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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year ago

Text

Cabur

Summary: Twelve years ago the animal representing your soulmate appeared in your home. You finally get to meet him when his battalion arrives to help defend your planet from the droid army.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, injuries, brief mention of animal injury but it's not serious, a bit of angst, reader is a BAMF but it doesn't really get shown cause I'm garbage at action scenes, some mentioned PTSD at the end.

A/N: Sooooo this may be my sign to stick to only writing for the Bad Batch boys cause this is garbage. Turns out I'm not good at writing other clones. Also I wrote the smut before eating breakfast so if it's entirely indecipherable please forgive me.

Also Mide is pronounced Mee-deh.

MASTERLIST

It’s become a sort of legend within the GAR.

The clone who rides into battle on the back of a Nexu.

It’s a bit ridiculous. He doesn’t ride the Nexu. But, they are never far from each other.

No one ever dares to ask.

Most of them already know.

The others are too scared.

The only one that had asked was the General, which was forgiven since he probably didn’t expect his second in command to be closely trailed by a Nexu when they met for the first time.

His soulmate link, Wolffe had explained to his General. One of the rarest, where each soulmate is accompanied by the animal that represents their soulmate. The Kaminoans had been rather shocked when shortly after he was taken from his growth chamber, a fully grown Nexu appeared in the room. The feline had been entirely tame, until the Kaminoans had tried to separate them because clones were not allowed to pursue their soulmates due to some of the early clones deserting for their soulmates.

Separation hadn’t worked, as the Nexu proceeded to rampage through the halls of Tipoca City until she was reunited with Wolffe. Only Wolffe could seem to control her, and so the Kaminoans begrudgingly allowed the Nexu to stay.

She learned quickly, coming to Wolffe’s defense even during training. It didn’t take long for Wolffe to teach her how to fight, and how to take down droids. She never hesitated, even after the war started, fearlessly following him into even the ugliest battles.

He had spent much of his free time thinking about his soulmate. They’re obviously a fierce fighter, given the predatory nature of Nexu. Strong and brave. He often wondered what kind of animal they have that represents him.

***

The last thing you had been expecting twelve years ago was a loth-wolf pup to show up in the middle of your home.

It had appeared out of nowhere, startling both you and your parents. You hadn’t known what it was at first, until a quick search had directed you to the supposedly extinct loth-wolf. Why it had appeared suddenly in your home...that was another quick search.

Your soulmate link.

You had always wondered what it might be, seeing as you had no mark or strange dreams, or any of the other typical links between soulmates. Developing this late, though, was confusing. You didn’t think much about it, though. Fate was not something to question. Everything would make sense eventually. Your people believed that fate drove every decision, every event in your life. Everything happens for a reason, all directed by fate’s design.

Already twice the size of a tooka, the pup grew quickly, outgrowing your parents hut. It grew big enough to ride within a couple years and you often did. When you moved into your own hut, you built it big enough to fit you and your wolf comfortably.

You often wondered about your soulmate. Who they are, what they’re doing, what kind of animal they have. You wonder how you’ll meet. Will they come here? Your people don’t leave your planet often. Aside from the few who show great prowess for politics and get sent to represent you in the senate, not many else leave. Your people prefer simple, quiet lives. Though you have technology, most of your food is grown or hunted, and your medicine is a practice that’s been passed down for generations.

You had thought perhaps you were meant to leave, that you would meet your soulmate somewhere else. Your strength, however, was not in politics. You were a natural fighter. So instead you stayed on the planet, defending your village and hunting to provide food. Maybe you weren’t meant to find your soulmate elsewhere. Perhaps your soulmate was in one of the other villages.

You think that, until the war starts.

Your planet is mostly untouched for two years. There was no strategic reasoning to invade your planet, other than simply being part of the Republic. It keeps your planet untouched, at least until the Separatists begin to get desperate.

Word reaches you one morning of a droid army approaching one of the neighboring villages. It had landed two days ago and it was slowly burning its way through village after village. They had already reached out to the Republic for assistance, but they were already stretched as it was.

You don’t give up hope.

You’re right not to.

Two days after the message had been sent, they arrived. The roar of gunships is loud as troops drop in at the next village over from yours. You were already there, preparing defenses for when the inevitable attack began. They’d already burned through the village to the North. You had scouted over the hill earlier, and had spotted the dust cloud kicked up by the army’s movements. Fighters from surrounding villages have gathered, but it’s not nearly enough.

The clones arrive like a blessing from the Maker.

You’re glad to see them, even if some of them stare and whisper as you pass. You know they’re not staring at you. They’re staring at your wolf. Loth-wolves are supposed to be extinct, so actually seeing one would be a bit shocking. Even more so, seeing one outside of Lothal.

You had been called to the village leader’s hut, which was being used for battle planning. The village leader had chosen you as her second in command, since you were one of the best fighters. You were also one of the few still alive that had seen battle before.

Not every village on the planet was as interested in peace as the others. One such village had decided to attack a neighboring village out of nothing but greed shortly before the galactic war started. Fighters from across the planet had been called to aid in the fight, and you had been one of them. The most battle you’d seen back then had been on hunting trips. Though you were skilled, you’d never actually fought before.

It had been terrifying, but you had quickly proved your skills and your ability to stay calm under pressure. You had made a name for yourself, and had carried that still to this day.

Most of the more experienced fighters had been sent ahead to try and aid other villages, but it had been fruitless. The droid army had wiped out both the fighters, and some innocent villagers caught in the crossfire.

This village had been evacuated, and it was going to be the last stand against the droid army. If they couldn’t be defeated, then the planet was lost. The arrival of the clones to aid you had renewed hope in the possibility of securing your planet and its safety once more. There would be a lot to do, a lot to rebuild after, but now there was hope you would get to do so.

You make your way towards the hut, your wolf running ahead. It’s strange, usually he never left your side unless you told him to. He had been acting strangely all day. You had blamed it on the nervous energy in the village, and the approaching army. Everyone had been a bit on edge, and being an animal, he could likely pick up on it more than anyone.

You hear a commotion as you approach the hut, finding your wolf cornering one of the clones. Your eyes widen, thinking the worst, and you hurry over. Some of the clones are laughing by the time you reach them, and you realize your wolf is licking this clone.

“Mide,” You pull on the fur at his neck to try and get him to stop. His tail is wagging, creating a breeze behind him. “Mide, stop.”

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, a loud growl reaching your ears. You turn, eyes widening as you stare into four red eyes and a wide mouth full of sharp fangs.

You scramble back, the Nexu following you. You’ve never seen one in person before, only read about them. They’re not native to this planet, so how did this one get here? And why doesn’t anyone else seem afraid of it?

“Cabur.” The stern voice of the clone reaches your ears. “Cabur, stand down.”

The Nexu doesn’t respond, crouching as it prepares to pounce. Do you run? You can’t outrun a Nexu. Why isn’t anyone trying to help? Why isn’t Mide helping?

The Nexu pounces, knocking you off your feet. You close your eyes, preparing for those teeth to sink into your skin, rip away at your flesh until you bleed out.

Something wet and rough drags across your skin from your shoulder to the top of your head. Your eyes snap open in surprise. Is the Nexu...licking you?

It licks you again, leaving a wet, gooey trail along your skin.

“Easy, girl.” The clone pets its head, trying to nudge it back.

It steps back reluctantly, its own tail swishing back and forth as it watches you. A hand appears in your line of sight and you take it, the clone hauling you to your feet easily. You brush the dirt off, wiping the Nexu spit from your face.

“Sorry about her.” The clone says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.”

“It’s alright. Mide has been weird all day too. He’s never run away from me like that before.” You stare up at him, taking in his face.

His face is stern, pinched a bit in focus. There’s a scar stretching from his forehead to his cheek, his eye having been replaced with a cybernetic one. He’s handsome, as you assume all the clones would be.

“Is she yours?” You ask, breaking the silence between you.

“It’s my soulmate link.” He says. “I’ve had her since I came out of my growth chamber.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking in surprise. “Mide’s also my soulmate link. Appeared about twelve years ago.”

“Really.” He says, giving you a strange look.

Before you can continue the conversation, the village leader and who you assume is the Jedi General approach you.

“I see you two have already met.” The Kel Dor says.

You glance at the clone for a moment as the village leader introduces you to General Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe.

“Come,” The General says. “We have much to discuss, and little time to do so.”

***

“What’s her name?” You ask as you and Commander Wolffe make your way into position. His Nexu is walking beside you, trotting along happily. Mide is walking beside Wolffe, looking perfectly content.

“Cabur.” Wolffe answers. “It’s Mando’a. It means guardian or protector.”

“Fitting name.” You say.

“She’s saved my life a few times.” He pats Mide’s side. “What about him?”

“Mide. He’s a mythical warrior who protected our people. He rode to war with the sigil of a wolf on his helmet.”

The corner of Wolffe’s mouth lifts. “Aptly named.”

You both stop, having reached the point you have to go separate ways. You mount Mide, looking down at Wolffe. “See you when the battle’s done?”

Wolffe nods, patting Mide’s neck. “Take care of her.”

Mide huffs out a breath, nodding his head just slightly as if agreeing. He would, even without having to be asked.

You know. Even without having to say anything you know. Just Mide’s reaction was enough to tell you. The link is so rare, and to have someone else with the same link suddenly appear on your planet like this...

It’s not just a coincidence.

Mide runs to your position, and you watch as the cloud of dust that the droid army was kicking up gets closer and closer, flashes of blue and red gradually disappearing as dust envelops the valley.

***

You’re covered in dirt, but you’re alive.

With the help of the clones, you had stopped the droid army from advancing much further, protecting the village. It had been a long battle, lasting into the night. The stars are out by the time you return to the village, weary after a long battle unlike any you’ve ever been in.

No squabble between villages will ever compare to that.

You had seen Wolffe shortly after your return to the village, nothing more than a passing glance across the fire as you’d helped both injured villagers and troopers. You’re both alive, you’re both alright. You had spotted Cabur slinking around the village, unharmed due to her training in fighting droids. Mide’s white fur is streaked with dirt, his feet and nose scratched from the droids, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

You’ll give him a big, juicy cut of meat later.

You’re cleaning the cut on his nose when you hear the footsteps approaching. Mide’s head lifts, ears perking and tail wagging as he sees who it is. Something brushes against your side, Cabur purring as she makes herself comfortable next to Mide. Wolffe approaches you, and you take a moment to look him over. His armor is streaked with dirt, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

“Good to see you.” You say, smiling softly.

He steps right up to you, gloved fingers grazing over the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“It’s just a scratch.” You say, skin tingling as his fingers continue to trail down your arm before dropping back to his side. “We’re not used to fighting droids.”

“You’re, uh...quite the fighter.” He says. “I think a Nexu was the perfect choice.”

Your cheeks warm a bit. You think the ferocious Nexu might be a bit of an exaggeration. It’s a compliment, though, that he thinks your skills are worthy of that representation. The loth-wolf is the perfect representation of him. He has the same dangerous gaze as Mide, the same fierce loyalty. The stern and serious battle-ready commander.

“Us clones...it’s forbidden for us to initiate the soulmate bond.” He says.

Your stomach clenches a bit at his words. You hadn’t even thought...you hadn’t even considered. You hadn’t had time to. Everything had been happening so quickly. You had never given consideration to the idea that your soulmate might not want you. Much less that he might have to reject you. All those daydreams, all those thoughts about what your life could be like with them...they’ve been nothing but fantasies and they might never be anything but.

“Most of us don’t agree.” He continues. “We all have an agreement not to say anything, not to report anything.”

“But...what if someone finds out?”

“We have to be careful so no one does.” He takes your hand, slipping something into it. “We’re preparing to leave. We already have our next orders.”

Your shoulders sink a bit. Of course they’re very busy. The war has been taking a turn. The attack against your planet is just proof of this. Having time with him right now is just another fantasy.

You walk with him to the gunships, taking your time as troopers load up around you. He turns, patting Mide on the nose as you reach one of the ships. Mide lets out a quiet whine, his ears falling.

You squat in front of Cabur, petting her head. “Take care of him, yeah?” She lets out a quiet sound, licking your cheek once more. You stand back up, facing Wolffe. “Come back? When the war’s over?”

He nods once and you stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek. He stares down at you long and hard for a moment before stepping away, sliding his helmet on. You watch as he boards the gunship, following it with your eyes as long as you can as it disappears into the sky.

You open your hand, looking down at what he’d slipped into it. A smile tugs at your lips as you stare at the item.

A comm device.

***

It’s been almost a year since the battle, since you met your soulmate. You’ve spoken as often as you can through the comm device, but for the last three months it’s been very quiet. You’ve gone stretches without speaking, but never this long.

You try not to worry.

The war had ended three months ago, around the time you had seemingly lost contact. You suppose with the restructuring of the Republic into the Empire and the sudden end to the war, things have gotten complicated for the clones. It could just be he hasn’t had a good time to step aside and secretly contact you. Despite your attempted reasoning, you can’t help but feel nervous about the sudden silence.

You’ve been keeping yourself busy helping the survivors from the destroyed villages resettle with other villages. While the army had been destroyed, the valley had become a wasteland of destroyed droids and the remnants from the battle. New huts were built and families integrated peacefully into new villages. The Senate had sent some relief, but it could only do so much. Homes could be rebuilt and crops replanted, but lives couldn’t be replaced.

You’ve buried far too many dead.

You try not to think your soulmate may be one of them.

He’s not. You know he’s not. You would have felt it. Mide would have died with him. Still, the thought haunts you. How easily he could be taken from you, and you barely got to know him.

Fate will make it work in the end. You try to remind yourself of that.

***

You’re out hunting when it happens.

Nearly four months since the end of the war, a year since you met your soulmate. You had been scouting the hills when you’d heard it. You’d moved your binocs to the sky, watching as a starfighter streaked across the sky like a smoking comet straight towards the trees just a few meters away.

The crash is loud, the trees shaking with the impact. Mide immediately takes off, darting into the trees. It’s not like him, still always sticking close to your side.

“Mide!” You call, immediately running after him.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It couldn’t be...could it? You hadn’t seen any identifying markers on the ship, the smoke too dense around it to see. It could be anyone, or anything.

If it wasn’t, Mide wouldn’t have run off like that.

You duck into the undergrowth, following the path broken by your wolf. You freeze instinctively as a low growl reaches your ears. You know that growl.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Cabur?”

The Nexu steps out of the bushes, tail swishing as she looks at you. It’s her. You know it. You drop to a knee, patting her head as she greets you.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Mide breaks through the bushes, dragging a limp body with his teeth. He drags the body over to you, letting him go gently. Wolffe’s body lays limp on the ground. There’s charred marks on his armor, likely from the crash. You push him over onto his back, staring down at his helmet. You trace the markings with your fingers, the same markings you remember.

A sob threatens to tear from your lips as you slip your fingers under the edge of his helmet, tugging it off. You cup the back of his head, lowering it gently to the ground.

He’s unconscious but still breathing.

Mide lays next to Wolffe, looking at you sadly. Cabur nudges his foot, letting out a quiet whine. He’s injured, likely worse than it looks if he crashed a starfighter. You need to get him back to the village, and soon.

You’re sweating by the time you maneuver him onto Mide’s back, climbing on behind him. You hold him as Mide runs through the trees and back up the hill towards the village. Cabur keeps pace easily, miraculously mostly uninjured from the crash.

You guide Mide into your hut, easing Wolffe off his back and onto your bed. You begin the tedious process of removing his armor, figuring out how to get each piece off and carefully stacking it in the corner. You peel the body glove off next, revealing his chest covered in bruises.

You head to your kitchen, grabbing herbs and a bowl, beginning to mash them into a paste as you’ve done a hundred times. You mix a tonic as well, moving back to his side before spreading the mixture across his chest, making sure to cover each bruise. You place bandages over each spot, letting the herbs do their work. You cup his neck, lifting his head a bit to help him drink the tonic. You can feel it, the pulsing energy from where your fingers are pressed against the skin of his neck.

He’s really here, right in front of you. Crashed right out of the sky, practically into your lap.

Mide curls up on his blanket, Cabur making herself comfortable beside him. You sit by Wolffe’s side, tending to him as you let the medicine work its way through his body. You only leave to make dinner and feed the animals before you’re sitting back at his side.

You grab his pauldron, tracing the image of the wolf with your fingers. The grey paint around the edges is slightly worn, more than it had been the last time you’d seen him. It’s hard to believe he’s really here. After four months of nothing, no sign that he’s alive and alright, no word on what’s happening aside from what was broadcasted on the news...four months of thinking the worst.

You trace his face with your fingers, allowing yourself to feel him. He’s really here. He’s real.

You stay by his side through the night, changing out the herbs as they dry. You nap a few times, trusting the animals to alert you if something happens.

He begins to stir around sunrise. You’d been checking his wounds, already mostly healed. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder as he shifts, his eyes cracking open.

“It’s alright.” You say, tracing gentle circles on his skin with your thumb. “You’re safe.”

He breathes your name like a prayer, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as he relaxes.

“I’m here.” You whisper, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

“I said I would.” He murmurs, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I said I’d come back.”

You shush him gently. “And you have.”

You get him sitting up, leaning against the wall. You feed him some soup after both Mide and Cabur greet him happily. He tells you about everything that happened since the war ended. He tells you about the Jedi and the inhibitor chips, deserting the Empire and getting his chip removed. He tells you about his fight to get here, and almost not making it.

You try not to think about it, relishing in the face he did make it. He is sitting here with you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt. You can practically feel the sadness radiating from him. Your heart aches for him. He’s lost so much, and so much has changed so quickly. You can’t even imagine what it must have been like. What it must feel like for him.

You hold him, wrapping yourself around him. His bruises are almost completely healed, his strength returning as he holds you, his face pressed against your chest. Cabur creeps her way over, stretching herself out across your laps. Wolffe chuckles, patting her head. You tangle a hand on her fur, holding Wolffe with the other.

***

Wolffe settles into life in the village easily. He’s welcomed, not only as your soulmate, but also as a hero who helped save many lives. He accompanies you on hunts, learning as much about your culture as he can.

You settle into life with him easily too, adjusting to his presence like he’s been there the whole time. You’re glad your hut is on the edge of the village, as you’re both also rather insatiable. You have a year to make up for. A year of yearning and longing to make up for.

And you certainly do.

A body presses against yours as you finish loading the dishes in the sanitizer. You can feel him, every bit of his body through his thin shirt and soft pants. He’s softened a bit from the hardened soldier that had crash landed back into your life. You won’t complain. After the things you’ve heard, you’re happy he’s finally healthy and well taken care of.

You can also feel how hard he is against your ass.

His arms snake around your waist as you toss the dish towel on the counter. His lips trail up your neck, dragging along the soft skin.

“Miss me that much?” You ask, pressing back against him teasingly.

“Always.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss below your ear.

One of his hands snakes under your shirt, slowly sliding up your stomach, straight towards your breasts. You’re glad you ditched your breastband earlier as his warm hand cups your breast. He hums against your neck in approval, skilled fingers plucking at your nipple as he paints your skin with marks from his teeth.

“Wolffe,” You sigh his name as he switches breasts, giving the other one equal attention.

His other hand slips down your stomach, dipping into your pants. You’ve been wet in anticipation since his arms wrapped around you, his fingers gliding through your slick folds. Your legs tremble as he slowly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers.

“So wet for me, cyare.” He murmurs against your neck, slipping two of his fingers into you.

“Yes,” You breathe, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Only for you.”

He growls quietly against your neck, pulling his hands free. He tugs your pants down before lifting you onto the kitchen counter. You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor. He tugs your hips closer to the edge, kneeling in front of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, still kept in the regulation cut. He sometimes lets his stubble grow out, and you’re still trying to convince him to grow a beard just to see how it would look.

He licks a stripe up your clit, hands pressing against your thighs to keep them open for him. His tongue swirls around your clit, his eyes lifted to stare at your face. Your lips part in a moan as he closes his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. Your free hand grips the edge of the counter, holding on as he eats you out.

Your first few times together had been awkward and fumbling as you tried to figure each other out. It had taken lots of practice, and many laughs, to learn each other’s bodies. What you like, what you don’t, what he likes. How to make him putty in your hands. He’s still just as stern and dominating as he had been as a commander, but you know deep down he sometimes needs someone else to take control, someone else to give the orders. Someone he trusts.

Your legs are shaking around his head, your own head thrown back in pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The noises are absolutely obscene as he slurps at your drenched pussy like he’s gone days without water.

He pulls away before you can cum, making you whine in protest.

His chin is slick with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You reach forward, yanking his shirt over his head. Your fingers trail along the soft curves of his body, lips pressing kisses against his skin. His hands undo his pants, letting them drop to the floor.

You bite your lip, your hand wrapping around his hard length. His hands drop to your thighs, resting there as you pump him. You meet his gaze, staring into his eyes as you guide him forward and into your heat. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him all the way in. A moan tumbles from your lips at the stretch, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as close as you possibly can.

His arms wrap around your back, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You both breathe for a moment, enjoying being so close, so connected to each other. You bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Musky and sweaty from being out in the warmth of the day working.

He adjusts his grip on you, holding you up as he begins to move. You meet his thrusts, tilting your head up to kiss him. It’s slow and soft, quiet moans passing between your lips. You hold onto him like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go, like you might suddenly wake and find this has all been a dream.

His own fingers indent your skin, sharing your same fears. You know he’s here, you know it’s real, and he knows it’s real, but still, neither of you can forget the year you had been separated, the many times he could have died, the many times he could have been ripped from you.

“‘M close.” You murmur against his lips, nails breaking the skin of his shoulders.

“Gonna cum for me?” He growls, snapping his hips into yours. “Show me how pretty you look when you cum?”

Your head falls back, lips parted as you cum around his cock, moaning loudly. He watches you, memorizing your face. He’ll never forget it, but he commits it to memory every time.

A few more thrusts and he’s cumming with a growl, snapping his hips into yours a final time as he releases inside of you. You hold him against you, both of you riding out your highs together.

His hold around you is tight, clinging to you. You’re both breathing heavily, breaths mingling as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands gently rub his shoulders, working your way up his neck and into his hair.

“You’re right here.” You whisper, lips brushing his. “I’m right here.”

He exhales shakily, fingers tightening their grip just slightly.

You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you.”

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420 @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu

#star wars #star wars fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #clones #clone trooper wolffe x reader

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hauntedwitch04 · 1 year ago

Note

can you please do a plus size reader insecure with dean winchester?

Perfect

Dean Winchester x plus size!Reader

Words: about 2.1k words

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy times since we are talking about Dean so they are obviously there.

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea and I hope you like how it came out!

p.s. I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. Ever since I was a little girl, I was never a very skinny kid, and on more than one occasion I was teased by my classmates when I was in middle school, so I let myself go and put a little bit of me in the one-shot.

Always remember that it is normal to have good days and bad days, but the important thing is not to let the bad days have it. Keep fighting until the end, because losing a battle does not matter, what is important is to win the war. Everyone is perfect and beautiful in their own way, and your body does not define the person you are.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

Requests are open I Ask

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You look at that slice of cake for the umpteenth time, and you can't help but hear that voice in your head again, evil, whispering all your lifelong insecurities.

Dean has been talking to a girl at the counter for a few minutes, and you can't help but notice how thin she is compared to you, how beautiful she is by the standards society imposes today, standards you have never respected.

You were never a very skinny girl, in fact from a very young age you had your curves, but that never appeared to be a problem until that obnoxious part of your life where children grow up and become teenagers, and that makes them bad there.

For the first time you realized at the age of eleven that your physique was different from the other girls near you, and for the first time you felt different, and that feeling you know deep down never went away.

You tried a thousand diets, and just as many exercises to lose weight, but it almost seemed as if your body didn't want to, so you learned to live with your body. In the beginning it was not easy, you had to face many battles, some you won and some you lost, but somehow your bitter enemy, the figure that is reflected in the mirror every morning, watching you live, judging all the actions you do, is always with you and you cannot get rid of it.

When you first met Dean you were sure that he would not give you a second glance, and that in the event nothing more than a simple friendship would arise as much as you were attracted to the attractive hunter, but against all expectations, only after a few months of knowing you he asked you out and confessed that he was madly in love with you, and that he could no longer live a second of his life. It had been such a strange moment: he was going on and on about all the romantic movies, books, and TV series he had seen himself during that time to find the perfect way to tell you everything he felt and that he finally did it in the bathroom of a movie theater after you had been attacked by a demon while watching a movie; on the contrary, you had remained silent the whole time, wondering how such a handsome, kind, funny, caring, and any other positive adjective in the human vocabulary, man could feel anything for you.

You had realized you were stuck, when waking up from that transe state you had seen him looking at you frightened, and you couldn't help but ask him, with tears in your eyes, "Why me, you could have anyone you want? Why should you only want me, you deserve better." You say sobbing, trying to hold back the tears, not wanting to show him the inner struggle you were fighting all the time with the same voice that is bringing you down today. He had taken your chin in one of his strong hands, made you lift your face and looked straight into your eyes. In those big green eyes you felt as if you could see a meadow in which you could run free of all thought, free to be whoever you wanted to be, and that is what Dean is to you after all, a safe haven in which to seek comfort.

"I want you, and you alone. And already that is a selfish thought, because love, if anyone does not deserve the other it is me, because you are perfect and I am everything but perfect, and I know you deserve so much better, and yet I am selfish and I cannot help but love you and want you to be mine and only mine." Said the man in front of you before kissing you. Immediately you melted like ice cream in the sun in his arms, and you returned the kiss with all the passion and eagerness you were willing to let him know that his feelings were reciprocated. His warm, fleshy lips on yours moved to the rhythm of a dance that only you seemed to know. After a few minutes we parted, needing to breathe again, but both of you had two silly smiles on your faces, of two people stupidly in love with each other, unable to hide it from the world for a second longer. "I have Jane Austen and her Mr. Darcy to thank next time I see her in heaven. Or was it in hell?" Whispered Dean chucklingly before resting his forehead on yours.

"Winchester, we would have a demon to exorcise in the other room." You reminded him, laughing at his earlier statement, before punching him lightly in the chest. "And don't ever make fun of Jane Austen again, I love her books and I won't let you do that." You continued, pretending to give him a dirty look.

"Why do you think I read them?" He replied, winking at you before leaving the room to go deal with the demon, whom you had almost forgotten about.

A voice suddenly brings you back to reality. You look up from the pie in front of you and see Sam's worried eyes trying to decipher your thoughts, which, like a hurricane, are flowing fast in your eyes, too fast to be understood.

"Hey, are you okay?" The smallest Winchester asks you, with a tugged smile, as if you had forgotten how to smile and he wanted to help you learn it again. You then try to smile back at him and nod, not having the heart to tell him that today the battle in the mirror between you and your reflection was won by the mirror, and that as of this morning you feel like crap emotionally, because you feel like crap about your own body.

"I'm just tired, and I'm not very hungry. I think I'll give it to Dean, after all, he's always happy to have a little extra cake." You say trying to be convincing. In fact, it's been about five days since you've really been able to put anything under your teeth, after seeing a girl flirting with Dean in a bar in the town of your last case. Dean had immediately declined the girl's attentions, saying that he was committed to you and loved you, but a self-defense mechanism had sort of been triggered in your brain, telling you that if you didn't want to lose the only person you'd ever really loved in the world, you had to lose weight, and so you started not eating, obviously in secret from Dean.

The lack of food in your stomach has also brought you immense fatigue, in fact you don't even realize that you have left the diner and are now in the car from how foggy your brain is. As soon as you sit in Baby's seat, sleep takes over your body, so much so that you don't even feel Dean pick you up and carry you inside to your motel room. You awaken hours later on the bed you and Dean have been sharing since you arrived in this town, but neither he nor Sam can be seen.

Slowly you get up and drag yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light and immediately a figure is revealed to you in the mirror. You don't even look like yourself anymore, your skin is white and emaciated, so much so that it looks like that of a ghost; the black circles under your eyes are more pronounced than usual, and an immense sadness shines through your eyes, yet you can't help but be happy to see that your face looks slightly slimmer than it did a couple of days ago. Bitter tears run down your face knowing that being happy about that thing is not right, and that what you are doing is not good for your health, yet you cannot stop that little voice in your head from speaking.

Suddenly you hear the bathroom door open and see before you the frightened and confused face of your boyfriend, who looks at you shocked, seeing the tears on your face. Quickly he approaches you, asking if you are hurt and taking your face in his hands. You try hard to pull away from him, but you are not strong enough. You don't want him to feel your impefect body, he doesn't deserve it, yet he continues to hold you in his arms, while a hand gently strokes your back, trying to calm you down.

"Love, what's going on? Why are you crying? What can I do to help you?" Dean whispers to you, in turn with tears ready to run down his cheeks not knowing how he can take away the pain you are feeling so intensely.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm really sorry. I've tried, but I can't." You sob, against his shoulder, stopping fighting him and letting yourself go into his embrace.

"What did you try to do love?" The elder Winchester asks with a veil of fear.

"I tried to be a better girlfriend, I tried to lose weight, but I can't. The voice is right, I don't deserve you, I never deserved you. I don't know how you can really love someone like me." You continue crying, falling to your knees, accompanied by his strong arms, as he follows you, also kneeling on the floor. Your figures seem to merge in this embrace, as you tell him of all your insecurities, of the evil voice that dwells within you and hinders your every hope for happiness, and how these days you have preferred to starve yourself in order to be a girl worthy of being seen at Dean Winchester's side. He listens to you in silence, as tears furrow his face and fall silently on your hair, since he has his chin resting on top of your head, while you hide your face in his chest seeking the comfort of his heartbeat and his scent as you open your soul to him on the motel floor of a godforsaken town.

When you're done, you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your heart lighten, and uncertainly you look into Dean's eyes and see his sadness, and immediately feel guilty knowing that you are the cause of that feeling. In a moment as if he is reading your mind, however, he immediately stops you and reassures you.

"Love, first of all, the next time you hear this voice or these feelings inside you, don't hesitate and come to me right away, because I love you and I don't want to see you suffer like this and you know that I am always there for you, no matter what, even if you just have to ask me why the color blue is blue at three o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, I am always there for you, I am your love slave." Says the hunter, kissing the last tears streaming down my face. "And secondly, you don't have to change in any possible universe, because you in each of them are perfect as you are. There is not one thing about you that I don't love madly: your hair, your eyes, your intelligence, your laugh, your body-oh God don't get me started on how your body drives me crazy, because believe me I could start a new religion just to worship you as the goddess you are. Every day I have to hold myself back from kissing every inch of your body, from screaming to the world that you are mine, that the best woman in the world is in love with me, and I still don't understand how that is possible. There is not one thing you do that is not perfect in my eyes, and even now I still think that never on earth and in heaven has there been a more perfect being than you, so please don't ever again believe what your brain tells you and believe me." He continues, as he looks into your eyes. You have never felt so loved in your life. The only thing you want to do is thank him, but no words come out of your mouth, so you kiss him, showing him how you feel about him. Slowly Dean gets up, taking you in his arms, not breaking the kiss. Only when you reach the front of the bed and he drops you on it, your lips part and he says a few words.

"I would say it's time to prove that I wasn't joking when I said I would found a religion just to worship your body."

And boy was he not joking.

#hauntedwitch04's writing #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester fanfiction #deanwinchesterxreader #supernatural x reader #plus sized!reader #plus size!reader

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ugotnojamzzz · 6 months ago

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Rulers of Ruin

Chapter 6

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: There will come a day when I will sit down and write an alluring synopsis for this series. But that day hasn't come just yet lol. Stay tuned for more chapters to come.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

Chapter 5

After her altercation with Jimin, YN’s frustration only grew stronger. For someone who supposedly played an important role in the upcoming feud, she’d never felt more sidelined. Always kept outside of the loop.

She found herself more restless and defiant than ever. Taking advantage of Taehyung’s occasionally distracted nature, she spent the following week slipping out of his line of sight every chance she got, exploiting the slightest opportunity to explore—or test—the limits of her captivity.

One evening, as she was escorted to the mansion's library for a new book to distract her from her boredom, Taehyung's attention was momentarily captured by a conversation with another agent, a young woman whose laughter seemed to echo distractingly down the dark hallway. Seizing the moment, Y/N discreetly slipped away, her steps silent on the plush carpet.

She wandered down the corridor, not expecting much, really. Only she stopped dead in her tracks, her ears picking up the muffled tones of a serious conversation seeping through the thick door of an adjacent parlor. Her curiosity piqued, she pressed closer.

"…seems they’re gearing up for war," She recognized Namjoon’s distinctive baritone, “We may need additional eyes out there soon."

“Maybe Hoseok?” another voice spoke, “"He's returning soon with Kookie, right?"

"Stop that,” Namjoon chided, his voice sharp, “you know he hates that nickname."

“Aish, you don’t need to fight his battles,” the voice said, “if your father was here-“

Her heart thudded with the thrill of the forbidden knowledge just within her grasp. She leaned in, straining to catch more.

“While on the topic of my father,” Namjoon’s voice grew tenser, “any updates?”

“He’s alright, for now,” the voice spoke, “but…”

Y/N's mind raced. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the conversation inside had ceased until the door suddenly swung open.

Namjoon’s piercing gaze met hers immediately, a frown creasing his brow. Behind him, YN recognized Seokjin standing in his white blouse, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Y/N," Namjoon's voice was a blend of disappointment and irritation. "Spying requires guile and vigilance," he paused, “it appears you’re lacking both.”

Her response came quick, tinged with defiance. "Maybe I need some lessons from your agents," she retorted sharply, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious hallway, “they’re clearly doing such a good job at keeping track of me.”

He chuckled dryly, not out of amusement but as a prelude to a sharper critique. "Watch your attitude,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her, “it’s unbecoming."

She exhaled a frustrated sigh, feeling cornered yet defiant. "I've been kept in the dark for two weeks, Namjoon.” Her voice rose, a clear note of irritation threading through her words, “How long do you expect me to sit around waiting for you to decide my fate?"

Namjoon stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Information is dispensed on a need-to-know basis," he stated firmly, approaching her. "And right now, you don’t need to know anything."

Y/N bristled at the dismissal, her anger flaring. "So, what do I need, then? More guards? An ankle bracelet, perhaps? Shall we test how tight this leash can get?"

Before he could respond, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. Taehyung appeared, breathing heavily, his usual composed demeanor unraveled by exertion. "Sorry, Boss—I lost sight of her for just a minute," he panted, casting a wary glance at Y/N.

Namjoon’s eyes flicked between Y/N and Taehyung, his displeasure evident. "Ensure it doesn’t happen again," he warned, then turned back to Y/N. "As for you, try to remember your place. If you keep this up, I won’t hesitate to make your conditions less... comfortable.” His threat hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the power he wielded. “Or perhaps I’ll simply ship you back to your brother, see if you prefer what he’s got in store for you.”

Before YN could utter a response, the broad-shouldered leader went back in the parlour, firlmy shutting the door behind him.

YN's anger boiled over as she stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the marble floors. Behind her, Taehyung hurried to keep up, his own frustration mirroring hers but tinged with resignation. "Come on, don't do this," he called out, his voice barely cutting through her tirade.

"This is all ridiculous!” YN shouted back over her shoulder, her words sharp as daggers. “Complete, utter bullshit!" The cool night air did nothing to temper her heated words as she burst through the double doors into the garden.

She stomped outside still ranting to herself.

Taehyung sighed, dodging low-hanging branches as he tried to keep up with her brisk pace. "Ranting isn’t going to change anything," he called out, his voice barely cutting through the sound of the wind.

"And what would you suggest, huh? Compliance? Silent obedience?" she snapped back, turning to face him with a glare, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You miserable pieces of shit!” she shouted

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's raining, Y/N. Let’s go back inside before you catch your death," he tried reasoning with her, his voice calm but firm.

“Oh sure, it’s the rain that’s going to kill me,” she rolled her eyes. "Last time I checked, a little water has never hurt anyone," she snapped, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. Her focus was solely on venting her frustration, paying little attention to where she was stepping. The garden path, slick with rain, was a treacherous terrain for her furious pacing.

Before Taehyung could warn her, YN's foot caught on the edge of a stone near the koi pond. Her balance lost, she stumbled with a startled yelp, arms flailing as she tried desperately to regain her footing. It was no use; gravity took over, and with a splash that echoed louder than her shouts, YN found herself submerged in cold murky water.

“Ah, shit,” Taehyung rushed to the pond’s edge, suppressing a chuckle as he extended a hand to help her out. “Looks like a little water might hurt after all," he remarked, trying to infuse a bit of humor into the situation.

Soaked and shivering, YN grasped his hand, her earlier fire doused by the icy pond water. "Very funny," she muttered, pulling herself up with his help. She stood dripping beside the pond, the rain mixing with pond water, her elegant outfit ruined and clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

Taehyung’s expression softened as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. "Come on, let’s get you inside and dried off," he said, guiding her back towards the mansion. "And maybe skip the midnight garden walks for a while, yeah?"

"Fuck off," she muttered under her breath, even as he escorted her toward her quarters, his jacket still wrapped around her.

In the warm embrace of the shower, Y/N let the hot water cascade over her, washing away the pond's chill and the night's frustrations. As the steam clouded around her, so did her thoughts, swirling with the events of the evening.

The steam seemed to seep into her pores, attempting to soothe the sting of humiliation and the cold realization of her helplessness.

Her mind replayed Namjoon's words, sharp and cutting, echoing against the tiles with every droplet that fell.

Remember your place.

the fall into the pond had been a jolt back to a reality she’d been trying to ignore. It wasn't just the physical shock of the cold water but the absurdity of the situation that gnawed at her. Here she was, a pawn in a game of power, maneuvered by people who saw her not as a person but as a leverage point—a tool in their negotiations and strategies. The very idea that she could be discussed as part of a war strategy was infuriating.

With every drop that washed over her, she pondered the bitter irony of her safety. Here, in between the tigers’ claws, surrounded by those who viewed her as little more than a bargaining chip, she was, in a twisted sense, probably safer than she had been in a long time. The thought stung, a reluctant admission that clawed at her pride.

Her last encounter with her brother had been under circumstances shrouded in shadows and tension, their parting more a series of harsh whispers and hurried steps than heartfelt goodbyes. The memory was a sharp jab to her conscience, a reminder of unfinished business and unresolved conflicts that lingered like ghosts in her mind.

The steam fogged up the mirror, and for a moment, she imagined it clouding out the world, giving her a momentary respite from the watchful eyes and calculated moves. But as comforting as the warmth was, it couldn't wash away the reality of her predicament.

She needed to be more than just compliant; she needed to be cunning. If they were going to use her as a piece in their games, then perhaps it was time to learn the rules and play back. Tonight, however, she would allow herself just a few more moments of solace in the simple, searing heat of the shower.

The comforting rush of warm water was abruptly overshadowed by some noise coming beyond the bathroom door. Y/N's muscles tensed beneath the cascade. "Taehyung,” she began, her voice, sharp with annoyance, echoing slightly off the tiled walls, “I told you not to—"

Her sentence was abruptly cut off as the door swung open with a force that suggested urgency—or a complete utter lack of care. "Jesus Christ—" Y/N exclaimed, a mix of surprise and irritation in her tone. She instinctively spun around, her eyes squinting through the billowing steam. She could make out a figure, distinctly different from Taehyung's lean silhouette.

Before she could fully shield herself or demand an explanation, a deep, unfamiliar voice cut through the mist.

"And who the fuck are you?"

guess who? lol

Anyway hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters! Also questions and remarks and feedback are welcome xxx

Chapter 7

Masterlist

Taglist

@princess-sunshyn

@loumin908

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elysianstars · 4 months ago

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Part of being a fan of the Fell Xenologue, is frantically trying to come up with explanations for weird stuff the plot does.

Why do some people confuse both Alears, despite the gender swap? Why does Rafal not seem invested in Ivy's attempt to revive Sombron? What was Sombron actually trying to achieve with his heir/legacy nonsense, and how did Rafal expect to do that properly without understanding it? Why was Nil, the weaker and less useful twin, getting sent off to battlefields without Nel? Why could Alear only sense something strange about Nel's dragonstone, and Zelestia identify that as Sombron's magic, after it was shattered? How did Sombron, the world's worst parent, manage to spot the difference between Nil and Rafal? Why are Nel and Rafal not doing anything during Chapter 21 of the main story, if you have them recruited at that point? When did Gradlon sink during the Xenologue timeline, and if it was after Sombron's first defeat then where were all his surviving offspring hanging out for the next thousand years?

I've got elaborate headcanon answers for the majority of those, which let me sleep at night, but literally every time I replay, more questions manifest to torment me. Here's the latest set.

1. After the battle in Firene, why does nobody ask how the Bracelet of the Brash General came to be awakened with Fell power? Obviously 'Nil' knows, because he did it. Nel suspected the royals were Corrupted, and it would make sense that whatever Fell sibling was responsible for that would have woken the Bracelet at the same time. So she's got a working theory that she'd rather not discuss yet. But neither Alear nor Zelestia suspects that, so why do they never question who's going around messing with these Emblems, without actually stealing them?

2. I always had the strong impression that Nel and 'Nil' ditched their family a long time ago, and were living in Lythos for most of the thousand year peace. But in one of Zelestia's supports with Madeline, she claims the twins didn't appear until Sombron 'showed signs of returning'. Which makes far less sense, since where does that place them for the last several centuries? In a Gradlon which may or may not have been underwater? Surrounded by hostile siblings, who only learned not to openly talk about murdering 'Nil' because Nel slaughtered the last group who did that? Choosing to deal with an atmosphere like that for centuries? Or were they just wandering the world minding their own business, in which case why is that period never referenced, and why bother ever showing up at Lythos? It doesn't give Nel much time to fall in love with Xeno Alear either, when it's said she felt that way for years.

The other possibility – and I've never considered it before, but the Xenologue is SO agonisingly vague with timelines that I suppose it can't be fully discounted – is that Nel and Rafal aren't actually thousand-year-old dragons born during the first war, they're only teenagers born during the second war. But that also doesn't make sense, since it would have necessitated Sombron being around for at least a couple of decades after his return, plus where did the mothers of these brand new children come from? Were they just floating around in possibly-underwater Gradlon, waiting a thousand years to be impregnated while having no ambitions of their own? Or did they get resurrected alongside him in a package deal?

...I really don't think any explanation works, aside from Nel and Rafal being long-term residents of Lythos.

Nel says she cut ties with Sombron during the last war, but you could interpret that as either running away, or openly fighting against him. Sombron, in the flashback that seems to be placed shortly before Xeno Alear kills him, says it had been 'some time' since the twins betrayed him, and that Nil died 'long ago' (yet isn't it the Bracelet of the Three Houses he's shown with, and wasn't that in Divine Dragon hands, so it could be sealed in the Somniel?). Rafal refers to his residence in Lythos as an 'age of lies'. Everything is 'for a time' and 'not long after' without giving numbers, and those phrases become increasingly vague when they're being spoken by individuals who measure their lifespans in thousands of years. We don't even know how long the Divine Dragon has been dead for – months? Years?

'Showed signs of' is another unspecific phrase. You can show signs of something that doesn't actually happen in full until many years later. You can show signs of something you've already been doing for many years in secret. I don't have the energy to compare the JP text and see if there's any differences. Sorry Zelestia, I'm going to have to ignore your single obscure comment as either a mistake by the writing team, or just you being forgetful because you're so old.

Otherwise I'd have to rewrite around 100,000 words of fanfic as not being canon compliant enough, can you imagine the pain of that.

3. In one of Rafal's bond conversations with Emblem Celica, he asks if her warp magic could be used to travel between countries. But isn't that exactly what he does, after showing his true colours in the Xenologue? How else does he transport an unconscious Alear from Elusia to Solm, seal them in the desert ruins, then race all the way back to Elusia in time for Nel to be none the wiser? His later warping has a stronger basis in the game's mechanics (abducting Nel in a way that's similar to an Entrap staff, then blinking over to the Somniel because the previous Divine Dragon must have given him the blessing). But that particular cross-country event? If he can do it regularly, it would also explain how he can rampage around Corrupting the entire world's royals without Nel realising, but hello, where does this power come from? And where does it go, once he's recruited and just has to walk places normally like a loser.

Additionally, I do enjoy when characters say things which are painfully ironic in hindsight. Zelestia saying in an early chapter how it's so fortunate Nel and 'Nil' never lost their other half, and 'Nil' is just like yeah, haha, that sure is great isn't it...

Sadly I will continue to try and deal with Fell Xenologue's problems forever, because it gave us the gift of not one but two hot murderous bisexual dragons acting completely unhinged, and to me that's worth digging through any number of plot holes for.

#Fire Emblem Engage #FE Engage #I love this game but WHAT IS HAPPENING #for all that Rafal gets upset about being powerless. he's almost a walking deus ex machina during his villain era #anyway if you actually read all of that then congratulations

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pastafossa · 1 year ago

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Preview of Angsty In-Progress TRT What If fic

Right so there won't be a chapter cause I'm still in Covid Brain Fog Town, Population: Me which is affecting my writing (I've gotten a bit written but it's slow going). But I have found time to edit that sad thing I'd been working on BEFORE getting sick and I'm planning to release that because I think it works as a really good illustration of just what the stakes are in TRT if they get this wrong. AKA: a what-if, in which all their preparations fail and Jane is taken (spawned by an ask in my box that's been chewing at my brain for months now).

This will be a really dark and angsty side-fic, and the ending won't be happy per se, although I'm planning to give a little hope at the end since I'm not a COMPLETE monster, but I don't expect everyone to read it regardless and am designing it so there's no need to if you'd prefer to stick to TRT canon. BUT if you DO want to read something like this, here's a preview of the first section.

Warnings for: angst (obviously), blood, reference to shock collars.

Preview wordcount: around 1k

Putting this behind a cut.

Sad Matt gif cause this part's from his POV and it will not be fun.

There should have been a fight.

That had always been the plan, an unspoken agreement the moment you’d decided to stay. You’d all known the Man in the White Coat, Cyrus James, would come to town eventually. It was an inevitability, a reality, and it was one you’d prepared for. Slowly, you’d gathered in your allies, armor composed of S.H.I.E.L.D., of the Ferryman, of the Punisher and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and even Spider-Man, had you asked. There’d been plans and backup plans, alarm systems and fail safes. And just in case that still wasn’t enough, you and Matt had taken to practicing, over and over and over again, all the ways you could signal him should your hunter slip through the cracks.

It was foolproof.

It should have been foolproof. That was what you’d all believed.

You were all wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

There was no battle.

It’s my fault.

No war along the familiar streets that had become your home.

I should have sensed him.

There’d been no signal given. No warning, no alarm that rang out, not when you were walking home after a late case.

Caught alone in the dark.

Where are you, sweetheart? Please, just give me something, anything—

You didn’t even have time to scream, they said.

Not physically, anyway.

He’d felt your fear before on occasion, when you reached for him psychically. Then, your presence felt like the frantic bite of your nails in his skin, tasted like the sharp tang of cold sweat and burning adrenaline, sounded like the stuttered racing of your heart, a drumbeat in his ears that never failed to set his own heart racing as he cast his senses out, hunting for threat-threat-threat and for those that dared to harm you. He’d felt your fear when you woke in the quiet dark of the apartment, and when you’d been trapped beneath the warehouse in a cruel, dusty cell. He’d felt it, too, that night Frank had chased after you.

He thought he’d known the flavor of your fear.

But those moments were nothing compared to the moment your deepest, darkest fear became… real.

The deafening psychic scream that tore through the thread with all the force of a hurricane was like nothing he’d felt before, or ever would again. That storm was all-consuming, the world around him gone in a heartbeat as the sudden wave brought him to his knees, his mouth shocked open on a silent shout. He could barely breathe through that terrified tide, one cold as bitter ice, your panicked heartbeat less a drumbeat than a constant roar in his ears as your panic rolled through him. This was the tremor of muscle and blind, animalistic instinct, the last, desperate sprint of a doomed hare just before the hawk’s talons cinched shut against the back of its neck.

This wasn’t fear. That was too small a word.

It was sheer, absolute terror.

And in that terror, you managed only a single word.

“Matt, h—”

You never got a chance to finish. Instead, he was struck by a blinding surge of electricity, white-hot coils of lightning snaking around his throat before locking tight. That shock raced outwards from there, traveling along lines of hidden nerves and thick muscle until his whole body locked up in agony. It was impossible to writhe, to thrash, to fight. All he could do was scream, mindless and furious, your terror matched only by his surge of rage, rage that covered his own wave of terror. Because he knew. He knew, distantly, what this was, and what this meant.

The collar.

Just as quickly as it came, the connection was gone, leaving him with nothing but the steady drip of blood from his nose and a ringing in his ears.

He wanted to retch, his stomach roiling, but there was no time.

It can’t end like this.

The directional signal he’d gotten from you was worthless. Even when he found where you’d been snatched off the street, they’d left him nothing but droplets of your blood and a fading snatch of cigarette smoke, a poor cover for the faint chemical scent lingering in the alley. Tranquilizers, he’d learn later, meant to knock you out, make you tame enough to be bound, collared, and forced into the back of a van. From there, your scent vanished into the night.

Caught. Collared.

Taken.

There was supposed to be more time.

More time for him in your arms and you in his.

More quiet touches in the early morning, and laughter in the kitchen, at Fogwell’s, on warm rooftops and cold ones, too.

Time for him to slip a ring on your finger, and for his name to twine with yours, joyful tears in both your eyes as he pressed his lips to yours on the day you finally became his wife, the keeper of his soul, and he the keeper of yours, for all the rest of your days.

Why hadn’t he asked you?

He should have asked you.

Our rocking chairs should be red, you’d said sleepily last night, when we’re old.

He should have been faster.

Stronger.

Smarter.

“All this, all this that we have here, that you love, is at risk. It always is when I stop. He takes this from me every time, Matt."

He should have protected you.

He’d promised you he’d keep you safe.

“No one will take you. I won’t let them, no matter what I have to do to stop them. What happened before—you didn’t have me. I’ll hear him coming from a mile away. We’ll be prepared for him."

“Ciro promised me the same thing. And he was wrong.”

He’d… promised.

“I promise. I’ll find them before they even get close.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, D.”

And he’d failed.

The Devil’s roar of anguish, of grief, and of absolute agony shook the very bones of the city.

By that point, you were too far away to hear it.

It would be seven months before he found you again.

#the red thread #the red thread What If #(so NOT canon)#(just an exploration of what would happen should they fail to keep her safe)#daredevil #matt murdock #fic #fanfic #fic preview #tw: blood #tw: angst #this is pretty much the least dark part of the fic so if you're going to take the full ride use this as a chance to buckle up #this will not be light or humorous or fluffy #99% hurt and very little comfort #we're gonna run face-first into *why* Jane is so terrified of this man #and explore what the failure might look like #because I think sometimes exploring what will happen if it all goes wrong is interesting

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freyafrida · 9 months ago

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i'm assuming the rec they're referring to is this lovely post by @gogandmagog, to whom i must thank for unearthing this fic, lol. i wrote this chapter back in 2012(!!!) so unfortunately i don't remember what exactly i had in mind for shirley and pencil girl (love that nickname), or if i even had more of a story in mind. i don't see myself writing another chapter for arco iris (although never say never?) BUT i did have some vague headcanons and influences so i will share them!

anyway. what did shirley say to her afterwards? i didn't have a full idea for this in my head and i'm of two minds about it! i can see him just ignoring it because whatever, he's not interested in getting his name written up on the side of the schoolhouse and it's none of his business why Pencil Girl decided to, apparently, lose her mind one day after school. i can also see him being pretty straightforward and asking her about it and being completely embarrassed that she's sweet on him and again, having zero interest in getting his name put on a Take Notice.

either way, they both pretend it didn't happen for a few years, but Pencil Girl never quite gives up her little crush on him, and she and shirley grow to be friends in adolescence after he gets over being flustered by her existence. they exchange sympathetic letters during the war, maybe get into wacky adventures as college kids, and fall in love along the way. the end.

so, some background: this is very niche, but as a kid, i was very into the boy/girl battle series by phyllis reynolds naylor (which i also wrote fic for in 2012 -- maybe that spilled into arco iris?). i didn't do it consciously, but in hindsight, i think i was inspired by the dynamic between the characters wally and caroline. wally is the most introverted of his brothers, thoughtful and quietly imaginative, while caroline is an attention-seeking theater kid who drags wally into her mischief. they're both annoyed by each other because they're middle schoolers, but they're also both imaginative and slightly lonely because everyone thinks they're weird, and they find they (unwillingly) understand each other on that more fundamental level. anyway! it's not a 1:1 comparison, but i think i was imagining shirley/pencil girl from a similar place. we know shirley isn't totally opposed to mischief (see "well-deserved spankings" in RV) and while we also know he hates to be badgered with chatter per RoI, i was also picturing him as a bit matthew cuthbert-esque, where he doesn't mind exuberance as long as he's not expected to actually respond in kind (that's how i interpret "badgering", anyway).

i was also semi-influenced by the dynamic between kyon and haruhi in the melancholy of haruhi suzumiya, haha. obviously none of this is evident in that very short chapter, but uh, that's the backstory if you're interested, or if it gives an idea of how the rest of the story might go!

i also was actually influenced by the jenny penny section of anne of ingleside! i first read that book as a teenager and tbh i took the jenny penny section and all its judgment about Dirty Houses and Fighting Adults and Not Saying Your Prayers a leetle personally, lmao. i found the blythes pretty snobbish in that story* (this livejournal post is a pretty good summary of how i felt about anne of ingleside at the time). so i also had the loose headcanon of the blythes having to deal with someone a little socially inappropriate, who they wouldn't approve of very much. again, this was way too much to be evident in the actual chapter, but this is where the whole "girl who kisses rando boys in classrooms" concept came from, if you're interested.

anyway that's how shirley/pencil girl would've gone. hope this didn't ruin it for you, nonny, and thank you for reading ❤️

* i mean, upon reread, there are actual issues with the pennys: jenny is a more intentional liar than anne ever was, and the grandma makes di show her her underwear??? weird. but also jenny is, like, the lone realistically troubled child in a book of unusually twee children, and i found her surprisingly sympathetic for that reason. anyway. i had feelings.

#fic ramblings #arco iris #anne of green gables #shirley blythe #shirley x pencil girl #(lmao)

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a-rose-for-gold · 2 years ago

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“The Crocodile”

Okay. I was typing a reblog and it somehow became a rant/spiel, so I’m making a whole post about it.

“The Crocodile” Episode? I know a this isn’t exactly an unpopular opinion, but I’mma say it anyway.

Hook and Milah. Had. It. COMING.

Granted - Hook became cool eventually. But I hated him for a LOT of the series on the grounds of his first impression alone.

Like it’s one thing to run off with a man’s wife. Rumple and Milah weren’t in love and the marriage wasn’t a good one. She put zero effort into their family and taking her off their hands may arguably have been better for everyone.

Seriously. Fuck Milah.

Spinner Rumple tried so hard to be a good husband and father, or at least to make their family work in a loveless marriage, and he deserved better.

But in spite of that, what Hook did to him on the ship crossed so many lines and he totally deserved to get owned for it.

Let’s review:

Concerned husband boards a pirate ship to beg for his wife back, thinking she’s been abducted. Right off the bat: That right there took courage. It always pisses me off when OUAT characters call Spinner Rumple a coward, because he really wasn’t. The world put him through it and he was doing his damn best. Just showing up to the ship of bloodthirsty pirates, knowing that literally all he could do was beg and hope for the best, took guts.

Back to Hook. So this poor guy shows up to ask for his wife back unharmed. And shy of actually hurting Rumple, Hook decides to do quite possibly the cruelest thing he could have done:

Keep letting the spinner think that his wife had been taken against her will and that she was being raped by the whole crew.

If Milah was in on the lie, then in my opinion SHE was the cowardly one here. Not Rumple. You want to abandon your disabled husband and son to run off and live the high life with a pirate? Own your shit.

But no. Instead they pushed the blame onto Rumple and gaslit this poor man into thinking it was somehow his fault.

Yeah - Rumple didn’t pick up the sword when Hook challenged him to a duel over Milah. But let’s think about that for a sec shall we?

We have Rumplestiltskin: An older wool spinner with a disability. Who can’t walk all that well WITH his walking stick - much less without it, on a boat, and during a fight with a sword. Which he’s barely held in his life unless you count the crash-course he got as fodder- I mean a new recruit, when he was drafted into the Ogres War.

Versus Captain Jones: A younger, taller, stronger pirate. An experienced swordsman, comfortable on a ship, and with two good legs. AND with a loyal crew of OTHER strapping pirates who would probably kill Rumple even if by some miracle he DID take Hook by surprise or something.

So really, Rumple had two options here.

Option A: Refuse to fight the bloodthirsty pirate, leave with your life but without your wife, and return home to your now motherless son.

Option B: Fight the bloodthirsty pirate, probably die or at least get badly injured (which could be death within a few days-weeks anyway given his financial situation and living conditions), the pirate takes your wife anyway, and your son is left an orphan who may or may not ever know what happened to you.

So there was no realistic scenario here where he fights off the pirates like a dashing hero and carries his wife home.

What else was he supposed to do?!

Rumplestiltskin is extremely smart. He always was. He knows when to pick his battles and he would have known all of that at a glance.

Refusing to fight wasn’t cowardice. It was common sense.

And yet Hook, this mothafucka, who must have realized all of this too and put Rumple in this situation in the first place, had the gall to act disgusted about it when Rumple refused to “fight like a man.” And then gaslit him into thinking that he was a coward and a fool for making what was obviously the more rational decision.

Now Hook is a pirate. I never would have expected much from him. But that’s no excuse. What he did was fucked. And karma is a bitch.

Stupid Game = Stupid Prize

And yes I know this is a pretty commonly held opinion so it shouldn’t be new to anyone but I rewatched that episode recently and needed to get this off my chest. 😤

#once upon a time #rumplestiltskin #mr. gold #robert carlyle #rumpelstiltskin #Captain Hook #killian jones #milah ouat #character analysis #show analysis #karma is a bitch #anyway 💅#woobie #woobie rumple #spinner rumple #The Crocodile #stupid game #stupid prize #fucked around and found out

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jheselbraum · 8 months ago

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Totk Ganondorf is a departure from other versions of both Ganondorf and Ganon in that he is not a disruptor to the status quo, at least not thematically.

Like, oh no he wants to destroy Hyrule? It was already destroyed, that's the status quo that got changed between botw and totk by Link and Zelda. Ganondorf lifts Hyrule Castle during his big ol earthquake, sure, but he also returns Hyrule Castle to both the state that it was in during botw (red glowy, surrounded by malice) AND to the state that it was in pre-calamity for that one sequence. What about in the ancient past? The civilization of Hyrule didn't exist, the Zonai civilization had been in that region for thousands of years, and it's the Zonai that Ganondorf primarily focuses on.

Totk Ganondorf is fate. This isn't the first time a Legend of Zelda game as presented the villain as tied to fate but Majora's Mask was pretty literal with it all things considered. But the moon falling in majoras mask is presented as just as inevitable as totk Ganondorf's assault on Hyrule, he's fucking fate. He's specifically the fate that fucked Zelda and Link up initially, and there's thematic importance in Zelda's ultimate plan to stop totk Ganondorf. At no point after Link touches down in Hyrule again is he ever truly alone, it's only when Link goes to fight Ganondorf that he loses the ability to summon sages. In fact that happens twice, Link tries to fight Ganondorf alone twice and both times the sages show up anyways to bail him out. Technically this happens three times if you count the opening sequence.

Totk Ganondorf is literally stuck in the past, lost in nostalgia and continuing a war that he doesn't have to and that's why he thinks he can lure Link into a false sense of security by appealing to his sense of nostalgia, because obviously Link's life was super hunky dory when the castle Looked Like That, everything was great and he didn't have an anxiety disorder and Zelda specifically was super friendly and niceys to him during that time. Obviously Link has nostalgia for that era in the first place.Totk Ganondorf is the old way of doing things, he expects Link and Zelda to be working to restore Hyrule Castle when in reality they live in fucking Hateno and never fucking touched the castle until the seal on Ganondorf started weakening and spitting out gloom everywhere.

He's the old Zelda formula. With Ganondorf back we get temples and sages as well, we get bombflowers and like likes and visual callbacks to Ocarina of Time and I think we've collectively forgotten that botwtotk Link and Zelda are a Link and Zelda that are from a different Legend of Zelda game than breath of the wild and that they lost their original Legend of Zelda game. They know the exactly what Ganondorf is and they know their prophesied role in stopping him, they know the loz formula. They also know that following that formula got them all fucking killed.

Ganondorf thrives when Link follows the old Zelda formula of clearing temples, unlocking sages, and going to fight the demon king alone regardless, and Zelda thrives when Link realizes that teamwork makes the dream work to the point where her millenia spanning bond with the ancient sages pays off and, unlike the calamity, there is no expectation that whoever goes to face the demon king will have to do so alone and that's why Zelda and Ganondorf are foils. Totk Zelda represents the new ways, possibly the new Zelda formula since. It's Nintendo. There's gonna be a formula. But at the very least she represents a kingdom that doesn't give a rats ass about fate and prophecy and sending children into battle alone. When we unlock each secret stone, the cutscene we get isn't some divine instruction, it's the previous very mortal and not divine at all sage saying, in essence, "hey I told my friend Zelda that we'd help her friend in the future can you do that since I've been dead for 10,000 years?" And the one time it isn't the sage in question is Mineru who, you know. Is the sage from 10,000 years ago.

Rauru is ancillary, Sonia is ancillary, Link is ancillary, dialogue between Ganondorf and Zelda or lack thereof is fucking ancillary.

The real fight is between Ganondorf and Zelda and it's over what kind of Kingdom Hyrule is going to be moving forward: Ganondorf's where everything 100% dictated by fate and inevitability and an incredible fucking loneliness or Zelda's cool new Hyrule where everyone is the most free from fate and prophecy that they've ever been and the ones that aren't are not alone and have the support of not just their communities but the rest of the world too.

#tloz #totk #totk ganondorf #totk zelda

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dirteater69 · 6 months ago

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here’s something that i wrote in february. its a segment of a fic i’ve been writing since last year, that i might post if i ever finish it. its about the killjoys ten years or so before the music videos, when they’ve just escaped battery city and are fighting in the analog wars as teenagers.

There’s a lot more waiting in war than Party expected.

That’s not to say that they expected much about war — they barely knew there was a war happening before they were dropped into it like oil in water, like a fish into a desert — but they had their ideas, set up by movies and assorted Americana folklore. This war is not much like those ideas. There’s no uniforms, for one, at least not on the side they’re fighting on. There’s no mustachioed generals walking around with sticks up their asses that yell at you if you’re not enthusiastic enough about killing other human beings. There’s no melodramatic longing for the home front, for the women and children only seen in photographs in lockets, because the war is taking place in the zones, which Party has come to know as their home whether they like it or not, and because women and people-who-are-practically-children go out and fight in it just as much as anyone else. Party’s yet to have a friend bleed out in their arms on the battlefield, which they’re very thankful for, but they do think that if they attempted that, they’d be gunned down before anyone could say the first word of a bleeding heart monologue.

Some things do line up with their expectations. None of Party’s closest friends have died yet, but that’s not to say that people don’t die, because they certainly do. There’s the direct deaths in the battles, but there’s also those who’ve died of festering infections weeks after they got the wounds, or of diseases, or amputations gone wrong — these are the kind of topics that come up when you try to have a conversation with your best friend who works in the medical tents. There’s those who took too much of what everyone takes to numb the pain, and passed out in a pool of their own vomit, and then never woke up. Some people just disappear: they might silently get out of their sleeping bag one cruel night and walk off into the stars, leaving only a memory and a pair of boots bound to get taken by someone else because, hey, who would waste a good pair of boots in a time like this; or they might get dragged off screaming on the battlefield by someone dressed in the whites and blacks of the enemy, one of the few unlucky chosen ones grabbed for rehabilitation in the big bad battery, or else turned into a masked and mindless weapon if they won’t comply.

There’s a lot of fear. Fear and worry, as well as rage and indignation, despair and nihilism. Impatience. Mania. Apathy. Hope. After a while, everyone’s grasping at straws to feel something, and not everyone’s sure they even want to.

The smell is bad. Party didn’t really expect that, but they can’t say it surprises them.

But they definitely didn’t expect all the waiting. Between the battles and attacks, you are obviously waiting for more battles and attacks, but you’re waiting for more than that. You’re waiting for news: partially reports from spies, strategy and intelligence regarding the elusive Other Side, but you’re also waiting to hear something exciting on the radio. Is there a party or a market happening soon? How shall we drown our sorrows tonight? If you’re Party, or another of the two dozen or so people in the zones like them, you’re sometimes waiting to be called to a strategy meeting. Party doesn’t really know shit about strategy meetings, at least they didn’t the first few times they attended them, but they got a feeling it made people feel better to think that they did, so they did their best to pretend.

Really, a lot of the waiting in war is like the seasons, like how you want it to be cold when it’s hot and hot when it’s cold. When nothing is happening, you want something to be happening; when something is happening, you want nothing to be happening. That’s how it is for Party, at least.

There is also waiting during the actual battles, though. If you’re pulling an ambush — like Party and those on their side like to do — then you’ll be waiting a while until you’re given a signal and get to actually start the fight. Even beyond that, though, there’s a lot of waiting in battle. Looking at it from the outside, it might not look like there’s any possible pauses, but it’s very different in the heat of the action. You’re always waiting for something: a new strike or shot to hit you, a new enemy closing up on you with hardly any time to retaliate, a new order shouted out barely audible over the gunshots, a new plan to form in your mind.

Party’s currently waiting for all of these. They’re crouched behind a car that has, at some point in the past ten minutes since the battle began, tipped over onto its side. They’ve never seen the bottom of a car before. Sadly, they won’t get much of a chance to look at it now, because they’re currently busy desperately reloading their blaster. They spent the final bits of their last battery pack making a couple of particularly rowdy Draculoids see the light of heaven, and now they’re hurrying to get back into the game before something similar happens to them. They fumble getting the handle open: they’re high on adrenaline and a few other things, and the roaring and blasting of the battle pulls their mind in all sorts of directions. They’d’ve thought they’d be used to it by now — or, at least deaf enough to ignore it better.

The handle of the gun comes open with a satisfying click, and they barely have to think in order to reload and close it again, pure muscle memory. This proves itself very useful when, as if on cue, a white-dressed BL/ind soldier jumps around the corner of the car with a glowing shotgun pointed at them. Party doesn’t get a good look at the soldiers face: they turn it into a mess of brain matter and burning flesh before anything else can happen. Ray gun wounds are messy.

Party scrambles up from their spot against the car to inspect the body, wearily glancing around themselves, the way you have to on a battlefield. They consider looting the body, but they don’t have the time; besides, this is just a toy soldier, and it’s usually only the Scarecrows or Exterminators that have good stuff on them. The shotgun could be worth taking, though, so they do. It’s heavy, and bright white — like most things BL/ind made. Their blaster’s still a little too hot to holster, but they do it anyway.

They crouch to protect their body as they creep around the car, taking in the battle. It’s what it always is. Something like a thunderstorm: car motors and shitty zone-made bombs create a sea of gray clouds; ray guns blast out neon lightning, beautiful and skin-scorching, always just a few inches away from hitting one vital organ or another. There’s people all around, Zonerunners and BL/ind troops shooting and stabbing and hitting and screaming. The shotgun is a little uncomfortable in Party’s hands, they’ve only used one a few times, but they’re good enough to take down a couple of Draculoids that they spot rushing at them. Four or five of the bastards down in fifteen seconds, max.

They run a sweaty hand through their hair and take a split second to consider the situation. There was a big strategy talk before this, they’re sure, but they can hardly remember any of it. This is a siege, right? A siege of a BL/ind base, somewhere in zone 2, definitely. Or zone 1.

The car behind Party shakes, and they stagger away from it, shotgun grasped tight. It’s caught on fire, the car — someone’s thrown a bomb at it, and now it’s tipping over. They bolt forward, still crouching like they have to. They glance around and spot a Drac and Zonerunner guy wrestling in the sand twenty or so feet away. Neither of them have their blasters, but they’re choking and punching and clawing at each other, and the Drac has got the Zonerunner under it with a hand on his neck.

Before Party knows it, they’re kicking the Drac of the Zonerunner, and then in the ribs a few times for good measure, until it’s no longer moving. Wordlessly, they hand the Zonerunner their shotgun — he clearly needs it more than them — and pull out their blaster to carry onwards.

Were they supposed to be doing something specific in this battle? They weren’t, right? They would almost definitely remember if they were. Almost. They comb through the mess of chemicals and fantasies that they call a brain and try to find any sort of mission, any sort of plan or direction, but they get nothing. Hopefully, the fact that they don’t remember anything important means that they don’t have anything important to remember.

There’s a loud blast behind them. It’s louder than the car falling over, louder than all the bombs around them combined, louder than anything they’ve ever heard. It’s like a gunshot and a punch in the face all at once. They spin around, and in the distance, beyond the metal fence of the BL/ind base — they were right, it is a siege — is a red form with glowing black eyes, two hundred feet tall. It’s made out of sand and smoke and carnage, with a gaping maw full of scrap metal teeth, and it’s lumbering towards the battle on four blurry but certainly real legs.

Their first thought when they see it is that the colors are all wrong. It’s supposed to be a black form with glowing red eyes, not the other way around, and surely something black can’t glow. But the black eyes of this monster are surely glowing. Their second thought is that they don’t know who it’s aligned with. They would know about it if it was a secret weapon of the Zonerunners, and it’s far too colorful of a monster for BL/ind to use, so the only other option is that it’s here to destroy all of them.

Their third thought is their about ray gun.

They look down at it, in their hand. Yellow-painted and nimble, freshly loaded. It’s taken many lives, this ray gun, but Party knows it would be ridiculous to try to defeat that giant with it. All of the weapons of the Zonerunners and BL/ind combined couldn’t take it down. It is going to eat Battery City and have the desert for dessert.

Still, it’s worth a try.

Party raises the blaster to the monster, but when they look up to aim, it’s gone. There is nothing but the battle, and beyond that the fence, and beyond that the sky. It’s gray. Too pale to be the night, too dark to be the day — is it evening or morning, right now?

Another BL/ind soldier charges at them from the left, blaster aloft and yelling, and Party takes her down with two shots. It’s a really dumb strategy to do alone, running at someone and yelling; especially when you have a ray gun that could just kill them from a distance. At least she had a flare for the dramatic, Party thinks, as they step over her corpse and look around the thunderstorm. She will be sorely missed, or not — if she will, it’s not by Party.

They start to run towards the direction that they saw the monster, for lack of a better plan. Maybe they’re looking for something. It’s unclear. A mean-looking Exterminator sets his eyes on them, and they fire off a series of shots at him. The sky remains a confusing gray.

Suddenly, when the fence is only fifty or so feet away, they start to feel horribly dizzy. It’s like all of reality has been flipped upside down, but they’ve been left still and hanging. They try to take a step forward. They’re not sure if they succeed. A convulsion strikes through their body. There’s a little vomit in their mouth, and the texture is weird. They can’t remember what they last ate.

Then, the world spins around them, and all they see is the uncaring gray of the morning-evening sky.

#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk #party poison #killjoys #viktorpost

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octahedral-chaos · 5 months ago

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(SPOILERS CONTINUED)

Valorant loved a good fight. She loved how the rush of adrenaline made her feel more alive than anything ever since the end of Runeterra and even coming back to the past. How grounded she felt in the pain and ache of a good spar. How she felt so, so real.

And most of all, she loved how violent she can get away with in battle.

She was born of blood. Blood that was spilled for war.

There will always be a calling back to battle in her heart, no matter how content and peaceful she is.

But just as she was violent, people never really came to her for any purposes other than official or professional reasons.

So imagine her surprise when Garen Crownguard of all people approached during her time with a practice dummy.

The poor life sized doll was already missing multiple limbs from the sheer strength of Valorant’s blows. The left arm was torn off, both legs were broken, and the other arm was barely hanging on to the main body. The cloth and wooden body was in tatters, a very concerning hole was in the part where Valorant ripped it out with a brutality only seen in the thickest of battles. A very dented and caved in mageseeker mask was tied on to the head, the mage’s fist still in the crater it made.

“Lady Val.” He greeted her, though his voice was even, she can tell how much of his self control is being tested right now. She sensed the conflict under all the layers of metal and walls he built himself over the years.

Valorant slowly turned her head to the Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard. The glass beads that made up her ‘hair’ clinked softly. Under her dual masks, there was a type of feral madness in her nonexistent eyes of her paper and glass body. The glass hand unfurled from a fist and into a claw, digging into the wooden head, and tearing it off with a sickening crack of wood followed by a shower of splinters.

Underneath all of that armor, she saw him flinch. She also saw everyone that decided to watch flinch as well.

“Sir Crownguard.” She replied indifferently, tossing the head to his feet. Rolling pitifully before it stopped at his toes. The glass hand crushing the mask into useless scraps of silver and gold. “What message do you bring?” She asked, tilting her head. Is this about last night? How she managed to smuggle in a claymore into her own debutante ball? Or is it how she absolutely demolished the wall with her first break in? She fixed it!

“There is no message.”

What?

“I came to…” He seemed reluctant to be here. “Take the Crown Prince’s place as your sparring partner today, as he is busy with matters of the state today.” He finished.

She sees Luxana in her peripherals. Hard not to. With all her light shining.

Ah. So Father is busy today? Well… let’s see how much she can get away with.

“Alright,” She chirped cheerfully, he recoiled, clearly not expecting her to sound so happy at this prospect. Then her voice gained an edge as she said: “I would like to challenge you in a phantom duel!”

Garen’s eyebrows furrowed. “Excuse me?” What in Runeterra did she mean?

Valorant kicked the dummy out of bounds, walking to the racks filled with the training swords. Taking a sword and a shield with her.

She started to etch runes into the sword, “A phantom duel is a duel where you aim to fatally harm or kill your opponent.”

Before anyone could protest, she continued. Finishing the runes of the first sword, the wood shifting into a thinner and lighter sword that looked more like an enlarged knife. No crossguard attached to it, only the handle connecting to the short end of a diamond shaped blade that was elongated on the other tip. “But the weapons are enchanted to leave no physical harm, only a lesser and phantom pain of the blows made.”

She moved on to her shield, “ Upon the fatal or killing blow, the weapon will shatter.”

She picked both of her chosen equipment up. She turned to Garen again. His hand is on his own sword. Unsurprising.

“Since you obviously don’t trust me in any capacity, I’ll allow you to use your own sword.” Turning her shield over to make sure the correct enchantments are on it.

Valorant leisurely walked over to her side of the first field, twirling her sword as she turned back. “A bit of warning,” she added, “I will change between weapons and fighting styles, so if you wish to, you can cheat.”

The Captain looked appalled at her, even suggesting he take an advantage in battle.

“This is a fight to kill, no rules of formal combat apply if you want to stay alive.” She reminds him. “So, if you want to avoid being clobbered, I suggest you take what you can.”

He looked reluctant to follow her into the field, but he did anyway.

Valorant rolled her shoulders in preparation, twirling her sword on more as Garen drew his own sword from his back.

She teleported to him the moment his sword was in both of his hands. If this were a real battle, she would have teleported earlier.

The clang of wood on metal rang out as he managed to block her first attack. Valorant grinned, knowing the cards she hid up her sleeves.

Garen pushed her back, charging towards her with a strike of his own; she responded with her shield raised to block it, prepping a lighting strike that would have run true if he didn’t parry it with his sword. Taking the opening, she started to push him back with slash after slash. He had no choice but to keep his guard up. She took a gamble and charged up her heavy attack, sweeping her sword in two wide arcs upwards. It collided with his sword, but the blow forced it away, letting her second attack strike true. The pure force of it sent him upwards. She teleported up and continued to take the opening with three successive slashes before she shoved her sword into the grain of the shield, the wood shifting to make a battle ax. In a single devastating arc, she slammed it down on him. Sending the both of them back down. A crater had formed from where she slammed him down. In two more spins, her ax fell with two more blows of blunt force on the Captain. Knowing full well of the phantom pain he is feeling. She jumped away, waiting for him to recover. It took a moment, but soon he was stumbling back on to his feet.

“Your turn~” She trilled in a sing-song voice. A madness coating it.

He spat out a wad of blood, wiping away the residue before charging back at her.

She parried every blow he threw at her. She even stood against his spinning attack! Worlds, she was a bit rusty. She hasn’t executed any perfect parries in a while. But her shield held. And it started to glow. Good, her Guard Impact is charged enough, and she has two techniques stacked. She just needs to switch.

Wood and metal clanged against each other once more, Val pushing Garen away by surrounding herself with an ice field. As the ground around her feet glowed slightly with frost blooming at each step, she proceeded to shift. Dark glass was revealed as her paper husk folded itself back, vanishing along with her wooden equipment as she ran towards the Crownguard once more. Now a black body of glass instead of pristine white paper.

This time, her dark claws and kicks struck steel. She followed up her attack with a barrage of seals made to sap away at strength. Then her glass whip, each painful strike added to the sapping effect. Soon after Garen struck back, this time, she didn’t even bother to whip out her shield. Opting to block every attack with her bare glass hands. Though, the cracks in her body would fracture even more with each clang.

Soon her hands were glowing, one orange and bright, the other dim and blue.

Almost. Just wait a little longer.

Just until…

She sees the magic gathering. She sees it growing.

Finally.

Drawing her hand of blue back as she watched Garen raise his sword to the sky, calling down Justice.

She scoffed as she watched the magic fall above her in the form of a fiery sword made out of a piece of Kayle’s magic.

How fucking, pathetic.

Time seemed to slow for her as she waited.

And waited.

There.

It started slow. Like how it always does. She just pushes the magic away, just a little. Then she lets her momentum from her body pass to the sword, letting it turn away from its course to the earth as she spun it around. Again and again.

Until the magic turned blue and healed her willingly, flooding her with so much magic. But she needs more. More and more. It’s never enough. Not like her Runes. She sighed as time seemed to catch up to what she had done. And changed up her counter strike.

As soon as her mind decided to break free of the timelessness, she immediately ricochet the blast of blue and black magic back at Garen–

Only to be blocked by Jarvan. Shattering the shield he picked up.

“Enough Val!”

She yelled at him with a hard edge to her voice, “This is between me and him! Stay out of it!” For how can Jarvan understand? How can he understand that the lies and violence she sows is the only way to make the blinded see?

Lunging at Garen again, ignoring the cries for her to stop, Valorant shoved her sword into the grain of her shield again, swinging her axe down on him. Both Captain and Prince dived out of the way.

“Duel’s not done yet,” She hissed.

“I’m not done yet.”

She launched herself back at them with the movements of an Eldritch Horror, adopting her Demon’s style of battle. Swinging her sword wildly at the both of them as the scream from her throat turned feral. A glass claw shot out to snatch at their weapons as Valorant manifested her paper arms, adding to her already terrifying appearance mimicking Fiddlesticks.

“Enough of this!” Jarvan bellowed against her screams. Raising Drakebane in retaliation. He threw it at her with all his might. She braced for it. There! When the spear collided with her shield, she knocked the spear into the air with it. Dropping the large buckler as she jumped up and caught the spear by its shaft. Throwing it back at Jarvan. Close enough to give a small cut in his side, but far enough that it did little to no damage to the Prince. She sees him frozen in shock at her counter. Afterall, he was one of the few that can actually use Drakebane. Valorant took this time to lunge at Garen one last time, screaming profanities in all of the languages she can think of. Manifesting her shield back into her hand, she pushed her left shoulder back and called down a crash of lightning on to the Captain. She sees him roll out of the way as she charges up another blast of lightning much to her growing temper. What she didn’t see is Shyvana and Jarvan tackling her from the behind. There was a brief surge of panic before the annoyance settled in. She’s gotten sloppy. A few hundred thousand years would do that to you if you were one of the few that existed in emptiness. With a growl, she briefly disappeared. Materializing back into the world after a moment. Jumping away, she retaliated with her whip, which was almost pulled out of her hands by Shyvana. The Dragon yanking it forcefully, Valorant holding on to it in a tug of war. It would have cut her if she was in her original body. For she never made a handle for her whip of glass and string. But it will never cut her. Not in this body. Valorant snarled as she used the momentum of Shyvana’s pull to close the distance between them, ricocheting to her. Narrowly dodging Garen's strike for her back, only a few glass beads from her ‘hair’ falling harmlessly to the ground. She returned her focus back to Shyvana, clawing at her, tearing a scale from her arm as the half-dragon grunted in pain.

A sudden collision of her face to something relatively flat forced her to back off when Jarvam struck her face with the flat of Drakebane’s blade. The paper mask was already in shreds as her metal one held through the force of the blow.

She stumbled back, absentmindedly bringing a hand to her face, a habit she made to feel human, before realizing that she felt no pain in this body of glass and paper. Dropping it back to her side as she stood back up straight, discarding her sword and shield.

“Enough of this!” Shyvana yelled, Valorant sees blood dripping as the fire in her hands grew.

“Enough of what, Shyvana?” Valorant whispered. “Of this spar?” She scoffed, “Of this oh so simple misunderstanding?” She spat out, raising her arms to gesture at everything, “Or of this fucking genocide this kingdom is doing? Commending?” “You know full well that isn’t what I’m talking about.” Shyvana snarled back at Valorant as Garen and Jarvan flanked her. Valorant only glanced at them, keeping note of where they were before turning back to Shyvana. “And you know full well that they’re gonna kill us both the moment they see we’re the monsters they think we are.”

Shyvana froze. Jarvan flinched. Valorant only leered behind her mask as she jumped away from the three of them. “What do you see before it’s all over?” She screamed, letting her voice change. The Runes in her chest echoing with the music not yet from this era. As she let an illusion slip. One of her Nightmare Realms. Where the sky was eternally red as everything was simply flooded with blood and charred with burns.

“Blinding flashes getting closer!”

Just as it was seen, it was contained. Hidden away in her memories.

“Sacrificing everything I knew.”

Looking up to the sky, she reached for something so far from this world, but so, so close to her. A Star.

“This could be the day I die for you.”

And the Star fell.

_____)(_____

The transformation was a spectacle, for Val called down a star. The light blinding all those who looked

And in Val’s place, was a dragon. The color of emeralds as she unfurled her wings from her face, a singular point on her skull remained unblinking. As if the star that fell, became her eye in this form. She was… also incomplete as well. The dragon was more like a skeleton held together by an invisible force, her ribcage for all to see, empty of anything worldly. Anything … real. Except for the five Runes beating like a heart in her chest. The same Runes she kept in her chest cavity. Her Heart.

Then she raised a claw, and reached for Jarvan. Black and white specks of shards blacking out everything he saw.

When Jarvan had awoken again, he was holding his own spear to his throat.

AY!

Valorant and her mimicking Worldless abilities... love her.

Also Summum jumpscare /jk

No but genuinely, I love your writing style and EVERYTHING about this.

#OCTAfan says stuff #OCTAfan answers #Long post #Tw swearing #Tw violence #Ask to tag

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sqarletsworldlesswandering · 5 months ago

Note

(SPOILERS FOR DNMSaB AU)