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ashs-random-writing · 1 year ago

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a burning feeling

Chapter two

Ao3

When Patton, a young-ish human, feels drawn to the mountains that house dragons, he doesn't know why he follows the feeling.

He definitely doesn't know why the dragons seem so... protective

Logan watched the little sprite as it curled up around the spikes protruding from his head. It seemed to be sound asleep. The action had rendered him immobile for how ever long it decided to sleep for (which could be anywhere between an hour or twelve hours)

He smiled, pushing away the thoughts. It was good that the sprite was seeking warmth, regardless of the inconvenience it caused him. Regardless, Virgil was sure to laugh at him.

Logan closed his eyes, deciding that perhaps he should nap with the sprite. Besides, Virgil was guarding exits, so it’s not like it could escape whilst he was sleeping. When he awoke, it was still near him, though it was trying to climb behind something, now.

Logan sighed, going to get it. It had done this kind of thing a multitude of times in the past two weeks or so it had been living here, Virgil hypothesised that it was some kind of game it was trying to play

Logan walked closer, quietly, noting the noises it was making sounded like happy noises, though distinctly muffled. He found his way behind the large pile of things and gently nudged it out

It made more of those happy noises, louder this time and started running towards Virgil’s side of the cave. Logan supressed a smile, and went to chase it.

It ended up in Virgil’s grasp before he caught it

Virgil looked at him with a strange expression, like he was trying to stop himself from laughing and make himself look serious

Logan’s scales shifted, and he hesitantly looked up

Virgil sighed, the little one’s clothing still dangling in his mouth. It was wriggling, like it was trying to get to the ground

“Since when am I the responsible one? It’s supposed to be watched at all times”

Logan huffed a little smoke, and gave his friend a small glare

“It was playing the hiding game it likes, and then ran away. I was trying to catch it” He shook his head

Virgil carried the little sprite back to its nest, placing it down, and nudging it back to the middle every time it tried to climb back out

“Sorry, little one. You’re too energetic for today, and it’s too risky to let you out for now” he said, though the little sprite couldn’t understand enough to know to stop climbing.

Virgil left to guard the entrance again

Logan curled around the nest and watched the little thing climb. If it kept climbing, and Logan kept putting it back, it was sure to tire itself out eventually

Logan thought about perhaps finding other games for it to play. Ones that didn’t involve running or hiding, possibly.

Soon would be a new moon, a night where all magic bloomed. Logan wasn’t sure what would happen to the little one (what had been happening to the little one) if its spark didn’t ignite.

Hopefully it would ignite within a few months. He didn’t want it to be ill, or sad, or hurt.

It stopped climbing after a while, leaning against the side of the nest. Logan gently nudged it, just enough to test its warmth. It was a lot warmer than it was when it first showed up, but not warm enough to ignite

He waited until it fell asleep and went to go find Virgil. Virgil was good at watching the little sprite, and Logan wasn’t as good. Logan and Virgil decided that Virgil would watch the sprite for a while and Logan would hunt and guard entrances

Logan emerged from the cave, looking down towards the human town. The humans were rarely ever out of their homes when he was, and tonight was no exception. He looked out at the little structures they made for themselves and let his thoughts wander.

He didn’t take too long to get food, and was back to the cave before the sprite even woke up.

He was careful not to wake it up before it awoke naturally; sleep was an incredibly important step in the healing process it was going through. It needed to gain all the energy it hadn’t been able to produce whilst it was living with humans

It was progressing slowly, but that was better than no progress at all. Logan knew what would have happened had it not sought them out, and he knew that it was still a risk.

He had to be aware of its progress and if it got worse at any point. He curled up next to the nest and his friend.

Virgil was watching every thing, every possible entrance, and Logan let him. It wasn’t often that being overly cautious was bad, especially not with a child to be watching out for. He absently watched the flickering shadows on the wall across from the fire pit. What colour would the little sprite’s flames be?

By the time the new moon came around, Logan was ready to forfeit any celebration in case the little one needed him. Which, as he found out, it did.

It became unwell, that evening, prompting Logan and Virgil to take care of it. It was cold again, and it was crying, an upsetting sound that Logan would rather never hear again. He gently nudged it, lifting it out of the nest, and closer to his own body warmth. Virgil lied next to him, also providing warmth for the sprite

It was still crying, though quieter, and less. Logan didn’t enjoy knowing that it had gone through this before, alone. Virgil was clicking out soothing noises. It mimicked the noises quietly, and leant against Logan’s chest

Logan draped his wing over it and looked at his friend

“I think it will fall asleep soon, what should we do?”

Virgil looked at him

“We let it rest, and we carry on helping”

Patton still didn’t understand most of the draconic language.

He still didn’t understand why he was there. They were nice to him, and he wasn’t really being held captive in most ways. Mostly, he found that they seemed almost concerned about him. He couldn’t figure out why.

He still played games with them, and they still kept him warm, and Patton was feeling better than he even knew people could feel. He felt stronger, less sickly. The dragons kept him in ways that made him stronger

He didn’t understand how. All the reports of dragons kidnapping other humans didn’t mention them getting stronger the more they stayed with dragons

Now, he was ill. He became ill every month, usually on the new moon. All the healers he had seen had hypothesised that it was some kind of curse. This was the weakest version of the curse, now that he was with the dragons. He was crying from the pain, still and he was shivering and he was freezing, but he had been a lot worse the month before.

The dragons kept him close, and they shared their warmth with a few clicks that he was sure was meant to be reassuring. He mimicked them quietly, his sobs fading out. He leant against one of the dragons, though he didn’t know which one. A wing covered him, protecting him, and he started to sleep while the dragons conversed above him.

When he woke up, the purple dragon was curled around him, the blue one doing something near the nest. Patton still felt ill, though not as much. He stood up, ignoring the pain settled in his chest. The purple dragon shifted slowly, turning their head to look at him. Patton smiled, looking at the eye that was half the size of him

He greeted them, and they greeted him back, gently picking him up. He wriggled, still not used to the feeling of being carried like that. He was set down closer to the nest, and both dragons started talking to each other. Patton sat down, deciding that he wasn’t in the right state to try play a game. He didn’t know how long he just sat there, but after a while he was lifted back into the nest, and he looked up

The nest was warmer now, and Patton laid down.

It was a few days later when anything really changed. He had woken up like normal, the dragons greeted him as normal, he played a game with them. And then, there was a noise from the front of the cave, by the entrance. Patton tilted his head, trying to think what it could be.

The dragons looked at each other, and said something quickly, before Patton was lifted into the nest. Patton tried to think what could possibly be happening, as the purple dragon rushed to the front of the cave

Patton looked up at the blue dragon, who seemed almost nervous. Patton hummed in thought. There were more noises coming from the mouth of the cave, including roaring. Okay, Patton was getting concerned now.

What could possibly have been happening out there? He attempted to climb out of the nest, but Blue pushed him back, more frantic than usual. And now he was really concerned. He tried again, before sitting on the floor of the nest and giving up.

He was tired.

—

Tag list: @a-chilly-pepper

#sanders sides gt #sanders sides fic #sanders sides story #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides au #sanders side fic #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders sides #dragon virgil #dragon Logan

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rainbow-sparks · 3 years ago

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Robot Gregory Theory

+ evidence to disprove it, sorry.

•

-alright going way back to FNaF 4, before Crying Child dies someone is talking to him most of the fandom has agreed this person is his father, William Afton (yellow text not gray that's Micheal in case you aren't aware).

he says he will 'put him back together' now if we take that literally and say he made a robot version of CC that would make sense, that's why he pulled the plug on CC (after he finished talking the kid dies, that can't be a coincidence). it's to transfer his soul into the animatronic when it's created (but this is early into this so he doesn't really know how possesion works).

-Gregory could have been what's in the box??

-the "I feel you are broken." isn't actual evidence, it was changed from "I detect blood, you are bleeding." to that because the game rating I guess (which actually could disprove this theory but Charlie has also bled as a robot so :/).

-Gregory has no problem talking to Freddy before he has to say his name but as soon as he was asked about that he seemed hesitant before studdering Gregory (like he just thought of it) so that might not even be his name, I mean it has been confirmed souls forget "Dead people forget. All they know is that you are here, trying to take away their happiest day. you are intruders." so they may even forget their name.

-both boys look a little similar (not much you can tell from 8-bit/pixels though). both wear a two striped shirt, both have brown hair that is out of their face with only a bit falling in front of their face, both seem to be around the same age (10-12), ect.

-the screen turns static when Vanny is near/when he is caught.

-he's running around a huge building as a young kid and never mentions once that he's tired, hungry, thirsty, ect(?).

-he's homeless too and if he really is a robot of Crying Child then that would be why, his whole family is dead.

things to disprove these:

-hasn't it been practically proven Crying Child possessed Fredbear/Golden Freddy?

-G!Freddy is a robot it mught just be that he sees wounds as being 'broken' and needing a repair (first aid). also the rating of the game :/.

-maybe he got nervous because now he standing face to face with a animatronic that basically towers over him, he's as tall as like an 8 year old (also he's being hunted by a security guard. right there is a giant window she could just peek through and see him, he is no longer in his little hideaway space so he could be a little panicky).

-brown hair is 2nd most common hair colour and brown eyes are most common eye colour.

you can barely tell if that even is really what CC's hair style looks like.

CC might even have black eyes like how every other character in FNaF 4 has there eye colour (Pigtail Girl: green, Toy Gal/Girl: dark blue, ect. he has black eyes on his sprite.)

CC's hair is more curled(?), Gregory has straight hair.

it's just a shirt..also there different colours.

-that is a common horror game mechanic, also it's been here since game 1, also also it was probably added to help you know when Vanny is near/slow you down (because you can't see well) when Vanny is near and you get caught. also AGAIN because the rating (and just generally I guess) they can't/wouldn't want to show Gregory being murdered :/.

-adrenaline and fear. that's all I have to say for that one.

-Vanny could be going after specifically homeless kids because then they'll be reported as missing way later if ever (also those hide outs could have been a different kids and not just Gregory's idk).

-why didn't William try to also control Gregory when he was with Freddy?

#gregory fnaf #crying child fnaf #robo!gregory theory #security breach #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #I do not know who came up with this theory first sorry #song for today: All Dolled Up by The Orion Experience it's very gender/pos

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sinnaminsuga · 4 years ago

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(GIF was sent to me by a friend so i'm not sure of the owner! if it's you let me know so i can credit you!)

Title: Be Gentle With Him

Summary: just some soft geralt. he deserves the world.

Word Count: 1,130

A/N: hello! this idea just popped up in my head and the lovely @wendimydarling encouraged me to write it out! wendi i cant thank you enough for being so sweet to me and always being there for whatever dumb questions i have 😂💕

Tags: @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @infinite-shite @inlovewithhisblueeyes @october505 @hope-to-hell @littlefreya @viking-raider @the-soot-sprite @raspberrydreamclouds @thelastsock @connieisland @nuggsmum @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @geek-eat-repeat @oddsnendsfanfics @oddduckthatgirl @feralrunaway @its--fandom--darling @madbaddic7ed

(if i missed you let me know or if you want to be removed also let me know! ☺️💛)

This hunt had been particularly grueling. I knew by the way Geralt had come limping to my front door in much worse shape than when he’d left. Seeing him in such a state threw me into nurture mode and I pulled the large man through the door of my cottage just as I had many times before. Silently Geralt slumped into a chair at my kitchen table as I began to fix him a proper meal while also collecting the things I’d need to soothe whatever ailments he most likely had brought home with him.

After he was fed and mended, I drew a bath. There was no doubt that his muscles were sore and tired, the man was a monster hunter for god's sake. Swinging a sword around and dancing with death every day took a toll on his body no matter how much Geralt wouldn't admit it. I searched through my cabinets of herbs, potions, and elixirs to find the right combination. I began adding my collection of items to a bowl, under the watchful gaze of the witcher. Almond, chamomile, and lavender oils joined dried calendula and rose petals in the bowl. After adding a dash of red clover blossoms, I made my way back to the tub to turn off the faucet. I retrieved the bowl and scattered its contents into the water, the inviting scent eventually taking over the room.

Geralt sat in the corner, still silent, but observing. Once the bath preparation was finished I made my way to him and slowly started ridding him of his clothing, and he just let me. When he was fully undressed, I removed my own clothing and stepped into the tub, motioning for him to join me. I sat with him between my legs, and began gently washing his broad body. He hummed every now and then as the cloth travelled over his skin and I found myself smiling a little, happy that he was finally letting me take care of him. I scrubbed his scalp and hair with a mixture I’d concocted, effectively stripping the dirt and grime from him.

When I'd finished cleaning Geralt I tugged him back to lay against my chest. He needed to rest and I was determined to help him. We layed there in the steaming water, my hands tracing his shoulders and digging into the muscles of his strong neck every so often, peppering soft kisses over his exposed skin and now clean hair. Suddenly his breathing became uneven and his shoulders slumped against me. I softly tilted his head so I could see his face and that's when I saw. He was crying. Geralt of Rivia, the mighty White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was crying in my arms. The offending briny liquid slipped down his cheeks in what seemed to be a constant flow and he attempted to tear his amber gaze away from my face, but I wasn't having it. “Geralt, sweetheart, speak to me.” I said landing a kiss to his forehead.

“It seems to be becoming increasingly more difficult to leave you, little dove.” He spoke quietly. “And I know I must go. I have to provide for you somehow. But my heart longs to be here, with you. And it's making me clumsy. I’m so wrapped up in thoughts of you and my desire to return home, that I miss things. I never miss things, little dove. Never. I let a monster get the drop on me because I was too busy planning my route home. I don't think I can keep doing it. But then I think “what use would she have for me if I was around all the time?”. You’ll grow tired of me dove, I know you will. And then what? What's this old witcher to do then hmm?” He finished speaking and sniffed a few times before attempting to turn away again.

Bracing my hands on both sides of his face, I forced Geralt to look at me again. “Now you listen here good sir. I will never grow tired of you. Never. Do you know how many nights I've spent laying awake, wishing you weren't out there in harm's way? How much I wished you would return home days early?” I said, fingertips brushing over his cheek. “You don't have to do this Geralt. I’d take you as a monster hunter or a farmer or a stableman. It doesn't matter to me. We’ll find a way to get by no matter what you choose to do. Your mother stole that choice from you long ago and I won't be involved in doing that to you for a second time. You can be whatever you want. As long as you're mine.” I whispered into his hair. “Come now. The water is getting cold.” I said, moving to extract us both from the now tepid water.

The conversation in the bath seemed to be cathartic for Geralt and he was in a much better mood, teasing me as I dressed and tickling me whenever I passed by him. “Would you mind doing something about this, little dove?” He asked shyly, a small smile gracing his beautiful face as he gestured to his fresh clean hair. I nodded emphatically and grabbed a brush and some small thin leather strips from my drawer, then made myself comfortable on the bed while directing Geralt to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. He grabbed a book from my shelf and made himself comfortable. “Read to me Geralt.”

I started slowly and gently detangling his long hair. Parting it down the middle, I listened as his voice rumbled out the words from the book in his big hands. I couldn't help but marvel at his hair, it truly was beautiful. Soft and silky, it slipped through my fingers like rays of moonlight. The more I toyed with the strands, the more I could feel him leaning into my touch, happy and comfortable. I continued to part and weave his hair into two wide braids, tying off the ends with the leather strips. A few wispy pieces too short to stay anchored within the braids, framed his face and curled around his ears. I slid out from behind him and knelt between his open legs, my hands holding his cheeks. “So beautiful. Truly.” I whispered as my eyes roamed his face, meticulously committing the sight of his blushing cheeks and wide smile to my memory. Before I could do anything else, Geralt pulled me up from my kneeling position and cradled me in his lap.

“You make me want to be a softer man little dove. A kinder man. I think that is what I shall become. A better man. For you.”

THE END

#mine #henry cavill #the cavillry #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #henry cavill fanfic #geralt

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years ago

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Sweetest of Exiles - Two

A/N: The response to this little story has been insane! Thank you all so much for your kind words, it means the world to me. I hope you continue to like this very self-indulgent fic that has grown to be one of my favorite things I’ve written (even if most of it was written while sipping sprite+merlot).

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no Y/N), Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Warnings for this Chapter: MORE MAGIC!, Angst, blood and a bit of gore, not super-descriptive smut, Oberyn sometimes uses sex to make people smile. And it works. I once again wrote and “edited” this while sipping wine. All mistakes will probably not be edited. If you want to read more about Oberyn being in love with love, check out @pettyprocrastination and her wonderful hc’s about our favorite prince here!

Word Count: 7.6k (oops)

(banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites)

CHAPTER TWO: The Prince

Oberyn was only slightly amused when he heard the unmistakable sound of Pero grumbling (growing steadily louder) and a feminine reply (remaining calm and level, much to Oberyn’s delight) carry on for nearly the entire night before reaching a crescendo of an annoyed huff and a slammed door.

It would seem few people would actually sleep that night.

“She sounded pleased to see you.”

“Shut up, princeling.”

Oberyn only laughed.

When the sun came up the next day and the small company was ready to depart the ruined castle, Oberyn found himself beside the Magistrate, Orestes, as they set off toward Myr. Pero was leading the caravan while the lady—to whom Oberyn still hadn’t been formally introduced—was sequestered away in a carriage they had found in the castle’s stables. Orestes had muttered something about that it was one of the carriages of their original traveling party but no one seemed to care much. All of the men in their company kept their distance from the small carriage, strangely wary of getting too close.

All of it was so odd to Oberyn. He did not seem to feel what the other men were feeling. The all-too-brief glimpse he had stolen had proven she was a woman—beautiful and bloody—but not some formidable monster to fear.

If anything, the prince would have described her as delicate. Beautiful, obviously, but delicate.

A sudden shout from the back of the company had almost everyone turning to see a wave of fire encase the last standing spire of the castle before bleeding into the rest of the ruins. Oberyn’s dark gaze caught movement from the carriage; a hand slipping back into the shadows behind the curtains, skin dripping with something-

“Strange, is it not?” Orestes asked, looking at the fire. “Perhaps one of the men left a torch burning.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement but did not forget the strange sight of her hand slipping away just as the fires reached its crescendo. “Tell me about your lady, Magistrate. I have not had the pleasure of being introduced, yet.”

And Orestes quickly did, regaling the prince with tales of his time in Qohor and how Lord Ollo had been kind if not cold but his daughter was warm and welcoming and always ready to host him for a meal at their manse in the forest. “But it seems that the people of Qohor know very little about them aside from their names and how much power they can wield and how much gold they kept. They whisper that her mother was a sorceress, devoted to the god of Qohor and trained in Asshai. Gifted in magicks and all things arcane.”

“Have you not met her?”

Orestes shook his head. “Dead before I came to Qohor. And no one seems to be willing to speak of it. Tovar has met her, to my knowledge. My lady has told me that her mother used to bring him sweets after running around the forest outside their manse, gathering kindling for her hearth.”

“She spoke to you of Tovar?”

“Briefly, only a handful of times. Truly, until I met him, I did not make the connection of her childhood friend Pero and Tovar. She seems to guard their time together like a secret.”

“As does Tovar.”

Orestes turned his head to look at him, dark brows knitted together. “Does he not speak of her? If I held her notice for even a moment, I would never stop speaking of the time I basked in her attention. For it truly is a gift.”

Oberyn had to keep himself from smiling at the sound of unadulterated awe and obvious adoration of the magistrate’s voice. It was almost pathetic. But it was refreshing to know that at least someone was completely aware and proud of their feelings. Not that Oberyn was disappointed in Pero…right?

“She truly is someone to be treasured.” Orestes sighed and Oberyn bit back another laugh. “But, you said you have not been introduced? I thought surely Tovar would have made introductions. Then again, I thought I had hit my head when I first saw you together—seeing double.” He laughed. Oberyn did not. “May I introduce you?”

Oberyn easily found Pero’s form through the crowd and sighed. Stubborn man. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

The pair slowed their horses’ pace to flank the carriage and Orestes knocked at the carriage door as it rumbled along the old road. The half-torn curtain across the window slid away and the woman leaned her head out, greeting them with a smile. She looked far better than she had the last time Oberyn had seen her. Gone was the blood and the swelling had left her face—truly, if he did not know what state she had been found in, Oberyn would have just thought her a bit tired from her travels. Curious.

“My lady, I hope we have not disturbed your rest.”

“Of course not, Orestes. You know I welcome our little chats.”

Orestes cheeks bloomed with a blush and he ducked his chin for a moment. “As I treasure yours, my lady. But I would be remiss if I did not introduce you to Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell.” Orestes waved a hand toward him as he said her name, calling her The Lady of the Dark Wood.

Strange, Oberyn thought. Petal suited her much better.

She leaned a little further out of the small window and smiled at him. “You are far from Dorne, my prince.”

“You know of my country?” He asked. It was rare that someone from Essos knew much of Westeros aside from a few of the cities and trading ports.

Her smile widened and she looked radiant. “Only from my books. I would love to hear more, if you are welcome to the idea.”

“I am always happy to tell others of the beauty of my home.”

“Perhaps we could compare our homes,” Orestes interjected, his eyes narrowed just a touch as he looked at Oberyn before turning to smile at her.

She hummed, acknowledging Orestes, before her eyes cut back to Oberyn with some unspoken twinkle in her gaze. “I should like to hear of your home when we make camp.”

And she made good on her easily-dismissible comment, searching him out when they made camp that night. They were still a day’s ride from Myr Pero had commanded they stop for the night, not wanting to ride in the dark (and then the man all but disappeared with a handful of other men to search for something to hunt for the evening meal.)

She slipped from the carriage as the small band of men made camp and even helped one of the younger ones stabilize one of the poles on the muddied ground that surrounded them. The boy gave her a half-tilted smile in return and then hurried to finish the work for his tent.

Oberyn smiled as she approached, looking near-ethereal despite the bloodied wrappings around her arms and legs, peeking out from between her fine gown. He had just about finished setting up his tent and—just for a moment��lost his concentration as he watched her come closer. And the rope in his hand suddenly slipped from his grip, and the grounding stake scratched against his palm and tore at his skin.

The tent’s wall flapped in the wind until he grabbed it again and quickly righted the stake.

“Are you hurt?” Without waiting for his answer, she took his hand with a hum rumbling at the back of her throat. “It is not too deep.” Her dexterous fingers slid over the wound and he bit back a small hiss of pain. Blood oozed and she did not move her gaze from the wound as her fingers carefully bracketed the cut. “You will heal.” She pressed the small bit of blood between her thumb and forefinger, swirling it around to coat her skin, almost absentmindedly. Circling, circling, circling until it was only a thin coat of crimson on the pads of her fingers. A long breath pushed out from between her lips. “Most interesting.”

“What is?” He barely noticed that the sting from the wound lessened as soon as she pulled back.

She looked up at him and then wiped his blood against her skirts with a small smile, revealing nothing. “I hope you do not mind if I came to you before camp was settled.”

“Of course not, my lady. I am sure your company is much more pleasant than my brothers in arms.” He fastened the last tie on the tent and then held the flap back for her, silently inviting her inside.

The furnishings were a little grander than some of the other men’s belongings, but still probably far less than what she was accustomed to, if her fine dress (and Orestes’ constant blathering about her home) indicated. But she settled on his small, elevated bedroll without hesitation and patted the blanket next to her.

“I am sure you have many stories of your adventures. I hope you do not mind if I hoard your time for the evening.”

Oberyn couldn’t help but smile as he sat beside her after making sure the tent flap was tied open, allowing her to keep her propriety. He glanced down at his hand to see the cut seemed…like it had been healing for a handful of days already. He had seen stranger things—had read stranger still during his time at the Citadel. But this—she—was something to behold.

“But it seems you have stories to tell me too, my lady.”

Her smile widened. “You’re a bit more observant than your companions.” She leaned forward and, just for a moment, Oberyn caught a glint in her eye that made him think of a caged lion. But then it was gone. “What would you know?”

They spoke throughout the night, only leaving each other’s sides for a moment to retrieve a bit of food to sate their hunger, before retreating back to his tent. (Oberyn noticed how she, ever so briefly, sought to find Pero in the crowd and found nothing but unfamiliar faces before she turned back to him.) They spoke of everything—of their childhoods, their cultures, their parents, of their losses. But Oberyn knew she was waiting for him to ask the question he had, biding his time. And he noticed how she would easily skirt around Pero’s presence and absence in her life.

His dark eyes flittered down to the wound on his hand—now almost completely healed. When she caught him looking at it, she smiled over the rim of the wine jug she had produced from the depths of one of her trunks in the carriage.

“Ask, my prince. I know you want to.”

“How?” He asked simply.

Her smile widened and she handed him the jug. “You must be more specific. That question has many answers.”

Oberyn huffed, fighting a smile, and held up his hand. “The Maesters of Westeros have long said magic was all but gone from the world. It died with the last dragon, they said. And here you are, alive and well.”

She laughed, a light sound that had him laughing, too. “I am not magic incarnate, my prince. But it is true, most magic has been tied to dragons, to the wills of men who eventually shunned it for other things. But there are a few who have been blessed by they who watch.”

“The gods,” Oberyn said, knowing what she was saying. He took a quick gulp of wine before setting the jug aside, wanting to focus on her and the glint in her beautiful eyes.

She nodded and then reached out to take her hand in his. “Every gift comes with a price. Mine has been paid in blood and it requires constant recompense. I have touched your blood. You have paid a price. I must give you something in return.” Her smile was gentle as her finger traced the healed wound. “You have a great love ahead of you, my prince.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Have the gods found someone who will tame me?”

“Not tame you. No, no. They will never stifle or control you. Theirs is a gentleness to balance your wrath.”

“When will I meet them?”

She shook her head and pulled back her touch, leaving a cold spot on his skin. “I cannot see dates or years. I simply…see what I am allowed.”

“Have you seen Pero?”

Her answering smile was small—she did seem fond of smiling. “I have. Often. Even without the blood price, I would see him in my dreams. I dreamt of him the night he left, you know. And the night before he came again. A quiet comfort, to be sure. I had been selfish in year before, calling on the blood to show me his face, just show me his face, so I could know that he is well.”

And, just for a moment, Oberyn thought of a love-struck woman trying to catch a glimpse of her lover’s face in a crowded ballroom. But then he remembered what she had said—what Pero had said. “He left you?”

“Yes.” She said it so simply and it seemed to echo in his chest. “In the middle of the night. The day before my nameday, too.” She hummed. “A cruel present, my father called it.”

“Did he ever-”

“Tell me why? No. And he scarcely met my eye last night and then…” her words died on her tongue. “I am suddenly just a child again. Hoping for the boy I love to notice me.” The next laugh she let out was filled with bitterness. “Did he ever…speak of me?”

And Oberyn was nothing if not honest. “He did not, my lady.”

“Call me Petal. I know you think it suits me more.”

“You do not let the Magistrate call you Petal.”

“No. I do not.” She reached out to him and Oberyn readily placed his hands in hers. “But that can be our little secret, hm? Now, ask me anything. I know you have more questions running through your mind, and they do not involve Pero.”

“True. I do want to know everything about you. But I would be remiss if I did take the chance to ease your heart’s burden.”

“My heart is not burdened, my prince.”

“Call me Oberyn. And do not lie to me.”

She sighed but did not pull her hands from his even as she glanced away from his gaze. “It is silly to think of one person for so long and to know it is not returned or reciprocated. I tried to have him tell me why, last night. Why he left, why he did not care to tell me where he was going. And I only received his ire in return.”

“I do not believe it is ire, Petal,” he said, smiling at the sound of the nickname on his own tongue. It sounded right. “He is a stubborn man. Years of this life may have stifled that heart you knew as a young girl. But I promise you, it is still there. And it beats for you.”

“But are you certain, Oberyn? He has changed so much.”

“As have you, I am sure. But will you deny that your heart has not changed? At least when it comes to our shared companion.”

She shook her head, a smile starting to tilt up her lips once again. “I will not lie to you.” Her hands squeezed his. “You know, when we were children, Pero and I would spend almost all of our waking hours in the forest outside my home when my mother did not insist we attend lessons. The forest is almost always filled with mist and cloud—but that day, the sky itself seemed to want to seek the shelter of the trees. Pero would always count down between rolls of thunder, telling me he would know the exact moment the first bit of rain would fall. It was his gift, he said.”

The tent’s opening was suddenly filled by a dark figure.

Pero looked at him and then at the woman beside him. His dark eyes narrowed for just a moment but even as his face settled into a practiced apathy, Oberyn still saw the hardened gleam in his gaze. “I see you two have been introduced.”

“Join us, Pero,” she said with a hopeful tone. She held out a hand toward him. “I was just telling Oberyn of our time together in the forest—that time when we were caught in the rain-”

“It seems you have told him all that he needs knowing, my lady.” And while there was heat to his words, Oberyn heard the unmistakable hurt in his lover’s tone.

“Pero,” she said, “please.”

But he stepped back and disappeared back into the shadows of the camp.

“Oh,” was all she said before her hand slowly fell back down into her lap.

The sound of her own hurt stabbed at his chest and Oberyn quickly took his hands in hers and kissed her knuckles. He would have words with Pero later. But now, he would leave her alone. Not when he knew she felt so rejected. He would have her smile again. “Do not let him sour your mood, Petal. Am I not able to make you smile, too?”

She smiled, small, but it was still a smile. “I do believe you could rend smiles from stone, Oberyn.”

“Tell me more of Pero. Tell me anything you deem me worthy of knowing. Unburden your heart, at least for a moment.”

And that was when she finally pulled from his grasp and stood, walking to the tent’s opening. “Pero is…moonlight.” She hummed and angled her face up to look at the sliver of the moon. “It is lovely but untouchable.”

“There are stories about the moon being a man—a god—who loved a woman so much he came to this mortal plane to be with her.” Oberyn walked to her side and looked up at the moon, too, trying to see what she saw in that little ball of light.

“I think I’ve heard that myth. It ends sadly, doesn’t it?”

“Not all myths end poorly. Some are tales of hope, requited love, filled with joy.”

“I suppose that is true.” But her gaze did not move from the moon. “I suppose kissing a god would make an unhappy ending worth it, right?”

And she looked near ethereal in that soft light, so beautiful. And the prince always loved beauty. “Tell me, have you ever kissed a prince?”

“There are no princes in Qohor.” She turned from the moon to smile at him.

“Is that a ‘no,’ Petal?”

She laughed. “It is.”

And then Oberyn moved forward and pressed his mouth against her smiling lips. And she tasted so sweet—with a bite of something metallic—as he was able to lick into her wondrous mouth and her hands tugged at his tunic. Eager. His hands gently cupped her face and pulled her ever closer, letting her fall into his lap with another laugh against his mouth.

She was intoxicating.

Her fingers pushed into his hair and tugged just at the base of his neck, coaxing a moan from his throat. He only broke away to catch his breath, knocking his nose against hers and listening to the melodic tone of her breathless giggle. And then she was the one pressing forward to steal another kiss and then another and another.

And the prince would deny her nothing if it meant she smiled at him like that again. But he needed to know. “I am not him, Petal.”

“I know,” she whispered against his mouth. “And, tonight, that makes it all the better.” And she kissed him again.

His hands circled her waist and squeezed, just for a moment, before he reached out just enough to untie the last string on the tent’s flap, closing them off from the rest of the world as her mouth moved against his with ease.

Gently, ever so gently, he pulled at the laces of her grown and set it loose as he held her gaze.

“You may walk away at any time, Petal. Do not feel obligated.”

She shook her head and curled her fingers into his tunic, pulling him forward just a single step. “I am not obligated. I know you and I wish to know you.”

With that express permission, Oberyn took care to undress her slowly, carefully, like she was something holy, something—someone to be treasured. And she was. In the dim light of the tent, he marveled at her soft skin, the breathy sighs that slipped by her lips, and the decadent warmth she exuded as he sunk into her, letting his own sigh escape his mouth. She was magnificent. Her hips undulated in slow, smooth movements and his hands curled over her warm skin, needing to keep her close, to continue to feel her delicious cunt envelope him until he was truly spent.

“You are sublime, Petal.”

She gasped against his mouth as his grip tightened and he took control of her movement, hands tightening around her hips as his hips pistoned, faster and harder and then she was keening against his kiss-swollen lips and he felt her shake, felt her tight channel squeeze around his cock before a cry broke her lips. She threw her head back and his teeth sank into her skin, still chasing his own high. Again and again, his hips slammed into hers and then he was pulling out—just in time. He spilled across the skin of her thighs and stomach, painting her like some obscene canvas.

He leaned down to slant his mouth against hers and felt her smile against his lips.

“Oh, you make such pretty noises, Petal.”

“As do you, my prince. It has been a pleasure of my life to know I’ve caused them.” She gave a breathless laugh as his fingers swirled against the mess, rubbing it into her warm skin like a salve. Another happy sigh slipped by her lips as she reached up, fingers tracing across his chest. “I hurt you.”

He looked down to see four perfectly carved tracks over his heart. “It is nothing, Petal. A badge of honor.” Oberyn leaned down to steal a kiss against her pouting lips. “I will heal.” He murmured it against her lip and laughed when she huffed. “Now sleep. Or would you like me to tire you out?”

Oberyn woke with a start. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with Petal curled over his chest and a bit of sweat cooling on his skin from their third bout of fucking—it had been peaceful and beautiful and wonderful. Waking up to find her crawling over his waist was and settling her weight on his stomach was not an unwelcome surprise but-

She did not look right. Perhaps it was the early morning light filtering in through the folds of the tent but her beautiful eyes were clouded, near milky, and then her clammy hands were grasping at his face, fingers pressing into his cheeks. “Lions and dogs on the wall and blood on stone.”

“Petal,” Oberyn whispered, gazing up into the unnatural depths of her eyes. “Petal, please-”

“The sun screams and is snuffed out.”

He reached up to grasp at her hands and let out a shuddering breath and her eyes shut. “Petal.” She felt cold under his hands. “Look at me.”

Her eyes opened and they were their usual, beautiful shade again. “The sun,” she said. “The sun…”

Oberyn wrapped his arms around her as he sat up on his bedroll, letting her shake in his grasp. “Where did you go, Petal? Tell me.”

She shook her head but sighed as his lips skirted down her shoulder. “You paid the price, my prince. And I gave what was paid for.”

“That was not like before—you were gone. Someone else took inhabited your skin.”

She shook her head. “The higher the price, the stronger the gift.” Her fingers tapped against the marks she had left on his chest.

“Is it always visions?”

She shook her head. “No. Not always.” Her head moved just enough to press another kiss against his shoulder before she stood and grabbed her discarded dress from the tent floor.

The casual way she said it had him thinking of her bloodied hand slipping back between the shades of the carriage just before the ruins were taken by fire. Not always visions, indeed. Oberyn watched her dress for a moment before rising and helping her tighten the lacings on the back. “Tell me. Why does your god demand such high a price?”

She turned to him as he finished and smiled. “I do not question him. He has given me a wonderful, fearsome gift and I will be welcomed by him with open arms when he calls for me.”

Oberyn had heard of the Black Goat worshiped in Qohor. A terrifying, dangerous god of death that some maesters called a demon. A god of death: strong and unwavering. “Why would you spend your life worshipping the end of it?”

“Death begets life begets death. Why should only one be worshipped? A good death is its own reward, is it not?”

Oberyn smiled and let his finger trail down her arm and grasped her hand in a soft grip before raising it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You speak as a warrior, my lady.”

“I am sure you have found most women are warriors in their own ways, my prince.” Her eyes sparkled with some unspoken jape before she pulled her hand out of his grasp.

He grabbed at the silken trail of her skirts like a besotted boy and let the fabric slide across his hands as he watched her leave, surrounded by the first rays of sunlight.

Pero was quiet as Oberyn urged his horse to his side.

“You disappeared last night.”

“What did she tell you?” Pero asked in return, tactlessly dodging Oberyn’s unanswered question.

Oberyn glanced back to see the familiar carriage still at the rear of the traveling party with Orestes keeping pace beside it. “She told me how you were her dearest friend and confidante during her childhood. She told me how you encouraged her gifts despite you not entirely understanding them.” Oberyn paused, watching the barest traces of emotions flicker by Pero’s features. Joy, sadness, fondness, despair—it was all there in the subtle ticks of his brows and the pull of his lips.

“Her father sent me away—three weeks to the day after her mother disappeared,” Pero bit out, hands tightening over his reins.

“For what reason?” Oberyn asked.

“He gave no reason. But he did not need to—it was obvious enough. I was a poor nobleman’s thirdborn son and she…”

Oberyn watched Pero’s face fall for just a moment before he looked away.

“It is of no consequence. She is safe. I have seen her smile again. That is what matters.”

Oberyn had to stop himself from groaning. “Truly, Pero, you are more dramatic than a mummer.”

“Hold your tongue, princeling-”

“She loves you—loves you still. Anyone with eyes can see that.” He paused. “Except for the magistrate, it seems.” Pero huffed but that did not deter the Dornish prince. “Truly, and for someone I trust implicitly to see things I cannot when I have my back turned, you are blind.”

“Enough, Oberyn!”

“No! She cares for you—cares for you even after you treated her poorly and refuse to meet her eye like she is some dirty urchin who attempted to steal your coin.”

“You spend one night with her and suddenly you are her confidante?” He hissed in return. “Just because you have been between her legs does not mean you know her. She is far more than you could ever hope to imagine.”

Oberyn reached out and grabbed Pero’s tunic, hauling him close before he could take his next breath. His horse whined at the sudden jostle of its saddle. “Do not speak of her like that. Do not speak of me like that. You are angry; at yourself, at the world, at the gods. But you do not have the right to shun her gentle smiles and company nor tell me I have used her like a woman in a brothel. We sought each other’s company when you spurned us.” Pero pulled out of his grip but Oberyn did not stop. “She asks for you, about you, every time. You have told me that no one is worthy of her attention or affection—but she has made it abundantly clear that she wishes to have your affections in the way you have garnered hers. She loves you, Pero. Loves you still. Do not run away for her again.”

But Pero only urged his horse faster, setting off toward the city finally coming into view. Oberyn only watched him go with a sigh and turned back to the rest of the company, telling them to ready for their entrance into the city.

Myr was beautiful—but it had been beautiful the last handful of times Oberyn had visited the city with the Second Sons. The city smelled of fresh earth and fresh linens and ink and filled with shining white stone structures and the bazaars were teeming with people selling their wares. Orestes was quick to show them to the ornate stables near the gates, making sure to loudly proclaim that their steeds were to be taken care of as if they belonged to Orestes. The carriage was also carted off and stored, Petal’s trunks quickly carried away by a small fleet of servants.

The Magistrate was instantly greeted like a prince or a king and quickly lauded by the crowds as they stepped out of the stables and closer toward the center of the sprawling city. Oberyn watched Orestes reach out a hand for Petal and she took it with a small smile, letting him pull her along into the crowd toward a large, gleaming building that had bits of greenery trickling up toward the carved windows. A villa, he supposed it was called.

The rest of the company followed Oberyn up the half set of steps and largely ignored the guards posted at the entryway who looked confused at their presence and waffling between barring them entry or simply standing aside. The inside of the villa was just as ornate as the outside, filled with carved columns and opulent stonework. The tapestries and carpets the city was famed for covered the walls and lined the halls and everything smelled of the dye Oberyn knew the Myrish artisans used to create a distinct shade of red.

It was not unpleasant, but a strange smell to be sure.

Orestes seemed uncaring that a group of mercenaries had come into his home and continued to point this or that thing out to her, telling her how much he paid for it or how it was made. And Petal, for her part, did seem interested in the words coming out of the magistrate’s mouth. Her easy smile never faded or turned strained and he heard her ask a question or two in return. Always a perfect lady.

Oberyn found himself smiling when she did, catching her eye when she turned and winking and delighting in the small laugh he earned every time. But then his mood was somewhat soured by the fact that Pero had quickly fallen to the back of the group, as if trying to keep as much distance as possible from Petal.

It hurt him, to see her rejected so openly. Even as Orestes had them all settled into the numerous guest rooms his villa provided and made sure they all had steaming tubs of water brought in for baths, Pero never once tried to slip away to try to find her. He stayed with Oberyn in their shared room, inspecting and re-inspecting his weapons while waiting for Oberyn to finish his bath. Orestes had invited several other magistrates for a celebratory dinner and to show his appreciation to the small mercenary company he had employed—and heartily paid already.

“Are you going to speak to her tonight or continue to sulk like a scolded boy?”

Pero’s head snapped up and he scowled. “I am not sulking.”

The prince only hummed and rose from the water. He felt Pero’s familiar gaze trail down his back and tried not to smirk—knowing the view was being appreciated—and grabbed the fine linen provided to dry off. “You are. And if you do not at least try to speak to Petal tonight, I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

Pero stood, setting aside his weapons and started undressing to ready for his own bath. “Oh? Is that a threat princeling?”

Oberyn wrapped the linen around his waist and turned to face his lover. “Yes.”

When dinner, a veritable feast, was called and everyone was escorted into a large hall, draped with red fabric and gilded statues of snarling lions, Oberyn made certain that Pero was seated beside his lady. This earned him a brief side-eyed glance from the magistrate but Oberyn paid him no mind—he had dealt with far more and was not afraid of the nobleman. He was too busy taking care of the hearts of two people he cared about—the magistrate could pout.

He watched her eyes light up as Pero took his seat and she slowly, ever so slowly, started to pull conversation from the taciturn man while largely pacifying the magistrate with simple answers or anecdotes in response to his longwinded questions or stories. The other magistrates tried to gain Oberyn’s attention but he was too busy trying to guess what the pair were saying to each other from the other side of the room. But he was happy when he saw Pero’s face almost seem to shudder before his lips pulled into the briefest of smiles, aimed only at her as she turned to her plate to stab at another carrot.

“Prince Oberyn, they say Dorne is filled with the finest mounts the world has ever seen. Sandy steeds, they’re called, no?”

“Sand steeds,” Oberyn corrected without looking at the man beside him. “And yes, they are the best in the world. Can run for a day, a night, and another day without faltering.”

“Surely not!” The man guffawed. “Not horse can-”

Oberyn’s head finally snapped to the side at that. “Perhaps the horses on your continent tire easily, but I assure you, the Dornish do not.”

The man at Oberyn’s side looked like he had been slapped. “I meant no offence, your grace.”

“Then take care with your words. I am a lenient man but I may not be so next time you speak out of turn.”

The man’s face somehow paled to a color similar of curdled milk while his neck became a violent shade of scarlet. “O-of course.”

Oberyn, satisfied, turned back his favorite show continue to unfold.

Just before the last course was served—some sweet dish Oberyn only half-enjoyed—Pero smiled again. And Petal smiled with him.

Oberyn could not help his own answering smile from spreading across his face.

The festivities—if Oberyn could even call them that with the level of boredom he had endured for politeness sake—had lasted long into the night and most of the revelry had moved from inside the villa to the sprawling, marbled pools that dotted the grounds. Some of the company took part, never willing to turn down free food and wine, but Oberyn was content to watch everyone else (mostly) enjoy themselves. Petal, unfortunately, had been drawn back to Orestes’ side after the meal had finished and Pero had pouted like a child in the shadows for a moment before taking a plate of food and walking back to his room. The magistrate paraded her around like a prized trophy, making all of his guests wonder at her presence—Oberyn thought, just for a moment, if Orestes even had an inkling of who the woman on his arm was or could become with the right push.

For a few moments, Oberyn entertained himself with a pretty servant girl before letting her go back to her duties after another servant spilt a large jug of wine across the floor and caused a fuss. But during the distraction, Petal managed to slip away from Orestes’ side and met Oberyn in the shadows. He handed her the chalice of wine he had and smiled when she took a large gulp.

“Your magistrate seems fond of you.”

“He is fond of seeming like a hero even you and your men were the ones to rescue me.”

Oberyn plucked the chalice from her hand and polished off the rest of the wine. “I do believe you might have rescued yourself, Petal.”

Her eyes sparkled in the low light and she smiled. Her fingers tugged at the simple belt of fabric around his waist to bring him forward just a few steps, closing the distance between them. Her lips brushed against his and he could taste the wine on her smile.

“You are a good man, my prince. I want you to know that.”

He leaned into her, stealing her breath as he licked into her mouth for just a moment. “And you have another good man waiting for you in our chambers. I shall keep the magistrate busy.”

She hummed and kissed him again before slipping further into the shadows of the villa in search of her moonlight.

Oberyn watched her go with a sigh before plucking another chalice of wine from a servant’s hands and quickly drinking it down. Pero would thank him later, he was sure. And as the moon continued its rise into the starry sky, Oberyn entertained and distracted the magistrate and his guests with stories of Dorne and the sellsword company’s exploits across Essos. Whenever he saw Orestes’ eyes start to wander, looking for his missing companion, Oberyn would start another story and make sure Orestes’ cup was filled. And soon—but not soon enough, in Oberyn’s mind—almost everyone had retired for the rest of the night, needing to sleep off their overfilled stomach or partake in a bit more of a carnal delight in the quiet of their chambers.

Oberyn smiled as he started to find his way toward his chambers and witnessed a few servants taking advantage of their lack of duties to kiss each other slowly in the darkened hallways. A quiet reprieve, well earned.

The halls twisted and turned but Oberyn eventually found the door to his and Pero’s chambers and slowly pushed it open, hoping to not disturb anything that might be transpiring. But he let out a disappointed sigh when he only saw Pero sleeping on the large featherbed. His discarded (and empty) tray was haphazardly placed on the bedside table. At least he was consistent.

Oberyn shed his tunic and slipped beneath the silken blankets, smiling when Pero turned toward him, seeking warmth.

“Where is she?” Pero murmured without opening his eyes.

“Did she not come see you?” Oberyn asked with a frown.

“She was only here for a moment.” The words were slurred on his tired tongue, eyes still not open. “Said she would come back…” The words drifted off and were punctuated by a hearty snore.

Oberyn sighed and pushed his head against the overstuffed pillows. Difficult. They were both so difficult.

For the second time in just as many days, Oberyn woke with a start. But now it was not the welcoming warmth of a woman’s thighs bracketing his own that woke him from sleep.

No. It was the quiet scrape of metal on metal, of hurried footsteps of someone striving to be quiet. Sounds which only meant danger.

Oberyn swept aside the blankets and stood, walking over to the window to see a group approaching, dark hoods and cloaks obscuring their features. One by one, the group moved almost-silently into the villa. Their weapons were drawn and ready; strange, foreign shapes he had never seen before with long handles. Oberyn looked to Pero to see him with his swords already in his hands despite his lack of armor.

Oberyn grabbed his own sword and they both ventured out into the dark hall. Soft sounds of a struggle grew louder and louder with each step they took. A door to their right suddenly burst open and a half-dressed nobleman ran out into the hall. A quick glance into the room showed the bodies of another man and the pretty servant girl Oberyn had kissed only hours before. The hooded forms they had spied earlier had filled the room while more were stalking silently down the hall—they cut down the nobleman before he reached the next turn of the hall.

Oberyn and Pero both turned just in time to skewer a pair of hooded men who were slipping up behind them.

“We have the girl. It is not your life we want,” one of the men said in a strange, strained accent. “Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

Someone—a woman—yelled and their eyes were drawn to her—to Petal—once again in the arms of a man who meant her harm at the end of the hall. But her eyes were not the glassy, tired eyes he had spied only briefly back in the castle ruins. These were alight with…something. Something dark.

There was a short shout and then the unmistakable thud of a body hitting stone. She stood over the corpse, blood dripping from a small wound at her shoulder and more pooling beneath her feet from her would-be kidnapper. It glimmered like black ink in the moonlight.

She moved like water, skirts lifting and pulling as if invisible waves had surrounded her. Slow and steady—deadly, like a rising tide. Words poured from her mouth in a language he did not understand and sounded shrill to his ears.

Pero’s hand on his arm kept him from moving forward.

“She needs-”

“She knows exactly what she is doing, princeling.” Pero’s dark eyes flittered over to her and looked almost…soft and sad. “Let her do what she needs.”

Her hand raised toward the group of men. Their slow steps stopped.

“The demon,” one of them hissed.

Her fingers uncurled, knuckles pointed and skin tight.

One stupid man took a single step toward her, blade held out in front of him. And then the words came again and the man froze, foot hovering over the ground. A terrible scream wrenched its way from the man’s throat. His face purpled. Blood started to spill from the corners of his eyes, his mouth, his ears.

“It was you! You did this!”

“Demon!” another shouted.

Oberyn didn’t understand and he could not take his eyes away from the man starting to convulse in front of him, like some sort of morbid mummer. The convulsions grew faster and faster and the screams he let out grew more and more pained until his chest split open like an egg and blood came rushing out. It sprayed over her dress and she walked forward, hand still outstretched. More words he did not understand tumbled on her tongue and the hooded men took a collective step back. But it did not help. One by one, each one of them started to shake and fall. The blood beneath her feet almost seemed to ripple with a heartbeat—her heartbeat, Oberyn surmised. She truly was a woman to be feared and loved. Sublime.

Shouts in Ghiscari soon filled the air. They were quickly snuffed out by the crack of ribs and spines, of bodies hitting stone.

Oberyn looked to Pero to see him quietly watching this woman, a strangely soft look in his eyes. He saw all of her. But maybe he always had.

There was another noise behind them and Oberyn turned, ready to fight, but only saw Orestes, still in his sleeping clothes. The magistrate stared at her with wonder in his eyes as soon as he stepped out into the hall. “You wondrous being. I always knew you were-”

A zealot’s body falling to the ground at his feet and the sudden gush of blood spattering against his skin quickly halted any other words on the magistrate’s tongue.

Two guards, tired and confused, seized the last handful of zealots and disarmed them. They could face punishment for their crimes here in Myr. Perhaps that would make everything easier for Orestes to explain away.

But that did not matter.

She did.

The hall grew quiet except for her labored breathing and then her knees hit the blood-covered stone.

“I want to go home,” she whispered. And even covered in blood, and having just slaughtered the men who would have harmed her for their own gain—she looked delicate. Not fragile—never fragile. But delicate. “Please, Pero. Take me home.”

Pero nodded immediately and sheathed his swords. He bent down to her and hoisted her into his arms, uncaring of the blood she trailed across his tunic. “I’ve got you, Petal. I’ll take you home.”

Oberyn watched Pero walk away with his Petal, heading toward the stables, and he only just caught her looking over Pero’s shoulder. With a bloody finger, she beckoned him to come along.

He could not say no.

#oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pero tovar imagine #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #asoiaf #the great wall

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reddus-sideblog · 3 years ago

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Pathfinder Update

Today’s session was a little slow, everyone kinda talked a lot, and here’s the rundown, after the cut

So, we planned out our departure from Idle Crag, Tisiphone, Kii, Nik, and young Valka would acquire the artefact, the “Stormbreaker”, that Captain Lora’a Valka used to control the weather around his ship (a part of his prolific nature as a renowned pirate), that had been taken from his ship by the Port Authority of Idle Crag Meanwhile, Ivan, our new “companion” and his men, would set off fire works to cover our “work” if things got messy, while Captain Valka would get his crew to get the ship ready to sail. So hopefully we’d get the Stormbreaker outta the Port Authority contraband warehouse and be setting sail right away.

Captain Valka also entreated Nik to help him reacquire some of his lost merchandise (drugs), so that he could save face with his trade partner Prince Hekate. Prince Hekate is the one partially sponsoring Valka’s potion shop in Bostadt, using it as a front to move his merchandise (drugs). Finding this out Kii said “It would seem Prince Hekate has his fingers in a lot of pies”. Both Valka brothers blushed, as their dealings with the Prince were not simply business, and you know how catboys are.

As this was the last time we’d be on dry land for some time, the group made some last minute preparations. Tisi took Valka aside and talked with him a bit as they went to the Valka Tinctures carriage, to grab a few things. While alone with Lora’sae Miss Tisiphone remarked how while his brother was easy on the eyes (Lora’sae took this as a roundabout way of Tisiphone hitting on him, because he is the most conceited catfolk ever) he truly was scum, and for all of Lora’sae’s faults, he was probably a lot better than all of his other brothers.

Lora’sae explains to Tisiphone that the names of his brothers are sequential, and that his people have rather little regard for the males of their families (with him and his brother’s names being the name of their mother combined with a number, Lora’a, Lora’to, Lora’li, and Lora’sae being one, two, three, and four of Lora Valka, literally). Tis was a bit taken aback by the catfolk’s culture, remarking how it was so cruel, and Valka didn’t disagree. Tisiphone told him in turn that her and her sisters were named after spirits of righteous vengeance from some old myth (Valka thought it was quite appropriate given the nature of the Eriny sisters).

Tisiphone also remarked how, for the time being, they were allies, but come the lot of them returning to dry land she might reconsider their, so far, congenial relationship with young Valka’s brother as she was quite sure Lora’a had a price on his head. Lora’sae was rather perturbed by this, and tried to convince Tisiphone that his brother really wasn’t all that bad, which only made Tisi reply that she’d be keeping a closer eye on him. At any rate Tisiphone took the last shoulder cannon that was leftover along with her Twin Orb.

So the time came for Nik Kii, Valka, and Tisiphone to get a hold of the Stormbreaker. They looked over the building, and Tisiphone and Kii took the back entrance, picking the lock while Nik and Valka made a case for coming to the contraband warehouse, saying that that BASTARD BROTHER OF HIS stole things belonging to him, and he needed to see if they were in the warehouse. Somehow this worked, and on the way in Kii made Tisiphone and herself invisible, which helped a fair bit. Valka made his way through the warehouse, picking his way through things and making his way to the high security lockup section. At the entrance was an ornery dwarf keymaster who really didn’t believe Valka’s story, and started being even less believing when Valka couldn’t produce any documents to support his claims. Tisi, now having made her way around behind the catboy and the tiefling, cocked her rifle. Valka knew that sound, and tried a bit harder to convince the dwarf of his case before Tisiphone got impatient. Unfortunately these negotiations were taking too long and Tisi just shot the keymaster. Then Kii stabbed him, and then Valka threw a bomb at him. The dwarf keymaster was thrown off the raised platform that led into the lock up area. He was downed, but not necessarily dead. Tisiphone then spun about and emptied her carbine into one of the other guards, hitting him four times and murdering him immediately. The other guards gave up quite quickly.

Kii and Valka were a bit taken aback by Tisiphone’s ruthlessness, and Valka stabilized the dwarf while she looked about for the Stormbreaker. Nik looked about for Captain Valka’s stolen loot and merchandise. Eventually, the group found the Stormbreaker, which turns out to be a device forged in the shape of a skeleton, which is seemingly sentient? (A second for sentient magic artefacts, actually, the first being that magic book boy who escaped from the Mage’s Guild that we tried to hunt down as a bounty, which ended up falling through). And so the group ran to Captain Lora’a’s ship with the Stormbreaker in tow (he folded up into a portable shape and Nik carried him), with Ivan and his men following suit quite quickly as well.

With Stormbreaker posing like an Arch-Vile from DOOM at the prow of Captain Valka’s ship the clouds split and the wind suddenly swelled in the ship’s sails and we were swept away onto the open ocean, with a vertical column of clear sky above us, and a dark halo of a tropical storm all about us as the storm headed inland.

The trip...is taking two weeks at full speed. Halfway through this journey Tisiphone had cleaned her guns a dozen times, Nik had gotten tired of working out, Kii had gotten bored of pretending to be a pirate and had resorted to using her magic for spritely pranks, while both of the Valkas had nearly nearly run out of the Captain’s supply of booze. At this point Ivan seeks a private audience with the Captain who kicks Valka out of the cabin. Kii, ever the curious and interested sylph, makes herself invisible and flies into the cabin’s window. Ivan speaks with Captain Valka and reveals that the island they are sailing for is a former Velakan prison colony, now a Pragian prison colony. Jodd the Butcher is flying to island to free a prisoner, who would certainly sound important if a dragon rider is flying all the way there to get him. Kii, invisible still, stands up, and interrupts Ivan, drawing her rapier, questioning Ivan further on who exactly he is.

Ivan wastes no time and partially disrobes, and starts undoing his bandages to reveal that not only is he not Joshua Graham levels of crispy like we kind of all assumed, but rather that he is ACTUALLY COMPLETELY INVISIBLE. He unsheathes his sword and touches it to Kii’s blade. Captain Valka, meanwhile, is kind of checked out, and mostly finishing what little of the liquor his younger brother hadn’t yet. Ivan tells Miss Kii that she certainly isn’t the only one who can go about unseen, and they both depart.

Kii tells Tisi, Valka, and Nik what she heard and saw, and asks Tisiphone if she can talk alone with her. Tisi gathers up her gun kit and comes with her, and Kii dimension doors them up to the crow’s nest and they tell the watchman to buzz off for a little bit. Kii confides in Tisiphone, telling her that she may not exactly be the only remaining member of the Velakan noble line, there was a legitimate heir, the son of the king and queen, who disappeared soon time after the Pragian takeover. She wonders if this prisoner that the dragon rider is coming for is him, and if they’re on the wrong side of this, and what Ivan plans exactly were.

Lora’sae, meanwhile, came to see his brother once more, practically begging him not to hold out on the booze, reminding him of how annoying he was when he was intelligible and not entirely sauced. Eventually Captain Valka acquiesced, letting Lora’sae in, and revealing a second secret stash of alcohol (Lora’sae had found the first one). The Valkas got to talking about their other siblings, and apparently they were still alive, and out in the world. Lora’li was last heard of in the Western kingdoms, living his life as an “entertainer” and “exotic dancer” out, which Lora’a had heard from Prince Hekate, so, the implications of Hekate gathering “experience” with the Valkas purposely is...plausible. As for Lora’to he was last heard of leading some of the Northwards invasion that Pragia was performing out of Velakor into the Southerlands (of course a fucking Valka is responsible for that disaster...). Lora’a said, though, that he was a bit proud of Lora’sae, as he was actually doing something for the Valka Tinctures company after it’s ignominious end, wasn’t being a whore for royalty, or leading in such murderous ventures as himself or Lora’to.

“If I ever meet them (the other Valka brothers), what should I tell them about you?”

“Tell them whatever you want… It’s not like you’d listen to me.”

“I’ll tell them… you’re doing a good job.”

Young Valka tears up and the brothers hug.

Why do we keep ending on wholesome Valka brother moments?

#thank you Adam for the exact quote with the Valka brothers

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itwillbeall-dwight · 4 years ago

Text

trials in error

danny "jed olsen" johnson | the ghost face/felix richter; fluff and angst; canon-typical violence; enemies to fwb to lovers to enemies lmao; 5677 words

a/n: did i finish two fics in the same day? yes i did. i’ve had this done since one in the morning but didn’t want to post it them bc no one would see it by the time it was flushed out of the tag bc tumblr hates fic writers for real actually.

my friend booker is to blame for this. they mentioned this pair to me offhandedly but then i turned around and made this, and basically learned 2 things. 1) writing danny is fun, and 2) i have. a lot of feelings. about them.

while i have a couple of long pieces to finish, requests are still open, so if you liked this and would like smthn written, feel free to shoot me an ask!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?” The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. “Alright. 10-” “Ah, wait, but what about-” “-9-” He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars. Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

Another day, another trial. As the fog cleared from his vision, the Ghostface flipped his small knife in his hand, feeling the silent breeze whistle through the tendrils on his uniform. The Autohaven Wreckers was as sorry of a sight as it always was, but one that he’d grown quite accustomed to use as his playground. From the sight of the old garage, he could almost pick out memories of all the times he’d scared the pants off of the poor survivors, which he took more than enough pleasure in doing. Danny looked around, still absently flipping his knife in his hand as he formulated a plan, taking a brief moment to watch the ever-present moonlight glint off of the freshly cleaned blade before he looked up once more, a slow grin forming behind the mask as the game began.

Poor Meg thought he was stupid, thinking she’d lost him at a simple enough loop around a pile of tires, all up until he pulled her off of her generator with a cackle (“screw you, creep” she said as she slammed her fists into the back of his shoulder - changed her tune real quick after he slid a hook into hers). Nea didn’t hesitate in giving him the runaround, powering a generator in his face and slamming a locker door into him for good measure. Danny knew the girl would throw a palette at him if she had the chance - she was the most fun to play with. But he soon lost her, so soon after catching her, but it was that detective asshole that ruined their fun, as he’d shone a damn flashlight in his eyes while he had Nea on his shoulder, finally, enough for her to wiggle free and run off again. And by the time his vision had cleared, the both of them had gone. Danny growled - as much as he enjoyed fun, it was only when he was winning was it any good.

It was while he was stalking around the battered old killer shack looking for the bastard that he saw him for the first time. Blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a fancy suit that just screamed rich, with a touch of “please tear me off or splatter me in blood, both sound great”. A man he didn’t recognize, sat on a generator, eyes darting around as he worked the best he could with shaking hands, clearly on edge about being left on his own to work. Whatever annoyance he had in him melted like hot wax, as he approached, slowly, knowing this guy would be a wonderful victim to mess with. The killer’s fingers curled around the edge of the wall as he watched the man, the way he swallowed and sighed, muttering to himself in reassurance in a tongue that sounded familiar to him, too quiet to tell. The generator got louder and louder, its mechanisms and inner parts in tune as the man worked his magic, almost letting himself smile in triumph as he grabbed another wire.

“Hey there, handsome.”

A voice from behind his neck, raspy and deep, caused him to jump, a spark sending the generator into smoke as he turned, face going white as he pushed his back against the wall.

Oh, he was right. He was going to be fun, all right. Danny chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Did I scare you? Tend to do that. It’s in my… nature.”

The man swallowed, glancing around for any kind of help, seeming to find none as his attention turned back to the killed, speaking in a low, rich voice, though it shook from fear. “Don’t you have… things, to be stabbing?”

“Why, is that an invitation?” He laughed again, leaning up against the generator and crossing one leg over the other. “Nah, I’m just kiddin’. Ain’t it enough to get to know the new neighbours? Haven’t seen you around before, pretty boy. They smuggled you in, huh?”

“I… suppose.”

He hummed, tapping the blade of his knife against the metal of his knife, the clanging making the survivor jump. Oh, bless him - well and truly, it was a mistake for him to get caught up here… but a happy mistake, to be sure. “Got a name?”

“Huh?”

“Like I said, I like to know the neighbours, ya know… real close and personal. A preference. Bit of normalcy. Soooo…”

He remained silent. So he was a little bit smarter than what he’d look like, from the way he was shaking in his rich white boots. Impressive.

“Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?”

The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any.

“Alright. 10-”

“Ah, wait, but what about-”

“-9-”

He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars.

Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

Curious as it was, he lost the blonde beauty soon after he let him go, instead finding Meg oddly open about where she was, spriting right into his vision. Not that he was complaining; a game was a game, and if the runner decided that she wanted to play tag, then who was he to turn her down? Especially when she was so easy to catch… though as soon as she was hooked, flashlight clicking and Swedish profanities in his ear was enough to make him chase after Nea rather than go after his original chase once again… they were painting a target on their back, and for what? To save the new guy’s skin? He wasn’t an idiot. Just surprised that some of them had the compassion.

Well, they managed to get another generator done, but the two girls were dead, and a soon injured Tapp was surely soon to follow them. A means to an end, it seemed, as his knife plunged into the detective’s side and sent him crashing into the dirt with a grunt of pain, rolling over onto his back with one eye open, the other wincing in pain, the shadow of the killer cast over him in the moonlight as he wiped his blade.

“OK, Detective, we’ll make this real nice and simple.” He crouched down next to the survivor, taking note of how the blood pooled around him as he laid on his back, staring up at him. “Tell me where your new friend is hiding, and I’ll let you live.”

Silence.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard of a choice to make. I’ve heard getting sacrificed is long and painful, like your insides are getting ripped at over and over again until, poof, you’re back again, at that cozy little campfire, only a little bit more traumatised to show for it. Now, you want that to happen to only one of you, or both of you, hm?”

Tapp looked away, seeming to ponder the possibility.

“Self-preservation instincts, Detective. I know you have them.” He tapped his knife into the dirt. Humans were fickle beings, easily swayed when their life was on the line.

The detective sighed, chest shaking from the strain. “Fine. I know where he’s hiding. But I can’t… breathe right, with a knife in my chest, so come a little closer.”

Danny blinked, but surely he didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve, so he did as he was told, for once in his life, letting his mask get inches away. “Yes?”

A moment of silence, before there was a whisper in reply, backed by the assurance of an idiot who knew he was going to die regardless, as he spat blood pooling in his mouth onto the mask of the ghost almost pressed against his own. “Go fuck yourself.”

He was almost stunned at the bravado, leaning away with a chuckle, though he gritted his teeth through it. “Oh, you’re a funny man. Absolutely hilarious, you know that?” But still, that was as good of an affirmation of choice as he was going to get from someone so stubborn, so Danny grabbed him by the front of his vest and hoisted him up onto his shoulder.

The screaming echoed as the heavens opened up, the Entity surely pleased with her feast for the evening, but he still wasn’t done… oh no, far from it. There was still one more handsome devil to track down. Danny rolled his neck, grinning at the gentle cracks from the strain, strolling more than hunting, at this point, for the well-kept survivor he didn’t know the name of, but was practically dying to know. He almost skipped up the crane, looking out of the window as Rapunzel did out of her tower window, before chuckling to himself and hoisting himself out. Danny tapped his blade against his hand, almost going to begin whistling if not for the angelic cries coming from the hill just close by. A grin overtook him, as he chased the calls of cherubs from the ground below.

He slammed that hatch shut with a satisfied sigh, throwing his knife between his hands as he looked around and arched his neck for the doors. Normally the whelps would just give up at this point, but the guy was new, and probably didn’t know what was best for him. Still, the doors were easily within view, so if he made it out of this alive… well, he wouldn’t, so no promise needed to be made. The killer chuckled to himself, finally settling on wrapping his fingers around the handle of his blade, curling one by one, slowly and deliberately for no one in particular, before setting off to take part in the real game that had begun.

He had no idea how he did it. Perhaps Danny had become too complacent in his work. But that handsome devil slipped past him more than once, enough for him to open up a gate and tiptoe his nice ass into certain safety. The survivor stared at him from inside the gate as he walked past in bewilderment, shaking like a dog in the rain that was just waiting to be gutted, battered old medkit in hand. And while he was stunned, the man swallowed, nodded, and left the trial head high, descending back into the fog as it began to consume the old gas station, leaving Danny to stare into darkness, barely blinking.

Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?

—

His name was Felix, he’d learned from the pig in the meat plant, having overheard it while she watched him blow the generator out by accident and got cursed out by the familiar bane-of-their-existence Swede. German, from the way he’d spoken to Danny by the generator in their first encounter, high up on the social ladder from the way he dressed (unless he’d gotten all dressed up just to see him? Funny, that would be, but very unlikely), shaken by the fog and with a disposition not unlike a lost dog.

And yet, despite his nerves and cluelessness to the fog, he always seemed to escape him. He didn’t know how he did it, but from finding hatch to evading the hooks, Felix somehow managed to keep him on his toes. Trials were somehow more exciting, knowing there was a challenge, and a chance to catch he who refused to be caught. Danny knew he was going to revel in the moment, when it eventually came - there was no way someone could be better than him, when he was so in his element.

So, after not seeing the man for the entire trial while hunting through the streets of Badham, catching him at the gate seemed like a dream come true. And he was none the wiser, as Danny quickly slammed his hand against the wall next to the lever, making him jump and freeze, pulling his hand away, two bright lights reflecting onto his face. “And so we meet again.”

“S-so we do.” He ran a hand through his hair before it found a place at the back of his neck, quietly taking a few steps back.

“Aht, aht. I wouldn’t run. I’ll just find you again anyways.”

He stopped.

“...You know, I don’t quite know how you do it. It’s like you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“That is… the point, is it not?”

“Oh, how rude- people come here to see me, surely. I’m a spectacle; call me a master at my craft.”

Felix chuckled - god, he chuckled, though it was riddled with nerves, but it most certainly happened, and sounded great - fiddling with the cufflinks on the sleeves of his suit jacket as his back straightened a little, as if flicking a switch to go from sorry sight to professional businessman. “Well, I… don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me why?”

He blinked. “Are you… flirting with me?”

“Am I?”

Danny wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, from the way he stood beside the lever at the gate, leaning a shoulder against the brick and folding his arms across his strong, broad chest (the way his shirt was unbuttoned just so was something Danny now noticed, and couldn’t stop noticing, barely tearing his eyes away to meet his gaze again) with an almost expectant look. “You’re... a weird one.”

“I… suppose so. Anyone normal would have ignored you and already run for their lives.”

The killer chuckled. “You’re not… entirely wrong. But I gotta say, I do like that. Among… other things.”

Though his eyes weren’t visible, it was as if the survivor knew exactly where he was looking, coughing and covering his mouth with the side of his fist. How cute was that?

He almost couldn’t contain himself. But he managed, somehow, not sure where this whole thing was going, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “Say… how far are you willing to ask that question, anyway? You really wanna know that bad, huh?”

Felix swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up again, with his piercing blue gaze, lips parting just so into a coy little smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Danny had never thought a man of such sophistication was willing to whore himself out for freedom, but sure enough, he himself opened the gate to let the German go, almost sad to see him leave (though it wouldn’t be for long), but very much enjoying the view.

He paused. He was supposed to catch him and kill him, wasn’t he? Danny frowned, somewhat troubled, but tried to justify it as returning to old habits in Roseville, as he left the gate, and waited for the fog to consume him again, taking a seat just outside the battered old preschool.

—

It was like the attraction of magnets with twice the force as soon as they saw each other, wasting no time as suddenly Felix’s back was slammed into a tree, a loose and cold gloved hand finding its way up his shirt, sending a shiver up his spine for another reason as he felt lips hit his, with a hunger and desperation he was not expecting but certainly didn’t mind reciprocating, as Danny soon found out. And he wasn’t complaining; he was damn good, for a man with the disposition of a 40-year-old virgin, moving his hands to Danny’s wrist and placing his hand on his waist, which again, he did not mind at all, while the other was still halfway up his shirt. Let the man take the lead, at least for now, because it’s the only chance he’ll get to.

Danny chuckled as a hand moved to grab his ass - quite the eager beaver, wasn’t he? He was practically purring as he pulled away, the survivor trying to follow him before reeling back as he moved to kissing up the side of his neck, listening close to the adorable little whimpers that came out of him as he squirmed in his grip. The killer then went to move his hand out from under Felix’s shirt, finally, casually undoing the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt one by one, taking the time to walk down his chest with his fingers and feel the shaking breaths of anticipation under his fingertips. Oh, the things he wanted to do-

Distant voices were enough to make the survivor crack open an eye, pausing before he began to push the killer’s head off of his neck.

“Hey, hey,” Danny didn’t appreciate the interruption, moving to look up as Felix looked around, like a startled animal, though he still purred in the crudest fashion. “C’mon, buddy, I was just getting started.”

“Quiet.” His voice was low and commanding, still shaking from adrenaline.

And for whatever reason, Danny complied.

He swallowed, listening to the silence of the wind in the barrens of the fog-covered forest and there was another distant call, which upon hearing he began trying to wiggle out of the killer’s grip. “Off.”

“Why?”

“They’re looking for me-”

“And you don’t wanna be seen with me?” He gave a mock gasp of offence, though the grin that was slowly growing larger still remained on his face.“Oh, honey-”

“That’s exactly it. Move, please.”

That was enough to make Danny chuckle, squeezing his hips that he still held, enough to make him yelp a little. “Still so polite. If you want me to do somethin’, hon, you gotta be a little more, ah... demanding, yeah?”

Felix glared. “Alright. Get off. Now.” His voice had an annoyed growl to it, though his voice still cracked a little out of embarrassment, as he pushed down on Danny’s arms to let himself go.

“There it is.” And so he moved, standing back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his cloak. He watched the architect fiddle with the buttons on his shirt to redo them again, rushing to do so and messing it up a few times, mumbling to himself. “Need help?”

He glared again.

Danny laughed, observing how he looked like a kicked puppy as he went back to fiddling with his shirt, pulling down his own mask again to hide what little of his face he had revealed. “You know, I think you’d look much better with it off.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, that’s not what you were saying with your eyes earlier-”

“You were a lot more tolerable when you were quiet.”

“‘Cos I never had a chance to speak, what, with you all over my mouth.” He shrugged as he spoke, as if it was a nonchalant fact, only smiling wider when he heard Felix try to stammer out a flustered reply, to no avail, choosing instead to simply huff and finish off the buttons on his shirt.

“Regardless, this affair is over.”

“Wait, hold on.”

“What?”

The killer moved his hands up to Felix’s neck, watching the man flinch and hold a breath with a soft chuckle, gently undoing a few of the top buttons that he’d redone. “You normally wear it like this.”

He gently touched at his collar, looking down at his fingers and then to the mask starring back at him. “And you’ve noticed?”

“Hard not to.” He shrugged, tugging at the shirt collar and going to fix up the waistcoat too before his hands were slapped away, which he held up in defence with a grin behind his mask. “So when are we doing this again, sunshine?”

The survivor moved away before he could’ve boxed in against the tree again, taking a few steps towards the direction of the campfire and the voices, though not too far as to disengage from the conversation, perhaps a little unsure how to. “You speak like this will be a regular affair.”

“Well, we had fun, ja?”

“...Are you mocking me?”

“Not mocking, just… appreciating the culture.”

Felix started, smoothing down the arms of his suit jacket with a light scoff of disbelief. “Truly, you’re insufferable.”

“Can't say you didn’t enjoy yourself though, huh, mein Schatz?” He leaned his shoulder against the tree now, folding his arms across his chest, earning him a weak-hearted glare.

“Werde gefickt.”

“Gerne.”

Being outplayed in his own game of native tongues, somehow, Felix conceded, looking down at his cufflinks again. “You’re… not entirely wrong, so ...perhaps a name, so I can find you.”

“Oh, so now you want to know me? What happened to a one-time affair, sugar?”

“When you’re so easy to please, I would be an idiot not to take advantage.”

Danny laughed, shrugging with no retort (though he was uncertain if hitting this pretty boy like a fish was just as good as getting in his pants… that much was yet to be determined). He soon trailed off, swallowing to himself, a lie escaping him as effortlessly as it had always done. “Jed Olsen.”

“Mr. Olsen…” Felix pondered for a moment. “...Ja, OK.”

—

So they’d been fooling around, yeah. Danny had always said he was willing to try it, should an idiot be brave enough, and if it was someone that wasn’t either Ace or David - he was a man with some standards, even with the blood on his hands - but never had he thought about it getting this far.

The sun never rose or set, but people slept and woke as time passed, regardless of the light outside, and that was no exception here. If anything, it was the cold chill of Ormond that awoke him from sleep, though he’d grown complacent in it, realising the teens that called this shithole a home would probably evict him if he so much as dared to complain. Danny still grumbled, attempting to pull the scraps of the blanket over himself, but finding it unable to move. Turning over, he now heard the sound of gentle snoring, the body, next to him sometimes shuffling, but remained mostly motionless, aside from the movements of breathing from his chest. His latest fling, almost his newest obsession… god, he still looked perfect, even now, golden locks of hair falling out of form, the lighting of the shitty little cabin not enough to hide that perfect jawline tickled with stubble in all the right places, red marks down his neck and back from an encounter that had lead them right here, in the bed he was practically renting in the corner of the resort.

They’d gotten a little adventurous, hadn't they? Banter in the trials was one thing, borderline voyeurism in the entity’s forest was another, but here? Letting himself be taken back to the realms to stay, where killers were not technically bound by rules of obedience, with Danny of all killers, a man who loved to bend the rules? Felix Richter was a smart man, that much he knew, but by god was he stupid. Maybe he thought there was a good man still in there, in the Ghostface. Well, that was his mistake; it was almost cute for him to still hold out hope though, regardless of how much disappointment was awaiting him down the road. Danny gently ran fingertips along the sleeping man’s arm, feeling the soft skin underneath his touch, smiling despite himself, only pausing at the gentle stirring he caused, practically freezing with his hand in the air as the architect moved, and slowly opened his eyes, sleepily smiling.

“Good morning.”

“...Hi,” he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his hand fall into the space between them. “Hardly mornin’, but sure.”

“Close enough.”

“Sure.”

There was a soft, amused hum from the other man, adjusting his position a little to better face him, hair falling out of place just so, like some disheveled Ken doll. “I would ask if you slept well, but-”

“Oh, very well, thanks to you. Really outdid yourself this time; I gotta say, that was almost the most fun I’ve had since I got here… or maybe even before-”

A light shove to his chest made him stop and laugh a little, feeling the slight coldness of metal from a family ring against one pec, and almost wanting the light touch of his hand to remain there, before it hit the mattress with a thump, dangerously close to Danny’s. “You’re a funny one, Mr. Olsen.”

He sat up, resting an elbow on the stained old pillow and holding his cheek with the corresponding hand, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you liked me better when I was quieter?”

Felix stared at him with those perfect eyes of his, and he laughed - like audible silk it was, smooth and defined, with a sleepy smile and everything - adjusting himself with a hand under his pillow. “Sometimes. Sometimes I like to hear you.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ve been told it’s my best quality.”

“Hmm. Is it how you make jokes to deflect, or how you talk out of your ass?”

“...Well, hey now, Princess, ouch-”

As he tried to defend himself, the survivor smirked, somehow braver here than anywhere else (and it wasn’t his persona), quipping back to match him, and as he was talking, Danny paused, watching the way his eyes diverted and how his mouth moved, how he talked with his body and the way he smiled and waiting for a small hum in response, and how Danny liked the way his name sounded coming from his mouth, even if it wasn’t entirely the true one. Almost made him wonder what the real thing would sound like… no, that was too much, right? Couldn’t get attached. He wasn’t attached, was he?

Couldn’t hurt to wait a little more to think on that, before escorting this pretty little thing back to the campfire.

—

So he was thinking about Felix a lot more than was normal for an obsession of his. What started off as a vengeful curiosity had morphed into something else, something so ugly yet so beautiful, foreign to Danny in recent years, or perhaps his entire life. Was this how high school girls felt, chasing after the jocks for a chance to get them off, and maybe start a high school whirlwind romance? Well, he certainly wasn’t a prepubescent cheerleader, but the survivor that had caught his attention seemed just like the squeaky clean Prince Charming that girls drooled over.

And he couldn’t have that. Not at all.

The fog cleared out of his vision slowly, and he opened his eyes, almost rolling them as the field of corn came into view. Coldwind - the rotten fields, it looked like, from the wide expanse of produce hiding his vision. Despite the cards not being in his favour, a game could still be played here, if he played his hand, carefully. And he was planning to. He’d let himself get distracted. But not again.

Getting back into the routine of the hunt was like sliding into a comfortable sweater, blood shedding with no tear from him. Laurie was always a thrilling chase, her determination being almost cute. Quentin was similar, though the boy with insomnia had a lot less appeal than the virgin final girl, to be sure. David, of course, was David - loud, frustrating to deal with, and incredibly annoying. And… Felix. He knew how he felt about Felix already.

As well as he tried to play it, this time, the game was not in his favour, and quite quickly generators across the field were powered, with only a few hooks under his belt. Getting to a gate, it was already beginning to open, three of them already filing into the funnel of the exit. But Felix, he was lagging behind, and without thinking, Danny took a swipe...

...No one escaped death. Not even the man he may have fallen for.

As he wiped the blood from his blade with a gloved hand closed around it, he watched the architect grasp at his side and stumble, leaning a shoulder up against a wooden wall for support.

“Go.” He called to the woman in the blue shirt, standing at the gate.

“Felix, we can’t-”

“I said go, Laurie!”

She gritted her teeth and went to ignore him, running back into the cornfield, but a grip and pull on her arm from David stopped her, as much as she tried to fight against it. Quentin was the last to leave, watching the two of them for a moment before he swallowed, and chased after them, a medkit in hand.

“Alone time, eh? Hon, we’re on a time limit here-”

“Just get it done.”

Danny tried to laugh. But it didn’t… feel right, somehow, even if it was the same as it always had been. As Felix leaned against a wall to support himself and slid down, knees buckling underneath him, he crouched down to meet him. “I dunno… no fun when they don’t squirm, you know?”

“...Jed-”

“Danny.”

He paused. “What?”

“It’s Danny Johnson. My name, I mean. I lied, when we first met. ...Surprise!” Knife still gripped, he tried to do a small jazz hands movement, though it seemed a fall flat. Only hurt more with what came next.

“...I figured as much.”

“Oh yeah? And why’d you set yourself up for failure like that, sunshine?”

“Because… I don’t know. I thought you were like me.”

The killer deflated a little, tilting his head to one side.

“I… maybe, I thought you were playing something up. I always felt… something else, there. Maybe something even you didn’t know about. Under all that ego, Mr Ol- ...Mr. Johnson, there was a man who cared, once.”

He tapped the blade of his knife against the floor. “...Maybe. I dunno.”

“Do you think he’s still in there?”

Danny didn’t reply right away, dragging his blade through the dirt by his feet absentmindedly. He didn’t entirely know, at this point. Normally this would have been the end of their little game - it was over, he had caught him and won - but something was stopping him. The ground shook, reminding him of that first moment where this fascination had started to plague him. “...You’ve done something to me, Felix.”

He hummed, trying to shift where he sat, holding his side where the blood had stained his very nice suit. “Have I?”

“Must have done. Because this isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

“That’s the reality of most things, I’m afraid.”

“I hate it.”

The survivor almost laughed, though it was pained and strained, clearly struggling… but was the sliver of it that made it, that small smile on his stupid, perfect face - that was enough, it seemed, to make Danny smile too.

He pulled up his mask entirely, tugging down his hood and fixing his hair with a quick ruffle, feeling the cloth tendrils on his sleeves whip behind him from the movement. The killer took a second to stare at Felix in front of him, before he moved his hand up to his face, watching him flinch. “Hey- relax, baby, I’m not gonna hurt you yet.”

“Yet.”

Danny hummed, cupping his face and wiping away the blood starting to dribble out of his mouth with a finger. “There. You’re a messy little boy, aint’cha?”

A cough, more blood involuntarily spilling out from his mouth now, this time splashing onto his shirt and the front of Danny’s suit. “My apologies. I’ll make sure to bleed less next time you stab me.”

“‘Ppreciate it, babes.”

Though he thought the man would shove him away, he instead seemed to lean into the touch, moving a hand to hold onto Danny’s wrist. “You still smell like cheap cologne.”

“It’s the only thing they sent me here with. ‘Sides, your scent goes away after a while.”

“Gross.”

“The one and only.”

And despite his small smile, of both annoyance and amusement, the third overwhelming emotion behind his eyes was that of sadness. The ground shook around them, but they didn’t seem to care, not until Danny moved his hand away and stood to his feet again, grabbing his knife from the floor and wiping the dirt off of the blade on his thigh.

“Is this it, then?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“...It was fun.”

“Oh yes, it was.” He looked down at his knife, pressing the tip of the blade against his finger and twisting it, the moonlight and bleeding of the ground catching the light of the metal. “...For what it’s worth? You were close.”

“Close to what?”

“Makin’ me a person. Ya know, not a prick, like… an actual loser, with empathy. Almost had me for a sec, hot stuff.”

“Is that why you’re stopping this? Are you scared?”

Danny swallowed down a reply. He took a moment to look down at Felix, who’s eyes had followed him the entire time, making a small ‘call me’ sign with his free hand and forcing a smirk. “If you ever decide you wanna make a mistake again, you’ll know where to find me.”

“...Goodbye, Danny.”

He walked off into the corn, not wanting to see the way those blue eyes stared at him anymore, only stopping at the pained screaming that followed. The shaking of the ground had stopped now. She had come to feast.

As he stood in the middle of cornfield, he looked up at the sky of the farm, overcast and grey, tendrils of the Entity reaching down to claim her prize, and fog swirling around him to take him back, to lay in wait, until the next time.

He was right. His name did sound nice coming out of Felix’s mouth.

#dead by daylight #ghostfelix #the ghostface #felix richter #prove thyself #off the record

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alex-frostwalker · 3 years ago

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A bunch of my Original Stories✒️

Stories I have developed but still not finished. Maybe some wont even see the light of day.

This is also for the mobile users who can't see some of the archives

💎Crystal Skies🌌

A story of many, a young fresh graduate starting her new life as a warrior.

Having to look for a job in various guilds, and meeting new people. Exploring new places as living their life through the sky putting her destination to Meso Kingdom.

Earning for some fresh money for her family, it is all she could want for that.

Ever since the Twilight War, the humans manage to push back against them that the witches went into hiding to far lands, or among them. Hunters are created to hunt those witches down and save their home from that impending doom that they are planning.

But there is more than just that meets the eye.

⚔Witchcraft/Witch Hunt🧹

A world plague with corruption, the witches had terrorized the lands near and far.

Time and Place⌛

A young man woke up in a distant shore without memory. In a broken world where everything is still.

Streets are quiet and the buildings are hollow everything was so broken, searching to find anyone he stumbled onto a woman. Who is in the same situation as him, they work together to find a way of what has happend to everyone.

It is a race against time and pure evil.

With many trust that are being built, and memories that will bring everything to fall apart.

Mindscape🌌

Will they find the truth? As a mysterious entity slowly devours the land. Friends work together or much more than that.

Protecting and helping all Sprite kind, until a mysterious figure starts to terrorize their home and to other people’s minds and to reach the real world.

Última Esperanza⚙

A young Sprite wanders through the land called the Mindscape and into people’s dreams, mind, and memories.

Can she manage to catch the person? or the Mindscape is doomed to all eternity?

A place of advanced technology, robots are there to aid humans as they please.

They are keeping them all trap in this prison, a teenager saw all those behind the scenes thanks to a friend. Wanting to reveal the truth to everyone as he and the others are went to hiding and undercover.

🚀Space Station🛰

Thanks to the smart scientist who can make this all possible, with his assistant and partner A.I. Protecting all of mankind, but all of this is a lie.

Now with a plan at hand, they will shut down this empire for good.

Living in the future where everything is whole, astronauts have travelled through the cosmos as far as they remember.

Resting on the space station they took a break in until there is a distress call that is placed. They chosed the greatest crew they have to save to those who have called.

[??????]

Will they make it out alive?

Saying their goodbyes, they never realized that their lives are going to be at stake. Trust and betrayals will happend.

The direct sequel of [??????].

“Many years it has been, and yet they are still here… . .. ”

“I am still there…. They, those … . .followers of hers wanting to recreating the war, repeating the same thing all over again… . . ”

“But I have to keep going…… For my mistress and her child .… .. .I am sure I will meet her child again and stop all of this”

An Old Book📖

“All my love ones are dead, she killed them… I am tired of this.. .. . So so tired. .. . I want to end it all…. ”

“It has been so long…. . I am losing it”

A spin off/prequel of the story [??????].

In the Phone📱

Many years has it been and in the far old town during Halloween, a little girl has been pulled into a dare, stealing a book in the library. Now there is something after them, letting the horrors begin.

[??????]

[Coming soon]

A mother worried about her child’s future, using the phone everyday neglecting everything around her. Now with a mysterious force throws her daughter inside of the phone and must get her back before it is too late.

#Winter Post❄️#Winter Writes❄️#oc #original story

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satonthelotuspier · 5 years ago

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❄️ Untamed Winter Fest 2019 ❄️

Day 7 - Relax - 2k

That morning Lan Wangji had looked tired, Wei Wuxian considered as he sat idly on the veranda of the Jingshi, playing with Chenqing and watching Lan Wangji’s bunnies hop and flop about in the gently waving grass.

It was understandable; his husband had many responsibilities and duties, not least of which was helping his uncle Lan Qiren pick up the slack of clan leadership with Lan Xichen still not being fully out of seclusion yet. And he had Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian was the first to admit he was a chaotic being, one Lan Wangji’s calm serenity only slightly tempered.

Was he helping to sap his husband’s energy?

Probably.

And if you took into account their “everyday” activities eating into Lan Wangji’s sleep too…

The only conclusion to reach was Lan Wangji needed a break.

So Wei Wuxian would ensure he took one. He would make all the arrangements and make sure Lan Wangji had time to relax. In fact he’d go right now and tell Lan Wangji that’s what they were going to do. He leapt to his feet and bounded down the steps, through the cloud of rabbits and in search of his Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan” he called excitedly as he found his husband walking through the Cloud Recesses with Lan Sizhui, obviously between lessons.

Lan Wangji didn’t scold him for being noisy. Lan Wangji didn’t scold him for much anymore.

“Lan Zhan, we need to go down the mountain. Are you free in two days?”

“Mn” Lan Wangji confirmed, “If Wei Ying needs to go down the mountain I can arrange to be free in two days”

“Perfect” Wei Wuxian praised, before throwing his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck and hugging him enthusiastically.

His spine suddenly prickled with his Lan Qiren sense and he made himself scare before his husband’s uncle could come across them and start finding ways to make Wei Wuxian’s life suddenly a lot more full of responsibility.

Wei Wuxian had enough of a duty ensuring his husband was happy and well, and it was a job Wei Wuxian took very seriously indeed, so much so that it took up much of his energy and thoughts.

Now, in terms of his day trip, with Lan Wangji’s agreement all he needed to do was make the necessary arrangements. He planned for food from the kitchens and he poured over maps of the area to find somewhere where he could take Lan Wangji away from all his stresses and responsibilities for a day.

Well, all the stresses and responsibilities that weren’t his husband anyway.

Sizhui threw more lettuce and carrots down in the grass where the horde of Hanguang-jun’s rabbits bounced around trying to get their share of food.

“So Senior Wei just said they were going down the mountain?” Jingyi asked, adding to the rabbit food spread on the ground from his own basket.

Sizhui nodded, “Yes, isn’t it obvious?”

Jingyi tilted his head considering, “No?” he said eventually.

“They’re going on a night hunt without us” Sizhui explained patiently as he stepped between the sea of little fluffy marshmallows.

Jingyi didn’t quite see the issue, surely there couldn’t be anything in the world Hanguang-jun and Senior Wei couldn’t deal with. He didn’t quite see why Sizhui was so worried.

“We need to go after them. To make sure they’re alright, you know what kind of trouble Senior Wei attracts” Sizhui told him.

Again, it had never been anything their senior’s couldn’t handle together, he wasn’t exactly sure what had Sizhui so distressed. But Sizhui was his best friend, and if his best friend needed him to help in his covert tracking of Senior Wei and Hanguang-jun when they left the mountain tomorrow then Jingyi would help.

The morning dawned bright and clear and as a consequence Wei Wuxian was extremely pleased. His plan was all going very well, and he mentally congratulated himself.

It wasn’t very long before everything was in hand and they made their way out of Cloud Recesses to begin their journey.

“Take me flying, Lan Zhan” he demanded of his husband and they mounted Bichen together. Wei Wuxian guided Lan Wangji to the destination he had in mind and he pointed to a meadow for Lan Wangji to aim for.

They strolled, Wei Wuxian darting off to pick meadow flowers, presenting them to Lan Wangji, whose normally expressionless face showed a little bit of confusion.

“Wei Ying, where is the danger?” he asked eventually, and Wei Wuxian realised he’d never actually told Lan Wangji what he’d intended.

He laughed and threw his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, “There isn’t any Lan Zhan, we’re here to relax” he told him, pecking the side of his mouth then pulling away.

“I brought food” he said and set about spreading a blanket out in the meadow.

Lan Wangji didn’t argue, so even though he’d expected to be taking care of some kind of ghost or ghoul or sprite he must be fine with the arrangement.

They ate lunch. Wei Wuxian showed him how to play a game of “Guess what I’m drawing” which involved tracing the outline of something he’d seen on Lan Wangji’s back, with the other having to guess what it was.

Then Wei Wuxian heard the quacking coming from the reeds of the nearby lake.

“Ducks, come, Lan Zhan, lets look at the ducklings”

Lan Wangji was dragged down to the waterline where they saw a family of ducks paddling past, the mother and father stately while the little ducklings zoomed about behind them.

“I bet they’re tasty” Wei Wuxian commented, glancing at Lan Wangji out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction.

“Wei Ying” the other admonished him half-heartedly, used to being poked for a reaction by his teasing husband by now.

“Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan, you’re so stuffy” and then Wei Wuxian pushed the unsuspected Lan Wangji into the lake. Fully dressed. “You need to learn to relax, Lan Zhan” he informed him through his laughter as Lan Wangji surfaced, spluttering and wiping the streaming water out of his face.

“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji’s voice was accusing but resigned to his fate, which seemed to entail being at the mercy of Wei Wuxian’s every whim.

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian began undressing hastily, robes thrown out in all directions until he was stripped down to his pants, then he leapt into the water after Lan Wangji.

Originally of the Yunmeng Jiang sect he moved in the lake like a fish, teasing Lan Wangji who, even though he was fully dressed and moved much more slowly due to his sodden robes dragging in the water, normally would still have been able to easily catch Wei Wuxian if he had wanted to. Which meant his husband was giving him free reign to play.

Wei Wuxian did eventually get tired of frolicking however, and with a final dunk of Lan Wangji beneath the water, waited for him to rise up and clear the rivulets from his face again, before he launched himself like an arrow, clinging onto Lan Wangji’s upper body with arms and legs like a sleek cat.

“I want to climb you like a tree. Lan Zhan, kiss me!” he demanded, and the other snorted slightly before obliging, pressing a soft kiss against waiting lips, which Wei Wuxian deepened while Lan Wangji’s hands slid to Wei Wuxian’s thighs to support him and hold him from slipping down.

As they parted Lan Zhan scraped his teeth against Wei Wuxian’s lower lip.

“To dry land” Wei Wuxian ordered then, pointing at the lakeside, and Lan Wangji followed his husband’s directions, wading to the edge of the lake and out and onto the grasses, where Wei Wuxian suddenly threw all his weight backwards and they went tumbling to the ground together. Again he was under no misapprehensive that Lan Wangji would have been perfectly capable of retaining his balance if he hadn’t wanted to let Wei Wuxian have his own way, but why wouldn’t he want his husband warm, willing and playful beneath him in the gently rustling grass?

Wei Wuxian was kissed then with Lan Wangji’s usual fervour, and he responded in kind, thinking they were really going to take the best advantage of this day away from Cloud Recesses as Lan Wangji’s hand drifted down his naked side to rest at his hip, clad in the clinging wet material of his pants. This was all really rather great.

And then they both heard the noise of movement by the treeline.

Lan Wangji immediately summoned Bichen and sent it flying out towards the edge of the clearing where two familiar yelps sounded from, followed by the clang of sword on sword as one of the intruders defended against Bichen’s attack. Bichen returned to Lan Wangji’s hand as he rose from the grass

“Get out here immediately you little monsters” Wei Wuxian called, flipping over as Lan Wangji got up, and trying to leap into retribution range of the juniors.

Lan Wangji caught him around the waist and pulled him back, pressing his outer robe which had fallen nearby into his hands.

“Dress, Wei Ying” he ordered and Wei Wuxian had to settle for scowling at Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi who shuffled into the clearing looking like they were going to an execution and flushing furiously at having caught their seniors “up to no good”. He shrugged back into his outer robe and fastened it haphazardly thinking their execution might not be such a terrible punishment.

“Talk” he ordered, slightly annoyed Lan Wangji wasn’t angrier at being interrupted during their private time.

“Senior Wei, Hanguang-jun” Sizhui sounded suitably ashamed while saluting them, “It was my fault, please don’t be mad at Jingyi” Sizhui took responsibility, and if he hadn’t been so mad (frustrated) Wei Wuxian would have been a little proud of A-Yuan.

But he was mad (frustrated), “What were you even thinking?”

“Senior Wei, you can’t be upset with Sizhui, he was only thinking of your safety” Jingyi told him in a rush, obviously nervous about being caught but still protecting his best friend with his first words.

Again, if it had been any other time he’d compliment Lan Wangji on raising very fine, responsible and loyal disciples.

“Am I not safe from my own husband?” he demanded.

“We thought you were going on a night hunt without us. I was worried” Sizhui told him; he tried not let it but his voice trembled with suppressed emotion. Jingyi patted his shoulder soothingly.

“What in the world do you think Hanguang-jun and I aren’t able to handle A-Yuan?” he asked in exasperation, but relented when he realised how genuinely upset Sizhui was. “Come here” he ordered and the other ran into his arms. Wei Wuxian patted Sizhui’s back awkwardly until he calmed down a little. “We aren’t going to leave you behind A-Yuan. I brought Hanguang-jun away from Cloud Recesses for the day because I needed him to take a rest from everything. It has nothing to do with you”

“I’m sorry I spoiled your trip” Sizhui apologized as he pulled back and rubbed at his wet face with his sleeve.

Wei Wuxian looked up at the sky that was beginning to lose it’s light, and sighed regretfully. “Well, we should go back then, it’s getting late” he said and the Juniors agreed readily.

Apparently though Lan Wangji wasn’t quite done with them yet.

“When we return you will copy the Sect Rules five times” he told them coldly.

It turned out Lan Wangji was very angry with them, that icy facade just hid the extent is all.

He was disappointed his grand day out hadn’t quite ended the way he’d foreseen, but Wei Wuxian could arrange another jaunt away from Cloud Recesses on another day to ensure Lan Wangji could take time out of his busy schedule to relax.

And the next time no junior would dare to follow them.

#untamed winter fest #mdzs #mdzs fic #lan wangji #wei wuxian #day 7 #Lan juniors #wangxian #shay's stuff

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noahh-htx · 4 years ago

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REVIEW: Super Pitfall (スーパーピットフォール) (Famicom/NES)

Developer: Micronics

Publisher(s): Pony Canyon (Japan), Activision (North America)

Release Date(s): September 1986 (Japan), November 1987 (North America)

Pitfall, the brainchild of Activision’s David Crane, is a rather significant video game. Released for the Atari 2600 in 1982, it was an early example of a side-scrolling platform game, and it went on to be one of the best-selling games for the system. Naturally, a game this successful would warrant a sequel. Pitfall actually had several, and Super Pitfall for the Nintendo Famicom was one of these sequels. I was a bit curious about the game, so I decided to play through it on my NES last night.

Something that should be noted is that David Crane had no involvement in the development of Super Pitfall; instead, the development of this game was handed to Micronics, a Japanese developer that generally shied from taking credit for its work. Considering this game’s quality, this might not have been wholly a bad idea.

In Super Pitfall, you play as Harry, the series’ protagonist. Super Pitfall appears to be a loose remake of Pitfall II; in both games, Harry must collect the Raj Diamond and rescue Quickclaw, his pet lion, and Rhonda, his niece.

Additionally, Harry must collect several objects adorned with card suits (heart, diamond, spade, club) along with a key for Quickclaw’s cage and a potion to turn Rhonda back to normal.

Where Super Pitfall begins to fall apart is its design. As an open-world game, Super Pitfall encourages the player to explore as they search for objects. The issue with this is how it’s implemented; nearly every object in the game (including those that are necessary for progression) are initially invisible, and the player must jump in a very particular area to reveal each. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it weren’t for another bad design choice; each area where the player needs to jump in order to reveal an object is also invisible.

These design choices make the game incredibly cryptic and render it nearly unplayable without large amounts of trial-and-error unless the player has a guide handy. This cryptic design also extends to moving between areas; in order to warp to other areas in the game, the player generally must jump into specific walls, and these walls have nothing to distinguish them as warp zones. One warp is hidden in a vulture, which also is visually identical to every other vulture enemy in the game. On top of all of this, much of the level design is bland and uninspired; many areas of the game are hard to distinguish from one another, so drawing a map is almost a necessity for navigating these caverns.

Beyond the game’s incredibly puzzling design, the gameplay itself is weak. Besides the running and jumping that Harry is known to do, he also wields a gun. The big issue with this projectile is that many of the enemies in the game are too short to be hit by it, and other enemies move in odd patterns that make them difficult to hit. Additionally, Harry’s gun has limited ammunition; with quite a few of the enemies’ (especially in the last area of the game) requiring several shots to defeat, having an empty gun is far from uncommon. Excluding this weapon, Super Pitfall really doesn’t do much to expand on the prior Pitfall games; much of it is simply exploring. While it can take credit for being an early open-world game, the enigmatic treasure hunt that is thrown in makes the game simply not very fun to play.

Another large issue with the game is its programming. To some extent, it feels unfinished. The collision detection is so lacklustre that Harry can clip through walls simply by walking against them for a long enough period of time. This collision detection also makes swinging on vines a chore as Harry generally falls through them. The physics are also implemented awkwardly. While Harry can steer his jumps, the steering is stiff and generally ineffective. If Harry simply falls off a platform, he falls straight down while the player is entirely unable to control his movement until he lands on something; this more often than not leads to a collision with either an enemy or a spike bed. Additionally, the waterfalls that are scattered about the game’s areas also cause the player to lose control of Harry as he falls onto either a platform or a body of water. These quirks make navigating the game’s areas much more frustrating than it should be. The game also simply feels glitchy and unpolished. Random sprites will occasionally flicker on the screen, and the game will slow down at random intervals even when not much is on the screen.

The game’s presentation isn’t special. The graphics are bland, and the music will tire any player relatively quickly.

Verdict: Super Pitfall simply isn’t a good game. While it had the potential to be decent, many missteps in its design and programming instead make it a miserable journey.

Score: 3/10

#nes #nintendo #famicom #pitfall #super pitfall #review #gaming

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carrotcouple · 5 years ago

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I Want Your Life's Worth In Gold (AO3)

Day 4 (09/11) – price | debt and repayment | “take a good swing at me and everything is even” – gun, CHVRCHES

“Are you drinking alone?” A tall skinny man to Chuuya’s right asks him. Chuuya is sitting at the bar alone, but has rejected anyone asking to drink with him. Chuuya lifts the glass to his lips, taking a sip of the fruity wine and then turns to glance at the man. He’s a pirate, Chuuya remembers him from his wanted poster. His bounty is pitifully low. Chuuya isn’t interested in him in the least.

“No, I’m waiting for someone,” Chuuya tells him, giving him a clearly uninterested look. He turns back to his drink and the bartender fills his glass. The man next to him seethes, but Chuuya thinks he knows that he would be unmatched in a fight. If someone with a bounty as low as his managed to make it to Saboady Archipelago, he must at least have the brains to know which fights he shouldn’t pick. He’d probably end up as an Emperor’s slave as soon as he crossed into New World.

Chuuya doesn’t have much time. Entering New World is hard, especially for someone of his occupation. He could attempt to travel via Mariejois, but he’d rather die than go near the Celestial Dragons. So he has to finish up his work here on Saboady or board some unfortunate pirate ship, head over into New World and then trade all their heads in at the Marine Headquarters. Chuuya isn’t too keen on the second option, but if he has to, he will.

“Are you drinking alone?” Chuuya groans and turns.

Well, this was quite the heavy hitter. He had a pretty high bounty. Chuuya knows him from his poster again. But Chuuya isn’t bothered because he’s taken down those of this guy’s size easily. The bar would get a little destroyed, but that doesn’t concern Chuuya.

“I’m waiting for someone,” Chuuya says.

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour. Either you’ve been stood up, or you’re lying,” The man leers in Chuuya’s face and his breath smells of alcohol. Chuuya makes a face.

“Regardless, that’s none of your business,” Chuuya tells him.

“Well, it’s either you drink with me, or I’ll pound your head in,” the man grins widely. Chuuya rolls his eyes. Why did these pirates all discard their brains?

“I refuse,” Chuuya says, smiling. “You’re ugly.”

Chuuya watches as realization slowly dawns across the large man’s flushed face and then his large meaty hand wraps around Chuuya’s collar and lifts Chuuya off the ground.

“Do you want to die, pretty boy?” he growls.

Chuuya pulls his hands into fists, ready to punch this guy so hard his intestines will come spewing out of his mouth and then there’s a thin, bony and scarred hand on the man’s arm.

“Now, now,” says a pleasant voice in a sing song way. “Let’s not get into any fights in a lovely bar like this where the wine and food is nice.”

Everyone in the entire bar turns to look at the newcomer. He’s a relatively tall and skinny looking man. He isn’t sporting any weapons - or rather they can’t see any. His entire body is almost completely covered in bandages and there’s a wide and cheerful grin on his face. Only idiots wouldn’t realize this man is about to kill someone. Behind him is a boy with white skin and black hair and a girl with a mask and a hand on her sword.

“The Inhuman King!” The man holding Chuuya almost screams.

“This man has been waiting to drink with me. I’m afraid I’m horribly late.” the man with the bandages keeps that pleasant smile on his face. Chuuya is tempted to spit in his direction just to see if he can change his expression. The man holding Chuuya immediately lets go of him and Chuuya alights to the ground perfectly. “And, if you want to live, you should leave.”

The bar nearly empties after that.

“Are you drinking alone?” The bandaged man asks him.

“I was waiting for you, clearly,” Chuuya drawls.

“I see,” the man slides into the seat next to him.

“So, what’s a big shot like you doing in a small bar like this?” Chuuya asks.

“Sightseeing,” the man says as the rest of his crew enters the bar and takes tables and orders food and drinks. There’s not many of them and most of them look like teenagers. All of them have high bounties on their heads. Chuuya could retire and live in a castle with the money he could make off of them. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You better hold yourself to that,” Chuuya says and then orders the most expensive wine the bar has.

------o------

The Inhuman King’s background is a mystery. He emerged on the Grandline half a year ago and became notoriously well known for being absolutely immune to Devil Fruits. No one could figure out why and as far as the marines knew, he was a normal human. He climbed in rank and bounty among pirates and became one of the most well known pirates aside from the Seven Warlords and The Four Emperors. His crew mates are also well known, ranging from a former Celestial Dragon slave to escaped World Government experiments.

And Chuuya so happens to be sitting in an empty bar with all of them. Some of the crewmates have started dancing. A particularly pretty white haired boy is dancing with the first mate.

The Inhuman King is leaning into Chuuya’s space, fingers wrapped around Chuuya’s hair and lips pressed to the strands.

“Dazai san,” the girl that Chuuya noticed earlier approaches them and The Inhuman King clicks his tongue in mild annoyance and turns to look at her. “I need to talk to you about the log pose and the ship coating…” she glances at Chuuya, “in private.”

“Understood,” he turns to Chuuya and smiles charmingly. Chuuya gives him a deadpan look. “I will be back,” he says and then he follows the girl.

The white haired boy and first mate are almost immediately next to Chuuya.

“Will you be joining the crew?” the white haired boy asks, a large and innocent smile on his face.

“Don’t say strange things,” the first mate says, his voice bland.

“I will not be joining your crew, unfortunately,” Chuuya tells the boy.

“That’s so sad! Just when Dazai san seems to have found someone that actually interests him!” the white haired boy pouts.

“If Dazai san wants him to join, then he’s probably going to join, whether he wants to or not.” The first mate throws Chuuya a look of what may be pity and Chuuya scoffs.

“Even if he wants me to join, I won’t,” Chuuya says.

“True,” The Inhuman King is back and he’s smiling brightly at Chuuya. “After all, we can’t have the most notorious bounty hunter on the Grandline in our crew,”

Chuuya immediately lunges at Dazai and Dazai raises his arm to block the kick that sends him crashing into the wall. The bartender yelps and hides behind the counter, the first mate grabs the white haired boy and leaps backwards.

“Get up, shitty mackerel. I know that wasn’t enough to do you in. How long do you think I’ve known you?” Chuuya snarls.

“Your kicks have gotten weaker, Chuuya,” Dazai sighs, leaping back to his feet. “You never do get tired of this game, do you?”

“You call this a game?” Chuuya growls.

“Of course! It’s like a game of cat and mouse! We meet, we act like lovers, we fight and then you follow me everywhere!” Dazai grins widely and Chuuya smiles, like there’s venom dripping from his lips.

“It’s only because you have such an enticing bounty,” Chuuya says. The entire crew is pointing their weapons at Chuuya and Dazai waves his hands.

“No worries, this is just a lovers spat,” Dazai says.

“You left,” Chuuya hisses.

“I did,” Dazai answers.

“Explain yourself, you bandage wasting bastard!” Chuuya near screams. “Why did you leave and why am I on Mori’s hit list? What did you do?”

“I just felt like it!” Dazai laughs.

“You fucking bastard,” Chuuya growls. Dazai laughs some more and then he tilts his head, looking at Chuuya.

“I’m heading to New World. You’ll come with me, won’t you, Chuuya?” he asks. Chuuya glowers at him.

“Of course I will. I haven’t taken your head yet.” Chuuya bends down and picks up his hat which is lying at his feet.

“As expected of my Chuuya,” Dazai hops to his feet and crosses the room with spritely footsteps, one arm instantly wrapping around Chuuya’s shoulders.

“Once we get to New World, we’re going our separate ways and I’m going to hunt you down and kill you myself,” Chuuya grumbles, putting his hat on his head. Dazai nuzzles his face into Chuuya’s hair. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“But Chuuya smells especially good today!” Dazai says.

“You’re a nuisance,” Chuuya says as Dazai presses a kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Always,” Dazai sings.

#sunny writes #soukokuweek19 #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #this is basically the #one piece au #that no one asked for #but i'm here to deliver anyways #i have no idea what this is #it was supposed to be a normal bounty hunter au #but now?#no clue

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via-loki-blog · 6 years ago

Text

for glory (#02)

synopsis: the 12 deities of both rome and greece have revealed themselves to the world, one of them being you: artemis, the goddess of the hunt and the moon―but among the gods you’ve come close with, you’re known better as (y/n). when the gods rage their wrath on the human race for their savaging of the earth, the avengers come together to defend it. within their team is the asgardian god of mischief and just so happens to catch your eye.

pairing: loki x artemis!reader

warning(s): none!

word count: 980

notes: sorry for taking so long for this update !!! i’ve had standardized testing these past two weeks and a huge project due so i didn’t have much time to post :(( but here’s the second chapter !!!

the avengers

the surface

steve rogers sat by the large windows of the complex, his mind blank as he observed the sky fade into a navy color. it had been a year since the avengers defeated thanos, and life was only now beginning to set back into motion again.

losing nearly 3.5 billion people at once wasn't exactly the easiest thing to come back from.

his eyes were growing glossy and tired; he considered turning in early when something whizzed out from the lake―something with a silver glow. steve wanted to assume it was nothing, but his gut began to feel uneasy. he frantically searched for what came out from the lake when he spotted it coming down from the sky into the forest bordering the body of water.

boom.

the silver item detonated once it fell into the canopy of greenery, setting off a wave of flames and destruction. the earth shook and the compound began to collapse, a wall of fire licking at the stone barriers separating steve from the outside devastation.

he had been knocked back from the force, his vision hazy as particles of dust rained over him.

"steve!" tony stark was looming over him, already clad in his iron suit. "steve, you need to suit up!"

the captain nodded before running to switch out of his pajamas while tony blasted the glass window before him. not long after, bruce banner, carol danvers, sam wilson, and bucky barnes arrived in the main hall; rhodey, natasha romanoff, wanda, and vision came right after.

"what the hell was that?" natasha yelled right as steve returned to the main hall, and the team began to evacuate the building.

"i saw something shoot out of the water!" steve said as they ran, the eleven of them intending to leave this building alive. "it was glowing! it had a silver glow!"

a web of crack-lines spread in the concrete surrounding them, the ceiling behind them beginning to collapse at their heels.

the avengers had made it out of obliterated building in one piece, although bucky had nearly been crushed had tony not shoved him forwards.

"get in the jet!" tony commanded over them, hurdling everyone into the small aircraft. carol jumped in the pilot's seat and waited for further instruction. "set course for the city!"

the gods

inner earth

you stood by the cave entrance you had first entered centuries ago, the memories of going into hiding washing over you. a sense of vengeance flowed through your veins; this time, you would show no mercy to your adversaries.

the gods began to convene around you with the big three (or six rather, including their counterparts) at the mouth of the cavity. zeus and jupiter, poseidon and neptune, hades and pluto… you could feel your skin tingle―the power they had just by standing beside one another was enough to make you feel uneasy. if the counterparts combined into their ultimate form and slammed their bare fists on the earth, the planet would crumble to pieces.

"our time has come," zeus stared down each one of you until his eyes clouded over; after he blinked, his eyes revealed a lighting storm within his eyes. "to victory!"

"to victory!" you all cheered, and the gods ascended up the dark passage to the surface.

you hopped into apollo's rusted chariot and he whipped the reigns, his white stallions dashing up the rocky cavern faster than the speed of light. as you all arose to the surface, you turned to face your brother. his eyes were filled with the same determined fire; the flames growing chaotic and his smile alike to that of a madman.

a bright glow greeted your return to the surface. you felt the silver fragments of the moonlight absorb into your skin, charging you with more power in your abilities than you had in the first war. your eyes glistened grey in the glow of the moon as you smiled maniacally.

"while we were hidden away beneath the surface, i received news from the sprites about a group of… 'heroes'…" zeus walked among the twenty four of you, his face dark as he pondered his thoughts. "i have heard of their strength and how they are worshiped as if they were us―as if they were gods."

pluto chuckled from behind him, the spirals of black aura surrounding his body growing darker; the plant life around him began to wilt at an alarming pace. "how moronic it is that they pose with such counterfeit reverence."

"i'd like to send my best to face these so called 'heroes,'" zeus turned to look at you and your brother, "my children…" he stood before you two, "of the sun and moon you pair constitute; will you take the task?"

"we accept, father," you and apollo agreed to his wishes.

athena trudged towards the three of you, a set of three unraveled in the paper on her palm. "go to this location; i believe it is called 'new york city.' one of the sprites reported that they are often in this city."

"thank you, lady athena," apollo took the paper and shoved it in the front pocket of his breastplate before seating himself back into his chariot. "are you riding with me or with your hounds?"

"my hounds, of course," you scoffed.

you whistled your hunter's when the earth began to shake, the thumping of heavy feet growing louder and louder until a pack of seven gray wolves the size of grizzly bears leaped through the trees into the clearing. "it has been too long, likos," your favored dog padded towards you, bowing in homage. you petted his silver coat; the strands of hair were each like needles, and although they were lethal for mortals, to yourself, they were not.

you mounted on the enormous wolf and gripped his hair in your hands. "pigaíno, likos, pigaíno!"

tag list @wxntersoldiers @arianna-17-11 @emmalbg @release-the-cathyrchkn @geekysimmerthings @tarynkauai @woohoney @whiskeywinter89

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elsewhereuniversity · 6 years ago

Text

Librarians: Miss Whiskers

Library is place where odd things gather. Things that are strange and magical and definitely shouldn’t be allowed outside for risk of either exposing EU’s peculiar nature to general public, or shenanigans that will make dozens of groundskeeper’s go gray with stress ( some still go on counseling sessions as result of last time tooth-spitting machine and Jimothy teamed up), which honestly are pretty much same thing. Still some of them manage to be controversial.

One of those oddities is Miss Whiskers, a Deep Librarian hoarding enormous collection of books on bees and horticulture, who works 24/7, 286 days in year ( free days are chosen at random, and nobody knows what she does with them), for free. A dream of every dean with tight purse, and former member of Winter Court.

Miss Whiskers claims to be completely ordinary librarian, no matter what her 29 hands, 4 tails, face of weasel, petticoat of snowflakes and 3 metres long whiskers of brine and ice might point to, alongside her tendency to sit in nest made of stitched blankets and broken glass while eating molten asphalt and reading flying books in arcane languages, which honestly is pretty typical for this Library’s standards. Masters of words and loopholes, these Gentry. Besides, she has glasses and wig, soooo human.

According to rumours, Miss Whiskers was once dreaded and respected general of Winter Court, famous for parties where captured humans had their lungs frozen from inside out and her palace decorated with immortal butterflies singing Traviatta all the time. Reason for her change of profession is unknown. Idealistic members of student body repeat legend she was switched as changeling and realized her misdeeds and decided to become good person. More realistic ones claim she got in some big conflict with other Gentry and came out on losing side, leading either to exile or need to lay low for next several centuries.

Therefore, Miss Whickers has traveled in caravan for centuries, finding her way through shallows of Elsewhere, making herself in small, unimportant sprite, selling trinkets and charms for smile and hello. Only once or twice did she help some wandering hero for their kindness (because worlds have grown apart, and too few people wandered down beneath hills, and that pained her much) until finally she made her way to Elsewhere.

Unlike most of her kind, who delighted in chance to wreak mischief and trap fools in dangerous debts, Miss Whiskers was only happy to get to know humans again, for it had been far too long, and she didn’t pay them appropriate attention before (which was in hindsight a blessing). No less enthusiastic then most of her peers, but far calmer, she caught job in Library, almost literally chasing it down. According to records, she just appeared one day, and everybody had feeling she always was there. Dean, who was exhausted and overworked, was more then happy to get unpaid librarian, especially after last three got eaten by romance section, even if it might have meant some students had to be Taken.

Fortunately, Miss Whiskers doesn’t do stuff like that. In fact, she seems to actively loathe whole concept, and has been known to threaten changelings, warn pursued Students, offer them sanctuary or advice, use her strained Court connection to help them out, or even charge in Underhill and help with rescue. If asked, she claims no credit and says one who helped storm Summer Duchess’s beach house, fight through kelpie bodyguards and turn three-headed giant in stone was Lady D’ Arvit, who certainly isn’t any relative of hers and isn’t that similar to Miss Whickers in appearance-why, she has trench coat! And synthetic beard!

In her daily life, Miss Whiskers is completely happy to remain hidden from Uninvolved students, avoid all other Gentry (especially Foxy Lady and swamp hag) and never bother humans, unless they question her on placement of particular book on topic of bees or horticulture, as she knows them all far better then library directory, which isn’t that hard as it only accounts for books present in this dimension.

Should you wander in on her, she will be very happy to help you out, whether that includes advice on escaping Wild Hunt, being served tea (from Walmart, but it is rude to complain), led out from Library, even be given some actual human money or love advice (she loves playing matchmaker, almost as much as she loves pointing out that she is still Miss, not Mrs, with suggestive glance of her square-shaped neon green eyes), and only thing she asks for is for you to write down confession you were surprised when she revealed she wasn’t human, no really I would have never guessed! Students she helped tend to find encouraging messages and important reminders written on window in non-melting frost on her off days.

She is on good terms with most of staff (exceptions being Professor Fives, on account of him being another Gentry and contender for position of Best Human Impersonator, leading to many screaming matches, Professor Meriweather, on account of her knowing his deal, leading to hateful sneers, and Mrs. Burns, on account of having a barest semblance of reason, leading to running in opposite space-time direction of ancient crone whenever they meet), and has been known to intercede on behalf of tired students, by messengers who certainly aren’t ferrets made. For that even Knights respect her and keep away.

However, she is on bad terms with all Gentry, even Jimothy. Though she is completely nice to humans and Dreamers loyal to any fae for this reason or other, she makes sure she never mentions her schedule to them, for fear they might slip up. In return, many students and even some professors have taken to helping her out with problems, keeping watch with bats with iron nails, having taken on more then one Sidhe knight for her sake. Some of Gentry say all her kindness is ploy to get cult of humans serving her, but not where any of Chemistry Department might hear them.

Some believe Miss Whickers is so benevolent in attempt to atone for her misdeeds ages and ages ago. She refuses to talk about her past, and gets ashamed and teary eyes when it is brought up, stating that she got far less then she deserves, and that no matter how nice she may seem she is monster. Thus, it is believed, she has dedicated herself to helping others, and is even rumored to write pamphlets and books on human nature, ingenuity and other amazing qualities, which aren’t best received among Gentry but are hit among some of Forbidden Major, even if they present quite quirky explanations for human social structure, which actually may not be so wrong, and are rumored to have won several sociology students a full research funding. Still, she remains one of best beloved figures on campus, despite her past. Gentry themselves see her as something between old shame, bitter enemy and persona, non grata, all but one, individual who is listed as her greatest, if not only flaw.

Why would somebody like her be such good friends with somebody like Rose Prince?

#irleughlivelyatalanteangodfan #librarians #the library #stories #miss whiskers #'but she has a wig and glasses'#'the last three librarians were eaten by the romance section'#love that #long post #submission

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maximumkillshot · 6 years ago

Text

When You Call- Part 10

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angry!Angsty!Dream!Alpha!Dean, Angry!Alpha!Sam, Angst in General, some violence, some cussing.

Yeah, it’s not the best right now.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Alpha!Sam Winchester, Alpha!Dean Winchester, Dream!Alpha!Dean, Omega!Reader

A/N: You guys know the saying “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.” WELL THIS IS WHAT THAT SAYING MEANS! This has some major angst... I just... I’M SO SORRY!!

“All I Could Do” Masterlist- CLICK HERE

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

When You Call” Masterlist- Click Here

Previously:

“Baby, what happened to you?” I whispered as I walked to her.

When I grabbed her hand her heart beat went up momentarily. Other than that, no change though.

As soon as the doctors left the room, I began to think of ways to get to her.

After a few hours of thinking I came up with a few ideas.

“Maybe we can have Cass try to contact her. Maybe, try to wake her up like that.” I said out loud.

“Or,” said Sam, “or we could let it play out how it is supposed to play out.”

“Sammy, if you don’t have any ideas, shut up.” I replied. Then it hit me.

“Dreamroot.”

“Dean, NO”

“Sammy, Dreamroot, c’mon it’s safe.”

“Dean, no. That stuff can only be used for emergencies…”

“And this isn’t an emergency, Sammy?”

“Dean, what happens if you go in with the dream root and you find nothing?”

“What do you mean I find nothing?” I asked irritated.

“What if she isn’t there, Dean. What if she’s gone?”

“She’s not gone, Sam. Just get the dream root and I’ll prove it to you.”

Begrudgingly Sam went out and got the dream root. Finally it was time. I swallowed the concoction and drifted off to sleep, hoping I could get Y/N back.

Now:

Dean’s POV:

As soon as I closed my eyes I woke up in front of Bobby’s house. It was so serene, the sun just reaching the top of the sky. It made zero sense until I saw Baby next to a toy car in the front lawn. I’m in her dream.

The further I walked up the walkway I saw different action figures and lawn toys for toddlers strewn about. When I walked up the front porch I heard tiny screams of laughter and a bunch of pattering feet, the smell of pie filled the air the longer I stood at the door. I knocked on the door and waited.

A giggling Y/N opened the door with a baby girl in one hand and a toddler, a boy, at her feet, gripping onto her leg. She rubbed her hand on his head, a simple wedding band dawning her ring finger, and a silver bite mark dawning her neck.

“Mommy? Why does he look like Daddy?” said the boy in a shaky voice. The more I looked at him the more that I saw myself. My hair, my eyes, my nose, my lips.

When I looked to Y/N she had a look of utter fear as she calmly said, “DJ, Sweetheart, Take Samantha upstairs and go get Daddy…. Take her to the place we talked about. Go.”

“Can I come in, Y/N?” I asked.

As soon as her son disappeared up the stairs she aimed a gun right to my head as she said “What are you?”

“Baby, it’s me. It’s Dean.”

“No, You’re not Dean. You make any sudden movements, I’m blowing a fucking hole where your brain currently resides, got it?”

I put my hands up and said “Got it,” as she practically dragged me inside and kept me by the door. Immediately I saw… Not again.

“Omega what’s going on, DJ told me th-” he stopped as soon as he saw me. It was me, but a dream version of me.

Immediately he drew my, his?, Our gun and aimed it at me.

“Y/N grab the kids and the keys and go to Sammy’s place, don’t come back until I call, got it? ” seethed dream me.

“No, Y/N! Listen” I tried to plead but dream me just advanced and put the gun to my head.

“You talk to her again, I’m ending you, right here, right now.” dream me said.

As soon as I saw her with the kids again I knew that this was the only chance I had.

I also knew that she wasn’t going to listen to me until I said it so I did, “You’ll always be my lotus, Baby.”

She stopped in her tracks. She was pissed as she handed Samantha back to DJ and said “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“How in the hell do you know that?!” She screamed.

“How could I forget, Y/N. 1997. We went on a hunt in Florida, pissed off sprite that lived in one of the ponds there. After we dealt with her she dissapeared into a lotus flower. I told you you’d always be my lotus, because I always came back to you, like that sprite.”

She grabbed her gun and aimed it at me, “You are not my husband.” Her hand quaked ever so slightly, as if she was fighting herself, her instincts kicking in.

I looked at her in they eye as I said,“You’re right.. I’m not your husband... yet. But right now you’re in a coma. I came to get you.”

“Dream root” She whispered to herself, slowly connecting the dots.

“You can’t actually be buying this!” huffed dream me.

“Shut up!” yelled Y/N.

“You want more proof? If he was really me, Y/N. Would I have really spent time talking? Letting whatever the hell it was this close to you? To our kids?”

“No it’s been 9 years since I passed out trying to call you that night, but you made it in time. You claimed me.” She spoke confused as she reached with one hand, rubbing her claim mark.

“No baby, that just happened today, I found you not breathing in the bed. I got you to breathe again, then on the way to the hospital you started seizing. You grabbed my hand, remember, Baby?”

Her eyebrows went down in frustration, “No we are married, we have children together. We live in my father’s house, in our home, we gave up that life for them.”

I looked at her and I said, “Then tell me, what are their birthdays? When did you get married?”

She tried to answer but couldn’t, I continued “You can’t remember because it hasn’t happened yet. Baby, this is all an amazing and beautiful dream. The only way that we can make this a reality is if you let this go and come back to me. Please come back to me.”

“That’s it!” I heard dream me yell and I heard the safety get taken off, then a gunshot, but I felt nothing. When I looked to the dream me, he laid on the floor bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the head. Y/N had shot the dream me.

When I looked back at Y/N she said “Don’t touch my Alpha.” as she dropped the gun onto the floor and kissed me. When we looked back to the kids they slowly disappeared and Bobby’s house slowly faded.

Then we were in the hospital, Y/N hooked up to all of the tubes.

“I’m so tired” Y/N said as she walked to her bedside.

“I know, Baby. But I need you to fight. I need you to try to wake up for me. I should have never held back, should have claimed you last night. Hell, should’ve claimed you 20 years ago.” I stated honestly.

“You know I probably won’t remember any of this, right?” She stated.

“That’ll only make it better when it happens in real life.” I said as I walked to her and grabbed her hand.

“Come back to me, Y/N. Please.” I pleaded as I felt myself rousing.

“I will try my hardest, Baby. I love you”.

The next thing I know I’m awake.

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

“What happened in there?” asked Sam.

“I got her out, but her body’s exhausted. She told me she’s going to try her hardest. That’s all I can ask for.”

I walked to her and brushed her cheek with my hand. Seeing her like this. I can’t help but feel like I’m no good for her. No matter what I do I constantly hurt her.

“Cut it out, Dean.” Said Sammy, slightly annoyed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please, Dean. I know better and so does she. If she trips, is that gonna be your fault too?” Asked Sammy, and I growled at him, he answered with another growl, his chest puffing up in the process.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Sammy so I suggest you shut your mouth.” I growled, my hair standing on end at his challenging stance.

“Or what Dean? Does the truth really hurt that much?! That you couldn’t have prevented any of what happened to Y/N? Or is it that you can’t handle that there are some things that you just can’t change…” He snarled as I began to size him up.

He continued, “ Because both of those things are true, y’know. She’s been trying to get you to see that for as long as I can remember but you are so self-deprecating that you refuse to listen to me or her.”

“Sammy…”

“Don’t Sammy me, Dean. You know that I’m right, that she’s right; you just don’t care. Unlike you, I actually listen to what she has to say and the advice that she gives… Whereas you need to be the ‘noble’ Alpha leader,like always!” He was yelling now, fuming.

I tried to shove him but he used my momentum against me and threw me into the chair near the window of Y/N’s hospital room.

“Look at you, Dean! You can’t even keep your head on straight for one second to see what the hell’s in front of you. You really think I went to bed early just to go to bed?! Y/N felt more comfortable confiding in me about this than you because she knew that you would pull something to make her feel like shit for needing you.” He yelled as he pinned my hands to the chair and got in my face.

At this point all I’m seeing is red as he continued to chew me out, “You claim to be a Alpha but you act like a loud and bossy Beta who doesn’t know right from wrong! You are better than this, Dean. Look at you, growling and acting like a child. Grow up... I would murder anyone or anything to have Y/N as an Omega. Not because she is obedient or a homebody, but for the opposite. Because she’d rip anyone apart to protect me or you. Because she is an Alpha at heart with the soul of a leader, a warrior goddess in the flesh, and you are acting like a silverback gorilla who is constantly insecure. Grow the fuck up before you lose her… And if I lose her…. Because of you…”

He huffed, “I’m killing you myself.” as he released my wrists and stormed out of the room.

All I could do was sit there, thinking. How could he judge me like that?! All I ever do is make sure he’s okay. Making sure that he had everything that he needs, everything he could ever want. He wanted out, I got him out, he wanted back in, I didn’t say a word against it. He wanted to stay at the Men of Letters Bunker, we did, I support him in everything so how dare he speak to me like that! I raised him!

NO… We raised him… Y/N and I. We did that. I know exactly what she’d say right now.

She’d say that I was taking it all wrong. That we should be proud of him for being so strong when we can’t be. For remaining objective, for giving him the strength to not only see the surface of this situation, but the whole thing, inside and out. She’d tell me he’s right. He is right.

Then I feel that sting in my eyes again as I became aware of everything again. I pulled the chair up to Y/N and calmly pulled down the guardrail and slowly grabbed her hand.

I looked at her small hand in mine, the scars that riddled it from all of the hunts, all of the times she cut her hands in Bobby’s garage, constantly fixing cars, she could never build a callus. She didn’t care thought.

“It’s gotta get done and that’s that.” she’d always say as she would be patching up yet another cut. I’d tell her to take a break, to at least let me help with the sharper metals, not Y/N.

She would tell me, “You wanna help, Winchester? Hand me the monkey wrench and watch a master at work.” She’d always finish with that infectious giggle… I don’t think I can live without that giggle…. I know I can’t live without that giggle.

I brought her hand to my face and kissed her, wishing that I was kissing her lips. That I was travelling from her lips to her neck, to her claim bite. That we were in our bed and not in a hospital.

I whispered after I kissed her hand, “Please, Y/N… I need you. Please come back, I can’t… not without you. I love you.”

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Wanna join the tag army? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

WHEN YOU CALL TAGS:

@stone2576, @tailsoflightning , @cececolbert, @anathewierdo, @pisces-cutie , @mannls, @jaylarkson , @p3nny4urth0ught5 , @goodgodimaweirdperson, @lavenderlioness16, @shamelesslydean

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