#we lose our heads in the violence and vengeance

[girl4music]

“If losing her is the price for saving us all, I’ll pay it. It’s just a part of me I didn’t think I’d need anymore.”

“What’s become of her? It’s just not-- it’s not human. It’s-- that’s the price, isn’t it? Losing your humanity.”

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #sarah michelle gellar #wynonna earp #melanie scrofano #the chosen one #the slayer #the heir #the price #everything comes back to xena even when xena never faced the responsibility of being the chosen one #everything comes back to the exceptional writing of the price #because it’s all the same thing #being the hero #being the villain #we lose our heads in the violence and vengeance #and we forget that we are only human #we all share the burden of being the protector #even if we were never forced to be

[darksvster]

hurts like hell — ➥ m rating, one-shot, 9021 words aemond and helaena have grown up in a family of violence, one that trades in blood and ill deeds. and at some point, it all has to come to a head. one day, after a confrontation in an alley, aemond loses his eye. he stumbles into the hospital with just one emergency contact on his phone. his twin sister. as he lays in recovery with helaena by his side, the two reminisce on their past.

aka mafia au

a part of the helaemond winter exchange

ao3 link

He shouldn't know what it feels like to live this. Does anyone else live a life of war like they do? What does it mean to be normal?

Who wants normal, brother? This life we have is blessed.

But Aegon doesn't know what normal is. He doesn't know what it is to be blessed with peace. None of them do.

Normal is not Daeron learning to break down and clean a gun at 14.

Normal is not Helaena being watched by muscled men in black while at prom when she's 17.

Normal is not Aegon learning to kill a man at 18.

Normal is not Aemond bleeding from his face at 20 — his eye gone, dripping blood on the hospital's linoleum flooring the color of dark rubies.

Is this our fucking blessed life, brother?

It had been far too easy to petrify the little Targaryen. No, not Targaryen... Blackfyre. Lucerys Blackfyre. The precious middle son of his Aunt Saera, a whore who spent more time traveling the world than taking care of her children. Aemond would have pitied them if he had a heart. But he doesn't and Luke knew better than to be on their turf.

"You're on the wrong side of town, boy," he'd chuckled, playing with the butterfly knife in his hand like a toy. Flipping it, flicking it open, the shiny silver glint flashing in the sunlight. Its lapis lazuli handle is polished to a shine. The knife Helaena had gifted him six birthdays ago before either of them really understood how cursed their family was.

The boy had the good sense to look concerned. He is far behind enemy lines, no one would hear him scream. And if they did, they wouldn't care. These streets were owned by Hightowers, silenced by Hightowers, ruled by Hightowers.

But even surrounded by their Hightower associates, the little boy with a mop of black hair stupidly dared to be defiant. "You want to try something, Aemond? Start a full-scale war? I'd happily die if it gives my family a reason to kill yours."

"Our family, taoba," he said with a curl of the lip, the familiar High Valyrian rolling off his tongue. After all, he was just a little boy.

"Your family stopped being mine when your bitch of a mother betrayed us. And I heard the coffers are running dry, used up all your stolen gold. Go ahead, dubāzma, give them a reason to shed green blood."

They'd survived years off the money made from their time with the Blacks. Building an empire on stolen gold, but his cousin was right. Their funds were dwindling. And killing the bastard would lead to instant retaliation, one they would not be financially ready for.

So he'd let him go. Had his men rough him up, but keep him whole. Throwing him back to the glitzy, shiny, indulgent part of town with bruises and a busted lip, his head still attached to his head..

"Run back to those cunts with your tail tucked between your legs, ilībōños," he'd called out, naming him bastard and walking away, already hatching his own plan.

And it wasn't that his plan had been smart. No, no one smart would have done what he did. But he liked seeing Luke suffer. Liked watching Jace panic. Liked making Joffrey cry.

His impish cousins. Coddled little children rather than honed by fire and steel.

No, his plan had been stupid. But it was part vengeance, part spite. A grudge is a grudge.

You know, me and my brother have a little bet going tonight... She sure looks pretty...

(The memory of the night three years ago brings fresh rage.)

But then, his stupid plan had his fingerprints all over it, and this time without the bulk of his men. He'd been cornered in a quiet little corner of town, where the lines between Blacks and Greens blurred.

"Watch the streets, Joff!"

Rain was pouring from the sky, the sound of thunder rumbling dramatically and ironically overhead. Something to hide the sound of his scream, as if the gods were against him too. Jace is larger, taller, and wider than his brother. More handsome than when they were in school together, with that same black hair and coffee brown eyes, soft features. Devoid of the hard, cold angles of their house. Mutt. Fucking bastard.

Two-on-one was hardly fair, though he'd been smugly proud of how easily he could take the both of them on. They managed to disarm him of his butterfly knife, but couldn't get the upper hand. The Blacks bred weaklings apparently. Jace is all fists but slow and unsure, Luke snarls but there is no force behind his blows. Neither of them has had their hands stained by blood.

And he cackled as he kicked Luke in the face while he was crouched over trying to catch his breath, throwing him back onto the pavement while he dodged Jace's fist. He was so high off the taste of victory and bloodshed that he missed when Luke grabbed a handful of gravel and threw it at his face. Dirty, dishonorable. He would have been impressed if it hadn't cost him his eye.

#house of the dragon #helaemond #hotd fic #asoiaf fic #helaena x aemond #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #mafia au #hotd #mine

[frontlinebicepsoftheninth]

i've been in my head trying to figure out if the main point of nona the ninth was that nona is her own person who is a unique individual separate from alecto, or that nona is fully completely alecto to her core, and i've realized - it's both!

it's been said how alecto is the soul of the earth who remembers all the awful things humanity has done to her and nona is the soul of the earth who doesn't. and this made me think the point is that they're totally different, because the way we treat the earth changes her forever, which is true! people have also discussed how nona's assertion at the end that she's her own person was vital to the plot because she spent her whole short life watching everyone around her try to figure out who she was and make her someone she wasn't. which is what the reader is doing across the story as well, so it hits hard when nona acknowledges that when she remembers who she is, herself as nona will die. which is also true!

but it is so so important that alecto and nona are both exactly the same person and fundamentally different people, because the story is telling us: if we treated our one planet with kindness and care and love we'd be living in a fundamentally different world.

when the earth remembers, her life is vengeance and anger and violence. and when she doesn't her entire life is love, love, love. she's just the one planet but what we do to her can cause irreversible change. this is why nona's perspective in ntn was crucial not just within the plot but for the overarching themes of the whole series - the point of deviating away from our main characters to have nona's pov for an entire book was so we could see how different the world would be if we stop destroying it. how the true nature of earth is love and family and care and seeing the beauty in everything even in a horrifying mess of life circumstances. love is her priority, it's all she knows, and that's what we lose when we take her for granted.

if we want to save the planet we have to be patient through her tantrums and remain gracious as she grows and gently brush her hair in the morning.

#and importantly - we can get that world back! #nona was still possible even after everything that happened to alecto! the earth's love is so big that nona was still able to live & exist! #also this got way too long because i cant resist my polysyndeton so sorry if its gard to read at all lol #the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb spoilers #tlt spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #nona spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth #ntn #text #analysis #mine

[lunaaofthemoon]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝑛 [𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡]

[Part One][Part Two][Part Three][Part Four][Part Five][Part Six][Part Seven]

CW: abuse, blood, violence and other dark themes are spoken about so please do not read if you are not comfortable. If you have read this far and want to know how this works out, it'll be in the tags.

"Please..." Mikyoung's voice breaks, tears streaming down her cheeks, "stop..."

The witches had drugged her when they had injected her with wolfsbane before the fight broke out downstairs. They had knew that she would be able to lead them to the pups while the rest of their coven were preoccupied with the losing battle. It didn't matter to them how many lives were lost tonight - as long as they were able to deal a blow to the future generation of wolves.

The only problem for them is the fact that Mikyoung refuses to give them up.

"We can keep this up, wolf. It's no skin off our nose but you? How long do you think your body can handle the pain?" He grips her chin and forces her head to look up at him and chuckles when she spits at him. "Tell us where they are and we will let you go."

She know he's lying, knows that if she gives them what they want then she no longer has any use to them. "I am not going to tell you where they are." She defiantly turns her head even though he forces her back towards him.

Mikyoung feels the burning sensation in her veins, every movement feeling like hot needles are piercing her skin and her body reeks of the poison. She's sweating, the wolfsbane causes her body to develop a fever as it tries to fight off the effects. She's bleeding, the silver knives the witches use sears her skin as they interrogate her. She's holding out, hoping someone noticed her absence and is trying to find her.

The two witches are enjoying themselves, feeling powerful against a small female omega who couldn't fight back against them. Her body weakened by the poison and their magic keeping her from shifting; they think they are stronger than her, than a wolf, simply because they managed to catch her. They are too preoccupied that neither notices the wolf who has made his way into the room, slowly stalking towards them. Chan's lips curl as he lets out a growl, hearing Mikyoung's pained whine as the blade slices through her arm. The Alpha doesn't let them revel in their victory before he attacks both men with a vengeance they had never seen before. Chan throws his entire body into one of the men, knocking him out; this causes the magical ties that are keeping Mikyoung from moving to release, her body slumping to the floor.

Her eyes fall closed, breathing shallow and all she can hear is the tearing of flesh, the screams for mercy as Chan rips her captors apart until her body gives in from the pain. She doesn't get to hear them beg for their lives, their pathetic apologies as the large wolf stands over them before going in for the kill. She only hears her blood rushing in her ears.

Chan drops the last man, the body a torn apart heap on the floor before turning to Mikyoung and making his way over to her. She's unconscious not dead, he can tell that much, but he doesn't know whether he should move her right now. Chan knows that a bed or even the couch would be better for her but he doesn't want to move her without permission and he certainly doesn't want her to see the mess downstairs.

So, he waits. Chan's large body rests next to her, his head laying on his paws as he watches the door. Protecting, waiting, alert.

The car has barely reached a full stop when the wolves are basically jumping out and rushing to the house. Jongin notices some of the other wolves had arrived just before they had, many unaware of what was going on and arrived too late. He can't imagine what they are thinking as they view the horrors inside the house.

Chris sees the carnage inside before Luna manages to make it to the door and pulls her into his chest, keeping her from seeing a sight that he knows she's familiar with. "Don't look," he says, hand resting on the back of her head and keeping her still when she tried to move away. "You don't want to see it."

With the mutters that are coming from around them, she can easily guess what he's talking about and nods her head. "Can you take me find some ingredients so I can make some healing potions for everyone."

Chris walks with her, allowing her to hide away in the witch's quarters while he goes and helps with the clean up. "I'll come grab you soon." She nods, focusing on her task rather than thinking about what he's going to do.

Jongin, on the other hand, pushes his way through the others, "Channie?" He calls, searching, looking at the deceased and dreading finding him amongst them.

No, he'd know. Of course he would. He'd feel it.

"Puppy?!" His voice grows frantic, the smell of blood is all around and his head turns every which way until his eyes land on his boyfriend sitting on the floor, a young boy clinging to him.

Channie's head pops up, looking over at him, a little distant at first but registering that Jongin is near is all it takes for it all to sink in. His lip quivers before the rest of his face scrunches up and Channie begins to cry. "Nini..." Jongin rushes to him, dropping to his knees as soon as he reaches him. The jolt that comes from the fall is ignored as his hands run all over his love, checking for injuries, checking to see how badly he's hurt, checking to find where the source of the blood is coming from until it clicks.

It's not his.

"Thank fuck, you're okay..." He holds Channie tightly, pulling him and the boy close until he can almost put his arms right around them. The boy seems to be an add-on to his boyfriend right now since the pup refuses to let the older go and Channie seems to feel the same way so Jongin holds them both.

Everyone seems to be finding each other, bodies being moved outside and piled up while those who are suffering a loss are being given the space to grieve. It isn't what any of them thought that they were going to deal with but as Chris looks over the damage, he feels responsible for separating the packs like this. It was his decision to split up, to check everything out just in case... if only he had known...

Hongjoong, however, hasn't settled. His jaw is clenched tightly as he searches downstairs for his sister, heart pounding as every room comes up empty or with another dead witch. "U-upstairs..." He turns to look over at Channie, the wolf's head barely popping up for air from the hold that he's in. "She was- there were pups... I don't..." Jongin hushes him while Hongjoong rushes up those stairs without hearing anything more, taking two at a time.

He runs directly to the room that he knows she would have taken the pups to. Mikyoung had been so excited when she learned that Chris built little hiding places like this for emergencies and begged her brother to make it a priority in their own pack house. If she's okay, if she's safe, he'll do it, he'll build them himself if it means they work as much as he hoping they do right now.

Hongjoong throws open the closet door, nearly ripping the wall apart as he find the pups packed inside, "are you okay?" He asks, offering his hand for them to take so he can help them out. "Where's Mikyoung? Where's my sister?"

The oldest pup, Somi, rubs the tears from her eyes and points towards the hallway, "we heard them take her... she tried to keep them from taking us..."

Gritting his teeth, Hongjoong takes a moment to keep himself calm for the traumatised pups, not wanting to scare them even more than they already are. He knows that she would have died before giving those pups up and that's something he's hoping he doesn't have to face right now. "C'mon, everyone's downstairs." As he's leading the pups towards the stairs, he notices Mikyoung's scent, faint but it's mixed with the stench of blood. He spots an open room at the other end of the hallway and prepares himself for what he might find in there. "Head down, find your parents. I'll be back."

Waiting until the last pup reaches the bottom of the staircase, Hongjoong slowly walks towards the room, the smell of blood growing stronger and when he sees the state of the room - his heart drops for a moment. The bodies lying a few feet from her are a mess, unrecognisable, surrounded by blood but luckily - it's not from her, not all of it, at least. He moves closer, now standing in the doorway of the room and finds his sister passed out on the ground with a large, white wolf beside her.

He knows that the threat is gone, those who had hurt his sister are now dead but someone is keeping her from him.

Hongjoong takes a step closer, crossing the threshold and the wolf lifts his head, a deep growl rumbling in his chest, warning him to not come any closer. He responds in kind, narrowing his eyes as he takes another step forward; his eyes are locked on the wolf, watching him stand to his full height, both males growling at each other, challenging each other to try something. Hongjoong recognises the scent, it's Chan, and while he's always given the other Alpha his respect - he's in the way.

Chan snaps his jaws, snarling at Hongjoong, who keeps inching closer. The omega is hurt, passed out, and Chan's not letting anyone touch her until she's awake. It doesn't matter who he is - he's not coming closer.

The two Alphas are in a stand-off, both snarling and baring their teeth to the other. One sudden movement and they will be at each other's throats without a second to spare. Their noses are nearly touching, inches away from tearing each other apart when there's stirring next to Chan, a low groan indicating that Mikyoung is waking up but it doesn't stop their hostile exchange.

Her body is aching from the wolfsbane, head pounding from the attacks that she had sustained but this all seems to take a back seat as her body instinctively reacts to the two males practically at each other's throats. It's automatic, a shift that isn't caused because she wants to but because the tension and their scents are triggering her to react.

In a way that none of them expected.

The pain is greater now that she's a shifted because the wolfsbane that is still in her system feels amplified by her wolf fronting but even as she suffers, Mikyoung manages to make her way between them. With her whole body shaking, she places her head under the Alpha's chin, protecting his throat. Her eyes look up at her brother as a whimper leaves her, begging for him to step down, pleading for him to stop.

Please no more fighting. Please, no more blood.

The three of them stay like that for a moment and she can tell that her brother is trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Why is his sister protecting another Alpha, why is she protecting Chan? It's not immediate but he eventually pulls away, his growling fading as he stands up straight and looks down at them, confused.

Hongjoong isn't the only one confused because Mikyoung is too. It isn't like she made a conscious decision, it was instinctual, she did it without thinking about it but it's also something she isn't able to dwell on as her body collapses at Chan's feet. The pain is too much for her to deal with like this but it is also the fastest way for her to heal, her wolf taking on the brunt of the process to get the wolfsbane out of her system.

Chan is immediately on top of her, ignoring the other man as he begins to nuzzle the small omega. In that moment, it doesn't matter whether she's a part of his pack or not, his wolf is scenting her, surrounding her in his scent which seems to have her relax slightly. When he's finished, he begins cleaning her wounds, focusing on the areas where blood has started to stain her beautiful coat. While the omega will heal on her own, there's nothing wrong with him offering her a little help to get her back on her feet.

He continues to clean her, to scent her, while Hongjoong scrunches his nose and looks away. It's not an intimate thing but he doesn't feel like watching another Alpha scenting his sister, almost as if he's claiming her right in front of him. "Bring her downstairs when you're done. The witches are helping those who are injured." Without a second look, he leaves, allowing the other Alpha to keep caring for the small omega who whines softly when Chan's tongue passes over an open wound.

Once everyone is accounted for, checked up on and healed as best as the witches can do with their limited resources, Chris suggests that those who don't need to stay head back to their own territories to recover. "I can send you the details once we have more information."

It's clear that the Alpha feels a lot of guilt from what happened. It doesn't seem to matter to him about whether he had known that this would happen, it doesn't matter whether the could have prevented this - all that matters is that it happened under his roof. He recommended that they stay together, that they would be safe at the pack house but they weren't - they lost three lives and nearly lost their pups because of a decision he made.

"It's not your fault," Luna says softly when she enters the room with the others who had decided to stay. While many have taken the time to recover, others have stayed to help and Luna is one of them - she has as much to lose as the wolves do and she doesn't want to miss out on anything.

Jongin had taken Channie home to take care of him while a couple of other wolves from their pack stayed behind. While he wants to be there, the Alpha feels that his partner is more important right now and he wants to make sure Channie doesn't feel too much guilt over what happened.

While Chris had been cleaning himself up, his clothes and skin stained with blood from moving the bodies - Irene had arrived. It seems that the Devil found out about what happened and was understandably worried about him. He stands behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he takes a moment to compose himself for what's to come.

Hongjoong and a couple of his betas stand at the back of the room, ready to get the party started with the captives. Chris knows that while nobody else really approves of how Hongjoong thrives off the pain and suffering of his opponents, they have all agreed that if anyone is going to get the surviving witches to talk - it's him.

Chan sits beside a resting Mikyoung, her legs resting on his lap as she drinks a tonic that he made for her. Hongjoong had argued that she should return their pack house but Chan argued that she should stay where they can keep an eye on her, mostly talking about himself rather than anyone else. He hasn't let anyone go near her, especially not any of the witches, opting to take care of her needs himself as if he doesn't trust them.

This is all that they need right now, they don't need a spectacle for this next part, even if every wolf wants their turn with the captives - they only need one interrogator. Chris and the other Alphas all agree that everyone needs the chance to recover, they need to gather their strength because once they have the information that they are looking for - the final plan will begin.

The plan to save his mother.

#🌙: posts #🌙: plot #tldr: mikyoung is okay #a little beaten up but okay #all the pups are okay #now to find his mum

[blackjackkent]

Rakha finds the first of her targets in the front atrium of the former temple.

For a little while, she and her companions watch the goblin go about her business, which seems to entail branding each member of the goblin company with the "mark of the Absolute." She promises them eventual ascension to her station as a True Soul. Her acolytes surround her with eager enthusiasm, hanging on her every word.

The whole place is dirty and dim; it stinks of rot and of burned flesh - a smell that makes the beast in Rakha's head squirm hungrily.

"Now, here's somebody special!" the priestess crows as Rakha approaches. "The Absolute has touched you, hasn't she?"

She gestures dramatically with the branding iron in one hand. "Priestess Gut needs to touch you, too. Hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh."

"A priestess," Wyll mumbles under his breath. "One of the leaders, no doubt about it. Let's make her squeal."

"What's that?" Gut demands sharply. "Tell your friend to keep quiet, or he'll lose his good eye."

Rakha's jaw works - anger at the goblin's disrespect mixes in with the everpresent hunger for death. Tempting to follow Wyll's advice and simply slice the priestess's throat right here. But she wants information first... she wants to know everything about this cult, because they are the ones that put the worm in her head and put her on that ship. Answers first, then blood.

"Ignore him," she says curtly. "Tell me about the mark, priestess." She leans just a little on the title, sardonically.

Gut snickers. "Ready for the fire, are you?"

Rakha raises and lowers one shoulder noncommittally. "I assume this mark has a purpose."

"Shows our devotion to the Absolute!" Gut says stoutly. "These maggots see how strong we are with Her guidance. Whole camp'll be branded soon - an' you should be too." She gives Rakha a nasty smile. "You ready? Brace yourself - this'll sting."

Rakha considers for a moment. There is a practical aspect here that she can see; the presence of the worm already got her passage in here, and carrying a brand of the cult would reinforce the illusion. Not that she cares if it comes to violence in the end, but full vengeance for what has been done to her will no doubt require entering many such places.

And the brand... the stink in the air... that calls to her darker nature too.

"I *have* always wanted to smell my own burning flesh," she hears herself say coolly.

("Ew," she hears Shadowheart mutter behind her.)

In spite of the fact that the branding iron is almost as tall as she is, Gut is quick and deft with it. The heated metal presses into Rakha's palm with an exhilarating sizzle of heat and agony, and the smell of cooked meat grows in intensity.

Narrator: As the pain muddles your thoughts, your minds become entangled. A familiar sensation. She too carries a parasite.

Narrator: Darkness seems to swallow the temple, leaving you with a vision of the goblin priestess receiving instruction from a handsome young man - one of the Chosen.

Narrator: The vision dissolves away. You stand before the goblin priestess in the temple once again.

Rakha's brain twists in her head. The pain and the smell are waking the beast but she needs to know-- she needs to know about the Chosen. The man in the vision. Those people are the center of all of this.

Push deeper into her mind.

Narrator: Her faith floods into you - a tide of shuddering ecstasy. Her tadpole nestles within that mania, secure... hidden.

The priestess flinches, then smirks. "I feel you in there, digging around," she says sharply. "Works both ways... and I saw some weird shadows swimming around in your head just now." She squints appraisingly up at Rakha. "Maybe I can help with that. Us True Souls got to look out for one another."

Rakha blinks curiously. This could mean any number of things - but she wonders. Is it possible Gut knows something about the deepest shadow in her? The dark urge?

"Do you think you can fix whatever's causing these shadows?" she asks carefully.

Gut smiles widely. "With the Absolute's will, I can fix anything!" she crows. "Let's deal with this in my chapel. It's private. Don't want this lot interfering with True Soul business."

Ah. Rakha's lips twitch in a sardonic smile. There is nothing in her that will be fixed with the Absolute's will. Gut has nothing for her after all. But... it's private. Good.

Good...

----

"Rakha," Lae'zel hisses under her breath. "Do not tell me you intend to trust this creature. Rakha-- ah, tsk'va," she snaps, for Rakha is already stalking away after the priestess, up the side stairs. "Come on then," she growls to the others. "With her, lest we lose before we begin."

But she needn't have worried. Rakha and Gut disappear into a side room of the temple, and just as Lae'zel's hand reaches the door handle she hears a muffled BOOM from inside.

"What the--" Wyll mutters; knocking Lae'zel aside, he slams the door open.

Rakha stands inside over the mutilated, burned corpse of Priestess Gut. Her eyes are wild and lingering sparks drift off of her fingers.

"Smokepowder," she says hoarsely. "The matter is settled. She had no further information."

Lae'zel seems to relax slightly. "Ah. Good," she says curtly, shutting the door behind them before any passing underling notices the commotion. "Search her body and we may continue."

"You should have waited for us," Wyll says reprovingly. "We'd have helped you."

Shadowheart just laughs softly, shaking her head. "I was right on the very first day. You are crazy. But I guess it hasn't failed us yet."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #bjk writes her own party banter #once again deliberately doing stupid game stuff for story reasons XD

[the-orbz]

DND!Rayn Backstory C-3 [Violence]

Violence Warning

Chapter 3 [Warning: Violence and… Cuddles? Some people do not like excessively described wholesome moments.] This is page 6

“Tragedy also helps increase an urge for power, and he has experienced that indeed. If we give him the power to cause vengeance, he will obey us. His tragedies will get him to stay. And, he will understand our urge for vengeance.”

Rayn swings his sword at the wizard, being pushed back by a wind spell a bit too late. He keeps running at them, his sword cutting through their cloth and flesh, blood staining his sword as he continues advancing. The wizard casts a weak spell on Rayn, a bolt hitting Rayn. Nothing left to lose, no life to care about, no one left to defend. Rayn swings his sword down forcefully through the wizard, making sure to at least break a bone, if penetrating their heart was not enough.

He looks back at what is left of the town, not entering as the army seizes it. His companions now dead, as signaled by the white arrow shot sky high. Nothing left, nowhere to go, except to continue his studies, and not much health left to go on. Zap. Captured by a soldier.

- - - - -

His hands on her shoulders, close to her and looking into her green eyes. He wonders how long she has felt this way. He knows this is right, it makes her happy, it makes him happy; they are happy. There is not a doubt of this being wrong, only the pure joy of knowing he will be able to make her happy.

“I love you,” Rayn speaks softly as he looks at her.

“I love you too,” She responds, looking at him, pulling him into a hug.

They stay close for a while, not wanting to do anything but be in each other’s arms. They eventually lay against the bed, staring into each other’s eyes again. “Thank you, for everything Rayn.” She smiles as she looks, joy radiating off her.

“Thank you for telling me, I would have never known you felt like this.” He responds cheerfully, pulling her over him and admiring her. “You are so pretty.”

“You dummy, I love you a lot.” She looks at him while speaking, pulling close to him yet again, her head next to his as she squeezes him tightly.

“Aaa, I love you moree.” He moves left and right, squeezing her just as much, his words barely making sense as he speaks.

- - - - -

He wakes up and looks around, seeing the kidnapper in the cart and his hands bound. Not dead? What use is there with him? He holds his hand together,making a tense push as he attempts to cast, and to his surprise, a flash of energy comes out and strikes the person in front, knocking them off the cart.

“Shit, when did I get magic?” He speaks with surprise looking around, wondering if anyone else saw that.

He casts mage hand and undoes his bindings, getting up and looking at his weapon. It seems to glow with a dark aura.

“Makes sense they took the weapon too, they could probably sell it.” He speaks to no one, but knows there is someone who granted him power. A chance to escape.

Chapter 3, End

#dungeons and dragons #my ocs #roleplay #oc rp #rayn on lannd #dnd rayn backstory

[edenmemes]

ghost of tsushima starters

❝ promise you’ll remain the good man i know. ❞   ❝ only fools have no fear of death. ❞   ❝ i am very much alive. but my patience is dying. ❞   ❝ i’ll make sure you are remembered. as a great warrior...a wise leader. ❞   ❝ the strength we need is all around us. ❞   ❝ the past cannot hurt you. ❞   ❝ this whole journey, and i never asked your name. ❞   ❝ fear drives you to be stronger. fight harder. ❞ ❝ sometimes...our only choice is to walk away from everything we know ❞ ❝ we do what we must. that is why you and i are both survivors. ❞ ❝ i can do good! i just...need practice. ❞ ❝ may your next life be more peaceful than this one. ❞ ❝ i knew it was too good to be true. ❞ ❝ i'll see what i can do. but if you’re lying to me... ❞ ❝ you’re too comfortable with that power. ❞ ❝ don’t ever try to kill me again. ❞ ❝ turn your back on a foe...and you will die with a sword stuck in it. ❞ ❝ youre not slipping away that easily. ❞ ❝ just stay closed. keep your sword sheathed. and let me do the talking. ❞ ❝ the things i saw still haunt my nightmares. ❞ ❝ i dont even know if you're real. ❞ ❝ victories don’t have to feel good. ❞   ❝ killing your own family...it’s harder than you could ever imagine. ❞   ❝ it’s safer for everyone if i just disappear. ❞   ❝ next time, leave some glory for the rest of us. ❞   ❝ peace doesn’t always come quietly. ❞   ❝ some people respond to kindness. others require a glimpse of steel. ❞ ❝ i am nothing if not honest. ❞ ❝ stop using people, and start thinking about how you can help them. ❞ ❝ you’ve had your vengeance. don’t stand in the way of mine. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do it alone. ❞ ❝ not all words need to be spoken. ❞   ❝ there is time yet for revenge. i will savour their cries of pain when that time comes. ❞ ❝ i have learned to love the cool, damp dark. ❞ ❝ the last thing i saw was faces filled with hatred, rage... ❞ ❝ you didn’t think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you? ❞ ❝ we will celebrate when this is all over. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong with you? one moment we stand shoulder-to-shoulder, the next you’re ready to cross blades. ❞ ❝ a warrior learns from their mistakes, or they are buried by them. ❞ ❝ remember your training...and never leave my side. ❞ ❝ well...i guess this is goodbye. ❞ ❝ your visions will grow worse, driving you to madness and death. ❞ ❝ i can only pretend for so much longer. i’m not like these people and never will be. ❞ ❝ i loved you all my life, but i could never work up the courage to tell you. ❞ ❝ the proud do not last, and the mightiest of us perish like dust before the wind. ❞ ❝ you’re a vision of mercy. ❞ ❝ not bad, but only half-good. ❞ ❝ we make a good team, don’t we? ❞ ❝ an archer’s aim relies not on eyes...but on body, mind, and spirit. ❞ ❝ this is my fight. i don’t need your weapon. ❞ ❝ being right doesn’t always make things better. ❞ ❝ there is nothing easier than to prey upon the vanity of ambitious men. ❞ ❝ you weren’t looking so good. i let you rest. ❞ ❝ your intentions this time were...better than usual. ❞ ❝ what are you not telling me? ❞ ❝ trouble sticks to you like shit on rice. ❞ ❝ it’s strange being back after so many years...everywhere i look brings back memories. ❞ ❝ only a child expects perfection of their elders. ❞ ❝ when this is all over, what will you do? ❞ ❝ you are ruled by your emotion. ❞ ❝ is this how you want to be remembered? ❞ ❝ perhaps great men share all the aspects of their lessers, but more. great wisdom, but even greater cruelty. ❞ ❝ i cannot imagine the burden a leader like you must bear. ❞ ❝ our greatest enemies are the greatest teachers. ❞ ❝ death’s shadow embraces me. hand in hand we walk. ❞ ❝ breathe. you can’t fight if you hold your breath. ❞ ❝ i know you well enough by now, my friend. ❞ ❝ i can’t go back...to what i was. before this. ❞ ❝ i hope you one day forgive me for the choice i made. ❞ ❝ the wounds you dealt my spirit will never heal. ❞ ❝ why did you turn away from me? ❞ ❝ if you can keep moving forward, so can i. ❞ ❝ it’s a bad idea to sneak up on me. ❞ ❝ promise me something. don’t become like me. ❞ ❝ let me undo the damage i’ve done. ❞ ❝ ...and you want me to clean up your mess. ❞ ❝ the path ahead may take a lifetime, but i will walk it with you. always. ❞ ❝ whatever you believe i’ve become, i will always be your family. ❞ ❝ i wouldn’t be here without you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you past the horizon if i must. ❞ ❝ can i count on you to do what needs to be done? ❞ ❝ that’s over now. you’re here. with me. ❞ ❝ i thought i’d lost you, i should’ve known you’d never give up. ❞ ❝ you can’t continue down this path. ❞ ❝ be careful. demons are everywhere and they fear nothing. ❞ ❝ corpses can’t answer questions. ❞ ❝ you deserve greater respect than this. ❞ ❝ it’s just like the stories my father told me. ❞ ❝ what you become tomorrow is your choice. ❞ ❝ just ask the last man who questioned my sincerity. you’ll find his head covered in flies out back. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t have lied. i still would have helped you. ❞ ❝ we came this far. we’re not turning back now. ❞ ❝ how do we survive if we don’t trust each other? ❞ ❝ without my help, the fear and pain will overwhelm you. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, we don’t retreat. ❞ ❝ the stories are true. i’ve never seen anyone fight like you. ❞ ❝ see how the enemy fear you? you are a true warrior. ❞ ❝ you want to share a drink...with me? ❞ ❝ maybe you should’ve just ran away. like you always do. ❞ ❝ good people have nothing to fear from me. ❞ ❝ your promises are just like you. worthless. ❞ ❝ as you wish, since you asked so sweetly. ❞ ❝ i know better than to argue. ❞ ❝ i hope i can find quiet places like this one, untouched by war. ❞ ❝ we grew up together, but you threw it all away. ❞ ❝ it was so chaotic. i felt you grip my wrist and then nothing. ❞ ❝ desperation can bring out the demon in the best of men. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to leave without you, but...i can’t stay. i hope you understand. ❞ ❝ a grown man, and you still can barely sit still. ❞ ❝ and i heard you had no sense of humor! ❞ ❝ knowing and doing are different. ❞ ❝ trouble follows me everywhere. ❞ ❝ indulging violence weakens the warrior...like too much food or drink. ❞ ❝ i can always tell when you want to ask me something. out with it. ❞ ❝ i am proud to fight beside you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t nurse you back to health to watch you throw your life away. ❞ ❝ all i want...all i need is to start a new life. ❞ ❝ look twice and shoot once. ❞ ❝ i think they’re afraid of you. you can be...intimidating.. ❞ ❝ you don’t even try to hear me. it’s like talking to a stone. ❞ ❝ so you try to kill me? have you lost your mind? ❞ ❝ you’ve sacrificed everything. for revenge. ❞ ❝ we can’t let anger consume us. or blind us to our friends. ❞ ❝ there is only one way this ends. ❞ ❝ i gave you everything. and you threw it away. ❞ ❝ do not question my integrity again. ❞ ❝ your father would be proud. ❞ ❝ the worst one can do is take advantage of their own people. ❞ ❝ you follow trouble. you should ask yourself why.  ❞ ❝ some of my favourite memories happened at this place. ❞ ❝ i told you this was a bad idea! ❞ ❝ keep fighting. we need people like you. ❞ ❝ are you the one who finally kills me? ❞ ❝ a warrior’s most important weapon is themself. lose control, and you risk defeat. ❞ ❝ first, get some rest. this is killing you. ❞ ❝ see that? i told you. there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ i hope the skills i gained through hardship can be of use to the people here. ❞ ❝ you have skill...but you nearly died rushing into battle. ❞ ❝ in the midst of battle, true leaders must stay rooted, stand firm. ❞ ❝ every time i get in a mess like this, i’m as scared as the time before. ❞ ❝ don’t be the next to disappoint me. ❞ ❝ save what we can, but know that everything passes away. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand, this is just a job. ❞ ❝ that’s a sad way to look at the world. ❞ ❝ seeing you like that...i’m still shaken up. ❞ ❝ sit with me a moment. ❞ ❝ doubt and indecision have destroyed armies. ❞ ❝ it’s so painful to...see you weighed down by sadness. ❞ ❝ on the slim chance some good comes of this...lead the way. ❞ ❝ you fought well, but we’re finished. ❞ ❝ the warrior’s mind is quiet but alive, like rustling bamboo. ❞ ❝ i’ve trained with a blade since i could walk. ❞ ❝ the visions...they’re still happening. ❞ ❝ in our world, being intimidating isn’t a bad thing. ❞ ❝ you have a talent. it’s time you use it, for the sake of our land. ❞ ❝ i've tried to teach you all i know...but you act more like a poet than a warrior. ❞ ❝ your path leads to madness and death. ❞ ❝ that’s twice you saved my life. ❞ ❝ these people stay because they believe in you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t choose this life. it was my only option. ❞ ❝ you came at me like i was your mortal enemy. almost broke my arm! ❞ ❝ i could use your help...in the fight ahead. ❞ ❝ you can be a little rough, but you have a good heart. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to kill you, stop! ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? afraid i’ll get more famous than you? ❞ ❝ war brings out who we truly are. ❞ ❝ take care where you place your faith. ❞ ❝ you seem lost in thought. ❞ ❝ i was getting tired of waiting for you. ❞ ❝ without my wisdom, you will lose your soul to madness. ❞ ❝ peace is an unattainable dream...but a dream worth fighting for. ❞ ❝ i’ve killed a thousand men. every death was sweet. ❞ ❝ what is the point of prayer when we are doomed? ❞ ❝ you’re like your father in more ways than you know. ❞ ❝ if you want my respect, earn it. ❞ ❝ and how many wars have you fought? ❞ ❝ you’re quite the butcher with that sword. ❞ ❝ people who sow chaos must be punished. ❞ ❝ i can’t help but wonder if you enjoy the violence. ❞ ❝ i kill only to protect our people. i think about that every time i reach for my sword. ❞ ❝ i'm sorry if my lack of skill offends. ❞ ❝ it’s the first time in days i haven’t felt like i was about to die. ❞ ❝ you fought like an animal...or a demon! ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more painful to me than a perfect bow...ineptly used. ❞ ❝ victory is won by warriors, not weapons. ❞ ❝ i couldn’t leave you to die. ❞ ❝ i made my choices. even knowing what they’ve cost me, i’d make them again. ❞ ❝ when’s the last time you slept or ate? ❞ ❝ you don’t get to give up. this land needs you. ❞ ❝ oh you pretend we are different, but we fight for the same thing. ❞ ❝ there are still places of beauty to remind us of what truly matters. ❞ ❝ true mastery begins where individual ego ends. ❞ ❝ a warrior faces danger with courage and resolve. this is how they endure. ❞ ❝ those stories...they're not entirely true. ❞ ❝ even the youngest warrior needs a full belly and a rested sword-arm. ❞ ❝ bad men are good at hiding their true natures. ❞ ❝ there is nothing left for me here. my hope is lost. ❞ ❝ i did what i had to. for you. ❞ ❝ forgive my manners. i spent all my time alone. ❞ ❝ is that any way to greet a visitor? ❞ ❝ if you continue down this path...you’ll be no better than the enemy. ❞ ❝ i am grateful for the times we share...but, i always want more. ❞ ❝ you lived your life in a castle. it made you soft. ❞ ❝ i used to know what i fought for... ❞ ❝ face them as a warrior with honour. not a monster. ❞ ❝ i don’t take lives, but i am not a coward. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i’ve crossed a line. ❞ ❝ you can’t expect everyone to understand what you’re doing, or why. ❞ ❝ your methods were brutal...impulsive...without honour. ❞ ❝ there’s plenty to fear without worrying about folktales. ❞ ❝ i hope you’ll find peace again soon. ❞ ❝ you do what you need to survive. and yet you despise others for doing the same. ❞ ❝ is that your excuse? your reason to kill? ❞ ❝ we have to keep pushing. even if it costs us our lives. ❞ ❝ cowards without honour deserve no mercy. ❞ ❝ i’ll fight beside you until the end. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, your forgiveness won’t change who i am. ❞ ❝ why should we settle for scraps when we deserve to be legends? ❞ ❝ only cowards strike from the shadows. ❞ ❝ the proud do not endure. the greatest of us fall in the end. ❞ ❝ perhaps some good will come of this. ❞   ❝ you will see nothing but death to the end of your days. ❞ ❝ legacy is more than a name. ❞ ❝ im sorry. i know what it means to lose family. ❞ ❝ one day we'll escape the endless wheel of suffering. ❞ ❝ is that a 'thank you'? ❞ ❝ i know what it means to be hunted. ❞ ❝ you personify fury and regret. ❞ ❝ that's all right. i want to hear you dig your own grave. ❞ ❝ either way, we’ve got nothing to lose. ❞ ❝ i’ve done what i can. the rest is up to you. ❞ ❝ forgive me, but you look fatigued. have you endured much hardship? ❞    ❝ i hope you find true honour in your next life. ❞ ❝ you deserve nothing less than death. ❞ ❝ this is foolish. surrender, and you can live. ❞ ❝ i too have pride in family. and i know what it’s like to live in their shadow. ❞ ❝ you were gone so long, i knew you were in trouble. ❞ ❝ so many of us here owe you our lives. ❞ ❝ what's wrong? what did they do to you? ❞   ❝ you’re lucky to be alive. ❞ ❝ i know your language. your traditions. your beliefs. which village to tame and which to burn. ❞   ❝ i cannot lose you again. ❞   ❝ i don’t seek revenge. but i will fight for peace. ❞   ❝ we will meet again soon. until then...travel safely. ❞   ❝ this is war --- not a test. ❞ ❝ we can save our home together. it doesn’t have to be like this. ❞ ❝ fear is a weapon. don’t let them use it against you. ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /

[nastybuckybarnes]

Hoist The Colours  -  3/3

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky X SeaGoddess!Reader 

Summary: An encounter with the man you used to love lands you and your new crew in peril, stuck on a ship with the people responsible for binding you. And what they have planned for you is far worse than what you’d first imagined.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Injuries, Death,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: Oof another thing is finished. I’m gonna start actually finishing stuff but Idk what to write I’m sad that my stuff is ending :( But I hope you enjoy this!

~*~

The door to your cell gets wrenched open, pulling you from your light sleep.

“You!” Rumlow snarls, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you to your feet.

“Where have they taken my prisoners?” You furrow your brows, yanking out of his grip.

“How am I supposed to know? I was left behind.” He grinds his teeth together and grabs your bicep, dragging you out of your cell and onto the main deck.

The clouds are dark and gloomy, the waters wild and violent, but not by your doing.

“You must’ve helped them, that other witch too! So tell me, how did you do it?” He shoves you and you gasp, tumbling onto the wet wood of the deck.

“How could I have helped them? You have me chained up like a dog!” You spit, glaring up at him. He stoops down to your level, grabbing your face harshly.

“You will watch your tongue or you will lose it. You do not need your voice to do my bidding.” He shoves you back down and you bite back a yelp of pain.

The sky darkens further, thunder booming and clouds rolling in.

“I will never do your bidding!” You snarl, a flash of lightning punctuating your words.

Rumlow’s eyes widen for a moment, and then he’s got his sword pointed at you, the tip just brushing your throat.

“On your feet, witch!” You obey, standing up with your chin held high.

“You will do my bidding, or you will join all those who you have sent to the depths. It is your choice.” You follow his gaze over your shoulder to where the plank is being extended over the raging ocean.

You look back at him, jaw set, and he knows you’ve made your decision.

The wind whips around your hair as he walks you to the plank, his sword digging into your back just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not pain, not yet.

You carefully step onto the plank, taking deep breaths of the salty air as the water rages beneath you.

“I will give you one last chance, wench. I will spare your life, all you need do is swear your powers to me. You’ll have the sea back in your grasp, the power to do what you please. You need only do so at my side.”

Raindrops splatter against your face, just gently at first, until you’re consumed in an intense storm, the water pelting down against you.

“You’ve forgotten, Captain, that you are not sending me to the depths,” you look over your shoulder at him with a small smile, “you are sending me home.”

You look down at the water, preparing yourself for the cool embrace, when a particularly harsh wave rocks against the ship, sending you stumbling back a step.

A wave rises up over the ship, a spiral of green swirling inside of it and for a moment you think that you’ve already died.

The wave crashes against the ship, sending the men falling and scrambling, submerging the deck for a moment.

But you stay rooted in place, the familiar green hue just touching your fingertips, the ends of your hair, then slowly becoming part of you once more.

You hear the men shouting and coughing, feel Rumlow’s sword pressed against your back once again, but you only turn around to face him.

The storm continues, the waves fighting the ship, and you cock your head to the side, sending a gust of wind towards the man threatening you. He stumbles back, eyes wide with fear.

“H-how do you...” You take slow steps towards him, waving your hand behind you as his crew-mates try to run at you. The wind pushes them back, keeping them a safe distance from you and the captain.

“You will give me answers and you will give them to me now!” You hiss, glaring daggers at him.

“Whatever it is that you wish to know, I will tell you. Just please, spare my life.”

You watch him for a long moment, fighting tears as the question bubbles out of you.

“Why? Why did he do it?”

Rumlow only shakes his head, on his knees and ready to beg for mercy.

“’twas me... I caused him to do it. With the help of a siren for the price of his left arm, I got the binding spell from him. He knew not what he was doing, though he gave the information.” You let out a shaky breath, a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“All this time I had thought it was he who betrayed me... but it wasn’t.” You turn your gaze to him, eyes glowing green with the influx of power.

“It was you. You and your greed.” He shakes his head and scrambles back desperately.

You step aside as a sword comes down right where you were standing, and Rumlow uses your momentary distraction to sprint away.

“Kill her! Kill the Witch!” He shouts, grabbing his own sword.

You shake your head, the wind whipping strong enough to keep them away.

A nagging in your mind stops you for a moment, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“The King and his men stole the queen from her bed... and bound her in her bones.” Your voice travels on the wind.

“The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

“Captain! We’ve got a ship coming up starboard!” A man shouts, pointing his sword at the familiar ship.

“They’re upon us! Battle stations!” The men scramble to their stations, trying to get prepared as the ship approaches.

“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” The voices ring out to you clear as day, responding to the call.

It’s only a matter of moments before canons start firing and men start boarding the ship, swords clashing and guns firing.

Your eyes scan the crowd, freezing on a man approaching you. You simply look at him and he crumples to the ground, grabbing at his throat.

“Rumlow!” You shout, following your instincts up to the foredeck and finding the captain cowering, exactly how you thought he would.

“You want to throw me overboard, captain?” You sneer his title, taking another step towards him. He stumbles back, slipping on the wet wood and scrambling away from you and towards the main deck.

“You forget that I am the sea and all things in it.”

The rain pelts down on you and the wind whips your hair around your face wildly, your eyes glowing green with the force of your power.

At that moment, you look every bit the sea goddess that the stories described. And today, you’re planning on being just as cruel.

“You stripped me of my purpose, my power. Bound me to my form and took away my reason for existence! You sacrificed the man I love for your own greedy gain. What do you have to say for yourself?” Your powers protect you from the fighting around you, the man before you protected as well.

No one will take your vengeance from you.

“I’m sorry!” He cries, slipping back further.

You shake your head and grab him by the front of his tunic, tossing his sword aside and glaring into his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Not yet. But you will be, that I promise you.”

You cock your head to the side, your free hand coming up, fingers flexed.

The water on the deck swirls around your ankles, clawing up the man before you.

“You’ve never had your purpose taken from you because a man like you has no purpose.” You twist your wrist, controlling the water around you and watch in satisfaction as his eyes widen, the water rising up over his face.

“So what else can I take, but your life?” You ask rhetorically, watching as the water trickles into his mouth and nose, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

He tries to claw at you, but his hands can’t reach you. His struggles are futile, though that doesn’t stop him.

You steal the life away from him, exactly the way he did to you.

He collapses on the ground, his body convulsing for a moment before falling still, death embracing him.

You take a deep breath, embracing your freedom, then slowly turn around.

You’re instantly meet with piercing blue eyes staring at you from across the ship. His chest is heaving and he’s squinting through the downpour, but his eyes are on you.

You walk over to him, the rain lessening with each step you take until you’re right in front of him.

The wind dies down and the ocean becomes calm. The fighting around you draws to a sombre end, victory on the tip of your tongue.

His sword clatters to the ground, his hands finding yours ever so gently, his eyes filled with so many emotions.

“Gentlemen, the ship is ours!” Steve shouts, a smile on his face. You turn around, pulling Bucky’s arms around your waist as you watch the crew celebrate their success.

Your eyes find Wanda’s and Tony’s through the crowd, both of them smiling brightly up at you.

The two crews celebrate, Pirates and Kingsmen, and you can’t help but smile at them.

“Back to the ship! We’ve gotten what we came for. The King can enjoy plundering Rumlow’s ship. I trust that will keep him off of our back for a while, yes?” Steve looks at Tony pointedly and the brunet nods.

You step out of your lover’s arms and walk down to the two men, one hand gently finding Tony’s forearm.

“I owe you a debt, Tony. One I fear I may never be able to repay.” He shakes his head, taking your hands gently in his and smiling at you.

“You’ve no debt to be paid. But if you feel so inclined, could you maybe hold back any storms for the next day or so? I’d like a chance to dry my clothes.” You giggle and nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for myself and Wanda.” He gives you a tender smile and nods.

“It’s what I wish had been done for my mother.” He sniffles then straightens up.

“Now come on, men. It’s time we return to the King!” His crew-mates start busying themselves quickly.

“Alright lads, back to the ship!” Steve calls, leading his own crew members to their ship.

You watch as everyone eagerly crosses, smiling encouragingly at Wanda. She crosses swiftly, her eyes drawing to the helmsman for a moment.

“Are you ready?” A soft voice asks from behind you. You take a breath then nod, looking over at him.

“Yes.”

The two of you cross back to his ship, the ship almost cooing at you as soon as your feet hit the deck. You can’t fight the smile the spreads on your face at being back, and you don’t try to.

“It’s good to have you back,” Steve says, giving you a nod. You do the same, sighing happily.

“It’s good to be back, Steve.” Bucky takes your hand then and tugs you gently towards his quarters.

The door closes softly behind you and you take a moment to reacquaint yourself with the room.

You can feel his eyes on you, the tension palpable but not unpleasant.

Without looking at him, you speak.

“Could you help me out of my gown? It’s far too heavy.” He walks towards you, untying the back and watching as the fabric slides down your body, leaving you only in your white slip.

His hands hesitantly trail over your skin, one cold and one hot and the contrast is so delicious.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, head falling to the side as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, my love,” he whispers against your skin, spinning you around to face him.

You gaze up at him lovingly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Show me,” you whisper, leaning up to gently brush your lips over his.

“Show me how much you missed me. Give me a reason to clear the skies and calm the seas. Make me give us good wind and easy sail. Prove to me that you’re still worthy of my mercy.”

He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing each one of your fingers then smiling.

“I’ll never truly be worthy of your mercy. But I am more than willing to both swear and prove my loyalty to you. I will give myself over to you; body, heart, mind, and soul.”

You look up at him tenderly, cupping his cheek gently.

“I will sail to the ends of the Earth for you, fight the gods if I need to. Anything to keep you in my arms.”

“My heart belongs to you, James. And never will it belong to anyone else.”

#pirate #pirate AU #pirate!bucky #pirate!bucky x reader #Pirate!bucky x sea goddess!reader #bucky x sea!goddess!reader #pirate!bucky x goddess!reader #bucky x goddess!reader #pirate!bucky x seagoddess!reader

[mrsalwayswrite]

Bloody Vengeance (Ivar x reader)

Summary: Reader wants vengeance and knows what Heathen Prince can help her. 

So I decided to add a spin to the trope-Ivar takes over a city and reader is captured. Hope you enjoy! 

Words:3500

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of past domestic violence, death and torture, plus some sexual tension cause why not?

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

"Prince Ivar, there is someone who wishes to speak with you."

 The youngest Ragnarsson looked up from the dagger he was sharpening. The Viking before him was one of his own, supposed to be guarding the entrance to the great hall of York. It had been a good fight yesterday, especially when all of his plans came to fruition in taking the city. The way his man had made his declaration, it was obvious the Viking only came to Ivar out of obligation, meaning whomever was seeking an audience was no one of importance. Though, it was interesting that this petitioner requested him personally as his two elder brothers also reclined nearby at a table, nibbling away at the food on it. 

 "Who is it?" He drawled, spinning the blade in his hand. 

 "It is a Saxon woman who speaks our language." 

 That intrigued the bloodthirsty prince. His eyes jumped back up to his man for a moment before glancing at his brothers. Even from where he sat, he could see the curiosity on their faces. There were only a few in England who knew their language, and none were ever a woman. Without hesitation he commanded, "bring her to me."

 His man bowed his head before turning and retreating back towards the entrance.

 "What do you think she wants?" Hvitserk asked from where he reclined, eyes towards the entrance as if that would provide the answer he sought. 

 Ubbe spoke first. "The better question is why did she ask for Ivar specifically?" 

 "Because I am more important." Ivar retorted without even looking at his two brothers. He leaned back in his chair, idly spinning his dagger as he thought. Perhaps this city of York would yield more interests than just a stronghold. 

 *****

 Several minutes later, you were led before three of the most feared men in all of England. You were insane for asking for this meeting. Beyond insane. You planned on attempting to make a deal with the devil incarnate. But from what you had heard, if anyone understood revenge, it was the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Specifically, Ivar the Boneless. 

 Their eyes slid over your body like oil as you approached, leaving you feeling dirty and tainted without them even touching you. These conquering heathens had no decency. As if unbothered by the obvious lustful gazes, you kept your head up, eyes straight ahead and without fear. Though no one else knew you clasped your hands before you as to not betray the way they shook with trepidation. 

 Without stopping, when the Heathen guard who led you in did, you walked the few extra steps to stand before Ivar. For a brief moment, you thought you saw shock cross his face; for through your movements you made known, you knew specifically who he was, your gaze never wavering to his brothers or the other Heathens scattered in the room.

 The two of you stared at one another for an excruciatingly long minute, his turbulent and piercing, blue eyes refusing to look away, demanding for you to relent and look away first. Though your knees threatened to falter beneath you, you met his gaze head-on, not letting him intimidate you yet. To your surprise, you thought you witnessed a corner of his mouth turn up in a barely-there smirk, but the image vanished just as soon as you thought you imagined it. 

 "How come you know our language?" One of the brothers asked in their native tongue, running a hand over his beard. He eyed you like you were a newly crafted tool, interesting but easily discarded if no longer serving a purpose. 

 You glanced over at the one who spoke, curious his name but not willing to ask. Continuing to speak in their language, the words felt coarse on your tongue but you had excellent tutors so the words poured from your mouth with ease. "I learned it while being a ward at the court of King Ecbert."

 The dark-haired Prince's eyebrows furrowed as he continued to eye you. His gaze shifted from your eyes to scanning your body as if to jog his memory. "I recognize your face."

 "I would frequently watch you and Prince Alfred play chess."

 "Mmm….so what do you want, Christian?" He sneered the title like it was a curse word, leaning back in his chair as if a throne. "Why did you ask for me? Are we to play chess?"

 That earned a chuckle from those nearby. He smirked down at you, pleased by his quip and his attempt to demean you. 

 "If you want, my Prince, but I doubt you will find me a worthy enough opponent." You took a deep breath before continuing. "I came to ask two favors of you…."

 "You are in no position to be asking for favors! Your city is overtaken, you are a slave no matter your birthright! Why would I care about your favors?" Ivar demanded, standing up and stepping closer with all the feel of a venomous snake ready to strike. 

 You refused to allow him to intimidate you, even if the sinister look on his face made you internally quake. Seeing him now only solidified all the horrifying stories you had heard, eclipsing your memories of him as a young man in King Ecbert's court. Someone who had intrigued you at the time, causing you to pursue knowledge of his language even after he left England's shores, in foolish hopes you may one day see him again. Yet before you now was the menacing, bloodthirsty warrior prince you had heard tales of that were enough to freeze one's blood….and you believed them. 

 "Come on, brother. Let us hear her out." The other brother with the kind face stated, eating an apple. "I am curious now." When he caught your eye, he gave you a flirtatious wink. 

 Ivar rolled his eyes and then gestured for you to continue with unconcealed contempt.  

 "Thank you, my Prince." You started, giving the dark-haired prince your undivided attention once again. "In exchange for my favors, I will forfeit my life to you to do with as you please, be that a slave or kill me in whatever way most entertains you. I will not argue or fight back. I will graciously accept your choice."

 "I could do that already, Christian." Ivar interrupted with a sneer. "Or have you forgotten who decimated your army yesterday and bathes in the blood of your people."

 "Brother…." The bearded brother groaned. He tapped once on the table with his hand, giving his youngest brother a pointed look. 

 His upper lip raised in a snarl at his brother before turning to you again, "Speak! I grow weary of your presence."

 You could not help but flinch as he yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the once pristine great hall. Swallowing thickly, you pushed onward. At this point you had nothing left to lose. "There is a monastery not far from here, it is hidden well for it holds many sacred treasures for my people."

 "So?"

 "I can show you where it is located."

 He openly scoffed, disdain leaching into his voice. "Why do I care? We have taken York. I can send my own men out scouting to find it. Why do I need you?"

 "You speak truth. Though I can show you the hidden passageways into the monastery."

 "Why would you tell us this?" The brother who winked at you asked, not in a condescending manner but what seemed to stem from curiosity.  

 This was it. For so long you had harbored this…. this secret revenge. You had spent many nights awake, plotting how you would fulfil your unspoken vow. When the heathens took York, instead of being terrified, you saw an opportunity. Especially when you glimpsed Ivar. Now admitting it out loud, it almost felt surreal. 

 You glanced over at the flaxen-haired brother for a moment but returned your gaze to Ivar. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but not from fear. No, it was from barely suppressed rage you finally allowed to escape from your chest where it had festered for too long. "My first favor is, if I tell you of this place, show you how to enter without being seen…. I want you to burn the monastery to the ground."

 Silence hung in the room for a long moment, all eyes from the three brothers and others scattered about were glued to you as they absorbed your sharp words and harsh tone. Without waiting, you continued to lay out your favors…. your demands. 

 "My second favor is that you swear to me on your gods and your arm ring that Bishop Cerdic will die a slow and painful death. I don't care how he does, just that he dies screaming for the mercy you will never give him."

 Ivar tilted his head to the side, staring as if seeing you for the first time. "That is not a very Christian thing to ask for."

 "I never said I was a good Christian." 

 "Mmm….and what would your God think of your favors?"

 "Truthfully, I don't care."

 Ivar moved closer; the pounding of his crutch echoed with each step until he hovered over you. You could feel his breath on your face as he pierced you with his eyes. It felt like being confronted by an apex predator, and you were chained with no means of escape. Heat radiated off his body, warming you in more than one way. Death danced in his eyes but instead causing you fear, it excited you. 

 "Why?"

 You blinked rapidly, surprised and brought out of your inner thoughts by his question. "I beg your pardon?"

 "Why do you want us to kill your bishop and destroy the monastery?"

 "You are Northmen, do you need an excuse?"

 He smirked, tracing a single finger along your cheek and down your neck. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine at the feeling of his unusually gentle touch. "I am intrigued. I accept your offer and favors. You will be my personal thrall, no other may touch you."

 "Thank you, my Prince."

 "Tomorrow you will show us where this monastery is." He stated as if speaking to you alone. His thumb hesitated over your pulse point for a second making your heartbeat accelerate. His lips twitched in a barely-suppressed smirk. Abruptly, he released you and took a step back. "Leave us now."

 After a proper curtsy upheld by your station, you started towards the exit, feigning ignorance to the many pairs of eyes on you. 

 "Thrall!"

 You paused at Ivar's call. Curious as to what he could want now, you turned around to meet his intense gaze, sending heat down your spine even from across the great hall. 

 "Do you wish to be there when we attack the monastery and kill your bishop?" He asked, sitting down and with his dagger out, spinning it casually in his hand. 

 "Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, my Prince."

 He easily matched your shark-like smile and in that moment, you knew you had made the right choice to seek him out. Your long-coveted revenge would finally be appeased. 

 *****

 You stood alone in the courtyard of what had once been a simple but beautiful monastery. Now flames greedily consumed everything except for the stone walls. Bodies of the helpless monks lay scattered about, their blood painting the dirt and stone beneath them. A few hung from rafters, their bodies still twitching as life drained from them and spilled on the ground below. 

 You wondered if this was what hell looked like- unrelenting fire, excruciating screams of the damned, the taste of iron and copper and ash drenched in the very air that now threatened to suffocate you. 

 Through the carnage you stood unwavering, even surprising yourself. Hate and revenge kept you strong in the face of so much destruction and annihilation, allowing you to witness the slow death of the man you swore to kill one day. To others, the bishop was a man of God, someone to admire and aspire to be like. To you, he caused the death of the one person you cared most about in this world. 

 Standing on the other side of the courtyard, you watched the bishop hang from a cross as some of the Northmen took turns shooting arrows at him, but always making sure it never hit anything vital. His screams and cries for mercy reverberated in your ears. 

 Behind you came the distinct sound of a slow walk, led by the pounding of a crutch hitting the ground. You knew who it was without turning around, there was only one man whose gait was so distinctive. As he slowly drew closer, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. So far there had been no malice, no concern for your personal safety, but that does not keep the field mouse from fearing the elusive snake. His body heat radiated across your back as he stopped just behind you. Each breath he released made your hair flutter, he stood so close. 

 After several silent moments, you finally spoke, the weight of your revenge lifted. "Thank you, my Prince." 

 He made no sound to accept your thanks, not even a grunt of acknowledgement. To your astonishment, one of his leather-bound hands brushed your loose hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck to him. You held perfectly still, never removing your eyes from the bishop even though all your senses felt inflamed by his touch alone. The prince's fingers traced patterns over your exposed skin, creating goosebumps in the wake. 

 "Tell me…. why?"

 "Why what?" You knew what he was getting at. 

 Harshly, he wrapped a hand around your throat, pulling you against him until not even air could squeeze between your pressed bodies. "Do not play coy with me. You will answer my question."

 "My….my father is a powerful lord with great wealth, land and influence in England." You paused, the words, the truth, sticking to your throat, almost suffocating you even more than the Heathen's tight grip on your throat or the death-saturated air. "He is not a good man though. He uses his family, the women folk to…."

 The rough hand around your throat loosened to a faint touch as your words sputtered out. After a second, his thumb gently rubbed along the column of your throat as if to coax the words out. 

 "My father hates the fairer sex; I am not even sure he knows why." You continued, loathing and pain dripping from each word. "So, he used my mother to take his frustrations out on. On more than one occasion, she almost died from his abuse. But he was powerful so no one could stop him. Finally, my mother became desperate enough, she decided to leave. Under the cover of night, she brought myself and a couple servants to this very monastery to seek sanctuary. She begged the bishop to grant her a divorce for fear of her life and mine since he recently started to turn his rage onto me also. But he refused. The bishop said a wife was a servant to her husband in all things, for the Bible commands her to respect him as he is the head of the household. He said God would give her the strength to endure her trials."

 A single tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered everything. 

 "We were forced to return to my father. In his fury, he beheaded the servants who had come with us, declaring them traitors for helping my mother and I to leave him. He locked me in my room without food for three days and during that time…. he killed my mother, his wife."

 "How did you escape him?" Ivar whispered into your ear. His hand, no longer a cage holding you to him, but an enticement, still caressing the column of your throat with something akin to tenderness. 

 For the first time in years, if not your life, safety eased your mind. Which was so wrong, something you would certainly go to hell for if the priests spoke truth. Surrounded by fire and carnage, all due to you and now practically in the arms of a blue-eyed devil, you should be praying and repenting. Yet there was a lightness in your chest, a sense of freedom even though bound for life to a bloodthirsty heathen prince. You struggled to make sense of the conflicting thoughts. 

 "He, um, he betrothed me to another lord here in York…. so, I moved here several months ago."

 "Do…. did you care for your…. betrothed?"

 You chuckled, turning your head slightly to meet his fierce gaze, only to find your faces a hands-width away from each other. "No, he was an old, ugly man who snorted like a pig when he breathed."

 An arrogant smile curved his lips, making your heart flutter. "Ah, I think I remember him. My brother, Hvitserk, sliced his belly open. Does that please you?"

 You shrugged. You knew it should bother you, the mention of the gruesome death of your betrothed, but you felt nothing. Instead you were beguiled by the man who held your life in the palm of his hand. Who you sold your soul to for vengeance otherwise unattainable. Your faces so close, you could taste his breath on your tongue. You could not help but be in awe of his savage beauty, with the most expressive and vivid eyes you had ever seen before. 

 "What will become of me now?" The question slipped from your lips before you realized it. "You have fulfilled my favors, my life is forfeit."

 Slowly, as if to gage your response, he leaned closer to rub his nose along yours. Seeing that you did not pull away, he then slid his nose to nuzzle your temple. Your breath hitched at the feeling it invoked. Butterflies danced in your belly. Unconsciously, your hand reached out to grip his arm that now wrapped around your waist, either to keep you pinned to him or to steady you, it did not matter. The thought of him letting you go brought anguish to your yearning heart. 

 "You are mine. No one will lay a hand on you or harm you again. You will come with me." He growled against your temple, searing the words into your mind. "Does that please you?"

 "Why are you being so good to me?"

 He pressed his lips to your skin, letting the touch linger. Finally, he answered, his voice soft like he divulged a great secret for only you to hear. "I like your spirit, the fire that burns inside of you. It calls to me."

 You could not help as you tilted your neck to the side, allowing him access to more skin. If the rumble in his chest and the way his grip tightened slightly on you, he greatly approved of your actions. His lips trailed down from your temple to your neck, both to reassure and to claim you.

 "And then what?" You asked breathlessly, your thoughts hazy under his branding touch. 

 "Only the gods know." He whispered. After a sharp bite to your neck that made you squeak, he released you and moved to fully face you. "Come."

 You looked back over at the bishop once more. Now seeing his dead form, it was the lid on the coffin you needed. Years of hungering for revenge finally sated. You could move on. 

 Without a word, you turned away from the grisly sight and took the offered hand of the Heathen prince next to you. The two of you walked out of the courtyard and towards his chariot, hand in hand. 

 "How far away is your father's estate?"

 You glanced at him but his face remained expressionless. "Perhaps a three-day journey if the weather is pleasant."

 He hummed with a single nod of his head. Once the two of you reached the chariot, you took your spot by his side as he sat. He called out to Hvitserk that they would leave this place soon. His brother, covered in blood and grinning like a madman, raised his sword in acknowledgement before starting to give out orders. You stood there, watching the organized mayhem of the Northmen and the fires still engulfing the monastery.  

 "Your father has great wealth, you said." Ivar leaned forward on his seat to watch you with a smirk on his face. 

 "Yes."

 "Three days is not too far. Perhaps we shall pay him a visit, mmm?" With a devious wink, he clicked his tongue and gathered the reins. The chariot jolted forward as the horse began trotting away from the destruction. 

 Without a second thought, you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His answering smile sent the butterflies in your stomach a flurry. He called out to his horse, picking up speed and moving faster through the dirt path in the surrounding forest. Silently, you stood next to the man whose name alone created panic and fear in all of England. But to you, all you could taste was freedom. 

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ivars heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x you #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk #ivar ragnarsson #mzwrites

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

Hello!! For the Jaster Mereel/Walon Vau prompts, can I ask for 25. Exchanging Letters? 🧃🧃🧃

I should have known from the emojis.

Anyways thanks for choosing violence for me today. It's not exactly exchanging letters, though there's the implication of it. Warnings ahead for canon character death.

Dear Jaster,

Jango is Mand’alor now.

I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it. It was bad enough for it to be you—I’d only ever known you as Mand’alor. Jango...he’s still the nine-year-old I found waiting for you outside Kandokar’s office. He’s still the child I held through his nightmares.

The nightmares are back, by the way. And now they’re about you. Not just his nightmares, either.

I’m so angry with you. I know it’s not your fault—it was that traitor. But I’m still angry. You left us, you left me and you left a fourteen year old to be elected in your place. This isn’t war, the fact that we have no time to mourn is that much more an injustice.

I miss you so much. I’m trying my best, but...we’re all at odds in this house without you. Even Mird knows something is wrong, though I’m not surprised.

You didn’t come home and we’re all grieving.

He’s still a child, Jaster. What if no one had seen how far Montross would go? What if they hadn’t put Jango up as their candidate instead of him? Do you think either of us would have survived? I don’t care about myself, and you’d probably chide me that I’ve never cared about myself, but Jango is as much ours as he was his buire’s.

How do I finish raising a king?

I know, I know. The Mand’alor is not a king. The Mand’alor is is elected, the Mand’alor is more a general and a judge. But he was your ward, close enough some called him your son even if he wasn’t comfortable with that. He was a prince. And now you are dead and the crown is on his head.

They burned your body on Korda VI. Jango brought your beskar back for me.

He’ll never grow into it. I’ll have to ask the goran to adjust it. I wouldn’t, but he’s growing too fast for his vaar’gam. I don’t think he’ll let me buy new beskar for him, and it is tradition enough to reforge the armour of those marching away.

I miss you. I don’t know what to do or what to say and I never have and now you’re gone and not able to help me.

I wish I could hate you for leaving us.

But I still can do nothing but love you.

Jango’s asked if we might put all of the pictures and the holos away. I’m going to say yes.

I’m not sure I can bare to look either, but I’m not sure I can bare to put them away. Right now it’s all about what’s best for Jango. I can’t think of myself or I might go mad.

When did I start to need you so badly as to lose myself?

I still have your last letter, from before Korda VI. And I have the reply I’d started. You said you were planning something special to celebrate our riduurok. I was excited.

Yellow is remembrance, here, and gold is vengeance, and black is justice. White is death and fallowness.

On the planet where I was born, black is for mourning. It doesn’t show blood or tears or dust.

Maybe that’s why I’m painting my beskar’gam black tonight, because I know I cannot get justice now. Not with Montross running.

I love you, cyare.

I wish for once that war was not in your blood, because war did not take you from me but it was the excuse used by greed.

Yours,

Walon

#my fanfiction #am I perhaps going to do more with this? maybe so #from a prompt #prompt fill #walon vau #jaster/walon #jaster mereel/walon vau #epistolary

[cm-top-10]

C.M. Top 10: Most Dark & Gore Scenes &/or Characters in Cartoon Series

Warning: The following top ten may contain possible spoilers for those who haven't seen newer series. This post may also contain forms of graphic violence & some gore scenes that maybe too much for you to witness. So for your safety & others do not look unless it's at your own risk.

You've been warned...

We all discover at some point in time that not everything you know is allover the rainbow. Most times we see things we can't unsee or learn dark secrets of someone you thought you knew your whole life. & sometimes we learn things the hard way. Or the messed up dark way...

So for this 1st dark Top 10 features the most characters with a dark histories, secrets or just straight up dark/gore scenes. Which character did you not expect to have a dark side? Sadly you be the judge...

1. Invincible - Omni Man beating his son to a pulp.

After learning the dark truth that was revealed to Mark about his father's true intentions. Nolan tells his son the truth about why he was sent to Earth & why he killed the Guardians.

Telling him the reasons why he's here was so he could eliminate any potential threat to the Viltrum Empire. & that he was raising his son not out of responsibility or heroics, but to have him as a bred soldier of the Empire to kill anyone who stood in their way.

& he wanted Mark to join their cause with him.

After Mark angrily refused to help him conquer the planet. Nolan nearly beats the life out of his own son & yells to the top of his lungs saying how pointless it is to protect his home world. While killing millions of innocent people in the process of their brutal fight.

However before he could finish him off, Nolan suddenly realized what he did to his own child & fled the Earth in machspeed, shedding a tear.

They say fatherhood is complicated, but not like this...

2. Castlevania Lords of Shadow - Gabriel's dark fate

While on his journey to slay all three of the Lords of Shadow. Gabriel slowly learned they were the founders of the Order & told him the truth of his order's true intention from each Shadow Lord who too were being used by the Brotherhood of Light. Then when he finally reached the final Lord of Shadow, he learned about his wife's death & fell into dark despair.

Over time his heart grew darkened. & knew nothing but bitterness & sorrow...

But after defeating the three Lords, Laura appears to tell Gabriel that he awakened another ancient evil known as the Forgotten One. Who had plans to destroy all creation & they had to venture to the Brotherhood's fortress to find the entrance to where he was imprisoned.

However only dark begins can enter the realm. & the only way he can bypass it's effects & to defeat this ancient evil, was to become one himself...

So Laura asked him to drink her blood & free her of her torment. Hesitant at first he did what was asked of her & dranked every last drop of her blood, until she died.

He then defeated the Forgotten One & saved mankind. But at a cost of his soul & happiness.

Thus becoming a vampire.

A vampire the world would soon know & fear as Dracul the Dragon.

But that is another story...

3. Baki the Grappler - Yujiro Hanma

As most know Yujiro is the world's most unstoppable & cruelest warrior in the history of fighters. Not even the U.S. Military dares to go near him. Yes Yujiro the Orge has struck fear into many people, even military personnel of different countries. & he did it with no weapons & has turned the U.S. into his personal playground for death & battles.

But the most cruelest thing he's done was ripping the face of one of China's most respected Kaioh masters while facing him in battle, testing his worthiness. The reason Yujiro did this challenge was not to prove his worth but to show all of China & their leaders that they are worthless to him. & showed them all that he doesn't care about their hatred towards Japan noir their worthiness.

& he struck that fear into all who witnessed Ryu Kaioh getting defaced & brutally defeated. Yes this is one man who's definitely going to hell & is going to smile about it.

Because Satan himself would be pissing his buttflap in his sights in fear. While Yujiro fucks his succubus wife in front of his face knowing how little fucks he gives about his "sins."

4. Primal - Sauropod Massacre

After being infected by the Zombie Virus. The infected sauropod becomes a mad rouge & slaughters it's own herd in a bloody rage & massacre.

It left no survivors, ripped them apart & destroyed many of the herds' eggs leaving nothing remaining...

Truly whatever zombie virus this was it drove this poor creature mad & didn't stop until everything wasn't breathing.

Luckily Spear & Fang were able to run it into a dormant volcano. Where the infected dinosaur burnt to ash.

Hopefully now the poor beast is at peace...

5. Star Wars Rebels - Master Luminara's remains

In the search for Luminara to replace Kanan to be Ezra's new master. They soon learned too late that her remains were being used to lure any surviving Jedi out of hiding. So that any Sith Hunters like the Grand Inquisitor would slay them on the spot.

Sadly no one knows whatever happened to her corpse after they escaped. Or if the Empire even still has her.

Rest in peace Luminara wherever you are...

6. Legend of Tarzan - Death of Clayton

While battling in the trees, Tarzan defeated Clayton by tangling him into the jungle vines. But during his blind rage he angrily swiped vine after vine, until one wrapped his neck. Tarzan tried his best to warn him, but in his rage Claton cuts the vine that he was holding on to.

Then after it broke they both plummet to the ground. Tarzan landed safely, Clayton however was hung from above by one of the vines wrapped around his neck after it snapped it straight out from the fall.

There truly are things worse than fate...

7. RWBY - the Death of Adam Taurus

After weeks of stalking Blake & her group. Blake had no choice but to confront Adam for the last time with the help of Yang. The battle was harsh, but in the end they managed to out-think him by stabbing him from different sides. One in his chest & one in the back.

He then fell to his death over a huge waterfall after hitting his head over a ledge before plummeting into the water. Hopefully they've finally seen the last of Adam Taurus.

But let's also hope he doesn't pull a Cinder...

8. TFP Beast Hunters - Predaking beats the scrap out of Ratchet

After using Ratchet to wipe out mankind. The Decepticons threw him into the frails of a vengeful Predaking. Predaking then beats & claws Ratchet, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Until he was ready to finish him off, luckily Ratchet convinced him to hear him out. & told Predaking the truth about what had happened to his Predacon army.

After he told Predaking that it was Megatron who ordered his race's extermination. He asks why he did so & Ratchet replys--

Ratchet: Being on the receiving end of your might. One theory springs to mind, Megatron fears you & any like you.

In his blind rage Predaking stormed his way to Megatron, wiping out anyone who stood in his way.

Which led to his own demise, but that is a story for another time...

9. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Stealy Joe gets his ass beat by Jotaro

Now this slimy bastard got what he deserves. Not only did he try to humiliate & blackmail Jotaro into doing his bidding. This cocky motherfucker goes & threatens a random little girl out of the blue. If Jotaro didn't face him like a man & does what he says.

With him up to here with the man's assholeness, our boi Jotaro decided enough is enough & beats the ever loving shit out of this guy. & after punching him multiple times, he literally sends him flying into a wall & throws him his receipt.

Rest in Hell, Joe you worthless bastard!

10. The Falcon Captain America & The Winter Soldier - Captain America U.S. Agent gets his arm broken.

John Walker the former Captain America was given a mantle he wasn't worthy of. Don't get me wrong as much as I had my doubts of him, I was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt. That is until he soiled Steve's good name by using his shield to kill a man in cold blood.

During his blind rage of vengeance, he chased down one of the Flag Smashers & constantly beats him over-&-over with the shield. & then kills him with a fatal blow to the chest area in front of tons of people.

After he murdered one of the perps, Falcon & Bucky tried to ask him to hand over the shield peacefully...

You can take a wild guess what Walker's answer was. He then attacked them with rage & ego, losing his shit. However that ego died as soon as Falcon & Buck breaks his arm to get the shield back. He was then discharged by the U.S. government & was relieved of his duties as Captain America.

Not only that but he then found his way into a dark path he may not be able to uncross.

But that part is another story for another time.

Either way he got dealt some shitty karma.

#C.M. Top 10 #Top 10 #My Top 10 #Most Dark & Gore Scenes #Invincible #Omni Man #Castlevania Lords of Shadow #Gabriel Belmont #Baki the Grappler #Yujiro Hanma #Primal #Infected Saurapod #Star Wars Rebels #Master Luminara #Legend of Tarzan #Tarzan #RWBY #Adam Taurus #Blake Belladonna #Yang Xiao Long #Transformers Prime #Predaking #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jotaro #Stealy Joe #The Falcon & The Winter Soldier #U.S. Agent #my screenshots #cameraman screenshots

[strangerquinns]

29 grayson

Pinterest based prompts ~ au edition | angel/demon au | warning: mentions of violence

29. “If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you all.”

You panted and dropped to your knees as you felt your legs give out from below you. The sound of swords clanging against each other, followed by the cries of pain, bodies falling to the floor. All around you, you watched as angels fought with demons, blood covering the floor beneath you and death heavy in the air. You could feel your body want you to stop and not return back to the war that was happening before you. 

You felt your wings unfurl behind you and spread out towards the sky, blood staining against the saintly white. Your body shot into the sky before you flew over the death below you. The moment you saw your destination you dropped down, the stone below you breaking and cracking. You grabbed the handle of your sword that was sheathed at your waist, moving it with ease as you sliced through the body of the demon that charged towards it. The black blood dripped from your blade and trailed behind you. 

Standing behind you, your brother Jonas was dropped to his knees, head tilted back with a blade to his throat. You saw the demons of Lust and Greed standing over him, both glaring towards you as you approached them. Your brother’s face was twisted in pain with tears streaming down his cheeks. He was a young soldier, still learning to fight, and it was breaking your heart to see him this way. He was the only family you had and you were to do anything and everything you could to make sure he was saved.

Not even angels were immortal. 

“If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you all.” You shouted with vengeance and anger in your veins, the blade of your sword pointed towards the demons before you. 

Grayson and Ethan Dolan were the most ruthless demons of the underworld, both soldiers of Lucifer Morningstar standing as his two high-ranking Generals Grayson, the Demon of Lust was the most vengeful between the brothers. Grayson couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he saw you standing before him.

“Who are you to order me?” Grayson pulled the blade away from Jonas’s throat, slowly making his way towards you.

His black eyes scanned down your body and loved the way your white dress was wrapped around your body, stained with black and red from the blood of his minions. Tears and rips in the dress leaving parts of your skin exposed He licked his lips wanting to taste the skin before his eyes. 

“I am [Y/N], daughter of Archangel Michael,” You spoke with confidence and conviction, Grayson placed a finger at the tip of your sword, pointing it away from him, “You will let my brother go,”

“You’re a feisty one, I like that,” Grayson licked his lips as his eyes traveled down your body more. “But if you think being Michael’s daughter means anything to us right now you’re mistaken. Your father is the reason for this bloodshed. He killed our men, so now we must take something of his.”

You looked past his shoulder to see Ethan had moved your brother to his feet, fighting against the binds that were around his wrists and waist, the chains of hell making it difficult for him to escape. You fought to the urge to go to him, but you knew that you had to play your cards right. 

“Let him go, and you can have whatever you want.” your strong demeanor slipping, Grayson saw his opportunity.

Grayson knew who you were and had been watching you for years, he never wanted something so badly. He knew it was forbidden for a demon to want an angel, but he didn’t care. Grayson always got what he wanted.

“Stay here, with me, and we’ll let your brother go,” Grayson smirked

Your eyes widened “W-what?”

“I want you darling, and if you stay here with me, then I’ll let your little brother go.”

“Grayson,” Ethan seethed behind him with a hiss, “What are you doing?”

Taking Michael's oldest daughter would only anger the Archangel more, causing the war to draw out longer and lose more lives. 

“Shush brother,” Grayson glared over his shoulder, before turning back to you. The cocky smirk back on his face. “So what is it going to be darling?”

Grayson reached forward and gently caressed along your cheek causing your body to shudder slightly away from his touch. You answered quickly, knowing it was going to be the only way. 

“Fine.” You whispered with a shakiness to your voice, “I’ll stay...let him go.”

“No! [Y/N]! Don’t!” Your brother cried out, but you tried to block it out. 

Grayson moved towards you more, grabbing the sword from your hands and tossing it to the side. His arm wrapped around your body and pulled you tightly to his side, before smiling wickedly towards his brother.

“Let the boy go, brother. I have the real prize now.”

#grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins au #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins concept #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fanfiction

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 29- No Room For Innocence- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline witnesses a blood eagle.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha 

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Word Count: 2544

Ch. 28

AN: I’d like to apologize for how long it’s taken me to update. I have no excuses. All I can say is life. 

It took me a while to get the blood eagle scene done. I wasn’t sure how I wanted that to look for a while. I think it turned out okay. I listened to Heimta Thurs by Wardruna the whole time I wrote it to put me in the right head space. 

I’d like to thank everyone who’s stuck with me for this long. I sincerely appreciate you.

“Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.” ~ Samuel Johnson

Aaline heaved as her body expelled what little she’d eaten that day. Her stomach had been in knots all day and it finally rebelled against her. She heaved again as a timid knock sounded on the door. “What?” she croaked. 

Torvi pushed the door open with care and peeked around the frame. She winced when Aaline gagged again, nothing coming up except bile and saliva. 

She pushed her way into the room and shut the door behind her, turning the lock and leaning against it. “Are you alright?” She asked. 

Aaline rolled her eyes up to her sister-in-law and bit back the snarky comment she so badly wanted to express. She clenched her eyes shut as her stomach seized but was thankful when nothing came up. 

“I’m fine.”

“I vomited when I saw my first blood eagle.” Torvi shared. Aaline slowly sat back, her hands still clutching the rim of the toilet. Her nausea had dissipated but her stomach still felt weak. 

“I hid behind the shed. I swore everything I’d eaten in the last week came out of me that night.” Aaline turned her head and stared at Torvi. She had a faraway look in her eyes and a sad smile on her face. 

“Did you love him?” Aaline asked. She remembered that Björn was Torvi's third husband and that her first had been blood eagled by Ragnar after he tried to kill Aslaug and their children. Ivar hadn’t even been born yet and Björn was just a teenager. 

Torvi blinked and turned her head. She smiled fully at Aaline and shook her head. “No. I thought I did but I was young. I didn’t know what love was. The love I had for him was one of companionship and youth. I did not love him like a wife should.”

Aaline nodded, processing. “And you married the son of his executioner.” She looked up when Torvi laughed. 

“I didn’t blame Björn. I didn’t even blame Ragnar. I was angry, yes, but my husband broke our laws, committed crimes. He was going to die no matter what.” Torvi shrugged and stepped deeper into the bathroom.

“Ivar will understand if you are unwell. This is a difficult experience.” Aaline shook her head. 

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ve been feeling under the weather for the last few days. It’s probably just a stomach bug.” Aaline made to stand. Torvi helped her up and studied her closely. Aaline closed the lid of the toilet and flushed, wincing at the reminder of her episode. 

“How long have you been feeling poorly?” Torvi asked. Aaline shrugged, washing her hands. 

“I’m not sure. A few days at least.”

“Just nausea or something else?” Aaline sighed and dried her hands, trying to be patient. 

“Mostly nausea. A few headaches,  some stomach cramps. I’m tired all the time. Really, Torvi, I’m fine. It’s just a stomach bug.” 

She tossed the towel down onto the counter and pulled the door open. “Can we please go? Ivar’s supposed to help me get ready.” Torvi looked at her, her gaze skeptical. She nodded once and preceded Aaline out of the bathroom. Aaline shook her head at Torvi’s behavior and followed her, closing the door behind her.

.

“It’s a preposterous plan. I don’t even know how you talked me into it.” 

“It’s because you know I’m right.” 

Ecbert looked up with sharp eyes at the young woman before him. She held her head high and carried an air of superiority around her. Ecbert didn’t know if she was stupid or just insane. Perhaps a bit of both. 

Ecbert himself wondered where his own sanity had gone to consider this plan. It wasn’t even a good one and he truly didn’t even know its purpose. 

 “I don’t see how this plan will weaken Ragnar.”

The woman scoffed and he narrowed his eyes. “Ivar will go mad with grief and anger. Ragnar won’t be able to control him thus losing control of his men. He’ll be overthrown and you’ll be able to swoop in and take control of his empire.”

The plan was shaky at best. It all hinged on a small group of men being able to go unnoticed by Ragnar Lothbrok’s very observant sons. Even then they weren’t guaranteed a win right away. The women before him needed to stay out of it personally and Ecbert wasn’t sure if she was capable. 

“You remember what we discussed.” He said. 

She narrowed her eyes and sat up straighter almost like she was trying to look intimidating. “I remember.” 

Ecbert arched one perfect brow and waited, hoping she’d take his cue. She did and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not to approach anyone in the Lothbrok family.” She admitted through clenched teeth. 

Ecbert sat back only marginally satisfied. 

“Good.” He waved a hand at her, dismissing her and she rose with anger. Ecbert didn’t flinch when she slammed through the double doors. He was too engrossed in calculating everything that could go wrong with their plan.

.

It was late, almost midnight and Ivar was helping Aaline into the traditional white outfit worn during a blood eagle. Aaline knew very little about the traditions involved in a ritualistic murder. She knew it was a big deal. Their family was taking revenge on the man who murdered Sigurd. 

The blood eagle was a sacrifice to Odin. Aelle would serve as both a warning and a blessing. His death would bless their retribution, keeping them safe from further harm. It would also warn others intent on wronging them. His death would tell them what would happen to anyone who tried to take them down.

White was worn to show the blood that was spilled. It was expected for blood to transfer on all spectators and it would symbolize the blessing that Odin brought upon them.

Traditionally, it was expected that the victim remain silent less they be barred entrance into Valhalla. Björn had talked long about how Jarl Borg had taken the whole of his punishment in silence, never making a sound as Ragnar killed him. 

She could see the respect shining clearly in Björn’s eyes. Even though Jarl Borg had tried to murder his brothers and step-mother, Björn had admiration for the man. Aaline was eager to understand why.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up. Hvitserk opened the door and nodded once, pushing it further open and leaving them again. It was time.

Ivar settled his hands on her shoulders and stepped around to face her. “It’s not going to be pretty.” She rolled her eyes and looked away but he caught her chin between his fingers and pulled her back to look at him.

“There’s going to be blood, lots of it. He’ll scream and he’ll cry and there’ll be piss and shit along with the blood. Do you think you can handle that?” Ivar’s voice was soft when he spoke but she could hear the hard edge. He still wanted her to back out. He wanted her to sit up here in their room alone while the rest of the family witnessed the execution of the man responsible for their pain. 

She wrapped her hand around Ivar’s wrist and gently pushed it away. “I think you forget who you’re married to.” She said. 

She stepped around him and headed towards the door, turning at the frame to look over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her, his face unreadable. She cocked an eyebrow. He shook his head and followed her out the door.

As they descended the stairs, the light grew dimmer. The shadows on the wall danced. The smell of incense was heavy in the air. A heavy bass resounded in the air and chains rattled against the stone.

 When they turned the final corner into the room, Aaline allowed herself to take in the scene. Ragnar stood in the center of the room on a raised platform. His back was to them and his shoulders flexed as he worked with something on the table before him. Behind him, standing shoulder width apart, were two identical wooden posts with half circle brackets at the top. 

Ivar cupped her elbow and steered her towards the rest of his siblings. The brothers and their wives were standing in a semi-circle around Sibylle whose eyes were glassy.  Aaline didn’t know if it was her tears or the drugs that gave her the appearance. 

Ivar stopped beside Hvitserk and nodded, folding his hands in front of him as they waited. Aaline surveyed the room. Lagertha stood just behind the table that Ragnar was working at. Rollo and Floki stood across from them, Helga next to Floki. Several of Ragnar’s men filled the rest of the room. She and Ivar were the last to arrive.

Ragnar turned to Rollo and Floki and nodded once. The two men retreated behind a door behind Lagertha. The drum beat held steady. 

Rollo and Floki returned with Aelle bound between them. A gag was tied tight in his mouth and his wrists and ankles were hogtied. He was naked from the waist up. Rollo and Floki stepped onto the platform and shoved Aelle to his knees between the wooden posts. 

She couldn’t hear what he was saying to them but Aaline could see his mouth trying to move around the gag. Rollo and Floki ignored him as they tied his wrists to the posts beside him. Tears poured down his face and she felt more than heard Ivar chuckle behind her.

The fires surrounding them were hot and the incense made her drowsy. She felt like she was outside of herself, watching the movement around her with detachment. She hardly felt Ivar’s hands on her shoulders.   

Ragnar turned then to the trembling Aelle and scanned the line of his back with clinical apathy. He placed a hand on Aelle’s shoulder and the man startled. Ragnar stilled him with strong fingers pressed deep into the meat of his shoulder. Ragnar bent low and settled his face next to Aelle’s. 

Aelle’s screams were drowned out by the thumping of the drums and the crackling of the fire. Blood pooled around his knees as Ragnar drew the blade up the center of his back. Ivar’s fingers tightened on her shoulders.

Her eyes were glued to the scene before her. She felt entranced by Ragnar’s work. Ivar brought his chin down to her shoulder and watched with her.

Ragnar drew the knife quickly across Aelle’s shoulders and back, pulling the skin back from the bones. Blood sailed through the air, spattering the spectators with warm drops. 

Aaline inhaled sharply and the scent of copper filled her sinuses. Ivar’s hands trailed down her arms and to her hands. He knotted their fingers together as more blood sliced through the air and painted their faces. 

Ragnar soon replaced his blade with an axe, the blade winking in the firelight. Aelle’s screams had died as shock set in. He wasn’t dead yet. Aaline could see his chest heaving up and down. Blood dripped down his arms and sides as Ragnar moved his flesh as he pleased. 

With a flash, the axe came down and separated ribs from spine. The sound of breaking bone reverberated through the air, over taking the drums. Ragnar hacked at the bones, sending blood flinging through the air. Aaline could feel it settled on her cheeks and fought back the urge to lick her lips.

Ivar did no such thing, leaning close and licking a long stripe up the side of her face, humming at the metallic taste that coated his tongue. Aaline shivered as his breath ghosted over her ear. “I can’t wait to lick his blood off you.” He nipped sharply at her earlobe and she shivered. He was hard as steel against the small of her back.

With his ribs now spread wide away from his body, Aelle died. Aaline watched as Ragnar finished the ritual, slipping his hands inside Aelle’s chest from behind and pulling his lungs from within. He settled the useless organs across Aelle’s still shoulders and stepped back.

He was covered in blood. His bare feet were sticky with it as he stepped around to Aelle’s front. His hands were stained crimson as he, almost reverently, pushed Aelle’s hair back off his forehead. His face and beard were saturated in the life giving fluid as he gazed down at the man who ordered his son dead. 

When Ragnar’s head came up, Rollo and Floki got to work. 

Aelle was to be placed on display outside of Ecbert’s home. He was to serve as a warning to the rest of the Saxons.

Once Rollo and Floki began cutting down Aelle, the rest of the spectators began making their way out of the ceremony room. A bonfire was lit in the backyard and they were to spend the rest of the night celebrating Aelle’s demise and Sigurd’s life. 

Aaline was confident she and Ivar wouldn’t make it to the bonfire. 

Ivar tugged her back the way they’d come with insistent hands. She allowed him to lead her away, her mind still preoccupied with the blood eagle.

As soon as Ivar had their bedroom door shut, she was pressed face first against the wood of the door. She gasped and smacked her palms against the door. 

Ivar already had his hands under her dress and his fingers inside her panties. His groan vibrated against her back and she shuddered when he immediately sank two thick fingers inside her. “You’re soaked.” He whispered brokenly against her ear. 

She moaned and arched her back, pulling his fingers deeper and feeling him hard against her ass. 

“Did it turn you on? Watching a man die?” He rocked his fingers inside of her, pressing his palm against her clit. She pressed her forehead to the door, pressing back against him. She needed more. More pressure, more fingers, more friction. Just more. 

“More.” She moaned. Ivar cursed and withdrew his fingers. She felt him fumbling behind her. Before she had time to take a breath, he was sheathed to the hilt inside her. She yelped, her muscles stretching to accommodate him. 

The sting between her legs quickly subsided when he started moving. His fingers returned between her legs and circled her clit in quick, firm circles. Her knees buckled but he wrapped an arm around her waist and kept them upright. 

Ivar groaned against her neck before sinking his teeth hard into the muscle of her shoulder. Her pussy clenched around him and he groaned, the vibrations against her skin sending goosebumps down her back. 

Her whole body vibrated and her knees began to shake as her orgasm crested inside her. Ivar circled her clit twice more and her orgasm washed over her. She shook against him, her internal muscles squeezing him tight. He wrapped a hand around her throat and grunted, his cock twitching inside her. 

She sagged against the door, her heart pounding and her knees like jello. Ivar licked the side of her neck, moaning at the taste of sweat and blood.

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius  @inforapound  @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @feyrearcheron-nightcourt @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx@revolution-starter @jay-bel

#ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #bjorn x torvi #Bjorn Ironside #hvitserk x thora #hvitserk lothbrok #Hvitserk #sigurd x oc #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd snake in the eye #ubbe x margrethe #Ubbe Lothbrok #Ragnar Lothbrok #lagertha #vikings #arranged marriage #modern au #crime #mafia au

[monicashipsnickyjoe]

Nicky knocks the gun out of the guy’s hand. It clatters across the floor, out of reach of any of them. Nicky’s slow though; he’s already taken a bullet to the shoulder and two to the arm. The guy recovers quicker, and punches Nicky in the face.

Joe feels the blow as surely as if he’d been the one to get hit. He sprints forward.

Nicky, wounded already, stumbles back.

The guy pulls back for another blow.

Joe dives and tackles him to the ground.

The guy’s head smacks the ground and he’s unconscious. Joe hits him anyway, the same way he hit Nicky. If he stops, if the guy wakes, he will try to hurt them again. Nicky, Andy, Nile... Joe’s compassion wars with his need to protect his family.

Nicky himself is the only one who can pull Joe away.

Yet even when they have returned to their safe house, with Nicky and Nile fully healed and Andy suffering only a bruise or two, Joe cannot slow the fast pace of his heart.

He breathes deeply, trying to relax his tense muscles, but the adrenaline won’t cool. He clenches his hands in fists but they still tremble. They are covered in blood that’s not his.

Nicky leads him to the table and Joe sits. Nicky makes him tea, but when Joe tries to lift the cup, it keeps clattering against the saucer. He tries to lift it higher but the hot liquid splashes over the sides.

In an instant, Nicky is there, guiding the cup back down.

“Joe.”

Joe swallows. He tries twice to find words before saying, “There’s blood on my hands.”

A muscle ticks in Nicky’s jaw. He stands and walks toward the counter. Before Joe can panic, he returns with a damp wash cloth and a dry towel. Kneeling beside Joe’s chair, he takes Joe’s hand in his, first one and then the other, and cleans each. He scrubs at the knuckles. He rubs gently at the soft webbing between the fingers. He’s kind but thorough. Then he dries them.

“There,” Nicky says, dropping the towels to the floor and his hands to Joe’s knees. “They are clean now.”

Joe flexes his fingers. He can breath a little easier without so much red.

“Nicky,” Joe starts, a question there, one he isn’t sure how to ask. This violence... Over the years, so much violence...

“We fight. We make... difficult choices,” Nicky says. “But they are always for cause.”

“I do not question our cause,” Joe tells him. “Or our means.” He glances down to Nicky’s hands, not wanting to see the earnest devotion in his eyes. He’ll crumble if he does. Yet knowing it’s there gives him the courage to turn inward, to look at himself and see.

When Joe hurt that man, he wasn’t doing it for the cause. It was his family he fought for, and sometimes, the extremes he would go to to protect them...

He regretted nothing. He would do it again. But he feared...

He feared.

Nicky’s hands move, cupping Joe’s face. He brings Joe forward as he presses himself up.

“You are my sun,” Nicky says, and kisses him. It’s soft and short, a gift of comfort. Joe steals another, greedy for it.

“If anything happens to you, to Andy, or to Nile,” Joe says. It’s easier to speak now with Nicky so close. He looks up and can only see Nicky’s eyes watching him. They are two men alone, the rest of the world entirely vanished around them. “I would not recover.”

“Joe.”

“I would lose myself to vengeance,” Joe tells him. “I would forget kindness.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Joe shakes his head, catching his curls between their foreheads. “Without you, I...” He cannot finish the thought aloud, too terrible and dark to give voice to. Instead, he says, “Nicky.”

Nicky hears and kisses him again. And again. A slew of soft kisses. He drops his hands to take hold of Joe’s and then kisses the knuckles that were not so long ago coated in blood.

“You will never be without me,” Nicky says, without a hint of doubt. He’s kindness and he’s strength, and Joe wants - needs - both. He needs Nicky.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can,” Nicky says, defiant. “I am. Destiny connects us, my heart."

He makes it sound so simple. Maybe it is.

Joe exhales, and the last bit of anxiety falls away. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Nicky’s. “I love you is not enough.”

“I know,” Nicky says. “Me, too.”

#i wrote something nickyjoe #nicky x joe #joe x nicky #joenicky #nickyjoe #someday i will stop writing canonverse hurtcomfort but its not going to be today #oops i did it again why can't i stop lol #hurt comfort #canon typical violence #soft ending #panic attack cw kinda

[sezja]

In Captivity

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Ship: Background Sanson/Guydelot

Note: The WoL mentioned here is @lesenbyan's Eve (Evelynn Blythe on Goblin)

-

He wakes reluctantly, aware at first only of the pounding in his head and the sound of nearby voices, too indistinct to recognize - but Sanson knows which voices he doesn’t hear, and he forces his eyes open. Though his vision swims at first, gradually the unfamiliar shapes and colors refine themselves into something more recognizable: trees, rocks, grass. The Twelveswood. He has returned to the Shroud.

Where…?

“Awake, are you?” He knows that voice. Queasy from more than his injuries, Sanson looks around: this is a rushed campsite, not meant to last more than a night at most, and hidden, with sentries posted at the perimeter. He appears to be the only captive, with two frowning guards standing over him, armed, despite his bound hands and feet. And standing with the guards…

Nourval.

The treacherous snake kneels, regarding Sanson with that all-too-familiar smile: sinister, now that Sanson knows the danger that smile conceals. “You gave us something of a struggle,” Nourval says, smug and self-satisfied. “But here we are. And how are your bonds, Captain? Tight enough?”

“What became of Evelynn?” He remembers now: the Warrior of Light was summoned to a meeting, and Sanson had encouraged her to go. A trap, he now realizes, just as surely as his own summons; a trap meant to lure them away from the safety of the Castrum. But he does not see Eve here… nor Guydelot. Nor does he know what passed after he left the Castrum - perhaps Guydelot, too, was summoned to a similar trap. Or worse.

“The Warrior of Light did precisely as required of her,” Nourval replies, his smile never wavering. “She survived our ambush, of course. I expect that was your concern?”

It was. Sanson breathes easier; he never doubted Eve’s prowess, certainly, but to have it confirmed… “And Guydelot?”

“What of him?”

“Is he unharmed?”

Nourval sighs. “Of course. Alive and well and already back in Gridania, by our last reports. Had we known you entrusted the journal into his keeping…”

He remembers, abruptly, being thoroughly searched after his defeat - at the time, he’d not thought to wonder what it was they were seeking, only the humiliation of defeat and the fear for his comrades. Gylbarde’s journal. Of course - after so long seeking the tome, small wonder if Nourval had hoped to reclaim it. It was fortunate indeed that Sanson had thought to give it to Guydelot before hastening off to aid Eve; he’d thought it best if there was no chance of it falling into enemy hands… perhaps the only stroke of luck in this whole debacle.

That and Guydelot’s safe return to Gridania. But what now?

There is only one answer, Sanson realizes, chilled. “You mean to ransom me for the journal.”

“For the truth.” Nourval settles himself more comfortably on the ground, as though they are two old friends, chatting about something as inconsequential as the weather. “For justice. You read it, yes? You know what they did to Vainchelon: lured him to a private meeting under a flag of truce, then slew him in cold blood.” His eyes narrow. “They cannot be allowed to hide from this. Ala Mhigo cannot be allowed to rise to power with my ancestor’s blood on their hands.”

“What you want isn’t justice,” Sanson says, trying to sound reasonable instead of terrified. “What you want is vengeance, and it will solve nothing. The man who killed Vainchelon is dead-”

“They share the guilt!” Nourval’s hands curl into fists - not in violence, but passion. “They’re all the same - every one of them would have done as Gylbarde did, given the opportunity, and they all must suffer the consequences. Vainchelon fought for Gridania’s freedom.” He leans forward, peering intently into Sanson’s eyes. “You are Gridanian, Sanson, and proud - I know you are! How can you turn from Vainchelon’s legacy? We would be no better than slaves if not for his courage and determination in the face of Ala Mhigan conquest.”

Clearly a different approach is needed. “Justice for Vainchelon is a worthy goal,” he says, carefully. “But surely Ala Mhigo has suffered enough? Through the efforts of the Alliance and the Warriors of Light, they have finally won free from Garlean rule. You would see them plunged once more into war, when-”

“But that is precisely why we must strike now,” Nourval insists. “They will never be weaker than they are now, and if the truth of their crime is laid bare, they’ll shortly lose their allies in the other nations. They can be crushed easily and quickly.” He smiles, patting Sanson’s knee. “Once the commanders at the Adder’s Nest do as I ask and release the journal’s contents in exchange for your safe release.”

Oh, gods. Closing his eyes, Sanson takes a slow, deep breath.

“They won’t.”

“Not until your foolish friend hands the journal over, at any rate.” Nourval’s smile never wavers, though it grows harder at the edges. “As yet, he is refusing to surrender it, but doubtless in time they’ll pry it from his fingers whether he likes it or not. We’ve not yet sent our demands, but perhaps once we do, they’ll handle his idiocy as it deserves.”

Oh, Guydelot. Clinging to the journal in hopes of using it as leverage, no doubt - foolish indeed, but it makes Sanson’s heart ache with affection all the same. It’s a wonder the bard hasn’t come after him of his own accord… but then, he’d need to know where to search, wouldn’t he? And would he even know Sanson had returned to the Twelveswood? No. Sanson himself has no idea how they successfully crossed Baelsar’s Wall unnoticed. Not that Sanson expects that will stop Guydelot forever. The Adders almost certainly won’t stir to save Sanson, but Guydelot… gods, but Guydelot will, one way or another.

Blinking back the sudden stinging in his eyes, Sanson shakes his head. “Nourval, the Order won’t risk war with Ala Mhigo for the sake of one soldier. We’re already on the brink of open war with the Garlean Empire - to keep the truth of Vainchelon’s death hidden, they won’t hesitate to allow my death.” A horrifying reality sets in. “You’ve only doomed us both.”

Nourval’s eyes are flinty. “And when word gets out that the Adders slew us - and one of their own men! - to keep the truth silent, Gridanians will not stand for it. They will demand the journal’s release: to know what we died for. What was meant to be kept buried. Do you suppose all of those loyal to Vainchelon’s memory are here? There are those who know the truth and will see it brought to light - even should that light be shed only by the shedding of our blood.”

“You-” Sanson steadies his voice once more. “You are prepared to be a martyr for this cause. And to make of me a martyr as well.”

“Vainchelon is my ancestor,” Nourval replies, gazing down at his own hands, uncurling his fists. “I will see to it he is avenged, alive or dead. You should be honored: your death will not be in vain. But perhaps you’re wrong.” He stands, brushing himself off. “Perhaps your friend will turn in the journal, and perhaps the Order of the Twin Adder and the Seedseers will see the righteousness of my cause. Don’t give up hope, Captain Sanson; the truth may yet prevail.”

Sanson watches him walk away, sick at heart.

Guydelot… I pray you think of something quickly.

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #nourval #my writing #ffxiv #i'll probably do more on these two because...... i love them #but yeah sanson never for a second believed the adders would come to his rescue #but on the other hand he never for a second DOUBTED guydelot would