#*tries to parry and fails miserably*

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

haii ^_^

GABRIEL BOMB GO! !! !

Haii OHh shit I-

[jules-writes-stories]

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 7ii on AO3

I squeezed in one more chapter before I take a break and dive into Azris Week. Tonight, WIP, tomorrow, we ball!

“Abso...lutely…not.” Eris grunted between swings of his sword. Sylvan met him, blow for blow. “No servants.” A strike. “No sentries.” A parry. “No lesser fae.” A thrust. Eris paused to wipe his face with the bottom of his tunic, revealing planes of sleek, muscled flesh. “You know the rules.”

One did not show any affection, favor, or even lust, for a fae who worked under Beron. It always ended in disaster. Jesminda was the most well-known example, but there had been others.

He looked at his brother. Even more than Lucien, Sylvan was the kindest. Eris had shielded the two youngest as best as he could. Had trained them himself. Tried to keep them from court. He’d failed miserably with Lucien. He could not let it happen again."

Let me know if you want on the tag list

@futurehunt @the-darkestminds @going-through-shit @honeysuckle-daydreams13

[redybearsent]

Secret Boss for my Chapter 3 take: Dary!

Dary (the second) Was once an old school mute cartoon, now he´s a mere secondary character in everyone's lives… Desperate to go back to the public eye fearing to be forgotten and disappear after "the show" ends.

His main goal now to go back to the limelight is getting to kill the Fun Gang thinking that way maybe he can become the protagonist.... At least he tries, but each time he fails miserably getting hurt in the process.

He´s based on Slapstick comedy cartoons and also in Willy Coyote (That´s why he calls Kris "Birdie"). Also! His soul mode is Bravery, the orange soul will be used to parry Dary´s attacks to either dodge them or return them like a ping pong game so he can get hurt from them... Something like Ganondorf´s fight in Ocarina of Time

[jayden-of-bps]

[he tried to block and parry, only to miserably fail and leave him wide open to attacks.]

[A knocking comes from the window. It isn't the usual pounding from outside, it was lower.. ]

[he looked over, gasping, gripping the bat tightly.]

Who's there?-

[shelleysmary]

the end of 8x02, morse and thursday having that chat on a bench, is so much because what thursday says about human nature and “you are what you are, whether you like it or not” seems kind of out of place within the context of their conversation about the girls in the blue films, how they’re somebody’s daughter and how they do and should matter. but then again, morse and thursday have conversations like these all the time. they don’t have regular heart-to-hearts - they run on subtext and tough love and small acts of service, but they don’t say what they mean exactly, and hardly ever at the right time.

it’s morse who can’t accept that he is what he is. he’s drinking more after violetta, but it isn’t about violetta at all. morse has always struggled with his own compassion, his sensitivity, and the feeling that he doesn’t quite fit in. and, as a result of not fitting in, morse believes himself to be barred from all those things that make everyone else happy. it’s self-sabotage, but it’s also the result of his upbringing, his experiences, and having this high-stress job where he is exposed to the worst of humanity on a regular basis. i remember him feeling so deeply for the people he encountered over the course of his investigations. and now he can sit on that bench and say he doesn’t care about girls like lynn parry (he’s lying). that people make bad choices and have to suffer the consequences (self-flagellation-by-proxy). and that it isn’t his job to feel for the victims, only to bring them justice. by saying “you are what you are” thursday is subtly calling his bluff. morse doesn’t need to shut down his compassion by drinking - he needs to find a way to cope with being morse.

which reminds me of s1 and thursday’s advice that he find something worth defending. morse says “music,” but what he really mean by that is beauty. in earlier seasons, even in the way the episodes were shot and the prevalence of music and his love of opera especially, there was so much more beauty to be found in morse’s world. he sought it, he found it in the subtlest of places, and it’s what carried him through even as he carried the painful baggage of his past - his mother, his father, his stepmother, his failed relationships with susan and joan, the feeling of never getting the good he deserves. but by s8, the presence of those things is all but gone. even when we see him listening to music now (rarely), it’s more in the background, either when he’s sloshed or running late or in a terrible mood - it is no longer something worth defending because morse, at this point, has lost all faith that anything is.

and yet, if we’re going by thursday’s view that you are who you are, whether you like it or not, underneath all that bitterness and disappointment and put-on nihilism is our same old endeavour morse - the romantic who loves poetry and wants to believe in the ideals of truth and beauty, who still holds them as holy. and in the end, that is morse’s tragedy - we love him. thursday chose him. he has friends who genuinely care about his happiness, but he sees none of it. the world he has created for himself in s8 is so narrow by design - the working and the drinking and the being short with everyone, both as a release valve and a means of keeping them at a distance, thereby confirming his own idea of being fundamentally unlovable... all of it is to keep from getting hurt again, without realizing that what he’s doing is hurting himself. or perhaps not caring that he is hurting himself.

up until now, it was sad seeing morse and knowing where life ends up taking him. catching glimpses of the deep-rooted sadness in a man who tries his best but never lets anyone in. there is something about this series specifically, though, and in the one that came before, that feels so bleak because he is often unrecognizable from the morse we met in the pilot. neither is he fully inspector morse. he’s in a miserable in-between, and i’m curious to see how - as the final series - s9 will choose to tie it all together.

[luimagines]

I really quickly wana say that I absolutely love your writing, its very different and unique. Could you do a scenario of the boys confessing while the reader is seriously injured or upset?

Masterlist

So you all want Link to Confess?

You want it to be filled with tension?

I can do that.

This will once again be split up. This part will include Legend, Four and Time.

Content under the cut.

Legend

“I can’t.” You say. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this with you.”

Legend bite his lip at your words. His hands are clenched into fists at his side and he looks away from you painfully. He doesn’t know why it’s come down to this or how you both even got here to begin with.

You don’t notice. You wipe your eyes harshly with your fist and sniffle loudly. “I don’t want to fight you. I’m not fighting you. I’m done. I’m done.”

You gulp and turn on your heel taking a few steps away before Legend can even get his words out of his mouth.

“No. Wait. Please.” He chokes on them and nothing else leaves his mouth for a solid minute.

You’re waiting for him to continue. 

He knows it. 

He doesn’t know why he can’t get his words out. Out of all the times for his words and his throat close off, this is the last place he wants it to happen.

You don’t look back at him.

He gulps and his hands lifts out to you against his consent. Legend can feel his tear build up behind his eyes. There’s something in his gut that’s telling him to move, to act, because it’s his last chance. If he screws this up then your relationship is beyond repair.

He knows it.

You take a deep breath and he can see you fold over yourself, no doubt crying silently at this whole exchange.

You sniffle loudly again and shake yourself off.

“Link...” You say and he’s never hated the way you say his own name so much. There’s so much pain... resignation... and finality. “I can’t let you keep hurting yourself like this. I can’t. I know you’re doing this for me but I hate it. I care about you too much to see you take hit after hit and for you to act like it’s not a big deal.”

“But-”

“NO!” You yell and your voice cracks with it. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t bare to see how little you care about yourself. How little you think everyone thinks of you. And then when I try to tell you, you just yell at me. Tell me that it’s not my business. Tell me that I underestimate you. Tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about or that I can’t tell you what to do. AND I KNOW I CAN’T. But I... I can’t...I just can’t...”

Legend can feel his tears run down his face and he has to unstick his feet from where he stands to make his way over to you.

You still don’t look back.

“By the stars, you have to hate me with how annoying I’ve been.”

Legend can feel more tears spill at your confession. I don’t hate you, he thinks. I could never hate you. How could anyone hate you?

“And even then I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from and it just makes it worse each time this happens but I....” You heave and it’s painful to hear because it sounds like your fighting for your life. “I’m the only one who says anything and I don’t know why and I don’t care what the group may think but this hurts. This hurts, Link. And I don’t think you care.”

Legend stops behind you, his heart bleeding with every tear he knows you’re shedding. But he still can’t bring himself to make his voice work.

“I have to leave.”

No.

“I can’t be here anymore.”

Please.

“I can’t look at your face and let this happen.”

Don’t leave me.

“Next town over, I’m staying there. I don’t care how far away I’d be from my home. I’ll find my own way back. You lot can keep fighting the darkness without me.”

“Don’t go.” Legend finds his voice again but it’s quiet and he doubts that you even hear him. So he says it again, trying to be louder. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

His hands grips your sleeve but he can’t tell when he got so close to you.

“Don’t say that.” You snap and turn your face away from him, ripping your arm away from him. “Don’t say that like you care.”

“I do care!”

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“But I love you!” Legend shouts and his own intensity scares him for a moment.

You both freeze and a fragile stillness blankets the air.

You finally look at him again and blink. You look miserable and he knows it’s his fault. You try to blink away any remaining tears and bravely face him head on. He’s the one who nearly chickens out and looks away but this is too important. He owes you this much. He has to see this through to the end now.

You bite your lip and whisper. “What did you say?”

“Of course I care.” He chokes on his own spit and he knows that this is the make or break. His final chance to win you over or he’ll risk losing you forever. He can’t afford to let his own words fail him. “I care because I love you. I fight for you because I love you. I take those hits because I love you. I don’t think I can handle a reality where you’re hurt. I’d take every hit for you if I could. If it would just mean that-”

“Well don’t.” You snap. 

Legend’s heart drops to his stomach at your words and he thinks this is it. He’s lost. There’s no coming back from this.

“Stop taking my hits.” You sniffle and rub your eyes again. “God... Link, you’re so stupid.”

“I... I just-” Legend looks away as he loses his nerve.

“I love you too.” You admit and his neck almost cracks with how fast he looks back up at you.

“I love you so much, you stupid idiot.” You laugh. It’s wet and weak but you’re laughing. “If you hate to see me hurt, how much do you think I hate seeing you hurt?”

“It’ll hurt more to see you leave than every hit I’ve ever taken in my life.” Legend blinks away more tears. You’re both ugly crying and nothing about this is pretty but Legend feels just the smallest ray of hope in his heart that maybe you’ll stay and let him love you.

Maybe you’ll love him in return.

It’ll be more than what he’ll ever ask for.

“Don’t go.” He tries again. “Please don’t go.”

“I don’t want to go.” You fall to your knees. Legend is quick to fall with you and he places his hands on your shoulder to keep you upright. “I don’t want to leave this group. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave at all.”

“Then don’t.” Legend’s voice cracks this time instead. “Don’t leave. Stay. Stay with me. Please. I’d do anything.”

“Stop getting hurt idiot. That’s all I’m asking.” You snap and place your hands on his face.

Legend leans into your touch and you wipe away his tears with your thumb. “I don’t think I can make that promise.”

“Then don’t get hurt on my account. Promise me.” You press. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Legend sighs and picks at his sleeve, tugging it into his palm to wipe away your tears. “I just want you safe so you don’t have to.”

“I’m already traveling with the group. I don’t think that can be helped.” You snort and move closer to him. You wrap your arms around him and hold him close, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

Legend’s heart is absolutely pounding in his chest right now. He’s almost certain that you know it with where your ear is. He wraps his arms around you as well, holding you as tight as he can. “I love you.”

You grin against him. “I love you too.”

Four

Somewhere in the dungeon Four has lost everyone around him.

He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where the group is. And he doesn’t know how exactly to get back to you- the group. Back to the group.

“Hello!” He hears you call. “Anyone nearby?! Time! Sky! Four!”

Four’s heart begins pounding and against his better judgment he begins to sprint over to where he heard you call. He so badly wants to see you. To see that you’re ok. That you’re alright.

You’re not ok.

He can see you... but you’re not you.

Kinda, technically- Four’s not actually not sure what he’s looking at right now only that it’s bad.

For one thing, you’re looking at him with a large smile on your face. There’s a bloodied knife in your hand and a whole lot of blood by your feet. Behind you is an open room, with ropes hanging from the ceiling and what looks to be shelves of multiple sharp metal items on top of them.

Four’s heart going from pounding to a full stop. There’s something off about you. There’s a trail of blood going from your forehead down to your chin and multiple dark patches of what can only be more blood on your clothes.

Four says your name as he takes a step back. “What happened to you?”

Why are your eyes completely black?

“Four.” He hears you say and it’s his worse nightmare.

Mostly because your voice doesn’t come from the person in front of him.

The being in front of him take a side step and he can see where you are.

You’re what’s hanging from the ropes, blood pooling underneath you as it weeps around your binds. You look tired and horrible. Four’s heart jump starts into his throat and he’s not sure for a second whether he’s going to cry or vomit.

“Holy Hylia...”

“Four. Run.” You say from your binds. “Get out of here! Find the others! Go- Go on without me! ...I’ll be ok”

He doubts that.

Four reaches for his sword and takes a stance in front of your evil twin. 

“Four don’t.” You try to fight the ropes but you’re too weak. On top of that you’re too high up. Even if you could get out, Four’s afraid the fall might be enough to break your bones. “Don’t do it! It’s too strong for just one person. Go get the others!”

“And leave you behind to this thing?” Four shouts and adjusts his grip on his blade. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh yes please.” The monster says in your voice. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anybody to play with.”

Before his eyes, Four sees this monster shift downward and wobble in its illusion and soon his own face is staring back at him- eyes just as black as before.

���Show me what you can do.” It’s in his voice now with a sword that looks just like his.

The similarity of the situation is not lost on Four and he hates that it’s come to this.

Four growls and strikes at the alien. It parries without much trouble and grins.

There’s a rage bubbling under his skin as he attacks and blocks and tries his hardest to knock this monster back into the room. He ignores the slick floor. He ignores your cries for him to stop and run. He ignores the thought that you’d were alone when you fought a losing battle. He ignores how he wasn’t there to save you. He ignores how no one was there to save you. He ignores everything except how you’re hurt and how you’re stuck and how you’re crying.

Four can’t seem to get a hit in this beast. It matches him with every beat- every strike- every block and Four’s frustration builds as every second passes with neither side gaining ground.

Four backflips away from a particularly dangerous strike and raises his sword skyward- banking on the fact that this monster wouldn’t have been able to copy the magic within his blade without it’s knowledge and attacks with more energy than before.

Blue, Green and Red attack the monster without mercy, covering where one fails with practiced efficiency.

Vio dances around the battle and begins looking for a way to get you down.

You’ve stopped struggling for a while once fight started and he’s worried that you may have lost too much blood.

Vio takes one look around and finds a gear which connects to the rope. He dashes over to it and begins to painstakingly push and pull to get the system in place to put you on the ground once more.

He looks over to where his brothers are and find that they’ve cornered the beast without any way of it breaking out of their square. He sees it panic- clearly not anticipating their split- nor is it able to replicate it and can see how it’s losing the fight.

Your feet touch the ground and you don’t even have the strength to hold yourself up anymore.

Your head hangs low and your completely limp as he continues to lower you.

Vio gulps and keep lowering the rope until your head has touched the ground as gently as he can manage.

“NOW DIE YOU TWO FACED, SHAPE SHIFTING, PUDDLE OF-” Blue screams from the other side of the room, followed by Green and Red as they finish off whatever vile creature it was.

Vio takes out his knife and begins to cut as many of the ropes as he can to release you. As he’s doing this, he’s calling your name, trying to not give in to impulse and shake you to get a response but the lack of one concerns him greatly.

Red appears by his side not a moment later and begins to pour what looks like a healing potion over you.

Green jumps over you three and spins on his heel on your other side, taking out their last fairy and setting it free over you. 

With the potion and the fairy working on healing what they can, Blue comes up behind all of them and growls. “I can’t believe this.”

“Blue-”

“NO! It’s not-!”

“Four...” You groan and reach your hand out. Green is quick to take it and pull it close to his chest. 

He looks at the others for a moment before swallowing. “I’m here.”

“Link...” You call and take a deep breath. All the colors can hear the amount of effort it take to inhale and how it barely fills your lungs.

“We should merge.” Vio whispers and reaches behind him for his sword.

Green nods and holds it up, waiting for the others to join. Red follows quick without a fuss and Blue joins after a tense moment of studying you. Four is left where Green was placed, sword raised and holding your hand.

His mind is loose and memories from the last fifteen minutes flood through his brain as he tries to stitch it back together.

“Link.” You call again and he leans down placing a chaste kiss on your hand. 

Thinking is very hard right now but he can get enough movement synched up to complete some sort of action to tell you that he’s here.

“You’re ok.” You mumble and grip him ever so slightly. The potion seems to be doing it’s job and the fairy continues to hover over you as it tends to your wounds.

“You’re ok.” Four finds himself saying. “You’re going to ok. Just hang a bit, ok?”

Four realizes a little belatedly that he has no other items to give you that would help. That was his last fairy and there’s no potions left either. Not to mention that it’s still just the two of you and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you to go get help. 

“I am... So tired.” You say and take another breath.

“No. Don’t sleep.” Four whimpers. “Don’t sleep. You won’t wake up.”

“Four... I can’t even open my eyes.” You sigh. “You’ll watch over me, right? And we can wait for the others?”

“Don’t sleep.” He stresses, mind clearing as the panic seeps in. “Talk to me. Say something. How did you even meet that monster? What was it?”

“I don’t know...” Your voice trails away.

Four says your name, tears pooling in his eyes. “You can’t do this to me. I have nothing left to give you. You can’t die here.”

You don’t reply.

Four says your name again with more urgency, tugging your hand and beating it against his chest. “Come on. Say something, anything- please I can’t do anything else!”

You sigh and Four doesn’t see your chest rise again.

“No.” He cries and folds on your chest, pushing the fairy away even as it’s working. “No. You can’t leave me. You can’t leave like this. I never got to tell you. I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I should have been faster. I should have tried to find you faster or find anyone. I’m sorry you were alone.”

“Four I’m not dead.” You mumble.

Four shoot up and cradles your face with his free hand, his grip tightening on your own exponentially. For a moment he feels like slapping you for the scare but he’s too relieved to go through with it. “How dare you-”

“I had to gather my strength.” You explain. “I’m really close to sleeping but I think that fairy is keeping me awake.”

He lets a long breath go and folds over you again, placing his head over your heart. Your heart beat is strong and sturdy and Four could cry from the amount of relief that follows. “I thought I lost you there.”

“Did you mean it?” You mumble and weakly put your other hand in his hair. “Did you mean what you said?”

“What?”

“You said you love me.”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I’m sorry.”

Four stops the incredulous laugh from overcoming his chest but he can’t stop the few tears that leave his eyes. “Are you asking me why I love you? Are you asking me to sing your praises? Because I will. I absolutely will. Don’t doubt me on this.”

“No, I believe you.” You smile and hum in contentment. “I love you too if that means anything.”

“It means everything.” Four chokes on his own breath and holds you close.

“Yay.” You place a kiss on his hair line and nuzzle him where you can. Your strength is slowly returning to you as the potion takes full effect and the fairy finally leaves you alone.

“Link?”

“Yes?

“Thank you. For saving me.”

“Thank you for not dying.” He grins.

“I have to live to give you all my love now. I don’t have the time to die.”

Time

Time was breathing hard as he lifts his shield to block an upcoming shot.

Metal clangs against metal. The brute force knocking him back enough that he has to dig his heels into the stone or else he’ll fall over. 

He grunts and pushes the beast away. He readjusts his sword in his hand and hunker downs further. 

The lizafos in front of him screeches in anger at the lack of damage done to him. Time nearly growls back at the monster in reply.

“Fowl beast.” Time spits instead. “This is where you fall.”

Time raises his arm to strike the creature until he hears you yell in anger.

You’re closer to him than he thought and the lizard sees the subtle eye shift on Time’s face. The lizard sees the opportunity and falls onto its four legs, dashing in your direction. 

Tim’s heart freezes and in a moment of desperation, he throws his sword in the direction of the monster. 

He can see everything slow down for this exact moment.

You strike your own monster down and turn around just in time to see the lizard rise up and unhinge its jaws. Time can see your eyes widen in fear and both of you make the calculation that you’re not going be able to block that attack in time. He sees his sword make contact with the monster right as the top row of teeth latch onto your tunic. The force from the blow sends the monsters careening away from you, the hooked teeth tearing at the fabric of your clothes. Ribbons of red fly from you and Time sprints in your direction.

“Time!” You shout and audibly gulp. He can see how shaken you are from that close call and you’re quick to place your back to his with your weapon out in front of you. “Bloody hell, was that you? I thought I was gonna have to have Legend sew me back together for a hot second. Stars, how hard did you throw that?”

Harder than was probably needed, Time admits in his head, reaching for his giant’s knife as you speak.

“Hard enough. Now focus.” He says.

“Right, right.” You twirl your blade in your hand, readjusting your grip and stance.

Time chances a glance behind him to look over to you. Your forearm is beginning to bleed profusely but your grip is still strong. You’re absolutely covered in dust and dirt alike from head to toe and appear to be sporting some blooming bruises under your chin and above one of your eyes.

Time can feel the frustration build up inside of him as he eyes the enemies down. He doesn’t doubt that he’s advertising his own injuries as he stands tall. He’s also doesn’t know where the rest of the boys are or if they’re handle it better that you both seem to be doing but he’s too focused on this fight in front of him to spend too much time on the thought.

The earlier lizalfos gets up again with Time’s original sword impaled right through it. The tip of the blade is poking out of the armor and it’s disconcerting how easily its still able to move around despite the major damage it should be doing to all its internal organs. From what little he can see, he can see black blood dribble down from his weapon onto the ground in front of him.

It’s infected.

Now he’s really glad he’s joined your side.

“Aces, how many are left?” He hears you ask over your heavy panting. He doesn’t think he’s the one you’re asking but he answers regardless.

“There can’t be that much left.” Time keeps his eye on the lizard, stepping ever so slightly to the side to keep the enemy’s eyes on him instead of you. He’s prepared to use his body as a shield if it meant your safety.

“Time.” You say and he can actually feel you lean against him. “I’m so tired.”

That’s probably the worst thing you could have said to him.

“You have to keep fighting.” He urges. “We’re not done yet.”

Time’s beginning to feel the buds of sheer terror for your well being.

“I know.” You sigh.

The lizard roars in his direction and charges toward you head on.

Time readies himself and times his swing. 

He knocks the lizard away again, cutting deeply into its side and nearly cutting off its arm in the process.

Time can feel you collide against him when another beast crashes into you and spins as fast as he can when you actually fall to the ground. He knocks the lower bokoblin away and reaches down to help you to your feet.

He grabs your shoulder and retracts his hand like he’s been burned.

His hand comes back covered in blood. All of the back of your neck is soaked and your hair is sticking in clumps because of it.

You have a deep head injury and he didn’t even know it.

The others are nowhere near you and there’s still an infected beast nearby with more monsters coming in behind you two.

Time thinks for a minute that this might actually it for him.

You won’t last much longer and Time can’t protect you with this many monsters flooding the area, even less so when there’s an infected one still standing.

You growl and try to hold yourself higher, to keep fighting, to keep going and defend.

He’s emboldened by your strive to go until the end and he focuses on the infected beast.

Time says with your name in the moment of pause, where both sides catch their breath.

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. 

“I need you to know something. It’s incredibly important that you know this.” Time grips his sword tight and swallows harshly.

“Now?”

“It’s now or never.”

“Time, you’re scaring me.”

“I love you.” He blurts out as confidently as he thinks he can manage. “I love you so much. On the chance that you make it out of here-” Because you will make it out of here, so help him- if the gods will grant him this one thing- “-I need you to know this. You need to know that I am completely in love with you.”

“Now?! You’re telling me this now?” You shout but he doesn’t turn around to look at you. The lizard is watching him, waiting for him to make a move. You call him again. “Link?”

You sound so quiet and weak. Time doubts that you’ll both actually get out of here.

“Link don’t do this to me. Not now. Not like this.” You sound on the verge of tears.

“Believe me, this not how I wanted this.” He admits and blinks away his own tears at the thought of it.

“Would you have ever told me if it didn’t come to this?” You ask and he goes to answer but the lizard get impatient and strikes first.

Time meets it halfway and blocks its attack. He’s quick to push it off and he belatedly hears you hop into your own fight once more. It’s already sounding difficult.

“Link!” He hears you cry and he nearly breaks down into sobs at how desperate you sound. “Time!”

He can’t go to you.

He can’t disengage.

“Link please!”

“I’m sorry.” He mummers. He knows you can’t hear him but he can’t risk the infected getting close to you.

“OH THANK GOD!” You shout and there’s the sounds of the boys.

Backup has arrived.

The split second in his distraction was what the lizard was waiting for. It strikes Time in his shoulder and he can’t stop the cry of agony that rips through him. It’s enough force that it knocks him onto the ground and to his knees. He picks up his sword and swing upwards slicing the beast through its armor and clicking against his other sword.

Wolfie comes up from the side and is quick to sink his teeth into the gizzard of the lizard, ripping and riding the beast down as it falls over. Time ditches his giant’s knife and jumps onto the beast next to the wolf. He reaches over despite his wound and grips the hilt of the impaled sword. 

In one swift movement he pulls it out and rams it through the head. He keeps stabbing until it is no longer moving. He sees one of the others come next to him and also begin stabbing the monster to hell and back.

He stops after what feels like an eternity and he’s struggling to breath. He wipes at his brow, nods to Wolfie and Sky, now that he sees him and spins on his heel to turn the rest of the group.

Hyrule, Legend and Wild are all crowding around you, each with their own manner of trying to heal your numerous injuries. Time feels relief flood his system and he falls to his knees, not caring if he stains his armor with the black blood that’s pooled beneath him.

He pauses to take his breath and he closes his eyes as the calm descends on the atmosphere.

“Time.” He hears you fight the others after a moment. “Where’s Time? I need to see Time. Where is he?”

“You’re covered in blood. You’re head isn’t even close to being fully healed.” Hyrule scolds.

“I have to yell at Time.” You speak.

“Don’t stand!”

“Where is he?”

“Sit down! We’re almost done!”

“I have to see him!” You cry and Time bites his lip at the desperation in your voice.

“I’m here.” He calls out. “Take care of yourself first. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.” You reply and somehow make your way closer.

Time forces his eyes open and sits straighter when he sees you wobble your way over determinedly. You fight off anyone who tries to grab you or guide you to him, making your way to him by your own power.

He looks up at you, speechless and so full of hope and concern.

You fall onto your knees next to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

Time hisses slightly and pulls your arm away from his wound. You whine at the notion and readjust yourself to lay against his chest instead, hands by his collar bone instead and your head on his good shoulder. Time instinctually wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight, the weight of the fight lifted from his shoulders and what could have been from the front of his mind.

“Did we miss something?” Wind whispers from the back.

“Let them have this.” Warrior replies.

Relief flutters over his shoulder and the aches around his body. Time glances upwards for a moment to see Wild unleash a fairy and Hyrule on his knees next to the two of you.

You relax even more against him and sigh, stretching your head upwards. Your breath tickles the shell of his ear and Time has to suppress the shudder of pleasure that follows.

“I love you too Link.” You whisper and Time curls over you ever so slightly at your admission. “That was the worst timing in history. Never scare me like that again.”

He nods and you smile against his neck.

Feeling warm and giddy, Time finds himself smiling back and leans his head against yours.

You’re ok.

You’re both ok.

Part 2

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[childe-dni]

Dawn

diluc x reader

wc: 759

warnings: none

Your boyfriend seems to think it's funny to mess with you but you're determined to beat him at his own game

a/n - at the end

Contrary to popular belief, Diluc is actually a big fan of games. He’s a joker, and perhaps even a prankster when he wants to be. However, he only really shows that more playful side to you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments. You both enjoyed the challenge that the other gave, over time learning new ways to parry jabs from the other. Since you had recently gained an addition to your arsenal and Diluc was clearly in a gaming mood, you decided to seize the moment and observe the effectiveness of your new attack.

“Diluc~” you whined from opposite the bar.

Your boyfriend was working the night shift at Angel’s Share but your attempt to grace him with your presence seemed to be void. He was toying with you, ignoring your pleas for him and only responding to treat you like any other customer. He would pour you your drink and swiftly move on as though you weren’t there. No matter what you called him, you just couldn't get his attention. You tried all kinds of names; Master Diluc, Sir Ragnvindr, Didi, Lulu, Dilly, pretty much any nickname in the book. You noticed his eye twitch when you referred to him as ‘the inferior brother’ but it wasn’t enough to crack him. Enough was enough. Two can play at this game.

“Still ignoring me, Diluculum?”

As opposed to his rather withdrawn reaction from before, Diluc had completely stopped in his tracks. Although the tavern was still full of life and noise, you felt as though a deafening silence had filled the entire room. Anticipation was beginning to bubble up within you as you waited for any kind of action from the bartender. What you received from him was an agonisingly slow turn to face you. With how he ignored the orders and requests from customers, it was evident that the room had also fallen silent to his ears as well as yours.

“Is there a problem, Dilucul-” you started before being abruptly interrupted by harsh and desperate shushes.

“Where did you hear that name?” Diluc whisper shouted at you, eyes narrowed and ears matching in colour to the crimson strands that surrounded them.

It looked like the new weapon in your arsenal had proven itself to be effective – it had managed to break down the tallest and firmest of iron walls you had faced yet, you were impressed to say the least. It was rare for your taunts to have your partner on the ropes like this, speechless but simultaneously fumbling before you, and you couldn’t say the sight didn’t bring you some sadistic kind of pleasure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know”, you smirked whilst not-so-subtly side-eyeing a certain Cavalry Captain from across the tavern, who seemed to return the sentiment with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows and the swift covering of his mouth with his drink as he turned away from the both of you.

At the sight of your brief exchange, Diluc let out an exasperated sigh that you had only ever heard him release in response to his brother’s antics. He shook his head as he leaned on the counter in front of you, head hanging low. You heard him grumble something about how he never expected Kaeya to stoop so low and you couldn’t help but snicker at his unintentional theatrics. Diluc was seldom ever so dramatic, less so in public.

“I’m not sure why you regard the name with such distaste, I think Diluculum sounds lovely.” Your tone was drenched in the same saccharine innocence as those lashes you batted at him, and it clearly worked like a charm as the man before you whipped his head up so his eyes could meet yours. Diluc was embarrassed at how quickly he raised his head to look at you when he heard your compliment that he cleared his throat whilst his eyes evaded yours.

“Do you... do you mean that?” he muttered, clearly trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“Of course I do”, you paused before continuing. “But maybe that’s just because I think everything to do with you is lovely”, you grinned widely as you winked and watched the fiery haired man’s cheeks darken in hue.

“Well I suppose I don’t mind when you say it...” Diluc grumbled while he finally returned to tending to his other customers and you watched in endearment with your chin propped up by your hand at his atypical display of petulance. “I’m still going to kill Kaeya for telling you, though.”

a/n; i found out the name Diluc came from the word diluculum some time ago and my brain was like 'what if that's his full name and he hates it for no reason' and now we're here. his full name isn't actually diluculum for anyone who's confused

[mayisgoingnuts]

BRO TODAY WAS SO WHOLESOME I--- I hangout with my friends (Sam, Star and Parry) and it was honestly one of my favorites!

I discovered that I'm ticklish when it comes to rough tickles. I discovered Sam's weakest spot. I discovered Parry's ticklish. We had a lot of tickle fights. We watched a movie. We failed to do popcorn without Parry's help.

Aight, first one: I thought I wasn't ticklish at all but it turned out I was wrong, my sides and ribcage are VERY ticklish and make me squirm a lot. Not just that but I was pinned too, so AAH I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN- it's so embarassing but fun at the same time??? When they discovered my ticklishness I became the main target, and even on the most random moments (like when we were watching the movie) they would poke me!

Second one: It's near his armpits. HE'S SO CUTE I CAN'T- I'm like 8x smaller then him and even with that he couldn't get away, I tickled him there just for some seconds and it was enough for him to laugh and squirm like crazy, I got so happy!! I did that when we hugged so I kinda cheated~ Here's why he got so excited to finally tickle me!

Third one: I thought he wasn't because when I tickled his thighs (like he does to me) nothing happened and he also said he got used to tickling, but I DIDN'T GAVE UP. I literally asked him "you're not?", he answered "I don't know, I guess not" and we tested. He's ticklish on his ribcage! Looks like everyone in the group is, wow-

Fourth one: Can't explain more than that. Spoiler: I'm the one who gave begin to tickle fights. I tickled Sam, then I tickled Star who tickled me back, and it continued.

Fifth one: It was fun and relaxing at the same time. In the first minutes Sam and Parry kept poking me, and when Parry decided to go home I almost slept on Sam's thigh- Really, it was comfortable and he was petting me (like discreetly, he's shy it's so cute), who wouldn't want to sleep there??

Aaand for last: In the beggining we tried to do popcorn (not the microwave ones) and failed miserably. Just in the first try! ...and in the second one. In the end Parry did it for us and we didn't need to eat burned popcorn.

Sam came with me at my apartments so I wouldn't go alone, we still poke each other and it was really funny. When I got home I said "next time I'll go alone so you don't need to", and he replied with "NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN!! It's too dangerous >:( But seriously, you don't need to, I'll go with you" And I kind of- you know- melted.

Gosh I love them so much <3

[marmolady]

Homecoming: Part One

Read PART TWO here!

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Estela and Taylor spend one last night in San Trobida before returning to La Huerta and facing their future. This was going to be a two-parter, but I got all long-winded, so four-parter is more like it.

Word Count: 3342

Chronology: After 'The New Taylor' and 'A Ride to Remember', sort of midway through 'Inheritance'.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading!

Parrying the blows of her brother’s sword with the easy grace of a well-honed professional-- she had been doing this since her early teens-- Estela seemed to dance across the basement floor, totally in her element. Then Aleister lurched forward, and she jumped back, effortlessly dodging his attack. But in the landing, she found herself, finally, unstuck. Under the sudden weight of her whole body, her wounded leg gave way, and she stumbled. In a split second, Aleister’s cautious approach fell away and he pushed his advantage before Estela could recover. With a final flick of his blade, she was disarmed.

Estela laughed at the look of plain shock on Aleister’s face at his own victory. “Not half bad,” she commented, impressed that he hadn’t fumbled around taking advantage of her weakness. Her healing leg injury had been a source of great frustration-- despite regular massages of the Vaanti-made ointment concocted using the leaves from The Celestial’s roof, improvement had plateaued. The last thing she wanted was to be babied. “You’re still wasting too much energy with flamboyant gestures. This isn’t ballet-- it doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t appear that ‘pretty’ has hindered my performance,” Aleister panted, recovering just enough to be rather pleased with himself.

Offering a hand to take Aleister’s sword, Estela grinned. “Like I said, not half bad. Come on, hermano. We’d better give Tio a hand in the kitchen; it sounded like he had a big spread planned.”

Brother. That was still new. Only in the lead-up to his hand-fasting to Grace a few months prior had Estela gone so far as to utter that word in relation to Aleister. He reacted as he always did, a double-take, then his cheeks going immediately pink. It had been so long he’d craved that acceptance… now that it was there, it seemed it would take him some getting used to.

All attempts at helping Nicolas out with the farewell dinner were met with strong resistance. Some butting of heads later, Estela realised it really wasn’t a hill worth dying on; if her tio wanted to do something special for them all, she’d just have to step back and let him. After all, it could well be some time before he’d have this opportunity again. Come the next day, she, Taylor, and their friends, would all be on their way, and Nicolas would once more be left to an empty house.

As much as she tried to join in the energetic conversations over dinner, Estela found herself distracted. With her return to La Huerta, she’d be taking steps to move on with her life; to come to terms with the grief she’d suffered and get some closure. And then… she was faced with working out what the hell kind of life she’d forge for herself; something that had been made all the more complicated since Aleister had seen fit to bestow upon her half of everything he’d been left after Rourke’s demise. She’d made good progress on coming to peace with that connection, but she was not fool enough to be under any illusions… she still had a long way to go.

The subject of conversation turned to the case against Lundgren-- and the subsequent clearing of Jake’s name-- and Estela shook herself back to the present.

“The evidence is fairly damning,” Aleister was saying as he loaded his fork with beef, egg and plantain. “Certainly, the prosecutors were pleased. That we have access to every file my father ever touched, and a wealth of video and audio recordings, it would be difficult indeed to look at what’s presented and not come back with a guilty verdict.”

Jake smiled wryly, the grin failing to make his eyes. “I’ll give ya one thing, Malfoy, your old lady ain’t a dame I’d want to get on the wrong side of. I guess… we’ll see. Worst case, settlin’ down out here wouldn’t be half bad.”

“We won’t rest until you’re home,” Grace declared resolutely, her dark eyes shining. “That awful man isn’t going to be remembered as anything other than a power-hungry conniving brute. I’ll stand up and make a witness statement in court myself!”

She had, Jake knew, her own haunting personal experiences of seeing that exact brutality at close quarters. It made him sick. “Hey-- I won’t have you dredging up all that. Not for me--”

Grace spoke across him, calmly but firmly. “It’s my stand to take. I had quite enough of being helpless as Rourke’s prisoner; I need to take my power back.”

Jake’s mouth snapped shut. He wasn’t about to argue with that. “The poor defense won’t know what hit it.” The words rang hollow as exchanged a subtle dark look with Estela. The optimism was nice and all, but experience had told the both of them that the world was a corrupt place and ‘fair’ barely counted for squat.

“I know you think I’m naive,” Grace said, “and maybe I am, but the fact remains that we’re not giving in.”

Taylor grinned, confident because she had to be. “I didn’t offer my life force to some crystal alien only for you to not get back to your family. This is a matter of ‘how’ and ‘when’, not ‘if’.”

Beside her, Estela nodded. “Look, we’d be crazy if we just go in assuming this is gonna be a cakewalk. But Pollyanna here is right; we’ll make it happen. We’re not the kind of people who just roll over to injustice, and anyone who thinks they can force us is in for a painful lesson.”

“Dang, Princess… I think you broke Eeyore. She’ll be a motivational speaker at this rate….”

“It’s Katniss, cabron. Y vete a la mierda.”

Jake sniggered into his beer. So, motivational speaker was a little stretch.

With dinner over, the group started disperse. As Estela made to make a start on clean-up, Taylor gently turned her around.

“I’m pretty sure me and Al can handle this. Make the most of tonight.”

Estela looked out through the window to the front porch, where Nicolas had settled with his flask of rum. She took a deep breath. Taylor was right; she couldn’t just let this time pass her by.

Cold beer in hand, she pushed open the front door and stepped out. “It seems like Aleister and Grace’s first bandeja paisa was a hit.”

Nicolas beamed at the sight of her, and clinked her bottle as she sat down in the other chair. “Of course. Either that or they are exceptional actors.”

“No chance,” Estela laughed. “You’ve seen the looks he gives poor Taylor’s cooking. Her confidence has been shot since they’ve been here. At least Grace is polite about it.”

“You must be excited. I’ve said for so long that your potential was being wasted, and now… the world is your oyster. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Estela shifted in her chair and took a long drink.

“What’s that look for, mija?”

“Well, yeah, I’m excited. Terrified, but…. If I finish this degree, I really should think of what I want to do with it. And, well, all that money Aleister’s pushing on me.”

“That gilipollas. You poor thing.”

“Actually, I’m almost getting used to the idea. As much as it freaks me out, Mom would have been so happy to know I’ve got a leg up.” A small smile crept to Estela’s face. “I keep seeing so many things I could help with. Like the schools and universities-- how much could recovery be accelerated if people had better opportunities to learn? Or physically rebuilding so much that had been destroyed, or actually protecting the wilderness of this beautiful place?” She blushed as she caught herself getting passionate. “Rourke International has the capacity to do so much; we could actually have tourists coming here. That hasn’t happened in my lifetime!”

Nicolas chuckled, looking at his niece with clear affection. But he saw the cloud of doubt across her face.

“I…,” she continued, “I just don’t know that I have the right. We just got rid of one dictator, and Mom was collateral damage to a would-be dictator.” A would-be dictator who’s inescapably part of who I am. “Money comes with a lot of power. Even if I’m using it for what I think is good… I could cause a lot of harm.” By the time she finished, her voice was but a murmur.

“True. Alternatively, you could be one of those misers who sit upon their millions while the people around them starve and suffer, buildings crumble, and forests burn.”

“So, you’re saying I can’t win?” Estela demanded.

“I’m saying, the enemy here is ignorance. Ignorance of what greater impacts of your generosity might be, and ignorance of what suffering might go on if that generosity is withheld. The fact that you are even having these doubts tells me that you are not ignorant to the consequences of your actions.”

Estela huffed thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose,” she grumbled after a little while, “that you’d let me be, even for a second.”

“Of course not! I might be getting on a bit, but I am by no means past letting you know when you ought to unstick your head from your own backside.”

Again, Estela fell quiet. She was not going to be existing in an echo chamber. She’d surrounded herself with people that she trusted, with strong opinions and varied perspectives; people who would not balk from challenging her when necessary. If she tried, she couldn’t become a tyrant, regardless of what blood coursed her veins. At any rate, she’d simply be-- for the most part, at least-- channeling funds to others better placed to make the change she wanted to see in her world. She could be as anonymous as she wanted. Perhaps… perhaps it would not hurt to put some faith in herself.

“I take it from your silence,” Nicolas said, “that you’ve realised that once again I’m right. Now, go back to happily daydreaming about all the good you will do.”

Estela sighed dramatically, but smiled at her uncle. “I’m really gonna miss you….”

“I can’t pretend I’ve been looking forward to waking to an empty house again. But the missing you will be temporary; that’s more than I could have dared to hope for not so long ago.”

The same was true for her. And there was no way in hell she’d let goodbye be forever, not now. “Yeah. You’ve got a good point.”

“Again?”

She snorted. “Shut up, Tio.”

_________________________

The night wore steadily on, and Taylor eventually had to retreat from socialising with Nicolas’ other guests to start making headway on her night-time routine. ‘Self-care’ was something she now had down to an art; she even made a point of noting down the steps taken each night so she could easily track what was most effective. By this point, she had a fairly solid schedule. Yoga was followed by a calming cup of mint or chamomile tea, sometimes accompanied by a hot bath-- though tonight it was too late for the nice long soak she’d prefer--, and then she’d wind down even further with a half-hour’s guided meditation. Jake teased her mercilessly, but she really didn’t give a damn. If she could de-stress just enough to keep the seemingly never-ending stream of horrifying nightmares at bay, he could laugh all he wanted.

Slowly, Taylor wiggled her fingers and toes, bringing herself back to the land of the living with a long exhale. Fifteen nights without being woken up by visions of her loved ones’ deaths was the best run she’d ever had, but if those nightmares were triggered by stress, then the imminent return to La Huerta might just be the trigger that would throw a spanner in the works.

The little dog, Fenix, stretched forward and licked Taylor’s toes.

“Okay, okay, I’m back! Was I ignoring you for too long? Thanks for not interrupting my meditation, I guess,” Taylor chuckled. Having the pet had done wonders for grounding her during her regular existential crises. Fenix had come a long way from the mangy worm-ridden creature they’d taken in; still scruffy even with a full coat of hair, she was now bright as a button, and with a tail that never seemed to stop wagging.

“You’d better enjoy having me to yourself while you still can, Nixie-- this time tomorrow, we’ll probably have Furball sleeping on the end of the bed as well.”

Happily oblivious Fenix rolled and tumbled in her human’s lap. Foxes with ice powers were far beyond her frame of reference, but she could sense that whatever Taylor was talking about made her happy, so naturally there was every reason to be in a good mood.

The door creaked, and a just-showered Estela entered the room, clad only in a towel.

“Hey. I heard you talking to Nix-- figured you’d finished your meditation.”

“Hey,” Taylor cooed, feeling herself practically melt as her wife reached down to stroke her hair. “I just finished; went pretty heavy on the self-care tonight, just to be safe. You ready for bed?” She let herself be helped to her feet, and wrapped an arm around Estela’s waist. “Last cuddle in your little single bed for a while.”

Estela smiled. “Last cuddle in our little single bed.”

Taylor changed into her pyjamas and nestled under the covers, waiting and watching in quiet contentment as Estela slipped into a singlet and a light pair of shorts.

“You are so, so beautiful, you know that?”

“Taylor, you tell me that ten times a day.”

“Just making sure you’re aware, lover.” Taylor pressed herself against the wall, making room on the tiny mattress.

“You ordered a cuddle, yes?” Estela kissed and nibbled along Taylor’s jaw, feeling a tremor of an exhale, then sat back to look into the sapphire gaze of her adoring wife. Beautiful just wasn’t big enough.

“So… how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Taylor ventured.

“A lot of things,” Estela admitted. “Getting on that plane to La Huerta is going to bring back a lot of stuff. And saying goodbye to Tio… well, let’s just say, we’d better have a lot of tissues packed.”

Taylor squeezed her tight. “It’s not forever this time. And I think he knows that-- otherwise you’d be leaving again over his dead body.”

That made Estela give a little snort of laughter, but then she shook her head, sighing. “I know the guilt I’m feeling is irrational. Tio is just so happy to see how much things have changed for me. He wants me to go out and live my best life. But that doesn’t mean I can stop myself feeling it, just like that.”

Taylor didn’t have a lot of life experience, but guilt? That, she knew all about. “We’re just going to have to keep talking to that irrational part of your brain, then. Honey, your tio thought you were dead for so long-- you coming back every now and then, smiling, on your way to healing… that’s just the most amazing gift you could give him. And maybe… it’s going to help him move on too.”

“Yes.” Man, I hope so. Estela knew that her uncle had closed himself off to the world. That he’d seen that he’d done his part in life, and then retreated from it. He joked around, but for so long he’d been broken inside. Now, they could make strides towards something better, together-- even if there was a distance between them. Now, Estela had hope for them both.

Taylor snuggled close, spooning her wife from behind, and leaving  lingering kisses upon her neck and shoulders.

“What about you?” Estela asked softly, turning in the warm embrace so she could meet Taylor’s eye. “I guess this will feel like going home.”

“Yeah, I guess it will be. Something like that. It’s a very… it’s a very weird feeling, you know?”

“I can imagine. It’s going to be strange to be back on La Huerta without everyone. The village is gonna be like a ghost town.”

A small smile tugged at Taylor’s lips; in spite of her own worries. Estela sure was perceptive. “It’s kind of freaking me out.” Of course, Estela already knew that, but it had never hurt to actually put the words out there. It was quite clear that they both had to look forward to a crash course in moving on. But that they were alive, and together, and free to do so… it was everything they’d fought for. “I’m bursting to see Diego again, though. It must have been so much weirder for him these past months.”

There was a grumbling, grunting sound as Fenix settled herself into a nest made out of the clothes Taylor had left on the floor. Both women chortled. Nothing like a funny little dog to keep the mood light.

Estela tenderly stroked Taylor’s hair, loving her. “You’ll have a lot to catch up on. It’s gonna mean a lot to him to have you there.” She blushed. “It… means a lot to me to have you here.”

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

“Taylor, we all are. And you’re stuck with us. There’s nothing that can change that.”

As she looked into Estela’s soft gaze, Taylor’s heart swelled. If she knew anything at all, she knew that much. All she had to do was trust in that sweet certainty.

[thereluctantinquisitor]

“You always do that. You always warm me up.” for Adiran and “I’ll never get over hearing you say my name.” for Riin? (heart eyes) No pressure, as always!

Thank you for the prompt! At first I was certain that I couldn’t combine them, but it somehow happened so TWO FOR ONE - WOO (although I cheated a little with the first one >.>)

Adiran x Riin, in which Adiran’s hands are hopeless in the cold, and Riin just happens to be a human oven. (1412 words)

                                                          --

Adiran hated Hoarfrost. Between the occasional snowfall and the biting wind from the north, everything about the season seemed to conspire to make his life a special kind of miserable. Sure, it would be worse having to brave it outside the palace walls, away from the crackling hearths and heat-trapping stone. But even with all of the luxuries his royal blood afforded, he couldn’t keep the cold from seeping through his skin and into the core of his being. And Divider knows the last thing he needed to be was icier than he already was.

Even training couldn’t solve the problem. Sure, his arms burned and his blood pumped almost audibly through his veins, but when Riin swung down, he fumbled the parry, his grip slipping on the hilt of his blade. Realising what was happening, Adiran braced as best he could, and let himself be thrown down by the blow. The sand rushed up to meet him, and he hit it with a heavy grunt, barely managing to keep his own weapon from smacking him square in the face, broadside.

Sprawled there, with sand in places it had no business being, Adiran just wanted to die.

Or go inside.

Either one would do.

“Fuck!” Adiran threw his weapon aside and hunched over himself, flexing and clenching his traitorous hands. They ached despite his gloves - despite everything they were doing. Damn it - that couldn’t happen! The tournament was in the middle of Vigil; the season just before Hoarfrost. It might not be the coldest, but the weather could still turn frigid with a single gust of wind. If his grip slipped in the arena, or he couldn’t make a proper hold...

“Easy, Adiran. Are you alright?”

Seething, Adiran sucked in a lungful of air and somehow focused it into a glare as Riin crouched down in front of him. “Fantastic, Riin. As soon as the snowfall starts in the north, I stop being able to hold a damn weapon. How could I possibly be better?” He clenched his hands so tightly that his knuckles must have bled to white beneath the thin leather. “Some fucking soldier I am.”

If Riin where a crueler man, he’d shrug call him what he was. Pathetic. But instead, he just shook his head and reached out, taking Adiran’s sword-hand and uncurling his fingers with practiced ease. “I know you think the world sees you as its centre, but you’re not the first soldier to have trouble keeping his grip in the cold.” His hands worked diligently as he spoke, pressing along the softer parts of Adiran’s palm, rubbing small circles into the aching muscle. Even in the cold morning air, Riin somehow radiated heat. It was like sitting next to a campfire, forgotten and left to smoulder gently into late-morning.

Adiran’s eyes lingered on Riin’s hand - on his own, nestled inside it - and for a time, he simply sat in silence, allowing his friend to work. Sure, pride dictated that he should pull away and stalk off somewhere to brood over his shortcomings, but that whole affair was becoming less and less satisfying of late. No - he was more comfortable now. Even when he probably shouldn’t be.

“You always do that.”

Riin stirred, apparently lost in his own thoughts as well. “Hm..?” He glanced up. “Do what?”

“This. That.” Adiran made a slight movement with his hand. Not enough to disturb Riin’s attentions. “You always warm me up.”

This time, an almost self-conscious chuckle rolled from Riin’s chest. “Well, I don’t know about that.” He didn’t stop what he was doing - only let go briefly, so Adiran could tug off his glove. “I have it on good authority that you’re icy in every season. ‘Wind, hail, or swelter’ I think is what they said.”

“Yeah?” There was no point feigning indignation. Not over such an obvious statement of fact. “Who's been saying that?”

“Well... anyone lucky enough to cross paths with you during a soiree. Or a dinner. Or on the palace grounds. Or in the sparring---”

---”Alright, alright. Point taken. Shut up.”

Riin grinned, and it was suddenly hard for Adiran to remember how he’d felt the first time the man had been assigned to him. Back then, he’d just been another set of eyes, ordered by his parents to track him like a bird of prey. There had been nothing but resentment between them for over a year - Divider knows Adiran had never been shy about making his feelings painfully clear. And Riin had just taken it. Sure, he’d avoided him like a plague-rat the moment his duty was over, but otherwise he’d just let Adiran resent him. If he hated Adiran back, he did it quietly.

Sometimes, a cruel thought crept up on him, when they were alone together. Sitting. Talking. Even when they were laughing. It was the thought that maybe he’d done too much damage, back then. That maybe Riin still hated him. Quietly.

“Riin?”

“Hm?”

“You know you don’t have to, right?”

Riin hummed as he worked. “Mm. Cryptic. Have to what?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the one who asked---”

---”No! I mean, you don’t always have to. When I tell you to. I’m not... it’s not an order or anything.”

Releasing Adiran’s hand and sitting back on his heels, Riin regarded him for a moment, an amused tilt to his lips. “Of course it isn’t. You don’t give me orders, princeling. Never have.”

“But then---”

---”So why do I do it?”

A little mollified by his own predictability, Adiran closed his mouth and nodded. Apparently it was the right response, because Riin’s amused smile suddenly blossomed into a grin.

“Because you always break. Quickly, too, might I add. Most times, I barely even notice the silence.” He laughed, motioning for Adiran’s other hand. “And you know what else? You always get my attention the same way.”

“I... do?” Frowning, Adiran gave Riin his other hand without even thinking, so distracted by the conversation that the other man had to pull of his glove. Despite wracking his brain for a pattern, he couldn’t come up with anything. “How, then?” he demanded eventually, frustrated.

The answer, it seemed, was almost absurdly simple.

“You say my name.” Beginning anew, Riin let his gaze drift down to their hands, the warmth of his fingers soothing against Adiran’s skin. Like an afterthought, the smile on his lips remained. “I’ll never get over hearing you say my name.”

Despite the cold, Adiran felt heat rush up his neck. He would have pulled away, stammering some absurd excuse about having to go, but then that would just make his embarrassment more obvious. So he forced himself to stay almost painfully still, sitting across from Riin on the sandy ground.

That was, at least, until Riin glanced up, a smirk dancing across his lips. “Warmer now?”

The satisfied gleam in his eye only made matters worse for Adiran, who might have actually been sweating a little under his training gear. That sneaky bastard! He was about to snap a scathing reply when Riin hit a particularly sore spot at the base of Adiran’s thumb, eliciting a sharp gasp instead.

“Still giving you trouble, isn’t it?” Amusement draining away, Riin pressed the spot again, gentler this time, working in slow circles around it. “You should see the physicker, Adiran. It might be part of the problem, along with the cold. The longer you leave it the worse it could get. Stretch for me.”

Eternally grateful for the change of subject, Adiran cleared his throat roughly. “Yeah. Maybe.” At Riin’s instruction, he flexed his hand, the muscle tugging uncomfortably as Riin started to work on it again. “I’ll go tomorrow or something.”

Riin sighed and dug his finger in again, earning a yelp as Adiran tried and failed to pull away. “No,” Riin said, “you’ll go now. And by you I mean we, because I can’t trust you not to slink back to your quarters and take a hot bath instead.”

“Oh come on, I wouldn’t...” Under the full weight of Riin’s unimpressed stare, Adiran huffed and abandoned the lie halfway. “Fine. You win. Help me up.”

Riin raised his brows. “Last I checked your legs still worked.”

“Yeah? Well last I checked, my feet were frozen inside my boots.”

“Alright, alright. Here, give me your other hand...”

[iloveannabeth]

You’re on, Seaweed Brain.

Percy stood hunched over, hands resting on his knees and panting like Mrs. O’Leary. The summer sun beat down on his skin, making his orange camp t-shirt cling to him with sweat. He stood up, heaved a sigh and mentally prepared himself for another round.

It was about a month before Percy’s sixteenth birthday and all the campers had been working harder than ever before, getting ready for whatever Kronos was going to send their way. Percy himself has been training more than anybody. He’d just spent the better part of an hour hacking practice dummies to pieces with Riptide. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, (not literally this time) he had to be ready. If that meant killing one dummy after another, so be it.

Just as he was about to start swinging again, he felt someone come up behind him. He turned around and came face to face with Annabeth.

His breath caught in his throat and he had to work to keep his facial expressions under control. Annabeth was clad in a sports bra and shorts, clearly suffering from the heat just like him. Her face and chest were flushed and, surprisingly, her hair was down, laying in messy curls around her shoulders. She looked spectacular.

“Hey, Percy,” she smiled at him. “Working hard?” He missed the way her eyes were glued to where his shirt stuck to him for a moment, before looking back up.

“Uh, hi. Y-yeah, I am,” he managed to squeak out after a moment.

His relationship with Annabeth this summer had been...rocky. For the most part it was great. They seemed closer than ever, brainstorming attack plans, sparring, even relaxing at the beach together in those calm moments that were so rare these days. Percy was getting bolder too, flirting with Annabeth when he saw an opportunity. He was pretty sure she never noticed and he didn’t know if that was good or bad if he’s being honest. It took Percy a while to admit it, but yeah, he liked her. A lot. So why wouldn’t he want Annabeth to know he was flirting with her? Well that’s complicated.

More often than not, the nice moments they shared were disrupted with an argument and ended with Annabeth storming off. It was always the worst when Percy told her he would be leaving for the weekend. She would go silent for a few minutes, then purposefully start a fight both of them knew was bullshit, just so she had an excuse to leave. She wouldn’t speak to him for days after he returned. Eventually, Percy stopped telling Annabeth he was leaving. He would simply come back and they’d pretend like nothing happened.

A part of him hoped she was acting this way out of jealousy. The more rational part of him thought that she was acting this way because he was a selfish, lazy asshole. So, maybe Annabeth knowing he was flirting wouldn’t be the greatest thing.

Still, Percy hated fighting with her more than anything. Most of the time, he didn’t even know what they were fighting about. He yearned for a time there would only be good moments.

So, he was determined not to mess up this time. Hopefully she wouldn’t catch him staring because he had a feeling that wouldn’t end well.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and an annoyed look on her face.

Fuck.

“O-oh, uh, nothing. I was just wondering why your hair’s down, is all,” Percy spluttered out. Smooth.

“My hair tie broke,” Annabeth grumbled. “I guess now you’ll actually have a chance at beating me, with my hair flying around my face,” she smirked. She looked pointedly at the sword in his hand.

Percy realized she was asking to spar with him. No way was he going to be able to focus with her looking like that. She’d be able to beat him no matter what state her hair was in, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Please, your vision doesn’t need to be impaired for me to beat you. I’d win no matter what,” Percy gloated and matched her smirk. Fake it ‘till you make it, right?

Annabeth laughed and yep, Percy was a goner. She looked him up and down and said, “Oh you’re so on Seaweed Brain.”

Percy tried not to blush at that and failed miserably. He looked down and got into position.

As soon as he locked eyes with Annabeth, they were off.

Through the years, Annabeth and Percy had trained together time and time again to the point where they had practically memorized the other’s fighting style, which only made them that much more evenly matched. The chances of winning were more or less equal.

The two demigods circled each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Suddenly, Percy sprung forward and slashed Riptide through the air, narrowly missing Annabeth’s waist as she side-stepped.

Percy kept advancing, going on offense. He jabbed and Annabeth blocked, never letting him get a hit in. Percy faked to the left and hit Annabeth’s shoulder with the hilt of his blade. Annabeth gasped and stumbled slighting but before Percy could take advantage, Annabeth came back at him twice as hard. She wielded her dagger like a madman, stabbing here, and slashing there. However, Percy was just as effective on defence. He ducked just in time and saw a couple strands of his hair fall to the floor.

“Oh, so you’re giving me a free haircut as well as trying to kill me, huh?” Percy asked breathlessly during a lull in the fight.

“I mean, why not, Gods know you need one,” Annabeth replied with a cheeky grin.

“Come on, don’t lie, you love my hair. But you’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, yeah?” Annabeth’s cheeks were tinted pink. Interesting. Maybe she did realize he was flirting.

“Yeah.”

Percy lunged.

Annabeth expected percy to make a direct assault, so she was unprepared for when he rolled through her legs and jumped up behind her.

Percy slashed at her neck while she was turning around. Percy watched in horror as Riptide travelled through the air towards Annabeth. He tried to stop it, but the momentum wouldn’t give in. Before Annabeth had time to parry, the blade made contact with her skin.

Annabeth cried out in pain and the hand not holding her dagger went to cover the area Percy had struck. Her hand came away bloody. Percy felt like he was going to throw up.

“Holy shit, Annabeth, I’m so sorry, are you okay—“

Next thing Percy knew, Annabeth had judo flipped him and he was laying on his back, with the point of Annabeth’s knife pressing against his jugular.

He looked up and realized he had only given Annabeth a small nick. Then he realized...some other things. Annabeth stared down at him with a satisfied smirk adorning her features and her knees bracketed his hips, leaving her weight rested on his lower abdomen. Her golden hair tumbled down around her face and tickled Percy’s ears.

If being thrown to the ground hadn’t knocked the wind out of him, that certainly did.

“I win, Seaweed Brain,” annabeth proclaimed softly. She lowered her weapon.

Percy’s brain was too busy short-circuiting to formulate a response. He just stared at the ethereal sight above him.

“Percy? Are you okay?” Annabeth had started to look concerned.

Thankfully, his mouth had finally figured out how to work again so he said, “you’re beautiful.”

What the fuck. No. Okay, clearly, his mouth needed a bit more time.

“Um, i mean, y-yeah. Sorry, I’m all good. Nice one.” Percy would like to die now. He was sure his face had never been a deeper shade of crimson. Stupid mouth.

Now, Annabeth was the speechless one. Her face held a blush that rivalled Percy’s. She tried to appear exasperated, but Percy could see a pleased, if somewhat embarrassed, smile shining through. She was radiant.

Before this train wreck could get any worse, Percy changed the subject.

“How’s your neck?” Percy inquired. He reached up and gently brushed his fingers over her cut. Percy scowled. Even if it was inconsequential, he was still mad at himself for hurting Annabeth.

He heard her breath hitch as he ran his hand down her neck.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

Percy didn’t know why she was whispering but it felt appropriate. Her eyes found his before glancing down at their bodies. She seemed to realize, for the first time, that she was straddling him, if her eyes widening comically was any indication. She looked back to Percy’s face and the air around them turned heavy and thick like molasses. Neither of them moved for a long time. Just as Annabeth sucked in a breath and started to lean down, they heard a wolf whistle and looked up to find the culprit.

“Well, isn’t this a compromising position,” Clarisse noted with an amused voice. “I thought this was the training arena, not one of your cabins.” She was clearly trying very hard not to laugh.

Percy and Annabeth stared at each other in shock before springing apart like the other was on fire, stammering out excuses.

“We were just sparring and then Percy—“

“Annabeth beat me so she—“

“Save it you two,” Clarisse said. “I’m just playing.” Though the look on her face said she clearly didn’t believe a word. “Now get out, I want to beat up some dummies.”

With that, Percy and Annabeth packed up their stuff and walked out. They continued on in a charged silence for a few minutes before Percy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey, Annabeth, we were just sparring, don’t listen to Clarisse. It’s no biggie, don’t let her make things awkward between us.”

Percy didn’t mean any of it. It was definitely a ‘biggie’. A very big ‘biggie’.

Now, feel free to call Percy delusional here, but he was sure that Annabeth was about to kiss him before Clarisse interrupted. He had half a mind to go punch Clarisse in the face for that, but he had more desperate matters at hand. He needed this to stay a good moment, so he hoped downplaying it would make Annabeth feel better.

A dejected look crossed her face and she answered, “right. No biggie.” She gave him a fake smile and kept walking towards her cabin.

Shit. Maybe downplaying it was not the right strategy, Percy thought. He started grasping at straws.

“Winner gets to dunk the loser in the lake fully clothed?” He suggested with hope in his eyes. “I promise to let myself get wet this time,” he smiled.

He had a feeling Annabeth missed the good moments too because, luckily, she accepted his lousy excuse for a peace offering. She gave him a real smile and said, “you’re on Seaweed Brain. Race you to the lake!”

Percy stood there for a second, just watching Annabeth run off. His chest filled with a sensation he wasn’t ready to identify quite yet.

Annabeth turned around to see him still standing there. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” She called out.

Percy couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. Oh, yeah, he thought. This was definitely a good moment.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Clarisse was walking back from the arena when she saw Percy and Annabeth together in the lake. Percy resurfaced with water in his mouth and spit it in Annabeth’s face playfully. She shrieked and jumped on Percy, shoving his head back underwater. They ended up with Percy holding onto Annabeth’s waist and her hands on his shoulders. They were grinning like fools and their eyes were sparkling.

Clarisse couldn’t remember the last time she had seen either of them that happy. Idiots, she thought.

“Hey Clarisse,” Silena said, walking up to her friend. “What are you looking at?”

“That.”

Silena’s gaze followed Clarisse’s line of sight and she saw the two lovesick demigods.

“Oh my Gods, that’s too cute even for them,” Silena deadpanned.

“When do you think they’re going to pull their heads out of their asses and realize they’re in love with each other?” Clarisse asked.

“I have no idea, but it better be soon. They’re driving everyone crazy.”

“You got that right.”

The girls set off, leaving Annabeth and Percy to smile at each other under the setting sun.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 81.4

Round One: Pepito vs Zoli

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

Reawakening Part 4

           Squee lies on the couch, his eyes closed as he gently strokes Nugget’s back, enjoying the peace and quiet. But that’s all quickly shattered by one annoying voice.

           “You’re kind of selfish, huh.”            Squee’s eyes crack open to briefly glare at Squishy Pete, who is sitting on the coffee table, before he closes them again.      

           “I mean, just look at you,” Pete continues, “enjoying this alone time while your friends are out there, worrying about you. Are you even thinking about them? Do you even care what they’re doing?”

           Squee’s face scrunches up with irritation as he tries to ignore the stress toy.

           “Johnny’s been gone a long time, huh?”

           His eyes fly open and he looks over at Pete.

           “What, you’re just noticing now?” he scoffs, “wow, you really are selfish. Something terrible could’ve happened to him and you’re not even worried about it. He could’ve gotten into a car accident. He could be hurt somewhere. Or worse.”

           Squee sits up, his eyes darting around nervously as he contemplates those words. Then he grabs his cellphone and calls Devi.

           “Hello?” she answers.

           “H-Hey, Devi,” Squee replies, trying to keep his voice steady. “Is Nny with you?”

           “No, he just dropped us off about twenty minutes ago. Why? Is he not home yet?”

           “N-not yet. B-but I’m sure it’s fine,” he insists, “he probably just stopped at the store to get a BrainFreezy or something.”

           “Right…” Devi grunts, “well, if he’s not home in an hour, call me, okay?”            “Okay.” Squee hangs up and leans forward. He stares at the floor, a million terrible thoughts running through his head. Then Nugget meows at him. He sighs and gently scratches her head.

           “Everything’s okay, Nugget,” he says.

           “Even lying to a cat,” Pete tuts, “so selfish. And so truly alone.”            Meanwhile, across the city, Zim, Dib, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito prepare to fight Zoli. She grins with amusement as she leisurely approaches them, scythe resting on her shoulder.

           “Let’s see,” she purrs as she waves her finger before pointing it at Tak. “Tak, the failed Irken. Abandoned by your leaders and people, forced to join up with your previous enemy just to avoid a lifetime of loneliness.”

           “What?” Tak gasps.

           “Gaz,” Zoli continues, “the seemingly unfeeling gamer. Not a care in the world. But the future is approaching quickly. What are you going to do when the world comes crashing down on you and you can’t just escape into video games anymore?”

           Gaz flinches, taken aback.

           “Dib: the paranormal investigator. But you can’t even accomplish that, can you? Deep down you know you’re nothing but a failure and a disappointment, even to yourself.”            “Tha-that’s not…” Dib stammers.

           “Hey!” Zim barks, “who do you think you are, talking like you know us?”            “And speaking of failures, here’s the King of Failures himself,” Zoli laughs, “Zim, the defective invader. Hated so much by his own kind he was sent to the farthest corner of the universe. And still so hated that they try to destroy him every chance they get.”

           Zim scoffs, “whatever. Zim doesn’t care what they think anymore.”

           “Maybe not. But you care what you think. I wonder how you feel about the fact that all you want is to rule this miserable planet, but after years of living here, you’ve never gotten close.”

           Zim freezes, unable to reply.      

           “Enough,” Pepito snaps as he steps forward. “Don’t listen to her, guys. This is what they do. They wear your down with your own dark thoughts and feelings.”

           “Ah, the Antichrist,” Zoli smiles, “oops, I mean rock star. Sorry, I forgot you’re a little sensitive about your previous title.”

           “Your words have no effect on me, witch,” he snarls as he brandishes his spear. “I know all about your tricks. You can’t break me.”

           “Hm,” she purrs and lifts her scythe. “Sounds like a challenge. Come on then. Show me what you got, little monster.”

           Pepito charges forward and his spear clashes against Zoli’s scythe. She grins as he glares at her. Then Nightmare tendrils burst from her back and lash at him. But before they can connect, Pepito’s wings tear through his shirt and he takes off into the air.

           Zoli watches him as he flies overhead. Then he swings his spear, releasing a wave of black energy. Her tendrils block it and lunge towards him. Pepito slices their tips off, but they quickly regenerate into mouths full of little fangs. They bite into Pepito, his legs, arms, and chest. He grits his fangs in pain and growls with exertion before releasing a swell of black energy from his whole body that blasts the tendrils apart.

           “Impressive,” Zoli comments.

           Pepito glares at her, his red eye glowing aggressively. He dive bombs towards her and swings his spear, releasing another wave of energy. A fresh crowd of tendrils burst from her back to block it and charge Pepito. He swings his spear, slicing through them like sushi, until he’s face to face with Zoli. He swings his spear; she swings her scythe. When they clash, the shockwave nearly knocks back Zim and the others.

           Pepito and Zoli hold each other in a parry, glaring over their blades. Then Zoli grins.

           “You have potential,” she says.

           Pepito’s eyes widen with surprise as he feels Zoli’s strength growing. He cries out as she knocks him back and he skids across the ground.

           “Pepito!” his friends exclaim and rush to his side. He struggles to sit up and glares at Zoli as she approaches.

           “But it’s not enough,” she says, “you’re not a monster. You’re just a baby held back by your own fear.”            Pepito’s glare weakens and he looks away. Zoli’s grin widens.

---

           “Nny. Wake up, Nny.”

           Johnny’s eyes blink open to pure whiteness. He rubs his head as he sits up, looking around. He’s in some kind of endless white space.

           “Where…am I…” he mutters.

           “Hello, Nny.”

           “That voice,” he gasps and turns around. “It couldn’t be…”            Floating in front of him is a bunny corpse, a nail puncturing his chest.

           “Nailbunny,” he breathes.

           “It’s good to see you again, Nny,” the bunny says without moving his mouth.

           “It’s uh good to see you too,” Johnny replies, “where are we? I remember fighting Zoli and…oh. Am I dead? Like for real this time.”

           “Not exactly,” Nailbunny replies, “although you’re not really alive either. What happens next is up to you.”

           “What do you mean?”            “What I’m about to explain to you might be confusing, so bear with me. Every once in a while, a person with extraordinary abilities is born. Squee is one such person. With his magnificent imagination he is able to change and manipulate reality to a certain degree. This also makes his body slightly stronger than most humans, manifesting as incredible speed and agility.”

           “Nny. You are also such a person.”

           “Me?” Johnny questions, “but I haven’t been able to use my imagination for years.”

           “Yes,” Nailbunny sighs sadly, “unfortunately, because of your prolonged exposure to the Nightmare, your imagination is damaged beyond repair. Nevertheless, your body still retains the benefits. I’m sure you’ve noticed your heightened durability and strength.”

           “Well, yeah, I have often wondered about that,” Johnny agrees.

         “Your body’s capacity has only arisen when under extreme duress, but you can change that,” Nailbunny explains, “all you need to do is take control.”

           “I am in control,” Johnny states as he stands up. “It’s my body. I should be the one to decide when it uses its power, not my anger. I’m the one in control!”

           Nailbunny stares at him warmly. “I’m proud of you, Nny.”            Johnny freezes, looking at him with surprise. “R-really?”

           “Yes,” he nods, “you’ve grown. Now, wake up. For real this time.”

           Johnny smiles at his old rabbit before closing his eyes.

---

           Two construction workers hop out of their truck and approach the recently collapsed building.

           “Ugh, what a pain in the ass,” one grunts.

           “Yeah,” the other sighs, “why do so many buildings keep collapsing?”

           “Monsters.”

           “Yeah, right,” he scoffs and they both laugh.

           “Anyway,” the first groans, “let’s get to work.”

           They start surrounding the rubble with ‘Do Not Cross’ tape. As the second man rounds the corner, he spots something on the ground and cries out in disgust.

           “Dude, check this out,” he exclaims. His partner joins him to find a human hand sticking out from under the rubble.

           “Eeewww,” the first worker cringes. “I am not looking forward to digging that up.”

           They start to walk away when the second worker notices a finger twitch.

           “GAh!” he exclaims, jumping back.

           “What?” his partner questions.

           “It just moved!”

           “What? Shut up, man. Don’t try to scare me.”

           “I’m serious!” the second worker insists. “The finger moved!”

           “It’s just twitching,” the first worker argues, “no big deal.”

           The hand suddenly digs into the ground, its fingers tearing into the asphalt. Both workers shriek and fall backwards.

           The hand cracks the ground beneath it as the pile of rubble over top of it shifts and lifts up. The workers watch, aghast as it raises higher, staring at the person lifting it up.

           He steps out from beneath the wreckage, letting it crash back down behind him, exhaling with relief. His black trench coat is torn up around the hem and sleeves, his black hair is a mess, and his face is smeared with blood and dirt. But the workers are more focused on his eyes; his horrifying, murderous eyes.

           “Zoli,” he snarls. He steps forward and the workers soil themselves. And then in an instant, he’s gone.

[moody-bloosh]

Could you do prompt 18 with demon Bruno?

oh boy demon bruno 😍

b t w , , 

im still taking requests for the yandere prompts! so please don’t be shy and send in your requests ~~ also if you want to request things other than the yandere prompts that’s swell too! i write angst, fluff, yandere stuff

anyways ive rambled on for a while now ;;;; so here’s the fic, as always i hope you guys enjoy ♡ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

content warning: yandere, homicide, gore, violence, mind break, imprisonment

struck down (Bruno Buccellati) 

Your knees buckle to the ground as the sound of his laughter echoes through the darkened halls of the castle. You plant your sword firmly onto the ground to steady yourself as you put on a determined face, despite the fact that you know you have nothing left to give. You want to cry, scream, curse this world turned him into this. 

You were the hero, right? 

“Your friends are dead, dear,” he states, “what will you do now?” 

If you could’ve managed it, your gaze would have stalked him. He was circling you, you know this much from listening to the sound of his footsteps. You know intuitively, but you cannot risk any more unnecessary movements. You take deep, halting breaths, trying to will some strength into your aching body.

What else could you do? Your last stand had failed, your companions lay in tatters, the scent of their blood filled the air, and you were all alone. Left behind to face the wrath of the demon king that held the lives of so many innocents in his hands, innocents he could do away with at a moments notice. In your exhaustion, in your suffering, your mind swims to them. At the very least, you could still buy them some time to escape. 

“I’m going to fight,” you had told him. “To my dying breath, to the last moment. I will protect the people and the kingdom.” 

“The people and the kingdom,” he scoffs, finally stopping in front of you. “You would die for a mass of faceless cretins, for that useless king and his indolent court?” 

“Yes,” you answer, the words leaving your lips on instinct. Because you are the hero. You are the only one brave enough to stand against the demon king, the only one who can face him, the only one…

“Even if that kingdom has turned its back on you?” 

Bruno smiles, moving closer to you, as if to better take in the sight of despair that is sure to cloud your face. He expects this to be the beginning of his victory. Oh how pitiful, you didn’t even know. The kingdom you’d fought so much for, the kingdom you dedicated your life to had sold you away to him for just a year of peace. They never believed in you, they never trusted that you could defeat him. The fact that you challenged him with that hapless motley crew proved his point. 

But your face never falls, your eyes don’t waver. Instead, you smile at him. A genuine serene smile that steals his breath away, that makes his cold, dead heart shudder with a start. That reminds him…

“Yes,” you answer, unwavering. “Even if I am no longer needed, even if I am to be discarded, even if I am scorned, I will fight for those people.” 

This was it, wasn’t it? More than your strength, more than your cunning. What he loved about you so much was your foolishness, your impertinence. At first, he had only wanted you so as to make use of you. To twist you into the perfect killing machine, to have you slaughter that foolish, eyesore of a kingdom that stood in his path to clean the world of unsightliness. How wonderful it would be to have their very own hero turn traitor, to have their hero’s sword doused in those wretched humans’ blood. 

But now, bruised and bloodied, edging towards death’s embrace he thinks you are more beautiful now. Your unsightly generosity. This was why he wanted to take you, to steal you away from the ungrateful world that did not deserve your kindness, your grace. Because he wanted your goodness all to himself again. 

Smile for me once more. 

He can’t hold himself back any longer. You move to parry his strike but he was just quicker. Your blade clattered to the ground as he pins you to the floor. His eyes bore into you, searching for a hint of insincerity, for a hint of doubt and fear. But you only stared back at him determined. 

“Why?” He seethes, “why would you give so much of yourself to that ungrateful kingdom, those miserable people?” 

When they didn’t even spare a single lick of kindness to two desperate orphans like us? When they only turned to you because they knew you were the only one who could stop me, why did you agree? 

“Because it’s what I would have wanted them to do for me,” you say with that same sad smile you’d given him when he left to pursue his dark calling. 

When you smiled at him like that, it made him feel almost human again. It brings back memories of bloodstained palms and a dirty alleyway, of a stolen knife and a promise. 

“This’ll make us closer, I promise,” a younger Bruno explained, “just hold still.” 

Then you let out a little cry as he cut a red line down your palm. You cradled your bloody hand and watched silently as he did the same to his own. And when it was over he’d grasped your bloody hand with his own. 

“There,” he said happily, “the blood in my body flows through yours now and the same goes for me. We’ll be together forever, _____.” 

But that wasn’t enough for him. Perhaps someday he will tell you about when he’d sold his soul for power, when he’d bathed in hellfire, how he thought of you, of the new world he would build for your sake. For the only balm that had soothed his childhood marred by hardship and suffering, for the only person who’d ever cared for him. For his first love. 

He was doing this for you. Didn’t you know how difficult it was for him to leave you behind? So why did you stand against him? Why did you protect that place that couldn’t even protect you? That didn’t want you or need you until now. That sold you off as soon as it was clear you weren’t going to be usable anymore. 

“Let go of me, Bruno” you tried to reason with him. “Stop this.” 

He is still for but a moment, his grip on you like a vice, a choking prison that saps your strength. Still deep in thought, he had reached for your hand. He has you unfurl your clenched fist like a delicate flower; the scar was still there. He smiles knowing. Then his lips are crashing onto yours and you barely have any time to think before an inky darkness takes your consciousness. 

He chains you to him with the same tenderness he has when he takes you to his bed. He has you bound and makes you watch as he rains fire down your home, as he dismembers and decapitates. Your screams falling on deaf ears, your pleas and your tears building and piling up until it is all you can do. Plead and cry and beg. 

There is nothing left of the kingdom now. There is only him, only the two of you in his dark castle. Your dreams are littered with nightmares and gradually you learn to keep yourself from screaming. Bruno would only take them away. He would have you in dreamless slumber rather than suffer your cries. You hold on to your nightmares because they are your penance. When you wake up again, stirred by your nightmares, there are tears in your eyes. Bruno is already wiping away your tears and when he asks if you are still plagued by nightmares you tell him that you are only crying tears of joy.

You lean in to kiss him and he is already lapping up your affection. His kisses are always hungry, insistent. And you are only too happy to let him take over. 

This was his perfect world, built only for the two of you.

[lariskapargitay]

So I’ve seen a lot of Twincest negativity and snarking and calling Braime ‘fanservice’ on our tag.

So, purely in the interest of education, I’ve compiled SOME of the book canon Braime lines. Like these aren’t interpretations, these aren’t fanfics, these are straight up canon quotes from the books.

Jaime watched her eyes. Pretty eyes, he thought, and calm.

Brienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her.

“Blue is a good color on you, my lady,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.” She does have astonishing eyes.

She did as he bid her. “The white cloak...”

“... Is new, but I’m sure I’ll soil it soon enough.”

“That wasn’t... I was about to say that it becomes you.”

She must not fail Jaime. Would that Jaime had come with me.

“The Kingslayers whore.”

She flinched. “Why would you call me that?”

Another part that wondered if Jaime would would comfort her should she weep upon his shoulder. That was what men wanted, wasn't it? Soft helpless women that they needed to protect?

“Jaime!” she wanted to cry. “Jaime come back for me!”

She must not fail Jaime. He trusted me with his sword. He trusted me with his honor.

The thought of failing him as she failed Lord Renly made her want to weep.

“Jaime!” She heard herself scream. “Jaime!”

"Give me the sword, Kingslayer."

"Oh, I will."

The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime’s blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting, with death balanced on every stroke.

Left, right, backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together, upswing, sideslash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster... until, breathless, he stepped back and let the point of the sword fall to the ground, giving her a moment of respite. “Not half bad," he acknowledged. “For a wench."

He laughed a ragged, breathless laugh. “Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music’s still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?"

The dance went on. He pinned her against an oak, cursed as she slipped away, followed her through a shallow brook half-choked with fallen leaves. Steel rang, steel sang, steel screamed and sparked and scraped, and the woman started grunting like a sow at every crash, yet somehow he could not reach her. It was as if she had an iron cage around her that stopped every blow.

His point scraped past her parry and bit into her upper thigh. A red flower blossomed and Jaime had an instant to savor the sight of her blood before his knee slammed into a rock. The pain was blinding. Brienne splashed into him and kicked away his sword. “YIELD!"

Jaime drove his shoulder into her legs, bringing her down on top of him. They rolled, kicking and punching until finally she was sitting astride him.

Brienne lurched to her feet. She was all mud and blood below the waist, her clothing askew, her face red. She looks as if they caught us fucking instead of fighting.

In this light she could almost be a beauty. In this light she could almost be a knight.

She looked so miserable that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her.

He wondered where she was. Father give her strength. Almost a prayer.

She was strong, and gentler then he would have thought. Gentler than Cersei.

One day, instead of back to front they bound them face to face. “The lovers,” Shagwell sighed loudly. “And what a lovely sight they are. ‘Twould be cruel to separate the good knight and his lady.”

His world shrunk to the throb of agony that was his phantom hand, and Brienne pressed against him. She’s warm, at least, he consoled himself, though the wenches breath was as foul as his own.

His hand was always between them. Urswyck has hung it about his neck on a cord, so it dangled down against his chest, slapping Brienne's breast as Jaime slipped in and out of conciseness.

Jaime caught a glimpse of the thick blonde bush at the juncture of her thighs as she climbed out. Absurdly; he felt his cock stir beneath the bath water. Now I know I have been too long away from Cersei. He averted his eyes, troubled by his body’s response.

The wench looked ridiculous, clutching her towel to her meager teats with her white legs sticking out beneath. “Has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something.”

All of a sudden, he knew what was happening. Have we come too late? His stomach did a lurch, and he slammed his spurs into his horse... They had her in the bear pit...

"Her name's Brienne... Pull her out of there."... There's the wench I remember... "I'll pay her bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want. Pull her out of there."

“If you want her go get her.” So he did.

Brienne tried to dart around, but he kicked her legs out from under her. She fell in the sand, clutching her useless sword. Jaime straddled her, and the bear came charging.

"I am grateful, but...you were well away. Why come back?" A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged.

“I dreamed of you," he said.

“The sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed. Jaime did not.

Connington glanced into the pit. “The Bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll-.” Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, Ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

Brienne’s sword took flame as well, burning silvery blue. The darkness retreated a little more.

“The flames will burn so long as you live,” he heard Cersei call. “When they die, so must you.” “Sister!” he shouted. “Stay with me. Stay!” There was no reply but the soft sound of retreating footsteps. Brienne moved her longsword back and forth, watching the silvery flames shift and shimmer. She was as tall and strong as he remembered, yet it seemed to Jaime that she had more of a woman’s shape now.

Then his sword went dark, and only Brienne’s burned, as the ghosts came rushing in.

Naked, she raised her hands to Jaime. “Ser. Please. If you would be so good.” The steel links parted like silk. “A sword,” Brienne begged, and there it was, scabbard, belt, and all.

She put a hand on his shoulder and he shuddered at the sudden touch. She’s warm.

“There's a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained.” Brienne's mare was sweet to look upon and kept a pretty pace.

Jaime’s mockery had cut her deep; the little man’s words hardly touched her.

He clawed at his belt and came up with a dagger, so Brienne cut his hand off. That one was for Jaime.

She went to sleep dreaming of the fight they’d had, and of Ser Jaime fastening a rainbow cloak about her shoulders.

“And the boy is just a king... who is to rule is until he comes of age?”

“Lord Tywin’s brother,” said a guardsman. “Or that Lord Tyrell might be. Or the Kingslayer.”

“Not him,” declared the innkeeper. “Not that oathbreaker.” He spat into the fire. Brienne let the bread fall from her hands and wiped the crumbs off on her breeches. She’d heard enough.

She wanted to protect him, but her limbs felt stiff and frozen, and it took more strength than she had just to lift her hand. And when the shadow sword sliced through the green steel gorget and the blood began to flow, she saw that her dying king was not Renly after all but Jaime Lannister and she had failed him.

"You have two hands." One more than you left Jaime.

“I have to find her," she finished. "There are others looking, all wanting to capture her and sell her to the queen. I have to find her first. I promised Jaime. Oathkeeper, he named the sword. I have to try to save her... or die in the attempt."

"My sword. Please, I have to find my sword... Jaime called it Oathkeeper. Please."

Oathkeeper. I have to find the girl. I have to find his honor.

Jaime would not do that. He was sincere. He gave me a sword and called it Oathkeeper.

Jaime. The name was a knife, twisting in her belly. "Lady Catelyn, I... you do not understand, Jaime... he saved me from being raped when the Bloody Mummers took us, and later he came back for me, he leapt into the bear pit empty-handed... I swear to you, he is not the man he was."

“She says that you must choose. Take the sword and slay the Kingslayer, or be hanged for a betrayer. The sword or the noose, she says. Choose, she says. Choose.”

Brienne remembered her dream, waiting in her father’s hall for the boy she was to marry. In the dream she had bitten off her tongue. My mouth was full of blood. She took a ragged breath and said, “I will not make that choice.”

Jaime sat alone at the table while the shadows crept across the room. As dusk began to settle, he lit a candle and opened the White Book to his own page. Quill and ink he found in a drawer... Returned safely to King's Landing by Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.

As he lowered himself into the steaming water, he recalled another bath, the one he'd shared with Brienne.

Jaime had come walking through the mist naked as his name day looking half a corpse and half a god. He climbed into the tub with me she remembered, blushing.

Brienne looked at him. "You do not believe he did it." Jaime gave her a hard smile. "See, wench? We know each other too well... There's the stubborn stupid wench that I remember." She reddened. "My name is..." "Brienne of Tarth." Jaime sighed. "I have a gift for you."

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. “Jaime, what are you doing?”

She is such an innocent.

“And what is it you like in a woman, M’lord?”

“Innocence.”

Jaime scrambled to his feet. “My Lady. I had not thought to see you again so soon.”

[zenithlux]

Cadence Update - 26

In which everything goes awry.

Catch up on the full story here!

See the world through a tear, keep on breathing Salt has dried, you’re not here Just a heartbeat away, the demons walk in Now I know its too late

In Vain - Within Temptation

 --------

Vergil woke up in a field of roses. Except these flowers were all impossible shades of all different colors. Purples, blues, yellows, oranges, all mixed together in extraordinary ways. And once he’d blinked the spots from his eyes, he forced himself upright, only to see the blood seeping into every flower around him. And when his eyes followed it to the source, he saw Kuro, slumped over and bleeding from the hole in his chest. As Vergil moved closer, the dragon looked older. Exhausted. His scales were slipping from his body like petals from the roses that surrounded them both.

And there, weeping at the dragon’s side, was Roxy. 

He pulled us into her mindscape. 

It was the only solution Vergil could think of. It would delay her death, if only by a few real-world seconds. He could transfer his power fully to Vergil. Maybe even show him exactly how to keep her heart beating before it was too late. 

“Stop!”

Her voice surprised him. It quite literally boomed around him as if she was yelling from everywhere at once. She sounded terrified through her tears and Vergil wanted to rush to her side before it was too late. But he found himself frozen. 

“Roxy,” He said. 

“Leave,” She sobbed. “Please. Quickly. Before it’s too late.”

“If I leave you’re dead,” Vergil said. 

“But I promised you!” She said. “I promised… I…”

“Enough,” Kuro said, his voice quiet and breathy. He was minutes from death. Maybe seconds. Vergil wasn’t certain, but it didn’t matter. If they lost Kuro before he could take his place, it was all over. “You’re acting like a child.”

“A child?” She said. “I am not…”

“I am dying, Roxy,” Kuro said. “You need his help.”

“You lied to me,” She whispered. “Kuro. You…”

“I knew you were not ready for the truth.” 

“And you think I am now?”

“You have to be,”  Kuro said. “And… I’m sorry.” The dragon’s eyes closed as Vergil reached them. Roxy froze as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Kuro…. Kuro wait. Please....” Her head dropped against his neck. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me!”

“Roxy…” Vergil said as he reached for her. 

“I said go!” She shouted, her eyes snapping up to him. “Please Vergil I…”

Anger surged through him. “Is the idea of making a pact with me so miserable you’d rather die than accept it?”

She stared at him. “No that’s not…” A sob broke her words up before she could finish that sentence. “I promised you your freedom,” She choked out. “I can’t…”

“I’m here, am I not?” Vergil snapped. “I made the choice to come find you. I made the choice to take his place until we could fix this.” He reached for her, resting his hand on her shoulder as he glanced at Kuro. The dragon was still holding on. Still listening. Could Vergil do this? He wasn’t certain, and he hated it. He hated not knowing if this would work. He hated not knowing if this would all be for nothing. But he had to try. He had to do something. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.  

This was her only chance. Their only chance. 

“My creator,” Kuro mumbled. How long it had been since Vergil had heard that name. And there was something in his voice- some powerful emotion Vergil couldn’t quite pick out- that reverberated in those two words alone. “You have shown me many wonderful things in this world. You gave me a reason to live. A reason to keep going. A reason to…” He trailed off as he took a deep and painful breath. “You must live, Roxanna. You must… You can’t let him win. Please…”

Roxy’s hand fell to the dragon’s snout before her head followed. Her tears slowed, but Vergil wasn’t certain if they’d ever truly cease. “There’s so much you haven’t told me.”

“I know you’ll figure it out,” Kuro said. “He’ll help you.” His eyes closed again. “Trust him… Roxy…”  He tried to force them open again, but his body wouldn’t let him. When his head rolled to the side again, his body began to vanish. Roxy choked back another sob. “Take care of her… Vergil.” 

Roxy’s hands hit the ground as he vanished completely. The second she gasped for air, Vergil was by herself side and took her hand. “Whatever you need to do,” He said as he gently pulled her toward him. She stared at him, her eyes glazed over in shock. “Roxy!” He yelled. “You have to…” 

He gasped as her hand touched his chest. Electricity snapped through him. He felt his own power pulse around them, sweeping through the roses. Each one turned various shades of blue. The blood seeped into the ground, vanishing as if it never existed. Insurmountable grief flooded into him, knocking the air from his lungs. Suddenly, all he could hear was Roxy; her tears seemed to coat his own cheeks. When he tried to wipe them away, nothing happened. 

Your biggest concern will be her. 

That was a gross understatement. Vergil felt everything. The erratic beating of her heart as it tried to regain some semblance of control. The burning of her eyes as she cried where Kuro had once been. The weariness in her legs. The pain in her back. His own whirlwind of emotions nearly overwhelmed him as he tried to catch his breath. Instead, Vergil forced himself forward, collapsing at her side. Without a word, he pulled her close, resting his chin on her head. She buried her face into his chest, sobbing. “He can’t…” She whispered between breaths. “He can’t be gone… he…”

“Roxanna!”

When Vergil blinked, he was back in the real world, flat on his back beside Kuro. Roxy gasped for air beside him, crumbling as if all the bones in her body had vanished. The clanging of swords echoed around him, followed by Nero swearing in at least four different ways. Vergil forced himself upright, reaching for Roxy. But he nearly fell again as his hand went right through. Instead, tendrils of something clung to his fingers, linking himself to her. Four curled around to her back. One went straight to her heart. Was this how Kuro healed heder? No wonder the dragon had focused so much on transferring power; this was the only thing keeping her alive. 

But as Vergil shifted a bit of his own strength to her heart, he frowned when he was unable to do the same to the other tendrils. Why? The energy needed for her heart had been minuscule compared to the rest of what he had. Why couldn’t he channel some of the rest? Surely he was capable of more than this?

“You need a few more days,” A chirpy voice echoed in Vergil’s head. “You’ll never be able to reach her like this.” 

Aki?

“Yep!”

“I can’t see you yet,” Roxy mumbled. “Our connection isn’t very strong. But…” She pushed on her chest again. “It’s… beating…” Flashes of her memory flooded into him; agonizing pain as her heart simply stopped. Vergil winced, trying to reach for her again. His fingers slipped through her, but she shivered, reaching for the arm that he’d gone through. Her eyes closed as she let out a shaky breath. “You’re there… You can hear me.”

“He is!” A chirpy voice echoed in Vergil’s head. “I can see him.” 

“Good,” Roxy murmured. She tried to push herself upright but failed miserably. 

“Insufferable child!” The archdemon shouted behind them. Vergil’s gaze jerked to the fight, relieved to see Yamato in his son’s hand; at least he’d had the sense to grab that. “It doesn’t matter what you do.  Your father is gone. Accept it.”

“What, you think my pops is gonna just go down like that?” Nero rolled his shoulders, Blue Rose pointed at the man’s face. “Then you don’t know him as well as you think you do.” He glanced back at Roxy. “Please tell me you have good news.”

She clutched her chest and winced. “Dia.”

The woman was by her side in an instant. “We have to go, Nero.”

“A little busy,” Nero said as he parried the dragon again. “This fucker doesn’t even have Yamato anymore.”

“I never needed it,” The man hissed. But as Nero swung for what could have been a deadly strike, the demon blinked away, landing back up in the tree. “I’m done wasting my time with you.” A dragon claw took the place of his hand, and he slashed at the air behind him. A portal opened as Nero lunged forward, and the demon vanished through it before he reached him. Nero tumbled past the tree but rolled to his feet as if nothing had happened.

“Dammit,” He said as he reluctantly clipped Red Queen to his back. “Damn it all.”

“Nero,” Vergil said. But his son didn’t react. He didn’t even look at him. “He can’t,” Vergil thought. “Not yet.” But the logic didn’t stop the sting in his heart. It didn’t help when Nero had to pick Roxy up, his eyes full of concern. “Please tell me it worked,” Nero said. She nodded but didn’t say anything as her eyes drifted to Kuro’s corpse. 

Kuro. Her voice echoed in Vergil’s head. Come back… Kuro…

He’s gone, Roxy, Vergil thought. It’s just… 

Us. 

Aki cooed sadly as Nero loaded Roxy into the van. Vergi glanced back at the dragon as guilt nearly tore him apart. 

“It isn’t your fault.”

Vergil flinched as Dia stepped up beside him.  “I’m assuming you’re there, anyway,” she said. Her voice caught before she cleared it and spoke again. “We should have been paying more attention… we should have assumed that someone would come here… but I wanted so desperately to believe that it was anyone but him.”

“Who is he?” Vergil thought. 

There was silence for a moment. Vergil felt a tug on the tendrils prickling his skin. “She’s falling asleep,” Aki said. “We’ll both fall asleep with her.” 

“Go,” Dia said. “I will deal with this.”

“Who is he?”

Dia’s eyes closed, and Vergil still wasn’t certain if she could hear him or not. “Give yourself time,” She said. “Things will get better.”

Dia!

“Let me bury my son,” She said. “Then I will help you.”

Vergil was yanked back into the darkness before he had a chance to process what she said.