#we will never see horrifying worm beast

[jeffersonseaplane]

can i just say it's so funny to me that villeneuve is planning on doing dune messiah and just stopping because it means most people probably won't ever watch Worm Wars (the rest of the books) like they straight up just won't ever know about it. you and I will know because we are Worm Freaks but the extent of the general populace's knowledge is gonna be "timothee chalamet colonizes a planet"

#although i guess he kind of does that in real life #we will never see horrifying worm beast #reblog for worm beast #it would be just as funny if he continued tho because herbert just completely overhauls the cast in every book after messiah #??? < people who watched the first one and don't know who the fuck darwi odrade is #dune #dune part two #frank herbert #sci fi #dune part 2 #dune 2 #dune movie #rip my tennis followers who dgaf about this

[blackjackkent]

All right. Rakha ramblings resume. :D

A lovely anon-friend informed me that we can get an easily-missable cutscene if we do a long rest prior to heading towards Lae'zel/the grove, which coincidentally lands nicely alongside the drabble I wrote yesterday working on fleshing out Rakha's voice.

So. A fractured night's sleep in the shadow of the crashed nautiloid. (Obviously the game just puts us in the usual wilderness campsite but just go with me on this. XD )

Shadowheart is skeptical:

"You strike me as the reliable sort, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

Rakha squints at her, puzzled. "Sure what is a good idea?"

"Each hour that passes, the thing inside us grows. We need to find a healer. Let's wake up at first light."

I was looking at my first set of Rakha posts earlier and realized, amusingly, that she managed to skid past any overt dialogue option that would explain WHAT the worm is and what the danger is - of turning into a mind flayer themselves; Rakha was so clipped off that she managed to not get that information from either Lae'zel OR Shadowheart on the ship. The first ACTUAL indication we got of there being a time pressure threat was the NARRATOR explaining that something needs to be done about the situation, down on the beach.

However, it simplifies things if we assume that Lae'zel explained it at some point on the way to the bridge, because otherwise this would be even more of a baffling conversation for Rakha than it already is.

As it stands, though, I think she's as frustrated as Shadowheart is at the need for rest, when the revenge and answers she craves are both out there waiting.

"Agreed," she says curtly. "Our top priority, as far as I'm concerned."

Shadowheart seems to relax a little. Rakha has already made it pretty clear that standing against her is a good recipe for a fire blast in the face, so it's no doubt relieving to know they're on the same page, at least for now. "Maybe we'll get lucky," she says with a hint of humor. "We're overdue some good fortune."

A pause. Then a cautious friendly overture. "Rest well. We'll need our strength."

Rakha doesn't respond, just shrugs, wedges herself under a nearby overhang of wreckage, and turns her thoughts inwards.

-----

Rest comes uneasily, and Rakha finds her sleep marred by images beyond her comprehension, full of blood and screaming.

Narrator: As you writhe with sickly dreams, a deep dread floods you.

Narrator: A few scraps of the past come back to you now and then, but you can never quite tell where the knowledge comes from.

Narrator: Inexplicable violent yearnings overwhelm all other thoughts. Who could you possibly be, to be their vessel?

She snaps awake with a bitten-off cry, shaking free of a crimson-drenched dream of a dagger wedged deep in someone's chest, her fingers on the handle. She's conscious on some level that it was a horrifying image, and yet the cry with which she woke herself was not all fear - it was ecstasy as well. Whatever it is, this thing in her that is hungry for blood, it was the one dreaming, and it liked what it saw.

She sits up, rests her head against the flesh-metal strut behind her, and - unseen by Shadowheart who still sleeps undisturbed - begins to shiver uncontrollably.

Probe your mind - what thoughts stand out the most?

Narrator: You recall waking up hearing the pounding war drum of blood. How much you treasured the sight of the first corpse you touched.

She feels that strange pull of a half-smile at the memory, and wrestles her face back into a scowl. She does not resent the rage, for it has kept her alive thus far, and she already knows the concept of joy, seeing it in that shifting tapestry of magic all around her. But the glee in destruction, the joy in blood troubles her, because she does not understand it. It comes from the thing unspoken, the thing she does not control.

The beast in her chest.

Wonder - why are these memories so beautiful?

Narrator: How cruel your old life must have been. What could have happened to make you forget?

She curls tightly into herself, squeezing her eyes shut, shoving herself against the nautiloid strut and focusing on the soft hum of its dissipating magical energy through her shirt, along her back. But it is not enough; the dream still waits, hovering on the edges of her vision, waiting for her to drift back into sleep.

Narrator: As you fall asleep, you are a shivering and shaking mess.

Narrator: Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood...

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #oooo some interesting stuff here #glad i got nudged to do this :D

[katie5000]

Part 1 here.

But shockingly, it is Vash who pulls the gun on Knives. And we get our first serious look from Vash! Knives has no choice but to back off and he leaves with Conrad…

So Vash finally stands up to his brother. Watch Knives' face here - he is shocked, and then he looks pained before he starts cackling wildly in disbelief and madness at the unfairness of it all. Then he declares that he will build the plant paradise himself - you'll see, YOU'LL ALL SEE!

Despite everything that's happened, Knives never thought he'd be rejected by his own brother.

Luida welcomes him back home as he asks about his friends who are all ‘thrilled’ to see him. Though Wolfwood tries to pretend like they aren’t friends.

So we are introduced to a significantly older Brad and Luida here. Meryl is surprised to learn that they've known Vash for 150 years, and they reveal that their secret is cold sleep. They also explain that in order to lessen the load on the ship's plants, they've left all of the original colonists in cold sleep as well.

Confirmed - no puppet master arc with rampant civilian deaths to be replaced by puppets that fall apart in Vash’s arms.

Nope, guess not.

Meryl asks if plants are powering the ship and Luida takes her and Roberto to the large internal garden.

Luida shows them but a fraction of what presumably existed back on Earth, and what was supposed to exist on their new homeworld were it not for the crash. Now, they only have enough power to cultivate that rooftop garden. And Meryl has evidently never seen flowers before.

A common item found in all versions of Trigun is alcohol. You need grains to brew beer, distill spirits and the like. Stampede is telling us that all of that booze we saw in the beginning is produced by something other than grains?

Yes. My understanding is that the plants-in-bulbs produced a lot of the basic materials and raw goods that were later processed into other things. This is why Luida is initially so curious to find out what it is that Vash "makes", and why it seems so weird that he doesn't "make" anything. This is also why humanity is relying so heavily on the plants in the first place - they crashed on a world unfit for farming.

Roberto tries to smoke and Luida tells him not to which results in his request of Meryl. That’s right, he’s no longer calling her newbie, she’s now Meryl…

He only calls her by name this once, then he's back to calling her "newbie" for the rest of the episode. But calling her by her name suggests that he's starting to see her as an equal - a big deal in a culture that's not as egalitarian as the US is.

Vash is more intent to not kill - adding he’ll never do it again. This implies that there was an incident where he did end up killing. Our non-July-July incident of the past 150 years? What else happened - since so far we don’t have anything to go on for Vash’s own past mistakes.

…Are you fucking serious, OP?? The incident in question was the initial crashing of the colony ships. Remember how Nai branded Vash an accomplice to the act and said that Vash gave him the computer passcodes that allowed him to alter the ships' trajectory? And how Vash was utterly horrified by the dead in the wreckage and took it upon himself to atone for his role in the act? THAT IS THE THING THAT HAPPENED.

Luida meekly stumbles into the room to inform them that Worms busted in and kidnapped Meryl and Roberto.

No, Luida stumbles into the doorway out of breath and clearly distressed.

I get that she’s older but she didn’t run to them…

Yeah, she did.

…she leads them back to the dome and Wolfwood is able to state that Zazie the Beast is the one who took them.

I mean, he'd be the one to know what Zazie's handiwork looks like.

They way up in another generic looking room as Zazie welcomes them to July, which is the crashed plant carrying ship.

Well, the city around the ship, I guess. I can't believe the worms carried those two all the way there, dang. Seems like a bit of a stretch.

Meryl asks if they’d met before and Zazie replies not in the current form.

So Zazie kidnaps Meryl here, too, as per the manga.

Roberto then shoots Zazie, who disperses into individual worms before reforming their body on the other side explaining it is a conduit.

Y'know, maybe the worms flying toward the ship in that one scene were actually Zazie and not like, a separate swarm of worms like I initially assumed they were. Hm.

This entire interaction is Zazie the Beast as our new info dump character.

Zazie provides exposition here, yes. They state that humans seemingly already destroyed one planet, and are perhaps set to do it to another. The worms are the native species of No Man's Land and view both humans and plants as invasive species. However, they've been sizing up the situation and are trying to figure out who best to side with to ensure their own continued survival.

This does sort of guarantee that all road lead to July, which Vash may blow up with - his still remaining right arm?

I dunno, probably. But yeah, it'll be interesting to see what happens.

I'm not even gonna bother with the rest of whatever's there, because it's basically so much whining about how the 90s series was better and I'm tired.

#trigun stampede #angry ranting #I'm tired

[bythenineshards]

So I've seen people talking about rewriting A//cotar and I thought it was an interesting concept. I'd prefer to write my own books but at work over the last few days I was thinking about what I would change. I also thought I'd share with the class. So these are my changes to A//cotar.

Firstly, the set up for this story is rushed, sloppy and unrealistic. Not in the sense that it's fantasy but more to do with the suspension of disbelief. F//eyre being the sole provider for her family is utterly unrealistic. This stems from the fact that Maas tends to do things in her plots that serve only to push one or two specific things. She wanted to make F//eyre superior and yet a victim. This was at the expense of something that could've been great and her laziness really shows with F//eyre's family. Now originally M//aas had no intent to bring the sisters into the story after F//eyre left but changed her mind later. As readers we got stale ass characters as a result of her pantsing. Here's how I would've handled it.

The A//rcheron's lose their wealth way earlier. N//esta is older and so is E//lain. So N//esta is 28ish, E//lain 25ish and F//eyre is still 19. They lost their wealth when F//eyre was 5. This is more realistic on the grounds that F//eyre wouldn't know how to read. All of the A//rcheron's work.

F//eyre and her Father (I would name him too) hunt, fish and trap. They go on trips to a neighboring city to sell their pelts. N//esta is the village school teacher and E//lain is a herbalist. F//eyre and their Father make more money on the pelts than E//lain and N//esta make with their jobs. F//eyre is resentful of their jobs as she and their Father get dirty in order to make their living. The reason N//esta and E//lain make less is revealed later. F//eyre and her Father have a close relationship and F//eyre hates N//esta because N//esta is often cruel in her words to their Father.

Here's the first big change to the plot. F//eyre doesn't kill the wolf. Papa A//rcheron does. They skin it and bring it home then sell it to the mercenary lady. A few nights later, T//amlin barges in demanding who killed A//ndras? Thinking that her Father is a better hunter than her, and her sisters will be broke if he is killed, F//eyre says she did. Papa A//rcheron doesn't correct this. T//amlin takes her in much the same way.

Now T//amlin. He irked me to no end in A//cotar. It is not a Beauty and the Beast story if the Beast is Sad Legolas in a mask. It is not hard to fall for a sexy elf man with abs. In my version he's half shifted. As if he was shifting into his horny wolf form when A//marantha enacted the curse. For the last 50 years he's been stuck in this odd amalgamation of man and wolf. He's fucking horrifying. Also the mask he wears has reflective glass in the eyes so she can't see his eyes.

Next thing to go is the waste of time where F//eyre tries to get word back to them or escape. It was like 2 hours in audiobook that ended up with something we already knew. Instead she'd explore the grounds, get to know T//amlin and actually fall in love with him. Maybe they bond over art or she teaches him to paint. Idk something to actually build chemistry besides abs! During this time I'd love for him to tell her about A//marantha. No more pronoun game with the mysterious "she" shit. He doesn't tell her about the curse completely. He tells her that she did this to him when he refused to be with her. And he'll be like this until he finds a way to break the curse.

Sometime passes and on the last day of the allotted time, A//marantha shows up at his borders. A messenger gets to T//amlin but A//marantha isn't far behind. Tamlin freaks out and tries to get F//eyre to leave. She refuses confessing her love for him. She kisses him and nothing changes. A//marantha appears and laughs at what happened. It's revealed that F//eyre lied about killing A//ndras. F//eyre couldn't break the curse. A//marantha clues F//eyre in about her ridiculous curse and tells her that she can't have F//eyre in the way. T//amlin uses magic to get F//eyre back to her family before A//marantha can kill her.

Back at the A//rcheron Manor, F//eyre tries to forget about T//amlin. She finds that N//esta is actually running their father merchant business and their Father is on a strict allowance. F//eyre is angered by this. This is when N//esta reveals why their family lost their wealth. Papa A//rcheron gambled it away. When their mother fell ill, he turned to drink and gambling as well as brothels. This broke their mother's heart. He lost everything and N//esta never forgave him. He was also horrible to the people in the village when he was a merchant. Selling necessary goods to the village for outrageous prices. They couldn't afford to get other traders so they had to give him what he wanted. When the A//rcherons lost their wealth, the village decided to seek vengeance. They paid N//esta and E//lain far less than what they needed. They wouldn't buy the furs he brought to town. And the only house he was allowed to buy was the cabin. N//esta and E//lain didn't tell F//eyre this because they were so close and they knew if F//eyre knew it would hurt her. N//esta and F//eyre reconcile. And F//eyre confesses she wants to go after T//amlin. She can't be without him. N//esta gives her blessing and some money to find a guide to cross the wall.

F//eyre looks for a guide and ends up finding the mercenary from before. She agrees to take F//eyre to A//marantha's domain. It's revealed that the mercenary is Fae. The Mercenary tells F//eyre to make a deal with A//marantha. Fae can't resist wagers.

They get to the mountain and F//eyre barges in. She makes a deal with A//marantha resulting in the trials (as much as I loathe them). Something like A//marantha will break the curse and release T//amlin and his court if F//eyre wins. But if F//eyre loses, gets to wipe F//eyre's memory of T//amlin and serve her forever. Now there's a few things I'd do differently. These mainly consist of F//eyre not getting handed everything.

The riddle: A//marantha gives it to F//eyre on a strip of parchment. She doesn't read it aloud.

First trial: the moment she sees the worm she covers herself in the mud and shit. She remembers what her father told her about worms when they used to fish. She also makes the trap without needing L//ucien to give her a hint. Her father taught her to hunt and she knows about the different types of traps. She still breaks her arm.

The deal with R//hys: she makes it and right after he leaves, L//ucien comes in with a potion to heal her. F//eyre also asks him to read the riddle to her. He reveals none of the Fae are allowed to.

The dirty water: instead of The Autumn Lady coming and ex machina cleans the water, F//eyre is resourceful. Maybe she finds a window. It's snowy. She dumps the dirty water melts the snow in the bucket and cleans the floor.

Cleaning R//hys's room: she fails and is tortured. Sorry but actions have consequences and F//eyre is the domain of a cruel woman. Maybe a goblin reads her Handbook for Mortals or Empress Theresa.

Second trial: either she guesses and is lucky or she recognizes the numbers in the problem and notices the answers on the levers and deduces based on addition and subtraction and what answers are available.

No drugging. No dancing. No make out with T//amlin.

Last trial: the lives she has to take are N//esta, E//lain and Papa A//rcheron. In her despair she feels the crinkle of the riddle in her pocket. She hugs N//esta and whispers to her to read the riddle to her. N//esta does. F//eyre gets it immediately.

The curse is broken. T//amlin is changed to Abs McLegolas and she gets to see his eyes for the first time. Boom. Happily ever after.

#anti sjm #anti acotar

[write-ur-wrongs]

Mother, Mother pt.2

A/N: Finally ready to post part 2 of my dad!Geralt fic!!! Part 2 is loosely based on this prompt Another request with baby!👀🥰 Reader has a newborn and geralt is just watching them thinking about how much have changed and how reader turned his life around...🍪 so I really want to thank that anon for their prompt and their patience! I definitely took some liberties with this story and worry the plot got lost along the way(?) but I really hope you like it nonetheless! Full disclosure I haven’t proof-read this piece so forgive the many typos!!

__________________________________________________________

“I said, no,” Geralt repeated himself slowly and with great authority, “thank you.”

The village healer looked at the witcher with eyes wide in disbelief, unable to accept that there was anything a witcher wouldn’t do for coin. Especially this witcher – the White Wolf – or so they used to call him. He used to be a force to be reckoned with on the continent, but now it seemed there was rarely a job he’d be willing to take.

“No? B-but who will help us!” they shouted desperately, “you can’t just leave this village to fend for itself! The creature will kill us all, Witcher!”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath before repeating himself yet again. “Please understand, I can’t help you, but I know people who can. Eskel is highly qualified and will be here by the next full moon. He will help you; I assure you.”

“But you’re here now,” the healer said, still shaking his head, “you could resolve this by nightfall! Why should these people wait a week for peace?”

“Hm.” He growled, lowly, biting down on his cheek to keep himself from giving into his rage and his pride. He wasn’t just living for himself anymore, not just living for the coin or by the witcher’s code; he had a family now.

He knew the world wouldn’t be easy to convince regarding his change in career path. Hell, it had taken most of your pregnancy to convince his brothers at Kaer Morhen of his plans. When he first told them you were pregnant, and it was his, they laughed heartily while sharing quick looks of concern between one another; fearing you’d strayed and were trying to play poor Geralt for a fool.

Yet that reaction was nothing compared to the one they gave him when Geralt admitted that his days of being a witcher were over. He’d be a consultant now. He’d travel the continent only when he heard of monsters through Jaskier’s letters, and once he reached these villages, he’d take stock and refer the case to one of his brothers, who’d pay him a modest commission for the referral. Geralt never took contracts he deemed to be too dangerous (which, so it happened, was most of them). The rule was if he wouldn’t readily bring Cirilla along to help, it was too dangerous for him alone.

Once, he let pride take precedence and he accepted a contract he knew was dangerous. It felt good to be back in the saddle, both literally and figuratively. He and Roach took to the forest like birds on a breeze, and his sword was just an extension of himself as he wielded it fiercely and with grace.

While he did conquer the beast in the end, it did put up quite a fight, and everything he thought made the fight worth it was washed away the instant he limped into your home and saw the look on his pregnant wife’s face and heard the cries of his beloved child surprise. To this day, he still feels the panicked sound of Ciri’s fearful shriek and your horrified sob weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He felt this very weight now as he considered this desperate healer’s words. Yes, he’d handled this type of monster many times before, but it wasn’t worth it.

“Listen to me, this type of creature is only a threat during a full moon,” Geralt said, “just educate your people, spread the word, you’re in a position of authority here – use it.”

The healer sighed deeply before muttering to themselves in frustration. They pulled their cloak tighter around their body and made a scene of grabbing the coin-filled sac from the table. Geralt rolled eyes his at the paranoid healer before gesturing for them to head outside.

“Fine, leave! But if you leave now and anyone dies, their blood will be on your hands!” shouted the healer, as Geralt tended to Roach.

Geralt rolled his eyes before mounting Roach, urging her onto the trail.

This isn’t my fight, he thought, and their people will be fine.

You were having a wonderful morning. Wren slept through the night for the first time in who-knows how long, and Ciri was relaxing as she entered her fifth day without a magical episode; those lessons with her aunt Yennefer were definitely paying off.

Now you were savouring the gentle afternoon breeze, resting your knees in the cool earth of the garden as the sun warmed you from above. You loved harvesting produce and tending to the flowers; this year was especially bountiful thanks to a rainy spring and temperate summer. As you picked tomatoes off the vine, you smiled softly at the sound of Ciri celebrating a successful hit on her target across the yard.

Meanwhile, Wren played happily in the dirt at your side. She’s been sitting up on her own now which was such a thrill. Such a small change, but it granted you freedoms you didn’t know you’d been missing.

“Mama, snek!” Wren squealed, proudly holding an earthworm up at you. You laughed in relief upon seeing what she was holding up – for half a second you thought she’d managed to snag an actual snake.

“Wow my girl,” you cooed, “what a find!”

At the sound of your praise, Wren smiled up at you brightly and closed her little fingers around the earthworm with pride.

“Careful now, love! Don’t harm it,” you said, gently prying open her stubby fingers and releasing the worm back into the soil, “these little guys play an important role in the health of our garden.”

“You know she doesn’t understand you, right mom?” Ciri said a little breathlessly after stabbing her sword into the earth.

“I don’t think we can say that with certainty, Ciri. She is a witcher’s daughter after all, we are in for a lifetime of surprises I’d say.” You replied with a small shake of your head. Ciri rolled her eyes at you before making off towards the house at a run.

“Cirilla,” you warned, “don’t leave your sword in the yard! And wipe it down before you take it in – I don’t want dirt tracked in again.”

“Mom!” she groaned, stomping back to get her sword. “Witchers don’t need to do these ridiculous chores…” she said under her breath.

“They don’t get warm meals or comfortable beds either!” you replied in a sing-song, knowing it would drive Ciri crazy – you hated when she grumbled at you. Ciri had great respect for her father but would sometimes treat you like you were nothing more than a headmistress at school. Having spent time with witchers and sorceresses alike, scolding didn’t command respect; at least when you played it light it got her attention.

“Yeah – I know! I’ve lived those lives!” Ciri shouted, storming back towards the house, sword in hand.

Fuck. You forgot she was there when Cintra fell. How could you forget?! She was alone and, on the run, and oh gods if Geralt had been here and heard this he’d –

“Ciri, wait, I’m so sorry. I’m –”

“Sounds like someone could use some help.”

You stopped cold at the sound of the strangers’ voice. It ran through you like mead – ice cold but left a strange burning sensation in its place. Ciri also stopped in her tracks, dropping her hand from the door but keeping a firm grip on the helm of her sword. Ciri cast a quick glance at the stranger standing on the edge of your property before settling her nervous eyes on you.

You did your best to evoke confidence before turning to see this stranger for yourself.

It was Visenna.

Again, you did your best to seem confident as you addressed your eldest. “Ciri,” you said, not taking your eyes off the druid, “take Wren into the house, quickly!”  

“Mom?”

“Cirilla please, take her and go into the house,” you said, impressed at your ability to keep your voice level. “And take your sword with you,” you added, turning to give her what you hopped was a look that encouraged her to stay calm and be careful.

Ciri said nothing but scooped her sister up and onto her hip with one arm while keeping her sword steadily by her side.

Once you heard the door close, you cast a quick glance to make sure your girls were safe before turning your attention back to the woman standing at the gate.

“Why are you here, Visenna?” you asked, holding your head high despite the fact your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Oh child,” her words dripped with condescension, “I never expected my son to write me back, but I had hoped he’d share the contents of my letter with his wife.”

“He told me about the letter,” you said, giving her a tight close-lipped smile, “in fact he told me all about you. So, I’m going to ask you again, why are you here?”

“If you know about the letter, then you know why I’m here.”  

“Could you be so cold as to have you forgotten your history with your son? The way you left him to be tested on like a rat? You have no right to be here.” Your voice cracked as you finished your last sentence, and Visenna tilted her head at your sign of weakness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. You weren’t there -”

“Neither were you!” you spat; with a harshness you didn’t think you had in you.

“Hm.” Visenna crossed her arms and watched you closely through narrowed eyes. You hated that she reminded you of Geralt as she seized you up – the had the same mannerisms, the same affinity for the non-verbal. Geralt could never know.

The druid’s scrutinizing glare made you squirm, and when you broke eye contact with her for a moment of reprieve, she moved to open your gate. For the briefest moment, your panic left you paralyzed as you watched the woman begin a confident stride towards the house.

“Stop!”

You whipped your head around as you heard Ciri come bursting out of the front door. She was wielding her sword up in front of her with one hand while the other hugged Wren onto her side.

“Do not come any closer, I am warning you!” she shrieked, her light eyes wild as her mousey hair blew behind her.

“Ciri-” you tried, holding one hand out to calm her.

“No!” she yelled, keeping her eyes and her sword fixed on Visenna, who was now standing stock-still at the gate.

“Stop trying to tame her, dear,” Visenna interjected. “Let the lion cub roar.”

At the sound of her old nickname, you took in a sharp breath and felt your heart drop to your stomach. It felt like the world stopped turning as Ciri reacted to the trigger.

Cirilla could handle discussions about her old life in small doses and only on her terms. Whenever the dreams came to her, it would take you hours to calm her down. More often than not, the episodes left you and Geralt drained and deeply concerned. Yennefer was really the only person Ciri responded to, and while her methods and lessons have helped, sometimes the pain brought on by the memories was simply too great.

Now, as the four of you stood in your garden, you could feel the earth begin to vibrate beneath your feet. Ciri’s jaw was clenched tight and her nostrils were flared. She slowly knelt down and placed Wren onto the ground before standing tall once again.

“Do not call me that.” She seethed, voice dripping with magic.

“Come now, child,” Visenna replied, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing, “I am your grandmother. I can help you; teach you.”

“You are not my grandmother!” Ciri shrieked, pushing a violent wind towards the druid which forced her to take a step back. “Get out of here! Leave!”

“I – I don’t mean any disrespect, Ciri. The Lioness was –”

“Ciri, no, wait –”

Everything happened so quickly. You felt the burning rush of Ciri’s magic roar past you and tried desperately to keep your eyes open so you could see Wren. Though your eyes stung against the harsh blast Ciri was emitting, you saw Wren crying soundlessly behind her sister, her chubby hands reaching out towards you in desperation. You tried to step towards her but an invisible force pushed you to the ground. You pulled yourself up on one elbow and tried to reach towards your baby without luck. Everything was burning and it took all of your strength to stay alert.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s blast of magic shot at Visenna like a bolt of lightening. Out of the tip of her sword and from her outstretched hand came a bright blue flame surrounded by pulses of violent wind. The destructive blast uprooted the gate and surrounding fence, throwing them back into the forest beyond. Burning shrapnel and earth flew towards her at breakneck speed, but the druid reacted quickly, pulling a portal with the help of an amulet and escaped the blast.

The garden in the path of Ciri’s blow burned harshly – leaving nothing behind but ash; except for the pocket where you lay. You tried to call out to Ciri to calm her down but there was no air for you to draw from. You let the force of her magic hold you down for a moment, trying to recuperate your strength, and when you looked up again you saw Wren taking a few wobbly steps toward her sister.

Holy fuck, you thought. These were her first steps.

You watched with wide eyes as Wren took step after step towards her sister, whose magic raged on. You were so drained by the weight of Ciri’s magic that you were convinced your eyes were deceiving you.

You watched in disbelief as Wren took step after step towards Ciri. The moment her little hand reached her sisters leg, the spell broke and Chaos released its hold on Cirilla. Drained from the exertion, she lost consciousness and started to collapse in on herself, her sword falling from her hand and onto the ground with a dull thud.

You scrambled to your feet and raced to Ciri, dropping to your knees once you reached her to catch her in her fall. You smoothed the ashen strands out of her face and rocked her gently from side to side, breathing shakily through your silent tears. You didn’t know when you started to cry, but when Wren waddled her way to you and nestled onto Ciri’s lap to press her face into the crook of your neck, you were sure you’d be crying forever.

“What the fuck,” Geralt growled upon seeing the destruction as he rode up to the house from the trail. In a growing panic, he urged Roach into a canter. When they got to where the gate should have been, he dismounted and ran towards the house at a sprint, his heart pounding in his ears. When he saw you sobbing on the ground with an unconscious Ciri and weeping Wren, he lost all control.

“Y/N! Y/N what happened?! Who did this?” he shouted, panic rising. When he spotted Ciri’s sword on the ground, Geralt fell to his knees beside you and quickly scanned you all for any sign of injury. You were weeping, holding tightly to Ciri, who was unconscious, and Wren, you

“Y/N please talk to me,” he said more harshly than he meant it, while brushing wild strands of hair out of your face gruffly.

“Ciri, she um –” you choked, working to slow your breathing, “she lost control of her magic…”

“Yeah, I can see that, love.” He said with an incredulous laugh, his eyes scanning your ruined garden with disbelief. “What the fuck happened to make her so upset? Did – did she have a nightmare? Did you, hm, say something to her?”

“Geralt – no,” you said quickly, the tears you managed to calm coming back with a vengeance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I just…” Geralt regretted the insinuation that this might have been your fault but he’d only ever seen Ciri’s magic be this destructive when she was afraid or hurt. He was at a loss.

You shook your head and turned in his arms to look back at him, readjusting Ciri and Wren in your arms to free an arm which you placed onto Geralt’s chest. You held his eyes and took a steadying breath, unsure of how he’d react.

“We – we were in the garden just, just like always and,” you cast a quick glance down at your daughters before bringing your eyes back up to Geralt’s, both to ground yourself and to hopefully remind him of their proximity in order to temper his reaction, “and Visenna appeared at the gate.”

He gasped sharply at your words, and his body around you. You brought your hand up to his face and tried to calm him. His cat-like eyes were wild and unfocused – he looked like a frightened child and it broke your heart to see him like this. Wren seemed to sense this too, as she scrambled up and reached towards her father’s hair.

Wren’s light tugs managed to pull Geralt out of his shock momentarily and his eyes seemed to come back into focus. Seeing this change, you gently redirected his attention back to you.

“Visenna came for Wren… T-to take her or, or to raise her or something? She mentioned the letter…” Geralt clenched his jaw at the reminder.

You hadn’t motioned the letter in months. Geralt wasn’t at all ready to welcome his mother back into his life, and he definitely didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

“What did she do to Ciri? I swear I’ll –” he seethed.

“No, no, Geralt,” you interrupted gently, moving your hand back to his chest, “she didn’t get the chance. I don’t know what she was going to do, but Ciri came out with her sword,” you stopped short to look down at her with pride, “to protect us.”

“She did?” Geralt let out another incredulous breath, shaking his head at his child surprise.

“Yeah, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Her magic, it destroyed everything in its path but somehow, she was sheltering me from the blast. Visenna escaped through a portal, I- I think? But Ciri was… unstoppable.”

“Y/N, if Ciri was able to harness Chaos like this at her will, to protect you; this could mean –”

“Oh no, love, I’m sorry I’m not telling this right. She came out of the house with her sword to protect us but she lost control when Visenna called her the Lion Cub.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” you agreed emphatically before adding, “and then she called herself Ciri’s grandmother…”

“Fuck!”

“Right,” you sighed, shaking your head as a shudder ran through you.

“Da-ee,” Wren said suddenly, pushing her little hands into her father’s face, causing a shocked laugh to escape his lips. Geralt’s face softened in a way he reserved for his youngest daughter and the sight of it was enough to pull you out of whatever was left of your panic.

“Oh, gods!” you exclaimed, “Geralt you won’t believe this.”

“Hm?” he hummed, not taking his eyes off Wren; he was completely enthralled by his baby.

“She took her first steps – and, gods it was incredible Geralt – when she touched Ciri, it pulled her out of the trance!” You gushed breathlessly.

“She did? That’s my girl!” he beamed, earning a proud giggle from the toddler. “Fuck I hate that I missed this, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, goose?” he said, peppering light kisses across Wren’s little face.

“I know, love.” You said softly, leaning into his arms once more. “I’m so relieved to have you home.”

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get our girls into the house.” Geralt said as handed Wren off to you before picking Ciri up gently as he stood. You took his outstretched hand rose to your feet along-side him. “I’m not leaving you again, I promise.”

“Geralt, you say that every time.” You tease lightly, holding the front door open for him.

 “No, I mean it this time Y/N, really.” He said quietly, as he laid Ciri down in her room. “I can’t keep doing this. When I’m gone, all I do is think of you and the girls…” he trailed off when he noticed Wren had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled tenderly as you watched him cradle her into his strong arms.

“My love, you know you’d go crazy if you stayed here with us all the time.” You said as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’d go crazy if anything ever happened to you.” he whispered.

“Hey now… we’re fine,” you tired to reassure him, “today was an anomaly. I doubt Visenna would try that stunt again. Ciri will be fine, she just needs to rest, and tomorrow we can send word out to Yen for support. We – “you paused to take a steadying breath, “we can’t let fear rule our lives, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, setting Wren down into her bed before wrapping his arms around your frame, “now when did you get to be so wise?”

“A certain witcher taught me a few things,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips, “always preaching something or other but sometimes the lessons stick.”

“Is that so?” he growled, a fighting back a smirk of his own.”

“Hmm,” you teased, kissing him deeply.

#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #Dad!Geralt #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #Cirilla of Cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #witcher cirilla #fanfiction requests #fanfiction #fanfic

[thebiscuiteternal]

This was originally a twitter thread and I told myself I wasn’t gonna clean it up and post it until after I finished the next chapter of Cage, but we all know I have the impulse control of a hamster, SO.

“All Your Sins On Show” Murder Plots, Violent Death, Grief, Talking to the Dead, Literally, Creating Your Own Personification of Guilt, Open Ending, Mixed Adaptations, Second-Person POV

Ao3 Link if you prefer.

__________

It comes down to this: Your father wants the Nie out of his hair by any means necessary.

No, no, that's not right. He specifically wants the Nie heir dead.

"Anyone can see the useless little bitch is their only weak spot. Kill him and they all crumble, especially that oaf Chifeng-zun," he says, then gives you the knife-edge smile he reserves for when he knows you'll give him anything for a more authentic one. "Can you get it done, or do I need to find someone more reliable?"

And you ignore the discomfort worming through your insides, smile back, and bow.

It comes down to this: The plan doesn’t take very many parts to set into motion. The smaller sects are still struggling after the decimation the Wens dealt to the cultivation world. It's easy enough to find a disciple desperate for more than his leader is paying.

It's even easier to goad Nie Mingjue into pushing his brother to join a ‘simple’ training-level night hunt, since Nie Huaisang has been avoiding using his saber yet again.

It goes like this: At your signal, the bribed disciple 'panics' and shoves Nie Huaisang into the path of a rampaging cursed beast that he has no chance of winning against, and then you make sure your turncoat doesn't escape either.

In the chaos, no one notices how seriously Nie Huaisang has been injured until the monster falls and someone realizes he never got  back to his feet.

Horrified Nie disciples crowd around, flooding his body with spiritual energy to try and save his life, but between his cracked open ribcage and bitten throat, anyone with eyes can see it's a lost cause.

Nie Huaisang dies choking on his own blood, and all anyone can hope is that the shock of the first blow left him too numb to suffer.

It goes like this: The inhuman howl of anguish Nie Mingjue makes when heartbroken disciples hand him his brother’s ruined body is everything your father has likely been hoping for.

Only then, watching him fall to his knees, do you remember that their father came home in similar condition after being set up by a friend, and your stomach knots so tightly you nearly throw up right there in the courtyard.

Only then, looking at the small figure cradled in the sobbing man's arms, death white save for where he is covered in rust red, does it hit you that for the first time, you have killed someone who never did anything to harm you.

Who never did anything to deserve it.

Who was only in the way of what your father wanted.

You'd been prepared to fake tears.

You don't have to.

~"Da-ge?"~

It goes like this: The voice, confused and nervous and as wispy as if being carried by wind, makes ice form around your spine.

Because it belongs to the body lying before the three of you.

Your hands clench on your knees as you brace yourself and glance to your right, but neither of your sworn brothers seem to have heard the plaintive call. Lan Xichen has been in meditation since he arrived to join you, the furrow between his eyebrows and the unnatural pallor of his skin the only signs of his sorrow, and Nie Mingjue has long exhausted himself into silence, staring with empty eyes at the coffin.

~"Da-ge! Come on, this isn't funny!"~

The ice spreads into your blood when you see him.

Nie Huaisang pulls and shoves at his older brother, every bit the child upset by an adult ignoring them when they’re used to getting a reaction.

Except Nie Huaisang is also in the coffin, and unlike that one, this one still bears all the ruinous injuries that ended his life at all of twenty-three.

~"I'm sorry about the argument,"~ he pleads, his demeanor growing more desperate and despondent with every moment Nie Mingjue doesn't respond. ~"I'll go on the hunt, just talk to me! Da-ge!"~

Your breath locks in your chest, surrounded by frost.

He doesn't know.

You swallow hard, forcing down the mixture of bile and hysterical laughter that threatens to bubble out of your throat.

Because you are kneeling in a tomb with the body of someone whose death you set up, and he is also right there next to you, begging his mourning brother to acknowledge him because he can’t see that he’s dead.

Who wouldn’t laugh, faced with that kind of absurdity?

"A-Sang."

The name falls from your mouth so quietly that your sworn brothers don't even twitch, but Nie Huaisang straightens like a startled deer.

There are bloody tears steadily trickling down his cheeks, but it's the hope that floods eyes clouded over by death that makes you feel lightheaded. ~"San-ge? San-ge! Tell him I'm sorry, he’ll listen to you!"~

And it's because Nie Mingjue listened to you, despite you having given him so many reasons not to do so anymore, that Nie Huaisang's ghost is begging for your help now, rather than his whole self.

Hands covered in still dripping blood reach for you beseechingly, and that's the last thing you remember before the world goes black.

It goes like this: You wake up in the healers' ward, Lan Xichen hovering worriedly by your bed. "Liu Feng says your qi is disturbed," he says, gentle as always.

You involuntarily glance at the figure by his side, miserably pulling at his sleeve in an attempt to be noticed.

"Too many late nights," you say. "Nothing more."

For once you want him not to believe you, to push for a better explanation than that, but he simply nods. "I'll let the healers know you're up," he says.

And then it's just you and... him .

~"San-ge, why is everyone else acting like I'm not here?"~ he asks, small and broken and unaware of the blood ceaselessly dripping from his mouth and throat and chest to pool around his feet. ~"Even Er-ge won’t speak to me! I know Da-ge and I haven't been getting along, but have I really been that much of a brat?"~

"No..." you say, barely managing to get enough air in your lungs to expel the word. "That's not it. A-Sang-"

'I killed you. You loved me and I killed you because you weren't the one I wanted to be loved by.'

"A-Sang... you went on the hunt you and your brother argued about. There... there was an accident."

The slow dawn of understanding in his expression is horrible to watch.

Worse is watching him break down sobbing.

It goes like this: A lost and dazed Nie Huaisang lingers next to you during the funeral, icy fingers clutching your sleeve, and you can't help but wonder if he can see or experience it at all when Nie Mingjue burns the joss for him, or if he sees only a vacant courtyard.

He only leaves you twice when it's over, and each time he returns to you a little more heartbroken by his continued failure to make contact with his brother.

~"San-ge... San-ge, what will I do?"~ he asks quietly, head bowed and kneeling in the ever-present pool of blood that forms wherever he stops long enough. ~"If I can't make him see me, what will I do? What will happen to me?"~

"I don't know," you say, though you have an inkling.

Clearly the circumstances have bound him to you. When you leave, would he follow? Would he linger? Would he disappear? Would he have a choice in the matter either way?

How the hell did this happen? Surely he hadn't done anything to warrant such a cruel punishment from the heavens, so is it a punishment for you? Or is there a simpler answer, something to do with the specific monster that killed him?

But that... you will look into the matter later, when you have built back up the necessary mental fortitude for what you might find.

For now, it ends like this: Seeking the only comfort available to him, he curls at your side to rest his head against your knee.

It’s a familiar seating position for the two of you, old and comfortable from the days where he would insist on sleeping next to you while you finished late reports.

Except now he is dead and instead of gentle warmth, there is a cold that shocks through you at the point of contact between you and it’s sharp and bitter and spears all the way into your bones.

You bite back a gasp of pain, then collect yourself and reach down to run your fingers through blood-slick hair.  You force yourself to ignore the sensation of frostbite in your fingertips and how each stroke stains your hand a darker red.

Because you deserve it.

Because he needs you.

Because no one else will see.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #cameos by nie mingjue and lan xichen #sangyao #Bad End #fanfic

[lilyclawthorne]

Knock Knock Knockin' On Hooty's Door thoughts

there's a lot to unpack here

LILITH MY BELOVED

this bitch really has raven stationary

HOOTY'S LITTLE HOOT. THE CUTEST.

"you're words inspired me to help everyone, Lulu" Lilith you better hope no one in the owl house finds this letter lmao

puberty lessons with hoot is the last thing that I expected.

HOOTY IS A BUG DEMON?? makes sense but I never took bird worm that literally

HOOTY HAS A MOTHER?? im so curious unless he just think of Eda has his mother too

why does tiny nose have so much raw power for like, a lil demon we've never seen in any coven or in school. im hcing tiny nose as a wild witch rn but no one pays enough attention to realize

ma'am I do not believe you have a medical license

uhhh why does hooty have a chart on the owl beast, not eda but the one that is the curse?? hootys gonna have all the details at some point won't he.

KING? MAGIC? BIPED DEMON?

don't you just hate it when your bird demon fucking drugs you lmao

clawthorne family!! their home!!

"that's nice sweet flea" rip sorry lilith

PAPA CLAWTHORNE SO SWE-oh, oh no this is bad

I just, this definitely adds a lot of context to why Eda looked the way she did when Lilith mentioned their father before she left. Clearly she loved him, and it's gotta be so awful to have absolutely no control and end up hurt someone you love like that. I'm imaging she probably distanced herself a lot since then. I wonder if she's ever talked to him since?

Also I've seen people criticizing Lilith in this scene, like "wow you really just cursed your sister and you're gonna stand there like that??" like dude this is Eda's memory. Eda didn't know and Lilith clearly isn't the most prominent part of this memory, it makes sense if all Eda remembers is Lilith just sitting there or just staring at her along with their mom.

oh no raeda breakup 😭

I hate to see it but I do like seeing the different ways Eda has handled the beast throughout her life. In her life now we see how Eda has to manage the stress to not turn, but clearly as a young as a young adult she had just as hard of a time keeping stress from making her turn.

it is also nice to see her older self talking to her younger self, how nowadays she clearly knows it's okay to let people in, especially raine, but her younger self just, won't.

the next memory is interesting, we seem to be blurring the lines between Eda's memories and the beast's memories, which means there's a history too learn here!! and the this beast was once a whole separate entity??

WHOMST? WHOMST IS THIS HOODED FIGURE??

owl beast clearly had a rough life too

can't believe some picked up this curse, shrugged, and let this unknown thing fall into the hands of a child.

the red string of fate here is interesting. it's usually symbolism for two people who are destined to meet. it's symbolic of good things to happen when they meet. I'm curious if the curse put it there, because something like that tells me they were always destined to meet even before Lilith cursed her sister.

HARPY EDA!! I try really hard to not be a monsterfucker girl and this shows keeps making it harder and harder

"cotton candy haired goddess" Luz you've got it BAD

how-how far did hooty have to go to owl pellet amity??

either hooty knew how to construct a tunnel of love and did so, or eda just had that below her home and both are equally hilarious possibilities

Luz: I don't want people to think I'm cheesy, Amity: extra cheese please

hooty is #1 lumity shipper

pls king got so worried for Luz he activated his powers again 🥺

this is the funniest fucking way for lumity to happen, like hello yes I have to ask you out right now because the house demon is crying about it

"I have no idea what my future holds, but it would be so cool if you were in it" pls I love it 😭 no matter what happens amity is gonna be a part of it

these witches gay, good for them. GOOD FOR THEM

there was a missed opportunity to just cut to Lilith at the end of the episode reading the letter looking horrified but its fine because....

KINGS DAD!! (RELATIVE?) he's trying to reach out!! can't wait for hooty to vomit that one up way too late lmao.

anyways this episode was the antithesis to once upon a swap no explanation needed

#knock knock knockin on hootys door #toh #the owl house #owl house #no pictures because every time I do that I lose half of what I wrote

[eclecticmiasma]

Cold Blood (Bucciarati x Reader)

FS, as I deem you, you are always welcome in my inbox you nutball 😘 Incoming forced Bucciarati x Reader angst.

In the end, even the righteous are nothing more than animals. 

NSFW

[Warnings: rape, dead dove do not eat]

Art credit: MIE. on pixiv

When you and Bruno had entered the abandoned hangar, it seemed normal enough. A bit ominous in how massive and empty it was, an impression not helped by the lack of lighting, but nothing out of the ordinary. All you wanted to do was get in, gather some intel, and leave.

That’s when you spotted Diavolo’s henchmen.

“You’ve built up quite a reputation for yourself, Bucciarati. Many loyal citizens even refer to you as the Santo di Napoli…How quaint.”

Bruno’s mind reeled for ways to wipe the shit-eating grin off of the green-lipped doctor that loomed atop some scaffolding near forty feet above you. Even the gremlin that perched next to him on all fours seemed to be mocking in his gaze. Fear etched its way into your features, as neither of your stands were equipped to reach them. Until they made a move, you were caught like mice in a trap.

“My orders were to execute you both, but there’s a small experiment I’ve been dying to try for decades. The world lacks such passionate and honorable men as yourself, and I fear that if I simply snuff out your life now, I might never get the chance to see if my theory holds true.”

Your capo stood in front of you protectively, fingers itching, a cold and calculated look on his features. He was no doubt regretful that he had asked you and not one of his other underlings to help him with this task. His number one goal was to protect the ones he loved, and his love for you ran much deeper than you even realized.

“You see, I have a theory that any man on the planet can be brought to their base instincts with nothing more than a chemical. Humans love to drone on about how civilized and evolved we are. We tout our self-control as though we’re anything more than sentient beasts…The problem has been finding a man virtuous enough to be worth experimenting on. You should be honored that I’ve chosen you, Bucciarati.”

Cioccolata gave Secco a tap on the head and gestured for him to fish something out of his pockets. The boy did so gratefully, worming his fingers through the taller man’s pants until he found what he was looking for. His shoddily held together mask slipped down and revealed a beaming grin as he held up a small pistol for the doctor to see.

“Perfect! Always a reliable boy,” Cioccolata praised, flicking a white cube into his pet’s waiting mouth. He turned his attention back to his anxious captives, “If the experiment goes well, I’ll gladly let the two of you live. Though, I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

It happened in a millisecond. He pointed the pistol straight at Bruno and pulled the trigger once. Something much thinner than a bullet shot right through Bruno’s black and white suit into his bicep. You rushed forward to help him as he cried out in pain, immediately ripping the foreign object out of his arm and throwing it to the floor like it was made of fire. It appeared to be some kind of small, pink dart.

“Stay back!” Bruno shouted at you, feeling warmth spread from the sight of injection throughout his upper body. Whatever was in the dart worked immediately, and as you made eye contact you watched his frantic pupils dilate to the point that you could no longer see a hint of his bright blue irises. Panic flooded through you as you watched him struggle, fearing that he was in real pain. You turned up to shout obscenities at Cioccolata, demanding to know what he’d done, but the doctor’s unhinged look of pure delight gave you pause.  

“I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him if I were you,” He said, clucking his tongue. You noticed that Secco was leaned over the edge of the scaffolding, angling a video camera your direction.

Bruno’s heavy breathing brought your attention back. He was sweating bullets, normally kempt raven hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes flicked up and down your body as his chest heaved. Fear gripped you as you realized he looked like a cornered feral animal, “Bucciarati…are you o-”

“[Y/n]…” He practically growled, limbs twitching, drool dripping from his parted lips, “Run.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. The entrance to the warehouse was twenty to thirty feet away. If you could just get outside, you could flag down Abbacchio and Giorno who stood as lookouts for backup.  

You got hardly ten feet before something wrapped around your waist and slammed you backwards onto the hard metal floor, knocking the air out of you. Your veins ran ice cold as whatever it was immediately hooked its arms beneath your shoulders and began to drag you backwards. You kicked out wildly and screamed bloody murder, trying to dig your soles into the floor just enough to keep from being taken.

In a last ditch effort to escape, you turned your head down to bite the arms that constricted your chest. Horrified, you realized they belonged to Sticky Fingers.

“Bucciarati, stop!” You cried out, terribly confused. Sticky Fingers stopped and heaved you sideways so that Bruno stood at your feet, looming over you. His breathing was even more erratic, and his hands were visibly trembling. A single tear leaked from his blown out eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. You tried to jerk out of the stand’s grasp as it suddenly gripped the sides of your shirt and ripped it open in a flurry of movement. Bruno’s eyes pierced your bare chest with his unhinged gaze, and suddenly he was on you like a rabid wolf. Lips, hands, teeth, breath- all of it gliding along your body at once with no regard for your sobs of protest.

Bruno and Sticky Fingers made quick work of your clothing, stripping you naked in a matter of seconds. All you could do was beg your capo to stop as he exposed you to the world, and all he could do was mutter apology after apology. He gripped your hair painfully and pressed his body against you, rutting his clothed, painfully hard erection against your lower abdomen and panting in your ear.

“[Y/n], [y/n]…I have to. I need to…”

“Bucc-Bruno, please don’t do this,” You wept. Bruno bypassed removing his pants altogether by just zipping the top half of them off completely, freeing his throbbing length. It hit your bare stomach with a sickening slap and bile rose in your throat. Sticky Fingers tightened its grip on your arms as you struggled, but you managed to kick Bruno hard in the thigh.

“You bitch,” He shouted, hands moved impossibly fast, digging his nails into your flailing legs so hard they pierced your skin. His voice sounded like it came from another entity altogether. You never even thought it possible for Bruno to get so enraged.

Just as fast as his fury came it disappeared into dust. His face immediately twisted into sadness and he threw himself against you, letting out a slew of apologies against your ear. You stopped struggling and just cried, completely stunned and profoundly conflicted. On the one hand, the man you trusted the most in this world was going to violate you beyond repair. On the other hand, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Bruno. It was the enemies that stood proudly above you, lazily gratifying their own members to your despair.

Like a man possessed, Bruno pushed your thighs apart painfully wide and began frotting against your bare folds. His groveling melted into mumbling incoherently about all of the ways he’s wanted to fuck you ever since the day you met. It pained you deeply to think that your friendship might have been nothing but Bruno biding his time, waiting for the day you would accede to his desire. You tried to shake the thought from your head. It isn’t Bruno, it isn’t Bruno.

From somewhere above, you heard Secco cackle wildly. The tip of Bruno’s cock found its way into your entrance, and the burning stretch immediately brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Bruno pressed on, despite the fact that your body rejected him fully. It was agony, your role model’s thick, dry length impaling you inch by excruciating inch. His lips met your neck and sucked angry red marks into your clammy skin. It felt like he was splitting you in two. Sticky Fingers gripped your arms so tightly one of your shoulders felt dangerously close to popping out of its socket.

“Looks like I was right again, Secco. Even Santo Bucciarati can’t fight nature,” You shook your head violently, feeling the room spin. Stop talking…you thought. Stop talking, stop talking, it isn’t him!

After eons, Bruno finally bottomed out inside of you. Even sitting still, the thrum of pain you felt around his cock was immense. Your eyes wrenched closed, refusing to watch as Bruno took your body for his own.

“Please,” You whimpered one final time, appealing to some part of Bruno you desperately hoped was still lurking beneath the surface of whatever possessed him. You were granted no such appeal.

“Fuck,” He growled, moving inside of you, dick dragging along your walls like barbed wire. He felt your hot, sticky tears against his cheek as his sweat-slicked face leaned against yours, and in his first act of kindness dragged his tongue along them, “Don’t cry, bella…you’re taking me so well…” His hips snapped against you as his hands roamed your body, grasping at whatever flesh was within his reach. Even Sticky Fingers made small sounds as his user canted deep inside of you.

Bruno moaned aloud when your pussy clamped on his length for the briefest of moments as he hit a spot that, under other circumstances, would have felt incredible. Instead, it only made you sick. A cloying feeling scratching at your guts as he fucked you with wild abandon.

His thrusts became more erratic once his lips found yours. You fought as hard as you could, clamping your lips shut and turning your face away from him. Sticky Fingers didn’t hesitate to painfully grab your jaw and snap your head back to center, using its thick digits to pry open your mouth and give its owner access. Bruno moaned into your mouth when his tongue met yours, and it took everything inside of you not to retch as it slid along your throat.

“God, fuck,” He pulled away from you, wrapping his arms around your neck and penetrating your hole at a brutal pace, “I love you, [y/n],” Your stomach dropped, “I love you, I love you, I-” His hips stuttered as his release hit him suddenly, his seed spurting deep within you all at once. You whimpered pitifully at its warmth, disgusted at the feeling of his thick semen coating your walls.

Cioccolata slowly clapped. Secco proudly showed him from what great angles he managed to film the fall of Bucciarati.

Bruno clung to you for several minutes after his orgasm, when all you wanted him to do was leave you alone to mourn. His body trembled against yours. When he finally pulled away, you saw that his eyes, the real Bruno’s eyes, were filled to the brim with tears. You never saw him look so pained. He tried to speak, but no words came. Sticky Fingers faded away, and you collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Bruno pulled himself from you and bellowed into the endless abyss of the hangar until his throat was raw.

Diavolo’s guards held true to their word. They didn’t kill you that night, or any other night. They simply collected their data, and left the two of you to wallow in your shattered new reality.

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

#jjba imagines #bucciarati #bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati #buccellati #tw: rape #angst #not sfw #very not sfw #oops! all angst #dead dove do not eat #inappropriate use of stands #asks #requests #writing #sorry #jjba #cioccolata #secco #fics

[popculturebuffet]

Top 12 Three Caballeros Moments: Ride of the Three Caballeros Epilogue!

Salduos Amigos...and Adios, as this is the FINAL part of my 20 part look at those happy amigos, those snappy chappies in matching serapes, those birds of the feather, THE THREE CABALLEROS, THE RIDE OF THE THREE CABALLEROS! Yes after 19 other articles, all paid for by megafan and patron of the blog @weirdkev27​, it’s time to bid our boys a fond farewell.  And what a ride i’ts been... we’ve had trips to Bahia, animaton sequences requiring a LOT of 1940′s cocaine ,Jose reinacting the plot of “Come a LIttle Bit Closer” by jay and the americans but ironcially not in the Badman Jose roll,, a less happy reunion where Donald went full vanilla ice for a few moments, Panchito giving us his long and storied family history in song form, Donald needing a vacation after his girlfriend punched him in the face and instead getting eaten by a giant snake, FLAMENCO MASTER HORACE HORSECOLLAR, Soccer with super cars, and our heroes having a warm and fun reunion and having to admit their lives didn’t turn out so good while Dewey jacaksses around in the subplot.

 And all of this lead into their very own series where our heroes met a goddess and wayne knight all in the same day, defeated THE MIGHTY MINOTAUR, got into a giant robot fight on the fucking moon, meeting the roman gods who live on and tend to the norse world tree for some reason, preventing a stupidly started lava apocalypse, going to goblin jail via song, meeting some literal dead presidents, chasing a bear around a fancy rich people town, getting into the ch-ch-chalk zone, fighting a wrestling match against the respresntive of the god of death, dying and coming back to life as a result of said wrestling match, going to camelot to train with king arthrus’ self helf book, going to a yeti spa and finally returning for one last battle with an evil wizard, his pet monkeybatdonkeyrat, and wayne knight, and have to put up with Donald’s shrill abusive ex girlfriend through about half of it. All in all good stuff and i’ll always be greatful for kevn funding this and giving me the chance to both finally watch legend and in general cover these wonderful characters. While i’m sure Panchito and Jose wil lbe back for the big finale of Ducktales, I’m gonna miss these guys and hope they get another shot at the big time one day. 

But Kevin had a great idea, one I decided to do for free since this thing cost 100 dollars together as it was a movie, and 20 episodes of television, so it was a LOT to do.  Fun but a lot of work. A top 12 list of the best moments from across the works covered for this retrospective. From the movie to the series, these are the best of the best moments of the best boys around. So without further adeu join me under the cut as I throw one hell of an after party for one hell of a ride.

12. The Cold Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros (Movie) )

This one is low because it doesn’t exactly involve the boys at all as this was a short in their movie. But what can I say, I love penguins, especially Opus.

And the charming tale of a pengy named Pablo who has trouble with the cold and wants to head off for warmer climates just never ceases to entertain me. It’s adorable, pretty funny and just a nice little start to the film every time I watch it. Especially his friends with the sleepy, depressed eyebrows. Really relate to them, especially the tall one with a ponch, aka me as a penguin.  Not much else to say hence why it’s so low, but I really enjoyed this short and can’t help but put Pablo on the list.. and wish he’d gotten a nod in Legend, but then again given we weren’t given a second season they were probably just saving him. 

11. Charon’s Fabulous Cruise (Legend of the Three Caballeros) Another Cabs free entry but I Just love this concept: Charon, ferryman of the river sticks.. deciding since he’s not getting as many customers to turn it into a cruise ship complete with add. IT’s low both because it dosen’t involve the boys and it dosen’t take up much of it’s episode.. but damn if it ain’t funny. And Jim Cummings just brings his all to it.. granted HE always does, the man’s a legend for a reason, but dosne’t make his performance any less lovely. WIsh we got a second season just so we could see this guy again among other reasons. 

10. You Don’t Get a Vacation You Take it (Legend of the Three Caballeros)  Wayne Knight as Sheldgoose.. was easily one of the best parts of Legend of the Three Caballeros. While the show itself was fairly high quality it’s other main villain Feldrake eventually fell into just calling Sheldgoose a moron and hitting him as his only character. IN contrast while at first apperance Sheldgoose was just a rich asshole with hair that looks like a bad toupe but apparently is his actual hair and what he choose to go with and a hell of a moustache.. and while that’s all true, he’s also cunning and manipultive, often making Feldrake’s plans work simply by using clever manipulations. He’s funny, enaging and the sadest part of no second season is not getting more of this guy. Hopefully he’ll show up in another.. even the comics using him without Wayne Knight’s Dulect Tones would be nice. He’s a good villian and would fit just as well in the classic comics being either a snooty nuisance to donald in some way, or being a rival fro scrooge, also being rich but his family having earned it by stealing from others.  But for now what we got ain’t bad and hte best example of just what sheldgoose is capable of is also his first bit of contirbuting more than as a set of hands for feldrake, phrasing. His vilian song. Yes Wayne Knight FINALLY gets a villian song. Your very welcome. 

The song is just fun, a Luau type song with a sinster undercurrent and wayne knight just having a hell of a time, alternating between speaking and singing> It’s low on this list because i’ts an OKAY song, i’ve seen better villian songs, I just really liked this one, and because it dosen’t exactly involved the boys, but I still hold to my convictions in putting this one on here.

9. Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González (House of Mouse) Only House of Mouse entry, and suprisingly it’s not Donald squeaking “And i’m donald duck!” , which has been burned into my brain for a few decades. No it’s the groups OTHER song in there second apperance on the show Not So Goofy, sung by the incomprable Rob Pauslen. While I sitll think he was easily the worst Jose of the bunch, and that the roll never should’ve been given to a white man to begin with, credit where it’s do: he wasn’t a have bad panchito. He only voiced everyone’s faviorite rooster, suck it Foghorn Leghorn, once, for a song, likely to capatalize on the fact Paulsen was famed for Yakko’s World and other songs where he sang a lot at once, but boy did he make a meal of it. Observe.

The song is lightly hampered by the fact it also uses his version of Jose which is probably the worst work i’ve heard from Rob. And given it’s the only roll i’ve heard of his that wasn’t very good and he’s still VERY CLEARLY trying his best, that says a lot to the guy’s quality. And im not saying all this to avoid backlash, I stand by what I say and how I say it.. i’m saying it because I truly love and respect the guy this just was not his best work. This song however is Rob on full blast, using his ablitlity to talk fast no matter the voice to give us one heck of a lively performance and name for Panchito, one that was reused for Ride of the Three Cabs though sadly minus the song, as I would’ve LOVED to hear Jamie Camill belt this one out. But the lively animation and liveleir performance earn this one a spot.

8. Baia, Donald (The Three Caballeros) For this one i’m squishing three different but related parts of the movie together: The “Have you been to Baia, Donald” song, the train trip there and the awesome musical number at the end. But all three flow together as one great sequence with the frist two serviing as a fun prelude for a fun sequence as Donald and Jose try to woo a lady named Yaya, played by Aurora Miranda, and get into a big and fun dance number that for the time is AMAZINGLY blended with the live action work. The song is an utter ear worm, the seqeunce is fun and it lacks some of the creepiness Donald’s later session of flirting had and the colors are vibrant as hell. Wonderful, beautiful stuff. It’s really hard to talk about as not a lot happens in it other than a fun bit of song and dance.. but sometimes tha’ts just waht you need: a bunch of actors, two of which were animated, moving and groving to a heckuva beat. 

7. I Love You Guys (Legend of the Three Caballeros)  This was just a very sweet moment but one I treasure. The Cabs beat a giant horrifying rage beast.. by genuinely apoologizing to donald, telling him they love him then having a group hug. After a full episode before this of them just kinda ignoring what he cared about, Xandra and the boys genuine apologies and Donald genuinely telling them “I love you guys” and realizing for the first time in his life he’s genuinely loved and appricated. It just feels so fucking nice. Shame they didn’t you know.. end the Daisy plot with him realizing he dind’t need or or that he wasn’t angsiting over a selfish goldigger in the first place but hey, you take what you can get sometimes and the getting is good here. 

6. The Cabs Song .. in Comic Form! (The Three Caballeros Ride Again!) 

Another fairly quick one to talk about but one’s that damn impressive. The Three Cabs ride again is a wonderful story that reunites our birds of a feather for an adventure in mexico.. and one of it’s two best moments, the other one way further up from Don Rosa’s classic, seriously check it out it’s good, is when the boys, to distract their enemy for the story, play their classic song.  Musical numbers.. are hard to pull off in comics. As Linkara, comic critic and one of my inspirations check him out on youtube he’s really fantastic, has mentioned quite a bit not having the sound to go with it is an uphill battle. But i’m not as against this as he is.. as long as you can convey the ENERGY of said song and perofrmance in the page. As long as you got that, you can pull it off and boy oh boy oh boy did Rosa ever. While it’s only about a page and a half long it’s just a fun, wonderful litlte sequence, from the crowd that has no reaction til lthe end when our big bad clubs them with the guitar, to our heroes swipining tablecoths to seve as serape to Donald falling outside, it’s one of the highlights of an alreayd impressive story. 

5. Jam Session (Ducktales, The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!) 

Only one Ducktales moment but it’s a keeper to be sure and now I HAVE seen Legend... I can say as I did there Jamie Camil REALLY shoudlv’e been kept as Panchito but “The Town Where Everyone Was Nice”.. really was still ag reat version of the characters and still kept them true. It wasn’t AS good as the Legend versions.. but honestly that’s fine. Not every version HAS to be good as the others and they were still wella cted, wonderfully animated and the story was great. And the moment that shows it off best is the boys quite moment after lunch, where they remincse, have fun, think about old times.. then hear a radio and slowly but surely have a fun dance number together, playing like old times. It’s this moment that makes me REALLY question why people hated this so much, as this one tiny moment captures the cabs chemistry and comrander in just two short minutes, Donald getting angry, Jose defusing int with a dance then him joining in, the three just jamming iwth whatever’s on hand and jose magically playing the fluit with his umbrella. I’ts all just so charming I love it. The end version of the three cabs IS really awesome, it just didn’t make the cut. Still liked it though.. but this.. this is better. Sometimes less is more you know?

4. The Three Cablleros Song (The Three Caballeros (Movie) ) Look you knew this was coming, I knew this was coming, we all knew this was coming. But the song is no less awesome, with fluid animation, wonderful vocals and lyrics, and an unberably catchy tune. It’s iconic to the characters, having popped up in four different renditions during this retrsopective, all of them pretty damn good, but no one tops the original.  Even the two more dated bits, some latin baby and Panchito having a gun solo, somehow don’t hamper what’s otherwise an iconic moment. It’s fun, it’s fancy free, and it establishes the boys dynamic perfectly, one that as we’ve seen would last a few lifetimes and probably will last forever. 

3. We Say So! (The Three Caballeros Ride Again) While Ride again is a VERY good story, it’s best moment is ironiclaly it’s end despite leaving you wanting more and more. After a fun adventure and a laugh over it being for nothing really, our friends return to Jose’s job at a night club, which his manager, who understandably has issues with Jose choosing wooing ladies over actually doing his job sometimes, only gives him back because it’s a big night but needs a big act. The first touching moment here is the fact the boys pitch in without being asked because hteir friend needs them. But the real moment is what happens after: The Triplets return from the hotel, still bemoaning as they did ealrier in the story that Donald has no friends and assume when they see him on stage and see him crash off it that he incited a riot.. only for his friends to assure him he’s a very fine fellow and they say so.. and in an instnat the boys realize donald DOES have friends.. and the best friends a duck can ask for. And after a lifetime of being spat on and barely winning.. Donald gets an unquestioned victory, stnading proudly with his friends for a packed house who still want more while his nephews look on proudly. I say so.. and what I say is that this moment is one of Rosa’s finest and one of the most touching thigns the man’s ever written. 

2. This is Just Where I Came In (The Legend of the Three Caballeros) The Legend of the Three Cabs was excellent and it ended on one hell of a high. After a heck of a fight via callbacks that barely didnt’ make the list, our heroes rush in to stop Feldrake. their sorcerer nemisis,  from reviving.. only for it to be too late. He’s back in full and soon warps reality around him leaving the boys hometown of the New Quackmore insitute as a series of rubble, buildings and people clinging desperatly to both floating in a hell of a starry backdrop, the only chance to stop this from happenign to the world resting in our heroes. And it’s so we catch up with where the seires began: our three heros decked out in truly awesome armor, though why Panchtio’s is roman I have no idea, fighting a giant and mosnterious felldrake and while his deisgn in that form is eh, his threat is palpable and the fight is goregous and pitch perfect.. and only gets better when we catch up, as Xandra swoops in to save htem from the cliffhanger the series started with. It only isn’t up top because of tow reasons; I like the first moment better.. and the boys do fall in a magic pool of amulet juice and emerge with powers due to a character we just meet when they do so. It’s a bit of a cop out.. but even with it being a cop out and a dues ex machina of the HIGHEST order.. it dosen’t stop it form being awesome when our heroes emerge merged with thier amulets energies, in their signutre colors and whoop felldrakes ass with a revivied Xandra’s help and then nearly reseal feldrake before his being resealed, but in Sheldgoose, resotres everything and our heroes get a WELL earned bout of praise from the town and a fancy mansion and in donald’s case a new job. A specatuclar, tense and gorgeous finale to a wonderful series. 

1. Ride Em, Vaquero! (The Magificent 7 (Minus 4) Caballeros)  Look I know it sounds like a bit of a downgrade to go from a battle for the fate of the world to our heroes fighting a spoiled prince and a giant anaconda just to make it out alive.. but frankly this battle is more tense, has all boys showing off even better, and has a climax so awesome even saving the unvierse with suddenly gained magic powers can’t top it.  For the setting our heroes end up trapped in a lost city with the bad guy of the comic, Don Rosa’s second to last and his second of only two cabs stories, prepared to get away. But then Donald snaps, spurred on bya ll the shit he had to put up with back home,and TACKLES the fucking guy in his boat getting into one hell of a scrap. And if that wasn’t enough, what brings this to true glory is a giant Anaconda who shoed up earlier, popping up.. leading to Donald fighting our big bad.. WHILE BEING TANGLED UP IN A FUCKING PYTHON. 

What truly clinches this as the best of the best for me though is Jose and Panchito’s actions, with Jose fighting the guy off off donlad, and actually having his umbrella WORK this time, and while the bad guy gets the raft from our heroes.. he falls off a cliff. So how do our heroes escape.. simple .. PANCHITO LASSOS THE FLEEING SNAKE AND THEY RIDE IT OUT AS SEEN ABOVE THROUGH A POND FULL OF DANGEROUS CREATURES WHO ALL STARE IN AWE AT THE SIGHT OR FLEE.  You.. you just can’t top that. The awesomness, the teamwork, the sheer balls on panchito..i t’s all just so beauitful and sums up what the boys are about: Deft teamwork, camradire.. and doing utterly insane shit as only best friends can. 

So with that.. this ride has come to an end. As I said before and will say again, it’s been fun, easily the biggest project i’ve done so far, and easily one of my faviorites. I love these guys and geninely hope we see them again real soon. So before I go, i’d like to say some thank yous. I”d like to thank ALL of the talented people involved in the making of the original film, as there are way too many to mention as it was a package movie but without you lovely and mostly deceased people we’d never have these wonderful guys. I’d like to thank Don Rosa for bringing the boys back and better than ever and beautifully so AND returning to them again. I’d like to thank Henry Gilroy and Phil Walsh, who wrote the first and second house of mouse cabs episodes for bringing the boys back to the screen, as well as series creators Robert Gainway and Tony Craig and the MASSIVE pile of storyboarders for both episode.  I’d like to thank the people behind mickey and the roadster racers, while your episodes were not very good I am glad the boys got more screentime, i’d like thank Frank Angrones and Matt Youngberg for their wonderful versions of the boys and total respect to their legacy, and i’d REALLY like to thank Matt Danner for giving us a wonderful series and finally giving the boys a starring roll again. 

I’d also like to thank the MANY voice actors who voiced these wonderful characters, your beautiful all of you. To Donald’s voice actors for this retrospective i’d like to thank Clarence Nash, you absolute legend may you rest in peace, Tony Anselmo, may you keep on living please god we’ve lost a lot of good people lately don’t be one of them, and even Daniel Ross, who might not be the best Donald but he’s one of only five and you can’t take that way from him. 

For Jose i’d like to thank Jose Olivara, without you I don’t think we would’ve even gotten to the Cablleros as a group, Rob Paulsen, you tried your best and your still a winner in my heart, Eric Bauza, you genuinely were the best, and Bernardo Del Paula, who gave Bauza a run for his money and I hope returns in the role in the future. 

And finally for Panchito we have Joaquin Grey, again wouldn’t of had the rest without you man nice job, Carlos Alarzqaui, did the job and did it well, Rob Paulsen, gave us one hell of a song, Jamie Camill, the best around no one’s ever going to keep him down, Arturo Del Purto who while I prefer jamie.. still was excellent and I wouldn’t be mad if he returned again. 

And last but not least I’d like to sincerly thank @weirdkev27​. These reviews have GENUINELY helped me finacially since i’ts hard for me to find a job since I cannot drive and have a disablity, and thanks to htem i’ve been able to live comfortably and thanks to you in general i’ve been able to do what I love and get paid for it. You got me to do this wonderful restrospective, have been a genine support to the blog and a treasure to work with. Thanks man, your the best.  So with that, it’s time to ride off into the sunset. If the cabs get another apperance outside of ducktales, I will pick this up again... and wether it’s in a year or ten you bet your bottom peso they’ll be back. Who says so? I says so. 

#the three caballeros #the three cablleros ride again #don rosa #jose carioca #donald duck #panchito romero miguel junipero francisco quintero gonzalez #panchito pistoles #ducktales #the legend of the three caballeros #house of mouse #xandra goddess of adventure #charon #wayne knight #baron von sheldgoose #lord feldrake #duck comics #disney ducks #disney #disney plus

[allegra-writes]

"Fine line" part I

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent! Reader x Harry Osborn

Teen and Up

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Part of the "Fine Line" series. Welcome to the endgame.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

He had never seen you fight before. It was stupid of him, and potentially dangerous, to stop and think about something like that in the middle of a freaking battle, but he just couldn't help it. You were graceful, deadly. You and Kate Bishop moving together like a well oiled machine. Strike team Delta, Fury's pride. A blur of perfectly shot arrows and high kicks. 

But not even you were enough to stop the giant monstrosity in its path of destruction, not even him was. And it had hostages now. 

"Six!"

"I know K, I'm seeing it!"

"I'm on it guys!" Peter called back as he swung by you like a red and blue meteor, following the greenish abomination currently climbing up the side of a skyscraper, carrying a sports car on his free hand as effortlessly as if it was a toy. 

"One little question though" He switched to coms, "What the hell is that thing??"

"That thing" You explained, "is Norman Osborn…"

Peter's hand slipped, sending him flying face first into the building wall,

"Say what?!" 

"We'll fill you up later, Spidey" Kate quipped, "For now, would you mind giving us a hand before King-kong over there kills anyone? I don't trust his butter fingers not to drop that Audi"

"Yes, ma'am" You could hear Peter's smile in his voice, "S.H.I.E.L.D girls are so bossy"

"Well, we are your superiors..." You noted, finally arriving at the entrance of the building when he was already halfway to the top. 

"Ugh, I hate it when you pull rank on me" He groaned, swerving to dodge the shards of broken glass raining upon him.

You snorted, 

"No you don't"

"No, I don't" He admitted, "Kinda turns me on"

"Ew! Guys, I can hear you" Kate catched up to you, shooting an arrow hooked to a line around her belt. Peter wasn't surprised to see it hit its mark flawlessly on a ledge above his head, "Hi, hot stuff, need a ride?" 

You rolled your eyes, but wrapped your arms around her shoulders nonetheless, holding on tight. 

"Hey!" Peter protested, mid swing, "No flirting with my girl!"

"I saw her first!" Kate released the latch, and soon you both were ascending at breakneck speed, easily surpassing Peter, "Race you to the top, Spidey!" 

His laughter resonated through the coms, as he sped up to follow you, guns blazing into the battle.

…

There was no laughter anymore. The friendly banter and quick comebacks had died long ago, the second you had realized it was a trap. The goblin creature was far more intelligent than you were led to believe, having set the ploy from the very beginning, his seemingly driftless rampage through the city, not so random after all. 

And far more psychotic, as you had learnt when he tore open the car in his hands to reveal the terrified blond man inside. 

"HARRY!"

Peter's horrified scream matched your own.

"Well well well, it seems you awake quite the loyalty" a massive hand closed around Harry's torso, his indigo orbs finding yours across the rooftop "for such a pathetic little worm"

"Let him go, Goblin" Kate's tone was placating, almost gentle, "you don't know what you're doing…"

The creature laughed,

"That's what you think? What your imbecilic little investigation concluded?" Kate and you exchanged a look. Of course. Your investigation about the Green Goblin and other Oscorp shady experiments relied heavily on Norman Osborn personal files. The thought of the passionate scientist, who valued his work more than his own son, lying in his own research had never even crossed your minds. He had played you like a fiddle, misled you every step of the way, and you had bought right into it.

"I worked with S.H.I.E.L.D longer than you had been alive, and Fury thinks he can sic you after me? Two little girls playing spy and my own creation??" Harry looked about ready to pass out as the Goblin waved him around, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke.

Through the corner of his eye, Peter caught a glimpse of Kate inching closer to the beast, and was only half interested when he inquired,

"What do you mean your creation?"

"Everything special about you," The Goblin's deformed visage twisted in what Peter assumed was supposed to be a smirk, "came from one of my labs!"

"That might be true, you might have involuntarily given me my powers, but you didn't make me Spider-man" Peter countered, "Mister Stark gave me the suit, and showed me what it meant to be a hero, and I loved him and admire him more than you will ever be able to understand, but he didn't make me Spider-man either. 

I choose to be Spider-man, every day. I created myself, cause it isn't who we were made to be that makes us who we are. Our choices make us who we are! You might have the powers and appearance of a monster, but you don't have to be one!"

"If you really think that, you are even more stupid than I thought, Peter Parker"

"Pe-peter?" Harry gasped through the creatures crushing grasp around his torso. Peter hesitated for a second, before taking his mask off. 

"Yeah, it's me, buddy" He admitted, watching his friend's eyes go wide, "It's going to be ok, Haz. We'll get you out of this, I promise…"

Famous last words. Peter should have known better by then than to jinx things like that. Because not two minutes later, he was seeing Kate's little ambush fail, the creature's tail whipping around with enough force to send her flying against a wall and knock her out, Peter's own kick just a little too slow to stop the Goblin from grabbing you in his free hand.

"Wings? It has fucking wings??" Peter cursed under his breath, scrambling to follow the monster as he flapped his enormous, membranous wings, soaring across the city. But the creature had no intention of going too far.

"You say our choices make us who we are, very well" The Goblin challenged him, hovering above 700 feet of empty air, and Peter's heart stopped. "Let's see what yours are. What is it going to be, your friend… or your lover?" 

"Don't do it, Goblin!" He yelled, standing on a ledge, ready to pounce, when he saw it. Or rather, saw her, purple hair blowing in the wind, standing on the air, a little lower and further behind from the Goblin, one palm pointed down, creating some sort of sonic wave that kept her up. She signaled a series of orders with her free hand, and Peter nodded almost imperceptibly, but enough for you to realize something was happening. You twisted in the Goblins grip to see what was going on at your back. Oh, fuck.

"Make your choice, Peter. Now!" 

Norman Osborn let go of you and Harry at the same time, leaving you to watch your boyfriend dive for your ex. But you weren't falling, you were floating, cushioned by a column of vibrating air. 

"Don't worry, rookie," You heard an annoyingly familiar voice say, "big sis is here…"

Great. You were never going to live this down, now. 

Meanwhile, Peter had problems of his own, the momentum the Goblin had thrown his own son away making it difficult for him to catch Harry on time.

And even after he had the other man safe in his arms, he wouldn't stop squirming, fighting in his hold. 

"Noooo! Go after her! Save her!!"

Peter managed to land the both of them in a terrace, 

"She's ok! She's fine, see? She's got this! She's got this…" Peter finally released Harry, pointing up to the place where you still were hovering in the air with that other agent. 

"She… she's… flying?" 

"I think that is actually the other one's making…" Peter shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. Harry started pacing back and forth, obviously overwhelmed, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

"And you're Spider-man…" he turned to Peter, who nodded. "And that thing… what the fuck was that thing?" 

Peter hesitated,

"Apparently, a crazy scientist" he finally decided on a half truth.

"A crazy… Mate, what even is your life?"

"Honestly? I've been asking myself that same question for years…"

Harry barked out a watery, hysterical laugh. He wanted to punch the shorter guy, he wanted to throw himself at his feet and thank him for saving his life. To apologize for all the drunken midnight calls, and also stab him in his boyishly handsome face for being so fucking noble and heroic and brave and impossibly perfect and for stealing his girl. 

He clutched as his chest, the burn almost making him double over in pain, and he realized he was hyperventilating.

"Harry, Harry, look at me. Look at me! Do you feel my chest? Can you feel my chest under your hand?" 

Harry noticed then that Peter was pressing his open palm, splayed against the spider logo on his own chest. He nodded his affirmation.

"Good, feel how it moves? Breath with me" Peter ordered, "inhale…" 

Harry breathed in, in time with his friend's expanding chest.

"Now exhale" 

Harry let go of his breath.

"That's right, you're doing so great" Peter's praise warmed up something inside his gut. "Inhale…" and Harry did, catching a faint whiff of your perfume. Peter smelled like you, the realization making him notice just how close to each other they were, only inches apart. And he wondered idly if that was the view you were used to, the one you favored over everything else: warm brown eyes, staring into your soul, right before leaning in. He wondered if you appreciated those hard, muscular shoulders under your hands, before pulling him close. He wondered if Peter's lips still tasted like you.

And before he knew it, Peter found himself with Harry's mouth crashing on his.

He knew he should stop it, step away, but he was rooted to the spot, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught of sensations. It was different from kissing a girl. Hard planes where he was used to soft curves. The tickle of scruff, and slightly chapped lips where he was used to your strawberry sweet lipstick. But as Harry's tongue licked his bottom lip, begging for entrance, Peter couldn't help but open up to him, to surrender to him, as his tongue conquered every inch of Peter's mouth, a greddy, hungry victor. 

"I hate you so much" Harry breathed against Peter's mouth, even as his big hands came to frame the brunet's face, the metal of his finger rings cool against Peter's cheeks

"Doesn't feel like hate…" He quipped, before scraping his teeth against Harry's lips, tearing a moan out of him.

"No, it doesn't" the taller boy admitted, pushing one thigh between Peter's, gasping as he felt one of the hero's hands coming to rest against his lower back, pressing him closer. 

"You taste like cigarettes" Peter marveled, for some reason finding the bittersweet taste delicious. 

"And you taste like her" Harry replied, diving in again.

Peter froze. Her. You. His girlfriend. 

"Harry… Harry stop" Peter muttered, between nibbles "we need to stop. This is wrong"

"Feels right" The heir protested, teeth latching onto Peter's lower lip to stop him from pulling away. Peter groaned, but managed to break the kiss anyway. 

"It's not. We can't do this to her." 

Harry sighed, resting his forehead against Peter's, still reluctant to let go completely,

"I know…" he admitted. 

They stood like that for a few moments, willing breathings to calm, and hearts to slow down.

"You should go" Harry spoke finally, taking a step back, Peter immediately missing the warmth of his body in his arms. He wanted to say something, anything, to chase away the heartbreak, the loneliness in those pale blue eyes, but he couldn't. The knot in his own throat would not allow it. 

So he just stepped away, slipping his mask on, and jumped. He caught a glimpse of Harry's teary, red face, sticking out from the balcony to watch him go, before shooting off a web and swinging away, back to the skyscraper where Kate had fallen. Because if he knew you at all, that was exactly where you were going to be, taking care of your best friend.

…

"...I'm telling you, I had everything under control!"

"Is that why you were hanging 700 feet in the air?" The purple haired girl argued, crossing her arms over her chest, "Admit it, rookie, you're lucky I arrived just in time to save your ass. Again."

You were fuming, face flushed and eyes bright, and Peter found himself struck yet again by how gorgeous you were. A pang of guilt stabbed his stomach. 

"I didn't ask you too" You replied, petulantly, "and stop calling me 'rookie', I'm a level 9 agent."

"... I'm still higher than you"

"For one level!" You cried in frustration, "One single fucking level!"

"Would you two shut up?" Kate stumbled up, and Peter broke free from his haze to hurry and wrap a stabilizing arm around her shoulders, "You're giving me a headache"

"Yeah, that would be the concussion," purple quipped, "don't worry, Simmons should be here any minute to take a look at that"

"Yay, finally a sane person to talk to" Kate deadpanned. Purple ignored her.

"And you must be the boyfriend…" She singsonged, nudging you with her shoulder, "He's cute under the mask, how did you managed to get him to go out with you?" 

"Hey!" Peter and you exclaimed indignantly, in unison. 

"I'm kidding, jeez!" She raised her hands in surrender. "Come on, won't you introduce us?" 

You rolled your eyes, but complied anyway,

"Daisy, this is Peter Parker. Peter, this is Daisy Johnson, weirdo fancies herself my sister"

"Ooh, 'fancies'! You've spent way too much time with that brit boy, didn't you?"

"Daisy, I swear to god I will-"

"You need to tell her" Kate whispered, taking advantage of your distraction.

"Wh-what?"

She scoffed, Kate had never had much patience for anyone's bullshit.

"About what just happened with Harry. She will understand, Peter, I promise. But only if she hears it from you"

"H-how do you know?"

"I see better from afar" The archer smirked, before returning her attention to you and, apparently, your sister.

"Are they always like that?" Peter whispered, a little alarmed. Kate snorted,

"Just wait till you meet the rest of her old team…"  

"Yeah, what do you say, boyfriend?" Daisy smirked, mischievous glimmer in her eyes so much like yours, "Ready to meet the family?" 

Peter gulped, he really wasn't. 

To be continued...

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker fanfic #tom holland fanfic #harry osborn x peter parker #harry osborn imagine #harry osborn #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x tom holland #fine line series

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany and Daario’s relationship

This is a list of all the passages from the books featuring key moments in Dany and Daario’s relationship. I included all of Dany's thoughts about Daario because they inform their dynamic and because, perhaps surprisingly, Daario only appears onpage in six chapters (ASOS Dany IV to VI and ADWD Dany IV, VI and VII).

To be clear, this post is not meant to be anti-Jonerys; it simply acknowledges the fact that Dany's relationship with Daario is one of the most important ones of her journey thus far (and that she has the right to be in a relationship with whomever she wants to be, unlike what certain incels who self-insert as Jon might think).

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

She still clung to the hope that someone would come after her. Ser Barristan might come seeking her; he was the first of her Queensguard, sworn to defend her life with his own. And her bloodriders were no strangers to the Dothraki sea, and their lives were bound to her own. Her husband, the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, might dispatch searchers. And Daario ... Dany pictured him riding toward her through the tall grass, smiling, his golden tooth gleaming with the last light of the setting sun.

Only Daario had been given to the Yunkai’i, a hostage to ensure no harm came to the Yunkish captains. Daario and Hero, Jhogo and Groleo, and three of Hizdahr’s kin. By now, surely, all of her hostages would have been released. But ...

She wondered if her captain’s blades still hung upon the wall beside her bed, waiting for Daario to return and claim them. “I will leave my girls with you,” he had said. “Keep them safe for me, beloved.” And she wondered how much the Yunkai’i knew about what her captain meant to her. She had asked Ser Barristan that question the afternoon the hostages went forth. “They will have heard the talk,” he had replied. “Naharis may even have boasted of Your Grace’s ... of your great ... regard ... for him. If you will forgive my saying so, modesty is not one of the captain’s virtues. He takes great pride in his ... his swordsmanship.”

He boasts of bedding me, you mean. But Daario would not have been so foolish as to make such a boast amongst her enemies. It makes no matter. By now the Yunkai’i will be marching home. That was why she had done all that she had done. For peace.

~

As the world darkened, Dany settled in and closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. The night was cold, the ground hard, her belly empty. She found herself thinking of Meereen, of Daario, her love, and Hizdahr, her husband, of Irri and Jhiqui and sweet Missandei, Ser Barristan and Reznak and Skahaz Shavepate. Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon’s back. Will they think he ate me?

~

“Walk,” Dany commanded herself. “Follow the stream and it will take you to the Skahazadhan. That’s where Daario will find you.”

~

Bells, Dany thought again. Her bloodriders had found her. “Aggo,” she whispered. “Jhogo. Rakharo.” Might Daario have come with them?

~

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario ...

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“She needs a spear,” Ser Barristan said, as Barsena vaulted over the beast’s second charge. “That is no way to fight a boar.” He sounded like someone’s fussy old grandsire, just as Daario was always saying.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

No Ghiscari feast was complete without a course of dog. Hizdahr’s cooks prepared dog four different ways. “Ghiscari will eat anything that swims or flies or crawls, but for man and dragon,” Daario had warned her, “and I’d wager they’d eat dragon too if given half a chance.” Meat alone does not make a meal, though, so there were fruits and grains and vegetables as well. The air was redolent with the scents of saffron, cinnamon, cloves, pepper, and other costly spices.

~

The Second Sons were represented too. If Daario were here, this meal would end in blood. No promised peace could ever have persuaded her captain to permit Brown Ben Plumm to stroll back into Meereen and leave alive. Dany had sworn that no harm would come to the seven envoys and commanders, though that had not been enough for the Yunkai’i. They had required hostages of her as well. To balance the three Yunkish nobles and four sellsword captains, Meereen sent seven of its own out to the siege camp: Hizdahr’s sister, two of his cousins, Dany’s bloodrider Jhogo, her admiral Groleo, the Unsullied captain Hero, and Daario Naharis.

“I will leave my girls with you,” her captain had said, handing her his sword belt and its gilded wantons. “Keep them safe for me, beloved. We would not want them making bloody mischief amongst the Yunkai’i.”

The Shavepate was absent as well. The first thing Hizdahr had done upon being crowned was to remove him from command of the Brazen Beasts, replacing him with his own cousin, the plump and pasty Marghaz zo Loraq. It is for the best. The Green Grace says there is blood between Loraq and Kandaq, and the Shavepate never made a secret of his disdain for my lord husband. And Daario …

Daario had only grown wilder since her wedding. Her peace did not please him, her marriage pleased him less, and he had been furious at being deceived by the Dornishmen. When Prince Quentyn told them that the other Westerosi had come over to the Stormcrows at the command of the Tattered Prince, only the intercession of Grey Worm and his Unsullied prevented Daario from killing them all. The false deserters had been imprisoned safely in the bowels of the pyramid … but Daario’s rage continued to fester.

He will be safer as a hostage. My captain was not made for peace. Dany could not risk his cutting down Brown Ben Plumm, making mock of Hizdahr before the court, provoking the Yunkai’i, or otherwise upsetting the agreement that she had given up so much to win. Daario was war and woe. Henceforth, she must keep him out of her bed, out of her heart, and out of her. If he did not betray her, he would master her. She did not know which of those she feared the most.

~

“Is there some man in the Second Sons who might be persuaded to … remove … Brown Ben?”

“As Daario Naharis once removed the other captains of the Stormcrows?” The old knight looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps. I would not know, Your Grace.”

No, she thought, you are too honest and too honorable.

~

“You ought to return there. My court is no safe place for you, I fear. You have more enemies than you know. You made Daario look a fool, and he is not a man to forget such a slight.”

“I have my knights. My sworn shields.”

“Two knights. Daario has five hundred Stormcrows. And you would do well to beware of my lord husband too. He seems a mild and pleasant man, I know, but do not be deceived. Hizdahr’s crown derives from mine, and he commands the allegiance of some of the most fearsome fighters in the world. If one of them should think to win his favor by disposing of a rival …”

“I am a prince of Dorne, Your Grace. I will not run from slaves and sell swords.”

Then you truly are a fool, Prince Frog.

~

She wondered what Daario was doing. Was he restless as well? Was he thinking about her? Did he love her, truly? Did he hate her for marrying Hizdahr? I should never have taken him into my bed. He was only a sellsword, no fit consort for a queen, and yet …

I knew that all along, but I did it anyway.

ADWD Daenerys VII

Dawn always came too soon.

She had not slept, could not sleep, would not sleep. She had not even dared to close her eyes, for fear it would be morning when she opened them again. If only she had the power, she would have made their nights go on forever, but the best that she could do was stay awake to try and savor every last sweet moment before daybreak turned them into no more than fading memories.

Beside her, Daario Naharis was sleeping as peacefully as a newborn babe. He had a gift for sleeping, he’d boasted, smiling in that cocksure way of his. In the field, he would sleep in the saddle oft as not, he claimed, so as to be well rested should he come upon a battle. Sun or storm, it made no matter. “A warrior who cannot sleep soon has no strength to fight,” he said. He was never vexed by nightmares either. When Dany told him how Serwyn of the Mirror Shield was haunted by the ghosts of all the knights he’d killed, Daario only laughed. “If the ones I killed come bother me, I will kill them all again.” He has a sellsword’s conscience, she realized then. That is to say, none at all.

Daario lay upon his stomach, the light linen coverlets tangled about his long legs, his face half-buried in the pillows. Dany ran her hand down his back, tracing the line of his spine. His skin was smooth beneath her touch, almost hairless. His skin is silk and satin. She loved the feel of him beneath her fingers. She loved to run her fingers through his hair, to knead the ache from his calves after a long day in the saddle, to cup his cock and feel it harden against her palm.

If she had been some ordinary woman, she would gladly have spent her whole life touching Daario, tracing his scars and making him tell her how he’d come by every one. I would give up my crown if he asked it of me, Dany thought … but he had not asked it, and never would. Daario might whisper words of love when the two of them were as one, but she knew it was the dragon queen he loved. If I gave up my crown, he would not want me. Besides, kings who lost their crowns oft lost their heads as well, and she could see no reason why it would be any different for a queen.

The candle flickered one last time and died, drowned in its own wax. Darkness swallowed the feather bed and its two occupants, and filled every corner of the chamber. Dany wrapped her arms around her captain and pressed herself against his back. She drank in the scent of him, savoring the warmth of his flesh, the feel of his skin against her own. Remember, she told herself. Remember how he felt. She kissed him on his shoulder.

Daario rolled toward her, his eyes open. “Daenerys.” He smiled a lazy smile. That was another of his talents; he woke all at once, like a cat. “Is it dawn?”

“Not yet. We have a while still.”

“Liar. I can see your eyes. Could I do that if it were the black of night?” Daario kicked loose of the coverlets and sat up. “The half-light. Day will be here soon.”

“I do not want this night to end.”

“No? And why is that, my queen?”

“You know.”

“The wedding?” He laughed. “Marry me instead.”

“You know I cannot do that.”

“You are a queen. You can do what you like.” He slid a hand along her leg. “How many nights remain to us?”

Two. Only two. “You know as well as I. This night and the next, and we must end this.”

“Marry me, and we can have all the nights forever.”

If I could, I would. Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, but he had been dead so long that Daenerys had almost forgotten how it felt to love and be loved. Daario had helped her to remember. I was dead and he brought me back to life. I was asleep and he woke me. My brave captain. Even so, of late he grew too bold. On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed. “We cannot wed, my love. You know why.”

He climbed from her bed. “Marry Hizdahr, then. I will give him a nice set of horns for his wedding gift. Ghiscari men like to prance about in horns. They make them from their own hair, with combs and wax and irons.” Daario found his breeches and pulled them on. He did not trouble himself with smallclothes.

“Once I am wed it will be high treason to desire me.” Dany pulled the coverlet up over her breasts.

“Then I must be a traitor.” He slipped a blue silk tunic over his head and straightened the prongs of his beard with his fingers. He had dyed it afresh for her, taking it from purple back to blue, as it had been when first she met him. “I smell of you,” he said, sniffing at his fingers and grinning.

Dany loved the way his gold tooth gleamed when he grinned. She loved the fine hairs on his chest. She loved the strength in his arms, the sound of his laughter, the way he would always look into her eyes and say her name as he slid his cock inside her. “You are beautiful,” she blurted as she watched him don his riding boots and lace them up. Some days he let her do that for him, but not today, it seemed. That’s done with too.

“Not beautiful enough to marry.” Daario took his sword belt off the peg where he had hung it.

“Where are you going?”

“Out into your city,” he said, “to drink a keg or two and pick a quarrel. It has been too long since I’ve killed a man. Might be I should seek out your betrothed.”

Dany threw a pillow at him. “You will leave Hizdahr be!”

“As my queen commands. Will you hold court today?”

“No. On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people.”

“Some are his, some are yours. The ones you freed.”

“Are you chiding me?”

“The ones you call your children. They want their mother.”

“You are. You are chiding me.”

“Only a little, bright heart. Will you come hold court?”

“After my wedding, perhaps. After the peace.”

“This after that you speak of never comes. You should hold court. My new men do not believe that you are real. The ones who came over from the Windblown. Bred and born in Westeros, most of them, full of tales about Targaryens. They want to see one with their own eyes. The Frog has a gift for you.”

“The Frog?” she said, giggling. “And who is he?”

He shrugged. “Some Dornish boy. He squires for the big knight they call Greenguts. I told him he could give his gift to me and I’d deliver it, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“Oh, a clever frog. ‘Give the gift to me.’” She threw the other pillow at him. “Would I have ever seen it?”

Daario stroked his gilded mustachio. “Would I steal from my sweet queen? If it were a gift worthy of you, I would have put it into your soft hands myself.”

“As a token of your love?”

“As to that I will not say, but I told him that he could give it to you. You would not make a liar of Daario Naharis?”

Dany was helpless to refuse. “As you wish. Bring your frog to court tomorrow. The others too. The Westerosi.” It would be nice to hear the Common Tongue from someone besides Ser Barristan.

“As my queen commands.” Daario bowed deeply, grinned, and took his leave, his cloak swirling behind him.

Dany sat amongst the rumpled bedclothes with her arms about her knees, so forlorn that she did not hear when Missandei came creeping in with bread and milk and figs. “Your Grace? Are you unwell? In the black of night this one heard you scream.”

Dany took a fig. It was black and plump, still moist with dew. Will Hizdahr ever make me scream? “It was the wind that you heard screaming.” She took a bite, but the fruit had lost its savor now that Daario was gone. Sighing, she rose and called to Irri for a robe, then wandered out onto her terrace.

~

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen.

~

“You may rise,” she said. “Daario tells me you come to us from Dorne. Dornishmen will always have a welcome at my court. Sunspear stayed loyal to my father when the Usurper stole his throne. You must have faced many perils to reach me.”

“Too many,” said Gerrold, the handsome one with the sun-streaked hair. “We were six when we left Dorne, Your Grace.”

“I am sorry for your losses.” The queen turned to his large companion. “Greenguts is a queer sort of name.”

“A jape, Your Grace. From the ships. I was greensick the whole way from Volantis. Heaving and … well, I shouldn’t say.”

Dany giggled. “I think that I can guess, ser. It is ser, is it not? Daario tells me that you are a knight.”

“If it please Your Grace, we are all three knights.”

Dany glanced at Daario and saw anger flash across his face. He did not know.

~

“If you wish,” Daenerys said, curious, but as Frog started forward Daario Naharis stepped in front of him and held out a gloved hand. “Give this gift to me.”

Stone-faced, the stocky lad bent, unlaced his boot, and drew a yellowed parchment from a hidden flap within.

“This is your gift? A scrap of writing?” Daario snatched the parchment out of the Dornishman’s hands and unrolled it, squinting at the seals and signatures. “Very pretty, all the gold and ribbons, but I do not read your Westerosi scratchings.”

“Bring it to the queen,” Ser Barristan commanded. “Now.”

Dany could feel the anger in the hall. “I am only a young girl, and young girls must have their gifts,” she said lightly. “Daario, please, you must not tease me. Give it here.”

~

That night Daario had her every way a man can have a woman, and she gave herself to him willingly. The last time, as the sun was coming up, she used her mouth to make him hard again, as Doreah had taught her long ago, then rode him so wildly that his wound began to bleed again, and for one sweet heartbeat she could not tell whether he was inside of her, or her inside of him.

~

But when the sun rose upon her wedding day so did Daario Naharis, donning his clothes and buckling on his sword belt with its gleaming golden wantons. “Where are you going?” Dany asked him. “I forbid you to make a sortie today.”

“My queen is cruel,” her captain said. “If I cannot slay your foes, how shall I amuse myself whilst you are being wed?”

“By nightfall I shall have no foes.”

“It is only dawn, sweet queen. The day is long. Time enough for one last sortie. I will bring you back the head of Brown Ben Plumm for a wedding gift.”

“No heads,” Dany insisted. “Once you brought me flowers.”

“Let Hizdahr bring you flowers. He is not one to stoop and pluck a dandelion, true, but he has servants who will be pleased to do it for him. Do I have your leave to go?”

“No.” She wanted him to stay and hold her. One day he will go and not return, she thought. One day some archer will put an arrow through his chest, or ten men will fall on him with spears and swords and axes, ten would-be heroes. Five of them would die, but that would not make her grief easier to bear. One day I will lose him, as I lost my sun-and-stars. But please gods, not today.

~

“...Do I have your leave to go?”

“No.” [...] “Come back to bed and kiss me.” No one had ever kissed her like Daario Naharis. “I am your queen, and I command you to fuck me.”

She had meant it playfully, but Daario’s eyes hardened at her words. “Fucking queens is king’s work. Your noble Hizdahr can attend to that, once you’re wed. And if he proves to be too highborn for such sweaty work, he has servants who will be pleased to do that for him as well. Or perhaps you can call the Dornish boy into your bed, and his pretty friend as well, why not?” He strode from the bedchamber.

He is going to make a sortie, Dany realized, and if he takes Ben Plumm’s head, he’ll walk into the wedding feast and throw it at my feet. Seven save me. Why couldn’t he be better born?

~

“Your Grace does not love the noble Hizdahr. This one thinks you would sooner have another for your husband.”

I must not think of Daario today. “A queen loves where she must, not where she will.”

~

“Gracious queen, well met!” Another procession had come up beside her own, and Hizdahr zo Loraq was smiling at her from his own sedan chair. My king. Dany wondered where Daario Naharis was, what he was doing. If this were a story, he would gallop up just as we reached the temple, to challenge Hizdahr for my hand.

~

Side by side the queen’s procession and Hizdahr zo Loraq’s made their slow way across Meereen, until finally the Temple of the Graces loomed up before them, its golden domes flashing in the sun. How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly. Even if her captain was mad enough to attempt it, the Brazen Beasts would cut him down before he got within a hundred yards of her.

ADWD Daenerys VI

“If we should wed by Westerosi rites …”

“The gods of Ghis would deem it no true union.” Galazza Galare’s face was hidden behind a veil of green silk. Only her eyes showed, green and wise and sad. “In the eyes of the city you would be the noble Hizdahr’s concubine, not his lawful wedded wife. Your children would be bastards. Your Worship must marry Hizdahr in the Temple of the Graces, with all the nobility of Meereen on hand to bear witness to your union.”

Get the heads of all the noble houses out of their pyramids on some pretext, Daario had said. The dragon’s words are fire and blood. Dany pushed the thought aside. It was not worthy of her.

~

“I am sorry to disturb you, but I thought that you would want to know at once. The Stormcrows have returned to the city, with word of the foe. The Yunkishmen are on the march, just as we had feared.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed the noble face of Hizdahr zo Loraq. “The queen is at her supper. These sellswords can wait.”

Ser Barristan ignored him. “I asked Lord Daario to make his report to me, as Your Grace had commanded. He laughed and said that he would write it out in his own blood if Your Grace would send your little scribe to show him how to make the letters.”

“Blood?” said Dany, horrified. “Is that a jape? No. No, don’t tell me, I must see him for myself.” She was a young girl, and alone, and young girls can change their minds. “Convene my captains and commanders. Hizdahr, I know you will forgive me.”

“Meereen must come first.” Hizdahr smiled genially. “We will have other nights. A thousand nights.”

“Ser Barristan will show you out.” Dany hurried off, calling for her handmaids. She would not welcome her captain home in a tokar. In the end she tried a dozen gowns before she found one she liked, but she refused the crown that Jhiqui offered her.

As Daario Naharis took a knee before her, Dany’s heart gave a lurch. His hair was matted with dried blood, and on his temple a deep cut glistened red and raw. His right sleeve was bloody almost to the elbow. “You’re hurt,” she gasped.

“This?” Daario touched his temple. “A crossbowman tried to put a quarrel through my eye, but I outrode it. I was hurrying home to my queen, to bask in the warmth of her smile.” He shook his sleeve, spattering red droplets. “This blood is not mine. One of my serjeants said we should go over to the Yunkai’i, so I reached down his throat and pulled his heart out. I meant to bring it to you as a gift for my silver queen, but four of the Cats cut me off and came snarling and spitting after me. One almost caught me, so I threw the heart into his face.”

“Very gallant,” said Ser Barristan, in a tone that suggested it was anything but, “but do you have tidings for Her Grace?”

“Hard tidings, Ser Grandfather. Astapor is gone, and the slavers are coming north in strength.”

“This is old news, and stale,” growled the Shavepate.

“Your mother said the same of your father’s kisses,” Daario replied. “Sweet queen, I would have been here sooner, but the hills are aswarm with Yunkish sellswords. Four free companies. Your Stormcrows had to cut their way through all of them. There is more, and worse. The Yunkai’i are marching their host up the coast road, joined by four legions out of New Ghis. They have elephants, a hundred, armored and towered. Tolosi slingers too, and a corps of Qartheen camelry. Two more Ghiscari legions took ship at Astapor. If our captives told it true, they will be landed beyond the Skahazadhan to cut us off from the Dothraki sea.”

As he told his tale, from time to time a drop of bright red blood would patter against the marble floor, and Dany would wince. “How many men were killed?” she asked when he was done.

“Of ours? I did not stop to count. We gained more than we lost, though.”

“More turncloaks?”

“More brave men drawn to your noble cause. My queen will like them. One is an axeman from the Basilisk Isles, a brute, bigger than Belwas. You should see him. Some Westerosi too, a score or more. Deserters from the Windblown, unhappy with the Yunkai’i. They’ll make good Stormcrows.”

“If you say.” Dany would not quibble. Meereen might soon have need of every sword.

Ser Barristan frowned at Daario. “Captain, you made mention of four free companies. We know of only three. The Windblown, the Long Lances, and the Company of the Cat.”

“Ser Grandfather knows how to count. The Second Sons have gone over to the Yunkai’i.” Daario turned his head and spat. “That’s for Brown Ben Plumm. When next I see his ugly face I will open him from throat to groin and rip out his black heart.”

Dany tried to speak and found no words.

~

“Leave me. Daario, remain. That cut should be washed, and I have more questions for you.”

The others bowed and went. Dany took Daario Naharis up the steps to her bedchamber, where Irri washed his cut with vinegar and Jhiqui wrapped it in white linen. When that was done she sent her handmaids off as well. “Your clothes are stained with blood,” she told Daario. “Take them off.”

“Only if you do the same.” He kissed her.

His hair smelled of blood and smoke and horse, and his mouth was hard and hot on hers. Dany trembled in his arms. When they broke apart, she said, “I thought you would be the one to betray me. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love, the warlocks said. I thought … I never thought Brown Ben. Even my dragons seemed to trust him.��� She clutched her captain by the shoulders. “Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me.”

“Never, my love.”

She believed him. “I swore that I should wed Hizdahr zo Loraq if he gave me ninety days of peace, but now … I wanted you from the first time that I saw you, but you were a sellsword, fickle, treacherous. You boasted that you’d had a hundred women.”

“A hundred?” Daario chuckled through his purple beard. “I lied, sweet queen. It was a thousand. But never once a dragon.”

She raised her lips to his. “What are you waiting for?”

ADWD Daenerys V

And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.”

Daario won that for me, for all that it is worth.

~

“A mistake. The Great Master Hizdahr plays Your Worship for a fool. Do you want a serpent in your bed?”

I want Daario in my bed, but I sent him away for the sake of you and yours. “You may continue to watch Hizdahr zo Loraq, but no harm is to come to him. Is that understood?”

~

“And the Stormcrows, Your Grace?”

Daario. “Yes. Yes.” Just three nights ago she had dreamed of Daario lying dead beside the road, staring sightlessly into the sky as crows quarreled above his corpse. Other nights she tossed in her bed, imagining that he’d betrayed her, as he had once betrayed his fellow captains in the Stormcrows. He brought me their heads. What if he had taken his company back to Yunkai, to sell her for a pot of gold? He would not do that. Would he? “The Stormcrows too. Send riders after them at once.”

The Second Sons were the first to return, eight days after the queen sent forth her summons. When Ser Barristan told her that her captain desired words with her, she thought for a moment that it was Daario, and her heart leapt. But the captain that he spoke of was Brown Ben Plumm.

~

“You warned King Cleon against this war with Yunkai. The man was a fool, and his hands were red with blood.”

And are my hands any cleaner? She remembered what Daario had said—that all kings must be butchers, or meat.

~

Daenerys looked at the faces of the men around her. The Shavepate, scowling. Ser Barristan, with his lined face and sad blue eyes. Reznak mo Reznak, pale, sweating. Brown Ben, white-haired, grizzled, tough as old leather. Grey Worm, smooth-cheeked, stolid, expressionless. Daario should be here, and my bloodriders, she thought.

~

“What does Naharis have to say? If we’re going to make a fight o’ this, we need his Stormcrows.”

“Daario is still in the field.” Oh, gods, what have I done? Have I sent him to his death?

ADWD Daenerys IV

“I do not love you.”

Hizdahr shrugged. “That may come, in time. It has been known to happen that way.”

Not with us, she thought. Not whilst Daario is so close. It’s him I want, not you.

~

“Forgive me. Your Grace has a visitor. Shall I tell him to return upon the morrow?”

“Who is it?”

“Naharis. The Stormcrows have returned to the city.”

Daario. Her heart gave a flutter in her chest. “How long has … when did he …?” She could not seem to get the words out.

Ser Barristan seemed to understand. “Your Grace was with the priestess when he arrived. I knew you would not want to be disturbed. The captain’s news can wait until the morrow.”

“No.” How could I ever hope to sleep, knowing that my captain so close? “Send him up at once. And … I will have no more need of you this evening. I shall be safe with Daario. Oh, and send Irri and Jhiqui, if you would be so good. And Missandei.” I need to change, to make myself beautiful.

She said as much to her handmaids when they came. “What does Your Grace wish to wear?” asked Missandei.

Starlight and seafoam, Dany thought, a wisp of silk that leaves my left breast bare for Daario’s delight. Oh, and flowers for my hair. When first they met, the captain brought her flowers every day, all the way from Yunkai to Meereen. “Bring the grey linen gown with the pearls on the bodice. Oh, and my white lion’s pelt.” She always felt safer wrapped in Drogo’s lionskin.

Daenerys received the captain on her terrace, seated on a carved stone bench beneath a pear tree. A half-moon floated in the sky above the city, attended by a thousand stars. Daario Naharis entered swaggering. He swaggers even when he is standing still. The captain wore striped pantaloons tucked into high boots of purple leather, a white silk shirt, a vest of golden rings. His trident beard was purple, his flamboyant mustachios gold, his long curls equal parts of both. On one hip he wore a stiletto, on the other a Dothraki arakh. “Bright queen,” he said, “you have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is this thing possible?”

The queen was accustomed to such praise, yet somehow the compliment meant more coming from Daario than from the likes of Reznak, Xaro, or Hizdahr. “Captain. They tell us you did us good service in Lhazar.” I have missed you so much.

“Your captain lives to serve his cruel queen.”

“Cruel?”

Moonlight glimmered in his eyes. “He raced ahead of all his men to see her face the sooner, only to be left languishing whilst she ate lamb and figs with some dried-up old woman.”

They never told me you were here, Dany thought, or I might have played the fool and sent for you at once. “I was supping with the Green Grace.” It seemed best not to mention Hizdahr. “I had urgent need of her wise counsel.”

“I have only one urgent need: Daenerys.”

“Shall I send for food? You must be hungry.”

“I have not eaten in two days, but now that I am here, it is enough for me to feast upon your beauty.”

“My beauty will not fill up your belly.” She plucked down a pear and tossed it at him. “Eat this.”

“If my queen commands it.” He took a bite of the pear, his gold tooth gleaming. Juice ran down into his purple beard.

The girl in her wanted to kiss him so much it hurt. His kisses would be hard and cruel, she told herself, and he would not care if I cried out or commanded him to stop. But the queen in her knew that would be folly. “Tell me of your journey.”

He gave a careless shrug. “The Yunkai’i sent some hired swords to close the Khyzai Pass. The Long Lances, they name themselves. We descended on them in the night and sent a few to hell. In Lhazar I slew two of my own serjeants for plotting to steal the gems and gold plate my queen had entrusted to me as gifts for the Lamb Men. Elsewise, all went as I had promised.”

“How many men did you lose in the fighting?”

“Nine,” said Daario, “but a dozen of the Long Lances decided they would sooner be Stormcrows than corpses, so we came out three ahead. I told them they would live longer fighting with your dragons than against them, and they saw the wisdom in my words.”

That made her wary. “They might be spying for Yunkai.”

“They are too stupid to be spies. You do not know them.”

“Neither do you. Do you trust them?”

“I trust all my men. Just as far as I can spit.” He spat out a seed and smiled at her suspicions. “Shall I bring their heads to you? I will, if you command it. One is bald and two have braids and one dyes his beard four different colors. What spy would wear such a beard, I ask you? The slinger can put a stone through a gnat’s eye at forty paces, and the ugly one has a way with horses, but if my queen says that they must die …”

“I did not say that. I only … see that you keep your eye on them, that’s all.” She felt foolish saying it. She always felt a little foolish when she was with Daario. Gawky and girlish and slow-witted. What must he think of me? She changed the subject. “Will the Lamb Men send us food?”

“Grain will come down the Skahazadhan by barge, my queen, and other goods by caravan over the Khyzai.”

“Not the Skahazadhan. The river has been closed to us. The seas as well. You will have seen the ships out in the bay. The Qartheen have driven off a third of our fishing fleet and seized another third. The others are too frightened to leave port. What little trade we still had has been cut off.”

Daario tossed away the pear stem. “Qartheen have milk in their veins. Let them see your dragons, and they’ll run.”

Dany did not want to talk about the dragons. Farmers still came to her court with burned bones, complaining of missing sheep, though Drogon had not returned to the city. Some reported seeing him north of the river, above the grass of the Dothraki sea. Down in the pit, Viserion had snapped one of his chains; he and Rhaegal grew more savage every day. Once the iron doors had glowed red-hot, her Unsullied told her, and no one dared to touch them for a day. “Astapor is under siege as well.”

“This I knew. One of the Long Lances lived long enough to tell us that men were eating one another in the Red City. He said Meereen’s turn would come soon, so I cut his tongue out and fed it to a yellow dog. No dog will eat a liar’s tongue. When the yellow dog ate his, I knew he spoke the truth.”

“I have war inside the city too.” She told him of the Harpy’s Sons and the Brazen Beasts, of blood upon the bricks. “My enemies are all around me, within the city and without.”

“Attack,” he said at once. “A man surrounded by foes cannot defend himself. Try, and the axe will take you in the back whilst you are parrying the sword. No. When faced with many enemies, choose the weakest, kill him, ride over him, and escape.”

“Where should I escape to?”

“Into my bed. Into my arms. Into my heart.” The hilts of Daario’s arakh and stiletto were wrought in the shape of golden women, naked and wanton. He brushed his thumbs across them in a way that was remarkably obscene and smiled a wicked smile.

Dany felt blood rushing to her face. It was almost as if he were caressing her. Would he think me wanton too if I pulled him into bed? He made her want to be his wanton. I should never see him alone. He is too dangerous to have near me. “The Green Grace says that I must take a Ghiscari king,” she said, flustered. “She urges me to wed the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

“That one?” Daario chuckled. “Why not Grey Worm, if you want a eunuch in your bed? Do you want a king?”

I want you. “I want peace. I gave Hizdahr ninety days to end the killings. If he does, I will take him for a husband.”

“Take me for your husband. I will do it in nine.”

You know I cannot do that, she almost said. “You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them,” Daario went on. “Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.”

“If I knew who they were—”

“Zhak and Pahl and Merreq. Them, and all the rest. The Great Masters. Who else would it be?”

He is as bold as he is bloody. “We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?”

“Your own subjects would gladly slaughter you.”

He had been so long away, Dany had almost forgotten what he was. Sellswords were treacherous by nature, she reminded herself. Fickle, faithless, brutal. He will never be more than he is. He will never be the stuff of kings. “The pyramids are strong,” she explained to him. “We could take them only at great cost. The moment we attack one the others will rise against us.”

“Then winkle them out of their pyramids on some pretext. A wedding might serve. Why not? Promise your hand to Hizdahr and all the Great Masters will come to see you married. When they gather in the Temple of the Graces, turn us loose upon them.”

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. “Do you take me for the Butcher King?”

“Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?”

“This queen is.”

Daario shrugged. “Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”

Her anger flashed. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“No. Have you?”

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”

Daario gave her a sweeping bow. “I live to obey.”

When he was gone, Daenerys called Ser Barristan back. “I want the Stormcrows back in the field.”

“Your Grace? They have only now returned …”

“I want them gone. Let them scout the Yunkish hinterlands and give protection to any caravans coming over the Khyzai Pass. Henceforth Daario shall make his reports to you. Give him every honor that is due him and see that his men are well paid, but on no account admit him to my presence.”

“As you say, Your Grace.”

That night she could not sleep but turned and twisted restlessly in her bed. She even went so far as to summon Irri, hoping her caresses might help ease her way to rest, but after a short while she pushed the Dothraki girl away. Irri was sweet and soft and willing, but she was not Daario.

What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I have waited so long for him to come back, and I send him away. “He would make a monster of me,” she whispered, “a butcher queen.” But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

ADWD Daenerys III

Her face was warm. The wine, she told herself. Yet somehow she found herself thinking of Daario Naharis. His messenger had come that morning. The Stormcrows were returning from Lhazar. Her captain was riding back to her, bringing her the friendship of the Lamb Men. Food and trade, she reminded herself. He did not fail me, nor will he. Daario will help me save my city. The queen longed to see his face, to stroke his three-pronged beard, to tell him her troubles … but the Stormcrows were still many days away, beyond the Khyzai Pass, and she had a realm to rule.

~

He touched her bare breast lightly, and whispered, “Let me stay and help persuade you.”

For a moment she was tempted. Perhaps the dancers had stirred her after all. I could close my eyes and pretend that he was Daario. A dream Daario would be safer than the real one. But she pushed the thought aside.

“No, my lord. I thank you, but no.” Dany slipped from his arms. “Some other night, perhaps.” “Some other night.”

~

The next morning Dany woke as full of hope as she had been since first she came to Slaver’s Bay. Daario would soon be at her side once more, and together they would sail for Westeros. For home.

ADWD Daenerys II

“What is it?” she cried, as Irri shook her gently by the shoulder. It was the black of night outside. Something is wrong, she knew at once. “Is it Daario? What’s happened?” In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. In her dream he had been kissing her all over—her mouth, her neck, her breasts.

~

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again, Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, his strong hands resting on the hilts of his matched arakh and stiletto, hilts wrought of gold in the shape of naked women. The day he took his leave of her, as she was bidding him farewell, he had brushed the balls of his thumbs lightly across them, back and forth. I am jealous of a sword hilt, she had realized, of women made of gold. Sending him to the Lamb Men had been wise. She was a queen, and Daario Naharis was not the stuff of kings.

“It has been so long,” she had said to Ser Barristan, just yesterday. “What if Daario has betrayed me and gone over to my enemies?” Three treasons will you know. “What if he met another woman, some princess of the Lhazarene?”

The old knight neither liked nor trusted Daario, she knew. Even so, he had answered gallantly. “There is no woman more lovely than Your Grace. Only a blind man could believe otherwise, and Daario Naharis was not blind.”

No, she thought. His eyes are a deep blue, almost purple, and his gold tooth gleams when he smiles for me.

Ser Barristan was sure he would return, though. Dany could only pray that he was right.

~

On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.

ADWD Daenerys I

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen.

~

There were times when Dany wondered if that razor might not be better saved for Reznak’s throat. He was a useful man, but she liked him little and trusted him less. The Undying of Qarth had told her she would be thrice betrayed. Mirri Maz Duur had been the first, Ser Jorah the second. Would Reznak be the third? The Shavepate? Daario? Or will it be someone I would never suspect, Ser Barristan or Grey Worm or Missandei?

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped ... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei ... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

~

“There are too many flies in this city.”

Ben Plumm gave a bark of laughter. “There were flies in my ale this morning. I swallowed one of them.”

“Flies are the dead man’s revenge.” Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. “Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies.”

“We will rid ourselves of the corpses, then. Starting with those in the plaza below. Grey Worm, will you see to it?”

“The queen commands, these ones obey.”

~

Dany beckoned to Daario. “How many seek audience this morning?”

“Two have presented themselves to bask in your radiance.”

Daario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. It made his eyes look almost purple too, as if he were some lost Valyrian.

~

“We have no slaves for sale,” said Dany.

“My queen?” Daario stepped forward. “The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies.”

Dany was shocked. “They want to be slaves?”

“The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.”

“I see.” Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.”

“In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,” Missandei told her.

“We’ll do the same,” Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. “A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.”

“It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,” said Daario. “My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.” If the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. “Records must be kept,” she said. “Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.”

~

“The queen has a good heart,” Daario purred through his deep purple whiskers, “but that one is more dangerous than all the Oznaks and Meros rolled up in one.” His strong hands caressed the hilts of his matched blades, those wanton golden women. “You need not even say the word, my radiance. Only give the tiniest nod, and your Daario shall fetch you back his ugly head.”

“Leave him be. The scales are balanced now. Let him go home.”

~

When her handmaid brought the book, Dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but it was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride’s gift, the day I wed Khal Drogo. But Daario is right, I shouldn’t have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

~

Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid’s thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her ... only somehow his face kept turning into Daario’s. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri’s legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today ...

Dany’s dreams were dark that night, and she woke three times from half-remembered nightmares. After the third time she was too restless to return to sleep. Moonlight streamed through the slanting windows, silvering the marble floors. A cool breeze was blowing through the open terrace doors. Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. For a moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty.

~

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

ASOS Daenerys V

“The harpy is a craven thing,” Daario Naharis said when he saw it. “She has a woman’s heart and a chicken’s legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.”

~

Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child up on every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.”

~

He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. “Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?” His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.

“It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood.” She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald.

~

And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her.

~

“So much for the hero of Meereen,” said Daario, laughing.

“A victory without meaning,” Ser Jorah cautioned. “We will not win Meereen by killing its defenders one at a time.”

“No,” Dany agreed, “but I’m pleased we killed this one.”

~

“I must have this city,” she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. “Her granaries are full to bursting. There are figs and dates and olives growing on the terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried in her cellars.”

“And fat chests of gold, silver, and gemstones as well,” Daario reminded them. “Let us not forget the gemstones.”

~

Daario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. “Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.”

“This is false.” Grey Worm did not return the smile.

~

Daario Naharis laughed. “As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.”

Brown Ben shrugged. “Her Grace asked if there was a way in, so I told her ... but Ben Plumm isn’t going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there’s others want to try it, though, they’re welcome.”

Aggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence. “These sewers do not sound promising.”

~

“If you were grown,” she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, “I’d fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.” But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes ...

To be sure, she was just as guilty. Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report ... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady’s lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy’s gold ... He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did.

Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed her on the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he’d given her their heads. Khal Drogo could be cruel as well, and there was never a man more dangerous. She had come to love him all the same. Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who’d said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.

~

“We’ll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps.” She had no enemies among her children. And the old squire would not talk too much as Belwas would, or look at her like Daario.

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany studied them as Irri and Jhiqui poured the wine. Prendahl na Ghezn was a thickset Ghiscari with a broad face and dark hair going grey; Sallor the Bald had a twisting scar across his pale Qartheen cheek; and Daario Naharis was flamboyant even for a Tyroshi. His beard was cut into three prongs and dyed blue, the same color as his eyes and the curly hair that fell to his collar. His pointed mustachios were painted gold. His clothes were all shades of yellow; a foam of Myrish lace the color of butter spilled from his collar and cuffs, his doublet was sewn with brass medallions in the shape of dandelions, and ornamental goldwork crawled up his high leather boots to his thighs. Gloves of soft yellow suede were tucked into a belt of gilded rings, and his fingernails were enameled blue.

~

The Stormcrow captains rose in unison. “Our answer is no,” said Prendahl na Ghezn. His fellows followed him out of the tent ... but Daario Naharis glanced back as he left, and inclined his head in polite farewell.

~

Near midnight, she got a scare when Ser Jorah bulled his way past Strong Belwas. “The Unsullied caught one of the sellswords trying to sneak into the camp.”

“A spy?” That frightened her. If they’d caught one, how many others might have gotten away?

“He claims to come bearing gifts. It’s the yellow fool with the blue hair.”

Daario Naharis. “That one. I’ll hear him, then.”

When the exile knight delivered him, she asked herself whether two men had ever been so different. The Tyroshi was fair where Ser Jorah was swarthy; lithe where the knight was brawny; graced with flowing locks where the other was balding, yet smooth-skinned where Mormont was hairy. And her knight dressed plainly while this other made a peacock look drab, though he had thrown a heavy black cloak over his bright yellow finery for this visit. He carried a heavy canvas sack slung over one shoulder.

“Khaleesi,” he cried, “I bring gifts and glad tidings. The Stormcrows are yours.” A golden tooth gleamed in his mouth when he smiled. “And so is Daario Naharis!”

Dany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head. “What do Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor say of this?”

“Little.” Daario upended the sack, and the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn spilled out upon her carpets. “My gifts to the dragon queen.”

Viserion sniffed the blood leaking from Prendahl’s neck, and let loose a gout of flame that took the dead man full in the face, blackening and blistering his bloodless cheeks. Drogon and Rhaegal stirred at the smell of roasted meat.

“You did this?” Dany asked queasily.

“None other.” If her dragons discomfited Daario Naharis, he hid it well. For all the mind he paid them, they might have been three kittens playing with a mouse.

“Why?”

“Because you are so beautiful.” His hands were large and strong, and there was something in his hard blue eyes and great curving nose that suggested the fierceness of some splendid bird of prey. “Prendahl talked too much and said too little.” His garb, rich as it was, had seen hard wear; salt stains patterned his boots, the enamel of his nails was chipped, his lace was soiled by sweat, and she could see where the end of his cloak was fraying. “And Sallor picked his nose as if his snot was gold.” He stood with his hands crossed at the wrists, his palms resting on the pommels of his blades; a curving Dothraki arakh on his left hip, a Myrish stiletto on his right. Their hilts were a matched pair of golden women, naked and wanton.

“Are you skilled in the use of those handsome blades?” Dany asked him.

“Prendahl and Sallor would tell you so, if dead men could talk. I count no day as lived unless I have loved a woman, slain a foeman, and eaten a fine meal ... and the days that I have lived are as numberless as the stars in the sky. I make of slaughter a thing of beauty, and many a tumbler and fire dancer has wept to the gods that they might be half so quick, a quarter so graceful. I would tell you the names of all the men I have slain, but before I could finish your dragons would grow large as castles, the walls of Yunkai would crumble into yellow dust, and winter would come and go and come again.”

Dany laughed. She liked the swagger she saw in this Daario Naharis. “Draw your sword and swear it to my service.”

In a blink, Daario’s arakh was free of its sheath. His submission was as outrageous as the rest of him, a great swoop that brought his face down to her toes. “My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.”

“Then live,” Dany said, “and fight for me tonight.”

“That would not be wise, my queen.” Ser Jorah gave Daario a cold, hard stare. “Keep this one here under guard until the battle’s fought and won.”

She considered a moment, then shook her head. “If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.”

“And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.”

Dany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. “He won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. “I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?”

“If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.” The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.

~

Ser Jorah Mormont lingered. “Your Grace,” he said, too bluntly, “that was a mistake. We know nothing of this man—”

“We know that he is a great fighter.”

“A great talker, you mean.”

“He brings us the Stormcrows.” And he has blue eyes.

“Five hundred sellswords of uncertain loyalty.”

“All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these,” Dany reminded him. And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.

“Daenerys, I am thrice your age,” Ser Jorah said. “I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors.”

That angered her. “Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?” 

#daenerys targaryen #dany passages #dany relationships #daario naharis #a dance with dragons #a storm of swords

[mrneighbourlove]

Evil’s Bane: Ch 4. Dangerous Uncharted Territory

Once the portal was open, Black went through first to scout for any potential danger. After a few minutes, he gave the go ahead to come through. Oddly enough, the land was striking. It was full of life, unlike the opposite side of the mountains. There were trees and grass as far as the eye could see instead of a harsh and unforgiving desert or wasteland.

Hades was the next to go in, trotting about and keeping an eye out for danger. Finally, Leere walked in. The sun was bright, and the sky was blue. The air was more breathable than Omisha as well. She guessed they were still closer to the border than central Malus, because if she looked far enough, she could see mountains in the distance. The area they were in had many hills, with fields of grass and vibrant flowers around them. Taking a breath, she looked to Bonegrinder, honestly confused, but a little relieved. Finally, she settled on a little sarcasm. “Land of torment and lifeless death, eh?”

"Don't you start, you haven't seen the inner city." Bonegrinder poked her nose with his finger. "This old snake has a long time ago."

"The land has recovered in these areas, though I am skeptical of the areas closer to civilization." Black looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was adept at tracking and studying the lay of the earth since his job was to be as sneaky as possible. "It has remained untouched for quite some time."

“Well, let’s look around. Can’t find what we are looking for if we don’t start walking.”

"Don't wander off, stay close." Bonegrinder repeated to Leere. "You never know what could be watching. Or who could be watching."

Hades was on the lookout, when he suddenly heard a snap of the grass about 50ft away. In the distance, an insect creature ran out of the tall grass. Suddenly, a reptilian creature, a beast akin to a raptor, jumped on top of it. It tore the insect apart, using claws to tear off its shell, talons on its feet to hold it in place, and sharp teeth to tear into its flesh. As it was eating, it picked up on a sound Hades made repositioning himself. It appeared to have no eyes or nose, simply having two holes in the side of its head.

Leere was cautious, yet fascinated by the pale reptile. Still, she dared not move.

"Oh fucking hell, I forgot about those." Black whispered under his breath to the others. "Don't move. They hunt based off movement through the earth."

The Reptilmox looked around, focusing on the movement of Black speaking. When Black stopped talking, it slowly started to lose interest. Why put energy in finding more prey when it made a kill? Grabbing its meal, it dragged it back into the tall grass to devour.

Hades waited a little while, before feeling confident it was far enough away. “Everyone keep walking.”

"Watch your step." Black told the group as they slowly made their way through the tall grass.

"And your back." "If one of those saunters out again, we will do our best to avoid fighting it." Bonegrinder informed the others. "Draw less attention. However, if it detects you and comes at you... run."

As they walked through the tall grass, they found the first sign of civilization. It was a pointed road sign that read, “Go back to Heilogtum.”

Leere looked around their surroundings. The area still had beautiful grass lands, but was now mixing opening up into a valley pass.

"Now that... was put here recently. Look, the wood hasn't rotted a bit." Black looked at the sign. "It's obviously a warning... but for what?"

Hades looked around, and was the first to see the danger. A pack of the pale reptiles, all the size of him, were running around the valley corner. “Incoming! Hold your ground!”

Trouble was heading their way. If the group had to flee, Bonegrinder was not too worried about Hades. The Lynel was fast. Black could run for ages, yet, he could not surpass the speed of one of those damn reptiles. Leere was only human and there was no chance if the reptiles were too close. With a slight indication of his head, Bonegrinder motioned for Black to get on his coils. So the assassin grabbed Leere and held tight to the Anagari.

Leere was ready to fight if needed be, but being grabbed would be make it harder for her to help.

Splitting into pairs, the reptiles circled Bonegrinder and Hades respectively. Hades already started to run in the direction the sign pointed. As one of the reptiles jumped at him, he reared back, kicking it with the force of ten horses in the head. The creature was more disoriented then anything, fumbling about.

The pair chasing Bonegrinder made a jump at him, wanting to claw him and tiny figures apart.

Bonegrinder was trying to keep his magic use to a minimum. If the demons of Malus were anything like those he faced in the past, the fiends would sense it and try to find him. Though, just because he could use magic, didn't mean he could not use brute strength. He whacked one reptile in the head with his massive tail and coiled his body around the other's neck, snapping it.

The Reptilmox left fighting Bonegrinder hissed viscously. Opening its mouth, a thick tongue shot out to try and snare Black of Bonegrinder from a distance.

Black reacted rather swiftly, reaching into his belt and pulling out his blade. He sliced off the tongue and pushed Leere down to avoid the appendage.

Able to at least cast magic, Leere pointed a hand out, and a necrotic ball of shadow energy shot out. Hitting the creature, it screamed, the flesh on its face boiling off.

As two more were about to engage, there was a loud rumbling in the east. With a bark between them, they ran off, ignoring the prospect of food, fear taking its place.

Bonegrinder only uttered three words.

"Don't let go."

With that, he took off as fast as he could slither, Hades following behind him.

Leere did as she was told. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear the rumbling and feel the earth shake. In a mountainside, there was a cave with a sign pointing towards it. In the cave, a thick fog filled all its walls and area. When Hades approached it, he was the only one to feel a terrible effect on his body. He noticed one of the monsters veer away from the cave as well. It most likely would bring physical harm to monster kind. “Bonegrinder. You must flee here without me.”

"What?!" Bonegrinder was almost inside the cave when Hades' statement caught him off guard. He gestured for Black to stay with Leere while he slithered back to Hades. "This is the only place we have to hide right now. He cannot in good conscience leave you here alone!"

“I-I can’t explain it. I can’t enter.”

"Then he will stay with you to fight while Black guards Leere."

“No we-!!!”

“Oh dear god.” Leere muttered breathlessly.

Coming into view was a massive colossus. A construct of stone, earth, energy and a thick reek of flesh for a body. Turning a skull face with skin dangling from its mouth, it laid eyes on the group. Colossi Mata had the form of a massive tiger with the head of a dragon and the horns of a bull. Raising a hand slowly, it came down on an unfortunate Reptilmox, crushing it with the scale of an ant. Slowly, it turned its attention to the group. Despite looking like something that crawled out of hell, the Colossi was of balance and pure neutrality; it killed any creature it saw, be it monster, animal, human or demon so it might not escape Malus. Hades knew this was a flight situation, not fight. “No! Go through the cave! Now!” Without another word he started to run off. “I will find you later!”

"Kit, get back here!!!" Bonegrinder used the nickname he gave to the Lynel years ago, imploring him to move into the cave for safety. He tried to lunge at Hades, but the Lynel was too quick. He was off into the tall grass and the Anagari was forced to retreat into the cave.

The massive colossi turned its attention away from the group and onto the Lynel. The last Bonegrinder saw was a gigantic beam of light shoot from its horns and engulf all sight between the snake and Hades as it tried to eradicate the monster.

Leere held Bonegrinder’s hand as they ventured through the deep fog. She could feel the anguish almost radiate off Bonegrinder. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

"... he should be fine. He's been in worse situations than this." Bonegrinder tried to stay positive.

"It's funny to think that this old snake has known Hades since he was a small kitten."

"An angry cat, you mean." Black snorted.

“If you say he’ll be alright, I believe you.” Leere had no idea how deep they’d have to walk through this fog. Best they keep going with hopes high.

~

The heart of Malus was pumping hard as the Cults of Inferos double checked all their modifications on the Great Tower. For years now, a breakthrough was made that could harness untold cosmic and necrotic energies. If the tower could be modified, it could be used as a conductor for something truly horrific. The residents of Inferos were either horrified beyond belief of what was soon to come, or they ultimately resided to the future.

One man was checking symbols on an obelisk put in place, when a figure floated behind him.

“Are we certain preparations are working?”

The architect lowered his book, looking over his shoulder to look into the eyes of a being of shadow. The form flickered like static, glowing intense eyes not shy of radiating a deep sense of dread and evil. Even the most devoted cultists didn’t like to stare too long into those eyes. Looking back at the beacon, the architect answered. “All the Obelisks are set, and the engraving are set to the runes that have been instructed all down the tower.”

The architect then rubbed his brow, looking up at a sizzling worm hole not too far above his head. Ever since the Gods showed up, they gave gifts of sealed away knowledge. Most didn’t complain at first when they opened a gateway to a dimension of pure energy to siphon from, but then came all the undead that couldn’t be outright controlled… and all the visions that brought paranoia, madness, and anger to those who were ‘weak minded’. “I must ask, but why do we wait to use the tower? Is the energy source above us not enough?”

The shadow leaned closer, whispering from rotten lips into the Mortuus’ ears. “We need a summon forth an organism that would be powerful enough to be a connection between the dimension and the tower. And one that my master can trust.”

“Where is this organism?”

“Sealed away in the flesh and soul of a Mortuus woman.”

The architect once again wiped his brow, feeling sweat drip down his cheek. “Wait. That Mortuus?”

“Yes.”

“But she does not reside in Malus, let alone Inferos.”

“That is why your God has taken the time to bring about her long-awaited return to this monument to sin. Here, her purpose will at last be achieved.” The shadow growled happily into the man’s ear as a new sinister and deeper tone left its lips. “I have awaited a long, long time for this.”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/625816338129207296/evils-bane-ch-3-onward-and-forward

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626093697379008512/evils-bane-ch-5-belief-scattered

#Crossover #Leere #Leere Dragmire #Bonegrinder #Sheer-Khan #Black the Wraith #Malus

[citrinekay]

(who’s been keeping a list of their fav headcanons? not me) 1. holden wants to get a puppy 2. hurt/comfort about age gap 3. their firsts 4. their love language (“things that say ‘i love you’”). anyway. totally not a list i’ve been adding to every now and then

These are all really good, but that’s first one 😍😭 So, this isn’t exactly fluffy and got a little darker than expected but hey that’s my brand and I gotta stick with it!

Chilly, spring rain tumbles from the thick, gray clouds in driving sheets, glazing the crumbling asphalt of the narrow, residential lane and catching the reflection of a dozen red and blue police lights flashing out into the night. The steady drum of it against the roof fills the hollow silence of the house that’s broken only intermittently by the whine and click of the camera shutter. 

Bill and Holden survey the cramped living room that’s littered with empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, and dozens and magazines and newspapers. The scene in the kitchen is just as filthy and depressing - plates piled high in the sink, garbage can overflowing, refrigerator reeking of spoiled milk and God knows what else. 

“I want to see the basement.” Holden says. 

Bill draws in a deep breath, and nods. 

They make their way carefully past the officers collecting evidence and down the hallway to the door leading into the basement. 

The mystery of three dead women spanning two decades in this small, West Virginia town had at last been broken when the unsub’s most recent victim managed to escape this house, formerly her prison. The man had kept her here, locked up in the basement, for the last five years, raping and torturing her as he saw fit. 

Nothing could have prepared Bill for the dense, sick weight that settles in the pit of his stomach as he and Holden descend the narrow, wooden stairs into the basement. The unsub’s torture chamber is a cement-walled dungeon, musky and dark. A cage shoved in the corner of the room is meant for an animal, but had housed four victims over the course of twenty years. A workbench is littered with instruments of torture and restraints. A hook bolted to the ceiling in the center of the room had once provided a display of the victim for his amusement. 

Holden reaches over to turn on the light switch. At once, the basement is flooded with sharp, yellow light, but neither of them have a chance to comment on the horrifying details as a growl and a rattle of chain from the corner draws their attention away from the scene of torture. 

Holden backpedals into Bill’s chest, a gasp leaping from his chest as black dog lunges from it’s restraint in the corner. The animal is growling low in its throat, teeth bared, frothing at the mouth, it’s entire, scrawny body shaking. Right away, Bill can tell it’s some kind of mutt, another breed mixed in with pit bull based on the ears and the size of it’s head. 

“Jesus Christ.” Holden says, “He was keeping a dog down here, too?”

“We need to call the dog warden.” Bill says, clutching Holden’s elbow. 

Holden shuffles forward despite Bill’s grasp on his arm. He holds out a non-threatening hand as he approaches the dog. The dog whines, then barks, pacing back and forth against it’s short leash. It’s dark gaze is trained on Holden, mistrust shining clearly past the unhealthy film glazing it’s eyes. 

“Hey there, buddy. It’s okay.” Holden says, crouching down, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t get close to it.” Bill says, “It’s gonna bite your hand off.”

“He’s starving.” Holden says, shooting a glare over his shoulder. “Poor thing. He’s probably been down here as long as Kristen was.”

“Yeah, and if it’s been abused it might try to bite you. Come on.” Bill says, leaning down to grasp Holden by the arm. “Let’s just call the warden.”

Holden rises to his feet, shaking Bill’s grip off. “Fine. But he goes to the vet, not the pound.”

Bill suppresses a sigh. It’s late, and they’ve been working this case off-and-on for the last year and a half. They both know the details backwards and forwards. They know everything Kristen, the last victim, and all the rest went through. They know every depraved thing the killer did to these women. And Holden is worried about the damn dog. 

“Fine.” Bill says. 

~

When Bill and Holden were first contacted by the local authorities in Marling, West Virginia, their relationship had been infantile and fledgling. Bill can remember crawling onto the bed and slipping his hand under the back of Holden’s t-shirt while Holden opened the case file on the mattress in front of him. Their bodies were warm and connected while the first, horrific details crossed their minds. 

Bill had resigned himself to the fact long ago that death and depravity was always going to come second-nature to their relationship. The darkness seeps into every crevice, every available space in your mind. Eventually, it houses itself right next to the good things, the light beside the dark. Gray areas in between are fleeting, and he tries to keep everything separate, but he can’t help but glimpse the way their work affects Holden - and in turn, them. 

Maybe they’re both overworked. Bill thinks as he lights a cigarette outside the police department’s bullpen. 

He checks his watch to see that it’s almost ten o’clock. He’d filed the last report while Holden took the unsub’s dog to the vet. He hadn’t stuck around to see the warden coax the poor, starved animal out of the basement, and now he wonders if Holden had sustained a bite trying to get the hardened beast to trust him. 

After smoking the last of his cigarette, Bill goes back into the bullpen to find the chief of police’s office. Waters is hunched over his desk, necktie undone. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. None of them have. 

“Anything else you need from me?” Bill asks. 

Waters glances up from his reports, offering a weak smile. “Nothing but a sincere ‘thank you’, I suppose.”

Bill nods, “It was our pleasure.”

Rising to his feet, Waters offers Bill a handshake. “Truly, Bill, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We were glad to help. This one’s been a long time coming.”

“You ain’t kidding.” Waters says, shaking his head. “I’m gonna go home, kiss my wife, have a drink, and celebrate. We don’t get these days every day.”

“You deserve it.”

“What are you gonna do?” Waters asks, “I feel like you’ve been in this as long as some of my guys.”

“About the same, I guess.” Bill says. 

The drive across town the veterinarian’s office is brief, but the downpour forces Bill to stay on high alert despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs. When he reaches the office, there’s only two cars in the parking lot, and he figures nobody else is bothering the vet at this time of day. 

Bill goes inside to find the front desk and waiting area deserted. The faint sound of voices from down the hall leads him to the exam room where the vet has the skinny mutt lying on the table. The animal seems more sedate now, and Holden is hand-feeding him cut up pieces of meat. 

Bill clears his throat in the doorway. 

Holden glances up, a smile fixed on his mouth despite the dark circles under his eyes. 

“Bill, come on in.” He says, nodding for Bill to join him. 

“How’s he doing?” Bill asks. 

“A lot better.” Holden says, “Dr. Cormick looked him over, gave him his shots, a bath, and now he’s letting me feed him. I think he’s gonna be okay.”

Dr. Cormick nods, and strokes a hand down the dog’s back. “No doubt he’s been through a lot, but surprisingly, there aren’t really any serious health concerns aside from fleas and worms.”

“Great.” Bill says, “What about his behavior, though? He’s calm now, but what about if some kid scares him or he feels threatened?”

“He’s definitely a special case.” Cormick says, “He’ll need a good, understanding home.”

“You know anybody?” Bill asks, offering a faint chuckle. 

Holden draws in a deep breath. “Bill, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Holden gives the plate of food to Cormick, and leads Bill back out into the hallway. 

“Holden-” Bill begins, seeing the look in his eyes. 

“What? I haven’t said anything yet.”

“But I know what you’re going to say.” Bill says, “And we can’t take this dog home with us.”

“Why not?” Holden asks, crossing his arms. “The doctor just said he needs an understanding home, and who better understands what this animal has been through than us?”

“We’re never home.” Bill says, spreading his hands in disbelief. “How would we take care of a dog, Holden? Come on, think this through.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Holden says. 

Bill exhales a strained sigh, and shakes his head. 

“They’re just going to send him to the pound, Bill.” Holden says, “Then what? Nobody is going to adopt an animal that looks and behaves like this. Chances are he stays locked up for a couple of weeks, maybe a few months, and then gets put down because they don’t have enough room to keep him around.”

“Maybe so.” Bill says, “It’s just a dog, Holden. We caught a killer today. A woman, a human being, got to go back to her family after years of imprisonment and abuse. This is what you’re concerned with?”

Holden turns to lean against the wall, and lowers his head. Bill can see his jaw working against emotion. 

“You don’t get it.” Holden whispers, his voice strained. 

“Get what?”

“Never mind.” Holden mutters, shoving away from the wall. “Forget it. If you say we can’t keep him, then I guess that’s that.”

“Holden-” 

Holden is already marching back into the exam room, leaving Bill standing alone in the hall. He lets out a sigh, and rubs a hand over his forehead. Maybe he’s exhausted, or tired of arguing. Maybe he just wants to go home already, and Holden isn’t going to let him rest until he gets his way. Maybe there’s some soft place left in his heart that hasn’t been ravaged and turned to scar tissue by death and destruction. 

Letting out a grunt of disbelief, Bill strides back into the exam room. Holden and Dr. Cormick look up at him, and he spreads his hands in defeat before he can stop himself. 

“Okay, what do we need to do?”

“Do?” Cormick asks. 

“To take the mutt home.” Bill says, “Is there some kind of adoption papers we have to sign?”

“Ah, yes.” Cormick says, “Let me get it together. Then we can all go home.”

“Sounds good.”

Cormick leaves the room, and Bill catches Holden smiling brightly at him. 

“Don’t say anything.” Bill says, shaking his head. “I’m already regretting this.”

“You won’t.” Holden says, “It’s all going to work out exactly the way it should.”

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing #mindhunnter

[ethanlivemere]

Roddacember 2019 Day 4: Creature

So let’s talk about the Glus for a second.

I have made no secret of the fact that the Glus gives me the absolute creeps and was my biggest nightmare when first reading Deltora Quest. When taking The Maze Of The Beast from the library as a kid I was already scared of touching the cover simply because of the nasty fluorescent 3D slug on it (did your versions of the books also have those 3D covers?). I have never been a fan of crawly things or anything that has more than 2 eyes. Of course, Milne’s fate in the book didn’t exactly help make things any better. And the name alone still makes me shiver. Glus. It’s like someone somehow managed to make the word slug sound more disgusting. Glus. Yuk. Gotta admit, though, the name fits it perfectly.

However, despite the fact that the Glus, to this day, still sends shivers down my spine by the mere thought of it, I have come to find the creature strangely lovable. Let’s begin with the fact that it’s the most innocent of all the gem-guardians. Thaegan, Reeah, Gellick and Guardian were minions of the Shadow Lord, and Gorl and the Hive were greedy bastards. Glussy just wants to live in peace and obviously needs to eat. It’s not its fault that it looks horrifying and disgusting and kills its prey in the most nightmarish way possible. We even discover that it considers the structural integrity of its home more important than chasing down its prey.

But all of this is made even stronger when thinking of the story Little Enna. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a Toran folk song Joseph believed to be the origin story of the Glus. It tells the story of a girl called Enna who finds an egg which hatches a ‘sweet sea worm’. Her mother is rightfully creeped out by the thing and tells Enna to throw it back into the sea. While on the shore she gets dragged into the caves below by what can only be the famous blowhole outside the Maze of the Beast. The final verse of the song reads:

Since that sad day, long years have flown, But still, beneath that seething foam Where Enna sleeps, The sea-worm creeps, And spins its webs of bone-white stone

So if this song is true, the Glus seemingly just wants to protect the girl who cared for it, the only person to not be horrified by how it looked. Though she is most likely already dead, if the story even is true, it is hard to not feel at least a little sad for the Glus.

I personally imagine that Enna died from the fall, but the Glus still wanted to preserve and protect her. And so, in a place that Lief, Barda and Jasmine didn’t see, Enna’s body is preserved in the stone, her face just barely visible through the thin layer of rock, where her sweet sea worm tries to care for her as best it can. The Glus was never the guardian of the amethyst. It was only the guardian of its own personal gem.

#roddacember 2019 #roddacember #deltora quest #roddaverse #emily rodda

[warriorlid14]

Ani Re-read: Book 2 Pt. 2

“We’re still learning about thought-speech. We know there are limits on how far it can be ‘heard.’ But we aren’t sure what the limits are.” Does anyone ever? Does K.A.A know? Because these kids constantly fly together and have to be flying separately. So the reach has to be longer than however big Chapman’s house is, right?

Sooo... how many controllers have secret rooms in their homes? Because, like, that’s a big project. I don’t question much how the yeerk pool was built. But having a secret basement in all high-ranking controller’s homes? All the construction workers in this town are probably controllers. 

“May the Kandrona shine and strengthen you.” ... I really love that, not gonna lie.

“It was a hologram, I knew.” I guess the yeerks upgraded to zoom premium. For just $59.99/mo you too can have your boss virtually come into your home to yell at you.

“And when the Council of Thirteen is angry with me, I am angry with you.” Okay, I LOVE to read about yeerk bureaucracy. 

“‘What a ferocious little beast,’ Visser Three said approvingly.” And so the tales of Visser Three the Cat Person begin. Up next he’ll move from house cats to tigers.

“But [Visser Three] was not a creature who made impetuous decisions.” HAHAHAHAHA. 

“Claws and teeth  and ferocity mixed with subtlety to manipulate creatures larger than itself. A worthy creature.” Okay, most accurate description of a cat ever. But also! Guys! Get Visser Three a cat!

“I fed you his brain and made you my lieutenant. But I can suck you back out again if you fail me. Would you like to see what happened to the last fool who failed me?” Anyways, unionize the yeerks.

OH NO, I’VE MADE SO MANY COMMENTS AND I HAVEN’T EVEN GOTTEN TO MELISSA. Okay, enough about yeerk politics.

Okay, but like. There apparently exists a creature in the Yeerk homeworld who evolved SPECIFICALLY to suck yeerks out of their host bodies. Think about that for a second. (I’m not saying it’s improbable, just very disturbing.)

“That Andalite-controlling scum... I wish the Council of Thirteen would find out what kind of a mess he’s making on this planet.” Okay, I know I said I’d stop talking about yeerk politics, but come on, this is golden. And also I forgot how early we get into it.

Okay, but this scene? Where the Chapmans use endearments for Melissa, but there’s no feelings behind it? Oh, my heart.

“This was the kind of horror that made you cry instead of scream.” Yeah.

“Melissa sat down on her bed and began sobbing.” D: same tho

“What did I do, Fluffer?... Why don’t they love me anymore?” Oh, baby. Oh, honey. You precious child.

(I’m crying over Melissa but also a little bit over Rachel understanding that the atrocity of the yeerk war runs way deeper than they know.)

“Jake put his hand over Marco’s mouth. ‘People? And I use that term loosely. We need to decide what we’re doing next.’“ Whoever said Jake isn’t funny (me), is a liar (also me).

“Marco’s voice always cracked when he mentioned his mom.”  BABY.

“... Jake was about to say something impatient. And I was feeling the same way, like Marco just needed to deal with reality.” YEAH, RACHEL. THE REALITY THAT HIS MOM IS DEAD AND HIS DAD FELL APART AND IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HIM, LIKE, DIE IN A BLOODY WAR, HIS DAD WOULD FALL APART.

“But Cassie put her arm on Marco’s arm. ‘Don’t ever let any of this get in the way of spending time with your dad.’“ dhfjfgkdsdgui   I love Cassie so much.

“I hadn’t told anyone about Visser Three telling Chapman to kill me.” GODAMNIT, RACHEL. But, okay, I forgive you this time. Pls go comfort Melissa.

“What are you going to do, turn into a flea and ride on my back?” HAHAHA.

“It was a dark and stormy night. Sorry, I’ve always wanted to write that.” Rachel, you fucking dork. I love you.

Okay, so. Iniss is just sitting there, doing nothing? Maybe they’re arguing with Chapman? Replaying old memories or movies? Like, yeerks are not boring. They enjoy human activities. idk, maybe Iniss only lives for bureaucracy. 

“I’m a flea... I’m on your back.” HAHAHAHA. But also, Jake. you almost blew her cover.

“Do you know how tiring it is to have an uncooperative host?” Oh noooo. A person who refuses to be enslaved?? Fuck you, Iniss.

They’re. Fighting. For. Their. Daughter.

“‘I didn’t notice you.’ Melissa stepped back like she’d been slapped. ‘But Daddy, I was crying.’“ .... I’m not crying. Nope. Not crying.

Okay, but the entire scene where Rachel’s trying to get Jake to leave because she doesn’t want him to be killed as well? Yeah.

“Fear is like a worm inside you. It eats you. It chews your guts. It bores holes in your heart. It makes you feel hollow. Empty. Alone.” Hmm. Yeah. TOTALLY needed that before I go to sleep.

“On the edge of absolute panic, I let the cat mind take over.” Maybe one day I’ll right an essay about how the animorphs use their animal minds to escape.

“I had to die in this body, and take my secret with me.” She is SO scared, but always putting her friends before her. How do people hate her?

“I agreed to surrender my freedom... but only if you would spare my daughter.” “If you harm my daughter I will fight you. I will fight you forever.”

*deep breaths*... Not crying.... Okay, SO:

Chapman became a controller to save his daughter. But now the yeerks don’t give her any affection. So she thinks her parents don’t love her. When in reality they love her more than anything in the world. Enough to put up with such mental anguish. This freaking, series, man.

Also. Now I’m going to talk about voluntary controllers. (SPOILERS FOR FUTURE BOOKS)

The thing that bugs me is that there’s no clear distinction between voluntary controllers. As in, Chapman will continue to be referred to as a voluntary controller. Which, like, technically he is? But also, no. Chapman is not cooperating with the yeerks (voluntaries in #1). He is not willingly bringing in more recruits (Taylor). Or using his resources to help them (Joe Bob Finestra). All he is doing is not resisting. He’s not fighting. Which by the way, is a fight that he would lose anyway. By this logic, Tom almost became a voluntary controller because he agreed to stop fighting if the yeerks spared Jake.

Also, the Sharing members. People who accepted to become full-members without realizing what it meant until it was too late. Yeah, you know who did that? Tobias. In MM4. And instantly HATED himself and never accepted the yeerk. Yet, he is still called a voluntary controller.

Even Taylor, y’all. She was a vulnerable girl who went through a horrifying, traumatizing experience. And the yeerks exploited her vulnerabilities It is the people that are ostracized by society that get targeted by the yeerks. And, look, obviously the solution is never “I’m going to help enslave society”, but I doubt most people even know what they’re signing up for. And later just try to survive, The Sharing is literally a cult. (And also, Taylor later regretted becoming a voluntary controller)

I’m not saying that the animorphs are unsympathetic, because they’re not. They understand that the yeerks are manipulative assholes. I just wish that the term “voluntary controller” wasn’t that broad because it’s a little more complicated than “evil people who betrayed their species for power”.

END OF SPOILERS.

Is this the first instance of taxxon canibalism in the series? Or did it come up in the first book?

So, yeah, the earthmovers were a complete deus ex maachina.. I’m not super mad about it, honestly.

Rachel left Melissa a note!!! Lovely.

Okay, so final thoughts: I really liked this book this second time around. Not that I didn’t like it the first time, but one, I read the series out of order. Two, it’s not a huge mission book. And it’s placed between the first book and the first Tobias book, which is a HUGE book considering what has happened to him. But this book really gives us a more personal look on what the yeerks are doing to this one specific family instead of focusing on the bigger picture. And that’s powerful. Because as much as they’re fighting to protect everyone, they’re mostly fighting to protect their families and friends. At least at first. 

(I would link the previous post, but tumblr apparently made it disappear. Can’t find it and I’m mad)

#warriorlid reads animorphs #animorphs #animorphs spoilers

[stragglewort]

Cure for Ildryn -- “A Meeting in the Twyllo”

        Picture by Library of Congress (https://www.loc.gov/) -- “ Fairy tales everyone should know,” (Little Red Riding Hood)

        The first sound to come back to her was the whisper of a crackling fire.

        After that came taste – there was something sweet and metallic on her tongue. After the realization of taste came sensation. She could finally feel again. Her hands came to and a heat spread over her skin on just one side. Battling with a mellow chill gusting from somewhere else in the home.

        “Oh, you’re finally awake.” That same harsh voice from before, now a bit mellow, echoed. The stranger came into the room as they spoke – ducking under a curtain-lined, crooked doorway they were nearly too tall for. They had rather broad shoulders but a slight, tucked waist. A face marked with streaking scars that wrapped their head, interrupting their blonde hair with irregular streaks. They were both very fine but very harsh all at the same time – between their face and their handwoven, nearly formless shawl – she couldn’t quite peg what they were. Human or otherwise.

        “…’scuse me?”

        “You went and poisoned yourself with a nice mouthful of Lulgar blood.” They sighed. “I can’t imagine that tasted pleasant.”

        “It didn’t.” She coughed. Moving to wipe her face she found her hands weren’t just asleep – they were bound. “I, uh. What is this?”

        “Those are ropes. I decided you’re going to sit there very calmly and kindly until you tell me why you’re here.”

        “Wait, why?”

        “Because the last thing to stumble into my home came here after my head.” They paused. “Or my soul. Maybe my hands – I don’t know. You fair-folk aren’t picky.” 

        “I can promise you I’m not here for your head, soul, or hands. I don’t even know who you are.”

        “I’d really love to believe you.” They sounded painfully genuine – a little sad, even. “But woe be us! I don’t.” They finished rather bluntly.

        Elyra paused for a second, the stranger had said something odd. “One moment – fair-folk like me?” She asked.

        “Or whatever you call yourselves.”

“Whatever we call –?” She said, her voice shot. “Now I believe you’re confused, the only fae here is you!”

        “Please don’t go insulting me.” The stranger ticked, pacing to her. They knelt and stared straight into her eyes – scanning – looking for some sign Elyra couldn’t place. “I’ve been here since I was a child and above the Lulgar worms, Brekin beasts and all the other blasted things out here – those fair-flying folks have been the one great nuisance.” Their face turned harsh for a moment before they sighed, letting go of the rant that boiled at the tip of their tongue.

        “You don’t say…?” The shock on Elyra’s face was blatant – enough that the even the stranger was surprised.

        “I can’t believe myself...” They mumbled, massaging their temples. “You’re really not from here, are you?”

        “The Fairlands? No, no – I’m not.”

        A short laugh escaped their lips. “Now I haven’t heard anyone call it that for some time. You’re good, you know that? Very convincing.”

        She didn’t take that as a compliment. “Look – please. I don’t have anything to hide - but I’m not saying a word until you let me go.”

        This spark of something lit up in the stranger’s light – vividly green eyes. “Would you consider a deal, then?”

        “…that would depend.” She bit her tongue.

        “If I offered your freedom for an explanation – would you consider it?”

        “…Possibly.”

        A look of relief washed itself over the stranger’s face. “Oh, now I know you’re not one of them. I’ve never seen a fair-folk pass up such an easy trick!” They started. “Alright, fine – let’s get those ropes off you.”

        The stranger sighed before they clapped their hands together – “Down.” They commanded. A faint light flickered from under their feet as the rope stiffened then untied itself, slithering off her wrists and coiling itself in a neat pile on the floor.

        “What in the – who are you?” Elyra stammered, pulling her hands to her chest.

        “Rionnach Hum; though I go about changing that every once in a while.”

        “Right.”

        “Now please – if you’d be so kind, I am very curious as to why you’ve come around here.”

        Elyra took a moment to think, trying to figure out how to best tell the story. “…Have you ever heard of Ildryn?”

        “The kingdom?”

        “Yes! Right on the border –“

        “Aye, aye – spires to the heavens, population the size of imagination itself – all very kindly and whimsical. Dreadful place. Why do you ask?”

        “Something happened.” Elyra paused – the words caught in her throat. “They’re dying – we thought it might’ve been the rats, maybe something with the crops. But something, something’s taken over and my people.” She paused. ”They’re getting killed like game.”

“…Like a dictator? Some kind of war?” Rionnach leaned in, listening to her speak. This flash of worry came over their face.

        “No. An illness.” She bit her lip, grit her teeth and took in a steadying breath. “No doctor, wise-man or scholar in the kingdom has any clue as to what’s happening – people started falling asleep, really asleep. They’d stay down for days and either come back completely catatonic or…”

        “Or?” They urged.

        “...They wouldn’t come back at all.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stifled back the bitter sobs. “I read something in a book some time ago. When I was a child there was this story about some plant, a berry I think – the Heilíðan.” Her eyes grew wide, this newfound glimmer in them. “There aren’t many poems written about it; believe me, I’ve searched! But what I did find went on about how Fyriauði – Death – gave us human’s something to… to –“

        “Hold it back.” Rionnach said, finishing the sentence for her.

        She nodded. “…’To die is waste, your soul is true’ – ‘Do keep my might away.’” Elyra recited, digging up some old poem from the back of her memory. “There isn’t any magic in Ildryn – the border was forced closed – there’s not supposed to be sight of monster or fae, let alone magic berries. But everything’s failed. We needed an alternative.”

        “So, you opened an illegal portal into the grand land of Tylwrnas, following an old-wives tale in hopes that you’ll find the plant and... what? Slice it into little pieces to share with the with the whole kingdom?” Their eyes narrowed. “Do you even know where to find this ‘Heilíðan’ you’ve come all this way for?”

        “I hoped that it grew in the forests. But I wasn’t holding my breath.” Elyra looked down at her wringing hands. “I know it sounds foolish, but there was just no other –“

        They interrupted her. “This whole plan – there’s no talking you out of it?”

        She sighed. “…Not a chance.”

        Rionnach laughed. A light, airy laugh she would’ve never guessed could come from such a serious person. “You’re right. It is quite foolish.”

 …

           “You really don’t need to come with.”

        “Normally? I wouldn’t.” They started, making their way through the crooked doorway, stepping out to the cool forest. “But I don’t normally meet children so keen to get themselves killed.”

         Now that she was up and walking around Elyra could see the hut Rionnach brought her to. It was a stout building, ramshackle and moss-covered. The windows, instead of glass, were covered with old branching vines. And twisted, winding chimney let off colorful smoke – putting a smell in the air she just couldn’t place.

        Rionnach looked over the young girl’s clothes. “Is that bag all you brought?”

        “It was all I could sneak across the border.” She said. “A bag and a cloak.” She paused. “Wait, where’s my cloak?” She’d used the thing as everything from a dress to a tent – a flag to a blanket. The last thing she wanted it to be was missing.  

        “Don’t worry, it’s in the pot.” Rionnach motioned to a cluttered fire pit; pointing to a boiling, bubbling cauldron propped over top of it. Rushing over, Elyra found her quilted cloak churning in a bath of boiling water.

        “Why on jörðinni would you boil my cloak?” She yelled from across the garden – looking for something to grab at the fabric with.  

        “That cloak was the only thing saved your skin from that Lulgar worm’s blood. I’m shocked it’s even held up – let alone stayed together enough to be cleaned!”

        Elyra thought for a moment while she pulled the fabric from the water with a short branch. “If you thought I was trying to kill, steal you, or take your hands – why did you bother?” She paused. “Better yet, why did you save me in the first place?”

        Rionnach’s harshly confident face faltered for just a moment. “Even I allow myself to be optimistic, sometimes.” They flashed the girl a short, wavered grin before spinning back around – rifling through a misshapen garden. “You seemed human, I had hope. And more selfishly I thought that we might help each other.”

        “Help each other how, exactly?” Elyra asked.

        “You seem kind. I’m sure death or enslavement by a horrifying beast would put a damper on your cause. And it just so happens that I’ve been trying to cross that grand, magical border you apparently know how to open.”

        She thought for a second “…And you know this land?”

        “I have a foggy idea.”

        Elyra laughed. “I have so many names, but I can’t deny I have no idea how to get to any of them.” She paused. “…And it wasn’t too difficult opening the barrier – I can’t see the harm in bringing someone else across.”

        A wash of relief came over Rionnach as a sigh escaped their lips. “That would be very kind. Let me pack and let’s work out where exactly you’re itching to go.” They tossed through leaves and herbs, grabbing the stem of some tap root and ripping it from the ground. They did this a few times – stuffing the roots into a sack. “These are Eernjn. They’ll keep us fed for some time if we cook them right.”

        “And if we don’t?”

        “Then we won’t have the need.”         

        “Oh.” She paused. “I’ll leave that to you, then.”

        They continued rustling about the yard, moving in and out of the house in a hurry. “This plant. I can’t think of a time when it grew in the wild but it certainly sounds like something the fair-folk might grow in their own gardens.”

        “Would you happen to know how to get into those gardens?”

        “Even if I wanted in, I doubt they’d ever let me.” They hummed. “ But you…?” They looked her up and down, really looking. “If I had my way, I’d suggest you’d forfeit trying to work with them all together. But I’m sure we could figure out a way. You’re small.”

        “A little rude.” She interrupted.

        “I mean it in the nicest way possible.” They stopped to think. “Now the fair-folk aren’t picky over who they let in and out of their kingdoms – we could get in. But without wings on our backs or tusks in our mouths we’re targets for all sorts of mischief. There’s a reason they never war against the hum. They’re too busy tricking us. Indebting.”

        “You seem very sure.”

        “I’ve lived here a long time.” They shook their head. “And I haven’t seen a living or free human in these parts since I settled myself. As wild as they are with their Lulgar worms and sprites – the fringes are safer for the likes of us than anywhere near civilized life.” Rionnach clapped their hands together, having collected a whole barrage of things. A large backpack they tied the sack of Eernjn to, some clothes, cloths and other things they’d picked up. A real adventurer’s kit.

        “So what did you have in mind – we’re in the Twyllo now, but I can find us a path into any of the forest from here to Moetrn Dru.”

        “I was hoping to find a city, actually – Pont Haf?”

        Rionnach let out an involuntary, pained groan. “Surely not.“

        “Surely so! In the stories I’ve read when Fyriauði created the Heilíðan, there was a battle over it between –

        “The Spring and Summer courts, yes. And those Summer folks won quite well.”

        “And their winning means they’re my best chance at finding what I’m looking for.”

        “Yes… I see that. I just – I don’t have a great reputation with any of the courts. But the Summer folk and I have never gotten along. And for good reason, they’re a terrible lot.”

        “What have you done?”

        Rionnach huffed. “It’s… a story.”

        “We have time.” Elyra chimed.

        “Probably not.” They shut her down, making some last leaving preparations in waving their hand – causing a soft glow to erupt from their feet and fingertips. Vines and roots climbed up the sides of their home, clinging to the frame of the door and blocking it, tightly. They hesitated, closing their eyes and stifling a series of quiet curses under their breath. “…We can certainly try – but the second we hit their gate we speak to no one, understood?”

        “Of course.” Elyra agreed, only half-genuinely.

#stories #fantasy #original writing #original story #oc #high fantasy #fae #fairy #Elyra #wip excerpt #excerpt #WIP #novel #magic #writing #writer #writblr #writeblr #short #short story #Ildryn