#but parting with a last ''first one there gets the glory kill >;)'' to lighten the mood

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

head so full with denerim final battle thoughts hhhhhh

[darkistmalfoyhead]

If You Touched Her

“Jet lag,” He repeated with horror. “Is that some kind of disease?”

Dear god. It took all of his self-control to not scream at that idiot.

“Lighten up, will you? She’s passed out on Ron’s couch, re-,”

The call was ended, the phone tossed across the living room. Draco Malfoy slowly slid down against the wall, cursing. Jet lag, he mouthed. Stupid Granger and her love of muggle travel.

He should’ve never let her on a plane in the first place, knowing very well everything that could go wrong. The fatality rates combined with Hermione’s accident-prone self was going to kill both of them. Draco was already worried enough about sending his girlfriend on a trip with two very single, very male friends. He’d only parted with her because he had been told she was staying with Harry. Yet that idiot couldn’t be trusted because now she was unconscious in her ex’s condo.

Running a hand through disheveled hair, he closed his eyes, jaw tense. He wanted to apparate over right this instant to the little gathering in Honolulu.

Possibly because every cell in his body was screaming for him to get Weasley the hell away from her. His hands became fists, blood pounding in his ears.

She was passed out on the bastard’s couch.

“Tch,”

As if he was going to leave her with ginger boy.

The phone was summoned, the butler informed that his cat would need to be fed while he was gone. The hallway mirror showed a stranger, one garbed in sweats and a green sweatshirt. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, his hair in a sad, mused state. He tried cocking an agonized smile before easing into a comfortable frown.

It was rather hard to be happy when the reason why you wake up in the morning is seventeen hours across the globe.

Ron Weasley spit out his cereal when Draco, in all his weekend glory, appeared in front of him. His face was tight with worry, him doing his best to ignore ginger completely. Yet he was filled with something else when he saw Hermione sprawled across the patterned couch. Draco let out a relieved sigh when he saw that she was alright. By the looks of it, she was sleeping.

He shook his head in fond annoyance, leaning his elbows on the back. Just ten minutes ago he’d been having nightmarish visions- her drugged, dying, kidnapped. His list went on and on.

Tentatively moving closer, Draco disregarded Ron’s flurry of motion behind him. He inhaled sharply. Her clothes.

She was only wearing a garish orange Chudley Cannons jersey. It was emblazoned with ‘WEASLEY’, 07 and it reeked of sweat and spice.

Forget blasted muggle ailments. Draco dropped his neck, hair falling over his face. His normally careful breathing became ragged, eyes filling with a deadly calm.

Hermione hated orange and loathed quidditch even more. Not only did she harbor resentment for the way it turned everyone into ‘cahooting hooligans’, she was fed up with constant arguments between houses at meals. After her little friends and his group fought constantly over which pitch she’d sit in, she’d stopped coming to games altogether.

The last signed Chudley Cannons jersey that Ron had sent ended up in the garbage.

What was being implied…It was impossible but this was the same man who forced her to wear her Yule Ball dress days after humiliating her at the dance, Hermione spinning a few times to gain his forgiveness after going with Krum. This was hours after the red-head had confessed his ‘undying love’.

Draco slowly turned around, lifting his head to study the bastard. He was offered a smile. Except it wasn’t one of warmth and pleasantries. It was cool, challenging. One that sang, I can play this game too.

But it wasn’t a game. At the end of eighth year, she had to choose. And she picked him.

If he laid his hands on her-

Everything was too warm, the fluorescent lights blinding in the dingy condo. He resisted the urge to pull of his sweatshirt, trembling in the wash of it all.

No one touched her, hurt her or forced her against her will. That was the oath he’d made after the night he’d watched her scream until her voice gave out.

Until she coughed up blood. And when she regained some semblance of speech, she begged like an animal to make the pain go away. The fiery, head-strong girl replaced with someone broken beyond comparison. Draco blinked rapidly, forcing away the suffocating memories. Stupid anger management classes. They were wholly ineffective because in a split second he strode forward, slamming Weasly against the fridge. Fistfuls of red fabric from his shoulders were bunched his hands, Ron frozen in shock.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” His expression became mixed with confusion and anger, milk sloshing on his shirt from his cereal bowl. Draco leaned forward, his mouth centimeters away from his ear.

“You have five seconds to explain what you did with her clothes,” He murmured, voice raw with fury, “Or I will destroy you in the most painful way possible,”

Weasley’s fist swung at his face, cheeks flushed.

And at that moment Hermione stirred.

[tigerseye46]

Following in His Father’s Footsteps (Evil Peaches Au)

Summary: Years ago the Zhu-Sun family attacked, lost in their grief. Sun Wukong faced of against his former sworn brother who led the heavenly army to apprehend him. With his magical axe, the Demon Bull King managed to seal the Monkey King under a mountain. The Demon Bull King then disappeared from the public eye, leaving his son and wife to live their lives. Princess Iron Fan and Red have reunited with the king, uncertain of rather to find him and reach out. Red might have to find his father rather he likes it or not.

Ao3 link

Jin started with, “The thing you need to understand about the legends, kid, is that the story is never finished. Heck, just look at me and Yin! People know only part of our story and centuries after that we’re still going!”

“Now… emerging from Flower Fruit Mountain after years of being protectors, Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie attacked. Heaven sent soldiers to apprehend them but none could stop them except… your dad! Using his axe, your dad managed to trap the Monkey King under a mountain. With that done, the Demon Bull King vanished, never to be seen again. Legend says his axe remains on top of the mountain, keeping our world from being destroyed. With the Monkey King sealed and Zhu Bajie in hiding, civilization was able to advance into the amazing world you see today.”

He placed a hand on Red’s back and guided him a few steps forward so he didn’t see Yin snag a bag of chips. “All thanks to the Demon Bull King,” he finished with his arm in the air.

Red narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I know. I know the story of how my father sealed the Monkey King.”

The gold demon ruffled his hair, Red growled in response and quickly waved him away. “Well, sometimes you could use a reminder. You’re too distracted by that gadget of yours.”

The younger looked at the object in his hands. “Well, it’s better than dealing with you idiots. You know mother will be mad when she catches you two.”

“And she is,” Princess Iron Fan hissed and ripped the bag away from Yin, attracting some attention from customers. “Don’t take things from my store! I’m not running a charity here, boys!”

The silver one replied, “Oh c’mon, Iron Fan! Lighten up! It’s not that big of a deal! Plus my brother was paying in wisdom!”

Iron Fan fumed, “WISDOM DOESN’T PAY FOR THIS PLACE!” She massaged her temples and turned towards her kid. “Sweetie, you’ve been slacking off all morning. Can you pick up the pace?”

“Actually, mom, I was about to take my break so…”

“Break? That’s all you've been doing. There is no break! I need you to go!”

She pushed her son out with a grocery bag. She heard a crinkle and spun around to face the two demons who had chips in their mouth. “BOYS,” she shouted and began her chase.

————

Red raised a brow as they fiddled with his invention, completely oblivious to their surroundings. The place they stumbled into was an abandoned construction site, planks of wood resting on the side, and rocks littered the area.

The demon paused when a noise reached their ears. “I’ve waited too long for this moment. Is everything ready?”

“Almost done, papa” came a response.

The demon gasped and hid behind some rocks. “Finally, after all these years, we finally have the method to lift the Demon Bull King’s axe” said the first voice.

Red peaked their head to see their father’s weapon, it shimmered in all its glory. “Father’s axe!” He hopped up onto some pipes to get a better vantage point. A purple bird squawked in surprise and gave a displeased look. Red paid them no mind.

He observed a pig demon in blue hanfu with golden cloud patterns and a crown, a monkey with a red bandanna, and a bunch of other monkeys crowded around the mountain. He clasped a hand over his mouth. It was the Monkey King’s husband, Zhu Bajie, and their son, Xiaotian.

“My love will finally return to me. Heaven has taken everythin’ from us but I’ll have him back the second we remove it. My handsome lǎogong…” Bajie paused when something caught his eye. A monkey climbed on top of the mountain and tried to pull on it when they received a bolt of electricity that sent them crashing against a wall.

Xiaotian pulled the other up. “Are you okay?” The other bobbed their head. “Good. And good job for trying but we already attempted that. It’s going to take more than that to get rid of that weapon. Only a few are capable of wielding it. But combined with my powers and the gauntlet I invented I should be able to free dad.”

“You’ve worked really hard. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, papa!” He presented the golden power glove and got on top of the mountain. He grasped the axe, purple and golden sparks flying as he struggled to pull it off. The weapon broke away from it. “I DID IT,” he yelled in an excited and ecstatic tone as he lifted the weapon in the air, receiving praises from his subjects.

When nothing happened Xiaotian turned back to his papa. “Why isn’t it working? Papa, are you sure this is the right place?”

“Well I don’t know of any other mountain with a magical axe trappin’ my husband,” he huffed.

The mountain rumbled and the group stepped back with Bajie placing a hand in front of his son’s chest to shield him if need be. Wukong emerged from the mountain, fur ragged, some of it torn, and soot covered his armor. Xiaotian beamed. “DAD!”

The Monkey King gazed at himself with reddish-orange eyes, a pleased chuckle slipping past. He dusted the soot off and proclaimed, “I’ve finally returned.”

Red stared at the scene. No… no way was the Monkey King free. He had no idea what to do, maybe out of sight. Yea, that’s it, if he stayed out of sight then he wouldn’t have to face the Monkey King directly and could alert people. His thought was interrupted by the bird pecking his hands. “Hey! Go away! I mean it!”

Bajie grinned at his love, taking hesitant steps forward, tears began to swell. “My lǎogong, I’ve missed you so much.”

Wukong stared at him with eyes blown wide and a gasp. “BAJIE!”

They ran towards each other and gripped the other tightly. The king examined his partner’s face, their foreheads pressed together. “You’re safe,” the king’s voice quivered. “Last I saw… oh, my Bajie, you’re safe.”

The pig nodded, he sniffled. “Yes, love, I’m safe. I missed you…”

“I missed you too. I missed you so much.” They kissed passionately before Wukong broke away and asked, “How did you manage to free me?”

“It wasn’t me, love. It was our son.”

He gestured to their child who stood there shyly, the axe placed aside. Wukong ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’m so proud of you, bud. You’ve grown so much.”

Xiaotian grinned and hugged his father. “Thanks, dad! I missed you. I tried really hard to find a way to free you!”

“And you did an excellent job!”

Xiaotian flapped his hands at his father’s praise. “Now, us, the Zhu-Sun family, can get our revenge!”

Red Son held in another gasp, this couldn’t be happening. The bird continued to peck at him and in an instant, Red fell and landed right on top of Xiaotian. “Uhhhh… someone ordered groceries.” He smiled sheepishly as he held up the plastic bag.

“HEY! GET OFF! You ruined a nice family moment,” the younger monkey growled and shoved the demon off of him.

Sun Wukong curled a brow. “If it isn’t Red Son, been a while. Seems you’ve fallen into our midst.” He sighed as if resigned to the situation. “It seems a waste to crush someone like you right off the bat but it will certainly hurt your father.” He smirked, disregarding their past battle and focusing on the present. “And that’s what I’m counting on.”

He was about to strike when his son interrupted with, “I’ll take care of it, dad. Don’t waste your energy. I want to show you how much I’ve grown!”

The king placed his arms behind his back and agreed, “Alright, my son. Do what you wish.”

Red tried to tiptoe away when Xiaotian bragged, “Now you’re very lucky, grocery boy. It’s not every day someone gets crushed by the Zhu-Sun family!” Red stared at the axe, something called to him. “Are you listening? I won’t let my family be disrespected!” He attempted to punch the demon but he blocked it… blocked it with the axe.

All hell broke loose.

————

Red panted as Yin and he landed on the ground. Yin snapped a picture and went “Wow! That was fun!”

“Yin!”

“What a workout. Almost like a game of tag!”

“It wasn’t a game of tag,” he snapped. “I kinda almost died back there.”

“You didn't, so you’re fine! We should do that more often. Maybe play at the arcade, I’m hyped! Should invite your friend too.”

“Actually he was trying to kill me.”

Yin’s face turned dark and he looked at Red with murder in his eyes. “Where does he live?”

He was about to respond when a shout of “Red! Where are you? You are in so much trouble!” Iron Fan stomped up to them. “Would you like to explain why someone gave a zero-star review regarding your grocery deliveries?”

“Well, mom, what happened with that is…”

“Congrats, Iron Fan! Zero stars are still good,” he joked.

“Quiet, Yin! Zero stars are terrible! You better explain… wait where did my son go?” She spun around as Red ran into the store.

“Sorry, mom!”

———-

Meanwhile, the Zhu-Sun family was underground planning their attack. Xiaotian adjusted the technological armor he had made for his father. “There you go, dad! That should do it!”

The ruler hummed on his throne, his fingers tucked under his chin. “Interesting. What is it supposed to do exactly?”

“Well, it needs to be powered up. It’s a combination of science and magic, meant to activate your powers when it absorbs enough energy which it can also create. The best source would be the Demon Bull King’s axe.”

“Tch. The axe you lost.”

Xiaotian shirked under that statement. “It wasn’t my fault! It was the Grocery Boy-”

Bajie walked over, pressing a kiss against his husband’s cheek, calming him down. The king squeezed his hand. “Don’t be too mad, my peach. We’ll get it back. I sent monkeys to search the city. They’ll find it.”

“Alright, if you say so, dear. Hopefully they find it fast. I didn’t mean to get mad at you, Xiaotian. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine! The furnace can also convert other things into energy.” He threw his welding mask in, it burst into flames. The Monkey King gripped the ends of the armrest as power shot through him.

Once he calmed down, he settled back in his throne and scrolled through the Internet to find something to strengthen his weakened powers. He stared at the screen with a smug expression. “Time to find something rare. Something to give us the power we deserve.”

————

Red glanced around the shop which thankfully contained no customers except Jin who was eating a bag of chips. “Hey, kid.”

“Jin! Remember how you were trying to distract me by telling me a story about my father?”

Jin swallowed his snack. “Yea?”

“And remember how it was specifically the story of how my father sealed the Monkey King? Well… something happened.”

“Red Son, we were not done talking, young man,” Iron Fan scolded.

“Hm? What is it?” The golden demon pondered.

“I found the mountain! The Monkey King is free! Dad’s axe has been removed! We need to find him! The world is going to be destroyed if-”

Jin pushed him back with an amused grin. “Jeez, did that story get to you? Calm down. Think you’re being delusional. The mountain is hidden and even if it wasn't, no one could just lift your dad’s weapon.”

“Delusional?!” Red’s hair burst into flames. “Is this delusional?” He revealed the axe.

Yin gasped in fake surprise. “Wow, Red. You found a stick.”

“NO! It’s father axe! Tell them, mother!”

The brothers cackled, his mom chuckled along nervously. Red stomped his foot. “Listen! We have to find him. I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

The weapon moved on its own and sliced the cashier counter, right near the golden demon. The three yelped and the golden one pounded his chest to prevent himself from choking on his chips. The second he recovered, he rasped out “Wow. You weren’t kidding. How do you have it?”

Iron Fan swallowed as she examined the weapon her husband once wielded. “That’s… that’s your father’s.” She waggled her head to snap herself out of it. “Okay. Where is the Monkey King now?”

“He’s at the shoe store,” Yin responded.

“What?!”

“I hope this is not one of those mindless prank videos you two always watch.”

“Oh there’s always time for a “mindless�� prank video, Princess, but no. Look at what's trending. Hashtag Monkey King!”

Yin showed them a video of the Monkey King and his son robbing the shoe store, taking the one-of-a-kind shoe to power Xiaotian’s invention. “We have to find dad,” Red whispered.

Iron Fan crossed her arms in contemplation. “He should be in the Sky Scraping Cave but it’s been so long. Who knows if he’s even there anymore?”

“We won’t know until we try.”

“Let’s get into the car. We can find everything out on the way.”

She pushed all of them into her car, it swerved as she sped. “SLOW DOWN, IRON FAN! YOU’RE GONNA KILL US,” Jin exclaimed as he held onto the seats for dear life.

“Yea, mother, we have to get to Accumulated Thunder Mountain without getting into an accident. How do we get there?”

The silver brother announced, “The Monkey King is destroying that one mechanic part store.”

“More reason to stop him. How do we get there?” He repeated.

The golden brother shrugged. “Hm… I’m not sure. Might as well turn back.”

“What?!”

The woman shushed them. “There’s someone who can take us there. Maybe we won’t even need someone to take us there… I hope,” she muttered. “There’s a fearsome, deadly warrior on par with the Monkey King himself.” She stopped in front of a boat. The boys shivered as the door creaked open. “Liu'er mihou.”

Liu’er was not what they expected, quite the opposite of what Red’s mother described. He was a gentle human, not some fearsome warrior. “That’s a lot to process. Do you know what I do to people like that? Put on plays and music for them!” He played music on an old record player and hummed along. He placed some drinks on the table.

“You’re right, Iron Fan. He’s so deadly, heck, he might kill us with cuteness,” Yin snarked and placed a rabbit on her lap.

“Sorry, I don’t have a lot to offer but these drinks are good for stress.”

Iron Fan growled, “Liu’er, what happened to you? What happened to the vile, angry, revenge-seeking friend I used to know?”

“Well, my therapist said that years of being angry weren't doing much good so I started finding healthier outlets to manage my emotions. Music does wonders and having a bunch of therapy rabbits helped. Isn’t that right, Huìlián?” A black rabbit with red spots nuzzled him.

The princess’s eye twitched. “Whatever, never mind that. Can you help us defeat the Monkey King?”

He trembled at the suggestion of fighting the king. “Sorry, Iron Fan but I’m retired. I don’t think I can help you beat him.”

She massaged her forehead. “Aren’t we all? Okay, that’s fine.”

Red requested, “Either way, can you please take us to my dad’s mountain?”

“Of course.”

“Really?”

“Yea, anything for Iron Fan. It won’t be easy but we can certainly do it.”

The boys cheered and Liu’er continued, “Alright, time to start this up. Just to tell you again, Princess. I’m different now, I don’t go around seeking revenge or picking fights anymore.” She bobbed her head in understanding, displeased at the possibility she might have to reunite with her husband after such a long time. “Now, launch sequence, Huìlián!”

“Wait, what?”

The rabbit pushed a button and the boat launched off.

——

Red groaned as he woke up, his vision spun until he managed to blink it away. Zhu Bajie had attacked them on their way to the cave. He snatched the axe from Red’s hands and sent him flying, thankfully he managed to land on his father’s mountain.

He hoisted himself up and marched forward to find his father. He rehearsed in his head what he would say to his father about losing his once prized weapon and how happy he was to see him again.

He entered the cave and spotted a mural of his family. It flashed and the pictures began moving, showing things like his father’s friendship with the Monkey King, his parents’ wedding, him as a baby, the fight between him and the monkey, then the bull’s arrest and his reform.

During that, Red caught a glimpse of his father smiling at him before running off. “Father!”

The demon chased after him, he searched around. A bug landed on his arm. “Hello” the bug greeted and the younger waved it off. The insect floated to the ground, “It is me, my son, the Demon B-”

And Red squashed him with their foot. “Die, stupid bug!”

The insect flashed purple, shifting to various forms, it finally changed to reveal the Demon Bull King in all his glory. “Father?”

“Yes, my son, it is me. So, where’s my axe?”

His child bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I tried but Zhu Bajie managed to take it.”

The bull chuckled as if his son hadn’t dropped something so significant on him. “I know. I’ve been watching.”

Something clicked. “That was you? Father, what the fuck?!”

The bull chuckled again. “You’re perfect for the job, my son.”

“Job? What job?”

“The job of becoming my successor.”

“What? Me? Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’ve fought Sun Wukong before and you were fine. You can face him again.”

“But… but that was years ago! I’m not sure if I can do it again!”

Placing a hand on his child’s shoulder, he said, “Yes, you can. You’re my son.”

“That isn’t enough of a reason! What about the Monkey King?”

“What about him? You can defeat him.” Red huffed. “You’re strong, you just have to believe in yourself.” DBK straightened his posture. “The axe was taken from you, you can take it back!”

Red shot his father a determined look. “Alright!” He was about to jet off when he stopped and asked, “Are you sure I can do this? Are you sure you wouldn’t be better? Don’t… don’t you want to see mother?”

DBK clenched his fists and looked away. “I’m not ready to see her and you… you would be a better candidate.”

“Alright, father. Whatever you say.”

Then ran off without another word.

——

Red screeched as he crashed into Xiaotian with his transportation. The Monkey King rampaged in his three-headed, three-armed form. “Oh, my sweet baby boy! You’re alive,” Iron Fan cried.

Yin said, “We saw you blast off. We thought you died. Guess that was kinda stupid thinking.”

“You think?”

“Heh, wait, where’s the Demon Bull King? Did you find him?”

“I did.”

Iron Fan asked, “Where is he?”

“He said it’s up to me, to all of us.”

“Well, that’s anticlimactic.”

“How are we meant to fight him?” Jin pondered.

“We have to believe in ourselves. Clean up the streets and I’ll fight him as best I can.”

“Alright, Red. Be safe!”

“I’ll try.” He approached the king, taking deep breaths.

Sun Wukong hissed at him. “If it isn't Red Son, back for more.” The monkey attempted to hit him with Red using their fire to block every attack. He focused on the furnace, that was clearly where the axe was.

Without hesitation, Red leaped into it. Wukong roared with laughter at the other’s stupidity. “I’ve won.” He clawed at his chest, feeling a sharp sting and his powers waning. The red-haired demon emerged with the axe. “You! How did you?!” Wukong lunged at him, throwing hits left and right.

Red grinned and taunted him, “Sorry! Missed me! Try again!”

They pushed him down with the axe then grabbed a nearby building. He was about to trap him with it when the Monkey King yelled, “Not this again! Not a third time!” He launched him back into a building, the windows shattered under the sudden impact. “You thought you could beat me a second time, huh? I am Sun Wukong! I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven! I will not let you take this victory! You might have his axe but you are not the Demon Bull King.

“You’re right, I’m not. I’m Red Son!” He plunged the axe to the ground and it created a mech resembling a bull. He marveled at it. “I didn’t know it could do this.”

With the mech, he made quick work of the Monkey King who went back to his normal form.

“How… how did you manage…?”

“By believing in myself and this mech!”

Xiaotian screeched, “Hey! Get out of that mech and fight!”

Red scoffed and was about to pick him up when a gust of wind prevented him from doing so. Zhu Bajie landed on the scene, his rake swung down. He took his husband’s hand, his blue eyes glowed. “We know when we’ve lost but we’ll return.” The pig laughed menacingly and disappeared with his family.

“Come back here, cowards! You can’t leave when I was about to win!”

He exited the mech to receive hugs from the brothers, he tried to push them away before relenting with a sigh. The silver one congratulated him, “Good job, kid! You won! You kicked the Monkey King’s butt again!”

“It’s not every day someone beats him twice.” The golden one threaded fingers through the youngest’s hair. “And it took all of us!”

“I must admit I couldn’t have done it on my own.”

Liu’er hugged the three. “Well, that’s exactly what you did.”

“You’re like the second bull king now.”

“We gotta come up with a cool title for you!”

Iron Fan cupped his cheeks. “Oh, my sweet child, I couldn’t be prouder.”

“Thanks, mother.”

Liu’er asked, “What’s next?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Fight more villains!”

“Or we could eat. I’m hungry.”

“That works too.”

The group laughed as they ate. The Demon Bull King watched the interaction with hunched shoulders. He mustered up a smile then flew off.

A new legacy has begun.

[infinitegalahad]

Uhmmm hey I hope you had a nice day! I saw the reqs are open so I was wondering if you'd write yandere prompt 19 with Speirs? 🥺👉👈

TYRANT FOR A WAR PIG

Summary: When Speirs had made a promise to you he'd do anything for you; he not only meant it, but proved it-with blood on his hands. Prompt: "Killing for you is my favorite hobby."

Word-Count: 5.4k

Warnings: PLEASE READ! Sexual assault (not done by Speirs; but the rest is), blood, guns, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, stalker like behavior, violence, forced-ish marriage, oh and some suggestive parts (with consent bc consent is sexy) BUT this is VERY DARK. BE WARNED. 

Notes: Hello anon-I had an okay day! I got a little carried away with this prompt. You asked for crazy and here is our murder daddy-with a tint of angst *knocks over the whole bottle*. Anyways, this was beyond fun to write. Now it's time to write my modern euro paper and drool about everybody's favorite war criminal. Enjoy! ❣️

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne

Masterlist | Send A Prompt!

With the sounds of muffled, pained grunts and the gurgling of blood in the room right next to year, you were finding it hard to focus on the ongoing game of Go Fish. You slugged in the uncomfortable chair as you looked down at your legs-your once neat red dress covered in dirt and all ruffled all, your neatly done makeup all smeared with a red mark on your cheek, and your thighs turning yellow-new bruises beginning to form.

Whenever you’d heard a noise, you’d shut your eyes and flinch. Right in there was not only your assaulter but a killer. He was a drunk replacement and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whoever this drunk replacement was, he had one thing on his mind-you. He held your arms down as you kicked and screamed, attempting to rip your dress open. You kicked, fought, spit, and did whatever you could to get the fiend off of you. He responded back and left you with purple and red marks all over your body and face. Chuck had been driving by and attempted to break the situation up, but was met with a shot to the head. You didn’t remember much of the events after that besides the screams and blood.

Talbert threw his cards down in frustration and buried his hands in his face. Luz, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, held back a frustrated sigh.

You looked up, and you could see Luz's face of frustration rotate into pity. There was a small cut right under your eye. The blood was dry, and you didn’t even care to wipe it.

“Come on, let’s just play cards. That sound good?” Luz bargained, holding up the cards. He was desperately trying to lighten up the mood and distract the two of you, a man who might lose his best friend and a woman who was sexually assaulted, away from the commotion in the other room.

Talbert was being stubborn and stood up to catch a breather. Luz let him go and turned his gaze back to you. You had a poker face on-a minute away from bursting into tears. Your arms were shaky and your eyes warm and watery as you grasped onto the ends of your torn dress at the commotion coming from the other room. It played out in your head-easy company, surrounding your bloodied and beat abuser, taunting him.

“Y/n,” Luz gently called. He stood right behind you, holding out a cigarette back.

You looked up and wiped your eyes. “M’fine.”

“Yeah, and I’m back in Rhode Island,” Luz held out a hand, “There’s a bedroom upstairs. I’ll make sure you are as snug as a bug.”

You accepted Luz’s kind offer and took his hand. He helped you up and led you up the dark stairs to one of the bedrooms. It was a small quarter with a floral wall print, pristine sheets, and slanted walls.

“There’s a shower and some fresh clothes. I mean, if you wanna be a paratrooper at least.” Luz stated, adding some of his humor. You faked a subtle smile and thanked him before he headed out, leaving the door creaked open.

Tears began to stream down your eyes. You fell back and buried your face into a pillow. You felt disgusted with yourself. You felt dirty, untouched, a total whore. It wasn’t your fault-but that didn’t mean you still couldn’t carry the guilt on your shoulders. As much as you fought back, you still came out traumatized, scared, alone. The screams, the blood, it was all too much. You just wished it would go all just go away.

As you found yourself unable to shed more tears, the loud sound of a door slamming open caught your attention with booming footsteps. You slowly rose from the pillow and rubbed your eyes, hopping off of the bed to peek through the crack. Talbert and Floyd before stood up to walk over to the incoming figure-Ronald Speirs.

Your heart dropped as your nails dug into the door. The infamous captain who gave out free cigarettes as a “last meal” to German POWs, the infamous captain who ran through Foy like the madman he was, the infamous captain nicknamed “sparky” and “killer, the infamous captain who was nice to nobody-except you.

You were terrified of him; yet intrigued. He certainly wasn’t afraid of the enemy and didn’t mind shooting at them. It seemed that nothing scared him, and everybody accepted that. He was a killer, and you were simply a soldier who hated seeing blood. And yet, somehow in the grand scheme of things-Sparky had an obsession with you.

The two of you were so different and yet he followed you around like a lost puppy. Maybe it was because you were the only woman and he felt obliged to look after you, but you never knew and simply played along in fear of becoming like a German POW. You were assigned to follow him around. You got used to him and noticed how he was a magpie and psychopath. He showed you kindness and wasn’t as harsh to you as other members of easy company, and was insanely attractive, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. Over time, you found it less scary to take a cigarette from him or be close to him.

You saw Speirs walk in with a blank face, but anger burning in his eyes.

“Where is he?”

Talbert stood up and walked towards him, “How’s Chuck?”

“I said-Where is he.” Speirs reiterated, sounding more annoyed.

“How is he doing?”

“Where is he!” Speris boomed as he shoved past Talbert and into the room. His scream made you jump, goosebumps appearing fresh over your body.

You were too far to hear the conversation, but you could hear Speirs’s low voice and the drunken replacement choking on his own blood. Once things had died down, your shoulders had loosened as you let out a sigh.

A gunshot rang through the room, causing you to jolt upwards. The sounds of a body thumping to the ground came from downstairs-and you knew what room it was coming from. Your heart sunk into your stomach as you came to realize what had just occurred.

The first night in Austria had sparked again in your mind. You and Speirs both sat on the Balcony, overlooking the beautiful Austrian lake and mountains that shimmered in the moonlight. There was a peaceful silence between you as Speris stood right next to you; dangerously close with his arm and legs breezing against your own arms and thighs. He made you look at him and he made a promise to you at the time that baffled you completely-but now had made sense.

“I would do anything for you,” He confidently stated, resting his hands on your shoulders. His thumb caressed the bare skin and went lower onto your back.

You raised an eyebrow at the sudden remark. Speirs’s dark eyes were burning into your soul. Feeling obliged you respond, you spat on what was on your mind.

“What do you mean?” Your voice shakes, along with your body. Was this it? What had you done wrong? It was better to accept that you were dead now.

Speris tightened his grasp onto you and pulled you close, “I would. I want you to know that, y/n. Understand?” He gently growled. Your bodies were close-and tight. You gulped and nodded your head. Once he loosened, you wiggled out of his arms and headed back into the ballroom with the rest of the drunken Easy company. You looked back once to see Speris standing there, a shadow covering half of his face as he looked at you-his features soft with an obsessed look in his eyes-like the way a hunter looks at its prey.

When Speirs had made a promise to you that he’d do anything for you-he not only meant it but proved it-with blood on his hands.

You could hear a silence followed by Speirs, asking Luz or Talbert where you were. With goosebumps overtaking your body, you stood up and backed towards the bed, gently sitting on it as you looked down at your shaking, bruised legs.

Oh, God-whatever mess you were in, you were certainly going to be stuck in it-especially with Ronald Speirs, who lived up to his childish nickname of “The Killer.”

The door slammed up and you jerked your head up to see “The Killer” in all of his glory. His hair had been ruffled and messed into its gorgeous glory, his shirt was two buttons loose and showed off the dark hair on his chest- His sheer appearance sent goosebumps all over your body. Once he entered the form, his gaze averted tight to you-unable to move with a fixed gaze.

“You’re here,” He said with a sigh of relief. Turning to close the door, he began to talk. “I was worried about you.”

You didn’t respond. Once the door clicked close, he threw his cap and gun to the bedside and sat right next to you. His fingers tenderly titled your head in his direction. You didn’t want to look at Speirs-and simply see what wrong he had done. You knew he was insane, but this-it was another step, especially since it was a personal matter. You attempted to yank your head away, but his grasp became firm.

Speirs’s thumb’s caressed the side of your cheek. “You’re hurt,” Speirs acknowledged. He seemed disappointed-you were left in a room all by yourself with no ice, bandages, nothing. He scooted closer to you, “Y/n. Answer me.” He pulled you closer to him, his voice in a low and dark growl. You grabbed his grist and shoved him off as you nearly fell off the bed, but caught yourself, and backed up against the wall.

“You killed him. Put a gun to his head and shot him-” You spat as bits of saliva came from your mouth. Your finger touched your chin to reveal a warm, red liquid. Looking down at Speirs’s hands, they were covered in them. It only made you feel more enraged than you already were. “-Murdered him in cold blood. You monster. How could you do that? Just shoot them and...” You buried your face in your hands as a sob escaped your mouth. It felt like someone was standing on your chest; the pain, the guilt, everything- it was unbearable.

Speirs knew that if he wanted, he could have held you down. But he didn’t want to do that, especially to you, his guardian angel. You had already been hurt tonight, and he didn’t want to add onto that by accidentally bruising you. He was well aware of his infamous reputation and power over others-everybody was scared of him, all accept you.

The two of you were opposites; one was a war criminal, the other someone who felt guilty for killing even if it was justified. You made Speirs believe that there was an ounce of good left in his world. You were the most beautiful woman Speirs that laid eyes on; your pretty pink lips, your soft (y/s/c) skin, your flowery scent, your long and soft locks, you must have been a fallen angel, lost in a wicked war. He was obsessed with you, and it became harder to hide his obsession with you-especially in Austria. He stole jewelry, expensive dresses, perfumes-anything to make you smile. Seeing your face brighten at the gifts made Speirs’s lip’s uncomfortable as a smile would form on his lips-which was uncommon. You were always beautiful, but in Austria-you were truly no longer an angel in disguise. You had blossomed and spread your wings.

Speirs rose from the bed and looked perplexed; like a lost puppy. He was saddened by your sudden jerk away, seeing the raw emotion and hypersensitivity that you displayed. Furrowing his eyebrows, he titled his head.

“Do you think a man like him deserved to walk around? Do you know what else he could have done, y/n? Would you want to see more dead soldiers and battered women?” Speirs coldly denounced, “Just another useless body of oxygen. And as for a monster,” He took slow steps for you, a low growl, “I’m no monster compared to him. Be careful with your words. Do I make myself clear?”

Like a stubborn and misconceiving child, you looked away and squinted your eyes, holding back your forming tears. Speirs was insane, but he had a point-the replacement had to be stopped, but it meant taking a human life. The blood was all over Speirs’s hands, and he had no issue with it. You, even though you had been hurt, did. And it frustrated you.

Speirs walked right up to you and slammed his fist into the wall. You jumped away at the loud noise and he exploded at you. “Do I make myself clear, damint!” He bared teeth, his face flushed red. You could feel his heavy breaths right on you, just a foot away. Fidgeting and sweating, you were scared. You backed away into another wall, your hair falling in front of your face. Your legs were shaking as you tried to hold something for comfort. But once you couldn;t find them, the tears had finally overcome. Big tears ran down your cheeks as you let out a sob, falling down as you buried your face in your hands. Your world was finally dark-and all you wanted to be was ok and not scared, confused, alone-all those horrible feelings that you were currently stuck with.

Speirs saw that his fit wasn’t helping the situation. He saw that you were hurting, and he wanted to pull out a wand and make it all disappear, he wanted to see you smile again, but he didn’t know how to do that and it made him not only mad at the world but himself. It broke his stone-cold here to see you on the floor, sobbing your eyes out, a complete mess.

Speirs walked over and bent down your level. You hadn’t even noticed, lost in your loud sobs. He gently put his arms around you and brought you close to his chest. You had looked up from your darkness to see Ronald with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Instead of pushing him away and calling him a monster, you fell right into the monster’s grasp. The beauty falling for the beast. Falling in his chest, Speirs gently sighed as he secured you in his protective grasp, letting you sob into his chest as he stroked your [y/h/c] [y/h/t], comforting you.

Speirs's grasp was comforting to you. Unlike the replacement, his touch was loving and kind, not forced and harsh. He kissed your hair and stroked it, whispering soft reassuring words as you cried into his chest.

“Shhh,” He cooed into your hair, his fingers getting entangled in your long, silky locks. “You’re here with me, Mo ghràdh. I promise you that nobody will ever hurt you again-ever.”

Once your tears had faded, you leaned in his chest and looked up at him. A faint smile appeared on his cheeks as he caressed your cheek, his other hands playing with your hair, which smelt of the flowery perfume that he had stolen for you. The aroma drove him madder than he already was.

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” He stated as he wiped away spare tears. You tried to look down in embarrassment, but he held your chin. “You truly are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Too kind and good for this world.”

“Thank you…” That is all you could mutter. You felt comforted and secure in Speirs’s hug. “I’m not innocent.”

Speirs bite a smile back, “You say that, but you are. This world is a terrible place, and they don’t deserve an angel like you. Too good, too kind, too pretty for this war.” His words were becoming possessive as he grabbed your head and held it to his shoulder, his fingers once again stroking your hair until it reached the middle of your lower back. “Have you heard of Hades and Persephone?”

You were confused at the analogy but nodded. “Hades, the lord of the underworld and Persephone is his wife, no?”

“Yes. Hades was alone in the underworld and saw Persephone on the surface, picking flowers. He was so in love with her that he took her down to the underworld. She was unhappy at first but grew to love him. She made him a better person,” Speirs told as he averted his gaze down to you. Once you realized the analogy, you felt your heart drop. Speirs had an interest in history and would blurt it out when he pleased. But now that it had affected you, and you didn’t know how to take it.

“Ron…” You said, speechless. Was this his confession?

“Y/n, my pretty little angel, I love you,” Speirs confessed with his pupils enlarged and cheeks red, his hand resting on your lower back as he pulled you close to his face, “From the first day I saw you, I knew I was in love. You’re too good for me, but just like I said, Persephone made Hades a better person.”  His hand ran down your neck and noticed a fresh bruise, placing a kiss right onto it. “Isn’t it obvious?” His nose buried into your soft skin, “You smell nice. You’re wearing the perfume I gave you.”

“...you left that there?” You questioned. The dresses, the jewelry, everything had been left for you in your room-it was all from him?

“Of course, angel.” Speirs planted a kiss on your neck, “Remember the promise I had made to you?” He left a trail of kisses on his neck, leaving marks all over your pretty neck to make sure the world knew that you were his angel.

“Anything…” You held back a moan as he dug hands into his messy hair. His hands wrapped around your waist as they picked you up, taking you to the loveseat. He placed you down as he leaned on top of you, passionately kissing you. He loved to see you so flustered and red, caught in his grasp.

You looked down at him with your red face and stuttered, “That man…the one who hurt me...you…”

“Killing for you is my favorite hobby,” He stated with pride, “And I’d do it again for you, until the end of time. Nobody hurts you, ever.”

Your eyes widened with horror as your hands fell down into your lap. Speirs had shot him, for you. It was his way of expressing his sick and twisted obsession, or his “love” for you. He grabbed your hands and held them close to his chest.

“Say it,” He demanded.

“Say what?”

“Say you love me.”

You shook your head as Speirs’s face became dark once again. The kind and loving Speirs was forming into the possessive and aggressive one that had killed for you.

“Fine. You need time, I understand,” Speirs sighed and stood up, leaving on alone on the loveseat. Running a hand through his messy hair, he grabbed his hat and threw it back on. “You are to stay in this room and not leave for any reason”.

You rose through the chair, baffled. “What?”

“You heard me the first time. You will not leave this room under any circumstance.” He reiterated.

You shook your head and walked right past him, “You’re not my mother.”

Speirs grabbed your wrist and twisted you around to face him, a hand on your lower back.

“But you are mine. You listen to me, angel.”

Just as you were about to break away, a faked cough interrupted your intimate session. Both of you turned to see Eugene Roe, the quiet medic, standing at the doorway with widened eyes. He had seen most of everything that had occurred.

Speirs looked at him with annoyance, “Yes?”

Eugene looked at you with his big sad eyes before turning to Speirs, clearing this throat. “ We think ‘there's a docta’ in ‘da town ‘overah that can ‘help Grant. Rather go sooner 'than later.”

Speris sighs and nods. “Fair,” He let go of your hands and began to walk towards the door to leave, only to see Eugene look over at you. Eugene witnessed something he was not supposed to see occur, and now he was worried for you. You looked back at him, your eyes pleading for him to go, but he stood there and looked at you.

Speirs had noticed the strange behavior and tapped Eugene on the shoulder as he looked back at you. “Eugene, did you see y/n when she first arrived?”

Eugene looked over at Speris with a glance and nodded, “Yesir’. Why ask?”

“Because from the looks of it, she’s got cuts and bruises all over her body, and yet she doesn’t have a single bandage or ice pack.” Speris noticed with a disappointed look. “What do you have to say to that?”

“Sir, I had no idea-“ Eugene put his hands up, “I was dealing’ with a dying’ man while you were guilt tripping’ ‘day poor ‘girl ‘inta ‘luvin yah.”

Speirs towered over Eugene and was about to bark at him, but you interviend.

“Please, just go save Chuck’s life. That’s all I ask you to do,” You pleased with the men, “Ron, do it for me. Please..” Eugene looked at you as his eyes screamed for you to say no, but you exhaled and looked at him. “I love you…”

Speirs didn’t hesitate and pulled your head into his, leaving a quick peck on your forehead. “Oh, Angel...don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, you take care of yourself. Okay?”

You nodded and watched Eugene and Speirs leave the room. Eugene looked back, but Speirs grabbed his shoulders and forced him to walk on. You closed the room and leaned against it, letting out a sigh as you buried your hands on your face, wiping your red eyes.

You should have known this whole time that Speirs was in love with you-it was as clear as day. The gifts, the looks, everything-it was all for you. Now you were trapped in his gaze, unable to leave it. He had left marks all over your neck just to mark you as his and only his. The outfit you wore and the perfume were especially from him. He truly was in love with you, and you had claimed you were as well.

You wanted to love Speirs since he comforted you in your worst moments, but he was obsessed with you and would do anything to have you as only his.

But it didn’t matter. Just like Persephone had eaten the pomegranate seeds to tie herself to Hades, you had said those three fatal words that tied you to Speirs. There was no escaping or leaving. You were Speirs’s guardian angel, bound to him. His and his only.

———

May 8th not only marked Victory in Europe, but it was also the date that Speirs had proposed to you in front of the company. You accepted, even though you hesitated to do so. In the crowd of drunken men, your eyes met with Roe’s worried ones. What you had wished was a rumor about Speirs shooting the drunk replacement wasn’t true-but it all was. The man refused to talk in front of you since you were his fiance, but that didn’t mean that their whispers weren’t loud enough for you to hear.

Speirs saw no time to wait to get back to the states and wanted to get married right in Austria. You simply stood there and smiled, just following along. The two of you had gone from technician to lientaunt, friends, lovers, and eventually, fiances in the span of five years, and yet even though he was your betrothed-you were still scared of him. You knew he’d never hurt you, but to think of the blood that stained his hands-all of the lives he took regardless if they were good or bad-it always made you think what he was capable of.

But you could tell that Speirs knew about the rumors and the fear he spread around. He could’ve been serious or could've done conversation actions simply for shock factor. With you, he wanted to spend every second with you, whether that be stealing new jewelry for you or drinking your days away in the Austrian sun. With you slung in his lap, he’d talk to you about the life he had planned for the two of you; a nice house in Massachusetts, a dog or two, maybe children, and some travel to Europe.

Sure, he knew that he was moving fast in your sudden relationship, but Speirs loved you more than anything in the world, and he made it clear. You truly did love him, but you found it hard too since he was a killer. He had no issue with violence and death. Maybe the war had made him numb, but down the road, it would affect him down the line-and so with you. How would you tell your family that your future husband was not only possessive of you and kept you always by his side, but that he was a war criminal? A killer-and prideful.

Your wedding was intimate and set by the lake. Everyone was dressed in their new uniforms, showered, and looking cut. You wore a white dress that had “magically” appeared in your bedroom-you knew it was Ron, but you chose not to ruin the surprise. He would, in his words, “borrow” outfits and bring them to you along with matching jewelry, shoes, and whatever accessory he could find for you. He refused to let you deny it and you simply wore the outfits.

Just like he had promised you a thousand nights ago, in his speech as he held your hands under the moonlight, he promised that he would do anything for you. Blood flashed upon your eyes and it made you look away. Once he had said his vows, it was your turn. Looking down, you could feel a sweat overcome you. In the busy crowd, Roe’s eyes met with yours. He always looked down, and became good at hiding it, but his eyes screamed “it’s not too late”. Ron squeezed your hands, impatient for those simple words that would bind you and him until your dying days.

You were conflicted-you loved Ron, yet you were scared of him. What he was capable of doing and his obsessive love for you.

Letting out a sigh, you looked up at Ron and put on a smile to shield the nerves that ran down your body. “I do.”

And it was settled-you were a married woman. Ron pulled you close and placed a kiss on your lips, tender, but his tongue fought for entry. The company simply clapped and cheered for you. The two of you walked down the aisle, hand in hand to the reception.

Once the crowd had passed you, it was just Ronald and you, in the dark hallway. You looked to the side, thinking about your decision. Was it right, or were you walking into a death trap?

“Y/n,” Speirs said your name in a sweet voice. You looked over and put on a smile not to worry him. He took a minute to examine your features, the makeup you had put on, and the jewelry that he had stolen-just for you-his wife.

“Is Doc bothering you at all?” He questioned as he slowed down his walking to a full halt. “He kept looking at you.”

You felt your heart drop a little as you let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. He’s just a friend.”

Speirs looked annoyed with a dark look in his eyes, “He should keep his nose out of our business.”

“Ron,” You insisted. The last thing the two of you needed was another person missing or dead and more rumors to follow along. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Then stay away from him. He’s bad news.” Ron stated, his arm pulling you close to his shoulder. Your eyes widened as you bit your lip. Eugene had done nothing wrong and was a case of the wrong place, the wrong time. He had tried to talk to you, but you distanced yourself. It was for his safety, not yours. Holding back a sigh, you looked at your husband and nodded.

“I will.” You lowly promised.

Ron’s gloomy expression twisted into a smile as he patted your head, placing a kiss on your forehead. “That’s a good girl,” His hand stroked the top of your head as he looked down at you in admiration, “I don’t mean to be so harsh-you know I’m just looking out for you.”

You fought the urge to use his logic against him, but you bite your tongue to loosen the tension. “I know you are, and I appreciate you making me feel safe. Thank you, love.” You caressed your knuckles against his sharp cheekbone. “Can we move past this now and celebrate?”

With no words spoken, you and Ron headed to the balcony to celebrate with your friends. It was full of alcohol and food. You and the company sat at a long table and drank, sang, and cried your hearts out. Ron and you had decided to leave early and headed back to your room. You wished you had stayed behind and had said hello to your friends, but Ron had dragged you out. He wanted the ceremony to be as small as possible, and it was time for you and him to have alone time. Ron was well aware of the situation that had happened recently. Seeing you walk down the aisle, all cleaned up and pretty for him, made him go mad. He made sure to be gentle with you, asking every minute if whatever he was doing was ok. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying the experience. It was hard to be gentle with you, but he wanted to learn how to.

Your clothes had been thrown all over the floor along with the sheets. You laid near the headboard as Speirs held your hips, gently thrusting into you. Your moans and cries of his name and “Liteuant” made his cock throb. Despite everything he had done, in that moment, you loved him.

Blast, you were stunning, even in the dim lights of their bedchambers. Sweat glistened on your smooth skin, and your already-growing breasts that he had paid great attention to were still reddened, rising and falling with each heavy breath. Her hair was spread out in curls on the pillow, and your smile could warm a thousand worlds. And inside her lay would lay life that Ron would help create.

Ron didn’t balk down from his feelings. This was y/n, his wife. And in this moment, despite the confusion and fear, he was glad to be with her.

“Then they would be jealous,” he told her, thrusting back and forth. “Jealous that I have you while others cannot, jealous that we created something special that they could only ever dream about. Y/n, I love you. I love our baby. I love our family.”

Suddenly, you let out a little grunt, and Ron felt that tiny jolt in her.

In reality, you had froze. He had climaxed in your and fell down right next to you, pulling you into a sloppy and wet kiss as you held onto your hair, your nails digging in. He was jealous and passionate for you and only you. Ron wanted to make the world know that you were his wife by all means, which meant hovering over you like an overprotective mother with their child.

You were a free sprint who was known for your independence and stubbornness. That part of you wanted to rebel against Speirs’s tight grasp of you.

And yet, you had already chosen your fate. You were in love with a tyrant, a criminal, a killer. You had made a promise to him that you could no longer look back on and change, and Ron knew that. He wanted to keep you, his little wife, at his side at all costs.

[robininthelabyrinth]

How will nmy react to a memory loss jgy how think himself a nie scet member ?

There were murmurs around him when he first started waking up.

“– last few times – appears he thinks that –”

“– need to avoid any disturbances –”

“ - perhaps pretend -”

“Absolutely not.”

That last one was Sect Leader Nie.

His voice was loud and piercing as always, a general accustomed to needing to make himself heard over the din of battle and never quite having adjusted to situations where it wasn’t needed, and Meng Yao found himself relaxing a little bit just at the sheer familiarity of it. Nie Mingjue was as reliable as the sunrise: once you were one of his people, he’d defend you to the death.

If he was here, Meng Yao was safe.

He went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, the room was empty but for Sect Leader Nie, who was sitting at the desk doing paperwork. Probably paperwork that Meng Yao should be doing, but for the injury that must have led to all of this – he didn’t remember it at all, but short-term amnesia was a common side effect of certain injuries, and his head was wrapped in bandages.  

Still, he struggled to sit up. “Sect Leader Nie,” he called, and Sect Leader Nie’s shoulders tensed. “If you want my help –”

“You should be resting,” Sect Leader Nie said. He was staring at the wall in front of him instead of turning back to look at Meng Yao – a sign of guilt? Had he been involved in what happened? “Do not trouble yourself.”

“And let you mess up my filing system?” Meng Yao teased lightly, hoping to lighten the mood. “Don’t forget how long it took me to fix the accounts the way I like it –”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Meng Yao paused, then, abruptly concerned: Sect Leader Nie’s shoulders were curved inwards, as if expecting a blow – afraid of pain. Afraid of him?

Impossible.

And yet, at the same time – unmistakable.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” he asked, keeping his voice level. He always kept his voice level, no matter the circumstances; someone certainly had to, and it wasn’t going to be anyone surnamed Nie. “Are you expelling me from your service?”

It was a joke, of course. Nie Mingjue liked him, respected him, valued him – had made it clear a thousand ways that he would never listen to gossip or to slander, would never judge him by who his mother was, and Meng Yao couldn’t imagine what sort of dire mistake would be necessary to make Nie Mingjue refuse to stand by him, even against the world.

“You’re the one who will leave,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice cutting, but then the anger flowed out of his shoulders and he sighed, closing his eyes, as if he had mistakenly become angry over the wrong thing. “It is not that I didn’t know that your ambitions had always been with Lanling, not Qinghe.”

Bile and panic rose up Meng Yao’s throat, but what could he say?

It was true. He had come to Qinghe because he had heard that they respected talent there, regardless of birth; he had come because he had needed a place to rise to prominence, where he could become so respectable that even his father would be unable to ignore him.

Qinghe had always been a waystation, not a destination.

Or, if one wanted to look at it with less kindness – he had treated it as a stepping-stone.

Had Nie Mingjue discovered how Meng Yao had schemed to get his attention, his sympathy? The little tricks he’d played to get him to agree to take a chance on an unknown, all the ways he’d wormed his way into the man’s life so that it would be impossible to extract him without damage? Or was it something more recent, something hidden away in his lost memories – had his father asked him to betray some confidence of Nie Mingjue’s? Turn over some information, take some secret action…had he done it?

Was that why Nie Mingjue didn’t want to look at him?

“Sect Leader Nie…”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you about it,” Nie Mingjue said bluntly. “The doctors told me to play along, pretend not to…I told them trying to hide it from you was pointless, that you were too smart, that you’d figure it out – I assume you have by now?”

“I’ve lost my memory,” Meng Yao said. He was shivering, and it wasn’t cold. “I woke up and the doctors realized that I’d forgotten a great deal, so they wanted you not to cause me any disturbance…how much time have I lost?”

“The war is over,” Nie Mingjue said, and surely that should be cause for celebration? But Nie Mingjue’s voice was flat and neutral, as if some terrible thing had happened, and his fists were clenched in rage. “You have been recognized by the Jin sect, and now live in Lanling. I cannot speak to the quality of your life, or to your happiness, but you have at least achieved that much.”

It was not that Meng Yao thought he’d be happy in Lanling – it was that he hadn’t thought he’d be happy anywhere, and found to his surprise that Qinghe actually did make him happy. It wasn’t supposed to, nothing was supposed to; it was all supposed to be part of the plan, that was all, a means to an end.

He wasn’t supposed to become fond of Sect Leader Nie, who tried so hard and listened so earnestly; he wasn’t supposed to be friends with Nie Huaisang, a charming waste of space who ought to have been born as a roly-poly kitten instead.

He was supposed to be in Lanling, by his father’s side, and now it appeared he was – and yet the injury he suffered had driven his memories back to his time at Qinghe.

That said something, he thought.

He’d had head injuries before, memory issues, dating back to his childhood; his mother had hired a doctor for him over it, a real one and not some faker, and he’d explained that when injured, Meng Yao’s extraordinary mind would retreat to the place it felt safest, recreating the past out of all those perfectly preserved memories and sinking into it as if it were real. If this injury followed the pattern of the others, there was no need for any treatment beyond time – soon enough, he would start to remember, and reality would gradually reassert itself over fantasy.

In the past, no matter what, his memory would always return to those few months when he was eight years old, when his mother had met a possessive benefactor and they had lived free and easy under his care – it had ended horribly, of course, but at the time he didn’t know that.

This time, his memory had returned to his days in Qinghe.

And Nie Mingjue still wouldn’t look at him.

“What did I do?” he asked.

“You assume that you’ve done something?”

“You don’t want to look at me,” Meng Yao said. A moment of silence, with Nie Mingjue not giving in, stiff and quiet, so he added, quietly, “I warned you in the beginning that I was unworthy of the trust you placed in me.”

In the end, Nie Mingjue turned to look at him. He seemed tired, and his eyes were bloodshot in a way that did not speak well of his health.

“Tell me what I did,” Meng Yao said. “I want to know.”

Nie Mingjue exhaled. “You killed a captain,” he said dully. “Premeditated murder, and you excused it by saying that he had stolen your glory and bullied you; even if it was true, you never once said a word of it to me before, never sought some other means to resolve it. You then defected to the Wen sect, becoming a master torturer and Wen Ruohan’s right hand; you killed my men, tortured me, and then killed him to become a war hero. After that, you were accepted into the Jin sect, and Lan Xichen and I swore brotherhood with you.”

He paused, then, but that was not the end, or else he would not be so angry.

Meng Yao waited, his mind dancing over all the excuses, all the things he could say, belated justifications, things that would cast him in a good light, a better light – what Nie Mingjue had described was obviously a problem, but not an insoluble one, and his future self should have known that. He could still fix this.

But to fix it, he needed to know the full extent of his crimes first.

“My qi became disordered after the war,” Nie Mingjue finally said, continuing. “Lan Xichen proposed a treatment: a Lan melody known as the Song of Clarity. But he is busy, so you took on the responsibility of playing for me…”

No, Meng Yao thought. No.

But at once he knew where the story led, even before the telling of it was done. A story that started with premeditated murder, however his future self had justified it to himself, could only end with the same –

Why would he do something like that? Perhaps because Nie Mingjue turned away from him after the first murder, as he ought to have known he would – Nie Mingjue tried so hard, and thought everyone else did, too; the glimpse at what Meng Yao was really like, the creature of spite and bitterness and hatred, willing to kill the filthy way, hidden in the dark…it would have come as a shock to him.

And yet his former self had obviously salvaged it, somehow; Nie Mingjue had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, to make up with him, to treat him as an equal, and still he –

Surely no prize could be worth this.

“Do you know why I did it?” he asked quietly, staring down at his own clenched fists, hating iron for not being steel. His damaged mind was telling him that what he had had in Qinghe was dearer to him than his own mother, and he had nearly destroyed it with his own two hands.

“The Nie sect and the Jin sect are at a crossroads,” Nie Mingjue said, and at last, at last Meng Yao recognized the flatness of his tone and the lack of visible signs of fury as the signs of medicine, the sluggish pain relief that could help stymie an incipient qi deviation. The poisonous song he played must have come very near to working. “Jin Guangshan wants the title of Chief Cultivator; I think there should be none. Jin Guangshan protects Xue Yang even after he murdered an entire clan; I think he deserves to die – I asked you for his head, and you promised it to me…you never intended to deliver. There can be only one sect ascendant, and you are, as much as he hates it, your father’s heir.”

His heir. Had he done something to Jin Zixuan, then? Unsatisfied with only the name he had promised himself he would obtain, had he coveted the power, too, and sought to achieve it by any means possible?

If he had reached the point of being willing to murder Nie Mingjue, then surely he had done that, too.

“I bashed your head in,” Nie Mingjue said conversationally. “During the deviation that you provoked. Lan Xichen stopped me from actually killing you, and from dying myself, and then you awoke without any memory of what you’d done, calling yourself Meng Yao again as if you were still – as if you still –”

Someone had asked Nie Mingjue to come in here and pretend, Meng Yao realized, and with a start realized also that he was furious about it. Someone had told him to come in here and play pretend with his would-be murderer as if they were still friends.

It might even have been Lan Xichen who’d done it.

There were tears on Nie Mingjue’s cheeks. He did not wipe them away the way Nie Huaisang would have, trying to hide his pain; he only let them fall, his eyes sliding shut once more – he could not look at Meng Yao, and Meng Yao couldn’t blame him.

“I wish I could go back,” he said, and Nie Mingjue opened his eyes to look at him. “Before I made those decisions. I wish I was still Meng Yao, and could do things differently. Is it too late for that?”

With anyone else, he would know the answer already. With anyone else, he wouldn’t have asked.

With anyone else, his mind would still be back in those wonderful days of being eight and alone with his mother for the very first time and last time.

“How can I ever trust you again?” Nie Mingjue asked, shaking his head in denial. “You drove me into a qi deviation – you wanted to kill me, knowing it would leave Huaisang the position of sect leader, knowing how cruel a death it was –”

“Is it too late?”

This was not something that could be repaired easily, with words and a gentle smile. This would take action and sacrifice. But before he committed himself, he had to know if it were even possible.

If Nie Mingjue could still forgive him, even now –

If he was still one of Nie Mingjue’s people, to be defended until death.

Nie Mingjue abruptly stood up, unsteady on his feet, clearly still ill – if I am half the murderer that I appear to be in his stories, I will kill those doctors who prioritized my health, this farce, over his, and if Lan Xichen was involved I will make it clear to him what wrong he has done – and shook his head, but this time it was not a denial.

“I never know what to do with you,” he said, and it was not a no.

It was not a no.

Jin Guangyao smiled.

(At the trial, which happened eventually, Nie Mingjue spoke in his favor, and his would-be murderer was remanded into the custody of Qinghe for whatever punishment they saw fit. It didn’t last long, but it was an excellent alibi for his father’s untimely death, even though it did not solve all the questions that lingered in Nie Mingjue’s eyes. But that, too, was not an insoluble problem.)

[buglife]

Ghost and Tiso? Maybe about how they became friends?

Depictions of injuries and some sad stuff ahead, but this the longest request to date! Apologies my eyes are bad lol.

Tiso didn’t know what to think when he first laid eyes on the little knight, sitting alone on the sole bench in Dirtmouth. They were one of the strangest beings he had ever saw, with their big white helmet-like head, their weird little nubby body, and the fact they had a nail. How could something this tiny hold a nail? It had to be someone’s lost grub, he was sure of it. There was no way this little squib wasn’t about to be ambushed by some angry parent, furious that they were carrying an actual nail. He waited a moment and looked around, but nobody came.

He supposed someone would come sooner or later, he had a mission after all. He had wandered the wastes since he came of age with just himself and his shield searching for some sort of purpose in life. Sure, he had over time, became a rather competent warrior, but he failed to find challenges that would actually test his mettle. Then, he heard tales of a lost Kingdom where many bugs have gone and never returned. Said Kingdom was rumored to have an arena where one could compete for glory. Tiso had already bested many arenas and moved on, ever searching. If there wasn’t an arena than he could at least look around and recount what he saw.

Maybe here, he’ll find himself, and find a measure of happiness.

His shield felt heavy as he sighed and looked at the well. The Elderbug, kind as could be, had warned him of the dangers below. Bugs sometimes lost their minds, trapped in a dreaming world where they couldn’t remember anything but a bright, burning light. Bugs died from the claws of the infected, most no more than empty husks driven by a malevolent will. The thought horrified Tiso, he had never heard of such a thing. The dead walking? Still, the old bug was serious as he let his old gaze drift around the nearly empty town.

Tiso was inclined to believe him.

So there he was, ready to take the plunge down below and took one last look at the grub sitting on the bench. He happened to catch their eyes, and the little grub straitened up a little. He was surprised to see them leap off and stride toward him quickly, waving their arms.

“What do you want, Squib.” Tiso had no mood to deal with any little kids.

He watched them move their hands out from under their cloak, their tiny paws and equally tiny claws making a flurry of movements. They then stared at him expectantly.

“Uhhh...the fuck was that?” He had no clue what the little grub was doing with their hands. They deflated a little and then brightened, reaching into themselves with a hand and suddenly, they had a little book and a pen.

“...what...did you, did you just reach inside yourself!?” Tiso boggled, the hell was this? What the hell was this kid?

He watched in stunned silence as the little being ignored him to start scribbling quickly, turning over the book once done to display their writing.

“Hello, please be careful down there. It’s dangerous.”

“Ppfft. Nothing dangerous for the likes of me.” Tiso couldn’t help but grin. Aw, how precious, they were worried about him. “I’m a seasoned warrior, I faced a lot and I am sure I can handle myself.”

The being frowned, at least, Tiso thought they did. They tilted their mask in a way to convey some measure of unhappiness and then started writing again. They turned over the book with a flourish once done, the ink smeared a bit in their haste to write it.

“I am also a warrior and there are things down there that can kill you without hesitation. I’ve seen corpses of better armed and armored warriors scattered below. All thought the same that you did. Please be careful.”

Of course Tiso ignored most of the writing to focus on the first part. “Oh, a warrior you say, you know how to use that nail you have there?”

They nodded, shoulders tense as they again, pointed to the part about the dead bodies. Then tapped it.

“Obviously they weren’t as good as me then.”, he huffed. “Say, if you do fancy yourself a warrior, I hear there’s a place for us, an arena of sorts. Maybe we’ll meet up there, and you can show me what you know.” He held up his shield, the metal glinting in the lights of the lumafly lanterns. “That is, if your parents let you, Squib.”

The grub sighed with their whole body, and wrote back to reply.

“I am not a kid. I’m probably older than you.”

Tiso couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. You got a name, little Squib?”

The being rubbed their face for a moment and wrote back. “My name is Ghost. You?”

“Heh, you’re speaking to Tiso! Remember that name, it’ll probably be famous.” He preened a little, slightly disappointing to find that the little Ghost was just staring at him. Once again they presented their scribbles.

“Or I’ll remember it to put on your grave marker.”

Bummer, kid. Tiso at first thought the squib was mocking him. He opened his mouth to call them a little shit, but he took a second look at them. They looked tired and weary. They looked like someone used to hearing bad news. Inside, he felt a little guilty at this. Clearly this thing...Ghost...was genuinely worried about his safety and he went and spit it back in their faces. It seems that foot-in-mouth disease is a reoccurring issue with him.

He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I promise that I know what I’m doing. If things are too bad, I know when to cut my losses and run, alright?”

Ghost brightened up at that and nodded. Tiso snickered to lighten the mood, reaching down to pat them between the horns (something they radiated a scowl at, but said nothing about).

“No worries, if anything, I do wanna see what you can do sometime!”

And with that, Tiso jumped down the well.

---

Well, Tiso should have listened to the little Ghost. Because he had to fight every inch of the way to reach this one stag station. He had learned the name of this wretched section, ‘the Forgotten Crossroads’, and he wished it could be forgotten. He had barely landed on the stonework below when an infected bug lunged out of the darkness, hissing. He had swiftly decapitated it, getting some orange gunk all over his shield. He had wanted to clean it off then and there, but the buzzing sound of vengeflies made him rethink his plan. The feral Tiktiks and Crawlids didn’t give him much trouble, except the time he stepped on one by accident and their spikes hurt like hell. The vengeflies were bastards like usual, screeching as they tried to dive bomb him.

And oh, the aspids. The fucking aspids. How he hated them. He felt so much satisfaction every-time he threw his shield and popped their horrible little glowing abdomens. The only problem was the orange that splashed out burned any exposed bit of chitin he had. Never before, had he been glad to own his armor. He would be extremely happy if he drove those little bastards to extinction. The husks though, were very horrible. Not in a fighting way, in there they were stupid in that they only knew how to run straight at him. He could take their heads off at a distance, shield returning to him with a flash of soul. In the end, he pitied them. They were once bugs, like him, but something had changed, and they became infected. He had been happy to find a hot spring that he could scrub himself and his equipment clean. He didn’t know if he even could be infected, but he decided to err on the side of caution. The orange...goo...he couldn’t call it proper hemolymph, didn’t seem to cause him trouble for now. But still, better safe than sorry. He made camp there for the night, but not only because he didn’t want to get out of the water.

He had braved the crossroads again the next day, ducking under aspids and slaughtering husks until he found the relative safety of the stag station. He sighed and sat on the bench, leaning backwards to rest a spell.

Then came the sound of rumbling. He was instantly alert, shield at the ready and his eyes trained to the tunnel. He expected many things to come out of that tunnel, but he didn’t expect to see little Ghost so soon. The stag they are riding slid to a stop, bending down to let the little warrior off. The stag spoke to him, Tiso didn’t catch what exactly, and watched the warrior wave goodbye as the stag took off down the tunnel again.

They turned and saw him and seemed just as surprised. They bounced a bit in delight and rushed over, waving.

“Hello to you too, little warrior. See? I’m perfectly fine.” Tiso gestured to himself with a grin. “Though I will admit, those aspids suck.”

Ghost nodded rapidly in agreement, going as far as to draw their nail and stomp a little. Tiso laughed.

“No worry, If you’re going up I have thinned their numbers a bit. Seems like having a big gross abdomen makes it easy for someone to cut you down. It’s the perfect target! You can’t miss!”

Again Ghost nodded in agreement. Remembering that he couldn’t understand those weird hand sign things, they took out their journal and pen once more. It was once of those fancy ones that held the ink on the insides but still needed refilling from time to time. They hopped up on the bench to join him, there was plenty of room after all.

“So,” Tiso began, “What have you been up to?”

“I’m trying to figure out a way past the fungal wastes.” They wrote. Tiso could easily look over their shoulder so they didn’t have to keep turning their book around.

“Fungal wastes?”

Ghost chirped, which absolutely did not make Tiso jump a little. They were just, so quiet. They were obviously mute but he didn’t expect them to make sounds. Tiso hid his reaction and watched as they fucking reached inside themselves again and pulled out a map. They opened it up, showing an incomplete map, each section in a different colored ink. Tiso whistled, impressed.

“You did that all on your own?”

They shook their head and wrote out. “Cornifer sells basic maps. I find all the hidden stuff.” They gestured to the various lines on the paper. Some of the ink was newer than others, which meant they back tracked and found new places. They even did little doodles of interesting things they saw. The sheer amount of drawn spikes and thorns make him question just how much fun he’s going to have traversing some of this kingdom.

“That’s still hella impressive for such a little grub.” He teased. He was arrogant, but he could recognize talent. “Maybe if being a warrior doesn’t work out, you could be a map maker in the future.”

Ghost just held their map for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. It looked like they wanted to write something, but passed it up to put on a more cheerful demeanor. “It’s nice you think I’m that good.” They wrote.

“Heh, I can recognize talent. By the way, since you’ve been all over the place, have you figured out where this arena is?”

“I hear that it’s called the ‘Colosseum of Fool’s. It’s somewhere near the City of Tears, I think.” They make sure Tiso read what they wrote before drawing a line with a claw from the stag station where they sit to somewhere east. They had a place marked ‘Crystal Peak’ and ‘Resting Grounds’, so it was probably near those places.

“Thanks, Squib. You probably saved me a lot of walking.”

Ghost innocently pointed to the stag station’s bell.

Tiso shook his head. “Oh no no no, true warriors don’t convenience themselves like that! True warriors make it to where they go on their own efforts alone.”

He was so full of shit and he could tell that Ghost knew. He honestly didn’t’ want to be in any dark, tight spaces. He couldn’t help thinking of the colony he grew up in. How dark and how crowded it was. You couldn’t find a moments peace to yourself and cave ins could happen at any time. How close the walls were to each other. How you never knew when the ground would rumble and stones would start to fall. No sir, he won’t take the stag way.

Ghost gave them the ‘whatever you say’ look before they rolled their map back up and tucked it away again.

“Where the fuck are you putting all that?” Tiso exclaimed as Ghost also put away their book and pen. They only shrugged in response and then gleefully bounced away with a wave goodbye. He heard the patter of little feet, and then the shriek of a vengefly, only to hear the sharp slice of a nail and the silence after.

Hrm...perhaps this was a warrior after all?

Tiso leaned back, determined to rest a little more before continuing his journey. With how big this place is, he wasn’t sure he’d see the little warrior again, and something about that statement saddened him.

---

Tiso had no idea there’d be an entire lake this big in Hallownest. Sure, water in caves was common, it’s how the caves were made after all, but this was something else. He sat on the sand, a campfire crackling softly as a tiktik roasted on a stick. All around him were fossils of shells, creatures long since gone and lost to time. One made for a nice seat and he wondered a bit to whom it may have belonged to. Some water snail, maybe. The water was clean and clear enough that he could take a dip to rinse off the grim of travel and found it most refreshing.

It had taken him a couple days to make his way here. Some paths were blocked off, either to cave ins or rusted closed, so he had to improvise. Moving through the Resting Grounds was eerie. It was full of graves, yeah, but once you fight empty husks for a while, tombstones start loosing their spookiness. There he had run into another stag station and swiftly turned back around. He took another pathway he didn’t try and ended up here, at this lake.

He thought of all the empty houses along the way. He poked inside to take a look here and there and only took things that he needed. The dead weren’t going to use them, he was sure no spirit would begrudge him for taking a few spices or a blanket. It did make for useful places to rest, as he could just shut the doors and windows to keep out husks. But still, he couldn’t help but feel like a trespasser in this dead kingdom.

He mused on this as he poked at the roasting tiktik. It’ll be done soon and then he can eat and continue his journey. A warrior needs their energy after all.

He poked up his antenna as he heard a distant noise over the crackling of the fire. He turned and looked over the lake, watching a white dot in the distance grow steadily closer. Water kicked up around bent air currents as the figure flew just above the surface. When close enough, he spotted the horns.

Oh, it was them. Small world, huh?

Little Ghost seemed to spot him as well. As soon as they reached the beach, they cut off whatever power they were using to run straight at him. They were all waves and ‘smiles’, tilting their head up to look at him in obvious glee.

“Hello, Squib!” Tiso grinned, he wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see the little bug. “Still in one piece I see?”

They nodded and gestured to himself.

“Yeah, told you I’d be fine!” He took a moment to poke at the tiktik again and caught a flash of light on metal. Little Ghost had drawn their nail and was holding it out for Tiso to see. Oh, it seems like they got a new one, or they fixed up their old one. The other was dull, and this one had a soft pale light to it. Nothing fancy so far, but he could tell it was sharper.

“Nice.” He was impressed. “But I’m a shield guy. I don’t know much about nails other than that you shouldn’t get stabbed by them.”

The little bug ‘laughed’, huffing air in amusement as the reached over and pointed at his shield. They looked at it, and then back at him, titling their head.

“Sure, you can look, but be careful, because it can do this.” He attached his shield to his arm and squeezed his hand just so. There was a click, and the sides of the shield unfolded into blades, a perfect circle of pain. Ghost vibrated in response, the dark eyes within their mask shining brightly in the light of the fire. Tiso grinned and flexed again, withdrawing the blades to make a normal shield again. “And that, is how I deal with aspids. It can also come back when I throw it.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling this to Ghost. Weren’t they going to fight sooner or later? If so it would be best to hold his cards close to his chest and keep his surprises as surprises. But there was just...something about this bug that made him want to talk about the things he knows. They were paying rapt attention, eyes scanning all the details made in the shield. Bugs that only wielded shields were not very common, he had found, so maybe they just never seen something like the one he has before. Maybe he wanted to be the one to cause the air of wonder and awe in someone else.

Maybe he just wanted a bit of attention that didn’t result in getting bruises.

Ghost touched the shield gently with a paw, feeling the metal a little before they withdrew, satisfied. They nodded their approval and sat down, looking up at him expectantly.

“Oh? What’s this? Do you want tales of how I used this shield?” A giddy happy feeling welled up in his chest as Ghost nodded rapidly. They moved their hands, signing a word he didn’t’ know how to understand. He could figure it either meant ‘thank you’ or ‘please’, either way they were polite. They shuffled and got comfortable and watched Tiso as he began to talk.

Tiso talked for so long that he forgot all about his tiktik.

–

Tiso sat on the bench, the roar of the crowd above him shaking loose the dust on the ceiling. It fell around him in motes of light reflected from the fires in the pit. There were other warriors there too, waiting their turn to engage in the carnage above. So this was the Colosseum of Fools. A crowded arena where a corpse sat as the seat of honor, empty gaze watching as the combatants did their damndest to kill each other. Geo was rapidly exchanged between hands as fighters either won, yielded, or died. Most died, but so it was in the way of the arena. He had taken time to watch to get a scope of what he was dealing with and concluded that the bugs in this kingdom were fucking insane. He was not used to this style of games, but he supposed he’d have to learn. He met the little fool chained up and dangling from the ceiling. He paid his fee and waited for his turn in the pit. There was a shriek above, and something big slamming into the ground. He imagined that he could expect to fight more beasts than warriors.

What he was not expecting, was little Ghost to jump down into the pit.

“Hey, you made it!” Tiso couldn’t help but exclaim as Ghost ran over to climb on the bench as well. “This is the place for us, I can feel it. There’s finally a challenge for me here.”

Ghost nodded, and in a flash held their journal and pen. “Are you doing the trials?”

He snorted, “Of course I am, and you?”

“Not yet, just exploring.”

“Hey what, are you afraid of being paired against me?” Tiso tugged his hood a little, smoothing down his antenna to try and stifle the intense smell of infected hemolymph. For a moment, he felt a flash of relief at Ghost’s prior statement. He didn’t quite believe that this bug was an adult, but they seemed to be a good sort. Did they really need to do this, taint their soul with battle just for the glory of it? For a bug like Tiso, he was okay with it. He was okay with it ever since he found himself alone with only a shield to protect him and bad memories to keep him company. He had to get tough, but did this little being who asked him for stories really need to get tough?

They shook their head as their shoulders shook with mirth. “No, I have things I have to do. I’ll fight you later and I’ll make you the one scared.” Their shoulders kept shaking, so Tiso assumed this was all said in jest.

“Bold words from a little shit.” Tiso was interested in seeing just what they can do, but later in a spar. Away from a place like this. This wasn’t a place for them.

They nearly rolled over, chirping in laughter and getting strange looks from the other waiting combatants.

Tiso rounded on them. “Mind your fucking business.” He snarled, and the combatants averted their gaze to go back to polishing their weapons. Good.

Ghost took a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“Sometimes you gottah be mean.” Tiso countered. “If they tried to throw you out or something, I would have cut off any limb that touched you.”

Woah, where did that thought come from?

Ghost looked at Tiso for a moment, really looking at him. Tiso felt like those eyes could see into his very soul and he suppressed a shudder. Ghost looked back to their book and wrote again.

“Why?”

Tiso gulped, time to bullshit and fast. “Well, because we were practically destined to battle each other. Hell, we keep running into each other in this dead fucking kingdom. What are the odds of that? What are the odds of both of us, meeting multiple times, and then meeting up here? It’s destiny!”

They tilted their head.

“If we are going to have a proper spar, none of us can get hurt before then. We have to be at 100%, right? So I won’t let anyone lay a claw on you until then.” There, nailed it.

They nodded and tapped their pen against the bottom of their mask in thought. They took a while to write, in which Tiso glanced around to make sure the other combatants weren’t about to get bored and try to pick a fight. Finally, they tapped his arm and showed him what they wrote.

“I understand. That means you have to promise to be okay until then.” They gestured above as more dust shook loose and rained down in a shower of gray. The crowd roared again, along with the sounds of something big screaming.  

“Sure, I can do that. If I break my promise I’ll give you five thousand geo.” This was a prop bet for sure. He didn’t have that kinda money yet, he’d have to earn it in the arena. But he was confident in his abilities, he would be fine and he’d be able to take off time to have a proper spar with his little companion friend buddy fellow warrior.

They nodded and held out their hand, which he took and shook. Gods, they had such little paws. “Good doing business with ya, Squib.”

They did their odd version of ‘smiling’ again. “I got to go, gonna try and go up more.”

“Good luck with that.” Tiso watched them put away their book, and with a hop, skip, and a jump, vanished up the pit. He had time now, to sit and sort out his feelings. He had that weird ‘big brother’ urge, and it wasn’t because they were so small. Nah, this person listened to him and liked him. He figured he can try and do the same.

---

Tiso was in a world of hurt, agony seeped into the broken crack in his chest. Hemolymph kept flooding his lungs and dripping out the corners of his mandibles. There was a fog around him in his mind, his barely open eyes blurry and seeing only smudges of green and blue. Flecks of white occasionally crossed his eyes before vanishing again. He had long since given up on trying to move, each pull of muscle only made the hemolymph flow faster. He struggled to recall what was happening as the pain moved in and out, like it was happening to someone else.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The only thing he can do was just lay there and breathe wetly. Each breath he had to mentally will and it took up all other functions for now. He had no mental power to spare on anything else, so when a bigger fleck of white took up his vision and didn’t leave, he had no clue what to make of it. What the hell? He took a breath, momentary forgetting too when he pondered the white. A cough tore into his chest and he could feel the broken edges of chitin rubbing together. Something was touching him. Something was trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t spare the thought.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The white vanished suddenly and Tiso found himself unable to bring himself to care or wonder about it. He had to keep breathing. Something deep and hot within himself had refused to give up. He had something to do that was very important and he couldn’t miss it. He wouldn’t. The weight of his shield was his only current comfort. Just as suddenly, the white appeared again, with a flash of red and gray. He peered at the smudges as distant sounds tickled his antenna. Was he underwater? Why couldn’t he understand them? A flash of pain and suddenly his world twisted. Colors spun around and around and it made it hard to concentrate on breathing. More sounds. More pain.

Breathe in. Breath out.

Breathe in. Brea-

It seemed like only a second and he was consumed in fire. A burning ache spread over himself as he saw only darkness. The darkness and a shriek as round orange pustules throbbed and vibrated. The sickening sound of hot fluids spilling and the nasty pop as pustules burst in a shower of gore. He was there. He had his shield, as a giant thing of teeth and screams jumped into the arena. He could barely raise his shield and then there was so much pain.

Trapped. Trapped like the fallen tunnels as the air got stale and lungs burned. Instead of the cries of the dying there was the roar of a crowd.

Take my breath, his sister had said. A little tiny thing with a tiny heart. A stone had hit her. The cave was too crowded and there wasn’t enough air. She was dying. Tiso couldn’t move the stone or she’d die faster.

Take my breath, she said. Then she breathed no more.

She always wanted to be a warrior.

She wanted to help people.

She never got to grow up.

You wasted her breath, the mawlurk shrieked as it fell toward him. You wasted it. You wasted it to die like a Fool!

Then was falling and falling and falling and falling an-

He felt cool hand in his, so tiny and small. They held on tight and Tiso stopped falling.

---

Tiso cracked his eyes open, still blurry and still in pain. He felt odd. The pain was there, but a large portion seemed locked away, just barely felt on the surface. He felt a hand in his, and with a colossal effort he managed to tilt his head to the side.

He was in some hut, on a bed, and holding his hand was the little Ghost. They must have felt the movement, because their head snapped around and looked on his eyes. A rapid flash of emotions, anger, grief, relief, joy, and others he didn’t have the ability to process, cycled through their very being. His hand was gripped with both paws now and a dribble of black welled up in their eyes to drip down their mask. Tiso wanted to say something, but it was taking a bit to remember how to do so. A large shadow fell over him, and he instinctively turned his head up to look.

Standing over him was an enormous beetle with a nail the size of Tiso himself. They looked down disappointingly at him.

“You must be Tiso, eh?”

He could only nod in response.

“You have to be the luckiest bastard in this whole dead kingdom.” The beetle moved over to a table, clinking glasses together and pouring some liquid. “You landed in just the right spot for Ghost to find you and close enough for me to come get you.”

He returned and handed a glass of water to Tiso, waiting for him to grip it before letting go. “I am Nailmaster Oro and you are here because my pupil insisted. You are going to be bed ridden for a while. Be glad I am more patient than my brothers, because after a whole week of putting you back together, I’m going to be glad when you leave.”

Tiso gratefully took the water and sucked it down, letting the liquid cool his dry throat. Once hydrated, he looked down to the ocean of bandages covering his front and one of his arms. His shield lay tilted against the bed, in arms reach. A whole week was gone, just like that. Oro must have felt the questions in his mind, because be continued to talk.

“You nearly got crushed to death, you goddamn idiot.” Oro tutted, looking over the bandages with the bedside manor of a primal aspid. “The Colosseum of Fools is just that, a collection of fools looking to die for no good reason.”

Tiso opened his mandibles to retort but only managed a wheeze. His lungs felt particularly awful and Ghost patted their hand in sympathy. Ghost let go just long enough to run over to Oro, tugging on his cloak. Once Oro bent down, Ghost gently embraced as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot. He saw Oro sigh with the tiniest glimpse of affection, before roughly patting them on the head. He glanced back to Tiso, and scowled when he realized that the ant saw the whole thing. Ghost stepped back to return to Tiso, taking his hand again.

“You’ll be okay after a bit of healing and time in the hot springs.” Oro went to squat by the fire, stirring something that smelled wonderful in a pot. “But I hope you found what was so damn important up in the coliseum.

Yes, Tiso thought to himself, I did find something. He looked at Ghost in a new light, and smiled as best as he could. They couldn’t replace her, but maybe, he could learn to not be a colossal fuck up. Maybe in that way, he can be okay with himself.

Ghost patted Tiso again for a bit and then reached in their ‘whatever’ space to pull out a pre-written piece of paper. Seeing what was written on it made Tiso almost want to take back everything he had just thought.

“You owe me 5000 geo.”

[thatslikely]

Seeker Pt. 2 - D.M.

Seeker Part 2- Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (unspecified house but not Slytherin)

Warnings: None! Just a fluffy sequel :)

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: You can find part 1 here if you haven’t read it already!  Sorry this took so long, I’ve just been trying to make sure its a worthy sequel.  I wanna thank everyone for over 150 notes on Part 1, I never expected such astounding support!  Also keep your eye out for the mini surprise at the end ;)  Also I would really love feedback since this is my first sequel, especially to my first ever fic.

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and Y/L/N is Your Last Name

----

Meet me at our spot tonight at 11.  I’ve missed you.

D.M.

You slid the perfectly-written crisp parchment back into the expensive black envelope it arrived in, to hide it from your nosy dorm-mates.  Draco’s owl perched patiently at the open window of your dorm, barely making a chirp. You handed the well-trained bird a small piece of chocolate, which was previously stowed away in your nightstand, before sitting down at your desk to pen Draco a response.   

The holiday break had been relaxing, especially since you got a long break from Quidditch practices.  You loved Quidditch, you dare say almost as much as Oliver Wood did, but your muscles were perpetually sore, much to your displeasure.

You hadn’t seen the Slytherin Seeker, who you now affectionately call your friend, since the day before break began, and you were desperate to see his handsome smile again.  You missed the glow of his hair in the moonlight, the ambitious and determined look in his eyes before a match, the soft touch of his hands as he held your shoulder or less frequently, your hand.

The line between friend and lover had always been blurred with him; often people accused him of being your boyfriend.  Some days he reluctantly denied it, but some he just gave you a charming wink as he grasped your hand firmly.

It would be idiotic to deny your abundant feelings for him.  At first, it was the subtle ways you’d pick up the little habits about him: how he fiddled with his rings when he was nervous, or how he always polished his broom every afternoon before a game or even the way he swiftly brushed his hand through his platinum blonde hair the moment he saw you walk towards him.

The blush that crept up on his alluring face every time you were near signalled that the feelings were thankfully mutual.  He was painfully obvious, as you were sure you were too, so it was only a matter of time before he’d ask you out on a date to Hogsmeade.   Hopefully, it will even be tonight.

The blonde’s owl had flown away by the time you realized that you had yet to jot him down an answer.  You could always send him an acknowledging wink at dinner since you always purposefully made sure to position yourself for a picture-perfect view of him in all his glory.

Dinner came and went.  The food was delicious per usual, you were constantly glancing at Draco from across the Great Hall, you chatted with your friends about the upcoming Potions test, which Draco would surely insist on helping you study for.  And of course, you sent him a playful wink as promised.

His silver eyes weren’t off you either.  He loved to admire the way your face morphed into a lively laugh or the soft, warm glow that bounced off your face, courtesy of thousands of floating candles overhead.  He loved everything about you, inside and out, and he was ready to show it.

By the time eleven rolled around, you were thoroughly prepared.  You ensured your hair was perfect and your outfit was warm but eye-catching.  You clasped a delicate hand-wrapped forest green box, which’s lid was held on with a beautiful piece of starlight-silver twine.

It was a tradition to get your friends presents upon returning from the snow-speckled break, and Draco would be no exception.  You were certain you would receive no gift in return, but you didn’t care.  Draco, for lack of a closer term, was your friend, so he was no exception to your tradition. 

----

Draco had definitely gone soft on you, and his fellow Slytherins didn’t fail to notice.  Every time he snuck out even a second past curfew to see you at the Owlery, or Astronomy Tower, or anywhere really, they’d crack some sort of joke at both his and yours’ expense.  

He had not only gone soft on you but perhaps the whole school, in a way.  He was less prone to impulsively hexing first years, instead opting for slightly rude remarks.  He was even a tad bit nicer to the Golden Trio. 

He was still smart and sharp as ever though, maybe even paying a little bit more attention in class, in case you needed help studying.  

One thing didn’t change about him though, and that was his attitude regarding Quidditch.  He was fierce and strong as ever, and there was no way he’d back down during a game, even for you.  Even when he wasn’t playing against you, he’d play extra competitively, in an attempt to both intimidate and impress you.

And whenever it was you on the broom and him in the stands, he always cheered for you as loud as his lungs allowed.  You always wondered why his voice was hoarse after you won a match the night before, not thinking that it was his yells that rang the loudest through the pitch.

----

The steps up to the Owlery were icy, just as you were afraid of.  Your knuckle was white from gripping the freezing stone rail up the endless steps.  Finally, though, you reached the top, unsurprised to see that Draco had beaten you up here.  He was always one step ahead, after all. 

“It’s felt like ages since I’ve seen you, Y/N.  How was your holidays?”  His face lightened at the sight of you peeking elegantly through the cracks of moonlight.  You looked as gorgeous as ever.

“It was wonderful!  I got a brand new Quidditch broom, so be prepared to eat my dust, Malfoy,” you said with a smirk.  Your hands rested suspiciously behind your back, carefully concealing Draco’s present. 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Y/L/N.  Remember, I won’t hesitate to push you off your broom, even if it kills you.”  Draco’s words, even the taunting ones, sounded like the most eloquent poetry to your love-struck heart.  

“Right back at you.  I actually practiced my shoving techniques every morning back home.  I bet I could push you off your broom 23 different ways if I really wanted to.”

Draco chuckled at your comment and you let your sarcastic expression fade into a genuine smile.  The blonde slowly inches even closer to you; your face is eventually so close to Draco’s that you can see every detail imprinted on his pale skin.  He accidentally brushes his ring ornamented hand against yours, causing your cheeks to become pink and warm, imitating the effects of sipping some freshly-steeped tea.   

“Well anyway, I have something for you.  For the holidays, you know.”  Draco pulls out a small black box from his matching black trousers with a charming smile.  His rings reflect the pale moonlight magnificently, and you catch yourself staring at the back of his hands.

You slowly accept the box from his hand, your hand half holding his as you take it.  You say quietly, “You didn’t have to get me a gift, Draco.”

 “I didn’t have to.  I wanted to, love.  I care about you, more than you’ll ever know.”  You felt the corners of your eyes prick with tears at his kind words.  Everything he said somehow managed to hit you directly in the heart.  

You carefully opened the inky-black box.  Draco looked down at you anticipatedly, a hopeful grin painting his face.

Laying perfectly inside of the box was a beautiful, ornate, and expensive silver serpent necklace, identical to the rings that he wore daily.  The glimmering eyes of the snake were magnificent, crystalline emeralds, which precisely matched the bold hue of Slytherin’s Quidditch robes.

Your eyes continued to grow misty; your hand that wasn’t admiring every microscopic detail of the necklace was covering your mouth in awe.  Draco’s lips quirked into a cocky smile at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself.  

Without hesitation, you clasped the necklace around your neck.  You couldn’t stop fiddling with it until Draco grabbed your hand, using the connection to pull your chest into his slowly.  He softly muttered, “I like you, more than you’ll ever know” before leaning in for a kiss.

Draco’s lips on yours were like nothing you’ve ever felt.  He felt magnetic.  You would never be able to let go of this moment, the way his hand cupped your cheek gently, the way your hand glided from his chest to his shoulder, pulling him impossibly closer.  You felt whole.  

When you finally pulled away, your electrified lips yearned to touch his’ again.  Instead of kissing him again though, you barely managed to squeak, “I like you, too.”

----

The next Quidditch match came by faster than you expected, and you were scrambling to prepare for your battle against the Slytherins once again.  Draco had been gloating all day about how much he and the team had improved since your previous game.  

“You may have gotten lucky last match, Y/L/N, but this time you’ll like a first-year learning how to fly next to me.  Do you think the gold of the Snitch will compliment my hair?”  Draco swept his hand through his perfectly-styled platinum blonde locks, a cocky expression unsurprisingly on his face.

“You won’t even have to worry about whether it matches your stupidly gorgeous head of hair or not since it’ll be me who gets it in the first place!”  You retorted, rolling your eyes at him instinctively.    

“Oh, really?” he asked flirtatiously, before giving you a small peck.  The sudden kiss caused you to become so flustered, that you couldn’t do anything but shut up; he grinned triumphantly at your reaction.

The game started not long after yet again another boastful interaction with Draco.  You hovered high above the ground on your new, polished broom, ready to beat your Slytherin ‘rival’ once more.

Draco could be seen across the field, cracking his knuckles in an attempt to look intimidating.  While his Quidditch record would ordinarily frighten a Seeker such as yourself, you knew the real Draco, and he didn’t scare you one bit.  

A booming “brooms up!” echoed through the pitch, and immediately you flew directly to the top of the pitch, looking down at the whizzing flashes of green like a cat peering attentively through a fishbowl.  

Draco soon joined you up at the top of the pitch, following your exact movements just as he had done before.  He spat, “Scared, Y/N?” almost identically to the last match.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you said with a knowing smile.  He playfully rolled his eyes at you, and the corners of his mouth raised to an adorable and goofy smile.  

“Remember, I won’t be going easy on you, even if things are different.  Just because I fancy you doesn’t-” he was quickly cut off by the shimmer of gold seen out of the corner of his eye.  His expensive and sleek black broom immediately flew him to the well-manicured grass that lined the ground of the pitch.

By the time you had caught up with the cocky Seeker, he was mere feet from the Snitch.  You quickly flew to his side so you two were parallel, both of your hands, which had been intertwined so many times before, now opposing each other in the battle for the elusive winged sphere.

It seemed the game that you and Draco had played against each other last time, which results you wished so desperately would repeat, was doomed to change.  He clashed his torso into yours harshly, in an attempt to throw you off.  

Instead of toppling off your broom, you tried to give him a taste of his own medicine; you felt your bones shake after jerking your body weight into him, but he looked as if he had only been hit with the force of a leaf languidly fluttering in the wind.

Draco emitted a snarl after you rammed into his side, but he was undaunted in his pursuit of the Snitch.  His pupils were practically glued to the medal-colored blur, which was darting rapidly in any direction it could.

You knew you couldn’t beat Draco this time.  At least, not like how you had been playing so far.  Your arm was too short, your broom too slow, so you used the last of what little energy you had within yourself to pelt all of yourself, including your heart, at him. 

Instead of colliding into your green-glad admirer as you intended, you were only met with the cold and terrifying emptiness of oxygen.  

The ground felt so close, your tongue could almost taste the metallic copper bite of blood.  You could vividly see the way your side would slam into the spiky grass like a ragdoll, your bloodied nostrils filling with the smells of grass and the morning sun. You could envision players draped in uniforms of clashing hues dashing to your pain-ridden body, ready to carry you to Madame Pomfrey. 

But due to Draco Malfoy, that horrifying situation remained trapped only within the confines of your mind.  

You never thought you could love Draco as much as you did right now.  

His arms were outstretched and strong as you landed into them, light as a feather.  The blonde strands of hair that clung to his forehead in sweat and the unwavering confident look in his eyes drew you closer to him unconsciously.  His biceps, which were nicely toned due to his years of Quidditch, set you gently in front of him on his broom.

He wrapped one of his arms securely around your chest, which soothed your increasingly rapid racing heart exponentially.  His other arm was held high above his head, valiantly boasting the Snitch that resided within his glove-covered hands.

The crowd that resided in the green and grey towers of the pitch were erupting with joy.  You were almost too shocked from your near-fall to roll your eyes at his huge display of cockiness and pride, keyword being almost.  You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the ego-boosted beating of his heart, a stark contrast from your own.

The final moments before the two of you drifted to the ground were spent with him cheering in pride, and you taking comfort from his compassionate embrace.  And maybe you were wafting in a bit of his pleasant-smelling cologne, too.

----

Your house’s common room looked dreary and deflated, comparable only to that of a seven-year-old’s birthday party- where nobody bothered to show up.  While everyone was sympathetic for you, you couldn’t help but sense a slight tinge of resentment hidden beneath every soft pat on the back or obligatory smile.  

The Slytherin common room, however, was filled to the brim with its cunning house-members.  Firewhiskey was flowing through the crowd like pouring rain after centuries of drought.  The music was pounding so loud that the intricate chandeliers hanging from the top of the dungeon were shaking violently along with the beat. 

Draco and his posse stood at the corner of the alcohol-drenched room, leaning against the signature green walls, away from the large mob of partiers that had accumulated in the center.  

While the Firewhiskey normally would have clouded the blonde’s head by now, tonight his mind was crystal-clear.  

He couldn’t get Y/N out of his head, and frankly, he didn’t want to.  He should be focused on how utterly heroic he was during the Quidditch match or his huge victory for Slytherin.  But instead, he thought about how you felt under his arm, how your head softly rested on his chest.  It felt like the final puzzle piece had been placed, his love and need for you cemented.

He wouldn’t be able to live without your embrace again, he was sure of that, but maybe he wouldn’t even be able to last five more minutes.

He muttered a quick, “I’ll be back,” to his surrounding house-mates before shoving his green half-full cup of Firewhiskey into one of their hands.  He walked confidently through the mob of intoxicated partiers towards the enchanted stone wall exit.  

His eyes darted around the corridor as he paced towards your common room.  You wouldn’t be found in your common room, however, for the sulking of your house-mates was too much to bear.  

You instead could be found seated at a desk in the library, channeling your pent-up guilt from your performance at the Quidditch match into vigorously studying for a Potions exam on Monday.  

Your beat-up textbook was littered with dog-eared pages and bookmarks scribbled with helpful messages; it lay open on the page for Amortentia.  Your hand gripped your quill tightly, carving notes onto your piece of parchment.  Your eyes were briskly darting from one word to the next.

You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t notice that Draco had taken a seat next to you, enraptured in your presence.  His elbow lay pressed on the desk, head in his hand.  Your concentration was broken with a clear of his throat, followed by, “Hey darling, what’re you doing?”

“I’m studying,” you said, before adding meekly, “for Potions.”

“Oh love, you know I could’ve helped you,” he said with a disappointed smile.  His eyebrows furrowed as he flipped through your notes, noticing you were writing about the infamous love potion.  You let the quill in your hand go, letting your hand melt under Draco’s large palm. 

In an attempt to cheer you up, he said, “You know, I have a hunch on what I would smell in Amortentia, want to know what it is?” you nodded, “tea, warm autumn’s breeze, and maybe the faint smell of sweaty Quidditch robes.”

You let out a small laugh, adorning your now-pink face with a genuine smile.  “You know what I would smell?  Expensive cologne, green apples, and maybe a bit of sweetness under a cold exterior.”

“I’m not sweet, but if I was it’d only be for you,” Draco said with a sarcastic grumble.  

You looked up at Draco, who simply let his eyes take in all of you, adoring every single angle of your body.  The loving look in his eyes was enough to make your heart explode; your legs felt like jelly and your heart was beating out of your chest so loudly, you were sure he could hear it.

And soon he could, as his body grew slowly closer and closer to yours.  You pressed your forehead against his’, his molten silver eyes piercing through your own.  

Finally, after moments of staring longingly at each other, you tugged his green and grey pin-striped tie in for a kiss.

----

(Bonus) Epilogue:

The Three Broomsticks was filled to the brim with students from the Wizarding School across the bend.  Tables were littered with half-drank glasses of butterbeer; a few students could be seen snogging in the back booths of the tavern.  

You sat across from Draco Malfoy, your amazing boyfriend, as he rambled endlessly about Potter.  You weren’t listening to a word about the famous Gryffindor, instead, you were watching the way his lips articulated every word that spilled from his mouth.

“Right, darling?” Draco asked expectantly.

You nodded supportively.  Draco, instead of looking satisfied, quizzically asked, “so you think I should poor my butterbeer all over your head?  I’d be happy to.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.  You just look so good when you talk, I got distracted.”

“It’s fine, love.  Well, I’m glad we finally got to go to Hogsmeade together.”

“After three months too!  Why couldn’t you have taken me sooner?” you asked overdramatically, tugging on your bag full of sweets from Honeydukes.  

“I’m sorry, but I seem to recall it’s your fault.  Study, Quidditch, study, Quidditch, study, Quiddit-”

“Okay, okay.  I get it.  I’m just not as naturally smart as you, Mister Potions Master.”  You rolled your eyes as he grinned at his title.

“Do you only flatter me so I do your essays for you?  Because if so, I hate to admit it’s working.”  He tucked a loose piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear tenderly.

“Oh, Draco.  You don’t need to know.”  You fiddled with the silver serpent necklace that hangs around your neck that had been kissed so many times.  

You were head over heels for Draco.  Luckily, you were all his, and you would be forever. 

[firerose]

headcannons about each individual member kf the seven as dark?

So I decided to split this answer into seven seperate posts because otherwise it would be too long (I'm having to much fun wit this XD)

I'll post the first one here <3

Ok, here we go <3, Hazel: People expected her to change after Franks death She had lost her boyfriend at fourteen no one expected that to be easy So none said anything when she kneeled over his grave for five whole days and nights Reyna simply brought her food and hot chocolate and mourned with her But if they all could have had a look into Hazel's mind they could have seen the slow death of the sweet kind girl she used to be Thoughts of hate begin to burn inside her She asks herself why Juno who saved Franks stick from burning up as a baby refused to do it a second time. The question makes her storm up to Olympus, her brown eyes hard with anger Her friends are with her, Of course, they want to protect each other now that one of them has fallen Juno awaits them in her usual glory, tall with a cloak around her shoulder and .. jewellery precious metals decorating her arms and neck "Why didn't? Do you save him? Was he just a weapon you did not need anymore?!, hazel shouts out her suspicion and now people, gods and demigods alike begin to worry The queen of Olympus remains silent She sees the hatred in hazels eyes and regrets not answering her grandsons screams for help when he burned in the flames Her silence is Hazel's answer and in her growing rage the necklace on Juno's neck starts chocking the goddess Hazel does not feel remorse, only satisfaction as she hears Junos choking It is Percy's hand on her shoulder that snaps her out and Juno's necklace flys into her open hand "You will never use a demigod like that again I will make sure of that. She says and then with one last glare leaves Things are not the same when shes back at camp Jupiter Everything and everyone annoys her, reminds her of what she has lost They are around her all the time like, Leo who reminds her of Sammy, Jason who made Frank Praetor, Percy who loved Frank like a brother Whenever they talk about Frank she feels the desire to yell at them One time when Jason tries to comfort her once again she snaps "You don't have to do this just because you made Frank Praetor and you feel guilty.", Hazel tells him a bit too harshly and Jason leaves her She feels guilty so she does her best to act as grateful as possible from now on The days are very hard for her That is why she loves the night She hasn't forgotten the power rush she got on Olympus and that is why keeps practising She steals weapons from the night patrols She makes the tunnels under the field of Mars change so that they all lead to dead ends When some of the new Rome's war veterans talk about having seen lost loved ones at night Hazel pretends to not listen She just thanks Jason in her thoughts for telling her so much about the ones that fell in the titan war Hazel disappears two weeks after Frank's death The remaining five of the seven are devastated They immediately go searching for her but even after five months there is no sign of her Other demigods start whispering Even Thalia who visits Reyna often is part of those whispers She doesn't know hazel and Frank well and yet what she has heard reminds her so much of the story of a friend she had once lost He had been left alone with his fate with his insane mother just like Hazel Thalia fears that now that Hazel has lost a loved one she will seek revenge just like Luke once did. Nico and Percy are Hazel's greatest defenders They deny every rumour and says that Hazel just needs time to calm down it's the only thing that keeps them from drowning in their guilt Hazell has gone to her old home in Alaska Arion took her there It hurts to be back but here she is saved from the gods who used her and her loved ones She's so sick of being their pawn The years pass and all alone in this cold country Hazel's heart turns to ice A few old men yell insult her with racist phrases She controls the metal ankers on their ships to impale them She hears screams from her neighbour's house at night and so she breaks the metal lock to get in The man who is beating his wife only has a second to look at her before her senses reach metal and they find it......in his

blood She concentrates hand stretched out and the man chokes to death She leaves without a word There is no remorse in her, if the gods let her sweet gentle boyfriend die why isn't she allowed to kill a few bad peopöe One day she decides to return as thoughts about her past cloud her mind Someone has to show the gods that they can't treat their children like this She returns after ten years but does not show herself to her friends Maybe because she worries that they notice how much she has changed Instead, she decides to try to control the labyrinth just like Pasiphae once did The mist helps her to create new tunnels that lead wherever she wants them to go One day they lead to new Rome She just wants to look at how everyone is doing but when she sneaks near the city hidden in her magic she sees something that makes her furious Her friends have moved on She sees them celebrating with other Romans and greeks They celebrate Gea‘s defeat like it wasn‘t just a terrible unnecessary war they had to suffer through She hates that they enjoy their demigod lives They should have told the gods that they want to live normally away from both camps that endanger their lives Unfortunately, that makes her think of Frank and how he has ripped away from his life, his home country just to serve the gods Hazel feels her rage burning like an active Volcano close to erupting She walks up the hill over new Rome and looks down at the glorious city She could bury it without even trying For a moment she thinks about the lives that will cost but then again what else could make the gods notice their flaws She reaches for all the metals buried under the city She hesitates for a moment but then she thinks about Frank, his sweet smile and with a scream the earth starts shaking Buildings and temples collapse People get swallowed by big cracks in the earth There are screams horns are blowing Mist is rising and People hear voices whisper that this is god's fault They have to be punished for their mistakes It‘s like a storm of fog being thickest at the hilltop Hazel‘s old friends are filled with dread as they have seen those powers before Leo decides to fly directly into the mist together with Piper and Jason Hazel sees them approaching and a soft smile appears on her lips The mist lightens All demigods gasp Leo yells in despair He already blames himself for Franks death and now he sees that Hazel the girl he once loved has gone mad Her once curly short hair now long falls around her shoulders Her once brown eyes glow sickly golden as if the riches of the earth have taken control over her It drives him insane and so he rips out a hammer from his tool belt and attempts to attack her Hazel feels deeply hurt by this and so she moves her hands Leo is thrown of Festus's toolbelt made of metal turning out to be his curse Hazel smashes him into the ground a hundred feet under him Festus claws impale Jason and Piper before they have time to react Hazel feels a sting in her heart but she oppresses it The gods and their quest would have killed them anyway Percy and Annabeth are still in the falling city trying to get as many people out of there as possible They both try to ignore the corpses falling from the sky Percy‘s mind is still refusing that the girl he sees as a sister would do this He knows that she has to be stopped but how is he supposed to do that? He still loves her like a sister despite the lives she is taking Her real brother steps up instead Hazel can feel his presence behind her It makes her lose focus The citizens of New Rome cry in relief when the metals stop resurfacing Their city is in ruins but at least it has stopped Before Hazel can react skeleton warriors jump out of the earth restrain her by grabbing her arms She is furious about Nicos interference and struggles to escape „Hazel please it‘s not worth it just surrender and we‘ll talk about this.“, Nico says while he walks up in front of her. Hazel‘s heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes and she realizes that she is the reason for it She disappeared She came back and murdered

hundreds She did it for Frank but she suddenly asks herself if Frank would have ever wanted to get justice in this way Would he wanted her to become hateful and obsessed with revenge just for him? As she looks into Nico‘s eyes regret strikes her „I……..I‘m sorry.“, She whispers with tears in her eyes. Nico smiles sadly happy that his little sister came to her senses He stretches out his hand to gently touch her cheek Thunder rumbles and suddenly a lightning bold explodes the hilltop right where the children of the underworld Jupiter feels nothing as he watches Percy, Reyna and Annabeth falling to their knees, sobbing and holding each other Hazel Levesque is just another demigod for him, a girl that could not get over her boyfriend Percy buries Hazel next to Frank all by himself New Rome is rebuilt with the help of the greeks The time goes by and slowly Frank and Hazel‘s names are forgotten Juno would love if they had never existed in the first place Whenever demigods speak of them they do it with anger and the queen of Olympus fears that one day a rebellion will start It's not often that their names are talked about but when they are people always refer to them as „Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. The couple that died in Storm and fire

[bluepallilworld]

Here is part 1 of "a small thing changing everything". It's about my second dark cream kid, Mu. The writing is set up in the past. If you read "a special day", it's a lil' while after that. So Mimosa is small and Shattered Dream and Cross are married. Again it's fluff (kinda) first angst after (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

A small thing changing everything (part 1)

This day was a nice day.

They had slept all together in the big bed, the little one squished between the two of them, happily snoozing.

4 years… It had already been 4 years since this tiny bundle of joy joined them. The struggles had been real at first, especially for him… But they managed to make it work in the end and they were now living comfortably in their house. Mimosa was far from being a wanted baby, but now, it was difficult to imagine a life without the noisy kid. They had been worried the cheerful baby would actually harm the cursed skeleton with all those strong feelings, the small being often released. But- it hadn't been the case at all... On the contrary!

It was as if the baby literally took away a part of the curse at his birth. A true miracle. His husband would have said something cheesy like “it's the power of love” just to annoy him.

He looked silently at the still sound asleep small monster. This one had a foot hidden by the blanket while another was held by his little bony hand. A grin lightened up the adult's face while he let out a silent chuckle. What a strange way to sleep… He dropped the face when his eyes stopped on the tentacles coming out of his loosely fit pjs. A long sigh found its way out from his mouth. It would have been nice if only the boy didn't inherit a part of his curse…

He tried to distract himself from the sad thought. At least, it doesn't seem like it's harming him or having any ill effects… But he didn't show any sign of magic yet and that? That was worrying him a bit. A monster without magic… Could it be considered really healthy? He gave himself a little pinch. No point sulking on it now! But would he be able to protect himself outside? One time, he managed to get a small wound and it took like months to heal! No healing magic or monster food had any effect… He has trouble thinking of what his life would have been without his strong powers and healing magic. It would have surely been very different.

At least, the child was solid and even if his healing process was the worst, someone would have difficulties killing him in one hit. Since those dark thoughts weren't helping anyone, he decided to push them away for now.

He lied down again and brushed softly his fingertips against his son's skull. If someone would have actually told him he would start to care for Mimosa at one point years ago, he would have laughed so hard. HIM? The cursed skeleton? Caring about someone else? What a sad joke… Although he has changed a lot since then… He lifted his arm to stare at the ring around his phalange. He changed a lot because of him… Even if he was still nowhere near perfect, he couldn't deny the fact he somehow improved. He closed his fist. He was almost convinced of it.

He turned on himself to look at the other side of the bed. There. The one that made him partly weak again in all his glory. He snorted. His partner looked so dumb, asleep like that. With his opened mouth letting go of tiny noises that made the goopy skeleton think of a dreaming dog. One of the snoozing monster's legs was dandling over the side of the bed and his left hand was resting on his own chest. A warm feeling spread in the dark skeleton's rib cage at the view as a fond look took place on his face. Oh dog, he loved this idiot.

This one had felt sick lately and so had spent a lot of time in bed. The kiddo got worried and that's how they ended up all sleeping in the same bed. He looked one last time at the peaceful face before leaving the bed. He was going to let him rest peacefully for a while -exceptionally. The child however- He picked him up by the foot and left the room quietly. The scoundrel managed to stay asleep upside-down. Only after being dropped on the couch like a potato bag, only then did he open his eyes. And he would have shouted, slightly startled, if a pillow didn't end up on his face right before he had enough time to start making a fuss.

Yeah it was definitely a nice day.

Ignoring the chatty child, he went to the kitchen to take care of the breakfast. Should he prepare a tray? It sounded like a good idea. Maybe letting him eat in bed would help lift the sick monster's spirit. He machinally put a bowl on the table that he filled with cereals, before grabbing on the child that followed him in the kitchen and put him on the tall chair. He prepared some toasts too with sliced fruits he added to the food in front of the child. This one, already munching on his cereals let out a happy thrill seeing more food. His parent let him at it and went to another corner of the room to prepare another plate -hiding a small fond smile. No way he'd show the tiny beast he had some effect on him, he would clearly abuse that fact . The smart little demon. He returned to the room with the plate, staring quickly at all the food already on the ground. He sighed, shaking his head. When the kid would learn to eat properly was a real mystery.

When he entered the room, his husband -he still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact they were married- had half-opened eyes.

“You're awake.”

It was more a statement than a question.

“More or less”, the other answered with a raspy voice.

“Just eat something, you look… Unwell...”

Unwell was a weak word for the miserable state he looked like he was in.

His expression softened when he saw him eating the whole plate without too much trouble. However he noticed he kept his hand clenched over his chest the whole time.

“Is your chest bothering you?”, he opened his eyes wide while what it could also mean reached his mind, “is your SOUL bothering you!??”

You don't mess with soul matters. He removed the blanket to be able to look more closely. The sick one- who was sweating a lot for a skeleton- let him do whatever he wanted. His hand was firmly grabbing his shirt. The shirt had to go.

“Cross...”

“...yes?”

“Did you know?”

“What?”, he looked down and what he saw made him gasp.

His soul was as usual, a bright upside-down heart, but there was something at its side. A little tiny thing that somehow looks like a tinier replica of his own soul. It was mostly white but it was hard to ignore the bit of dark stuff swirling around. It wasn't touching it but the confused monster was convinced that the strange substance would if it could?

The dark skeleton flopped on a corner of the furniture, immediately burying his face in his hands. The world sinked into the darkness.

“Again…?”

It came out as nothing more than a strangled whisper.

He had felt so light those days. How didn't he notice? Did he pass a bit of his curse again to an innocent child? Again? He wasn't ready for another. He wasn't ready to look a baby in the eyes, thinking about how they were stained because of him. The thought made him shudder. Just because he thought he could be happy despite his past mistakes. Because he thought he could love and be loved. Because- Because- Because-

He didn't notice he started to weep softly like that, lost in his limbo, until something called him back in this reality. A bony hand on his arm. He didn't flinch away from the soft contact. He looked up and encountered two small fuzzy eye lights and a worried frown.

“Dada?”

The child's voice was tinier than ever. He looked quite spooked.

Another hand grasped his own and the adult turned his hand to look at the concerned face of his half.

“Dada…?”

The kid climbed on the bed and put one finger on the slightly sticky cheek.

The monster didn't think and put his arms around his child. His own child. His little miracle. The hug was quick before he put a smile on his head and turned to Mimosa.

“You know what, little beast?”

“What?”

“You're gonna have a sibling.”

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Next. Last.

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Shattered Dream belongs to @/shattereddreamsau

Cross to @/jakei95

Dark cream @zu-is-here \(≧▽≦)/

Since it's kiddos related @official-darkxunshine-kids

[tvandenneagram]

Avatar the Last Airbender: Azula - Type 3w4

Azula is manipulative, narcissistic and power-hungry. She is duplicitous and willing to take whatever means necessary to achieve her goals.

At her worst, Azula lost control of herself and her emotions. She became manic, paranoid and delusional. Azula became highly dangerous and erratic acting out at any perceived threat.

At her best, Azula was a disciplined and talented prodigy. She was hard-working and displayed a great sense of self-control. Azula was a smart and skilled tactician who was able to remain composed in tense situations.

Ever since she was a child, Azula showed little compassion and empathy for others. She would treat friends, servants and family all with a sadistic aggression and would show little remorse for how she hurt people. Azula would also approach situations from a stance of how it would benefit her (or her father) with little regard for others. For example, when Lu Ten died Azula’s immediate reaction was to think about how Ozai could now become the heir. This made even her mother wonder if something was wrong with her.

Azula is grandiose and exhibits a need for attention and admiration, especially from her father. She would often try to emulate him and his values to gain his respect. Azula would often humiliate people as a show of her power. For example, in one of her first appearances she threatened the captain of the ship she was on and made a show of emphasising that she was in charge.

Azula is able to lie with little to no emotional reaction and is able to (for the most part) keep her emotions in check. This helps Azula to direct lightening, which  requires complete and total control of emotions. Often we see Azula telling lies to get what she wants. For example, she tells Zuko that he will be welcomed home so that he and Iroh can be captured.

Azula is never satisfied with what she has and always wants more. She is power hungry and is constantly trying to increase her power (be it politically or with her bending abilities. Azula has had an inflated sense of ego and believes she was born to rule. She craves the power of the Fire Nation throne and wants people to fear her. 

Despite all this, Azula seems deeply wounded by the fact that her mother thinks she is a monster. Deep down, Azula regrets what she has done but tries to control it. By the end of the show, these regrets manifest themselves as delusions of her mother showing her the love and empathy she craved. Azula is pushed further down the brink, by the betrayal of her lifelong friends Ty Lee and Mai. Type 3s often want total and complete loyalty from those they care for and when this is broken they often lash out, which we see in Azula. 

Similarly, Azula is also shown to have a great deal of insecurities behind her calm and cool facade. For example in the Beach, she is shown to want to have a relationship with Chan, but does not know how to socially present herself. While she tries to flirt with him, she cannot hide her domineering personality leaving Chan uninterested. Azula is visibly hurt by this, but tries to pretend that she does not care about it, which is very typical of type 3s. 

Azula shows her 4 wing as she is more aloof than a wing 2. Additionally, 3w4s are also more controlled and restrained which we see in Azula. Lastly, 3w4s are more concerned with achieving their own personal goals, whereas wing 2s have a greater need to be liked by their peers.

Tri-Type: 3w4 - 8w7 - 6w7

Some quotes to describe Azula’s traits and motivations:

"Well what choice do I have? Trust is for fools! Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me."

[after a game of volleyball] “Yes! We defeated you for all time! You will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation!... Ah! that was fun.”

“Well, yes, I guess you're right. I don't have sob stories like all of you. I could sit here and complain how our mom liked Zuko more than me, but I don't really care. My own mother... thought I was a monster... She was right, of course, but it still hurt.”

“Are you sure? I'm a pretty good liar. I am a 400 foot tall purple platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings.”

“Please Zuko. What ulterior motive could I have? What could I possibly gain by letting you get all the glory for defeating the Avatar. Unless somehow the Avatar was actually alive. All that glory would suddenly turn to shame and foolishness. But you said yourself, that was impossible. Sleep well, Zu-Zu.”

Zuko: “Azula always lies. Azula always lies. Azula always lies”

Azula: “You said "the tides would not allow us to bring the ship in." Do the tides command this ship?” Captain: “No, Princess.” Azula: “And if I were to have you thrown overboard, would the tides think twice about having you smashed against the rocky shore?” Captain: “No, Princess.” Azula: “Well, then, maybe you should worry less about the tides, who've already made up their mind about killing you, and worry more about me, who's still mulling it over...”

Mai: “You miscalculated; I love Zuko more than I fear you” Azula: “No you miscalculated; you should have feared me more”

[mariamermaid]

The Heir of Silberstein; Gold und Silber (ch.5/ final)

“gold and silver”

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: As a new school year approaches in Hogwarts, the students are surprised when Dumbledore introduces a group of German siblings joining the school. The royal family of fortress Silberstein is now sent to Hogwarts to learn the matters of a normal teenager life. …

Words: 1.6k

A/N: The story has come to an end! I hope you enjoyed this little journey, I for my part had so much fun writing it.

 Masterlist

 At last, it was Fred´s voice, that you heard and his soft eyes staring down to you, before blackness swallowed you whole…

When you finally woke up again, coming to ignore the sharp pain shooting up from your side, you quickly scanned the room. It was empty though.

However, it wasn´t unfamiliar to you; you were still located in Silberstein.

It was very similar to the infirmary to Hogwarts, light walls and beds and shelves with books and healing potions.

You couldn´t help but feel your thoughts slip, did everyone survive the battle?

Just as you were to sit up, the door opened. King Michael entered in all his glory and a gasp of relief left your lips.

“Father!”

He wore the king’s attire, sophisticated and graceful, as it should be.

He chuckled at your response, and gestured you to stay seated. He was wearing the crown, it fitted him perfectly and he looked much healthier. But as he took a seat on the side of your bed, he placed the heavy metal on the bed stand.

“It´s good to see you awake again.”

“How long was I out?”

He breathed steadily and held eye contact with you, his hand grabbing yours. It was warm and soft.

“Three days, we were all worried if you´d make it”, he explained calmly. For you, it had barely felt like a couple of hours.

“Hendrik, August and Ruth! Are they-“, You stopped, before continuing even hastier. “Fred and George!”

Your father let out another snicker and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. “You shouldn´t worry about them, as much as you should maybe take more care of yourself. They´re all fine and they´re all back at school.”

Your face dropped once again. “At school?!”

“Yes, you all abandoned the school regulations and not only snuck out, but you even left the country. As your father, I cannot endorse such behavior.”

He sighed, but then he began smiling as well.

“I´m very glad you did though. If it wasn´t for you, I probably wouldn´t be here.”

Finally, you lunged a little forward, embracing him tightly. You felt how tears formed in your eyes and his familiar warmth radiating against your tired body.

“I missed you dad!”

He hugged you back, his chin on top of your head. “I missed you too.”

When you let go of him again, your brows furrowed.

“Albrecht, is he?”

“Dead, yes, for good this time. The guards that were in cahoots with him, were banished and their memory was removed. Everything went back to normal.”

It was like a heavy rock falling off your chest, it was over.

“August was right by the way; he did have mother´s ring. All those years, he planned it all out. Killing your mother, poisoning me and when the idea rose, to send you children away, he had me thinking it was the best solution. But the moment you were gone, I knew the mistake it was.”

He sighed and his hand pushed back his hair, just as dark as Hendrik´s.

“I was left helpless, knowing he had too much power at this point. My last hope laid with you children.”

“What about Silberstein? Are you still planning to turn this place into a school?”

He nodded, starring out the window for a few second, bemused, before turning back to you.

“Yes, but I will wait until Hendrik graduates. I cannot build a school system on my own and my time leading, is long over. It is time for Hendrik and you to take the lead.”

You grinned approving. “That sounds very thought over.”

“I had enough time to think and to get a little help, I´m going to accompany you to Hogwarts when you´re feeling strong enough again. Me and your headmaster have a lot to discuss.”

 Fred, George and even Hendrik and August sat in the Gryffindor common room. As they had come back, the news had already made a round. It was however needles to say, that they were pretty disappointed to all receive minus points, and the immediate send back into the classes. As much as they wanted to celebrate the victory over Silberstein, none of them were in the right mood. Their worries stayed behind with you and they spent days hunched together, hoping for an owl from Germany. Especially Fred looked tired with dark circles beneath his eyes, he had barely eaten or slept. The door opened for the hundredth time, they all looked up with very little hope, but this time, it was Ruth.

“They´re coming!” She announced loudly. Other students in the common room looked up, interested as well.

“Who´s coming?” Hendrik asked, but all of them had jumped off their seats anyways.

“The royal carriage!”

“Y/n?” Fred asked the youngest of the siblings, but she could only shrug. It didn´t matter, they all hurried outside, where several other students had gathered as well. They all watched in tension as the carriage landed and the door finally opened.

First to enter was King Michael, out of reflex more than actual knowledge on how to behave, the students bowed. But the king softly smiled, before reaching out with his hand, a second figure entered. You.

It was like the day had suddenly lightened up and Ruth ran up into your arms, quickly followed by your brothers and the twins.

“Don´t ever leave us waiting like this!” Ruth urged you and you grinned.

“What? Were you expecting an owl instead of me?”

Hendrik and August patted you shoulder, but Fred couldn´t hold back anymore. He quickly embraced you as well and you felt how your feet slightly left the ground. He didn´t care about the stares, all he cared was for you to be there, in his arms, again.

“We did it, Freddie”, you whispered leaning into the hug. He nodded slightly.

“No, you did it, Y/n!”

 White clouds, shaped like cotton candy, covered the sky and the white linen draped across the Fortress. Perfectly shaped snowflakes danced from the skies down. The soft neighing of the horses echoed, you felt relieved. Christmas laid in the air, cinnamon and mistletoe, and icy snow covered the trees. You had taken the liberty of inviting the entire Weasley family, Harry and Hermione as well as a few other friends from Hogwarts.

After the initial howlers, yes plural, from Molly, she and Arthur had gladly accepted. The new attire for the formal occasion that each of the red-haired family members were gifted with, were stunning. Dresses with beaded details and a suit, Ron wished he had at the time of the yule ball. Molly and Arthur were barely able to close their mouths after arriving at the fortress and the prior anger towards their sons, disappeared. Instead, pride settled in and Molly placed lovingly kisses on Fred´s and George´s cheeks.

The Christmas evening was filled by laughter, you were all seated around the large table in the big dining room next to the ballroom. The Weasleys, schoolmates from Hogwarts as well as friends like Paul or Ruben, and of course, you own family. Due to the formal etiquette, the crown was back on your pate. For the first time, you didn´t mind though. Your family had been broken a long time ago, finally you had healed and even though the process had taken time and even more effort, you had reached a peaceful state.

However, you did decide that a little fresh air wouldn´t hurt, the sun had already set and the sky filled by stars and snow enlightened the nightly horizon.

You found yourself in the front yard and a Pegasus greeted you, as if had been waiting for you. You let out a chuckle as your hand brushed through the mane. Suddenly, you heard the door behind you opening and closing again. You instantly felt Fred´s presence and turned towards him, happily grinning from ear to ear.

“I never imagined to be at a castle for Christmas, could get used to it though”, he explained shrugging cheesily. “It´s been a long time since Christmas felt this festive and joyful for me as well.”

Fred stepped closer to you, admiring the silver horse. You let out a sigh, as your mind wandered back to Hogwarts. “I don´t think it was our last battle”, you admitted quietly, Fred only nodded.

“No, it probably wasn´t.”

“Maybe I´ll follow you then into the next fight, hm?”

“What about Silberstein?” Fred asked and his eyes carefully found yours. But you smiled gently at him. “Well, I first need to graduate. Hendrik will keep a spot open for me.”

“So, you´re all going back with us to school?”

“I wouldn´t want to miss it.”

He glanced up and down from the ground, stepping closer again. One of your hand remained on the back of the Pegasus. It was as if the horse felt the attraction and slightly nudged you towards Fred´s direction.

“Is it a crime to kiss a princess?” He asked whispering and you felt his warm breath on your skin.

“Not if she gives you her permission.”

His hand traced the silhouette of your face, only inches stayed between the two of you.

“May I, princess?”

You nodded.

Finally, Fred fully leaned forward and his lips crashed against yours. You melted into the kiss, your hands grabbing his neck, while he embraced your waist to pull you closer. The neighing from the silver horses made you both chuckle and separate a little, but your foreheads remained touching. “Care for a little ride, Weasley?” You asked grinning and while Fred seemed taken back at first, he nodded agreeing.

He sat down behind you on the strong back of the Pegasus, his hands first carefully, but then rather happily holding onto your waist.

“You´re going to love it!” You exclaimed before the horse started cantering, and then spreading the white wings. Fred felt weightless as the horse left the ground with no effort and cold air embraced him. But it was refreshing and liberating.

You smiled, eyes pinned lurking back to see Fred´s gaze as well, you were under the same sky at last.

———-

tags: @ britishspidey @ perfectlysane24  @ acoolnight

[yandere-wishes]

Eight Tries //Obey  Me Yandere! Asmodeus x reader //

Thank you so so much for this wonderful prompt @feedmestraycats​. Icon made by the lovly @bbelphie​!

TW: attempted suicide, mention of rape/noncon, gore, murder, cheating

This was getting old, he still wasn't home and there was no point in pretending that he was just running late. No, you knew that your husband was not coming back home tonight, maybe if you were lucky you would find him passed out on the couch sometime in the late afternoon once you returned from the marketplace. 

There was no reason to spend the dreary and dull night alone. If that spoiled hero you called a husband could be spending such a gorgeous night, out with some prostitute from the slums then you could also be having some naughty fun~

--To call your current like a nightmare was an understatement. People awake from nightmares, they could open their eyes and be back in the safety of their warm beds, next to the person they loved. But the second your eyes opened you entered a hell on earth, there wasn't any escape, no freedom...and the worst part was that there was not a single soul to comfort you--

Five red candles set in a circle each one a blase with a tiny passionate flame. Two twigs inserted parallel to one another, caging in the dried corpse of a scorpion. Next is the demon's sacred seal written in the summoner's blood, elegantly and delicately. Sprinkle it with salt and state the ungodly words. "Oh, great Asmodeus lord of love, aviator of lust, I become thee come forth to me, I offer you my body and soul"

--You had been born to a noble family in a small and rather poor town. Despite the town economical standpoint, the natives were tremendously kind and neighborly. Everyone shared whatever little of anything they may have had. Your family, in particular, was the most charitable. Giving and giving as much as humanly possible. When it came time for you to chose a husband, your father requested you marry someone from the town, someone you truly loved disregarding how poor or wealthy they may be. Marry for love he insisted but keep it in the family. Regardless to say that's what you did. You found a man and fell in love, married a month later in a joyous celebration in which the whole town had been invited to....but then HE came along--

The circle in front of you puffed with a cloud of thick pink smoke. It invaded your sense, plunging into your mind and sending waves of ecstasy. It was a rush pure lust was infected into your entire body...

but then it stopped, neglecting your corpse and leaving you you confused and sweaty. It was in that eerie moment that the demon decided to manifest himself. He stood tall in all his glory, petite bat wings spread out. If it weren't for the dark shadow and uncharacteristic bitter frown spread thinly across his face, he would have looked as beautiful and perfect as the first miserable night you played eyes on him.

--In the dead of night Asmodeus had murdered your husband in clod blood. He had made you watch as he shredded your lover's corps leaving only a messy pile of blood and organs on the bed. But that had not been enough for the lord of lust. On that same blood-soaked bed he had defiled you,  raped you and stolen what was meant for the man who's blood you now laid in, a weeping mess reeking of that demon's stench. Your parents had found you the following day. They were sent into an accentuated frenzy. How could such a horrifying thing happen? By the following year, you'd been wed again, only for Asmodeus to return on the night of your marriage and decimate your new husband. By the fourth accurations, the townsfolk had deemed you cursed, at first they tried all that they could to save you from this dreadful beast. But all too soon it had turned into a competition. "Who could marry the nobleman's daughter and survive the next day." Desperate to wed you off your parents accepted any challenger who arrived....and each was dead by the morning of your marriage. By the sixth time, the townsfolk had already tried to kill you on multiple occasions. The sweet and caring town you knew had been annihilated replaced by this bitter, angry village of unkind and untrusting residents. And Asmodeus? Well, he'd made a game out of this, each time he'd find a new grisly way to slaughter your new husband and a new repugnant way to rape you. By the seventh husband, you'd already attempted four suicides. All resulting in fallierur, by some black miracle that dreadful demon was always able to save you and keep you alive. All hope was lost or so it seemed.--

"He's out again..." Was there any need to explain why you'd summons him. Over the last two years since your wedding to the "hero", these summonings had been almost routine. 

"Of course he is darling~ did you really think you were enough to satisfy him? hm?"

The words stabbed your heart like a million needles at once, the reality was all too fragile and could come crumbling down at any given time. You had never been enough, this was a well-known fact at this point. You had never been enough for your lovers, parents or town's people and now you weren't even enough for your own husband, the man that had saved you from all your miseries. 

"Love, he's a hero. Hero's don't settle down and live domestic lives with their loved ones and children. They need the torture of missions and anguish of journeys to feel alive. When they leave it all behind they wind up as hollow husks filling out the rest of their existence with alcohol and street women."

--After having prayed to God for too many days and nights to count, he's finally sent you a hero. Tobias was sent to vanquish the demon Asmodeus and merry you as a reward. At the time you'd all thought he had succeeded, that the avatar of lust was really dead. The thought had brought you joyous days and depressing nights. A part of you was beyond thankful that he was finally gone. The other half missed and longed for his lips on yours, for his hands brushing against your skin, the feel of his honey-colored lock tangled in between your fingers. You missed your tormentor...

At first, you and Tobias had been like any young couple so in love to notice the conflict of the world around you, so in love to disregard each other's sharp edges. So in love, until you were no longer. The first year had been sweet and peacful, every day was a harmonious dream...but then Tobias started coming home late, neglecting your presence. Some nights he wouldn't return at all and you'd run into town finding him in some pub drunk and with some random woman clinging to him. You spent those nights crying yourself into fitful revolting dreams of happiness and death. The old pre-suicidal habits had returned. One night the blade slipped and slashed a vain to deep, mentally exhausted you simply laid there waiting for the blood to run out. That's when you saw him again. Over the years he hadn't changed one bit, flirty smile and reddish-yellow eyes still playful and dark. He'd brought you back again and stayed with you until morning. The occurrence repeated it's self like clockwork until one night it was no longer dying and talking but summoning and...more. It felt right to feel him all over you again. His toxic presence made you feel complete, filling up holes in your soul.--

Asmodeus stalked closer, arms slinging in that all too causal way. You didn't dare take a step back, having played this game enough times to know every result before it even sprouted. 

"(Y/N) why won't you listen to me! How dense do you have to be to repeat the same mistake eight times! Eight freaking times before it dawns on you that you are wrong! You will always be wrong! No worthless human or "holy hero" can ever love you as I do. I'm the only one. I'll always be the only one!" 

Your brain screamed that he was wrong, that you could have had a prouspoures, dazzling life had he not killed your first husband or second or even third. Ir was his fault that your beloved town had been plagued with riots and corruption. He taught your people to sin, to ignore the words of God and his angels! Yet your cracked heart knew that he was right, no man would ever love you again... hey all married you for some selfish obligation or another. And Tobias....Tobias was the worst of all. He was forced to marry you by the holy on. Thrust into a loveless marriage with the suicidal "beauty" he was forced to save. Why couldn't God have just killed you all those years ago? Given the poor "Miss wanna die" her sole wish. He was right, this MONSTER was had always been right! No one loved you. You were less than the rubble under people's feet. Even noble god had turned his back on you...but he, this evil demon...Asmodeus had always come back for you. Hw stole your innocence, your purity, your life! your destiny was forever ruled by him. Maybe that's what you were so constantly in pain and isolation. You were trying to outrun your furutre. Why? What was the point of escaping your inevitable faith? Let it go, submit,  your miserable life would finally become less of a burden. Give up, hand over the crumpled misery you called life to Asmodeus, let him take over. It would all finally be over. No more pain, loneliness, the misery would come to a sweet end!

In a daring, insanity driven moment you lunged yourself forward gripping Asmodeus' toned shoulders with all your strenghth. Fingernails digging deeper and deeper into his creamy skin. Crashing your lips onto his, trying to let the kiss speak for you. Begging he would comprehend your actions, praying he would accept your submission. In no time he took over, dominating the kiss, slipping his wet muscle into your mouth. Running his larger hands to your lower back. Dipping lower and lower, squeezing anything he could get his hand on. He was the one to (shockinly) break the kiss. He slowly pulled away leaving behind a thin string of saliva. His lush lips were pulled into a smug smirk, his eyes were lightening up with the most joy you'd ever seen. Forcefully he pulled you closer to his chest. Holding your head where his heart would have been. 

[fictionalrambles]

Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Eleven

Submitted by fairphyllis13 

Five Fave Fics:

THE BOUNDLESS SAGA by @povverbottoms and teumessian

A path of birth, rebirth and awareness. I can’t say how much I was hit by this series, one of the first things I read about Malec. A crescendo of fear, awe, stubborness, love and power, all displayed in the amazing chapter in which Alec faces the Irak-Ta, declaring his contempt towards his world taking on the hardest ordeal for a Shadowhunter to become the ruler of his own life, while Magnus can barely cope with his lover’s suffering.

Favourite quote: Magnus running towards a barely alive Alec to free him:

Before anyone reaches Alec there’s a blast of wind and Magnus is there, arms bare and hands glowing blue as the shackles explode off Alec’s wrists.

Until the glory of the last part of the series, that, oh god, can’t be described.

He raises a hand, turns open his palm. There’s one golden spark, and then a purple fire blooms in his palm. Alec glances at it, chuckles, and then it burns even brighter, flames turning to silver and gold.

“Who are you?” Magnus breathes.

Alec drops his hand slowly, ball of magic blinking out as his fist closes around it. He holds Magnus’ eyes as he speaks, open and pressing for understanding.

“I’m Alec. The Alec that does belong to you.”

*

INVICTUS by @lecrit

The art of tattooing: the art of covering - or highlighting - your wounds through drawings and thanks to a strong connection between the artist and his canvas, a body who wants to yell at the world through a kind of psychoanalytic session.

Alec feels responsible for the accident and thinks he doesn’t deserve happiness, he doesn’t want to be happy, trying to atone for the guilt in which he’s drowning. But making his mind in covering his scars highlighting them with a tattoo means a new beginning, just like my tattoos represent a path: knowledge, love, chains, anger, and finally peace, awareness, balance and renewal.

Favourite quote:

To mark your skin with something that will be a part of you because you have decided

That’s it: something you get control upon

*

ALL REALMS OF WHERE AND WHEN BEYOND by @la-muerta

A fantasy tale – what I love the most – which brings out the best qualities of truly strong people: honesty, loyalty, self-sacrifice, love towards those who you are responsible for. Magnus and Alec have a long journey towards each other, learning to be together but never forgetting their duty and their responsibility, and their happiness happens only when they’ve fulfilled what they are expected to do. This is a milestone for me, what I appreciate the most.

Favourite scene: their heartbreaking first time, just before they split.

"Magnus, please," he whispered, not knowing what he asked for, overcome with emotion, but Magnus just hushed him with a kiss, swallowing Alec's cries as he began to rock into him.

The gentle waves of pleasure washing over Alec began to rise and swell into a roiling tempest. They were joined so deeply that Magnus' magic was sparking blue all over Alec, his pleasure feeding Magnus' and Magnus' pleasure pushing back into him, both of them completely lost in each other.

Alec threw his head back against the pillow, crying out Magnus' name as he let Magnus fill him over and over again, until the crest of pleasure broke inside them both, and they both came whole to the night.

Too soon, the sky began to lighten.

Neither his siblings nor his liegeman made any comment that he had only returned to them in the wee hours of the morning, arms laden with travelling supplies and face streaked with fresh tears.

*

BETWEEN THE LINES by @msalexiscriss

An absolutely amazing cop/thief AU, a thread I like so much, in a neverending game between two smart people on the opposite side of the law. Yet, no one is totally right or wrong and our thief is much nicer than we thought; moreover, their continuous challenge makes the story interesting and lively through a series of coup-de-theatre. From enemies to lovers they learn how much love and hate might mix in an explosive blend but eventually morphing into something beautiful. And also how love and hope push you to make amends of your mistakes to gain a greater reward.

Favourite scene: Magnus’ exit out of jail after paying his debts and letting himself love Alec

"I know I have nothing left to offer you, I am an ex-convict without a job, money or any plan for the future, but I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being and that's never going to change. Maybe I'm four years too late, maybe this isn’t what you want. I know that a lot of things have happened since this started but-"

"Yes!" Alec exclaimed, kissing him repeatedly. "Yes, yes and a thousand times yes!"

Magnus smiled, feeling his heart making thousands of somersaults inside his chest. "Risks and all?" He asked.

"Risks and all!"

*

MAJOR ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD by  caffeineaddicted_malec

A tough military AU, a couple of happy husbands who have been separated by war and then by death. Years of mourning and one day yes, major Lightwood is back, being held captive for 6 years, tortured and abused. The long winding path of two souls that need to reconcile, their deep connection challenged by an awful experience and a resulting PTSD, when love sometimes isn’t even enough. I never experienced PTSD myself: but it made me think about what people I know is going through and made me aware about how much they need love, understanding and support: let’s try to be kind.

Favourite quote: Maryse talking with her son-in-law.

“I miss him sometimes. Our Alec. The one who would have killed Luke yesterday just because I had started dating him”, Maryse sighed and sat down on the table curling her hands together in a fist. Magnus looked at Alec again and nodded, a tint of moisture collecting in his eyes.

“He’s still in there...we just have to be patient”, Magnus assured.

[agentdagonet]

Harry thinks he’s broken after Kentucky. Eggsy disagrees. Greatly. Maybe some body worship?

So I kind of made this more feelings-y than physical? And it’s kinda a sequel to one of my very first tumblr prompts about Harry having a lot of scarring and Eggsy showing that he loves him anyway. 

It’s fine on its own, but I figured I’d link that in case you want some minor kind of continuity?

Enjoy!!

‘I always thought that I would go out in a blaze of glory,’ Harry muttered on the plane, laid down on a sofa ‘I never thought I’d actually have to deal with being broken and decrepit. Nearly managed it, too, if Valentine hadn’t bollocksed it up.’

Eggsy picked up the nearest object to him, a whisky glass, and chucked it blindly in Harry’s direction, heedless of their being in the air or already injured due to their recently-completed mission.

‘That was rather rude of you, Eggsy.’ Harry said blandly, having caught the glass and set it down on the floor beside him without sitting up.

‘No, Harry, you need a fuckin’ wake up call and if it came down to me chuckin’ shit at you I’d do it for ‘s long as it took, yeah?’ Eggsy took a deep breath and threw a crumpled napkin, ‘You’re bein’ an ungrateful prick, Haz, and I thought I got through to you the first time.

‘But apparently not, cos you think Valentine bollocksed up killing you an’ that’s something I ain’t gonna let stand.’ Harry turned bodily from Eggsy, face in the cushions, and refused to acknowledge what he’d said at all. All that did was frustrate him further, so he got up and threw himself bodily atop him.

‘Eggsy-’ Harry’s eye was wide, the empty socket beside it gruesome but something Eggsy loved with every fibre of his being. He leant down and pressed a firm kiss to the edge of the scarring, right below his brow, and Harry froze.

‘That got your attention?’ Harry nodded, lips slightly parted, and Eggsy allowed himself a moment to just look at him. He let his eyes trail across his brows, count the crows feet and stare unabashedly at the scarring from Valentine’s bullet. Fingertips trailed along the edges before running down his neck and resting a hand against his heart and pressing lightly.

‘The last time,’ Eggsy started, ‘that you tried to hide from me, I told you something, d’you remember what it was?’ He pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, his brow, the bridge of his nose, the edge of a lip where Eggsy could feel he was fighting a smile.

‘You started talking about Harry Potter… said something about… scars meaning I was brave… and had… made it back to you.’ Harry had struggled to get the words out between Eggsy’s touches, the too-gentle brush of skin-on-skin, and the moment he’d done so he dragged Eggsy into a kiss. Hands framing his face, eyes closed, a breathlessly firm press of lips.

They parted an age later- or a moment, who was to say- but Harry left his hands on Eggsy’s face and smiles softly at him. For a moment, it feels as if the world is spinning steadily- and then Eggsy tilts it on its axis again.

‘Did you ever watch Last Airbender?’

‘The Shyamalan film?’ Harry blinked at him with deceptively wide eyes, but Eggsy couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him at the unwelcome reminder.

‘No. We don’ speak about that travesty.’ 

‘Good, as I haven’t seen it. i am equally unfamiliar with the source material, though.’ Harry shrugged a shoulder and lifted the opposite end of his mouth in an apologetic smirk, if there was such a thing, and Eggsy huffed a breath of laughter.

‘Well, we’ll fix that when we get home then- but you don’ need to know the programmme to listen to me,’ Eggsy gave a soft glare, ‘an’ I expect you to pay fucking attention.’ Harry mimed locking his lips shut, and it lightened Eggsy’s heart a bit after Harry’s earlier depressing statement.

‘There’s a kid on the show, who went through some shit. He wanted to help people and found out that they were being led to slaughter by the people they trusted,’ Eggsy took a breath, trying not to think about Chester King as he’d lose track of his current mission: remind Harry of how very not-broken he was. ‘He ends up in a situation he had no control over, no hope of getting out of alive, and when he makes it out alive he’s scarred,’ Eggsy uses the hand not propping himself up on Harry’s chest to trace the edges of Harry’s empty socket, ‘just like this- except he’s still got his eye but that ain’t the point.

‘He survived an awful trauma with a fuck tonne of scars, an’ at first he throws his whole self into tryin’ to become who he was supposed to be in the first place, but at the end of it he becomes someone better.’ Harry looked away as best he was able, trapped between Eggsy’s body and the sofa it amounted to turning his head a tad, but Eggsy forced his gaze back with a gentle hand.

‘You ain’t broken. Or decrepit. You’re a spy with an incredibly impressive track record, and a set of skills I’m only startin’ to learn about. You’re Harry fuckin’ Hart, an’ one eye down you’re worth a hundred others- we just kicked some major arse, yeah? Mission accomplished, not a major injury between us, and we got to do this together- d’you have any idea how happy I am to storm the breach at your side?’ Eggsy pressed more firmly to Harry’s chest, his heart and smiled to himself.

‘Your heart’s still beatin, you keep comin’ back from ridiculous circumstances, and yeah your body gets changed a bit. You’ve got wrinkles and scars and aches that weren’t there before- but can’t you see that I’ve never found you more beautiful?’

Harry hadn’t dared to close his eyes, hardly dared to blink during Eggsy’s impassioned speech, and he blamed the non-blinking for the tear that slid its way down his cheek and soaked into the cushion.

Eggsy lowered himself to lie entirely against Harry, trying to force Harry into his body from body weight alone, and tucked his head against Harry’s neck. He pressed a grinning kiss to the space just behind his ear when Harry’s hands began to run themselves up and down his torso before pressing beneath his trousers. There was a long ride ahead, and it was nothing Merlin hadn’t seen before.

Taking prompts for the foreseeable future! Can’t guarantee post rate, but it’ll get done someday probably!

[yoyo-person]

Past and Future

Gods of any kind help me! I don’t like posting my work, but my best friend @silvurarts says yall need to be blessed. So here’s a story about my swtor mando; Kynerr Idate (my icon). 

I’m open to feed back, I would love to know how my writing is really, and let me know if you want me to post more of my stories!

Disclaimer: i base my star wars writings off of legends. But really all of swtor is legends. 

”Mandalorians cherish family and shower affection upon those they love and care for. One day Kynerr, you will find someone whom you would conquer entire star systems for if it meant you could see them smile.”

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How many years had it been since Kynerr had returned to his homeworld, his family, his roots? The mirialin looked at his homeworld as his ship made one last orbit before landing. Mandalore was a real sight to behold from space. The green forests and oceans made the planet shine, but Kynerr knew if they kept fighting each other their home would be in ruin. On the planet however, strong winds and harsh fauna made Mandalore a beautiful but deadly planet. He had left home when he was fourteen with others of his clan. He wanted to test himself. He wanted to be worthy of becoming his clan’s future leader. He was stupid and childish then. He disrespected his clan by disobeying rules and putting himself over his clan, he left his clan to take up bounty hunting at fifteen, only to return another year later after befriending an up and coming pirate who showed him family brought more to life than credits ever could. Since then, even though he was still dumber than a box of rocks, was fluent in four different languages and couldn’t speak any of them properly without slang or offensive vocabulary, he was determined to prove to his father that he was worth restoring his trust in him.  

Stepping off the ship and onto the familiar spaceport brought a wave of nostalgia over him. He and his father sold prime cuts of meat and bone from their hunts to vendors, arguing with merchants over blaster barrels, and other memories flooded him. Normally he would have contacted a clan member to shuttle him back to their stronghold, but Kynerr was not here on his clans’ behalf and more his own. He had come home to stand toe to toe with his father and show him the man he had become. His clans’ stronghold was a little ways outside the small town of Enceri; an agricultural/mining hotspot in the northern forests of Mandalore. Being unannounced as he was, he found the shuttle that would take him to Enceri. He sighed at the sight of merchants and other Mando’s packing into the small shuttle. He hurried to board, pushing past others to grab a window seat. He giggled to himself a little as he was promptly shoved into the wall of his seat. It was to be expected really. The cramped conditions of his short flight brought on memories of his past with his father.

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The rain poured outside as the shuttle full of mando’s talking and laughing filled the cabin. Rain was constant in the northern part of the planet which brought perfect opportunities for young mando’s to train. 

Kynerr, barely nine years of age, was going on his first hunt with his father and a few others of their clan. Mandalorian children learn to hunt and track very young to prepare them for their bigger hunts and bounties when they turn thirteen. Kynerr was ecstatic to finally train with his father and be a part of the stories he and other clan mates always told him. As he watched the terrain outside zoom by his father sat down next to him. 

“Excited to get your hands dirty?”

“What are we gonna hunt?! A tuskbor? A sline? A rancor!?”

“HAHA one day Kynerr you’ll be able to hunt all those and more when you’re older. For now I’m going to teach you the basics and we’ll see what we hunt from there. Ok son?”

Kynerr pouted as he turned his attention back to the window. An older clan mate laughed loudly.

“Aye Sajaan, I remember you making that same face when your father told you the same thing! Like father like son aye!”

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The shuttle landed and Kynerr waited till most of the people were off before exiting the shuttle himself. The rain had lightened up and the sun fought to peek through the clouds.  Enceri’s alien population had surely picked up since he lived here. His clan used to be the only source of any alien activity in this area. Pushing through the crowd he saw what he was looking for. A group of Mandalorians in his clans’ colors. As he approached them he was noticed by the oldest of the group.

“Well look at what the Dusk Cat drug in! If it ain’t Sajaan’s boy and all grown up!”

“Su cuy'gar! Think you can give me a ride to the stronghold?”

“Anything for you boy. Hey really diggin this short mohawk hair you got goin! Your pops know about this?”

Everyone was smiling and laughing. They were all so happy to see him. Sure they were some of the few that trained him when he was younger and he was their clan leaders son, but his father put him on a pedestal to be praised… at a cost that shouldn't have had to happen.

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It had stormed the night before and, with no more rain in the forecast, made tracking a traitor easier to hunt. Kynerr had just turned thirteen and the first big mission his father had to send him on… was to bring in his own mother. It was found out she was having an affair with a member of another clan, was carrying his child, and was giving the other clan his father’s secrets. While his father’s main forces attacked the other clans stronghold, he ordered Kynerr to track and capture his mother who had fled into the woods. Kynerr was accompanied by six other clan members. They tracked her for a majority of the night. His mother was no push over. She led her husband’s forces to many victories and glories their clan was most noted for. If Kynerr was successful on this mission it would be him to take his mother’s place as his father’s second in command. After hours of tracking they found his mother covered in mud cowering under a fallen tree. 

When Kynerr and his group returned with his mother, he found out that his father was also successful in his attack on the other clans’ stronghold and he had killed the man his mother had laid with. When Kynerr marched into the main hall of their stronghold it erupted with cheers for him. At only thirteen he tracked and captured an expert hunter, to his clan, in record time. At first the glory went to his head, but reality sunk in hard seeing his mother's angry expression. Upon reaching his father, one of his clan mates forced his mother to kneel before his father. His mother looked to his father in disgust and anger.

“Sending a child to do your dirty work?”

“He is a child no more for bringing you to me, Riduur.” he said mockingly with malice. 

“I have no regrets for my actions. You’ve grown soft opting to use diplomacy rather than settle things like the warrior you were!”

“No. I am assuring my clan remains a formidable power not only in might, but in politics. If I must become a figure head for my clan then so be it. But OUR son will be our might, our strength, our future! It is a shame you won’t get to see it… Kynerr… kill her”

Kynerr looked to his father in shock. Kill his own mother? Before he could respond, his mother burst into laughter.

“Kynerr? Kill me? HA! Sajaan you were always a hoot. The boy can barely hit a target without a guilty conscience and you think he will kill me? He is a waste of a son and a disgrace to this clan!”

Tears welted into Kynerr’s eyes. His father gently pulled him next to him and knelt down to his level. 

“My son… she is your mother no more. She betrayed us, hurt us, and now she mocks you! Kill her and become mando… kill her… and bring honor to you and our clan.”

His father pulled out his blaster, handed it to him, and turned him to face his mother. His mother had a twisted face of anger and laughter. She was talking to him, but he couldn't hear her. The hall was full of chanting. All he could remember was feeling tears fall from his eyes and pulling the trigger. Then there was cheering. Then there was his father. 

“It had to be done…”

His aunt, his mother’s sister, suddenly pushed her way through the crowd and sobbed as she picked up her sister off the ground.

 “You’re a monster! Why not just let us go” 

His father looked at her then to his hall.

“Clan Idate your attention, It is with my great pleasure to tell you that my son, Kynerr, will begin his training along the outer rim starting later this week! I also wish to say that with the untimely demise of Clan Pyto we are now the largest clan in northern Manda’yaim! Today marks the death of who we were and the birth of our new future. Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it for Clan Idate”

The hall exploded with cheers, blaster being fired into the ceiling, songs rang across the room. Kynerr stared at his father in awe then turned to his aunt as she ran out of the room with his mother’s body. His mother taught him so much. In Mandalorian culture, girls and boys learn their earliest lessons from their mother. Cooking, mending wounds, combat, language, and their culture. A part of him mourned his mother, but he knew his mother messed up and betrayed their family. She was successful in raising him, but she wanted for nothing in the end and it cost her her life. 

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The grand hall of his clans’ stronghold felt smaller than he remembered. He also was a child then and had since grown a few feet since. The room’s walls had his clans banners lining them. Vivid red and orange drapes hung the length of the hall from the ceiling leading to the throne and the end of the hall. The throne itself was meant to seat the family that led the clan. He remembered sitting in it with his father and mother when other clan heads came to visit. He was brought out of his thoughts when the adjacent door opened and his father and his guards walked through. Though time ages all, his father aged gracefully. Even though his green skin was lighter and his hair whiter, he was still in peak form and still had many more years to live. His father approached him stood in front of Kynerr. Kynerr bowed his head to him.

“Raise ad’ika, you never need to bow again”

“Buir, until I redeem myself to you-”

“Kynerr”

His father placed his hands on his shoulders and smiled at him. 

“You have gone above and beyond to prove yourself. You have nothing to prove!”

Kynerr smiled. He had waited so long to hear him say that to him. His father patted his shoulders before removing them and holding his hands behind his back. 

“Now what is the real reason you are here, hm? It must be very important to abandon two bounties to tell me.”

Kynerr looked to the floor. He was right that it was important, but he could not form the words to tell him. His father chuckled at him.

“You don’t have to say anything Kynerr. You always were easy to read, even in combat”

Kynerr scoffed. His father laughed as he placed a hand on Kynerr’s shoulder.

“Welcome home! Now tell me about this woman you are head over heels for?”

 THE END

[marceltash]

Marcel Ash

Professor Lunday

ENGL 1301

19 Apr 2020

At the Gates

            “I, Marcel Ash, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of all the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God." Reciting this sovereign oath has the same brilliance that it possessed over a decade ago. For a Marine, it foreshadows the unity we have the privilege to be a part of. I’m thankful for all the diverse personalities that effortlessly meshed with my own. Ok, maybe effortlessly isn’t the best choice of words. Our brotherhood is forged through blood, sweat, tears, and a little bit of “positive” reinforcement. I was able to persevere and grow into a fine marine; it all anxiously started August 28th, 2010. I still remember seeing all the 25 faces those many years ago, seeing the expressions of nervousness, excitement, and an overall state of unknowing as to what the future will hold. As we lined up shortest to tallest right before preparing to march onto the red carpet inside the MEPS building room. I was to march into room with the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard crest hanging so proudly high on the wall to the rear of the room, with a mesmerizing look of old glory swaying ever so boldly through the elements of the sky. As we marched in, everyone’s parents and other families were standing there crying tears of pride, waves at us vigorously, and taking pictures as if they were capturing the last remnants of the innocence of their child to be preserved, because they knew that once the oath of enlistment had been spoken; no longer stood their child, but now an young adult setting down the path of adulthood. Once we all entered and were appropriately positioned , the commander of Military Enlistment Processing Station walked in and delivered a passionate and intense speech about being honored, becoming brothers and sister in arms, and have the distinct pleasure to call of calling us his fellow future service member.

After hearing and feeling the passion in the voice of what the MEPS commander had to say to us, raising my right hand, and speaking that oath to the nation, I couldn’t help but feel an intense state of belonging to an great organization resonate inside, and that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, I would call them all a part of my family one day soon. 30 minutes after they marched us out of the swearing in room, they took us to through a series of different hallways a offices depositing all 25 of us to our respective branch offices as if we had been the payday they been waiting for, I stood in surprised that only 6 of us remained from the 25 await the drop off to Marine Corps office to get our next set instruction well to what to expect now. At that very moment, I finally understood why it was that the Marine Corps was always referred to was the Few And the Proud, and why everyone I would tell told about my future endeavor would smile so loudly and hug me so tightly .

When we finally reached the office, we were greeted by at the time what I thought to be the epitome of the Marine Corps at time: a mountain of a Marine standing at least 6’5, jacked and with a demeanor that demanded nothing less than the up most respect from those both below and above alike. Whenever he spoke, whether it be issuing a command of orders, or it be a simple response, with every word spoke had whoever hung on every word because of his shear confidence. He led us over to the recreation area full of theater chairs and a projector with the most up to date movies out at the time, and congratulated us on becoming future “Devil Dogs” before telling us he would call us one at a time so that we could get our Military Occupational Specialty, finish signing contracts, and giving us each a 23 dollar food voucher for the food court at the airport. When it was finally time for me to finish my process before heading off to boot camp; the Gunnery Sergeant looking in a perplexing, and puzzled manor looked at me, as I walked in to greet him. As he stared into his computer monitor intently, 5 minutes went pass before he would finally break the silence lingering to address my choice of MOS. He wanted to know why someone with a score of 53 on the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, and had qualified for 75% of the jobs available to me, decided that I  wanted to be a Food Service Specialist instead of  a helicopter mechanic or everything else. He felt that it would be a great injustice not only to the Marine Corps, but also to me as well if I were limit myself to being a Food Service Specialist.

GySgt said to trying to gain a clear understanding of my thought process “Hey killer, I’m just going over your contract and looking at it I understand that you want to be a cook? With everything that the out there, did your recruiter not tell you what the Marine Corps has to offer to you? Because if he didn’t, luckily for you I have the last say so for your future career, and I can most defiantly change it for you no harm no fault right now just give me the word.” It took me a moment to process everything and contemplate what he had said, I responded with asking him what else was available and the wait time for each of the different MOS. He then said “Well if you were take Aviation Ordinance school will not be picking up for another year which means you wouldn’t be going to boot camp today, but you would have a better job. Or we can put you in warehousing or as an armorer were you can handle weapons all day. I just didn’t want a smart kid like you wasting after in someone’s chow hall making eggs and flipping spatula for the next 4 or however many years you stay in this gun club.” I told him “GySgt I would love to be ANYTHING other than a Food Service Specialist, but if it means staying in Texas another day I cannot do it.” He looked at me somewhat shockingly as I continued. “Boss It’s time for me to get out of here, I mean if I had another place to stay I most defiantly would take you up on your offer, but I just quit my job and my aunt will let me come back to her house, so Food Service Specialist it is for me 100% sir.” Understanding the severity of my situation, but still trying to get me the best “bang for my buck” as he put it said, “My final option would be to offer an open contract. What that entails is a contract where you go to boot camp today just like you want. He then leaned forward, crossed his hands and continued with, “Now while you’re there, the Marine Corps is going to look at your ASVAB score and what’s opened or going to be open by the time you graduate and place you a MOS of their choosing. Now the powers that be can put in the Infantry, or you can get lucky and get placed in meteorology” he laughed and then replied, “Yes, the Marine Corps has weather men or Food Service Specialists, because that’s the only thing open right now, but it solely up to the Marine Corps.” My response to him was very simple and would lighten the tone of would seem like an intense bargaining of careers with, “GySgt you lost me at Infantry sir, thank you for trying to convince me though, but I’ve been shot at enough in life and I’m not too keen on going half way across the world for someone to play target practice with my butt.” After a brief chuckle, and a few head nods of comprehension of my standing on position for my career, the Gunnery Sergeant had me sign a few pages, initial some other ones, handed me my food voucher, and told to head back to the lounge and chill out until it was time to head to the airport.

Heading back to the lounge, an unsettling feeling of nervousness began set in as I wondered if I made the right decision. I began to wonder if talking to the two Staff Sergeants that set all of this in motion had been a mistake an just a rebellious act against the status quo that a was my family, and all their disapproving rants with the exception of a few of how I was “going to throw my life away” or worst “get my fool self-killed” fighting in a war I had no business being in. But through the mist of the somber memories clouding my every thought, an over bearing ray of positivity would expunge all remaining doubts from my mind in the form my brother and words to me about my decision. My brother Shawn, who was the first to know of my intentions, said “well bro you know if that’s what you want to do then you know I support you all the way. No matter what the rest of the family says, it’s your life not theirs. If they didn’t like your decision, then to hell with them, just know your big brother will there how somehow to see his baby brother graduate damnit!” After reminiscing on the conversation between my brother and myself, I realized that no matter how hard basic training would be or get, as long I made my oldest brother Shawn proud, that’s all that mattered to me. After returning back to the lounge and surveying inside the room, I ran into a familiar face in a friend named Benjamin going to basic as well. After both he and I locked on to one another, a sense of relief and security befell the both of us because instead of going to another state with complete strangers, and having to get to know everyone in an instant, we a fellow face and to fall back in case of the moments when one of us was in need of moral support and reassurance.

By the time we finish catching up on lost time, as well as bantering back and forth an hour in a half had past and gunnery came to inform us that the bus taking us to the airport would be arriving shortly, and decided that he would tell us about the different states and countries he had the pleasure of going to. “I many of have ever been outside of Texas, or even the country? Well I can tell that the Marine Corps is probably the perfect place to go for traveling. The reason why I say this is because I’ve been to places you can only dream about. Places like Japan, New Zealand, Morocco, Brazil, Dubai, and so many more places gents. You what the craziest part about all this, I went to all these different countries absolutely free. That’s right guys, the Marine Corps paid for everything from the travel cost down even having maids to clean for you so you don’t have to worry about nothing, but going to work your 5 the 8 hour shift you are scheduled to stand, then its liberty and fun time people. If you aren’t sold on that fact, then listen to this; they also provide you a professional chief as well so you dot have to worry about cooking and feeding yourself as well. Speaking of chiefs, where’s my future Food Service Specialist?” I looked up and raised my hand hoping not to be ridiculed by the others for my choice in job selection. “Here I am Gunny, don’t go in on me to hard please and thank you.” His reply was “Why would I do that? No I was actually going to ask you if your recruiters told about the potential of you being able to go to the Culinary Institute of America?” he could tell from the bewildered look on my face that I had no inclination of what he was speaking about. “I didn’t think they did either. So for Marines with your MOS, you can go to the CIA while in the Marine Corp completely free of charge, provided you can win a completion between the Marine Corp and a civilian team of cooks like yourself. What that means for you should you win is that the Marine Corps will fly you to New York on special orders called Temporary Assigned Duty, or TAD and set you in a 5 star hotel, provide you with transportation, give you Per Diem, it’s just a fancy word for spending money, and allow you to go site seeing when you’re not at school. Just make sure you do your homework, because you will not have a babysitter telling to make sure you have your work done.”

He then also mentioned to us that even though we had sworn in we could still back out and go home. “Another thing for you ones that decide that at Boot Camp you really don’t want to be there; If by some chance you get there and start to realize that it’s not go for, you can most definitely leave and go home. But do understand that best way and fastest way out of the Marine Corps Recruit Depo is to graduate in 3 months. If you decide you want to leave prematurely, you will sit there at MCRD for at least 6 months before they be able to get you back home because of the process. So please I implore you, just suck it up, every day is not going to be roses, and finish boot camp.” After sharing a few more stories about the provocative things that some of the countries have to offer while there, he told us that bus would be arriving within the hour and told us to start cleaning the lounge, make sure we didn’t leave anything, and wished us luck once again and hoped he’d see some of us as Marines in the fleet. Roughly about 45 minutes later, the Gunnery Sargent sent one of the Administrative Assistant working in the office to notify us that the bus was here and guided everyone down stairs to insure we made it down to the bus. Once we arrived at the buses, she stop in front of them and told us to pair up, but not before appointing me in charge of everyone until we reached our final destination. Her only requirement of me was to make sure we all reached the gate on time, to board our flight to San Diego to be received by the Drill Instructors at MCRD.

Once we reached the airport, Benjamin and I instantly linked ourselves together, as if we were links of a steel chain that refuse to be broken, and would somehow manage to remain that way throughout the entirety of basic training. When we finally reached the boarding gate, we had a little over 2 in half hours before we would began the final trek to claim the title of Marine. Everyone looked to me for instructions of what to do because of my early appointment, me sensing that this would probably be to last time we all would get to enjoy the freedom and simply replied with, “Gents for and enjoy yourself, don’t do anything to stupid, and be back 15 min before its time to board the plane, but stay with your partners please and thank you.” After my statement, everyone’s eyes lit up as I had opened the flood gates, and allowed them to do what their wildest minds could imagine. As they disappeared in different directions, Benjamin and I went to the horse shoe shaped food court were we would remain until it was time to head back eating the 23 dollars’ worth of McDonalds double Cheese Burgers and Hot N Spicy’s we could get.

Boarding the plane I didn’t realize how much I had an unhealthy fear for fling as I had only flown 1 time before that very moment. The only thing that got me onto the plane was the fact that once I had reached MCRD, only few would have the chance in life to become Marines, and of that less than 1% would actually claim that title. Boarding the plane, we would encounter a future service member that as a part of the United States Army that as was more than happy to share with us his multiple stories about being in Afghanistan and seeing different parts of the world as well. Listening to the Army Specialist stories and adventures up to that point current moment, I realized that he manage to keep all our minds off the fact that we were 30,000 feet in the air, and kept our minds off the various bumps and shakes that the turbulence had to throw at us while we in the air.

When we finally landed in San Diego and had gotten off the plane, we had made our way to the USO in the airport were we signed in and given further instruction to wait on the bus coming to get us from the Depot. We were told to wait outside the USO because we haven’t become service member yet. We only waited for no less than 10 minutes out in the mid night air, before a bus with black out windows would pull up to collect us and deliver us to the hands of the men that would shape us into the men we needed to be. When the doors opened, a tall slender Drill Instructor disembarked the bus and addressed by saying, “listen up gents, from this point forward you will all be referred to as recruits and the word I is no longer a part of your word will. My name Drill Instructor Staff Sargent Jones and that is what you will refer to me as.” He began to pace back forward and continued with, “The first word out your mouth will be sir, and the last word will be sir. When you get on my bus, you will file out from left to right until all the seats are filed. When we get to MCRD, you also get off my bus from left to right, do you understand me?” Looking timid for unsure what the next few months would offer, answered him with a loud and pride “SIR YES SIR!!” SSgt Jones grinned and replied with, “Some of you will not make it through, and some of you will get hurt and can’t make it through. To the ones of you I say, good luck when you get back home, the Marine Corps wasn’t for you. The of that do make it through congratulations; I’ll happily call you my brothers. Until when I will be challenged and tested in ways you never have before, and you’ll want to quit.” He stopped in the middle of us all and said peering into all our eyes collectively, “The next 3 months will not be easy gentlemen, welcome to your own personal 13 week hell, now get on my bus!!”