#canon typical murder

[lacefedora]

Eyes in the Dark, Devils Minion Armandaniel

for @miwadake who requested Armand stalking Daniel post turning.

sorry this one took me a little while I was away from home -

Daniel can tell he's being watched. To be fair, he could tell when he was mortal too. They were good instincts to have as a reporter. Especially in war zones and the like. But this was different. At first he just thought it was wishful thinking. Louis was fuckin' right... the bond between maker and fledgling was very real. Visceral in a way that he hadn't been expecting.. He had felt Armand's eyes boring into him before, but now, Daniel could be walking through a crowd of hundreds but he knew it was him watching. He would talk to him sometimes. He knew Armand could hear him. He never heard from him directly though. No matter what shit Daniel said to bait him. And he had said a lot of shit to bait him.

Tonight though. Tonight he saw him.

It was just his eyes at first. A flash red-orange eyes in the dark, reflecting the light like a panther's. Daniel's seen his own eyes do that as well. It's a fucking weird thing to witness in yourself... But he immediately knew it was him. He had spent a long time looks at those eyes in those weeks in Dubai. Then he sees dark curls passing by him and he turns, Armand is gone before he can turn fully. He spends the rest of the night chasing shadows, trying to catch up with him. Finally he makes himself stop, starts looking for a meal instead. He bites his tongue, wishing he could scream at Armand. Either in his head or in person. He takes a breath... He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be a fucking creeper instead of talking to him that was his priority. It's simple enough to find someone to eat. Though he knows he'll have to be fast. He manages to lure his kill to an ally. He was in New York. It really shouldn't have been that easy. As he bites down he's so caught up in the euphoria of the blood on his tongue that he doesn't notices the other presence at first. There's movement and then Armand is just *there*. He's picking up Daniel's dinner's wrist and biting down on it. Daniel jolts back from his own bite when he sees him. "Holy shit man." He snaps at him. "What in the fuck, Armand?" He demands. Armand doesn't let got of his hold on the wrist. He just shifts, looking at Daniel and raising a brow as if to say 'why did you stop?'. "You... are such an asshole." Daniel says but dammit he is hungry. He leans in to drink more blood. He didn't want the fucker to keel over before he had the chance to drink his fill. Drinking from the same victim is an odd and intimate experience. Fuck Louis was right about that too. With the two of them drinking, it's a simple thing to drain him. Daniel pulls back, breathing a little heavy. His heart pounding, face flushing with the new infusion of Blood. He turns and finds Armand staring at him. Daniel stares back not sure where to start.

Armand reaches out and touches Daniel's face. His thumb swipes over Daniel's chin, then his lower lip. It takes Daniel a moment to realize Armand's gathering blood that he had spilled when he pulled back the first time. He's uncomfortably aroused when Armand licks the blood off his thumb.

"Dawn is close. Go home. I will dispose of the body." Armand tells him.

"Oh fuck no. I'm not leaving unless you swear I'll see you after I wake up. Otherwise I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight, Maker." Daniel growls. Armand looks tense at being issued an ultimatum. He would wait. Even if it meant racing the sun. He had left himself enough time to get home.

"I swear you will see me tomorrow after you wake." Armand says finally. Daniel curses softly, then nods. He steps back, heading to his apartment before dawn.

The next evening he finds no Armand in his apartment... disappointing. But he does see red-orange eyes down the ally he passes... baby steps.

[roseofhybrids]

FC Doll might not be as proactive with murder, but she does have all her organs intact for now

[levemetal]

Local minor heavenly official ignoring instructions to not approach calamity ghost.

Day 5: Caught / Found

Ascended Yue Qingyuan and Calamity SJ! Consider this a continuation of Day 2 :) There's their happy ending, they finally meet again. Fits for both prompts tho I drew this with Found in mind.

memey extra under cut

[payasita]

Speaking of fic stuff: The Lamb and Nari wake up one morning covered in bandages, surrounded by empty bottles. They have ZERO recollection of the night before. Now what?

He awakes to a taste like bile and rust, and with one hand wrapped in at least twenty layers of gauze.

Narinder takes a second to stare at it, wiggling immobile fingers and contemplating the mechanics of sitting up with a head somehow filled with both cotton and lead. He drops the hand and decides against it, rolling over and pulling a blanket over his head. The movement does absolutely heinous things to his stomach.

A slow minute passes before he realizes he is not under a blanket at all. It's comfortable regardless, so he cannot summon the effort to care. Far softer than anything yet available in the commune. The familiar scent doesn't hurt, warm and securely claimed with his own, and indeed does a good job in blocking out the currently unmanageable stench of the outside world.

Until it's nearly pulled away from him. He clutches onto it with a hiss, and instantly regrets moving so quickly.

"Oh good, you're alive." The Lamb gives it another tug. "Give me back my fleece."

Narinder vaguely remembers having lost a battle against them while at his full divine potential. He'd even had both hands available to him and everything. He cannot truly imagine the odds are with him now.

"Thank you," they huff when he unlatches his claws. He searches for something else to cover his face while they clothe themself. His skull appears to be imploding.

"I am dying," he declares. There's a few seconds of silence. Contemplation on the Lamb's end. Abject suffering on Narinder's.

"Nope. Not sensing it."

"Your competence with the Crown is dubious at best."

"You're not dying," they assure him, lightheartedly, "It just feels like it."

He groans, rolling over and hitting himself in the face with the large gauze lump in his attempt to throw his arm over his eyes. He snarls, and begins blindly picking at it with his free claw to find the edge.

The Lamb snorts, leaning over him. They have an armful of empty bottles under an arm, and are looking infuriatingly chipper.

"How'd you go and do that to yourself?"

He glares at them, pointedly.

"I clearly cannot have done this on my own."

"What, you don't remember?"

"...No," he admits. "What happened, then?"

"Oh, hell if I know," the Lamb laughs, and is saved from having that smile shorn off their face by his vertigo alone.

They move around him and pick up another bottle, inspecting it. "I was at the same feast you were, y'know. And if you'd had all this yourself, you probably would be dead," they gesture to the bundle under their arm, already five or six strong and slipping a bit.

"... Actually, we should probably both still be dead," they tut. "I don't even know what the flock puts in this stuff, 'sides from berries. But wow, they're good at it. Hey, actually, do you think maybe we have the makings of something worth exporting to the outside world? Plimbo's always making trips back and forth to who-knows-where, I bet we could--"

"Lamb."

"Mm?"

"Your chattering is causing me physical pain."

"Oop. ...Guess I should be grateful for the divine healing factor, huh?"

Narinder ponders the irony of wishing Death incarnate to choke, and finally finishes unraveling his hand. He squints at it. He sees no damage whatsoever that might have compelled anyone to waste medical resources on him. Not a strand out of place. He inspects his claws, and finds a bit of blood under them. Odd.

"There must be, like, a dozen bottles of wine in here. Do you think I drank most of it? I remember everyone in the temple cheering when I started chugging one. ...Or, uh. Three," the Lamb recounts, setting the pile down on a nearby table. Narinder watches them, scanning down their body for any abnormalities. No claw marks or stab wounds remain, but they would be gone by now. Still. The fact that he feels metal when he pushes his hand under his pillow is probably worth noting.

"You have a basket around here?" the Lamb asks after a point, "I need somewhere to put these."

Narinder says, "I do not live here."

"...Whuh?"

"This is not my hut."

The Lamb pauses. They glance around, newly curious. Narinder grasps at the bit of metal under his pillow, and retrieves a dagger. It is smeared with blood. He eyes it, vaguely toying with the way light plays off of the dull blade.

"Did I attempt to kill you last night?" he asks idly. The Lamb looks over. They see the knife.

"...Nnnno?" They try, not even attempting to sound certain.

"I believe," Narinder mutters, hardly feeling bothered to spare the focus, "I might have killed someone."

The Lamb looks at him, having the grace to at least look troubled. Narinder, on the other hand, remains far more concerned with the roiling in his stomach.

"... Okay, wait. Wait, I think I remember-- yeah," the Lamb snaps, and points at him. "Yeah! You lost your hand privileges."

"What," Narinder says.

"Yeah! You were doing-- something," the Lamb waves off vaguely, "Yeah, I think I remember-- I had to take the claws away? I mean. That would explain the bandages?"

Narinder glances over. It certainly sounds like the sort of logic they would act upon, in the event of his own uninhibited violence.

"...So I did try and kill you, again."

"Iiii, dunno? I mean. Maybe?" Again, they don't sound remotely sure. The "divine healing factor" does not, it appears, account for episodes of alcoholic blackout. Good to know.

So, trying to kill his spouse was one possible explanation. Admittedly, it wasn't even a far-fetched one. But the ambient stench of this hut offers another.

"Lamb," Narinder sits up, winning a valiant battle with his own vertigo, "Whose shelter is this?"

The Lamb pauses. They look around again at all the bottles strewn about. They look up. At the same time they do, a droplet of blood plops onto their cheek.

"...I think his name was Bremar," the Lamb hums.

"You think?"

"I mean, the Crown can only tell me so much. 'Specially when the corpse in question has somehow been reduced to... uh... streamers."

"Ah."

"So, uh, we should--- we should go."

Narinder growls. His stomach does not agree with the prospect of standing up anytime soon.

"Ten more minutes."

"Nari," the Lamb deadpans, "You eviscerated a guy."

"...Five, then."

[lgbtlunaverse]

I have been thinking on the nature of mdzs as a deliberately vague text that leaves many things up to interpretation, and how i've slowly come to understand "up for interpretation" less as "there is One True version of this story i must find" and not even as " Everyone has a different One True Version of this story inside their head be based on their interpretations and the differences don't make one wrong and the other right" but as "There is no One True Version. Even in my own subjective interpretation of the text multiple things can be true at once" specifically, in regard to Jin Guangyao and the many things which are left up in the air as to whether he did them or not, most notably killing his son.

There's evidence for this, but it's non conclusuve (jgy saying he killed him while also saying he killed Qin Su, who very much killed herself. The speculations on how he'd have killed him being sect leader yao just saying shit. ) it is, esentially, just up in the air enough that if you decisively fall on one side of the debate is probably says more about you and your general opinion of jgy than it does about the "true" events of canon.

I have, as a proud apologist, always fallen on the "he didn't kill him but felt in some way responsible for his death." Side but recently have become more okay with the interpretation that maybe he DID kill him, and that at the very least, that when he tells Qin Su their son "needed to die" he is being genuine. Which, once you look at it beyond. "Is jgy a poor lil meow meow who it is Okay to Like or an irredeemable baby murderer" becomes both INCREDIBLY tragic and deeply interesting. Because here is a man condemned for who his parents were and who wants nothing more than to live, saying that it is possible to be so cursed by your heritage that you need to die. There is no existence for you. The exact same thing that has been said to him.

Of course being born out of wedlock to a sex worker and being a product of incest are different things, but that begs the question: where is the line? What crimes of the father can mean death for the son? How cursed can you be until your existence is so incompatible with society it is you who needs to give? And if there is... where is it? Qin su clearly thought she was past it. Was his son really past it? Is he?

[sisaloofafump]

Planning to visit Metropolis? Here's what you need to know:

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Pay no attention to our neighboring city, Gotham. Despite its guise as the perfect summer destination for thrill seekers and clout chasers alike, the mortality rates are high enough that our experts can guarantee you will die out there.

You may have heard influencers like those on Coast City Craniums, famous for their viral quotes: "Everyone is so scared of Gotham, like no one wants to survive anymore, man. Go on, throw me in Gotham. Watch me come out a millionaire," and "anyone who takes the grindset seriously is moving to Gotham." Words like these contribute to the misconception that Gotham is the best tourist city on the East Coast.

Rest in peace, the Coast City Craniums crew. The team at MetTravels extends our sympathies to their families. We will miss you, and hope you reunite in the afterlife with your late friends at Rogues Remember.

In any news, Metropolis is a beautiful city this time of year (and any other time too) and we cannot be more excited to welcome you to the city of tomorrow. Make sure you stop by the MetTravel booths throughout Senneville, Newtown, and the Superman Museum!

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

Prongsfoot Week 2024 day 3

Favorite Canon/Potentially Canon moment - IE, something like Sirius comforting James after the DADA OWL and Lily’s reaction or (even though it’s platonic) the moment James asked Sirius to be Harry’s godfather.  

I think, because I am a sucker for angst, it might be Sirius's best man speech at the wedding. This all falls under potentially canon, heavy on the potentially. But I imagine Sirius was in love with James, and James loved Sirius. Because there's just no world where they don't love each other. It's just that James loved Lily too, and in the 70s/80s one of them was a more acceptable choice than the other. And it never really hit him that what he was doing with Sirius wasn't exactly fitting within the box of 'best friends'. He just loved Sirius, and that would always be true. And then his parents got sick and wanted to see him happy before they died, and James wanted to have them there for as much as possible, and he'd never questioned what his future would be and he didn't then either. He'd always known he'd marry a beautiful woman and have children to run around the house with their toy wands. And he did love Lily.

Sirius loved James in every way someone can love someone else. So it wasn't even a choice for him; if he didn't get to have James romantically he would take the pain of that rather than give up all the rest of it. He didn't tell James he would never love someone else. He didn't tell James he was in love in the first place. Instead, he encouraged James to go after Lily. Because Sirius loved James in every way someone can love someone else, and more than anything he wanted James to be safe and happy out in the sunshine. And he could only ever have the shadows with Sirius. Something hidden and shameful and illegal. And they could be best friends. Sirius loved him like that too, and it could be enough. Only, as one does, James's speech at the wedding was all about how lucky he was to be marrying his best friend and when Sirius stood up to speak not long after he could only hope everyone would believe the tears were just nostalgia and happiness for his friend.

I imagine he stood up and looked down at the man he loved, and the wife that Sirius had grown to care for. I imagine he wished them well, and meant it with his whole heart. I imagine he told stories about James asking Lily out and being turned down, about how James grew up and they actually got to know one another. I imagine he spoke about James's nerves before the first date, and didn't mention that Sirius sucked him off to soothe them. I imagine he didn't say how that was the last time they ever did anything like it, that he didn't say how much he wished the world was different and he could be the one in white. I imagine there wasn't a dry eye in the room, I imagine Sirius sighed with relief that they were all smiling too. I imagine he looked at Lily and asked her to take care of James for him. And I imagine if he'd looked at James he would have seen the heartbreak as he realised Sirius loved him in every way a person can love someone else, which James hadn't known until that very moment was even an option.

[averlym]

do you want to settle? or do you want to fly?

[regretfullyrave]

We cooking w this one 👀

"Never look back. 

But Uzi does, she turns on her heels to face her attacker. Just momentarily to reassess the situation, get a good sense of what she's dealing with and maybe attempt to fight back once more. Grave mistake. 

The second she does she's met with an X shining as bright as the midnight sun, reflecting off of her visor and piercing her like thousands of daggers— like the blade wings, each catching a hint of the yellow glow, warping it and distorting it in unimaginable ways, creating a complex array of light that burns a hole of terror into her core.

It's an empty second, no movement, no life, just stale existence. It lasts an eternity. "

Wc: 4377 (so far)

[lacefedora]

for @miwadake who requested Armand stalking Daniel post turning.

sorry this one took me a little while I was away from home -

Daniel can tell he's being watched. To be fair, he could tell when he was mortal too. They were good instincts to have as a reporter. Especially in war zones and the like. But this was different. At first he just thought it was wishful thinking. Louis was fuckin' right... the bond between maker and fledgling was very real. Visceral in a way that he hadn't been expecting.. He had felt Armand's eyes boring into him before, but now, Daniel could be walking through a crowd of hundreds but he knew it was him watching. He would talk to him sometimes. He knew Armand could hear him. He never heard from him directly though. No matter what shit Daniel said to bait him. And he had said a lot of shit to bait him.

Tonight though. Tonight he saw him.

It was just his eyes at first. A flash red-orange eyes in the dark, reflecting the light like a panther's. Daniel's seen his own eyes do that as well. It's a fucking weird thing to witness in yourself... But he immediately knew it was him. He had spent a long time looks at those eyes in those weeks in Dubai. Then he sees dark curls passing by him and he turns, Armand is gone before he can turn fully. He spends the rest of the night chasing shadows, trying to catch up with him. Finally he makes himself stop, starts looking for a meal instead. He bites his tongue, wishing he could scream at Armand. Either in his head or in person. He takes a breath... He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be a fucking creeper instead of talking to him that was his priority. It's simple enough to find someone to eat. Though he knows he'll have to be fast. He manages to lure his kill to an ally. He was in New York. It really shouldn't have been that easy. As he bites down he's so caught up in the euphoria of the blood on his tongue that he doesn't notices the other presence at first. There's movement and then Armand is just *there*. He's picking up Daniel's dinner's wrist and biting down on it. Daniel jolts back from his own bite when he sees him. "Holy shit man." He snaps at him. "What in the fuck, Armand?" He demands. Armand doesn't let got of his hold on the wrist. He just shifts, looking at Daniel and raising a brow as if to say 'why did you stop?'. "You... are such an asshole." Daniel says but dammit he is hungry. He leans in to drink more blood. He didn't want the fucker to keel over before he had the chance to drink his fill. Drinking from the same victim is an odd and intimate experience. Fuck Louis was right about that too. With the two of them drinking, it's a simple thing to drain him. Daniel pulls back, breathing a little heavy. His heart pounding, face flushing with the new infusion of Blood. He turns and finds Armand staring at him. Daniel stares back not sure where to start.

Armand reaches out and touches Daniel's face. His thumb swipes over Daniel's chin, then his lower lip. It takes Daniel a moment to realize Armand's gathering blood that he had spilled when he pulled back the first time. He's uncomfortably aroused when Armand licks the blood off his thumb.

"Dawn is close. Go home. I will dispose of the body." Armand tells him.

"Oh fuck no. I'm not leaving unless you swear I'll see you after I wake up. Otherwise I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight, Maker." Daniel growls. Armand looks tense at being issued an ultimatum. He would wait. Even if it meant racing the sun. He had left himself enough time to get home.

"I swear you will see me tomorrow after you wake." Armand says finally. Daniel curses softly, then nods. He steps back, heading to his apartment before dawn.

The next evening he finds no Armand in his apartment... disappointing. But he does see red-orange eyes down the ally he passes... baby steps.

Anyone interested in sending me some AMC IWTV Devil's Minion/Armandaniel drabble prompts? Here or in my ask box is fine.

[unknownarmageddon]

WAIMT. who.who did Killer make a deal with 👁👁👁👁👁was it was it was it/silly

OKAY SO. thats a great question i’ve been trying to figure that out

i really wanna say it was chara. i think chara was like, another standard demon that worked in hell’s fields. they didn’t have any high position or much power or anything. and i think they like. got so fucking bored and tired of hell that they grew drawn to killer, maybe mostly out of chance, and started like messing with his hell and watching him. and he didn’t Know who it was or could see them but he did know they always came back to torment him and he could like feel their constant presence. cause his hell always got a bit worse when they were around

and then eventually everything became so strained that they just ended up making a deal. chara in no way had the authority to make those kindsa deals but they did anyway, cause they figured they could at least use killer for something. and just to see what would happen

and then, what i’ve been thinking, is that chara used killer to try and escape from hell, free from the eyes of the higher ups, disguising it saying they’d get out together but really they just wanted him to do the heavy lifting and planned to stab him in the back at the end. but, then it backfired, and chara’s soul became unstable and kinda fused forcefully and uncomfortably with killer’s while killer was “climbing” out of hell (not sure if the climbing part is incredibly literal or not i have to think more about gates to hell in this context and etc etc). but then killer got pulled back in, pulling chara back in with him. so now they’re kinda just stuck like how they are. chara still has a semi physical form while they’re in hell, but if killer travels up to earth chara’s like how they normally are in utmv contexts. also the climbing out of hell was how killer got those marks on his arms cackles

[rhondafromhr]

Unhinged Heathers AU where Veronica and the Heathers are the ones who go on a murder spree (based more so on the musical version than the movie). Warning for canon-typical mentions of murder and suicide below the cut.

Ram is their first victim—at his party, he, Veronica and the Heathers are in a dark corner of the backyard by the pool while everyone else is inside. He’s being creepy towards Heather Duke, Veronica pushes him in the pool and he lands weird, hitting the corner with enough force that it snaps his neck. McNamara is terrified, Duke is pissed because Veronica butted in when she didn’t need help and now they might go to jail and Chandler is telling her she better get them out of this. Thinking quickly, Veronica screams as loud as she can, yelling that Ram accidentally fell into the pool and he’s not moving and somebody has to call 911. It’s ruled an accident and they get away with it. Heathers D and C are both intrigued by the rush of power it gives them, Duke especially. McNamara goes along with it because it was sort of an accident and he was being a jerk and should she and her friends really have to serve hard time over a silly little accident?

Kurt is up next. He starts using Ram’s death as an excuse to be even more of a shithead and be even creepier and sleazier towards girls, plus he was the first to emerge from the house and Veronica worries that he might have been close enough to the sliding glass door to see something. They need to shut him up forever and it’s not like he’s contributing anything positive to Westerburg, anyway, so they lure him to the cemetery and do a plan similar to the one Veronica and JD do in the movie, leaving a note explaining that he just couldn’t live in a this “cruel, ununderstanring world” without his best buddy, whom he also loved. There are no “ich lüg” bullets though—it’s a real ass gun and they all know exactly what they’re getting into. Unfortunately, they’re not very skilled with it and a stray bullet gets Heather Mac, so they have to hastily set up the scene to make it look like she killed herself, too. The guilt starts to eat away at Veronica, because Heather Mac was the most innocent in all this and she ended up dying for it. (“She was just seventeen, she still had room to grow. Who could she turn out to be? Well now we’ll never know”.) After this, she appears to Veronica as a ghost/figment of her imagination like Heather Chandler was in the musical.

Then Veronica catches Martha digging around in her locker and Martha confesses that she thinks Veronica’s been acting weird ever since Ram’s death and she heard she was the last one to talk to him (he died and things got shut down before Martha could come to the party). And, well, to quote the musical : “Martha, I’m so sorry.” Veronica lures her in with the promise of watching the princess bride and popping some Jiffy pop���just the two of them, just like old times. She really does put the movie on, but only so Martha can see her favorite movie one last time. See the happy ending, even though she’ll never get one. Veronica goes to pour them both “sodas”, spiking Martha’s with drain cleaner and leaving a note just like they did for Kurt. The surviving Heathers help her set up the scene and then they book it.

After this, it really sinks in what a monster Veronica’s created and become and she tries to break it off with the Heathers. Heather Chandler makes it clear that she can’t go back to being a nobody—if she leaves, come Monday, she’s an ex-somebody. Duke won’t let her leave without a fight either. She needs the power this gives her and she won’t have Veronica messing it up by walking away. She maliciously complies—she won’t walk away; she’ll face what she’s done, in front of everybody. This leads to the “dead girl walking reprise” sequence, an epic confrontation between Veronica and the Heathers at the pep rally.

If you’re wondering where JD is in this AU, he’s just chilling in the background, fully aware of what Veronica and the Heathers are up to. Picture him nodding in approval and saying, “well played.” Or if you want him to have a bigger role he could channel his God complex into deciding it’s up to him to defeat them and end their reign of terror and becoming sort of an antagonist to them.

That’s all I have so far, haven’t fully fleshed it out yet and this is my first unhinged AU outside of my main fandom so I hope y’all like it. Also let me know what you think of the characterization here bc I kind of struggled with it.

[writingsofestella]

vespera - ch. 0

Apostate!Din Djarin x Ex!Jedi!OC -(no use of Y/N Canon Divergent - some plot changed for sake of story, the razor crest lives )

tws // general canon violence, usage of blasters and weapons, mentions of death, minors DNI 18+ only, angst, mature content, more tags to be added later on

a/n: first chapter of the new story. posting this into the void and hoping someone likes it to read it. this story has been spiralling around in my brain for weeks now and i wanted to share it and get it out there. let me know what you all think, and i hope you like it.

wc: 2637

It was nice to see people celebrating. With all of the chaos in the galaxy, it was good to see celebrations of happiness, now and then. Children laughing and chasing each other, adults holding one another tightly, neighbors helping neighbors, excitedly talking and cheering.

The great stone water fountain in the middle of the small village hadn't been running for years. The marshal had seemingly had the only working fountain in the entire town in his home. Of course, he was a businessman first, and couldn't help but use that to his gain. Man had to make credits somehow, he claimed.

How ironic it was that after an anonymous tip, the people investigated the water lines that ran through the town, through the buildings, only to find that the pipes had been turned off and rerouted. The marshal, who had claimed to have his people's best interests at heart, had pled innocence.

It was also ironic how, overnight, he ghosted the town. By morning light, the great fountain in the center was bursting forth with fresh water from the underground spring. Other smaller fountains in the town were filled with water once again, restoring life to the dying town.

If someone were to be paying attention, they'd think it strange that all this seemingly happened within the few weeks after the stranger had arrived to their little town.

The hooded stranger paid them all no mind, as she stood in the shadow of an alleyway. She leaned against the cool stone wall, taking comfort in it.

The heat that bore down on the planet Utov from its' two suns was almost unbearable for her to handle, which might have been another reason the town's fountains were now back in order.

Maybe she just hated seeing old men in power.

It was all just coincidental, of course.

One of the townsfolk, a young mother with a kid on her hip, excitedly came up to her. She had a wide smile on her face, relief and joy evident on her once worn and tired features. "Fyra, isn't it amazing? We won't have to worry about water anymore!" 

Fyra smiled from under her scarf. "It is. What does the little one think?" She asked, looking from the mother to the child. 

"Oh, he's got all sorts of ideas in his head about who did it." The mother, who was named Siane, teased, lightly. 

The kid, a young boy no older than six, looked at Fyra with wide eyes and a toothy smile. "You did it, didn't you?" He loudly whispered. "They said it was a shadow in the night, that no one really saw who it was!" 

"Hush now! We don't want to be bothering our traveler with that." Siane lightly chastised, teasingly pinching the boy's ear.

He let out a whine in protest, squirming.

Fyra simply gave a tilt of her head, amused. "What a shadow that must've been then." She responded lightly, holding her fingers out and wiggling them playfully. 

The boy giggled, and reached his own little hand out for her to take. She squeezed his hand playfully, before letting it go. Fyra didn't miss the inquisitive look she received, however, from Siane.

"These kids and their imaginations." She sighed out, shaking her head, but there was a happy smile on her face. "We're going to Danthi's later to celebrate. Are you coming?" Siane asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I don't know. I might, might not." Fyra said, undecided yet. "You know I'm not one for large celebrations." She said.

Siane let out a snort, shaking her head. "Yeah, I can tell. You're over here sulking in the corner instead of coming out and celebrating with us."

"I'm not sulking, I'm in the shade." Fyra retorted, shaking her head.

Siane let out an exasperated sigh, and then shook her head. "Alright, alright. Well, if you wanna go, you know where we'll be at." She says, as her little boy starting squirming to be let down and go run around with the other children. "I'll see you later then." She said, and with a nod, was being dragged out to the crowd by her child.

Fyra let out a quiet huff, that smile still playing on her lips, as she shook her head. She slipped away from the main celebration, making her way down the alleyway. She might go get a drink later, maybe something refreshing since she felt parched already from the day.

As she walked around the corner, however, a sinking feeling filled her stomach, and the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stood straight up. She held her breath as she slowed her steps.

Without warning, a vibrocord whip flew past her head and she swerved, just in time to avoid getting trapped in it.

The culprit of the vibrocord stepped around the corner as it whipped back to its owner. A Mandalorian, in worn, chipped armor, appeared in the shadows of the alleyway. The only thing new on him was his beskar helmet, which stared down at her, unrelenting. His fingers twitched over the blaster at his hip.

A bounty hunter.

All the way out here.

"That's a rude way to say hello." She found herself saying, body tense, ready to run.

"You're a hard woman to find." He spoke back, voice rough through the modulator in the helmet.

"Maybe that's the point."

He gave the slightest tilt of his head. "They told me not to bother speaking to you, just to bring you in." He spoke out, voice even, controlled. "But I'll offer you a deal. You can come with me peacefully, or, I can drag you, kicking and screaming."

"That's not much of a deal." She retorted back, her body tense with the adrenaline filling her to run once again. Her heart raced as she tried to will the Force to calm her, help her think rationally so she'd make it out of this alive.

"Murderers with a bounty of their head don't usually get deals at all." He retorted, taking a threatening, stalking step toward her.

She cursed internally. She thought she'd gotten far enough away to not have any bounty hunters follow her this far out.

She had thought wrong.

"How kind of you." She retorted, voice dry as she took a cautionary step backwards. "Too bad I'll have to decline your deal."

With a roll and a duck, she narrowly avoided the vibrocord whip that shot past her head. Without hesitation, she used that momentum to bolt forward. 

Right Into the busy marketplace. 

She didn't hesitate. Ducking and weaving in between people, she ignored the yells of profanity as she pushed through. She could hear his footsteps, heavy and powerful, chasing after her. The screams and yells of the people they pushed through.

She could only hope the people would slow him down enough for her to escape. She pushed herself further into the crowd, no longer pushing, blending in and moving with the crowd. 

Sharply, she turned into an alleyway, a small cantina set in the back. Making her way, briskly, past the couples lingering outside, she was quick to get inside. It took her a minute to blink, for her eyes to adjust, but she was still moving. She couldn't stop. Her heart raced, chest heaving, as she tried to keep the panic at bay.

The cantina wasn't busy, most crowds outside still in the marketplace, celebrating. There were a few people she knew inside, people she had helped, setting up for the party.

Her eyes landed on the bartender, who was hanging something up. 

Danthi, with her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a towel over her shoulder, immediately shot up to look at her. Her hazel eyes locked onto her.

Frya pulled down the cloth over her face. "Danthi-" She sucked in a panicked breath. 

"Oh Fyra! What's got you so panicked, you look like you've seen a ghost!" She immediately gushed out, coming down off of the ladder to her side.

"There's a Mandalorian after me." She said, trying to reign in her fear. "I don't know how he found me but-"

Danthi gently grasped her arms, standing in front of her. "Calm down, breathe." She said, voice soothing. She started to lead her behind the bar. "Hey, you two!" She yelled at the two sitting near the door. "Whoever distracts the Mandalorian gets free drinks for the next month." She barked out.

The two aliens grinned. Downed their drinks. They cracked their necks, then walked outside, casually, as if not going up to face a Mandalorian bounty hunter. 

Danthi turned back to her. "We knew this would eventually happen, right?" She said, continuing to lead her around the bar. Pushing open the half door, she led her in. 

"Yes, but I didn't think it'd happen so soon- I just came back here not that long ago." She breathed out, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"There's a trapdoor leading to underground tunnels. Follow it, straight, 'till it dead-ends. You'll find a transport droid that'll take you to a port." She ducked under the bar, grabbing a canvas bag, giving it to her. "Take this and run." 

Fyra was overwhelmed with emotion, with information. She tried to control it, letting the Force in to try and let it wash over her again. "But what if he comes in here?" 

She gave a shrug, a grin growing on her face. "I'm not scared of any man, let alone a Mandalorian." She tucked Fyra's scarf better atop her head. "You need to go. Let this be your payment for helping us." She said. "Let us help you, just this once." 

"Danthi-" 

She pulled Fyra into a tight, quick hug, before pulling back. She pulled out the key from under the collar of her shirt, unlocking the trapdoor.

It looked dark, dimly lit. Like a dungeon or a tomb for the dead, dust and dirt spewing out down below.

Looking back up to Danthi, she gave one more look. "Thank you." She breathed out. 

"Go. May the Force be with you." She smiled, giving one last squeeze of Fyra's arms. 

They could hear yelling outside. An argument. She could sense the rising danger just outside the cantina doors.

"Come on, Mando! Don't you ever take a day off and drink?!" 

"You think there's a living bein' under that armor or do you think he is the armor?"

The two women locked eyes again, and Danthi all but pushed her down the trapdoor. 

She landed on her feet, half stumbling, with a cloud of dust, dirt, and sand shooting up around her. Jerking her head back up, she got one last look at Danthi's confident, grinning face, before it was sealed back up.

And she was left in complete darkness.

Swallowing thickly, she took in a steadying breath. Letting it out, she reached to her side for the silver-hilted weapon she kept at her side. Her fingers ran over the worn but familiar buttons, but she did not ignite it. Instead, she reached for the flashlight she kept on her belt.

Yellow flickering light ignited in the tunnel as the flashlight came to life. It casted shadows against the walls, down the endless tunnels. Little creatures of the darkness slithered back into it, hissing and clicking noises following as they disappeared back into their darkness.

Ignoring the shiver that ran up her spine, she slid her scarf back over her face. She started walking down the tunnel, heading straight and true as Danthi told her. She tried to keep her memories in check. She was not being left behind in a tomb. She was not being abandoned by her Master. 

There was, however, someone hunting her down once more.

She could sense danger up above her and she had no doubt that it was the Mandalorian. Quickening her steps, she continued down the tunnel, trying to keep herself calm and grounded. She had to keep moving, had to keep going. 

Reaching the end of the tunnel, she heard a noise that made her heart drop to her stomach. It was the sound of flame, and then, metal melting. 

She turned off the light, sliding it back onto her holster, swift. Jumping up onto the ladder, she could hear the metal trapdoor being melted, falling away and crashing to the ground. She pushed away any and all thoughts about Danti being hurt. She couldn't. She couldn't let herself slow or let Danthi's efforts go in vain to get her out safe.

She was fine. She had to be.

Rapidly, she climbed up the ladder, using her shoulder to try and open it. "Dank ferrik!" She hissed out when it didn't budge. With a lift of her hand, she swiped it across the lock. 

A click resounded and it flung open. 

She pulled herself up and out, finding herself in another alleyway, on the outskirts of town. Heaving for air as she pulled herself up, she saw the transport droids with the sandships, hovering and waiting. 

Shoving the trapdoor back, with a loud, resounding SLAM and another flick of her wrist, it locked behind her, sealing it shut. She bolted toward the ship, not caring if anyone was out to see her frantic movements. 

She slid to a stop in front of the sandship, wide eyes, heaving chest, looking at the R2 droid in the ship.

"I need to get to the port. Now." She commanded.

It beeped in response. A question of where she wanted to go.

"Doesn't matter. Closest one. One that can get me off-planet." She retorted, hopping into the sandship, tying the bag Danthi had given her around her back and under her shoulder. 

Within seconds, she was taking off, zooming across the dry, hot desert. She felt the blaster before she heard it, the heat flying past her ear.

She gasped, ducking down immediately, head shooting back to look behind them. 

The Mandalorian had made it out, standing with a blaster in hand. A shiver raced down her spine as their gazes locked. 

He fired again, and she did not hesitate to use the Force to project an invisible shield around them. 

The droid screamed in fear and the ship dipped to the side, swerving. She slammed into the side of the ship with a forceful exhale.

She sucked in a fast breath, pain in her ribs. "It's alright!" She yelled to the little droid, breathless from the impact. "I got you, keep going!" 

The droid sped along, and she used the Force to protect them from any other blaster shots, seemingly redirecting them as they flew past them.

The Mandalorian's form, shining and reflecting the dying suns' light, stared her down, slowly lowering the blaster as he grew smaller and smaller behind her. 

She knew, without a doubt, he was not giving up. Mandalorians, as they were, never gave up, never stopped, until they were dying. This would not be the last time she saw him. She only hoped she was far enough way when she did that she could escape him again.

With the rising stars and moon above, she could only hope to the Force that she'd have the strength to keep one step ahead. That the universe would guide her where she needed to go.

As he disappeared with the town growing steadily smaller and smaller, she let the town, and its' people, go from her heart. She would hold their kindness in her chest, but she knew she probably would never be able to come back again.

The life of a Jedi in this galaxy would never be safe.

all writing is my own. please do not redistribute, repost, or share on other platforms. thank you

[flywolfwriting]

Throw Me in the Deep End Ch. 10

Lucifer drummed his fingers on the table, trying not to bounce his leg. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced over his shoulder again, searching for that familiar figure, fearing those eyes that so enraptured him. Where normally he would seek Alastor in excitement now he was terrified of discovery - and Charlie hadn’t even arrived yet.

He bit his lip.

“You came.”

He turned back around to find her standing behind the chair opposite him, arms crossed over her chest and fingers twisting in the hem of her sleeve.

Lucifer hastily stood, stepping around the table, and then aborting the attempted hug and instead pulling out her chair for her. She offered him a shy smile and sat. “Thanks,” she said.

He returned her smile, sitting back down and offering her the chocolate milkshake he’d ordered. Her face lit up and she accepted it, taking a long sip and humming her appreciation. They sat in awkward silence for a long moment before Lucifer said, “Do you… remember that night?”

Charlie’s gaze cut away.

Great job, Lucifer, he thought. Let’s just start with the worst night of your life. And hopefully the worst night of her life, because that meant Alastor wasn’t lying and she’d had a good childhood.

“Only a little,” she said. “Just bits and pieces. I remember how terrified I was, and Alastor taking me home.”

“Do you remember if she said anything to you?”

Her brow scrunched and then she shook her head. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to ask something, and then took a drink of her milkshake instead.

Lucifer had to clench his fist to avoid fidgeting again. After a moment he said, “...How do you like school?”

This seemed a topic Charlie was more comfortable with. “I haven’t been since the old schoolhouse closed down, but Rosie’s been teaching me at home. She used to be a teacher, you know, until she decided to open her boutique.”

Lucifer frowned. “You don’t go to school?”

Charlie gave him a flat look. “The only schools that have survived the depression are white only, and Alastor is not that.”

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[sleepyfan-blog]

Flames

Author’s Note: Zagan part three! I hope you enjoy :D first. Previous

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel@whorety-k 

Warnings: murder, religious zealotry, Grey Knight Shenanigans

Summary: Zagan slaughters his way through a small cultist compound.

“Please… Please spare us! What have we done, to bring your holy wrath upon us and our people?” One of the Slaaneshi cultists pleaded as Zagan glided towards the cowering and bleeding mortal, sword in hand. 

The large mer tilted his head a little, considering the whimpering mortal’s words before rumbling “You have sold your soul to dark powers and to seek the ruination of the souls of the innocent who live on this world. The rot you indulge in hedonistically will try and spread past this world and cause further harm to the Imperium. I have been sent to strike down those who have turned from The Emperor’s light. You and your co-conspirators will all be killed, to contain the Chaotic taint.”

“But… But all we wanted was to enjoy ourselves and one another! To freely express our love and physical wants for each other! All of us are consenting adults, we have safeguards in place! We are no evil, vicious deniers of His Light, Lord Astartes, of that I promise! The nights on this world are long and cold, and we have little to cling to but to one another and the distant light of Him on Holy Terra!” The cultist wailed, tears streaming freely down their face. 

“Your little group may have started out like that, innocently, but I can smell the chaos that has tainted your soul, and the souls of the others. If you truly do believe that your still under the light and guidance of The God Emperor, He will prevent me from striking you down.” Zagan responded back, amused at the other’s pleading attempt to save their own sorry life. He raised his power sword and swung down, aiming for the other’s neck.

“No!” Another cultist who had been badly hiding in the curtains wailed, charging forwards and throwing themself in the path of the blade “Esthi, r-run! I’ll stall him for as long as I can!” 

Zagan did not change the trajectory of his blade, asi it bit into the flesh of the foolish but bold Slaaneshi cultist “Esthi as you call the other cultist will die soon. Although I do not mind slaughtering you first, as that seems to be your wish.” With the slightest bit more effort, Zagan bifurcated the foolishly bold cultist in half, their torso flung into one of the gaudily painted and decorated walls, their lower half halling across the badly injured legs of the second cultist.

“Mika! No! No no no no… Mika! My love, my life… My light and joy, w hy did you do that? You could have hidden from this death-dealing demon and lived…” The first cultist sobbed, crawling on bloodied hands and knees over to the top half of the second cultist, cradling Mika’s head in their lap.

Zagan arched a brow, amused that the weeping cultist had seened to have entirely forgotten about his presence. “Fool.” He muttered, stabbing the first cultist through the heart before cutting their head from their shoulders.

The Grey Knight stalked to the second room in this foul den of sin and debauchery, finding a half-dozen slumbering cultists tangled together on two large beds in perverse poses. Thanking HIm on Terra for easy kills, the Astartes swiftly decapitated and stabbed each of them through the heart, striking with silent speed, leaving their despoiled bodies to bleed into the sheets.

The third and fourth rooms were empty of people, but the heretical instruments of their debauchery were standing proudly on display. This entire building would be put to the purifying light of Promethium-based flames, but Zagan wanted to make sure all of the cultists were dead first. Low-level worshippers of the Ruinous powers very rarely had any of the twisted gifts of their chosen patron or patrons, but that did not mean none of them could be granted such a thing, especially under attack or at the whims of the capricious monstrosities they’d been enslaved by.

The fifth room was also empty, but had a hatch on the floor, which Zagan lifted up, activated a flash-bang and rolled it into that underground space before shutting the hatch again as the blinding weaponry went off, not wanting to mess with his own senses. He waited two more seconds after that before descending into the underground space, slaughtering the dazed and panicking cultists with effortless ease.

He checked each room thoroughly with both his mundane senses and the psychic gifts he’d been blessed by, before calling you “Did any of them escape either entrance, while I slaughtered their fellows?”

You answer immediately “No, none of them were able to escape you. I sniped several stragglers as they attempted to enter their sex lair. Did you find any documents noting just how many of them, or who all might be involved in this particular cult?”

“No, though given the size of the villages on this world, if they were any larger, this world would have started to corrupt to it’s very foundations, favored hunting terrain of a first founded chapter be damned.” Zagan responds. 

You and he had been staking out the movements of the suspected - and now dealt with - Slaaneshi cultists for several weeks, getting a feel for their disgusting habits, their foul rituals and their numbers. “Anything of use that should be brought back to headquarters, sanctified and studied cautiously?”

“No.” Zagan answers bluntly “Nothing of value is in this place. Do you have the promethium canisters ready? I’m about to come out.”

“Ready and waiting to set them off.” You respond. You’d brought a couple of promethium canisters to be used in the burning of this heretical building, and to destroy the bodies of the cultists. You had rigged them to blow up and burn, engineering to make it look like an awful cooking accident, as the innocent locals could not know why some of their friends and neighbors had been killed, lest they be tempted by the Ruinous Powers in a time of weakness and sorrow. 

“Excellent.” Zagan rumbled, exiting the building, having used some of the cleanest sheets to wipe the blood off of his power sword. He’d rather not have tainted blood on his weapons for longer than absolutely necessary. “By all means, set this foul place ablaze.”

You nod, pressing the detonator button as Zagan scoops you up and flies you away from the explosive boom! And he was swift enough that neither he nor you were rocked by the force of the compressed heat rushing out in all directions like tidal waves. 

“My ship has room for another, and Grey Knights often work alongside the Ordo Hereticus, as you mentioned that your ship was currently inoperable. I will be leaving this world and heading back to base.” Zagan offered, smiling a little at you as he held you close.

“I would be very grateful for the ride, actually. Anything truly of value or use I keep on me at all times.” You respond, leaning into his comfortable warmth, looking forward to spending more time with the handsome astartes… And in a lower stakes setting.

Zagan nods as he flies you to where his ship is waiting.

[rainycat2]

Though I Could Not Stop For Death / Death Kindly Stopped For Me

A Danny Phantom x DC Comics Crossover fic!

Chapter One: Beginnings

Perfection, for most people, was an unattainable dream. “Practice makes perfect”, they would say, knowing that perfection was something that would always slip out of their grasp, a wisp of smoke on a cool Autumn evening. An ideal to live up to, to work towards. Similar to how the world viewed Superman-- the “Big Blue Boy Scout” indeed. He was a paragon of humanity, a person to look up to, to strive to be like. Compassionate, strong, better than man.

Perhaps it was strange that from birth, he knew he would have to be perfect. Grandfather and Mother would accept nothing less from the elder son, after all. Twins had been unexpected, but a delight nonetheless-- an age old saying of “the heir and the spare” had worked in their favor. On the off chance the elder twin of the two boys was not up to par, the “spare” would be trained to take over for him. He would have his own role, otherwise, when they grew up to be adults.

One, the Demon Head. The ruler of the League of Assassins. The other, the Batman of Gotham City. Both ruthless and merciless in their own ways, inheriting their birthrights.

Life, or perhaps Death, had other plans.

----

Silent as a ghost, he had been called. Trained since he could walk to not make a sound, to keep your breath quiet so as to not be discovered. Stealth and secrecy ran in his blood, and he would be damned if he were to fail the mission. At home, for now, watching his brother train, snow fluttering across the sky in drifts. It was cold, but not so much as to be irritating; besides, he had trained in colder conditions than this. His eyes tracked his brother’s movements, his steadiness with his katana. The slight hesitation in his movements that ultimately led to his feet swept out from underneath him, a foot planted on his chest and a blade at his throat. From here, he could see the blood well up on his brother’s jaw. An unfortunate cut, but a shallow one. It shouldn’t scar.

Though that could hardly be said the same for himself. On his last mission, the target had gotten feisty. A graze of a knife to his cheek, leaving a faint raised line on his jaw. Well, another way to tell them apart, he supposed.

Warmth on his shoulder, a faint pressure. “Watching Damian again, habibi?” Amusement in her tone, a relaxing of his shoulders. “You have your own training to watch.”

“He still hesitates,” Danyal murmurs, blue eyes fixed on his brother as he went through his stances. Tracing his movements, cataloging the weak points. “Favors his left.”

“I know, my son, but he will learn, whether of his own determination or through his tutors,” she hummed, squeezing his shoulder slightly. “How was your last mission?”

“Successful. I will admit to a slight miscalculation, but the target was neutralized with none the wiser. I retrieved our information and have given it to Grandfather as of this morning,” he reports, shifting his weight slightly.

“Good.”

They fell silent, watching the younger of the twins silently before Danyal turned, a murmured apology as he left for his own training session. His blade, an extension of his own body, singing through the air in time with his soul. Hesitation brutally snuffed out, nothing but the rigorous, merciless clash of metal as he fought. A kick to the side, breath wheezing out in the frozen morning air.

Danyal stood tall over his opponent, sword at their chest until they yielded. Only then did he sheath his blade at his hip, then offer a hand up.

Clapping. He turned, bowing when Grandfather came into view. “You have done us proud yet again, Danyal.”

Pride raced through his veins, straightening his spine. “Thank you, sir.”

“Walk with me.” A quick jog to catch up to his Grandfather’s side, straightening and standing tall in the man’s all-knowing gaze. “What do you think of Damian’s progression?”

Confusion, eyes blinking at the question. Caught off guard, can’t let it happen again. He’s better than that. “I’m… sorry, sir?”

“Don’t apologize,” the Demon Head instructed. “You observe your brother’s training when you can, especially after returning home to us from a mission. You are both still at an age where imperfections can be smoothed out. I would like to know your opinion on how Damian’s training is progressing.”

“Of course.” Danyal took a moment to think, recalling trends and patterns he had witnessed over the years. “Damian… is still too compassionate. He hesitates, unable to commit to the possible action of injuring his tutors, of causing their deaths. In his role, it will serve him well, I suppose, but as an assassin… it could very well mean his own demise,” he mused. “His hesitation will get him killed.”

Ra’s was silent for a few moments. “Thank you, Danyal. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

----

Snow crunched under their boots, blades crashing and ringing in the evening light, the courtyard illuminated by torches. Bystanders observing, watching intently to see who would give first.

A test, Grandfather had called it. Of Damian’s willingness to wound, of how deep his hesitation went.

But it was Danyal’s hesitation that caused it all.

He would not hurt his twin, he realized as their blades locked again, looking into Damian’s eyes. Seeing the fear, the desperation to please reflected back.

A moment’s pause, not moving when he should have, when he knew he could--

A gasp. The courtyard fell silent.

Red. Red on his hands, on the blade, seeping out of his clothes-- good thing they were black, it would wash out-- red staining the snow.

Panic above him, Damian frantically trying to keep his attention, eyes welling up with tears.

Danyal smiled.

----

“Not quite yet.”

Hands, cold cold hands, yet somehow warm, welcoming. Comforting. He could see green in his fading vision, swirling, neon otherworldly green. It reached out to him, curled him close.

Welcomed him home.

“Time out.”

---

The silence of the early morning, children awake, yet not leaving for school. Birds twittering in the trees, singing their songs to those who would listen. The haze of dawn slowly lifting, the cold of concrete and brick at his back. The creak of a door, something heavy hitting the ground in shock.

“....Mom! Dad! There’s-- come quick!!”

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @fisticuffsatapplebees (love that), @screamingtofillthevoid (in a sense i'm workin on the "dude you got fuckin rabies" bit)

NEXT CHAPTER: ==>