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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

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Cassian x fem Valkyrie reader. Reader is ambushed fighting the Queens on the Final Battle for the continent. Cassian tries to help save the Valkyries.

intense battle, blood violence warning.

Women clad in armor and swords strapped at their sides marched. A unified front against the largest force the Queens ever summoned. The enemy lines reformed after the initial attack, a hopeful attempt at recovery on their part. The Valkyrie force was the final blow needed to wipe them out entirely. Cassian cheered for his mate from the field behind, watching with a heart full of blooming pride. You began cutting through that crowd. Those that could fly in the Valkyries didn't. They watched each other's backs, pairing and switching off like clockwork. You led the front with Nesta, spearheading the hoard of ground forces that remained. The Queens' army was enormous when the battle had begun, now as their numbers dwindled. Some even peeled off from the main group, fleeing as they saw the Valkyries take down group after group. The white ribbons on their heads flickered in the wind, their dance like fighting was mesmerising. Cassian's heart sang watching the blades shimmer in the late evening sun. Then the castle horns began blaring. Loud enough to disrupt both forces on that field. The Queens' forces erupted in a celebratory cheer loud enough to be heard from where Cassian stood at the front lines. Nausea twisted his gut. The horns stopped. Rhys was shouting orders to reform the lines. Cassian was utterly frozen as those castle gates opened. Horses first, with riders and enormous wolves at their sides. Then the foot soldiers poured out, filling that battlefield. Like a black and silver wave they circled the group of Valkyries in only a few moments. Cassians legs shook. The breath left his body. "We fight for our brothers and sisters on this land. We fight for those who wish to live freely, without consequence for who they are!" Rhysand gave a rallying speech. "We fight, we fear no death!" Rhys finished. As the final black figures rose out of that tunnel, Cassian was off. Flying high and fast trying to reach you. He didnt think of the backup he left behind or the fact his siphons were completely drained. He still had his sword, he could still fight. He would not let you die alone. You screamed orders over that blaring horn, Nesta breaking off to give direct orders to the few Illyrian Valkyries. Darkness poured from that castle gate. Like a dark pit had opened to a world of monsters. You knew when a battle turned. This was one of those times. The footsoilers circled the group, closing off the pathway you had forged in. The Illyrians took off, carrying two wounded of your force. Those that could fight regrouped, forming a tight circle, shields and swords. The horn paused long enough to hear the metal clanking of the armor all the attor and foot soldiers wore. To taste the dust the riders kicked up on the barren field. You could hear the wolves snarling somewhere in that crowd. The gremlins and goblins that laughed with their daggers at the ready. You showed no fear. You knew Cassian was watching, and your heart sang for him. This fight was for him. for all of Velaris' soldiers that stood behind you. the court of nightmares, the friends that were rallying their forces in that crowd with Cassian and beyond. The horn rang out a final time and a shudder wracked the earth. True darkness stepped out of that gate. Riding an enormous white horse that stood three hands taller than the rest. To support that massive, pallid hooded figure on top. That black sword that resembled Truth Teller so much, like it's twin. But this one had a glow of red to it. A siphon lay at the hilt. "Run. We need to run." Nesta's voice was quiet beside you, quiet yet strong in the face of death itself. The pale rider lifted the lost sword and the entire army quieted. A dull hum filled the air, then a cracking wet sound as a red beam shot through his own forces straight at the group of Valkyries. You screamed in defiance, your shield raised. Death raced for you, in so many different forms. You waited for the searing pain of that sword's light, but there was only a dull thud. The crowd quieted then erupted into a roar. You peeked around your shield, waiting for that death blow to hit you. Laying on the ground between your circle of valkyries and the advancing forces lay a limp Illyrian body. Glowing with red light. You could have been screaming, The feeling of anything but primal rage was lost from you. You grabbed Nesta by the shield arm and yanked her forward with you to cover Cassian. The beasts hissed and made strange growling sounds. You heard the circle tightening behind you, covering up for the gap you and Nesta had left. Cassian's body was hot, his armor on an arm was melted off. but his siphon... gods it looked like it had been blasted through his hand. It was embedded there, as if it burned its way halfway through his skin. The movements were purely instinct as your mind seemed to pull away from your body. You checked his pulse. The biggest relief in the word washed over you. He was alive, for now. The opposing army was awaiting their orders to finish off the last of your group. You could tell they were impatient as their teeth clacked together, howls ringing out at the apparent loss of a winged force. You looked to Nesta with wide eyes, and felt your heart plummet at the sight of dirt streaked tears falling down her cheeks. She glanced back to the Valkyries, who were keeping the beasts at bay with spears and occasional slices of swords. They chanted together, a war cry from the original Valkyries. You felt the tears falling now. Cassian groaned beneath you, muttering something you couldn't hear. "It's alright, Cas. We'll be home soon." You choked out, not taking your eyes off the metal clad boots. You could hear the roar of the crowd cheering on that death rider. Could pinpoint exactly where he was on the battlefield. The victory cries from a force that knew they would win. "Rhys is on the way, Az too." You promised, the dull rumble of footsteps from the hill where they regrouped was far off though. You knew you had little time before the predators around you would strike. If you were lucky the women would be able to fend them off long enough for Rhys to winnow them away. "No.." You made out from his words. His eyes cracked open weakly. Blood streaked his cheekbone where he had skidded on the dirt. "Where..." The tears hit you full force and you held back a sob. You knew he would insist on dying in battle, but would insist on Rhys saving you from such an end. "They're coming." You nodded to him, brushing the hair from his face. Nesta snarled and swung that mighty sword at a goblin that dared to strike. The crowd receded slightly. "Where is that fucker?" Cassian bit out, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. He propped himself up on an elbow, and the army had a collective gasp. You noticed it then. All of Cassian's siphons glowed with a light you'd never seen. A blood red that was bright as the smoke shrouded sun. Even the one embedded in his hand. "Where is he?" His eyes burned into you. He sat up, and Nesta caught him with her leg before he could waver. She held him up, her eyes never leaving the army. They stared at Cassian as if he were a new god to behold. He grunted at the new position but smiled, looking at his seared hand. His eyes were dull though, as if he was on the verge of sleep. He smiled at you though and he placed that beautiful hand adorned with his power into yours. He flexed his fingers around yours for only a second before placing your hand on his wrist and had you support his arm. Red tendrils of light danced around his fingers like snakes. "Give it to him. Courtesy of the Valkyries." He winked at you, his eyes still tired. Voice still gravely. You knew what he meant. You knew what this would risk. You stammered for some kind of rebuttal but he only shook his head, a warning. And encouragement. You looked to your sisters behind you, they were actively fighting now as they pushed inward. Nesta was roaring, holding her position behind Cassian. Her shield was splintering against the forces that berated her. Another Valkyrie stepped up to help her. Rhy's forces were only halfway across the enormous battlefield. You knew there was no time for goodbyes. So you took his arm, listened for that crowd hailing their prince of death, and took a long shuddering breath. "I love you." You closed your eyes at the growing light that surrounded Cassian's hand. "Until the end of all worlds." He said softly, just to you as the dull hum of his siphon turned to a roar, then a crackling sound that made you wince in pain. A ripple of power like lighting struck through the crowd. And you were falling to the ground with Cassian after the blast, covering him. You would die together, if he liked it or not. "To the end." you muttered, hoping he could hear you.

#valkyries #acotar #cassian #nesta #reader insert #reader x cassian #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #cassian fic

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adarlingwrites · 4 years ago

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Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

I'm tired of this human duet / no civilizing hides / our animal impulses

“We’re going for the offensive. Follow my lead,” Aguni barks, and they move as a single unit, running towards the group.

The enemy advances, and the other friendly teams near the militants flee, their terrorized screams echoing through the arena. It doesn’t help that the masks their opponents wear gave them a hellish, demonic appearance.

It didn’t matter. Last Boss was a stronger demon than they are.

Swinging his katana, he parries the incoming attack, the naginata clashing with his weapon. Niragi and Yamane brace themselves, the impact and Last Boss’ movements affecting the cavalry’s balance. A lump forms in Yamane’s throat as she watches the katana-wielding militant drive his weapon through the enemy’s heart. Their spear topples over, and as soon as he hits the ground, his teammates’ collars go off.

A friendly team struggles with an enemy, at a disadvantage due to the short range the provided knives had in comparison to the polearms. Luck turns in their favor as the militant team approached their attackers from behind, Last Boss lopping the enemy’s head off with a swing of his sword. Though Last Boss’ action saved their lives, the look the tattooed man had on his face made them fear him more than they feared the masked men.

One of them taps his teammates' shoulder, leaning in to say, "Let's stay out of this. Let those freaks handle it."

This isn’t a problem to Last Boss at all, who’s ready to strike the next enemy, but Yamane felt a wave of fury pass through her body.

“Damn pieces of shit who can’t pull their own weight,” she pants as they advance, earning her a chuckle from their spear.

“More for me, then,” said Last Boss, breaking from his monotone, almost sounding happy. Yamane looks up, and sees a small smile on his lips. “Looks like making Last Boss the spear was a great decision after all,” Niragi yells, and he wets his lips with his tongue.

Now Yamane knows why Last Boss thanked her for suggesting that he should be the spear.

He’s going to have so much fun.

“Focus, all of you,” Aguni grunts, chest drenched with sweat as the militants marched forward.

Unfortunately for them, the enemy teams took note of their unit’s competence, and are now converging towards their location.

Last Boss lurches forward and swings his sword, tearing through an enemy spear with a diagonal slash. Two teams approach from opposing directions, and Yamane can feel her sweat pouring now. One of them reaches Last Boss first, thrusting the naginata towards him. It misses his torso by mere inches, slicing his forearm. He parries the next attack, but the other enemy unit catches up and successfully slashes his side.

“No! Last Boss!” Yamane yells, his blood trickling from his wound to her face. Yet, he pays the injury no mind.

Aguni, Niragi and Yamane maneuvers so Last Boss can parry both attacks, but it still leaves the enemy plenty of opportunities to strike. It doesn’t help that a third unit is fast approaching as well. Their spear is panting now, and exhaustion is starting to settle in among the horses too.

“This is bad,” Yamane blurts, one arm wrapped around Last Boss’ leg, while another was linked with Aguni’s hand to support Last Boss’ foot. She turns to look at the other friendly team, who just watched.

“They won’t even help!”

“We don’t need their help!” Niragi berates her.

The situation is desperate. Yamane looks down to the dagger at her thigh, and she thinks back to the number of weapons on the table. There was enough for all twenty players to take one. Surely whoever devised the game wouldn’t have provided them if the players couldn’t use them at their disposal.

Could it be that all this time, the horses are allowed to fight too?

“Wait a second. Niragi, there wasn’t anything in the rules forbidding horses to use weapons, right?”

Niragi realizes it too and gives Yamane a cheeky smirk. “No, there wasn’t. Chief, we’ll be letting go of Last Boss’ foot,” Niragi yells, and Aguni grunts as the balance shifts.

“Just do what you need to do to win!” Aguni booms, and Niragi takes out the knife he got from the table, while Yamane reaches for her dagger. One of their arms is still holding Last Boss’ legs, but now, they’re free to assist him by going for the other horses.

Niragi had no problem slashing an enemy horse’s throat, which put their unit off balance. This created an opening, and Last Boss proceeded to finish that team’s spear off. Screwing her eyes shut, Yamane lets out a scream as she slashes wildly at the unit near her side, warm blood spraying her.

“Wild little Yamaneko,” Last Boss snickers, grinning at her as she swung blindly.

In the chaos, the unit topples over, and their spear falls backward, allowing the tattooed militant to drive his sword through his chest.

Panting, Yamane sees the fallen enemies, and relief floods her system, which manifests as laughter that she couldn’t hold back. The last remaining unit approaches, and Last Boss finishes them off with ease.

Right after the defeated unit’s collars went off, the robotic voice chimes in from their phones.

“Game clear! Congratulations!”

The collars around the surviving players release, and Aguni lowers Last Boss down. Bloody and sweaty, Yamane tucks her dagger away, and rests her hands on her knees, laughing and relieved to be alive. She turns to see the other surviving unit, the one that decided to stand idly by as they struggled, and scowls. Anger replaces her relief.

Feet taking her to the cowards before she could stop herself, she backhands one of them and proceeds to swing a fist to another. Aguni remains planted to his spot, watching the brawl unfold, while Niragi and Last Boss follow her, an amused look on their faces.

“Looks like Yamane finally lost it,” Niragi chuckles, grinning as he watched Yamane kick one of the other players.

“About time,” Last Boss adds.

Two of the strangers tried to restrain the wildcat, who kicked, cursed, and spat at them. “You fucking cowards! You assholes do know that if our group didn’t survive that assault, you’d have to face the enemy yourself too, right?! You weak, useless sacks of shit!”

Last Boss pushes one of them off, while Niragi points his gun at the other, which he retrieved on the way to the fight. They let Yamane go, who attempts to brawl with one of them again, but Last Boss beats her to the punch. He grabs the coward by the hair, and slices through his carotid artery, and his blood spills on the grass, killing him in seconds. The other players present scramble away, not wanting to get involved. Niragi shoots one of them in the leg, the others leaving him behind as they run away in terror.

Feet planted on the grass, Yamane freezes in her spot, stunned. She wanted to beat the hell out of those people, but not kill them, nothing as extreme as that. Last Boss turns to her, still panting, smiling with his mouth open, a predatory glint in his eye as he approaches her. The more she looked, the more he looked like a tiger, his tattoos serving as his stripes.

“That’s enough. Let’s go,” Aguni says as he passes by them, walking to the exit without looking back. Shrugging, Niragi totes his rifle over his shoulder again, while Last Boss grabs Yamane’s good arm. His hands are cold, fingers leaving indentations on the woman’s flesh.

The wildcat shrinks back into a dormouse as the tiger dragged her with them.

Once in the car, she sat a little closer to the window and avoided looking at him. Niragi turns on the engine and they speed away from the venue.

“KIlling those morons was unnecessary, you know,” Yamane finally speaks up, avoiding looking at the tattooed man.

“Don’t act like you haven’t killed anyone, Yamane,” Niragi cuts in, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s us or them. Doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. I don’t get off on inflicting unnecessary harm on anyone.”

From the rearview mirror, she sees Aguni giving her a pondering, scrutinizing look. From the corner of her eyes, on the other hand, Last Boss is leaning towards her, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Your kills are sloppy,” Last Boss tells her, voice monotonous.

That finally made Yamane turn to him, eyebrows furrowed. “I- what does that have to do with anything?”

“If you care so much, you’ll kill them swiftly instead of letting them bleed all over you, Yamaneko,” he droned, emphasizing the moniker. Jaw dropping in horror, Yamane looks at the blood on her body, and a wave of nausea washes through her.

“Heh, that’s right. You’re a killer too, and a crazed one at that. You’ve shown that twice now. Stop acting all moral, mousy,” Niragi continues, tongue drawing out of his lips languidly.

To Yamane’s horror, the two were right. It happened with the middle-aged man in the Elimination game, and it happened again tonight. Yamane’s way of killing them prolonged their suffering. The guilt ate at her, and made her sink.

Darker parts of herself are emerging, the ones that remind her of mother’s heavy hands and her father’s sharp tongue, and she feels the bile rising in her throat. Chest constricting, Yamane couldn’t breathe, so she rolls down the window and leans over, the wind tousling her hair.

Looking through the rearview mirror, Niragi notices the distance between Yamane and his companion, the look of despair in Yamane’s face, and he grins. “Oh c’mon Yamane, no need to give Last Boss that kind of avoidant treatment. Just earlier you were crying his name when he got nicked.”

“I’m not trying to avoid- I did not!” Yamane exclaims, defensive all of a sudden.

“No! Last Boss!” Niragi imitates her in a falsetto, and cackles. “You sound like a high school girl watching her boyfriend get into a brawl!”

Just a few days ago, Niragi was bending her over every surface he can find, and now he’s teasing her for showing the slightest bit of concern towards the tattooed man. At least Yamane knows that he no longer acts entitled to her anymore.

“Well, if he died, we’ll all die. Of course I’d be worried,” Yamane mumbles, thankful that the car is dark, or they would’ve seen her flushed face.

A warm puff of breath on her cheek makes her head turn abruptly and she sees Last Boss’ face, merely inches from hers, making her scoot backward and brace herself against the open window in surprise. He’s watching her curiously, like a cat enthralled with a new toy. Behind the tattoos and his odd behavior is a handsome face; sharp cheekbones, a strong nose with a high bridge, piercing eyes, and delicate lips, which Yamane can clearly see even in the dim light.

At the pit of her belly, Yamane can feel the fire spread, and it pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be feeling that way for someone who just killed a man without remorse in front of her, but her body betrayed the rational parts of her brain, which had been steadily crumbling since her arrival in the borderlands.

“You- you really like watching me, don’t you?” she whispers.

It was supposed to be a rhetorical question, and Yamane didn’t know how to feel when he nodded.

When they arrived at the Beach, she had planned to visit Doctor Sunohara to check on her shoulder and ask for a refill for her painkillers. Last Boss is going the opposite direction, the wound on his side still bleeding

“Uh, Last Boss, you should come with me to the clinic to get that wound checked.”

He tilts his head, and Niragi rolls his eyes and smirks. “Still beating around the bush like a schoolgirl, huh? Hopeless, both of you,” he scoffs, then strolls away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yamane yells after him, but he keeps walking.

As the strange exchange unfolded between the three, Aguni is still watching, deep in thought. “Yes, Yamane’s right. Get that wound fixed. It may cost us the next game.”

As the militants’ chief, his word carries weight, and Last Boss complies, shuffling towards the direction of the clinic. More than ready to replenish her painkiller supply, Yamane goes after him, but Aguni places a hand on her good shoulder.

“Come with me for a moment,” the chief tells her, and lets go of the younger militant’s shoulder promptly. Cold sweat washing over her and unsure of what will happen next, Yamane nods.

Leading her to an unoccupied room, the chief sits down on the sofa, and the younger militant sits right across him. Aguni leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Tell me about the day you met Niragi and Last Boss,” he asks her.

“Huh? Well, I’m sure they’ve already told you what there is to know, chief,” Yamane replies, fiddling with her thumbs to alleviate her unease. “We played a game called Elimination and only the three of us survived.”

Aguni exhales softly, leaning back on the sofa. “Niragi and Last Boss are prominent members of the Beach, and you’ve seen firsthand how capable our sect is. I need to see what they saw in you. You’ve caught their attention that night.”

“I’m… I’m not even sure how I caught their attention, chief. Maybe Niragi just wanted a new fuck toy to use and discard, and Last Boss’ intentions are a mystery to me,” Yamane groans, rubbing her face. “But letting me keep my knives and making me one of you? I wasn’t even the strongest player out there. I just went crazy when one of the boys killed this kid that was tagging along with me, and called us the weak link in our team.”

At Yamane’s confession, Aguni straightens. “I see. That’s all. Go.”

Letting go of a breath that she didn’t know that she was holding, Yamane bows, and turns to leave.

“And Yamane?” Aguni calls out, turning to the young militant. “While I expect honesty, you reveal too much of yourself. It has a way of coming back to bite you in the ass. Don’t show weakness.”

A thoughtful look on her face, Yamane nods. “I’ll keep it in mind, chief.”

As Yamane closed the door, Aguni grimaced. From the bathroom, Hatter emerges, listening to the exchange the entire time. He sits in front of his friend, and Aguni drops his facade.

Meanwhile, Yamane begins her trek to the clinic, and people avoid her as she walks through the halls, drenched in blood and looking positively feral. Sunohara and another medic are tending to Last Boss’ wound, the others steering clear, when Yamane enters the clinic. The blood on her clothes made Sunohara gasp, who stopped dabbing the antiseptic on the tattooed man’s side.

“Uh, don’t worry about me. This isn’t my blood,” Yamane mutters, making a few onlookers inch away from her. She grimaces at her choice of words. “I’m just here to get my shoulder checked and get more painkillers.”

Sunohara nods, leaving the task of wrapping a bandage around Last Boss’ torso to the other medic. While waiting for Sunohara to finish washing her hands in the sink, Yamane sits next to her fellow militant.

“Hey. Are you doing something tonight?” she asks him, not making any eye contact.

“Executive meeting,” he drones. Yamane nods and turns away. “Nothing after that.”

“Can we meet at the main balcony after? I’ll just get cleaned up while you attend the meeting.”

The tattooed militant turns to her, expression inscrutable, and his eyes flick down for a brief moment. He nods.

After getting her prescription refilled, Yamane takes the elevator to the floor where she had taken a room. The bathroom has a tub and she turned the water on for it to fill. After stripping herself, she runs water through her stained clothes in the sink, plugs it, and pours detergent to soak. She places her wrist tag at the counter, the number 32 on it.

Leaning over the basin, Yamane looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her buns had come loose from all the moving they did in the game. The bruising on her shoulder is nearly invisible now, but she’s still careful with it, and it still hurts on occasion. Sunohara advised her to wear the brace for a few weeks more. Water continues to fill the tub, while Yamane quickly rinses the blood off her body in the shower before she enjoys her soak. Or at least try to, anyway.

Twenty minutes later, Yamane is still soaking in the tub, fingers wrinkled, and the bathwater has gone cold. Last Boss’ comment about how sloppy her kills are lingered in her mind.

Perhaps she’ll ask him to teach her how to kill a little cleaner; ask him to teach her that cut he does where the victim bleeds to death in a matter of seconds.

“Yes,” Yamane thought. “Maybe it will ease some of the guilt.”

With her clothes still in the sink, instead of her usual ensemble, Yamane puts on a black off-shoulder shirt, which she ties at a knot at her midriff, her shoulder brace, and black, high-waisted denim shorts with harnesses for her daggers. Hair still wet and clinging to her neck and upper back, Yamane steps out of her occupied room, not bothering to put any makeup on.

On the way to the balcony, she runs into Saiko in the elevator, who raises an eyebrow at her.

“Huh. You’re actually pretty cute if you didn’t wear all that dark makeup.”

“Piss off, Saiko. I’m looking for Last Boss. Is he still at the meeting?”

At Yamane’s question, Saiko looks at her like she’s gone mad. Maybe she has. “Why would you purposely seek out that freak? He gives me the creeps.”

“Not your business. Do you know where he is or not?”

“Executive meeting’s probably done by now.” Saiko huffs, checking her nails. The shorter woman nods, and Saiko gets off on her floor.

Heart pounding, Yamane psychs herself up. She hasn’t been this nervous since confessing to her middle school crush, and the comparison makes her cringe. “You’re just asking him a favor,” Yamane tells herself. “You’re going to meet him, ask how to kill people swiftly, and leave.”

The elevator door slides open, and Yamane steps out, and she sees him waiting there, back against the wall and leaning on his katana.

“Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Yamane greets, taking a few tentative steps towards him. “May I ask you a favor?”

Last Boss doesn’t say anything, but he turns to look at her and gives her a small nod.

“Teach me how to kill fast and without inflicting too much pain.”

The tattooed militant straightens, taking a step towards her. Several steps. He traps Yamane against the wall. The scent of sweat and blood is still heavy on him, and the dormouse gulps, a shaky exhale escaping her throat. Cold fingers trail on her neck and Yamane flinches, goosebumps rippling through her skin and her nipples hardening under her shirt. The water dripping from her hair and the cold night air made it worse. Last Boss presses his finger on the spot harder and feels Yamane’s rapid pulse.

“Bleeding out is a painless way to die. This is where the carotid artery is. Cutting it would result in death in fifteen to thirty seconds,” said Last Boss, his voice fluctuating from his usual monotone. “The jugular is another option, but it’ll take a little longer due to the less pressure in the veins.”

Yamane’s eyes are glistening as the man before her holds her chin and tilts her head upward. “Do it with the victim facing down. If their head is tilted upward like this, their trachea gets in the way and it’ll be harder to cut the artery.”

This is the first time Yamane ever heard him say anything more than a sentence, clearly knowledgeable on the topic. Clearing her throat, Yamane asks him a question. “Just what were you before you came here?”

Ever so slightly, his grip on her chin tightens. “I have no past.”

“H- I- Where did you learn that, then?” Yamane asks him, stuttering and flustered.

“The internet.”

A cold hand gripped her good shoulder, thumb pressing against her deltoid, knuckles almost brushing against her breast. “There are other parts of the body you can strike. Severing the cephalic vein is another way to get the person to bleed out. Do you want to learn more?”

Yamane couldn’t answer, only nodding, and he kneels in front of her, his cold fingers pressing her inner thighs as he pointed out where the femoral artery is, his warm breath kissing her stomach.

Fear and desire muddles together into a nebulous fog in her mind.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #last boss x oc #takatora samura x oc #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #suguru niragi #morizono aguni #takeru danma #hatter #fanfiction #character study

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lavenderradionoises · 4 years ago

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Can You Hear the Winds Changing? - Part 4

More Iiaare content! I love this girl so much and cannot wait to write more but for now, enjoy the little snippet of Iiaare’s past because I despise writing strategy meetings

You can find previous parts HERE

Warnings: violence, implied body mutilation, past abuse Iiaare’s eyes flitted between the two siblings in front of her and the many sweets between them, wondering whether the two stole the sweets from the cook. Usta had stormed out of the physician’s chambers moments earlier, threatening to get Captain Nexros to string the twins up by their toes. The two ignored the princess in favor of introducing themselves to Iiaare.

“Now that the Mistress of ticks up royal asses is gone, hi, my name is Alos, I serve in the king’s private guard,” the twin with hair curling under their ear introduced themselves before taking a bite out of a piece of cherry pie.

Iiaare nodded in greeting.

“Be nice. Usta may be haughty, but she’s still a lot better than majority of the nobility,” The twin with elaborate braids chided before turning to Iiaare. “I’m Elos. I also serve in the king’s guard, and as you may have guessed from the princess’s earlier threat, Alos and I are twins.”

Iiaare nodded again, trying to make herself more comfortable on the bed without causing the wound on her side to reopen. As she adjusted the pillow, her head spun, and vision blurred before sharply focusing on the strangers.

“But I’m the better looking twin,” Alos said with a wink.

Iiaare raised an eyebrow, unsure whether this was normal for the short haired twin.

“Ignore them,” Elos sighed before gesturing to the mountain of sweets. “Want one?”

The servant was unsure how to respond. Since the knights held a higher rank than her, she knew that eating with them would be improper. On the other hand, she had not eaten since the previous evening, and the lack of food was certainly not helping the headache that had come and gone since she woke up.

As if sensing her confusion, Elos quickly grabbed the nearest sweet, a honey cake, and handed it to her.

“Don’t worry about rank with us, darling. Eat to your heart’s content. With the way Alos eats, they're a practically a pig already.”

Alos, mouth full of pie, made an indignant noise, spewing crumbs across the bed sheets.

Elos raised an eyebrow at them. “Srr, sweetheart? Abysmal manners.”

Iiaare felt her cheeks and neck begin to burn, still unaccustomed to the casual flirting of the palace. As she took the slice of honey cake from Elos, the servant did not miss the mischievous glint in Alos’s eyes that reminded her too much of Aion’s manservant, Ernaeis, when he decided to dump buckets of worms into visiting noble’s beds.

“So, little one, we told you our names. How about you tell us yours? I bet both your name and your voice are prettier than the haughty yet beautiful princess Usta,” Alos said, leaning on their interlaced fingers, elbows balanced on their knees.

The servant’s gaze snapped from the cake in her hands to the knight as her stomach churned, and knots began to twist in her chest. It was not the first time someone had asked her to talk, but for some reason, the thought of revealing her muteness to these two, having them recoil in disgust as so many others had, terrified her"

Just as Iiaare was about to show that she had no tongue, the door burst open. A boy resembling the twins walked in with shaking hands and frantic eyes that Iiaare swore she met before.

“If you two leave me alone to deal with another war council on my own again, I am going to find every poison in this city and make you both drink it.”

“Hello, brother dear,” Alos greeted the newcomer.

The boy huffed before closing the door and making his way over to where the group was sitting. Iiaare watched him as he sat down. Something was familiar about his brown hair and the way he spoke, but the memory trying to break through the locked rooms of her mind made her head spin even more.

Elos waved her hand in the direction of her brother, “This is our baby brother, Kuxon, the three of us are from a border village near Flatband, so you will have to excuse his accent.”

Kuxon looked at her, and it suddenly clicked: the boy, his face, and the memory that had been tugging at her. Iiaare only managed a tiny gasp before the room spun one final time, and she fell into blackness.

Drums sounded as two children no older than seven were led to a platform raised and ready to be burned. Fire mages stood at the four corners, waiting. Villagers, who had gathered to watch the execution, muttered amongst themselves.

“Filthy street rats finally getting what they deserve.”

“Are you sure it was the boy? Isn’t his family at the capitol?”

“I heard they never wanted a third child, especially after those cursed twins were born.”

“Kolia, the traveling merchant’s wife, also says that one of them decided to become a boy.”

“No wonder they abandoned the son. It’s bad luck to have twins, let alone twins of different genders.”

Iiaare heard all of these as she struggled to make her way to the front. She felt the wrongness in her bones, a child should not be burned at the stake because she needed food to survive, and neither should anyone who helped that child.

The kids were being chained to the platform as Iiaare passed the last row of spectators.

“Stop!” She yelled out. When she was ignored, she ran up onto the platform, pushing mages and guards out of the way with all her ten year old strength.

Iiaare’s mind skipped ahead in the memory to when she was being loaded into a cart in the middle of the night with a man telling her that the village had found her a job as a servant to a noble. Iiaare wanted to protest but couldn’t from the pain in what was left of her tongue. The sizzling sound of a hot knife meeting flesh plagued her mind. When the darkness closed in around her again, it was almost a relief.

The memory was cut off by distant voices calling for Iiaare and a harsh light invading her vision. When she blinked her eyes open, the first thing she saw was Aion, and who she guessed was everyone from the guard in conference at the foot of the bed. The servant’s heart fell ever so slightly at the fact that Usta was not there until she felt a hand running through her hair.

“You’re awake!” Usta’s voice exclaimed from beyond Iiaare’s line of vision, causing everybody to turn to her, “ Are you alright?”

Iiaare nodded before attempting to sit up. With Usta’s help, she was able to maneuver herself to lean against the backboard of the bed relatively comfortably and without jolting the stab wound too much.

Once she was properly sitting, she registered how many more people were in the physician’s office. Along with the royal siblings, two more individuals had joined: a man with a missing arm and a woman that reminded Iiaare of the statues of the goddess of the hunt.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Elos asked, taking Iiaare’s left hand between her own.

Iiaare nodded again. She began drawing a knife and a fire on the sheets with her free hand where Usta could see.

“A knife and fire?” The princess questioned.

Iiaare gave her a nod in confirmation before pointing between Kuxon and herself, then making a fist with her fingers sans her thumb and sliding her thumb across her face.

“A knife, a fire, the boy, and your tongue being cut out?” Usta asked. The twins gasped, and the rest of the guard stopped their discussion, opting to listen to the conversation.

Iiaare tapped her pointer finger a couple times in the princess’s direction to indicate that she was correct.

Elos’s hands tightened around Iiaare’s and Kuxon’s face when white as candle wax.

“Iiaare…cut out…” He mumbled before his eyes grew round, “It was you! You were the girl!”

“What are you talking about?” Elos questioned her brother

“Auriol and I...the day they were going to...were going to….”

“Wait, so you’re saying that Iiaare was the girl who saved you?”

“It sounds crazy, but...look, she knows!” Kuxon moves the wrist guard off his left arm, revealing old scars where handcuffs would have sat, “They told us you’d been taken away...they told us you’d been executed.”

Elos moved her hands from Iiaare’s to the servant’s shoulder and addresses her solemnly, “You saved our brother’s life. Thank you.”

The loud sound of a candle popping five times startled the occupants of the eerily quiet chambers.

“Well, I guess I should head down to the kitchens and ask them to bring up some food for us,” Aion offered before practically fleeing the room. The servant noticed the slight shaking of his hands and knew that it would be a while before the prince returned. Kuxon sat on the bench the prince was previously occupying. The younger boy began replacing his wrist guard but stopped when Iiaare signaled for him to give it to her so she could lace it up for him.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to introduce the Captain and Lieutenant.” Alos said, turning away from her brother’s scared wrist, before pointing at the man with a missing arm, “This is Captain Nexros. And that over there is Lieutenant Iaastil, the second in command.”

Iiaare waved at Nexros and Iaastil.

The door opened just as the captain was going to say something, revealing Aion and Ernaeis carrying several plates of food. Setting down the plates, Aion turned to address the rest of the occupants of the room with a grim voice.

“Well then, shall we update those who missed the meeting of their next mission?”

#warnings:#abuse #mentions of war #past abuse #tw body mutilation #body mutilation #Can You Hear the Winds Changing

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creation-is-chaos · 5 years ago

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‘The Enemy of My Enemy Sings Songs Of Poison Melodies’ | Mad Alt Plot

Clandestine is the night of secret rendezvous in the cover of darkness. Most lucrative times for unsavory activity but this is mere business. Always in the eyes of the man who walks with midnight on his shoulders, coat tail swinging in his fluid steps, he lifted a gloved hand to stop the approaching figure. At the time time it seemed to be rather innocent. Despite leaving his Camaro parked outside of the gate it loomed undercover. The black sheen does make for a perfect getaway in times of these. Nighttime is his time.

“H-hello,” the figure stuttered out into the crisp air.

“Chilly this evening.” Corvus had commented on the weather as if he were not in the middle of a private affair. An affair never of passion’s lust but passion’s just violence. “Does it affect your speech pattern? Teeth chattering? Or are you simply here to insult me?” The questions rang with impatience, voice dark in the scrutiny of the other man. No, not a man.

As Corvus soon stepped forward under the single light cast from an iron lamppost he saw them clearly. His brow furrowed slightly. A boy?

“What are you doing here?” Demanding it quickly, he curled fingers onto the silver wolf head of his cane. Eyes darted over the expanse of the enclosure, brick scuffing beneath his soles as he moved closer. “You boy.” Gripping him by the shoulder, he glared, lip curling up over his teeth. “Who did you see come here? Who?!”

“Careful Dear DeVille.” A voice cut the air smoothly, feminine alluding to another who watched from shadows. He enjoys to blend as a dark hubris among the clouds. She steps out in stark white tiptoeing the contrast of all. “We wouldn’t want to scare the child would we?”

Corvus yanked the boy to him. Pulling the thin sword from the cane holder flashed the blade up and center of this decoy’s throat. He twisted his leather hand in a threat. “Perhaps I will spill his blood instead. If you do not tell me your reasons for being here....Frost.”

She took a step. Heels clicking in tandem to short cautious steps, the woman donned a coat over her shoulders, tailored to match her suit. Stylish even among the decree of vile back alley deals. At least they shared the same taste. No filthy alley but a lovely gated property owned by the very man he expected to find.

“This is all rather simple, DeVille. I am here to greet you for our mutual friend. Mr. Farmer wishes he could see you but he is a bit - uncertain of your intentions.” She waved a hand at the current hostage he had. “It seems his caution was warranted. Considering you have his nephew.”

Nephew? Corvus’ eyes flit down at the boy breathing hard in his grip. His right eyebrow arched at the woman. Not just any unknown woman but one he knows well from past dealings. Holland Frost. She does perform with appropriate frigidity. “A man who sends a child, his kin no less, leaves something to be desired.” Corvus nudged the boy aside. He sprinted away but the man hardly paid attention. Instead his dark gaze remained with Holland’s ice.

Holland laughed briefly. “Oh my,” she teased him, clapping hands together. “You let him go? My you are growing soft. Though I imagine it all has to do with your lost baby.” Holland lets it hang in the air as his expression transitions from emotionless to a glimmer. Oh but a glimmer of emotion is worth a thousand words.

Corvus drew the sword outward. Pointing to the woman who stood far enough on the other side of the circular alcove, he snarled. “Cunning bitch.”

“Am I? Do not act so surprised. You and your boyfriend Kamski are not the only two who have a set of eyes on this city. We’re not the only players in this twisted game we weave Dear DeVille. You should know that better.”

“I know plenty,” he corrects. “I know you are one of the better snakes in Detroit. It is quite enjoyable to see you again, Holland. A shame I cannot say so often. Though you do have me at a disadvantage.... for once.”

“If you mean that little detective you and your almost lover fuck then I consider it an accomplishment.” Holland did not mince words. Her lips purse looking over his stance. “I enjoy a man who likes their swords. And has a sword to use properly.” She paused, reaching into the bag in her hand.”

Corvus jabbed the sword in a motion to stop her. “I suggest not moving. Or I will slice directly through your throat.”

She smiled. “Do you think I would be so careless to carry a gun openly? My my. You forget I am better at surprises. She on your mind? Or he?”

The glare on his face is answer enough. Both Elijah and Jesse have no idea what he is doing this evening. He does not speak of his business unless absolutely necessary not even to his Raven. They are both this way. When one needs the other they rise to the call. However there is nothing to persuade him to involve Elijah in this. Holland Frost is his problem. At least she was in the past but it seems the past has a way of emerging into the future.

Her knowledge of Jesse is one he must broach with him. “What do you want?”

“Cutting to the chase,” the woman tutted, removing a compact mirror. Flipping it over to show him he no reason for his threatrics, Holland popped it up. Her eyes remained on him. “My surprises are much better.”

Corvus’ head turned at footsteps on his left. Several men appeared as they did on his right. Curious set of circumstances it would appear. “You chose a bad night, Frost.”

“Did I?” She twisted a casing of lipstick open in a casual appliance. “Never bring a knife to a gun fight.”

He took a stance, shifting his left foot behind him, leather fingers curled tightly over the sword handle. “Oh but my odds are very good,” he mocked, twirling the weapon when they came at him.

Kicking one of the men in the chest propelled him with a hard splat to the brick he danced over. The blade of his sword jabbed through flesh, sinking into the frontal apex of another’s throat. Sneering over perfect white teeth offered a grotesque irony. Vicious in the severing of their arteries, he held the blade steady as they dropped to their knees. Ripping a handgun out from inside a holster hidden underneath their jacket, Corvus aimed behind him, firing into the head of the third man.

Blood splattered with the violent crack. Sending matter blowing out the back of his head, Corvus paid no mind to the loud thud of body dropping behind his polished heels. Instead he drew a foot up to press into the chest of the man gargling on his knees. Pushing him slowly back off his blade, Corvus straightened, twisting around to meet the final one. The man took one look at the others lying in a mess of blood before taking off.

He sniffed at the cowardice. “Lovely people you have working for you.” Corvus’ lips curved briefly. Satisfied with what he has done, he moved closer to the woman, blade twisting in his hand but pointing down.

Holland stood still. She did not even attempt to flee. Her thumb pressed at the side of her compact. Expelling powder from a tiny opening blew directly into his face. Forcing him to stall immediately, covering his burning eyes with his hand, the sword dropped.

“Argh!” Corvus stumbled backwards. The sting blinded him.

She used the tip of her white heel to kick the sheathed weapon away. “Grab him.” Her command is met with an influx. Grabbing him by the arms, dragging him in his struggle, Corvus’ will to fight is beastly. A pure animal who must be taken down. Oh but she enjoys his moves. Such a sight to watch him murder men with guns with a blade. Holland always appreciated his prowess. A shame she cannot have a taste.

Down on his knees they force him and that is just fine for her. He cannot see through the pain. But she grips onto his dark locks to pull his head back.

Corvus growls. “Bitch!”

“I love it when you talk dirty, Corvus.” She teased before the pierce of needle in her hand.

He winced, grinding teeth at the obvious burn. Immediately he felt the sear begin to spread, arms becoming lax in her guard’s grip. Corvus huffed. Swallowing hard, his head bobbed, eyes squeezed shut to prevent further damage to them.

“No worries now. I will clean your eyes up. Make you presentable enough. After all with this little concoction,” she trailed, placing the needle back in her bag. Her hand cupped along his jaw, fingers smoothing along his raven goatee. “...you will not remember a thing....except waking up warm and strapping in your bed. Save me a kiss next time, Dear DeVille.”

Blurred, slurring, drooling.

Corvus groaned.

Dizzy with a strange taste in his mouth, his face pressed to the pillow that morning. Body splayed face down among his scarlet sheets, satin sticking to his sweaty skin. His head slowly lifted up. Only the pain in his neck was a sign of something off but he could not place it... he could not think... straight....

mentions: @creatorofclay @rxseguided

other muse: @syntheticfrost

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profoundnet · 5 years ago

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Profound Member Post - November/December 2019

Header by @cryptomoon and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in their entirety during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2019!

Masterpost below the cut.

JessJessTheBest - @saywhatjessie - JessJessTheBest

Forgot all prayers (of joining you)

Dean had forgotten how real and close emotions were when he was here. When he was this close to Cas. When there was nothing between them but time. He wasn’t saying any of this right. His words weren’t working. He couldn’t make his mouth cooperate. But maybe… Or Dean prays to Cas in purgatory. (s15 e08 coda)

Tags: s15 e08 coda, Dean Winchester prays to Castiel, Mild hurt/comfort

SFW

One Hell of a Pilot

He leaned again to get close to the pilot. “This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.” He took a deep breath, letting it sink in for just a moment that he said those words. That he was doing this. There was no going back. Or Cas is a reformed Stormtrooper, Dean is a rebel pilot, and this is the story of their escape.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers, It's literally just the first 36 minutes of TFA, Poe!Dean, Finn!Cas

SFW

The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat - @the-madness-linked-to-a-hat - The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat

Happy Holidays Cas

Where Dean and Cas follow a seasonal tradition.

Tags: Mistletoe, first kiss, happy holidays SFW

Isangelousdenim - @isangelousdenim - Isangelousdenim

Wishful Drinking

It started with Dean drinking on a case. It escalated to Dean drinking everywhere.

Tags: TW: Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts & Alcohol Abuse Character Study, Season 15, Heavy Angst

NSFW

Co-written by: Bumocusal

goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

Head Down, Walk with Reason

As an omega, Castiel is ineligible for the throne after his father dies. When his uncle takes the crown, Metatron's first order of business is to arrange a betrothal with King John for the hand of his firstborn son, the Crown Prince of Terra.

So Castiel flees. His first night on the run, Castiel stumbles into a band of outlaws just at the border. Injured and wary, he has no choice to stay with them. And although he had planned to return to his own kingdom once it was safe, home might not be the place he left, but instead with Dean, their alpha leader that took him in.

Tags: a/b/o, medieval au, royalty au, omega cas, alpha dean, secret identities, angst with a happy ending, castiel and meg friendship NSFW

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160 - MaggieMaybe160

A Thanksgiving Feast

Dean Winchester's dirty prayer before Thanksgiving dinner leads to some shenanigans under the table. Tags: Food Kink. Top Cas/Bottom Dean.

NSFW

One Night

An accidental one night stand between Castiel and Dean leads to whispered confessions and miscommunications.

Tags: Internalized Homophobia. John Winchester's A+ Parenting. Angst with a happy ending. NSFW

followyourenergy - followyourenergy

Christmas in July

When Dean Winchester follows a service dog who won’t leave him alone, he finds Cas Novak, passed out in a stairwell with a Christmas tree on top of him. A Christmas tree? In July? Who does that? Turns out that Cas does that. And once he gets to know the snarky, independent, handsome man, Dean can’t help but fall for him. A story about being seen.

Tags: Christmas, fluff and angst, pining, blind Castiel, service dogs, snarky Castiel, sweet Dean, falling in love

NSFW

Nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep Pillowfort

Talk to Me Now

It started off simple. An ad on Craig's List: Looking for a Roommate, 700/mo, Utilities included...

Tags: AU - Roommates, idiots to lovers, pranks and practical jokes, misunderstandings, comfortably bisexual dean, queer castiel

NSFW

Stuck in the Middle With You

"Fine." Cas slid his right pointer finger into the trap and almost instantly felt the trap snap around their fingers. "That's not right." Dean looked up at Cas. "What did you do?" Cas attempted to pull his finger out of the trap. "I didn't do anything."

Tags: canonverse, cursed object, idiots to lovers, homophobic language, everyone ships dean/cas, love confessions

NSFW

What I Thought I Knew

Dean rolls his eyes and turns to go back to the kitchen when his eyes lock on a guy across the room. He has dark, messy hair and eyes that cannot possibly be so blue. He stares for a moment, ripping his eyes away only when he realizes the other guy has caught him staring. Dean blushes and rushes back into the kitchen. Tags: AU - Modern, Strangers to Lovers, One-sided Enemies to Lovers, Objectification, Miscommunication, Dub-con Kiss

NSFW

Slice of Your Pie

He pulled up the Casual Encounters section of Craig's List and was surprised to find out how right Gabe was. Many people were offering their services for Thanksgiving company. As he scrolled through the ads, one with an interesting title caught his attention. Alone on Thanksgiving? Want to stop the ‘Why are you still single?’ questions?

Tags: AU - Modern, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Crush at first sight, pre-Dean/Cas, Homophobic Language, Sexism

NSFW

Shiver

"I wouldn't leave it there. I grabbed the most important things and left." Dean shook his head vehemently. "Are you sure?" Sam's face started to crinkle up in an 'I told you so' expression. "Did you really get everything before you ran and asked to crash with your baby brother and his wife?" Dean glared at Sam. "I don't want to go back. It can't be there."

Tags: AU - Modern with Magic, Witch!Cas, Witch!Dean, Blizzards, Car Accident, Getting Back Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

NSFW

Angel

Overcome by a moment of whimsy, Dean walked down the stairs and stepped into the middle of the yard. He looked towards the sky and closed his eyes, letting the snowflakes gently kiss his skin. Tags: Canon Compliant, Fallen!Cas, Snow Angels, Marriage Proposal, Established Dean/Cas, Short and Sweet

SFW

Chandeliers of Hope

"You seriously Christmas themed our D&D game?" Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief. Charlie walked over and patted Dean on the cheek before taking some of the candlesticks out of Cas' arms. "Of course, I did. You said to write what I wanted, I wrote tonight's campaign. It's a one-shot, and it's going to be a lot of fun, I promise." "Gonna hold you to that, Red." Dean pointed at her accusingly before looking and smiling at Cas. "And I'm going to hold you as an accomplice."

Tags: AU - Roommates, Christmas Party, Characters playing D&D, Recreational Marijuana Use, Alcohol Use, Mistletoe Kiss, Cas/Dean First Kiss, Idiots to Lovers

NSFW

A Cold, Dark Winter’s Night

Charlie pulled out a small gift bag and handed it out to everyone. "Secret Santa!" Cas rolled his eyes as Charlie came to stand in front of him, gently shaking the bag. He reached in and pulled out a slip of paper, waiting until Charlie moved to the next person. He flipped it open, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Dean.

Tags: AU - Roommates, Christmas Fluff, Idiots in Love, Secret Santa, Everyone Ships Dean/Cas

NSFW

Twas The Night

“It’s Christmas Eve!” “Uh, yeah.” Dean got up from his bed and walked down the hallway to Emma’s room and leaned against her doorframe. “You gonna tell me something I don’t know, Kiddo?” “We need to get started!” Emma was sitting on her floor with her back to the door. “It’s Cas’ first Christmas with us, and I want to make sure he enjoys it.”

Tags: AU - Modern, Timestamp, Domestic Dean/Cas, Established Dean/Cas, Christmas Fluff, KidFic, Marriage Proposal

SFW

You Make it Feel Like Christmas

"Well, considering I haven't had a chance to go Christmas shopping. How about you?" Sam zipped up his bag and did a second check around the hotel room. "I already took your bag out to the car." Sam crossed the room to the motel door and headed outside. Dean stood in silence for a moment as Sam closed the door behind him. Shopping, on Christmas Eve?

Tags: Canonverse, Last Minute Christmas Shopping, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Happy Ending

NSFW

Auld Lang Syne

"She's cute. You ask her out yet?" Dean stabbed his pie with his fork and shoved another bite into his mouth. "Uh, no. Why?" Dean winked. "Means she's available, right?" "No offense Dean, but you don't have a chance. She has standards." Cas took a sip of his tea and looked at his roommate. "Ouch. You wound me, Cas." Dean rested his elbow on the table and his chin on his knuckles. "Bet you I can get Meg to go to the New Year's Ball with me."

Tags: AU - Modern, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Oblivious Castiel, Eventual Dean/Cas, Dean/Cas First Kiss

SFW

Leafzelindor - @leafzelindor

Artwork for On The Road Again

Artwork done for the DCBB fic "On the Road again" Tags: destiel, fluff, au

SFW

For On The Road Again by @hekate1308

Artwork for Life is But A Dream

Artwork done for the DCBB fic "Life is but a Dream" Tags: Destiel, AU

SFW

For Life is But A Dream by @crowleyhasfeels

Jdragon122 - @jdragon122 - Jdragon122 Pillowfort

from stardust to stardust

~ from stardust to stardust ~ The art prize for the lovely gii-heylittleangel ;) who won the Destiel Artists United 500 follower giveaway! They asked for Castiel and wings XD my favorite lol. I was happy to comply <3

Tags: N/A

SFW

Jemariel - @jemariel - jemariel

Human Error

Cas is human now, and things aren't going to plan. (Not that Dean had a plan. Nope. No plans of any kind.) Anyway, what's a Winchester to do when everything he tries seems to blow up in his face? Go hunting. Obviously.

Tags: Human!Castiel, Alternate season 9, Casefic, Only One Bed, Mutual pining, Miscommunication, Sex under the influence of alcohol, Canon-typical violence, Wendigo, Injured Cas

NSFW

Sarasaurussex - @sarasaurussex - sarasaurussex

Don’t Mess with Dean’s Alpha

Dean and Castiel are enjoying a relaxing night out, until Cas gets hit on by another Omega.

Tags: Omega Dean x Alpha Cas, Possessive Omega, BAMF Dean, Jealousy, Fluff

SFW

The Wendigo

Dean has a lot of baggage from his childhood. Castiel wants to help, if Dean will let him.

Tags: PTSD trauma, parental abuse trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Healing, First Kiss, Confessions

SFW

Destiel Christmas Sweaters, Part I

I had some funny Christmas sweater ideas and couldn't resist dressing up the boys. Dean is not amused. Tags: Destiel, Crack, Humor, Christmas

SFW

Destiel Christmas Sweaters, Part II

More ugly Christmas sweaters for the boys ;D Tags: Destiel, Crack, Humor, Christmas

SFW

Miracle on Lebanon Street

The bunker gets an unexpected visitor on Christmas morning, and it’s not Santa! (Contains Destiel and Sabriel)

Tags: Ugly Christmas Sweaters, White Christmas, Gift Giving, Christmas Feast (it’s pie), Mistletoe, Fluff SFW

vaudelin - @vaudelin - vaudelin Pillowfort

of mundane things

“You never told us,” Dean hisses, during a muted conversation carried in the protective depths of the kitchen. “You got hitched to a djinn? Since when?” “I did tell you,” Cas growls back. He slams on the faucet, filling the glass with vigor. “It’s not my fault you weren’t listening.”

Tags: Alternate Season/Series 14, dream walking, Dean in Castiel's Dream, Getting Together

SFW

a tale that can’t be told

Black leather and oil scent the air around him, a welcome change from antiseptics. Impala, Castiel thinks. Baby. Except he’s not allowed to call her that. A flash of brown panelling slides through his memory, rattling on a rusted truck bed with wood for bed rails. Outside the car, the brothers are quietly arguing. Castiel cranes to listen, but he only picks out a partial phrase from Sam: Since when was he losing his powers? The snippet from Dean is even more troubling: Is Chuck fucking with us by giving him a factory reset?

Tags: Alternate Season/Series 15, Castiel Losing His Powers, Human Castiel, Memory Loss, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Castiel's Missing Brown Truck, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, Hopeful Ending

NSFW

low voices in the library (are appreciated)

Sam moved, though in which direction Dean couldn’t yet tell. Not the library, Dean mentally begged. He didn’t want to deal with the scene Sam was about to stumble into, let alone its know-it-all aftermath. Tags: Library Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex

NSFW

a handful of seeds

Dean paused in his chopping. He swiped the green pepper chunks into a neat pile on the cutting board. He was running out of excuses to make. Weakly, he asked, “Where would I even keep a garden?” Cas, sensing victory, rose up in height. “Behind the bunker entrance, in the patch of earth lined by mulberry bushes.” Dean cursed, caught out. “Why’d you even bother to ask, if you already knew?” Softening, Cas gave a small smile. “I’d like to add to it, if that’s okay.”

Tags: Mary Winchester Feels, Gardens & Gardening, Domestic Fluff

SFW

LanaSerra - @lanaserra - LanaSerra & Spandwiches - @spandwiches - spandwiches

300cc

300 Complementary Characters: a forum on Kansas City University’s student website. You can write whatever you want, but it has to be 300 characters or less. Dean is crushing hard on Sam’s TA, but it feels different than it has before; it feels like he needs to do it properly, to have a grand declaration and to prove that romance isn’t dead. What better way to profess his feelings than posting a poem on 300cc? Castiel is torn. There’s no mistaking the poem is for him, but who could be posting them? Despite being very tempted by the very attractive new light and sound engineer that will be working on the play he has written, Castiel can’t ignore the feeling that he and the anonymous Poet are meant to be together. A comedy of errors, mutual pining, and erotic poetry.

Tags: college-au, two person love triangle, explicit poetry, fluff, the boys fail to use their words while using ALL of their words, consent is sexy, POV switching, explicit, minor Sam/Eileen

NSFW

MittensMorgul - @mittensmorgul - MittensWraith

This Must Be The Place

Seven years after their profound meeting, Cas knows he's exactly where he was always meant to be. (a sequel to Lifetime Piling Up, but can be read as a standalone)

Tags: Doctor Castiel/Tattoo Artist Dean, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, Fluff

SFW

On This Night

Something goes terribly wrong while hunting a djinn. Newly-human Cas had never considered what the effects of djinn poison could be for a human, and struggles to remember why everything seems just so slightly off when he wakes up back at the cabin he and Dean had been staying in during the hunt. The cabin has been transformed with holiday decorations, and Cas wonders just how long he'd been unconscious. Only when he tries to get answers from Dean, reality comes crashing back in on them both, in the best of all possible ways. Tags: Canon case fic, Christmas Fluff, snowed in, first kiss, POV Castiel, djinn dreams

SFW

firefly124 - @firefly124-writing - firefly124

Making It Up as We Go

Dean’s not entirely sure what he’s looking at, but he’s almost sure it’s a message from Chuck.

Tags: mentions of past (temporary) MCD, spoilers through SPN 15x06

SFW

Something Bright to Dispel the Gloom

A road trip to Salina had sounded like a good idea when Dean had suggested it. Cas hadn’t been back for long, though, and this was shaping up to be the world’s most awkward road trip ever.

Tags: spoilers through SPN 15x07

SFW

Crumblin’ Down

Dean’s feeling nostalgic. Cas is mystified. Sam is oblivious.

Tags: spoilers through SPN 15x07

SFW

Overdue Explanations are Overdue

If Dean thought this day had been a rollercoaster ride before, he didn’t know what to compare it to now.

Tags: spoilers through SPN 15x07, reference to past (temporary) MCD

SFW

Faith, Hope, and Maybe Something Else

Castiel figured he’d probably just ensured that the Empty would never come for him.

Tags: spoilers through SPN 15x07, reference to canon character deaths

SFW

The Choices We Make

Castiel takes a moment to reflect on the choices he has made as well as those others have made, and is presented with a new one to consider.

Tags: spoilers through SPN 15x07

SFW

Wargurl - @wargurl83 - wargurl83

Christmas in the Bunker

Join TFW as they discover a little bit of the magic of the season. Tags: Cannon-Divergent, holiday shenanigans

SFW

#member masterpost #members masterpost #profoundnet monthly masterpost #November masterpost #December masterpost #profoundnet #deancasreclist #member art #member fic

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robotshibbins · 5 years ago

Text

March 15, 3625, 1232 hours (Universal Commerce Time)

“8 o’clock!”

“Contacts!”

“Bursts, goddammit, save your fuckin’ ammo!”

“Not like this, I-I can’t go like this!”

It was a cacophony, a violent chorus of screams, yelling, weapons fire, and rabid growls and roars. The whole situation was a mess, a simple salvage operation for a supposedly abandoned mega-freighter, the Keh’Ti, turned into a meat grinder as the group, a few engineers with four mercenaries for protection, encountered a countless amount of those turned by the Yuul’varchi, the Invasive Gene which ravaged the Coalition's western border. These hybrids were grotesque, misshapen creatures that barely resembled their former selves. Their skin turned gangrenous, drooping and outright missing in some areas, their limbs morphed into bloodstained claws and blades, dozens of unblinking milk-white eyes littered their head and bodies, their jaws split into two, and tentacles burst out of their rotten flesh. The hybrids had none of their sapient qualities left, they merely charged, clawed, bit, and stabbed at those they saw as prey or threats, gibbering meaningless nonsense and roaring with primal anger.

The mei’xer mercenary known as Lebowski knelt on the viscera covered floor, shouldering his rifle and firing well aimed bursts into the creatures' heads and torsos. Despite their sickly appearance, the hybrids had a surprising resilience, tanking fatal shots as bile-esc blood leaked from their wounds, though the gunslinger's shots tended to down them, if not stagger them long enough for another merc to down. Very often, these stumbled hybrids would meet a grisly end, courtesy of a massive 12.7mm cartridge delivered by Lebowski’s partner and lover, a zaarl’mrk named Red. Hidden within the maroon confines of her heavily modified and armed NZMIS, she stood far above the rest of their band, nearly 3 meters in height. When not annihilating hybrids with her suit’s built in heavy machine gun, Red would use her suits massive weight as a weapon, punching monsters into bloody pulps, or crushing them under her foot. She’d also use her extremely potent telekinetics, ripping hybrids in two, or flinging their own bone-formed blades back at the horde, without laying a mechanical finger on them.

Despite corpses littering the floor, there seemed to be no end to the horde, they just kept pushing the group back. One of the engineers, a panicked human welder named Kurji, said she saw a door near the end of the hallway. Lebowski emptied another magazine into a hybrid, appearing to be born from a human, which seemed to do little more than open up its stomach. As it stumbled back, distorted entrails and rancid fluid leaking from its freshly opened abdomen, the mei’xer ejected the spent magazine from his rifle, and threw it full force at the beast’s head. With a little help from Red, it embedded itself into its skull, dropping it. She then telekinetically pulled another magazine for the caseless rifle from his leg pouch, which he took with his right hand, quickly inserting it, and racking the charging handle, chambering another round.

“I got two mags ‘eft!” he yelled to the group, firing single shots to save ammo.

“I have six.” Red stated, using her suit’s emotionless voice synthesizer

“One, I-I’ve got one!” yelled one of the other merc, a rahtil called Chopper.

“Three!” replied the final merc, a mei’xer by the name of Qui’Jei

“We’re fucked!” a frightened Kurji stated, “W-we’re not gonna make it!”

“We’ll make it, ma’am!” Lebowski retorted

The group took a few steps back, the mercs continuing to fire at the horde.

“I have an idea,” Red spoke, “everyone needs to get behind me.”

“Flamer?” asked the gunslinger.

A blip, something akin to a confirming grunt. Lebowski turned his head to the rest of the group, and told them to get back, shooing them away if necessary. The mercs flanked Red’s sides, trying to form a wall of gunfire to stop the hybrids from getting to the terrified engineers. Red held her left arm out, and formed a fist, causing a panel on the forearm to pop open. It raised with a mechanical whirr, and revealed a decently sized flamethrower. With a click and “poofh,” a small, blue flame burst to life, a pilot light for the fuel within the arm, then the zaarl’mrk aimed it at the horde. A massive stream of orange flame shot from the device, lathering the hybrids in a burning, gel-like fluid. They squealed in pain, flailing about as the flames consumed their corrupted bodies. A fair few dropped right then and there, forming a wall of flame which most of the horde avoided, if not fleeing outright.

“A’ight, I think we got ourselves some time.” Lebowski said, a hint of relief on his accented voice, “‘ey, one of ya engies, could you check the door?”

“Mmhm, got it!” physically replied the other engineer, a T’uv technician nicknamed Jumper. He, covered by Qui’Jei, rushed to the door, which was a low tech but functional manual bulkhead. The technician began to open the door, opening the seal by attempting to crank it’s wheel-esc handle, while the mercenary kept his rifle, a heavy but powerful Grak-6, readied. Making little progress, Kurji rushed over to assist the T’uv, helping him move the stubborn handle with a metallic squeal.

“Rusty piece of shit-”

“Jumper, s-shut up and just get this thing open!”

An insectoid click of annoyance.

Most of the Hybrids seemed to have retreated, though a few still paced behind the fire, growling and chittering. Red would occasionally use her telekinetics to fling ones into the steel walls if it got too close, but the creature’s apparent fear of fire made that a rarity.

“Gawds…” whispered Lebowski, “our entrance is fuckin’ cut off, ainit?” he asked, to the rest of the group.

“Appears so.” the zaarl’mrk replied, “Kurji, do you have schematics for this vessel’s layout?”

“B-bit busy r-right now!” she yelled back, adrenaline still overloading her system

“Still a damn mega-freighter,” retorted Qui’Jei, “it’ll take divinites-know how long to get back to th-”

A vent cover above them fell to the ground with a crash, causing the welder to yelp, and most everyone to look towards it. Then, from the open vent, fell a rahtil Yuul’varchi hybrid, this one a little shorter than Red. The flesh on its lower arms was either missing or in tatters, revealing that the skeleton underneath were shaped into nearly meter long jagged blades, covered in a Pollock-esc menagerie of gore. Much of its body was covered in third degree burns, some of which a thick scab was forming over. With a piercing howl, which sounded more like an agonized scream than a roar, it convulsed, and a barbed whip-like tongue shot out of its maw, covered in blood and bile. It wrapped around Qui’Jei’s neck, slicing through his environmental suit and flesh, causing a spray of blue blood, and white sealant foam, which formed around the tentacle. As he, along with Kurji, screamed, it pulled him closer to it’s blades with surprising force, nearly ripping the man’s head off and replacing it with a wet gurgle, followed by the blades piercing his abdomen, and silencing him. As it brutalized his torso, Lebowski fired a round into the hybrid’s leg, causing it to nearly fall over. Red then picked the beast up, her left hand wrapping around it’s torso, ripping it’s nearly 6 meter long tongue out her telekinetic powers. As the tendril and Qui’Jei’s corpse fell to the ground with a wet “thunk,” Red slammed the flailing creature into the opposite wall, reducing its chest into little more than mush and gore. It’s remains flopped to the floor, twitching from leftover nerve impulses.

Korju, witnessing so much carnage in the past two hours, more than she’s ever witnessed in her long, nearly 15 career as a salvage welder, her EVA suit now covered in not only hybrid viscara, but the royal blue blood of one of the mercenaries hired to protect her from pirates. Pirates, not these things that used to be the crew of a cargo ship. She slumped down against the wall, and curled up, quietly sobbing behind the polycarbonate visor of her helmet. Jumper chittered with disdain, leading to more than a few curses courtesy of Lebowski. Chopper attended to comforting the rapidly melting down Korju.

“Listen here, ammonia breather,” Jumper spat at the gunslinger, “we’ll be fucking mincemeat if we don’t get this damn door open!”

“Yer yellin’ ain’t helpin’ get it open.” he retorted.

“Well no one’s helping me, dipshit! And she’s breaking down-”

Red, rather peeved by Jumper’s derogatives towards Lebowski, and the generally wasteful use of time, stomps towards the door, and with a few heavy kicks, busts the bulkhead door down, leaving it a mangled mess. She turns to the t’uv, and steps closer to Jumper, towering over the 152 centimeter technician,

“Don’t call him that.” she threatens with her suit’s flat voice, promptly turning and going through the door.

Jumper and Lebowski stood there for a bit, the former taken aback, before both following the warrior. The gunslinger tapped on Chopper’s shoulder before stepping through.

“‘Ey, I know she ain’t doing so hot, but we gotta move.” He quietly stated.

“S-she needs help, Lebowski-”

“An’ it ain’t safe ‘ere, talk an’ move, man, talk an’ move.”

Lebowski then went through the doorway, quickly joining Red’s side, and securing his rifle to a sling. He tapped quickly on the jury rigged wrist-computer on his left arm, opening the two’s secure comm channel.

“You doin’ good?” he asked his lover.

“....I am at functional levels.” she replied.

“Not sure if that clas’ifies as good, Mej’ouili.”

“It doesn’t.”

They were silent for a bit, walking through the remains of what appeared to be a small lounge. Chopper and Kurji rejoined the group, though they hung back a bit, talking in hushed tones.

“...and I’m guessin’ ya donwanna talk ‘bout it?”

“Not yet. Later. Back home.”

“Think we’ll make it?”

“Of course. We always do.”

#journey verse #scifiart #scifi writing #scifiwriting #writing #short stories #short story

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theislesunfamily · 6 years ago

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Three & Four (For You, the Stars Will Roar)

The following story is the follow-up to “Three & Four (Some Phoenixes Just Take Their Sweet Time)”, which can be read by clicking HERE.

This story also contains collaboration in the form of a vision reading from the fantastically talented @stormandozone. Thank you as always, Mel.

Ithanar Islesun is dead.

He must be.

But then...

The sound of a heartbeat… rings in his ears.

Ba-dum.

Steady.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Ready.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

The world hasn’t halted.

This isn’t death.

It’s something close to it.

In his periphery, he can see… it.

The valley.

Untouched by apocalyptic ashes.

It begins… the same.

In a small valley. But different from the one in reality. A path of torched trees and frayed leaves, wrought with apocalypse. It is all too familiar. A place used by an ancient demon within who tried to tear a man asunder in body. Any attempts made at the mind were a failure, but the body... it had been weak. Like it was now. Eyes scan the premises. They search. They sought. No sign of it. Only a moon of red hangs overhead.

She is beneath it; crimson light casts over her frame and paints her in harshness, but she is apart from it as well. The shadows gather at her feet; the writhing dark around, behind. Strewn are the shards of a life that once was, and they gather like so much detritus and flotsam around, but she is not of this darkness.

When the Oracle speaks, it is the flat voice-- the voice that does not belong to the almost-daughter, but to the magic she called her own. “You visit dark places, Breaker.” There is a color of mocking to it, for all its ashen flatness.

He approaches. He cannot speak yet. This is not his court to rule over; this ruin may be his doing (or undoing) but she-- the Oracle-- is the voice that matters in the red-riddled dark.

She is herself, and not; two eyes glow in the shadows. Awe cloaks her like shroud, wrapping her, hooding that freckled face.

In her hands appears the deck; it is bright against the darkness, a star shining in myriad colors, kaleidoscopic. It cuts against the darkness. The power aches within; it does not belong in the Nightmare. But his need has brought it; his need has brought her.

The Oracle smiled, just slightly, beneath the heavy hood that shrouds her. “Ask your question of fate, Breaker.”

The command falls, and he cannot but speak.

“Will the world ever figure out its true problems? The Old Gods? The Nightmare? Or we will fall prey to our cycle?” He feels the need leave him. He has asked. Whatever comes next… is what the cards say.

At once. The deck separates; shatters into a thousand glowing pieces. They slice through the night and swirl around him like flurries of embers, stark and brilliant. Their lightrails weave around them, in colors unimaginable until he is in the center of a vast, woven universe, that extends beyond what sight can capture. In the threads, he sees...

“Worthy.” The judgement cast. Her voice is around him, reverberating in bones, and if he reached out he could touch her face, but the light within those eyes is not living. “Tell me when to cut the thread.”

He hesitates, just for a moment. He can see now, unlike ever before, and it is… maddening, addictive, the cusp of something grander than he has ever perceived. He reaches out, and he feels--

Ithanar’s palms begin to bleed from slashes, and he feels the weight of this magic.

“Stop.”

Everything cracks. It falls apart-- the weaving becomes nothing but a million flecks of independant light, and they fall apart around them, a fall of stars that surround the Oracle and the man. He is with her and then--

He is not.

Ithanar Islesun isn’t dead.

No, he finds his vision to be clear as he opens his fel-green eyes.

It is nothing blurred, nothing fraught with frustration.

He can feel his limbs suddenly, a sudden herk-and-jerk mismash of movements that comes crashing back to life, and the tightening of fingers around the choker of one’s-

It’s Shan’ran.

Memories flood back into his lifestream.

And his fingers tighten in response, fury a fire in his gut that continues to rise until it reaches the half-collapsed ceiling of the building he had sought refuge in. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Shanara take a few steps back, eyes wide with a fear that can only be seen as wise.

They have poked the bear.

They have climbed into the spider’s web.

They are the cause for yet another stubborn rise from ashes.

Arcane energy clicks to life across the plates of the old elf’s armor followed by the sudden release of the male Shattersun, as he is tossed across the room and goes crashing through the opposite wall. A sickening thud follows and there are cracks left by the impact of her body against the stone foundation.

As she falls?

Ithanar rises slowly, debris flowing off his form and crashing to the ground. The clicking and whirring sounds of magics springing to life echo, and there’s a sudden flash of light, a veritable rainbow of reds and greens, blues and oranges, of all colors in runic shapes and forms.

They spring to form on the plates of his armor, but…

There are others.

These are etched on the old elf’s skin, crawling up the pale and scarred flesh. They climb like ravenous spiders, pushing their way to rest on his neck, under his jaw, and then on either side of his lips before coming to a stop just above his hawkish nose.

A faint whirring sounds in his ears, and then the harsh grinding whine of his blade buries it all.

Just like he wants to do to them.

Just like he will do to them.

There is no alternative.

He sighs, head tilting just a little, a fanged snarl coming to rest on his features. When he speaks, the harsh nature of his tone seems almost amplified by the energies coming from him, through him, around his form.

“I’ll tell your masters myself then.”

Shan’ran rises, one hand curling around the handle of his warhammer.

He’s furious.

Shanara reaches for her twin blades.

She’s frightened.

Ithanar just stares, almost motionless.

His blade turns in his hand until the point is directed to his pupils.

“I’ll tell them that…”

Fury rolls off him in waves, ferociously beating against shores. Never before has he ever been so… upset, frustrated. Not even in the most wicked of moments, when he was terrible to his family, to his friends, to lovers new and old was he like…

Like this.

That feeling of being alone.

No, he has felt it before. Back in those times, it was something he could not crawl out from.

Now he is no longer crushed under the debris of his own depression, his hubris.

“... I’m not fucking dead yet personally.”

Ithanar has his focus yet again.

And he strikes.

Blades clash and clang.

The wars outside of the walls and valleys come to wait.

He stands in an empty hall-- tall columns extend skyward, and the marble floor is shined to mirror finish. He sees himself, when he looks down. His armor is red and gold. His shield is tall. He is a Spellbreaker still. When he looks up-- he sees this man. The man he was once. Younger, strong, not yet ground against the stone of progress.

His other-- his self-- speaks low. “You’re holding back, old man.” There is cockiness to the smile. He remembers it; the woman who had trained him to think had smacked it off his face when she pressed his cheek into the mat. This young man has not yet had that life.

A sound, and Ithanar turns. Behind him, the Warden of the Isle. Old, armor leather and mail and gouged with the fights he has won-- lost. Scars cross this Ithanar’s features. Scars haunt his eyes. He snorts. “Not yet old enough to know better,” the man he may become says.

And yet-- Ithanar looks down at himself, and he is--

Skin, and bones. Leaves of autumns past for eyes that burn. Amber, and red. A smile of scorched plains, of battlefields laid barren for crows. Man-shaped, but like the shadow of a man– the hungry remained, after the soul had gone.

You cannot change what you do not accept.

You must take the bitter with the sweet.

Take the N I G H T M A R E with the dream.

Do not resist the changes to come.

Do not allow yourself to become obsolete.

Not again.

The hunted becomes the hunter.

A turnaround, a change of roles only suited to master and student.

One knows the other better than even they think.

They believe.

Ithanar pursues his quarry out of the half-collapsed building and into the streets.

His former students can only run, but they don’t get far.

Shan’ran comes first.

The screams, an unending roar.

There it is.

But this roar is merely of this world, not something otherworldly and unnatural.

It’s just… an elf.

A young one trying to fend and flee for the last few moments of his life.

Shan’ran is the younger of the twins by a few minutes.

Even with that, there’s a way to prey upon such unfortunate youth. He relies too much upon his weapon, barely resorting to his magics especially when pressured.

A simple application upon the shatterpoint is all Ithanar needs.

He punches through the younger elf’s defense with blinding strikes and easily evades the wild swings and furious roars., it is a horrific but fascinating display.

When he finally catches Shan’ran off guard, Ithanar sidesteps a ferocious two-handed strike that slams into the dirt, pirouettes with practiced ease, and then brings his blade up to sever the young elf’s hands from his body.

Then he follows through with a decapitating stroke through the neck.

There is no reluctance.

A head rolls.

Blood.

These streets and avenues will be stained with them for time.

None of that matters.

For now Ithanar is the predator without thought.

Only Shanara remains, her screams echoing over the blood-crazed whine.

He is not moved.

She will die.

In time.

He remembers failing them.

He reaches out, the runes that once were so familiar to him alive and strange on this immortal, corrupted arm and then--

He is alone.

No hall. No selves. A man, in the darkness of the wooded Isle. The woods press in. He lifts a lantern against the dark. All is silent and still, save the rush of distant waters and the drip of past rains from the canopy.

Within the lantern, he sees her. She is made of flame, but it is the Oracle. She reaches to him, and he hears her.

“The winnowing of truth from desire does not come from without; seek inwards. Seek the reality of what is and is not, within the confines of the self. Solitude bears the fruit of wisdom; time apart, the solution to the chaos that rages.” In a blink, the light goes out. And--

The sun above rises, and falls. Rises, and falls. Faster and faster until like flashes, he sees the isle beneath his feet changing. He sees the seasons as moments; years pass in flashes. He watches the Isle as it continues; forever, eternal. The sky will grow red; he will see the Nightmare come to grasp his home, and then flame-- and then, the green returns, slowly and inexorably as time sweeps onward.

The cycle repeats a thousand times. He understands.

He reaches out, and stills a single moment. The moment the Nightmare dies. Someone is killing it-- locking it away. He feels the flames as they consume the woodland. The magic is so familiar, to keep and contain.

He turns it back-- all the way back, and he is young. His siblings are young, and they are all there, ringed around Idaena. She is cold in her way; the world is dark. He feels the mantle that extends back into their bloodline.

It revolves. It will continue.

(It cannot continue. The cycle must be broken, but he cannot see the way of it now. There is more to come, and when it does--)

Shanara is different.

She always has been.

Her spellbreaking was… breathtaking.

Even when fatigued, she could cast aside great gouts of flame with a wave of her hand.

And then have a blade at your throat in an instant.

She’s done everything Ithanar could have ever asked. She’s walked a thousand miles in a mage’s shoes.

But she hasn’t walked where he has, into the dark and ancient places of the world

The old elf’s plan of attack is more complicated.

No magic comes to play.

The runes that have spread over his skin and armor flicker out, becoming dark and inert, which is a stark contrast to what he does.Every motion is carefully thought out.

If he even tries as much as a simple rune of flame or frost, he knows Shanara will snuff it out.

The chance for such isn’t even given.

She swings her twin blades here, but his blade is there.

Each swing is countered, each thrust evaded, and every step imitated.

Seconds become minutes. Minutes become hours. Hours perhaps turn into days.

Who knows?

The world has come to a crashing halt.

Blades untangle from one another, and bodies take a few paces from one another.

There is only breathing.

Heavy.

Labored.

“I’ll kill you.”

There is no entity from the Void now.

There doesn’t need to be.

There is only Shanara and her sobbing.

Her weeping over the loss of a brother.

Ithanar stares.

Unfeeling.

Furious.

“You look tired.”

Before Shanara can even retort, before even a scream leaves her lips?

The old elf runs her through.

Again.

And again.

Suddenly, he is in the ruined, Nightmare isle once more.

The Oracle is before him… and she crumples, strings cut by unkind hands. The Nightmare at once rushes in, sliding over freckled limbs and over her, the cards lighting to flames.

Ithanar surges to her side, and the tainted magic recoils as he slides to his knees, draws the girl up into his arms.

He can speak.

“Elleynah--” His voice is rough and low in his own ears. He reaches for her, bleeding palm sliding over her cheek as he stares at her, those tight-shut lids, her parted lips that seem to not even stir for breath and--

Her eyes open. One green, and one gold. Her hands shoot forward and clasp his between them tightly, so tight it hurts. The voice that emerges is the girl’s, and it is weak with weariness-- the control it takes, to speak through her own mouth almost too much.

“Ithanar--” She gasps in pain. “Ithanar, don’t-- don’t let the ending for you be the ending for it all. Don’t let it be over yet. You have to see it through-- Ithanar, I promise it’s so much worse. Don’t let it end for you and give the burden to others, it’s yours and you have to see it to its own end--ahh--” She bites back a cry of pain, and she goes limp in his arms.

And then.

The Oracle is standing before him. She is beneath a moon of red. Crimson light casts over her frame and paints her in harshness, but she is apart from it. Shadows gather; the world nothing but so much debris at her feet.

She looks at him, and there is no more smile on those lips; they are etched in a barely-decipherable frown.

“An ending is an ending.”

She explodes in that faceted, multi-colored light. The Nightmare shatters around its edges. And he…

Awakens.

Now it is Ithanar’s turn to look upon what he has wrought.

Shan’ran.

A headless mess.

Shanara.

Her arm torn away.

Her body punctured a dozen times over, bleeding out before his feet.

His task… is accomplished.

But no master is appeased.

He watches their corpses carefully.

Cautiously.

Then it all leaves him.

The unfeeling fury.

The feeling of being a person again hits him like a brick.

His eyes widen.

And he collapses under the weight of it all.

As Ithanar goes, the last thought that comes and goes is that of his students being like stars.

They roar out of existence, consumed by the void.

Just like he might.

No.

He can’t.

She looks at him, and there is no more smile on those lips; they are etched in a barely-decipherable frown. “An ending is an ending.”

She explodes in that faceted, multi-colored light. The Nightmare shatters around its edges.

And he…

Awakens.

Hours pass.

Old bastards always soldier on.

As he leaves the valley, Ithanar casts a look over his shoulder.

One last time.

It’s hard to see as apocalyptic ashes rain down.

Never again.

#writing #ithanar #the phoenix wars

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keeroo92 · 6 years ago

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Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch24 (V x Reader)

Chapter 24 - Stupidity and Grace

Soundtrack - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqdyyxdZ4cQ

__________________________________________________

V strides forward with you following close behind him. He glances at the stalls to his left and right and smirks at the diagram of a cow and the different cuts of meat available at the butcher’s stall.

How appropriate – we’re about to make brisket out of this next fiend.

A glimmer of motion to his side is all the warning he needs and Griffon blasts out of his arm to pull him out of the path of the flowery pink mass attacking him. He lands with a light exhalation in a low crouch, his eyes already rising to assess the full threat. He hears you drop your crutch and draw your sword as he eyes the creature hovering before him.

“You dodged me! Did you dodge me?” the humanoid pink monstrosity asks him from where it hangs descended straight from the Qlipoth root itself.

“Nidhogg, never liked this guy…” Griffon scoffs, landing on V’s raised arm as he stands. He can’t help but smirk at his friend’s dismissive tone.

“You pest! Do I know you?” Nidhogg replies in his squeaky rumble.

“Dumb as a bag of rocks. Let’s not even mess with this guy, V. He can’t even leave the Qlipoth anyway. Just a Qlipoth parasite.” Griffon adds condescendingly. V spots you ducking inside the rubble on his right, taking a defensive position until you can decide the best way to attack. His smirk deepens; knowing you’re out of harms way means he can go all out.

“Did you insult me?” Nidhogg queries softly.

“Uh oh…” Griffon murmurs from V’s arm.

“You insult me!” the demon bellows angrily, raising one of its bladed arms threateningly.

“I think he heard me… and he’s angry!” Griffon shouts as another flowery pink mass shoots forward. V smoothly spins, putting his back to the Nidhogg as he dodges its attack again dismissively.

“I’m going to kill you!” the creature roars and V can barely contain his laughter as he turns to face it again.

“Not in this lifetime. As the air to a bird or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible,” he recites calmly, stepping forward and extending his silver cane in an invitation. He hears your stifled snickering to the right and shoots you a wink as he flicks his wrist, summoning Shadow in a tornado of black shards.

“You use... de-de-demon...? But you...human...? Huhhhh....?” Nidhogg says, his confusion evident to all as his tendrils streak forward in a flash to attack. V and his summoned friends dodge easily, the attacks too linear to pose much of a threat to the well-practiced team.

"If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise," V answers with a smirk as he sends Griffon shooting forward to rake the nearest tendril with his talons. Shadow follows close behind, her claws a blur of black as she strikes. Nidhogg makes a noise of complete mystification at V’s recitation and Griffon chuckles as he responds.

“Meaning don't try to think too much, shithead!” he cries gleefully, shooting a string of lightning balls at the tendril. It recoils slightly and V sees his chance; he sprints at it and sinks the blade of his cane deep into its maw, twisting harshly as he rips it out again. The tendril disintegrates as he backs away again smoothly.

V takes the opening to check on you, his emerald eyes shifting quickly to his right to see you sneaking closer to the tendril nearest to where you hide. He smirks and draws the Nidhogg’s attention by leaping into the air and holding the handle of his cane to his lips like a microphone.

“Come on!” he shouts tauntingly, and the beast lashes out at him in rage. Blades slice the air mere inches from where he nimbly steps out of the way and Shadow roars her approval as she shifts, numerous stalks sprouting from her back to strike the center tendril.

“Even the big bad kitty knows you got shit for brains!” teases Griffon as he lets out a line of lightning bolts directly over the center tendril, scorching it heavily.

“Qu-qu-qu-quiet! You... you... bird and cat!” Nidhogg howls, his anger overwhelming him utterly.

As Nidhogg focuses on V, you make your move. He watches in the periphery of his vision as you take the last few steps away from your hiding spot and with a cry of effort sink your blade deep into the tendril on the right. Nidhogg immediately looks at you and V snaps his fingers harshly, attempting to use Nightmare’s appearance to keep Nidhogg off you as you desperately try to free your blade from where it’s now stuck halfway through the tendril.

V's skin prickles anxiously as he counts the heartbeats as Nightmare bubbles into existence, each moment seeming to last an eternity as you struggle fearfully. He’s already sprinting to your side, but even his long strides will take much too long to reach you as Nidhogg raises his blades to strike you down. Absolute, soul-crushing terror fills him as he desperately prays for a miracle to save you.

Leave the sword, dammit! MOVE!

You finally give up and reach around your back to bring your chainsaw-bat to bear against the powerful hit bearing down on you, barely managing to block in time. You’re pushed back, feet sliding against the cobblestone as Nidhogg uses all his strength against you. V is still sprinting toward you, Nightmare almost fully formed behind him as your terrified gaze catches his.

He can see the moment you realize he can’t save you, that he isn’t fast enough, and it breaks his heart and steals his breath to see the hope drain from your eyes. Yet even as you break his gaze and look back to Nidhogg, you growl and bare your teeth, trembling arms shifting as you press the small button under your thumb to activate the chainsaw.

The mechanism roars to life. Nidhogg’s blades catch on the chain and his arms are tugged along with it to the side. You shove with all your strength to the opposite direction, dropping the bat to slip free and dash toward V in sheer panic.

“Get behind Nightmare!” he shouts forcefully, sending his rage through his link to all three of his summoned friends in a rush of energy. Griffon gasps painfully as the torrent hits him, unleashing it in a blast of electricity that colors the air around him violet for an instant. Shadow roars like a lioness, her form leaping onto Nidhogg’s back and tearing into him with claws and teeth alike in a black blur of wrath.

Nightmare makes no sound, but its form swells slightly as V’s panicked fury hits it. The golem leaps forward and lands with a heaving crash on the demon’s tendril, pinning it in place. V snarls and darts forward, leaping onto the beast’s shoulders and hurling his cane through its face with a feral roar. Nidhogg thrashes uselessly against him and he bares his teeth in a primal smile as he speaks.

“The cut worm forgives the plow,” he growls darkly to the dying demon, “What do you say?”

Nidhogg falls to the ground with a long groan of pain and V hops off, twisting his cane free with a flourish. He releases his hold on Nightmare as the nauseating creature dissolves, the cracking sound of the Qlipoth root breaking echoing loudly in the sudden silence. V hears you stepping closer to him, the sound reassuring him as he watches the great structure fall.

There’s something behind it… what IS that?

“Y/N, get your sword. NOW!” he shouts in alarm as a towering form comes into view. You sprint to where your sword lies on the ground, having fallen loose when the tendril dissolved in death. Griffon hovers near V’s head and spots the intimidating creature easily.

“Okay, um, alright, that’s not good at all. That’s not good,” the demonic bird begins worriedly. V waits until you rejoin him, sword and bat in hand before he turns away, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the enemy in the distance is far too powerful for the two of you to defeat.

“Wait, where--where are you going? Are you running away? That, that's not a good sign!” Griffon comments loudly. V turns to face the bird, gesturing at the far-off foe with his cane as he responds.

“I'm afraid that... that's a little bit more than we can take right now.”

Griffon and Shadow both face the creature as it turns and spots your group at last. It fires two blasts from what look like antennae, the shots hitting right where the two summons watch. The impact sends V stumbling, you barely managing to catch yourself with the bat as you follow suit. The whole group takes off, fleeing the foe as it shoots more blasts your way.

“Let's get out of here, V!” Griffon cries fearfully, and just as his beak snaps shut the ground crumbles beneath V’s feet. He gasps as he begins to fall, completely unable to see you or do anything to stop his rapid descent into darkness.

______________________________________________

June 15th, 7:27 am

The landing knocks every scrap of air from your lungs and you gasp desperately, forcing your chest to reinflate after the harsh impact. V lies a few feet away from you, miraculously unhurt as he turns to look back up the hole you’d just fallen through. You follow his gaze to see the underside of the beast that blew the hole in the ground passing overhead, its echoing steps an intimidating rhythm above.

“We're alive! We've made it! It's our lucky day, V! Let's find a game of cards,” Griffon quips as he hovers overhead. V turns to look around and you take stock of the situation.

I’ve still got my sword, and the bat, but I’ve lost my other crutch. My bag is here too, I hope nothing fell out…

You carefully wiggle your fingers and toes, checking for any serious injury and thankfully finding none. You somehow managed to gain only some bruises from the fall.

“These Qliphoth roots... they're everywhere,” V murmurs, slowly rising to his feet. He seems unhurt too, and you sigh in relief at your unimaginable luck so far.

“Well, we ARE underground…” Griffon replies sarcastically. V steps to you and offers you a hand up, pulling you to your feet and brushing off the dust from your shoulders carefully. He smirks as he responds to Griffon.

“Then I guess we have some clearing up to do,” he comments dryly, taking your hand in his as the two of you step toward the only route available to you, a dark tunnel leading to who-knows-where.

“And me without my gardening shears,” Griffon jokes and both you and V let out a light chuckle as he flicks his wrist, bringing Griffon back to his body with a puff of black that’s barely visible in the darkness surrounding you.

“Are you alright, little fox?” V asks with a concerned glance.

“I think so, just a few scrapes and some bruises. What about you?” you respond with an equally worried gaze. He chuckles and holds his arms out for you to examine.

“The same, love. It seems we were fortunate this time,” he answers wryly.

“Let’s not make a habit of it, though,” you quip with a smirk. His arms seem alright, a thin coating of dust obscuring his intricate tattoos and a scrape on his elbow but nothing serious. You take his hand and step forward, the pair of you easily forging on.

The brick tunnel reminds you of a horror movie with its dank, musty smell and oppressive silence. Your steps echo alongside V’s as you take in the pulsing roots arching through the path above your head. You stifle a yawn and pause to pull out a bottle of water and some protein bars, handing the snack to V with a smile as you chug half the bottle, saving the rest for the poet. He chews as he walks, carefully saving the wrapper in his pocket instead of dropping it on the floor.

Not far ahead, a root blocks the way forward. Still chewing, V gestures for you to do the honors of bursting the horrible red mass next to a grate. Your sword makes quick work of it, and you do your best to avoid the worst of the blood that showers you upon your success but some of the coppery crimson marks you anyway. The tunnel takes on a tang as you follow V to the now revealed pipe, emerging a moment later in an industrial facility of some kind.

A rumble above shakes the walls, dust clouding the air as the massive creature outside makes its presence known once more. You can hear an occasional gunshot as you and V move quietly on, climbing a series of pallets to reach another pustule that must be removed to clear the way forward. Just as V sends Griffon to attack it, a huge metallic leg crashes through the ceiling; the beast is still nearby.

You take cover as Griffon shoots lightning at the thing, Shadow appearing a beat later to slash at it alongside the bird. You hear a familiar shout from outside – Nero!

He must be battling it out there! Is he nuts?!

“What are you guys doing down there?” his familiar teasing tone calls out. You’re about to shout at him to run when Griffon chimes in.

“You didn't think you did all that by yourself did ya?” the mouthy bird mocks the young warrior, and he crouches down to glare at the blue demon.

“Ya know, I bet you taste like chicken...” Nero responds tauntingly.

“Why you ungrateful sonuva---” Griffon splutters uselessly, about to fly up to join Nero but V’s cane stops him in mid-flap, much to your relief.

“We'll leave this beast to you. We must press on,” V states calmly, twirling his cane momentarily before striding away. You do a double take between the poet and the warrior, wanting to help them both simultaneously but unable to join Nero, so you have no choice but to catch up to V.

Fear for your friend is ice in your veins as you chase him down, the sounds of Nero’s fight fading as you move on.

“V, we have to hurry! Nero might need help,” you exclaim to the poet and he nods seriously, a grim focus plain in his expression.

The two of you move forward a little bit faster, making quick work of any demons foolish enough to get in your way. Turning a corner, a monstrously huge shape beside you reveals the facility to be a shipyard. The red and black hull dwarfs the next leg that pokes through the ceiling, and this time you don’t hide. You leave the demons to V and focus on the leg, slashing at it repeatedly with your blade until it withdraws.

Shadow clears the next pustule, the disturbance bringing forth a trio of Empusa that fall into ash within moments. You marvel at the sight of the innards of the hull as you cross a section that has yet to be welded closed, scaffolding showing where the builders last worked. The other side of the hull holds a number of shipping containers, forcing you to scramble your way on top of them to progress with a little help from V.

Once again, one of the hulking demon’s legs pierces the ceiling and you join Shadow in attacking it, forcing it to withdraw quickly. The red shipping containers barely shift as the walls shake around you, and you imagine they must still be full of supplies, keeping them weighted down.

I wonder what’s inside?

Suppose it’s irrelevant.

V helps you ascend another container and you look down into the next area with revulsion as you spot an Empusa horde feeding on a crimson puddle of some poor souls remains. You only count two and look around for the rest you know are lurking as V hops lightly to the ground to face the threat. The moment his feet hit the concrete, a Queen rounds the corner with a bellow of rage, pausing briefly to lick the puddle before she sets her sights on the lean poet. You’re about to slide down to help when he winks at you and gestures for you to wait.

You watch as he snaps his fingers and Nightmare rises from the ground to battle the Queen, its bulky body blocking her claws from reaching V as it shoots lasers at the demon, an explosion following a split second later that decimates the puny Empusa.

Nightmare leaps forward, landing a harsh few punches on the Queen and V darts into range, thrusting his cane in her abdomen and tearing it up her body with a sickening squelch. As the Queen and her children alike dissolve into ash, Nightmare holds an arm out to you in invitation and you see V’s smirk as you carefully take hold. You find the texture to be similar to a rocky cliffside as the golem lowers you to the ground gently before bubbling away.

The remainder of the shipyard passes with little trouble, but the way out is blocked by a shipping container. Griffon points out a nearby hole in the ground and the group descends back into another dank, musty tunnel. A measly few Empusa barely make you and V pause, their hordes nothing more than an annoyance to you at this point. It takes less time than you expected before you spot daylight to the right, a damaged road having caused a convenient cave in.

You emerge under an old building toppled precariously on its edge, leaning heavily over the street and casting it in shadow. The imposing Qlipoth root dances in the sky nearby, the clouds near it stained red and black.

“Almost there…” V mutters quietly, and you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as you step forward into the meager light.

“Let’s go, then, my poet,” you reply with a smile, and his lips set in a firm line as he follows you.

A few husks dot the courtyard ahead and your pace increases as you spot a telephone booth. V wordlessly holds out a coin to you with a smirk, letting you do the honors this time, but Nico doesn’t answer. You rejoin V with a tight frown.

I hope nothing is wrong… maybe she’s busy helping Nero?

V’s face matches yours as you wordlessly walk forward and he reaches out to take your hand in a comforting grip. Even so, anxiety floods you as you imagine why Nico didn’t answer, wondering what could be keeping her busy.

“V, do you think Nico’s---”

As you speak, V’s cane presses you against a wall harshly and he signals to you to be silent. You instantly close your mouth and listen, your blood running cold when you hear a chilly voice speak around the corner commandingly. The words themselves make no sense to you but when V slowly pokes his face around the corner to see who it is, the look on his face when he glances back at you amplifies your fear tenfold, making your limbs clench in preparation for a fight.

V holds you back for a long moment before he deems it safe at last, his cane releasing you as he steps into the courtyard ahead, much to your alarm. You follow cautiously, drawing your blade with a soft hiss of metal. You catch your breath as your eyes take in the sight before you.

A skeletal horse two stories tall stands before you, its mane a blazing trail of blue flame sending waves of heat rising above it. Its hooves have small licks of their own blue flames, its body shimmering in the strange light. The rider is even more imposing, a heavily armored humanoid with a weapon three times as long as your own that spits bolts of purple light from within. A ghostly black cape falls from the rider’s massive shoulders.

The strange creature is both beautiful and terrifying, striking you with a confusing mixture of awe and heart-stopping fear.

Is V insane? How are we supposed to fight THAT?!

You watch the poet confidently stride into the creature’s sight line, arrogance in every step. The demon turns to face him slowly and you can hear the smirk in V’s voice as he addresses it.

“I see. I know what you are. Don’t worry… I’ll be gentle,” he informs it, smacking the handle of his cane into his palm for added effect. Under any other circumstances, the tone he uses would have made you shiver and lick your lips, but right now it’s all you can do to not run away as the horse rears on its hind legs and charges straight at your beloved poet.

What is he DOING!?

V waits until the horse is almost upon him before he finally moves, a wiggle of his hand the only indication of his intent as Shadow forms a loose cloud beneath his feet and carries him out of danger. The rider swipes his cruel weapon across the ground where V just stood and turns again to face him.

Wait, what am I doing?

You swallow your fear to the best of your ability, refusing to force V to battle this demon without you. Even so, your sweaty hands shake as you run forward with a growl, frustrated by your own hesitation. You thrust the blade forward as you reach the horse, lucky it hasn’t moved yet, and it slices a shallow valley into its hind leg.

The horse kicks its rear leg out at you and you barely dodge it, heart pounding erratically as your body hits the ground. You hear a harsh neigh and feel something tickle your skin, your vision turning purple for an instant before everything goes black.

#dmc5 v #dmc5 #dmc #v x reader #v x you #fanfic #op #boss fight #SBHS #my writing #vitale

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irisflowerarts · 6 years ago

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When his heart is blanketed by darkness, it emerges. (Anti Sora fanfic)

“Eeeergh!!!!” Sora growled through his teeth, his bloody body rolling across the Snow White floors of castle oblivion, his tan skin beginning to burn with friction leaving marks all over once only bloodied body, now becoming burned. His keyblade skidding away from him, the metal screeching, sparks ravenously fleeing from it, stopping on the other side of the room near Iris’s feet. She looked over at it, her bright sapphire eyes widening as she glanced at the key blade then back at Sora, her heart beginning to beat faster and faster, wretched in fear for everyone: Donald, Goofy, Sora, and her brother, Zero.

Donald and Goofy’s bodies were on the cold hard ground, their forms beaten with cuts, blood oozing from them and dripping onto the floor staining its whiteness with red. Iris remembered the horror she felt when she watched them fall to the ground.

The repeated clashes of metal together got her attention, bringing her eyes over to her brother Zero who was in a heated rally with Marluxia, their hair flowing vigorously, teeth clenched and eyes squinted, their orbs flaring with hatred. Meanwhile, Sora, while hissing, got himself off the ground. “I must say, Compared to Sora, you have more of strength, more power, and could easily protect the ones you care about.” Marluxia said in his deep voice, it laced with taunting

“Shut the hell up!! I don’t want to hear anything coming from you!!” Zero growled, swinging his keyblade faster, and much harder at Marluxia who dodged easily.

“You shouldn’t throw all of your strength in one attack.” Marluxia taunted, effortlessly swinging his scythe, jabbing Zero in the side who gritted his teeth in an attempt to not cry out in pain, Marluxia swiped Zero up and threw him to the ground, blood decorating his once pink scythe,

“Zero!!!” Iris cried, feeling a few tears prick at her eyes, seeing her brother down on the ground, bleeding intensely from his side, however, a dark and cruel energy laced his blood, almost like it was making Zero… poisonous. Ravenous…

Sora gritted his teeth, hissing as he forced himself to stand up again, blood oozing out of his wounds as he did, glaring at Marluxia. Marluxia walked closer to Zero, intrigued by this energy that coated Zero. “Get away from Zero!” Sora suddenly growled, glaring immensely at Marluxia, his eyes holding a monstrous storm within them.

]Marluxia became interested in the storm that thrived ravenously through Sora’s eyes, and walked towards him. “Are you angry about something Sora?” Marluxia asked as he came closer and closer to Sora, who didn’t respond.

Iris stared at the keyblade that was beside her, the keyblades blade shimmered, reflecting her face, the way her hair was draping her face, her scared yet worried expression. She felt a strange aura hug around her form… What was this? She didn’t know. She gently went on her knees, and picked up the keyblade by the handle, and stood up again. She looked at the keyblade that was in her hands, then glanced up seeing Sora being thrown to a wall, his cries being echoed throughout the room.

“this could’ve been avoided.” Marluxia said, raising his scythe. “But, i’ll still be getting something out of it.” Sora looked up at Marluxia with wide eyes,he tried to do something to get Marluxia away from him, but his body was so beaten, it was too exhausted.

Zero sat up, holding his bleeding side that oozed much blood. He wasn’t surprised about the energy that encased him, either he wasn’t aware of it or maybe he didn’t care.

“AAGHH!!!!!!” Marluxia’s scream suddenly filled the room the sound of a weapon collapsing on the ground echoed throughout the room, Sora immediately opened his sky blue eyes, greeted to the sight of Marluxia going on his knees, and behind him, Iris holding the keyblade! Zero had slightly wide eyes but smirked. He did have worry for Iris, but he was hiding it.

Iris blinked, then relaxed her hold on the keyblade, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at the keyblade in wonder. Did she just… attacked Marluxia? Her expression relaxed, a determined expression appearing all her pale and cute features. She went into a battle stance.

Marluxia turned his head, trying to glare at her as best as he could, his form wrecking with deep heavy breaths. “Lucky shot… I didn’t know we had THREE keyblade wielders here… I thought you were just as pathetic and useless as the other nobodies..” Iris flinched a bit, but remained in her battle stance. Sora however.. felt a unholy rage towards Marluxia.. something within him wanted to jump out and tear into him. Sora couldn’t believe what he was feeling, he brought a hand over to his heart looking down at in shock.

“Very well Then.. let’s see how long you last..” Marluxia said, collecting his scythe, then disappearing into many velvet pink petals. Iris looked around frantically, before she calmed herself, fluttering her eyes closed and remembered Marluxia’s pattern. He always appeared Left, Then behind, Then right, then left again. He appeared in one of those spots, three seconds after he teleports.

‘1….2...3..’ Iris counted in her mind, turning to her left and swinging her keyblade, it clashing against Marluxia’s strong, heavy, blood stained, scythe. She flinched at how heavy it was, holding the two ends of the keyblade trying to push Marluxia off. But… the scythe was so heavy! And Iris didn’t have the strength to combat it any longer, she could feel her arms starting to get sore… To not get striked, she quickly jumped far back, the tip of Marluxia’s scythe digging into the floor getting stuck.

Zero tried to get himself up so he could join, but he was bleeding to much. Fortunately, Donald and Goofy had begun gaining consciousness, starting to lift themselves off the ground and gain insight of the current situation.

“Donald! Goofy!” Sora cried out happily, relieved that they were okay.

Iris took the chance of the scythe being stuck in the ground by charging up to Marluxia and throwing a strike at him, forcing him away from his weapon and having to deal with her without a weapon. Zero smirked at Iris’s smartness to take this chance to damage Marluxia and not let him be able to collect his weapon again, instead of Sora who just… blindly charges into battle.

Marluxia growled, he was sick of this, fighting Iris. Velvet petals suddenly took his scythe out of the ground and handed it back to him where he quickly sliced the air, a blade of magic coming out of his scythe and towards Iris. She yelped, not being able to dodge it and was thrown back to the harsh wall of oblivion, the keyblade flying out of her hands, it clanking to the ground and disappearing into light. Iris’s breath was violently knocked out of her and she fell to the ground, trying to get up but couldn’t stand the stinging and monstrous pain she felt in her chest.

Iris did her best to get up, not knowing what to do but soon, she felt herself being grabbed by a force of magic, the grip so tight that Iris could hardly breath and brought her to the center of the room and dropped her in front of the room.

“I’m impressed. You memorized my battle pattern and used that to your advantage. A very powerful ability that will be useful.” He towered over Iris, looking menacing. “I’ll slice up your heart, and then use the pieces to recreate you to more of my liking.” Marluxia said, raising his scythe, his shadow seemingly 5 times larger than him and made him even more menacing.

Iris shut her eyes tightly, flinching and looking away and preparing for an immense amount of pain, her hair draping softly around her head as if it was hugging her.

“Don’t you fucking dare-!!!!” A dark being that was blanketed in shadows and oozed of heartlesses shot past Zero! All Zero caught was a glimpse of the beings sharp and long claws that it had. “Iris! Look out-” Zero cried out, believing the shadow being was going to steal Iris’s heart when it came to a stop in front of her fearful form and stopped the scythe from sticking her, a loud screeching clash of metal resounding through the room.

Hearing this clash of metal, Iris quickly blinked her shimmering sapphire eyes opened, and looked over seeing a shadowy form in front of her. She could see a form within in the shadows.. It had Dark spiky bluish blackish hair, it was taller than her by a few inches, had larger shoes then her, baggy shorts- A gasp escaped from her form as she looked around as to check if her guess was correct. Seeing that the once bright boy wasn’t in the room, it proved her guess was correct! Sora was the shadowy being in front of her! “Sora-” Iris wasn’t able to say a word as Sora took off and tackled Marluxia, trying to tear into Marluxia.

Zero, thanks to Donald, had his wound healed and he quickly ran over to Iris, picking her up. “AH?! Z-Zero?!” Iris cried out in questioning. “I don’t know what happened to Sora, and he’s dangerous right now… we’re getting out of here.” Zero said sternly, in a voice that hissed at Iris telling her to not rebel or complain. “B-but Sora!-” “IRIS.” Zero growled making Iris shut up as he began to run towards the door. “You two!” He put Iris down. “Help get this door opened!”

“But Sora! He needs our help!” Goofy said, when Marluxia’s bloody scream echoed throughout the room, freezing everyone in their spots. Everyone, fearfully turned their heads toward Sora and Marluxia and saw Sora’s montrously sharp clawed hand through Marluxia’s chest before Sora thrusted it back out of Marluxia and stood above him, Sora’s glowing eyes staring at Marluxia slightly menacingly.

Marluxia stared at the ceiling that seemed to be light itself, a frown on his features. “We have no hearts.. But us nobodies still just exist. I wonder.. What this would’ve been like.. If I had a heart.” He said, his form being raised up, a pink and blackish light emitting greatly through his body and then.. He exploded into petals, disappearing for good.

The room was now silent, everyone staring at Sora’s dark from. No one knew what to do, No one knew what to say, there was a loss of words in the atmosphere, as well as fear. Sora turned his head, looking over at the four, his glowing bright yellow eyes no longer holding a menacing look but one of.. Neutral. Or he looked like he was lost, and he didn’t know what he was going to do.

How was this going to be fixed?

#kingdom hearts #fanfic

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khornoth-blog · 6 years ago

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“Where is she?”

It had been a long week of treachery and warfare. The Alliance were masters by now in the tactic of guerrilla warfare. Whereas Khornoth helped entrench some of the best lines the Horde had, there was never enough time before some Alliance spy had managed to lay down a trap or sabotage their efforts. Some of the younger Blackrocks have simply snapped and fought one another for accidents that could not be explained. Cannot be explained, until a Shaman uncovered a sickening goblin hired by the Alliance was the source of our snapping tempers.

The next thing to snap was his neck when i threw him to the grunts.

Still, the Alliance has made such remarkable attacks on Khornoth and his Khornites merely on foot. Always in range and always with a light step, often attacks came as so; A single bulk unit of Kul Tiran and Seventh Legion warriors move in, gaining our force’s attention with ranged attacks. When the main forces focus on them, the Alliance sends their rats to cut down at the legs of blessed Khornites. It’s come to a point the old orc has extended his own salary towards goblins specifically claiming themselves ‘knee cap protectors’. As it would seem, the war was firm on its disbelief of honor.

*I breathed slowly, standing at my command tent. I had finished offering the last blessing to my warriors, and finally were we able to set down one trench line for the riflemen and the shield guard. Our warriors have dwindled lower, and now we await reinforcements from the main force to take the offensive here. The Ranger Lord has charmed me and promised this would not take long with the forces I had. But even now twelve of my poor warrior kin has been slaughtered, and three times the amount of grunts. Losses that I cannot shake off me, where some nights I do not sleep. Young warriors, some barely of age to find mates. But we must hold here until the Ranger Lord’s reinforcements arrive.*

At hold, the Champion of Blackrock stood behind the trench in his soldier’s burrow. Several warriors were sleeping, and Khornoth was put on watch for them along with the other twelve Blackrocks sitting in the trench. Shifts would be switched in the morning, and those at guard would get some rest. Khornoth did not think about rest right now though. He was constantly glaring through the skinny slits of the burrow, keeping an eye on the local fauna. The peons under his command had been tasked with ruining trees and using their lumber for structures and protection. They only had to worry about one side of the enemy, because behind them was a steep mountain wall that halted the need for a full enclosure. And the best part was that there was an escape path. This was an ideal position, assigned by the Ranger Lord that commanded Khornoth. He did hate however how far it was from the head quarters of Wyldegleam. It was a distance away from the shore, but still in Tiragarde no less. Khornoth wanted to see Faetrix, Andar’thael. Some nights were restless because he could not find the warmth inside his tent despite the fires and his own bodily heat. No. Being here always crept this coldness... Like the first second when stone in the winter is pushed against skin. That shocking cold that feels unbearable to the senses, but just for a moment. Khornoth twitched, snapping his head upward when he saw movement with a shrubbery. Nothing of course, came out.

I sighed, putting my ironclad hand on my face. But I broke the short pleasure of closed eyes when I heard the start of words behind me. My gauntlet’s hand on my face became a fist and I spun around to strike the potential assassin, only to recoil back before I could strike the Stone Guard that had approached. I was caught in a recoil, losing balance for a short embarrassing moment before regaining my step. The warrior flinched and had recoiled herself, fearful of the strike that would have just ruined her tusks. I cursed her, daz’kook, shaking my fist at her. She cringed, before bowing her head. “We spotted elves coming this way. Night elves, drunken and armed. There are at least seven of them, all heading here. We are ready to go when you are.

Khornoth still had grunts and scouts, despite the losses he suffered from the rushing tactics of the Alliance. Khornoth however, was itching to spill blood. “Tell the other scouts to come, and keep hidden. I will handle them myself. If anything suspicious comes, engage and I will flee. We must have no losses. Tell the warriors in the trench and prepare our towers for battle,” said the old orc. The scout nods, before running off to inform the Khornites and grunts.

It was a few minutes, of quick shouts and the lighting of torches until I was met with the scouts that had spotted the elves. Two trolls, a goblin, a pandaren and finally the Stone Guard who informed me were all that was my war party that could seperate from the main force. I motioned for them to follow, dimming the flames on my armor quickly so I was much harder to see in the darkness of night.

Go north, just ahead. We will follow, lay on the short hills here with the bushes.

Khornoth moved ahead of the trench, as it was conveniently pointed north from the perspective of the camp. The orc was walking only a pair of minutes before stumbling upon the drunk and enraged elves. They looked at Khornoth, and they all became enraged and started to shout. One of them spoke common.

“BURNING ORC SCUM! W-” The elf hicccups, “WE WILL AVENGE THE WHORES OF DARNASSUS AND THE BIRDIES!” That one elf’s voice cracked as he finished his sentence, snorting and stumbling with a drunken stupor. The elves cheered and shouted some more. They were Seventh Legion, easily recognizable by the uniforms they wore. Khornoth advanced towards them, hammer in hand and his Kalma in his other.

I charged them. One of them attempted to charge me, but it was foolish. Others tried to join in that drunken heroic run, but they lost their footing and one of them even fell. The one that did collide with me, I ran against and proceeded to flatten him under my boots. I stomped hard, digging my heel into the head of the elf. Crunching and a slight slip. That, was what I enjoyed to hear when I fought these feeble tree lovers. Pushing forward, several of the elves met with me with swords and daggers. Simple swings with my kalma rendered them corpses. A slice across two of them, a crush of another with my hammer. Using the gifts of my ancestors, I burned the rest. To prevent fire spreading, I stomped on their bodies as they burned. Perhaps just to end their pain quicker. That would be a kindness.

Khornoth was simply pushing his foot down on an elf’;s head, before something jumped onto his back.

“I’M BACK BITCH!” Screamed a woman. A woman that has tried to kill Khornoth multiple times! The orc had her alone, without Kul Tiran scum, and he grabbed her by her red locks. As he lifted his hand, pulling her hair and getting her off him, she had stabbed his arm with a knife. Khornoth roars in pain, as the awful device shot out spikes to anchor into the wound. Khornoth quickly worked to cauterize the wound, burning his black skin and attaching it to his armor.

I screamed while I combined my own armor with my skin, and with my roar the war party I had came to my aid. They scared off the woman, and I was guided back to the camp.

The wound I thought I had cauterized was only worsened by the procedure. The armor I would had pulled more skin, and I mistook the stream of blood going down my arm for sweat.

I fainted.

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Morning now. The Ranger-Lord’s reinforcements arrived, and so did a Centurion to hold my position. I was relieved for a short time, two days unless I was in need of an emergency. Arm in a metal battle-cast, I had a gun mount on it and my gun on my back. Never go without a weapon.

My first destination was the Ranger-Lord’s ship. I was excited to see him and Faetrix. I wished to spend the night with them, to care for my mates and to feel their warmth again.

But when i returned, I couldn’t find either of them. The cabin was locked, and no knock roused anyone.

I asked one of the stationed Rangers.

The Ranger-Lord disappeared, and Faetrix was no where to be found.

I waited. I waited at my tent, next to the ship, watching the captain’s cabin from my position. No one came out, no one entered.

Night came back, and I couldn’t take it. I marched up the ramp to the boat, and when I slammed the door open, the Ranger Lord was there, sitting, hands on his head.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Gone,” he said.

#the lovers #the bastard duke #the vipress #khornoth

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project-xiii · 3 years ago

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Warm-Up 07202021 [Phoenix-Diamond]

Whumper: Diamond Renwick

Whumpee: Phoenix Renwick

Relationship: Brother X Sister [Nonromantic]

Prompt: Whumpee has become quite the sensation at parties, much to the distaste of Whumper, who's limelight was stolen. However, Whumper knows just how they'll be taking that back.

Trigger/Content Warnings: Torture, Knives, Implied Sex, Fluid PoV, Shitty Writing

A/N: A brief little punishment between the true head of the noble Renwick family and her older brother. He is NOT fucking his sister, calm down folks. Designed as a warm-up, critiques are VERY welcome. Actual torture is wonky and short because of reasons for this specific one, I need to practice the transition between introduction and pain. But that is what warm-up shorts are for, right?

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His tutor was a fine man, a master of what he did before his unfortunate and far too early demise. To others, perhaps, he was a disgusting person, a greedy little rat with a hunger for blood-soaked power. But to Phoenix, he was so much more. He was a role model, a great teacher, an honorable man who's pupil would go on to lead a wonderful life. The words taken from his mouth belonged at the supper table of the honorable Renwick family.

Unfortunately, not all agreed, and his foolish quoting led him deep below, several floors below the ground where the air stood still and smelled stale and deathly, where any light was dim. Lord Renwick had not approved of the words out of his son's mouth, had scorned him, sent him away with an empty stomach and sent the honored one of the triplets, Diamond, to handle the areas where he had failed as a father. One of them, at least.

Into a sickly lavender room Phoenix was shoved, his large frame seemingly miniscule despite his nearly identical sister standing a whole head shorter than he. Though he turned to protest, rainbow eyes reflecting dully in the dim light, he bit back his words with a single look at her stormy face.

"You speak the words of a traitor, brother." She snapped, gripping a knife taken from the supper table, shoving him towards a raised slab in the center of the room with a single, lithe hand in the center of his chest. "Just bringing up his filthy name shows how poor a blemish you are on the golden tapestry of our noble lines. How is it that you, the oldest, have somehow become most pathetic of us all?"

Phoenix stumbled back, heels coming in contact with the heat-leeching marble behind him. Despite being the oldest, and the largest, he could not help but fear his sister's wrath. His father may be head of the house, but it was Diamond who forced the family to stay in line. It was Diamond who pulled the strings within the estate walls. And it was Diamond who dished out the punishment when any family member took a single toe off the line she laid out. Phoenix tended to stray pretty far from that line.

"What will it be today?" He finally asked, doubting he could dig a deeper hole. After all, his mentor always did seem to send him careening nearly six feet under. "Will it be a switch? Branding? Shocks? Flogging? Will you burn me alive, attempt to drown me? I know you would never settle for something as small as a knife." He taunted, flashing her a wolfish grin, a mocking expression.

"You know the knife is little more than a starter. There's no greater joy than how personal one can get with a blade." She replied, standing on her toes to come as close to his face as she could, which wasn't all that close yet was chilling nonetheless. Funny, how such a short-statured girl could strike such fear into his heart. "Now lay down, dog. I'm sure your little mongrel teacher taught his mutt such basic commands."

Phoenix did not want to obey. He was eldest child, he was not subservient to his sister. And yet his body moved without his mind's consent, flattening his body on the table, the still-raw cuts on his back shrieking as they were flattened against biting stone. What would it be today? Something painful, he was sure. Last time, they had a dinner party to attend to, and so his punishment was eased. But this time, there would be no need to hide gaping wounds and agony any time soon. Lord Renwick had places to be, and no parties could occur without his appearance.

Scraping the edge of the steak knife against the rough edge of the marble, Diamond circled the table, considering. She did have freedom this time, so much freedom. Whatever she dealt, Phoenix had three weeks to heal from. She finally had the excuse to massacre his face. She had waited so long for this chance. She knew her brother doubted she would ever do it. But she could. She could do it now. Nothing stood in her way.

"Do you know, dearest brother, how similar our skin is to the meal on our nightly plates? So soft, so tender. And, so easy to shred." Gentle, she ran the knife along his arm, thinking, ignoring the red blots that bloomed like lovely little flowers in its wake. "Father is out of town for almost a month, this time. Another business trip, you know. He always does seem to be out and about. But we'll be home, stuck here without a single exciting occasion to look forward to. But that's alright, that just means that we'll get plenty of time together, won't we, big brother? There will be no need to save our alone time for such unsatisfactory hours." Pressing a bit harder, she ran across his wrists, up into his palm, watching him squirm beneath her blade. "Nor will there be any need to save my fun."

Face showing her far-too-clear excitement, she stopped by his head, setting the knife on his lips. "So many yearn for your beautiful face, Phoenix. Have you seen the lords and ladies swooning at our parties at just the mere sight of you? I've seen it. It's disgusting. After all, that's the only part of you that ever will be pretty. What a shame they don't know until they flee your bedroom while the night is still young. Rearing your ugly head beyond locked doors won't last you long. But let me save them from that. They can see the hideousness of the inside on the outside too!" Quick and precise, she snapped the serrated knife from cheek to nose to lip to chin, watching the crimson bead. He flinched back from that with a pained gasp, mouth slightly open. "Don't worry." She consoled, mock comfort in her voice. "You'll only have silvery little scars by the time anyone sees your face again."

Eyes closed to avoid directly looking into her gaze, he didn't respond to that, instead stock still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. That was another mistake on his list today. Diamond reached forth, shoving the tip of her blade beneath his lid and forcing his eye open. "No sleeping on me this time." She spat, drawing a line across his cheekbone, pausing right before his neck. She lifted the knife, resting it over his trachea, feeling the slightly movement as he sucked in air. How badly she wanted to slice in. But she couldn't, not today. There was no cover story to hide behind, and family torture was the family secret. With a whip of the knife hard down his chest from neck to groin, she whipped it back at the wall, hearing it clatter as she turned away, ignoring his shriek of surprise and pain. She needed something else fun. Such a disgrace to the family deserved more than a knife for such a mistake.

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whump blog #whump scenario #sibling drama

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kiwisfics · 7 years ago

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Vampires and Assassins - Chapter 2

A/N - With my renewed passion for becoming a published writer, these past few days have been a trip. Allowing my grandma to read the beginning of my original novel, deciding that this is how I plan to support myself or at least attempt to. Anyway, throughout my editing I’ve begun adding a lot more plot and I hope everyone will enjoy it.

Summary: Kady Lason wasn’t brave, not that she was going to let anyone other than herself know that. Her actions far from reflect her internal dilemma, leading her on escapades in the middle of the night, far from her turmoil-fueled family life. Which is exactly how she ends up kidnapped and sold into a world that few know exist: a world of vampires. If the shock and fear isn’t enough, she ends up with a target on her back, just her luck. The past is easy to forget when facing threats most saw as myths, but, somehow, everything always ends up connected, doesn’t it?

The scalding hot water raining down from the shower head received no response, its attempts to be a distraction doing little to nothing to draw my attention from the yelling on the other side of the door. They'd been at it all day. Medication could only do so much to soothe the sickness of anxiety—even with double the prescription—not that the burns on my arms were solving the problem either. As I stood and exited the shower, the red marks on my body began to sting, the cool air overpowering the numbness. I jumped, breath catching in my throat and chest clenching in the beginning stages of an attack, as the sound of glass shattering reached my ears. My clothes were on in an instant and the bathroom window opened. I didn’t hesitate. I never hesitated.

Unlike the other women, still standing in wait for their new owners, I was instantly approached by the silent guards that had stood watch throughout the violent bidding war. Comparatively to me, they were giants. But I wasn't going without a fight. The moment my feet were released, I swiveled, jumping and slamming my forehead into one of the men's noses. The dull pain in my skull did nothing to lessen my fury and I turned once again, charging the auctioneer with all the furiosity of a threatened beast. The strain on my wrists when the rope was grabbed tore a hiss from my throat. The pain was just as quickly forgotten as I spun on my heel and aimed my head toward another face. Before I made contact I was jerked away, my target taking hold of one of my arms while another kept me from attacking once again by taking hold of my other arm. As they pulled me after the retreating form of the man who had bought me, I began kicking and dragging my feet. Muffled shouts tore from my throat, but I was paid no mind. Behind the tape, I muttered and whimpered as I fought to get loose, my attempts made all the stronger by the fear brought by the gender of those restraining me. Though I knew my attempts were useless, I refused to go without a fight. I hadn't learned how to defend myself just to tuck tail the moment the need for defense arose. I wasn't getting thrown into a man's possession without hurting someone and I didn't care who. The man in front of us walked leisurely, as if he had no cares in the world, and it brought my burning anger to the forefront of my mind, bypassing any and all remaining fear, where it peaked, pushing my blind panic into submission. I jammed an elbow into each of the men behind me, satisfaction flooding my chest from just the bruising contact. To my shock, I successfully sent them falling back, bringing a proud grin to rest on my face. Thank God my distrust of men made me paranoid enough to ensure that I could at least make a quick getaway if ever needed. I shot off toward the wooded area that enclosed the auction, thanking God again for the flats I'd been given in contrast of the heels most of the women wore. Still, I had only taken a few steps before one of the men tackled me, his aggressiveness making clear the rage he felt at being bested by one of his products. I slammed against the ground with no way to break my fall, rocks slicing cuts into my face and legs. The man jerked me to my feet with no concern for the now bleeding cuts, not that I had expected any. Had I been able to use my words, I would have commented on damaging the merchandise, even as my legs began to shake and pressure built behind my eyes. I had been bought. Who knew what this man was going to do to me, but I had my reasonable assumptions and they made me sick. I found myself wishing he had left me to die. I continued my earlier attempts to escape by thrashing, but as it became clear that my attempts weren't working, I brought one leg forward before slamming it back into the crotch of the man holding my right arm. His already bruising grip on my arm tightened and resulted in a loud cry from my throat, the sound muffled, but audible even through the duct tape. When I was shoved into an expensive looking limo-like vehicle, I was momentarily stunned into paralysis. Clearly, this man had money. Of course, rich people weren't rare enough to shock me on their, but we were still close to my small town—and all the other small towns around us—as far as I knew, and there were no rich people anywhere in our rural area, none with a limo. They could spend all the money they wanted on a kidnapped person, but a limo? No way would that, or a convention of "richies" go unnoticed. Now that I thought about it, I could almost swear I had seen some of the people in the crowd before. Was I even in my town anymore? I stayed frozen for only a few moments. There was no time to waste on pointless thoughts. I had to get out of this situation. I pulled my knees to my chest. In my position, alone in the back of this vehicle, I had no reason to hold back when I began slamming my feet against the limo door as hard as I could. Grunting as the pressure shot pain up my calves, I grew more and more frantic as a dent appeared around the door's handle. Just as I was about to slam my feet against the window, hesitating only in fear of the glass getting in my eyes—a stupid reason in reflection—the limo jerked to a stop, sending me rolling to the floor. I shook my head as I sat up, already feeling a growing bump where my head had hit, as I wondered what was going on. It was only a few seconds later that the door opened and a man climbed in beside me. He was taller than the man who had bought me. Taller by at least three inches and broader, bigger than even the men who had dragged me to the vehicle, and he didn't look like he was amused with my pathetic attempt at escape. I scooted as close as I could to the other side of the car, remaining on the floor as I trembled and tried not to let tears fall. My legs burned and the cuts from the harsh tackle stung, but nothing hurt as much as the pain of fear clutching its icy claws into my heart. I was shaking. Fear and the obvious burning out of my adrenaline both equal culprits. I thought a nap sounded like heaven before. The man didn't say a word, he hardly even glanced at me, while I didn't dare glance away, and he barely moved at all until the limo once again came to a stop. I peeked out the window to see a large mansion, surrounded by thick trees. The trees would be an easy way to escape, however, getting past the tall fence, which was identifiable as electrified by the caution sign, would be the exact opposite. An electrified fence? How extra can these guys get? The man who had sat in the back with me walked around the car and jerked open the door before he grabbed and lifted me almost effortlessly. I immediately began thrashing as best I could, banging my bound fists against his back—it was easy enough to slip my hands in front of me without much movement, and it was a welcome distraction—and knees against his chest, a well-aimed knee to the face caused him to drop me. Despite the pain—did my wrist just break?—and loss of breath from the fall with no chance to soften it, I immediately shot up and ran toward the trees. Exhaustion had nothing on my will to live. Though death was a secondary fear at this point. God men were terrifying. My path was blocked by yet another man. Unlike the hooded men with fancy leather and metal - something I only begun to question upon his appearance - he was wearing a simple white hoodie and jeans and it took his clothing to remind me that I wasn't in some alternate time or dimension. "Look, just relax." I paused in my fleeing, but hadn't the slightest intention of relaxing; I wouldn't have paused at all if he hadn't bee in front of me. "Just let us explain." I let a huff out of my nose, glaring at him with all the hate I could muster with my eyes—both for this situation and the fact that I'd been proven right. I knew every bad experience in my life led to dying at the hands of some psychotic man—or men, as it was. Let them explain? Let them explain why I was kidnapped, or why I was treated like an animal? Or maybe why they thought they had the right to buy me, or anyone for that matter? I tried to convey all the anger I felt through my glare, but it wasn't nearly enough. Not even a fraction of enough. And the fear, that was surely peeking through. My eyes were focused on him so intently and my blood was pounding so loud in my ears, I didn't notice someone else coming up behind me. A blade pressed itself against my throat as a rough voice spoke against my ear, "Keep running and we'll have to put you down." My panting stopped as I held my breath, lest that blade find its way under my skin. Explain. Yeah, right. I tensed, from the presence of the blade, yes, but farther from the way he had phrased that—even farther from how close he was. What gave him the right to talk to me like an animal? I'd never once regretted dropping out of the fighting classes I had been enrolled in before, convinced I knew enough to keep myself safe. I'd much rather spend my time sleeping or being lazy when I wasn't working—save when I needed to get out—but I regretted it now. I regretted it more than I would have ever thought possible. Tears finally escaped my eyes, running down and hitting the duct tape. The man behind me immediately pulled his blade away and lifted me, as my chest began to heave with my sobs, the day's events finally ushering tears from my eyes. He shushed me. The action was so juxtaposed to the situation, so foreign to what I knew, that it threw me for a loop, halting my tears for a moment as my brain struggled to regain some sense of reality. Because this man, that had been holding a knife to my throat seconds before, did not shush me with all the gentleness someone would award a crying child. And, more urgently, I was not wanting to relax. I did not want to trust them. I was so tired. I was so drained. I was so terrified. I was sobbing again, but I'd grabbed his shirt, fists tight in the fabric. "Relax," he muttered under his breath as he attempted to get the duct tape off my mouth while continuing to restrain me. I wasn't running now. I was hesitating. "I'm guessing he over-estimated how much of a fighter you are, hm?" When he finally managed to get the tape off—muttering an almost silent apology as I let out a yelp—he shoved the crumpled piece in his pocket. "There we are, now you can yell all the profanities you want." I didn't respond, sobs still coming from my throat as he lifted me, bridal style, with ease that I momentarily questioned Like I was a feather. Even if I had answered, I wasn't much for cursing, I just didn't do it; it didn't line up with my beliefs and far be it from me to start now when I needed that lifeline the most, not that I'd dare yell at the man who just held a knife to my throat at all. Finally, I sobbed my first unhindered words against his chest, "Please don't hurt me." "Wouldn't dream of it, love."

#vampires and assassins #vampire au #vampire #assassin's creed fanfiction #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed #Assassin's Creed #jacob frye #desmond miles #connor kenway #edward kenway #altair ibn-la'ahad #ezio auditore #jacob frye fanfiction #desmond miles fanfiction #connor kenway fanfiction #edward kenway fanfiction #altair ibn-la'ahad fanfiction #ezio auditore fanfiction

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summylise · 8 years ago

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Our First and Last

Soooo….I was kind of given this prompt a LONGGG time ago by @gsut , I believe for last kiss. The thing is…it kind of became a 3000 words one-shot ahahaha… SO HERE IT IS BE WARNED IT’S ANGSTY.

*based on the events of chapter 534*

rating: T, bc character death, and violence

pairings: nalu

word count: 2969

“Natsu!” Lucy cried as she shoved open the guild hall doors.

Her grip on E.N.D— no, Natsu’s— tome tightened. She scanned the guild hall with wide eyes, praying that he was alright.

She knew something was wrong the second that the first master told her to leave. She knew that she shouldn’t have left him, yet she let her doubt get to her. She blindly put her trust in Mavis, hoping that there was some kind of miracle that could at the very least help her partner.

She just couldn’t believe that it took the book of E.N.D attacking her to bring her to her senses.

The blonde’s eyes landed on a tuft of vibrant pink hair almost completely smothered in dark blood and soot. She took a step toward him but froze as the atmosphere began to heat. His familiar magic pulsed as Natsu pushed himself into a kneeling position, though it was clear his fire was fading. His pants were heavy and deep, his wounds leaking inky blood onto his bruising fists.

A deep chuckle sounded from behind her, its sharp cockiness sending shivers down her limbs.

“Come now, Natsu,” said a dark voice. “You and I both know that you can’t take much more of this.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes and zeroed in on its location. Her fingers tightened on the warm leather of Natsu’s book in an effort to stop their shaking. She grit her teeth as she stared down at the black—well now white—wizard before her.

He was a completely different person: blonde, almost white hair, replaced dark black, his robes now bright, and a pair of bright fairy wings fluttered from his back. Had she not seen that look in his eye, she may think that she was looking at a stranger.

Zeref calmly lifted his hand and forced it back, sending large white beams of magic energy slamming into Natsu. The force ripped him off his feet and into the guild’s bar. The entire thing collapsed around him and, for a second, her heart stopped. A second later and a hand, then a whole torso pushed itself from underneath the rubble. Her eyes narrowed back on to Zeref.

He looked like an old dog with rabies, beaten and battered by endless fighting and eyes that didn’t quite see. He gave her the darkest glare she had ever seen and it took everything in her not to fall to her knees right there.

She couldn’t do that. Not when Natsu couldn’t stand.

With a deep breath, Lucy straightened her back and strode in front of Natsu. She lifted her eyes to give him, what she hoped was an equally menacing and challenging glare.

“If you’re going to kill him, you’ll have to kill me too,” she stated with as much determination as she could muster.

Her biceps tensed. Her feet stayed planted protectively in front of her partner. Every fiber in her being screamed to move or get out of there or to do something in order to get away from this evil man.

“Lu-cy,” Natsu groaned from the rubble.

Lucy felt her shoulders slacken but her gaze didn’t waver.

“I promised to protect you, no matter the cost,” she said, her fingers drifting to the pouch on her waist. “And celestial wizards never break their promises.”

Zeref blinked. Then blinked again.

His eyes drifted to Lucy’s pulsing right arm, still covered in the dark veins that sucked on her magic like leeches. She could feel her magic draining slowly, like the way her bathtub would drain after a long soak.

A sly smirk slipped across his face and he let out a hair-raising snigger.

“And I thought battling Natsu was the most fun that I was going to get. This should be entertaining, to say the least,” he said.

The white wizard cracked his knuckles, drawing white tendrils up and around him. Lucy carefully slid the book of E.N.D behind her and into Natsu’s outstretched hands.

She took a breath and snatched her keys.

“Lucy…please…just—” Natsu grunted.

“Open! Gate of the Scorpion! Scorpio!” she exclaimed, touching a different key to her chest.

Dry, golden light enveloped the room. Supple cowhide formed across her skin, its strong and sturdy magic absorbing into her muscles. Scorpio appeared beside her, serious and silent, a complete contrast to his normally wild demeanor. He glared at the mage, covering his eyes from the blinding light of the celestial world.

“Are you ready?” she muttered to her spirit.

She sensed a slight change in his energy. It was still on edge, tense and in suspense for what would happen next. Now she could feel a slight ounce of confidence and challenge that peppered his energy.

Lucy smirked. As long as she had them, Zeref never stood a chance.

She swiped her arm down in front of her with her whip, lashing at Zeref with enough force to tear up the surrounding floorboards. She heard him cry out. She sprinted at him, sinking low to the ground.

“Now, Scorpio!”

“Sand buster!”

A whirlwind of sand shot through the air just as she leaped up. The blast sent her hurtling at Zeref faster than an asteroid.

Zeref raised his arms but not before Lucy got a nice kick to his jaw. He grunted and stumbled back a few steps

“Open! Gate of the Lion!” she cried, slicing the key through the air. “Loke!”

A bright flash erupted from Leo’s key, sending streams of blinding light into the guild hall.

Lucy’s fingers instinctively grasped a second key and lifted it to her chest.

“Star Dress: Cancer Form!”

She raced forward before the dual swords had even formed. Loke’s light would only blind him for so long. She leaped into the air, swinging her swords down towards Zeref’s head. An arm shot out against her swords. Her jaw dropped when the swords didn’t cut straight through his skin.

“I knew you Heartfilias were weak but this is ridiculous,” Zeref said, his voice devoid of any strain or acknowledgment of her full force against his arm.

Zeref snatched her swords in an instant and a heavy force slammed into her back, stealing every ounce of air from her lungs. Stars speckled her vision.

“Lucy!” Natsu screamed.

Lucy wheezed from her position at Zeref’s feet. She hadn’t expected to be beaten that easily, especially since Natsu had already given him a good enough fight. She gulped in desperate mouthfuls of air in an attempt to fill the lungs that had been forcibly emptied. Her eyes watered at the lack of oxygen.

Her expression never changed: a look of pure unadulterated hatred and defiance that stoically stared at the white mage above her.

“I grow tired of our little game, Miss Heartfilia. It’s been fun but I’m afraid that I’ll have to kill you now.”

The blonde grit her teeth, trying to focus on something other than her racing heart. Something other than her trembling fingers. She itched to move from her position on the floor but her muscles refused to budge. It was as if they were made of jelly.

She had tried to fight Zeref, despite Natsu’s pleas to flee. She had wanted to protect him like he had done so many times before. She used almost all of her energy and magic power to fight and it still wasn’t enough to even make a scratch.

She rolled her head to face her partner. Natsu struggled to push himself to his feet but his utter exhaustion weighed him down like a ton of bricks. He clawed at the heavy rubble rooting him to the spot refused to even move an inch. Inky blood trickled from his forehead, leaving deep staining drops of red in the light wood flooring. His biceps pulsed as he pushed at the floor, the rubble, trying to do something instead of laying there helpless.

He growled and finally met her gaze. Panic littered his expression. Pure fear, like nothing she had ever seen before, was written in every crack and scar on his face. She could practically see sweat drip down and mix with his blood.

This was it. She didn’t have much longer and who knew when she would get this opportunity again.

She just wished that Natsu fearing for her safety wasn’t the last thing she saw.

Zeref leaned over her, his heavy presence darkening any natural sunlight that would have filtered through the shambled remains of the guild’s ceiling. Even without the influence of his magic, the world still darkened around him, as if it too feared the great black wizard.

His stone cold fingers snaked around her neck and hoisted her into the air, her bloodied feet dangling below her. Lucy’s hands shot to her throat. The fingers squeezed tighter. Blood rushed passed her ears, throbbing like war drums in a losing battle.

“No! Stop!” screamed Natsu, his voice cracking.

His scrambling grew frantic, frenzied. Like a wild animal trying to scratch out of a pen during a tornado. His snarls became harsher, his growls animalistic. His hips stayed lodged under an enormous pile of rubble, something he wouldn’t be getting out of anytime soon. And he knew it.

Lucy whimpered when black dots peppered her vision. She scratched and pulled and clawed at the hands. Zeref’s eyes narrowed at the strands of red that appeared on his hands in the exact shape of nails. He squeezed tighter, stealing a whimper from Lucy that she was trying to hide.

“You’re just like your mother. You’re nothing but a useless excuse for—”

The blonde spat directly in Zeref’s eye causing him to recoil and take a step back.

Her lips quirked but her cocky demeanor slipped when he opened his mouth again.

“Well there is one thing I can count on,” he began, calmly wiping the spot of saliva. “You always die out.”

Zeref lifted her above his head and sliced his hand clean through her stomach. Lucy’s eyes widened as far as they could go. A gasp slipped passed her lips.

The pain was excruciating, unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was as if her insides were being stabbed by a thousand tiny red hot knives. Zeref jerked back from her body to reveal a dripping and red-stained sleeve. She could barely register his laughing over the earsplitting roar from Natsu.

“No!”

Even against Cobra, his roar wasn’t this loud. This one toppled chairs, disrupted precariously hanging rubble. Its anguish echoed around her nearly shaking the entire room. It wasn’t filled with this much pain before.

“Zeref! I’ll kill you!” Natsu screamed.

The burning pulsed through her system, stealing most of her remaining energy. Her eyes drooped and her hands loosened their grip on Zeref at her neck. She coughed and the taste of iron filled her mouth. The world dimmed.

She couldn’t give up yet. She couldn’t abandon the guild now. She couldn’t just leave him without at least trying to help.

“O-oh stars far and w-wide that embody the he-heavens,” she mumbled, her choked words barely making it out.

Zeref’s laughter quieted. He turned his gaze back on her and tightened his grip on her neck. Lucy quietly whimpered, barely having enough strength to stay awake.

“What did you say?” he muttered.

The blonde heaved her eyes open to give Zeref one final glare. Her fingers twitched in their limp positions at her sides. She dug into the last reserves of her magic, begging her spirits for their support. Her mother had told her that this was going to happen. She taught her of the spell to use and the dangers that came with it. She knew what she was doing and she would need all the help that she could get in order to pull it off.

“I-I implore you, Tetrabib-biblos. By thy radiance, reveal th-thy form to m-me,” she said, lifting her almost deadweight hand to wrap around the hand around her neck.

She squeezed as hard as she could, making sure to have a strong, vice-like grip on him. She only had one shot; there had to be sure that it would hit him. She could feel the magic, her last amounts of energy, surging through her like a river of lightning.

“Eternal ruler of the stars above, now that the aspect is complete,” she continued, her voice strengthening. “I ask that you take my power and safeguard those who live in my heart.”

Golden light enveloped her body, surrounding them with a blinding heavenly light. Glowing tendrils reached from her body and slowly made their way up the mage’s hand. Zeref’s eyes widened. His clutch on her neck slackened, letting her body drop to the ground with a thud. She grunted when a sickening crack filled the air along with a sharp pulse of pain from her shoulder.

Just a little longer. You’re almost done.

“Let your unrestrained rage flow. Protect those whom I deem worthy and smite those whom I do not. Open the raging, tumultuous gate.”

Lucy refused to look away from his burning red eyes. She locked her jaw and dug her fingers into the flesh of his palm. The magical limbs clawed their way up his arm, wrapping around his shoulder and climbing up his neck.

“With all eighty-eight heavenly bodies.” The guild hall fell back revealing a backdrop of the night sky. Hundreds of large, menacing planets swirled around them. Zeref tried to shake off Lucy’s clutch but she dug in further, piercing skin and drawing blood. “Shining!”

“Et Magicae: Urano Metria!” she cried.

The white mage let out a gut-wrenching shriek as the magic crashed in on him. Rings of golden magic swirled around him, swallowing him whole. The room lit with the brilliance of a thousand suns and Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t loosen her hold, didn’t slacken in any way until the hand disintegrated into ash.

Lucy struggled to keep her eyes open, their heavy pull and the lull of sleep almost too enticing to bare. She managed to push herself to the side; she wanted to see the sky one last time, the stars one last time.

“Lucy!!” Natsu cried, his voice the most broken she’d ever heard it.

A moment later and he was knelt by her side, eyes scanning her body erratically. His shaky hands hovered over her stomach. His breathing was heavy, his heart even heavier.

“Lucy,” he said again, this time softer and gentler, “I’m so—I…I wish I…I.”

Lucy let out a small laugh and a smile lifted to her lips. She tried to hide her grimace but failed miserably. She lifted a bloody hand to his face to cup his cheek. His warm palm instantly covered her own.

“Shh…It’s ok…I chose to do this. There was nothing you could have done,” she whispered.

“But I—”

“No buts,” she interrupted, running the pad of her thumb across his cheek. “At least I finally got to save you…for a change.”

Natsu froze, his eyes widened.

“Nonono. You can’t talk like that. There’s gotta be something I can do,” Natsu said, panic rising in his voice. “I’ll go get help.”

Lucy tightened her grip as much as she could. If he left, she’d likely be alone when it was time. If he left, she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone goodbye. If he left…she wouldn’t be able to see him one last time.

“No. Stop,” she whimpered, unable to hide the pain that stole most of her energy. “There’s no point.”

Her pleading tone was what got to him the most. Natsu clenched his teeth and fought with all of his might not to sprint out of the guild hall shouting for Wendy. She needed him right now and he was helpless to do anything, just like before.

“Lucy, you can’t just leave,” he muttered. “I have to tell you something.”

“There isn’t enough time.”

That’s what set him off. That’s what put the final nail in the coffin. He couldn’t admit it to himself but now he couldn’t help but accept the fact that Lucy, his Lucy, was dying.

“You have to promise me something…Natsu,” she mumbled, each word taking more energy than the last. She could feel the edges of darkness creeping into her vision but she had to hold out a little longer.

Natsu leaned forward, even his hearing having a hard time picking up her voice. She could feel his shaky breath on her cheek, could see the shimmering tears that filled his eyes.

“Promise me…that you’ll go on more adventures. That you won’t let me hold you back.”

Natsu inhaled sharply and a few stray tears fell onto her cheekbones.

“Luce, I—”

“Promise me, Natsu,” she said, putting all of her might into those words.

Natsu paused. His teeth clenched and unclenched. His fists tightened then loosened. He blinked and more tears fell, mixing with her own as they slid down her cheeks. He tried to open his mouth but no words came out.

He shut his mouth and nodded because there was nothing else he could do besides sit there and watch his best friend die in front of him. He couldn’t help himself from leaning forward. He couldn’t just let her go without doing it at least once. He had to have her leave on a happy note…and give him something good to remember her by.

Lucy smiled again and couldn’t stop the tears that fell as well. Darkness crept in, smothering the rest of her vision.

“I just wish I could have gone on them with you.”

The last thing she remembered was the feeling of warm, salty lips pressing against her own. Then everything was silent.

#ftfanfics #fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fanfiction #summer writes #almost cried #my heart hurts #fairy tail fanfics #fairy tail fanfiction

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robinhoodrevisited · 8 years ago

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Castle Chaos (pt.7)

Nottingham Castle. The Great Hall. (The doors of the Great Hall burst open as Prince John strides into the room. Flanked by several Black Elite, the Prince halts as he notices the room's occupants.) Prince John: (To Clarke:) "Well, I see you've been having your own celebrations in my absence. A family reunion no less. (Nods to Abby:) Abigail. (Abby stares daggers at the Prince but says nothing. Turning his attention to Marcus:) Kane." Marcus: "It's been a long time, Lackland." (The mention of his disparaging nickname infuriates the Prince.) Prince John: (To the gang beside them:) "What are you waiting for? Arrest these intruders immediately! (The Prince is infuriated even more when the gang do not move.) You would defy your King?!" Allan: (Stepping forward:) "No, (Removes his helmet:) but we'd defy you." (The Prince watches as Will and Much remove their helmets also.) Prince John: (To the Black Elite behind him:) "Don't just stand there you fools, kill them!" (Abby grabs Clarke's hand and pulls her out of harms way as Marcus, Allan, Much and Will draw their swords.) Sheriff's Chamber. Exterior. (Isabella, having finally made it back to the castle heads directly for her chamber. As she rounds a corner, her path is blocked by a lone guard.) Isabella: "Oh, thank God. Guard this door with your life, let nobody in, understand? (As she attempts to reach for the door:) Get out of the way you imbecile! (The guard stands firm. Finally looking the guard in the eye:) Listen you- (Isabella stops talking as she looks finds herself looking into the eyes of her brother.) No, it can't be - you were dead!" Gisborne: (Growling:) "I got better." (Isabella screams as Gisborne reaches for her.)

Elsewhere in the castle. (Blamire runs through the castle, his sword drawn. Stopping to catch his breath, Blamire turns down a darkly lit corridor and into an equally dark room. The Captain senses a presence in the room and smiles. Taking several deep breaths to steady himself, Blamire begins speaking into the darkness.) Blamire: "When my brother and I were young we lost our parents. A warlord and his gang ripped through our village killing livestock, men, women, everything in their path. For the longest time it was just Henry and I, left to survive alone in the world. (As Blamire speaks he begins searching the room.) So I know what it's like to have just one person you rely on. To have that one person you care for above all others. (Blamire stoops down and checks under a table but finds nothing. Continuing:) I dare say my brother and I would've died if Vaisey had not found us. Had not taken us under his wing, shown us how the world really works. Taught about how it’s the warriors that rule the world and not the peacemakers. Vaisey's message stuck with me more so than my brother. Whereas Henry would prove his worth through servitude I would go on to become a leader of men. One of the fiercest warriors you'll ever meet. (Blamire kicks open the door to an antechamber, finding nobody inside.) If I do say so myself. (Shakes his head:) Two brothers, two different paths. (Calling out louder in question:) I assume he's dead now? Killed by you or your people no doubt. No matter. Henry's chosen path turned him soft. It's only on the battlefield that a man can truly know his worth. Something Lincoln found out the hard way. (At the mention of Lincoln's name, Octavia finally pokes her head out of her hiding place.) His love for you is what caused his downfall. His quest to provide a life of peace for you is what made him weak. (Octavia steps out and stands in front of Blamire:) He forgot what it is to be a man." Octavia: "Lincoln was a thousand times the man you could ever hope to be." Blamire: (Ignores this:) "He begged me for his life. He pleaded with me to be allowed one last chance to see you again. Did he make it?" Octavia: "He died protecting complete strangers from your army. Lincoln was the bravest man I knew." Blamire: (Nods:) "Brave, perhaps. Stupid, most definitely. You on the other hand, just look what his death has turned you into. You're filled with rage and bloodlust, just like I was. I can train you into something the world will fear." Octavia: "I fight for Lincoln's memory. Once you're dead my fighting days are over." Blamire: (Nods:) "Such wasted potential. (Raises his sword:) So be it." (Blamire roars and charges Octavia who draws Indra's sword and emits her own blood-curdling yell as the two warriors engage in battle.)

Nottingham Castle. Interior corridor. (The Nightwatchman runs through the wide corridor, the Sheriff hot on her heels.) Sheriff: "Enough of this, Marian. While I'll admit it's been fun chasing down and killing all your friends, it's time to stop. (The Nightwatchman stops and turns to face the Sheriff.) You've had a terrible shock, your true love has died and you're lashing out, I get that. (Drawing his sword:) Now, take off your mask. Seeing as I missed Robin's, I think it only right that I see your face as you die." Marian: (Removing her mask:) "There's just one problem with that, Sheriff." Sheriff: (Grinning:) "Really, and what's that?" Robin: (Appearing from behind a pillar:) "Sorry to disappoint you, Vaisey. (The Sheriff winces and closes his eyes. As the Sheriff turns to face him:) As you can see, I'm not actually dead." Sheriff: (Grimaces:) "Indeed." Robin: "Marian, if you'll excuse us?" (Marian nods, her expression neutral. Though she knows this is how things must be, Marian can't help but worry about Robin's condition after his near death experience. Nevertheless, Marian turns, opens the door behind her and leaves both men to their fate.)

The Great Hall. (Despite putting up a brave fight, Marcus and the three outlaws have been subdued by the Prince's remaining Elite guards.) Prince John: "So this was your grand plan was it? Disguise yourselves as my guard and take me hostage? Pathetic. (Pointing at Clarke:) You and your meddlesome mother shall be taken to the Tower of London. Locked away where no one can free you so that I can be free to rule England how I see fit!" (As the Prince throws his arms up in the air in celebration, a familiar battle cry is heard. Sailing down from the balcony, dual swords in hand, is Lexa. Slicing into two of the Elite guards as she descends and killing two more as she lands, the Commander turns and smiles at Clarke.) Clarke: "Lexa?!" (Turning back towards the Elite guards, her swords extended in front of her, Lexa quickly cuts down four more assailants. The two remaining guards charge her but soon meet the same grisly fate. Upon plunging her sword into the abdomen of the last guard, Lexa surveys the room ready for anything. While the Commander's attention is on Clarke, the Prince attempts to flee the Hall. Just as his hand reaches the door, Abby slaps it away. The annoyance on the Prince's face is quickly replaced by shock as Abby reels back and punches John squarely in the nose.)

(The Prince is rocked by the blow and stumbles over one of his slain guards. Prince John takes in this latest development and points accusingly at Lexa.) Prince John: "You are a liar and a snake! (To the room at large:) She'll betray you all, just like she betrayed me, you mark my words!" (As Lexa twirls her swords menacingly the Prince reaches down and grabs a discarded sword from the floor. The Commander smiles, baring her teeth at the thought of eliminating the Prince. She and Prince John both raise their swords. As the Prince strikes first and Lexa blocks, they circle each other. Lexa advances and spins, swinging her sword low at the Prince’s legs. The Prince jumps but only just. As he lands, Lexa expertly disarms him leaving the Prince completely defenseless. Yet before she can finish him, Clarke calls out to her again.) Clarke: “Lexa, stop!” (As all eyes turn to Clarke, the Prince seizes his opportunity and runs. Tripping and slipping over the bloody floor on his way out. The Commander sheathes her swords and rushes to Clarke who has her hand outstretched. Clarke gently caresses Lexa’s face, almost in disbelief that she’s really there. Finally, they embrace with everyone looking on, still stunned by what’s just happened.)

Interior corridor. Robin: “Give it up, Vaisey. You’re out of options.” Sheriff: “On the contrary dear boy. I have precisely one card left to play.” Robin: (Looking around:) “Yeah? And what’s that?” Sheriff: (Spreading his arms wide:) “This of course. How I always knew it would end. You and me. Might vs Right, the light against the darkness. The final battle between good and evil.” (Vaisey draws his sword.) Robin: (Smiling, walking over to a torch and hanging his bow on the sconce:) “You want to fight me to the death, no tricks?” Sheriff: “No tricks. Just you and me and my…(the Sheriff pulls a dagger from behind his back and hurls it. Robin deftly catches it, looks to Vaisey and throws the blade away.) En garde!” Robin: ‘Thanks for the warning.“ (The Sheriff lashes out at Robin, and they begin a ferocious sword fight. They work their way from one corridor into another. The Sheriff kicks Robin, and Robin drops to a knee. Robin blocks an overhead strike and pushes Vaisey away from him. Robin swings his sword at the Sheriff; the Sheriff retreats. The Sheriff ducks behind a pillar and the sword hits it. The Sheriff stabs at Robin; Robin ducks aside. The Sheriff swings and Robin ducks. The Sheriff holds it overhead and Robin grabs his arm, then elbows him in the head. A punch to the face disarms Vaisey and sends him down. Robin grits his teeth stands over him, holding the point of his sword down.) Robin: “Now where were we? Oh yes, this is for all the lives you’ve ruined…for all the people you’ve killed.” (Robin changes his grip on his sword and holds it over the Sheriff. Robin hesitates as he looks down at the pathetic, beaten man beneath him. Slowly he withdraws his sword.) Robin: ”No. Killing you now would be too easy, too quick for a man like you.“ (Robin turns and walks back towards his bow. The Sheriff, getting his feet underneath him, slides along the floor and pushes himself up using a pillar.) Sheriff: (Warily, smiling:) "You’re not going to kill me?” Robin: (Grabbing his bow:) “Not without a trial and certainly not by depriving the people of Nottingham of the sight of your humiliation.” Sheriff: “Ah. (Raising his eyebrows then smiles:) You know, I do believe you’re right, Hood. It would be a crime for me not to receive a trial, to escape true justice.” Robin: “I’m glad we agree, now come on.” Sheriff: “Yes, a man of my greatness deserves a trial to be seen by as many people as possible. Perhaps I can convince Prince John curtail my execution into a simple banishment, hm? I hear Kingsbridge is looking for a new Sheriff. What do you think, Hood? (Robin glares at Vaisey, already beginning to regret his decision.) You know what’s surprising, Robin? The fact that after everything, after all the lives I’ve taken, all the pain I’ve caused, you have not even maimed me. (Smirks and walks towards Robin.) Surely I deserve at least that, hm? (Robin frowns, remembering when these words were first spoken in a conversation that feels so long ago.) Remember those three arrows, Robin? The three arrows you could not bring yourself to sink deep into my skull? (The sheriff chuckles:) Oh such good times, Hood! And the question still remains the same.” Robin: “And what’s that?” Sheriff: “That even after I killed King Richard, perhaps you secretly know that I’m right?” (At the mention of Richard’s name, Robin’s thoughts clear. He reaches over his shoulder and draws out an arrow, nocking it as he speaks.) Robin: “There was a moment just now where I actually felt sorry for you, Vaisey. Thank you for reminding me just how vile… (Robin draws the arrow back and releases it, quickly pulling another from his quiver.)… loathsome… (A second arrow hits its mark.)…and evil you are.” (Drawing a third arrow and letting it fly. The Sheriff stands stock still, eyes wide in astonishment. Vaisey looks down at the three arrows now protruding from his chest. The Sheriff looks up again at Robin, his mouth moving as if to say something, then falls heavily onto his back. Picking up his sword and re-sheathing it, Robin walks slowly towards the Sheriff. Grabbing a torch from the wall he leans down and brings the light close to Vaisey’s face. Upon checking for any signs of life he finds none. Breathing a sigh of relief, Robin collapses into a seated position beside the dead man.)

The Great Hall. (Having driven off most of the Prince's forces, everyone is gathered in the Great Hall. Clarke, Abby and Lexa stand talking on the raised platform while Marian and Djaq stand with Allan, Will & Much. The villagers stand with Lexa's warriors conversing about a battle well fought. All eyes turn slowly towards the doors as Octavia, covered in blood, walks into the Hall. When she reaches Indra, she stops and draws the sword from her scabbard, presenting it to her mentor. Indra takes it and places it back in her own.) Indra: "Lincoln would be so proud of you." (Octavia nods once then collapses into Indra's arms. Marcus rushes over to aid the exhausted woman, Djaq following in his wake.) Castle Dungeons. (Running for his life and panicking, the Prince finds himself in the dungeons. Realising his error far too late, his exit is blocked by a tall dark figure. Backing away from the man, Prince John turns and attempts to run the other way only to find his path blocked once more. Slowly, as each man walks into the torchlight, we see Prince John's fears realised.) Prince John: "I was told you were dead, both of you!" Robin: (Smirks:) "Don't believe everything you hear." (Caught between a rock and a hard place, the Prince finally throws his hands up in frustration.) Prince John: "But this is my wedding day!" Gisborne: (Raising his sword higher:) "Congratulations, brother." (The Prince's eyes widen at this realisation as Robin laughs.)

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