#cleaning up road kill and slaying in the same breath

[decaf-mother]

Oh my god it's ✨him✨

My brain urgently needed Lester in a summer dress

Just look at this coquette

[tsurugixbuster]

The echoing sound of hooves beating upon the earth signal the soldier's approach. Zack's thoughts are adrift even now with the others in tow. Long sticky strands of hair cling around those glowing blue eyes. They are almost to the border. He thinks of a place he does not imagine he will ever see again. His gaze far off in the distance, as if he can see it now half way around the world.

The Kingdom of Midgar.

Most people had fond memories of home. The soldier did not. He was fourteen when he joined the army. He killed his first man shortly after that. Some days it felt like he had been killing ever since. To make matters worse, he was good at it. Revered for his abilities throughout the kingdom. A hero to some, and death to many. Zack had become renowned for the great two-handed sword he carried, and his glowing azure eyes. The legends and rumors about how his eyes came to glow are beyond count. Each one more ludicrous than the last.

The old magic, they called it. From when the world was young, before man polluted it. That is what the witch told him. He had scoured an ancient and cursed forest to find her, slaying many fearsome beasts along the way. For even as a child, Zack had possessed great strength, far beyond that of normal men.

A blessing, and a curse he was told. It was a guarantee the witch said, that he would die a violent death.

Such was the nature of power.

He knows why they have come all this way. They will be there soon. They are riding out here to meet some "advancing threat," but Zack knows better. They ride now to his execution. It is why the men are so nervous. Why they can barely speak to him or look him in the eye. Zack has made an enemy of his masters. For all the soldier's faults, he has never been willing to soil his honor or his name, even for the glory of King Shin-Ra. Now it seems the king has decided that the time has come for him to pay for his transgressions against the crown.

Killing these men does not sit right with him, even if it is something that must be done. Such were the raven haired man's ideals. There was no glory in slaying the weak. It was a quality few seemed to share with him. A deep sigh leaves his lips as they arrive to the area they are supposed to "make camp" at. He wastes little time dismounting his horse. Given the gravity of the situation Zack still manages to remain chipper. There is no missing the bold grin upon his face as he turns to face his assassins.

He draws his sword unabashed, lifting the massive blade up before him. He touches his forehead to it for a moment. Ushering a pray under his breathe as he readies himself for battle. A familiar calm washes over him, as he draws his sword back into a battle stance. The next few moments instantly dissolve into chaos. One of the soldiers charges right up to him, still mounted on horseback. He lets an arrow fly just as Zack swings his sword, cleaving him clean in two and dismounting him from his horse.

As the stallion goes rushing by. Zack looks up to meet the rest of his attackers. His features show the same enthusiasm he had expressed previously. With a roar, he charges toward them.

And with that the battle began.

One man did not even bother to charge. After seeing Zack kill the first man he simply fled. The rest dismounted, drew their weapons and charged. One after another they came, and one after another they fell. In the end only he remained in the clearing, bloodied and victorious. The adrenaline slowly fading, Zack becomes all too aware of the arrow protruding from his side. He is miles from Midgar, and even though his wound is shallow, it will certainly fester and rot before he is able to make it there in time.

And it will kill him all the same.

With a shout, he calls his horse back to him. A groan leaving his lips as he quickly mounts back up on the beast and takes off like a devil possessed in the direct of the border. His only hope lie in the neighboring kingdom. He would follow the road till he could ride no more. Salvation would lie at the end of it either way.

@stingslikeabee

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Can I request headcanons for a poly relationship with Brahms and Vincent Sinclair?

Oh my gODDDDD ANON UR MIND!!! Legit I went OFF with this headcanon post and honesty I’m obsessed with this pairing now. I might even write a smutty one shot regarding this but like fuckkkkkk I hope y’all enjoy this cause i had SO MUCH FUN writing it!

Brahms/Vincent/Reader Poly:

Since Brahms and Vincent are two killers that are based in a specific location and would probably never leave their homes, here are a few specific headcanons for each killer in the other’s home.

Vincent in the Heelshire Manor wouldn't affect him too greatly, other than the nagging feeling of being homesick. Though if he has you by his side, it makes the ache less harsh. For the most part as long as Vincent has a room he can call his workshop he really won't mind. And because the Heelshire mansion is so huge there would be more than enough room for such. 

Brahms would be very against having Vincent in the walls, feeling threatened by his presence, but once he is more used to the three of you being together he might not mind it as much. Actually, Vincent enjoys Brahms' space. He finds the room quite relaxing, though a bit too cramped for his liking. 

Ultimately, both are fine as long as they are given their privacy to work and relax on their own time. 

Brahms in Ambrose would cause the most upheaval. He would glue himself to your side, following you wherever you went as you were the only comfort he had in this strange place. Brahms isn't used to not only being out of the walls but essentially having a whole town to himself to explore. It would be a lot at first, but with yours and Vincent's gentle urging, Brahms would slowly embrace this new change.

He would love the tunnels under Ambrose, allowing him to move to different places in town without needing to walk down the street just in case there were visitors in town. He prefers to slip in and out of places largely unnoticed so less attention is brought to him.

While he does not actively participate in the slaying of visitors in Ambrose for the wax collection, he has been known to attack anyone he deems a threat to you or the Sinclairs. This is his home now and anything that is a threat to that home must be dealt with accordingly (and brutally). Vincent often complains that Brahms ruins the bodies, but understands that Brahms can't control himself when he reaches that point. 

Speaking of the other Sinclair brothers, Bo unsurprisingly hates Brahms. When Brahms first arrived, he was very shy and nervous around Bo, actively afraid of the loud and easily angered brother. Once he realized that Bo was no threat to him, he actively enjoyed "playing" with him. Bo hates it when he uses his childlike voice, but Brahms continues to do it anyways to put Bo on edge. Brahms might also use his stealthy abilities to purposefully scare Bo, appearing out of nowhere and giving him a heart attack and running off before Bo can retaliate. Bo would never admit it openly but Brahms intimidates him simply from his stature and the inability to read him.

Lester was intimidated by Brahms when he first arrived, the man much taller and more muscular than he was. But when Brahms learned about the road kill Lester collects and disposes of, he simply asked if he could take care of the rats as well. Lester did, and the two have no issues with each other, though Lester still feels a slight unease when around the other man. 

Now, for the personality dynamics of the boys.

Brahms and Vincent get along much better than one might initially suspect. The two are utterly territorial men, often with you in the middle of their affections, however they eventually grow to understand each other and how it would be easier to protect you if they were both there. You’re the common denominator that keeps them from fighting each other, and the fact that you dispense love equally between them is an important factor. 

The two will eventually grow to respect each other as well, with Brahms eventually being comforted by Vincent's company if you are unavailable. He will often sit quietly with Jonesy as he watches Vincent work on his sculptures, very rarely interrupting him. Vincent isn't bothered by this presence, and is often comforted if either you, Brahms, or the both of you are in the room with him doing whatever as he sculpts. 

Vincent grows fond of Brahms, feeling protective of him when he becomes distressed and overwhelmed. Growing up with Bo, he has learned how to help diffuse highly volatile situations. Even if he can't speak very well, his gentle reassurances help while he deescalates Brahms’ tantrums. A plus for you, really. 

As the two of them both wear masks to hide their faces, they might reveal themselves sooner rather than later simply because they're in the presence of another person that truly understands what their going through, as well as someone who loves them unconditionally (you, of course). Expect them to take of their masks one night while the three of you are together, the two of them slowly revealing themselves to each other and you. Brahms’ burn scars, and Vincent's scars each on one side of their face, cause them to be moved when they first see each other. They'll have their masks off around you more often after that. 

Now,,, the somft dating headcanons,,, 

Brahms and Vincent are both touch starved individuals so just expect to be giving lots of love to these boys. Just you cuddling with them makes them melt, and if they see you giving attention to one you know the other will grow jealous until you give them some love as well. Brahms is much more clingy than Vincent however, and you'll have to be a bit more firm with him about your space even if he ignores it most of the time. Vincent is a lot more shy so when you give him hugs and kisses he is more likely to freeze up instead of latch onto you like Brahms the Leech Boy would. 

Both spoil you as much as humanly possible, mostly with love and physical affection though they have their own little ways of treating you. Vincent makes you small wax sculptures all the time, enjoying the smile on your face as you look the figure over with adoration. Brahms gets a bit annoyed over this, as he doesn't have much of an artistic hand. But Vincent is happy to give him some wax and either let him mess around with it or teach him some techniques to properly use it. Brahms is so proud once he is able to make you something small, probably a bowl, and he absolutely melts when you squeal in delight at his thoughtful gift. Vincent can't help but feel happy himself too. 

Lots of snuggle piles with the three of you, often with you in the middle. While they don't tend to have a favorite position as long as they get to hold you, they do have a few regular positions. When you read out loud to them, Vincent tends to sit behind you, your back up against his chest, as Brahms is tangled amongst both of your legs as he rests his head on your lap, his arms draped around your middle. Vincent holds the book open for you so both of your hands are free to pet and play with Brahms’ hair, which he thoroughly enjoys. Sometimes Vincent and Brahms will swap places, or one of them will rest their head against your chest as you act as the big spoon. Also expect many blankets and pillows to further complete your nest as well. 

Luckily for Bo, Brahms’ need for structure in the form of the daily chore list will keep you busy cleaning up the living space and making enough food to feed all the men you were caring for now. If Bo has been particularly good, Brahms might tag along with you to the gas station to deliver him lunch after you bring Vincent his. Vincent is usually busy with his art so you give him a kiss on top of his head and leave his food on his work bench, knowing he will get to it once he is hungry. Bo won't dare to lash out too much when he is being fed, especially not when Brahms stands behind you like an imposing bodyguard whenever Bo is nearby. 

Date nights with the two of them are rather unconventional. Most of the time whenever the three of you are together it is considered a date whether or not it is super romantic. Just coexisting in the same space is often enough for the three of you. Vincent is happy enough to show you and Brahms around Ambrose, obviously knowing the best places to relax and get away from the stress the town can bring. He knows exactly where you can see the best sunrises and sunsets too. And Brahms is more than happy to tag along, though if he was in his manor than he would probably have a hard time leaving even with the two of you by his side. 

Expect lots of quiet nights reading, softly talking amongst yourselves, watching old vhs tapes found around town on the small TV, and listening to music. Sometimes Jonesy will keep you all company and get lots of snuggles and belly rubs as well. 

Now onto the headcanons you filthy animals were waiting for. You know. The naughty stuff ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Being the needy man he is, Brahms is probably the first to initiate sexual touching. He is certainly not shy about his desire for you, not even being embarrassed about growing hard around you. Vincent, on the other hand, is too ashamed to initiate contact in the beginning, even if he feels the same way. Most likely he will let Brahms take the lead with you first, enjoying the act of watching you both. You can't get enough of the sight of Vincent sitting in his chair, hand squeezed tightly around his member as he edges himself while watching Brahms grab and explore your body. And with Brahms’ jealous streak he doesn't mind having you first either. 

Slowly, Vincent will find his way into bed with the two of you, probably at your urging. If Brahms is feeling particularly generous, he might be the one to say something. "They’re so soft Vinny, you have to touch them." With some gentle persuasion, Vincent will touch you the way Brahms touches you, making your toes curl and your breath hitch. Brahms watches eagerly, touching you as well and grabbing your hand and holding it over his cock as you pump him until his seed spills over you.

Vincent isn't shy about body worship once he realizes how much you want him. He will kiss and caress every inch of you, pulling out all sorts of noises that you never thought were possible. Brahms looks on in awe, his mouth often following behind Vincent's as he mimics the actions, much to your delight. 

Brahms has a hard time holding himself back around you while Vincent can take an entire night with you, so together they tend to even out. They'll go until you're too exhausted, but usually Brahms will finish first, leaving Vincent all the time in the world with you. That is, until Brahms’ gets hard again and finds his way back into the fray. 

They are both comfortable being switches, not minding if they are on top but if you want to top they will gladly let you spoil them. They both love being ridden, holding you in their arms as you bounce on their cock, until you leave them a shaking mess beneath you. They also enjoy receiving oral from you, and you tend to include both of them in the activity. Sometimes you will jerk the two of them off with your hands, give oral to one and use your hand on the other, or on at least one occasion, have attempted to at the very least lick both of them at the same time. 

As the three of you grow more open and experienced with each other's bodies, you can expect to try taking them both on at least a few occasions. Sometimes one of them will be performing oral or fucking you as you take the other in your mouth. If you happen to be AFAB, expect double penetration to be attempted at least once, though Brahms is a bit too impatient to go through the whole ordeal so it isn't an activity you often engage in. 

Now, Brahms and Vincent both grew up in very strict and sheltered homes, so the thought of being naked in the same room as another man, or sharing the same person with another man in the same bed might cause them trepidation in the beginning of your sexual relationship. Eventually, however, they grow to love each other as much as they love you, though they might show it to each other in a different way. While they might not initiate sex with each other if you aren't around, they will slowly begin to experiment with you in the bedroom. Touching you turns into touching each other as well, and they find that while each other's touch is much different than yours, they enjoy this new feeling. 

In fact, they might have been known to, on occasion, jerk each other off if their needs grow too intense and you aren’t around to provide for them. When you caught them, they were facing each other, pumping each other’s member as Brahms buried his face into Vincent's shoulder. Initially they were wildly embarrassed and thought you would be mad, but you assured them you weren't, your words of encouragement helping them finish. 

Time for kinks!

They both share voyeurism kink, and while Brahms can be a bit annoyed and bratty if he has to sit on the sidelines, both are content to watch the other have their way with you, getting off on just watching. Hell, both of them spy on you on the regular, watching you get dressed or shower before you either notice them in the doorway or they allow themselves in. 

If Vincent is able to get a hold of a camera you know he will be taking pictures of you constantly, with or without you knowing. While it partially adds to his voyeur kink, he enjoys being able to take artistic nudes of you, as well as less artistic ones where you are simply being wrecked by one or the both of them. 

Wax play is a big kink of Vincent's as he enjoys watching your expression as he tips the candle over your skin and watches how the hot wax makes you jolt for a moment before it begins to solidify on your skin. Brahms, however, is not a fan, simply because he finds it tedious as well as being unable to enjoy it himself. Putting hot wax on a hairy man is not a fun time. 

They both enjoy bondage, though Brahms doesn't really know how to properly execute it until meeting Vincent. All three of you have been tied up at one point or another, allowing the other two access to their body. Vincent enjoys the more eloquent knots and ties, creating intricate designs on both you and Brahms. Brahms is a good candidate for being tied up as he gets worked up so easily and this is one of the few ways to help him take his time. The ties that you and Brahms execute on Vincent aren't as beautiful but they do the trick, and he often has a hard time edging himself with the two of you giving him attention. 

Any kinks that you have are eagerly accepted by Vincent and Brahms, as they are always happy to bend over backwards to satiate your needs. Even if it is a little embarrassing, they're willing to try anything at least once with you. 

Ultimately, the open communication and understanding between the three of you help immensely when it comes to taking care of each other's needs. You would all drop everything to satisfy your partners, and they would do the same for you.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

 He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment. 

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him. 

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer. 

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness. 

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

[sleeperswakewriting]

For the prompt bucket!! Rivetra canonverse au in which Petra has a child and is a single parent when she meets Levi. She could still be a Scout or a civilian too, whatever makes more sense!

This prompt made me a bit weak 😩 I love every version of Dadvi

Summary: Levi is summoned to Erwin’s office for a blast from the past. 

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: G

“Captain, the Commander has ordered you to report to his office immediately. He said it’s urgent.” Levi grumbled as a Scout tracked him down in the stables; it was Saturday, a day where he certainly had off, and the last he heard, there were no titans in sight so he couldn’t possibly think what emergency there could be.

Levi told the Scout he’d be on his way, feeding the last of his apple core to his horse as he cleaned his hands and boots before making his way to Erwin’s office.

Lot of gall the Commander has, summoning me. Better be important.

He strode his way up the wooden staircase, and he noticed that Erwin’s door was open, accompanied by laughter from a woman. Did he have a girlfriend that he wanted to introduce Levi to?

Levi gave a short courtesy knock before entering, not waiting for permission, and his eyes widened by a fraction at the sight before him. A young woman in her early 20s with ginger hair sat in front of Erwin’s desk, and in her arms, was a young boy of five years old with dark ebony hair and piercing grey eyes, a spitting image of himself. While his hair was shaggy, Levi recognized the same grumpy look that he often wore, though it seemed like the child was ill-tempered from a lack of sleep as he attempted to nuzzle closer to the woman’s chest.

“Levi!” Erwin chirped, gesturing for Levi to come closer.

“This is Petra Ral. She has, ah, urgent business with you and I thought I’d do the honor of facilitating it.” He gave a nod to Petra. “I’ll leave you two alone, it was a pleasure meeting you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.” And he patted the child’s head, while brushing his hand against Petra’s hand. She blushed and thanked the Commander while she looked to Levi.

“Hi Captain,” she began, giving a measured swallow. “Do you remember me?”

If he were being honest, only vaguely, but from the child in her arms, he knew what was coming next.

“Five and a half years ago, the summer ball in Mitras. I was a dancer at the Military gala.”

Memories flooded through Levi; he was a younger Scout then, just named Captain and he was frustrated from the crap the Military Police were giving him. He found himself watching the dancers just to get away from the crowd, and he was entranced by the young ginger haired woman and her ribbons. While she was not the headliner, the way she weaved and flowed sent fire down his veins and after they finished, she joined the party and bumped into him.

Fascinated by his reputation, she found herself asking questions, and one thing led to another as they escaped to a back room and had a quick night of bliss. It was uncharactersitic of Levi; he usually only hooked up when he felt like it, not usually caring too much about his partner, but there was something special about her as she looked at him with admiration instead of the scornful disdain he had been facing all night.

He never saw her again, keeping the memory tucked into the back of his mind, but thinking nothing of it until now.

“This is Oliver, or Ollie. He’s your son,” she said, giving the child a kiss on the forehead. “I was going to tell you, but I knew what we had was a tryst so I never thought to bother you, being a Captain in the Survey Corps, but something’s come up the past few days.” And concern covered her brow as she gave him a serious look.

“I know it’s not my place to ask you personal questions, Captain, but Ollie’s been strange for the past week. An accident occurred in our neighborhood where a dog was let out and dragged Ollie from the front step, dragging him down the road, but Ollie was able to fend for himself. He…” And her eyes widened in horror. “He killed the dog. I don’t know how, he’s five years old! But one minute I heard screaming, then the next moment, Ollie was standing above the dog with a branch covered in blood. I took him to a physician right away, and the most he had was some minor bite marks, but other than that he’s fine. Except he’s strong now. I tried to put him down for bed a few nights ago when he was cranky, and when he kicked me, it was like he punched me in the gut. I figured since you’re in the Survey Corps, you might have some insight, but forgive me if you don’t, I just need answers before I take him to a doctor and they think I’m some horrible mother.”

She took a breath, panting from her long winded explanation and shame clouded her features as tears sprung to her eyes. “I just want my baby boy to be safe, and I think he might need his father right now. I’m not asking for money, I just want to know if this is normal.”

Cold dread ran through Levi’s blood, knowing all too well the phenomenon she was describing. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment it happened because he had grown up in the Underground, but it was innate, like a flash of lightning from the heavens guiding his every move. He felt it whenever he slayed a titan, whenever someone tried to stab him, and now this little boy had inherited whatever gift the goddesses had given him as well.

“Call me Levi,” he said without thinking, taking a seat beside Petra and she smiled.

“Thank you, Levi. Do you want to hold him?”

He extended his arms in wonder and she removed the child and told him that he was going to meet his Papa.

“Ollie, this is your Papa. He’s a very important man so he doesn’t live with us, but you look just like him. It’s where you get your handsome looks from!” She bounced him on her knees before handing him to Levi, and he felt warm heat engulf him as Petra inadvertently called him handsome and he took the child onto his lap, giving him a wondrous look.

“I guess I’m your father,” he remarked and the boy gave him a toothy grin.

“Papa!” He sang and a rush of protectiveness washed through Levi as he embraced the boy and chubby arms covered his head.

Ollie giggled, ruffling and playing with Levi’s hair as Petra looked at him with awe. Levi sat the child on his lap, holding him close as his eyes focused on Petra, ready to explain the curious power that he was bestowed with.

By the end of it all, Petra was shocked, but relieved that her son’s condition was nothing short of a miracle and it ultimately secured his safety for the rest of his life. Petra kissed her son’s head again as he fell asleep on Levi’s lap and she touched Levi’s hand gently.

“Thank you so much, Levi. We’ve taken up a lot of your time already, you must be very busy, but I really appreciate it. Let me know if you’d like to keep in touch, but you’re not obligated to. Ollie knows about you, I tell him stories of all of your valiant journeys but I don’t know if he’s old enough to understand.”

Levi looked at the child in his arms and hastily asked, “Would you like to stay for the weekend? I would like to get to know him better.”

Petra’s eyes watered as she nodded.

“Now granted, the barracks aren’t a safe place for children, but you guys can have my private room.”

“Oh, I would hate you to put you out! Though I’d imagine Ollie might bother the other soldiers so maybe it’s for the best. Are you sure?”

Levi stood with the child in his arms and nodded in affirmation. “Let’s go grab dinner. I want to hear all about him.”

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Geralt and the Minotaur

Y’all can thank @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher for encouraging me to do this, I defs would have just thought about it for a couple months then forgot 😂

Pairing: None for this part

Warning: talk of violence and murder, retelling of Theseus and The Minotaur myth, talk of human sacrifice, if theres more plz let me know!

Summary/Notes: Myth background in case you didn’t go past the PJO books with your mythology obsession like I did. In ancient Greek mythology they believed in ‘joint fatherhood’ so basically the kid would have attributes from both fathers (bc philosophy was the tits back then not necessarily biology) King Aegeus (Vessimir) couldn’t produce an heir with his wife so he went to the Oracle of Delphi and she told him to ‘open his wine sack’ (helpful right?) long story short he bangs a princess and then Athena (patron goddess of Athens) tells the princess to go down to the sea with an offering where she bangs Posiden (co-patron god of Athens) hence Theseus (Geralt) is not only a demigod but a bastard prince.  I think this is all the background yall are gonna need if you don’t already know the myth

__________

Geralt knew the story well. For as long as he could remember, his mother would comb his stark white hair before bed and he would ask, “Tell me about my fathers?” She would smile fondly and begin to braid his hair in a pattern much like her own. 

“My little hero, your fathers are powerful, fair, righteous men. You have not only the blessing and favor of Poseidon, but the right to the throne of Athens.”

When he was younger he would squirm and protest, “I know mumma, but who were they?”

Vissena would sigh and change the subject until he was older, at which point she began letting the crumbs fall from her words. Crumbs Geralt followed to the truth of his heritage, piecing together stories his grandfather had told him about a sword and sandals pinned beneath a stone. 

When he was twelve, his mother told him the truth.

“You are destined to free the city of Athens from a terrible fate. When you can lift the stone and retrieve your father’s sword you may travel to his palace and claim your place as prince…” Her voice came to a strangled end before she coughed and continued “But you mustn't think about that now. You’ve rope to braid and cattle to feed.”

When he finally told her he was ready to try, her eyes welled with tears. She merely nodded, continuing to run the comb through her baby’s hair like she always had. He understood as he grew older why she was so reluctant to let him go. What mother can willingly send her child away in only destiny’s hands, regardless of his exceptional strength?

At 16, he succeeded in his first task, retrieving his father’s things, and set off to Athens. He went by land, wanting to rely on himself, not his grandfather’s wealth and power. He fought Perophes, disarming the practiced warrior with surprising little effort, to complete his second task. Fighting Coercion sent chills down his spine, with the man’s reputation for killing every opponent he faced he was certainly formidable, but he bested him nonetheless. His third task was complete. However, his name only became synonymous with ‘hero’ after slaying the wild boar. 

His first kill was at 17, still on the road to Athens. He could have let Procrustes live, could have delivered him to the nearest king for imprisonment, but his gut had twisted at the thought of the consequences of his failure. He tied Procrustes to the same small table he tied all his victims before slicing clean through the giant man’s limbs that hung off the edge. Leaving him to bleed out like he’d done to the skeletons littering the floor. It only seemed fitting, though the memory still made him queasy on nights when he couldn't sleep.

Even upon arrival at his father’s home, there was danger staring back at him in those beautiful amethyst eyes. The prophetess Yennefer would stop at nothing to keep the life of luxury and power she’d gained. She whispered false prophecies in King Vessimir’s ear, convincing him this boy who claimed to be his son was nothing but an imposter. Geralt should have expected such a welcome. 

As he lifted a cup of poisoned wine to his lips, Vessimir glimpsed the sword at his side, recognizing it in time to knock the ceramic out of his hand. 

The vessel had yet to shatter on the floor before Vessimir had rounded on the violet eyed woman with fury in his eyes like none Geralt had ever seen. 

The whole of the dining hall was holding their breath, waiting for the explosion to come.

King Vessimir whispered but one word, “Disappear.”

The woman glared daggers at Geralt as she waved her hand, stepping through a portal into nothing. He stared after her for a long time, having never witnessed manipulated magic up close and if he were honest with himself, he was a bit dazed.

As his father explained and apologized Geralt simply tilted his head in confusion, slowly putting the pieces together in his shock.

“Your sword, it was mine. You must forgive me, I believed a lie. I beg you.”

Geralt nodded, “You have a state to protect.”

Vessimir grasped him by his shoulders, “No, I have to protect you.”

Geralt smiled, endeared by the old king’s sudden saccharine sentiments, “I’m no boy anymore, you shouldn’t worry.”

As the rest of the guests at the banquet began to resume conversation Vessimir guided Geralt to a window overlooking the beautiful city that he would now be calling home, “So I’ve heard.  I would have thought your mother would raise you to be more merciful.”

Geralt eyed the ground, “Mercy for one who has killed so many and would kill again isn’t really mercy.” His voice was smaller than he would like, but after all these years of imagining his father, well he hadn’t expected a criticism of his ethics. 

“Good.” Vessimir nodded, leaning against the edge of the window, “We can work on your tone, but that’s a good start.”

A tentative smile took over Geralt’s face, “Work on my tone?”

“If you’re going to rule Athens and defeat Crete, you’ll need to be more assertive. But none of that now,” Vessimir waved a hand and a servant brought two more goblets of wine, “Now, I want to get to know my son.”

-

The following months were filled with lessons, from Vessimir’s top generals in battle strategy and formal combat, from a matronly maid in etiquette and the cultural customs of the port city, and from Vessimir himself in diplomacy. Geralt was thrilled at first, ready to prove himself worthy, but the routine slowly lost its shine. Eskel and Lambert were no doubt excellent fighters and leaders, but there were only so many ways to disarm someone with every weapon in the royal arsenal, and they were running out of challenges for the boy. If that’s what you could call him anymore. With regular meals, unlike during his travels, and the way his trainers pushed him he was starting to look more worthy of his Olympian heritage and place at the throne. 

He stood by his father’s side and paid careful attention to all of his meetings, every last one. Even the ones at dawn after a night of drinking with Eskel and Lambert. 

He sat on a stool, a step down from the platform where his father’s throne was carved out of stone as he observed the nobles bringing their worries, reports, and complaints to the king from the outskirts of the territory. The large amphitheater was teeming with men ready to share their opinion. Geralt found that rarely did anyone bring something that really needed fixing, just listening was usually enough to soothe their egos. It was all rather mundane now, Geralt could mouth the words his father would say before they filled the air, until the last representative. 

"My king, the spring is approaching, will we allow Crete to take our children yet again?”

Geralt’s brows knit together, eyes darting between the man and his father as they spoke.

Vessimir wiped a hand over his face, looking ten years older in an instant, “We don't have a navy that could even begin to challenge Crete’s. We have no choice.”

The gathered crowd erupted in shouts of outrage, only silenced when Vessimir stood, “It is the life of fourteen, or the life of the nation. Which will you surrender?”

There was more yelling, this time between a select few delegates, but Geralt ignored it and leaned to his right, lowering his voice so only Eskel could hear him. 

“What does he mean ‘the life of fourteen’?”

Eskel frowned, “He hasn’t told you?”

Geralt glared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“King Minos’ son was killed at the games a good twenty or so years back, so as penance he takes fourteen virgins from us every nine years. Seven men, seven women, and feeds them to his bastard Minotaur.” Eskel glanced over Geralt’s shoulder at the king, a look of worry clear on his face. 

“I thought the Minotaur was just a story, a parable of Crete’s barbaric nature.”

Eskel raised an eyebrow, not impressed by Geralt's literary analysis, “It’s no tale. It's as real as the ground under your feet, and it plays with its food.”

Geralt whipped his head back around to his father in time to catch his words, “There is no voting on war because of the brashness of your grandfather Letus, tread lightly. Until we have a reasonable plan of action all we can do is submit!"

Before he knew what his legs were doing Geralt was standing and shouting, "I'll go! Send me father! I'll kill the beast and return!" 

Cheers erupted from the crowd but Geralt only cared about his father's reaction and Vessimir was still as stone. For a moment Geralt worried for his heart, then Vessimir gripped his arm and leaned in with a panicked look on his face, "You are my only son, I will not send you to your death." He growled. 

Geralt felt a fire rising in his chest, "Your people are forced to send their children unwillingly yet when yours volunteers you're exempt? Does that seem fair to you?"

Vessimir’s grip tightened, nails digging into Geralt's arm, "Doesn't matter. You are the only heir. I can't risk the stability of the government."

Geralt stepped closer, making sure to stand at his full height, "Then you do not believe in me? In the power and blessings of Posiden that courses through me?" 

Vessimir snarled but said nothing. Surely not used to being challenged, especially not so publicly, about his devotion to the gods. 

Geralt lowered his voice, "I will go. I will free Athens as is my destiny, and I will come back to you unharmed." Geralt gripped his father's arm, and nearly pleaded, "I cannot sit idly by, you know I can't." 

Vessimir's eyes softened ever so slightly as he released his grip, "I should have known your mother would raise a stubborn man." 

Geralt grinned, "She said I got that from you." 

The amphitheater had gone quiet, all eyes on the king and this strange new prince. 

"Geralt will go." Vessimir sighed, clapping a hand on his son's shoulder. The crowd cheered in earnest this time and Geralt soaked it all in, their hope and elation. Vessimir raised a hand for silence and continued, "Now tell me, scholars and strategists, how will we bring him back alive?"

__________

part 2 here!

[idjitlili]

Dildo Gaggins

Thorin x reader

Warning: periods

Summary: being apart of the company , and forcing them to stop, but not telling them why.

Word count:2085

You had joined the company due to Gandalf pretty much forcing you to, you parents were kidnapped by orcs when you was a preteen. So not very long ago , being only 18, you had lived on the road eating berries and such. That was until Gandalf had found you and raised you, he was like your adopted father.

You were guilty for wanting revenge on all orcs, they had taken your childhood away from you by slaying your parents. You weren’t going to let that go easily.Anyways you joined the company , Thorin was livid by the idea of a women human no less joining his company. Gandalf pretty much told him to fuck off, and that you were coming along know what matter what he said.

Anyways once you met Bilbo you were quick to befriend him, comforting him by cleaning that wooden thing kili wipes his boots on. Getting the mud out the rugs and such he was very much grateful for your help.

You had been on your hands knees scrubbing at the rug , which one of the dwarves had spilled wine on it. You had a bowl of water and a rag with soap , you had been working at this stain no longer before someone had shouted a comment at you.

“Miss y/n , you should get on your hands an knees more often..” you had looked up to see one of thorins nephews , kili starring down at your arse. You scoffed at him , pulling your long button up shirt over your behind. Fili along with some other dwarves such as bofur had laughed. Unknowingly to you Thorin had eyes your butt too, but sent angry looks to his nephew, for speaking to a women in such a way.

“My daughter isn’t some toy, Prince Kili, next time you will be a worm, Mark my words.” Gandalf has shouted pulling him by the ear away from you.

“She’s your daughter ,mister gandalf?” Balin , Dwalins older brother had questioned, once Gandalf had let go of kilis ear. You now sat up onto your calves , the rag on your thigh. “No, he has raised me since I was 11, my parents were kidnapped, by orcs probably eaten.” You spoke calmly, Balin felt guilty for bringing it up, other looked at you with sincere faces.

“Gandalf might aswell be my father.” You spoke smiling up at Gandalf who did the same, you stood up bringing the bowl and rag to the kitchen. Bilbo had followed you as you poured the water away. He looked at you curiously ,”so you are going with this company?” He had questioned you , eyeing you for a response.

“Even if I didn’t want to go, I would be stuck at home and b e bored to death. An adventure sounds great actually doing something significant in middle earth.” You spoke with meaning, you didn’t want to be a nobody and you would get to meet elves and other humans. Maybe you could meet someone.

The little hobbit smiled up you “you have a kind heart Miss y/n “

“Just y/n. I think we are going to be good friends mister baggins.”

“Me too..y/n.” You leans down and ruffled the hobbits hair , playfully.

That was a months ago now, you now and the rest of the company except Gandalf who left at the edge of Mirkwood, were deep in Mirkwood forest. You were walking along side Bilbo , you suspected that you lot would get lost. You were feeling great until a huge cramp hurt you like the waves of the ocean. You groaned clutching your stomach for a second, losing your breath slightly. Bilbo looks up at you in concern ,”are you okay y/n?” He questioned you , before you could speak you felt liquid in your pants. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back.” You speak quickly , running towards Thorin who led the group.

Thorin had gained trust for Bilbo , apologised for in judging him, he still didn’t like that you were apart of the company. sometimes he would get mad when you accidentally did something, yet when they had been captured by the trolls he’s had made sure they had not got a hold of you, knowing they were vile and would do horrible things to you.

Thorin heard you approach him , turning his face slightly to look at you , then turning back to ahead of him in seconds.

You walked with him , until you catches your breath from running, “Thorin please can we stop , not even for two minutes it’s an emergency.” You pleaded , “we will stop once we are out of this place.” You knew he wouldn’t listen , there was no point even trying. You scoffed “fine.” you spoke angerily , before running ahead and going deep into the forest so no one could see you.

Unknowingly to you Thorin had made the company fasten their pace with him , to catch up, Bilbo angrily shouted at Thorin , whole kili and Fili asked where you had gone. Thorin had told the company to stay there while he went into off the path looking for you. At this point you were strapping bunches of cotton to yourself, to stop you bleeding through your pants. You were pulling up your pants when Thorin had found you.

You had gasped when you had seen Thorin , him in shock to see you pulling your trousers up from your knees. “Why did you follow me?” You spoke angrily , walking past him , leafs crunching under your feet as you watched back to path.

He stomped after you,” you cannot just run off like that to urinate .” He shouted towards you, you turned to him shoving him backwards. “I wasn’t going to the bathroom, it’s none of your business.” He scoffed at you “it is my business , when I am supposed to protect you , and I can’t do that when I can’t see you .” His eyes shining slightly , yet still harsh.

“I’m sorry I just didn’t want to bleed through my pants infront of 13 dwarves.” His eyes softened at your words , before you know it he has embraced you into a hug , you wrap your arms around his waist , as his arms around your shoulders. “W-what ar-“ before you can even finish question, you and Thorin are attacked by spiders. Thorin tried to fight them off but before you know it you are wrapped into cocoon with Thorin.

Now Thorins arms are around your waist while your hands against his chest. Heavy breathing waiting for death, that was until the cocoon landed on the ground. Allowing Thorin to rip it open, for you to jump up avoiding the pain in your stomach, lending a hand for Thorin. You heard that men didn’t really know of periods ,you figured that Thorin must of dealt with his sister when she had them.

Once you were able to take in your surroundings, you see the other dwarves getting out of cocoons , and their were spiders coming in on you all. Soon enough you all are fighting off these giant monsters. That is when more come only for them to be killed instantly by elves.

The elves search you all, this blond one searches you , yet he gets down to remove the knife from the holster. He stands up with the knife passing it to an elf. He looks at you frowning . “ you are injured.” He spoke with a monotone. You look at him confused before your eyes widen, elves must be able to smell very well. “...uh no I am not.” He shakes his head ,” you are bleeding.” Thorin groans angrily at the elf.

“Yeah..but It’s not an injury..uh mister elf. It b-becau-“ you are interrupted when a female elf with ginger hair whispers to the blond elf, his face flashes red in embarrassment. “I am sorry miss.”

And that was it , you all were brought to Mirkwood , all the dwarves were put in cells except Thorin and you (you were human but whatever) who were brought to the king, he looked like a narcissist.

Thorin insulted Thranduil , The king , when he offered a deal for our freedom for some hens. Thorin rejected in spite of Thranduil not helping his people when they needed so he wasnt going to help him in anyway.

“And why are is a women travelling with dwarves?” He had spat the word dwarves with disgust as he had circled you , to make himself superior to you. When you obviously thought he was anyways , god he was king.

“Uh.. because I want to sir.” You looked at the floor, he made you feel quite uncomfortable, he laughed in response.

“Ah, I see , you are their toy.” He smirked, you gasped at his words , you face flashed with anger.

“I see the way you must treat women , you disgust me. You probably do it because you are jealous.” You walked fowarded to him glaring before you continued “you know because you already dress like one, if your voice was an higher then I would’ve mistaked you for a women..” his face slightly twitching in anger you walk closer smirking. “Maybe the main reason is because you lack down there or maybe because daddy Di-“ you are interrupted by a slap in the face, Thorin is about to leap forward for Thranduil, but the guards grab ahold of him , but you slip past the other guards grips. You lung forward smashing your knuckles into his face, making him bleed. He quickly gets the guards to take you both to the cells.

You are both thrown into the same cell, he grabs you stopping you land on the floor, You smile at him lightly.

One of the dwarves asks what happened , he says something in dwarvish an insult probably, and then tells him what you had done, the others cheer. You slide down onto the floor , Thorin doing the same shortly after directly next to you. You had forgotten about the pain but now it hit you like horse. Distractions such as trying not to die , take your mind off cramps. You clutch your stomach.

Thorin eyes you gestures, “are you cold?” You look up at him, “I’ll be fine Thorin.” Yet he doesn’t believe you , he places one arm under Under your knees the other on your back, picking you up placing you in his lap. Your mouth is struck open in shock, as he wraps his arms around your stomach, you Lean back into his chest.

“Elves suck, that princess literally sniffed my vagina.” You groan at the fact you just said that to a king. He chuckles “I’m not surprised,he probably wanted you to be his prince to his princess.” He speaks into your neck, his breath tickling your neck.

“Damn I doubt anyone would want me, have you seen me.” You laugh sarcastically, “it will never happen” your eyes water, as a child you were cute you were asked out many times but you rejected them all because you were frightened, until you were 15 and fell in love with a boy that ended up breaking your heart and you didn’t even date! It made you feel ugly and more insecure then you had even been.

“I think you very much mistaken. I know someone thinks you are the most beautiful woman he has ever met, I have seen plenty of those dwarves eye you up.” His thumb thst lay against your hip went under your shirt to stroke your bare skin.

“Oh..what who?” You are surprised, Thorin had never spoke to you in such a way he had always been blunt with you , or avoided you, now you lay against him in his arms. He presses his lip to you cheek before whispering in your ear “me.” You gasp at his answer, you turn on his lap(careful you don’t want boner city..)

“Really?” You ask looking into his eyes, he nods, you quickly press your lips to his before pulling away, smiling widely.

You lean back in his lap after he asks you to court him , in which you agreed , he braids your hair before Bilbo opens the door. He gasps, at your position.

You get up Thorin, pulling him up,

“Oh shit sorry if I got blood on you Thorin.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh hello dildo Gaggins.”

[stargazersastronomy]

Family of Strangers

An Aquarius Solidarity and Protest Playlist

My Last Breath by Evanescence “I know you hear me,/I can taste it in your tears.“

No Lives Matter by Body Count “They can't, fuck with us/Once they realise we're all on the same side They can't, split us up/And let them prosper off the divide“

Tonight in Flames by Cradle of Filth “Our deaths will be the start/Of something glorious and vain/Tonight in flames“

War Eternal by Arch Enemy “There will come a day not so far away/When the hunter becomes the prey (and you will pay).”

Universal Death Squad by Epica “We are the ones to change the world now/Still in control of all machinery/We claim the right to pull the trigger and damage your image of honor”

The Trial of Monsters by ReVamp “End this nightmare, hear my song, hear our cry!”

The Proud and the Broken by Kamelot “They left us blind and broke our pride, they told us to be brave/But like an insect drawn to light/We circle around the radiance of truth”

Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park “I don't want to be the one the battles always choose/'Cause inside I realize that I'm the one confused”

Riot by Three Days Grace “You're not the only one/Refusing to go down/You're not the only one/So get up”

Road of Resistance by Babymetal “Kimi ga shinjiru nara/Susume kotae wa koko ni aru/Forever! Forever!/Forever! Forever!”/”Make your way though/The answer is here if you believe in it/Forever! Forever!/Forever! Forever!”   

Don’t Tread on Me by Metallica “Never begins it, never, but once engaged/Never surrenders, showing the fangs of rage/I said don't tread on me“

No More Mr. Nice Guy by Alice Cooper “No more Mister Nice Guy/No more Mister Clean/No more Mister Nice Guy/He said you're sick, you're obscene.“

Nothing Stands in Our Way by Lacuna Coil “I wish we could have all the time in the world/But we have come too far to give up who we are/We fear nothing, we fear nothing“

Raise Your Banner by Within Temptation “They make me see, they make me see/I'm feeling the pain how you break them and make them bleed“

The Walls are Closing In/Hangman by The Pretty Reckless “Vivax olor ma infecta/Estar in mia altaria/Estur inomina montis”/”Its intensity and smell disturbed me/He died by sacrifice/He died on the hill in a baneful way”

The Pallbearer Walks Alone by The Dark Element “One day we won't slay our brothers/One day we won't hate each other/One day we'll help one another/But that day is not today”

The Eagle Flies Alone by Arch Enemy “Reject the system that dictates the norm/This world is full of lies and deceit“

The Glory and the Scum by Delain “Either wasteland or wonderland/Look at what we've done/Take a step back/Shake your head at what we have become/We're the glory and the scum“

I Am The Storm by Ad Infinitum “No, your arrows will not bring me down/You're just a noise, a whisper in the night“

Slania’s Song by Eluvietie “ Adio- biuotutas -robirtont/Uolin cridili/Are rilotuten atrilas“/”That gave their lives/Their blood/For the freedom of their fatherland“

Natural Born Sinner by In This Moment “What I do know is come judgement day/Before the lord can you say the same?“

We Are The Others by Delain “As simple as air in your lungs/As simple as words on your lips/And no one should take that away/No one should argue this“

Black Hoodie by Body Count “My man's not breathing, man/What the fuck's the matter with you, man?“

Innocence by Tarja Turunen “Left with the wind/In times like this we do/You and me, breathe, to ignite the feeling“

Humane by Lacuna Coil “Compromise/it's just another contradiction/You're not alone/There's a place/you've run away/that is in your heart/it is in your heart“

Hunting for Witches by Bloc Party “I was an ordinary man with ordinary desires/There must be accountability“

Zombies by the Cranberries “With their tanks, and their bombs/And their bombs, and their guns/In your head, in your head, they are dying“

Black Boys on Mopeds by Sinead O’Connor “It's the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds/And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving/I don't want him to be aware that there's/Any such thing as grieving“

Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2 “And it's true we are immune/When fact is fiction and TV reality/And today the millions cry/We eat and drink while tomorrow they die“

Eternal Lamentation by Mortification “The smoke of torment forever arises/Surrounded by screaming I gnash my teeth in agony/My soul's tormented, body cries aloud/I'm trapped within the walls of death“

Never Die by Allen/Olzon “Where will you go/When the world around you changes at the speed of light?/All you've ever know nothing stays the same/A new world is on your eyes but the old will never die“

Kuolema Tekee Taiteilijan by Nightwish “Luojani, luoksesi anna minun tulla siksi miksi lapseni minua luulee/ My Lord, to you, let me become what my child thinks I am“

Washington Is Next! By Megadeth “The word predicts the future and tells the truth about the past/Of how the world leaders will hail the new Pharaoh“

The Evil That Men Do by Iron Maiden “But I will pray for her, I will call her name out loud/I would bleed for her, if I could only see her now“

Family of Strangers by Doll Skin “Wanna make them recognize me/For what I want me to be“

Play

[alsanjxde]

Miche Zacharius - Right person Wrong time

Chapter 1

❀ Y/N's POV ❀ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ Finally the day has arrived. The day for me Levi, Furlan and Isabel to join the scouts. However, we're not joining the scouts to fight against humanities greatest threat- the titans- we're joining to kill the Commander. Why? We have been set up on it. If we do it we get a big amount of money or freedom from the underground. Amazing right? I wonder what titans look like. Are they as scary as people say? The only thing i wish for is that i was allowed over ground without having to join the scouts but unfortunately that is not possible. This world is inevitably cruel whether it be overground or under. Titans above ground, murderers underground. No one gets a break. Anyway we're on our way above ground.

"Hey, we're finally going to get to see the sunlight huh?" Furlan wondered. "I guess we are. This is exciting!" Isabel exclaimed while jumping about. Sunlight? I wonder what it looks like. Is it blinding? Is it comforting. "Oi, stay calm" Levi stated as we became closer and closer to the light at the top of the stairs. The closer and closer we get the more and more i feel the anxiety rising up within me. 'Will i die within a few minutes of being up here?' No that's stupid. We reach the top trembling from the soft breeze that scrapes our skin, goosebumps slowly rising on our arms. The sunlight reflecting off of us giving us a strong wave of heat, the sound of the horses hooves trotting along the stone path, the citizens all making a big commotion to get their food. Huh, it's not really that different from the underground. A carriage approaches us. It looks important.

"Get in." A presumptuous voice bellowed out. So we did as said. When we entered we see Erwin and the sniffer sitting on one side. Wait. How are all four of us supposed to fit there. "One of you will have to sit by us" Erwin coldly remarked. And so i did while huffing. I was small enough to fit in between the two bigger men. Of course, Mr sniffer man sniffs me and then commented. "We're heading to the scout headquarters now, when we get there you'll have to get in uniform and then be introduced and sorted into your squads." We all nodded in response. Silence overrode the carriagebut it was at least comfortable. The carriage jumping up and down from all the bumps in the road.

We arrived after about 10 minutes of overwhelming silence. A few other scouts came out and lead us into our rooms. Me and Isabel were in the same dorm, which we were euphoric about and Furlan and Levi shared a dorm to so all was good so far. But then it felt around the room and felt some dust. Ew. I immediately started cleaning. Once i was done a scout going by the name of Nanaba came in with our uniform. "Alright so i'll help you get the straps on, okay?" She said while smiling and handing it to us. "Just call me when your changed" and with that she left the room. This is going to be a long long ride. Me and Isabel begin to change. The straps can't be that hard to get on can they? I get dressed quickly and attempt to put the straps on. Then i realise i do not have a clue how they are supposed to be positioned, but i still continue putting them on. "We're done now!" Isabel called out, Nanaba then entering the room being impressed with how i already have the straps on and they're correct, however Isabel does need help with hers. "You're quick at picking up at things aren't you?" Nanaba interrogated me while helping Isabel. "I guess i am" I nervously agreed while rubbing the back on my neck. "Alright, that's that. It's time to go now"

Standing in front of many people made me shake. I could feel a certain pair of eyes on me. Mr Sniffer man. Oh how i hope we are not in his squad. Erwin stepped on the platform and began "Ahem, so these are the new scouts we scouted out from the underground." turning around to us he continued "Introduce yourselves" Isabel goes first "I'm Isabel Mangolia sir!" she says that while saluting. "I'm Furlan Church!" Furlan enunciated and saluted. "The names Levi" Levi moodily said. "Y/N" I calmly ended with a salute. "Now to announce the squads they'll be in; Levi, Furlan and Isabel will be in squad Hange, Y/N will be in squad Miche." Miche? Who is Miche? Then it hits me. Mr sniffer. No. Fucking. Way. "That concludes the introductions now it's time for training." Erwin indicated while leaving the platform. Sighing, I leave the platform to go meet my new squad. 'Why Mr sniffer?' As soon as i step off i'm greeted by Nanaba. "Good to see we're in the same squad huh" She takes my hand and shakes it. The rest of the members introduced themselves Tomas, Gelgar, Henning and Lynn. Finally Miche speaks up, "I forgot to introduce when we first met; I'm Miche Zacharius i am looking forward to see your skills" He scoffed out. Why is he so annoyed? I just rolled my eyes and continued speaking to Nanaba.

❀ Miche's POV ❀ She was put into my squad? Why? What is Erwin planning that snidey bastard. I sigh shaking my head "It's time for training come on" I said while walking away as if motioning them to follow me.

We're at the training grounds and i'm observing Y/N closely and it's obvious from the first time i met her to now that she is highly skilled with the ODM gear. Possibly even more skilled than me if i do say so. However, I do wonder how she'd do on the fake titan slaying. "Alright!" I clapped my hands together "We're going to practice titan slaying on the wooden cutouts, Y/N have Nanaba teach you how to hold the swords and slice the nape" I continued. Nanaba just nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance and scoffed under her breathe "If you say so Mr sniffer" I stood there in shock. "3. 2. 1. Go!" I bellowed as the rest of my squad set off into the small woods.

❀ Y/N's POV ❀ "Why does Miche sniff everyone?" I blurt out randomly. Nanaba just looks at me and shakes her head. Just don't answer me then okay. We start approaching a wooden cut out. "Okay so you already know you have the head for the nape but you hold you blades like-" Nanaba was interrupted by the sound of the cut out being sliced. I had already figured out a comfortable way to hold them and then spun and sliced its fake nape. "Hey! You don't hold them like that" Nanaba scolded. "Huh? It got the job done though" I shrugged while landing on a tree. Miche following not long after looking at me with cold eyes, sending shivers down my spine. "You have to hold them properly if you want to be successful and not die" Miche grunted "Trainings over go back to base" ⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

A/N: Okay so Hi! I don't remember what squad Isabel and that were actually placed in so i just used squad Hange. Anyway i hope it's good enough if i made any mistake lmk and i'll sort them out!

[avehi-the-adamant]

Dark Rebirth

(( Co-written with @kidcatgemini. @kaiekasunwhisper belongs to her. And @sylaess for mention! ))

~*~

Ny’alotha was just about every bit as horrible and dismal as Avehi had imagined. Already, black obelisks and obsidian monstrosities had poured forth into Azeroth. The Death Knight could see the striking resemblance to their origin. The dark stone architecture surrounded the forces of Azeroth as they continued their push into the Waking City. 

Some carried on strong, determined. Others had already started to lose themselves to madness, and had to retreat. Avehi remained… unfazed. Death Knights were used to the gnawing of a foreign dominating voice chipping away at the backs of their minds. That, and crafting and donning Saronite armor gave her a strong familiarity with the way Old God influence felt.

Besides all that, she’d seen far worse than this place.

In truth, she wasn’t sure it was wise to join in the assault; she was still battered after her encounter with Argonas. The fool. His arrogance blinded him. The Light may have spared him on Argus, but it was powerless to save anyone already trapped in the Maw. That idiot would realize that sooner or later. Still, their last meeting came down to blows. And for all her unholy strength… Argonas was still a force to be reckoned with. 

But then, that was part of why she’d come. She needed to feed in order to recover, and the forces of Azeroth were already cleaning up what remained of the Twilight forces around Azeroth. Joining the incursion teams made for a decent opportunity to put down the Old God’s forces and sate her hunger all at the same time. And if any of Azeroth’s champions fell here… she could raise them to continue the fight. Now, and down the road. 

The worthy ones, anyway.

The initial illusion had failed. Now, forces split up to deal with the various threats Ny’alotha posed. Avehi had helped her ‘team’ dispatch a huge mana-siphoning Obsidian destroyer, before pressing further into the Waking City. She was already feeling refreshed, after killing a slew of cultists and aqir that stood between her and her objective.

Her tail flickered, as she set hoof on another platform filled with cultists to slay… and feast upon. Her icy blue eyes widened with surprise, as she caught sight of someone familiar on the other side. As Azeroth’s forces rushed in, her hand tensed about the hilt of her hammer. She strode up to the familiar face, wary and ready.

“Let me guess; the death of your brother and being dumped drove you to join a cult for acceptance?” she called out, over the growing sounds of battle.

Kai’eka’s ear twitched and she yanked her large blade out of a human soldier’s chest as the familiar voice taunted her. She turned to face the Draenei, eyes narrowed. Of all people to bump into, it had to be the one person she’d let loose and rambled on to about her issues. 

“Born into the Twilight, actually,” she shot back, “Long before you managed to get yourself killed.”

She didn’t waste any time in closing the distance between them. There was no alcohol in her system to loosen her lips today. She was out for blood, simple enough. The amount of crimson liquid that could be seen on her armor showed she’d already spilled quite a bit already… and from the looks of it, none of her own. She had no illusions that Avehi would fall as easily. Death Knights had numerous advantages. Kai’eka had fought some before and they always put up an excellent fight.

She carried the momentum of her steps into a solid swing of both hooked blades; the one on the right came in towards the Death Knight’s side, while the left aimed for the first set of knee joints.

Avehi's caution paid off; she expected the ren'dorei to make the first move, and she was more than prepared. Fortunate, too; her leg was still healing from Icecrown. That leg sweep would've been nasty. Instead, she kept her distance, Rokaa parrying the elf's right hand swing, as she deftly backstepped from her left. 

She didn't counterattack. Not yet. Not only did she want to learn the elf's fighting style, but her opponent had clearly already been fighting for a while. Hours, by the look at some of that dried blood on her armor. Fatigue was an enemy of the living. Avehi, on the other hand, could fight forever.

Kai’eka growled as she pressed the advance. Avehi didn’t fight at all like Sylaess, which was frustrating. A vertical swing with one blade followed by stab of the other, crouching down in a spin of the blades in an attempt to trip. Each strike was deflected or dodged, but the death knights remained on the defensive, using her hammer only to block potential deadly blows… well… deadly for the living, anyway.

She huffed in frustration as the Draenei jumped back, putting extra distance between them.

“Fight back, already!” 

She took a few deep breaths to bring oxygen to her tired muscles, only then clueing in on what Avehi was doing. Despite Kai’eka’s skills and exceptional battle experience, her mortal body needed rest. While she’d initially felt invigorated in her fight against the heroes of Azeroth, hours of fighting in plated armor and swinging heavy swords with no rest in sight  took their toll. Her eyes narrowed as she realized the large disadvantage against an opponent with endless stamina…

Even so, Kai’eka’s stubbornness would be her downfall.

She charged, halting midway to throw one of her hooked blades at the Death Knight. The Draenei had spent enough time dodging for Kai’eka to make an educated guess at where she would move. The warrior leaped, lifting her remaining sword above her head with both hands and swinging down with all her strength.

*CLANG!*

The Death Knight swung lateral to deflect the thrown weapon. That she threw it at all caught her by surprise. But the fact it was a feint… Avehi wasn’t ready for that. She felt the elf’s hooked blade dig into her shoulder, shredding through her armor. It lodged into her snugly, tugging the elf along with it as she jerked in reflexive recoil. Pain registered of course, but Avehi was already so used to it. Still… she’d worked so hard already to repair what damage Argonas had done. This would set her back further still. Her lichfire eyes ignited, burning brighter as she glared at the ren’dorei. 

“If you insist.” she all but growled.

Without warning, she thrust her hammer forward into the elf’s midsection - it’s crystalline head releasing a blast of necrotic energy upon impact, blasting the elf with enough force to break the grip she maintained on her sword. With a disgusting crunching sound, Avehi then ripped the blade from her body and tossed it aside behind her. The gash was dire… or would be, were she still alive. Latent blood reserves acquired from her hemomancy set to weaving her corpse back together as she followed after the disarmed elf. She raised her hammer again, picking up the pace as she closed the distance. She heaved Rokaa up, then swung down in a vertical arc to bash the elf!

The necrotic energy had been enough to knock Kai’eka to the ground a few feet away. Despite the fatigue, the warrior had just enough time to shrug off the paralysis and roll aside as the crystalline hammer came down in what could have easily been a killing blow. She didn’t get too far, however, pangs of pain still shot through her system. She wrapped an arm around her midsection; noting some broken ribs, before gritting her teeth and swinging her legs out in a desperate attempt to trip up her opponent. 

It did little to slow the Draenei’s advance. She brought her hammer up again to take another swing, teeth baring as she snarled. The savagery was pliable in the air around her, rivaled only by the distinct icy chill her cold fury brought about. She seemed almost unrecognizable; hardly the friendly drinking buddy from the tavern. Her hammer let out a burst of shadowed energy, seeming to ignite with a sickening aura of its own as Avehi brought it down. And brought it down hard. She swung in for the elf’s midsection, set to finish this once and for all!

Kai’eka lost her breath on impact, the hammer easily breaking through the broken ribs, squashing the internal organs they protected and breaking her spine. If the blow alone hadn’t been fatal enough, the shadow energy radiating through the wound and into the barely functioning organs left functioning was the final nail in the coffin. The pain was sharp, but quick. She realized she could no longer feel her lower body before tasting the blood in her mouth. She coughed a few times, crimson droplets moving down her chin. She looked up at her executioner, her look surprisingly peaceful as the glow of her eyes faded along with her life. With a final exhale, Kai’eka Sunwisper died in full service and devotion to the Old Ones.

The perfect death.

Avehi reveled in the sensation; this elf was a potent fighter, full of vim and vitality. Her life essence trailed up along Rokaa, feeding into the Death Knight to sate her Hunger. Her bloodlust. Even the tinge of void corruption in her soul did little to detract from such a satisfying kill! 

The sounds of battle abated, as the Azerothian forces cleared the platform. They had managed to take down a fearsome faceless monster, and set to tending the wounded who were injured in the fight. Bodies of cultists and monsters alike laid scattered across the platforms, vanquished by heroes as they pressed deeper into the Waking City.

Slowly, Avehi raised her hammer, and exhaled a content sigh. It was a good fight! The elf certainly kept her on the tips of her hooves, testing the extent of her defensive prowess. But once she was disarmed, the fight was as good as over. The fatigued warrior could only do so much without a proper weapon. Licking her lips as if she’d just finished a thoroughly enjoyable meal - not entirely untrue, in her case - the Death Knight slung Rokaa over her shoulder, and stepped over the ren’dorei’s dead body to rejoin the others as they rallied on the elevator that would take them further into Ny’alotha.

Her tail twitched; she halted, and glanced back over her shoulder at the elf’s lifeless corpse. A frown crossed her lips, as the conversation she had with the ren’dorei refreshed in her mind. She’d said the Death Knight way of things sounded like a step up from how she lived now. And her skill… her potency… she was no ordinary foot soldier. Avehi grunted, tail swaying to and fro as she considered what to do with this one. Few she’d risen so far were so capable and strong, both in body and spirit. Concerns about the elf’s allegiances were all that really gave the Death Knight reservations about… recruiting her. 

“Death Knight! Come on!”

Her attention snapped back to the others, as a human called out to beckon Avehi onward. She raised a hand, and waved. 

“I’ll be along shortly! Go on!” she called back.

The human shrugged, before stepping onto the elevator with the last of the group. Avehi watched a moment as they disappeared out of sight up above her, before examining the void elf once more. Slowly, she sighed.

Dark energy pooled into her outstretched hand once more.

“You fought well to--” she began, though hesitated.

A shrug. That’s all that mattered, really. With what this elf must’ve seen on the other side by now, she couldn’t be too hard to convince her path in N’Zoth’s shadows was folley. She exhaled, shrugged, and resumed her work. Her eyes ignited, as a surge of necromantic power erupted around her. 

“You fought well. But your fighting’s not done yet.” she recited the words, with slight variance. “Rise, and fight once more!”

The Ren’dorei’s body shifted as though she’d taken a deep breath as the necrotic magic took effect in binding the soul back to its body. Hemomancy made necessary repairs to the broken form, allowing it to function mechanically once more. The crevice where the hammer had struck its deadly blow, however, would remain as a permanent indentation. 

With the necessary repairs in place, the risen corpse opened its now lichfire eyes. A gasp escaped Kai’eka as she sat up in a panic. She spit out coagulated blood before looking around, confused to find herself at the scene of her death once more. Hands found the closed wound, surprised it didn’t hurt to touch. Her body felt cold, but comfortable. The fatigue she’d felt from battle was gone. Most notable of all, she realized she wasn’t breathing. Her head turned, gaze finding Avehi’s, recognizing the Draenei as the voice that had called her back. 

“I… was in… the Abyss...”

While it wasn’t her first death, this had been the first time Kai’eka’s soul had truly crossed over. It hadn’t been at all like she’d expected. After her lifetime of servitude, she’d expected… something… anything that had been promised... But there wasn’t a trace of anything… no reward, no Gods… only suffering. She frowned, her mind still trying to catch up with what was happening. What it all meant… what she’d given the entirety of her life for…

She brought a hand to her head with a hiss. It hurt to think on anything too much at the moment.

"You were promised a different afterlife, yes? One where you would be rewarded for your faithful service in life?" the former Vindicator asked, recognizing that shattered illusion reaction all too well. "I know what that's like; believe me, I know."

Her tail swayed slowly, in an even and calm cadence, as she watched the elf rise. She was becoming more comfortable raising the dead, but couldn't tell if it was for virtuous reasons… or selfish ones. She liked to believe the former was true, and raising this elf helped in that; she seemed like she lived a similar life of devotion to Avehi, only now realizing just how little that devotion amounted to. It was a rewarding experience, seeing the ren'dorei's eyes finally open - both literally and metaphorically.

Avehi sheathed her hammer, and extended her upturned hand to the elf, in an offer to help her up.

"There's work to be done."

Kai’eka eyed the hand that was offered, giving a moment’s hesitation. Her mind was still reeling from what she’d seen on the other side, even just briefly. If everything she’d lived for was a lie, then how was she supposed to uncover the truth? What else was a lie? What was real?

Her hand reached up and allowed Avehi to help her stand. She made her way over and picked up her blades, eyeing the runes that matched her tattoos. She still felt the touch of the Void. Even in undeath it remained a part of her. Was that enough to keep the connection? Would she have to bind them in a different way now?

She felt like a child for the first time in centuries. There was so much to learn…

Harnessing her blades, she followed Avehi: her killer, her saviour, and now her guide. 

“By your lead.”

[cruellae]

Sephiroth Week, Day 4

Each of my Sephiroth Week entries is a fragment of a love story told in seven parts.

[Read all of them on AO3]

Day 4: Haunted (Free Day)

Sephiroth isn’t sure how long he’s been here, in this humble apartment above a bar in the Midgar slums. Ever since he found Cloud lying in the desert dust, a half mile away from Zack Fair’s dead body, and carried him to the city, time has become oddly elusive, slipping strangely away from him. 

Cloud has reunited with a friend from his childhood, a dark haired young woman who looks past Sephiroth as though he’s not even there. He works as a mercenary now, running with some terrorist group--Sephiroth can’t be bothered to remember the name or the details.

Sephiroth spends his time training in a field of flowers flourishing mysteriously under the plate. He’s skilled enough that neither his feet nor the Masamune ever harm a single petal. Some days he wanders to Wall Market to listen to the locals talk or hunts pathetic monsters through the roads between sectors, wastelands of sparse dirt and twisted metal. 

He follows Cloud on his missions, helping him to slay the more determined foes, Shinra’s mechanical monstrosities falling before their blades. He likes this best of all, when Cloud’s Buster Sword and his own Masamune move together in a beautiful, razor-edged duet. After missions, he sits with Cloud in a dark corner of the bar, listening to Cloud’s companions talk and laugh amongst themselves. No matter how cheerful the mood, Cloud is always on the outside, looking in. 

Sephiroth knows what that’s like.

He and Cloud have something of a truce--sometimes even conversations. But Cloud is always guarded, distant, even as Sephiroth longs for greater closeness. 

He dreams of Cloud nearly every night, dreams that started brief and simple but have gotten more detailed and more depraved over the time he’s been here. 

Tonight Cloud is on his knees, his hands bound behind his back, looking up at Sephiroth with something akin to worship. And in this dream, Sephiroth knows that no matter what he does to Cloud, no matter how he hurts him, violates him, defiles him, Cloud will look at him with love and beg for more. 

This is what you want. 

That voice is familiar, an unearthly melody that once possessed him entirely, down to his core. He can still feel the hollow places in himself that ache in her absence. 

You betrayed me for this pitiful creature. For him you turned your back on all that we are and all that we could be.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Sephiroth whispers, feeling the cold burn of her chastisement. 

My son my heart my love. I understand what it is to want. But why would you deny your own strength, my scion, my own breathing soul? You could have this and more, if you only would let me show you the way. 

Sephiroth wakes with a start, his heart racing and his body aching with unspent desire. He’s not alone--the apartment above the bar is small so he shares a room with Cloud, sleeping on the floor beside Cloud’s bed so he can remain nearby. 

“Are you awake?” Cloud asks, in his low, husky voice. There’s a slight western twang to his words, the country boy lost in the big city. 

“Yes.” Sephiroth takes a moment to collect himself. “Did I wake you?” 

“Nah. Been awake for a while. Just thinking.” 

“About what?” Sephiroth sits up so he can see Cloud lying atop the bed, turned on his right side, propped up on his elbow. 

“About you,” Cloud says. “Wondering why you’re here. And why only I can see you.” 

Sephiroth considers this for a long moment, and realizes he can’t think of a single instance where anyone besides Cloud has acknowledged his presence. 

“I carried you here,” he reminds Cloud. Surely that’s proof of his corporeal existence. “I brought you Zack’s sword.”

“Sure. I remember. But I also remember seeing you die.” 

“Because you killed me.” Sephiroth gets up and approaches the bed, feeling very much like a ghost in the darkness. 

“And now you’re haunting me.” Cloud gives him a wry smile, weary at the edges. “Zack died for good, but you get to come back. What the fuck kind of deal is that, anyway?” 

“I don’t understand it any more than you do,” Sephiroth says. “I didn’t ask for this.” 

Cloud rolls onto his back and puts his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Let me know when you figure it out, okay?” 

Sephiroth nods, though Cloud isn’t looking at him, and slips away to his corner to wait for the dawn. 

#

Sephiroth is a quiet ghost. Cloud is thankful for that, at least. He’s not always around, but when he is, he’s usually content to sit silently nearby unless Cloud wants to talk. 

Today they’re the only people in 7th Heaven, the CLOSED sign hanging on the door, so Sephiroth has set his sword along the length of the bar--it’s almost as long as the bar itself--and is methodically polishing it from hilt to tip. 

Cloud has a whetstone, and he’s attending to his own weapon. He’s engrossed in the task and doesn’t realize Sephiroth has moved closer until he feels the gentle brush of a hand on his shoulder. 

“Like this,” Sephiroth says, leaning into his space. He puts his hand over Cloud’s and angles the whetstone just so. “You’ll get a better edge.” 

His hand is warm, the bulk of his body firm where he’s leaning against Cloud’s shoulder. For a ghost, he feels very present and very real. And Cloud knows from experience that when Sephiroth fights by his side, that sword is corporeal enough to kill. 

Cloud wonders if he’s going crazy. 

“Use brings about wear, tear, and rust,” Sephiroth tells him. “That’s what Angeal always used to say when he cleaned this sword.”

“Yeah.” Cloud clears his throat. “Zack told me a little about him. While we were...on the run.” 

“It’s good to see this sword get some use.” Sephiroth is still standing very close, and Cloud has to tilt his head up to see his expression. “Angeal never used it. He was too afraid of damaging it. Very much like his famous honor.” 

“What do you mean?” Cloud asks. Zack always talked about Angeal like he was a paragon of virtue. 

“I did worse things in Wutai than in Nibelheim,” Sephiroth says. “Angeal always turned a blind eye. He never tried to use that stalwart honor of his to change things. Just as he never used this blade to fight.” 

“You probably would have killed him if he had,” Cloud says. “Maybe he thought that doing what little he could from the inside was better than dying for no reason.” 

“Hmm.” Sephiroth runs his fingers up the flat side of the Buster Sword. His hands are large but elegant, and Cloud can’t help but imagine that the caress is on his own body rather than his blade. “But you would never compromise like that.” 

“Probably not,” Cloud admits. 

Sephiroth pulls back and returns to his own task at the bar. They each resume their work in comfortable silence. Being haunted is one thing, but it feels kind of good to not always be alone. And Sephiroth understands Cloud in a way no one else ever has before. 

“I never did figure it out,” Sephiroth says, softly breaking the silence. “Why I’m here.” 

“Karma, maybe?” Cloud asks.

Sephiroth raises an eyebrow, looking puzzled. 

“You burned down a whole fucking town,” Cloud says. “Your karma must be shit. So like, maybe this is your punishment.” 

“I doubt it,” Sephiroth says, his eyes on his blade. “There are worse places I could be.”

Cloud shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “Maybe it’s my shitty karma.”

He regrets saying anything at all when Sephiroth turns towards him, strange eyes laser-focused on his face. “Why would you think that?” 

“Cause Zack was the best person I know. And he died because of me.” 

Sephiroth is quiet for a moment, leaning against the bar. Not like he’s not paying attention, but more like he’s taking time to really consider what Cloud just said. It’s oddly endearing to see him put in the effort, and it helps with the raw vulnerability threatening to claw its way out of Cloud’s throat. 

“He died protecting you,” Sephiroth says. “Would you have done the same for him?” 

“Yeah,” Cloud says. “Of course. He was my best friend.” 

“If you had died to protect him, would you want him to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty about it?” Sephiroth arches a brow, his gaze pinning Cloud to the spot. 

“I...I guess not,” Cloud says, softly. He’s never thought about it like that before. It doesn’t make everything completely better, but it does make him feel a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

Sephiroth gives him a rare smile, then turns his attention back to the Masamune. 

[hans-writes-things]

Sunday Shorts: Besieged

It was in the deep dark hours of the dead of night, well after the last lingering hues of blue had disappeared from the horizon on one side of the valley and long before the first hint of blue would return to the other, that guardsman Willem came howling through the corridors, his trembling screams deeply saturated in terror, and his distorted voice whimpering between his cries of “To arms! To arms!”

Though some were slower to wake and register the sound, the entire barrack, to a man was soon scrambling to their feet, hurriedly donning their armor, grabbing their swords, pikes and bows as they filed out, long trained steps leading us through darkened corridors to our positions upon the walls. 

We could see the twinkling fire lights of the approaching army swarming down the dark hills of the eastern mountains. They were still well out of range from archers, not even close enough to identify, but they moved nearly as fast as mounted men though we knew very well that nowhere in the region had a horses enough to mount this many riders. Aside from the unnatural speed of the approaching armies there was something off about the movement. Instead of the steady rhythm of a walking man or beast the lights bobbed and jerked irregularly, as though whatever carried it was shambling along at a broken gait. 

There had been tales brought to us by road weary travelers, warnings sent by messengers, and letters carried by birds, all hinting of a great and terrible creature and it’s armies of darkness, but much of this was shrouded in the language of legend and accounts were conflicted. Some of the stories told of a necromancer that had laid waste to the northern continent and had it’s sights set on the whole world. Some of the stories were that an unholy god had decided to purge our world of life and turn it to a playground of bones. Some of the stories suggested that a lich had gathered an army of faithful followers and aimed for godhood. Some of the stories told of a benevolent goddess of death had been angered by mankind’s sin and had sent her fallen heroes to take vengeance on us for our cruelty. All the stories however had one thing in common. An army of bones. Thousands upon thousands of dead men, marching across the land, slaying everything in their path. I had never put much faith in these stories, but Willem, young and naive, barely more than a starry eyed youth and possibly the worst night watchman our proud city had ever had, had hungrily listened to every word with his eyes wide. 

We stood in our positions and shivered in the early autumn chill, watching the glittering lights coming towards us through the deepest, blackest darkness the season could offer. Fingers and toes growing cold and stiff even through the mounting fear and fury of the guardsmen. Our city was not poorly defended. Five dozen archers and twice that pikemen and swordsmen served within our grand walls though not all were bound by the boundaries of the barracks. Willem had calmed somewhat as he saw us rise and arm ourselves, but he had to be stopped from going to the homes of those guardsmen still sleeping. We believed we would need them later, rested and ready with their swordarms still warm and limber. 

The sound of the marching armies grew as they approached. It was not the steady rhythm of a trained regiment of armed men, but it sounded like rolling thunder growing steadily louder, a clamoring sound, like an avalanche with metal and wood. This may have inspired a hint of hope in half the men on the wall as the truth is that a well trained unit of men can slay nearly an army of untrained fools without losing one soldier, but this hope was short lived. The wind shifted ever so slightly as the night’s darkness first began to wane, and the gentle breeze now rolling down the eastern slopes carried the stench of death to meet us and with it came fear. Their front line came close enough so that we could see them shortly thereafter, faces distorted in wretched soundless, unending, screams, gaping holes instead of eyes, the bleach of bone shining through the leathery hides, and their movements. Jerky and crude, as though they were little more than puppets on strings. 

One of the undead does not pose a great threat. It is hard to kill, this is true, but it’s not hard to avoid, or outmaneuver. One can take his time breaking the bones apart until they move no more, and then burn them for good measure. Most of the southern continent knew how to prevent the rise of undead and so nearly all our dead would be burned as a part of their burial rites so the problem of walking dead was truly rare indeed. But find yourself faced with five shambling horrors and they will wear you down, take your life, and then whatever terrible thing raised them may call your bones to serve as well. And we looked out, over the city walls, to a horde of them, thousands upon thousands. Far more than five to every able bodied man in the city. We all knew that the only hope we had was to control the battle and already I could see the other officers begin looking along the walls and planning their strategy. 

But then, before the battle even began, before the first arrow had been fired, they just stopped. 

The rest of the undead army still poured in, turning and marching in their wretched way to either side of the front most units, until the last of the unit had arrived and the whole of the city was surrounded on every side by death. And there they stood, as quiet as the undisturbed grave, as still as the truly dead, as the last of their procession arrived. A hundred men or so, led by a towering figure clad in armor so dark it reflected no light and appeared to all onlookers as a jaggedly edged hole in reality in the faint shape of a man. 

The men behind the undead moved with unnatural quiet as they raised a camp just barely out of range of archers’  arrows, built their fires and moved with the calm of well practiced hands, and then they too stopped, simply sat there, in the dark of night, a perfectly still and perfectly quiet siege all around us. The only movement and sound the flicker and crackle of fire lights. 

On the first day there was no communication between the city and those that held us under siege, and no change in their position nor posture. The circle of silent death all around us ensured that no matter which way the wind blew, the stench of death was ever present, everywhere. None dared leave the city, and no emisary came our way. The whole city spoke in hushed uneasy tones. Then came the first restless night. Once, on the hour, every hour, every undead thing out there, in the darkness, their torches long burnt down to embers, would rattle their bones. Some would take a step in place, some would slap their sheilds awkwardly with their swords. And those which had some voice left would groan horrifically, a rattling, gurgling moan of the dead. By dawn they were quiet again, and the restless day with it’s stench of death and air of fear would grip the city once more. 

This went on for several days, until the creatures began preforming their horrible ruckus during the day as well. Every man, woman, and child in the city was fatigued near to the point of breaking and yet the wicked dead things would not approach the walls, made no effort to overpower us though they should easily be able. They just stood there in silent vigil, waiting for us to falter, to open our gate, to relinquish control over the battle, to give up our only hope. 

On the eleventh day the lord of the city sent out the last of his messenger birds. It was shot down the same as every previous attempt. On the fifteenth day we saw a rider approach from the west, we watched through spyglass as he halted his horse, turned to flee, then fell into the ground. We saw his body carried back to the camp of men behind the undead. We watched as his shambling corpse walked from that camp and joined the silent horde of death that surrounded us. We saw this and understood our fate should we fall. On the twentieth day, Willem hung himself in the stables. We placed his body on the pyre in the city center, among others that had taken the same path. I felt ashamed as I found myself thankful for the extra ration available with every death. On the thirtieth day a man stood before our gates, and knocked. I was dispatched to speak to the man.

He smiled as I spoke to him. His teeth were yellow and black and his breath was foul. His hair was uncombed and his clothes were ill fitted though clean enough, and I had the suspicion that he had stolen them from whatever village or city they had passed through last. He gave me his master’s ultimatum. Let every able bodied man exit the city, they can fight and die or simply die, whatever they choose, and he promised in turn to spare the women and children. The alternative, he told me, was the complete destruction of all the life within our city. That no man, woman nor child would be spared, nor livestock, nor pets. Even the flowers and sparrows would be killed, he promised, and the stones of our city cursed and poisoned so that nothing would live here a thousand years.

I delivered the words to the officers, to the council, and to the lord, and awaited the decision of my betters. 

We have all heard the stories. Brave knights and glorious heroes, battling against all odds to a hard earned victory, but as every day passed it seemed less and less likely we might see any such hero coming. Ten days they had told us. Ten days to make our choice. Die horribly, or die horribly knowing at least our children may live. The lord did not want to die. The council did not want to die. They wanted us to fight, to win, to save them, and I could not blame them. I did not want to die. We all longed for the hope that lived in the hearts of our children, but standing encircled by death, we knew, somehow we all knew that these creatures would not spare them, even if we did as we were told. 

And thus we made our plan. The archers would take up positions around the city walls, low and hidden, their arrows wrapped in oilcloth so they could rain fire down from up above. The rest of the city’s oil reserves would be divided into whatever small bottles we could find and carried by every able bodied man in the city. And then we would step out of the city gates, as ordered, and scatter our oil among the walking dead the best we could, spread the rain of fire and light a blaze. We would burn them all to the ground. We might yet fail in this task and so our women would form a last line of defense. They would gather the children into the deepest cellars in the city, barricade the entryways, and the houses above would be set ablaze. If we failed, and we thought we very well might, they could hide down there for a few days, then dig their way back out into safety when the undead had moved on. Then they could scatter to the winds, take the children and run. Seek other settlements, villages, cities, and bring warning of what had happened in our beautiful city. My wife was among them. I failed her.

The battle began as we had planned it, both the north and south gates bursting open in an instant, the archers upon the walls stayed low to the count of ten, then sprung up nearest the gates and began lighting arrows and sending arcs of fire into the chaos below. All around the city I heard the screams of the dead as the fires spread, joined by guardsmen caught in the blaze. There were loud explosions as heated bottles burst, their contents catching fire in an instant, a sound loud enough to make my teeth rattle. I made my way from the southern gate along the wall westward, throwing my bottles into the horde of dead as I went, turning back for another pass with my last two throws, and cleared a path through the burning horde with my blade. Once I had slashed through the last of the shambling bones and found myself outside the circle of death, I dove down into a hollow and like a coward I hid. There skies filled with the black smoke of burning flesh and much of the horde was destroyed, but more still was moving, pouring towards the open burning gates and though our archers rained down fire upon them the were merely slowed, not stopped.

The towering black creature walked in steady steps from the camp towards the southern gate and came within my view for just a moment. It was not a man, not any more, it can not have been. I gazed upon the lich from my hollow as it raised a hand and with a wisper of words of power simply opened a path through the fire and death poured into my home like a flood. The archers screamed as they were torn from their positions, the shapes of skeletons ripping men asunder etched themselves into my mind, backed by the fires of the city as they were, and then I heard a woman’s scream. I do not remember the rest of the night. 

When I awoke I was covered in ash and soot, trembling and alone in the wet field, I crawled to my feet and stumbled towards the city. I do not know how long I wandered aimlessly through the alleys, witnessing the destruction, the death therein. What fire hadn’t taken and destroyed, the dead had ripped apart. The once proud and beautiful city was little more than a tumbledown ruin. Every cellar lay open. Every body too small to make an undead soldier out of lay in a broken bloodied heap in one cellar or another. When at long last I had seen enough and what little spark of soul I still had in me had been drowned in misery and blood, I turned to leave, to carry my knowledge on as a warning to others, and found the man with the horrid yellow and black teeth standing in the gaping maw of the southern gate, smiling at me as he spoke. 

They had seen me throw myself to the ground. They had known where I lay and left me alive to witness. They had stood around my trembling body in the dead of night with the echoing screams of women and children on the fetid air, and they had changed me as I gibbered and wailed. They had made me their harbinger, and since then I have not known sleep, nor food nor drink. I have slit my wrists and my own throat. I have hung from a noose for hours on end. I will not know peace ‘til the day the very world dies. I am undying and I come to you with a message. 

They want me to tell you they are coming. There is nothing you can do to save yourself. If you live it will only be because they spared you as they spared me, and I want you to know, it is a fate far worse than death.  ______________________________________ Why yes, I do like my halloweeny moods.  Hope you enjoyed a little high fiction-y shenanigans.  Lots of death again.  I would apologize, but this is what I do. I am a writer, I kill people.  Buy me a coffee if you want to show your appreciation for this piece.  Set up a monthly coffee donation if you want me to keep being able to write more.  So far my supporters have gotten me out of one near-bankrupt position.  I set up a goal on the ko-fi but I may have to change it to “survive 2018″ because... I am kinda fucked... I mean, I am faking it pretty good but if my creditors come knocking I have no way to appease them.. so.. .you know...  Help a disabled gay trans man out would ya? If you can’t spare a dollar that’s okay, seriously, I understand you, but you could hit that reblog button couldn’t you? It’d be super appreciated.  <3 My undying love for you sweet creatures who’ve already offered up your support. xoxo

[byungchxnnie]

Farewell (Part 1) || Felix Lee

Words: 1,482 

Pairing: Felix Lee x Reader.

Genre: angst

Warnings: none

Summary: you want him to pursue his dreams but you don’t want him to leave 

A/N: So I finally wrote this! I had been waiting to do it for a long time and here it is. This is based on Rihanna’s “Farewell”.

➳P.S- You can click here to listen to the song while reading this. It adds up more angst.

  “Promise me you’ll keep me updated.” You held up your pinky in the air. “I promise.” He chuckled linking his pinky finger with yours.

“Also, that you will not find a new best friend in Korea.”  You frowned just thinking about it.

“I won’t because I don’t need a new best friend.”

Without answering, you launched forward and hugged the boy standing in front of you like you never had before. You hugged him like you’d never see him again, which was almost the case. You didn’t know how long you stayed in that position but when you heard the voice on the airport speakers calling all passengers to the flight headed to Seoul you knew you had to let go.

*flashback*

“You should totally become a rapper.” You said in between giggles as your best friend jokingly rapped about eggs.

“I actually thought about it” he confessed, also laughing “But, eh” he shrugged “I wouldn’t stand a chance out there.”

“Felix,” you said in a slightly more serious tone as you stopped laughing “Don’t say that! You would slay them all, queen.” You snapped your fingers above your head and he shook his head and laughed at your actions.

“It’s true” he sat down next to you “there are already so many rappers out there, I wouldn’t make the slightest difference and you know it.”

“Hey, listen here” you pointed a finger at his face “If someone’s good, there’s always a free spot for them, either we’re talking about music or anything else. You can’t just give up without trying! Are you forgetting that you’re also an amazing dancer? You are really good, Felix and no, I’m not just saying this because you’re my best friend, but because it’s the truth! If I was lying I would suggest starting a band with you so that we could embarrass ourselves together.”

He chuckled “We wouldn’t embarrass ourselves.”

“Hm, we would? Have you heard me sing?”

“I have and that’s exactly why I believe we wouldn’t just embarrass ourselves, we would traumatize everyone and give them nightmares for months.” He laughed making you cross your arms and pout.

“You’re awful” you rolled your eyes.

“Love you too.”

You had heard Felix rap and seen him dance multiple times, in fact, ever since you could remember. You moved to Sydney at a very young age and, being a shy kid, it was hard for you to make friends at first, but, after meeting your neighbor who happened to be the same age as you, your shyness started to fade away and you two became inseparable. You had always admired his talents because damn he was good, so when, one day, he received a letter from Korea you were super excited.

It was 9 am when your phone started ringing. You lazily opened your eyes and picked up your phone without even looking at who was calling you. “Yes?”

“Y/N YOU NEED TO COME HERE RIGHT NOW!” Felix’s voice sounded through the phone and you had to move it away from your ear because of his screams.

“Felix, stop screaming I just woke up” you whined letting your head fall on your pillow again “What is it?”

“It’s here! The letter from JYP, it arrived!” your eyes shot open at his words and you got out of bed in a flash. “Stay right where you are.” You told him before hanging up.

In a matter of seconds, you were standing at his door. You opened it and ran to his living room where him, his parents and his sisters were. You greeted everyone and sat on the couch next to him. “So?” you excitedly asked, “What did they say?”

“I don’t know yet. I wanted to wait for you to open it.” He nervously looked at the letter standing on the small table in front of him.

“I’m here now, so open it!”

The boy next to you nodded and reached out to grab the letter. His hands were shaking so much you were afraid we would drop it. You placed a hand on his shoulder and lightly massaged it, encouraging him to keep going.

He tore open the envelope and closed his eyes taking a deep breath before looking at the words written on the piece of paper he was holding. The room stayed silent for a while and despite everyone’s desire to know what the letter said, everyone waited for Felix to say something.

“So, what does it say?” his mom that was sitting on another couch asked.

“I-I got accepted.” He stuttered, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Everyone immediately got up, letting out screams and tears of joy. With a huge smile plastered on your face, you hugged him. “Ahhh, I knew you would make it” you tried not to scream into his ears but the excitement was taking over you. “I’m so proud of you.”

You gave him space as his family went to hug him and congratulate him too. You felt so much love for him, not only as your closest friend but as something else and seeing the way his eyes lit up and the smile on his face after knowing he’d go train in Korea made your heart skip a beat and your knees weak. A pain suddenly filled your melting heart – he was going to Korea. You had known this ever since he sent his audition to JYP Ent. but you never truly realized he was going to have to leave Australia. You were so focused on him pursuing his dream and being happy while doing so that you forgot that very important detail.

God knows how happy you were for him, but as reality slowly started to settle, you couldn’t help but to feel empty. Tears started escaping your eyes and falling to the floor as they reached your chin and as Felix looked at you, your heart tightened.

“Don’t cry, chipmunk.” A nickname he gave you when you were younger, due to you being chubby and smaller than him at the time. He reached to cup your face with both hands and cleaned your tears with his thumbs.

“I’m just-“ panicking right now, I just realized I don’t want you to leave “so happy for you.” you didn’t dare to tell him the truth – well, you did, but not the whole truth. You just couldn’t. Not at that moment, not ever.

“I Just can't take the thought of you miles away

And I know you're going somewhere to make a better life

I hope that you find it on the first try

And even though it kills me

That you have to go

I know I’ll be sadder If you never hit the road”  

*flashback off*

“I guess it’s time to go.” Your heart stopped at those words. This is real. This is really happening right now. “I’m going to miss you, chipmunk.” He whispered into your hair, his voice shaky. He kissed your forehead before looking at you one last time. His eyes were filled with fear, excitement, and sadness all at once. You guys had talked about it many times, he had told you he was nervous since his Korean wasn’t that good – he only knew the basics – his insecurities started to attack him and it broke your heart seeing how he was constantly doubting himself.

But despite all of this, he was happy with his decision and that was all you cared about, even if it killed you on the inside too. You didn’t want to hold him back, you didn’t want to be the reason he stayed, you wanted him to follow his dreams and if that meant being  5000 miles away from you, you were going to accept it.

"And I'm gon' try to hold it all in

Try to hold back my tears

So it don't make you stay here I'mma try to be a big girl now

Cause I don't wanna be the reason you don't leave"

 He started walking away and you felt smaller with each step he took. You and his parents watched as he passed through all the security procedures and when you stopped seeing him in the middle of all the people that were going to board in the same plane as him, you went to stand in front of the big windows where you had a perfect view to all the planes landing and departing. After some minutes went by, there he was – you could spot him walking in the plane’s direction. You silently stood there as he entered the plane and after some time it took off. The tears you had been holding in since arriving at the airport were threatening to fall down your cheeks once again, but this time you didn’t stop them.

 "Farewell

Somebody's gonna miss you

Farewell

Somebody's gonna wish that you were here

That somebody's me"

[kogiopsis]

A lil pseudo-Christmas gift/’thing I meant to write when you were stressed at work’ fic for @ladyknightradiant, feat. Liarora Cousland and Alistair at the Battle of Denerim.

It takes mere seconds for Alistair to realize what Ro is about to do.  After all this time - after their months traveling, sparring, cooking, and laughing together; after fighting back to back in the Deep Roads and soft, skin to skin moments alone in their tent - he knows her movements like his own breath, in a way that is thoughtless and innate until something forces him to think about it.

The way her hand closes around the hilt of her family sword spells out her death.

Yards away, surrounded by dead Darkspawn, there is nothing he can do.  Still, he leaps over the bodies of allies and foe alike, heart pounding as he screams her name.

“LIARORA!”

But she doesn’t even glance at him; she is focused on the Archdemon, dropping her second sword to grip the Cousland blade two-handed and running directly at the massive dragon that towers above them.  Alistair knows that she must succeed; unless a Warden strikes the last blow, the Archdemon will rise again.  Despite that, he wishes desperately for one last fireball from Wynne, one last arrow from Leliana, the creak of a ballista from the few soldiers still standing.  Nothing could possibly kill the beast faster than Ro can, though.

She kills its body by slicing its throat open, a gruesome maneuver that leaves her covered in blood.  She kills its soul by plunging the sword of her ancestors into the weak point at the base of its skull.  There is a frozen moment, before the blade descends, when she looks up and her eyes meet Alistair’s, and though he expects to find apology and determination, instead she seems... satisfied.  Perhaps she knew that, given the chance, he would have taken this blow instead.

A pillar of golden light erupts from Ro, the dragon, and the sword, and Alistair stumbles to a halt and throws a hand up to shield his eyes.  He doesn’t want to see this - but he can’t betray the woman he loves by hiding from her sacrifice.  Still, as the light intensifies he takes a step back, and then another, and he squints through the brilliance.  Her silhouette is barely distinguishable, and he can’t tell if it wavers because she’s contorting in pain, or because tears are gathering in his eyes.

The explosion of magical energy knocks Alistair clean off his feet, throwing him some twenty feet backwards.  He lands half on the body of a genlock, dazed, the jolt sending his armor digging into already-tender flesh.  He can hear nothing except an atonal ringing in his ears, see nothing but the red-lit underside of clouds, feel nothing except a particularly painful bruise on his lower back.

And then he remembers, and his heartbeat leaps into his throat, and he rolls away from the genlock and gets to his knees.  The motion makes his head spin and he can’t stand up just yet, fighting a wave of nausea.  When he finally pushes himself up, he wavers on his feet for a moment before finding his balance.  It’s like being at sea, except on the top of the tallest tower in Denerim.  Still, bobbing and nearly-tripping, he jogs towards the colossal hulk of the Archdemon.

“Ro,” he huffs with what little breath he has left.  “Ro, Ro, oh Maker, Ro.”

The explosion threw her as well, though not nearly as far.  She collided with the edge of the dragon’s wing and now almost appears to be sitting, slumped with exhaustion.  One hand is still holding the Cousland blade, though more loosely.  Alistair spares barely a glance for their foe as he drops to his knees and skids to her side.

“Ro,” he whispers, pulling her limp body half onto his lap.  “Oh, my love, no.”

Her helmet is askew, and suddenly this is intolerable.  Alistair fumbles the buckles on his gauntlets, throwing them aside as soon as he can get them off.  Barehanded, he delicately lifts the helm away, and something inside of him wrenches at the sight of her lying there, a stray tendril of dark hair falling over her closed eyes, for all the world as if she were asleep.  He brushes it away with shaking fingers, drinking in the sight of her dark lashes and the flush of exertion on her cheeks.  It is for all the world as if she is still alive, and his heart twists with the thought that this might be the last time he sees her so.

Then, as his thumb grazes the outer corner of her lips, he sees a twitch.

It’s a trick of the light, or of exhaustion, surely.  She can’t - he knows what happens to Wardens who slay Archdemons.  There is no happy ending to this story.

But a rose bloomed in Lothering, and the most wonderful woman in the world laughed at his jokes, and later she even kissed him, despite everything or perhaps because of it.

Alistair yanks off his own helm far less delicately than he had Ro’s, and he leans down to place his ear next to her mouth.

She is breathing.

He sits back up with a jerk that leaves his head spinning again, and when he’s steadied himself he turns to the straps that bind her breastplate.  Breath could be imagination, but a heartbeat - if he can hear her heartbeat -

“What are you doing, Alistair?”  It’s Leliana’s voice, the soft tone she uses to calm refugee children before she plays them a song.  At any other time, Alistair might have prickled at that.  Now, he hardly cares.

“Heartbeat,” he says, and goes back to undoing the final buckle of Ro’s breastplate.  Like all the other armor, he throws it away to clatter against the tower roof.  Then, with immaculate care, he lowers his head to Ro’s chest.

Her heartbeat is his heartbeat is their heartbeat.  He has listened to it on long nights, felt it under his touch in her chest, her throat, her wrists.  She has pressed her lips to the hollow under his jaw to taste his pulse, has drawn lazy circles on his chest with one fingernail until his heart races like a rabbit’s, and only then kissed him.  He hears that same rhythm now, familiar to his very marrow, and he knows.

“She’s alive,” he whispers, hoarse.  “Maker bless, she’s alive.”

Somehow Wynne is crouching near him, a steady presence on Ro’s other side, and when she reaches out a hand to touch Ro’s cheek she pauses, looking to Alistair as if for permission.  He nods, and she cups Ro’s jaw in her hand, closing her eyes.

“She is,” Wynne says in wonderment.  “I can’t fathom how, but she is.”

“We have to - we have to get her-”

Then Leliana is next to him, placing a hand over his.

“We will, Alistair.  You stay here with her; Wynne and I will see what we can do.”

He nods, and she stands up to make her way back through the battlefield.

Alistair isn’t sure he could stand if he wanted to.  During the battle he had managed to ignore his aches and pains, but now his legs are beginning to cramp and he’s become aware of a hundred bruises and a not-insignificant number of small wounds, many stinging with sweat already.  So he stays sitting, running his fingers through Ro’s hair and occasionally holding his palm over her slightly parted lips to feel her breath.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs. 

“Harder... than... that...”

Her eyes are barely open, hardly a flash of the green he loves, but her lips have quirked just slightly into a smile.  Alistair makes a strangled, inarticulate noise of joy, and tears run down his cheeks to drip onto hers.

“I’m sorry,” she says, hoarse.

“You’re alive,” he replies.  “You’re going to be okay.  Everything... everything is going to be okay.”

[mickey-milkovichs]

to survive in peace and harmony ch. 1 - faith/buffy

~As the Scoobies are preparing for the battle with The First, Buffy is also dealing with her own problems such as 1) training the potentials and trying not to die, 2) Faith being back in town and 3) a never before heard of demon that is somehow able to kill her every night in her dreams. But what happens when Faith is apparently the only one who can slay the demon? Will they be able to move beyond their past in order to help each other? And what about the weird feelings they have to deal with when they're forced to share a bed...

(Season 7 shameless, angsty forced bedsharing AU!) ** warning for canon typical violence **

also on ao3!

*

He—or it—is coming at her again. The gelatinous blob rolls itself forward in a heaving motion and another mass bubbles up into existence right next to her. Its electric green tentacle, dripping pus from its many open orifices, swipes at her, narrowly missing the soft skin on the front of her neck. Buffy swings her sword at it again, but as usual, it passes through the being without causing even the slightest damage whatsoever. The green thing (monster, demon, God Buffy has no fucking idea) is spilling towards Buffy at rapid speeds now, looking almost like a giant sized river of green jelly running down someone’s giant sized cafeteria tray. Except Buffy knows better, and she knows what’s coming next. But not this time. She drops the sword and runs.

She runs and runs and runs, through the unfamiliar, empty city, so creepy and devoid of life, so far that her lungs feel like they’re about to burst and her legs are quivering. She almost thinks she’s made it this time, until she feels the icy cold goo run over her right foot and grab hold. It yanks her ankle and she pitches forward instantly, just managing not to smash her face on the asphalt highway as she catches herself with her hands. She can feel the wet mass slinking up over her back, slowly now, now that it knows that it has her, and she gives up. She allows her body to sink into the road and rest, finally. It’ll be over quickly. The slime slowly covers her form. It spreads out over the pavement until she’s completely encased, and then slowly, almost with a grotesque attempt at seduction, it starts filling her mouth. Even though Buffy knows that nothing will work, her body can’t help but try not to be invaded. Her stomach convulses as Buffy attempts to spit out the disgusting fluid, and when it doesn’t work she starts choking and coughing, trying to force the disgusting stuff back out of her throat. That doesn’t work either, and soon she can feel her entire body swelling, being consumed with and by the neon sludge. She’s growing light headed as her airway is completely cut off. Her head grows fuzzy and her eyes become clouded with black spots, and she feels the by-now familiar death spams beginning. It’s different from her other deaths. More violent, more visceral, more violating. The pus starts burning her organs away, but thankfully she’s unaware as her eyes roll back in her head and her chest stops moving. Buffy is dead.

Buffy stifles a scream and shoots up into a sitting position in her bed. She’s gasping for air, shaking as the memory of the dream runs through her mind over and over. She pulls the white sheet down off of her hot chest and wipes her trembling hand over her face, finding it damp with tears.

Well this is getting really freaking old, she thinks sarcastically, even as she’s trying to get control on her body’s outward signs of terror. She allows herself a few minutes to catch her breath, then hops out of bed, determined to clean up and scrub away any traces of the dream off her body before she goes back downstairs. They still have an apocalypse to deal with after all. Plus everyone will worry if they see her all freaked, especially Dawn. If there’s anything Buffy can do to ensure that her sister is not more scared then she has to be during this shit storm, she’ll do it. As she steps into the shower she notices that her right ankle is throbbing. Buffy looks down and sees that it’s puffy and swollen. It feels fractured, maybe broken, and the vaguely sick, achy feeling that her body’s developed over the last few days has gotten worse. Great.

Once Buffy’s washed and dressed she tip toes down the stairs, and takes a deep breath before plunging into the dire atmosphere of the living room. Even the fearless leader gets intimidated during let’s-all-discuss-how-we-can-possibly-not-die-y times. The group is huddled over some books that Giles has brought over. Willow is murmuring quietly in a worried tone, Kennedy standing behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. Xander is hunched over with his hand covering his mouth and chin, with Anya pretending to study a book while sneaking peeks at him.

“Buff! Nap time over?” Xander asks as he shakes himself from his worried state and notices her walking into the room. Buffy takes care not to limp or show any signs of pain.

“Yeah…. I’m rested enough for now,” Buffy replies as cheerfully as she can as she lowers herself into an armchair in the circle. “I figured I needed to stop slacking and come back down here and get cracking.” She frowns at her unintentional rhyme.

“You’re a poet!” Dawn crows as she laughs at Buffy’s embarrassed frowny face.

“I don’t think so. More like an...rhymey-word-user-person,” Buffy tries to quickly divert attention away as Dawn keeps laughing at her. “Anyway. Willow, what were you talking about just now?”

“Um...well, another potential’s dead. Her name was Jessica, she had almost made it to us...but they caught her running on foot just outside of Sunnydale. And Spike found a giant underground nest of ubervamps. He couldn’t take care of it himself, so he thinks we should gather up a group and go later. But...what about you? Any...dream wigginess?”

“There was...a little bit of dream wigginess,” Buffy answers reluctantly. She hates making people worry about her. She really wishes she had better news, and that Dawn wasn’t here to hear this right now. Sure, she may be as old as many of the potentials, but she’s her little sister, her responsibility.

Willow’s brow wrinkles anxiously. “Did you...die again?”

“Yeah. Same old, same old. They’re just dreams though, Will. Definitely not more pressing than the impending apocalypse. I’m almost getting bored of them actually. This guy’s gonna have to whip up something a little more original if he wants to get to me.” She hopes she’s hiding how scared and tired and defeated she actually is. She hasn’t told them about the aches and pains. Now’s so not the time to be Drama Buffy, she has to be Army Leader Buffy. Maybe she should have stayed with Riley. Aren’t boyfriends supposed to pick up the slack for their significant others, or is that exclusive to normal girls?

“Yes, of course, however it is concerning, Buffy,” Giles states as he rubs at the lens of his glasses. “Even in dreams, a monster defeating you over and over is quite unusual, and worrisome. The coincidence of the timing cannot be overlooked. If The First should have something to do with this, it could prove to be...extremely dangerous. And once we figure out what it’s plan is it might be too late. It bears looking into.”

“We’ve looked into it, Giles. And we can’t find any information on a giant gooey green demon thingy that can kill people in their dreams anywhere. If it is The First attacking, we have to focus on it’s more pressing forms of attack first: the ubervamps and the bringers. Girls are dying. And if it’s not The First, then the dreams can definitely wait. I’ll be fine.” General Buffy was out, and she wasn’t about to argue.

Giles purses his lips and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose, but neglects to reply. Willow bites her lip and glances around the group uneasily. Dawn crosses her arms over her chest and sticks her bottom lip out in the patented Summers’ Pout, staring at Buffy with big blue eyes that seem to say you’re being dumb and an idiot.

“Look, Buffy, I’m gonna say what everyone else here is thinking,” Kennedy speaks up in a loud voice. “Don’t be a martyr. You want to make sure you do your job and that girls stop dying on your watch and that we kick this bitch in the ass, cool. But don’t go hurting yourself to make it happen. ‘Cause if we end up taking a fall ‘cause our de facto leader is compromised because she feels the need to crucify herself, that’ll be really stupid.”

Buffy closes her eyes and blows her breath out, trying to tame her annoyance so she won’t snap at the potential. “That’s not what I’m doing, Kennedy, but thanks as always for your input. We have no leads on this dream stuff. We do, however, have leads on the other stuff. So that’s what I’m suggesting we focus on. If you come up with a better plan, make sure to let me know,” Buffy looks intently at Kennedy, who just stares back. “Great,” Buffy turns her gaze to Willow, “now, where’s Spike? Let’s come up with a plan for taking out this vamp nest. And...Faith? She should probably be here if she actually wants to help.” Buffy’s still having a hard time with this whole Faith being around thing, but she’s trying to hide it, or at least not make it super obvious. It probably isn’t working though. But Jesus, Faith just waltzes back into her life, bringing all of her usual chaos along for the ride and all of Buffy’s old negative feelings back up to the surface, basically throwing gas on the forest fire that is this entire situation, and everyone just expects Buffy to be totally cool with it?

“Spike will be back soon. He’s checking that any stray ubervamps from the nest haven’t wandered too close to camp. He said he’ll take out any individual ones he sees, and come get us for groups. I sent Faith grocery shopping—or more like grocery looting—with the potentials. They should be back soon too.”

“I bet she’s having fun with that,” Buffy cracks a small smile thinking about Faith trying to manage dozens of rowdy teens in an abandoned shopping center. Serves her right.

[swanqueeneverafter]

12. Red-Handed, Pt.2

Enchanted Forest. Village Meeting. Past. (All of the village’s citizens are gathered at the tavern. One of the men who was with the hunting party speaks to the group.) Man: “The one thing I know, is that last night, was the very last massacre (Everyone cheers:) You know, if I had stayed with that party for another ten minutes, I, too, would be among the dead. (Granny, Red, and a disguised Snow White enter:) And, when I think if I’d only doubled back, maybe…I could’ve caught it in the act. Maybe, I would’ve been able to slay the creature.” Granny: “You would not.” Man: “Widow Lucas.” Granny: “This creature is more powerful than you can imagine. You wouldn’t have a chance. Stay inside, hide your children, forget your livestock.” Man: “You’ve said all this before.” Granny: “But, I haven’t said how I know. Nearly threescore years ago, I was a child with six older brothers. Big as oak trees, all of them veterans of the Second Ogres War. And my father, the biggest of them all. Come one Wolfstime, he decided to go out and take on the wolf. A different wolf back then, of course, but just as fearsome. They went out there to protect me. I was supposed to be asleep, but I crawled out on the roof to watch and lay down in the thatch. They had the beast surrounded, the seven of them, with spears all pointed in at it. And then it started. It was lunging – not at the men, at the spears. Grabbing with its teeth, breaking the shafts. They stabbed it with the splintered end, but it didn’t matter. It tore their throats so fast, that not a one of them got a chance to scream… Or pray… Or say goodbye. When my father died, I tumbled from the roof, and I landed in the blood in front of the wolf. I felt its breath on my face. Then, it clamped its hot jaw on my arm, and I rolled away. (She pulls back her sleeve, revealing several large, parallel scars:) Then, it looked at me with eyes so black, they weren’t even there. Then, it walked away. You ever see a wild animal just turn its back and walk away like you don’t matter? If this wolf is like that one, there is no defeating it. It’s already won just by existing in our world. You don’t kill it – you just hide.” Later, At Granny & Red’s Home. (Red and Snow White are sitting by the fireplace at the cottage.) Snow White: “So, your Granny’s kind of intense.” Red: “Yeah, a bit. I feel like a rat in a trap.” Snow White: “Is this trap keeping you from… being with someone?” Red: “How did you know?” Snow White: “Well, I saw some looks exchanged back there, and, I hate to break it to you, but it wasn’t subtle.” Red: “Yes. Peter. We’ve been friends forever, but… Now things are… Well, changing.” Snow White: “That must be nice.” Red: “Do you have someone?” Snow White: “Oh, no. I’m not sure that’s in my future. You’re lucky, Red.” Red: “I know. And we’re talking about going away together. But I don’t even get any time with him. Granny’s too afraid of the wolf to let me out alone. You saw what the wolf did. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s right.” Snow White: “Oh, she’s right about the wolf. But, she’s wrong to use it to keep you from love.” Red: “You think that’s what she’s doing? Let’s kill the wolf.” Snow White: “Hang on.” Red: “We’d be heroes.” Snow White: “Red, teams of trained hunters have been killed.” Red: “But they go at night when it’s got the advantage. If we went now, we could find it slumbering in its den and kill it in its sleep. Come on.” Snow White: “Red, I don’t know.” Red: “I’m going – with or without you. But, you’re right – I can’t let her keep me trapped forever.”

Storybrooke. Town Line. Present. (Mary Margaret drives her car along the road out of Storybrooke and pulls over just before she reaches the sign. She gets out and goes into the woods. A short ways in, she hears a rustling sound. Suddenly, David appears through the brush.) Mary Margaret: “I-it’s you. You okay? You’re looking for Kathryn, too?” David: “I’m looking.” Mary Margaret: “She knows you didn’t do anything. Emma, I mean. She can tell when people are lying, so… She knows. And I’ll stand with you. I’ll tell everyone this isn’t possible. She’s going to turn up somewhere. That’s why we’re out here, right?” David: “I’m looking.” (Mary Margaret notices that David isn’t quite all there.) Mary Margaret: “David? (David begins to wander back into the woods. She yells to him, but he doesn’t seem to hear her:) David? David!” Enchanted Forest. Past. (Snow White and Red are searching for tracks in the forest.) Snow White: “What about that?” Red: “That’s a dog. See how small that is? Don’t look where the snow’s drifted – it covers tracks.” Snow White: “Hey. Over here.” Red: “That… is a rabbit. What we’re looking for will be huge. Like a dog print, but big. Like, eight inches across with big, long claws.” Snow White: “Like these?” (There is a trail of massive paw prints leading through the forest.) Red: “Yes. And those. Oh, my gods. How big is this thing?” Snow White: “This was one stride? From here… To there?” Red: “Come on – over there. Through the brush, and off towards the hill.” Snow White: “You’re good at this.” Red: “When there’s something I want, I’m good at tracking it down.” Storybrooke. Sheriff’s Station. Present. (At the station, Henry is searching the internet for a job for Ruby. Ruby is sitting next to him, while the phone on the desk continuously rings.) Henry: “Want to be a bike messenger?” Ruby: “Bike messenger?” Henry: “That’s about taking things to people in a little basket.” Ruby: “Nope. Yeah, see, I’m not so great at bike riding.” Henry: “How about taking things on foot, to people, in a little basket?” Ruby: “I’m not so sure that’s a real job. (The phone rings again:) Why do the phones keep doing that?” Henry: “Oh, the non-emergency calls go to a machine when Emma’s busy.” (The phone rings, again, but Ruby answers it.) Ruby: “Sheriff’s station. How can I help you? Mmhmm. I’ll get her to return. Thank you, too. (She answers the next call:) Sheriff’s station. Hey, Miss Ginger. Uh, no, that’s not a prowler. That’s Archie’s dog – Pongo. Throw him a vanilla wafer. He’ll quiet down. Did you still want to talk to Emma? Great. Glad I could help.” (Emma, who has overheard Ruby on the phone, walks in.) Emma: “How’s it going, you two?” Ruby: “Great. Except I can’t do anything.” Emma: “I’m sure that’s not true. I just saw you on the phone. That was good.” Ruby: “That? That’s nothing.” Emma: “No. No, it isn’t. I actually have some money in the budget if you want to help out around here.” Ruby: “Yes! Thank you! Yes. Um, I could answer phones and help out. Um, is there anything else that you need done? Organize files, cleaning up? Please – I want to be useful.” Emma: “I’m swamped with the Kathryn Nolan thing. If you maybe want to grab us lunch, I would never say no to a grilled cheese.” Ruby: “Done. You want anything?” Henry: “Um, two chocolate chip cookies, an apple pie, and a hot dog.” Emma: “He ate at school.” (As Ruby goes to leave, Mary Margaret enters.) Ruby: “Hey! Lunch, Mary Margaret? I’m getting for everyone.” Mary Margaret: “Uh, no. I’m not hungry. (Ruby leaves. To Emma:) David’s in the woods. There’s something wrong with him. He looked right through me. It’s like… It’s like he was a different person.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Red and Snow White are still tracking the wolf through the forest.) Snow White: “Here’s another one.” Red: “Right. And then here’s…” (Red looks down, and notices that the tracks no longer resemble just paw prints.) Snow White: “What?” Red: “This print – it looks like it’s… Half-wolf and half-boot. See?” Snow White: “Wolves don’t wear boots.” Red: “No, they don’t.” Snow White: “Then it just continues like it was a man?” Red: “Like it was a man and a wolf.” Snow White: “Red, what kind of monster is this?” (The two of them continue to follow the tracks.) Red: “So…” Snow White: “Yeah?” Red: “Wolfstime is once a month on the full moon. There’s a story I heard once about a creature-” Snow White: “Hey. Aren’t we awfully close to the cottage?” (They see the tracks lead to the side window of Red and Granny’s cottage.) Snow White: “Who’s gone to your window, Red? Is it Peter? Red, has he been at your window?” Red: “Last night – before the killings. And he never joined the guys to hunt the wolf.” Snow White: “But I’m sure he wouldn’t have killed them.” Red: “He wouldn’t. But when the wolf takes over…” Snow White: “What about tonight’s hunting party?” Red: “They’re going to kill him. Or he’s going to kill them.” Snow White: “It doesn’t have to be that way.” Red: “What can we do?” Snow White: “Tell him. If he doesn’t know, tell him. Stop him. If he’ll listen to anyone, if he’ll believe anyone, it’s you.” Red: “You think I can save him?” Snow White: “I think you can save everyone.” Red: “It’s going to be dark soon. Granny will be out of her mind with worry if we’re not home. She’ll go out there. Mary, this is so bad.” Snow White: “So do something.” Red: “You’re right. I have to.” Storybrooke. Granny’s Diner. Present. (Ruby enters Granny’s Diner and walks up to the counter to order.) Ruby: “I need a couple of grilled cheeses. I’m working over at the sheriff’s station now.” Granny: “Ah.” Ruby: “Sort of like a… Like a Deputy, you know? I guess sometimes, your fate finds you.” Granny: “Seems kind of like you’re doing the same thing you always done.” Ruby: “Plus so much more.” Granny: “Those will be right up.” Ruby: “Yeah.” Granny: "Tony has to unwrap the cheese slices.” Ruby: “I help solve crimes.” Granny: “I’m sure you do. I hope you’re finding what you’re looking for.” Ruby: “I am.” Enchanted Forest. Past. (Red and Peter are sitting by a fire in the forest.) Peter: “You think this wolf-man is me? Red, you know me.” Red: “I know it’s not you, really, but I think it’s using your body.” Peter: “Wouldn’t I know? I mean, wouldn’t I wake up in the woods? Wouldn’t I remember something?” Red: “Maybe. Maybe, it makes you forget.” Peter: “Oh, my gods. Those men – they died. If I did that…” Red: “Forget the past. Think of the future. We can go now, Peter. Have lives. All we need to do is tie you up during the Wolfstime, and I know where to get rope.” Peter: “No. Not rope.” (He picks up a chain off of the ground.) Red: “Chains.” Peter: “Just in case… Just in case you’re right. I’ll show you how to rig it up so that I can’t get out. And then you need to get away from me.” Red: “No. I’m staying with you. I’ll stay with you all night, and for all the nights to come.” Peter: “You’d do that for me?” Red: “I’d do anything for you.”

Storybrooke. Sheriff’s Station. Present. (Emma and Henry are at the station. Emma is getting ready to leave, while Henry is hiding his book.) Emma: “Okay, kid. Don’t mean to kick you out, but I got to go see if David’s in some kind of trouble out there.” Henry: “It’s okay. I’m supposed to meet my mom. (He locks his book in one of the desk drawers:) There.” Emma: (Smirks:) “Nice.” Henry: “You know, you can let Ruby do more. She’s Little Red Riding Hood.” Emma: “With the little basket? Yeah, she seems like a badass.” Henry: “She is. She just doesn’t remember how cool she is or what she’s capable of. But it’s true.” (Ruby returns with the food as Henry leaves.) Henry: “Hey, Ruby.” Ruby: “Hey, Henry. (To Emma:) Got your grilled cheese.” Emma: “Thank you. You all right?” Ruby: “I guess. I mean, this is something I know how to do. So, yay.” Emma: “Okay, let’s pack these back up, and we can eat it in the car. I need to do a little wilderness search, and I need your help.” Ruby: “I’m pretty sure I’m just going to screw it up. I mean, I’ll screw it up with flair, but…” Emma: “No, you won’t. Come on – you can do this.” Storybrooke. Woods. (Emma and Ruby are searching through the woods.) Ruby: “This place is massive. How are we supposed to find one guy?” Emma: “Hey, shh. We might be able to hear him.” Ruby: “It’s massive.” Emma: “I’m following the path because there are boot prints, so just stay close.” Ruby: “I shouldn’t even be here. I’m just going to screw everything up. Oh, wait.” (Ruby stops walking and Emma bumps into her.) Emma: “Ruby?” Ruby: “I hear him.” Emma: “Really?” Ruby: “Yeah, really. I hear him or… something. I… I know where he is. Don’t you?” (Ruby takes off through the woods.) Emma: “No. What are you doing?” Ruby: “He’s over here!” (Emma follows her.) Emma: “Ruby! Ruby?” (Emma finds Ruby standing over a bleeding and unconscious David. She kneels next to him, and tries to shake him awake.) Emma: “David? Oh, god. Come on! David, come on! Wake up! David, wake up!” (David wakes up.) David: “Emma? What? Ruby?” Emma: “Do you remember where you are?” David: “No, I… What the hell? I was… I was in your office. Did you bring me here?” Emma: “You don’t remember anything since you were in my office? Last night?” David: “No, I don’t.”