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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Catch Me If You Can

Oh my gosh finally complete and am so happy how it came out. This was commissioned by @beanspeens of her and her partner’s OCs! The entirety of it is an Original world and with Original characters and was a delight to make.

Want to see your own OCs come to life? Hit up my DMs to get on my waitlist and check out my commission page in my bio!

Summary: Demon loves his tiny nonbinary human and wants to bone them in the woods for sport.

Fandom: Original World

Relationship: OCS: Mavrick/Frankie

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, CNC, sexual roleplay, light biting, light degradation, light pussy slapping (Ie no pain, not hard), monster fucking, knotted dick, breeding kink, two fuckers in love, Frankie is nonbinary and uses they/them!

Words: 6.6k

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Nikita.

Nikita was a realm built separately from our own. A different dimension that somehow interconnected to our own through what was known as ‘rifts’, portal-like creations. No one knows where it began, or how it really began; Except for the god of it. Who, legend had it- had been snatched from the above world for the purpose of being a battery for souls originally. The once young teen had broken free, thus ascending to godhood, as far as the stories go for the god known present as: NG.

Being a teen meant a rampant sense of imagination. The once near empty world being influenced into a more magical sense full of varied creatures and magics. The lands were vast and plush, full of foliage, great tall mountains, and having small towns here and there. An un-colonized world. From our world, we could describe this way of living almost as Medieval. Old fashioned trading systems, coin trades made of precious metals, and no modern-day technology.

From Our world, people could fall through these rifts that seemed to be scattered throughout and randomly placed. It didn’t matter where or who, no one in particular, no one ever the same, just that you could fall through.

To us, these people who fell through were regular humans. To Nikita? These were known as ‘Otherworlders’. Finding their way home seeming near impossible, with only a handful of people who could send them back from Nikita to back where they came. If you could find the ones who could send you back.

~Rest under the cut~

However, most Otherworlders decide to stay for their own personal reasons. Never the same, yet always a tinge in their tone that implied life back home wasn’t so...welcoming as here. So, perhaps there was some common place for these people.

Since staying in Nikita was such a common occurrence for Otherworlders, organizations were made specifically with volunteers of varying creatures to help these strangers settle down into Nikita with little to no confusion. Some ended up great friends, some ended up partners for life, and some just ended up parting ways without any semblance of bonding.

Nikita was a world built around magic. Creatures from humans, to demons, to elves, to dragons, to even creatures akin to dogs or cats walking on two legs, to much more all alike and different survived here amongst each other. The magic ran deep throughout the lands and the people alike, abundant and plentiful much like the foliage that ran around the country.

Not everyone could use magic, however. But certain species could wield it easier than others.

For those of human nature, controlling and wielding such magics could prove to be difficult. Even if they could use just a bit, they still would not reach the levels that those of the dragon and demonic kind could reach. Those of which could wield it with ease, as if it ran through their very veins.

The term and species of demons in Nikita are not the religious kind from what we know from our world, yet can be similar in appearance. They are very mortal, living a few centuries long and come in various subspecies. The term ‘demon’ is also granted to those who don’t fit into any other species available. Such as mixed breeds or creatures without names.

The most abundant species of demon you could find here being the succubi, incubi, and omnubi. Looking almost human if it weren’t for their horns, varied colored skin, tails, teeth, and peculiar appetites.

Other demons? Could appear more monstrous rather than humanoid.

The demon of the hour that shall be heard of is named Mavrick, or rather preferring to be called Mav. And our Otherworlder of the hour, Frankie, whose paths will cross and go from snapping at each other, to traveling together, to friends with benefits, and finally to the lovers they currently are.

Meeting Mavrick, you’d think maybe you’d get your head bitten off right away, or maybe you’d get annoyed enough at his cocky mouth to jab him in the gut. Standing 8’2”, he gives off the impression of an asshole right away. Preferring to strut his stuff with a cocky flair, insults and sarcasm dripping off his tongue with ease.

Despite giving off the air of an asshole, he wasn’t all too bad- just more upfront about his emotions. Thus, can result in him also making call outs for people in public with shitty attitudes or clearly trying to find trouble; But when they turn back around full of fight and find themselves craning upwards to look up at the massive beast? They tend to drop that ‘ready to fight’ behavior quickly.

Not only was Mav’s huge size a good way to keep people from talking more shit, but his appearance was that of the more monstrous breed. With black, medium sized horns atop his head quirked slightly backwards into points and thick enough to get your fingers around, his head was almost like an insect’s in its rounded diamond manner with a slight, short snout. Said snout also could split into a maw, with teeth constantly growing much like a rat’s and needed to be ground down for threat of being too sharp.

A pair of goat-like ears, and pure white eyes that were almost cat-like in respect with a glow to them, a small white diamond pattern on his fur between his eyes and a half moon on his forehead. His face wasn’t too fluffy riddled with slick fur, but his body had to be the fluffiest, sans on his abdomen where there was thinner fur from his nervous habit of scratching.

His body is built with messy fur, slim without much muscle at all and predominantly black fur on his body. White, slick fur started at his biceps, working down into huge monstrous hands that looked more like full fingered claws than anything. His long legs worked their ways into black hooves, his tail long and prehensile with a spear tip, and wings on his back of white and black with little white diamonds hanging from the curled upper tips.

His voice is low, almost its own growling tone in a way with a slight twang to his accent that he adopted from his partner, Frankie’s, manner of speech. He even tended to make noises that were more animalistic ranging from growls to purrs to squeaking. His mannerisms more animalistic in terms of cocking his head when an odd noise arose to bristling if something upset him. Yet, walking on all four legs tended to frighten people, so he kept to two.

Mav is from Nikita, born and raised. He’s been self-reliant near all his life, coming from just south of here where nonhumans like himself are chased out or enslaved. Learning to do things himself, from building buildings to preparing food, to learning how to protect himself since such a young age. Fear and distrust of humans had built into a survival tactic, until he’d met Frankie.

Frankie, in turn, was a human. An Otherworlder, in fact. They come across, at first, as quiet and cautious, but once you got to know them, they’d open up into a fun-loving goofball who cracked jokes. And would rather finger gun their way out of an argument rather than pick a fight.

From Our world, they’re used to doing everything themself. From their home life to past relationships, they had been raised to be a homegrown people pleaser. Frankie was kicked out of their home at 16 when they’d come out to their family, and then lived with a friend’s family until they were 18 where their boyfriend at the time aided in getting them an apartment together.

And that’s where their story got worse.

That, thankfully now ex, boyfriend had seen them as ‘woman lite’ and not nonbinary. And that they were someone, regardless of Frankie’s actual future plans, who would leave him hot dinner on the table, get pregnant, and take care of the children. They broke up a few years later from him at 21, and at 22 fell through a portal to Nikita.

Possibly a blessing in disguise, despite their roughed-up palms.

They’d met Mav quickly after, who didn’t quite trust humans so Frankie was someone to bristle around and puff himself up to seem bigger. It took some time as they traveled together and Frankie deciding to stay, growing used to this new way of life before they’d found their relationship going from traveling partners, to friends with benefits. And after that, came a slow romance budding on both ends until they became happy partners.

In terms of appearance, Frankie was vastly different from Mav.

Standing at 5’9”, they had a sweeter appearance. With dark auburn short hair in a messy little wavy undercut, their facial shape rounded and softer. Their eyes are hooded with thick lashes, a golden-brown shade of color to their iris. Their eyebrows are thick but well kept, their button nose dotted in freckles, and their lips softly shape and plump. Freckles dot all across their warm brown skin, including all over their face with more prominent areas being their nose, cheeks, and forehead.

Their body type is pretty average, with C cup breasts and a slight amount of chub on their tummy. Their long legs were strong, and their hips rounding out a bit. Their most prominent feature being their ass, possibly the definition of a bubble butt and most certainly joked about in their relationship. Body hair they kept; Sans underarms due to the scratchy feeling.

As far as their relationship? It had grown. From when they had been traveling companions, to finding company within each other sexually, to now romantically. Long since gone are the days where they traveled the country together- Mav had built a cabin he’d lived in for years and now shared with Frankie.

Said home was a homestead- more of a farm that was surrounded by lush tall mountains and vast lands. It was built to look like a beautiful, moderate sized log cabin with a front and back porch. It looked almost abandoned on the outside, like a regular old house until you walked inside.

Outside of it, however, they were very secluded, to the point it took two hours by foot to get to the nearest town. Due to this, they live their lives more rurally. With a farm full of livestock from chickens to cows, to plumbing so they could have running water, to a large garden that was lovingly taken care of.

Well. If you’d count Frankie pulverizing weeds and yelling things akin to, “You think you’re so tough, huh? Hurting my poor lil ’ innocent tomatoes? Fuck off and die you green heathens!” a ‘lovingly taken care of garden’. Then yes.

Yes, it was.

When you walked inside, it felt like a home. The vibes given off are more of an elderly couple than it is for a human and a demon with a knack for creating and hoarding objects. Mav created most of the décor and furniture by hand, the table comfortably seating them both and made of local wood from the vast woods surrounding them. Bones made into wind chimes outside, wreaths handmade with flowers and vines collected from around their property and garden, chairs with extra padding from shearing the sheep to take their wool.

Mav also had a tendency to collect things from years of travel, but anything that wasn’t hung up inside was out in a large, old shed. Probably never to be touched again.

Whoops.

Their home wasn’t messy, kept tidy inside by both of them working together. The bed sheets were a mess in the morning, but nothing to really do about that. Unless, of course, it was winter; Where Mav would shed absolutely everywhere and the sheets needed to be washed due to it. Lots of dusting and lots of grooming going on with a brush and Frankie’s hands. Always followed by the comments of, “You shed so much we could make thirty sweaters out of it!”

Followed by Mav’s insistent purring at the grooming and absolutely tuning out the comment every time without another thought.

Together, they loved as if they were soulmates. Hard and loyally.

Buuuuut that didn’t stop them from teasing each other. From Frankie reminding him his ‘chew toys’ were in the corner when Mav was gnawing on his own hands as if THAT would stop his teeth’s insistent growing. To Mav putting things up high or using Frankie’s head as an arm rest.

But, on the other side, when Frankie is feeling upset or down, Mav is quick on his toes. Nuzzling their face, pressing his snout in little kisses to their face until they’re beaming and having to stim out their emotions by finding his thicker fur to stroke and lightly pull. Or when Mav is upset, distancing himself and trying to contain it in his body, Frankie is quick to get him settled into bed or on the couch. Clambering into his lap, grabbing his snout in both hands and acting like a sports announcer hyping him up with, “You’re cute! You’re good! You’re gonna be okay!” Until his face is embarrassed and his tail is thumping on the ground like a pleased dog’s.

However, though that normally resulted in successfully perking up Mav, he’d still move to roll them over and try to pretend smother them with a pillow. Or simply lying on top of them while they whined about how heavy and warm he was followed by, “You can’t hide from your feelings, Mav, you big softie!!! You have feelings too!!!”

Mav was also the cook in their relationship- Frankie is scared to cook, a fear from past bad experiences and life back on Our world being...hardened. However, they were learning to do certain tasks, taking great love in helping out in the kitchen.

Normally resulting in powder ending up on their clothing and looking to Mav with a big smile of pride at their own accomplishments and Mav’s heart damn near pounding out of his chest. Often having to look away and huff out a ‘Good job, sweetheart’ just so he wouldn’t be enamored with them further.

Which normally failed after he heard their stimming following immediately of the ‘pat pat pat ’ of their hands on the counter and Mav would be weak in the knees with his love for them. His tail swishing in happiness was the giveaway always, gathering Frankie’s attention to switch their patting to winding their arms around him so they could stroke at his fur while he cooked the rest of dinner.

Typically, this led to something a little more ‘hot and heavy’ after dinner. Where the two would be filled with those specifics that had butterflies in both of their stomachs.

Both their sexual appetites were in sync in a lot of manners. They went well together in terms of sexual preferences, kinks, and libido. Sex was quite common between them, as they were friends with benefits way before they were even partners. Just, now, the intimacy between them was stronger. To the point back when they were just friends with benefits, Mav could be crueler during scenes and ride through it without fault, but now tended to have to pause a scene to check on Frankie and calm his own worries about hurting them too much. Even having to end a scene too early sometimes.

Mav was a sadist by heart, his ultimate goal being to make someone cry from ‘too much’ or 'too little’. Or even by roughing them up on purpose. He had the teeth and claws for it, he had the snarl for it, he had the hunting instinct for it, and most importantly: He had the sense for it. To make safe words and safe signals for any sort of scenario just to be safe. Especially for Frankie, who, well, was human and much...fleshier and softer than his teeth and claws.

Frankie, on the other hand, would much prefer to be belly up and whine for him. They were usually obedient for Mav, being a good toy for whatever he had planned for them that night. But, sometimes, bratty nature just...slipped out. Liking to tease, poke, prod, or add another element to a specific scene they were trying to play out. Unfortunately, pain wasn’t big on their list of wants, but some was alright and even wanted. Small nicks and bites here and there LOUDLY being welcomed.

This led to them talking about scenes as well. Mav was more open about discussing kinks and ideas, while Frankie tended to be flustered and turning red in the face when specific things were brought up. However, they could communicate very well with Frankie being honest about their ‘yes’ and no’s when it came to certain things.

Like now, they’re sitting at their little handmade table. The birch wood having their respective cups on top with Frankie tapping their fingers on the wood idly. Their eyes are looking to the side, their face red all the way to their ears as they nod quietly to Mav asking if they were up for something a little...rougher today.

Mav doesn’t dodge around the subject, going straight into it once he can smell their pheromones have picked up. But, it does make his speech have a slight growl to it instead as he speaks slowly for them to hear clearly what he’s asking of them. “I want to try a roleplay- you're very fond of being my prey, right?”

He pauses there, waiting for Frankie’s reply which is a quick nod of their head and one of their hands moving to cup their own warmed cheek in embarrassment. “Y-yeah.”

Mav’s maw near about salivates at the sight of them already squirming, but he coolly continues, “I want you to run. Run fast, run hard, as if I’m coming after you to eat you alive.” His tone is a low growl when he speaks, but his body language is still comforting for them. Moving so he can rest a large, clawed hand on the table where Frankie’s fingers have stopped tapping, their hand just resting there. Gently curling one claw around their hand that they quickly latch onto with a fleeting glance towards Mav’s predatory look.

“I can run.” Frankie says quietly, knowing Mav is waiting for their response. They swallow at the idea, rubbing their thighs together and knitting their brows as their cogs turn, wondering what he was leading up to.

“I want you to pretend you don’t know me,” Mav says slowly, watching Frankie perk up at that in curiosity, turning their gaze to him with less embarrassment and more interest. “That I’m some big scary monster and my sole goal of the night is to breed you and take you as my mate.”

“Oh.” Frankie breathes, red creeping onto their ears all the way down to their chest.

“Oh?”

“Good ’oh’! Good ‘oh’.” Frankie clarifies, squeezing his claw softly as their gaze settles onto the wall beside him instead.

There’s a moment of quiet as Mav moves his hand, letting his palm lie up on the table so Frankie can rest their softer, fleshy hand over top. They’re worrying their bottom lip with a gentle bite, clearly mulling it over, but oh- oh their scent-

Mav is practically drooling to get his tongue buried in their cunt. He almost changes his mind, almost asks them to wait right there and be good so he could just bury his head between their thighs and make Frankie his t--

“Do I get a head start?” Frankie cuts into his thoughts, glancing coyly under their lashes at him in a way that’s almost challenging. As if they COULD outrun him.

Mav’s maw near splits into a wide grin. “You will surely need it, slow poke.”

Frankie thinks, for once, they regret their choice of comfortable wear for the evening. They had asked Mav if they could change, but he’d just started counting down as if he hadn’t heard them despite the perk of his ears.

Asshole.

They’d been quick to bolt out of the house from the backdoor, zipping over the gates and hearing the curious bleating of their sheep and startled cooing of their chickens. They pay no mind as they hurdle over the tall fences, making their way into the thick brush of woods nearby.

This is the scent Mav follows, and Frankie knows he’s hot on their heels. At least they wore their sneakers today- but maybe jeans and a sweater weren’t the best of options for physically exerting activities. Like running.

God, they hated running.

They’re zipping through trees as best as they can, getting it out of their mind that Mav is chasing them. Scene- right, it’s a scene. They don’t know it’s Mav chasing them, but a. ..a creature- a monster of some sort who...who was only there to breed them, to take them as a mate-

Frankie finds their breath quivering and legs pounding harder as they leap over a fallen log, trying to twist and turn and throw their scent of, but they know better. They know better than to even stop for a second to catch their breath.

They know they won’t outrun him.

For their own pride, however, they count themself lucky that they even make it to twenty minutes before they hear the quickened thumping of what sounds like four feet. Instincts kick in as Frankie squeaks when a shadow darts to their left, quickly running towards the right like frightened prey. They’d been so careful to avoid being out in the open, all clearings avoided, sticking to the trees, trying to make it more difficult.

They end up being pounced on by a fluffy, lengthy body. Frankie lets out a scream as they go toppling to the ground flat on their abdomen in a soft patch of dirt. The trees look massive as they extend towards the sky in their eye line, the area looking as if it had been stomped down a good twelve feet across towards the foliage and trees. Keeping the land flat and thankfully not muddy.

Before they could survey their surroundings more, Frankie is kicking into high gear. Squirming beneath the large body atop them, managing to get out for just a moment to try and scramble to their feet. Frankie hears a snarl before their ankle is snatched, toppling them once more as they’re dragged backwards with a cry.

They quickly find themself on their back, panting hard as their lungs and legs ache equally. They see a maw split open above them to reveal sharp teeth, freshly filed. Glowing eyes are narrowed and a low snarl bubbling above them.

“You’re wet.” Comes the snarling, low voice above them. Frankie whimpers out in embarrassment, moving their hands to maybe push at the fluffy chest above them, but their wrists are snatched in large claws. Holding them firmly above their head as pressure rests between their legs. “Oh? You like that, too, pet? Filthy little thing.”

Mav’s voice sounds...different. More possessive, a low growl above them that leaves Frankie’s heart pounding. Something Mav can most certainly hear. He gives them a moment, waiting for them to speak before proceeding when they look just as into it as he is. “I think you’ll hold my pups nicely; Don’t you think? You smell fertile, little one. Like a bitch in heat.”

That does it, a low whine exhaling from Frankie’s lungs. They squirm, pulling at their wrists with a small cry of, “N-no!” Despite the fact they most certainly lifted their hips up in the hope of finding his sheath to urge him on.

Maybe they weren’t so good at this ‘pretend to not want it’ thing.

Mav seems to like their response regardless, snarling low and deep in his chest as he brings his teeth to their throat. His maw is held open, as if threatening to bite down on their neck like a naughty kitten. Frankie’s breath is panicked as they feel his hot breath fanning over them, saliva on his teeth making the situation seem more realistic of ‘fuck or die’.

Immediately, Frankie holds still, trembling and feeling their heart racing. They felt like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. Their mind races equally, caught between sub space and playing into the scene, or feeling the mild need to make a joke about how ‘wet’ Mav’s mouth was.

Thankfully, the former seems to take over than their delight in bullying him, because a sharp whimper exhales from their nose.

When Mav pulls back to look at them, his eyes are a terrifying glow of want. They feel him rut between their legs briefly, able to glance down and see that fluffy little sheath hidden within his fur start to peek out. Only an inch of his cock is peeking right now, with a tapered head making its appearance with a ribbed texture starting just underneath in a beautiful black and white marbling.

They know in all its glory, he’s big. Nine inches in total, with thick ribbing nearly all the way down to his knot, and a wonderful thickness that always was nearing on ‘too much’. Which was quickly ‘too much’ once they got to his knot. With a thickness maybe the size of a baseball or bigger, it always took prep to get them to be able to take it. Most times, if they didn’t have the toys or patience, Frankie would end up just having the knot outside of them and Mav filthy snarling in their ear about how he wanted to breed them properly.

The idea always sent a thrill down their spine.

A yelp exits their lips when they’re suddenly being tugged up by the underside of their thighs, hoisting their hips into the air so Mav can grab their ass, leaving their upper back and head on the ground with their arms lying flat to keep themself up. They watch him bury his face between their thighs, his short snout nosing at the front of their jeans where a wet spot was making itself seen even in the light of the bright, full moon and the darkness of the world.

“Mmmm, a treat just for me, little thing? You like being my toy?”

“No! Let me go!”

Mav’s eyes flickering up to their face is almost uncertain at first. But seeing that Frankie isn’t using any signals or special words, he lets that momentary uncertainty fade into the feeling of possession. He snarls back at them, nosing harder at their cunt to get further acquainted with their scent, near drowning in it. “I don’t think you’re callin’ the shots here, sweetheart.”

Mav at least doesn’t tear their clothing apart, but he keeps them in that position as he unbuttons and unzips their pants. There’s a hurry to get their shoes off, yanking their pants and underwear with them and leaving them in just their sweater and socks. His clawed hands cup their ass, still keeping them afloat with himself on his knees near bent in half to reach them with his snout pressing to their cunt.

He nuzzles his way against their wet folds, feeling over the curly hair they had resting there and just how delicious they smelled. He groans against them, letting his long tongue loll out to swipe up them from hole to clit, letting his maw hang open so he could scent them better. It’s when he growls does Frankie’s hips twitch up, having been so good at holding their self-control up until then.

“Look at how wet your little cunt is, sweet thing.” He growls against them, running his tongue over their clit in a long, slow slick just to make their breath catch. “Mmh. What a pathetic, eager breeding bitch you are, dontcha’ think?”

He doesn’t give them a chance to answer, his claws pressing to their skin to hold them in place. His snout noses at them, curling his tongue deep into their cunt with his snout pressed to their clit, making sure to nuzzle and apply pressure with the curling of his tongue following the motions. Frankie can’t help the noises they make, looking so beautiful under him with their body folded in half, their sweater dropping to just below their chest and the softness of their abdomen rolled and squished.

Mav can only groan at the sight of them, of how their lips part and their head tilts to the side. They keep great in character with little whimpers of ‘no’ under their breath, fizzling out to moans when his curls his tongue upwards, sliding it out of them to get his tongue on their clit. Just to watch their hips try to buck upwards, trying to get more pressure like they wanted. By now his cock is slid entirely out of its sheath, hanging wet and heavy between his legs.

He’s a bit disappointed he didn’t think to bring a toy with him. Stretch them out in the middle of the woods just so he could knot them properly.

As soon as Mav hears their breath quickening, he pulls back. Delighting in how Frankie’s fist pounds on the ground with a cry out of dismay of, “Please!”

“Aw, already begging? What happened to ‘no’?” Mav teases back, holding them up with one hand under their ass, his other coming up so he could run a knuckle over their hole up to their clit in a back and forth fashion.

Fingering was a no-go situation due to how he could cut them, but he could tease them with these little touches. Delighting in how their breath catches and how Frankie’s hips try to buck upwards for more pressure. Eyebrows knitted and frustration written across their features.

With their red face, Frankie whimpers and turn their head again. Stubbornly choking out, “Please let me go-” With their voice betraying the wobble of how badly they wanted him. Poor thing.

“Oh? Let you go? No, no, no, I don’t think that’s what you want me to do, baby doll. Look at you, so pliant and open for me, so eager to cum on my tongue. What if someone heard you, hm? Came by and fucked that pretty little mouth to keep you quiet instead?” Mav teases them, leaning down to lap at their clit a few times, his knuckle resting just underneath to keep it pronounced and feeling the harsh contractions of their cunt.

Once again, he stops when he hears their crying getting louder. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting him to their pretty little pussy, all reddened and flushed. A perfect little treat for him.

“Just admit you want me to breed you. I want to hear you say it nice and clear. Politely, if you would please. Then maybe you can cum.” Mav croons out, his tone a bit cocky, moving his hand from their pussy to give it a flat palmed smack. Not hard enough to hurt or even hard enough to make a sound, but enough to send a reverberation up their clit and startle them into yelping.

“I-I-..”

“You?”

“I...” Frankie starts, their breath shaking as they feel Mav lowering them back to the ground. They can’t find the fight in them, though they do consider what he would do if they were to get back up and try and run for it. They wouldn’t get far, and judging by his mood already, they’d probably end up edged with no hope of orgasm in sight.

They swallow thickly, feeling his intense stare and unable to look up at him. They roll their hips into nothing, aching for his tongue to be back on them. But after a few moments of his reassuring hands gently grabbing their thighs and stroking ever so subtly with his thumbs to comfort them, they manage to get it out with their face burning red, “Iwantyoutobreedme -- please?”

“Didn’t quite catch that, little one.” Mav teases, a grin stretching across his maw just to watch Frankie’s head thunk back into the dirt with a groan. He has a feeling they almost break the scene just to kick him, but they manage again to speak in their prettiest of tones.

“I want you t ...to breed me, please. Please cum inside me, please?”

Oh...Oh that was...a lot better than he thought that was going to sound.

A groan leaves Mav’s throat as he pulls them by their hips closer, pulling their legs up and around him so his cock could rest over their cunt. Showing and displaying his length and girth up their abdomen just to remind them of his size. “See? Was that so hard to say? And here you were acting like you didn’t want this. Knew you did, could smell it on you all the way from your little home. Poor thing, hope no one is missing you right now.”

He ruts against them a few times just so pre-cum will drool onto their exposed flesh from their lifted sweater. He’s almost tempted to fuck their cute little freckled face and make them choke, but instead he leans back on his knees, wrapping his large hand around his cock and idly stroking. “Finger yourself. Stretch yourself open for me, sweetheart- and don’t you fucking cum, you understand?”

Frankie is quick to nod desperately, pulling their fingers to their mouth to suckle on before reaching down to trace their engorged clit briefly. They quickly move two fingers inside of themself, awkwardly lifting their hips up and huffing when they catch him jerking himself off at the same time they move their fingers.

Something oddly sensual about the way he watches them, his breaths shadowed with a hint of a huffing growl with each stroke of his hand. His eyes glow brightly in the darkness around them, his tail swishing in that little way he did whenever he was watching them and lost in thought. Frankie can’t help but smile, accidentally breaking the scene when Mav can’t help but smile back.

They sink three fingers in and have a hard time smiling as their mouth forms a gasp, letting their head fall back and instantly feeling Mav covering their body with his own. His fur brushes against their arm as they finger their own cunt, their free hand coming up to lace at the fur at the back of his neck and dragging his mouth to the crook of their neck. He makes this little crooning sound, nosing his way there until his teeth scrape and make Frankie’s breath catch.

“We’ll try this scene another time.” Mav assures them in their ear so their anxiety doesn’t flare up, letting his tongue flick over their ear just to hear them squeak and jump.

“Don’t lick me when I’m trying to finger myself!” They choke out with a shaky laugh of pleasure, working a fourth finger in with a low whine to follow.

“At least I didn’t shove my tongue in your ear.”

“Mav I will make you cum on the dirt if you do.”

“Aw, come on!”

The whine he lets out makes Frankie laugh, the tension easing between them as their fingers slip from their body. They let out a gasp when they’re rolled onto all fours, quickly taking the hint and crossing their arms under their head as a makeshift pillow to brace for the impact. Instead, they feel his snout pressing at their exposed cunt again, twisting his tongue inside of them and curling it over itself to keep them stretched.

It doesn’t help when one of his hands moves so his knuckle can rub their clit. Making their thighs shake with an impending orgasm. “M-Mav-” They whimper out, curling their toes and feeling the wave start to hit-

And the little bastard stops again. Pulling his hand and mouth away and making Frankie cry out in frustration with tears pricking their eyes. They go to lift their head to maybe snap at him, but quickly find his clawed hand holding them down by the back of their neck. “Don’t move or you won’t cum the rest of the night, sweetheart. With the way you keep whinin’? Almost addicted to it by now.”

Thankfully, he spares them any reply when they feel the tapered, rounded head of his cock pressing to their stretched, wet hole. The pressure stretching their walls and making them groan into their cloth covered arms.

Mav’s hips are quick to slam into them, keeping one hand on the back of their neck, the other grabbing their hip to yank them back into each thrust. With all the teasing and the build up, Frankie’s already on the edge, and it sounds like Mav isn’t too far behind.

His body covers their back when he leans over them, his hand moving from their neck to the ground to curl his claws into the dirt. His other hand matching as he fucks hard into them. His grunts and growls by their ear overpowering the sound of their own cries. A sob wracks through Frankie’s chest, tilting their hips up and digging their sock-clad feet into the ground to get him to keep hitting that spot-

“I’m gonnacumI’mgonnacum-” Frankie sobs out, feeling the width of his knot slamming against the rim of their pussy again and again. They feel one of his arms go around their waist to lock them where they were trying so hard to stay, fucking into them until they’re burying their mouth against their arm with a cry.

“Cum, baby, go ahead, want to f-feel you cum. Gonna cum inside you, baby, that okay?” He’s gasping against their shoulder now. And that’s the final straw as Frankie mumbles ’yes yes yes’ under their breath as they cum. Their legs tremble, feeling wetness creeping down their legs and onto the dirt as tears prick their eyes from the intensity.

Mav isn’t too far behind, his speech starting to turn into mumbles. His hand against their abdomen and pressing as if he could feel himself inside of them, desperately mumbling into their skin, “ Gonna breed you, sweetheart. Gonna fill your sweet pussy with my cum. Gonna keep fucking you till it takes -”

Before he’s cumming with desperate pounds of his hips and low, huffing snarls from his throat. Trying so hard to fuck against them to get his knot in to no avail, much to whining on his part. Yet, he still does stay still inside them as if he did knot them, rolling his hips and pressing his snout to their neck affectionately.

It’s after five minutes does Frankie speak, their voice hoarse and whiny. “I’m hungryyyy.”

“Mmmh. Two more minutes. You’re still tight.”

“If I don’t get a sandwich within five, I am gonna kill you.”

“Hot. Maybe I’ll wait seven, then.”

Frankie groans, splatting under him as their knees give out. Hearing him laugh as he helps pull them upwards. Carefully and slowly pulling out and hissing at the sight of his cum spilling out of them, going so far as to pull one of their cheeks apart to let it drip onto the ground.

“Mav. Hungry.”

“Damn, me too. Look atcha, sweetheart.”

“Mav!!!”

That’s when he laughs, patting their ass affectionately and offers to carry them home as a fair trade for them not to kill him. Which is agreed to, with his partner flat on their back and making grabby fingers up at him until he picks up all their clothes and scoops them up in turn. Holding them bridal style in his arms as Frankie starts to giggle out. “Is your dick still out?”

“At least I’m not the one who spilled cum on the dirt.”

“It was from YOUR dick!!!!”

With the fading argument left humming in the woods with the sound of laughter following in their wake.

No, maybe they didn’t get the scene right this time, but neither would have had it any other way.

#Ocs #Frankie #Mavrick #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing #This one wasn't in my masterlist so I'm quickly posting it so I can add it later!#And so I don't lose her fiC!!!

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Kanohi Dragon

Somewhere in the Stelt District lies an underground chamber; A titanic, enormous cavern designed to contain and subdue a beast of colossal size. This beast’s exact origins are unknown to the Xians who study and experiment on the creature, as well as the creature itself; It cannot remember where it came from. All it remembers is its name; Kanohi.

According to ancient Xian legend, the Kanohi Dragon suddenly appeared during the War of Six Kingdoms. It flew across the skies, turning them black with soot as it left behind a molten trail of burning ash in its wake, feasting on multiple Xians in order to sate its powerful hunger. Unsurprisingly, Xian armies retaliated against the beast, with the Barraki Takadox himself desiring either to hypnotize or slay Kanohi. Efforts proved largely futile, as Xia’s primitive weapons could not outclass a titanic beast that could effortlessly slither through the sky; But by a stroke of luck and pure grace, a powerful storm cast a devastating lightning bolt against the Kanohi Dragon. Kanohi fell and crash-landed into the frozen north, where the ice immediately began to sap away the beast’s heat. Unable to maintain its temperatures, Kanohi quickly fell into a deep slumber.

Generations passed and legends of the Kanohi Dragon became just that; Legends. Although the Kanohi Dragon landed in Pridak’s domain, the Barraki was unwilling to release the beast, recognizing its threat and declaring it too much of a liability to attempt to tame- Nor did he want to risk awakening Kanohi in any attempts to finish the creature off. Years of ice and frost enveloped Kanohi’s comatose form, which still maintained some degree of powerful heat within.

However, as Xia’s industrial age ensued, massive expansion began to occur across all corners of the island. And as the Artidax District in the North began to develop, piercing the icy frost, things became much warmer. Finally, a mining company seeking to avoid Voymari monopolies began drilling into the ice, and awakened the Kanohi Dragon.

The Kanohi Dragon promptly resumed a second rampage across Xia, but this time the Xians were much better-equipped for the beast. They had access to powerful industrial weapons and technologies that helped even the odds. Still, casualties and destruction were immense, and Kanohi rampaged for an entire month, leaving a path of destruction through Artidax, Voymari, and eventually into the Tametru District. The industrial sector’s burning flames proved conducive towards helping Kanohi regains its lost, former strength.

Eventually a band of heroes rose up, among them the legendary Glatorian of fame, Certavus. These heroes worked closely with Xian forces to finally defeat Kanohi by luring it towards the Great Furnace and dousing it in countless gallons of liquid nitrogen, as well as ice gathered from the Artidax District and water from Nynrah and Voymari. Additional weaponry was rolled in to finally defeat and wound the dragon as it crashed to the ground, and all of Xia celebrated.

As Certavus and his group of heroes would later go on to become the predecessors of the Volunteer Militia, discussion was focused on what to do with Kanohi. Many advocated for euthanizing the creature now that it was finally wounded and vulnerable. Inevitably, companies and organizations began to bid on the Kanohi Dragon instead, until finally it landed in the hands of a corporation that sought to to analyze, study, and reverse-engineer the internal mechanisms that granted Kanohi its powers of gravity-defying flight.

Years passed once more, and progress was so-so as experiments were performed. The Kanohi Dragon was moved underground to minimize the threat of it reawakening and breaking out, but as technology improved, Xian scientists were able to subdue the creature using powerful freezing mechanisms, enabling them to study even while it was awake. With success on unlocking Kanohi’s power being rather varied, the creature ended up trading hands, passed through the ownership of multiple entities as they attempted to study and profit from the beast. Kanohi was subject to cruel, inhumane experiments as its memories of its past began to fade and wane from the constant years of abuse and frequent tranquilizer and ice-induced slumbers.

The Kanohi Dragon eventually ended up in the ownership of Vortixx Industries, which began to collaborate with the Dark Hunters to experiment on the creature. The disgraced Nynrah Ghost Spiriah, at the time serving the Dark Hunters, helped spearhead experiments and operations on the beast as mysterious Masks of Power from Dweller and Umarak were shipped into the lab. As a part of his experiments and study into the foray of Life energy itself, Spiriah was inspired by his success with the Dark Hunter Charger and wanted to try his hand on not just applying Life energy to a living creature, but specific forms of Life energy.

Spiriah knew from the existence of Kraata that Life energy could take specific forms; So why not try grafting Life energy in the form of Powers to a living creature? The Kanohi Dragon already seemed to defy reality through its massive frame and lack of wings that were somehow supported by flight… Perhaps Kanohi already dabbled in and relied on Life energy to fly? If so, it’d possibly respond towards attempts to graft Masks of Power to it better than previous test subjects…

The Kanohi Dragon underwent a painful process of having various Masks of Power fused to its hide, grafted into the creature’s own scales as its armor became metallic. Results and data from the experiments were intriguing, but not definitive; Still, Spiriah was happy with the progress, and the Kanohi Dragon gained a few abilities of its own in the process. Alas, Spiriah never got to finish his work, as he disappeared while on an expedition in the ruined Nynrah District; Unable to continue work and suffering disputes with The Shadowed One over ownership, Vortixx Industries cut off the collaboration and halted work on Kanohi.

Vortixx Industries took the Kanohi Dragon for itself, claiming ownership alongside the Masks of Power that the Dark Hunters had brought in. In retaliation, The Shadowed One had his Dark Hunters ravage and destroy multiple Vortixx assets, as well as assassinate a few key members of the company including the current CEO at the time. The incident soured relations between the Dark Hunters and Vortixx Industries, although inevitably they resumed the occasional collaboration after time passed; Business was business, after all.

With the project shut down, Kanohi wasted away in darkness, suffering the lingering and chronic pain from the inhumane, torturous experiments. A crew was tasked with making sure that the Kanohi Dragon remained subdued. However, during the Okotan expedition to Xia, an accident resulted in massive damage to the containment facility. The Kanohi Dragon reawoke, and incensed from all of the torture it had gone through, broke through its confines and obliterated the ceiling above, escaping out onto the surface.

The Kanohi Dragon promptly resumed a third rampage on Xia, flying across the skies for the first time in decades as it began to ravage Stelt. Vahki squads and Exo-Toa scrambled to contain the creature as artillery cannons and massive rail-guns were brought in, and even the Dark Hunters Ravager and Devastator were hired to help subdue Kanohi. In the ensuing chaos, Lewa, Toa of Jungle, worked with the Vahki to contain the dragon, not wanting to see any innocent lives get killed.

With Lewa’s help, the Vahki succeeded in defeating Kanohi and subduing the beast, recapturing and tranquilizing it. Despite initial reservations, Lewa was personally thanked by a Vahki captain, and Vortixx Industries was sued for the incident as it hurried to recontain Kanohi. Shortly afterward, Lewa learned the truth of Kanohi and the horrible things done to it; And after needing some help against an incoming wave of Dark Hunters, he went out of his way to free the Kanohi Dragon once more. Despite initial hostility towards Lewa, Kanohi was won over by the Toa of Jungle’s natural kindness and empathy for animals, with Lewa using his powers and a Mask of Healing to help soothe the dragon’s pain and wounds. Communication was better established with a Mask of Telepathy.

Having now befriended the Kanohi Dragon, Lewa rode it out across the skies of Xia, defeating the Dark Hunters. On Lewa’s request, Kanohi refrained from burning Stelt down to its foundations, and instead peacefully flew off to Nynrah, where it could hopefully be free from anyone else who wished it harm. Lewa bade Kanohi farewell, before resuming his mission of stopping The Shadowed One from recreating Makuta’s Mask of Life.

The Kanohi Dragon is a colossal kaiju, a slithering reptile with a long tail and silver whiskers. Its hide is mostly a powerful crimson, with an ebony snout. It possesses powerful claws and strength to rend foes and prey with, and enormous fire-breath that can instantly melt steel. Naturally Kanohi has a massive amount of body heat, and requires frequent amounts of heat and flame to sustain itself. Vents located between its scales frequently release steam. The temperatures of Kanohi’s outermost hide and steam-vents are capable of causing burns to the average Xian, although few have ever gotten close enough to touch the dragon.

Despite its titanic weight, size, and lack of wings, the Kanohi Dragon can somehow fly through the air anyway, weaving and slithering through the skies as if they were made of water. How it does this is unknown; Potentially, it has the power of Flight. Wherever Kanohi goes, it leaves a trail of blackened ash as soot and smoke from its nostrils darkens the sky; However, it appears that the ash it leaves behind is actually fertile, and can enable enhanced plant-growth!

Its incredible size and unusual flight capabilities inspired multiple Xians to study the beast, hoping to unlock the secret behind how it was able to not only carry its own weight but even soar with it. Previously-mentioned speculation on Kanohi utilizing Life energy led the disgraced scientist Spiriah into grafting countless Masks of Power onto the dragon’s hide. The painful process caused Kanohi huge amounts of agony, but it seems the experiments were somewhat of a success; It now had an impenetrable metal hide in various places.

Not only that, but its own soul seemed to link towards and even become slightly compatible with several of the Masks that had been fused to it! The Kanohi Dragon is able to tap into the Masks of Power scattered across its scales, activating and utilizing their abilities; Thankfully, the discrepancy in size means that each Mask, when activated, tends to spray its energy around wildly within the range of an Okotan-sized user. Thus, energy-beams cast from a Mask of Beams will only go about as far as it would on a regular-sized wielder.

When ‘activating’ these Masks of Power across its body, Kanohi’s masks will unleash their power and energy without control, often spewing attacks wildly and with little aim and consistency. It is able to activate multiple Masks of Power at once. Luckily, Kanohi’s own tortured, unnatural fusion, combined with its trauma-debilitated animal mind, has led to most of its Masks performing below their usual limits. The Shadowed One initially insisted that most Masks of Power gathered for Kanohi be ones made by Ekimu, whom he deemed the superior Mask Maker; But many of Makuta’s were included in the process as well.

Even when not active or trying to tap into them, Kanohi’s Masks of Power will occasionally activate regardless, contributing towards the chaos and confusion. The Masks’ effects seem limited mainly to the parts of the body they are found on. Traversing the beast’s hide is already difficult enough with its high temperatures, but coupled with Masks of Power that wildly lash out, the beast’s presence countless meters above the ground, and its own rampaging hostility, a trip across its body would be suicide for most.

As a result of trauma and unusual experiments, Kanohi’s control over its own motor functions are not ideal, and thus it can lose control of its power when on a rampage. Like any abused animal it is naturally hostile to anything else that approaches it out of fear, and prone to lashing out in pain; Kanohi’s amnesia contributes towards the dragon’s fear and heightened fight-or-flight (or rather fight-and-flight) mode. Moments of calmness and peace have been few and far between for the abused creature.

Still, it is capable of reason, and when calmed down sufficiently, Kanohi prefers not to cause conflict. It seems that even its appearance on Xia is unnatural for it, and its sudden emergence the first time it was sighted seems to support this. As Lewa helped calm and communicate to Kanohi with a surprising familiarity on both ends, he wondered- Could the creature have been from Okoto?

#bionicle #Bionicle RaE #kanohi dragon #kanohi #rahi #masks of power #xia #dark hunters #vortixx #spiriah #takadox #pridak #animal abuse tw #animal cruelty tw

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erivan-khan · 4 years ago

Text

ANNEX

Fandom: Countryhumans Characters: Prussia, Russian Empire, Ottoman Empire, Armenia, Matvey (Original Character - created/owned by ch_robots), Erivan (Original Character - created/owned by me) Warnings: Graphic Violence. Re-enactment of Historical Events that include colonization, war, and genocide

This story contains the following parts:

ANNEX part 1 - the Russian Empire annexes Erivan ANNEX part 2 - Congress of Berlin 1878 ANNEX part 3 - Matvey and Erivan

ANNEX pt 1

On the day of the surrender, snow fell on the mountain. All movement in and out of the fortress ceased as heavy white flakes covered up the mounds of dead men and horses all lost in the repeated sieges of his town. A tall khan stood alone on the white stone wall. He looked like a black fir tree, cloaked head to foot in black sheep skin. A huge round hat protected his head and brow, and his long coat bunched up around his face, leaving only his eyes visible: golden and piercing like a lion’s. The fortress was his to protect. The Sublime State of Persia had created him half a century ago for this sole purpose.

For years, the mighty Russian Empire to the north had funneled soldiers to their deaths in the Caucasus Mountains. There were others like him, also created by Persia, but only Erivan had lasted this long. Now it was over.

He had been prepared to outlast the siege but his commanders had recalled him for their own protection when the Empire pressed past the surrendered bodies of the other khanates. The moment Erivan went to save them, Russia pounced upon him like a pack of wolves, having finally driven him into the open. The imperial eagle had swept down with wings unfettered by mountain winds. Surprisingly, its claws did not rend him to bits. Still, Erivan fully expected revenge for the Russian soldiers he’d repelled, left to starve and freeze to death in his mountains. After all, the Empire had bayoneted the other Persian survivors. Why would he be treated differently?

He mused on this as he waited by the white wall. The sun rose over the plateaus in a cloudy gray sky. Although the falling snow muffled their arrival, Erivan could hear the echo of the marching army approaching. They came forward in a snake-like column that wound up the zigzag corridors that led to the top to the plateau. The banner of the tsar waved violently in the mountain air. The column marched seemingly unmoved by the body parts by the wayside. They did not stop, but stomped past the stock-still man and his white walls, inside the ancient Armenian fortress where his soldiers stood beside their guns placed on the ground. The Russians gave no notice of them either and marched until they had all filed in. At the end walked two more bannermen, one holding a tri-colored flag and the other holding a gold flag with the tsar’s eagle in the center. Horses paraded slowly behind the bannermen. Their riders all wore eagle helms and black uniforms with golden trim and white gloves. Their heads simultaneously shifted to stare at Erivan as they approached. With sharp claps of hooves, the horses stopped, tossing their heads at the snow icing their manes.

“Salute!” The clarion sounded. In the horseman’s free hand, he held aloft Persia’s official seal, proof that the Sublime State had surrendered their lands and cities in the Caucasus to the Russian Empire. “From this moment henceforth, the Persian Empire has been defeated. All khanates are ordered to hereby surrender.”

The horseman held the seal above his head, so that all could gaze upon it and know its veracity. Erivan did not doubt it, for he felt the seal's hold over him thrumming within his chest. The horseman lowered the seal and reverently handed it to the centermost of all riders. Four of the five horsemen dismounted at the same time, and the one holding the seal now stayed put. Erivan saw now that this rider’s gauntlets possessed jeweled rings on all fingers. The rider slipped the seal under their uniform coat.

The announcing horseman raised his voice again. “Kneel! Show obeisance to your new master, the Emperor of all Russia!” In a well-practiced motion, the horsemen all turned to face the last rider who slowly dismounted, boots crunching on snow. Inside the wall, all of the Russian column pivoted to form a great row across from Erivan’s men, who uneasily shifted in place before gradually falling to their knees beside their wet rifles.

Erivan studied the footsteps of the conqueror approaching him. Their boots ground the snow flat with each heavy step, a familiar gait, considering he’d fought this person face-to-face four times already.

“It’s you…” A voice husked through the closed helmet. “You have eluded my grasp until now. The Persians have wasted your potential keeping you here, don’t you agree?”

Erivan’s eyes moved up from the boots to the pressed pants and thick sable coat. He let the Empire’s question linger in the air between them. He took a moment to translate his reply from his native tongue to the Empire’s language. “My strengths are here, Imperial Majesty. I can still defend the Caucasus,” he answered finally.

“No, no, no, you are too much of a gem for me to leave unmined,” the Empire chuckled, rubbing a large golden ring around the gauntlet’s thumb.

“You… will not kill me?” Erivan ventured to ask.

The Russian Empire threw back their head and laughed. “After throwing so many men at you, you would have me leave empty-handed? No. Now, look at me,” they snarled in a sudden raspier voice. Abruptly, the gauntlets forced off the black helmet.

Erivan dared to look upon the imperial visage. With his seal in the Empire’s possession, he could not defy a direct order. He glanced at the other riders and they had all looked to the side to avoid meeting the conqueror’s gaze. Erivan’s golden eyes, the pupils slitted like a cat’s, stared boldly at the Empire’s face.

“Ohhh such forceful eyes, just like my willful son’s,” the Empire chuckled slowly. “Yes… you will do.” Grasping one glove with the other, they tugged it off and pointed to the ground just in front of their feet. The bare hand was nothing like a human’s. The thick forearm was white, the wide palm blue, and curled clawed fingers red as blood.

Erivan took a step forward and knelt down to the snow with his sheep-skin coat as a barrier to the cold. He slowly removed his papaha from his head and released his hair in a deluge of curls down his cheeks and neck. The Russian Empire’s cold hand palmed his forehead. Those claws carded through his scalp.

In a flash, Erivan’s eyes widened to moons, pupils eclipsing all color. His lips slackened as the Empire’s authority flooded through his mind. The gold and red of Persia bled away at the approach of this massive hand penetrating him. Erivan’s eyes squeezed shut, and suddenly the Russian’s hand hit an invisible wall within him. The hand dragged sideways without pause, trying to find an opening, but there was none. The Empire pressed harder, boring into him mentally while their mortal bodies remained transfixed in silence.

“What is this?” the Russian’s voice thrummed with a power that vibrated Erivan’s bones. When he didn’t answer immediately, he felt the seal hum as the Russian spoke again. “Tell me.”

“Armenia,” he wheezed. Within him dwelled a glass orb, and within it slept a fragment of a country, a shell of an empire long destroyed, and now separated between the current world powers. Erivan guarded her, kept her protected within his own body as if she was his own child. “Please… have mercy,” he begged for her life.

If the autocrat wished, they could absorb every conquered mind into their own and keep them silent by authority alone. Such was the power of an imperial Countryhuman. Erivan’s fortress had been captured and Persia surrendered, panicked by the loss of his finest domain. The seals of each land gained bound their loyalty to their new liege-lord.

A second hand phased out of the darkness to join the other, and together they cupped the glass case with the gentleness of holding a bird’s egg. “You would trade your life... for this? If I gave this remnant your body, you really would die for it...willingly?” the Russian scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes,” Erivan answered without hesitation.

The hands clenched, taken aback by his quick response. “Speak the truth.” The Russian’s words vibrated violently.

“I would die for her.”

They were silent for a time, seemingly to think, leaving Erivan floating in limbo until finally those hands uncurled from around the fragment. “... I understand.” Erivan couldn’t see it, but he could hear the Empire’s smirk. “Now I know I have made the right decision.”

Erivan wondered what that meant. What plans did the empire have for their newly annexed khanates?

"This entire region will be reorganized according to my vision. I will see to Armenia's investiture. You will come with me."

The Empire's claws closed around the sphere. A great stone of sleepiness dropped on Erivan's chest, and he fought the urge to succumb.

"What… what are you going to do to her?" he demanded.

"She will become part of my empire. The other khanates disappointed me; she will replace them," the Empire replied, sounding almost indulgent.

Erivan knew this was an honor, all things considered. He just had to trust that Russia wasn't lying. Unlike the Empire, he could not use a geas to enforce their truthfulness. He was at a complete disadvantage.

"If I go with you, I must have a way to keep in contact with her. She must be safe," he said.

"I will arrange it thus. This is the last time you make demands of me, Erivan. Surrender."

Erivan's eyes rolled unwillingly into his head, and he seemed to fall down an endless mineshaft, groping helplessly for the glass ball held higher above him in tricolored hands. Outside their battle of wills, Russia stood fixed before him as light beamed out from between their fingers. Blue coated the unconscious man's former flag as the empire forced his face and colors to change, to annex him wholly. Russia's golden eyes became bloodshot with the effort of transfiguring this willful man, and they squinted as the light pouring out turned unbearably bright.

It seemed like an hour passed when the Empire finally yanked their hand away and barely kept from staggering backward. They straightened their spine, primly slicking back the sides of their head. In their right palm rested an opaque milky glass. Erivan, unsupported, toppled to the side, all traces of the Persian coat of arms removed from him and replaced with a Russian cross.

"Put him on my horse," the Empire ordered.

Two of the closest riders rushed to Erivan's side and picked him up roughly. One shoved his hat back on his head without brushing the snow off him, although they were delicate with the Empire's mount. They strapped the annexed khan to the saddle and fit his feet into the stirrups.

Secreting the sphere away with Erivan's seal, Russia walked slowly to their horse. "I will reside here in this fortress until I have made Persia sign the last treaties. This one is mine to command. Keep him alive and unharmed," the Empire ordered, pointing at Erivan. Sharp teeth bared at the soldiers just before they replaced the eagle helm upon their royal head, and their voice echoed ominously within the enclosed helmet.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" came the loud answer.

ANNEX pt 2

On the day of the first congress session, sweat fell from everyone's brows. It was June, hardly deep into summer, but as it was a meeting of the era's great powers in Europe, everyone was dressed to the nines, in layers of uniforms and gowns.

Prussia led the Congress of Berlin, naturally, with Prinz Matvey at his left and the German Empire at his right. Erivan and the other royal guards marched in perfect time together, but not as well-orchestrated as father and son. Erivan stared at their feathered backs with a faint sense of longing. His eyes tore away from them to flit side to side cautiously. If anyone attempted an assassination, this would be the perfect time with so many Countryhumans in one place. He had to be careful in this place; the castle vibrated with the power of so many supernatural beings concentrated in one spot.

On either side of him, the royal guards winced. Erivan's brows pinched together. He was the first to step through the entryway but he didn't dare pause for the others to get over their uneasiness and catch up. He quickened his pace until he was three paces behind the prince. Matvey and Prussia gave no notice to him, not that he thought they would, of course. A guard was meant to be seen, not heard, meant to do his duties and return immediately.

Decades had passed since the Russian Empire had annexed his land and charged him with orders to go to Europe and be their son's "manservant". In truth, Erivan was much more than that, but he prided himself on being the prince's majordomo first and foremost. Still, he took an interest to Russian affairs as well, especially with the Empire being a great power. Their news was everyone's news. Erivan would be a fool not to take note of it.

He knew now that when the Empire had been fighting his creator, Persia, they had also come to blows with an empire on Persia's other side: the Ottomans. Battles stopped and started. Truces made and broken. The two heads of the eagle had faced enemies all around. This last war resulted in the defeat of the Ottoman Empire. Pride surged through Erivan at his liege's victory. More land and access to the sea meant more wealth, more trade, and more resources. With the Ottomans out of the way, his ward, Russian Armenia, could cross through Georgia and use the Black Sea without tariffs. Most importantly, not being forced to cross the mountains would speed up the process of an Armenian reunion. Erivan looked forward to sitting with his kin, for a Western Armenian delegation had come to the congress with the Ottoman and Balkan representatives.

Per his liegelord's command, Erivan was a retainer in the Prussian household, but politically, he and his neighboring lands belonged to the Russian Empire. Imperial gains had swelled with the Ottomans' defeat. He could feel the other fragments of Armenia calling out to him in distant echoes now that Russia had occupied all of the Black Sea. Erivan clutched his chest through his uniform. It didn't matter that Russia had taken his protected remnant out of him. He heard the others even in his sleep. Now that there were more Armenians within temporary Russian borders, the cries had become louder.

“Tch.”

Prussia’s hiss brought Erivan out of his thoughts. He brought his hand up to his dagger instinctively, but he only saw several other countries at the far end of the hallway approaching the host and his son. Prussia crossed his arms in the middle of the hall. To his left, manservants opened up the double doors to the massive ballroom that would serve as their conference hall. Prussia’s lip curled at the sight of the Russian Empire at the head of the pack. The triumphant ruler was resplendent in a black and gold military uniform. A half-cape of white and gold hung off Russia’s left shoulder, reaching the back of their thigh. At their left side strode Great Britain and the newly-formed dual monarchy Austria-Hungary. On their right, Russia listened with great interest to a small country who was clearly having trouble keeping up with the empire’s massive strides.

Russia glanced up at them, and their haughty expression briefly changed to something unrecognizable. Erivan couldn’t study it long enough to find out. He bowed his head, hearing feathers rustle and whip the air in front of him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A wave of overwhelming malice choked the hallway, and Erivan chanced an upward glance, peering past Matvey and Prussia’s curtain of wings. He glimpsed Russia’s boots turning sharply and disappearing in a flurry with all of the other countries around them.

“I already regret inviting this lot into my house,” Prussia snarled. “Come, Matvey, let’s get this over with.”

Erivan straightened as his master moved silently after his father. As they passed through the double doors together, he pivoted on his heel, keeping his back to the doors and his hand upon his dagger hilt. Inside, the powers of Europe would discuss what to do with the post-war state of the Balkans. His duty was to stand guard at Matvey’s side. A minor governorate like him couldn’t expect to be a part of the negotiating table. If this was in St. Petersburg, perhaps. Only if Russia was feeling indulgent.

So, he waited. He pulled out some straw tucked inside his pockets and idled his hands by weaving the cords together. Occasionally he glanced down the hallway, checking every footfall, every movement out of the corner of his eye. He heard the clocks chime every half-hour. The tall one in the hallway was hard-carved. At every hour, a miniature figurine of Prussia goose-stepped out of a tiny door on a rotating disc. A musical box version of Preußens Gloria chimed until the soldier vanished behind the closing door.

Five Prussian marches later, the door groaned open, and Erivan jerked around to look face-to-face with a skinny waif of a Countryhuman. She looked up at him startled, pulling her veil over the white crescent-shaped scar around her eye. Her eyes were wet, but she looked as if she was crying in frustration not sadness. Erivan held his closed fist over his heart as he respectfully bowed backward out of her way. She sniffled and grabbed the front of her skirts, running away from him.

“W-wait!” he called, reaching out.

Stunned, Erivan glanced inside the luxurious room she’d just left. Disturbingly, the Ottoman Empire stared at him through the slowly closing gap. The Turk bared his teeth in a smile just as the door clicked shut.

The empire’s smile dunked him in cold water and left him frozen in place. Erivan pressed his lips together, shaking off his aura of utter malignance, and ran down the hall after the woman. He knew he shouldn’t leave his post--Prussia could have him shot--but he was certain that she was Armenia. A fragment, anyway, just like the little lady he wrote letters to back home. Their flags were different, obviously, but there was no denying the fragment’s pull. They all wanted to unite and form an Armenia together.

“Wait! Armenia?” he called out again, following the lure that connected him, as their protector, to all the remnants. He spoke in Russian at first, then changed to their mutual tongue. “Armenia, please. You can trust me.”

Erivan stopped at the corner of the castle where a spiral staircase wound up a tower. He hesitated at the bottom step, staring up into the dimly lit hallway. He didn’t want to scare her or chase her if she didn’t want to be chased. Slowly, he walked up the tight spiral until he finally came across her hugging her knees, face buried. She pulled her veil down so that he could not see her face as she lifted her head off her knees.

“You don’t look like one of us, dressed like that.” Her bony fingers flapped up down at his German uniform. “But you speak it so well. What are you doing here?”

“At Imperial Russia’s command, I serve the tsarevich in Berlin.”

“Him?! Doesn’t he frighten you?”

“I have a healthy respect for his capabilities,” Erivan said, his eyes flitting away from her face briefly. He knelt down to one knee and held out his hand. “Why did you leave?”

Western Armenia bit her lower lip and jerked away from his gaze, staring at the porthole window where a tiny beam of light shone on her red skin. “They… they’re not letting Russia have us!” she choked out. She burst into sobs, gripping the sides of her tricolored veil and pulling it over her eyes. “I hate it. Russia demanded us in the treaty. We could have had ri-rights and freedoms, but no, that goddamned Great Britain!” She made the sign of the evil eye and seemed ready to spit, but thought better in Erivan’s presence, seeing his eyes widen at her vehemence. “May all his colonies mine dust! He spoke up against it because Imperial Russia was gaining too much territory!”

“But that is the empire’s prerogative! They won the war,” Erivan replied incredulously. Was Great Britain allied with the Ottomans, trying to leverage their loss of land into a break-even situation?

“And then that father of your princeling agreed with him, but I could tell it had nothing to do with us,” she snarled. “He didn’t even let us speak on our own behalf. He glared at the Russian Empire the entire time they were discussing land concessions and control over the Black Sea. All they cared about was keeping Russia back. Nobody cared about what the Ottomans had done, not even when Bulgaria was sitting right next to me bandaged up.” She cupped her hands in her face. “Nothing’s going to change. I’ll never be with the others…”

Erivan touched his knuckles to hers. “This is only the first day of negotiations. The Empire will not take such hobbling terms without argument. They could be doing so right now,” he consoled her.

“You don’t understand. I live in a nightmare everyday with him. We’re censored. We’re monitored. We disappear. I thought they would take things seriously after they saw the wounds… We mean nothing to those colonizers, uncle. ” Armenia clutched Erivan’s hand with both of hers and her orange eyes met his. “We will meet the same fate as Bulgaria, locked inside a burning schoolhouse and left to die.”

Erivan’s eyes focused rigidly on the mortar lines in the wall. Every excruciating detail stood out: the gray ridges of the stone, the fine cracks, the faint claw marks. His pupils shrank to pinpoints. He stood there, shoulders shaking, but he stayed quiet. The weight of his grief sewed his lips together. When he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to register the atrocities he’d just heard, he saw Russian Armenia in flames, churning in an abyss of red.

“I will plead on your behalf. I’m sorry I don’t have the power to annex you myself,” he murmured.

Western Armenia pressed her forehead against his hand. “Bless you. Bless you,” she whispered.

“Did I not say that language is not permitted to be spoken?” an icy voice of malice echoed up the staircase. A shadow stretched ominously up the steps. Looking down over his shoulder, Erivan saw a blood-red hand splay on the stone. Whipping around, he spread his arms the width of the staircase. The Ottoman Empire mounted the steps with deliberate slowness, his smile cutting a second crescent into his face.

“T'urk'ahayastan,” he said in a sing-song voice, and Armenia shuddered against Erivan’s back. “I asked you a question. Answer it.” Erivan could not feel the compulsion, but he knew the geas over the small territory was being called upon.

Armenia stiffened as if dead, and her lips barely moved as she choked out, “You-You said it.”

“Your fate is being decided upon in the congress and you’re here? Go back!” Erivan growled.

“A little khanate like you thinks to roar at me? I defeated the Sassanid Persia before, and I won’t hesitate to do it again,” Ottoman Empire hissed through thin lips. He ran a forked tongue across his teeth, sneering even as he craned his head up at Erivan. The tension between them vibrated the air; they stared at each other for several seconds and suddenly daggers echoed loudly in the stairwell as metal clashed in between the two.

Armenia screamed, “Go to hell!” Crouching, she tried to duck low and crawl between their legs to escape. She kicked off the stairs, and the Ottoman Empire’s eyes flashed like an eagle’s. Erivan saw the empire’s shadow leap the full length of the staircase. Without warning, a second figure ascended from the floor and loomed over her, curling his green fingers. The Ottoman Empire he fought seemed to shrink a little but not his focus. Fiercely, he stomped on the hem of Armenia’s dress while his eyes bored into Erivan’s.

Erivan pressed the attack, smashing Ottoman’s dagger to the left against the wall. His foe dragged the edge of his weapon down the stone and then stabbed forward. Erivan narrowly parried. The two traded blows with their daggers, the sound of steel rattling through the whole stairwell.

Armenia reached back and forcefully tore her gown away from under the Ottoman’s heel. The doppleganger with the green crescent and star grabbed her shoulders. “I won’t go quietly, you goat!” she yelled, swinging her head forward into his forehead. She reeled at the collision against his skull, but retained enough breadth of mind to kick him away.

“Get the tsarevich! Now!” Erivan yelled in Armenian.

The red Ottoman twisted to yank her back, but his fingers swished through air. He snarled, “What blasphemous power did you give to that witch?” Despite his anger at Armenia, the Ottoman Empire maintained a cool high-speed pace, blows flying against Erivan’s assault. The green Ottoman leapt after the scrambling Armenia. “Useless fool! Get back here!” the red spat at his double. The instant the shadow joined the original, Ottoman’s hand swung out to clutch Erivan by the throat.

Erivan’s eyes widened. Quickly, he stabbed sideways, trying to pierce the offending wrist, but the Ottoman, no longer split, knocked his weapon away. The dagger clanged loudly on the stone step. In that moment of sudden fury, the empire abandoned his knife too and took Erivan by the throat with both hands. Erivan clutched Ottoman’s forearms, but before he could kick the empire in the stomach, Ottoman bashed the back of his head against the stone. All the lights went out. Erivan’s head lolled with a groan. Ottoman hit him again for good measure, holding him tightly to the wall.

“You filthy infidel. You thought you could beat me, an empire? How dare you approach my property and speak illicitly. You incite a rebellion and think I wouldn’t notice?” the Ottoman spoke unctuously against Erivan’s ear, keeping him upright despite his body slumping and slipping against blood trickling down the wall. The Ottoman’s rough thumbs pressed hard against his carotid artery and sensuously dragged the nails up to Erivan’s chin. “One man will not be missed,” the brute whispered. “One less of your kind in the world. You’ll lead me right to Russia’s pet if I annex you here and now.”

The Ottoman’s palm pressed flat against Erivan’s brow. Pain lanced through his forehead, knocking him out of his semi-conscious state with a sharp gasp. No! Nooo! Erivan’s limbs convulsed under the mental assault. Instead of the calm, self-assured manner in which the Russian Empire had annexed him, the Ottoman’s attempts were pure brute force.

“You… will… never… find… them…,” Erivan croaked.

“I will, eventually. I root out every rat from the shingles and floorboards. Beg, little rat, beg for your life,” Ottoman purred.

Erivan’s eyes rolled back into his head. Red bled from the Ottoman’s hand down Erivan’s face and chin, spilling over the cross and stones of his flag like spilled paint. It gathered along his long eyelashes and streamed down his cheeks like tears. It burned like acid, eating away not only at his face but his identity. He steeled himself with makeshift mental walls, trying to hide his memories and his language before the Turk drilled too deeply. Within the black void, he threw up his arms and built a glass sphere brick by brick, outpacing the long-armed red hand extending to his inner self. Without the seal in Russia’s possession, Ottoman could not compel him to yield, but the pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Erivan grasped his heritage tightly and wildly pulled every memory deeper, behind doors and curtains and orbs. He pushed all knowledge of his Armenia into the recesses of his mind. With trembling fingers, he pressed his attachments to Prince Matvey hard against his chest, lest the Ottoman use the memory against him somehow.

Before I fail in my duty, know that… know that I have loved… and my love is my revenge...

Erivan pulled the emotions welling from within and forced them against the walls of his glass sphere. Golden light shot up and down from his fingertips, and blue spilled and arced in every direction. Upon his face, the two colors formed stitches over the intrusive red, covering up where the Ottoman had besmirched.

“No!” the empire snarled. “Give it to me!”

Enraged, Ottoman threw Erivan to the ground where he crumpled down the staircase, his eyes lifeless and dull like cloudy amber. Ottoman stalked after him and straddled him at the foot of the stairs, fingers digging into his coat. He hauled Erivan’s dead weight with greedy hands.

“If I can’t have you, no one c--” A violent choking sound cut off the threat.

A set of black claws clapped firmly onto the top of Ottoman’s head. Blearily, Erivan stared past his attacker to the pitch-black creature looming tall as a tree. Its eye was a white boiling sun burning in an abyss of shadow. Erivan’s head spun, and his gaze refused to focus. Wings, maybe a pair or perhaps six, stretched ominously in all directions. The golden speckles and tinge on them seemed like eyes, all of them pointed down at the sinner bent over him.

“Deliver me from evil, O Lord,” Erivan whispered. His hand tremblingly lifted toward the divine creature, and suddenly he felt hot liquid spurt onto his fingers.

The angel with its thousand-and-one eyes and multitude of wings dug into the devil’s skull and tore backward as one would open a tin can of sardines. The red Ottoman spilled forward while the green double was peeled from his back and thrown aside. Ferocity incarnate stepped over the doppelganger sacrificed to save the original. Ottoman scrambled over Erivan’s body, kicking wildly in an attempt to run. With a hand as quick as a snake bite, those claws wrapped around Ottoman’s ankle and slammed him to the beautiful floor.

"In my own house… you dare steal from me…" A deadly deep voice resonated from behind the creature's bared fangs.

Military boots squeaked on the bloodied tile beside Erivan. His half-lidded eyes glimpsed sheepskin and bootlaces dripping blood, but the boots did not hesitate long beside him. They marched in slow excruciating precision into another room, the Ottoman being dragged behind him, breaking fingernails in his attempt to claw the doorframe and floor to kick away.

“Oh… Osmanen…,” the voice uttered, cold as the Baltic.

“I’ll tell them all you attacked me in cold blood!” the Ottoman hissed. “Unhand me!”

A guttural laugh. "No."

Ottoman's bloodshot eyes widened; he seemed to realize he was waist-deep in a riptide and being swept out to sea. "You! You would sacrifice your father’s advantages at the negotiating table for one piece of filth?!" he protested.

"FILTH?" With an eagle's scream of fury, a table with an expensive Peking vase was upended. Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, and Ottoman was dragged through it, further into the room, which had become more of a monster's lair in that instant than a parlor. "Filth like you dares to lecture me? You should be groveling at my feet!" He briefly let the Ottoman go just to leap the distance between them and land hard on his back. His boots and all his weight crashed on Ottoman's spine. The empire choked on blood which forced itself from his throat.

“You have no power inside this house,” whispered the angel of death. "When I have scraped the last piece of red off your face…."

The door slammed shut mid-scream, and there was a loud thump within, followed by the mad pounding of hands and muffled pleas.

Wincing, Erivan reached out around him, grabbing for the wall or anything to stabilize himself. His hand planted firmly in the twitching green-skinned shade on the ground. He recoiled in horror. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus, Erivan managed to wipe his hand on the gurgling Ottoman double's clothes. It was probably wishing it were dead. He crawled slowly away from it, back toward that awful staircase, and there he recovered his dagger. The Ottoman's weapon was also there but he left it where it was.

Erivan climbed to his feet, stumbling, dizzy from the blows he'd taken. Blood dribbled over his lips. His attempts at feeling rage just made his head spin. He slumped backward, palms flat against the wall as he tried to keep himself from falling.

Ahead, the long fanciful hallway swarmed with noise and multi-colored figures running toward him and the bloodied green Ottoman on the floor. It was all a blur. Then, he heard Prussia's thunderous voice quaking him. "What the hell is this?"

Erivan wet his lips as he tried to find the words to speak. "Annexed… us…," he managed, gesturing to the twitching doppelganger on the floor.

"Move!" the Russian Empire commanded everyone out of their way, and stomped past Prussia to approach their beaten khanate. "He lost our war and tries this?" The empire tried to keep their voice from trembling in rage but failed.

Erivan felt that strong palm cup his head and warmth poured through him. He let out a long ragged breath as the pain ebbed away.

"Annexing? In my own fucking house?!" Prussia erupted. A faint smile tilted Erivan's lips at how alike father and son were. "Where is he?" Prussia made a ripping gesture with his clenched claws.

The yells and crashing answered the king. Erivan, Russia, and Prussia all moved simultaneously toward the door. Despite being sluggish, Erivan got to the door before the two emperors, who had paused to glare at each other, neither one willing to yield a step before the other.

"Your Highness! Your parents have arrived," Erivan croaked behind the door.

Silence suddenly prevailed. The door cracked open slowly, and a shadow blockaded the gap. Erivan's eyes softened. "Your hair's come undone, my lord, and your hands are a mess," he gently chastised the prince. He reached up to smooth Matvey's hair back into place, which felt very much like petting a griffin that could turn aside and rip him asunder at any second.

"You're still alive…," the prince rasped.

"Thanks to you."

Lines slowly left the prince's face. Carefully, Erivan adjusted his large eyepatch, wiping away sweat and hair from under the black fabric. The door opened the rest of the way with a bloody handprint on the knob. Matvey loomed out of the frame as Erivan backed away in a bow to make way for his master. Prussia's eyes widened briefly before narrowing in a smirk. Russia looked livid as a bear, both at their cub's safety as well as the once-defeated threat that now laid on the floor in a pool of blood and ruined furniture.

"Someone remove him," Russia ordered, pointing imperiously at the two Ottomans.

"This. Is. My. House," Prussia bit through each word, incensed that the Russian Empire was giving the orders that had been on his very tongue.

Matvey grimaced at the two of them and pivoted away from this corner of the castle. Erivan glanced back at the crowd gathering around the corridor and stairs. He saw Armenia standing there looking at him, and the two placed their hands over their hearts. If she hadn't fought off the Ottoman's double and gone for Matvey, Erivan was sure he'd be worse off right now, perhaps even a Turkish puppet. He bowed his head gratefully.

"Come, Erivan," Matvey ordered, waiting three paces ahead.

Erivan hurried after him quickly. As he reached Matvey's right side, one of the prince's wings spread behind him, mostly shielding him from view. Matvey said nothing, but then again, nothing needed to be said. He sighed at the mess on his prince's face, claws, and boots. All of that… for him. The prince had risked it all for him. Erivan had no idea what political consequences this event would hold, but he could only hope the truth would reign.

ANNEX pt 3.

The prince shepherded him through the castle, up winding steps and through halls and doors Erivan had never seen before. He had never been to this wing, although he knew they were in the eastern tower. Matvey had him carry an enamel washbowl and jug all the way to the top. The prince fished an old brass key from around his neck and turned it with a groaning clank from the mechanism. The door was heavy oak and bore no decorations.

To his surprise, the prince silently motioned him in first, indicating the table for the washbowl. The heavy door creaked shut with a force that blew dust along the ground.

"Where are we?" Erivan asked, gazing around the large circular room. Sheets covered the furniture and portrait frames stacked carefully on one half of the room, tucked away in storage. By the tall window, however, stood a bookshelf, desk, and chair. A couch was at the window's left side. None of these were as dusty as the floor.

"It's a second study. Father taught me how to fly from that window," Matvey remarked.

"That sounds… paternal," Erivan replied with uncertainty.

"He walked on me gazing at Russia's full-length portrait." The prince tilted his head at the largest of the covered frames.

"Sounds like your father…"

Matvey loomed over Erivan's shoulder and studied his blue skin where it purpled from the bruises and aftermath of it all. He reached over and grabbed Erivan's chin, forcing him to face the prince.

"Tell me how he did this to you," Matvey growled with barely restrained rage.

Erivan caught a glimpse of raw concern behind the cracked mask of composure. "Western Armenia told me what Ottoman did to Bulgaria in the war. He overheard us using our language in the stairwell. Then… he attacked me, because I put myself between them."

"What were you thinking?" Matvey snapped.

The cinders in Erivan's eyes hit flashpoint. Bright gold engulfed his slit pupils, and he wheeled on Matvey. "Armenia means everything to me," Erivan bit back. "Before the war, a fragment was all I had, sleeping inside me." He pounded his chest. He stood his ground even as Matvey's wings began to swell on either side of him. "We will never be whole until all of the ancestral lands are returned. You, of all people, should know the depths of what I'll do to protect someone I love!" Erivan blurted out. Against his better judgment, he pointed in the prince's face. The finger curled back as he realized what he'd said and saw the furious lines on Matvey's face where blood was already drying. God, the Ottoman's attack had really rid him of his usual restraint, hadn't it?

Matvey snatched his wrist vehemently. The force staggered Erivan against the bookshelf. With his teeth two inches from Erivan's face, the prince snarled, "So you went derelict in your duties to chase after a remnant out of our jurisdiction?"

"I did." Erivan met his eye without flinching. "Execute me here and now for disobedience, sir." He tilted his head, baring his throat to those fangs.

Matvey's pupil shrank at the purplish-black handprints around Erivan's throat. "Save your reckless shit!" The prince lunged at the junction of Erivan's jaw and ear. He sank his teeth into skin, and his retainer jolted, gasping sharply and exhaling his name. The smell of blood made his thoughts swim. Erivan trembled in Matvey's clutches. "There. I've punished you," the prince snapped.

The pressure left Erivan's neck, and he cracked open his eyes to peer up at his master. He licked his tongue and watched Matvey's lips wistfully as the prince pulled away from the bite. Matvey caught his glance, and the two hesitated only for a second before crashing their lips together. Immediately, their pace became frantic, warm and metallic tongues seeking each other as their mouths opened. They groaned and growled into their mouths. Erivan nearly dared to cup Matvey's cheeks in his hands but thought better of it, digging his fingers into the prince's uniform instead.

Like a wild man, Matvey flung aside everything upon his desk and pushed Erivan down onto it, nipping his lips, pressing him down under the force of his kisses. He did not waste time with words. He crowded over Erivan possessively, claiming him tooth and nail. Erivan reached up, but before he could hold onto anything, Matvey pinned his wrists hard to the wood, growling against his mouth.

"You're mine! Don't you ever stray from me again."

Erivan's stomach leapt up to his chest at the barely-contained fury, hurt, and fear in Matvey's voice. "You have me, every piece. I was always yours. I was annexed to be yours. I follow your commands, my lord but I was created to protect those lands. Please…" He tried not to cry out or whimper in longing, but he felt the wave coming to shore, how Matvey would soon break over him and drag every grain of him back out to sea. The weight of him pulled a soft groan from Erivan's lips. "Please… forgive me for this conflict in my heart, Your Highness."

This encounter with Ottoman would not be the only one. There may very well come a time when Erivan would fail in his duties again. But they thought nothing of that now, not when Matvey bit his neck again and made his hips grind against the prince's thigh in lust. He struggled against his pinned wrists to meet him, drinking him in despite his bitten lips. Finally the prince let him go. Erivan surged against his chest the same way he met him in combat. He kissed his chin, his jaw, his heated black and white skin and every constellation of gold. The bloodrush made his head throb, yet he couldn't let Matvey go. Each kiss dragged him underwater, numbing his pain, making it hard for him to come up for air. Each fevered kiss was a claim on him in revenge for what Ottoman had done.

Heaving a breathy snarl, Matvey pulled off him, both of them panting heavily and gazing heatedly at each other. Erivan jerked his chin in the direction of the washbowl Matvey had made him carry up there in the first place.

"May I wash the taint off you?" Erivan asked reverently.

Matvey took a deep breath and pushed strands of hair back into place. "Yes," he said, finally calm again, and he allowed Erivan off the desk. With a sigh, he threw himself into the chair and held out his hands, waiting.

Erivan took the jug out of the ceramic washbasin first, setting everything on the desk prim and proper as befitting a prince's valet. With an unfurling snap of the handtowel, he folded it to use it better and dipped it into the jug of water. He turned toward Matvey and wiped his face slowly, meeting his gaze the entire time and finally, that trademark smirk began to split the prince's lips.

"You know, I was busy trying to keep conscious when you appeared. I thought I was hallucinating." Erivan leaned into Matvey's right ear, whispering rough gravel on his blind side, "A god descended and smote the devil. Let me worship you." He stroked the towel across the dried blood splatter. Kneeling before that hungry eye, Erivan placed both of Matvey's hands into the basin. He poured water over them, watching it turn rusty as he scrubbed the skin and under the sharp claws. While he knelt, he saw the absolute state of Matvey's boots, bloodstained and now dusty.

"I don't know if these can be salvaged. I still have your measurements from last time so I will make you a new pair," he reassured.

"No. Remeasure me. I will not tolerate an improper fit."

"Of course, sir." Erivan switched the hand towel around so that the dry side faced forward, and he wiped off his master's hands. "Perfect."

"Dump that mess out of the window before it stinks."

Pulling up the pane required more strength than Erivan expected. He yanked it until it screeched and sputtered through layers of dust, sending motes everywhere. Quickly he tossed the contents outside and forced the window back down again.

"If I may ask, my lord, why did we come up here?"

"We needed to be in the room furthest from the epicenter. You saw how my parents were acting," Matvey tsked. "Father has the only other key to this room but he won't go in here. Too many memories covered up." He waved dismissively at the sheets. "Besides, if I so much as smell that Ottoman's breath, I am liable to actually kill him this time." An icy eye fixed on Erivan. "Especially after he put his hands on what's mine."

Erivan sucked in a deep breath through his nose, closing golden eyes to keep from showing Matvey how much restraint it took not to get into the chair with him. He bowed his head, golden curls tumbling past his cheeks.

Matvey inhaled sharply and stood up, the chair scraping backward on the floor. "You need to be seen by a physician now."

Erivan tapped at his face and patted his sides for any stab wounds. "Am I bleeding somewhere?"

"The back of your head. Come on."

Matvey grabbed the front of Erivan's uniform remorselessly. Without any effort, the prince hauled him at the knees and lower back, flying off with him through the palace corridors and halls. The main routes were, of course, wide enough to accommodate their winged masters. Erivan stared wide-eyed, clinging helplessly to his shirt collar.

"At least you have the good sense not to scream," Matvey smirked. "Father told me Russia wailed the first time they were on the wing together."

"It takes a lot more than this to get me to scream," Erivan told him.

"Oh, I know." Matvey's lip curled knowingly, letting out a mischievous chuckle as he whisked his retainer away to be properly cared for.

#meta #countryhumans #countryhumans oc #erivan #matvey #matveri #writings #countryhumans russian empire #countryhumans prussia #countryhumans armenia #countryhumans ottoman empire

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS : Part 7 of 7 : MLP Fan Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS

A Daring Do tale

Part 7 of 7

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

8927 words

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony. Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

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Still trying to sort out the reason for her direct orders from the Throne, Skraatch gathered up her notes and images. She got her ID ready. Ever since the Civil War, the tourist areas of the Imperial Aerie were sealed off. Everybeing needed proof of either residence or reason to enter the rest of the Aerie.

At the checkpoint, Skraatch showed her ID and her permission to enter the Hospital to the guards. One took the flimsy and checked it against a stack of copies on an organizer ring. His crest popped up at what he found. He double checked another organizer and, though it did not seem possible, his crest went higher in surprise.

He came out, returned Skraatch’s flimsy, and waived them through.

It was a whole different world. It was full of Gryphons going about their business. All of the signs and notices were in Gryphon only. Along the way that they were going, there was a raised roof flight lane for those in a hurry. Judging by the traffic, there were many Gryphons in a hurry.

Those on the walking floor rubbed folded wings without seeming to notice. Sometimes, two or more would meet, raising wings to varying degrees. Much chatter in Gryphon would always follow.

As they followed twisting, branching and turning ways, the Baron was glad that he had a guide. They came to a way where there was no flight roof. It was short but there were open doors of steel at the Aerie end. The other end was blocked by closed steel doors. Both the doors, the walls, ceiling and, he noticed, the floor had apparently recent bullet scars.

Skraatch walked confidently to a small iron barred wicket and presented her press credential and interview permission flimsy. She took the Baron’s and added it to what was taken. There followed a checking of assorted pages on various rings. Finally the credentials were returned.

With tiny clicks, two gun ports opened behind them. The two outer steel doors shut with a small boom of finality. Only then did the doors in front open.

They were greeted by the smells of an active hospital anywhere. A surprisingly clear voice was announcing calls for various doctors to report to rooms and other such hospital business.

They went up ramps and along hallways. The Baron noticed that the usual flight ports in this hospital were all sealed. That and the other massive security precautions led him to think, “Perhaps I was over hasty with this enterprise. I have got in, but how to get out? If the ancient creature that they have guarding the eggs spends most of her time oblivious, as I have heard, I can perhaps winkle an egg out from under it. I have managed to do so without disturbing the mother bird before. My hidden compartment in the camera bag has not been found yet. I will have to trust to chance.”

They were halted at yet another checkpoint. A guard here, trotted up the hallway and tapped at a door. A few quiet words were exchanged. He returned and guided them to the door and tapped.

As the door was opened, he stood back respectfully. The door was held by Nurse Grayyk. Past her, they could see the little grayish changeling with her filmy pale blue mane and tail. She and the Imperial nest were all surrounded by a nearly invisible green glow of magic from her smallish horn. Her vestigial wings of the same material as her mane and tail fluttered lightly, presently fanning two eggs. She did not even look up at the newcomers. Delicately she used a long specialized claw to turn an egg, not all the way, just a little.

Nurse Grayyk gestured them in. “Please forgive Doctor Do. She is worn out from this morning’s physical therapy. She is tired but alert. Skraatch, if you take your place next to her Hospital nest, up by her head, it will be simplest to pose your questions and hear the answers.”

Turning to the Baron, she pointed to Friend. “This little changeling is named Friend. This warning is as blunt as I can make it. By the Order of the Throne of Empire, it is an immediate death sentence to go nearer to Friend and the Nest of Empire than that pale glow of her magic.”

Thinking with contempt, “Magic that weak? There is lots of room around the nest to get enough out of sight of the others shielded by the back of that ancient hen! The egg is as good as mine!”

Taking pictures for a cover to his real object, he got pictures of Daring Do in the Hospital nest with the young Eaglets huddled about her. Tired as she obviously was, she was using her left hoof to dangle them strips of meat to gobble down. There was a stand with a bottle and hose leading under Doctor Do’s coverlet on the right side.

Then, as Skraatch began to ask her many carefully prepared questions for Daring Do, the Baron took some pictures of Friend, apparently oblivious to all but the eggs that she was tending.

He snickered to himself, “A poor choice to guard these eggs! I will have mine in a trice and none the wiser!”

The many Eagles perched about the room watched him with avian disapproval. Unseen by the Baron, there was a fine web of the palest, nearly invisible green wisps covering the whole floor at that end of the room. He worked his way through it without noticing it, so delicate was it. Getting many pictures, quite a few of them including the huge Eagles, the Baron achieved the position that he wanted.

The bulk of Friend’s back hid his activity from the others, all clustered at the far end of the room. Ever so delicately, he began to reach.

Quite abruptly, the pale wisps of magic, no longer delicate, but still near invisible, whipped about him! No matter how he struggled, he could not move!

Skraatch looked up, crest lifted triumphantly! “Why Esquire Willworthy, what seems to be the trouble? Or should I ask that of Baron Yoksonu?”

Daring Do’s right hoof was uncovered. She was holding a big revolver pointed at him with a steady aim. Nurse Grayyk had a pistol out too!

The voice of Friend, speaking without looking up from her tasks with the Imperial clutch, announced, “The Hunt is over. The prey is caught and fairly. It was given every chance to escape that could be. Friend claims this prey as hers!”

Skraatch asked Daring Do, “What about his camera? It is quite a good one and it seems that he got a number of good shots.”

It was Friend whose confident voice replied, “Take the camera and the bag. I/we have felt the bag with my magic and it has a hidden pocket to hold the stolen egg. Do be careful of his lenses. They are of the very best quality.”

Skraatch did take them. Setting down the bag, she unloaded it with care. She took pictures of the innocent looking bag and then demonstrated the false bottom and finally showed the open cushioned compartment for the stolen egg.

She got some fine pictures of Friend on the nest, holding Baron Yoksonu solidly in the grip of her magic.

Skraatch asked curiously, “When and where will the egg murdering Baron Yoksonu be executed?”

Daring Do pointed to fur going gray at his muzzle and other signs of aging. “It is happening right now. Friend is a truly excellent predator.

“First, she set a bait to lure the prey. Then she laid webs to see that the prey could find her lair. Then, she even gave her prey an opportunity to escape, life intact before she pounced. Now, she is draining his life and love together. When he is almost gone, then she will kill him and eat the carcass, as a good carnivore should.”

Skraatch, taking notes and photos, commented, “You are an herbivore, like the Baron. Doesn’t this bother you?”

Daring Do considered her answer carefully. “I am an herbivore. I am not an herbivore like HIM.

“Friend, an emotivore/carnivore saved my life by using prey like him. They were ones that had no care for the lives of others or for the laws of civilized societies. They were destroying a whole civilization to gain a little power.

“The Baron is breaking the laws of two nations to kidnap and murder an egg from the Throne of the Empire, who happen to be friends of mine as well.

“His death will not be meaningless. His life will be shared out by Friend to benefit the eggs, these lovely Eaglets, and me. She understands that love shared grows and creates greater love and strength.”

Friend hopped off of the Imperial clutch and smiled. Her smile bared her very impressive set of fangs. Almost delicately, she bit deeply into the neck of Baron Yoksonu. As he collapsed, all of the Eagles fluttered down and joined her in stripping the meat from the carcass. There was no squabbling among them as they fed, sharing both the kill and the gentle, loving green magic of Friend.

“No, it does not bother me.”

–THE END–

<==PREVIOUS

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS #Part 7 of 7 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years ago

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Zero One 04: Watch out for incoming lore!

(And for incoming Riders and rocket fists.)

So, I’ve been having a lot of trouble freeing up the brain power to actually, y’know, even get myself to watch this week. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, it’s just that I’m completely drained. So, this might not go as in-depth as I have in the past.

On a lore episode.

Ah well.

––

We’re starting this episode off with a bang – almost literally. The trip Aruto and Izu are on is to observe Anna, a tourguide HumaGear. At first, he’s still having fun, because, y’know, it’s a bus tour.

And then Anna announces that they’re coming up to the site of a significant event.

Aruto’s excitement drops off.

He was there, after all.

In Daybreak Town.

(One of the young boys who is also on the trip grows just as serious, looking down in the same way Aruto is.)

––

It turns out that Daybreak Town was a collaboration between the Japanese government, Hiden Intelligence, and a number of other corporations to design a city run by HumaGears. It was also where they launched the satellite from, the one that controls them.

We get treated to a diagram of several of the company logos spreading across the city, implying that they each were in charge of a district, before a ‘blueprint’ of the satellite.

I don’t like the phrasing said blueprint uses for some of the data readouts. There’s “Core Unit”, which is fine. The two “M-Wheels” are probably short for Motion, and what keep it stable. The section labeled “Life Line” is a little concerning. And I really, really, wish that Toei had chosen literally anything else for the bottom one, which reads “Slave Analyzer.”

Like, I know this is a Japanese show, and the kids probably aren’t going to be able to read it, but their parents? MAYBE! And since we’re dealing with ‘robots’ who are slowly gaining sentience… yeah. I’m not comfortable with this at all.

ANYWAY. Let’s leave the sub-text issues, and into the real-text issues, shall we?

And it sure is an issue!

Like I mentioned before I got off track, the city was an attempt to design an urban center run by HumaGears, as well as all sorts of research projects, including the satellite.

But 12 years ago, there was an accident in the Research and Development sector. It’s shown as a wide view of the city, showing just how large the explosion was – and it was big. And bright blue. You know. The same type of blue flame that we see in Aruto’s flashbacks.

But the damage didn’t stay in R&D for long, and it spread to the power infrastructure. In the end, the entire city was wiped out.

Even 12 years later, nobody is allowed in.

––

Back in the present, we see Anna and the school tour (and Aruto and Izu) at a viewing platform, with a view of the lake that the city has become.

At one very smug looking students prompting, Anna explains that the theory is that the incident was likely caused by faulty maintenance.

Aruto looks away, remembering how Isamu had said that the truth was covered up, that HumaGears had gone on a murderous rampage.

Nobody sees a certain hooded not-Gremlin approach the bus driver, tapping on the window with a Zetsumeriser and Zetsumerise Key.

Two kids start mocking one of their classmates, the one who had gotten as serious as Aruto earlier, saying that it was his dad’s fault, because he was the one in charge of the factory. One of them says that his dad blew the whole thing up.

The bus explodes behind them.

The bus driver, the soon-to-be-overwritten Bāsu, pulls out his key and ‘transforms.’ I know that his name is basically ‘bus’, but Rider Wiki also romanizes it as ‘Burs’, which I can only assume is because of his incredibly massive sideburns. Like, dang, those are big.

But we don’t have Bāsu for much longer, because he becomes the Onycho Magia, based off of the Onychonycteris, the most primitive form of bat. Interestingly, it may have been diurnal. The fossil record is inconclusive so far, but it may not have had the adaptations to echolocate, or the enlarged eyes that nocturnal bats have.

Something I’ve noticed is that most of the species that have been used as Magia so far have something in common aside from all being extinct: They’re mostly comparatively recent discoveries, and there are very few fossils that have been found of them. Just something I thought might be worth noting for the future.

Also, Onycho has huge claws on his ‘normal’ hands and also on each finger of his wings – remember, bat wings are technically webbed hands. Those ridges are fingers. Onychonycteris had claws on each finger, unlike modern bats, who only have two or three.

As Aruto yells for the kids to get out of there, Jin sits on top of a retaining wall, kicking his legs idly, and asks Onycho – who can’t hear him, anyway – to kill some humans for him.

Whenever he says that to his Magia… that’s the only time he’s really serious. That’s the only time he drops the smile.

Interesting.

––

After the OP, which I love, we cut to Onycho pursuing the tour group through a wooded area, Aruto herding the kids along. One of them, the one who was being mocked earlier, trips. As Onycho catches up, Aruto prepares to transform – but doesn’t get to do more than pull out his belt before shots are fired from another direction. He hurriedly hides it behind his back as Isamu and Yua show up on scene – somehow – and transform.

Of note, Isamu still has to force his Key open, and he’s still punching the bullet. Yua has no such issue, and just lets her armor form, before they go on the offensive.

She’s still quick and efficient, while he’s more of a wildcard whose primary mood is ‘gun.’

Onycho quickly gets out of range when he goes to hang upside down on a high branch, and then flies away. (There’s an ‘analyzing’ sound effect as Izu watches him fly off.)

The two agents detransform as they go up to Aruto, the boy, and the two functioning HumaGear. Isamu points out that ‘Oh, look, Hiden’s president is here. Again.’ But the boy, who’s been sitting on the ground, curls in on himself, saying something about wondering why this is happening to him.

Both Isamu and Aruto look at him in concern.

––

Back in Aruto’s office, we have Aruto, Izu, Anna, Isamu, and the boy. Said boy’s name is Sakurai Gou, and his father was one of the victims 12 years ago.

I can’t help but wonder just how many people died that day.

Especially when Gou says that people have always told him that it’s his fathers fault it happened. That’s an awful lot of weight on a teen’s shoulders. And, Isamu, I know you mean well, but I don’t think that’s quite the way to go about reassuring a kid that it’s not his dad’s fault. Usually, people don’t react well to someone saying that it was HumaGears, who were designed to kill.

Although, Gou seems to take Isamu’s claim that it was HumaGear who leveled the factory in stride.

Isamu, of course, doesn’t take Izu’s statement that ‘there are no records to back up his claim’ very well., yelling that it’s because it was covered up.

Anna points out that the consensus is that it was caused by faulty maintenance.

Aruto looks down as he wonders if the concensus is the same things as the truth.

Anna watches him, just like she’d watched Isamu during his claim that Daybreak happened because of the HumaGear.

––

Outside, Isamu and Gou are leaving, and Gou says that he wants to know the truth.

Isamu asks if he really feels that way, and when Gou nods… he says that he does, too.

“Hey, kid, want to go break into a secured area?”

––

Ohhhh, man, I like Serious Aruto.

He’s flat out interrogating Jun, asking what happened at their factory 12 years ago.

But all that Jun will say is that he can’t recall.

Anna and Izu both call him out on this – not activating their look-up functions, by the way. Anna asks why there’s no record of the HumaGear uprising. Which implies that she knows there was one, somehow. Izu says that a cover-up seems intentional.

Aruto knows he’s hiding something, the way that Jun is so nervous makes that pretty clear. And he’s not a comedic nervous, like we’d expect from his characterization in the first three episodes. No, he’s scared… and maybe ashamed. Especially given how, as he takes his leave, he says that ‘sometimes, the way business works means that you have to keep the truth in the shadows.’

So, there’s definitely at least one layer of cover-up here. Probably more than one, in fact. This is written by the same guy as Ex-Aid, after all.

––

Later on, Anna and Aruto – without Izu, it would seem – are basically confirming to each other that they want to find out the truth.

Anna is looking into this because, as a bus guide, it’s her duty to know the historical facts of her tour. It’s her duty to make sure the truth is known.

Aruto says that he guesses they’re going back to Daybreak Town then. After all, he’s the president. He can’t ignore an employee in need.

He’s not saying that he wants to know, too. Not out loud, anyway.

––

The next day, at the entrance to Daybreak Town, Gou and Isamu are… actually breaking into a secured area. I mean, it was a foregone conclusion, but I didn’t think they’d be this blatant about it. Isamu’s even got a huge bag with him, probably with some sort of camera equipment or something. They’re not alone, though, when Yua steps in front of the gate, asking what they think they’re doing.

What they think they’re doing is that they’re going to find the truth.

She sighs. She’s not going to be able to stop them, is she? So, Yua pulls out a grey Progrise Key, and offers it to Isamu. She does say that it’s ‘high performance’, and he probably won’t be able to use it. He asks why she’s giving it to him, then, which is a valid question.

Yua just warns him to not forget what his job is.

Isamu takes the Punching Kong key, tucks it into his suit jacket, and takes off his tie, smirking. “Actually, I’m off duty today.”

––

As Isamu and Gou are about to set out on an inflatable motorboat – which appears to somehow be what he had in that giant bag – Gou isn’t sure if they’ll really find anything by going out there, to which Isamu says that they’ll just have to try.

And then a bunch of Trilobite mooks come up – some of them still saying ‘intruder detected.’

See? This is what he means by a cover-up!

Isamu’s shooting some of them down, but one gets close to Gou-

And is tackled into the water by Aruto.

Isamu accuses him of being there to make sure they don’t see anything they aren’t supposed to, but Aruto shoots that down. (Heh.) He wants to know what happened, too.

Completely ignoring Izu’s protests about ‘protecting his secret identity,’ he pulls out his belt and stands next to Isamu.

“Do you want to die, get out of- wait what’s that belt?!”

Aruto, with his serious face on, promises, as Hiden’s president, that he’ll find the truth, and transforms.

Both Isamu and the Trilobites dodge the heck out of the way of that robot grasshopper – and yet he still can’t believe his eyes when he’s standing next to Zero One.

Aruto tells Anna to go with the two of them – it’s a tour guides job to make sure her guests get to their destination, after all. He takes over fighting the Trilobites, as they head out.

––

Ohhhh. I’ve just realized that comment I made earlier about the rarity of the species used for the Magia. I’m making a separate post right now, but I’m copy-pasting it in.

The skeletal design of all the Magia isn’t just to make it easier to repurpose the suits - it’s because they’re all using extinct creatures as their base. They’re all fossils, themselves.

The main Magia, the corrupted ones with powers, are all powered by creatures that have relatively few examples in the fossil record.

The mooks, however, are Trilobites. This doesn’t just allow the anonymity factor with the shell acting as a mask.

Trilobites are incredibly common, and as such, make the perfect option for a swarm of faceless cannon fodder.

––

In the flooded ruins, Isamu, Gou, and Anna make their way to what used to be the control room of the factory, where Gou’s father worked.

It’s also where the explosion started.

Why… is Anna the one searching for things to help them find the truth? She explicitly says that she will look. That’s odd.

And why would the control room be where an explosion started? Why not, say, the factory floor, or a lab, or a test area?

Why the control center?

––

On the shore, Zero One handily dispatches the Trilobites with a Shark-powered Slash finisher. Much like his Impact finishers, it involves the sword summoning a giant hecking row of sharks teeth.

I love this seasons fights.

And here comes Onycho, swooping in with energy spheres to blast our hero back. Aruto tries to jump after him, to bring him down to the ground, but he can’t jump high enough on command to catch up to someone who’s continuing upward, and misses.

As he picks himself up, Izu throws him a Brand New Toy Progrize Key, which fortunately he catches. Y’know, unlike the unfortunate incident with the Attache Calibur in episode one.

WING

When the robo-bird is beamed down, it attacks Onycho for a while, before Aruto finally uses the key. And there are bright pink feathers fluttering around whenever it hits, too, which is really cool!

Fly to the sky! Flying Falcon!

Spread your wings and prepare for a force.

…We’re never going to see this form again.

Not with how Zero One immediately rises into the air, and doesn’t even try to land as he and Onycho start an aerial fight over the lake, swooping around the buildings, firing attacks, Aruto streaming pink and yellow energy effects with every movement.

This thing requires far too much CGI for us to see it more than… I’d say about one more time in-show, and maybe in one of the movies. Maybe.

This is GataKiriBa all over again.

Also, as he’s flying around, Izu waves, wishing him a safe trip.

Izu, I love you.

––

In the office, Gou’s given up. He can’t find anything… it must have been his fathers fault after all. Why bother looking any further?

…son of a- Toei named this kid Gou on purpose, didn’t they? I was initially thinking, ‘oh, hey, they’re reusing names, that’s nothing new.’ And then I just remembered that ‘Oh, right, the main Gou’s father actually was to blame for the robot uprising in Drive!’

Anyway, significant name reuse aside, the kid’s surrendered, but Isamu encourages him to keep looking.

And then the Trilobites show up. Even as he’s fighting them, Isamu keeps giving small!Gou a pep talk. It can’t have been his fathers fault, it was the HumaGear! So if you don’t believe in him, who will?

Isamu, I get it, but, uh, maybe don’t take this much of this particular trait from Mach? The one where you say that a human can’t have be to blame, it’s the out of control robots? I’m just saying. I doubt this kids father in particular was to blame, but I’m pretty sure at least one human was very heavily involved in what happened here.

Looking at you, Grandpa Hiden. You are very much not above suspicion.

Isamu’s statement, as he is getting very beaten up, that “if you stop now, it’s all over, so raise your head and keep going’ seems to be as much to himself as it is to Gou.

And he’s getting very beaten up, so he pulls out the Punching Kong key.

I’m pretty sure that not only did Yua not unlock it, he’s also opening them wrong. I know that’s just a joke theory at this point, but it really looks like he’s actively blocking the part that swings out when he’s holding the keys, so I think he’s making it worse on himself.

Whoops.

It’s still not fair that his transformation is this cool. This time, instead of punching the bullet dead on, he backhand punches it. Because why not.

Punching Kong!

Enough power to annihilate a mountain.

…Huh. The keys that Vulcan and Valkyrie use don’t have the pre-announcements that Zero One’s keys do. Like, he has the whole ‘fly to the sky’ for Flying Falcon, and the ones for Rising Hopper and Biting Shark, but there’s no such announcement for the three AIMS keys. Interesting.

As Vulcan starts wailing on the Trilobites, Gou takes his advice to keep going forward to heart, and starts looking again. Good thing he looked right in front of him, because he finds an SD card with the Hiden Intelligence logo on it.

According to Anna, it’s the memory chip for an older model of HumaGear. She inserts it into one of her earpieces to start reading the data.

…Maybe you shouldn’t be doing that in the middle of a battle area? I’m just saying. Maybe, you know, wait until you guys are out of there?

Yeah, see? Aruto and Onycho crash in through a wall, and the Magia fires off a set of cables, overtaking Anna. Nobody is okay with this, least of all Anna.

Who is fighting back. She lasts longer than any of the other Trilobite transformations we’ve seen. The overhaul completes, and ‘she’ goes after Gou, grabbing him by the neck… and as Vulcan aims his ShotRiser in her direction, she stops, and her ear pieces start flashing between the hacked red and their native blue.

…wow…

“Now p-playing… f-footage from-”

She activates her ear pieces to play the security footage. And it is still Anna in there. She’s fading fast, but she’s still there. She is so intent on seeing this through… I hate to say this, but Anna would have made an excellent Magia, wouldn’t she?

––

The footage is absolutely heartbreaking.

Gou’s father, Sakurai Satoshi, is in his office, lit by red emergency lights. He’s recording a last message.

“All HumaGear in the factory have gone berserk! The factory is likely going to explode. All the employees should have evacuated, so…”

The monitors are overtaken with static, and the regular displays are hijacked to play a message. A shadowed figure with rectangular yellow eyes stands in front of a purple background, with the logo of metsubojinrai.net in black.

He’s declaring their war against humanity, their intent to destroy the town and annihilate all humans.

But Satoshi says he won’t let that happen. He refuses.

He pushes one of those big red buttons, the ones that should never need to be pressed, closing all gates. He’s sealing all the HumaGear inside… as well as himself. As the head of this factory, he will take responsibility for making sure they are destroyed.

As the emergency alert continues to sound, calling for evacuation, he takes off his microphone headpeice, and all but falls into a chair.

“Gou…”

The scene is covered in flames, before the footage cuts out.

––

As Anna’s hand falls from where she was projecting, she manages to say – without any of the usual broken stutter – that the database is being updated with regards to Daybreak Town. She slumps down, inactive.

Aruto is quiet as he says that Gou’s father was a hero.

Isamu is quiet, trembling with rage, as he says that this wouldn’t have happened if HumaGear didn’t exist. He prepares his finisher.

Why does he get such AWESOME FINISHERS?!

The default Punching Kong finisher? The ‘Punching Blast’?

It’s rocket fists. He literally shoots his gun – and by that, I mean the fists of his armor turn into rockets, going after Onycho, pushing him through three levels of ceiling and out into the sky, where they go right through him.

As the fire from the explosion channels down the GIANT HOLE IN THE CEILING, the fists return and reattach to his armor.

Yo.

Isamu seems… I don’t know if determined is quite the right word? But he’s almost calm as he tells Aruto that AIMS will be confiscating the HumaGear (Anna) and analyzing it’s (her) memory to uncover the truth behind Daybreak-

A spike lands in her back as he says this, and she glows purple, before… well, I hate to phrase it like this, but she basically pops. I wish that wasn’t the sound effect they used, but it’s a dissolving sound effect combined with a balloon bursting. She’s turned into motes of purple light, and is gone.

Aruto and Isamu – still transformed, mind you – run over to where she was, confused.

…The spike didn’t glow, but we didn’t see it after the light passed.

––

A figure in purple, with a yellow belt and rectangular eyes on his helmet walks away, and removes his progrise key from his belt, detransforming into Horobi.

Jin bounces behind him, calling him cold for doing that.

Horobi doesn’t change his neutral expression much as he says that it would cause too much trouble if anyone found out about the Arc. Or, maybe it’s supposed to be Ark? It’s hard to say. But he smirks at the end, before he and Jin walk away.

Well, Horobi walks. Jin is skipping.

––

The next day, we see that the news is reporting on how Hiden Intelligence released new information on Daybreak, showing that the incident wasn’t what was on the record, and that they had obtained footage of those final moments.

Gou’s classmates apologize to him, for being so mean, but he seems okay with it. (He probably wouldn’t have been so determined to find out what happened if they hadn’t been.) As the news report, given via those giant heli-drones, ends, they head off to school.

Aruto watches them from a pedestrian bridge, and Isamu walks up to him and Izu.

“So, you really meant it when you said you wouldn’t cover anything up.”

“And you wouldn’t have known what happened if you had destroyed Anna right away.” Aruto smiles gently, before the comedian sound effects start kicking in. Oh no.

The Awful Pun Of The Day as Aruto flips up his hood is something involving being a ‘hood guy’, or telling Izamu not to ‘sweater it.’

Apparently, the original pun is a combination of the phrase for being indebted to someone, but part of the phrase also contains the term ‘to wear’, as in clothes, so he’s saying this while putting on his hood.

Aruto, please.

Isamu trembles while he’s still facing Aruto, and walks away as Izu starts explaining the joke. Aruto’s desperate attempts to get Izu to stop doing that mean that he doesn’t hear as Isamu almost lets a laugh escape, even while desperately trying to regain his composure.

Isamu’s willpower fails during the closing screen, and we hear him laughing as the Flying Falcon and Punching Kong Progrize Keys show up on screen.

––

Oh, nooooo, the next episode looks like it’s about relegating entire tasks to HumaGear, and also about passion for one’s work.

You know, getting heated.

And Izu’s line in the trailer actively asks if humans have trouble regulating their temperature if they get too passionate.

In the episode where Zero One’s fire form debuts.

Oh boy.

––

So, that’s episode four! I guess I still wound up going pretty in-depth, huh?

Man, the aesthetic of this show. It’s really cool, and I love the music, too.

Zero One really isn’t shying away from the ethics of what’s going on here, is it? And it’s not dodging the terrifying backstory, or putting it off until later.

I hope they can keep this momentum going!

#kamen rider zero one #the worldbuilding we need and deserve

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years ago

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🏰⚔️🐲👑👑👑 DMODT 55 - decided this would be the full draft

Luca fought the separation, his son wailing miserably as Eren left. Armin and Hanji left to soothe his son as Eren hurried through the castle to the keep. With repeated explosions, most of the doors had been ripped from their hinges, the space nothing at all like the busting and busy hub he remembered. Everywhere around him was smouldering ruins, including the stables that looked as if they'd taken a direct hit, while people rushed to take care of small spot fires. The small castle well wasn't enough. They were fighting a losing battle and exhausting themselves in the process. Anger filled the omega as he shifted, violent storm clouds gathering to match his mood. All of this was so fucking pointless that it disgusted every fibre of his being. Flapping his wings, rain began to fall as thunder boomed, soldiers shrieking as he took to the sky above them. Things were even worse from the air. Mitras hadn't fared well. Dragons had raised a fair chuck of the city to the ground. This only spurred on his anger as he roared. Hanji may have been right, the battlefield may have been the worse place possible as his mind began to see every single red cloak as the enemy, not just people forced into service by their horrible queen. If they could devastate Eldia, then he could devastate them back. Dipping and weaving on the wind, he roared breath of storm along the enemy lines, the pelting rains and ripping winds making it impossible for the enemy to gain the upper ground as they were forced to dive for cover. Queen Dina had picked the wrong dragon to fuck with. Eren following the chain of destruction right back to the port, driving as much of the enemy from his lands as possible. A single dragon could sway the course of battle, Marley might have three, yet he highly doubted those dragons wanted to be there, or that they chose to become instruments of war. High above the port, he eyed the battleships along the coast. Hanji's intel had been correct. Each harpoon and long distance gun was mounted on a wooden platform, with a layer of what seemed to be of steel on top the top. The wood would absorb a great deal of the shock, but it was also the weakest part of the structure. If the platforms integrity was compromised, the recoil would more than likely rip the thick bolts holding the unit together from their housings. Swooping over the ships, they fired in his direction as the battle dragons took notice of his current appearance. He didn't wish to hurt fellow dragons, but if he could cripple them enough for them to be "useless" they wouldn't be able to continue to destroy Eldia. Taking a deep breath, he rained fire down on the ships, the rain falling around them was no match for his breath that heated the metal, and set the world ablaze. As the naval officers rushed to take cover, he pulled back, going back over the ships in a second deadly wave. It was while he had his back turned that the first battle dragon thought to make its move, strong claws tearing into his back as the two of them "collided" midair. The shock was enough to knock him down momentarily, but not enough to knock him from the sky completely. Twisting, he roared as his back was torn open, his wing narrowly missing the snapping jaws of the battle dragon. Catching the beasts giant eyes, his heart hardened. There was nothing left inside this once great beast. No spark of life. Just empty black pain. Marley had stripped everything that made this dragon who they were from them. Killing them was now the kinder option. Unleashing a breath of fire, the dragon roared under the assault, releasing him and howling in pain as it body twisted. With its face and wings on fire, it fell hard to crash between two ships, managing to capsize one in the massive wave that its body made. It brought him no pleasure to turn his breath against another dragon, and he'd never though he would. With the dragon gone, he turned back to the ships, the ones suffering the effects of his breath were covered with people abandoning ship. Good. Let them. If they chose to be cowards in order to survive, then that was the smart choice to make. Raising himself back up over the battle, Eren roared, praying that Mikasa and Erwin could hear him, or at least see him. He prayed his presence would give them strength to last that bit longer as he turned his attention to the rest of the naval fleet, a fresh wave sitting a few hundred metres out to sea. They were his first targets. Again with a breath of fire, he covered the ships. Most of the personal was below deck. He wasn't a water dragon, or an ice dragon, so he wasn't as competent as they were with underwater magic, leaving him unable to go for the ship's massive propellers. All he could do was leave them smouldering wrecks waiting for rescue, and leave Marley to restrategise before launching a fresh wave of ships. Heading back to the coast, in the time he'd been gone, the ship's that were still able to had reloaded, harpoons fired towards his body with alarming speed and accuracy. Using the magic of his storm, he sent lightening hurtling down to the cannons and guns. He needed to land. He needed to find Erwin and Zeke, and get them both back to the safety of the castle as soon as possible. He'd used a fair share of magic, and exhaustion was hitting far too soon. He had to trust Mikasa and her squad would live, his sister the bravest warrior he'd ever met. Setting his eyes to the battle, he mistakenly turned his back to ships, thinking his breath had taken care of the imminent threat. Hearing a whizzing noise, he turned just in time for a harpoon to rip through his wing and side, the chain was broken, but the force of them impact sent him falling from the sky and onto the beach below. His body shifting back to human form just as he landed, driving the wind from his lungs as his shoulders hit the ground first. Confused and dazed he blinked up at the sun. The world suddenly so silent that terror filled him. With a rush, everything came back to him. The stench of the blood on the beach. The sound of the screaming. The clashing metal of swords and bangs from rifles. The pain... god... the pain. With ginger fingers, his hand went to his right side. Blood gushing from the wound there as his magic tried to heal what it could. Coughing sadly, he couldn't move in his current condition... and he was fucking terrified that this was it for him. That he was about to die having accomplished nothing but ruin for his country. He was so fucking scared. Each cough hurt his body, causing him to twitch and spasm. Tears ran from his eyes as he continued to stare up at the sun. Armin was right. He'd needed to rest... "Eren!" Dazed, Eren rolled his head limply to the direction the voice had come from. The figure above him blocking out the sun as they all but glowed red. It was pretty, like a dragon... a smile coming to his lips. Dropping to his knees beside him, without the blinding light of the sun, or the shadows hiding his face, Zeke came into view. The alpha wearing a rich red cloak with looked to be scales woven into it. Gently the man took his face in his hands "Eren?" "Z-Zeke?" Coughing, Eren tried to gather enough moisture in his mouth to speak "Eren, you're ok. You're going to be ok. Do you understand?" "Z-Zeke?" "I'm here. I'm here, omega" Pressing one hand to his bleeding side, Zeke swore "How bad...?" "You'll be ok. Where were you?! I've been so worried..." Zeke was a terrible liar... worry written all over his face as he tried to stem the bleeding "Porco... Queen Dina..." Zeke's expression turned first to surprise then anger as it came together for the alpha "My mother did this" Eren nodded as he coughed, whimpering in pain. He didn't think he'd find Zeke so soon. Behind Zeke, a shadow appeared, Eren's eyes widened as he tried to warn the alpha. "You're not the man I thought you were" Standing behind Zeke, Yelena placed her foot on the man's back as he tore her sword from where it impaled the alpha. Zeke's eyes were wide as his hands went to the bleeding wound in his chest. Neither the alpha nor Eren could believe that Yelena had been the one to run their sword through Zeke. The incident had barely happened when soldiers were upon Yelena, forcing her to turn away before she could savour her victory "Zeke!" Slumping over him, Zeke coughed warm, wet blood across Eren's borrows clothes, Eren pushing the alpha up enough that Zeke fell to rest with his head upon Eren's chest, with his body up against the omega's like they were two lovers laying in bed. No. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Moving his hand, he summoned up his magic, trying to heal the alpha. Grabbing his hand, Zeke rasped out "Don't" "I need to heal you..." "She's good... she's severed my spinal cord. I can't feel my legs" A wound that severe... it was a wonder Zeke was still able to talk. Lowering his hand, Zeke held his over Eren's, pressing them both to his swell "Tell me, is the baby ok?" God. He couldn't... he couldn't tell Zeke the truth "Yes. They're just fine... Historia said they were protected by my dragon" "That's good... so good... I'm sorry I couldn't be the alpha you needed" The sincerity of Zeke's words had Eren sobbing "No. You tried... you're going to be a great dad..." "We both know that's not true. I wasn't a good man" "Zeke, please. Please, you can't die" He didn't love Zeke... but he appreciated him. He appreciated the way he'd started to try. The way he'd never hurt him or forced him into bed. The way he held his hair back when he was sick, or held him close when he was scared on the ship "That you'd shed a tear for me, proves you're going to be a better mother than mine ever was" "No... Zeke, please. You have to stay awake. You have to meet this baby..." "That you're both ok... I couldn't ask for anything more... I need... need to tell you" Zeke dissolved into coughs as Eren tried to pull the alpha closer to him. There was so much blood... Zeke's breathing was horrific to hear. The wet gasps as the alpha clung to life "The sword... the sword on my... you need to take it... Obsydin's mate... made the sword" The omega had no idea what that meant... he couldn't even find the words to ask. Coughing at his own pain, Zeke's fingertips dug into Eren's belly, the alpha letting out a choked sob "Eren... I'm scared... I'm scared of what comes next" "Shhh. You don't need to be scared... you're going to be ok. You're going to be ok, and this baby is going to be ok" "I don't... I'm sorry for how I treated you... I'm... so sorry... I loved you... the best I could" "No. Zeke. No. It's ok..." "Thank you, Eren... I know it wasn't a real marriage... but for it was the greatest dream... you and our baby..." Zeke's choked breathing hitched four or five times as he tried to get a breath down, the alpha letting out one last soft breath... "Zeke?!" Shaking Zeke, he got no reply. No. No. No... "Zeke! No. Please... please... you have to wake up. Please... please... don't leave me here..." Holding Zeke tight, Eren sobbed against him. His magic flaring out of control as his world narrowed down to the two of them. Zeke wasn't the best alpha. He wasn't the greatest and in most cases he was a downright arsehole, but he'd tried for the baby... the baby he thought to be his... It wasn't fair. Zeke was trying to be a better person. He was growing and learning... Drawn by his magic, a second if the three battle dragons landed to Eren's right. The large yellow beast, roaring over him, the animal oozing anger and bloodlust. Laying Zeke down, the omega closed his half open eyes, pressing a kiss to the alpha's forehead. They were still on the battlefield, the battle dragon pulling him out of his headspace "Eren?!" Jumping over him, Erwin charged recklessly towards the dragon "Erwin, get back!" "Let me handle this!" "Not on your own..." Fuck... Pushing himself up, it felt like his entire side was on fire. The wounds deep enough that they'd probably scar, even with his magic slowly stitching the torn muscle and skin back into place. Flapping it's wings, and raising onto its back legs the dragon let out a fiery breath, Erwin dodging to the side "Eren, what can I do to stop it?!" "They've lost their minds! Marley has control of them!" Running towards the water, the alpha was drawing its attention away from Eren "So I should kill it?!" He hated it. He hated that there was no other option. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Eren nodded, barely on his feet "Beneath the wings or the throat, just beneath the jaw!" "I don't think so!" Crashing into Erwin, Porco had his blade drawn. Erwin's attention now split between his two opponents. Eyeing the man who's fault all of this happened, Eren's anger surged again, his fingers cracking as sparks shot out like lightening "Eren?!" "Porco is mine! I owe him for the excellent accomodation" Laughing, Porco pointed his sword towards him "I see you escaped" "I see you're unfortunately still alive. They always say cockroaches would survive the end of the world" "You wound me. What can a half dead monster like you accomplish?" "You're about to find out" Porco charged, Eren dropped to his knee as he placed his good hand upon the ground. Vines rushing from his hand, to ensnare Porco's legs, tripping the alpha "What was that?" "Pieck, now!" Yelling out for Pieck, a shot rang out, hitting Eren in his left shoulder. The omega yelling out as he yanked his back. It wasn't like the vines were going anywhere "Eren?!" "I'm ok, Erwin!" He wasn't ok. He definitely wasn't ok... but what else could he do? Erwin was fighting a dragon, the least he could do was take care of two humans. Abandoning his bleeding side, Eren placed both hands down, the vines around Porco surging into the man's body, impaling him and forcing him to release his sword. Now for Pieck. She'd had time to reload... Only, when her second shot rang out, it was Erwin who was struck. Fucking Marley. He was so done. Snarling, his eyes turned black, Eren raising his hand towards where the shot had come from, shooting razor sharp winds in Pieck's direction. Hidden upon a rise, the sandbags in front of the small woman were obliterated before her body was torn to shreds. He scream sounded like the sweetest of music to his ears, as the world turned red. Raising his busted left arm towards the yellow dragon, the beast roared in challenge, Eren's winds diverting its fiery breath "Sorry, Erwin but this one's mine" Breathing in, Eren summoned up his storm breath, his hand dropped as he unleashed it on the yellow dragon, the beast clearly not expecting a dragon's breath from a human, it footing growing unstable as lightening shot through its body, sending it crashing sideways. Erwin was quick to lunge for its exposed side, driving his sword through the softer scales near the wing and into the heart of the beast, its howl of pain snuffed out in an instant. Collapsing on the spot, Eren couldn't hold himself up any longer. Any extra magic he'd drawn out with his anger, gone. His body leaden, as he gasped for breath. Yelena was missing, and Erwin didn't know about Zeke's death... holding his own side, Erwin jogged over to him, blood spilling over the alpha's hand. Kneeling beside him, Erwin pulled him against him "What are you doing here?" "Zeke's dead... Yelena killed him" "Shit. Alright. We need to get you out of here... where the hell were you?" "Castle dungeons... Yelena... need to watch out for Yelena" "Can you move?" "Give me a moment" "Eren, we don't have a moment..." "Then go. I'll be ok" "I can't just leave you" "I'm not leaving Zeke here... he's... still my husband" "Eren..." "Just... leave me next to him. I can protect myself... you're wounded..." "I'll be fine. She nicked the side" It was more than a nick. Erwin was still bleeding, but his magic wouldn't heal the alpha. He was too weak... "Go. Bring back reinforcements... I'm sure Mikasa saw me..." "I..." "Erwin, just help me to Zeke. I won't move..." Erwin growled, before lifting him. It hurt so fucking much, Eren biting through his lip an attempt not to cry out in pain. Moving him to Zeke's side, Erwin rolled Zeke half over him "I'll be right back. Stay there and don't move" He wasn't going anywhere, and Zeke's body was now acting as a shield. Brushing his hair back from his face, Erwin's expression softened "It's good to have you back" "It's good to be back... Just don't tell Armin I got hurt... he's never going to let me hear the end of it" Erwin winked, both of them finding the action strange. Coughing lightly, the alpha nodded "Your secrets safe with me. Now stay down" * Erwin had only just left when screeching filled the air, the beach still covered with soldiers fighting as the third battle dragon returned. With its size and power, the dragon could have easily left another trail of destruction back to the castle. A battle ship was back up and running by the sound of it, and the battle was shifting back in Marley's favour. Where the fuck was Erwin... shit was about to get real all over again, and this plan now seemed completely stupid and terrible. Word hadn't spread that Zeke was dead, and as he held his husband, Eren wished the alpha was alive to see this war end... all the warmth of the man was already gone, all Eren had was the memory now. Fading in and out, Eren wasn't doing great. He could feel the baby moving, but to him it felt kind of slow and sluggish. His head hurt something fierce, and a growing migraine was building behind his eyes. For some unknown reason, despite being a human pincushion, Porco was yelling for Pieck and Yelena, the alpha only killing himself faster, though Eren had thought him dead already. He'd hoped he was dead... The alpha had caused him to be separated from his precious son. With his hand flat against the ground, his magic wouldn't flare. He couldn't draw the vines in tighter to end the alpha's life... if he could have laughed, he would have. For all his talks of peace, he'd killed today. He'd killed and he'd enjoyed it. What kind of a person did that make him? Historia probably wouldn't wish to tell him now he'd killed dragons. He'd sworn to Draecia that he wouldn't be like Obsydin, yet now he really was a killer... not that he hadn't killed before. Was this his karma for his actions? Watching the green dragon loop around, the great beast let lose a torrent of flame along the beach, no discriminating between friend or foe. The smell of burning flesh causing the omega to vomit, while the victims screams echoed in his ears. Scrunching his eyes closed, Eren concentrated on his breathing... he needed magic. He needed to bring the dragon down. His storm was still overhead, the rain spitting a miserable drizzle intermittently... but if he didn't have the magic to finish Porco, he definitely didn't have the magic to bring down a dragon... With shifting winds, the dragon above him swooped down, Zeke's body torn back by its claws, leaving him horribly exposed. Zeke slipping through his fingers as his body was thrown aside. Opening his eyes again, the green battle dragon walking over him to place its front two feet either side of his shoulders, before roaring in his face. Glaring back at the beast, his own snarl wasn't nearly as impressive. Raising one large foot, Eren thought he was completely fucked... "Get the fuck away from him!" Oh... now he was definitely hallucinating. It was no surprise that in his final moments Levi came to mind. Rearing up, the dragon turned his attention to fake Levi... Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of his mate. Levi's hair was longer, his appearance rougher... but he was just as beautiful as he'd ever been. In his hands, the alpha wielded Obsydin's sword confidently "You don't touch him with your filthy hands" It even sounded like Levi. Of course it did, it was all in his mind... "Eren, stay where you are! I'll deal with this bitch!" Atop the green dragon, Yelena laughed. Trust her to ruin his final moments for him "Just stay there Eren. I've killed your husband, now I'll kill your mate" Charging at each other, Levi's moves were nearly too fast for Eren's eyes to track. A human shouldn't stand a chance against a crazed dragon, but Levi was holding his own. The man was snarling, his nails still black, but the air of madness was gone from around him. "Eren!" Grabbed from under the armpits, Eren was dragged backwards from Levi and Yelena's fight by Erwin, the alpha pulling him far enough back that he no longer faced being trampled. Crouched behind him, Erwin's face was right up against his ear "Is that... Levi?" "You see him too?" "He came back..." Eren blinked trying to clear the tears from his eyes. Was... was that actually Levi? But how?! And why?! "I've sent word of Zeke's death through the forces, but we've taken heavy casualties. How are you? Can you move?" He couldn't feel most of his body due to exhaustion except his shoulder and his side, those hurt like a bitch. Groaning, he shook his head, he couldn't even feel his baby... the baby... his breath hitching in fear "No... I can't... I can't feel my baby..." Placing his hand on Eren's stomach, Erwin rubbed softly. His instincts deciding that he needed to growl, still, whatever he did, the baby kicked softly. Taking both his hands, Erwin placed them on his stomach, the baby kicking again, Eren gasping with relief "Did you feel that?" "Y-yes..." "Are you still bleeding? I can smell exhaustion and pain?" "I don't know... half of this blood is mine and half is Zeke's" "Just focus on breathing" "Erwin... Zeke's body... please make sure she doesn't hurt him anymore" "We need to deal with Yelena first. I'm going to back Levi up" "Is... he's really back?" "Yeah, he is" Oh god... he wasn't prepared to talk to Levi again. He'd never imagined him coming back... Erwin patted his shoulder "Let us protect you" Levi had other plans, as Erwin advanced on the green dragon, his mate growled in warning "This bitch is mine" "I have a bone of my own to pick with her. I hear she's responsible for killing Prince Zeke" "Prince Zeke wasn't the man I thought him to be. He lost himself chasing that little Eldia slut, and fawning over their baby. Like he'd make a good father... Zeke was a god, but even god's fall" Yelena had gotten under Levi's skin. The alpha finally striking recklessly, with Erwin drawing Yelena's attention by striking at the dragon's tail. Growling, Levi pointed his sword at Erwin "Stay out of this!" "You heard him, stay out of this!" Being the stupid arsehole he was, Erwin didn't back down "I won't let you hurt either of them" Laughing, Yelena turned her dragon towards Erwin "What's a one armed arm bastard like you going to accomplish?" "I'm going to draw your attention while he attacks" Throwing himself forward, Levi skidded on the beach sand, thrusting Obsydin's sword into the dragon. Rearing in pain, Yelena jumped from the saddle of the dragon, drawing a pistol from her side as she rolled to crouch. Aiming the gun in his direction, Eren's eyes met hers, the woman's expression almost bored as she pulled the trigger. Flinching, the bullet never hit. Erwin between him and Yelena as Levi attacked from behind. Parrying the blow Yelena's gun was sliced in two, the woman going for her sword, but that wasn't what caught Eren's eye "Erwin, move!" The alpha stood no chance, the flailing dragon letting out a long deep breath of fire. Eren screaming as Erwin dropped to the sand clutching his face. Half his cloak was gone in an instant, as the man howled in pain. God. Why was he so useless?! He was a fucking dragon! Erwin had dragged him out the way, he'd risked himself for him, now the man was injured further. He couldn't have possibly recovered from Pieck's earlier shot. He needed to help him... It was like dragging a dead horse through mud, of at least that was how he felt to him. Crawling across the sand like an idiot, he winced at each clash of swords between Levi and Yelena. Their fight was like a cat playing with a mouse. Levi clearly stronger than Yelena, the woman on the back foot, yet fighting like she wasn't. It was a long few moments for him to reach Erwin, pulling him into his lap. The whole right side was blistered and burnt. The sight revolting, yet Eren forced himself not to look away. Praying to whoever he was listing, his magic gathered for a moment, but there wasn't enough to heal the alpha's burns. With tears dripping on Erwin's face, the fucker smiled "You shouldn't be here" "You're an idiot... why? You took the shot..." "Maybe I wanted to protect you? Maybe I'm just a coward?" "You're not a coward, you're an idiot! You have a whole kingdom that needs you" "No. They don't need me... it's time for a new prince" "Don't you dare lump that on me" "Not you... Armin. He's going to need you" As Yelena screamed, both of them looked towards her. Pinned to the ground, Levi stood on her arms, the woman kicking up a storm, yet couldn't dislodge him. Bringing Obsydin's sword down, Levi decapitated Yelena effortlessly. Both of them flinched away from the sight. Stepping off her, Levi eyed the wounded dragon. He was just one man, where as Eren and Erwin were two, and the centre of the hurt dragons attention. As the dragon prepared to breathe, Levi bolted towards them. Throwing the sword down about a foot in front of them, the alpha pulled his cloak up covering what he could of, of the pair. Not understanding, the dragons breath didn't reach the three of them. Behind Levi, the sword absorbed the magic, before bouncing the magic back at the dragon. Weakened, it was caught in the fire, the creature burning to death where it stood. Straightening up, Levi met his eyes, before they travelled down to Eren's swollen stomach. Impulsively, Eren blurted out "Erwin... it's Levi's baby" Erwin smiled, his hand patting at Eren's leg until he took it. He'd been meaning to comfort Erwin, but with Levi's eyes on his stomach, the wrong thing had fallen from his mouth "I'm happy for you. I know how much you wanted that" "Historia confirmed it... Armin knows" "You've seen him?" "He and Moblit broke me out. Everyone at the castle is waiting for you to come home" "Eren, you're a good kid... I didn't tell you that before... You don't have to be strong for me. We both know it's not good" "If you think I'm going to let you off that easily, you're an idiot" "All you've done for Eldia. You deserve to be happy. And you're going to guide Armin as he takes over as prince" "Officially?" "It's time Eldia had a blood prince who doesn't hide in the shadows" No... it wasn't going to happen. He wasn't losing another prince today. He didn't care that he was verging of passing out, Eren fought it... but fuck, he felt like shit. Eren was so tired he didn't know his words were mumbled, and slurred. Erwin was so out of it in pain, that he didn't realise the omega wasn't making much sense at all. Somehow they were managing to communicate, and concentrating on Erwin meant not looking at the alpha that had his heart racing and their baby kicking up a storm "Stop acting like you're dying. You're not going to be winning any beauty contests, but you'll be back to being an arse in no time" "I release the commands on you..." "Don't say that..." "Eren, I do. You're the bravest fake Prince of Eldia to date... better than this one at any rate" "Erwin... I already lost my husband today... please don't leave me too... he... He wouldn't want you to die" "You brought out the best in him. You brought the best out of all of us" He was so tired... he couldn't keep his eyes open "Eren, sleep" Levi's voice was soft as he gave the command. Eren unable to disobey the command, as his eyes slid closed. He didn't want to fall asleep. He wanted to see Mikasa for himself. He wanted to see Erwin taken to a healer. He... maybe wanted to talk to his alpha... but he was so fucking scared of what Levi had to say, and so fucking angry the man had left him to face all of this alone... yet, he fell asleep right there with the war continuing around him.

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incentivuscarus · 5 years ago

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Art of Combat :: [ Centiv ]

Strength [ ✦ ✦ ✧ ✧ ✧ ]

Dexterity [ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ] Vitality: [ ✦ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ]

Intelligence: [ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ]

Wisdom: [ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✧ ✧ ]

Overall:

Centiv is a tenacious creature. She’s lived a lot of her life feral and has the morals of a deveeari when it comes to combat... which is to say, practically none. Any gentleness or holding back that she does are of her own accord, not because she thinks she should. She tends to operate on one of two modes; hairline trigger, or stalking. She’s played the long con many times before, and her ability to gather information and corner her target without their realization is very good.

It depends on the situation! She normally slides between fighter and assassin. When it comes to a good ol’ fistfight, she will use her fists, feet, tail, wings, so on and so forth! She also fights via bolstering herself and her body with magic, if need be. Her preferred weapons are blades of any sort, from daggers and knives to katanas. She has a pair of black-bladed katanas that are her favorites.

When it comes to hunting down specific targets, though, she does precisely that. Although with some, she first tortures them, sometimes to death, before usually tearing them apart. She’s a very violent woman, although only with reason. She doesn’t go out of her way to hurt and kill people for no reason.

Strengths:

She’s very dexterous and flexible, both physically and mentally. She knows how to bide her time and gather information, and when to strike. She also has various types of magic, although she has quite a bit of focus put into healing magic. Her native type of magic is practically alive, and she uses it like so.

She has sharp claws and talons, a powerful tail, and many, many sharp and strong teeth. She will use these as necessary, although in a friendly spar she will never use any sharps. Centiv is also extraordinarily skilled with swords, due to a lot of time spent playing and practicing with them.

Centiv is very tenacious and will fight through any and all wounds she is dealt, until she succumbs to her injuries. This isn’t exactly a good thing.

Weaknesses:

Her body is in a constant state of healing, so if someone can get a good hit on her, it’s quite possible to take her down. Her tenaciousness can be her downfall, as well, because more often than not she will keep going through injury and damage herself more. Her body is also relatively frail, her bones being mostly spongy and hollow to keep her light so she can fly.

Her back is her weak point due to massive amounts of scarring among other things. She can also be manipulated emotionally, as she will do anything and everything she can in her power to help or protect those that she loves and cares about. This includes putting herself in harm’s way.

One of her biggest weaknesses is her fear of guns, although she has been doing her best to work past it. Due to getting shot at a young age and nearly dying from the wounds, she’s got a nearly crippling phobia of firearms of any sort. She freezes at the sight of one, initially, although if she is mentally present enough she can force herself to keep moving. At the sound of one she will promptly drop into a ball, trying to both hide and protect herself. She’s been fortunate enough to not end up shot since the first time, so there’s no telling how she would react.

Tagging: @autokrates, @stygianscholar, @pyronecromancy !! anyone else can join, too!

Tagged from: @scolopendragonfish and @stratokrates <3 !

#// ooc #save #about #meme #ask meme #under readmore bc i ended up typing a lot????#ask meme answers

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nyrator · 5 years ago

Photo

And thus ends another Kresnyan week of wonders

It was quite an eventful week so buckle up for tons of photos, mainly arcade photos~

okay so I talked about Monday already

Tuesday was good, first thing in the morning we play F-Zero GX to wake us up, and somehow managed to beat the Ruby Master Cup with Silver Rat. What an awful, awful character, and yet such a good game for rewarding good mechanics.

Then we went around town exploring the local shops, got led into a strange pawn shop where the entire building was covered with junk, you had to shimmy through a small hall of junk to get through the place, and the owner followed in behind us without us realizing, pretty strange. Also entered a quiet little music shop and had Kresna serenade me with his good accordion skills, then visited my workplace and discussed seeing fireworks with them (we decided not to and instead played EDF and then more DDR, I also even bought a dance mat + two PS2 DDR games that day)

speaking of I got a second PS4 controller and so we played EDF 4.1 and over the course of a few days managed to 100% Hard mode with me as a Wing Diver and him as a Fencer, good times, lots of me dying and him saving me. Reminded me a lot of the PS2 one we played story-wise which after looking it up is a form of reboot of it, so neat. We decided to go straight to Inferno after that and managed to get up to about mission 23 before he had to leave, but man, we were decimating that mode (let’s ignore the having to deal with dragons in the future)

Bit disappointed we didn’t unlock Geist D because as dumb as it is I love the Geist, but mannn, got a sweet laser and Thunder Bow/Sniper 40s that I like to use

Anyway, Wednesday, the big event.

Round1

So initially it was a three-person trip that’s been planned all year, Kresna, Spade, and myself, though sadly but understandably Spade couldn’t make it this time. But mannnnnn.

So, we get up, struggle waking up, and head out on the two-and-a-half hour drive to Exton~

there was lots of neat street signs

there was also a Batman Road but couldn’t take a picture in time

also tons of great sights I forgot to take pictures of, but man, wouldn’t mind living in this area honestly, very pretty and very tree, we took a bunch of detours to avoid tolls and it was a very nice trip

but yes

round 1

this place is massive

this is what we first see going inside

that’s probably less than half of the cabinets they have

you got the shooting and driving cabinets to the right of the entrance, to the left is all more simplified games like pinballs and other popular brand ones, down the hall is the bowling alley which is adjecent to a bunch of claw grabbing machines for things from plushes to anime figures, past that you got the billards with karaoke booths, the fighting game cabinets, and at the mall entrance you have all the dance and musical cabinets, and mannnnn

see when I heard of this place I figure “oh yeah they advertise their bowling alley and also have karaoke, probably an arcade on the side, yeah”, no, this is an arcade feat. special guests bowling and karaoke

we got there at 1PM, took a small food break halfway through, and left around 5PM

my dudes, this place is amazing

I admit, I’m not much of an arcade gamer, but mannnn, what an amazing place.

Here are some of the games we playeddd

Kresna with his Tetris Grandmaster skills~ He played it three times, but man, given enough time he can easily top the scoreboards for sure

Some Outrun 2 SP~ My first time playing and I am bad at it but Kresna did pretty well

I tried playing some of that Gunslinger Stratos game I’ve heard about (aka saw there was Kuja costume DLC some years ago) but unfortunately the gun cursors were awful on the machine I used, all over the place, still beat two missions somehow with the girl in the giant robot, but mann, those cursors

heck yeah, some dekarissss and boy I absolutely am awful at tetris I am so sorry Kresna, the giant joysticks are fun though but man, multiplayer dekaris was suffering for the Kres

for reference, his solo attempt

there was also some rhythm heaven which was neat, Kresna again amazing at it and me not-so-much

we also decided to play this to fulfill our DDR thirst before taking a break

also SHOUTOUTS TO MUSIC GUNGUN, a simple but fun game with lots of good music and Kresna and I love it and may have to buy a cabinet, probably my favorite game there

after the break was more games but less photos to save battery life and repeating some of the aforementioned games, some that stood out

playing lots of Mario Kart DX, I won a grand total of once at the end but I’ll take that, thanks Waluigi and curse you Rosalina

I tried playing some Gitadora but failed miserably, my high school guitar hero skills were not enough for Medium Gitadora

meanwhile Kresna and his incredible talent at Beatmania

we finished the day at Round1 with some last bit of Music Gungun and trying out two-player Dancerush Stardom

and thus ended the trip to Round1, where we decided to head... east

East into New Jersey.

There was one more cabinet we needed to play.

Have some foliage that I forgot to take earlier to show how trees PA is~ There was a ton of nice foliage driving on the way there like I mentioned, just did not get to photograph ittt~

After another hour and a half drive (most of it spent in Philadelphia traffic, I will have you know that I am scared of heights or at least get vertigo easily, as well as being terrified of cars, and being in Philadelphia traffic is still absolutely terrifying to me)

I tried taking a photo of the Delaware but mannn could barely look up out of my seat because crippled with fear (seriously it’s only gotten worse the older I get for some reason)

anyway, just past 6:30, we finally arrive

Tilt Studio at Voorhees, NJ.

I admit, it had some neat cabinets, like Luigi’s Mansion, but nothing like Round1. However, we played none of these other cabinets

Kresna and I (mostly me) had a mission, and that mission was one cabinet

F-ZERO AX, BABYYYYY

look, you don’t understand

f-zero ax

I don’t have an addiction okay

anyway I brought my Memory Card (except I have unlocked basically everything in GX already so hm) and played with my custom vehicles~

and in just under $20 dollars worth of credits (with some used by Kresna of course) I managed to race every single race and I got my name on every single leaderboard (though they’re probably erased at the end of the day at this point)

yes we drove basically four hours to play F-Zero AX (plus Round1 goodness)

was it worth it? Yes

Sadly there aren’t any more licenses (to be expected though), but Kresna and I may have to buy our own cabinet, but a Deluxe Cabinet- the kind with moving seats and two-player actionnn

(it’ll happen you’ll see)

So then, the journey home, a night drive through NJ and bed

Thursday was firework day, though it was mainly EDF day for us. What a good game, EDF. Got some ice cream and hung out and was nice

Friday things began to slow down, EDF feat. more pizza and DDR dates~

Saturday was also pretty slow, slightly stressful day, including blahs from both of us, struggling at Inferno EDF and suffering my bad gameplay, and getting a flat tire on the way back from our last DDR trip of the night (oh boy), though we decided to watch a movie at least~ Genocidal Organ, based on a book Kresna read, it was pretty good~ Got Netflix to watch it (and Spy Kids 3D in honor of Red Square), though sadly SK3D didn’t have an anaglyph 3D option, and Genocidal Organ wasn’t on US Netflixxx, but we watched it through other means instead~

Today we finished the day with some car repairs, window shopping, and eating a big meal at a diner~ This is notable for being my first time eating somewhere in public and eating something that wasn’t just french fries (I had a blueberry pancake with whipped cream~)

Speaking of foods, this visit I tried sardines for the first timeee, not a fan but it was edible, my first time ever eating something fish-y~ Otherwise some neat treats from the Kresna involving many eggs and toasts and even an english muffinn

it was a good first anniversary week, and being with Kresna is always wonderful

And now to await the end of August, where I will finally migrate north and visit the Canadian lifestyle...

#camera stuffs #kresnyan~#a trip proving once again I am bad at most video games that aren't F-Zero GX

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princessofthedarkrealm · 6 years ago

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Dark Phoenix Rising ~ Chapter 13

Chapter 12

Author’s note: I am so sorry it took me so long to write more of this. I had gotten severe writer’s block for a long time and had some other personal stuff to see about. I decided to include Chapter 12 also to give you guys a re-cap. Enjoy.

You woke to a faint growling sound. You groggily lifted your head. You had tried your best to not fall asleep the night before, but to no avail. The stress and grief of the last few days had just been too much for you.

You heard the growl again. “Roland, please tell me that was your stomach.”

Your response was the sound of a gun being cocked.

“No. That was something else.”

“Do you think it was bear?” Jake asked as he eagerly glanced around.

“Possibly,” Roland replied.

You sat up. “Must have been a pretty big bear.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You watched Roland check his bullets. His brow was covered in a sheen of sweat.

“How you feeling?” you asked him.

“I’ll be fine.”

You sighed. Why did men have to be so macho about everything? Roland’s arm could have been hanging off and he would probably still try to use both guns.

“Well if there is a bear, there’s no need to sit here and let it come to us,” you said tersely.

You threw off Roland’s coat and stood, brushing the leaves off you.

“Probably not a good idea to go wandering around,” said Roland.

“I’m a guardian of the Tower, Roland.” You bent to pick up Roland’s coat. “You think I’m going to be worried about some stupid forest animal?”

He frowned at you and got to his feet. You didn’t mean to sound so defensive. You were just tired. Tired of being the damsel in distress. Tired of men telling you what to do. You thought of Pennywise. You missed his towering, comforting embrace. You missed the good times. But something had eventually changed. Something had shifted between the two of you that had had nothing to do with the fact that he had threatened your family. Being in Mid-World had thrown him off balance. But was it just that, or had there been something else? Something besides your gunslinger protector? You and Roman had never really discussed it.

And now because of your former mate’s animalistic, possessive ways, you would never get that chance again.

You and your group set off again, and before too long, you heard the sound of rushing water.

“If that is what I think it is, you guys may have to avert your eyes,” you commented snidely.

Sure enough, a creek came into view.

“Oh ho, yes!” you hollered. “Sweet, beautiful, blessed water.”

You ran forward and dropped to your knees next to the creek. Right away, you bent forward, cupping your hands. You splashed some of the cool, fresh water on your face. Then you scrubbed your face with the palms of your hands. You scrubbed at your neck, then washed your hands. Then you drank.

“Roland,” you said between desperate gulps, “please tell me you’re filling your water skin.”

“I am.”

You knelt for a moment and watched the water trickle past. You glanced at your surroundings and heaved a deep, contented sigh. Sure enough, to your right, Roland was filling his water skin.

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked.

“Same.”

You frowned. “Need me to look at it? And please don’t tell me you’re fine again. I may just have to drown you.”

Roland glared at you out the corner of his eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Good enough.” You dried your hands on your pants and stood. “Can I take a look on your shoulder?”

“No.”

Roland set his water skin aside and drank from the creek. You jutted your hip out.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Would you let me check out your wound?”

“Yes. You know I would,” you replied testily.

Roland sighed. You went around him and knelt. He opened his shirt.

“Holy shit, Roland.”

Purple veins snaked out around Roland’s wound.

“You need to see about that.”

Roland closed his shirt again, his face in a frown and his eyes staring straight ahead.

“Kind of hard to do that around here.”

“Well you could at least try to clean it out. That’s what I would do anyway.”

“No, you wouldn’t even be in this predicament.” Roland’s eyes met yours. “You would have stopped it.”

“Yeah sure.” You gave him a wry smirk. “Messed up girl with her crazy powers.”

“You’re not a monster, Y/N. You know that.”

“No, I just breed with them,” came your dismal reply.

The two of you sat quietly for a moment. Finally, you gave Roland’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“We better get moving,” you said. “Let me just get another drink.”

You bent down to the creek again. You were lifting your second handful to your mouth when you felt a vibration in the earth. The water in your hands trembled. You drank. The ground shook again. You heard something that sounded like a bunch of birds. You glanced up at the trees. Sure enough, a large flock of birds flew out, above the trees. The ground shook again, harder this time.

“Roland.”

You put your hand on Roland’s arm.

“We need to leave. Make for the cover of the trees,” the gunslinger said.

He motioned to Jake and the three of you ran for shelter. You glanced back to see the trees on the other side of the creek shake. Something massive was moving through the woods.

“Shit! Shit!”

You scrambled behind a tree, but Roland grabbed you, pulling you with him to your right.

Behind another tree.

Roland’s shoulder was up against yours, to your left. And then you glanced around frantically.

“Where’s Jake?”

“I don’t know,” came Roland’s fearful reply. “But we can’t move now. He might see us.”

“He?” you said dubiously.

“Shhh.”

The ground shook again. And this time, you shook with it. Whatever it was was right even with you. You froze, your back against the tree, afraid to even breathe. You heard the trees move behind you, followed by the sound of heavy, gravelly breathing—coming from way, way too high up.

There was a lot of rustling and creaking noises, and then you heard sniffing.

Sniffing.

You put your hand over your mouth.

If whatever this creature was couldn’t hear your heart about to explode, you would have been shocked. Neither you nor Roland budged.

And then the trees started rustling again. The sniffing stopped. You started to breathe a sigh of relief when-

CRASH!

You screamed and threw your hands over your head as branches rained down on top of you and Roland.

“Run, Y/N!” Roland hollered.

You never had to be told twice.

You ran.

An eardrum shattering roar sounded behind you. You heard more rustling in the trees and then gunshots. You didn’t dare to look back. What looked like giant swords swiped at the trees to your left, shredding them to kindle. You brought up an arm to shield your face. A shadow passed in front of you and then a giant paw swooped down.

You stopped short. The paw was much taller than you were and you had no time to react as the fingers started to curl around you, blocking your escape. You whirled around and froze, and stared up.

And up.

The bear was even taller than the trees. Roland still fired at it, but it wasn’t doing any good. You felt the paw against your back and tried to run, only to be blocked again by its sword like claws. You felt the urge to fly away.

Only you had no wings.

Just a couple of useless, painful stumps.

But there was something else you did have. Your magic. You sent out a blast, striking the bear’s fingers. The bear hollered and lifted its paw. You ran to Roland, who had just run out of bullets.

“That was totally useless,” you hollered at him.

“I knew it wouldn’t kill him,” he said. “I was just hoping he would let you go.”

“Well we can’t run from it. What are we going to do?”

The bear roared at you.

You whirled around, your hands into fists, and hollered back.

The bear tilted its head at you. You noticed a strange contraption attached to the top of its head, like a satellite. But that wasn’t all. In place of where a live bear’s hand should be, the left hand was completely metal. On its right forearm, a large patch of what was supposed to be flesh was exposed. Metal cables ran underneath.

“What…in Maturin’s name…is that?” you asked, your eyes glued on the monstrosity before you.

“His name is Shardik,” Roland said. “He is one of the Guardians.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A Guardian? You furrowed your brow in thought. Originally, you had thought the bear was trying to kill you. He could have crushed you easily. Or picked you up and ate you. But the way the bear stared at you…it was like he had recognized you somehow.

You held your hand out, palm forward and took a couple of steps towards Shardik.

“My name is Y/N,” you called out. “I am a friend to Maturin. The Turtle.”

Shardik growled softly. You kept slowly advancing towards him.

“I am a Guardian of the Tower like you.”

Shardik leaned in towards you. You jumped back in shock and Roland put his hand on your arm protectively. Shardik cocked his head sideways at you.

“Y/N,” came his gravelly voice.

You smiled and gave a nod. “That’s right. Y/N. And this is Roland.” You gestured at the gunslinger. “He’s a friend to the Dark Tower also. A gunslinger.”

“The Tower…is in danger,” Shardik annunciated.

You frowned. “I know. And I’m trying to stop that. Both of us are. There is a village that we are trying to get to. Can you help us get there? Protect us?”

“Your magic…protects you. But it is…tainted.”

Shit, you thought.

“I know. I’m sorry. That wasn’t my fault.” And it really wasn’t. First you had imprinted on Pennywise against your will, and then Walter. “But I am trying to do what is right. To save the Tower. To save my daughter. I’m sure you’ll meet her if you haven’t already. If we succeed.”

A dark cloud of sadness and concern filled your mind. Would you ever see Eleanor again? And what about your wings? What would you turn into if you and Roland succeeded in stopping Walter?

And what would happen to you if you failed?

**********

You bit into a piece of rabbit. “I can’t believe we met one other Guardians.”

“I can’t believe he let us pass through,” Jake said with a grin. He also had a rabbit in his hands.

Roland poked the fire. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Physically or metaphorically.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know,” you took another bite, “you could for once look on the bright side of things.”

Roland looked at you. You grinned, your mouth full of rabbit.

“She’s right. I mean, we all made it this far,” Jake said.

“And you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I went through before I got here. And that was in my own world.”

“Was Pennywise that bad?” Jake asked.

“He wasn’t that good. And I was stupid enough to fall for it.”

“You’re not stupid. I told you that,” Roland said.

Then why am I walking into the same predicament again, just with my eyes open this time, you wanted to say.

To save Eleanor. You had long passed realized that you didn’t care what happened to yourself anymore. You still missed your daughter. It was like a gaping hole in your chest that would probably never heal.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you said. “All the Guardians are animals. And I’m the only human. Well…humanish.”

“But you’re growing wings,” Jake said.

“Exactly. What if that’s what’s happening to me? What if to become a full Guardian, I have to acquire an,” you made air quotes, “animal attribute?”

“Angels have wings,” Roland reminded you.

You scowled. “So do some demons.”

“Hey, when I first had that vision about you, the one where you were in the Tower, you had some sort of glow about you. Some kind of aura.”

“That was my Tower magic. I’ve done that before,” you told Jake.

“Yeah. But it was weird. It reminded me of a phoenix almost.”

“You’ve said that before. What is a…phoenix?” Roland inquired.

“It’s a bird of fire. Like it’s not actually made of fire, but that’s still its element. And when it dies, it’s reborn from its own ashes,” you said. You going to take another bite, but then stopped as a thought occurred to you. “You know what’s weird? I played as Cinderella in my town’s play a few months ago.” You glanced back and forth at the two guys to see if either one of them would catch on, but they both just sat there, waiting for you to continue. “The name Cinderella literally means girl who sits among the ashes.”

“Woah. That is pretty cool.” Jake’s face lit up.

“And I have literally died and come back to life a couple of times,” you continued.

“So you are like a phoenix then,” Roland concluded.

“Yes.” You grinned. “The phoenix of the Dark Tower.”

Jake met you with a conspirituos grin. “The Dark Phoenix.”

You felt your spirits lift. It was so fitting. Walter had a special title that he was known by. A name that suited him in every sense of the phrase.

And now so would you.

@pinoflicious @booklover2929 @grotesquegabby @allkundsofwrong @tomuchofaclownlover @mummerthemimo

#dark tower fanfiction #dark tower #roland deschain #Jake Chambers

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ninjacat1515 · 6 years ago

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There's a massive cargo ship on its way to port, and it carries a plethora of supernaturals, including dozens of vampires. It sails under cover of darkness and fog, the captain and crew confident anyone looking to free the creatures will not know where to even begin looking. Unfortunately for them, they do not see the little group of humans and vampires arriving on deck; Armando Salazar himself lands, wings folding up as he let's down Benjamin and Francisco. Guillermo drops Jeanine and Eliza hits the deck silently and rolls to the side just as a guard walks passed. He turns and sees nothing, but is tripped up by one of her outstretched wings. He is dragged into the darkness, clawed hands over his mouth. He is tied up with cloth stuffed between his teeth. Keys are snatched from him and the first wave of supernaturals are freed. Dragon, Griffin and vampire wings fill the air as more and more cages are opened. Many of them begin to help others, even as the alarm sounds and guards appear in droves, bearing weapons. Salazar and Guillermo form a barrier to keep their human friends safe as Eliza tackles two guards and throws them into a cage, kicking the door shut. Benjamin shoots away his opponent's gun and wrestles him, Jeanine punching out another and stealing a second weapon. Within ten minutes, every vampire and other beastie on board is free. The captain of the ship is found by authorities locked in a storage closet and bound tight; a distress message having been relayed by a smug Salazar. Not one human, janitor, guard or otherwise, was killed. And every supernatural was able to return back home.

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twitchesandstitches · 6 years ago

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Boys Night at The Hellscape

Steven Universe, Equius Zahhak, Grimlock, and a traveler named Riddle who often comes along with the Fleet attempt to have a boy’s night out but wound up in a hellscape, where it seems an army of fiends wants to fight them!

Steven wants to talk; Grimlock wants to murder the shit of out the fiends for giggles; Riddle is just so done with all this, and Equius is doing his best to keep these ruffians sensible. And there’s the minor problem that Molog Bal, Daedric Prince of Schemes and Domination, apparently has a vendetta against the Fleet, but that is a Later Problem.

(Riddle is an OC from a friend of mine that I’ve been meaning to do something with, for a bit.)

The sky was no sky at all, a flat shade of… the eye hurt, trying to look at it, because there was no sky, but mountains twisting up and continuing, at such a horrifyingly vast scale that it occupied the trillions of miles that would have filled the sky. Clouds of acid dripped their sulfuric rain down and melted the unwary horrors beyond, rivers of vitriolic fluid sluicing down.

The ground, the mountains, and everything else looked disgusting. Grimlock reached down and pinched a bit of it, rubbing it between his metal claws. It made a red smear, stinking a familiar coppery scent. “Blood,” he said. “It’s all blood.”

Steven Universe, a huge and rather feral man built on the same broad lines as his infamously imposing mother, made a fade. Considering that he was over eight feet tall, packed more mass than you found in a group of humans, and had a mouthful of recursive tusk/fangs, it was strange how cute the expression was. “Oh boy, that’s nasty.” he leaned down and sniffed it, looking sick and irritated at once. He pinched at a rock, which came apart into little bits, and he spat into his hand, mixing up the gravel… and blood streamed out. He wiped it away. “Ugh, it, it feels wrong.”

“Blood of the damned,” said the third of their party, a man named Riddle. Of average size, a chunky pear-shaped body and a distinct resemblance to a famous wizard tyrant (though lacking his serpentine features), he wore a complicated battle harness that resembled a fancy spandex suit. Compared to the others, he looked deceptively small. “Blood of the damned. The entire plane is made out of all the blood shed by evil plans ever since time began. Rivers of the stuff, flowing here in some… weird, metaphysical way. And it makes more world.”

The fourth of their group, and the last, studied it pensievely. He was a troll, and thus a little over forty feet tall, standing tall on digitigrade legs he had modified to look like hooves. Cybernetic implants ran all over his body, and his arms (big even on his massive, hyper-masculine build) were entirely robotic hydraulic wonders. He was Equius Zahhak, rumored descended of an ancient troll known in folklore as the Blue Arrow, and he had been the designated ‘sensible person’ of this little field trip.

It was custom amid the Fleet for at least one person to do their best to try to be a rationally-minded and logical sort, just to rein in the impulsive behavior and frenzies of berserker-ness that permeated the average Fleet child. Equius was content in this role.

“That portal,” he said solemnly, “Should not have sent us here.”

“Nope,” Riddle said. Equius gave him a somewhat wary look, thinking about how he tended to just turn up as a passenger for a bit. Frequently. He was often seen in the company of Miss Wicke, a senior scientist and Pokemon caretaker and one of the Fleet’s strongest mothers, and he was likely the father of many of her children. They seemed to keep it more or less private.

Riddle was a mystery. He turned up now and then, with unusual powers quite unprecedented in the Fleet or among any they had encountered, coming with them for a time. And then he would leave. In the chaotic nature of the Fleet this sort of thing happened a lot, but usually not with passengers living among them; they came for festivals or hitching a ride, and settled down or went on their way.

He was, in short, apparently very well named. Equius distrusted him, in a polite and respectful way, but then he distrusted almost everyone that wasn’t from the Fleet. He saw himself in pretty much the same role as the Big Daddy creatures they had liberated from the Miscella core world; protectors and guardians, and he kept a keen eye on all potential uncertainties.

Steven was less encumbered by fears and he extended to pretty much everyone a universal love and acceptance that was a Fleet model of behavior; everyone strived to be as perfectly nice and kind as him. His continuing dislike of this place was pretty obvious. “Um, I don’t mean to say a swear but… we’re in Hell. Aren’t we.”

Grimlock glanced up. Flying above them were vast reptilian things like serpents but, instead of scales, faces sewn into their sides screamed endlessly, weeping tears that fell from their sides in a stream of a noxious fluid, best not to speculate on what it was. Various winged figures flew, not dissimilar to many bipedal reptilians but somehow… wrong, as if putting on their form could not hide the fundamental horror of their nature. Various parts of the ground liquified into rivers of blood that was also burningly hot, so hot it should have boiled but was magically preserved into a kind of lava. In the distance there were buildings of black metal and spikes, upon which were impaled people being tortured in terrible ways for their great sins in life… and vast war machines, powered by the toils of the damned, moved onwards to a background noise rumbling low and deep.

It sounded like screaming. So many voices screaming together it reached a thousand pitches so low it was a pressure more than a sound.

“Yup,” Grimlock said. “Definitely Hell. Well. A Hell. Dunno about there being a single one.”

Riddle gave him a look. “How do you know that?”

Grimlock returned the look. For a robot who was infamous for his emotional outbursts, assuming he wasn’t just faking them on the spot, he could do a really good enigmatic expression. “How do you know more than they do?”

“I’ve been around. I’ve heard stuff. You?”

Grimlock indicated the land as some awful frog/dog hybrid burst out of the ground, jaws wide and filled with hooks. He grabbed it and twisted its head off without even looking, and set the body on fire with a arm-mounted flamethrower. “Did a few stints with the Dinobots in a few places like this. We got real lost and stuck and just had a fun ol’ time beating the scrap out of every damn thing in sight. That’s a pun, by the way. Damn, and they’re the damned… eh, whatever.” he paused, lost in memories. “Happened a few more times, and then we stayed on purpose, killing all the fiends we could, working our way up to gutting an evil murder god or something. Be a good trophy. Heh… like to see Pearl manage that.”

Steven frowned. “Don’t talk mean about my sword mom.”

“Yeah, okay. Point is, they sealed us up for a few hundred years until we busted loose and got right back to killing. That was fun!” Grimlock joyfully snarled out a plume of flame, thrilled by these memories of righteous slaughter. “So… freeing! Fighting literal embodiments of pure evil! Monsters without pity, or remorse, that deserve none! Actual evil incarnate! No second thoughts, no worry about the moral implications, just ripping apart things that deserve to die. It’s real freeing fighting something like that.”

Equius nodded. “I suppose I can imagine the appeal.”

Riddle grimaced. “ Every time I hang out with you, Grims, you wind up getting nostalgic over murder or something. Don’t you have non-stabbing hobbies?”

“Well, I run a scrap heap art show back on the Fleet,” Grimlock noted. “But that’s not too cinematic.”

Steven, alone, looked to the hellscape beyond, including the pseudo sky. “Something big is coming,” he said, looking queasy. “I don’t… guys, this feels wrong.”

Grimlock sidled in front on hm in a wholly protective and unconscious way. “Stick with me, kid. You stay tanky, I’ll keep the rest of you safe.”

Riddle scowled. “I can fight fine, too.”

“Prove it, meaty!” Grimlock laughed, positively daring him to respond in kind.

Equius sighed. “Can we please stow the bravado-”

“NEVER.”

“-Something is coming!”

A great cloud of rotten dust came up as approximately two thousand feet came marching up, and they squinted at the mass slowly approaching them.

Fiends. ‘Demon’ was a bit of a generalist term these days, often referring to any supernatural being that was broadly humanoid, had a combination of horns or tail or wings, but it didn’t quite refer to evil creatures anymore. Demon was a general description. Fiend was more suitable for describing things that were, quite simply, elemental beings of concentrated evil in the same way that frost giants were elemental cold. They were wickedness, malice and the pleasure of hurting people given a voice and will.

They came now, a huge army that was organized reasonably well, if along old-fashioned paths. At the front were the smallest ones, twenty-foot high beasts suited towards speed, carrying supernatural analogues to firearms fused to their forearms and extended carapaces on the other that served as shields.

Behind them were the dedicated long-range fighters; monsters that were mostly gun or cannon, their jaws gaping and shoveling up all the blood-stone they could get, digesting it into ammunition. Others resembled bows, twisting themselves into gruesome shapes so that imps could slot in arrows over twenty feet long and thick as trees.

Close range fighters, riding dreadful flesh-eating monsters and ready to ride in and leap upon the foe: bloodthirsters, fiends hungry for the thrill of battle and emaciated with the bloodlust. Larger creatures, and at their feet moved the more mobile fiends and those serving all the other purposes of warfare, and these grew progressively bigger, living siege engines and equals to mortal machine-titans, growing bigger and bigger until the largest towered over the entire army, roaring defiance at them.

The army stopped, staring at them.

Shortly thereafter, a tall and spiky fiend that seemed to be mostly folded tendons in elaborate armor, and a sword as big as he was, rode up on something that looked kind of like a horse but mostly like a mix-and-match of various deadly creatures. “Good day, mortals,” it said cheerfully.

“Um,” Steven said, perhaps surprised to see a talkative fiend. “Hello.”

“Don’t talk to the fiend!” Riddle hissed, nudging the much larger man. “What if it enspells you!?”

“I know but… I’m not going to be rude!”

“I am a fiend,” the speaker stated, apparently interested by this debate. “Who cares about my feelings? I don’t even have any. I just assume the appearance of them for interaction purposes.”

“Okay but that’s still no reason to be rude.”

“Bored now,” Grimlock said. “Gonna kill it now.”

“Please, wait!” Equius snapped.

“I gotta. He’s just too annoying to live.”

“Let him say his piece, please?”

“Oh, fine…”

The fiend cleared its throat, dislodging a few gross bits. “I speak on my behalf, the great and mighty Daedric Lord; he who is the Lord of Schemes, Architect of Domination. This realm has, happily, fallen to his conquests and, aha, perhaps so shall you. I suppose you are wondering how you arrived here when, no doubt, your portal excursion was to bring you somewhere more palatable to your tastes?”

Riddle’s mouth opened. “How do you know- oh. Oooooh. You messed with our portal, didn’t you!?”

Grimlock growled, a primordial noise out of nightmare that made them all feel extremely uncomfortable. Even the fiend looked uncharacteristically concerned. “Ah. Well… it was naughty of me, but my lord greatly wished to test his powers against your own! For you see…” He wiggled a finger at them, scoldingly. “Your mother fleet has done much to frustrate his plans!”

“Okay…?” Steven said, warily.

“Going about all the multiverse, interrupting tyrants in their plans to dominate. Interfering in ancient schemes without even meaning to! Blundering right into planets and upsetting careful plots by liberating the populace and then breeding with every single sapient species, and making new ones on the spot! To say nothing of all this dreadful liberty coming across from you introducing new technologies into places that were being perfectly miserable and isolated without them.” It sighed. “I expect the Enemies in the Upper Planes are quite pleased with your lot but… really. This is just bad manners!”

“I hate this guy a lot,” Grimlock said flatly. “I’m going to step on him now.”

Riddle, however, looked thoughtful, as if remembering a report he had seen somewhere. “...Recently conquered a realm… Lord of schemes and domination… oh, shit. You’re working for Molag Bal!”

The fiend looked impressed. “Oho, you caught that one right away.”

“Who?” Steven said.

Grimlock looked surprised. “Don’t tell him anything!” He hissed to Riddle. To Steven, he said, “You’re better off not knowing!”

But the fiend continued. “You see, my lord wishes to match his military might against the power of you four. After all, against one of the last knights of Cybertron-” He indicated Grimlock. “A walking tank boasting impenetrable defense-” This was said to Steven. “A fascinating anomaly such as yourself,” This was to Riddle. “And of course, a blueblood troll with ample boosts to his strength, and gear to accommodate it! Why, this should be a most entertaining diversion for you, yes?”

“Flattering me won’t save you from ending up dead,” Grimlock said indifferently.

Equius sighed. “Then, you will attack no matter what we say. And I expect we cannot leave, one way or another, until this is done.”

“But of course. And you did intend on having a… what’s the term… boy’s night out, yes?”

“...Right. Okay.” Equius drew from his belt a pair of gauntlets that interlocked into his arms. Quad shotgun barrels extended out from each knuckle and loaded up with trick ammunition and projectile gadgets, while the forearms deployed mechanical repeater crossbow arms. The punches stored up energy, the crossbows released it into his very finest shots. “Not at all what we had in mind, but I see no alternative.”

Steven grimaced, his arm swelled up and in a flash of light, producing a curiously organic-looking pink shield, it’s face adorned with the image of a lion. “No one ever just wants to talk things out!”

Grimlock drew from his body an integrated sword as massive as he was tall, its appearance volcanic, it’s black blade bursting into flame as his heroic spirit flooded into it. The Blade of Simfur itself, said to have been wielded by the chimeric machine-god Onyx Prime, passed down through the line of kings of Simfur. “You really think you can talk to fiends.”

“I have to try. No matter how hopeless it seems.”

“...Heh. I gotta like someone that’s ridiculously brave.”

Riddle spread his arms, and magical mandalas materialized around his arm, absurdly complex and ready to summon forth the spells of his choosing. They flickered red, trying to tap into the energies of the multiverse and having to make do with the essence of this hellrealm; he looked queasy and disturbed feeling it flow through him.

The fiend raised his weapon, and brought it down on Steven. “Then let the game commence!”

The sword broke against his shield, in a massive shockwave that knocked him off his steed. Steven sighed and jumped up, and laid a hand against the fiend. Then he grabbed and somehow threw it straight off the ground, into the air, and Grimlock’s fist slammed into the ground while meeting the fiend in route.

Grimlock’s punches were entirely capable of smashing through mountains and planetary cores. The fiend was reduced to a bloody smear. “‘Bout damn time,” Grimlock grunted.

And that was the signal agreed about earlier, unknown to them, and the two thousand fiends charged, in orderly fashion, and the four heroes charged to meet them.

It really wasn’t fair to the fiends, of course, but when you dealt with people who benefited from the powers of the Endowed Fleet, what could you do?

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ask-de-writer · 6 years ago

Text

FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS : Part 7 of 7 : MLP Fan Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index Return to MLP Fan Fiction

FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS

A Daring Do tale

by De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Part 7 of 7

8927 words

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony. Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.

1.) They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.

2.) They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

3.) All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction are actively encouraged.

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For new readers, this link leads to the beginning of

FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS

This story is a direct sequel to

DARING DO and the GRYPHON’S QUEST which begins here.

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He came out, returned Skraatch’s flimsy, and waived them through.

Those on the walking floor rubbed folded wings without seeming to notice. Sometimes, two or more would meet, raising wings to varying degrees. Much chatter in Gryphon would always follow.

With tiny clicks, two gun ports opened behind them. The two outer steel doors shut with a small boom of finality. Only then did the doors in front open.

They were greeted by the smells of an active hospital anywhere. A surprisingly clear voice was announcing calls for various doctors to report to rooms and other such hospital business.

They were halted at yet another checkpoint. A guard here, trotted up the hallway and tapped at a door. A few quiet words were exchanged. He returned and guided them to the door and tapped.

As the door was opened, he stood back respectfully. The door was held by Nurse Grayyk. Past her, they could see the little grayish changeling with her filmy pale blue mane and tail. She and the Imperial nest were all surrounded by a nearly invisible green glow of magic from her smallish horn. Her vestigial wings of the same material fluttered lightly, presently fanning two eggs. She did not even look up at the newcomers. Delicately she used a long specialized claw to turn an egg, not all the way, just a little.