What was that?”

“I—,” Eddie’s face flushed and his eyes were glassy again as he choked out a quiet, “If it’s okay with you, could I sleep in here?”

Steve’s expression softened, and he felt bad for being pissy before, even if he had the right to feel annoyed at Eddie. “Of course. I mean—it’s your room, you don’t have to ask me.”

“Wayne told me not to bother you,” Eddie explained quietly, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. His eyes kept darting down to Steve’s chest, and Steve wanted to put the flannel back on, but he didn’t. “I thought—I thought that if it was fine with you he wouldn’t tell me off for it.”

Steve moved back in the bed. He didn’t know how they were both going to fit. And he was seriously contemplating going and sleeping on the couch and giving Eddie his space, but his back had ached the last time, and he didn’t want to get on Wayne’s bad side.

Eddie looked Steve over one last time, his eyes dipping to Steve’s shorts as his tongue came out to lick his lips briefly before his cheeks went even more red and he slipped off his jeans.

Steve forced himself to look away so that he didn’t stare, even though he wanted to.

Eddie climbed in next to him, laying down next to Steve. They could only both fit on the bed if Eddie was right up next to him, his nose nearly touching Steve’s own. Steve’s eyes flicked down to Eddie’s lips, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking the thoughts he was thinking right now.

He cleared his throat and moved to turn the other way, but Eddie’s hand moved forward and grabbed at his arm, squeezing tightly.

Steve didn’t ask why even though he wanted to. Eddie’s fingers were cold against Steve’s skin, sending goosebumps down his arm and neck—ones that he was sure Eddie could feel.

He felt Eddie’s thumb shift slightly against his arm, rubbing at the skin there for a moment as he sucked in another shaky breath, before he pulled his hand back against his chest, cradling it in his other hand like it had been burned. His fingers twitched.

Steve hesitated, fighting everything in him to not reach out and wipe away Eddie’s tears, since he was finally getting to see the soft spots of him, and he didn’t want to ruin that by fucking up again. He gave Eddie one last look and turned around, his leg bushing up against Eddie’s. Steve turned his head to press it into the pillow, closing his eyes and sighing.

Fuck.

He was back in the room again. There was a door on the wall across from him, but he stayed curled where he was in the corner. He knew what would happen if he went through. It was the same thing that happened every time the door appeared.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he turned his head, seeing the melted flesh and bones in the corner rise and move closer, a long, shaking hand sliding across the floor towards his foot.

He stood up slowly, stumbling on his numb legs towards the dripping-red door. It used to be white, but that was before his skin got pale and he felt tired all the time. The hand poked against the back of his leg as he grabbed the handle and turned, opening it and slipping through the small crack between the wall. Immediately after stepping through, he felt the pain shoot through him, crumpling to the floor as a cry ripped out of his throat, feeling the skin of his legs curl apart and melt into the same black color of the void-like-floor that he was laying on.

“Stop,” he begged, words caught around a sob as he tried to get up, but only falling again, his head smashing into the ground.

“Please, stop, I’m sorry,” he sobbed, desperate and gasping as he clawed the hand off of him once its tendrils got a hold on his waist. He was going to die again, wasn’t he?

Steve woke up sobbing before he could even get a proper breath in, choking on nothing and bending over, trying to get the hand off of his waist, but it held tight—finger digging in enough to hurt anymore.

It pulled him to sit up, and he sobbed again, gasping, his eyes squeezed shut. There was another hand on his cheek, and he kept his eyes closed, because he couldn’t watch this happen again. He couldn’t watch himself fall apart like that again.

“Hey, hey, Stevie,” a voice said gently, a finger rubbing across his cheek, and Steve startled, flinching back, his eyes opening finally. Everything was blurry, and the hand on his waist tugged him back closer, before moving to cup his other cheek.

These fingers were soft. Cold. Not wet and gross-flesh.

“Just breathe, sweetheart, it’s okay,” the voice said, and Steve’s eyes focused, Eddie. Fuck, he didn’t want Eddie to see him like this. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

Steve tried to force air into his burning lungs, but it felt like he was inhaling water, cold and slow and chilling him down to his roots. He wanted to beg for Eddie to just end this and let him melt into the ground—but they weren’t on the ground anymore. They were on something soft. The air around him smelled like smoke and lavender and vanilla. It smelled like Eddie.

“You know where you are?” Eddie questioned gently, moving Steve’s head back to look at him again when he tried to turn away.

“Starcourt?” Steve choked out.

Eddie shook his head. “You’re at my house, Stevie. Remember? I brought you home?”

And Steve did remember, now, his body relaxing. He liked how Eddie said that. Like he brought him home after hanging out. After smoking together. After a date. Anything other than what they had been doing—Steve crying and Eddie just being polite to the broken, unraveling man that Steve was becoming.

Steve nodded, pressing his face into Eddie’s palm.

“There you go, good boy,” Eddie whispered, his thumb rubbing across Steve’s jawline, just below where it met his ear as his hand moved down to cup Steve’s neck. Steve almost whimpered in that, in his delirious and half-asleep state but he didn’t.

Eddie tugged Steve closer to him and moved him to lay back down, his face pressed into Eddie’s chest. The tips of his socked feet were sticking off the edge of the bed, now. Steve curled his knees in, one of them shifting between Eddie’s legs, his eyes closing again.

Somewhere close, he heard Eddie’s breath hitch, a warm breath of air brushing atop his scalp—lips pressed so close to his scalp—and he felt Eddie’s legs shift, an arm draped over Steve’s side, the other hooked underneath him.

“Just go to sleep, okay? It’s okay,” Eddie whispered, and if Steve had been more awake, he would have properly felt the kiss Eddie pressed to the top of his head—but instead, it was just a ghost of a thing, far away and distant.

Steve felt warm, oddly enough, against the cold body against him as he drifted back into sleep.

Heheheh two updates in one day??? UNHEARD OF. (There will still probably be one tomorrow, I was just too excited about this one to wait!!!)

taglist, which is open!:

@estrellami-1

@randombibitch

@insteviewetrust

@anne-bennet-cosplayer

@hack-saw2004

@lolawonsstuff

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@slowandsteddie

@ellietheasexylibrarian

@mugloversonly

@littlebluejane

@zombiethingy

@steddie-island

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@ohimamarigold

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@stillfullofshit

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@anaibis

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@honhonbaguettegofuckyourself

@kickpuncher2punchkicker

@dissociatingdemon

@itsall-taken

@pluto-pepsi

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@samsoble

@hotluncheddie

@sangrientojoe

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luckykittens198 · 14 days

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Honestly, DCMK fandom is so old, that I remember this 1 unfinished fic that hasn't been updated since 2012.

Title: Fallout by Silversage

Location: ffn

Synopsis: A post "Raven Chaser" story. Because "The Raven Chaser" opened many doors…and Kaito worries. Animeverse/Movieverse.

I don't really remember about the story, but I remember the main plotline is Gosho boys got together to handle the Black org, and in the last updated chapter has them on the run.

Again, it's been years since I last read it, but I remember it was agreat fic

Another recomended fic is 'The Case' series by Mirror and Image. Again, it's one of the older fic in ffn.

1. The Case of Hidden Epidemic

Conan has stumbled across a mystery. This time the victims are much closer: the students of his elementary school. With Genta and Ayumi hospitalized, Conan will need to solve this case quickly. But then Ran gets hospitalized.

2. The Magic Bullet Murder Case

As always Conan stumbles across another body; and this time the prime suspect is this high school kid named Kuroba Kaito. Sequel to The Case of the Hidden Epidemic.

3. The Case of Haywire Heist

Kaitou Kid promised a heist to Hattori Heiji, and it's time to deliver. But Conan has been sitting on something and figuring out how to deal with it. When all collide at the heist, can things go well? No, of course not.

All three is finished between 2009 and 2011. Again, it's been a decade since I last read these fic. But I remember thinking, how did the Author write this??

A one-shot comedy. It's a must reread for me. Playing around with the corpse magnet joke, starring Conan and Heiji.

It's Raining Men, Hallelujah by Asuka Kureru (Askerian) ao3

#detective conan #magic kaito #dcmk fic #dcmk fic rec #unfinished fic #kuroba kaito #kudo shinichi #hattori heiji #dcmk

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7077070707 · 7 months

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geto’s downfall (unfinished)

a/n — hi guys!! sorry for disappearing suddenly. i made this fic ages ago, the plot being geto and how the whole backstory arc would effect him and his s/o with a heavenly restriction (like toji’s) knowing how his views on those without cursed energy changed.

i grew disinterested with the fic and jjk overall (dw, the hyper-fixation comes and goes) but i still wanted to post what i had already written, so here you go. i may or may not complete it one day, but who knows.

the world is a cruel, unjust place.

“riko… let’s go home.”

“yeah!” as the young girl spoke her final words, instantaneously receiving a bullet to the head, oblivious and unaware.

the scene was too sudden to comprehend – with one moment filled with a heartfelt conversation, and the next with the murder of an innocent child.

geto didn’t even have time to react, his face still stuck in a pleasant smile before realising what just had occurred. with the boy’s body still and unmoving, his eyes followed the direction of where the younger girl had collapsed and took residence on her newly lifeless body.

her eyes lacked the warmth of a soul, as they stared into nothingness. her crimson blood oozed from the bullet wound on her head. it was splattered sporadically along the concrete floor, which was eventually to be forever stained with her remnants and what went down that night.

“riko?” was all that he could muster.

he noticed a large man carrying a gun stalking into the light, yet he was confused as to why he couldn’t sense him or his cursed energy. as far as he was familiar with, the only person he knew that lacked the presence of cursed energy was y/n. the man spoke some words but all geto could hear was the ringing of his ears and a slight buzzing noise.

with no regard to what the man was previously saying, the boy asked one question, “why… why are you here?”

“why…?” the unknown entity pondered for a moment, “oh, gotcha.”

“i killed gojo satoru.”

“is that so?” an unforgiving fury envelops the raven haired sorcerer as he summons his two strongest curses, rainbow dragon and kuchisake-onna, “then die.”

the rainbow dragon bursts through the walls, scattering heaps of debris and rubble everywhere. it catches the man in its protruding jaw and soars across the air, sending gusts of wind throughout the chamber.

the man hangs from the dragon's mouth and shoots a few bullets directed towards the sorcerer with an absurd level of pinpoint accuracy.

at this, geto quickly summons a small curse between his hands to shield himself from the incoming bullets. he dispels the curse and soars downwards towards the destruction in a ravenous manner.

landing in the corridor, he abruptly spins and watches as the rainbow dragon fades away. the chiselled man rested a hand on his hip, with the other holding his gun at his side. he bore a wicked grin and simply said, “don’t be so impatient.”

he turns to the side and begins to take slow strides, explaining something that geto had no choice but to listen to with a furious scowl on his face. he matches the slow pace that the opposing man took and walks with him from a large distance.

one thing the man says particularly catches geto’s attention. “...and since i have no cursed energy, i’m like an invisible man.”

‘just like y/n then… so he’s bound by a heavenly restriction too, huh?’ he didn’t fail to notice that toji was as fast as shit — obviously due to the physical empowerments he was gifted in exchange for his cursed energy. the same stuff applied for y/n too, and he could see the uncanny resemblance. the way they both moved so effortlessly – as if they were one with the wind. judging from the man’s monstrous build and heavenly pact, he could already assume that he’d have a sinister and terrifying strength to him. another thing he and y/n had resemblance in.

and it was true, he was an invisible man. geto wasn’t able to sense him, despite the fact the man was around 10 feet away from him. he should’ve fucking known. he has experience in dealing with those without cursed energy – his girlfriend – so why? why was he so fucking useless? an innocent child wouldn’t have lost a life today if he had attuned to his senses a little more.

geto was livid.

the man says something about how wielding a cursed tool reveals his presence, but geto already knew about that. y/n taught him most of the basics and what there was to know about her and her heavenly restriction. it was a curse and a blessing.

he had enough of the man’s blabbing and raised both of his hands. his dominant hand took position in the form of a finger gun, with the other hand situating itself underneath the ‘gun’ as a form of support. his hand illuminated a bright blue and he aimed upwards to where the man was. a bunch of small, squid-like curses shot from the barrel of the ‘gun’ and crashed into the ceiling.

the sorcerer lowers his hands and stares expectantly at the area he shot. his eyes widen as hears a voice from behind him, “now, there’s more to this story.” again, he jolts and abruptly turns to the source of the noise.

he points towards his open mouth and continues, “see, i keep a cursed spirit capable of storing objects around.” he begins his slow stride once more and geto follows the action, “so i usually put my cursed tools in it when i’m walking around.”

geto locks a hawk-like gaze onto the man and the man reciprocates – but instead with a lazy, careless one. he was smirking as if he greatly enjoyed this whole endeavour.

“now i know what you’re thinking… shouldn’t the cursed energy from the spirit make him no longer invisible?” the sorcerer remains silent. this was unfamiliar to him, and you’ve never tried anything like it. to find a cursed spirit that is able to hold an inventory of weapons is… not unheard of, but rare. and yes, he did wonder as to why the spirit didn’t reveal the man’s presence, since it was indeed a curse.

geto’s train of thought suddenly stops as he watches the man throw something up. he bore a look of deep-rooted disgust on his face as he witnessed the scene in front of him.

in his palm, lay a small, ugly curse drenched in slobber.

“the spirit shrinks by storing itself within its own body.” the man says, holding intense eye contact with the young sorcerer, “then i ingest it and keep it inside my stomach.”

that’s all he needed to know in order to connect the dots; and for the rest of the rambling, he didn’t care. the longer he stared at him, the more bile raised at his throat. his anger was accumulating just from the look on his face.

and at the very back of his mind, another source of anger derived from the chaos and damage he managed to bring – despite not having any cursed energy…

he knew it was wrong to think that, after all, his girlfriend didn’t possess any cursed energy either; and he loved her so dearly. however… he felt the phenomenon to be… unnatural. actually, it was unnatural. how is it possible for one to not bear the power of cursed energy be so destructive?

suddenly, he felt disgusted. he shouldn’t be thinking that. y/n isn’t unnatural, for god's sake! she’s perfect, funny, and powerful. the hideous man in front of him is the one to be blamed. he’s the one who killed riko, the one who killed satoru… the boy swallows and tries to bury the thought at the back of his mind.

“...reveal myself to the six eyes…”

the sorcerer had enough. “shut up!” he yelled, enraged, “it’s a heavenly restriction, i know that! and like us, revealing certain information can give you an advantage. i’m aware of that too!”

geto didn’t want to hear about the heavenly restriction, he was well versed in that subject. what he wanted to know was how on earth the man knew about the entrance into the tombs. he begins to ask about it, but then a realisation occurs.

‘heavenly restriction… enhanced senses, right? those with heavenly pacts are able to sense things the average human can not. we must have left traces like footprints, and odor. for fucks sake…’

it must have shown on his face – a grimace, due to his daunting findings, for the man opposite him bore a devilish grin.

“i see that you have the answer. humans leave many more traces than just cursed energy, ya know. i also see that you’re quite knowledgeable regarding heavenly restrictions. why is that?”

“like hell i’d tell you. scum.”

“could it be… that you're familiar with someone who bears the same curse as me? an acquaintance, a friend?” he drawled and his grin grew larger, “perhaps a partner?”

his hand glows once more, and he launches a curse towards the large man. the rainbow dragon tunnels through the countless thin doors and soars upwards – not without capturing the man in its mouth.

once more, he summons a dozen small curses, erupting from miniature black holes in the sky. they project towards the rainbow dragon and the heavenly restricted man, appearing as though they were quantities of blue laser beams.

the man soared in the air as if he belonged in the sky, effortlessly dodging and deflecting the hundreds of attacks barreling towards him with his weapon – not without a sinister grin present on his face.

he flips backwards and lands on top of a roof, causing the bricks underneath to crumble from the sheer force of his landing.

geto crouches down and summons another curse. a gigantic one, at that. it erupts from below his opponent, causing him to lose his purchase and soar into the air once more. he seemingly does a flip amidst the air – which unnerved geto, since there was no footing to pull a stunt like that.

the man lands onto the thick, old rope that was intertwined around the large tree of tengen’s chamber. he evades the barrage of attacks sent by the young sorcerer, as if were an animal relying on pure primal instinct. how could a human possibly be capable of this?

he jumps into the sky and unsheathes his large sword, swinging it in the sky. suddenly, he’s splitting the rainbow dragon open, dragging his weapon through the tough scales of its hide, an act that is almost deemed impossible. it’s purple blood splatters everywhere, raining down of the world below it.

the sorcerer’s eyes widen, and he’s immensely taken aback.

‘the rainbow dragon has the toughest hide there is! how the hell…?’’

to geto’s chagrin, he again couldn’t help but notice the everlasting similarities you and the man held. it was eerie. the sense of deja vu was strong, and geto felt lightheaded. he had been in this position before – with you airborne and elegant, deflecting his multitudes of attacks ever so effortlessly. of course, this battle was not taken in a serious manner – it merely being some sort of training regime.

he remembers the times you’ve been able to slash and hack curses that bore the toughest skin with the utmost efficiency, the resemblance with the man uncanny.

his thoughts beginning to intrude in his mind, he wonders if you would ever be capable of wreaking mayhem like the murderer before him had done. his heart rate speeds up and he feels sick, the disgusting thoughts invading geto’s mind and etching onto each of his brain cells. he pleads for these thoughts to go away, yet they don’t – and he is distracted.

the rainbow dragon tumbles and descends into the ground due to the massive injury it had suffered – with it practically being split open. rubble flies everywhere but the sorcerer and the murderer are unphased, gravely facing towards each other amidst the chaos that reigned upon them.

#geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto angst #geto suguru angst #teen geto #teen geto suguru #jjk #jjk angst #jjk geto #hidden inventory arc #unfinished fic

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miccimocha · 4 months

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It's only been like 2 hrs but I'll post the unfinished fic. I also uploaded it in ao3, so you guys can also read it there whenever.

If I ever get the motivation to write the rest, I'll post it here first.

MY GOODBYE

John Dory Centric

...

John Dory felt tired. That was the main feeling he was currently experiencing. He doesn't know from what exactly, he just knows he is.

He was currently sitting on one of the chairs inside Rhonda, staring off through tbe window. He saw a bunch of little trolls playing and running around without a care in the world.

This made him think about his brothers. JD remembers how they used to play hide and seek in the house, hiding in the most peculiar places. There was this one time where Clay hid inside the washing machine and it took hourse for them to find him. He felt the sense of nostalgia.

John Dory turned his gaze away from the window and walked towards the clue board that Branch made. It was filled with pictures back in their Brozone days. He used to look at this very fondly, but now he just felt bittersweet about the whole thing. Sure it was fun, it was thing that he did with his brothers, but it was also the very reason why all of them broke up.

He's the reason why they all fell apart.

The eldest could never forgive himself for what happened. He won't even be suprised if his brothers' still hated him, they probably just didn't want to say to his face.

John Dory took a photo from the wall. It was a group photo of him and his brothers, the day of their very first performance with Branch. He couldn't help but smile a little at the memory.

He put the photo down and went to open a chest full of things he had gathered over the years for his brothers. There were birthday gifts, christmas gifts, and even letters he wrote for each and everyone of them.

John had been thinking about giving his brothers all of it, but he never found the right time to actually do it. Or maybe he's just a coward.

He sighed and walked away from the box. There was pause, the silence was loud. Then, he went back and carried the chest to the front.

"Come on, girl. I gotta deliver some packages." John Dory started the engine and sped into the direction of Branch's Bunker.

The old troll knew that neither the youngest or the rest of his brothers were at home. They were all currently out, visiting Bruce's family at Vacay Island. It was also an excuse for a family vacation and bonding time. Altough John was tempted to go, he declined Bruce's offer when it came up. His brothers looked disappointed, he felt guilty about that, but he didn't change his mind.

He knew that if he came he would just bum everybody out and the mood will just go down. He didn't want to risk it, as much as he would love to hang out with his brothers.

John Dory begins to think on what could have been if they- if he hadn't left. If he wasn't a selfish prick who pushed around his brothers. If he hadn't put on all those pressure about being perfect onto his brothers. Maybe they could've been happy. Branch wouldn't have been alone. None of his brothers would have the insecurities they had now. It was his fault, it always has been and it'll always will be.

And John Dory knew the truth about it all. He knew that it wasn't his brothers who weren't perfect. No. It was JD, himself. He was too full of pride to actually admit it back then, but it was true. He pushed his own defects onto his brothers, and because of that, they all fell apart.

So, now, he's going to get rid of the problem. Himself.

<__>

Once John Dory arrived in front of Branch's Bunker, he got out of Rhonda with the chest. He stopped right at the "Go Away!" mat and hesitated a little bit. Eventually, he put down the chest on the ground, beside the entrance. He pulls out a pen and paper from inside his hair and began to write.

"Dear Bros,

I know this seems strange, but this chest is full of presents I had for you all, from the day I left until the day we reunited. Please open it, I swear this isn't a joke.

I also just want to say sorry for all the things I had done. I know it isn't much, and it wouldn't give back the lost time that passed, but I just want you guys to know how much I love you.

All those years I've spent in the wild, there wasn't a day I didn't think of any of you, even if I tried not to...

Love, your eldest brother:

John Dory"

The penmanship was not the best, but it was still readable. His brothers would understand it. He hopes.

He sticks the letter on top of the chest. Once done, he walked over to Rhonda, his face turning into one of guilt. "Hey, Rhonda, girl. I-..." He took a breath and tried to steady his breathing. " I'm...going to be away for awhile. Or- Well, not really 'awhile', but you know...away."

Rhonda makes a sound of confusion and fear, not understanding what he was doing, but was clearly worried about him. Being with him for all those years, she learned to pick up on his moods and emotions. Right now, Rhonda felt concerned for JD with the amount of sadness he was giving off.

John Dory smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know you're concerned girl, but I promise it's ok." He hugged the critter. "Just stay here, bud. I promise, I'm coming back. I just need some time for myself right now."

Here he was again, breaking promises.

Once JD let go of her, he patted her for the last time and walked away. As much as Rhonda had wanted to follow, she couldn't disobey him. Besides, he promised her that he'll come back. He'll never lie to her. She trusted him.

..............

Yeah, that's basically it. But, again, I'll post the next part here first before ao3 when I get to it.

#john dory trolls #john dory #trolls #trolls band together #john dory fanfiction #fanfiction #brozone #unfinished fic #help me😭😭

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thepathnottrekked · 8 days

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Additional Tags: Humor, Pre-Slash, College AU Summary:

Written for the prompt: ok so like imagine an alien landing and doing the whole “take me to your leader” spiel, and you’re just like “aight” bc aliens are cool af, but the problem is the president is on the completely other side of the country, so you have to go on a cross country road trip with said alien

---

"My name is Spock,” says Spock. He stares at Jim’s hand until the Human finally drops it back to his side. “What do you want in return for your compliance as my Human hostage?”

"The privilege of punching President Trump in the face?” Jim suggests.

#unfinished fic #star trek #college au #modern au #spirk #star trek aos #james t kirk #spock

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binghe-malewife-goals · 9 months

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I'm so sad, so many good Jayvik fics are never picked up again,,,,

That being said, please read this Modern AU Ghost Jayvik fic, it's so incredibly fun:

Breathing Life into Ghosts

#jayvik #fanfic rec #unfinished fic #viktor arcane #jayce talis #jayce arcane #arcane fic #arcane lol

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gothamslostboy · 10 months

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TW: toxic David, nobody helps reader

I could feel the world around us freeze.

I know it’s completely cliche, but I could.

No matter how hard I shoved through the crowds, no matter how desperately I screamed for help, everytime I asked someone to stop the monster chasing me, the world was frozen.

No body moved aside, everyones stares were still glued on me, those I asked for help seemed to be the only ones how could move. They turned their heads, took multiple steps away from me, peeled my begging arms off of them and told me to get lost.

It was only a matter of time before David caught up to me, lunging for my hand and gripping it so tightly I swore the bones were breaking. I desperately claw at our intertwined fingers, pleading with the sea of bodies, most of which have gone back to their previous activities. With a tug, he’s managed to make me fall onto the scratchy planks, sinister tone making it obvious that this wouldn’t be a sufficient enough punishment for him.

What did I tell you about running off Y/N? You see how no one helped you? I told you, me and my boys own this town. David starts walking in the direction we came from, not caring to let me stand first. No one ever will. You’re ours, and if you’d just behave, he tugs me even harder than before, ignoring my yelp, then I’d be able to love you. Why won’t you let me love you Kitten? Instead all you do is try to guilt me into ignoring the fact I offer you everything, trying to make me the villain.

Please, I scramble even harder, putting all of my might into standing up. Blood dripping from my body, torn up by loose screws and splinters. Just let me go, let me go home

————————————————————————

Take this unfinished piece with no context bc I haven’t posted any real content in over a week

Sorry lol

———TAGS———

@britany1997

#glb tlb #the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys david #unfinished #unfinished fic #thelostboys #the lost boys fic

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hymn-of-muse · 8 months

Text

You can stay

A Master Joris + Adopted Child!Sadida!Reader. requested by anon!

using they/them for reader by default, Y/N = your name

Dust begins to settle as the commotion comes to an end. Much of the land, a huge part of the Sadida forrest, was damaged during Nox's attack on the tree.

Many of the people of the kingdom were injured, some even lost in the damage. Some of whom were parents even.

Joris let out a solom sigh as he looked about, checking around places in the forest that were damaged to see if anyone needed help, when he heard a noise that made him pause and listen.

Joris strained his ears to listen for it again. in the quiet of the once lively part of the forest there was a distant voice, a cry. weeping. sad calling and wailing that made his heart drop as his feet quickly took him closer to the source of the sound.

There, at the edge of the ruined forest, sitting by a group of dead tree stumps, a small Sadida child weeping and calling out for their parents between sobs.

He stepped a bit closer, slowly as to not startle them, and called out. "Hey there, little one" Once they lifted their head from their hands and stared at him through watery eyes he extended his hand out to them. "You'll be alright. Do you want to come with me? Maybe we can find your folks, okay?" He spoke softly, offering a small, sweet smile in attepmt to comfort.

The child whimpered, rubbing some more tears away before nodding and taking his hand, letting him pull them to their feet and lead them further into the lush part of the forest and to the heart of the Sadida kingdom where more people were staying after the attack.

"I promise you'll be okay, little one. Do you have a name?" he asked, their hand still firmly in his own.

The child was quiet, giving the softest verbal response despite their voice cracking as they tried to keep from crying more, still in the process of calming down. "Y/N..."

"Y/N...I like it, sounds just as special as you." He offered another smile, earning a small thankful one from the child in return.

Soon they arrived at a small station where people who've lost their homes in the attack where staying until things got sorted out. he had y/n stay seated while he went to talk to someone about finding their parents, but he'd soon find out how difficult that would be.

"what do you mean you dont know? there's plenty of people here, surely someone knows something. they have to be here, or somewhere in the forest, we cant just leave the kid here without their parents!" Joris huffed as he discussed the situation with an older Sadida woman.

"I'm sorry, Master Joris, thats just it. Theres so many here and so many unaccounted for that we cant keep track like that. we'll see what we can do but it might take a while, at least a day or so before we can find anything out about their parents." The woman explained with a sympathetic expression.

"What do we do with them in the meantime?" Joris sighed, crossing his arms and glancing back at y/n.

"well...they could stay with you." The woman offered.

"me? what, why?"

"er-it would just be until we find their parents, i mean, you do seem fairly good with kids and have already taking a liking to each other, they'd probably feel safe with you too." She offered, a kind smile spreading across her face.

"hmm...i guess you have a point, but just until this is all figured out." Joris stated, a bit hesitant but willing to give it a shot.

"We'll have someone alert you as soon as we have some news." The woman said before turning to tend to someone else's issues.

Joris walked back to the kid, running through his mind how he'd bring this up and explain without worrying the kid anymore than they already are.

"Hey kid, how are you holding up." He asked, taking a seat next to them.

"okay...did the lady say where my mommy and daddy are? are they here?" y/n asked, looking at Joris with hope in their eyes. it just about was enough to wrench his heart out.

"we still dont know yet, but she did say you could stay with me till we find them, would that be okay with you?" he asked, hoping this didnt make things hurt worse for them.

y/n's face fell at the first half but listed back up a tad bit at the later. The idea of staying with him seemed to be a good idea and bring a sense of safety, just like the woman had said.

y/n nodded in agreement. "thats okay!" they stated, sounding almost eager towards the idea before suddenly leaning into joris and giving him a big hug.

"alright then, guess you'll be with me for a bit" Joris nodded, lightly patting their back.

a few days passed by, Joris hadn't yet gotten any news or updates of the situation about the kid's family and he was beginning to adjust to having them around like a second shadow.

He was sitting with them at the table when a knock came at the door. "one minute, little one, i'll be back after answering that" Joris excused himself and got up to answer the door.

"Yes?" He opened the door to see someone from the shelter giving a nervous smile on the other side of the door.

"um..Master Joris, I bring some news...*unfortunate* news, I'm afraid." They said hesitantly.

Joris stepped outside, closing the door behind him and looking up to them when he crossed his arms. "I'm guessing you haven't found their parents yet?"

"well...we did, sort of...but thats just it, what i came to tell you. they were found but, theyre..not among us anymore." They continued to speak nervously, pausing between some words as they attempted to explain.

Joris very quickly understood the implications of this news and it felt like his heart was being held my sharp claws and in his throat. "i...i see...so then what about Y/N? what happens to them?"

"they dont have any family left, theres no one else they could stay with..." they stated sadly.

"yes but-...no one else? are you suggesting they stay with me longer?" Joris rose an eyebrow

"Yes, permanently in fact. things between you seemed to have been going well for the past few days, theyre safe with you and they do seem to really like you." they pointed out "we all agreed it was the best idea"

"i...youre saying i should take them in...?" Joris rose an eyebrow, doing his best to process this.

"Adopt them, yes. youre the best choice, clearly, theres not much else that can be done either." they admitted.

"...adopt? me? ....i..." he sighed "i'll have to have quite the talk with them." Joris mumbled.

"It'll be worth it for you both" they smiled thankfully before walking off.

Joris went back inside and back to the table where he'd previously been sitting with y/n.

"who was that?" y/n asked, tilting their head slightly in curiousity.

"that was...someone from the shelter bringing news." he answered, trying hard to think up a quick few lines to better phrase the news for the kid.

"did they find mommy and daddy?" they asked, once again the hopeful look in their eyes returning.

Joris hesitated some more when they asked, eyes shifting about before landing back on y/n as he came up with what to say.

[author lost motivation to complete the story, many apologies.]

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im-not-batman · 6 months

Note

WIP Ask: It's not just my heart you've stolen?

Ooo I love this oneeee

So I haven't actually done anything more than storyboarding for this one, so no snippets unfortunately but here's the concept!

Cait is on a no good, very bad date at a museum and the date does something Creepy. Vi (who is at the museum for art theft related reasons) notices and comes over to rescue her by pretending to be a friend. She scares off the bad date and CaitVi have a cute little impromptu mini'date and then go their separate ways.

A week or so later, Cait is at work and is assigned an art theft case (what a coinky dink) and starts working it as one would. Meanwhile she's still texting the cute girl that she met and might already be obsessed with.

On the flip side, Vi finds out a few days after their first meeting that Cait is a detective and is a little nervous about it but she is a hopeless lesbianwith a crush so what's she gonna do? Not go out with the hot museum girl? But they're talking and flirting for weeks before Vi finds out that Cait is the officer assigned to her case and oh dear that's not ideal but she's in too deep now and kinda thinks Cait might be the love of her life.

I shan't say any more lest I reveal too many spoilers. But let me know what you think! I'm actually super excited about this one I just never seem to have enough time for multi-chapter fics and I know this would be a monster because I simply cannot make myself shut the fuck up :)

Send me an ask with which of my WIPs from This Post you wanna hear about!

#i just love these useless little lesbians #also im in love with the strangers to lovers to unknowing enemies to enemies to lovers of it all #caitvi #caitvi fic #fic ideas #unfinished fic #arcane #arcane fic #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #does vi have a last name that im just forgetting?#idk #anyway yeah #ask game #roo answers

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forestshadow-wolf · 1 year

Text

Another ghost+soap idea because I apparently can't stop giving them the ouchies. This one's a long one.

Ok a while back I on here I said that I hc that soap has a scar on his hand that he got b4 he met ghost. I'm changing that now because I can't stop hurting my boy bubbles

They're sent out on a mission, just the two of them. Price didn't want to send them, it seemed shady, but the higher-ups forced his hand. Intel was limited, backup would be unable to reach their position for days should it be needed, and exfil would be too far to reach in an emergency.

Price was told that the higher-ups needed soap and ghost's exact skill set. As much as price hates it, he is unwilling to send someone incompetent, so he sends his two best soldiers.

~~~

Soap lay flat next to ghost, scope to his eye, as he'd been doing for the last 3 days. They were stationed deep in some foreign mountain range, watching a small group of buildings. Price said he thinks it's a research facility. They were meant to figure out what was being researched, gather what other info they can find, then blow the place sky high.

The place was heavily gaurded, which is what attracted their attention in the first place. Normally soap would be capable of soloing the mission, but there were aspects that would put ghost's skills and experience to use. With the terrain and his pack full of explosives he'd need to be extra careful, which ghost could help with.

They'd been sat in their position for 3 days, watching the guard rotations, trying to find an opportunity to slip inside. Higher-ups had put him in a tight spot in terms of method of explosion, with regulations and everything, they refused to loosen up on. With such short notice, Soap grabbed what he could, as he packed but...

They'd been there for 3 days, ample time to run the numbers and do the calculations. Ample time for him to think up twenty different ways to not succeed. The gaurds would make positioning and timing difficult, not to mention the size of area he had to demolish with his limited supplies, and there was always the chance of underground expansion that they couldn't account for. There just wasn't enough to go around, and it was making him antsy.

---

For 3 days ghost lay prone, next to soap, looking through his scope trying to map out gaurd routines.

Six days and fifteen hours ago price had called both himself and Soap into his office. He informed them of a mission, pushed to priority on short notice. It required the best of their skills.

They had barely three hours to pack, before a twelve hour flight, which led to a three day hike, plus three days of waiting lead them to now.

They had limited supplies, the higher-ups hadn't bothered to clear them for more than the standard. Which was fine for ghost's part, he'd had to do far longer with far less. But soap wasn't so happy. It seemed okay until soap began running numbers.

There wasn't enough material, and too much space. Soap was getting agitated, he could tell because he'd been quiet for 2 days. Mouthing numbers, and scenario to himself, but none of it worked. He never said anything to ghost though.

---

On the 4th day they packed up, they'd move in come nightfall. Soap would follow ghost's lead, planting what he had along the outskirts. He still couldn't figure out how to blow the rest of the area. He'd just have to hope to find something along the way.

They stashed their packs, tents and other supplies a few miles down the mountain, where they could quickly grab it on the way to exfil. The trek back gave took enough time that they had just enough time to check their weapons and ammo one more time before they needed to move.

The tower guards were easy enough to snipe from their elevated position, and they were far enough away that there was no one to hear their shots. As soon as they were down ghost set about, clearing the area in a spiral pattern, stopping when soap signaled just long enough to set the charges.

By the time they reached the middle, soap had long since run out of all but one charge, and he warned ghost as such. The man paused, and the bottom of his mask shifted slightly, before he nodded and continued forward.

The large center building, evidently used for some kind of research, was more heavily guarded that the rest of the area. Not really a problem for them though, nothing they haven't handled before. Again Ghost took point while soap watched his 6, it was routine. They went room by room, slowly, collecting whatever intel of other information they could.

One room they came across looked to be a storage room for chemicals and other such materials. Ghost was about to move on, but Soap stopped him. Maybe he could see if they had any kind of chemical accelerant, or atleast make one. If he could they'd have to go back and reset all the charges, it was a risk, but if it meant a mission success...

Ghost took watch while he scanned shelfs of chemicals. He got lucky with a number of them, and immediately he began doing calculations. This could work. Only thing he needed now was a bunson burner. Which evidently was not in the room, as he searched more and more frantically.

Ghost seemed to notice his agitation because he told him to grab what he needed at move of, soap listened, if slightly unhappily.

The next few rooms they cleared were, luckily, pretty sparce. Much to their luck they did stumble across a lab room, which soap made them stop in. The chemicals he took, if done correctly, could be made into a highly reactive sticky paste. A paste that if he used efficiency could spread their charges up to twice or even 3x the area.

If time was on their side he'd have had half a mind for proper protection and measuring equipment for the chemicals, but it wasn't. So in lieu of personal safety he shucke off his gloves, as it was easier to feel out the correct measurements without them.

In a too quick pour a spash of chemicals landed on the webbing of his hand between the thumb and forefinger. It burned as it it foamed down the back of his hand, and ran a stripe down his palm. Too focused on watching two liquids thicken as he mixed them together to notice.

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

This isn't done yet, but I want to get it out of my drafts and this is a kinda good stopping place. I'll probably just reblog this when I have the next part... maybe

#el rambles #demolition enthusiast john soap mactavish #i accidentally down played his militaristic abilities in this but oh well #unfinished fic #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #if you squint #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod

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tomatette · 2 months

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Ooh, I'd love to know about the Loki fic!

Lol, that's a super old one. Basically, Loki wants to play a prank on Thor, but it backfires.

When Loki wakes up after blacking out, he finds himself in a world very everything is the same - but not. Because while things might look the same, people are most decidedly not. Or to be more exacty: They are the opposite of what they usually are. That makes Thor a pretty sadistic guy, who likes to slap Loki around for fun.

Doesn't sound pleasant? But the worst thing is that, when Loki looks into the mirror, he can see himself back in his "homeverse". And that Loki is the counterpart to Sadistic!Thor, and just really awful and unpleasant all around, and now unleashed onto Loki's "homeverse"

Anyway, it's just really very complicated, and I don't think I will ever write more on it. And because of that, I'll just slap it under the cut. It's un-betad, raw material, so don't expect all too much XD

When Loki woke up that morning, dark clouds were looming in the sky outside the window next to his bed, and the air smelled strongly of ozone. He threw off the covers and thought to himself: “What a perfect day to play a little prank on my beloved brother and his adoring little friends.”

For a midsummer day, the marble was surprisingly cold beneath his bare feet when he padded over to the bathroom adjoining his rooms. He barely noticed it, though. His mind was otherwise occupied.

What could he possibly do that would outshine every single of his past mischiefs? It had to be something that would reveal just how much of an unbearable fool Thor was, he pondered. Because, infuriatingly, nobody but Loki seemed to see. Least of all the Bootlickers Three and this uppity wench, Sif.

Thor never became tired of calling them their friends. And wasn’t that just the best proof of his idiocy? Because, clearly, even a blind man could see that Loki was merely a tolerated presence in their little sworn-in circle. Only there, because Thor insisted on dragging him along - usually without even bothering to ask for Loki’s consent, of course.

And, oh, how was he fed up with this whole wretched business. With their distrustful glances whenever they thought Thor couldn’t see. Not that Thor would see, even if they did it right under his nose. He was completely unheeding towards his friend’s faults - or his brother’s for that matter. Each snide comment meant to cut Loki was waved away with a good-natured laugh and a jovial slap on the shoulder. Loki, though, never forgot even a single of their slights against him. And it made him want to pay them back all the more.

But how? How?

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror over the washing basin, and after a moment a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Oh … Yes, of course.

Swiftly, he stormed back into his bedroom and opened the drawers of the intricately ornamented chest that held worthless baubles as well as some of his most valuable possessions. Things cluttered to the floor left and right, while he rummaged around the drawers, one after the other, without finding what he was looking for.

Until, finally, he did.

With a triumphant huff he unrolled the parchment and let his fingers trail over the ancient runes, faded from age, like a lover would caress their beloved’s skin. He had found it in a cobwebbed tome about the history of Seiðr. It had slipped out between the pages and come to lie right in front of Loki’s feet. And one glance had sufficed for him to realize that it was very old - and likely also very powerful.

Loki had spent long hours perched over the parchment in flickering candle light, trying to decipher the meaning of those runes that looked simultaneously exasperatingly familiar - and not. Eventually, he’d been pretty sure he had a relatively good grasp of what this spell was about - relatively meaning there were some details left he had not been able to translate and chose to interpret according to the information he possessed.

It had been a bit of a let-down, honestly. Apparently, all this spell could do, was alter reflections in specular surfaces, which wasn’t really all too thrilling. At the time he’d been so angry for having wasted precious time on something so utterly useless that he’d thrown the scroll into one of his drawers, intent to forget about it as quickly as possible

Now though …

He took the parchment, leaving behind the havoc he had created without sparing it a second glance, and went back to the bathroom. This spell was positively perfect for what he wanted to achieve. They would so regret ever having messed with him.

Ever.

In front of the mirror, he smoothed his features into something a little less smug and more appropriate to the task he was about to perform. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let his mind reach for the strings of Seiðr running through his body. He channeled the energy, let it stream through his arms and his hands, until the magic poured out from his fingertips like clear water.

His lips started moving almost on their own accord, incanting the words in the foreign tongue of the Ancients. He felt the power like an electric current pulsing through his veins. It was a heady sensation, and for a moment he was almost surprised that a simple spell would provoke such a strong amplitude of his Seiðr.

Then, all of a sudden, the magic flow became a torrent, and Loki choked in surprise and pain. He was on fire. A cold blue fire that burned him from the inside out.

A scream tore free from his throat.

His vision went white.

Then, nothing.

When Loki came to, he was lying on the bathroom floor, his face pressed uncomfortably against the cold tiles. With a deep groan he rolled onto his back, the ceiling above him moving in and out of focus.

What in the nine had happened to him? His head was pounding just like that one time Thor had managed to coax him into having a brotherly night out in town. What his brother had conveniently forgotten to mention was that he had invited their friends to come along. After an agonizing hour of being squashed between the bulks of Thor and Volstagg and forced to listen to Fandral bragging about his latest amorous conquests, he just couldn’t take it any longer. He had ordered his first alcoholic beverage of the evening - and far from the last. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened after the sixth, except for waking the next morning feeling like something that should have rightfully been dead.

But he didn’t drink last night - or did he?

Anyway, the light was far too bright for the precarious state his head was in. All he wanted was to crawl under a rock and die. His only hope was that Thor and their friends were suffering in a similar fashion and …

He remembered so suddenly, it stole his breath away for a second; the spell, the dizziness, the pain. With a moan he pushed himself up into a sitting position and closed his eyes until the pounding between his temples slowly subsided. Eventually, he could think again, without feeling like it would break his brain.

“This had better be worth it,” he muttered through clenched teeth and picked himself up from the floor. Pain or no, he would go now to check on Thor and if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to make the effort to find his brother, because his brother found him before he could even so much as stumble from the bathroom.

“Loki,” he growled, and his face was positively murderous. With three steps he stood in front of Loki - towered really, even though he wasn’t that much taller - and put his left hand around the back of Loki’s neck.

Now, that was a gesture Loki was painfully familiar with. Thor loved to just wrap his fingers around his nape and bring their faces close together. But this … was different. Never had Thor’s fingers dug quite so painfully into his vulnerable flesh, and the way his eyes flashed was almost … menacing.

Loki managed to break free from his brother’s hold and quickly danced back. “Thor,” he hissed. “What in the nine has gotten into you?” Glaring, he rubbed the tender spot on his neck where a bruise was almost guaranteed to bloom. “Damned brute!”

“I should’ve wrung your neck while I was at it,” Thor growled, the words but a low rumbles, his eyes flashing with something akin to madness. He stepped closer again, Loki backing away from him instinctively, until his back was hitting the wall.

What was going on?

Thor was an asshole at times. He could be cruel and hurtful, but usually didn’t realize what he was doing. That was what made him so insufferable for Loki. The incapability to understand the consequences of his own actions.

This though … this was different.

Loki had never been scared of Thor. Had never had a reason to fear him, no matter what. But right here, right now, he could feel a tingle of unease creep up his spine.

“Loki, you wretched little cunt. What did I tell you about touching my things?”

“What?” The word was out before Loki could stop it. He was just too flabbergasted. It wasn’t like Thor at all to speak to him - to anyone - like this. The big oaf was honorable to a fault. Even when he was really angry, he would probably be all shoves and bluster.

Not like this.

Never like this.

“Give it back, you thieving snake,” Thor growled, stepping even closer, until Loki could feel his brother’s hot breath on his face. “Or do you need another lesson in obedience?”

He resisted the urge to avert his eyes. It was never a good idea to show weakness in the face of a predator. And those were exactly the vibes Thor was giving off at the moment. A terrifying beast of a bear, vicious and bloodthirsty, waiting for the right opening to go in for the kill.

Loki schooled his features into an expression of indifference. “I have no idea what you are talking about”, he said. “I doubt very much that you possess anything I might need or desire.”

Obviously, it had not been the right thing to say, because Thor’s stare hardened even further, his eyes as cold and cutting as shards.

“Tonight,” Thor hissed. “I give you until tonight to return it to me - otherwise I will make you regret you were born.”

The fist to the stomach came as a surprise and knocked the breath out of Loki. He doubled over, gasping and wheezing. Tears of pain and humiliation sprang to his eyes, yet he managed to stay on his feet until he heard the door to his rooms fall shut with a resounding bang.

Then, and only then, he allowed himself to drop to his knees, clutching his abdomen and fighting back the bile threatening to climb up his throat.

Something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

And he would have to find out what it was, because he had no doubt that his brother would otherwise make good of his words.

After this rather disturbing episode with Thor, Loki came to the decision it would be for the best to lock himself up in his rooms for the time being. He didn’t think that even the thick oak door could keep Thor from getting in if he really set his mind to it. But doing so would Loki at least give a fair warning and some time to prepare - for what, he had no idea.

The matter of the fact was, though, that his door didn’t have any locks. He stared at the exact point where he just knew the metal bolts used to be. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t even find the slightest hint of them ever having existed.

Now, that was decidedly weird.

With a frown he stepped back into the room and, for the first time since he woke up this morning, took a real look around.

The differences were small - a vial occupying a spot where it didn’t belong, the framed picture of Thor and himself as young boys that he kept on his nightstand for whatever reason, missing - but they were there. And now that he had noticed them, they were practically glaring in his face.

Shaking his head, Loki went back into the bathroom and tried to remember what exactly had happened before he lost his consciousness the night before. He closed his eyes and leaned heavily on the rim of the washing basin, letting his head hang between his shoulders..

The spell. Something must have gone wrong with it - but what? And how did it explain Thor’s strange behavior? The misplaced things?

He shook his head and opened his eyes to examine his face in the mirror - what exactly he was hoping to find there he didn’t know..

But all that was reflected back to him was the empty bathroom behind him.

Well, and his own face, obviously.

His own face that looked back at him with a smug grin. Only, he wasn’t smiling.

“Loki? Are you done in there?”

He flinched violently at the sound of Thor’s voice. But something wasn’t quite right. It took Loki a moment to figure out what was disturbing him. And when he did, eventually, it didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

Because Thor’s voice seemed to come from the other side of the mirror.

His brows knitted together in confusion. The other Loki smiled.

“I will be with you in a minute, brother”, the reflection called over its shoulder and turned back to Loki. “He’s such a guileless idiot, isn’t he? So much nicer than my Thor - but the lovely bruises on your throat suggest that you already made his acquaintance.”

Loki stared at his reflection in disbelief. “What is this?” he whispered. “What are you?”Mirror-Loki clucked his tongue. “Aren’t you supposed to be the clever one? I am you. And you are me, I guess. Only that you are not. But it’ll be more fun to let you figure out the details yourself.”

#ask game #loki #thor #pre thor1 #unfinished fic #mine

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delkios · 9 months

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I've mentioned before I've played around with the idea of Delta Squad hunting down/teaming up with the Batch and nothing of significance came of it mainly because I couldn't settle on how I wanted it to happen. But there were a couple things I'd written down long ago that still amuses me so I guess I'll share them.

---

“Did you also neglect to teach these new troopers everything?” Hunter asked Scorch dryly.

“More like I taught ‘em maneuvers that I knew how to counter.”

“You were an instructor?” Sev asked. “What di’kut thought that was a good idea?”

Scorch pointed at Boss and Fixer. “Those two, because they didn’t want to do it and they outrank me.”

---

Gregor jabbed Scorch in the chestplate. “You shot me in the chest. Twice.”

“Yeah, and not five inches higher in your unprotected face.”

“Don’t know how you missed,” Sev replied. “Gregor’s head is huge.”

“I shot his armor on purpose!”

“It’s the same size as anyone else’s!”

#republic commando #unfinished fic #scorch and sev taking the piss out of each other is one of my favorite things

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sleepsonfutons · 9 months

Text

Mad Dash to the Bingo Finish Line

(Incomplete) Snippet @dreamlingbingo Fill - D1 Tied on a table

Rating (planned): Teen or Mature

Summary: When Dream rejected Hob's friendship in 1889, he didn't know just how much he was rejecting. When Dream escapes his imprisonment at the hands of the Burgesses and goes in search of his missing tools, he finds out exactly what he rejected.

Johanna's sleeping man has been her constant companion since childhood when her father first introduced her to their family's ward and benefactor. Her flower man has been bound to the cushioned table in the observatory under his garden of blossoms blooming from his whole body and when the Sandman turns up in her flat in the middle of the night, demanding his sand, she finds out just who the man's "mysterious stranger" mentioned in his directive of care is.

The man has been bound to the table since she was a child. Jo’s father said that he’d set up the trust that pays for the flat, paid for her schooling, and covers the majority of their expenses. He’s been a silent constant in her life since before she can remember.

She left stuffed toys: griffins, dragons, and pegasus, to watch over him whenever her father’s work took them away from London for more than a weekend. It had seemed cruel that he would have to stay there in the conservatory alone, with no way of knowing if anyone would ever come back. She watched as beautiful flowers sprouted from his mouth and from his flesh each year. Some years only one variety would bloom, but more often than not, he was a flower field. A veritable bouquet.

It had always struck her as odd how all of the flowers bore some connection to sleep or night or dreams, once she’d learned the meanings of them. There were breathtaking bleeding hearts, soft blue evening primroses, ruby red poppies, dazzling moonflowers, and deadly belladonna blooms.

Now it’s not so much odd as unbelievable. The never aging man, apparent immortal, resident flower guy and his dear Stranger - a man distinctly lacking in color beyond piercing blue eyes and raven dark hair - referenced in his directive of care. Of course, this unbelievable man who had walked out of her childhood fairytales, would be somehow connected to the Oneiromancer. She hadn’t registered the connection when he approached her outside the cathedral and accosted her as she made her way to meet Ric.

#my writing #sleepsonfutons writes #the sandman fanfic #dreamling fanfic #2023 dreamling bingo #the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob #unfinished fic #snippet fill #hanahaki

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thetalesofno-one · 1 month

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Curse of Strahd, Act I: Pt. 1, Ch. V -Shadow Of Barovia-

D&D Campaign Retelling Part 1/? Chapter 5/5 ~5.1k words Content Warnings: Curse of Strahd typical content, Read at own risk

Summary Free of the deadman's path, the disparate travelers continue on across the misty lands into the shadow of a ruined village. Barovia. Civilization found, and hopefully answers, unknowing that their troubles have only just begun. Read Previous Chapters also available on AO3

Emet stares at the empty ground where the corpse grew its roots the last they passed this tree. The dirt empty and undisturbed, yet the deadman gone. No footsteps scar the mud, no scrabbling prints of some beast come to claim its rotting meal. And yet the body is gone.

He checked for undeath. His god may have forsaken him, but the remnant of that divine power granted to him when he first took his oath never faded even after all that happened. He felt the power, sensed it in his veins like a presence. A doorway he can still open. One his god did not lock and one Emet would have tried to break down if he did. But he hadn’t needed to. When he called on that power, it answered. And that power sensed no undeath when he used it. The body should still be here.

Evrrot steps widely over the area to not sully any trail, his cognac eyes sharper than bourbon checking for any sign of what happened. Finding none he sinks an accusing glare into Emet.

“I thought you checked this shit.”

“I did.”

“Clearly not well enough.”

Emet’s lip curls in a half snarl and he turns back to the wagon path. The road stretching on, open now as freely as when they first walked it. No trick, no compulsion to continue circling the deadman’s path, no clawing thoughts at the edge of their minds, urging them to try again, try again. So why did the deadman obsessively run himself into exhaustion? Why continue clawing tallies into trees on a path that went nowhere when he must have crossed the wagon trail forty-three times? What made death by exhaustion a better choice than following this road? Or did the road not exist for him? The trail clearly started and ended where this group’s feet first set foot in the misty forest. Perhaps their arrival carved it into the land like a sign post, guiding them somewhere. Or perhaps it only exists for those it’s meant to exist. But then where else would the deadman have come from?

Roshan clears his throat though it doesn’t clear the tension in the air.

“I am not the smartest man, but surely the man could not have been this dumb,” Roshan says, confirming Emet’s own thoughts, “Forty-three times.”

“Unless something addled his mind.”

“Maybe he thought he had to,” Evie adds. She looks back at the road that started them on this path and then ahead to wherever it might lead. Glancing at the spot where the body once rotted, her eyes flicker to Emet a moment. She’s the one who knew how he checked, so what does it say to her that he failed? That he is a liar? Or his god?

“Maybe the flaming horseman chased him off the wagon road,” Roshan nods as though that is the only possible answer. He points down the wagon trail, “But this is our only path left now.”

Emet wishes he was wrong—certain the others feel the same way by Evie’s wary look down the road and Evrrot’s scowl—but that may have been the deadman’s wish and look where that got him. Perhaps wishes are dangerous things in this place.

Evie slips the compass from the pouch on her belt again, setting the bronze device in her palm and giving the needle a moment to settle. Her other hand twists the brooch about her neck, unconsciously mimicking the back and forth movement of the red needle still refusing to find North. Roshan twists his feather in a similar fashion, praying to it like a stick of incense and Emet finds himself absently checking the amber shard lashed to the back of his hand, seeking any guidance that led him this far. But the stone remains dark and empty and the compass needle never finds North. It no longer whirs violently beneath the glass at least.

Evrrot glares at them all.

“What do all of you have?” He narrows his eyes, “What are you playing with?”

Roshan looks up from his feather, “I told you. It is a blessing from my god.”

Evie quickly drops the brooch, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just my spell casting focus,” Emet lies, though only partially he supposes.

“Got any spells that can get rid of fog?” Evrrot asks sarcastically.

“Afraid not.”

Then what good are you, the tiefling’s expression seems to ask. Evrrot clearly doesn’t believe any of them and other than perhaps Roshan, Emet knows he and Evie are lying. They all saw each other get pulled into the mist by these trinkets. All except Evrrot who seems to have nothing as far as Emet can tell. So why did he follow?

The glares persist, each person daring the other to question their answers in silent challenge. But the standoff is quickly broken as Roshan starts trying to blow away the fog with his breath, the mist only swirling about lightly.

Evie smiles dangerously and points a finger at the charmer. Magic infuses her words as she whispers, “I can’t dispel the fog either, but does this make it creepier?”

Her tinted lips move, forming words without sound, her finger still pointed sharply at Evrrot like a dagger. Emet hears nothing, the magic of the message spell stealing away her words and giving them solely to Evrrot. The tiefling flinches suddenly. Emet almost laughs thinking the charmer has never been on the receiving end of a message spell when Evrrot grabs his head and winces painfully, roaring.

“What the hells?! Stop it!”

Evie’s eyes flash wide at the outburst, holding up her hands and ending the spells casting.

“Devil boy, what is the matter with you?” Roshan demands, sounding exactly like a father tired of his son’s dramatics.

“She’s casting spells!”

The initial concern on Evie’s face rolls away with her eyes as she gives Evrrot the ‘done with your shit’ expression of an older sibling realizing their kin reacted to a pat on the shoulder like it was a slap to the face, “It was a joke, man. Chill. No one’s ever been hurt by a message spell.”

“Jokes don’t hurt!”

“Hurt? I did the little sneaky message thing—”

“That wasn’t a little message,” Evrrot mocks, “That was the voice of the damned screaming in my head. I don’t know what you did, but stop casting spells on me.”

“Mate, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, I’m not very magical, I can send little messages and I can do this,” she lights up her armor again with the deep bluish light.

Evrrot stabs a finger, still rubbing his head, “Watch her.”

“My magic is very bad, basic at best!” Evie continues, snapping her fingers to summon a small burst of green flame. She double takes a glance at the flickering fires dancing atop her pinched fingertips like she’s never seen such a thing before. “And that’s green now for some reason—”

A dull whispering voice follows the flame, every ripple of the fire like a whisper from beyond. The green flames dance wildly along her chipped painted nails, more erratic than typical arcane flame. Evie stops talking, staring at the small magical fire with wide kohl painted eyes and a genuine expression of horror. Either this is new and she’s not lying or Emet has sorely misjudged who needs to be watched in this group.

“Okay that’s creepy.” Evie snuffs out the flame.

Roshan eyes her warily, “Did you kill someone in your past life?”

“No!”

“Then this place is haunted.”

Evrrot sweeps an angry finger across everyone again, backing up with his body lightly curled in a fighting stance, hand somehow always near a weapon at any given time with a well practiced ease, “We’ll all playing nice now, but I’m watching each of you. And if anyone stabs me in the back I will not hesitate.”

“Devil boy,” Roshan sighs, “Take the gnarled branch out of your ass. We have to be together for this, okay?”

Evrrot gives him a derisive snort and twists on his heel, the tiefling storming down the wagon road without another word.

“Follow me,” Roshan sighs, waving to Evie and Emet like a father herding his unruly children after one threw a tantrum.

“We’re all walking in the same direction!” Evrrot growls ahead, “We’re not all following you.”

“Okay, whatever you say, devil boy.”

Roshan grins mischievously before jogging ahead to catch up with Evrrot and irritate him further. Emet sighs and offers Evie a shrug that says, this is our life now, and follows. The half elf groans behind him. It’s a moment before he hears the sound of her heavy platform boots stomping reluctantly behind.

Emet tries not to look back at her. The whispers of her green flames echo dully in his memory, haunting soliloquies at the edge of his mind. They did sound like the dead. Voices distant and stolen away. Here, but leagues apart. The desperate cries of spirits screaming into your ears, yet the fathom between life and death dulls their screams to a barely heard whisper. Words shouted right into your ears, yet too distant to make out.

He wonders if they cling to her too or if her flames merely gave them voice.

The dark woods fall away like words at the end of a page. The tree line breaking apart and stopping with the sharpness that can only come at the edge of an axe. Nature halted by the hand of civilization. Beyond the edge, the lands arms open wide and stretch across a large sweep of grassy valley. Only a ribbon of river bisects the knolls, cutting through the fabric of the fields. Still gloomy and misty, the fog drifts as low as a blanket across the gentle hills. It pours out from gnarled forest behind them like river water over a dam, thinning to the swirling stream dancing over the whispering fields of tall grass. Above, roiling thunder clouds twist and boil the dark skies, choking out whatever sun must hang above into little more than thin grey light.

Sharp jagged mountains pierce their teeth into the skies beyond the shadow of the vale, evergreen trees spilling down the mountainsides and enclosing this valley between sharp stone and needled trees. Snowcaps bleach the jagged grey edges of the stone teeth towering imperiously over the land, the vale swallowed in the maw of some godsbeast.

And yet it is still a far more welcome sight than the forest behind.

Ahead, sickly yellow grasses and farmland sway in the ever shifting tides of mist and wind, wrapping around the sharp edges of some small settlement hunkered down in the trough of the valley. The pale river cuts past the settlement, the winter blue ribbon reflecting the roiling sky in its crystalline waters.

And looming high above the settlement, perched at the edge of a sheer mountain cliff, a dark twisted castle, all spires and stone spines sitting alone in silent oppressive watch. A stone beast haunting the cliff’s edge, the village below its hapless prey. A thread of lightning cuts across the dark skies in a flash, casting the keep in sharp shadow and violent light before a sudden swell of thick fog sweeps across the vale in a wave, concealing both castle and settlement from view.

But at least they know that it is there.

“That place looks pretty nice,” Roshan comments wryly.

Evrrot scoffs, “Yeah compared to here.”

Roshan claps his hands together, “We can all rest up and have a good night’s sleep. And then everyone will be less stressed.”

“Let’s hope it’s not one of those crazy villages where they believe the weather is controlled by sacrifice or some shit,” Evrrot mumbles. “You’d be the first to go.”

“Some gods do like you to sacrifice people, but that is a whole ‘nother thing.” Roshan waves everyone forward, “Come along.”

Emet barely cares where they are going at this point. His stomach stopped its complaining hours ago to settle into a disapproving dull ache and his leaden legs have resigned themselves to swinging forward with each step by momentum alone. It’s only when he stops that Emet feels like he could simply sink into the dirt and never move again. Better to keep trudging along until they find a real bed to rest, lest his body decide the ground is good enough after all.

He’s not sure how long the others have been on their feet, but more hours have passed since they left the deadman’s trail and he’s guessing they are nearing eight or more hours since the mist swept them into strange lands. He was ready to end the day back in the leaning Daggerford barn, now he is close to collapse.

The slate grey armor hanging from his shoulders felt like bars of iron back in Daggerford, now they sit like anvils after so many hours. The clothing beneath is soaked entirely between the rain and the sweat, and the black cloak draped over his shoulder hangs as heavy and damp as a wet blanket. If it wasn’t for the constant chill of this place freezing the sodden wear to his skin and the ever present sense of danger prickling at his frayed nerves, Emet would have started drifting off to sleep long ago whether he was on his feet or not.

Evie seems equally exhausted, her arms wrapped around herself and tugging at the short skirt beneath her armor as though she can stretch it out to keep the wind off her exposed legs. She chews at a lip piercing irritatedly, occasionally blowing a strand of fallen hair from her face with a huff.

Evrrot seems warm however, that charcoal scented leather long coat of his keeping his clothing suitably dry and warm in this winter breeze. Emet wonders absently if his infernal blood warms him as well or if that’s only a rumor. He’s known a few tiefling in his long life, but mostly as clients. Never well enough to venture such a question. And he certainly won’t ask this man lest he give him the fire he needs for warmth through irritation alone.

Misery keeps their company and exhaustion their silence. Only Roshan clings obnoxiously to every fragment of hope this gloomy place spits at them. Where the old man gets his vitality, Emet will never know. The old human looks as weathered as old leather draped in scratchy white cloth—now soaked—but somehow his every step bounces with a spring in it and that near constant smile of his curls up the edges of his salted beard as reliably as the sun rises each day.

Evrrot glares at the old man every few paces with the irritated hatred born from a day that’s gone on for too long and Evie lets slip a small smirk when she thinks no one is looking, but Emet finds his mind drifting to Azem. Roshan’s bouncing gate reminds Emet of the sun elf every time they had set out together on a journey. No matter how long the day or early the morning, Azem always finds a way to brighten it.

Sun elf and sun god, both so bright.

The muddy wagon path twists ahead of them, rolling across the grassy hills down into small valleys thick with puddles before rippling up again. The land folded and rippled like cloth. And all the while their sodden boots trudge it further still with the hope that the mist doesn’t completely swallow up the village ahead in more than sight. It already devoured their last one after all.

Evie nods toward something off the road, not daring to unwrap the warmth of her arms from around herself to point. “What’s that?”

All heads swing to where she stares off the trail into the strange mist and the veil of it thins briefly to see a dark weathered stone atop a small knoll.

“Maybe it is a mile marker,” Roshan’s voice betrays the tiredness he is hiding better than the rest, “I will go have a look.”

“I’ll join, shouldn’t be splitting up,” Emet says, not wanting to stand still.

Evie shakes her head, “Don’t worry about it, we should keep going.”

“It is barely 20ft feet away,” Roshan waves his hand at the stone definitely more than 20ft away, “We will be fine.”

“I’m getting bad vibes from this place, let’s not go and explore every weird, creepy thing we come across.”

“Yes, let’s definitely go and together.”

Evie frowns, “That’s not what I said.”

Roshan trudges off path, sweeping aside the tall grasses with Emet in tow. Neither Evie nor Evrrot follow.

Certainly isn’t a mile marker, Emet thinks as they get closer to the dark stone. The stone is slick with rain and soaked through, but rain-darkened words are carved into its rough surface in the common tongue—a good sign. Emet reads the epitaph chiseled into the gravestone. Rose and Thorn, and beneath the inscription the phrase, Lost to the world, Found in Judgement.

“This is a burial proverb of Kelemvor, yes? The God of Death in our Faerûn?” Roshan asks, kneeling beside the stone and brushing away the grasses already grown long around it. Emet notes the grave marker barely looks as though it has weathered a year. Roshan looks up expectantly at the tall moon elf, but Emet keeps his silence hoping the holy man will mistake it for ignorance and not familiarity.

The holy man shrugs, “I think it is.”

Before departing the holy man offers a brief blessing, his hand marking the symbol not of Kelemvor, but of Lathander. Emet doesn’t quite remember which domain that god embodies, he never was the most devout in his order. Maybe that’s why things ended up the way they did. But then again, Roshan seems to have an abundance of faith and he’s still here in this mess beside Emet. So maybe the answer is that none of the gods care.

Roshan slaps his knees as he stands, breaking Emet out of his thoughts, “All done, thank you for waiting. We should head back now.”

The two trudge back through thick grass and uneven ground to Evie and Evrrot, the half elf and tiefling watching them carefully and impatiently. Evrrot’s horns drip droplets of water past his shoulders, hair more slick than ever in the wet rain and wetter still for them having made him wait as the rain picks up a little heavier. Emet is half surprised the tiefling didn’t simply leave as he’s so fond of threatening at every occasion.

Evie just stares past them, out to the stone marker, her mohawk nearly flattened and drooping half way to her armored shoulders. She’d dug a ditch in the mud with her platform boots while waiting, chewing on her darkly tinted lips as though she half expected some terrible thing to burst out of the fog and snatch away Emet and Roshan on their way back. Not out of the realm of possibility, unfortunately.

“It was a just tombstone,” Roshan offers as Evie lifts her head expectantly.

“Ah yeah, nothing creepy about a random tombstone in the middle of nowhere,” she comments.

“You never know, this could have been their favorite hill.”

Evrrot uncrosses his arm, “Alright, you’ve had your fun. Follow me.”

“Of course, devil boy” Roshan grins, “We follow you.”

Devil and holy man walk side by side, already having forgotten Emet and Evie in their unspoken competition. Emet shakes his head and is about to follow when he realizes Evie doesn’t move. She stares off at that grave marker, arms crossed across the wet chainmail on her chest. She barely seems to realize half of them have left.

Evie takes a breath and steps forward, but not toward Emet. She determinedly marches for the gravestone alone. Emet nearly follows, wanting to keep anyone from being alone in this place, but something tells him to hold back.

Platform boots slipping in the thick wet grasses up the knoll’s side, Evie barely realizes she’s gone to the grave marker before she finds herself standing in front of it. It’s not like she wants to be here, just that…she needs to. Or that she should. She doesn’t know anymore.

Her eyes trail over the stone’s carving catching on the curl and slant of the ‘R’ in Rose and the sweeping ’T’ in Thorn with a prick of familiarity. She shakes her head and rereads the names and that small sense rewrites itself in her mind as coincidence. Found in Judgement. A familiar proverb from a familiar god. One she’s probably read or said a hundred different times in her twenty-something years.

A snake curls in her stomach reading it.

She never really knew how she felt about that phase. Evie knows it’s supposed to be a source of comfort, that the bad will get their due and the good will be absolved and find their eternities in their heavens. But at the same time, it feels like a watchful gaze. A reminder that everything you do, every mistake you make, and every person you disappoint becomes another tally in a book made to immortalize your every sin. A permanent record of every failure that you’ll carry forever…

Evie sighs and quickly makes the symbol of Kelemvor.

Duty fulfilled, she wraps her arms back around herself and trudges back through the mud to where that giant shadow waits for her. She narrows her eyes at him, giving him a look that asks Why are you still here, poncy idiot before angrily stomping past him. He keeps pace, not trailing behind as if he actually remembers she doesn’t want him behind her, and they hurry to catch up with the angry tiefling and the endless well of happiness irritating the ever living shit out of ‘devil boy.’ She almost wants to laugh seeing them both still vying to stay ahead of each other, but it catches in her throat and the sound is all too similar to a sob. She bites it back and keeps walking.

Emet keeps to Evie’s hurried pace, careful not to fall behind.

The ever present mist has thankfully not swept away the settlement like a vision, the tall shapes of stone and wood structures looming within the fog, slowly peeking out between the waves. Mud gives way to slick wet cobblestones beneath their feet and for the first time since the barn, Emet doesn’t feel like he’s in a dream.

Dwellings border either side of the main thoroughfare with windows as empty and dark as the dried broken sockets of a skull. No sound to cut the silence, no light to signal life. Emet has lived through conflicts before in the extraordinarily long life granted to those of elven blood, and the buildings here look like those who have suffered much and been afforded little in the aftermath. Crippled things, wood and stone scarred by blade or claw with glass long shattered and replaced by crooked planks of wood, all leaning against another as though the wall beside it is all that keeps it standing. Remove the one and all will crumble.

Only the flapping of wings fills the streets as a raven swoops toward them from across the way. The little bird settles, perching with a flutter of black feathers atop an errant railing. It fusses with its wings a moment, a curious shade of blue tipping its silken edges before folding them neatly behind its back. It stares at the group expectantly.

Evie’s eyes light up a moment when she sees it. The blue-tipped raven caws loudly and stomps its little feet before taking off, following the street toward what must be a town square up ahead. Beyond this lane, the buildings open up a bit more with what appears to be a statue of some kind at its center.

“I think it wants us to follow it,” Evie says.

Roshan squints after the raven as though seeking some sign, “It looks like a normal bird.”

“It cawed when it looked at me though. When you look at most birds, they just…” Evie flutters her hands, mimicking wings taking off.

Roshan gives Evie the same look the others have given him whenever he pulls out that feather of his to seek guidance. Seems the only one allowed to have signs from the gods is the holy man.

The raven perches on a signpost across the town square, too distant to read from here at the edge of the village. None seem eager to take the first step into unfamiliar territory—and ruined territory at that, the buildings abandoned and dark as far as they can tell. But they all know there is no where else to go.

“Should we be nice to anyone we come across?” Roshan asks.

“Don’t see why not. They’ve not done anything yet,” Emet’s eyes search the darkened windows, the quiet streets, “If they’re even here.”

Roshan studies the grim group. Weary from the days of travel, edges frayed and nerves short, they all wear a mask of misery. Were this a normal town with streets filled with souls, all would avoid them warily with the grim air about them.

“Maybe you should smile, Emet.”

The words slide between Emet’s ribs with a dagger’s edge and drift down his throat like poppy wine. Both numbing and warm and stealing away the pain long enough to feel the heat blood spilling over his ribs and mistake it for comfort. Memory is held in that painful warmth and he doesn’t hear Roshan’s voice, but Azemir’s. A faint smile, hollow and a ghost of what it once was answers and flickers across Emet’s face before the words turn sharp and he feels the dagger behind the wine. The pain of remembered words once spoken dearly by another soul awaiting his return.

The smiles fades as quickly as it appeared, yet none see the blood.

The holy man moves on, unknowing of the bittersweet blade he buried in Emet’s chest.

“And maybe you should be happy, Evrrot. Angry devils are usually a very bad thing. Evie, you are fine.”

“Do I not come off as a happy person,” Evrrot comments, face as grim as a gravestone.

“Do I not come off as a miserable person?” Evie asks, affronted.

Roshan grins, “No and no.”

“I’m very cheery,” Evrrot glowers.

“Maybe once you’ve had some food in your stomach.”

“That’s probably the first thing you’ve said that’s made any sense.” Evrrot throws caution to the wind once more and strolls down the street, “Let’s go find an inn and see if you’re right.”

Muddy cobblestones scrape beneath their boots, the sound as loud as horse hooves in this eerie silence. If this place is occupied, there should be at least one or two people in the streets, shouldn’t there? Someone fetching the days errands, or a merchant tending their harvest stand, a kid chasing a dog, anything. But no, hollow as a tomb and quiet as the crypt. Only the wind whispering through the broken glass windows gives voice to this dead village. The swift breeze creaks a few half broken signs with rusted wails.

As they near the square, a beam of light briefly breaks through the darkened clouds and casts a pillar of pale white glow upon the statue. Even freed from the prison of clouds, the sun’s light is choked and faded, sapped of all warmth as it falls upon the figure dominating the square. Carved of old stone, the armored man’s shoulders are chipped and cracked from disrepair, matching the destitution of the village it protects. He holds a blade triumphantly aloft in stark contrast to the loss echoed all around him, a heavily booted foot resting atop the severed head of another man. Fangs jut from the severed head’s mouth, the snarling lips curled back with its jaw hung open at a broken angle. A sign of protection for those who live here and a warning to those with ill intent, but one that rings hollow through the empty shell of ruins.

The metal of the weatherworn plaque at the base carries the green tinge of aged copper. Deep clawing gouges from some beast cut across the words hammered into the surface, but the name is still legible.

Ismark Antonavich the Great

Burgomaster of Barovia

Bane of Vampires

618-662 BC

BC? That’s not the common dating notation utilized in Faerûn or anywhere that Emet’s heard of. And Barovia is equally an unknown. Granted, the moon elf isn’t the most well traveled, or even the most well read despite his past, but one glance at the others tells him he is not the only one lost as to when or where any of this is.

Roshan is the first to voice their questions, “What is Barovia?”

“What is BC?” Evie asks.

“Oh, is that strange too? I don’t know the actual years, so I don’t know what it is supposed to be.”

Emet and Evie’s eyes settle on the holy man. Not knowing the day or maybe the month is understandable, but the year?

Evrrot remains fixated on the plaque, “Bane of Vampires…”

Roshan lifts a finger, grinning, “That word I do know.”

“Are there vampires here?” Evrrot wonders.

Emet tilts his head to the shrouded skies where the dim light of sun weakly pours through the heaviest of the storm. Its beam sallow and faint as though the skies themselves suffocate their star. Every day a slow and agonizing breath above the land, a single gasp above the night’s waters before it is dragged below each night into stillness.

“If there aren’t then there were,” he answers.

Evrrot joins him in squinting up at the skies, the thin beam snuffing out at last as a wave of thick clouds rolls overhead, “It’s certainly ideal if this is the weather every day.”

A shrill caw breaks their conversation, the blue-tipped raven shouting its displeasure at being ignored like a lordling demanding attention. The bird stomps its small feet with little clicking sounds as the talons dance along the top of a wooden post jutting out from the side of a building no more remarkable than any of the others. Though its build and size suggests it may indeed be an inn. A wooden sign hangs precariously from the post by a single chain—the other broken and clinking lightly in the wind—is painted with a once vibrantly green vine dripping in what may be blood or wine. The paint half chipped and cracked by the natural fissures in the wood still bears the name.

The Blood on the Vine Tavern.

“Hey, look at that.” Evrrot casts a hand toward the sign, “The raven led us to beer.”

Satisfied its message has been received, the regal raven quickly flutters off into the mist. If Emet were a faithful man, he’d call it a sign.

“Seems your prayers were answered,” Emet murmurs as the tiefling makes his way to the double doors.

NOTES

Thanks so much for reading Part 1! I'm going to be taking a brief hiatus to catch up on some writing and notes, but I will be back. Part 2 will be available on April 23rd, hope to see you then

#vampire fiction #gothic fantasy #dark fantasy #dnd fiction #fantasy fiction #strahd von zarovich #d&d campaign #barovia #dnd fic #dnd campaign #dungeons and dragons #curse of strahd #dnd vampire #chapter fic #wip fic #unfinished fic #fiction writing #ravenloft #Tales Of No One

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goldenavenger02 · 3 months

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Chapter 1: The Thing About Growing Up

Kai struggles to accept that Lloyd is now the “adult” of the monastery; and then Lloyd nearly gets captured. It takes a long time to get back to some sense of normal.

If it had felt like his heart was ripped in half the first time he watched his younger sibling start to grow up, it felt like it had been pulled out of his chest and stomped on the second time.

On one hand, he was so proud of Lloyd. It was the kind of proud that made his eyes fill with happy tears if he thought about it for too long. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but see Lloyd as that little boy with a bowl cut and the sleeves of his gi cuffed.

With Nya, even as she grew out her hair and changed her wardrobe from reds and yellows to blues and grays, he still couldn’t help but see her as the little girl with cropped raven-black hair that he had cut himself and wearing his old hand-me-downs.

But Nya had always been independent, insistent on not needing to be protected even to the point of becoming a Samurai when she was barely a teenager; in hindsight, maybe that was why it had been easier for Kai to let her go.

He was still her older brother, he had practically raised her in the aftermath of their parents getting taken hostage by Acronix and Krux, so there would always be a part of him that was worried about her safety.

But he also knew that if she needed him for anything, she would come to him with zero hesitation.

Kai didn’t have that certainty with Lloyd.

He had been so angry when they first took him in, refusing to go to anyone for any reason until he got caught but back then, it was small stuff like a bad dream or the same small cuts that all of the others had gotten from training.

Lloyd had gotten better at not hiding things as he got older but every time Kai had to shake him awake from nightmares or stitch up wounds that were hidden for hours, all he could see was the little boy with cuffed sleeves and reddish brown eyes that were slowly turning bright green.

All of that had been before.

Before the merge had separated everyone, before he had taken on the responsibility of training Arin, Sora and Wyldfyre and before he had taken up his role as the Master of the Monastery of Spinjitzu.

Now it seemed like Lloyd had put up a large wall between himself and the others, just like Master Wu had done so many years ago.

Kai knew that it would take awhile to break through that wall, that it had been built up as a result of The Merge, of Lloyd being so lonely without anyone else around for years. But he could be there for him and help him with the new trainees.

Even if he had been apprehensive about Wyldfyre at first, he soon found himself teaching her the same way he had taught Lloyd and pulling her into the same tight hugs that he had given Nya in the past.

Which is probably why after training had wrapped for the day, he hadn’t hesitated to hand Wyldfyre the spare controller as he booted up the remastered edition of Lava Zombies that Arin had bought the last time they were in The Crossroads.

“Wyldfyre, you have to go above the zombies!” Kai insisted as he used the controller to guide his avatar above the fire-spitting zombies.

“But they need to be blasted!”

“This is the stealth round, you have to go undetected. Otherwise, they’ll alert all of the zombies and back you into the corner,” Kai explained as he vaulted his avatar onto a platform, “I’ve played through this whole game twice, you can’t outsmart the computer.”

“I’m smarter than some dumb computer.” Wyldfyre sneered as she continued to blast the zombies on screen, but Kai was learning to pick his battles.

‘If she wants to get stuck, that’s her decision.’ Kai decided as he heard the sliding door open behind him while he reached the end of the level.

“Ooo, Lava Zombies, haven’t seen this game in a long time,” Lloyd commented from behind the couch, “Wyldfyre, isn’t this the stealth lev-”

“I already tried to explain it, don’t bother,” Kai sighed while turning his head, only to get a good look at Lloyd’s outfit which was not his usual green gi or even his more casual clothes but a bright white robe with green and gold detailing, “oh, aren’t you looking fancy!”

He had been counting on a bright red flush to cover Lloyd’s cheeks while he scratched the back of his head nervously with a smile, a habit that had stuck since becoming the golden ninja all those years ago.

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get it?” Wyldfyre asked, turning away from the game to hang over the side of the couch, the gold on the robe flickering in her dark red eyes so clearly that Kai could see it, “it’s so shiny.”

“I repurposed an old one, figured it needed an upgrade,” Lloyd shrugged before making eye contact with Kai, “can I have a turn or do you need to beat the final boss for a third time?”

He knew exactly what robe had been repurposed ,the circumstances in which he had worn it meant that Kai would never be able to forget what robe it was.

“Kai?”

“Sorry, zoned out for a sec, just not used to seeing you with brushed hair,” Kai lied through his teeth and expertly dodged the smack that Lloyd tried to deliver to the back of his head, “you can have my controller, but you’re not gonna be able to progress until someone,” he pointed his thumb directly at Wyldfyre who had turned back to the game and was still making the mistake of blasting the zombies, “understands the concept of stealth.”

“I’m sure I can teach her.” Lloyd insisted, snatching the controller from where Kai had abandoned it on the coffee table and waiting until Kai shifted to the middle of the couch to sit down on his left side.

“Good luck, “Master Lloyd”,” Kai said while resting his feet on the coffee table and folding his arms behind his head, “we all know I’m her favorite teacher and if I can’t do it, no one can.”

“Why are you saying his name so weird? You are a master, right?”

“That’s complicated,” Lloyd answered as he led his avatar back down the ledge in order to guide Wyldfyre’s, “But Kai and the others used to call me “temporary Master Lloyd, in training” so it’s an improvement.”

“So you’re allowed to bully people?” Wyldfyre raised a confused eyebrow toward Kai.

“Hey, there is a big difference between teasing your little brother who is being a prick and disrespecting an entire species,” Kai retorted, “besides, I’m sure Lloyd will be a great master now that he’s not…you were seventeen, right?”

“Sixteen.”

“First Master.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lloyd’s laugh sounded hollow but Kai knew better to question it when he would only get denial in return, “just follow me, Wyldfyre, so we can get to the next level and you actually can blast the zombies.”

“Fine, but I can outsmart the computer.”

Kai didn’t comment on how she had lost three of her four lives just by continuously blasting zombies that would never stop coming, he did not want his hair to get seared off today; instead, he watched as Lloyd guided her avatar throughout the maze of platforms, stopping to show her how to double jump onto a particularly high ledge.

Wyldfyre and Lloyd made it to the portal that took them to the next level when the sliding door opened again, this time with much more urgency.

“We’ve got a problem, a big problem.” Arin’s voice was full of panic, which resulted in Lloyd handing the controller to Kai while he stood up, “Nya picked up an attack just outside of The Crossroads on the sensors, some weird wolf people or something.”

“Wolves don’t attack cities.” Wyldfyre insisted as she stood up, the game long abandoned.

“Ras is with them.”

Kai watched as Lloyd’s face went from questioning to anger; he didn’t know a lot about the disgraced leader of the Claws of Imperium, but he knew about the dragon hunting and that was enough. As they boarded The Bounty and got a full rundown from Nya, however, that was when a horrifying thought hit Kai out of nowhere.

‘Lloyd is part dragon.’

“Lloyd? Are you sure about this?” Kai asked as he stood in the doorway of their quarters.

“What do you mean?” Lloyd asked as he adjusted his armor around his green gi, no longer wearing the white robes, “it’s just Ras. Sora, Arin and I have beat this guy multiple times before.”

“Well, you benched Riyu-”

“I don’t know what those wolf people want, but after the Source Dragon said he was special, I’m airing on the side of caution. I’m sure it’ll just be a quick in and out.”

“Lloyd, you’re part dragon,” Kai finally got to the point, “maybe you should also sit this one out.”

“You can’t bench me anymore.”

“I’m not saying it to be a jerk, or because of some stupid destiny crap,” Kai insisted, the anger in Lloyd’s voice making him cringe, “I’m saying it because I want you to be safe.”

“I am not a little kid anymore,” Lloyd huffed as he stood up straighter, “I’m the keeper of the Monastery of Spinjitzu as well as Sora’s, Arin’s and Wyldfyre’s master. I have a duty to protect them.”

He tried to walk out of the room, but Kai held his hand out so Lloyd stopped in his tracks. He couldn't just let Lloyd leave without full understanding.

“I have my own duty, as a protector of the green ninja.”

Lloyd shrugged out of Kai’s grasp and walked away.

Kai knew that he had to get down to the ground, to stop the fight before it escalated out of control but at the same time, he couldn’t get his feet to move; despite the insistent voice in his brain telling him to go, all he could focus on was the fact that Lloyd hadn’t looked back.

Every time he had stormed out before, he would yell as he left, flip him off or even just glare at him for a brief moment but now, he refused to even acknowledge him.

‘He’s an adult now, he doesn’t need you to protect him anymore.’ Kai tried to assure himself as he started to make his way to the deck while pulling his hood over his head, but that terrifying realization he had made earlier still lingered in the back of his mind.

‘Lloyd is part dragon.’ Repeated over and over in his head as he launched himself onto the ground and started to fight against the wolf warriors.

He hit his sword against one of the wolf’s claws, knocking the steel covered glove off of their hand before using spinjitzu to knock them to the ground; he would be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of fighting the Serpentine due to the ease of it.

At least until another wolf man nearly ripped out his hair, only giving him a split second to react by launching a fireball right at him.

‘Arin was right about these guys being a threat.’

He didn’t have eyes on anyone aside from Sora’s large mech and when his heart panged with worry about Nya and Lloyd, he shook it off while knocking yet another wolf to the ground.

‘These guys are no sweat, those two can handle themselves.’ He told himself, even though he knew it was a lie and that his internal words were doing nothing to calm his nerves.

He continued to land fireballs against the wolves, occasionally catching a second set of fireballs or blasts of water out of the corner of his eye but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything clever as he fought.

Not when the thought of ‘Lloyd’s part dragon’ continued to loom in his mind like a storm cloud.

He could see the wolves start to dwindle, the fear in their eyes that they had bitten off more than they could chew as they faced off against multiple skiller fighters; the worry in their eyes made Kai’s heart stop beating quite as fast.

Until everything went shockingly numb and his ears started to ring.

All he could focus on was four things.

A voice saying “Lord Ras says to get what we came for”. A weapon being unsheathed. The blade sliding right through armor, fabric and flesh with zero effort. Lloyd’s cry of pain.

Kai only managed to turn to see one of the wolves with their dagger buried deep inside of Lloyd’s right side before his vision went red and his hands went alight.

He made sure that every single punch, every single fireball and every single burst of spinjitzu went directly against the wolf who had hurt Lloyd; the one who had hurt his baby brother.

His chest heaved and sweat poured off of his forehead until the wolves finally retreated, his hands still alight until he could confirm that they had left with pure terror in their eyes, afraid of his wrath.

‘They should be.’ Kai couldn’t help but think as he looked directly at the blood, Lloyd’s blood, staining the ground, but at least Lloyd had been evacuated before bearing witness to his wrath.

He wiped some of the blood off of his face and onto his sleeve as he boarded The Bounty before making his way down towards the small medbay against his better judgment.

In hindsight, he should have knocked before he opened the door. Kai never wanted to see Nya having to hold Lloyd’s arms to the point of him trying to break out of her grip ever again.

“Why is he still awake?!”

“Zane’s looking for something to sedate him with,” Nya explained before turning to Lloyd after a particularly loud noise that sounded like a mix of a sob and a groan, “Lloyd, you have to stop moving.”

“S-sorry,” Lloyd apologized with a tremble in his voice, “i-it hurts.”

“I know, I know it hurts. But if you keep moving, it’ll get worse.”

As much as Kai wanted to take over for Nya and try and calm Lloyd down, his sister had him handled and it made his stomach churn to see the two of them in that state.

“How can I help?” Kai asked, pulling off his shirt so the battle stained sleeves didn’t get in the way, leaving him in his undershirt as he started to wash his hands thoroughly.

“Are you sure?” Zane asked, pulling Kai’s vision away from the sink to look into his icy blue eyes, “you’re pale.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” Kai insisted, drying his hands off with the paper towels and using them to turn off the sink before grabbing two of the nitrile gloves out of the box.

He had to be sure, he couldn’t be anything else right now. Not with Lloyd choking on his attempts at deep breathing while Nya held him down.

Zane handed him the syringe that had already been filled with the sedative they had on board, as well as the pack of alcohol wipes and a band-aid, “I don’t want him to panic when I go over there, but once he’s asleep, we can get that blade out.”

“Got it,” Kai whispered, taking the syringe and sealed wipes with him to the small, metal table that sat opposite of Lloyd’s head, making sure to only look at his face and not at the blue handle sticking out of him, “Green machine.”

“A-are they okay?” Lloyd nearly pulled his right arm out of Nya’s grasp as he squinted past tears, “Arin, Sora and W-Wyldfyre?”

“Only one who’s hurt is you,” Kai assured him as he gently pulled Lloyd’s arm out of Nya’s grasp before opening the sealed alcohol wipe, “but you are gonna take a nap and get patched up, okay?”

“But-”

“This is gonna be cold,” Kai cut off Lloyd’s protest as he wiped down his bicep, “I know you’re in a lot of pain, but we’ve got you,” he stopped speaking to pick up the syringe, “take a deep breath, bud.”

Hei felt sick to his stomach as he waited for the shaky inhale before pressing the needle into Lloyd’s arm, quickly tossing the empty syringe in the small basket of medical waste before covering up the small pinprick of blood.

As soon as Lloyd went limp, however, Kai stood up and proceeded to book it to the half bath, his stomach churning violently. He didn’t even get the gloves off before he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Nya was the one who came after him, who shut the toilet lid and flushed it before helping Kai to his feet, handing him a clean cloth to wipe his lips on and a paper cup with water to rinse his mouth out.

“Are you okay?” Nya finally asked after a few beats of silence.

“No. Are you?”

“No.” She slid down to the floor, resting her head in her hands.

“Lloyd and I got into a disagreement earlier,” Kai admitted while peeling off the gloves, “I wanted to bench him.”

“He’s a bit old for that, don’t you think?”

“Not because of that. That Ras guy was in charge of hunting dragons, Lloyd is part dragon, he benched Riyu because he is a dragon.”

“Kai, what are you saying?”

Kai looked down at his hands for a few moments before finally making eye contact with his little sister, “I think the attack today was a trap for Ras to capture Lloyd. I think they know that he’s part dragon.”

#ninjago #lego ninjago #whump #angst #my writing #fic #lloyd garmadon #kai ninjago #ninjago wyldfyre #ninjago nya #medical inaccuracies #needles #team as family #rated t #chapter 1 of 4 #unfinished fic #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising season 2 speculation

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