#cough right after you snap like a twig once or twice coUGH

[iristial]

The childlike penmanship and utter abundance of hiragana and katakana that has its own implications aside, I was going to talk about how sweet and sad it was that the only kanji Shouma knows is "mother" (母). But then someone told me he also knows the kanji for "help [me]" (助)...that certainly adds to the context of Shouma's memories of his mother mainly being shrouded in fear

[itsthe-neo-zone]

[03:18PM] ~ Park Jongseong x Reader, Apocalypse au

You didn’t want to live with the misery of regretting everything.

But that all went out the window as soon as the apocalypse began.

2 weeks, it’s been 13 whole days and 12 nights since the whole world decided to end itself.

The reason? An outbreak, a malicious deadly disease terraforming the earth in its own way. Killing everyone and everything with it. And when you say terraforming you mean turning us all against each other.

You regretted waking up that Wednesday morning, regretted getting out of bed, not hugging your mother in your arms longer and giving your family a proper farewell.

You were in school when it happened your district sounding the sirens, mid-week morning meaning you were in the dinner halls, you heard the sirens and all hell broke loose, the diners small tv monitor picked up an emergency broadcast.

Shaking your head subconsciously you drifted your mind away from what happened. It had been difficult thinking the past few days, even eating was becoming a luxury at times.

Like now, you’ve been wandering empty suburb streets looking for something to sustain yourself, where you were looked to be like a neighbouring district, but you weren’t sure, the sign posts were all ripped down to make any form of defence weapon, supplies were scarce at this point.

The scent on you was horrid but not as putrid as the stench of rotting corpses filing the earth. You stopped turning to look around you. The street was dusted with ruined houses all damaged and crumbled to the grounds.

Maybe you could crash into an abandoned one, maybe there was food and maybe you’d finally be able to use an actual bathroom. Your stomach grumbled with delight at the thought of food.

As you were about to pull the rusting metal rod in your hand towards the nearest property you heard a shrieking ear deafening pop,

The blood hit your brain, adrenaline began quickly building up inside you, like a band slowly stretching about to snap, your heart rattling in your chest. It tightened slightly. You swayed slightly from the shock of adrenaline hitting your numb body.

You swiftly turned to see nothing behind you but a pelleted bullet, someone around you had a weapon, and their target? You.

You began seeing the blurred edges of your sight return a sign to take response. Fight or flight. You chose the latter feeling weaker than expected. Heading outwards past the last few properties your best hope was to lose your hunter out in the wilderness.

Brushing past leaves twigs and the thicket of the edges of the lush greenery you low down once you’re no longer hearing bullets trailing after you. It was quiet

Almost too quiet to be normal. You push yourself up against a tree, straining your breath to regulate faster than it should. You regretted being stupid to do that too as you felt the persisting tickle at the back of your throat.

It let a much needed cough to begin crawling up your oesophagus. Shutting your eyes for a moment you stiffened your lips slightly holding it back. Why now of all times, you’d been surviving fine…

You could hear a slight crunch of foliage under careful feet, slowly creeping up on you.

You’d be done for this time if they did have a weapon. Trembling fingers dug into the metallic rod in your palms, they’d make indents from how hard you were gripping.

Feeling your chest tighten a little. The metal was starting to feel slippery in between clammy fingers but you held it to your face keeping your stance ready.

You were scared, no, terrified even. But that didn’t mean you were going to give up so easily. You wanted to survive, you had to.

Ironic.

A few weeks you were ready to give up on life itself.

As you sighed, you prepared to turn and show yourself but as you made a move you felt something restrict your breath and pull you away from the edge of the tree. You didn’t have your hand on your mouth though.

It was a foreign feeling but it was something you greeted with open arms, it was warm, and you forgot the caress of another on your cold stiff body.

Caress of another? It wasn’t my hands.

Gunshots sounded across the clearing you hid from. Disturbing screeches of birds fleeted from above. A harsh thump fell to the floor. A limp body.

But it wasn’t yours. You still had a chance.

Eyes widening, you registered the figure behind you keeping you hold in a strong grip.

The surging boost of energy you had left pushed you to kick with your feet. Backwards tripping up your attacker. The gunshots stopped but you were sure it was them, not just one but 2, maybe more…

The figure fell back unable to balance themselves but you were pulled back, you pushed yourself out of their hold, they pulled away regained their stance before attacking you from your side,

the male twisted his arm around your head and the other at your waist holding your arms down. He was agile and had strength but you managed to be faster. Quickly thinking, you moved.

Digging your elbow into their side hitting them right beneath their rib cage.

Bingo,

you heard a slight grunt they pushed away from you trying to recover.

You turned grabbing the rod, eyes shaking to survey the sight before you. It was just one, you swing your arms back getting ready to attack.

“Stop!” A strained call out towards your direction, but you faltered, it wasn’t for you? He directed it behind you falling back slightly. You turned to see another male.

Eyes trained like he was about to pounce on his prey. What was more horrifying was the gun now in his hold pointed directly at you.

“Don’t, Jake, she’s harmless.”

His arms stayed firmly ahead of him holding the weapon. “Harmless my ass, you were about to lose your head,” his fingers wavered.

“Just listen to me.” The guy stood up. You noticed the tattered and beaten up clothes they wore, rips and smears all over each article. Dried blood splattered across parts of their body. Judging by the colour it wasn’t from today.  

The combat boots the two wore made you think twice about setting down your weapon as you remained in your stance.

But their eyes and faces showed different,

They were anxious, in pain, alert like you.

“Idiot.” He dropped his arms. Mumbling before walking towards the other who was now slowly guiding himself down by supporting himself on the tree.

His face was etched with strain. And for a second you felt a pang of regret. You shrugged the feeling away watching the two converse.

“Are you survivors?” you swayed slightly, pressing forward kept your feet stable you regrated the shakiness your voice had, first people you spoke to in a while and you sound like you were about to cry.

“Just barely,” one huffed, “As I said he was about to lose his head.” The one named Jake turned from tending to his friend and shot you a dirty glare.

Jakes eyes were intense and focused, he didn’t flit nor shy away. Pressing further. You subconsciously step back, eyes looking past him and towards his friend.

“I had to protect myself.” You pull your arms downwards stepping out of the position and lowering your guard slightly.

“Mhm, sure.” He muttered. He turned back lifting the others shirt. A long tear in the seamless skin ran down the males side. It wasn’t bleeding, it looked like it was an old scar. Just barely healed.

“You’re, fine,”

“She had, shit, every right to do that.” The other caught his breath then spoke.

“Right.” Jake pressed his lips into a thin line. It looked like he wasn’t having any of that, his jaw clenched, he was stopping himself from speaking any further.

Standing up and walking past you. He glanced at you up and down before moving back to the clearing.

“Sorry about that,” the boy sitting at the bottom of the tree pushed himself to try getting to his feet, you stared cautiously your fingers tingling to help him, so now you were starting to get your humanity back? Where was this feeling a few days ago?

The fliting sound of slipping feet against the rough terrain is what brought your focus back as you moved to assist him. He groaned.

His eyes caught yours, cautious and foreign, was this just the way he looked at people him or was he anxious to be around you.  

“I’ll … uh.” Your hand waivered, before holding his free arm. “I’ll help you.”

“Um… Thanks.” He nodded clenching his jaw he pushed himself up with your help.

“I’m jay.” His lips pressed into a thin line the edges pushing upwards slightly as he nodded, he stayed silent for a second. You figured out this was an introduction a few seconds late, sucking in a quick breath you mumbled.

“Ah i- yeah…. I’m _____ .” your face tensed up. Jay flashed you a lopsided smile.

“Sorry about earlier, I had to make sure you didn’t interfere while Jake finished up with—uh…”

“Were you the—” you paused. How were you going to ask him if he was the one that was chasing you. How do you word that without sounding weird. “the… I was—”

“You mean the gunshots?” he mumbled.

You quickly nodded giving yourself a mini headache at the fast movement.

“No, we were… in the distance, yeah, when we heard the sound. Just me and Jake.” He lead you to the clearing.

You were slowly introduced into the new space, you watched Jake push the body dressed in black to the side. There was someone following you his face hidden beneath the mask.

“Found all this.” He kicked at the floor with his foot. “shit thing is he’s probably a trained assassin.” He nodded towards the pile of weaponry. “All in his bag, some on him,”

Jake stood up facing Jay. “We need to fucking leave, where there’s one there’s always more.” He lifted a few small items. Something that looked like a smaller loaded gun, testing its scope he tucked it into his pocket.

“Here, take that.” He threw a shielded knife at jay and grabbed a larger gun and handed it to the male next to you.

“lets go.” He walked past Jay and farther out.

As Jay turned he caught your eyes, he saw the anxious glimmer, the shiver you tried to hid and the fact that your fingers were digging in to your palm.

“Our chances of survival are bigger…” he stated. It cut you out of the worry trail your brain was starting to follow,

“Together than apart.”

You caught his eyes. Jay was trying to be as friendly as he could, you could see a glimmer of hope, something you lost within the first 3 days.

“Are you-, I’m sorry I’m a bit confused right— shit, I’ll just ask… are you asking me to…”

“You should come with us.” You silently thanked him for putting you out of your misery. Shocked he was asking you this. And relieved to have met people you could somewhat trust.

“What?”

“HEY! Hurry up if you want to fucking live dude!” Jake was already way ahead.

“Gimme a second!” he sighed, calling out.  

“I was wondering if you wanted to join us. That is if you’re not with anyone right now.”

You could almost cry from the surge of relief you felt. It was almost draining the life out of you fending for yourself. And night-time was when it got its worst alone. No more going crazy talking to yourself.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You voiced out, he smirked, hearing your voice so relieved.

“Glad to hear.” He nodded towards the direction they were headed. Leading you further ahead.

“Do you know how to wield a gun?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll teach you don’t worry.”

~~~

(thinking of truning this idea into a fic what do you think?)

Seola - It’s the neo zone © All rights reserved.

[zellerysworld]

『 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 』

Sukuna x GN!Reader

WC: 6.7k

Tags: Angst, murder, reincarnation, heavy violence, language, suggestive themes, heavy trauma, mentions of genocide, origin story, slight soft sukuna

I rewrote this bitch three times trying to perfect it- and I’m still not 100% happy with it because there’s so many ways I wanted to write this. Plus I didn’t get the promotion at work so I just got depressed. anyways I wrote the story but @cqcophobiq requested a gender neutral reader. <3

A/N: Readers abilities are touching people to make them sleep, transfer memories, and see past (for those with DID, talk to the souls within the persons mind). They serves as a informant by going inside victims heads to look in their pasts for curses that were around them; informing teammates of location and grade level. They can also gain powers from whomever they touch for a short period of time.

Ex: Sukuna can give Malevolent Shrine to them for battle, but after one use/within five minutes, it vanishes. If they use powers that are harsh on the body, (domain expansions or strong cursed manipulation) they faint/get nose bleeds. *Reader only has abilities in modern times*

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Around 1000 years ago, you ventured out into the woods seeking to kill a god. 1000 years later, you are reincarnated so you may meet this god once again.

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Fear: that is all you felt while you watched the mass murderer known as Ryomen Sukuna walk throughout the same forest you were in. It took so long to hunt him down, and now the moment has finally come. You have trained for years to defeat the villain of your story, but his presence was more intimidating than you had anticipated.

He stopped to bend down, putting out a hand to stroke a sleeping fox. Surrounding the regular-looking male was a meadow filled to the brim with tall grass and flowers, hidden away by bamboo and birch trees. Everything looked so peaceful around Sukuna, as if he was a Dryad. ‘How could he look so peaceful?’ You thought to yourself. It also felt as if you were lied to, since most people told you he had facial marks and four arms, which he did not have.

It looked as if he were another human; that was until you flimsily attempted to move forward. Having been hiding within a large bush, you couldn’t see what was beneath you. And just like, a cracking sound emitted from the twig below you. You closed your eyes and rolled your shoulders back, whispering to yourself, “Oh fu-.”

Now, how exactly did you get yourself into this situation? And why were you in the middle of an uncharted forest trying to stalk Ryomen Sukuna? Well, it is a rather gruesome story for you to look back upon.

The Heian Age is at its peak in Japan, while Jujutsu sorcery is also at its peak as a ripple effect. (Many young children in this period began to claim they have “seen” curses.) Ryomen Sukuna was a young sorcerer, having attended the very school you attended. While amid his fourth and final year, and in your first year, he burned down almost every inch of the school alongside slaughtering over half of the staff and students.

You took it upon yourself to track him down with the intent to kill for revenge. Teachers that survived had entrusted you with information about him after learning of your plans. Granted most told you not to do it, but the ones that supported it told you information of his appearance, how he secretly practiced sacred and forbidden jujutsu techniques, and his unwavering strength. With every day that passes, Sukuna grows stronger at rates nobody can foretell.

So here you are, three years after the incident. The reason for why he did it is still unknown; But you trained to your breaking point for this moment to happen- having bled, cried, screamed, and thrown up countless times. Your classmates called you insane for thinking you could beat Sukuna, but none of their words mattered to you. Sukuna stole people from your life that you could never get back.

Now, back to your current situation. Sukuna shot his head up to the sound, his lips curving to reveal blades for teeth, “Myyyyyy Myyyyy!!! Do I have a challenger?” His voice stunned you, fear engulfing your mind as his body morphed into a four armed and nearly 8 foot tall being with black markings wrapped around his body. Although barely visible, Sukuna first saw your eyes that had such a curious wonder that was tinted with rage.

Before you could even take your bandages off to fight, he was behind you and holding your neck, “A jujutsu sorcerer, huh?”

Air left your lungs faster than anticipated, causing you to slightly panic. You closed your eyes, then leaned your neck over in an attempt to play dead, which worked but to only half of its extent. When your neck rolled to the side, Sukuna slightly loosened his grip. This gave you room to breathe before catching him off guard with a back-kick to his ribs.

The unexpected hit made his brows furrow, anger stirring in his stomach at your cleverness. When your clogs hit the ground, you took off running as if an army of samurai were in pursuit behind. And although you were fast, Sukuna was faster. The sound of his footsteps gave the warning that he was gaining up to you.

Logs and fallen tree branches were dodged by your legs as your jumped over them, Sukuna following behind. The sound of crunching grass as the demon-like man pursued you made the experience even more terrifying, knowing that with every step you took, he took two. There were so many sounds, making it harder to think with the already small amount of time given to you.

You made the judgement call to stop, believing that you could backhand him from behind by catching him off guard. However, it became apparent that you made a grave mistake the second two muscular elbows hit the left side of your waist. The feeling of your ribs cracking on both of sides of your waist when you slammed against the tree made you scream out in pain. Your eyes widened at having never witnessed strength such as his nor pain such as this.

Out of response to the pain, tears formed at the edges of your squinting eyes as your back slid against the tree. Sukuna approached you, cracking his fingers in excitement of killing another jujutsu sorcerer such as yourself. However, you had a trump card that was now in play.

You bit down on a piece of cloth that held the bandages on your left hand together. Ripping the bandages off with your teeth, Sukuna let out a menacing laugh, “You really think jujutsu can help you now?”

His left hand strangled your neck, pulling you upwards to be eye level with him. When Sukuna noticed that your orbs showed no fear, his brows furrowed in curiosity. Just seconds before he was going to snap your neck, both of your hands latched onto his arm. You forced a nerve connection, sending sounds of people screaming, children crying, and raging fires into his head.

The sudden sounds caused Sukuna to release you from his grip, “What-what Is this…?” He looked around, trying to see where the sound was coming from. You leaned against the tree while holding your left side, “How could you forget?” He looked down to you, his eyes widening at the realization of where the sounds came from.

“Those are the sounds of the people you killed!”

Sukuna froze, realizing that you were not just an ordinary jujutsu user. Catching him while he was still confounded, you put all your force into an aggressive headbutt. He stumbled back a few feet before growling at the dripping blood from his scalp. When he looked up, a smirked was smeared across his blood-stained face, “You’ll die here.”

His hands joined, making the symbol for a domain expansion spell. However, you temporary gained his powers after touching his arm a few moments ago. As he opened his mouth, you cut him off while bringing your hands together, “Domain Expansion!”

“What?”

Your eyes rolled back, “Malevolent shrine!”

The domain built around him, fear striking Sukuna’s mind at the sight of seeing you mimic his powers. His technique was too powerful for your body to handle though, causing you to stumble. You blinked twice before coughing up blood into your hands. Sukuna walked forward as the domain fell apart, his interest being piqued at how your powers work.

Looking up at Sukuna, blood fell from the crevices of your lips before you fell onto the ground. His powers completely defeated you from within, being too harsh on your body. When you hit the ground, all that was in your tunnel of vision was black. It felt like it was just a few minutes that you had been knocked out, but when you opened your eyes, the forest surrounding you was nearly pitch black.

“You snore.”

Hearing Sukuna’s voice, your body snapped up from the ground beneath you to find him sitting against an oak log. When you tried to use your hands to fight him, you quickly became aware that they were tied up. You huffed at the feeling of the rope while noticing the black kimono you wore had been taken off to reveal your white Cossack.

Sukuna’s lids opened to reveal crimson-colored eyes. In his current state, he was back to being inkless and having two arms. He glared at you with a sense of sternness, “Tell me how you did that.”

“Did what?” You snapped back, having no respect for him.

“Listen,” he stood and walked over to you, bending his knees down so his face would be in yours, “Only reason you are alive right now is because I say so. So, either tell me how you did it, or I’ll cut your hands off with my fingernails.” He sat down in front of you, crossing his legs and arms.

To be honest, death seemed better than having to deal with this situation. Before replying to him, you had to think if you really wanted to explain your powers. Either way around, you were going to die so it didn’t matter. Talking about your powers only delays your inevitable future. And it’s obviously been hours, so if help would have come, they were either killed by Sukuna or never came.

You sighed, leaning your head back before making eye contact with him. “My technique was used by ancient sorcerers; They call it ‘Somnium Nexum’.”

“I know all of the jujutsu techniques; how come I have never heard of yours?”

“Well, if you would shut the fuck up then I could explain.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at your disrespect, “Why do the generations become more disrespectful with each passing year?”

“Do you really have room to talk about disrespect?” You huffed, continuing, “My technique hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years now. It went extinct, until I was born that is. My hands… I use them to transfer memories to people, see memories of people, and temporarily steal people’s powers. That’s how I did it.”

“Those sounds were the people I killed. You were there that day?”

“Of course I was!” You shouted, anger filling your voice as tears formed at the edges of your eyes, “You killed people I loved! You ruined peoples lives…. WHY?! WHAT DID YOU GAIN?”

“I gained revenge.”

Silence fell between the two of you. The moon’s reflected light shined against your eyes as tears rolled down your flustered cheeks. Your lips parted to speak, but there were no words. Revenge? It didn’t make sense to you. What did all those people do to cause an anger such as his to exist?

Sukuna broke the silence, “If you run, I’ll kill you.” He leaned forward and reached a hand behind you, his lips being uncomfortably close to yours. Your thoughts closed at hearing a ripping sound, his hand pulling back.

“Look into my memories, and whatever questions you have will be answered. But then you’ll answer mine.”

You hesitated to move your hands, feeling fear in the back of your mind at how calm he was. Just a few hours ago, this man was trying to murder you in cold blood, but now he is acting… soft? It didn’t settle in your gut too well, but you had no other choice than to do what he says. Complying to his request, you raised your hand to rest the palm of it on his lower check and jawline.

“Close your eyes.” You commanded while closing yours.

He obediently closed them, letting the connection into his nervous system open into yours. The tears that were made at the thought of your dead classmates shifted towards tears of pain upon seeing Sukuna’s memories.

You watched from the background as jujutsu sorcerers stormed his childhood village and burned everything to the ground, both curses and humans alike. A young Sukuna was in the middle of it all, screaming for his mother as the fire surrounded him. From the fires, a sorcerer ran through and picked him up.

Sukuna screamed and kicked at the masked sorcerer. You noticed though, that the very badge that was embroidered onto your shirt was the same badge of the sorcerer carrying him.

When you turned to see where he was being carried, you noticed only the children were spared. You covered your mouth in disgust, seeing crying kids from ages of newborns to 5-year-olds being carried away. You watched a young Sukuna let out a loud screeching sound, black markings appearing on his face as his eyes turned red.

He sunk his teeth into the sorcerers’ shoulder and killed them, trying to run away before being caught by two other sorcerers who put him to sleep. One said through his mask, “This one is strong with cursed energy, he needs to be cleansed.”

You watched them carry him away. When you turned back around, you saw another memory of Sukuna at a slightly older age being tortured on a table as an instruction screamed out, “YOU ARE A DISGRACE!” Another memory appeared, the child being much older now as he sat in his room and communicated with a curse in its own language.

Memories upon memories flashed before your eyes of him training, talking to curses, and being tortured by humans. Then the memory that stained your mind of blood had appeared. The boy used his malevolent shrine against students and teachers alike, causing chaos with curses following behind him wherever he stepped.

Squinting to notice, you saw a pained look within his eyes as he killed the students that tried to fight him. He bent down to one and closed their eyes, “Humans have become the virus of this world. Jujutsu scholars are the creators of the virus.”

You came out of the link, speechless at everything you had just seen. Taking a deep breath, you looked into Sukuna’s eyes, “Why did they burn your village?”

He turned his neck to look away from your eyes, not wanting to be the person that breaks the truth to you. Although Sukuna didn’t know your name, he still felt an aching sensation at the bottom of his heart for you. There was finally someone else that he could tell of his secrets, but they were too painful. Yet he knew if he didn’t tell you, and instead killed you or forced you to go back, that you would never have a normal life anyways.

“Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Y/n L/n- but my name is not important. Tell me why they did that…”

“Y/n, do you know who your parents are?”

“Of course not. They sent me to the school when I was…”

“When you were what?”

Excruciating amounts of pain began to fill your heart. You saw the point he was making, and it stung your heart in an abundance of different ways. Everything around you seemed to disappear as you tried to remember who you were before attending this school. All that was found was blankness.

The early morning sky that beamed with stars of different shades seemed to become brighter as everything began to click. Nature surrounded you in this moment of harsh realization. It was comforting knowing that possibly a forest god was watching over you in the greens of their garden, but nonetheless painful.

You whispered with a cracking voice, “Why… Why did they tell us our parents sent us here…?”

“It was a coverup. Japan has become innovative these past two centuries, meaning out with the old and in with the new. Jujutsu sorcerers were falling behind, meaning they would eventually die out. So, they resorted to pillaging children. Although our fight was short, I can see that you have great strength and intelligence with your powers. You must have been a newborn when you were taken; otherwise, you’d remember.”

So many emotions ran through your mind all at once. Sorrow, pain, anger, rage, weakness, all of it. You hesitated, “So... -So, I never even had a chance?”

Sukuna looked into your eyes, “No.”

You gasped, feeling as if your lungs were collapsing while your breathing grew erratic. Everything you ever knew was a lie, and everything you were ever told was a lie. Any relationships you ever had with teachers was a lie, while any relationship you ever had with your classmates was fake. Sukuna saw how you struggled to take this information in, but he didn’t know how to make it easier for you.

‘Is there even an easy way out of this information?’ He thought to himself. Sukuna always knew everything around him was not real, so he couldn’t imagine the things you were feeling.

“Why didn’t… why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you try to find a way out and save everyone?”

Sukuna snapped back, “All of those kids are brainwashed beyond oblivion. Did you forget what you tried to do to me a few hours ago? If I were a normal person, you would have killed with that thing you did with your hands; And If I tried to tell people everything they ever knew was a lie, I would be dead.”

You slowly crawled backwards as he moved forward, “Do you think I caused all of that destruction alone? No. I had the help of curses, who are the only damn things that see humans for the shit they are! Over the years I have been out here alone, training and preparing myself for when I can defeat even the strongest of sorcerers.”

When he realized how uncomfortable you had become by his advancing, Sukuna moved back. “There was no helping them. The only reason I told you was because you would be forced to believe me.”

He was right. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Sukuna was right. They would all try to kill him if he told them what had known on all along. Humanity’s biggest fault will always be the fact that they are afraid of the unknown, and when someone tries to show them the truth of the unknown, they freak out in fear. The only reason you were not freaking out was because there was no unknown; you saw it all with your own eyes through his memories.

“Tell me, what are you going to do now?” He asked, slicing your thoughts in half.

That was a loaded question for the current situation, but it was a question that needed an answer. You cannot go back now, otherwise they would find out you know more than you should with how bad of a liar you are. For all they know, you are most likely dead right now and not worth looking for. You were just another slave to the elders’ horrific commands.

“I don’t know… Run away maybe? Get out the country while I can? But even then, sorcerers are all around the world. I would get caught and be killed eventually. Do the rest of the sorcerers around the world know about Japan’s doings?”

Sukuna scratched at his head, “I don’t know. I never tried to leave, but I was never bothered until now either.”

The sun began to rise, cracks of its light seeping through the forest trees as the night faded to the back of the forest. You bowed your head with a loud sigh, not knowing what your next move will be. Confusion filled your mind while the rising sun’s warmth worked to comfort you in this state of despair. With your emotions being thrown around like a tossed salad, the silence sounded so loud right now.

Sukuna broke the silence by hesitantly suggesting, “Stay here with me, y/n. Just for another day or two. I want to know more of these powers of yours. Maybe by then you’ll figure something out.”

You looked at him with such curious eyes, seeing him totally shift from the manic demon he was yesterday to this calm man who had a vengeful heart filled with pain. Crossing your arms, you asked with a sarcastic tone, “Where do you even live?”

“Are you suggesting I sleep in the woods like an animal?”

“Perhaps.”

He rolled his eyes while clicking his tongue, “Farther up in the mountains. I live by a hidden spring.”

You tried to stand up with Sukuna, leaning on the tree for support. He forgot that a rib or two of yours had been broken upon contact when fighting with each other earlier, making him cringe at remembering how quick he was to become defensive. “Here.” He turned around, getting on his knees. Sukuna motioned for you to get on his back, it being easier on your ribs for him to carry you this way.

Click here for a nice theme song. <3

Sukuna carried you to a log cabin he had built in the time he spent out here. For a few days, your aching body rested there as you thought of your next move. However, those thoughts eventually fled your mind. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Time passed on as you stayed hidden away deep within the forest with Sukuna. Over time, his vengeance was forgotten with you at his side. All both of you wanted was to enjoy the peace of solitude together.

Everything had been so peaceful over the years. Sometimes you and Sukuna would bicker as lovers do, especially since you two were the only ones you talked to besides curses, but ultimately both of you were happy. That was until the world decided peace was never a real option for anyone in this violently terrifying world.

Morning dew clung onto the windows of the cabin you shared with your husband. It was the break of dawn as you awoke next to a sleeping Sukuna. He lowly grumbled at your movements, pulling you back into the bed by your waist. “What are you doing?” He quietly asked with a scruffy morning voice while hovering over you. Loose strains of hair covered your eyes, Sukuna moving them so he could have a better look at you.

You held onto the back of his neck with your bandaged hands, “I’m going to the springs for a quick wash.”

The shirtless man lightly kissed at your cheek, moving lower to your neck as he gripped onto your hips to keep you below him. As tempting as it was to stay in bed with him and enjoy some morning affairs, your bones ached from the hunting that was done the day before. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the built man from your body as if he was a feather.

He let out a loud groan while moaning, “I should have never trained you to become that strong.”

“Oh shush, I’ll be back soon you whiney child.”

You put on a long, white yukata before heading outside to greet the horses you and Sukuna had tamed. “Good morning Ryko,” you sang while petting the horse’s neck before mounting her. You rode just a few minutes upwards towards the east, where the hidden springs lied. Winter was beginning to fade as spring slowly made its way into season, so hunting is hard for you and Sukuna.

Usually in the winter months is when your back and sides ache from your fight all those years ago with him. The best way for you to sooth your pains is to relax in the warm springs that nature provided in the mornings or late afternoons.

Upon reaching the springs, you jumped off Ryko and led her towards a tree to keep her tied at. However, you began to feel uneasy at how Ryko kept neighing and trying to back away from the tree. “Shhh, girl. Nobody is here.”

The sound of other horses made you eat your words. Your eyes widened as you turned, jumping out of the way at the sound of a metal mechanism clicking and firing. Ryko was shot in the head, her body falling over and bleeding out in the snow. Panic filled your body, being caught completely off guard. What were they shooting with and why was it so fast? When you looked up, you noticed the people on the horses had the same symbol of your previous school.

“Son of a bitch…,” you spoke, furrowing your brows at the sight of them. You had no weapons on you, forgetting to bring your bow and arrow for long distance defense. From the bottom of your lungs, you screamed out, “SUKUNA!!”

As soon as you said the name, the sorcerers began to panic, “She said his name!”

“Quick, kill her before he comes! She must be a witch!”

“What if he kills us?!”

“JUST DO IT!”

You were already on your feet, taking off as fast as you possibly could. As much as you wanted to fight with the physical strength you had gained over the years, you knew the helplessness of your abilities. Even if you could outsmart them and bruise their physical appearance, you were no match for 5 sorcerers with guns all at once with your jujutsu technique. You may be a powerful jujutsu sorcerer alongside Sukuna, but long-range fighting was never an option with your technique.

Speeding into the distance with all you had, the freezing temperature of the snow against bare human feet was only making it worse for you. You had hope that you could run into the woods just in time, but there is no shift in what a speeding bullet does to a human body.

While a few minutes away, the first shot had Sukuna on his feet. His eyes flung open, the nerve-wracking sound of a weapon he didn’t recognize that is not too far caused him to panic. His tattoos appeared as he walked out into the snow barefoot with only palazzos on. He began running into the direction of the sound, knowing he would be faster on foot than on horseback.

From the distance, Sukuna heard his name being screamed out by your voice, which struck fear into his heart. The scream was followed by another shot not even 30 seconds later. He picked up his speed, tears forming at the edges of his rageful crimson eyes.

When he appeared from the branches, the sorcerers were taking off. As much as he wanted to pursue them, he needed to find you first. Before he could even see you, the stench of blood coming from his left filled his nose. He turned, and everything seemed to go into slow motion. He ran at your side, seeing you struggle to breathe from the bullet wound in your chest.

“Y/N, Y/N SAY SOMETHING!” He screamed out, falling onto the ground next to you. He held you up, putting his hands over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, “Come on, come on stay with me. It’s okay, it’s fine-“

“Ry-Suk…I…,” you struggled to breathe, blood flowing out of your chest faster than Sukuna could react too. His tears fell onto your cheeks as his hands became covered in your blood. The white Yukata you were wearing was turning an awful shade of red.

He pulled your hand up to his lower cheek, closing his eyes so you can start a link between him and you. When it started, you transferred everything you had seen to his memories so he would know what happened without you having to speak. When he opened his eyes, your hand fell from his cheek as your body quickly lost energy.

Sukuna held you in his now bloodied arms, rocking you back and forth while whispering, “It’s alright, you’re fine. Look at me, I’m right here.” He watched as you slowly lost consciousness, your eyes losing the spark of curiosity in them that he adored.

You blinked a few times, each time your eyes getting heavier and harder to keep open. You gave him a meek smile and croaked out, “When the sun rises again, will you find me?”

Rapid tears fell from both your eyes and his as he leaned his head into your chest, “I’ll find you.”

You looked into the sky with lazy eyes before shutting them for the final time. Your neck fell backwards, and your breathing stopped; Sukuna felt your heart’s final beat. Feeling your soul leave your body, he let out a loud scream into your chest that could be heard from miles away.

He sobbed into your cold body, only to lift his head with a newfound rage that has set his body on fire. His tearstained face spoke millions of words, all of them meaning the same thing: destruction. He laid your body against Ryko, kissing your forehead and whispering, “I’ll be back.”

Standing up with your blood staining his hands and torso, he morphed into his full form. His lips spread into a devilish smile as he ran his hands through his hair. His speed was almost at light, taking off into the forest while chasing the horse tracks in the snow.

The sorcerers rode at a fast pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. Sukuna passed them up, turning on his heels to face the oncoming horses. When they got close enough, he raised both of his hands and grabbed onto the horses’ heads, pushing them down into the ground. Both the horses and sorcerers riding them died from the impact, striking fear into the other sorcerers following behind them.

“TURN, NOW!” One yelled out before their head was ripped from their body by Sukuna’s hands. He called out with a demonic look in his eyes, “Don’t be afraid to come out my friends!” Curses of all grades came out from behind trees, sending everyone into a panic.

“SPREAD OUT!” A female sorcerer yelled out, making Sukuna turn. He ran into the horse, sending her and the horse flying into a tree. She let out a loud scream of pain as the horse landed on her legs, rendering her powerless. Sukuna approached her, bending down to be eye level with her as she panicked.

He tilted his head, “The person you happened to kill was my partner. And a partner is a man’s peace, but when they are taken, they become a man’s rage.” He grabbed her hair, ripping her body in half. “If they cannot live, nobody can! Women, children, and men alike! IT’S GOING TO BE A MASSACRE!”

Curses killed the sorcerers left and right, slaughtering both them and their horses. Ryomen Sukuna has died, but the king of curses has been born. Curses obeyed his every command in fear of his jujutsu techniques and inhumane abilities. The beginning of his world domination had just begun…

Over a thousand years has passed since that day, which brings Sukuna to the present. Yuji was in conversation with Megumi and Nobara, while Sukuna was off wondering around in Yuji’s head. However, a certain name caught his attention.

“Yeah! I heard they use an ancient technique called ‘Somnium Nexium’, it’s only been seen a handful of times in the last few hundred years.” Nobara chanted while walking with her friends.

Sukuna turned his head at the sound, awakening on Yuji’s face, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Sukuna, go back!” Yuji yelled, groaning at the annoying curse.

He snapped back, “Oh shut the hell up. I heard Somnium Nexium.”

Megumi spoke, “There’s a new student. They use that power.”

“I bet your old ass has seen it before,” Nobara laughed.

Sukuna growled, “Matter of fact I have, and this brat could probably kill all of you with just one hand.”

Nobara’s shoulders shot up at his words, while Megumi cringed at the fact he’s most likely right. Yuji was just interested in getting to see them like the others though. However, the day was near its end, and everyone was heading into their rooms for the night. Yuji might have slept like a baby, but Sukuna stayed up in his mind all night.

He wanted to believe there was a possibility that it could be you, but from what the kids said, other people have been seen using the same ability. Wanting to dismiss the idea, Sukuna tried to not think on it and instead walk around Yuji’s head to annoy him, but that failed.

Night faded into day as the stars kissed the sky good morning. Another day began, and nothing was out of the usual. Just Sukuna being pissed he’s still in Yuji’s body after all of this time and training per usual.

Yuji made his way out of the dormitories after getting dressed, heading outside to see where Megumi was. He was also hoping to run into the new student so he could get to brag to Nobara that he meant them first. While walking down the outside corridor, Yuji pulled out his phone to text the group chat. In the midst of typing, he bumped into a student wearing a navy Hakama with a black kimono, the traditional sword training outfit for students.

For those who enjoy some theme music.(again hehe)

“Oh sor- Wait a second, you must be the new student! I’m Yuji Itadori.” He quickly bowed, giving you a large smile. Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Yuji’s thoughts when running into you; He hastily said within his mind, “Enchain!”

The sun took its place a tad higher in the sky to where it beamed against you. Your skin had a warm tone to it as the sun reflected into your eyes to create a small glint. Bowing your head as Sukuna took over Yuji’s body, you raised your head with closed eyes and smiled, “I’m Y/n L/n.”

When you opened your eyes, Yuji’s body had switched into Sukuna’s. It startled you before remembering that he was Sukuna’s vessel; yet it also felt as if you have meant Sukuna before. “You must be Sukuna. I feel honored that the king of curses took over Yuji just to see me,” you said with tremendous amounts of sarcasm.

Sukuna was speechless, his breathing going shaky at the sight of you. “Is it really you?”

You raised a brow while crossing your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He walked forward, wanting to get a closer look at your facial features. However, him walking closer caused you to back up out of discomfort. Your back hit against the railing of the wooden pathway, making you nervous. You snapped with a serious tone while ungloving your hands behind your back, “What do you want?!”

There was no response, just wide eyes, and a wide mouth. “Hey!” You yelled, but there was no response. Out of fear, you pulled your hand out and tried to grab his wrist to show something to scare him, but he already knew your move. Sukuna caught you by the wrist, then examined it to see if it was the same hand you had before.

Your eyes widened at how he knew what you were going to do, making fear begin to take over your body. “Don’t be afraid,” he spoke while moving your hand to his lower cheek. “Just�� try to remember me.” So many questions ran throughout your mind, such as how did he know that people’s faces are what she touches? Either way, you were too afraid to decline what he was implying, so you closed your eyes at the same time as him.

The connection opened, allowing you to go into his memories. You walked around his mind, seeing yourself from his eyes whenever you first meant him over 1000 years ago. The memories flashed before your eyes, not understanding why you see yourself and how that was possible. Every bitter, sweet, intimate, aggressive, happy, and sad moment he ever had with you flashed before your eyes.

Colors you had never even seen before flashed past your eyes, showing you every detail of every moment you ever experienced with Sukuna. You saw a memory of yourself holding a bow and arrow, aiming it at a deer from far in the forest. When you took the shot, it struck the deer into the side.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing in relief at making the hit. Sukuna watched with his arms crossed, “There’s so many ways that I love you, but by far my favorite way to love you is to watch you.”

With the roll of your eyes and a small smirk, you blushed and playfully punched his shoulder, “Let’s go get our dinner.”

Sukuna “loved” you? The sensations your body felt were foreign, making you feel nervous. There were moments where he held onto your hand while taking a walk through the forest, followed by other moments of him training with you in meadows. The moments you would hug his bare torso would turn into moments of intimacy, while moments of petty arguments would turn into moments of him holding you.

Love was the only thing you could feel from these memories. It was love that drove him to commit his crimes, and it was love when he would sit alone and ponder on what he’d do if he ever saw you again. He imagined that he would hug you tighter than he ever did before, destroy the world with you, and tell you everything he didn’t get to tell you before.

A squeezing sensation pained your heart, making you become so overwhelmed that you ripped away from the link. Sukuna looked into your eyes, seeing that curious look he saw in your eyes all those centuries ago when you first meant him in the forest. Shaking with anxiety, you moved forward to slowly wrap your arms over his body. He followed into the embrace, squeezing your back with his muscular arms while crying into your shoulder.

It felt unreasonable to fall into being the person you were in a past life, but you felt all the things he felt for you back then. Seeing his memories opened so many things in your life, when all along you thought you were just some regular jujutsu sorcerer who is the new kid at this school. In truth, you were never normal; seeing his memories just proves that. You grew up having dreams as a child that were always too blurry to see anything, but looking back you now understand that those weren’t dreams; They were your past.

When you closed your eyes, everything in your mind went blank. Upon opening them, they looked the same but had a slight change of hue that was barely noticeable. You pushed Sukuna away from you, starting to feel your old memories flood back in. He looked at you with a confused expression, not understanding what you were doing until you grabbed his face.

Your hands held his cheeks as you examined his eyes, “Sukuna? Is it really you?” You moved his face to see all the angles of his structure, trying to see if this was him. “Oh…,” There was hesitation in your eyes before tears began to fall from them, “You found me…” Sukuna pulled you back into the tight embrace of each other’s arms, holding onto one another like the world is falling apart around you.

From behind the corner, Megumi and Nobara watched with worried looks painted across their face. She whispered, “I feel like something bad just happened.”

There was rage within you, feeling your insides ache at the memory of how you died coming back to you. You were still the same person before gaining your memories back, but now enlightened of who you really were. Sukuna pulled back from the hug, looking beyond your eyes and into your soul. He could see the hungry look of vengeance within you.

Sukuna felt his time nearing its end as Yuji was fighting to come back in. He quickly held onto your shoulders with a crazed look in his crimson eyes, “Y/n, in due time we will take our revenge. Me and you, we will destroy the world.”

The next time the sun rises for Sukuna will be the last time it rises for the world.

⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈

[kravkalackin]

Barry knew that the powers he was tampering with were not to be taken lightly. He knew that he was not a particularly good person for deciding to tamper with them anyway, and even less wise. 

He also knew that he didn’t really care. 

The worst part, the thing that he could understand objectively made him pretty fucking terrible, was that there wasn’t even a reason. He had no great loss, he wasn’t looking for vengeance or love or even just raw power. No, none of that. 

It was just interesting, and so few understood these dark magics. Even fewer could wield them properly. He wanted to see if he could. 

Even his almost clinical interest was starting to have concerns about this one though. The book had been old, older than anything Barry had ever seen before. Scorched and what remained written in a language that had taken him months to translate. The damage left some parts incomplete, most of it incomplete actually. 

But this ritual, this one had remained intact. Almost eerily so, like whatever fire had befallen it wouldn’t or couldn’t harm this part. 

The only problem was that he had no idea what the ritual was supposed to do. 

So of course, he was trying it out. 

Magic this old, this deep, there wasn’t a lot he could do to really ward it in case things went wrong. Still, he had set up the strongest charms he could around his lair, and that would have be be enough. Despite the power he could feel from just reading the book the actual ritual was surprisingly simple. 

Runes in an ancient language, carved into the rib of an ancient whale (which had taken... some effort to get down here) surrounded by more runes crafted from melted wax on the stone floor. Taking a deep breath, he used another piece of bone to craft a clean cut across the palm of his hand, reaching out to let the blood drip onto the bone as he began speaking the incantation. 

As he spoke the small amount of blood that had dripped onto the bone began to spread, covering it in red much more than it should have rightfully been able to, until the entire pillar was soaked in it, covering the runes that had taken a whole day to carve. 

He continued with the incantation, his voice starting to sound doubled in his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was his own voice heard twice, or if someone else had joined him. Whatever it was the ritual continued, the runes underneath the blood bursting into flames, quickly engulfing the entire pillar and threatening to choke him out with its heat. 

Barry forced himself to keep going. If there was one thing he knew was worse than trying one of these things, it was leaving one incomplete. As he drew to the last few lines of the incantation he heard a loud crack, followed by another, and more still. Through the flames he could see the giant, ancient bone in front of him splitting and splintering like a twig in a bonfire. 

With the last lines of the incantation, it exploded around him. 

Barry was knocked back, and it must’ve been the spell that kept any of the jagged bits of bone or flame from impaling and killing him then and there, despite the way they jabbed into the cave walls around him. He was still flung into a bookcase behind him, and there were a few moments where he was left lying there, coughing and wheezing as the fire and smoke around him slowly subsided. 

When he finally managed to look up, to see exactly what it is this damn ritual actually did, for a moment he thought the center of the room was still on fire. Then he realized his glasses had been knocked askew, and when he pushed them back into place he could see a bit more clearly. It still looked like fire, but there was so much more to it than just that. 

She was humanoid, looking like a wildfire given form. A few of those runes glowed brightly along her limbs, before fading away as her own fire seemed to quell some, until she appeared more like a comforting smolder. Despite the bright, somewhat shifting form her features were surprisingly pronounced, and Barry could see her staring right at him, her head cocking to the side after a moment. 

“Not... what I was expecting,” she said, a strange, almost otherworldly accent to her voice. Barry coughed once more, pulling himself up along the shelves behind him. 

“Are you the creature this book summons?” he asked, holding up the ancient tome as he asked. At least the magic that summoned her decided to update her language so that they could understand each other. 

He saw her eyes land on the book, an enraged glare suddenly crossing her face, the flames that made up her hair flaring up as she shot a hand forward. Barry couldn’t move fast enough, the book shot with a blast of fire. He at least managed to drop it before it burned his hand. 

“Summoned? No, that damn thing trapped me,” she snapped, and Barry felt his stomach drop a little at that. He had certainly considered the idea that he’d be releasing some ancient evil into the world when he decided to use the thing. “What’s your name?” she asked suddenly.

“Barry,” he answered, honestly, like an idiot. He must’ve hit his head harder than he thought in that crash. The beautiful spout of fire in front of him grinned at that. 

“Nice to meet you Barry. I’m Lup. I was kind of in the middle of something when locked away for, uh, how old would you say that book is?” she asked. 

“Rough estimate? Two, two and a half thousand years?” he said, and she winced at that. 

“Ouch, okay, when I was locked away for fucking two thousand years. And since you let me out, you get to help me pick up where I left off. Sounds good?” 

If Barry was a good person, he would have refused. Would have recognized that something locked away this long, and with something so powerful, was locked for a reason. Would have started a search for some way to bind her again, so that whatever dark plans she had would never come to fruition. 

But as previously stated, Barry wasn’t a very good person. 

“Yeah alright, works for me.” 

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

____________

Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

     A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

    Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

    It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

    An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

    Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

    Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

    Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

    The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

    Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

    You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

    Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

    Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

    His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

    Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

    “Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

    Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

    He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

    Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

    Like right now.

    “I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

    “Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

    “I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

    Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

    Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

    His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

    “I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

    “What do you want?”

    Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

    “I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

    “Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

    “He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

    “And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

    “Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

    You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

    “You owe me, toy man.”

    “Put it on my tab.”

    Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

    “Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

    Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

    Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

    “Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

    “Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

    On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

    It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

    And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 2 of 16

(Not my GIF)

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything started to spiral out of control when a new Greenie came up in the Box, Thomas.

You didn’t know him, but you felt connected to him somehow. Why? You had no clue. It’s almost driving you crazy that you can’t place why you felt this way, and if you were being honest, it almost scared you.

Thomas felt this way as well. He felt that same type of connection to you. He never spoke of it for the sake of him sounding crazy, well, even more crazy than everyone else already thought him to be.

All it took was a simple glance in each other’s direction to realize you and Thomas felt the same way about each other.

“Y/N!”

Gally’s irritated tone snapped you out of your daze. “Sorry, what?”

Gally rolled his eyes. “That’s the third time you’ve dozed off today. Get it together, will ya? This shack needs to be built and I don’t feel like getting scolded by Alby because you didn’t do your part.”

You tried not to blush as the rest of the Builders looked at you with amusement, probably glad that they’re not getting yelled at for once.

Gally noticed your eyes traveling to the other Builders and huffed. “Get back to work, you shanks!”

You almost could’ve laughed at how fast they went back to work because they were pretty much scared of the boy.

“What’s up with you today, huh?” Gally asked, surprising you with his slightly softer tone.

You sighed, biting your lip in thought. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just one of those days.” You lied, partly. You truly didn’t know why you felt the way that you did, but had a feeling it was because of the new Greenie. But you didn’t need Gally to know that, especially after he’s expressed so many times about how he didn’t like Thomas.

Yeah...he didn’t need to know.

Gally raised his brow, clearly not buying her reasoning, but he decided not to push it. “Well, just, get back to work, okay?”

“For sure, Captain.” You fake saluted, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Gally rolled his eyes as he shook his head, struggling to hide a smile. “Shut up. Just get building.”

You sighed as you sat down in your hammock in the Homestead, relieved to have finished that new shack for the Slicers by sundown. After that talk with Gally, you made sure to focus extra hard and you managed to do more work than you thought you were capable of.

Your muscles ached badly. You needed a shower asap.

You tried not to scream when you bumped into a Glader, realizing it was just Thomas. “Oh, hey, Greenie.” You chuckled breathlessly.

Thomas’ face visibly from relaxed to one of irritation. “I have a name, you know.”

“Right. Right. Sorry. Guess I’m just happy that I’m not the one being called that anymore.” You chuckled, clearing your throat seconds after. “I was just heading to the showers so...”

Thomas blinked rapidly, quickly moving out of your way with a slight blush dusting his face. “Uh, Y/N?” He voiced, causing you to look back up to him with a smile. You noticed Thomas’ face contorting in thought. “Uh, sorry. Never mind.”

Before you could say anything, Thomas walked off in a hurry, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. But the aching muscles in your arms and legs begging for the coldness of the shower water caused you to shrug it off quicker than you normally would.

You tossed and turned that night, which was unusual as you normally were able to fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

You felt like you woke up as soon as you fell asleep, the opening of the maze doors woke you from a less than pleasant dream. Yet again, the dream you had left your memory as soon as it appeared. The one thing attaching itself to you from the dream was a face. Thomas’ face.

You groaned as the rest of the Gladers started to get up for the day, knowing that you must’ve gotten an hour of sleep, if even that. You just accepted that it was probably going to be a shit day.

The Builders didn’t have much to do surprisingly, only needing to touch up a few things. But you absolutely didn’t mind the shorter work day, having the night that you had made it difficult to focus on anything. Even Gally’s pretty face.

Still, you didn’t want to be a useless shank. So, against your better judgement, you decided to help out Newt, Zart, and Thomas in the gardens.

You were tired as hell, but you wanted to talk to Thomas eventually, and befriending him felt like the best way to go about doing so. Plus, Newt was an absolute delight to be around.

“Eyo, Y/N.” Newt smiled, “Gally finally given ya a break?”

You laughed softly. “Nah, just a smaller work load today.”

Newt nodded. “Because you work so hard, no doubt. Things are gettin’ built a lot faster ever since you came up, love.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed a little basket to help pick off some ripe fruit. “I’m just good at following orders, if that’s something to be proud of.”

Newt chuckled. “You give about as many orders as Gally does nowadays. If anything, you seem to be partners.”

You knew Newt probably didn’t realize his phrasing, but it still made you blush nonetheless. “Gally’s an asshole.” Thomas muttered out.

You tried not to laugh loudly. “He has his moments, for sure.”

“Gally’s an alright bloke, he just has issues with change. He’ll warm up to ya eventually. He even avoided Y/N the first week and a half she got here. It’s just how he is.” Newt said.

“You seem close with him now.” Thomas said, looking at you.

You shrugged. “Uh, I’d say we’re friendly. Well, I guess my definition of friendly anyway.”

“Do us a favor, get us some more fertilizer.” Newt asked Thomas.

“Uh, sure. Where is it again?”

“Show him, will ya, Y/N?” Newt asked.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded. “Let’s go, Greenie.”

“You really think Gally’ alright?” Thomas asked once you both got a few meters into the woods.

“Yeah, I think so. Like Newt said, he’s just scared of change. I think it’s understandable when you live in a box that you can never leave, unless you wanna get horrifically murdered by Grievers.”

“When you put it like that, then yeah. I guess change would be pretty scary.” Thomas paused, “I just, I don’t understand how you guys have been here for three years without making any progress.”

“You’re acting like it’s easy, Thomas. I’m no Runner, but I can tell how hard it is to run a changing maze every single day, having to map it, fearing for your life in the process.”

Thomas stayed silent after that, only speaking up when you both passed the Deadheads. “Who was George?” He asked.

You shrugged. “I wasn’t around when he died. He was the first one to get stung by a Griever from what Newt told me...he wasn’t too eager to talk about him anymore after that.”

“Y/N?” Thomas started, “I don’t really know how else to put this without sounding crazy but...I feel like I know you from somewhere. I know how it sound but-”

The look on you face stopped Thomas from speaking any further. You couldn’t even describe how you were feeling. Almost like relief, but fear, all meshed together in some sort of weird understanding. “You feel that way too?”

A sudden snap of a twig caused the moment between you and Thomas to end abruptly, you both twisting around to see another Glader. “Ben?” Thomas asked.

You eyed the Glader up and down, noticing how frightening he looked. Black and purple veins protruding out all over his body. His eyes red, almost bloodshot. His heavy threatening gaze on you and Thomas.

He had been stung.

You never saw how anyone looked after being stung, not really. You imagined horrible things, things more horrible than how Ben looked now. But seeing him like that disturbed you to no end.

“Ben...” You said slowly. “Are you okay?”

Ben grunted in response, looking in between you and Thomas like he couldn’t decide who to look at. “You did this.” He whispered harshly.

You brows furrowed in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“You did this.” Ben raised his voice. “I saw you. Both of you! This is your fault!”

You gasped when Ben suddenly charged at you and Thomas. All the breath being knocked out of your lungs when he body slammed you into the ground.

You and Ben struggled on the floor, him quickly gaining the upper hand and placing his hands firmly on you throat. “Get off her, man!” Thomas yelled, tackling Ben off of your smaller body.

You coughed violently, gasping for oxygen as the pressure on your windpipe finally disappeared as Thomas saved you from being choked to death.

You looked around to see Thomas hit the infected Glader with an animal skull just in time, him quickly pushing a now disoriented Ben off of him and soon helping you to your feet. “Go, go!” Thomas yelled in your ear.

You didn’t have to be told twice.

You and Thomas took off in a sprint, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you feared of being caught by the fellow Glade member. The confusion taking a hold of your mind as you ran, still having no idea why Ben seemed so hateful towards you and Thomas.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to think about it anymore. Ben ultimately catching up to you both due to his Runner status and tackling you and Thomas down a hill.

You groaned in pain, feeling your body topple over and landing on your arm painfully.

Thomas, yet again, helped you get to your feet, making sure you didn’t get left behind. You yelped in pain as he grabbed your now aching arm, pulling you along as he yelled for help as loud as he could.

You almost felt relieved when you saw the Gladers running to your aid, but it was short lived.

Ben grabbed your bad arm and pulled you back, making you fall on your back, but he still went after Thomas first. “Hey!” Newt’s voice filled the air, then a sickening thump, Ben immediately falling to the ground.

Newt quickly ordered the Gladers to hold down the struggling boy, Thomas quickly rushing over to you. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

You nodded, sitting up with a painful groan. You looked down at your arm to see it bruised and bloody, short jagged cuts deep in her skin.

Ben screamed bloody murder over and over again, so loud and animalistic that it even your throat hurt, even though it already hurt from being choked before.

After being taken to the other Med-jacks, it didn’t take for Gally to barge into the room, an almost angry look on his face. “How’s Ben?” You asked.

Gally could’ve scoffed at the question. Obviously Ben wasn’t okay, but you asking about him first was the reason he could’ve thrown a fit. He had seen you at the scene, wanting so badly to go to your aid first, but he needed to help the Gladers get Ben to the Pit. “Seriously? How are you? You were hurt.”

“She’s fine.” Jeff answered for you. “A sprain, and some marks from Ben’s nails.”

Gally would’ve sighed in relief, if Thomas wasn’t there too. “Why were you even with that shank anyway?” He asked, acting like Thomas wasn’t even there.

“What? Just because you don’t like him, that means I can’t hang out with him?” You sassed.

Gally glared at you and Thomas. “Ben’s gonna get banished at sundown. Do me a favor and stay away until it’s over.”

You rolled your eyes as Gally exited the room, trying not to cry at the thought of a Glader getting sent to their death. “What, banished?” Thomas asked you.

You closed your eyes with a heavy sigh. “You know there’s cure for getting stung...it would be too dangerous to keep him here.”

Thomas quickly left the room, probably leaving to see what was going to happen to poor Ben.

At first, when Gally told you to keep away from the banishment, it just made you want to go just to spite him. But you had seen a banishment before, and it was horrible. It still haunted your dreams sometimes. You really didn’t feel like reliving that again, so you listened.

That, of course, didn’t stop you from finding Gally after the fact.

“Hey...” You said softly, running up to Gally to walk with him to the wall of names.

Gally didn’t say anything, he just kept his gaze ahead of him. You knew he was hurting. Ben was his friend after all. You looked down at his hand that wasn’t carrying a torch, and your hand twitched forward, gently grabbing his large hand.

You could sense that Gally tensed at first, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezed you hand, letting you know it was okay.

“Hold this please.” Gally said, barely a whisper, handing over his torch to you.

You held the torch up as Gally reached up, placing his chisel at Ben’s name to cross his name out.

Another day, another death.

“I’m sorry, Gally.” You whispered, placing a gentle hand on his board shoulder.

Gally simply nodded, giving you a weak smile as he walked away, leaving you at the wall with only the torch as your light in the growing darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~

[underfell-crystal]

~~Catch and Keep~~

An AU where Harp (named Fern in this AU) is stuck underground with @avtfol 's Fallen Soul crew, properly deemed the 'Fallen Soul AU'. Warning: I went a little crazy with this and it's super long.

TW: Starving, being chased, kidnapping kinda, a bit of swearing

Fern had been down here for five months. She honestly didn't know how she had survived. Each encounter with any monsters threatened to shatter the orange heart she'd learned was the culmination of her being.

Five months down here with barely any food had taken a toll on her body. She was far thinner and bonier than she would've liked, but hey, at least she wasn't dead yet.

She was on her daily route through the watery area of wherever she was, past the brutally cold snow. There was much more life here, not to mention warmer, if only by a bit. Learning which things she could and couldn't eat had taken some trial and error (another few close calls with death), but she had finally gotten most of Waterfall's plants categorized into 'edible' or 'non-edible'.

Crouching next to a glowing mushroom, she took out her pocket knife and carefully cut away a piece, tucking it into a fairly clean cloth. She continued to do this to a few more mushrooms, pausing to make sure there were no sounds of anything else moving nearby before crouching down and devouring the glowy, rubbery-feeling mushrooms. They didn't taste the best, but they kept her alive.

After eating her share of mushrooms, she stood up to get away from the path. Then she saw the shadow. Her gaze slowly traveled from the shadow to the shiny gold and aqua boots, going all the way up to the person's- skeleton's???- face. One green light and one red light stared back at her.

Shit.

She turned and bolted into the tall grass, a startled shout of surprise coming from behind her. Nope. Nuh uh. She would rather not have a near death encounter, thank you very much!

From what she could tell, the skeleton wasn't chasing her, so after a while she stopped to catch her breath. Stars, how tall had it been?? Much taller than her, she knew that. Seven feet? Maybe eight? She prayed this was a one time encounter. She didn't want to actually be involved in an encounter with it. Something that big would not pull its punches when fighting.

.

.

.

It wasn't a one time encounter. Fern kept running into the skeleton. After her first glimpse of him at Waterfall, she ran into him four other times at different places and times. She thought the skeleton was a 'he' from the alarmingly deep voice that came from his fanged jaws whenever he saw her. She never stuck around long enough to hear what he was saying, with the current encounter being no exception.

As she turned and started running away from the massive skeleton, she felt something whizz past her, and something suddenly appeared in her way. She shrieked in alarm and crashed into them, stumbling backwards in horror when she realized it was the same skeleton she was just running away from. How-?

He reached his arm out to her, and she scuttled backward, tripping over a root and landing on her behind. He looked unimpressed with her attempt to flee him again and strode closer. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She squawked in fear, flailing around and trying to free herself. The skeleton seemed unfazed and started walking while she failed to free herself from his grasp. Stars, why did she have to be cursed with tiny arms and legs...

After a few minutes of struggling, she gave up and laid limply on the shoulder of the tall skeleton carrying her. Where was he taking her? Why didn't he just kill her? Was he taking her back to his place to eat her?? Wait, did monsters even eat humans?

She didn't even notice they had arrived at their destination until she heard the sound of a door opening, which snapped her out of her thoughts. Fern looked around, confused. He had taken her to some kind of house in.... what had the sign called it? Oh, right. Snowdin.

She felt the hand on her back move, and she was promptly pulled off the skeleton's shoulder and plopped unceremoniously onto the couch with a squeak. She just laid there, frozen, staring up at the skeleton looming above her. After a minute of him just staring at her, he sighed. "You're very dirty. You need a shower."

"I- huh??"

What? This guy had kidnapped her to... make her take a shower??? Okay, she knew she probably looked and smelled awful, but she hadn't been bothering anybody, so.... why was she here? He looked irritated. "Are you deaf?"

"No! I'm just..... Why am I here???"

He tilted his skull, looking down at her. "You would've died out there sooner or later."

She felt like there was something else that made him decide to go through all this trouble just to catch a human, but she decided to focus on what he'd told her. "What? I was doing fine on my own!"

"All it takes is one or two unlucky encounters with some monsters and you would've been a corpse."

Wow, okay, morbid much? "Uh....... Thanks? I think?"

"You can thank me once you no longer stink of rot and dirt."

Fern bit back her irritation. It wasn't like there were just showers in the middle of the woods and marshes, Mr. Skeleton. Plus, when she did shower under the waterfalls, she just got dirty again. And it wasn't like she was aiming to impress anybody with her looks. "Okay, fine. Where's the bathroom?"

"Second floor. First door. Leave your dirty clothes outside the door."

Keeping an eye on the monster, Fern made her way upstairs, following the monster's directions. Inside the bathroom, everything was slightly bigger than she remembered; probably to accommodate the eight foot tall Goliath downstairs. She shook her head. She could still see over the sink and into the mirror. She blinked at the dirty face in front of her. She barely recognized herself.

Shaking her head, she turned on the faucet to the shower and peeled off her gross, dirty clothes. Okay, yeah, they felt good to take off. She opened the door a bit to drop her dirty clothes outside the door before shutting and locking it. Steam slowly filled the room, and she could barely contain her glee as she stepped into the hot stream of water. Oh my stars.... It had been AGES since she'd had a hot shower. She noted there was no shampoo or conditioner (with the skeleton, she highly doubted there was a NEED for such things), but there was bar soap, which she seized and immediately started using to clean herself off. She could FEEL all the dirt and grime and 'wilderness' in general washing off her the longer she stood in the hot water.

She stayed in there for about an hour, scrubbing herself clean and letting all the dirt on her body wash off. It felt so nice to finally rub all that dirt off her face. Finally, when she felt sufficiently washed, she turned off the water and grabbed one of the large, fluffy towels hanging from the door. It easily covered her entire body when she wrapped it around her shoulders. Well... Being short in a house that belonged to a giant had SOME perks, she mused as she dried herself off.

Wait.

Clothes. Where....?

Making sure she was still wrapped up and covered, she opened the door and saw a neatly folded pile of clothes sitting next to the door. Oh. He had washed them. She grabbed them and brought them back inside the bathroom, changing back into her fresh (although worn) clothes. It had been so long since she'd been clean. She looked through the cabinets, and, surprisingly, she found a comb. The skeleton didn't have hair, but she decided not to question it, combing out her tangled, stark white hair. Detangling her hair was an entirely different beast that she managed to defeat in about fifteen minutes, finally letting herself examine her reflection in the mirror again.

Ah.

That looked more like the Fern she used to see in the mirror. Her face was still pale and thin, but it was... a start.

Oh right. There was still an eight foot tall skeleton downstairs, waiting for her.

Well, best not to keep him waiting...

She unlocked the bathroom door again and stepped out, descending down the stairs as quietly as she could. The skeleton wasn't in view. For a moment, she considered running for it. But, he hadn't tried to kill her yet, plus he had given her a hot shower. So, she sighed and sat on the couch to wait.

--Copper POV--

He was in the kitchen when he heard the faint sound of the bathroom door opening. Quiet footsteps made their way down the stairs, pausing before continuing for a moment, followed by the creaking of the couch. Good. The human hadn't tried to run off.

He walked out of his brother's room and down the stairs. The human was sitting on the couch, staring at him with large, light blue eyes, almost expectantly. He had to admit, without all the dirt and mud on them, they were fairly attractive. The human coughed. "So, uh..... Why am I here? Why are you being nice to me?"

He strode to stand in front of the human, folding his arms. "I brought you here because I want to test you."

".... On what? Math?"

"What? No. On your strength."

"Look, uh, Mr. Skeleton, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're almost twice as tall as me, and my arms look like literal twigs right now."

Oh, right. He knew he had forgotten something. Sustenance. Human bodies required a lot of upkeep. Without responding, he marched to the kitchen and hunted through the fridge for something to reheat, his multi-colored gaze landing on a tupperware full of spaghetti. Perfect. Pulling the plastic box out, he dumped the contents onto a plate and stuck it into the microwave, turning to observe the human again. "My name is Copper. Captain Copper."

"Uh.... Fern..."

Fern... An interesting name choice. "You were named after a plant."

Fern made a face at him, scrunching up her nose and sticking out her bottom lip. "You were named after a metal."

Well, his real name wasn't, but the human didn't need to know that. "... Fair enough."

"So, you kidnapped me just to make me take a shower and then... fight me?"

"If that's how you want to put it, then yes."

"And what if I don't want to fight you?"

The human was tense. Nervous. It was kind of endearing, how they tried to seem unafraid but were practically shaking. He briefly considered telling the human he would kill them if they didn't challenge him, but decided to have mercy on the skittish little thing. "It's not exactly a fight. An arm wrestling competition, if you will."

"Uh, my arms are still twigs, man."

"Correct. Which is why you'll be eating actual food and not those glowing mushrooms."

"You're.... Feeding me?"

"I can't have a fair fight if my opponent is withering away."

The microwave beeped, and Copper took it out, stirring it with a fork before walking back to the human and holding it out. The human gave him a suspicious look, and he rolled his eyelights. "It's spaghetti. It's not poisoned or anything."

"... Fuck it, I'll take my chances."

Copper had never seen anyone inhale their food quite as fast as the human inhaled the spaghetti. He didn't think they even chewed. In less than a minute, all the spaghetti had been sucked up and devoured by the ravenous human. He was... kind of impressed, if he was being honest with himself. They set the empty plate down, wiping their mouth free of the sauce. "... I haven't had actual food in AGES."

"How long have you even been out there?"

"Eh..... Five months, give or take."

Five months... Copper supposed he shouldn't have been surprised with how wild she looked, but jeez, five months was a long time for a human to survive down here on their own. "I see."

He turned away from the human. "For now, I will feed you and make sure monsters aren't actively trying to kill you. However, there will be rules if you're going to stay here. The first is that you're not allowed outside on your own until it has been established that no monsters will attack you. The second is that if I tell you to do something, you have to do it. If I say run or hide, you will do those things. The final rule is that you-"

As he turned to look at the human, he was met with their unconscious form draped over the cushions. He faltered, then sighed. The human was probably rather tired. Well, they clearly hadn't slept in an actual bed in a while. No use leaving them on the couch in that uncomfortable-looking position. With a sigh, he scooped up the human and went upstairs, laying them on his bed. They were so... small...

He shook his head out of his thoughts. Enough of that.

He had work to do.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

be okay

X=done, O=taken

Prompt: bleeding out

Whumpee: Geralt of Rivia

Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix show)

For: @deepwoundsandfadedscars​

I haven’t written much for this fandom before (this is only my second work) so I’m kinda figuring stuff out, so this may not be the best, but I hope it’s ok!! (also i hope my like. lore and shit is not too bad i googled stuff lol)

Geralt’s life was simple. Find the monster. Fight the monster. Kill the monster. Get paid. Get out of town. As it always was. 

Except this time, it wasn’t. All because the fucking bard had decided to come along. Well. Decided wasn’t really the right word for it. Decided implied that Geralt had given the bard a choice of some sort, when in fact the exact opposite was true-Jaskier had simply spotted Geralt from across the tavern the night before his hunt, and refused to leave once he knew what was going on. So Geralt was stuck with a companion he didn’t especially want but who he absolutely could not get rid of. 

He’d awoken early in the morning to set out on his hunt for the group of drowners which had been lurking in a pond in the forest at the edge of town. Several young women had already met their demise by the time Geralt had caught word of it, so he’d perhaps spent slightly less time preparing for his hunt than he normally would have. The one saving grace of having Jaskier present, he supposed-the bard could pack his supplies while he sharpened his blade. 

So the two of them set off into the forest. The pond wasn’t too far deep into the trees, so Geralt had elected to leave Roach at the inn and walk instead, a move which he regretted as soon as they stepped foot into the woods and Jaskier swung his lute off his back and began to play. 

Fortunately, as soon as the pond came into view, Jaskier went silent, understanding how important it was to be quiet, now that the fight was nearing. 

The fight itself was not particularly difficult-only three drowners apparently resided in this particular pond, and Geralt, his enhanced senses coupled with the effects of a blizzard potion, had little trouble taking them all out. 

He could feel the effects of the potion begin to wear off as he straggled out of the pond, covered in blood and monster guts and algae. He tossed the head of one of the drowners, retrieved as proof to the townspeople that their monster had been taken care of, to Jaskier, who was standing far too close to the edge of the pond to have been safe should a drowner have left the fight to find another victim. Jaskier reflexively caught the head, saw what it was, yelped, and dropped it on the ground. It rolled away, and would have rolled straight back into the pond, were it not for Geralt sticking out a foot and stopping it. 

“Why the fuck,” Jaskier said, brushing drowner guts off his clothes, “would you do that?”

“You want to come on a hunt, you get to help.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hm. Too late.”

Geralt tossed the head back to Jaskier, who caught it with a groan and held it by the hair as far away from his body as he could. 

The pair began their trek back to town. Jaskier did not reach for his lute this time. Not that he could, of course, his hands being occupied with the drowner head as he continually passed it back and forth between them, as though it were something hot and he was trying to minimise the damage it would do to his hands. 

Jaskier was switching the head from his left to his right hand when a few feet ahead of them, a rabbit crashed out of a bush with far more noise than Jaskier thought it had any right to make. He dropped the head to the ground once again, and it began to roll rather quickly down the slight slope that they were walking down. Jaskier hurried off after it, already feeling Geralt’s anger at him having nearly lost the damn thing twice. 

He had just caught up to the head and bent to retrieve it when an arrow whizzed past his head, so close that it ruffled his hair. The head forgotten, he stood up quickly, searching for his assailant. A second arrow came flying out of the right side of the woods, and he stepped back, nearly stumbling over his own feet as it came within an inch of his face. 

“Geralt!”

Geralt had, of course, already been aware of the attack before Jaskier had shouted-in fact, he had run into the woods as soon as Jaskier had run off after the head, having heard a twig snap unnaturally and catching the scent of humans who were surely up to no good. 

He reached these humans just as the second arrow was fired, and stabbed the man who’d fired it directly through the chest. Two other men rounded on him immediately, with daggers in their hands and bows slung across their backs. He struck at the first one and managed to cut his neck as he ducked, but the second man was on him in an instant, silvery dagger flashing in the sunlight. But a dagger was no match for a sword, and Geralt easily parried the man’s strike, then stabbed him through the stomach. He collapsed to the ground, and Geralt turned away.

One left. He moved to strike, and stopped cold when a sword plunged into his back and through his body. He looked down at the tip of the blade that stuck out from his armour and wondered how in the hell he’d missed the fact that apparently, one of them had had a sword. 

However, not even a sword through the back could stop a witcher with monsters to kill, and he made short work of the one man left standing, then rounded on the one he’d stabbed through the stomach, whose hands and face were splattered with Geralt’s blood. He hefted his sword, feeling his arms begin to shake, and stabbed the man through the chest, skewering him to the ground. 

He leaned on the hilt of his sword, breathing heavily, as he tried to work out what to do. He’d been stabbed before, obviously, but never quite as...extensively as this. He groaned and sank to his knees just as Jaskier came crashing through the trees, brandishing his lute like a sword, coming to a screeching halt when he saw the carnage in front of him: three dead men, an array of bows and daggers splayed around them, blood seeping into the dirt and leaves, and Geralt at the center of it all, on his knees with a sword clean through his torso. 

Jaskier dropped his lute and rushed to Geralt’s side. 

“What happened?”

“What’s...it look like?”

“No, okay, I know what happened, but...what happened?”

“Got stabbed.”

“Impaled, more like. What the fuck...what the fuck am I supposed to do? Geralt? Geralt, what...?”

“‘S fine,” Geralt coughed, a thin trickle of blood running from his mouth. He couldn’t survive this. He would lose too much blood before they’d be able to reach help. “Always knew I’d...die bloody.”

“No. No, you are not dying. Absolutely not.”

Geralt groaned again. Fuck, this hurt. He could feel his normally-slow heart beating far too fast, the blood pumping out of his wound in time with its beating. 

“Think I am.”

 Jaskier dropped to his knees in front of him. “No, you are not. Tell me what to do.”

“Nothing.” With that Geralt fell forward, the tip of the sword digging into the dirt. 

“No, no, no, okay, think...” Jaskier muttered frantically to himself. What could he do?

If he thought much longer about what to do, Geralt would die. There was no time to think-he just had to act. Be impulsive. He knew how to do that. 

Jaskier stood up, grabbed the hilt of the sword protruding from Geralt’s back firmly with both hands, and pulled up. 

Geralt nearly screamed when he did it, writhing on the ground in some desperate and futile effort to escape the pain. 

“Why,” he gasped out, “did you do that?”

“I don’t know, I panicked, okay?”

Jaskier realised immediately that what he’d done was not the right thing to do-without the sword to slow the bleeding somewhat, Geralt’s wound was bleeding far more profusely now, and Jaskier frantically searched for something, anything-there! 

One of the dead men had a bag slung over his shoulder, a cloth one with a thick rope handle. Perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but it would do. 

Jaskier pulled the bag off the dead man’s shoulder, dumped its contents to the ground, and searched wildly for something to cut it with, his eyes quickly falling on one of the dead men’s daggers. He chopped the fabric of the bag roughly in two, then cut off the handle. 

He returned to Geralt. “Geralt, I’m going to need you to sit up, okay?”

No response. 

“Geralt?”

Nothing. 

He frantically checked the witcher’s pulse, which was alarmingly quick and faint. 

“Fuck, don’t make me do this by myself.”

But Geralt still didn’t respond, so Jaskier set to work on his own, pushing the witcher into a sitting position as carefully as he could, removing his bloody armor to better address the wound (if Geralt lived through this, and he would, he had to, he’d kill Jaskier for that). Jaskier sucked in a breath through his teeth as the full extent of Geralt’s injury was made visible. A large, fairly smooth entrance wound at the back, and a similarly large but dirty exit wound at the front, and far, far too much blood. 

Jaskier pressed a piece of fabric to each wound, wondering if this would really do anything at all. He couldn’t think like that, he reminded himself. Geralt would live. He had to. Jaskier tied the makeshift bandages up with the rope, as tightly as he dared, then carefully let Geralt’s body sink back to the ground. 

He stood up and grabbed his lute, slinging it over his back. He thought for a brief second, then placed the dagger he’d used to cut Geralt’s ‘bandages’ securely in his belt. He then returned his attention to the witcher, once again carefully lifting him to a sitting position, and then to his feet, which was quite a harder task than it sounded, but he managed it. 

“Okay, Geralt, I could really use your help here,” he muttered. “Please?”

Geralt’s eyes fluttered open for a second. “Jas’...wh’tre you doin’?”

“Saving your life, idiot. Which would be a lot easier if you’d bloody help.”

“Hm.”

Geralt did his best to help, which mostly consisted of taking small and shaky steps and making rather pitiful noises each time he did. Jaskier did his best as well, which was quite a lot better than Geralt’s best, at the moment, and fairly carried the both of them back into town, which, fortunately, hadn’t been too far away. 

The second they (Jaskier, really) stepped into the square, they were surrounded by clamouring locals. 

“Do any of you know a healer?” Jaskier fairly shouted, desperation cracking his voice. 

A few of them nodded, pointing to a small hut near the woods on the opposite side of the square. “Ol’ witch Thornton will set you right,” said a kind-faced man in blacksmith’s clothes. “Let me help you.”

Jaskier sighed in relief, though he knew this whole thing was far from over. He began to walk towards the hut, the blacksmith helping him and taking on some of Geralt’s dead weight. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure what he’d expected of ‘ol’ witch Thornton,’ but he was greeted by a woman who looked like she could be a grandmother. She smiled warmly at her new arrivals and directed the two men to lie Geralt across a small bed in a corner of her surprisingly-spacious hut. That done, the blacksmith headed out, with a quick wish in the way of Geralt’s healing.

“What happened?” the witch asked, as she began to work on Geralt with a variety of jars and bags of things Jaskier could not (and perhaps did not care to) name. 

“I dunno, really. Someone shot at me twice, with a bow, and by the time I got to where it had come from, Geralt had killed three men, and he was stabbed through with a sword.”

“That is quite a story, young bard. Tell me, has your witcher here ever been stabbed through with a sword before?”

“Probably not. He said he was going to die. He isn’t, is he? You can fix him?”

She nodded calmly. “Oh yes, I can fix him. He has lost quite a bit of blood, but with his constitution, he should be just fine. I simply wondered because, as I take it, you carried him here nearly on your own, which is quite a feat for a bard. I thought perhaps you’d carried him before.”

She began stitching Geralt’s wounds. He didn’t even move, too far gone with the blood loss to register anything at all. Jaskier supposed he should be thankful for that-he couldn’t imagine it felt very nice to be stitched up while completely lucid, even with a witcher’s strength.

He thought on the witch’s statement for a moment, watching the needle pierce his friend’s flesh as though nothing was wrong with that, as though everything was fine, which it would be, he reminded himself. Geralt was in good hands. “I haven’t. Carried him, I mean. Usually I’m just tagging along with him-if either of us ended up carrying the other, I’m sure I would’ve thought it would be him carrying me.”

“Do not underestimate yourself, bard. You saved his life today.”

Jaskier nodded-he had done that, hadn’t he? And Geralt...Geralt had thought he was going to die. 

But here he was, alive. Currently unconscious, bloody, paler than death, and being stitched up, but alive. 

He would be okay. 

He would be okay.

I feel like the ending could be better but if it didn’t have a bad ending it wouldn’t be my writing would it lol, anyway hope you enjoyed!!! I liked writing this!

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [12]

masterlist

Words: 7.4k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: extreme violence/depictions of death up in this bish

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: If only I enjoyed writing fluff as much as I enjoy writing this stuff lol. Sorry it took me awhile to get this cranked out but here ya go! Please engoy and send me your thoughts! 💙

It had been over a minute since Jungkook left, yet you were still staring at the spot where he disappeared into the darkness of the forest. It was between two thick trees, one of which had a vine creeping up the side, and a branch was stretched across the opening. You remembered how he had placed one hand on the branch while ducking his head to go beneath it, all the while still not looking back.

The wind rustled the leaves and tall grass around you, causing the delicate green blades to lightly graze your legs. You shivered at the contact. It made you recall how lightly Jungkook had trailed his fingers against your skin. How it had made your body tingle and your breaths to come out in short gasps. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away from the opening between those two trees, trying to block the memory out. Trying to block him out. You could hear Tae and Hobi shifting their feet beside you, probably unsure of what to do or say to you. Another gust of wind sent your hair dancing across your face and with a tiny, frustrated exhale you grabbed at it and held it back.

Tae, in a voice as soft as the moonlight, called out your name, which made you slowly ease your eyes open and release your hair. You took a few seconds to calm your breathing before looking his way. Both he and Hobi had their eyes on you, their faces a mix of confusion, intrigue, and guilt.

“So…” Hobi began awkwardly, pursing his lips and pulling out one of the blades of his forearm to toy with.

“So what?” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you knew that you were failing miserably. “You heard him. We were… sparing.”

Tae frowned while Hobi sighed and returned his blade to its sheath before crossing his arms and raising his chin so that he was looking slightly down at you. It was a daunting look and so different from his typically cheerful expression. For the first time, you felt like his demeanor matched his outfit.

You gulped and looked down, not wanting to face his intimidating stare that was obviously calling your bullshit. You didn’t elaborate, though. It wasn’t exactly easy to say you had almost canoodled with their brother not once, but twice. That both times left you extremely confused yet turned on. That regardless of him being a rude asshat and basically insulting you, you were wanting more. That you had no idea what either of you were doing, let alone feeling.

How could you explain something that you couldn’t begin to understand yourself?

Noticing your lack of response, Tae came up to you and grabbed your hand before suggesting heading back to the village to go to sleep. “And you can tell us what happened on the way, okay?”

You nodded your consent and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

The three of you began walking away from the moon-lit clearing and into the darkness of the trees. Hobi came up to your other side and snatched your free hand in his. He started swinging your clasped hands back and forth through the air but didn’t ask you any more questions. Both he and Tae just held your hands and walked in silence, waiting until you were ready to talk.

After raking your brain for several minutes for the best way to approach and word the situation, you hesitantly opened your mouth and told them what happened. But only the basics and none of the explicit details. So essentially, you told them how you and Jungkook had gotten, erm, close after the training seminar but were interrupted like how you were just were again and afterwards, he keeps highlighting how he doesn’t find you attractive because your human and blah blah blah.

“Aish, that kid.” Hobi grumbled and blew a raspberry.

You expelled a puff of air and removed your hands from theirs so you could press them against your head stressfully. “I mean… it’s okay if he doesn’t think I’m pretty or whatever, I just…”

The white-haired Saeni nodded in understanding. “You’re just confused because his actions differ from his words.”

You gave your hair a tug in frustration as you confirmed Hobi’s statement.

“I think he may just be scared,” the other Saeni with you said.

You peeked at Tae curiously. “Of what?”

Since your eyes were no longer watching where you were going, you tripped over who knows what and quickly grabbed his arm to steady yourself.

“Of you,” he replied with a smile as he helped you regain your footing.

“Why the heck would he be scared of me?”

The two males gave each other a knowing look before Tae said that Jungkook should be the person to tell you why.

You huffed and stepped over a pile of twigs, wondering how much further until you made it back to the village.

Why did I have to walk so fucking far?

All you wanted to do was cuddle with Tae and be lulled to sleep by his soft snores and the sound of a crackling fire. That was all you fucking wanted right now. But alas, you just had to make things difficult for yourself and walk eons away from the village.

You licked your lips as you moved a branch out of your face. You decided you didn’t want to talk about him anymore. You were tired, pretty much emotionally drained, and he was so annoying you were this close to getting a migraine.

Glancing at the male beside you, you coughed before lightly clapping your hands together as you stepped around a tree inconveniently in your way. “Since we’re on the lovely topic of, uh, feelings and being confused and whatnot… how are things going with you, Hobi?”

He sighed deeply and brought out another knife, twirling it in his hand.

Tae, on the other hand, drew his eyebrows in a curious manner. “How’s what going?”

Shit, does Tae not know?

You sent a sheepish look to the older Saeni, raising your shoulders a bit apologetically, but he just glumly hummed.

“I… I don’t know. He’s been acting weird lately and fidgeting a lot. Maybe he found out and is uncomfortable with me now.” He picked at his nails with the knife, a frown evident on his face.

Fucking hell, Mr. Sparkle Hands. Looks like I need to have a talk with him and his shitty flirting technique.

“Wait… what are we talking about?”

You went over to Tae, who had stopped walking in his confusion, and grabbed his arm to get him moving again. “Um, it’s nothing you need to worry about TaeTae. Promise.”

You could sense Tae pouting; he didn’t like being kept out of the loop, but he also knew when to leave something be.

You then turned to Hobi and gave him the best reassuring smile you could muster. “I’m sure everything will be okay.”

He sent you a smile back, but it wasn’t quite as sunny as it usually was. Then, he returned the blade to its home and braced his hands on a fallen log before jumping over the obstacle, you and Tae soon following suit.

The three of you walked on in relative silence after that until you finally made it back to the village. The low light of the many fires spread throughout the area alerting you of your arrival. As you neared, you looked around to see where everyone was. First, you caught sight of Jin and Namjoon speaking and laughing with some of the villagers straight ahead. You let your gaze shift to the right, where you saw the one and only asshat sitting in front of one of the fires, his arms resting against his knees with his head hanging low. The orange light from the fire flickered across his features, but you couldn’t make out his expression. Across from him, Yoongi sat with his back to you. From your angle you couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like they were having a serious conversation since Yoongi kept gesturing and Jungkook was continuously huffing. You stilled as you watched them, wondering what they were discussing. Beside you, you heard Hobi take in a deep breath as he squared his shoulders then began making his way toward them. At his approach, Jungkook lazily tilted his head up to greet his brother, but saw you standing in the background. His head shot upright and he opened his mouth slightly like he wanted to say something, but you abruptly turned away, acting like you hadn’t seen him.

The new scene you were looking at, though, wasn’t much better. Your eyes landed on Jimin and Jiae, who were still huddled close while her guards watched them from behind. Seeing them together made you remember why you left in the first place as you felt a fresh flood of hurt stab your chest. Quickly averting your gaze to the ground, you tried to subdue the internal pain.

Tae nudged you tenderly. “Hey, come on, little scorja. Let’s go to bed.”

You let him tug you away from the others and over to the fire where you had left your things in a dazed state. You snapped out of it when he started rolling out your sleeping mat and blanket, protesting that you could do it yourself. He just shushed you and told you to wait and let him do it.

Once finished, he instructed you to lay down and get comfortable while he got his things. Following his orders, you nestled into your blanket and put one arm behind your head to stare up at the night sky. You started counting the stars, hoping it would distract your mind and make you drowsy.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen…

You felt Tae drop down beside you and ask if you were good. You gave him a limp thumbs up in response, not looking away from the stars, and he murmured a sweet good night before wrapping his arms around you and letting his breaths grow heavy. As you felt his arms around you relax into sleep, you let your head loll to the side and take in the empty space next to you. You did nothing but look at the empty spot for several seconds, just thinking. Then, with a deep inhale through your nose, you returned your gaze to the endless black expanse high above you.

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two…

Some hours later, you were roused from your magnificent dream of eating copious amounts of mozzarella sticks by a gentle sensation trailing against your jaw. You stirred, groaning slightly, and went to wiggle your body to the side to return to your cheesy dream, but something held you down. You were forced to remain on your back, but you didn’t think much of it. It was probably just Tae clinging to you. After a few seconds of trying and failing to fall back into a slumber, the sensation against your jaw became heavier and more familiar. You stirred once more and began to register a presence looming above you.

“I’m sorry…” You heard a voice you recognized whisper.

Cracking your eyes open, you saw a blur of burgundy and a flash of peridot in the low light of the fire’s dying embers.

Jungkook?

You couldn’t make out anything else besides him. He was all you could see; everything else was absorbed in a dark, rich black. You couldn’t even make out the moon or the stars. He was beside you, in the spot he usually took up that was empty when you went to sleep. In the back of your mind, you wondered why he even bothered coming over after he left you earlier. But the thought was lost as he brought a hand up to thread through your hair and cradle the back of your head. Although your mind was still cloudy, you automatically tilted your head into his hand to give his mouth better access to your skin.

You knew you shouldn’t be letting him do this. You really, really shouldn’t. You knew that. But you couldn’t find the will to push him away. You couldn’t bring yourself to make him stop.

“I’m sorry.” He continued to work his lips against your jaw, kissing the skin gently.

It was warm outside, though you couldn’t help but shiver with every movement of his mouth. Occasionally, he nipped at your throat before smoothing his tongue over the bitten skin, making your breath hitch. He was probably leaving marks, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you wanted to reach up and touch him too, but your limbs felt sluggish, like you were dragging them underwater through a current. Maybe it was because you were just brought out of a deep sleep? You closed your eyes to concentrate, but you still felt like you were lagging. You just weren’t able to raise your hands.

His sinful ministrations weren’t helping you focus either. The hot air of his ragged breaths hit your skin as his lips dragged until they hit a certain sweet spot that left you gasping and trembling. He paused briefly, most likely smirking to himself, before diving back in.

Cocky asshat… but what is he…? Isn’t Tae right next to us?

You tried to turn your head to check, but his hand held you firmly in place as he sucked harshly at that one spot. The feeling made your eyes roll back in your head and you released a delicate whimper.

“I’m sorry…” He bit down gently, no doubt leaving another mark to join the others. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want… it’s just that I…”

He stilled his actions and you felt him pull back.

“… I don’t want you.”

All the air in your lungs was suddenly expelled as you snapped your eyes open to look at him in disbelief. His green eyes were already locked on yours, staring at you deeply, but it seemed like there was no emotion behind his. It didn’t look right.

He stared directly at you as he continued. “Nobody does.”

You felt a lash of pain course through you and borough into your heart. With eyes wide in shock, you tried to push him off, but you still couldn’t move your arms. The more you struggled, the heavier and more sluggish they became. You couldn’t move your arms, your legs, your head. You couldn’t look away from his gaze. Dead green eyes and a never-ending blackness behind him. That was all you could see. It was suffocating.

“Even your own best friend doesn’t want you. He has no need for you anymore.”

A lump formed in your throat and tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes.

No… stop…

“Nobody needs you. Nobody wants you.”

You wanted to shrink and hide, but you couldn’t. You were trapped. Unable to move. Caught in his arms and gaze. From behind his head, the endless black background began to grow and pulsate. Tendrils of black smoke began to curl around the edge of his handsome face and enwrap his form. It moved as if it had a mind of its own. As if it was alive. With each beat of your heart, it expanded. You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath, not past your choked-up throat and the increasing pace of your inhales. You were stuck looking at Jungkook’s face as it began to crack and reveal small rivers of smoky darkness underneath his skin. His mouth slowly morphed into a small, manic smile as the cracks traveled across the expanse of his face and reached his eyes. The white of his sclera was shattered by rivulets of night as the cracks and smoke invaded his orbs. In mere seconds, the green of his irises was gone, and he stared at you with obsidian eyes. You watched in horror as he began to cry a semi-translucent black. The liquid trailed down his cheeks, some of it branching off and following the cracks in his face. It trailed down, down, down until it dripped off his chin. You flinched, expecting to feel the drops hit your face, but when they fell, they turned back into wisps of smoke.

Which then began to curl down toward you.

The entire time, Jungkook just maintained that twisted grin on his face while observing you with blank, dark eyes.

“J-jungkook…” You tried to break free from the heaviness weighing you down, but you had no progress.

His unhinged smile grew wider, causing more cracks to appear on his skin.

More smoke.

More struggle.

“Jungkook, stop!” Your body shook as you tried to move away.

The smoke was almost touching you now, dancing just above your nose, and he was still just looking down at you with dead, onyx eyes. With a jolt, you felt yourself start to sink into the ground, like the earth was pulling you down.

“Jungkook! Kookie!” Tears leaked down the side of your face as you begged. “Please!”

His unnerving smile faded until his lips were set in a straight line and he tilted his head to the side. “You need to wake up and realize that nobody wants you.”

All you could do was sob as you were drowned in smoke and earth. You weren’t even struggling anymore. What was the point? You just cried as you were swallowed by the dark. The obscuring black overtaking your vision. You could barely make out Jungkook.

“You need to wake up, Y/N.” His voice echoed down to you.

Nobody needs me…

“Wake up!”

Nobody wants me…

“Y/N, wake the fuck up!”

You jolted awake, upper body rising from the ground quickly as you gasped for breath and felt the solid earth beneath you. No smoke. No sinking.

A dream. It was just a dream…

Your eyes darting around, trying to get your bearings but not able to fixate on anything. All you could make out was blurs of brown, black, red, green, blue, white, grey, and orange. You felt a weight on each of your shoulders give you a hard shake and you blinked numerous times as you registered a person in front of you. Burgundy hair. Green eyes. Jungkook.

“What’s g-”

He gave you another forceful shake, rattling your brain. “Fucking Illai, would you get up!? They’re coming!”

Huh?

You blinked a few more times, finally focusing fully on the male and your surroundings. The first thing you saw was his steeled face, then his worried eyes. He moved to cradle your face with both hands but looked away from you as someone called his name. You realized there was yelling all around you. Frantic and rushed.

“What’s going on?”

He looked back at you and whipped the blanket off your legs, allowing the cool air of the early morning to attack your lower limbs.

The sun was just beginning to break over the horizon and you could see the other members of the kiela grabbing their weapons and running further into the village.

“You need to get up. Get your bow and follow me. Now.”

He let go of your face and you haphazardly made it to your feet as he explained, “Some villagers spotted a large group of draikensu headed this way.”

Oh… oh SHIT.

You placed the strap for your quiver over your head and on your shoulder, grabbed your bow, and dug through your backpack as fast as possible to find your daily petals. Ripping the small side pocket open, you grabbed them and stuffed the delicate objects into your mouth, shaking slightly as their magic assaulted your freshly awakened and still freaked out mind. Before the effects even subsided, you rose and nodded at the male, who grabbed your hand and began pulling you along. As you marched past the various shacks, animal pens, and structures, you saw the villagers hurriedly gathering their belongings and trying to reinforce their homes. Some were grabbing whatever rustic weapons they could find, and others were trying to help direct the flow of scared Saeni rushing down the paths. At the heart of the village, you saw the kiela grouped together as they listened to Namjoon. The leader was pointing in various directions and at various members, probably giving them orders.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook led you past them and toward a large shack that was being filled with the village’s children and parents who were unable to fight. Their frightened screams and cries began to full your ears and you looked to Jungkook in absolute disbelief as he brought you toward the doorway.

You tried to yank your hand out of his. “You can’t be serious! I’m not going to hide in there while you’re out here figh-”

He cut your words off as he yanked you around to face him and grasped your biceps. “Shut up and listen. You’re not going in there, you’re going to guard it. You and Mingi.” He tipped his chin toward Jiae’s guard, who you hadn’t noticed before.

He was helping direct the children and parents into the wooden structure. He appeared calm, but you could tell he was trying to get them to move their asses a bit faster. Jungkook suddenly gave you a shake, bringing your attention back to him.

“Jiae is in there too, part of the reason Mingi is watching it while the others help us. Just find a hiding spot and take out any fuckers who try to get close. But do not… do not engage with anyone who isn’t an immediate threat to you or the kids, okay? Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

His green eyes softened momentarily, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but you heard Namjoon calling for him.

With a sigh, his eyes hardened once more and he whispered, “Just be careful.”

Then, he turned and ran back in the direction of the kiela, leaving you to deal with a lot of panicking Saeni.

As you stared after him, you felt someone bump into you. Quickly, you broke your eyes away and reached out to steady the frantic female holding a small baby in her arms. She locked her eyes with yours and began hyperventilating, asking what she should do, where she should go. With a gentle hand and comforting words, you guided her to the entrance of the shack. Once safely inside, you turned to Mingi and gave him a questioning look. He described how two young villagers spotted the draikensu while hunting this morning and ran back to alert everyone. With how far away they had been when they saw them and how much time had passed since, they should be arriving at any minute.

Okay. Cool cool cool cool cool. Let’s keep it calm and composed, Y/N.

A few more Saeni and their children arrived at the shack while others were still running around with weapons or toward their homes. You had no idea where the kiela was or what they were doing. Hell, you had no idea what you were doing.

“Y/N!”

You looked up through the doorway and saw Jiae with a young boy in her arms looking at you over the crowd. You met her wide, frightened eyes and did your best to send her a reassuring smile as she was forced further into the back to make room for the last arriving additions. With how your mind was reeling and emotions were running, your smile might have come out as a grimace, though.

“Everyone get inside!” You heard someone yell in the distance, making the worried kids and parents stuffed inside the building cry out.

Shit. Shit. Shit. They must be here.

Ushering in the last Saeni, a father holding the hand of his daughter, you waved your arms frantically to get everyone’s attention. It took several seconds, though, as many of them were too scared to focus properly.

Once you had most of their eyes on you, you brought a finger to your lips and softly said, “You all need to stay very quiet, okay? I know you’re scared and it’s going to sound scary too, but it’s very important that you stay quiet.”

Jiae, majority of the parents, and a few of the older kids nodded, and they began trying to console and hush those who were blubbering and shrieking. Knowing you didn’t have the time to do or say anything else, you hastily closed the door and you heard someone bar it on the other side. Stepping away from the door, you locked eyes with Mingi, who gave you a curt nod and unsheathed his sword before taking up a position directly in front of the shack.

Alright, find a hiding spot. Find a hiding spot. Come on.

You did a 360-degree turn, taking in the now barren village and trying to decide where you should go. Spotting an opening with a protected back, you jogged to a nearby building and crouched down behind a pile of empty, wooden crates. They were stacked in an ‘L’ shape, providing you a clear view of Mingi as well as the pathway to the right of the shack. Your back was covered by the building itself and if you needed to, you could retreat further into the corner so that your front and left sides were protected too.

Let’s hope that years of camping in Call of Duty will come in handy here. You thought as you reached back to grab an arrow and loosely notch it.

You shifted on your feet as you heard yells and strikes of metal against metal start to erupt around you. The unmistakable screams of dying people already echoing in your ears. You lightly practiced your draw as the soft morning light was occasionally broken up by brief flashes of mint blue. You couldn’t see what was happening from your position, you could only hear the rising chaos. You didn’t know how many draikensu there were, in which direction they were attacking from, or what the kiela’s plan was. You could only stay where you were and listen. You tilted your head up to look over the crates to see if Mingi had any sort of plan, but he was focused on observing his surroundings.

Apparently, his plan was just to wait and take down whoever came by.

Okay, breathe. You can do that. Just get ready.

You felt your heart start to beat harder and harder and harder as you waited. Your palms began to sweat as you took deep breaths, trying to calm your raging pulse as the world went to shit around you.

Suddenly, you heard the sound of feet racing against the earth and through the slits in the crates to your left, you saw a smudge dart past. Peeking over the crates, you mentally prepared yourself to pull your bowstring back, but found it unnecessary as Mingi cleaved through the Saeni in one, powerful stroke of his sword. He slashed down diagonally, causing blood to spill onto the dirt while the Saeni spun as she fell with a pained cry. She collapsed and twitched once before stilling permanently; her blood pooling beneath her and soaking into the earth. Hearing an outraged yell from your right, you whipped your head in that direction and saw a male charging down the path toward Mingi.

Fuck!

Luckily, he hadn’t seen you yet, as you were tucked into the corner and his eyes were only fixated on his dead comrade. You turned your body, still crouched down, and drew your bowstring back. You did your best to breath out slowly and focus your aim despite the adrenaline and fear singing through your veins. With a shaky breath, you released the arrow and gasped as it thumped into the male’s lower abdomen. A blossom of crimson immediately sprouted on his torso. He staggered back from the impact but did not fall. Instead, he slowly raised his eyes from the shaft protruding from his body until he saw you huddled in the corner.

Ohhh shit. New arrow. New arrow!

Hastily, you pulled another arrow out, notched it, and took aim as he broke the shaft off with an angry, pained yell and began stalking toward you. To your side, you heard the harsh clanging of metal. Mingi must be fighting another draikensu. You needed to finish off this one fast and help him. You sent the second arrow flying into the male, this time hitting the right side of his chest. You watched as his steps slowed and he brought a hand up to brush against the shaft extending out from his body as he gulped for air. Blood cascaded past his fingers as he gingerly touched the wound. Metal in flesh, wood sticking out from skin, blood overflowing. He fell to his knees and leaned one hand on the ground as the other continued to clutch at his maimed body. He began coughing and bloody spit dribbled onto his chin as he continued to collapse. You just watched with wide eyes as his arm gave out and he finally and fully sagged to the ground, his mouth still trying to gasp for breath.

A defiant outcry captured your attention away from the slowly dying Saeni and you glanced to the left to see Mingi fighting two draikensu. You grabbed another arrow from over your shoulder and went to shoot one of them, but the sight of a new Saeni rushing down the pathway made you shift aim. Swiveling to your new target, you fired off the arrow. You missed. You weren’t even close. She was moving too fast. Cursing, you quickly sent another flying. Compensating for her speed this time, it hit her directly in the chest; the force of your shot caused her to land on her back as blood bubbled up from the entry point.

You heard garbled cries and grunts of exertion and you once again peeked over to check in on Jiae’s guard. He had several dead Saeni surrounding him as he breathed raggedly. Blood coated his sword and dripped off the tip. His face and body were painted crimson. From the shack, you could hear the whimpers from the children, but you were glad they were inside. You were glad they couldn’t see the carnage happening around them.

The ringing and crashing sounds of fights occurring throughout the village was still loud and clear, though you primarily heard your shaky and labored breathing. It almost muffled everything else. Your heart was frantically beating, and you swear it was about to jump out of your chest. Pure adrenaline was thrumming through you, making your hands tremble as you unsteadily reached back to grab yet another arrow.

Stay calm and don’t die. Stay calm and don’t die. Stay calm and don’t die. You repeated the mantra over and over and over in your head.

You perked up as a new Saeni began making his way down the path. He was going slowly, kicking in doors and upturning crates and baskets. You inhaled and raised your bow, narrowing your eyes on his chest as he rummaged through the contents of a smashed box. Waiting for him to go upright. You were so focused on him, though, that you failed to see his buddy turn the corner and lock his eyes on you. He called his comrade’s name before charging straight at you. With a yelp, you switched aim and messily shot at him, but he easily evaded the shot and rammed his body straight into yours like a fucking linebacker.

His tackle forced you through the crates and you felt the air in your lungs get knocked out. Shattered wood littered the dirt underneath and around you. Struggling to regain control of your body, you felt yourself spasm briefly as the Saeni leaned back from where he straddled your waist and grabbed a knife from his belt. Without a second thought, you let your bow drop to the ground and you thrust your forearm up to block his arm that was descending toward you with the blade. The low morning light glinted off the weapon. Your arm shook as you strained to keep the knife away from you. With a strangled grunt you sent your other fist straight into the male’s stomach then genital area. As he wheezed and went limp on top of you, you managed to bring a knee up and buck him off you. The action made a piece of broken wood dig into your side, and you winced from the sharp, stabbing pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mingi attack the Saeni you had initially targeted, their blades locking. Heaving your body to your knees, you grabbed the male’s wrist holding the knife while he was still disoriented and twisted as hard as you could. He hissed in pain as your maneuver caused him to release the weapon. It landed on the ground softly a few feet away. Panting, you went to grab it, but the male grabbed your leg and dragged you backward. Your hands fought for purchase on the ground, but found none, so you tightened your hand around a jagged piece of wood. Splinters dug into your palm. The pain helped you focus. He flipped your body over and crawled on top of you once more. He leaned down to try to wrap his hands around your throat. Striking out with your makeshift weapon, you scratched his hands and wrists deeply. Pulling back, you roared before thrusting it into his side. He shrieked in pain and reared back. You were able to scramble out from underneath him. While he slowly wrapped his hand around the wood stake buried in him, you turned back over and dug your fingers through the dirt to propel your body toward the knife. You had just closed your hand around the hilt when you felt him grab you again. With a scream, you slashed at his stomach with the blade, knocking into the wood in his side you did so. The arc of the knife opened his gut, making him release you to clutch at the severed flesh. Breathing heavily, you rose to your feet and adjusted your grip on the knife’s handle before plunging the serrated metal into the junction of the male’s neck and shoulder. Then you ripped it out. Blood spilled out from the wound and drenched the male’s body. It flew through the air after the blade and spattered against your skin and clothes. Once again, it surprised you how easily the metal entered the body. How simple it was for the cold blade to puncture warm flesh and how effortlessly it could be removed.

With a rasping wheeze, the male collapsed forward. He died with a face full of wood, dirt, and blood.

The scent of iron filled your nose and made your head light. As you backed away from the corpse, you looked up to see Mingi shove his sword through the middle of the other Saeni. He met your eyes as he pulled the sword out from the Saeni’s body, and you nodded at him to signal you were okay before letting go of the bloody knife. You quickly scanned the ground before bending down to retrieve your bow, pushing your sweaty and blood-coated hair out of your face as you did so.

You sighed and looked at your destroyed camping spot. Most of the crates had been demolished. There was no way you could hide there anymore. That left you with standing out in the open or… you glanced up then at the few crates left intact. There weren’t many but maybe…

You hurriedly stacked four of them and stood on top of the wobbly structure. You took a deep breath and counted to three before jumping up and grabbing the edge of the roof. You squirmed, your lower half flailing, as you dragged your body onto the top of the building. Luckily, all the morning training with Jungkook had started strengthening your arms so while it hurt it wasn’t an impossible feat. After successfully pulling your body all the way up, you leaned your weight forward so that you wouldn’t fall off. It was an open gable roof, so you had to compensate for the slant. The last thing you wanted or needed was to tumble off the damn thing.

Now that you were higher, you had a much better view. Not only for defending the shack and helping Mingi, but for seeing what was going on around you. Plus, nobody could freaking tackle you from up here.

Up ahead, you saw eruptions of blue light at the edge of the village and you could make out a Saeni with orange hair standing on top of a building much like yourself. Jimin. He was sending arrows down into the blue light, no doubt to assist Yoongi. As you trailed your eyes to the left, you saw some villagers engaging a group of draikensu, but they were not faring well. They were quickly being cut down, red flooding the pathway. You wanted to help, but you were too far away. You could only watch helplessly as they fell one after another. Close by, you saw Taw and Jin fighting, quickly disposing their opponents. The way they fought was almost… beautiful. Their attacks were fluid and they moved as a unit. But there was too much gore and chaos to truly appreciate their grace. Thankfully, they didn’t seem hurt, and you watched as they ran to aid the villagers. Turning your feet carefully, you shifted to look behind you, and caught glimpses of white and burgundy running between the shacks. Hobi and Jungkook. You heard chokes of pain following their path, the two of them a deadly and efficient combo.

Turning back around, you looked to the right and saw Namjoon running down a path in your direction. His brown hair was matted down from sweat and blood and his hammer was at the ready in his hand. Close behind and holding a short sword was Suho, another one of Jiae’s guards. They were checking each crossroad as they made their way toward you and Mingi when, all of the sudden, three draikensu charged into view from around a corner behind them. Namjoon immediately wrecked one of them with his hammer, the impact making the Saeni fly back into a building and slump to the ground. He then turned his attention to the second opponent, who slid below his next swing. You sucked in a breath as the third draikensu, who had gone after Suho, thrust her sword deep into his belly. You froze as you watched her place a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she sickeningly twisted her blade inside him. With a laugh, she yanked the blade out and kicked Suho to the ground, the light in his eyes dimming to a dull glossiness. Smiling, she turned to Namjoon, who’s back was to her as he focused on the Saeni before him.

Just as Namjoon slammed the head of his hammer into the chest of the Saeni in front of him, the female behind raised her sword. Time seemed to slow down as you watched her prepare the strike. You didn’t even think, you just acted. Notched an arrow and sent it flying past Namjoon’s brown hair and into the body of the female draikensu. The thump caused the Saeni to stagger back and gaze at the arrow now implanted in her thigh in shock. It also alerted Namjoon to her presence. He quickly turned on his heel and crushed her with a yell. You swear you could hear the crunching of her bones from your position, a good thirty-five feet away. You felt your shoulders relax slightly and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you acknowledged that Namjoon wasn’t about to be gutted before your eyes.

The leader of the kiela took in Suho’s lifeless body for a few moments, then turned and raised his eyes to see you staring at him. Before either of you could do or say anything, you registered movement to your left. Shifting your crouched figure, you saw more draikensu making their way through the village. You flexed your fingers and shook your hand out, trying to control your shaking as you drew out another arrow and readied yourself.

Fuck hiding and waiting for them to come to me. If I see one of those fuckers and they get close enough, they’re dead.

The dark thought didn’t mortify you as you steeled your nerves for the next wave of onslaughts. You probably should have been a little more repulsed by the idea of killing these people, but you weren’t. You felt no guilt in sending arrows toward their hearts and blades into their bodies. They were trying to hurt not only innocents, but people you cared for. You felt no remorse. They could all go to fucking hell.

You gritted your teeth and breathed in through your nose as the draikensu neared closer.

You never thought you could be a killer, but you just wanted to protect the kiela, Jiae, the remainder of her guards, and the villagers. If getting your hands bloody accomplished that, then so be it. You’ll be a killer if it meant keeping them safe.

Maybe, once it was all over, you’ll look back at your actions and become nauseous and disgusted at yourself. But for now, you simply narrowed your eyes and looked for your next target.

It wasn’t that much later that you slipped down from the rooftop. It had been several minutes since you saw any draikensu and you hadn’t heard any residual sounds of fighting in that time, so both you and Mingi agreed the battle was done. It was good thing, too, because you only had two arrows left in your quiver. As your feet hit the ground, you stumbled awkwardly over the broken crate pieces. Mingi was quick to limp over and steady you before you both silently took in the bodies littering the area. Pushing your dirty hair out of your face, you squinted in the rising sunlight as you braced your hands on your knees to inspect the slash on Mingi’s upper thigh. He sustained the injury after flinging himself in front of a draikensu that was getting ready to throw a dagger at you from behind. You prodded at the wound, grimacing as you did so and causing him to suck in air sharply. Thankfully, the cut didn’t go deep, and the bone wasn’t showing, meaning Yoongi would be able to easily heal it with his magic.

You looked up into Mingi’s eyes, taking note for the first time that they were a soft hazel before sending him a tiny smile. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me, but… thank you.”

He shook his head and told you to not worry about it before limping over to the shack that held the parents and children. He knocked of the door three times and voiced who he was so that they would unbar the door on the inside. He opened it just a crack and spoke to someone in a hushed tone before reclosing it and making his way back to you.

“I told them to wait until we cleared the bodies out, so the kids don’t see.”

You inhaled deeply and nodded your head in agreement. “I’ll start doing that lovely job. You sit down and wait for Yoongi to get here.”

The male opened his mouth to protest, but you placed your hands on your hips and raised a brow, just daring him to challenge you. Now that everything had calmed down, your adrenaline was starting to wear off, and you realized just how tired and sore you were. You back hurt like a bitch from being body slammed into the ground. Your arms ached from using your bow. You mind was heavy from exhaustion. In other words, you were cranky and was not someone to be arguing with at the moment. You and Mingi stared at each other for several heartbeats until he huffed and sat down on the ground. He stretched his injured leg out in front of him and applied pressure to the bleeding wound with his hand.

Satisfied he complied and wouldn’t be walking on his leg anymore, you pursed your lips and looked at the mess of blood and lifeless flesh scattered around you. With a sigh, you figured you might as well get started. The sooner it was over, the better. Walking over to the nearest one, you bent down and grabbed the Saeni’s leg before beginning to drag the body around the corner to start a pile of corpses.

previous [11] — next [13]

[fanficimagery]

Tops Dogs

#144 "Well that's pretty rude of you to say."

Summary: When the Alexandrians are on their knees and waiting to see which one of them is to be sentenced to death by Negan, an entirely new group steps in and changes everyone's view on just who the true top dogs are out in the new world. SEASON 7 AU. Modern!100 AU.

Fear.

Pure, unadulterated fear courses through his veins and all Rick can think about is how this is all his fault. As his friends and family are forced to their knees, all he can really pray for is that his son lives and everything's done and over with soon so they can get Maggie the help she needs before it's too late.

"All right!" One of the people who’s captured them gloats. "We got a full boat. Lets meet the man." The same man walks up to a dusty RV and knocks twice on the door.

The seconds seem to stretch on as they wait, many of Rick's group shivering in either fear or pain. He knows now that they're in way over their head, that Gregory had led them to believe they actually had a chance against Negan. But boy were they wrong.

So, so wrong.

The RV door creaks open and a man steps out. It's too dark to really see him, but Rick can make out that the man is gripping a bat in hand while letting it lean against his shoulder. "Pissing our pants yet?" He asks. No one utters a word and the man starts walking forward into the light. Fitted jeans, a black leather jacket, and a red scarf wrapping around his neck is what makes up the man that supposedly everyone fears. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." He walks towards Eugene, smiling all the while and starts walking down the line of kneeling individuals. "Yep. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

Lexa's leaning against the door to the cafeteria, watching on as her people are served up their rations for dinner. It's been a peaceful week so far, so it's not really a surprise when one of her best scavengers comes up to her with news.

"Negan's men are hunting," Octavia murmurs quietly as she sidles up to Lexa's side. She makes sure to keep her gaze straight ahead, all weapons sheathed and arms at ease at her sides. "They've crossed the perimeter into our territory and appear to be circling a smaller group from the Alexandria community."

Lexa's jaw clenches, but makes no move to look at the younger girl. "Is Negan with them?"

"We're not sure, but that ugly RV of his was spotted driving around. It's parked now. In our territory as well."

Lexa finally glances at the younger girl, taking in her coal smeared eyes and leather jacket adorned with buckles and straps. Her hair is pulled back in what everyone started to call grounder!fashion, the sides braided back to a certain point and then tied off to hang loosely down her back. "Give me five minutes. Go and gather a group, and then tell Indra she's in charge while I'm away. We're going to crash a party."

Octavia can only grin in response, she tersely nodding once while rushing off to do what she was told.

In her room, Lexa merely pulls on a jacket over her shirt since the rest of her attire is appropriate for an outing. Then above the jacket, she pulls on a one-shoulder shoulder pad that straps across her chest and then clasps a red sash from the right side of her chest to droop down to her left hip. Her hair is already pulled back and after sheathing a sword at the right side of her hip, she paints coal across her eyes and then smears a few lines down her cheeks. A little metal, gear-like decal is placed between her brows and she's ready- ready to break up Negan's little hunting party and remind the man that he's not all he tries to be.

     - X - X - X - 

Hidden in the shadows with half her fighters hidden high up in the trees, Lexa watches on in disgust as an utterly exhausted group of men and women, and what appears to be one teenager, are forced to their knees in a semi-circle. Negan's men are crowded behind the group's back, all armed with long rifles and smaller handguns holstered at their waists, and holding either pipes or crowbars. Vehicles circle the entirety of the group, their headlights turned on and spotlighting the group from Alexandria.

Negan does make his grand entrance, complete in his leather jacket, red scarf and barbed wire wrapped bat, he ranting on and on about how he does not appreciate Rick killing his people or that Rick and his people killed more of Negan's people when Negan sent in more men to kill Rick's people for killing his people. It's all one big cluster-fuck and Lexa nearly feels bad for the people that earned Negan's ire.

One woman in Rick's group looks to be in dire need of help and it grates on Lexa's nerves when Negan promises that they're going to regret crossing him in a few minutes. She knows how the man works, knows how cowardly he truly is, but they've set their borders on their own claimed territory and stayed off each other's toes.

Until now, that is.

Not only has Negan trespassed, but he's trespassed with the intent to kill. And while Lexa does not know a single face in Rick's group, she's not about to sit back and let Negan slaughter someone in her own backyard.

Negan, of course, demands that Rick and his people give him their shit. This is another thing that grates on her nerves, this self-proclaimed bad ass scavenging from other communities by threatening to kill them if they don't cough up what they fought for. For being a very capable man with very capable men and women at his compound, they choose to take food and other necessary items from groups who worked hard to get it themselves, and that is not okay with Lexa. It's cowardly and pathetic, and she's nearly salivating at the idea of putting the man in his place in front of his current victims.

"I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go," Negan says. "I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?"

Rick violently shivers, from both the cooling sweat on his skin and the fear gripping his entire being as he listens to what their lives are going to be like now.

"But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them," Negan seethes. "More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay." He pauses in his overly long speech and Rick bristles as he hears Maggie whimper. He looks down the line to Daryl and watches as his brother bravely glares up at the one threatening them. "So now... I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you," Negan says as if it were no big deal to take a life.

And if the stories were to be believed, which they are, then Negan was the ultimate big bad and what he's just said was no bluff. 

The gathered Alexandrian's can only watch on as the man taunts them, beaten and utterly exhausted, a bat wrapped with barbed wire leaning against his shoulder as Negan slowly paces before them.

Crickets continue chirp, twigs snap, and leaves rustle, but no one seems to pay it any attention. Negan continues to take his time to size up Rick and his people, and then..

"I'm sorry, but what was that?" A new voice, feminine from the sounds of it, asks. Rick and a few of his people's gazes are immediately drawn to the decent sized group that's crept up on them, a woman with war paint across her eyes and apparently dressed for a battle of sorts now standing just to the left of Negan’s RV. Even the group of men behind her are dressed similar, some of their faces painted as an intimidation tactic. "Who are you going to beat the holy hell out of?"

Negan freezes for a brief second, anger suddenly blazing in his eyes as his grip tightens around his bat. A false smile stretches from ear to ear as he whirls around. "Lexa, my girl, how are you on this wondrous night?"

"Cut the shit, Negan," she says. "You're in my territory and you know how I feel about you and your little merry band of cowards playing this bullshit game."

Negan's men all bristle, muttering swear words as the one Negan called Lexa smirks, and Negan narrows his eyes in anger. “Well that’s pretty rude of you to say.” 

Several guns can be heard being cocked, but all Lexa has to do is whistle and then another group- this one at least thirty or so large- is stepping forward from the shadows on the other side of the RV. The female leading the second group is all swagger and nonchalance, and the men behind her are covered in furs, paint and masks which makes them at least 10X scarier than Negan and his own men. 

"You and I already know how this is going to end, Negan. You're in my territory now and my people greatly outnumber you and yours." He scoffs at Lexa's words, eyeing those standing with her. Even to Rick's gaze Negan's group still looks just a little bit larger, but Lexa whistles again and Negan's back to scowling. Because not only does Lexa have men and women on the ground, but if the little fires suddenly dotting up high in the trees is anything to go by, then she also has people waiting to strike from up high. "Leave now," she threatens, "or I'll drive my sword through your heart and string up your corpse as a warning to those left at the Sanctuary."

Negan's lip curls, but as the seconds slowly tick by he eventually glances over his shoulder and nods tersely to his men. Surprisingly, the wall of men at Rick and his people's backs step away, drop the weapons they had stripped from the Alexandrians, and start climbing back into and onto their modes of transportation. Then glancing back at Lexa, Negan mockingly curtsies. "As you wish, Commander."

Negan shoulders his bat once more and then casts a glare at Rick. "Remember. You work for me now."

Rick gulps, but it's Lexa who pipes up. "Actually, they don't. If you want food, clothing, furniture and medicine, then why don't you put on your big boy pants and fetch it yourself like the rest of us."

"You're skating on thin ice, girl," he chuckles darkly while slowly turning back towards her. "They owe me. You clearly missed my speech about the crimes they've committed against me and since I'm not bashin' in any skulls tonight.." He trails off, shrugging.

"Oh, no. I heard," she assures him. "I just don't care. Alexandria is neutral ground, but since you brought your hunting party into my lands, I'm stepping in now. You will leave them alone or you'll deal with the Coalition."

Negan's lips twist into a snarl as his face darkens. "This isn't over."

"I didn't expect it to be."

As Negan barks at his men to roll out, he stomps back towards his RV and slams the door behind him. It takes a couple of minutes for the RV, trucks and motorcycles to finally leave the woods, but they eventually do and everyone just kind of breathes in relief. But having been left with a far larger and more intimidating group, Rick remains on his knees, watching cautiously as Lexa starts to make her way towards them.

Glenn scrambles over to Maggie who's looking far worse than she did earlier, and Rick mentally scolds him for the action because he's not sure how this new group is going to react to them.

"I am not a monster nor royalty," Lexa says calmly with a small grin. "You can get off your knees now." She holds a hand out to him and Rick hesitantly takes it as she pulls him to his feet. She tries to help up Sasha, but the dark skinned woman refuses and climbs up on her own.

Lexa's attention then turns to Maggie and Glenn huddled on the forest ground, he mumbling soothing words in her ear. Rick watches as the woman frowns and crouches in front of them. Abraham, the surly redhead, tries to intervene, but Rick shakes his head at his friend. "What's the problem?" Lexa asks.

Glenn glances at her, worry glinting in his eyes. "S-she's pregnant," he blurts, "and in an extreme amount of pain. We don't know what's wrong."

Lexa reaches forward and places a hand on Maggie's damp forehead, she shushing and cooing when Maggie tries to pull away. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Maggie continues to whimper and tremble, and Lexa's frown deepens. "She needs immediate attention."

Rick clears his throat as his group gathers around, casting cautionary glances towards Lexa's people still lingering by the treeline. "We were on our way to Hilltop when Negan's men started to corral us here. Hilltop has a doctor there that's helped Maggie before."

"I know the community in which you speak of," she tells him. "Unfortunately, if you wish to save the baby, she won't make it as far as Hilltop."

Glenn looks absolutely torn and terrified as Maggie starts to sob, he looking up at Lexa. "Please help us. I'll do- I'll do anything."

Rick's gut clenches at the obvious desperation, but is quite surprised to see Lexa nod. "Polis, our community, is a lot closer. You all," she says, glancing briefly at everyone lingering around, "look like you need some aide in one form or another." Then glancing back at Glenn, she says, "If you will permit it, one of my men will carry her. We are not injured nor are we exhausted, so there's little to no chance of us jostling her too much or putting her in further pain."

"Y-yeah. That's fine." He glances down at Maggie, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You hear that, Maggie? We're gonna get you some help, but they're going to have to carry you. It's going to be alright."

She weakly nods and mumbles out a thank you between cries, and then Lexa's standing and facing her people. "Lincoln. We're in need of your strength." A dark skinned man steps forward from behind the only other woman, at least Rick thinks there's only two women since everyone else is covered up, his clothing covered in mud as two dark streaks of war paint are painted down over his eyes from his forehead to his cheeks. Once he's standing next to Lexa, she gestures downward and says, "This is Maggie. She's with child and needs immediate attention from our home."

Lincoln nods before crouching down, but doesn't make a move towards Maggie since Glenn's staring at him in awe and/or fear. "Don't worry," Lexa grins. "Lincoln's a gentle giant. Your lady friend will be perfectly safe with him."

"S-she's my wife," Glenn automatically corrects, he then hesitantly and cautiously handing Maggie over to Lincoln. The painted man gets her situated fairly easy in his arms, he standing and then turning to stride back towards his people.

"Come," Lexa tells them. "To Polis we go."

[curus-creations]

The solstice had come and gone last week, the sun still high and fierce, the nights still pale and temperate. Under the crooked cover of the forest, Ked walked. Stout, round-faced and tan, clothed in old leather and older furs, she wandered aimlessly. This deep into the forest, there was only ever the singing of hidden birds and the occasional beast running through the undergrowth.

Until today.

She spied the pale limbs of the creature, like birch branches, darting behind an oak. Clearly no human – but certainly no animal Ked knew of, either.

"You know I saw you, aye?" "Maybe so," responded a thin voice, "but you need not see me again. Or ever." "Well and good. But I'm sure you know that shrub at the base of this tree is witchberry." Ked pointed, mostly for effect, at the short reddish plant. "Given I've never seen it nor any others before in this wood, and I've lived here all my life, I can only assume you take them for your own purposes." "...A fair observation." "And I assume whatever your lovely kind needs them for, it greatly outstrips our want for them. But even knowing that, such is the value of this plant that I cannot leave it unclaimed, unless you take it before my eyes. If witchberries were left to rot on the stem it would be a terrible shame."

The creature did not emerge for a while. Ked stood her ground, invested in her own curiosity.

"Not unreasonable..." A hand of rootlike fingers crept around the oak. "Not the worst argument I've heard." Its face was barely a face, really. Its black eyes were wide and glassy, its mouth a short flat line at the bottom of a noseless plain. Ked felt those eyes take her in. The fae watched her like a rabbit in a field as it bent down, cutting away the fruiting stem with a swipe of its hand.

Between blinks, it was gone.

*

A month on and the day was humid, the low sun leaving a thick blanket of haze on the world.

Ked sat on a fallen trunk, watching the witchberry stand perfectly still in the airless afternoon. The fae picked through ferns, tall and green-white. Ked thought for a second on how she might be better hidden in the forest than it, and smiled.

This time it did not hide, instead crouching to the shrub in plain sight. "Can it really be that no-one has ever stolen these berries?" It was not surprised to hear her speak, though it had not once looked in her direction. "I've never once heard of them being seen here, and they grow often enough somebody must have spotted them."

"...Come here." Startled by this request, Ked dropped to her feet and came over, maintaining a respectful distance of just within touching range (for the fae). It swung round, holding the shrub in front of her face. "See." Its other hand pointed to a ring, positioned between two twigs on the lower stem. "The golden band hides what is our king's from all but observant eyes."

Ked saw the golden band – much like the ring, but larger – fitted snugly to the fae's left wrist, and wondered.

*

"I'm Ked. May I know your name?" "Is your curiosity not sated?" "Sorry. I don't have many friends." Ked watched the dry wind shake the leaves above. "Or any." The fae glanced over Ked with those wide, black eyes. "...Call me Sigh."

"Does witchberry normally grow this fast?" Ked changed the subject. "If it ever grows outside of our auspices, it grows as slowly as anything else, I assume." "I can't imagine what great use you have for them. To need them this often, I mean." Sigh looked Ked over again. She was getting used to seeing the faint twitch in their blank face, the glint in those featureless eyes. "Our king drinks the wine of the witchberry daily." She chewed her tongue.

*

"Have you any idea why the band on your arm didn't hide you from me?" Sigh touched their wrist reflexively, like flinching. The browning leaves shivered in sympathy. "Some humans are more observant than others. You said you had no friends?" Ked flinched, and the leaves did nothing.

"...Couple months after we were married. Husband died. People got it in their heads it was suspicious – couldn't stand to hear the rumours, so. Learned to live by myself." Sigh inclined their head. "Don't fret for me. I'm doing alright."

But the fae stayed looking at the ground.

"...The band marks the property of the king. Most cannot see me, but all the same – if you had lain a finger on me, he would have full right to destroy you." Ked coughed. "How? Can he smite someone from afar, or something? What do you do in the meantime? Can't you – can you defend yourself?" "I could never!" Sigh backed away. "I'm only a servant, Ked. I have no right to harm anyone."

Ked shook her head; but as she moved towards Sigh the fae looked to the setting sun. "I must leave you. I have to return home." Before she could say anything, they had loped away.

*

The next day, Ked picked her way through ferns and ice. Snow had come early this year; not a particularly thick layer, but enough to crunch underfoot and soak into old boots.

The witchberry shrub was there. It had been cut down yesterday, an early frost had attacked its young shoots, and still it stood, bright green and just unveiling its first full leaves – a little piece of Spring. Ked grabbed the thing, crushing its leaves. Sap began to leak from a crooked stem as the golden ring glinted in the cold sunlight -

"Don't!" Ked let go and stood up. Sigh was gripping the oak tree tight, half-hiding behind it.

"Does the king know you're here?" "No, but -" "Can you take the band off?" Sigh grabbed their wrist, moving around the trunk to face Ked. "Ked. What are you -" "Come with me." She offered up a hand. "I can't offer much, but – but I won't own you. You deserve to be someone, not someone's – not someone's property."

Sigh's wide black eyes were not looking at Ked, but taking in everything; that prey-like look she thought they'd shook the habit of. She thought, too, that she was used to silence – but this was becoming painful.

Sigh slipped the golden band from their wrist, dropping it to encircle the witchberry sprout. They examined their arm, wonderingly, anxiously – it wasn't quite theirs anymore, except, of course, it was.

"I don't know the way out of here. To your lands, I mean." "I can show you," Ked laughed. "Of course I'll show you!"

Sigh's fingers were flexible, fragile-seeming, in Ked's small rough hand. Like roots curling around a rock in the soil, the fae crouched to follow the human, back the way she came, somewhere they had never been before.

***

Ked found no more witchberries after that.

The pair had a full year to themselves, a year of storms and hail. Sigh – who was working on a new name for themselves, but had not yet settled on one – proved to be a very skilled farmer, when they dared to leave the house. Despite waterlogged earth, snapped stems, and frosts both early and late, the two had nurtured enough at least to eat over the winter.

(Sigh seemed to consider food optional, but Ked, suspicious of self-sacrifice, insisted on sharing the burden of hunger.)

The next solstice was approaching – the nights were longer than the days by far, until life felt lived in a perpetual grey gloom.

At sunset after a vicious rainstorm, somebody knocked at Ked's door.

He looked human, and noble – or at least rich. The fur of his cloak was dry and unmatted; rain did not drip from the rings on each finger. "Thank you," he said, sweeping forward into Ked's house. "I am far from home, and I need somewhere to dry off." He looked about the room, while she only glared at him.

After a cold silence, he spoke. "You are not married, are you?" "Right enough." "Then I shall marry you!" His whole countenance changed – he swept down onto his knee, grabbed for (and missed) Ked's hands. "It cannot do to have a woman like you living alone. How sad! It is only right and honourable of me to -" "No thanks."

The noble's face struggled to hold onto its expression of awe, briefly scrunched into a look of rage and then settled on a flat stare. "Why ever not? Do you really think you can manage alone for the rest of your life?" "Been doing alright so far." Ked stared back. The noble stood, smoothing down his unwrinkled clothes. "And when you grow old? What then?" “I shall cross that bridge when I get to it, sir."

"...At least let me buy this house from you. I can replace everything in it – twice as good, twice as plentiful. It's of trivial worth to me." "I'm sure it is. But no."

Another long silence – eventually, the noble broke it, slamming his hand upon Ked's table. Immediately, the wilting cabbage sat on it sprang back into health, leaves regaining strength and colour before her eyes.

"Enough! Fine. I have power, human. You know that." The table itself was beginning to twist under his hand, new shoots pushing from knotholes. "I can do anything, give you anything you wish – just return what you stole from me!"

"I stole nothing."

The truth in her words struck him, staggered him. The king looked to the door, and Ked was all too happy to help him, throwing it open and pointing out to the chill, sodden night.

The king, though Sigh often feared it, never returned; and Ked – whose crops never failed and who entertained strange, fae visitors in her lonely house – passed into legend, at least for a brief while.

If she enjoyed her new fame, she never said so.

[emotional-support-salad]

i know it’ll have to drown me, before i can breathe easy

for #tyriaslibraryevent.

Week 5 ( August 29 - September 4 ) —  AU / Free

features my character: afritan

moldark @commander-twig, tatule @xurity, oprez @charoban

so, uh, this is long... my bad. incidentally also the first fic for this event that i finished way before the deadline. mainly because i started it back in june. also i'm not done with this au yet, so expect me to put the slow in slow burn some more.

this might be easier to read on ao3

.

Caught in the shadow of the mountain ridge the small specialist team crosses the bridge towards Refugee's Peak, the silhouette of the Priory looming over their backs like a wolfs howling maw. 

Afritan shudders through an exhale, the puff of breath stuttering in the crisp afternoon air. Adjusting the sling of his backpack, he slows down to fall into step with the Vigil crusader he’s been side-eying since they’ve been briefed. Afritan's got a gut feeling the crusader must be the former Nightmare courtier he saw at the Grove a while back, the one Tegwen warned him about with a harried voice and a stern expression on her face; like the looks she gives Carys after she's jumped headfirst into the fray. 

Sometimes Afritan closes his eyes and sees the courtier's silhouette still, a fever dream, like something took root inside his chest ever since. 

His stomach turns oily, and he swallows a wad of spit down when the crusader brings that intense gaze onto him. His sleek breastplate gleams in the firelight of the braziers flanking them left and right.

"Uhm h-hi there," Afritan greets softly, voice barely reaching over the icy wind bouldering through the valley. He keeps his arms tight-pressed to his sides. Trying to refrain from stuttering too badly he continues,"I'm Afritan from the Durmand Priory--" a slight wince, as if the crusader didn't know that already you idiot “--it's nice to meet you…" 

The crusader tips his head back; the ashen-tinged leaf around his throat peeks out from the thick leather collar of his armor. His brows are slightly raised. Afritan rubs the back of his neck self-effacingly at the silence. 

As they step onto the winding hiking trail under the snow-capped mountain peaks, Afritan makes another attempt at conversation: "What's your name… You d-don't have to tell me of course, I was just wondering since we'll be working together on this mission and…" He trails off, looking away when a heavy patch of snow abruptly falls off a pine's thin-needled foliage. 

"I'm Moldark," the crusader says curtly, in a voice much smoother than his imposing figure would suggest. His expression remains stone-faced.

Two longhorn sheep look up from their grazing spot at the side of the road when they pass by. The team's pretty ragtag in composition: a Whispers agent, ten Priory members including himself, two Vigil crusaders and a Vigil marksman. Afritan glances at Moldark from the corner of his eye with the hint of a smile playing on his lips. His profile contrasts starkly with their white surroundings. 

"So," Afritan begins again, idly touching the hilt of his sword with skittish fingers. Hoping he won't stumble over consonants when he asks, "What do you uhm make of the mission?"

Moldark doesn't shrug, doesn't hum. "It's straightforward enough. Us Vigil are only hired muscle to ensure the Priory members' safety." His gaze flicks between the road ahead and Afritan for the briefest of moments before settling back on the jagged horizon. "You look like you could handle yourself in a fight however.'

"I'm m-more of a defensive fighter," Afritan replies, ducking his head away to stave off an involuntary smile; his chest grown tight at the comment. He taps the strap of his backpack, stuffed chock-full with scrolls and maps. "B-besides I'm assigned to the p-position of navigator f-for the underwater exploration."

The crusader doesn't respond outright, only gives Afritan a quick once-over and a sharp nod.

It's easy to tell they're nearing Afgar's Steading by the cherry trees appearing alongside the hiking trail. The silence between them gets scuffed by the sound of heavy footfalls and hooves on hard gravel and the chatter of the pack of Priory explorers in front of them. After they round the bend at the longhouse, the hiking trail straightens, and the frozen ground thaws out. His eyes slide over to the former Nightmare courtier.

Up until he first saw Moldark in the Grove, Afritan was led to believe there was no cure for Nightmare.

Afritan worries the soft bark of his lower lip; his curiosity growing teeth. The questions stack up the back of his tongue. 

Aloud he asks, "Why exactly d-did you join the Vigil?" 

Moldark turns to regard him. It's hard to tell if Afritan's question caught him off guard or not. He mulls over his words, placing a hand on the war axe hanging off his belt. The wedges that run next to his eyes and retreat into his forehead narrow to slits. Afritan wonders what color of glow would peek through in the dark.

"Because the Vigil is frontline support and offense. I can't imagine myself somewhere else," Moldark says eventually. 

Moldark's mouth stretches into a thin line and his fingers briefly clench around the curved handle of the axe. He looks like he's on the cusp of saying something more but what exactly Afritan doesn't know. 

Afritan puts a thorny tendril behind his ear and looks on ahead. They're going downhill now. He has a clear view of Rocklair with its makeshift sentry towers and bonfires; and of Cascade Bridge where a small squadron of Lionguard is stationed to ward off pirates. The firs and cherry trees are free of snow further down the mountains slope. 

"And why did you join the Priory, Afritan?" Moldark asks, the shadow of a smirk touching his lips as Afritan snaps his head around in surprise. "For knowledge or adventure or both?" 

"O-oh, well, uhm. I always wanted to explore the world outside the Grove. I've spent hours looking at maps and self-studying c-cartography. The adventuring is an added bonus, I s-suppose. My mentor's in the Priory too so it was a logical choice." His voice shakes, stumbling over certain sounds. Afritan sheepishly rubs the back of his neck again, heat pricking through at the nape.

Conversations aren't Afritan's forte. His stuttering usually scotches any attempts to reach out to kind-looking strangers, and this hesitation in turn gets mistaken for taciturnity. Moldark doesn't point it out. In fact there's none of the cruelty in his demeanor that you might expect from a Nightmare courtier. 

The weak sunlight catches a rich amber in his eyes, and Afritan blinks owlishly at the sight, something soft welling up his throat. He coughs in his fist and smiles apologetically. 

Moldark tilts his head a little, catlike. Those wedges next to his eyes and into his forehead run thin again, but that shadow of a smile keeps playing along the corner of his mouth. He lazily pats the flat edge of his battleaxe, remarking, “This must suit you best then. Exploration, and adventure.”

“I w-would believe so,” Afritan agrees bashfully, averting his gaze to the ground for a split-second. He bites the inside of his cheek before asking, “B-but what about you? Playing bodyguard isn’t really uhm, frontline work…” 

Afritan doesn’t know whether the Vigil operates on the same basis as the Durmand Priory. He got the option to volunteer for the mission and was then assigned a position within the squad later on. Maybe Moldark simply lucked out. 

This fledgling Pact that their orders pledged themselves to stands on foal legs, but squads already got formed and dispatched to Timberline Falls; to Mount Maelstrom; going as far as the Straits of Devastation, spearheading into Orr. What they’re set out to do seems boring in comparison. Afritan bites the inside of his cheek, holding onto the strap of his backpack and staring at the ground absentmindedly.

"We're protecting you from pirates and scavengers. I'm certain there will be some action at least," Moldark comments, and while his expression remains stoic, the confidence shines through in the cadence of his voice. Afritan wants to soak it all up.  

More questions come bobbing into his head, but it's too early to put them in words. Afritan nods in turn, and they fall into a companionable silence.

.

They pass through Rocklair, pausing only shortly to confer with magister Ghorgon about the general progress of the Priory's expeditions in the area. Aside from pirates, there's the hostile wildlife and the dredge to contend with. Afritan has only fought the latter twice before, both times in the harsh cold of Dredgehaunt Cliffs. 

His gaze slides over to Moldark but he remains undaunted. As if nothing could ever faze him. The type to break you before you could dent them, Afritan muses silently; a tingle running down his spine. 

Lionguard soldiers salute the members of the team at the head of Cascade Bridge, their plate armors reflect golden in the sunlight. Afritan squints a little. He looks past them, at the calm waters of the lake and the rear end of the pirate ship sticking out from Jetsam Isle, casting its shadow over the depths. On the other side of the bridge the rocky terrain makes way for rolling hillsides and stretches of grassland. Further up north the snow-packed grounds of False River Valley are wedged between steep unclimbable mountains. Rock and more rock. 

Their destination is the southernmost point of the lake’s jagged shoreline however, where the underwater complex of dwarven ruins proves most accessible. Afritan points out the bridge connecting Demon’s Maw and Greybeard’s Landing to Moldark.

“It’s the only way to our b-base of operations from the other side of the lake and makes for an ex--, uhm, an excel--” his tongue trips over the word, and Afritan hastily scrapes his throat, trying to mask the slip up. “A-anyway it’s an easy position to defend.”  

Moldark crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side, surveying his surroundings with the same scrutiny a cat would regard its prey. His eyes narrow dangerously. 

“I’m wondering about the range of those turrets. They could become a problem,” he says then, not looking away from the pirate camp; the outlines of those blown-apart and stranded ships blurred by the distance. 

Afritan follows his gaze and mutters softly, "A-ah, I see what y-you mean." 

A hollow thud rings through the open space, and Afritan startles a little, craning his neck to look. Their teammates have started setting up camp. 

He makes a curt sound at the back of his throat and continues with some difficulty, "I-if the barrels of their turrets haven't been replaced o-or, uhm, augmented these past few years, I'd uh wager the range to be two hundred yards at most…" Here, he pauses for a moment, pursing his lips. "The eastern wing of the f-fortress may be just within range."

Before Moldark manages a reply, the Vigil marksman, a sylvari too, rounds them both with a sharkish grin; and there's no other way to describe it: sharp and toothy, full of confidence. He's tall and slim, while the crusader's all bulk. The rock gazelle he keeps as a pet trots behind, its hooves quiet in the tall grass.  

"Warmaster wants to talk shop. Better wrap things up here," he says to Moldark.

Afritan wrings his hands when the marksman pushes down his sunglasses--revealing deep red eyes that could unsettle any opponent, and bears that grin down on him. The supple leather of his gauntlets squeaks softly from how hard he's rubbing them together. 

"You might wanna go check in with that scary Charr lady, 'cause she looks like she's gonna eat her own tail. I'm Tatule by the way. Vigil, but you know that."

His voice breaks around the first two syllables of his own name, and Afritan sighs dejectedly before trying again, "I'm Afritan, I'm the navigator on this e-expedition. It's uh nice to meet you." 

Tatule tips two fingertips to his forehead in a quick salute. The scenery reflects distorted on his sunglasses, blurs of black. He gives one high-pitched whistle to draw his pet's attention and walks off. 

Afritan glances back at Moldark, scrambling for something to say, anything that isn't redundant or lame. 

"I suspect you will join us on our first dive to secure the perimeters," Moldark begins matter-of-factly. "Rest up in the meantime. I imagine the dwarven fortress to be very big, or what's left of it anyway." The sentence gets capped off with a handsome lopsided smile that makes Afritan's chest all tangled up tight. 

Moldark leaves Afritan to his thoughts and heads over to the Asuran warmaster. His figure's all angles and pins against the soft green. Afritan inhales sharply and looks off to where magister Mercutia Spectremaw and the other Priory members are setting up the tents and assembling their gear. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below seems to come from faraway. Another sigh and Afritan grabs onto the straps of his backpack, setting out to help his teammates.

Magister Spectremaw--terrifyingly big with sleek spotted fur and paws the size of shovels-- chews him out the second he checks in. Stop dawdling thornbush and get to it.

.

While Afritan's unrolling his sleeping bag on the uneven underground--and he'll wake up with a crick in his back, he's sure of it-- the Whispers agent saunters into the tent on light feet. Afritan only knows someone's behind him because another shadow falls over his hands. Intentional, no doubt. 

"Hello there," the agent greets pleasantly. "I was told by magister Spectremaw to visit you for all sorts of topographical matters." 

Afritan uneasily settles back on his haunches and angles his head to regard the Whispers agent: another sylvari, lanky with a runner's build, the brim of his mushroom casting a shadow to his chin. The metal embellishments on his black and red-dyed armor glimmer in the dim. 

"Uh, w-well, I suppose so…" Afritan mutters unsurely, slowly standing at full height. A barbed coil slips in front of his eyes, and he clicks his tongue, annoyed. 

The Whispers agent hums lightly, rocking on the tips of his toes in place. "I was thinking of undertaking a reconnaissance mission on my own to get a better understanding of the enemy. Oh, and if they stock stolen artifacts on base or not. But to do so, I need a keen understanding of the area--and I'm going too fast, aren't I?" He asks suddenly, blinking bright blue eyes. 

Nodding bashfully, Afritan replies, "J-just a little bit, yes."

"All I require are a few maps of the area and some of your expertise," the Whispers agent explains, a reassuring undertone to his voice. He folds his hands behind his back and rises on the tips of his toes briefly.

"I t-think I might be able to help," Afritan says while reaching for his backpack. 

Most of the maps he carries around are charts on the lake and layouts of the dwarven fortress in its prime, but he does have a couple on Lornar's Pass and Demon's Maw in particular. 

They settle down cross-legged on the ground with the maps spread out on Afritan's bedroll. Musty air wafts up from the parchment. Afritan learns the Whispers agent's name a good five minutes into their discussion about the terrain. Where are my manners? I'm Oprez, pleased to make your acquaintance. The introduction's treated as a formality however, in the face of preparations for his self-imposed mission. 

Oprez gracefully rises to his feet. His mushroom cap sheds a ring of shadow over Afritan's toes, neatly sliced through by the pale sunlight pooling inside through the gap of the tent flap. He nods to himself once or twice; pleased. 

"Thank you for your assistance in this matter. You were most helpful," Oprez says with a polite smile, then picks up his staff and hooks it to the back straps on his armor. There's no showing off, but the fluid movement alone implies skill. 

His bright blue eyes remain unblinking when someone suddenly pulls the flap of the tent aside. Afritan looks over his shoulder. Magister Spectremaw fills up the empty space with her hulking form; the sunlight chisels the silhouette of her broad shoulders and curving horns against the dark underground. Oprez nods at Afritan and walks on over, threading softly out of habit. 

"Did you get what you came for, agent?" Mercutia asks, shoving the flap open wider; pale sunlight comes flooding in like an oil spill. 

Oprez pauses at her side, and despite his own height he only reaches to her shoulders. He responds politely, "Yes, our navigator here was so very kind for lending me some of his time and patience."

"Then I wish you success on your mission," she says, sounding as if someone tried to shank her in the throat but failed by a couple of inches. What you call a guttural voice.

"As I on yours. I'll try to have returned by nightfall, magister, but I can't make any promises, I'm sure you understand. Now if you would excuse me…" Oprez dips his head and slips past her, the coattails of his chest piece bellowing in motion. 

Mercutia remains standing at the tent opening and wrinkles her maw. She speaks up after a beat, "The Vigil needs you outside for first dive, thornbush."

His eyes grow wide, and he scrambles on all fours. Watching how Afritan gathers his charts and maps and manuscripts, neatly folding them and tucking them back into his backpack, Mercutia wags her tail from side to side. Low over the underground. Her muzzle curls into an amused grin when he almost trips over himself in excitement to get his aquabreather. 

"That's a proper attitude," she rumbles when he's fully equipped and claps him on the back with her paw, hard. Afritan titters forwards from impact, smiling sheepishly. It's hard not to feel giddy, for some reason.

.

They're waiting for him at the edge of the rocky shoreline. Moldark's overlooking the dark waters with arms crossed while Tatule's propped up against a boulder, one knee bent, restocking his quiver with harpoons for the dive. His rock gazelle is nowhere to be found. The Asura warmaster's cleaning the barrel of her harpoon gun with a rag. Afritan's throat closes up when Moldark throws a glance over his shoulder at him. He swallows curtly, but it doesn't help much. 

Afritan spots three skale corpses in the tall grass; rich red blood drying on their skewered hides. The air gets cooler the closer he gets to the lake. 

Even if Moldark's the first one to acknowledge him, it's Tatule who speaks up, saying, "You're here. Great. Let's get this show on the road then." He looks towards his warmaster and continues, "Whenever you are, ma'am."

She stands upright, at attention, and sheathes the weapon at her back. The wind runs through her shock of red hair, pushing her long droopy ears past her massive shoulderguards. 

"Very well. I am warmaster Narru and I will be your commanding officer during this short expedition. Our objective is securing the perimeters of the dwarven complex. Magister Spectremaw already gave me a report on your skills, explorer. Be warned that I will burk no disobedience in my squad and I will tolerate no liable actions during the mission. Have I made myself clear?" She lifts her head, peering up at Afritan with electric green eyes.

Afritan's gaze flicks from Moldark to Narru, and he nods like a child chastised; eager, eyes downcast.

Warmaster Narru attaches the aquabreather to her mouth and goes into the water, beckoning the rest of them to follow. Tatule gets up, dusts off his leather leggings with a few broad swats. 

He claps a hand to Afritan's shoulder and leans in close with a wide grin. "Don't worry about the shark, okay?" 

"S-shark? B-but sharks aren't native to these waters," Afritan points out, staring confusedly at Tatule. 

Moldark saunters past and searches for Afritan's gaze from over his shoulder, then shakes his head a little. There's a glimmer of a smile playing along the curve of his lips; something rare. Afritan furrows his brow. 

"One of his pets," Moldark explains matter-of-factly. 

Afritan murmurs an inaudible oh in response. 

"At least your reaction was cuter than Moldark's when I first sprung Jaws on him," Tatule says, patting Afritan on the shoulder once or twice; his grin like a serrated blade across his face. 

The wind starts to pick up, rustling the tall grass that reaches past their calves. Patches of uneven ground that turn into rock cradling water. Moldark rolls his eyes and slides the aquabreather over his nose, adjusts the oxygen mask over his mouth, trails after his warmaster in purposeful strides. The steel of his spear shines a searing white in the afternoon sunlight. Tatule whistles loudly, a sharp shrill sound, and wades into the water, unhurriedly putting on his aquabreather as a shark’s fin rises above the waves further off. Afritan takes a deep breath and follows their example. 

Submerged his vision grows hazy, and the cold comes like an all-encompassing shock to his system. It takes a moment to get accustomed to the temperature, the weightlessness. To the sound of the overflow.

They dive deeper, pieces of flotsam and strands of algae floating past, until warmaster Narru abruptly stops and raises a fist. She gestures downwards with quick, jerky movements. They cautiously observe a pack of krait treasure hunters, jealously guarding their cache at the bottom of the lake. Warmaster Narru stretches her arm sideways, and everyone lines up abreast, weapons drawn. Afritan anticipates the signal to attack, holding onto his spear a little tighter, the rush of adrenalin soaking up his belly. 

Tatule’s shark circles overhead, filtering out the sunlight, its shadowy form moving over the underground. 

Warmaster Narru cocks her speargun, takes aim. She fires, and the harpoon rips through a krait hunter’s shoulder. Blood spurts from the wound in slow motion. Moldark seizes the opportunity, propels himself forwards with a powerful kick. The krait dart up to intercept him. Afritan doesn’t hesitate and summons a bright blinding mist.

Everything blurs together after: harpoons whizzing past their ears, more blood, the dull ache of a metal bar hard against his abdomen. Afritan sucks in a deep breath, blocks an incoming attack with the handle of his spear. 

Tatule’s shark charges the hunter fighting him, tearing into the krait’s snake-like torso with rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Earning her name twice over. 

Shreds of saggy skin float up. Afritan jabs his weapon through the krait's throat. Angled up, so the sharp spearhead sticks out the back of the krait's well-worn leather mask. Its eyes blown wide open in shock. The krait hunter goes limp between the shark’s tight-locked jaws. One vicious yank; and blood sluices from the krait's neck, gushing all around them. 

Afritan whips around, spots Moldark fighting off the leader of the pack. 

Wisps of green lake weed wave around them from the force of their blows, and Moldark's relentless, some kind of fierce you only see in a wildcat cornered, dishing out as hard as he gets. He's all power and skill, his glow seeping through the cracks in his bark-like skin like a rescue flare; a bright red. Afritan uses his magic on instinct when the veteran krait hunter tries to get a hit in, shoves down whatever wells up his throat with a curt click of the jaw. 

Aegis blocks off the krait hunter's makeshift spear. Moldark's eyes shift over to Afritan for a split second, an acknowledgement. 

The magical shield breaks apart, and Moldark continues his offense with a frenzy of strikes. The krait's pushed to the defensive. Especially when a harpoon slices the side of its thick-corded neck open. Moldark plunges his spear straight into the krait's scaly belly. And twists. The krait hunter struggles, death throes, eyes bulging, tail wiggling; its stomach sucked in. 

Breath rushed through two slits of nose, a garble of bubbles speeding towards the surface. Then, nothing. 

In contrast, there's Moldark, jacked up on adrenalin, punctuated by the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and Afritan finds himself unable to look away. The type to break you before you could dent them. His words come echoing back. Moldark's red glow seems to spread throughout the water. Much brighter than Afritan's own peach-colored one. Afritan draws his shoulders up, holding onto his spear tightly. Tatule's shark swims past him to her master. 

They regroup around warmaster Narru. The krait corpses remain suspended at the bottom, arms slack, heads bowed, surrounding the splendid chest they set out to defend, a prayer circle.

Afritan gets instructed to lead the way. 

.

It takes a few hours to mark and secure the perimeters of the excavation site. There's debris everywhere. The sprawl of ruin tapers off in chunks of rock, spread across the underground as far as the steady shadow of the beached pirate ship. Low visibility only complicates the task. 

When they return to shore, stupid-tired, the expedition members have already started dinner. 

They trod over to the modest camphouse the Priory explorers set up in their absence, dripping water the whole way there. People are gathered around the flap of the tent, eating and talking. The smell of stew hangs in the air. Warmaster Narru shoves a wooden bowl into Afritan's hands and heads off with Tatule in tow, eager to get her fill. Afritan stays behind for a moment, enjoying the dying warmth of the evening sun pinned low between the mountains. 

He’s not alone; Moldark doesn’t seem to be in a hurry either. 

They regard the lake, a blazing red under the orange sky, catching their breath, letting the water dry on their skin. Moldark’s the first to move away.

Iron-cast pots are positioned over poked-apart embers with two cooks tending them. Steam wafts up towards the ceiling of the tent. One of the cooks is a young sylvari whom Afritan occasionally talked to after lectures. Her eyes always smiled so kindly on him. She looks up at their heavy footfalls. 

The ladle falls from her hand, clattering against the pot. Those kind eyes of hers bulging like a startled cat's. 

Afritan furrows his brow and follows the direction of her gaze. 

She’s looking at Moldark. 

And Moldark stares straight ahead, statuesque, purposely ignoring the shocked expression on her face, the way she draws into herself, small and unthreatening like a mouse. But the breath he draws is deep, uncomfortable. It’s suddenly too tense inside, too cramped. The young sylvari hastily averts her gaze and grabbles to scoop the ladle out of the stew without burning her fingertips. 

Afritan slowly reaches out to take Moldark’s wooden bowl. With a gentle smile he offers a way out. “W-would you like to eat with me? In my t-tent? I, uhm, I’m n-not that fond of crowds. And, ah, don’t you t-think it’s a b-bit crowded outside?”

“Yes, that’s…” Moldark pauses briefly, halfway turning towards the exit. His hawkish gaze lingers over Afritan’s face. “Thank you for the offer. I believe your tent was the one furthest away from shore, right?”

"R-right," Afritan affirms softly. "I'll be right t-there."

Moldark nods curtly and marches off in even strides. Not too fast, not too slow; restrained. Once he's disappeared behind the rough-hewn tent sail, the young sylvari shyly pokes her head up, a little frazzled, a little flustered still. A faint blue dots the pudgy skin on her brow, a bluegill blue. 

"I'm sorry," she says, voice sounding pale. "It's just that, well, he looked so much like a, like a nightmare courtier, and oh thorns I just…" Her sentence trails off unfinished, an embarrassed look on her face.

Afritan smiles in understanding. "B-but he's not," he points out, omitting the anymore. "He is p-part of our squad, and we should treat him without preju… prejud--" his admonishment splinters at the word, and he dips his chin, staring obstinately at the dark ground. 

It's stupid how he can't string the right syllables together. Stupid stupid stupid. 

"No, no, you're right," the young sylvari argues, clutching the ladle tight with both hands. "Come on, let me serve you some stew."

He couldn't have been inside the tent for longer than ten minutes, but the air's grown misty when he gets out, and he's sure heavy fog will come rolling over the lake bank by morning. Flecks of ember eddy in the wind. Afritan retreats from the crowd of expedition members at the camphouse, concentrating on not spilling stew everywhere while he's walking. He spots the Whispers agent and magister Spectremaw conspiring at the entrance of her tent. 

Without sparing them much thought, Afritan rounds his own tent and nudges the flap away with his elbow. 

Moldark waits in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, standoffish. The light can't touch him there, and his glow runs through black bark like a fire kindled in dead wood. Something unfurls in Afritan's chest at the sight. The corners of Afritan's mouth twitch into a smile, and he raises a bowl; thin wisps of steam blurring from the movement. He nods to his sleeping roll. Sit, sit. 

They settle down side by side, knees bent and feet flat on the hard dirt underground. With the smell of good food wafting in his nostrils Afritan realizes how famished he is. 

Conversation's sparse, in between spoonfuls. They don't talk about what transpired a few moments ago in the camphouse, or about homesickness for the Grove and surrounding Caledon. Moldark lives in Hoelbrak anyway. It's something that came up when discussing the climate and peaked Afritan's interest. He could guess why Moldark moved away; he'd seen the reason just moments ago after all.  

The wooden bowls are emptied and discarded at their feet, and they share a waterskin. 

But why to Hoelbrak?

Afritan glances at Moldark from the corner of his eyes, and his hands are two jittery things in his lap. The leather lining inside his gauntlets itches. Moldark puzzles him; it feels like every tidbit of information he learns and catalogues only prompts him to discover more. Afritan scrapes his throat, curiosity winning over. 

"I d-don't mean to pry, b-but w-why did you choose Hoelbrak? Isn't it cold year round?" 

Moldark shrugs and unclasps the leather straps of his Vigil gauntlets, revealing a jagged layer of bark over his skin, dark and grizzly like an old pine's. Afritan ignores the urge to take off his own gauntlets and touch the tips of his fingers to Moldark's wrist. How long has he lived in Hoelbrak for his body to adapt--to change-- like this?

"I like it there," Moldark answers matter-of-factly. He clenches his hand in a fist, unclenches, flexes his fingers. "The Norn have a way of living I can relate to and." His eyes search out Afritan's. "They don't judge."

The implication rings loud and clear: They don't know my past. Afritan flusters a little and presses his palms together.  

A hush falls over them. Moldark calmly puts his gauntlet back on, buckles the straps one-handedly and tugs on the leather of the glove around the heel of his palm. Then, he stands up. Afritan watches him collect the wooden bowls. The words he wants to say melt away on the tip of his tongue: I won't judge either, I just want to get to know you. 

"Thank you for this evening. I'm sure you'd like to turn in for the night and I will not keep you any longer," Moldark says with a sense of finality; the contours of his mouth emphasized by dots of red glow. 

Afritan worries his lower lip, a lifetime of insecurities pressing down on his shoulders, and he fakes a smile, tries to keep his voice light and airy when he bids him goodnight. His throat feels closed off, tight.

Before Moldark leaves, Afritan calls out, "You're always welcome t-to eat y-your dinner h-here with me. If y-you want."

Moldark's hemmed into the tent opening by the moonlight. His mouth's slanted into a handsome smile that seems so wholly involuntary, genuine. He nods, turns away, shedding his angular silhouette on the ground, and leaves. 

The flap of the tent makes a soft sound as it slides shut behind him. Afritan is alone with his thoughts. 

Heavy-limbed he clambers upright and begins to undress. It's pitch dark inside his tent now. There's no sound aside from a lonesome owl, the wind whistling through the tall grass. Afritan places the staff he’s been practicing with the past few months next to his sleeping roll as a precaution and curls up under the padded blanket. 

He falls prey to a fitful sleep the second his head hits the pillow, dreaming of leonine eyes flashing in the dark, of strong hands dragging down the expanse of his body.

.

The expedition trundles on for the next couple of days: they dive, excavate, bring artifacts to the shore, reconstruct and refabricate. 

'A treasure trove for anthropologists' the magister calls the ruins. Not that she'd taken much stock of what they found. She spends most time in her tent. Something Afritan finds unusual given her work ethic. But she's right: countless theses about dwarven life could be written from what they've dug up alone. Most of it simple pottery and household items, the lonesome weapon; chipped away and eroded. 

It also lays bare one of steward Gixx' fears however: whatever in the fortress that could've been helpful against the dragons might have long since been looted. 

Afritan grows bored after the first three real dives; his position as navigator loses relevance once the excavation sites are propped up with markers and tapes. It's not like the waters are that tricky either. 

Instead he joins the Vigil on their rounds or takes guard or offers to help with the cooking and cleaning. Afritan talks to Moldark often in their downtime, likes to think they've become friends. The Vigil crusader must be bored too; the only security his squad has to offer is against ridgeback skales and river drakes after all. 

Across the lake the pirates at Greybeard's Landing remain ominously quiet. 

.

On the fifth night the roar of the cannons booms over the waters. Afritan's eyes shoot open, and he scrambles upright in his sleeping roll, feels around for his staff. Whatever grogginess he should feel dissipates when his fingers bump against the weapon. The tumult outside exacerbates the uneasiness in his stomach. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He slips on his boots and throws the flap of his tent open. The wind's throwing cold, cruel jabs; the hemline of his shirt bunches up around the ridges of his hips. 

At the other side of the bridge, flashes of gunfire and grenades slash through the dark.  

“Tatule, round up the expedition members and do a headcount. I want everyone accounted for! Check back in as soon as you can! Moldark, with me!” 

Afritan hears warmaster Narru yell and snaps his head in the direction he thinks her voice came from: magister Spectremaw’s tent. 

If they’re gunning for a fight Afritan’s determined to help; he clutches his staff tighter and runs over. His eyes well up with tears from the wind. Magister Spectremaw stands at full height, looking around annoyed, as if the imminent attack was nothing more than an unwelcome diversion. Her tail sweeps low over the grass. The Whispers agent's there too, taking to the shadows.

“I didn’t expect those Covington pirates to take notice of the tablet’s disappearance this quickly,” Oprez says sheepishly, his tone of voice belying a confession--but it sounds awfully deliberate, played at.

If Afritan were to guess, he'd wager the Whispers agent didn't agree to holding out on the rest of the team.

“Tablet? What tablet? What's the Whispers agent talking about, magister?!” Warmaster Narru demands, whipping around to point an accusing finger at magister Spectremaw. Her long ears perked like a guard dog's. 

Afritan tries to quell the uneasy feeling pooling down his belly. The sound of a loud splash washes up the shore; a cannonball, sinking.

Magister Spectremaw flicks a paw at the warmaster and mutters irritably, “A firsthand account of how the dwarves forged the Sanguinary Blade, warmaster. That’s what Oprez is talking about.

A firsthand account? Afritan blinks slowly, taking in the newfound information. Such an artifact, if true, if real, would be invaluable. 

Warmaster Narru narrows her eyes into slivers and asks in a stone cold voice, "And just how long have you been keeping this from us, magister?"

"I wasn't keeping anything from anyone. I had to verify the tablet's authenticity first…" Magister Spectremaw growls low then, a dangerous sound, and snaps, "We should focus on the task at hand! We can point claws later."

Her tail wags from side to side, agitated; the sleek fur fluffing up. 

Afritan watches the gesture warily; he'd forgotten about the magister's Ash Legion days. Moldark too, seems on edge.

Oprez steps out into the moonlight and holds up his hands in a pacifying gesture; his glow a mellow blue in the moonlight. 

He addresses warmaster Narru directly, "My apologies for all this secrecy. I'm aware this warrants my order no credit, but I hope you understand safekeeping the tablet should be our first priority. We cannot under any circumstances let that drunken rabble succeed and... and barter the tablet away."

"Fine! We'll take point at the bridge. Those two Lionguard at the other side won't hold them off for much longer," Warmaster Narru acquiesces tiredly, giving a dismissive wave. Her eyes slide over to Magister Spectremaw, distrustful. "Will you be joining us, magister?"

Magister Spectremaw bristles and draws her daggers; her muzzle contorted in a snarl, baring her teeth. The gesture speaks volumes.

"I believe we're all set then," Oprez remarks wryly before unhooking the bo staff from his back and glancing between his uneasy allies. 

They hurry onwards, joined by Tatule who was looking for Afritan to complete his headcount. His rock gazelle nips at their heels, bucking excitedly in the tall grass. The pirates are storming the bridge; the stampede of their heavy footfalls echo through the night like gunfire. 

Slashes of silver moonlight slide off their fast-paced forms. 

Afritan skids to a halt over the gravel and summons a repulsion glyph at the bridgehead to secure the choke point. Some pirates bound headfirst into the magic barrier. They get flung back, tumbling into the tide of their crew. Moldark takes the initiative and pounces. He takes to the dark seamlessly. Oprez pole vaults into the rabble next and body-slams a burly charr pirate. 

From then on it's pure chaos: screams, curses, gunshots, energy crackling through the air, a volley of arrows,…

Tatule's rock gazelle kicks another pirate over the stone railing. A few pirates willingly plunge into the water, try swimming to shore. Tatule holds them off. One swashbuckler, a Norn with bright red tattoos across the lower half of her face, takes four arrows to the chest before she falls to her knees. Gasping, grasping at the arrows. 

Magister Spectremaw slits her a smile. Finishes her off with the practised flick of a knife. A spurt of blood on the wet rocks. 

Warmaster Narru tries to coordinate the battle, but noises of all frequencies funnel into the ears, a mash of static, adrenalin. Underscored by the lone cannonshot. Afritan focuses on supportive magic, summons sigils that heal and boost speed. Maybe he should've grabbed his sword instead, could've gotten in on some action.

His gaze singles out Moldark, blurred in the crowd. 

Moldark moves with the economy and purpose of an alpine stalker. It's exhilarating to witness. He slams an elbow into a pirate's face, whips around. The blade of his axe bites into a shoulder, a collarbone. Afritan squints to see even better, clutches his staff when Moldark parries a cutlass, pushes the barrel of a pistol out of his way. 

At one point the turrets stop firing, and the pirate crew breaks apart, disperses.

Don't let up now, the warmaster screams over the battlefield. Keep pushing!

They manage to chase off the remaining pirates, and a hush falls over the lake. The morning sun rises between the mountains and casts a bloody glow over the rocky shoreline, over the waves. Tatule fondly pets his rock gazelle, then crouches over the Norn pirates corpse, yanks the arrows out while whistling. Magister Spectremaw and warmaster Narru confer at the bridgehead with Oprez mediating between the two. 

Afritan can hear snippets of their quarrel. Accusations, mostly.

From where he's standing, a rocky ledge jutting out above the shoreline, he has a clear view on Moldark rinsing his battle axes clean of blood. He's covered with the stuff. Viscera too, splattered across his chestplate. The sunlight burnishes Moldark's gauntleted hands golden. 

"A-are you hurt?" Afritan calls out to him, needlessly making his presence known. 

Angling his head to look up at him from over his shoulder, Moldark replies calmly, "No, I'm not. What about you?"

Afritan shakes his head. Some thorned tendrils slip loose from his ear and slide over his face. Annoyed, he fusses over them.

"I told you, didn't I?" Moldark says, unprompted, and pushes himself up, hooks his axes back to the iron hinges on his belt. There's that lopsided smile again. At Afritan's confused expression, Moldark continues, "On the day we started. I told you that there would be some action. I was right." 

And Moldark even looks tentatively pleased when he says this. Crowned by the pink morning sky. The black color of the thin barbs on his head mellowed out in the light. Afritan's chest grows tight, so very tight. 

But this doesn't feel good. 

Words stammer to a standstill down his throat. Afritan's eyes widen, and suddenly he can't breathe, his windpipe's clogged up with something soft, and then he's choking. His face flushes a bruised yellow. Moldark scurries up the slippery rocks in alarm, but Afritan forcefully shakes his head, makes a gesture with his hand that either means stay back or it's okay. 

Raw sounds turn into nasty coughs. He's outright dry-heaving now. 

Until that something sticks to the back of his tongue, and he scrapes his teeth over it, spits it into his hand. Afritan catches his breath, shudders through an exhale. 

"O-oh thorns," he exclaims, dazed. Uncaring that Tatule, Oprez and the others come running, that Moldark hovers around him, antsy, out of his element.

There are flower petals in the palm of his hand. Wet from spit, frumpled, white, sad-looking. He hurriedly clenches his hand into a fist, hiding away the evidence. Afritan's eyes slide over to Moldark, and he looks at him like it's the first time, like back in the Grove, seeing him in a wholly different light.

Soulmate.

. 

[pinksparklyshampain-blog]

Heaven - Oneshot

Word Count: 2,210

Pairing: Ryden (Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie)

Category: Fluff. Like LOTS of fluff.

Brendon was a sinner and he couldn't deny it. Whenever people told him that "He was going to Hell" he couldn't help but to agree. It was, after all, the truth.

So when one day, as he peacefully walked through the small woods near his home, he heard thunder and loud crashing sounds, it was either: A- All a dream, made up by his sick mind or;

B- The time of his death. It was today he was visiting Hell and he was not ready for it.

Brendon heard something heavy falling from the branches, as the leaves crackled, adding onto the sound of snaps and tumbling.

And then it all stopped with a loud thud, as he finally saw what caused all of it. There was a man. There was a body, who had fallen off… wait where did he fall off from? Well, obviously the trees, but why? How?

The state he was in clearly didn't help. Everything was exposed, his lower half only hidden by silk, who now looked all wrinkled and rough. It stopped above the knees and fit him like a skirt. It had a peachy pink color, now covered in mud, dirt, and plants.

His curly hair had a chestnut color and a certain shine to it. Twigs and leaves were stuck in it as it glued to his face.

That's when it hit him. His back was tinting the ground in a deep crimson color. He was bleeding. Oh no. What if someone found him here and arrested him by mistake? What if he was hallucinating all of this?

And so forth the thoughts continued. They were only interrupted by faint breathing and coughing. He looked over at the pale man who was gracefully laying down on the grass. His chest grew, his body trembling from the action. He released the air irregularly.

Somehow, he had survived the fall. There was no way. That was it. He was hallucinating.

The man slowly opened his lids, revealing beautiful hazel eyes. As he saw Brendon, the injured man started breathing at a quicker pace. The before peaceful look turned into one of horror and pleading mercy.

"Please demon, don't hurt me" - The man said, pausing ever so slightly as it was clearly too much effort for him. His voice sounded raspy. At the same time, he lifted up his torso a bit, then proceeding to use his weak, trembling elbows to try and get away from Brendon.

Brendon couldn't say he wasn't insulted before. He had heard a lot from his family and strangers. But they were usually related to his sexuality. Never had he ever heard someone call him a 'demon'.

"I am not a demon. I'm human, like you...?" Brendon said trying to get closer. He noticed feathers in the mix of blood and dirt.

The pale man, who looked more like a boy now, mumbled something, then raised his voice.

"If not in" His voice failed multiple times, as if saying that word would hurt him more than he already is. "Hell," he spat out "where am I?"

"Welcome to earth," Brendon said in a tone of irony, expecting a roll of eyes or an irritated comeback. Instead, he received a look of pure shock.

"Here, I need to take care of your wounds" Brendon said while trying to get close to the hazel-eyed man.

The man fought with all of his strength until his exhaustion took over and he passed out.

Brendon grabbed him by his arms, laying him over his shoulder. While doing so, he noticed something unusual on the man's back.

-/-

When Ryan woke up he was in a strange place. Laying on his back, wearing a T-shirt that looked more like a dress with holes unsymmetrically cut onto it, over his tunic. Everything was clean and he was fully wrapped in bandages. Ryan tried to move, only to be interrupted by a voice. "No! Don't move yet, it will hurt" - He recognized it as the same voice of the person he had encountered earlier.

He struggled to get out of the man's grip, soon after giving up. He played with his curls until he inhaled a sharp breath, pain spreading through his whole body as he jolted up.

"Please…. Please stop." Ryan paused at the end, as he wanted to add in a name. Yet he didn't know the man's name. "Brendon." He quickly said "And if you want to fly again birdie, I gotta fix your wings" "I'm Ryan" The angel murmured while he slightly moved around "But you do understand how it works right?" Brendon held the wet cloth he was using to clean the wound up, his brows lifted in an expression of interest. "You waste your time helping a bird for it only to fly away from you and never to be seen again."

Brendon chuckled, going back to cleaning the wound. "Yet it still needs help to fly, doesn't it?"

Ryan sighed going back to playing with his hair, as he jolted up when the human beside him touched a sensitive spot. He made a small noise, as would a child when their parent tries to clean a small wound they got while playing.

"Sorry." - Now he was sure, God was testing his virtues. 'Stay patient' was what he told himself every time Brendon did something wrong or touched a sensitive place.

"Fuck!" Brendon screamed, dropping the wet cloth in anger as he brought a hand to his head. The angel, scared, turned his head, brown eyes meeting hazel ones. "What? Never heard anyone swear?"

Ryan slowly shook his head sideways. "Sorry, forgot you're a 'heavenly creature' "

"Don't say it like that it sounds weird." - He said turning back around, trying to hide his smile

"Whatever you say birdie." Brendon cleaned around the wings for a few more minutes before placing the damp cloth on his nightstand.

"Alright Ryan, think you can get up?" The angel sighed, using his hands to support his weight, his arms trembling as he slowly got on his knees. After that he flung himself forward. Just as soon as his feet touched the ground, he dropped forward, his heart skipping a beat before Brendon caught him.

"Maybe you'll need some help," He said, flinging the other's arm over his neck while placing his other arm around Ryan's waist. Then, he helped him step into and then sit, on the already full (and almost overfilled) tub. At first, the water burned his body, but soon it turned into warm and welcoming.

"You can take your clothes off there and throw them on the sink, I'll be back in 30 minutes" Brendon said before leaving, not completely closing the door.

20 minutes had passed and Brendon started hearing singing. Being curious, as always, he decided to peek through the small gap. Turns out the angel decided to have a bubble bath. His legs rested on the edge, his feet outside, while he played with the foam giggling and singing. Were those birds on the window stool? Ryan picked up some foam and blew it away. It turned into little pieces before falling into the pile of foam again. The birds sang. His hair was completely wet with foam on it. Brendon couldn't believe the stubborn creature actually had a Disney Princess side. This whole thing seemed like a Disney movie, just a darker and weirder version. He turned around, waited a little bit before knocking on the door. He entered, collected the clothes and left new dry ones next to him. "Change in there, when you're done just call me." "Sure." - He said, clearly annoyed. The raven-head left and waited to be called. After that he repeated what he did to bring him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the bed. "So!"- Brendon paused to breath "Can we eat pizza today?" "What's that?"- He said shifting a little to feel more comfortable. "The best food to be ever created! You have to try it!" He grabbed a weird object from his pocket, touched it a few times before bringing it to his ear and speaking. After some minutes he put it back on his pocket, leaving a confused Ryan.

-/-

He was brushing his chestnut locks when Brendon arrived with a box and sat across from him with his legs crossed (was he copying him?). He opened the box and took out a slice for him and another for Ryan. The angel didn't hesitate to take a bite and pouted when a string of cheese connected his lips to the slice. Suddenly Brendon broke that with his index finger. "There you go."

-/-

Day 5 Chores. How he hated them. There was just this sense of boredom as he dusted everything and tried to make his house not look like a complete mess. When he passed by his closed bedroom door (one of Ryan's many preferences) Brendon heard muffled talking and, being the nosy bitch he was, placed his ear against the wood as a cartoon character would. "You know, I miss the feeling of flying" Silence. Was he talking to himself? Maybe his girlfriend or a spirit? He knocked twice before saying "Can I come in or are you busy?" He would never forget the sight of him trying on skirts (which was what he decided to do once his legs started to get better). "Yeah" Came out the muffled sound from the other side. Brendon slowly opened the door. The angel was sitting in a W position, the old skirt being used once again. "Who… Who were you talking to?" Ryan pointed at his houseplant who looked very overgrown. "Can I cut that? It has gotten a little overgrown" "Would you like it if I cut your friends?" An awkward silence. "So you miss flying huh?" "If you think you can make fun of me because of that -" "Here, get on my back" Brendon positioned himself in front of Ryan and lowered himself. It took a few seconds until Ryan finally wrapped his arms around Brendon's neck and his legs around his body. Brendon held the angel's legs with his arms and started running around his house, trying to not break anything. Ryan started giggling and laughing, his wings jolting up. The sound was enough to make the energy of the room lighten up. So it was true that whenever angels laughed miracles happened. Brendon started to play Vivaldi's Spring on his phone and with the flow of the music, started to spin around. The piggyback ride turned into more of a dance. Brendon felt a weird feeling in his stomach at that moment. Ryan giggled again and the world completely stopped, his heart beating faster. 'Oh fuck.' - Brendon thought. No. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Brendon knew his love life was completely fucked up, his last relationship lasted at least a week with a boy from his hometown. That was when his parents found out about his "preferences" and very kindly asked him to go burn and rot in hell. After that little case he swore to himself he would never feel anything for anyone. And yet he fell again. Better yet, he fell for an angel. A sassy, moody angel. "Hey, you ok?" -Ryan said still slightly smiling. "Yeah, it's nothing."-He smiled back, now with a weird feeling in his stomach. "So… Um… Now that my wings are healing I"- He paused for a second sorting his thoughts- "We need to talk." Hearing that Brendon went cold. Maybe Ryan was finally going to fly away. He walked back to the room setting the angel back on the bed and awkwardly sitting beside him. "What do you want to tell me birdie?"

"What do you want to tell me birdie?"- The man in front of him said, making him shiver and his breath became uneven. Ryan had had enough hiding and fooling around. He needed to tell him. It didn't matter now if he felt the same or if he kicked him out of this house forever. The angel opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Blood flowed to his cheeks. "I…I don't really know how to phrase this but"- He paused. Maybe he could change the focus and say "sorry for getting feathers all over your couch yesterday" or "sorry for worrying you when that cat attacked me and I cried like a child" "I have no idea how, but I think I like you"- He said very fast and all at once. He noticed Brendon took a while to process it all which made Ryan's heart beat even faster. All he saw then was the other man lean in and place a soft kiss to his lips "I love you too birdie"

[gamzee-the-capricious-fanfic]

Chapter 3

Some Notes: There is some minor friend on friend violence. And some drug mention/use. Also, I don’t like weed terminology, its boring, so i’m just going to use cheesy slang for weed cause why not

It's the day before classes, the last 4 days have been a bit rough for you. Your pangs of guilt when seeing Karkat is starting to fade but it's been a bit difficult for you to communicate with him. Not because he avoids you or anything, quite the opposite really. He's pretty much always in your business at this point. You are no longer aloud to be alone at all now which you feel is putting strain on everyone. Especially yourself. You were ok when you had at least one option to be alone, well, to be fair that last day wasn't great but you had actually just found your husktop (how did you lose it?) so at least you wouldn't have been completely bored. So far though you just feel tossed around. You don't really think anyone really wants to sit around and grub-sit you all day. You feel stifled and unable to do anything you want to do. I mean, you don't feel like you can ask someone to go with you anywhere, it has been more like you have to follow them around. But worse than that you kind of feel… unwanted. 

It's not an unfamiliar feeling. In fact you've felt that way most of your life. I mean your own lusus never really wanted to stick around. The eventual use of sopor later on helped you to not feel that way. Well, the feeling was still there but buried deep in your high as hell mind. Then of course you met your friends, but they never really wanted to hang out with you. Tavros talked to you a lot but it wasn't within his means to visit you. Karkat you felt kind of just tolerated you before you were moirails. Occasionally others would talk to you but not much. You guess you never really processed those feelings when you were doped up and now they are all up crowding your thinkpan. You wish you could get high. 

At the moment you are trailing after Nepeta and Equius. They are talking animatedly, or well Nepeta is at least. You kind of feel, in the way. You guess you are just lucky they aren't trying to incorporate you into the conversation out of guilt. You would much prefer to not interact with anyone. You wonder if you slowed down enough would they notice you were gone? They aren't looking at you so you slow your walking keeping an eye on them to see if they may look back. Once they are quite a ways ahead of you you quickly make your way behind a building so you will no longer be in line of sight. You wonder how long it will take them to see you are not with them. Best to not think about it. You're on a mission: find a way to get high so you can stop thinking about things for at least a little while. You don't intend to pick up sopor again by any means but you know there are human alternatives. You want to get high, just for today. You hope that when classes start tomorrow everything will be at least a little better. You head off towards the city, if you stay on campus, the chances of you being caught are likely.

It takes you a few hours but eventually you find a seedy motherfuckin area and actually you kind of stumble into a drug deal. It could have been bad but you waved around some money and the dealer was happy to sell to you. He offered you many different types of human drugs but you heard from Dave that weed is pretty ok and there is not a high chance of addiction. So you buy some, you probably spent more for it than it was worth but you don't really care, you pay a little extra so the dealer can show you what you are even supposed to do with it. He says the fastest way to use it is to smoke it so you figure that is what you will do. You bought enough to make a few blunts as you find out they are called, you don't really give two fucks about the terminology. You shove the packet of weed in your pocket and head on your way. 

You find a nice secluded spot just off campus and you figure its as good a place as any, so you sit on the ground back against a building and you try to figure out how a human lighter works. Alternian ones are so much easier, this design is stupid. You finally manage after a few tries, great. You roll up a motherfucker and light it. Shit makes you cough but honestly whatever it takes at this point. It takes a little bit of time but you start feeling a bit high. Not as good as sopor but it is enough to chill you out. It makes it easier not to think about things. You sigh and look up at the sky. It's about 7 pm you think. You turned off your phone so you couldn't check for sure. You decide to sit there for a while longer, even though the high makes you feel better you don't want to go back to your room. You know Karkat will just rip into you so you'd rather put it off a bit for now. You decide to light up another one. Might as well. 

The sky has long since gone dark and you still haven't gone back yet. The darkness is no obstacle of course. Trolls are technically nocturnal creatures after all. You sigh, you should probably turn your phone on at least. When it turns on you see you have 25 missed calls, all from Karkat, and a slew of messages from various friends. You don't care to look at them so you just delete them all. You look at the time while you are at it, huh, 11pm. You didn't think you had been sitting here that long. You decide you ought to get up. Your legs feel all stiff from sitting so long. You decide to slowly start walking towards the side of campus your dorm building is at. You still want to procrastinate on getting there but you know you ought to at least sleep a little before classes the next morning. You imagine Karkat might rant and rave at you for at least a couple hours. 

Your halfway to the dorm building just minding your motherfuckin business when you hear something running towards you. Your high is still going so your a bit slow to react but it is Karkat and he looks pissed. You wonder why he is not slowing down as he approaches you but you soon find out. He tackles you to the ground driving the breath out of you and then he punches you in the face. Hard. 

"YOU FUCKING VILE HORSESHIT PRICK!" He punches you again. You are too surprised by this reaction to do anything. 

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU JUST UP AND DISSAPEAR LIKE THAT!" He goes to punch you again but you grab his hand stopping him. He is practically snarling at you and every ounce of high feeling you had is gone. 

"FUCKING SAY SOMETHING YOU ASSHOLE, GIVE SOME EXCUSE I DARE YOU!" 

You kind of snap. "I DON'T NEED TO GIVE YOU A MOTHERFUCKIN REASON. I'M NOT SOME FUCKING WRIGGLER THAT NEEDS LOOKING AFTER KARKAT." You shove him off of you. You are angrier than you ever recall being. Karkat looks alarmed but you don't care. He tries to say something. 

"SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP AND JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONE GODDAMNED SECOND." You lower your voice a bit, rage is still boiling through your veins so it is more of a dangerous quiet. "I can't fucking stand to be smothered Karkat. You think I like being tossed around, unwanted, and treated like I'm broken motherfucker?" 

He stutters, the fear on his face makes you smile. "I-I---n-no Gamzee. I-I'm sorry--" 

"Of course you are. OF COURSE YOU ARE. I can make you real and truly sorry my brother." 

A timid voice comes from behind you. 

"G-Gamzee?"

You turn with an almost guttural growl at whoever interrupted you. It's Tavros. Part of you is screaming inside to not hurt him but the you that isn't you takes a step towards Tavros with a sadistic smile on your face. Karkat grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. Next thing you know your hands are around his neck squeezing. Despite that he looks calm, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. You loosen your grip on his throat and he shooshes you. The anger is starting to slip away leaving you feeling empty. Your hands fall to your sides, you feel like a limp doll, probably look like one too. Then filling up the emptiness you feel is horror. You were going to hurt them. You almost came close to killing your moirail. 

"O-oh god, Karkat i-im sorry, i'm so sorry. I wouldn't have--" you trail off, you were lying, you would have killed him. You would have snapped his neck like a twig. You think he knows too.

You don't understand how he could stand there, comforting someone who was just seconds away from killing him. You feel sick to your stomach. Karkat is rubbing your back and murmuring to you that everything is ok. 

"But I hurt you..?" You can't comprehend that being anywhere close to ok.

"Well, to be fair I did punch you, twice.” He examines your face. “Hold still.” 

He wipes your face with his sleeve, you didn’t realize your nose was bleeding. He makes a face at the blood on his sleeve. You look down at his neck, you can still see the imprint of your hands. He notices you looking. 

“It’s fine Gamzee, It could have been worse.”

You suppose so? But still doesn’t erase the fact that you still did that and had the intention to do worse. You sigh, you do that alot these days you realize. After a moment you say in a quiet voice, not one of violence but uncertainty. 

“I… don’t see how you can still up and have any feelings for this motherfucker after all this.”

“Well, you might be a violent clown dumbass but you’re MY violent clown dumbass. Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle softly. 

 Another voice chimes in. It’s Tavros, you kind of forgot he was still there.

“Y-yeah, well, uh, I’m not in a quadrant or anything with you” He blushes profusely. “ but I still uh, care about you, uh, i-inafriendway.” He says that last bit very quickly. 

Karkat rolls his eyes, you’re not sure why though. Actually most of Tavros’s actions and words kind of confused you. You’re getting some mixed motherfuckin signals. It’s too confusing to think about right now you decide. After looking at Karkat you stifle a laugh at a thought you just had.

“You know, if no one else knew better they would probably think we were kismesis.” You gesture to your face and Karkat’s neck.

“Oh god, I can’t even imagine that. Me hate dating you? No fucking way.”

You laugh for real now, you 100% agree with that statement. Karkat grabs your hand and starts tugging you towards the dorm building. 

“Lets get you cleaned up then we are going to have a pile session, well, probably just on the lounge couch.”

Damn, you were totally ready to whip out the horn pile. After a big exaggerated sigh you smile. It's been a while since you two had a real feelings jam. 

Later in your guy's room you and Karkat are all sorts of comfy in the couch. You are lying with your head on Karkat’s lap and he is running his hands through your hair. You have already went back over and talked about the whole feeling suffocated thing, this time with less yelling and violence. Karkat was thinking of a way to compromise, you get to do whatever but he still wants a way to know if you are unsafe or feel like you might have a seizure. 

“Ok, how about, a text warning? Like not a word or anything that may be too long. Maybe an emoji?” 

You yawn, It’s really fucking late. “Yeah sure Kar, that sounds fine by me.” You think for a moment. “I guess we should pick one then?”

Karkat starts flipping through the emojis on his phone occasionally showing you one that he thinks would be appropriate. You just want a funny one though.

“Look, Its gotta be something you wouldn’t normally use ok? These fucking stupid ones look like something you would just randomly send me.”

You suppose he is right. He searches intently before pointing at one. It is a red x lookin thing. 

“This one, remember that you dumbass.”

“Sure Karbro, now, not to be too much of a buzzkill on this whole pale sesh but can we go to sleep now?” You yawn again.

“Oh god Gamzee, please never call this that ever again. An idiot like you knows what it sounds like.” He is making a face. “Now maybe get the fuck off of me then we can sleep.” 

You sigh, then you grab him and pull him down to lie on the couch next to you. He grumbles. 

“What the fuck are you doing Gamzee.”

“Oh no bro, I am too motherfucking tired to get the fuck up so I guess you are just stuck here.” You smile and pull him in close, no escape for this motherfucker. 

Karkat mutters some very interesting curses but ends up settling down giving in. You love it when you win. 

Some inspiration songs for this Chapter:

The Reason cover by Chase Holfelder https://youtu.be/jsLHVKGIMik

Fit for Rivals Damage https://youtu.be/MsWzZ4SnhSk 

Twenty one pilots Car Radio https://youtu.be/KAmBKyfoJCY

And Every Breath You Take cover by Chase Holfelder https://youtu.be/KAmBKyfoJCY

^ this one more like Karkat in this chapter

[warriorsredux]

Chapter Twelve

Fireheart had almost forgotten what mouse tasted like.

There weren’t very many of them during the winter - most of them stayed in their dens or close to the houses, where food was guaranteed - and those that did pop up were skinny and barely a mouthful. Fireheart usually stuck to squirrels and birds, but tonight, all he could find was the tiny brown mouse dangling by its tail from his mouth. He was grateful that there was nearly no one in camp to see his pitiful catch.

Wonder if anyone’s fed the queens, he thought. Might as well see.

There was a twitch of doubt in the back of his mind, but he ignored it and approached the oak tree that shielded the nursery from the outside world.

“Hello? I’ve got something.” He stuck his head in through the opening, accidentally dropping the mouse. “It’s not much, but...”

He trailed off as his eyes roamed around the nursery. It was surprisingly roomy for a den below the ground, with the bottom of the tree overhead and roots weaving through the walls. Bent feathers and dry moss and crooked little twigs littered the floor. In one corner was Goldenflower, dead asleep on her side. In the other was Frostfur, licking the head of one of the kittens at her belly.

Fireheart coughed politely to get her attention. He was rewarded with a hiss and the startled queen jumping to her feet, knocking her kits away from her. They wailed at the loss of warmth and began crawling over each other blindly.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Frostfur growled, but her voice trembled.

“Bringing you prey...?” Fireheart reached in and nudged the mouse closer to her. “I was saying it’s not much, but it’s food.”

Frostfur’s hairs gradually lowered on her back. She inched forward, snatched up the mouse, and hurried back to her kits. Quickly, she laid back down and pulled them close.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Fireheart said.

“I know.” Frostfur blinked hard and exhaled, looking back at him more calmly. “Thank you for the mouse.”

“No worries.” Fireheart watched the kittens kneading at their mother’s stomach. “I’ll, uh, get some more for Goldenflower.”

“We’ll be here,” Frostfur said. She turned to her mouse and started eating.

Fireheart didn’t move. He was surprised to find that he couldn’t take his eyes off the litter. Two of the kits looked the same - both golden with white markings - while one was white with patches and the other looked exactly like its mother. The patched one squeaked and kicked its back legs as it nursed, nudging the white one next to it. They looked a little like small, colorful squirrels with short tails.

Something in Fireheart’s chest and head raised its head out of the murk of his subconscious - something ugly and hateful, some cruel instinct that had never been there before. Beyond his understanding, Fireheart felt a deeply-rooted desire to lash out at these kits that grew darker and more powerful the longer he stared at this litter. It surprised and frightened him, but he wasn’t able to drag himself away.

“You’re blocking up the den,” someone said.

Fireheart jolted and hit his head on the top of the entrance. He winced and turned around to see Sandstorm looking down at him with a vole at her feet. Surprisingly, there was no narrowed, distrustful eyes or cold sneer waiting for him.

“What were you doing in there?” she said.

“Just-” Fireheart realized his fur was bristling. He shook himself hard and stepped away from the hole. “I was giving Frostfur some prey. I, uh... I have to get Goldenflower something too-”

“Let me take care of that,” Sandstorm said. Fireheart was relieved at the lack of scorn in her voice. “Toms aren’t supposed to be in there, anyway.”

“Oh,” Fireheart said quietly, mostly to himself. “Right. Sorry.”

Sandstorm didn’t move immediately. She watched Fireheart with her head tilted for a long moment. But instead of saying anything, she just picked up her prey, moved past him and slipped into the nursery. Fireheart let out a breath and walked into the center of camp.

What was happening to him? Already, the feeling was fading, but it was strong and driven by something Fireheart had never felt in his head before. He sat down and flexed his claws to get rid of the last of it, now filled with dread. He hadn’t acted this way around Cinderpaw and Swiftpaw when they were still kits, had he? And yet now, he had wanted to... do something. Hurt some innocent kittens somehow. Why?

“What’s with the tension, boy?”

Fireheart looked to the right. Yellowfang was hobbling up to him, Cinderpaw bouncing around behind her.

“You look like you’ve seen roadkill,” the old cat said.

“I, uh... I just visited the nursery,” Fireheart mumbled.

“So?”

“So... I don’t know.”

Yellowfang squinted at him and set her jaw. Almost a heartbeat later, her eyes bulged again and she made a low, darkly amused sound.

“Perhaps you ought to stay away from the nursery from here on out.” Her yellow, cracked teeth stuck out almost maliciously. “You’ve got those kittypet sensibilities.”

“What sensibilities?” Cinderpaw came to a stop beside her mentor, looking between the two adults.

“Never you mind, fool girl.” Yellowfang’s poorly-groomed tail gently swatted Cinderpaw upside the head. “Go see your brother or Willowpelt. Go on.”

“You’re gunna have a serious talk, aren’t you?” Cinderpaw stretched as tall as she could and leaned towards Fireheart. “Can I watch?”

“I told you to beat it, didn’t I?” Yellowfang snapped.

“Aw.” Cinderpaw slumped and walked away. She stopped once or twice and looked back hopefully, but Yellowfang’s growls sent her walking again.

“Now.” Yellowfang lowered her voice. “Let me guess. You were just wanting to kill those little fuzzballs, yes?”

“Not- not kill them,” Fireheart said quickly. “No, I just-”

“It was on your mind, though.” Yellowfang glanced at the nursery and then at Fireheart out of the side of her eye. “Good thing nothing happened. Frostfur would whoop you in a heartbeat.”

“I won’t deny that,” Fireheart said. “But how do you know about this... whatever it is?”

“You’re not a Clan cat.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re predisposed to violent urges around kits,” Yellowfang said, as if she was just remarking on the weather. “It’s in your blood to kill those that aren’t yours.”

Fireheart blinked. A faint memory resurfaced. “Goldenflower said the same thing to me a long time ago.”

“And you still went to visit?” Yellowfang gave him a funny look.

“Oh, pardon me,” Fireheart said. “Sorry I didn’t know that I’m crazy.”

“‘Crazy’,” Yellowfang snorted. “You’re wrong in the head, certainly, but not crazy.”

“Thanks.” Fireheart gave her a withering look.

Yellowfang didn’t appear to notice. “You might as well get out and clear your mind a little.”

“Clear it of what?”

Fireheart jumped as Tigerclaw approached, his eyes narrowed.

“The kittypet’s learning he doesn’t like kits that he didn’t father,” Yellowfang said. “Give him an assignment or something so he doesn’t have to stay in camp and start a fight.”

“I’m not going to start-”

“Patrol,” Tigerclaw said. “Lionpelt is going hunting soon. Perhaps you should go with him.”

Fireheart wasn’t sure whether to protest or accept this task quietly. He settled for a sigh. “Where’s he going?”

Tigerclaw’s expression vanished. “As far as I know, outside the territory.”

“What, to the houses?” Yellowfang said. “You lot have plenty of prey here. Why bother with the houses?”

“He may be going elsewhere,” Tigerclaw said quietly. “I just know that he could use some company.”

His eyes turned to Fireheart.

“I guess I could go with him,” Fireheart said after a moment of thought.

“A bit of hunting will get your mind back in shape,” Yellowfang said. “Be off, then.”

With that, she turned around and trotted lamely for her apprentice, who was wrestling with her brother.

“You should get going if you want to catch up to him,” Tigerclaw said to Fireheart.

“Right. Alright.” Fireheart quickly stood up straight and started for the outside. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed Tigerclaw walking for the nursery.

“I thought toms weren’t allowed in there!” he called.

Tigerclaw, bent over the hole between the tree’s roots, didn’t bother looking up. “Mates and fathers are.”

“Oh.” Fireheart blinked. “Who’re you, uh...?”

“Goldenflower.” Without another word, Tigerclaw entered. He had to practically slither into the den on his belly to fit.

“Congratulations,” Fireheart said to the space Tigerclaw had occupied. Silently, deeply troubled, he exited camp.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Young bb Obi adventures *cough* angst *cough*

He’sdizzy. Every part of his body hurts with each step he takes towards nowhere, everybreath of air burning in his chest. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, handsgrasping at branches and bushes to pull himself forward. Leaves slap him in theface and he sputters; brambles grab at his clothes and he yanks them free.

He’sdisoriented amongst all of these trees, unable to tell which direction is theforward and which direction is back, but he doesn’t fall and he doesn’t stop. Theyswore that they would come for him if he came far enough: Not a step sooner,not a step later.

Hisvision is dark at the edges even though the sun that is bearing down is at thehighest point in the sky. The world bends and sways in front of him. He has tokeep moving, though. He has to keep going. He’s never made it this far before,but he doesn’t know how far the dogs at his back will chase him or how far heneeds to go forward before his new Master will take him in.

Theground tilts and he lurches forward, grabbing hold of a tree for support. Restinghis forehead against the rough bark, he pants, squeezing his eyes shut while hewaits for the ground to settle flat once more.

Justa minute. He just needs a minute.

Thesnap of a twig sounds like the splintering of a bolder and he twists his head inthe direction of the sound too quickly. The earth churns angrily andhis eyes roll back in his skull, his heart pounding in his chest. He stops moving. Hisstillness placates the monster that lives under the mountain and he slowly opens his eyes again.

Eyesthe color of the forest that surround them fill his vision from across thesmall clearing. A girl, younger than him, is staring at him. She looks…concerned, maybe. Scared? Probably scared. He hopes she’s scared, because ifshe is not—

Hebares his teeth, narrowing his eyes in a way that made other people hesitate,and tries to run her off. She may be barefoot like him, but she’s wearing apretty blue dress and there’s not a mark on her.

Itdoesn’t work. “Brother, are you okay?” she asks, edging forward.

Hedoesn’t have enough energy to run. He twists his face to make it uglier,holding himself up by digging his fingertips into the bark of the tree.

Shepauses. “My name is Shirayuki,” she offers after a beat. “What’s yours?”

Hemeans to growl at her, but it comes out like a long groan and she frowns. Hisvision swims even when he stills.

Heblinks rapidly again. He’s running out of time and his mind races uselesslytowards finding an escape. Others cannot be far away from this girl. When hefocuses again, her eyes aren’t on his. She’s looking down. “Your legs…” shewhispers, her tiny hands reaching towards him.

Hepanics, heart stuttering violently and he lets go of the tree. The world feels unreal.

“Don’tmove!” she calls, approaching him faster. Her voice sounds like it’s underwater and the blackness weighs him down. “You’re hurt!”

Heswings his arms wildly against the darkness, stumbling away from the girl. Hecan’t go back again. No. He won’t.

Hedoesn’t even feel it when he hits the ground. Distantly, he can hear the soundof a heart beat slowing, of hoarse breaths in time with the burning pain inhis throat. Numbly staring across the clearing, he can see the soles of thegirls feet are painted green with crushed grass. Her basket lands next to them,tipping over and spilling plants everywhere, and she is turning on her heels, screaming as she runs away from him.

“Mooooooooooom!”

Oh.It’ll be worse this time. A lot worse.

~~ ~

Hiseyes crack open slowly just as a damp cloth rubs across his forehead. Dazed, hisbody feels too heavy to move, but his vision swims to the sight of green eyesframed by a white mask and kerchief.

Oh.It’s that girl.

Sheis focused so hard that she doesn’t notice that he’s awake, rewetting the towelto rub his face. She passes it over his lips and the moisture causes a riot inhis dried throat. He’s so thirsty. Lower, he can feel weatheredhands moving him, inspecting him, and there’s the sound of chair being shiftedcloser.

Hecloses his eyes, swallowing. His clothes are missing.

“…I’msorry to pull you away from the kitchens,” a man’s voice calls from somewhereacross the room.

Thevoice that replies has been tempered with age and is closer, much closer, butshe’s distracted. “Quite alright, Mukaze. The healer won’t be here for anotherweek. I’ve sewn up plenty on my kitchen table.”

Herfingers press around tender spots, pulling freshly sealed skin taunt. He bitesdown a hiss.

“Howis he?”

“…he’slost a lot of blood.” The woman replies after a moment. Her voice is quiet,gentle even, accompanied by the press of her fingers to his neck where the girlhas not yet washed. He struggles not to flinch. “Tsk, he has a fever, too.”

Theman sighs. “Will he be okay?”

“Thatremains to be said,” the woman answers, shifting away from him. “I don’t thinkI’ve seen many grown men in this state, let alone a boy. Only time will tell.”

Hecan hear the heavy clop of boots as the man moves closer, and then a steadyinhale. “Those marks on his legs. Are they what I think they are?”

Hepanics as the woman’s voice drops lower. “I’m afraid so. Although I’ve never seen somany on such a small body.”

Hisheart is beating too fast. How can he get out of here with no clothes andsurrounded by three people?

“Whatcan we do, Mrs. Hara?” the little girl asks, shifting her attention to his neckand collarbone.

Thecool cloth feels good, but she’s pulled away from him a moment later with alittle distressed sound.

“Nothingthat you need to see, my dove,” the older woman replies. He cracks his eye opento see that the girl has been gathered onto the old woman’s lap and she ispointing to his lower half. The older woman’s face and hair are also covered.“We have to take care of that, you see?”

Thegirl shakes her head fiercely. “It’s going to hurt,” she protests.

“Shirayuki,”the woman admonishes, bouncing her knee. “If we don’t take care of it, he’llonly get sicker.”

“He’llbe scared,” she replies sulkily. “Someone should hold his hand so he’s notscared. Right, brother?”

Eyesturn to his, two sets surprised and one set determined. He stops breathing.

Thewoman’s expression turns worried. “I think you should go,” she begins slowly.

“Lether stay,” the man interrupts. The woman glances at him, concerned. “She’sright. Someone should be here during the worst of it.”

Thewoman exhales noisily. “I won’t be held responsible for any nightmares, youngman.”

The man grins. “She’d only have them if you didn’t let her stay.”

~~ ~

Hewants to, but he doesn’t pass out during the process.

Hisvoice is hoarse from screaming, arms aching where the man held him down whilethe woman extracted the wooden barbs from his skin. But he’s been fed a little broth and he’s clean now, thecuts wrapped and body clothed. His body still feels tight from the pain. It’s warm, though, and the blankets weigh down on his chest, trying to lull him to sleep. He fights closing his eyes. If he rests, he might wake up back where he came from.

“Doyou have nightmares?”

Thelittle girl never left, even after the grownups had asked her to. He barelyremembers holding her hand through the process, but some part of his brain tells him that she never let go.

Lookingup at her from where his head is cradled in his lap, he stares dumbly at her.She removes her mask, smiling down at him.

“It’sokay, brother,” she whispers. “I have nightmares, too. I’ll stay with you soyou can sleep.”

~~ ~

Hecan hear night creatures singing outside when he wakes up next. He feels… better. Not great, but good enough to start moving once more. Carefullyopening his eyes, he pushes himself up slowly, looking around the still house. The little girl has fallen asleep, leaning back against the couch and breathingnoisily.

Heslips out from under the blankets. His whole body hurts, but thankfully the world doesn’tsway like it did earlier. Silently taking a step in the direction of the frontdoor, he pauses, looking back at the girl. Something… feels wrong in leavingher behind like this. Looking around blindly, he settles for grabbing theblanket, pulling it up so it covers her lap.

He’sabout to turn away when her hand lands on his wrist. He starts, looking up andfinds her eyes glittering at him in the dark.

“Areyou leaving?” she whispers.

Henods, his heart pounding in his chest. There’s nothing he can do to stop herfrom waking the others. He won’t hurt her—he owes her his life now.

“Youshouldn’t leave without food,” she tells him, pushing the blankets off of herand grabbing ahold of his hand. He stares down at it as she drags him to thekitchen.

“Doyou like fruit? Bread? Cheese?” she asks, pulling out drawers to create aladder and climbing to the countertop.

Hewatches her with wide eyes as she pulls out a burlap bag and looks down at himexpectantly. He just nods.

Shepurses her lips, her hands scrambling as she grabs what she can reach. “Mrs.Hara said you shouldn’t eat too fast, even if you are really reallyhungry,” she informs him seriously.

Thathe knows. He made that mistake twice before.

Shejumps off the counter, holding the bag out to him. He hesitates before takingit gingerly in his hands, his stomach twisting.

“Eastis that way,” she informs him, pointing at the front door. “Papa says thatalmost everyone in Tanbarun builds their house so the front door faces theeast.”

That’sactually… quite helpful. He blinks, turning away from her.

“Wait!”she calls, grabbing his arm. He looks down at her hand with a frown beforeglancing back at her. “Mama always asks something from her friends before theyleave on a trip. Like… a pin or a button? It’s so we make sure that we see eachother again.”

Hestares at her.

“Itmagic,” she rushes her words, a blush staining her cheeks. “To make sure you’llbe okay. We have to see each other again if I have a piece of you.”

Hisheart lurches. He should just go, just pull himself from her grasp anddisappear into the night.

“I’msorry,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. His tongue feels thick inthis language. “I don’t leave things behind.”

~~ ~

Thenight is more disorienting here than on the plains, but there is less of achance of being spotted when he travels at night.

Ofcourse, when the snare wraps around his ankle and tears him up towards the sky,breaking open his skin once more, he realizes that there are some benefits totraveling when there is some light in the sky.

Twobodies emerge from the shadows. The man he recognizes, but the woman…

“Thisis the one that you found, Cagatay?” the woman sneers, looking him up and down.“He’s nothing but skin and bones.”

He feels irritated and his tongue, which always got him in trouble, flies loose. “ButI made it,” he replies evenly, staring hard at the woman before him. It washard to be intimidating when you were dangling like a fresh kill, though.

Herlips curl in a cruel smile. “That you did,” she croons, sauntering closer tohim. Instinct tells him to flinch, but he learned long ago not to avoid yourMaster’s hands. It only makes matters worse. She grabs hold of his hair, pullinghim closer so he is forced to stare into her eyes. “Tell me your name, boy.”

Hedoesn’t show fear. He doesn’t let his voice shake. Most of all, he doesn’t cry.

“Obi.”