#guy who is there again and again and again. the stone wall the shield the anchor the hand to hold the shoulder to cry on

[itsalwaysforyou]

JAY BRAIN

[lives-in-midgard]

Finally Safe

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After being kidnapped from Hydra you get saved by Bucky and the Avengers.

Word Count: 1300

A/N: Hey everyone! I finally wrote a Bucky fanfic again and I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

 You weren’t sure where you were or how long you had been there. You didn’t know what time it was or what day it was. Has it been weeks or months since you were there? You weren’t sure. The only thing you knew was that you were on your way home from work. It was only a short walk, so you decided to walk. You always thought it is a safe path until someone hit your head and you suddenly woke up in a cell in a place where no one would probably ever find you.

You were so scared, especially when these strange men came to you. The first day they didn’t do anything to you and just laughed, but the next day they started doing experiments on you. The experiments made you feel nauseous, and you began to feel a change. Whatever they wanted to do to you seemed to work. After a while you finally found out where you were…it’s a HYDRA base. You couldn’t believe it. You’ve heard stories about them. Scary things. The winter soldier was one of those things you heard about. Is he still here?

You always had to think about your friends and family. Are they looking for you or did the people who kidnapped you made it look like you died? Every night you cried yourself to sleep and hoped that one day someone would come and save you. Maybe the Avengers would somehow find out about this Hydra base and save you. Maybe this was just your dream, and no one could ever save you, but you didn’t lose hope. Not even after everything they did to you.

You suddenly woke up when you heard someone screaming and it sounded like someone was fighting. You quickly sat up and took a shaky breath because of the injury on your left arm. There was again a scream to hear. What happened?

Suddenly a loud noise was heard, and your door opened. You couldn’t recognize him…you have never seen this man before and he didn’t look like the others here. He had short brown hair, a black leather jacket and then you noticed that he has a metal arm. You got scared and moved further to the back of the room so that your back was leaning against the wall.

“Hey, it’s okay…I won’t hurt you.” He said in a soft tone and made a few steps near you.

“I’m Bucky.” He knelt down in front of you. Bucky looked friendly, but you weren’t sure if you could trust him.

“You can trust me, I promise.” He said with a worried look. You thought about it for a second, but then you told him your name and he began to smile. Then he reached to his ear.

“I found someone.” Bucky looked at you while saying that.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” He said to you. Then he stood up and reached his hand out for you. You took his hand and stood up.

“You stay behind me…I promise I’ll get you out of here.” He said with a slight smile. As you followed Bucky through the halls, it was quiet until a Hydra agent suddenly appeared who started to attack Bucky. Then everything happened so fast they started to fight and suddenly more came. Then a shield flew behind you and you jumped to the side. Captain America and some more Avengers came to help. When you saw another guy trying to hurt Bucky from behind, you finally got out of your shock and wanted to help him. It was the perfect time to use the powers they gave you. You pointed your hand at him and then he started to turn to ice.

“Woah, what was that?” One of the avengers said while Bucky looked at you impressed. You helped them take down the others by using your power and turning them into ice and stone.

When you walked outside with them, they talked about how amazing you were.

“You okay?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Yeah.” You mumbled and looked away again. As you sat down in the quinjet, Bucky sat down next to you.

“Oh no, you’re bleeding.” Bucky said when he noticed the wound on your left arm.

“That’s from yesterday…it must have started bleeding again.”

“Steve, can you get me the first aid kit?” Bucky asked, looking over to Steve, who nodded. A few seconds later Steve was back, handing it to Bucky and giving you a soft smile. Bucky gently took care of your wound and wrapped a bandage over it.

“Thank you for saving me.” You said, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“You’re welcome. I’m so glad that I could save you.”

You didn’t talk much the rest of the fly. Steve told you that you would be staying at the Avengers compound for a while and that there is a spare room next to Bucky’s room.

It was already dark when you landed at the compound. You followed them into the building and to the living room.

“I’ll go get you some clothes of mine, so you can change.” Wanda said and you nodded.

“And I’ll make you a sandwich.” Natasha announced and went into the kitchen. You sat down on the couch next to Bucky and Steve. After a while Wanda came back with some clothes. Then you changed into some new clothes which made you feel a little better, then you ate the sandwich, and Bucky showed you to your room.

“If you need anything, doesn’t matter what time just knock on my door, okay?” Bucky said and you nodded.

“Okay, thank you Bucky.”

“Of course.” He said with a smile.

You sat down on the bed and began to smile. You were happy that you are finally safe. After a while you laid down in bed and tried to sleep but it took a long time for you to fall asleep.

When you woke up you let out a scream. You had a nightmare that felt so real, like you were there again. You sat up quickly, starting to sweat and starting to breath fast. Someone opened the door to your room and ran over to you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe.” Bucky whispered as he sat down next to you.

“Bucky.” You mumbled and reached for his arm.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He said but it still didn’t calm you down and Bucky was really worried about you.

“Let’s try to breath together, okay?” He suggested and you tried to nod and follow his breathing. But it didn’t work that well.

“Okay, let’s try something else, doll.” He said and then laid down next to you.

“Put your head on my chest and try to follow my breathing.” Bucky said in a gentle tone. You did as he said and laid your head on his chest. Then Bucky started rubbing your back, you listened to his heartbeat and tried to follow his breathing.

“That’s it, doll. Just breathe in and out.”

“You’re doing so well, doll.” With every minute you were laying like this, you felt better and safer. After you calmed down, you looked up at Bucky.

“Thank you.” You whispered and Bucky smiled at you.

“You’re welcome, doll. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” Bucky said in a sad voice.

“It wasn’t you’re fault.”

“I know but you don’t deserve it, no one does.” Bucky said and you nodded.

“You should try to get some sleep.” Bucky suggested.

“Can you stay here?” You asked.

“Of course.” He said and you laid your head back on his chest. Bucky held you and gave you a kiss on the forehead. After a while you fell asleep in his arms and felt safer than you ever did.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @brnesblogposts

@beaubbdoll

[abigailywrites]

whirlpool [kylo ren x reader]

ao3 / ko-fi

rating: t word count: 4k warnings: none

You aren’t sure what you’re supposed to be. A single, isolated X-wing painted in Resistance orange floating through space towards a First Order cruiser…

“Reason with him…” General Organa had asked you. Leia had asked you.

Reason... There is nothing reasonable about this. At any moment you could be blown to pieces, scattered across space. You’re sure the only thing keeping you alive is the mass, hysterical confusion that’s keeping the officers on the inside from giving the order to shoot. Yet, you press on. You press on because of the pleas of a mother. Someone’s mother. His mother. No, you are not Reason.

“It wouldn’t be an official mission,” she had said. “It wouldn’t even go on the books. It’s more of a covert operation. You’d be a spy, almost.”

Spy. Is that what you are? You’ve been a spy before. Spies don’t fly in the face of those they’re spying on. Spies hide to gather information, bring it back to the good guys, and beat the bad guys. Spies have a plan for getting into where they need to go. They have a plan for getting back out again. You are not a spy.

“Even if I could talk to him, he wouldn’t listen to me,” she had said. “But he might listen to you. You’re my last hope of getting through to him.”

Hope. Yes, that’s what you’re supposed to be, but it fits you wrong like a shirt that’s too tight across the chest. The title is a constraint; it presses you in. The weight of it is heavier, more crushing than your fear. You are Leia’s last hope that Ben will come home - a single, shaky X-wing fighter who is supposed to bring a boy back from the dead. How can you represent hope when you have none of your own?

The radio lights up. “Hold it, Resistance scum,” a voice warns. “We have you on your screens now. Identify, or we’ll shoot.”

They might just do so anyway, you remind yourself. “Diplomatic mission from the Ileenium System,” you manage in a wavering voice. “Ambassador transport requesting deactivation of the deflector shields.”

Nothing but static. Of course, what did you expect? Any moment now, you’ll be blasted into the cold vacuum of space. But a presence is whispering in the back of your mind. It finds the first loose stone in the wall around your mind and latches onto the opening until it’s all you can think about.

In a rage, you flick on the radio. “And if Kylo Ren is there,” you add. “Tell him that if he doesn’t let me in, I’ll tattle to his mother about him.” But, of course, he’s there. There’s no one else in the galaxy whose mere presence could inspire the same rage in you. There’s no one else whose presence you would feel as potently. 

That’s why you’re not surprised when the disgruntled officer’s voice comes over the radio again. “Clearance granted. Land in hangar two in the north quadrant.” He sounds disappointed like he had been hoping for a fireworks show.

You confirm and comply. Here it is before you: the moment of truth. You can see as plain as day how it will unfold. You’ll tell Ren you’re there to win him back, and he’ll laugh in your face and run his saber through you. He’ll tell himself it was justified. He’ll believe he is in the right. It’s what you deserved for refusing to join him when he offered it. After all, he’d given you one chance already. If you were lucky and if he was feeling merciful, he might keep you alive long enough to give you a second chance which you would flatly refuse once again. And the Dark Side will pull him in further and further into delusion until there isn’t even a memory of who he used to be. 

But Leia had asked you to do this.

The army of stormtroopers that you expect to be at hangar two is not there. No one is there. The hangar is vacant as far as the eye can see. But there’s that presence again, sucking you in like a whirlpool. Oh, there is someone there. Someone who doesn’t want you to see him.

He’s watching you; you can feel it. He’s watching as you sit for another five minutes in your X-wing, gritting your teeth and steeling your nerves. He watches as you slap your cheek once just to get the blood flowing again, and he watches as you climb out of the ship and land firmly on the ground. In his territory, now.

“Well,” you say to the empty air. “Don’t be a coward, Ren. I’m unarmed, which is more than I can say of you.”

The silence rings in your ears until you hear his voice. Oh, Maker, you hear his voice, same as ever it was. “It’s been a long time.” He doesn’t call you love. That endearment used to punctuate every other sentence Ben Solo muttered to you. Not anymore.

“Not long enough,” you spit out. “I’m not here to talk to thin air, Kylo. If you don’t show yourself—”

“You’ll tattle to my mother about me?” He’s so close now. Just behind you with a voice that is suddenly modulated and stiff. Maker, you could turn around and see him if you wanted to. “You’re one of her Resistance pilots now, I see.”

Your fingers curl into fists. “Did the bright orange flight suit give it away?”

“It seems a pity to me. There was a time when you would have made a brilliant Jedi.”

At this, you turn, and you see his mask staring back at you. Empty. Emotionless. Dark and foreboding. One look and you’re beginning to understand what it must have been like to see Darth Vader in the flesh. Kylo’s fantasy leaking into a horrifying reality.

Still, you don’t stutter. “Is that your idea of a joke?” you grit, wishing to the stars you had your blaster so you could make him regret it.

He doesn’t answer you. His head tilts to the side, and his mechanical voice is almost soft when it says, “You haven’t changed…”

You wish your heart didn’t thud the way it did when he said that. “I wish I could say the same about you,” you reply. You can’t bear to face him any longer, and you can only hope that he doesn’t notice when you lower your eyes.

But he doesn’t have to notice. He could read you backward and forwards. He could recite you like a poem. He doesn’t have to notice that your eyes lower. All he has to do is look for your mind and find your fear. “You’re afraid of the mask.” He states it so matter-of-factly, not even giving you a chance to rebuff it. As if you would. Lying to him about anything is pointless. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” you snap suddenly, meaning it truly. You aren’t afraid of the helmet. You’re afraid of what’s underneath. You’re afraid that behind the facade there is a man—a creature—who still looks and sounds like Ben Solo. That is the fear that is radiating off of you.

Which is why he reaches up and removes the helmet.

It’s the familiarity of his face that strikes you first. It’s how it could have been another day at the academy… Another day of staring at watery brown eyes that used to make you happy just by their being. It’s how in a different life, those eyes might have smiled at you again. It’s the fact that despite everything, he still has Ben’s face, just like you feared. You lower your eyes again, and this time, you do not look up.

“I take it that General Organa is still leading the Resistance?” he questions.

You cringe at the impersonal way he chooses to refer to his own mother. “She is,” you confirm.

“Of course. Who else could inspire such loyalty in you?”

Kriff, you want to scream at him. Ben could have! Ben used to! Ben still would if there was a scrap of him alive somewhere! “Yeah, who else…?” you say instead.

“What about Han Solo?”

“Haven’t heard from your father or Chewie for a year,” you huff. “If you care about your family so much, why don’t you go back home and ask after them yourself?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him look away from you. It’s only then that you get the courage to look at him directly. The sight of his nose in profile, his hair tousled back from his face… It’s almost too much, but you can’t make yourself look away. You don’t want to look away.

“Don’t ask me that,” he demands through gritted teeth.

“I’ll ask whatever the kriff I want,” you answer back the same way. “What are you going to do? Kill me? I came here with every expectation that you would.”

“Why did you come?” he asks.

The answer is becoming far more nuanced than the one you give. “Because your mother asked me to. She misses you.”

He turns back to you and fixes you in his gaze. He tilts his head, looks down his nose at you. “What about you? Do you miss me?”

You take a step towards him. You’re so close that you have to tilt your head up to look at him properly. You hope he can feel your breath on his face. You want it to sting. “I miss Ben Solo,” you whisper to him. “I don’t know who you are.”

Kylo grips your arms, and you’re sure he’ll leave bruises the size of his fingertips. “I am stronger and wiser than Ben Solo ever could have been,” he insists. “But in every other way, I’m the same. Can’t you see that?”

You wrench yourself away from his grasp. “Don’t you dare claim to be anything like Ben,” you say, warning hanging in your voice. “Ben was kind. Ben was gentle and scared. Don’t you dare.”

“You know so much and yet so little,” he counters. “If you only knew what kind of power you could have.”

“I don’t need power!” you say. “I never needed power. I just needed you!”

He’s staring at you like you just stabbed him, and it’s only then that you realize your mistake.

“Ben,” you correct yourself. “I needed Ben.”

Still, he says nothing and stays statue-still. It gives you time to notice how darkly the Force is moving around him. Time to notice the presence of stormtroopers outside the door, no doubt waiting for Ren’s command if you don’t comply with his wishes. He’s backing you into a wall.

“There’s no point,” you say after a pregnant pause. “No point in trying to convert me. I made my choice years ago.”

“So did I,” he finally says. “You have to realize that I can’t let you go. Not like I did the first time.” At this, the doors open. The legion of stormtroopers flood in. 

“Of course,” you respond after a shuddering breath. “How could I expect anything different from you?”

Two troopers come to grab your arms and haul you to a restraining cell before Kylo can respond. You don’t see him for days afterward. In those days, you’re not interrogated or tortured, which defies your expectations. But except for a rotating guard and food once a day, you’re left completely alone which is arguably worse. It gives you too much time alone with your thoughts, and every time you remember Kylo’s face when you told him you needed him is worse than being flayed.

When he finally comes to see you, he’s maskless, but his face is hardened. He sits across from you and doesn’t speak for a long while.

You don’t want to be the first to talk, but the silence is killing you. “Can I help you?” you say at last.

“Do you remember when you first came to the Academy?” he asks.

“Yes, because it was you who asked me to.”

“Because I knew you were strong. I knew what kind of power you could one day hold.”

You smile a bitter smile and tilt your head to the side. “And all along I thought it was because you wanted me there with you.”

Perhaps he would never admit it, but you know him as well as he knows you. You notice the subtle shift in his jaw when he clenches his teeth. You notice the vein in his temple throb.

 Nevertheless, he doesn’t give you the dignity of a response. Instead, he says, “You mean to tell me that you haven’t continued to study the Force in all this time?”

“Why would I?”

“You could have become strong enough to defeat me.”

You look down at your open hands. Hands that could have killed him, if you had practiced more. Luke had asked you to before he disappeared. He had told you all about the balance that it was his duty to keep. A duty he couldn’t fulfill as a master without an apprentice. Still, you had refused. You were not the right person for the job, you had told him. What you hadn’t said was that you never could have killed Ben… Kylo… If it had come down to it, you would have failed. And you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. 

“You would have killed me anyway,” you answer. “You were always going to, weren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Stop lying to me,” you snap before he can finish his sentence. “You came into that hangar intending to kill me if I refused you again. I may be rusty, but my senses are still attuned enough to tell that much.”

“Yet, you’re still alive,” he points out. “Don’t you wonder why that is?” You look away from him, and you don’t see it when he leaves.

He’s gone for days again, and you begin to crave the sight of him. It makes you wish for a firing squad. How long will you be able to last like this? The Resistance has your loyalty, you have to remind yourself. Leia has your loyalty. The idea of a free galaxy has your loyalty. But Ben has your loyalty too, and there’s a tyrant who parades around with his face. 

The next time you see him, he doesn’t waste any time with silence. “Why is it that you refuse to understand me?” he says. His voice is strained like he’s being choked. “I want to show you everything that Skywalker never would. I want to make you powerful as I have become.”

“I’ve already told you that I don’t want power,” you answer, keeping your eyes on your hands. You don’t want to look at him. You don’t want to become addicted to the sight of him. “Poor seduction tactic.”

After a moment, he kneels in front of you. You see his gloved hand slip into yours before you feel it. Every one of your limbs has gone numb, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. “Look at me,” he demands coolly.

You don’t have the strength to refuse him. You open your eyes without a thought, without time to regret it. There’s Ben’s face, regardless of who is wearing it.

You aren’t sure if it’s him leaning in to capture you or you leaning in from complete desperation for him, but it doesn’t matter. He’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him back. The cracks in your resolve travel and widen until the whole thing is shattered on the ground.

He gathers you to himself as he stands, his hands pressing hard into your back as he lifts you. Your hands are tangling and tugging on his hair which elicits a low, dangerous noise from his throat. Maker, you shouldn’t be doing this, but that noise… the feeling of his mouth moving against yours… You’ve been so tired, and you don’t want it to stop.

He pulls away from you, his nose still brushing against yours. He’s breathing hard. His hot breath in your open mouth stings. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers.

You hate him for it. He’s in your mind, sensing your thoughts. He knows as well as you do that you don’t want it to end. So, you don’t answer, and let him kiss the curve of your jaw, under your earlobe, down your neck. He doesn’t see the angry, bitter tears rolling down your cheeks.

You’re pulling him closer by his hair, all the while muttering inaudibly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He’s muttering, too, as his fingers bunch the fabric of your shirt. Of all the things he’s saying, only one sentence comes through clearly. “Please, let me show you who I am… Please…”

But you have no interest in who he is now, and you realize that as soon as you can comprehend what he’s saying. You’re letting him kiss you because he has the face of a dead boy, and he’s kissing you to destroy you.

“I want Ben back,” you gasp suddenly and louder than all of the words you’ve spoken thus far. 

He stills completely at this, and the Force flows darker around him than it ever has before. After a moment’s hesitation, he lets go of you completely and leaves the cell without giving you so much as a look at his face.

You see him again when you’ve lost count of how long you’ve been in that same restraining cell. The bruises he left on your neck have already darkened and faded. There’s no physical remnant of the last time you saw him. So, why can you still feel him all over you? 

Then without any warning, he walks through the door. He sits next to you, close enough to touch, once again silent and contemplating. You’ve already had enough of silence. “Aren’t you going to say something?” you question.

“I’m thinking,” he says.

“Oh, well,” you scoff. “Excuse me.”

Another long silence before he says, “You’ve never been tortured here, have you?”

“Define torture.”

“I don’t know if you would survive it,” he says, ignoring your quip. “You’re strong, but there are few people who are strong enough to survive the methods the First Order employs for an extended period.”

You hummed. “Is that what you’re planning on, then?” you ask. 

“No. Not to you,” he snaps immediately. “But it’s what others in the ranks are planning on. I’m trying to decide what to do about it.”

“Oh,” you whisper. No more questions. You had pressed him enough already, but you long to peer into his mind and discover what’s going on.

“Why are you prodding?” Kylo asks you. 

“Didn’t mean to…”

“But you want to know,” he says. “You want to know if I would let them torture you. Or maybe I would do it myself. Watch you bleed and suffer. Push you past your breaking point. Wait for you to beg to learn from me, but it would be too late. Do you think I would? You can ask.”

You remain silent, eyeing him skeptically.

He sighs, and your heart hurts for how tired he sounds. “You still don’t trust me.”

“You just described torturing me,” you answer. “That’s hardly grounds for establishing trust.”

“And nothing else would?”

Despite yourself, you smile. “The kissing didn’t do much for me on that front if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But doesn’t it tell you anything?” he asks. His voice has become desperate, almost pleading. It drops the smile right off of your face. “Doesn’t it explain why you haven’t been tortured the entire time you’ve been here? Doesn’t it explain why I didn’t kill you? Why I couldn’t kill you? I should. I should do it right now. But I can’t, because every time it crosses my mind I start to collapse. There is something weak and detestable in me that is still clinging to you.”

He tilted his head until he was looking at you. How reminiscent the scene was. How often you used to see him just like this, sitting side-by-side and spilling your souls in words neither that were simultaneously incomprehensible and true. And then you saw him. For the first time in years, you saw Ben Solo alive and buried deep. A faint spark somewhere in the darkness.

Slowly, you began, “Could it be that you still love me somewhere deep down?”

He looks away from you and down. “Would it matter?” he questions. “I seem to recall you saying that you want Ben Solo back.”

“It matters,” you promise him. Of course, it does. Kylo Ren isn’t capable of love. If there is any part of him that loves you still, that’s the part of him where Ben Solo is still struggling for life. “It matters to me.” 

Then slowly, fearfully, you reach for his hand. You just barely brush your fingertips into his palm at first. There is no warmth there. No cold either. Just a leather glove separating your fingers from his skin. It makes you pause and wonder if you’re being reckless when he doesn’t respond. Oh, but then… His fingers wrap around yours slowly with just as much fear. Leather glove or not, that’s Ben’s hand. It couldn’t be anyone else’s.

The pair of you remain like that for another thirty minutes while you let him think. He squeezes your hand before he leaves.

He doesn’t let days pass this time. He’s back within a couple of hours with a pair of handcuffs that he claps on your wrists without a word, but he looks into your eyes and nods. Just that is enough to make you feel safe. He leads you through the halls of the cruiser with his hand on your lower back. If anyone questions this, they don’t say. You guess that no one wants to openly question Kylo Ren.

You reach hangar two, and it’s just as empty as it was when you first landed in it. A shuddering sigh escapes you when you see your X-wing looking as good and new waiting for you. 

Behind you, Kylo leans down to whisper in your ear. “If you leave now,” he says, “Never come back. Don’t even think of it. Don’t ever try.”

If… There shouldn't be an 'if.' He's offering you an escape, and that should by all rights be your only option. But you know he's offering more. You know he's waiting for you to turn to him and say, "And what if I stay?" 

But you can't bring yourself to. "Understood," you say instead. A faithful subordinate taking an order from a commander. Impersonal and cold.

Now would be the ideal moment to walk away, but you feel cemented where you are. How can you truly leave him? That spark you saw is glowing brighter every second.

"What would you do if I stayed?" you finally ask, knowing full well the danger of a hypothetical.

"I'd get on my knees and pray to you," he says. "I'd do whatever you wanted."

"Would you become Ben again?" you ask.

He hesitates just a moment. "I'd let you call me Ben."

At last, you turn to face him. You're dangerously close. "That’s not the same,” you point out.

He doesn't have an answer for that, and you don't have time to wait for one. You're able to rip your eyes away from him just long enough to throw a glance over your shoulder to your ship. It's time you returned to the Resistance.

But he's grabbing your hand and bringing it to his face, eyes closed as your knuckles graze his cheek. “Stay,” he breathes.

“I can’t,” you tell him.

“Please, love, stay with me,” he whispers, pleading.

It’s breaking your heart, knowing that you have to leave to where he can’t follow. How easily you can imagine that spark of Ben fading away if you leave him now. You suppose that’s why you reach up to hold the side of his head just to feel him lean into your touch. It’s why you stand up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

It’s nothing like your last kiss. It’s not the whirlpool drawing you in before you can stop it. Instead, it’s the slow, gentle rhythm of the tide lapping on the shore and fading back out. 

Heat turns to warmth. Fear turns to hope. A hope that floods so much so that when you pull away, you keep your forehead against his and say, “Find me somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Away from here. Away from the Resistance. Find me.”

He nods and lets you go.

[small-sinclair]

Breaking Walls

Vampire!Brahms Heelshire x preg.fem!reader

welcomed reader: @hao-ming-8

Tw: biting, blood, killing/murder, bone breaking, angry Brahms, reader being used as a shield, gun, proofread twice but might have grammar mistakes

You woke up to the sound of the backdoor glass shattering.

Your head jerked up from the pillows, sleep still in your eyes. You didn't want to move because Brahms had you in a cuddle, his face pressed in your stomach, his wild brown curls covering his burn, and he looked so beautiful in your arms. At first, you thought it was nothing but part of a dream, but you heard shoes crunching over broken glass.

You placed a kiss in Brahms's hair before getting up. Maybe it's nothing, but it doesn't hurt to look, right? Maybe Malcolm forgot his keys again? No, he forgets a lot of things but not the keys. Also, it's the middle of the night! He's at home with his two dogs. He can't be here at this hour.

If your mind is playing tricks on you, however, it's worth the trip; you needed a glass of water anyways. Yeah, you can get water from the bathroom sink, but the water didn't taste right? Ever since you got pregnant, you would only drink water from the kitchen sink and nowhere else. If you tired to drink from the bathroom sinks, you would throw-up. Two months in and you're still learning new things. You're tired and sleepy, but water and a mysterious noises called you.

You put on Brahms's jacket and slipped on your bunny slippers, still getting the sleep out of your eyes. You really hoped it was mice breaking something or some very angry racoon throwing rocks like last week. Brahms fought the little guy and killed it with his teeth, his fangs ripping it apart like a dog on a chew toy. You held a funeral for the little guy and had Malcolm get a racoon statue as a grave stone marker. You had Brahms read aloud a written apology to the dead racoon before you lowered the critter into the earth.

R.I.P. Ted the Racoon, who's buried in the backyard, you thought as you sneaked down the steps. Maybe Ted's family has come for revenge. You couldn't help but give a silly smile at the thought of Brahms fighting another racoon. He's so hot cute when his fangs are out. His eyes would shine brighter and his smile looked so breath taking. What a king, my man. He's the Racoon Slayer.

When you got closer to the backdoor, you froze.

Standing by the good china, a taller, stronger man had his back turned as he hurriedly took the good silver from the drawer. Standing next to him, a smaller man in a ski mask held the bag.

Out of reaction, you turned on the lights, making the men freeze.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" You snapped confused, sleep finally starting to leave. When you saw the handgun in the back pocket of the smaller man, your eyes grew wide. You did not think this through. "Oh... shit."

The smaller one was the first to jump to run after you as soon as you started towards the staircase again. "Brahms! Brahms, help--!"

His hand covered your mouth as he pulled you backwards, the taller man starting to hurry to get things packed. "Come on, Dylan! We got enough!"

"The bitch screamed for help!" The smaller one shouted. "There's another here!"

The taller man turned, his eyes glowing from under the ski mask. "Then let's get out of here! We got enough silver-!"

Within the walls, the sound of wood breaking and paint chipping echoed. The lights above you flickered and broke, it sounded like a freight train inside the walls. You struggled to get out of his grasp, but he squeezed harder around your skin. If he leaves bruises on you, all type of mercy will go out the window. Your eyes darted around the room as the smaller man took out his gun, taking it off safety.

Suddenly, silence.

You closed your eyes and started to cry silently, a whimper escaping from the back of your throat.

And that's all Brahms needs to hear.

From the right side of the taller man, Brahms burst through the wall roughly, taking down the taller man. The man didn't have time to react as Brahms took a piece of wood and stabbed him in his lower chest, burying it in deep. Brahms threw him to the side, his back snapping as soon as it hit the broken door, and sunk to the floor.

When his eyes flashed to you, his soft puppy eyes turned to a blood red, maskless. He hissed at the man, his fangs bared and bright, his body tense with danger and murder. He looked at you then at the man, hate burning his lungs. How dare he have a gun against your skin. Your his. You're not supposed to feel fear while you're in his house, your home. He promised you that since he married you in the spring.

And the baby--

The gun pressed against your throat as the shorter man said, "Move and she dies, I swear--!"

He didn't finish that statement. In a blink, he was thrown back into the wall, his back going through it. Brahms pushed you away, and you fell on back and scurried away as Brahms entered the wall.

Close your eyes and count to 100, y/n. This is going to be ugly.

The man looked up at horror of Brahms and tried to shot, but Brahms broke his hand. "How dare you," he hissed through his teeth. "How dare you come into my house," his grip tighten, "try to steal my wife away from me," his grip tightened until his bones stated to shatter all over again. The man screamed but Brahms didn't let up. "You threatened her, my darling, with a gun! My y/n with a gun! My child, that she carries, with a bullet!" Brahms twisted his arm back violently, snapping his shoulder in two.

"Please," the man whimpers pathetically. "Mercy--"

"Fuck your mercy," his accent was heavy. "Fuck your begs. It left as soon as you thought it was a good idea," he yanked the man to his feet until he was dangling in the air, "to put my wife and child in harms way!" The more he thought about you almost getting hurt, the more he hated the men. The more he hated the fact that they were in his house. Near you. Touching and bruising you. Scaring you. He hated them. He ate himself. He loves you. "Never again," he growled, his fangs growing longer and sharper. "Never. Again."

With a terrible noise leaving the attacker, the sound of the man's neck being torn from his body made you want to throw-up.

You slowly sat up as you watched Brahms come out of the broken wall, his mouth covered in rich blood from his kill, chest heaving heavily. His eyes scanned the room and saw the other man, who laid across from you, taking shallow breaths. You looked at your husband then back at the man. He didn't do anything wrong to you; he wanted to leave and call it a night! Truth to be told, you felt bad for him. He was just looking for a score, not to be killed by a ragging vampire husband. You looked between him and Brahms as you watched him breath heavily.

"Let me take care of him, doll," Brahms said in his real voice, deep and low, the corner of his lip twitching in anger. "You'll never see him again-"

"Brahms, wait," you were shaky as you stood between him and the dying man. Your hands went up and cupped his cheeks. "Honey, he's almost dead. He didn't hurt me or wanted to harm me; he wanted to leave."

"He came into our house, y/n," Brahms's voice was heavy in anger as he looked at the man gasping. "I can take care of the rat."

"Then make it fast?" You asked. "I don't want him to suffer more than he already has, okay?" You thumbed away some of the blood on the corner of his mouth. "He's done nothing wrong towards me." His eyes fell back on you, and his soft brown and blue eyes returned. He leaned into your hands and took deep breaths, but your hands left him, lowering them to your side.

He looked at you confused as you were careful to step away and over the broken glass. You crouched next to the dying man and held his hand. Your grandmother said that it's bad to die alone, and it's the worst feeling in the world. You frowned as you listened to his broken apologies, and you offered a sad smile.

"Thank you for not hurting me," you whispered. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way."

You felt Brahms standing over you, and you looked up, letting him know that you were ready, that it was okay for him to do the kill. You know it's in his nature, but he always made sure you're not in the room. He helps you stand and ushered you out of the room to the front hallway.

He kisses your hands, whispering in his voice, "Be right back, y/n."

"Please, Brahms," you said again, taking his hand. "Please be good? Make it fast?" He doesn't answer you, but he squeezed your hand and left you alone.

You stand and wait alone in the dark. You held your stomach as you waited, nervous and scared. The moments later, the light turned off and Brahms emerged from the darkness. He lowered his head on your shoulder and left a blood stain kiss on your neck, his fangs brushing your skin.

Your hands raked through his curls as you leaned into his chest, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to cry again.

"Never again," Brahms murmurs in his childish voice. "Never face scary noises by yourself again." His hand grip your arms gently before scooping you up and carried you back to bed.

You leaned into his chest a he carried you up the steps. "Did he suffer?"

"No," he answers childishly. "I was good. I listened. I promise." You looked up at him and touched his scared face. He leaned into it and kissed your palm. "Brahms was good."

You couldn't help but smile as you lean against him. "Good boy," you whispered, tears slowing down. "Good boy, Brahms."

He takes you back into the bedroom and lays you down. He leaves and washes up in the bathroom. When he comes back, he wasn't wearing a shirt as he came back into bed. He kisses your lips twice, one to say 'I love you' and one for 'goodnight', and wrapped his arms around your side, burying his face to be close to his child once more. Your hands went through his curls, again, then closed your eyes. After a few shaky breaths, you were back to sleep.

[vipvesper]

all is fair in love and war

pairing: octavian x child of bacchus!reader

warnings: octavian 😞, pining, minor cursing, spoilers for son of neptune!!

word count: 1.3k+

“i wish reyna would let me strangle you.”

Octavian? You hate him for the most part. You hate the storm swirling above the Temple of Jupiter that crackles with electricity as another teddy bear augury is completed. You hate the way his piercing blue eyes mock you from behind Reyna as you sit at a Centurion’s meeting. You hate his insane laughter that echoed in your ears 6 years ago when he mutilated your stuffed animal. You roll your eyes. Dakota’s red-ringed lips lazily speak orders to the Fifth Cohort, but nobody’s listening. We’re gonna soften the defenses. Again. Great. As if the looks on our faces afer stepping away from the Officer’s conference wasn’t bad enough, Dakota’s speech isn’t helping. He squeezes a packet of Kool-Aid.

“Listen, guys. This is gonna be a good one, I can feel it!” You take charge, opting to do the talking. “Hazel and Frank, I know you guys are still on the new side, but I think you can do this. First row, create a shield wall with Dakota as you advance to soften the blow. Second row from Cecil over, hide behind the shields to fight off any advancing defenses. The other twelve, try to sneak around the flanks and find a way in.” A smile pulls at your lips, moving your brother aside. “Let’s move out, troops! Victory for the Fifth!”

The child army echoes your cheer as your ranks break. A looming wall stands in front of you, cohorts three and four standing guard behind. How do we see past the wall? When it’s so tall? “I suppose we’re acting as bait again,” you murmur to Dakota.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Hannibal’s all ready?” You inquire, wanting to make sure your cohort gets the win they deserve. He nods, grabbing another juice out of his pocket.

The war games start, Reyna hovering overhead with Scipio. A circle of eagles fly in tandem with her, awaiting injury. You tag along with the twelve soldiers, attempting to find a crack in the wall, an unguarded plate. A tug pulls in your stomach, long green vines pushing out of the ground of the Field of Mars. Branches split off to grab your cohort, gently placing my teammates over the wall. It’s a struggle to keep Hazel and Frank quiet as they’re plopped right into enemy territory. The sounds of swords clashing rings out before you can even climb up yourself.

As you drop down, armor clinking together, the vines recede to leave a small scar in the earth. Wide blue eyes immediately stare back at you, coupled with the golden glint of a spatha. Great. Octavian’s here. Can’t give him a chance to think, you remind yourself. Your gladius makes a nice noise as you remove it from its sheath, pressing the flat against his smaller weapon. Before long, he’s disarmed. Unfortunately for you, he immediately starts to squawk, alerting any soldiers who might’ve still been preoccupied by their Mythomagic tournament.

“Backup! I need backup!” The lanky blonde yells, fumbling for his secondary weapon. A stray arrow whizzes past your ear as you lunge, grabbing him by his shoulder.

“Fifth cohort, for the colors!” Jonathan and Frank rush for their emblem, narrowly dodging flying furniture. Hazel’s backed into a corner by a First cohort member, her golden eyes filled with determination.

But, Tyche really isn’t on your side, is she?

A last minute elephant mishap knocks your troops away from the battlefield, wiping the scoreboard clean. Eagles swoop down to snatch up a good portion of the teenage militia.

You sit on a stone wall overlooking the city of New Rome, holding an icepack to your cheek. Guess Octavian had gotten you after all. A sigh rolls past your lips. The win was so close, it was right there. Bandages wrap around any minor cuts you may have acquired during the game. The all-too familiar crinkle of a Kool-Aid pouch makes you assume that Dakota had finally found you.

A rather soft object hits the back of your head.

It’s a freaking Kool-Aid packet. Grape flavored, at that.

“Wouldn’t Reyna like to know that her favorite Centurion is throwing a fit over a loss? What a sore loser,” a sarcastic voice jests. You grit your teeth, turning to face Octavian.

Curse him and his skinny body, his stupidly gorgeous blue eyes, his unblemished skin—

Woah.

Where did that come from?

“I’m looking for ways to better myself for my cohort. Not like you’d know anything about self-reflection,” You scoff. Much to your chagrin, the augur sits beside you. Phoebus Apollo rides close to the horizon, signaling the nearing arrival of dinnertime. “Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” he smirks. He looks quite stupid with those stuffed animals hanging from his belt, in your opinion. Seven stripes burn on his forearm under the symbol of an eagle, much like your own. His loose white toga hangs off his clothed shoulders. The sun radiates onto his pale skin, bathing him in a warm glow. Cocky bastard. He knows he’s pretty. “Do you have a staring problem?”

You snap back to reality real quick.

“No, I don’t.” You turn your head away, embarrassed. You weren’t staring, were you? Small vines decorated by bundles of purple grapes pop up around you, encircling the area. “Is there a reason you’re here? Or would you just like to gloat.”

Octavian reclines, pressing his hands on the green grass behind him. He picks a grape, tossing it at your temple. “I’m simply encouraging your improvement,” he teases.

“I wish Reyna would let me strangle you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

As you look out at the sunset, you don’t notice his eyes on you. You don’t notice the way his gaze trails over the bridge of your nose and your freckles and the rosy hue covering your cheeks like he’s committing the way you look at dusk to memory.

“Pretty night, huh?”

That’s unusual. Octavian making small talk?

“Yeah, it is.”

“You weren’t too bad today,” he mutters, very clearly avoiding his gaze. It’s very much unlike him to butter you up, even if he wants something.

“Thanks?” you tilt your head, confused by his praise. Should you be offended?

The two of you look out at the little Tiber rolling over the hills, basking in the golden hue painting the heavens. A long, cold hand drapes over yours eventually, gently squeezing. You jolt away, face pink as the clouds in the sky.

“The Pluto?!”

“Shut up.” He shoves something in your lap, and for a second you think it’s a grenade of Greek fire, set to explode as soon as he’s out of range. Tyche must feel sorry for her absence earlier.

A soft green material, as green as the grass, sits against your thighs, a happy smile staring up at you. It can’t be. A fuzzy memory returns to you, a feeling of nostalgia washing over you. A frog plush from long ago. Stitches a bit darker than the original fuzzy fabric reach from seam to seam, head to toe.

“What—?”

“Seriously, shut up. I found it tucked away, thought you’d like to see it again before it gets sacrificed to the gods again.”

You scoop up the piece of your childhood in your free hand, eyes wide as the cosmos. Before that little smirk on Octavian’s face can grow any further, a cold, hard object smacks him right across the face, sending him reeling.

“What the—?!”

“You little dick,” you huff, placing the icepack on the ground. “Thanks, I guess.”

He smiles—a real smile, however small—as he stares into your eyes. “You’re very welcome, love.” His alabaster face is painted red.

You shake your head, amused. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

Like a scene from a fairytale, his hand snakes its way onto your waist, the proximity only forcing more of your father’s fruit out of the ground.

“Like I’d listen to you,” he chides.

You lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss.

“I really am irresistible.”

“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Jessie (Jace)'s Girl Part iv

pronouns: she/her warnings: alcohol influence, short element of self harm (digging in nails and purposely rubbing irritated skin) summary: it’s messy, Jacaerys feels like all his dreams have come true in just one night, unfortunately his uncles do not feel the same and mutually agree that something must be done about it dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 4,300

series masterlist

reference to the song dress by charlotte sands

They won. Aemond thinks bitterly as he looks down at his phone, Aegon’s spite visible in the words that Aemond cares not to repeat. His head tosses back against his headboard while his stomach churns, bile spitting like fire up his oesophagus. Two songs dedicated to her, one winner. He should have known it wouldn’t be him, it’s never him. It’s his Strong nephew. Aemond clenches his jaw, fist so tight that deep red crescent shapes sink through his pale skin. It almost spills down his hand at the force his nails drill. Why isn’t it him? He’s the responsible one, the most orderly and respectable of his family. Jace wouldn’t know how to care for you like he could so why is he letting this happen? He sighs and closes his eye, the socket supposed to match it throbbing wildly more than usual. Maybe it was a good thing, lights always irritate it. Rough as a hound, he grasps the pathetic coverage and zaps it away. The material snaps his left mount of venus driving the clench of jaw begging at him to release even the slightest morsel of pain. But no. Aemond Targaryen does not feel pain. He is better than that, he will be better than that. Instead of groaning, he sighs in relief and rubs his tarnished flesh which only irritates it further. He rubs at it until the blinding sear is worse than his internal. He cackles quietly to himself, of course the drama of his uncle is hereditary. Shame floats over him and shields like a glass cage. Never him, he scorns himself. Never him. 

The door of his bedroom hits his wall loudly and a huff leaves his lips when a begrudgingly familiar body slams against him. He grimaces, his eyepatch falling down the side of his bed. Daeron grins innocently up at him though his eyes encode the opposite. Aemond narrows his own and weaves his brows into a firm scrunch. “What are you doing?” He asks, cold and warning. Daeron takes no notice, merely tugging at his hair like an ignored kitten. He shrugs. “Thought you could use some company and a kick up the arse.” “What?” Aemond sneers. Daeron rolls his eyes and pats his face oddly.  “You are as bad as Aegon.” He groans. “I can’t keep telling you guys what everyone else sees, I knew Aegon was a dumbass but really? You? Aemond you’re a law student.” Aemond scrunches his face.  “What are you talking about?” He snaps.  “You know who.” At the inference, Aemond clenches his jaw and tightens his lips.  “What has that to do with anything, brother?” Again Daeron groans but this time also wriggles to the side. “Our nephew’s girlfriend.” Aemond scoffs at the topic and climbs off the bed with a sense of irritating grace. “She is not his girlfriend yet.” He freezes and glances over his shoulder. “Is she?” A flicker of doubt cracks the formidable stone around him, thinning it into nothing more than an eggshell. Daeron sighs deeply and crosses his legs.  “No.” He answers as though telling a child Christmas came early. Aemond nods, licking cracked lips and trying to contain his giddy relief. He spins on his heels then hesitates. His eyes flicker across the room, legs shifting and hands wringing. Daeron snorts.  “I don’t think she’s even said it back yet.” Aemond visibly relaxes.  “So she’s…” “Single?” Daeron raises his brows then slows his speech–again speaking as though to a child, seemingly a habit of his. “Yah.” The enrapture of silence follows for five tortuous minutes. “Do you think–?”  “Uh huh.” Daeron hoots away as Aemond makes a stride toward the door, tossing a water bottle at him as prompting. It’s seconds later that he regrets this choice and is being rugby tackled to the floor.

To say that Jacaerys Velaryon is ecstatic as you mutually walk out of the venue would be an understatement to say the least, tossing his floppy hair out of his face and grinning like a madman. “I’m just saying that if a tornado came flying at me I wouldn’t be asking about some petrified lizard.” The bell of your laughter rings in mellifluous delight. He can’t get enough of your laugh as he drinks in every hint of amusement from you. Gods you’re so cute when you wrinkle your brows like that. “It’s sweet though!” He scoffs at you, a grin twinkling his teeth. “Sweet is what I would call a bird or Vermax, I wouldn’t call that horrific thing ‘sweet’.” You roll your eyes and elbow him sharply. He blinks the foggy haze out of his eyes in time to see your beaming grin. You roll your eyes and nudge his side. You tut as he tries to shake himself out of his stupor. “Don’t look at me like that.” He teases while sliding an arm around your waist. A sense of excitement bubbles up his throat, a smile warms to his lips. “Like what?” You retort with a lilt. Oh how he wants to capture that sound. “Like you don’t know what you do to me.” 

A giddy grin tilts on your face which sends him to scoop you up and spin you dramatically. “Oi!” You laugh until he settles you back down. His sweet brown eyes stare down into yours, two gentle, familiar fingers tucking the back of your neck so he can angle it toward him. He rests your foreheads together, breath intermingling with yours. “Do you want me to show you?” He lets his tongue dip to glisten his lips while a mischievousness twinkles your pupils. “That depends,” You tilt your head and let your sight wander over his face. “You gonna write me another song?” He smirks and the hand that keeps your head moving in tandem with his, wraps your hair through those long lithe digits. “I’ll write you every song in the world.” Jace breathes into your mouth and lets your plush lips delve through the cracks of his. Jace descends onto you like the world’s hungriest soul, passionately smacking his wet kiss to you in feverish delight. It’s instantaneous that your hands find purchase in the already ruffled brown curls that crown his head. They nestle against your fingers and kiss up your palm while their holder slips a quick swipe along your lower lip. 

Neither of you like the feeling of cold air wedging between you when you part but it’s necessary if you ever want to dive in again. His embrace doesn’t falter, free hand now clutching your side. He smirks unabashedly. “Someone’s eager.” Jace quips. A sigh tumbles like a thread from your mouth, half-hearted. “Aw come on,” He rubs his nose in swift strokes against yours. “You’re telling me you don’t wanna do that again as much as I do?” He leans a little closer, hopefully to resume but a short giggle stops him. 

“Sorry, we have a party to get to.” You state pointedly and pat his cheek before surging past in playfully quick steps. He sighs and watches you jog to Baela’s side, murmuring something to her to issue a loud laugh of her own and a sling of her arm around your shoulder. He’s almost jealous of her. Cregan slams a rough hand on his back as it always is and Jace almost jumps at the contact. Jace lolls his head to look at his best friend and sends a pointed look. Cregan raises his palms in surrender. “I asked you to stop doing that.” Jace groans but he’s still smiling. The northerner scoffs. “You love it.” He teases, eyes shining. Jace raises his brows. “And what if I thought you were…were some attacker!” He spurts, glee running over his tongue. “What if you came up to me and I just oof,” He mimes elbowing his friend in the nose only to wince and groan as Cregan’s laughter bellows, snatching the limb in his hand and twisting it behind his back. “Then we haven’t got anything to worry about, have we?” He teases. A thick amused silence passes them and Cregan drops Jace’s arms. Their feet shuffle in tandem as Jace settles his gaze back on you. 

“Have you asked her yet?” Cregan asks, running his fingers through the curls of his hair, much thicker than Jace’s own which the drummer can’t help but envy. Jace shrugs. “Not yet.” He flushes bashfully and looks down. Cregan quirks a brow and rakes a hand through his friend’s hair and tugs to raise his sights on your form again. The younger’s expression instantly softens. “I will, I will!” Jace exclaims with a childish edge and all too charismatic smile. Cregan scoffs. “You’ve been saying that for the past three months.” Jace’s hands bury in his pockets and he shrugs again. “Yeah but I just feel weird, you know?” Cregan frowns at him. Jace sighs. “She hasn’t said it back.” He mutters. Cregan points a finger at him. “Yet.” He corrects. Jace rolls his eyes. 

“Yet.” A plush pink lip wedges between the Targaryen’s shiny teeth. “I just thought she would have, you know? And it’s fine if she doesn't love me yet I just don’t want to lose her or I don’t know. I know I’m all or nothing but this time I just want her. I don’t care how.” Cregan’s sharp eyes look soft as they scan Jace’s bashful face. “You really like this girl, don’t you?” He asks softly. Jace nods. “Then let’s get you to this party.” He smirks, slapping a hand on his shoulder again and rearing him forward. Before they can get too far though, you and Baela are giggling to each other and your beaming smiles turn on them. They both lose their breath for a moment. “We’re going to pick up Helaena first.” You direct and before either can protest you narrow your eyes and twitch your nose. “No funny business, she’s our friend.” Both boys roll their eyes. “She’s also a green.” They state but Baela tuts at them. “Shameful.” She declares to you and spins around, playfully skipping ahead. “Shameful!” She yells the word this time. You chuckle as her hand tugs yours along. 

“I’m telling you the man is obsessed.” Baela giggles, whispering in your ear. You roll your eyes. “He’s my best friend.” You argue. “So?” Baela bounces her head in front of yours gently. Another burst of childish giggling bubbles through you both. If you hadn’t known better you would’ve thought you were both drunk. Your arm wraps around Baela’s waist while her arm hangs off your shoulder. Her fingertips twitch up slightly to play with some of the strands of your hair. “So, I think he’d sooner gut himself like a fish.” You snicker. “He probably thinks I’m some little sister.” You sigh somewhat wistfully and Baela gives you a look. You roll your eyes. “I still like Jace.” You assure, grinning mischievously. “Good because I don’t want my new step-sister in law getting swept off her feet by someone else before the nuptials are complete. A week left by the way, get your wedding dress.” You choke on your breath while she cackles at you. “I’m kidding.” She remedies then purses her lips with a shrug. “For now at least.” Your fingers are quick to pinch her side. She yelps and turns on you with mock offence. “How dare you.” “Your fault.” You sing, biting back the chuckle attempting to escape the gap between your teeth. She shakes her head slowly with a cheshire smirk. “Oh, you’re gonna get it!” She squeals and her fingers are quick to tickle you. 

You jump into the passenger side of the car before she can attack you. She huffs and slides into the opposite side, feigning sturdiness before pinching your own side. You share a glance with one another and shake your heads. A sigh drains from between both your lips but the smiles remain. You actively ignore when Cregan knocks on the window. “It can wait!” You yell out and Baela sticks her tongue out at them both. Baela revs the engine when Cregan and Jace finally bid their goodbyes and leave you be. “Where’d she go?” You ask, letting your eyes roam the street. “Aegon wanted her.” Baela winks and chuckles at the wrinkle of your nose. “You couldn’t have worded that any other way?” “What?”  “Or just not have winked you freak.” She scoffs at your retort and continues driving down the road. Her sights rake over the various parks or establishments Helaena may have been dragged to.

Aegon sighs as he lays awkwardly across the swingset, his head dangling backward and legs bent to the floor. The middle of his spine settles on the seat. He jumps however when a familiar voice sounds. “I thought I’d find you here.” Helaena’s soft words utter as she draws closer. He sighs, not entirely all that surprised. He hates that she always manages to find him. “I wish you didn’t.” He snapped coldly. She doesn’t flinch, all too familiar with an angry Aegon. “You need to apologise.” She says and seats herself on the floor beside his swing. His eyes water, burning red already. “No.” He spits. Helaena sighs and rolls her eyes. “It’s not like she knows anyway.” He grumbles and throws his hands up for a second. His eyes widen in realisation as he plummets to the ground, wincing. He should have thought that through. Helaena snickers but he doesn’t comment. The only good thing Aegon has ever thought he was good at was laughing at himself…well that and loving Y/n. “I don’t regret it.” He states softly–too soft. hIs sister nods. “I know.” She whispers. He bites his lip and sniffles.

“Why does loving people hurt?” He asks, finally looking at her with his big doe eyes. “I don’t like it.” Helaena smiles sadly and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I know.” She sighs. “But I don’t think loving is for us. I think it’s for them.” He almost questions the wistful glance in her eyes but bites back the remark when her brows harden. Sometimes he really hates this sibling telepathy schtick. Aegon grumbles to himself and looks up at the sky. “Sometimes,” He licks his lips. “I look at the stars and I feel nothing.” Helaena’s brows thread together. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” He pauses to sigh again. “I look at them, at their sparkling and glimmer and all I can think is they’re a few boring rocks.” Helaena shuffles and sends a hard look. “Aegon–” “But she loves them.” He breathes the words as though they were a revelation themselves, not something he had known for years. “She thinks they’re as beautiful as I think she is and all I can say is that she’s right. Gods I don’t think she could ever be wrong.” Silence wraps them in a warm blanket against the frozen air that encompasses them. “I think you should tell her.” Helaena murmurs. He looks at her like she’s grown an entirely new organism. “What?” He scoffs. “No.” “Yes.” She groans. “She cares for you and if you don’t tell her now, she may never know.” “She doesn’t want me.” He continues to argue. “She wants someone like Aemond, smart and snarky or Jace, stupid and gentle. Not me, if she ever came to you and told you about some guy like me and I wasn’t your brother you would tell him to get lost.”“Yes but–” “Exactly.” “But,” She emphasises. “You are my brother and I know you.” She squeezes his hand. “I know that you would sooner cast yourself off a cliff than hurt her.”

They are interrupted by a sudden holler, turning to see Baela running over with her arms outstretched. Helaena sighs and Aegon cackles. “Your groupies are waiting.” He tells her and makes a shooing gesture. Reluctantly Helaena stands and approaches the girl who immediately tackles her in a bear hug so strong it nearly sends them both to the floor. “We missed you!” Baela sings. “Yeah yeah,” Helaena tries to hide her grin. Eventually Baela is scraped off of her by an all too familiar presence. You smile and wave and suddenly he can’t think of anything but that smile. He returns his own instantly and all too rehearsed, waving back weakly. “Bye Aeg! You did great today, love you!” You call as you collect your friends off the floor and drag them back to the car. A metal crank turns the bile in his stomach to rush up his throat. 

You sigh as you clamber into the backseat so Helaena can sit next to Baela. The key turns and Baela whistles to herself. Helaena grimaces but doesn’t say anything so you take it upon yourself to poke Baela’s neck. She reels and yelps but the sound of Helaena’s sweet giggles makes it all worth it. When Baela seems to grasp the situation she forms an ‘oh’ and has the decency to appear bashful. “Sorry, Hela.” She murmurs awkwardly as she settles her palms on the wheel and pulls the car back. “Forget sometimes.” Helaena waves it off but you can tell the words bring a glimmer to her eye. “It’s fine.”  She smiles and rolls her fingers across the aux cord. “Can I pick?” She asks and you both nod in response. Helaena still isn’t the most talkative around you both but she’s tranquil and against your own casual demeanour and Baela’s passionate sparks your little trio works. The journey to Alyn and Addam’s place is short but filled with unusual chatter and laughter. Baela sighs deeply and interlocks her fingers with a smiling Helaena. “It’s times like these that I remember why I had a crush on you last summer.” She murmurs with a twinkle in her iris. Helaena coughs abruptly as Baela snickers and lets go. A gentle pink heat surfaces up Helaena’s face and ear but her friend takes no notice. You share an amused glance with her and stumble out of the car. 

Walking through the bustling crowd is both exciting and overwhelming. Your eyes widen considerably as they flicker over the sea of people, hoping to see a familiar face. You jump when two warm palms lift you by the waist. You yep at the suddenness while your friends attempt to scold Jojen who merely rolls his eyes and huffs. “You’re no fun.” He tuts. “Or they don’t have a death wish.” Bran Stark quips, his palms rolling himself toward her with a knowing smirk. “Y/n.” Jojen says, beaming like a puppy. You look at him expectantly. “Jace is looking for you.” You nod and glance with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Where is he?” You ask to which he points at nothing. He frowns. “Oh.” Again you jump but this time because of a cold hand newly holding yours. You look up into blue eyes, not brown. “Dance with me.” Aegon blurts but before you can answer his rushed words and infiltrating gaze, Jace is equally eager to take you by your other hand. He slims his lips as he stares equally fierce at you. “Actually Y/n came with me tonight so I think that’s my job.” He states quickly. Baela snorts and folds her arms. “Both of you do it.” She prompts with a teasing expression. “Yeah,” You agree. “Why not.” Your smile is tight but you don’t want to separate another argument between your lover and best friend. Before either can continue, you’re tugging them into the living room and between the smothering close bodies. You don’t think you’ve ever seen either of them more uncomfortable with Aegon’s stiff pg motions and Jace’s heated stare. What has gotten into them? Your soft palms lift to twist the two men around in little twirls which Jace smirks at and Aegon attempts to stop. Jace unravels his hand from yours and settles it on your hip, his other matching your left side. He leans to your ear, using his nose to brush back your hair. “I need to talk to you.” His murmurs, hot breath eliciting shivers up your spine. Your eyes lose inhibition and you nod sharply, following him as he tugs you upstairs.

The muffled music sounds from downstairs as you sit on the soft bed. Jace surprisingly doesn’t shut the door which triggers both relief and disappointment in your next exhale. His hands cup your face and he kisses you with a new fervour, one that sends his tongue battling yours. His teeth knock against yours every so often, his fingers wrapping in your hair. He grunts into your mouth, a shiver coursing his veins. “You know what you do to me.” He groans into your mouth. He kisses you deeper. “You have to by now.” One hand released to cup your neck. “I love you, I love you,” He kisses wet trails down your neck, earning a gasp which he positively beams at. His soft gentle oak eyes look up at you. “I lo–” Your almost-boyfriend is suddenly interrupted by a stumbling blonde, skipping toward you both. You gasp and grasp the older boy’s hands, Jace almost forgotten. “Aeg? Aeg, are you alright?” You ask. This wasn’t the first time he’s lost all care for himself in public. He grumbles and slumps on the floor. Your alarmed eyes meet Jace’s. “I need you to get some water, can you do that?” He nods hesitantly and rises to leave, casting an anxious glance your way. You sigh and sit beside him. “Are you alright?” You ask again and he nods weakly, head lolling onto your shoulder. “You’re disappointed in me again aren’t you?” He asks, voice both vulnerable and slurring. Your brows pinch. “I’m never disappointed in you, Aeg.” He whines in response, baby blue eyes look up at you as his lip wobbles. “But you don’t call me Aeggy anymore. Why won’t you call me Aeggy?” Your lips part in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.” You whisper, fingers combing his slick hair. You frown. “Why do you put this stuff in it? It’s gross.” He barks a laugh and smiles, eyes softening every moment. 

“I love you.” He murmurs, your best friend’s eyes flickering to your lips. All of your bones tense as quickly as water can fall. “What?” You cough out. “I love you.” Aegon leans a little closer. “No you don’t.” You argue quietly. You shake your head slowly. “No, you don’t.” His serene expression breaks, hurt fleeting as infatuation replaces it. “I do.” “No, you don’t.” You snap. “Because if you did then you would have told me before. You don’t love me. Not after I’ve spent twelve of fourteen years in love with you. No, Aeg,” Your voice rises and quickens like as if you were fighting against quicksand. “No, you don’t.” You notice the irritation in his eyes. “Would you please just listen to me for once.” Then he seems to catch onto your final words and his eyes bulge. “Wait, what? No, no, no, no, stop. Wait, that’s not.” His head pounds painfully and he winces. “Wait, just wait.” You don’t have a chance as Jace bustles inside and latches two hot fists to scrunch up the fabric of his uncle’s shirt. Aegon growls low and grasps him by the hair. “Fuck you!” Jace yells as they tussle. You stand up sharply. “Stop it!” You scream at them both but they don’t hear you.

You take it upon yourself to grapple both of their ears between your fingers. “Never have I had to shout at either of you like this!” Their eyes both drop to the floor and they release the other. You release a heavy breath and swallow. You regain composure and soften your voice. “Both of you are going to go downstairs. Jace, have you drank?” He shakes his head. “Then you’re taking Aegon home.” He opens his mouth to protest but your glare quickly silences him. You sigh in relief and leave, slamming the door shut behind you. You rush down the stairs in time to see Rhaena and Helaena singing Cyndi Lauper on the karaoke machine. You shake your head, approaching Baela with wet eyes. She knits her brows and cups your cheeks. “Are you okay?” She asks. You shake your head, a sniffle tickling your nose. When she spots the frustration in your eyes she nods and gestures to Helaena. Your lip wobbles. “When did Rhaena get here?” You ask, smiling softly when you feel Helaena wrap you in a thick knit poncho. “Don’t know, she came with Luke and Daeron apparently.” Helaena tells you. You nod and laugh at Baela’s unimpressed grumbling.

When Jace arrives at the Targaryen estate he all but shoves his uncle to the door, knocking harshly. Aemond winces at the obnoxious sound and clambers out of his bed, rubbing tired eyes. He takes slow steps however, he’s not about to let some shithead control how quickly he answers just because they’re impatient. He’s grateful that his mother  has gone abroad for the week. Aemond sighs at the image that greets him. Jace instantly turns his back on them, he doesn’t want to piss Y/n off more than he already has. Aegon grumbles and doesn’t take kindly to when Aemond tugs him up. “We need to do something about that kid.” He grimaces and meets his brother’s eye. “He’s an arsehole.” The jibe isn’t anything unsaid before but the taller of the two takes note of Aegon’s aggression. He scans his brother who settles sharp eyes on him. An unspoken alliance issues in the thick night air.

Sometimes he really loves this sibling telepathy business. 

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[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 20 Snippet

“What do you mean you don’t have any range?”

“I have eight-ish feet of range with this thing.” I gestured to the weapon on my back as I rolled Qrow up to the bar. 

“I mean a gun, kid.”

“I don’t like guns." I was petulant but determined. I don’t like ‘em. I think they’re cheating. I think you should have to see the person or thing you’re killing. I think that’s fair. 

"What do you do when the other guy has a gun?"

"I have a bigass shield.”

“Look, I can show you some of what I know. It should help. What do you say?”

Ruby had convinced him to mentor me, then. That was fine. I needed the teaching and Qrow’s weapon was a bit like mine. His experience also eclipsed mine by shades. “I don’t have much choice.”

“That’s the spirit. Speaking of spirits, two whiskeys on the rocks,” he ordered to the bartender in the little hole in the wall we’d found. Or Qrow knew about it beforehand. The rose wood walls were brightly lit. It had a comfortable feel.  

“Should you be drinking that much?” he did lose a bit of weight recently. 

“I'm not. You’re drinking with me.”

"I'm the designated driver."

"You're my designated roller at best."

“I don’t have much choice in this either, do I?” The bartender, overhearing us, carded me. I handed him my ID while Qrow took the drinks. I suppose I was a match for the guy in the picture so the barkeep handed it back with just a single nod. “So, you mentioned some plan to get some legs?”

I figured he'd appreciate some brutal candor. It seemed like his style.

“I did. It's sort of something that Ruby doesn’t need to know the details on.”

“Oh I don’t like that,” I disagreed. I wasn’t keen on secrets between her and I. It wasn’t healthy. 

"Relax. A quick trip to some of the lower levels and a deal with an old friend. And after that I should be walking again."

"Oh I really don't like that." I sighed. "I'm not sure I can handle any more meetings with your friends, let alone secret dealings with what are probably criminals."

"Cute." He swirled his glass for a moment and I listened to the ice clink against the glass. "Well I don't like not having legs or a weapon. This should solve at least one of those. Besides, my understanding was that you’re a bit of a criminal yourself."

“It was self defense.” Sorta. He had a weapon and was running at me. That counted. 

“I meant how you snuck into Beacon. Ruby mentioned it. But what were you talking about?”

“I uh, I killed a guy. With my semblance. Sort of ripped him in half. Then I killed another guy. Bandits. The both of them."

“Stone cold killer. Who would have thought?"

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I took a long drink on an empty stomach and my vision blurred fairly fast afterwards. 

Qrow paused. “Did you cry?”

“Uh, no?”

“I cried the first time I killed someone. That makes you stone cold.”

I swallowed whiskey. Qrow had no idea how much I really liked having power over who lived and who died and it was probably better to keep it that way. I was a bit of a mess and I was all over the place when it came to that sort of thing. 

If my sisters knew that their big brother had become a killer… or worse my mother… well, the consequences would be dire and long lasting to say the least. I’m not sure what to make of my family. They probably didn’t think I’d make it this far. And now that I had I was at a loss regarding how I would ever return to them. If I would ever return to them, that was. Maybe they’d find me somehow or someway. Home for me was with Ruby now. Ruby and the remnants of my team.

"Look,” I searched my addled brain. “What sort of favors are we talking about here?”

“Probably running drugs. I've done it before for her for some information."

“What kind of drugs?”

“Does it matter?”

“It will when Ruby finds out.”

“Ruby won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“That’s pretty much how that’s going to go down. She’ll ask me one question: ‘hey Jaune, where’d you and my uncle get those legs?’ And then because I’m a bitch I will tell her. I will out you for absolutely nothing. Bet on that old man.”

“Old man? If I wasn’t in this chair I’d knock some of your teeth out.”

“But you are in the chair. And unless you’re gonna transform and try to peck my eyes out I have a pretty good idea of how it would go down.”

“Cute. You think you’re such a big shot now, don’t you.”

“Unlocked my semblance. Pulled your ass out of the fire. I got a big ass sword and it’s pretty dope.” I got the girl. “I’m doing pretty well for myself. You, on the other hand, have been sidelined. That chair you're sitting in is worth more than you are. You bag of bones. Give me a break.”

“Bartender, another round.” Qrow called over. The bartender poured our drinks and slid them towards us. 

“We’re running the drugs. Or doing whatever else is needed to get me out of this chair. And Ruby doesn’t need the details. You feel me? I’m proud of her moral compass but it will only get in the way with this sort of thing. You and I are adults. We can handle ourselves. We don’t need her nannying us.”

“So is it just greens or something harder, like ether or hyper?”

“I don’t know yet, kid.”

“You don’t even know if you can bang out this deal, do you?”

“...” Qrow rolled the ice in his glass around silently. 

“Got it. We need a back up plan. One that sees you in a real hospital. Not some gangster’s chopshop.”

“I’m thinking, alright. I want out of this chair.”

“Well, Ruby ran off with the last of our Lien to repair Harbinger." I took another drink and grimaced. I ignored his low chuckle at me. "So that's one of our problems down." 

"Yeah. Just need to walk again and I'll be right as rain. So, we just need to get a favor from somebody on the lower levels. Now the reason I picked you is because I figured you were up to do something criminal, am I wrong? You're a murderer."

I groaned and slammed the last of my whisky. I hadn’t realized I’d gone through my second one so fast. 

“Ruby has decided that it wasn’t murder,” I defended myself halfheartedly. 

“And what have you decided?”

“It was totally murder. I cut them down like it was nothin’. I did it like it was a sport going out of fashion. I meant for them to die. Ruby can cut it however she likes but my soul isn’t like that. She comes up with these justifications for me and they don’t do me any real justice. It’s like she has no idea I’m a fuckin’ disaster. She just sees what she wants to see, I think. Which I really, really appreciate her for. Don’t get me wrong. I love that she gives me the benefit of the doubt.”

“But she shouldn’t. Because it was murder and you meant it,” Qrow interpreted. “I knew a girl like that once. Really believed in me. She really couldn’t see me for what I really am. A scumbag. Yeah I’ve fought for the good guys. But I didn’t fight like a good guy. You know what I mean? I didn’t fight with good intentions in my heart. And that’s what really matters. Don’t it?”

I leaned way over the bar and stretched. I sighed heavily. That was pretty much how I felt about it too. Outlaw justice. Yeah right. Give me a fuckin’ break. I killed because I found it immensely tasteful to unwind another person’s mortal coil. Killing Cinder… now that just might be better than sex. 

"Excuse me?" A younger looking dude in farm hand attire approached the bar. We looked at him, then at each other.

“Aren’t you a little young to be in here, pipsqueak.” Qrow wondered.

To be fair, the dude looked younger than me and was about five two. A solid maybe on that five two. He was well under one hundred eighty centimeters but he didn’t have a drink in his hand so it was probably fine. Probably. I wasn’t sure about the rules of a bar like this. Or any bar really. I wasn’t a bar guy.

“Shut up, I'm getting there.” He said to the air next to him.

Okay?

Where was the wire?

Qrow didn’t seem put off by this. Instead he wheeled himself around to fully face the guy.

Sure. Why not?

“I’m supposed to tell you, I’d like my cane back.”

“What the fresh fuck?” I blurted. 

Qrow reached behind him in the chair and pulled out a length cane with some gears and a switch at the gray handle. He tossed it to the kid and it extended into something like a weapon. And with a hunter’s strength… fuck it. Why not? It wasn’t like I really cut things up with the broadsword form of Crocea Mors. More of a crushing action. The Nuckleavee was big enough such that it was fine. Sure. It did some cutting. But on people it crumpled them more than sliced them. 

“Bartender!” I turned and called. 

“You’re Jaune Arc.” The kid said. 

“You know me?” I asked. “How?” 

“Um… I let you into my school.”

“He’s Ozpin,” Qrow leaned back and laughed. “I did it. I found him. Bartender!”

“How the hell is he Ozpin?” I asked. “Headmaster Ozpin? Are you nuts?”

“Bartender!”

“I didn’t believe it at first either…” the kid murmured. He stroked the length of the cane. 

We got our third round. I hammered mine immediately. I gasped off the alcohol. 

“Slow down, son,” the bartender suggested. 

“You…” I wavered. “Keep ‘em comin’. You… one of you two… explain.”

“When Ozpin died he was reincarnated into me.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Can’t he just die and be dead like a normal person .” I spat out the word ‘person’ like it offended me. 

“Um… it’s a long story.” 

“Yeah. I’m in a real rush.”

“It’s a personal story, then.”

“Okay. And you woke up one day and were cool with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that at all. But… I have responsibilities now.”

“Because- can Ozpin hear me right now?” I asked.

“Yes. He hears what I hear and sees what I see.” 

"Because you’re schizophrenic.” I finished. “You’re delusional. You should go home. Do you even have your aura unlocked?”

“Well… no. But… neither did you? Wait, why didn’t you?” The kid asked. 

“And you knew I didn’t have my aura unlocked? And you flung me into the emerald forest anyway? Why?” 

“What’s your name, kid?” Qrow requested from the chair. 

“Oscar Pine.”

“Well, Oscar, welcome to the real world,” Qrow sat back and drank his whiskey. 

[ghostly-penumbra]

Seven Ways to Summon the Ghost King

Chapter One: Traditional way

[Here] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Ao3

Summary: Harry makes a nice acquitance... in a dark wizards raid, of all places.

Warning: Attempted murder.

- - -

Harry ran down the dilapidated manor’s hall, with his best mate watching his back as they approached the eerie room lit only by candlelight.

They pressed themselves against the wall, with Harry taking the lead and his wand ready, listening to the chanting go on.

Whatever these dark wizards were summoning, it was powerful, and they couldn’t just barge in and cut it out, that would just end up activating the defensive drawings in green ink all over the place and that wouldn’t end up nicely.

(They had done their research, unfortunately for their foes, and knew they could enter in an exact certain moment, when the ritual became welcoming, but right before…)

“And now we present this sacrifice! For only death can call Death!”

“Now!” Harry commanded in a low voice that only Ron heard, and they entered the chambers wand blazing, with the rest of their squad following close behind. “Expeliarmus!” He bellowed, making the dagger held by the dark witch soar through the air and fall to the floor with a clatter.

A myriad of colours flew through the air as spells were cast, with their light reflecting on the cold stone walls.

“Depulso! Protego!” Harry yelled, sliding next to the unconscious muggle tied down to the stone table.

“Bombarda! Mate, cover me!” Ron began casting, seeking to undo the magical bindings as well as the muggle ones.

In between the battling and the arrival of the back-up Aurors, Harry and Ron could be excused for not noticing the ground shaking right away, or how the candle lights flickered before turning green…

“Potter! Weasley!” Kingsley Shaklebolt yelled at them whilst fending off two opponents at once. “What’s going on?!”

What they knew he had actually asked, though, was ‘Why is it going on? Didn’t you just stop the sacrifice? Is that person dead?’

Ron took a limp wrist in his grasp and said, “It’s still beating.”

“Sir, the ritual wasn’t completed!” Harry reported to his superior, then hastily put up another shield. “It shouldn’t have worked…”

“Oh, but he’s here!” One of the dark wizards said, a manic gleam on his face, right before Ron knocked him out with a desmaius.

Above them, green clouds began to spread in a spiral, thundering and glowing, slowly bringing out a royally-clad figure.

Ron, now carrying the victim bridal-style, looked at him with apprehension.

“Go.” Harry said firmly.

“But-”

“Ron, go!” Harry looked pointedly at the unconscious muggle in Ron’s arms, and his best mate reluctantly relented, and took off running towards Kingsley.

“Bow down before Pariah Dark! King of the Gho-!” The frantic cry of joy was cut short when Harry sent a knock-back jinx at the witch.

The Man Who Lived stood straight, staring at the coalescing mist with his jaw set, ready to face Death down once again.

-

Danny opened his eyes and found himself in a room(? Chamber?) full of people in various states of consciousness, with the ones awake looking all at him.

“Uh, hi…” He said with a little wave of his hand.

The guy closest to him looked him up and down with a serious face.

“Uh, can someone tell me where are we?”

-

The magic world never really stopped surprising Harry, but that was alright, because it seemed to keep surprising itself as well. Take for example Phantom, the Ghost King, who seemed unable to stop fidgeting as he floated next to Harry.

“So, uh, can I leave, officer?” The boy asked.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. “You are not detained, I just need to ask you a few questions. Besides,” he eyed the flaming crown perched atop his head (which was quite big for him, and looked about to fall down his head and end up as a collar), “I don’t really believe I have enough authority as to detain you.”

The boy king put a hand on his nape and pursed his lips, so clearly not used to this that Harry took pity on him and chose to be straightforward.

“Why did you come here?” He started. “The ritual wasn’t completed, no one died, so why- how did you get here?”

“Oh, well, I still don’t know much about that, but I think I got an idea.” The boy looked at him seriously, and continued. “These guys tried to summon the Ghost King, but their information is outdated, just a bit; the last King accepted sacrifices, but I don’t, they are anathema to me and my Obsession.” He explained. “I think that’s why it worked, I mean, it probably wouldn’t if they had actually killed someone, but outside of that, their stuff was pretty solid.”

Harry watched as emotions crossed the boy that died’s face, seriousness, solemnity, anger… then calm, and lastly, sheepishness again.

“You’re not doing as they say, then.” Harry barely asked, and mostly stated. “If the blood sacrifice didn’t tie you to them, you can do as you please.”

“Yeah, I guess so…”

Phantom looked around, and Harry looked around, and when their gazes met again, there was an understanding only a pair of trouble-magnets could share.

“Say, did they even know how to summon me, officer…?”

“Auror.” Harry corrected.

“Officer Auror.”

“No, that’s- you know what? That’s okay.” The dead Kin seemed to notice Harry’s brief struggle, but chose to ignore it and let Harry “Auror” Potter answer. “They had this book, an old thing, really, rather fragile, with all these dark spells and rituals and stuff. A lot of drawings of clouds and doorways…” That actually interested him, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting more answers from the teen.

“Shame if something happened to it and it… disappeared.”

“Shame indeed.”

They shared a moment of silence, barely a minute.

“Well, officer Auror, it was nice meeting ya but I got stuff to do back home.”

“Oh, no, how could I possibly physically stop you?”

“You can’t.”

With a little wave, King Phantom disappeared from sight, far neater than Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and was soon replaced by questions and exclamations from his fellow wizards.

Later, Harry would find out about an important, dangerous book disappearing into thin air.

For now, though, he just smirked and huffed out a laugh.

“Long live the dead King.”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 7: Alleyway

Read on Ao3

- Warriors & Hyrule

- Summary: a group of ex-soldiers corner Warriors in an alleyway

CW for blood and injury, a character getting beaten, drugging, and vomiting

——————————————-

The laughter is deafening.

Warriors winces as it echoes in his head, increasing the incessant pound to a fever pitch. The lights of Castle Town certainly aren’t helping either. They are especially bright tonight. They bleed through the slits of his swollen eyes, blinding him, piercing his skull like shards of glass.

“Getting tired yet?”

A foot connects with his jaw. The crunch of breaking bones sounds in time with the annunciation of the last taunting word.

His head snaps back. Blood fills his mouth. Stars crackle before his eyes and a nauseating rush of heat zips up his spine, cascading through the back of his neck and head. He has already been sick – the disgusting stuff is splattered upon the cobblestones before him – but he’s dreadfully certain he’s going to do so again.

He’s an idiot, he decides, running his tongue over teeth coated in blood. Waltzing about Castle Town at night. Anyone else’s might’ve been fine, but his? He knows better.

Or he should.

But he should also know better than to do what he does next.

Lifting a head heavy with pain and the strange fuzziness of near unconsciousness, he grins. The faces of his assailants waver before his eyes, so blurry he can hardly make out their features.

“Nope,” he slurs. “Why…y’ guys gettin tired?”

One of them – the largest from what he can see – grasps the front of his scarf and hauls him upward. The ground tips as Warriors’ feet leave it and his stomach somersaults.

The man leans in, breath hot and rancid with the scent of cheap alcohol.

“Still smirkin, are ya? Well, we’ll fix that attitude right up. You’ll be cryin like a babe by the time we’re done with you.”

A chorus of agreement erupts from behind him and the man grins, leeringly. Warriors has a split second to brace himself before he reels back and hurls him at the stone wall of the alleyway. He hits the ground with a dull thud. Pain explodes so abruptly that it takes his breath away. For a moment he can only lie there, bracing himself on trembling arms, struggling against the wave of darkness that tries to drag him away.

“Who’s laughin now?”

A boot connects with his side and Warriors topples sideways. There had been a time, not so long ago, when he had tried to evade their kicks and punches. At the start of all this, he had even fought back. But whatever they had slipped into his drink had been strong. Even the little bit he had ingested before realizing his mistake was enough to make the world hazy and his steps unsteady. And once they had managed to corner him, that had been the end of it.

His sword is long gone now, flown somewhere out of sight and reach. His shield has disappeared along with it. He only has his battered limbs for protection, as the blows rain down faster than he can predict them.

A fist connects with his abdomen and he chokes on a mouthful of blood. The dark liquid colors the path before him, spreading like spilled paint.

“Look at you. Captain of the Royal Army. Hero.”

Another hit, this one knocking his head against the alleyway wall. His protesting stomach finally clenches. Warriors gags, tasting iron and bile.

“Hah! Murderer’s more like it!”

“You think you can cause an entire war and then walk around like you own the world?”

A hand fists in his hair, yanking him upward. Warriors slumps in their agonizing grip. The edges of his vision are tinged with gray now. His breath rattled in his chest, every inhale like drawing air beneath the water.

Punctured lung, more than likely, he thinks, dazedly. Oh, joy.

A laugh bubbles up in him at the thought, born of the remnant of drugs still coursing through his veins, the wounds making him dangerously dizzy. He chokes on it as it erupts. The hoarse sound is hardly recognizable for what it is. But they recognize it anyway.

“You little…”

He blinks and his vision clears just enough that he can make out a pair of fury-filled eyes.

Another chuckle hiccups out of him.

“Still not crying.”

His attacker flings him down so hard his teeth clack together. If his tongue was an inch closer to them, he would have bit it off.

He’s making a bad situation worse — he knows that. But in this light-headed, pain-drunk state, he can’t bring himself to really care.

Still, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t tense, preparing himself for the next, dreaded hit.

…the hit that never comes.

Instead, a new voice joins the jumble of taunting truths.

“Hey! Get off him!”

That horrible laughter bounces around in his skull again and Warriors grits his teeth against the pain of it.

“Oh, lookit that. There’s another one! What’d you think boys? We can take him, right?”

The newcomer doesn’t answer. There is the muffled pounding of feet at a run, then a grunt of pain. Someone hits the ground beside him so heavily that Warriors is certain it shakes.

The telltale noises of a fight erupt – groans and grunts and the sound of bone connecting with flesh.

Slowly, he raises his head. It’s difficult to see past the static prickling before his eyes, but he can just make out the shadowy forms of his assailants and the small body weaving skillfully in and out from between them. And though he can’t be completely certain – not in this state of near-consciousness – he can’t help thinking that the person looks an awful lot like…

“Rulie?”

It’s a hoarse croak and nothing more. He dares not raise his voice too loud, dares not hope someone has truly come to his aid. But then, between one agonized breath and the next, he finds himself staring up into the familiar face of the traveler.

“It’s okay,” he says, a bit breathless. Blood dribbles down from his bottom lip and nose. He wipes briskly at the dark stream as he reaches into his pouch. “I’m here.”

Warriors tries to say something, but all that comes out is a hacking, wet cough.

“Take it easy. You’re really bad off, captain.”

Warriors chokes out something resembling a chuckle and immediately regrets it. His body screams in protest, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep Hyrule’s face in focus.

“Think I lost,” he mutters.

Hyrule shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah I think you did.”

Gentle hands cup his head and suddenly he is looking at the traveler upside down. Cool glass touches his lips.

“Drink.”

Dutifully, he swallows the warm liquid that courses down his throat. He can feel the rush of magic, flowing through his veins, seeking to mend his many wounds. The effect is small but instantaneous.

Breathing comes a bit easier, his mind is less foggy, and the pain less intense. But he still feels as though he has been knocked around by a hoard of stampeding bokoblins. And when Hyrule moves to return the bottle to his pouch, he can’t hold back a groan.

“Sorry.” He can hear the wince in the traveler’s voice. “I know that didn’t help much. But I can’t do anything more here. We’re too exposed.”

He casts a quick glance over his shoulder, then turns back to Warriors.

“Can you walk? It’s not that far to the inn.”

Warriors nods.

“Good. I’ll support you okay? And we’ll take it slow.”

Neither Hyrule’s support nor their sluggish pace make the journey much easier. Getting up off of the ground is a near-impossible task in and of itself. And walking even more so. By the time they make it to the inn – by some miracle, to be sure – he has come dangerously close to passing out more times than he can count.

It is only Hyrule’s aid that keeps him from toppling before they ever reach their room.

The traveler breathes a sigh of relief once they’ve entered the room and shut the door behind them.

“I should be able to patch you up now,” he says, as Warriors collapses in a tangle of aching, bloodied limbs upon the bed. Even the silken softness of the duvet seems like sand in his wounds.

He hardly notices it as Hyrule sets out gauze and bandages, barely comprehends the instructions to move a little here or there to help him peel off his bloodied garments. But when the chilled air collides with his newly exposed chest, he sucks in a breath, jolted awake by the white-hot agony.

“It’s alright,” comes Hyrule’s voice, soft and gentle as his touch when he begins to dab at his wounds with a damp cloth. Magic begins to flow through his other hand to Warriors’ body. “I know it hurts, but I’ve got you. You’re gonna be just fine, you hear me? You’re gonna pull through, cap.”

Warriors drags in another rattling breath. The ceiling looks smudgy now, as though someone has taken a dry paintbrush and rubbed it across it.

A low curse sounds from beside him. “Why’d they do this to you?”

Warriors’ eyes slide closed. There’s no reason to keep them open when he teeters on the edge of unconsciousness anyway. One more little push and he will plummet into blessed darkness.

“Angry ‘bout the war,” he mumurs. The question had been directed back at Hyrule more than him, but he feels the need to answer it anyway. The least he can do for the traveler is explain a bit.

“Well, I don’t care what they believe about you. It’s wrong. And no one deserves this, least of all you.”

There is a fire in his tone, the same one that always makes an appearance when he is gearing up for a fight. Any other time, perhaps, Warriors might have made it one, if only in his own mind. But today he is too tired, too hurt. And so he remains quiet, floating in the strange half-state, as Hyrule wipes the blood from his body.

Until he loses that battle too and consciousness slips from his grasp.

[offdacabsav2]

Neon Dread

An hour since he disappeared into the night. They tore Vacuo asunder, searching in a panicked frenzy. Each corner, each crevice, Weiss replayed the rage in his eyes.

The hurt, the loneliness, and the brink reaching to pull him in.

In the Ever After he wasn’t shielding his insanity in rusted armor. Is he now?

When they heard the sounds of a fight breaking out, they thought for sure it was another drunken brawl started for some petty reason.

Instead, it had been Jaune brutally dismantling the members of CRDL. Watching him fatally crush Cardin’s skull frightened her.

The confident leader who would never harm another human like that.

Compared to… compared to now.

She felt disgusting for this. It’s true, none of them can sympathize with 15 years of pure isolation, slowly losing your grip on reality every day while trying to cope with mercy killing a close friend.

She should’ve helped more, tried to warm him up to the idea of a group again.

The logical side told her he refused every time. That he was always alone now and wanted to be.

Her emotions crushed retaliation.

He didn’t want to be alone. But he didn’t know how not to be.

Eventually the chase became widespread. News of a missing huntsman who attacked another team spread rampant.

They needed to find him. There’s a very real chance he could be imprisoned for this.

Sprinting past glistening, neon billboards, advertisements, road signs, dancing holograms, Weiss rounded a corner, dipping into a dark alley.

Ruby showed up a moment later and inspected the area with her scroll’s flashlight.

Rain, trash, brick walls, smoke. The knight nowhere in sight.

Weiss: “Dammit!” She roared, picking up a stone and hurling it into the shadows.

Ruby: “Weiss, we’ve searched the entire south side. He’s not here.”

Weiss: “And? What, are you going to give up just because it’s a little harder than you expected?”

The Ice Queen retracted, hanging her head and squeezing Myrtenaster’s hilt.

Weiss: “I’m sorry. I… I’m scared.”

Ruby: “It’s okay. I am too. But he ran this way and there’s not a single trace of… anything.”

Weiss sighed, gazing at the heavens. Rain steadily fell onto her face, soaking her hair and dismantling the braid.

Weiss: “What about the others?”

Ruby: “Guys, how are we doing?” She paced as she gazed at her scroll.

Nora: “Nothing, nothing, nothing. He just vanished! Up and left!”

Ren: “No luck so far. If he turned around the authorities would have him by now. Either he broke into a building or he left the city.”

Ren, ever the voice of reason, had clear panic in his tone. Although Nora’s was obvious, he still tried to calm her.

Blake: “Yang and I just cleared the rest of the residential plaza. I don’t see where he could’ve gone.”

Oscar: “Emerald and I are following a subway tunnel right now. I doubt he came down here, but it’s worth a shot.”

Ruby: “Ok… ok, uh… k-keep looking. He’s around here,” she turned away, muttering. “Somewhere.”

Weiss walked further into the abyssal maw. It wrapped her in shadows the closer she got.

Weiss: “I think this leads to a different back passage.”

The silver-eyed leader joined her friend in peeking back the layers of thick gloom.

Black windows deepened the pit of anxiety in Weiss’ stomach. She imagined blank faces watching as they went.

Turning a corner, Weiss glimpsed a touch of red when Ruby’s light swept the narrow lane.

Weiss: “I-I see something,” She pointed. “Right there.”

The beam revealed unsettling information.

Weiss sprinted to the soaked fabric floating in a puddle. A memory torn, harboring different, darker stains.

Ruby and Weiss stared at it in utter fear.

Ruby: “G-guys, we… we found Pyrrha’s sash.”

Nora: “Where?!”

Ruby: “East Whittaker Street, in a side alley. I think… I think there’s blood on it.”

Oscar: “Do you think it’s his or Cardin’s?”

Ruby: “I don’t know, I don’t know. You’re coming up behind us, see if you can cut off the area near the subway exit. Everyone else, get over here as fast as you can.”

Weiss drew her blade and loaded a slot of ice dust into the chamber.

Methodically, the huntresses cleared their corners, watched the rooftops, and guarded their rear.

Further evidence.

A severed metal leg and a long ponytail.

Ruby raised her light up to see Crocea Mors stabbed into a wall, water washing over the blade. The duo dashed to the sword, inspecting its new cuts and dents.

Weiss nearly stepped in a pool, but withdrew her heel, noticing an odd tinge to the clear surface.

Blood.

Eyes and light uncovered a trail leading into a pitch-black, midnight doorway.

Carefully, they closed. In sync, ready to fight.

Methodical and smooth. Terrified and nervous.

Images flooded Weiss’ brain. Gruesome scenes unfolding, playing into her worst nightmares.

The scroll’s gaze hovered over a gloved hand. White and gold gauntlets. Deathly still.

Weiss doesn’t remember a time she ran so fast. She most likely never will.

He was propped against a wooden door. Head down, hair stuck to his forehead. His face veiled by darkness.

Blood ran down his armor. She tilted his chin upwards. His eyes were shut, mouth slightly open, a pained look on his crimson-stained face. Trailing down his neck was a deep gash. A purple splotch glinted.

Ruby: “We found him, but Tyrian and Mercury were here first! He got stung!” She rambled frantically, reviewing him for further injury.

Emerald: “We’ve got the ambulance coming right now.”

Everything else blurred. Weiss only focused on his sluggish breathing that slowed with every passing second. The cut across his cheek. The slashes below his armor exposing red flesh. A bullet hole in his thigh and the spreading venom.

At some point, Ruby and Weiss wrapped his arms around their shoulders and hoisted him to his feet.

He was incredibly heavy and his concussed state helped little.

The clock ticked away.

He grew weaker and weaker.

Weiss prayed for a miracle. For anything. She wasn’t going to lose him, too. Not after everything they’ve been through together.

She refused for death to take him. He needed to hear how much he meant to them and how bad it hurt to see him in pain.

He needed to hear how she truly felt.

The future where she isn’t able to confess… all of it…

She had to be strong. For him.

[dzamie-oc]

Voretober 08 - Sudden

Length: 1800 words Vore type: Oral vore, unwilling prey, M/F, M/M Fandom: D&D Other info: kobold/human, kobold/elf, digestion, fast digestion, smaller pred Summary: How does a little kobold eat adventurers over twice his size? Very quickly, and they don't last long. Apparently eating is a free action.

Saverin wiped the gnoll blood off of his sword, but kept it out - until he and the others knew they'd found a safe room, it was dangerous to let his guard down so completely. Somewhat luckily, one of the gnolls had gotten blasted through the next door by one of Viera's spells. Saverin stashed his rag and raised his shield as he stepped through the stone-lined doorway.

The group passed through the hallway relatively uneventfully. Garren froze a giant rat that even Elise hadn't seen with their breath; Severin was inclined to think it would've left them alone, but he knew better than to argue with their scaly cleric over their hatred of rodents. And then there was another door, this one intact. Elise slipped past the rest of the group to fiddle with the lock, and with a quick click, she soon pushed it open before retreating behind Saverin's guard.

The room was mostly empty, save for a table with a half-finished game of Solitaire, a few scattered chairs, a visibly empty chest, and a single kobold leaning against a door and spinning a fork in his hands. The kobold in question was better-equipped than Saverin expected of his species, with half a metal helmet over the upper half of his face, a few spiked rings affixed to his tail, and a pair of leather shoes that somehow fit his lizardy feet. Saverin had taken only a couple steps in when the kobold looked up and tossed the fork onto the table. "Oh, you guys made good time. You can't go through, by the way. Dragon says no."

Garren started to say, "does she know that we only seek-" but was swiftly cut off by their other magic-user.

"Well, your dragon's about to learn otherwise! Now stand aside, or I'll be opening that door with your corpse!" The red gem on Viera's staff glowed, menacing.

"She's said she has no patience for more slayers, and granted me speed to fulfill her will," the kobold countered, with no worry in his voice, "so… leave. Or stay here forever, but you aren't going in."

A magical incantation in an equally magical language spilled forth from Viera's lips, and a ball of fire shot from her staff, scorching a decent area around him. A quick glance to the side, and Saverin saw Garren murmur a quick prayer; they couldn't stop their fellows from killing creatures who weren't even defending themselves, but they could at least seek forgiveness on their behalf. Saverin wasn't a religious man, himself, but he understood their plight-

Just then, a strange, muffled shout pulled his and Garren's focus from the scorched and wrecked door. The kobold was just past where Viera had casted from, but their mage was nowhere to be seen - well, that wasn't entirely true; the diminutive lizard rested on a massive gut, scales stretched beyond reasonable to accommodate something over twice his size, even curled up tight. His tail swished slowly, and with arms crossed, the kobold looked out of his helmet at the remaining trio. "Okay. Let's try this again. You can't go in, so leave. Once you do, and this troublemaker apologizes, I'll let-"

Elise struck from the shadows, seeming more like a trick of the light than an elf. "Now, when it can't move!" she shouted, driving her daggers towards the kobold's bloated gut, an easy target.

At least, it would have been, had the kobold not landed a solid kick on her, sending her flying into a wall with a crash that surprised Saverin with its lack of sound. The swordsman tore his eyes away from the horrid scene to the door, or rather where the door used to be. Slowly, he started to creep towards it, though morbid curiosity kept him staring at what the kobold was doing.

At the moment, the kobold was hissing, annoyed. "Look, if you really want to try this, I'd better just…" He rolled back, landing on his feet, and stretched. An awful gurgling and growling echoed in the small, stone room, immediately joined by Viera's screaming. Loud cracking and snapping ensued as, before their very eyes, the lumpy bulk of the kobold's stretched stomach grew rapidly both less lumpy and less bulky, shrinking into a noticeable but much more normal-looking gut. He thumped his chest with his fist a couple times, then opened his scaly jaws to let out a truly massive belch, ridding himself of even that amount of bloat. Saverin figured that, if he'd been next to that monster, his ears would be ringing, and that may be the least of his problems. A wisp of red, magical flame issued from the predator's maw, the only sign that Viera had even been in the room.

"Now then, you wanted to fight?" the lizard challenged, glancing around the room. Elise had once again melted back into the shadows, and it seemed that, for all his speed, the kobold's eyes were normal. Saverin shuffled a little closer to the door, over halfway there…

A pair of knives flew at the kobold from behind; it was only then that Saverin managed to spot the shadowy elf. But only for a moment; the swordsman only barely registered the clatter of metal on stone after a blur of scales seemed to instantly transform the sinewy, stealthy assassin into a much more compact, scaly mass hanging off of the kobold's midsection. This time, he leaned one hand against the wall and put his other hand on his hip, more addressing Elise than the rest of- than Saverin and Garren.

"Really, this could have not happened if you just left, or even didn't atta- AGH, OW!" He stumbled, supporting himself on his oversized gut, and gritted his sharp teeth, muttering curses in Draconic that surely made Garren blush through their scales. "Grraah, you wanna fight like a rat, I'll treat you like one!"

Blanching, Saverin turned and ran; it didn't stop him from hearing Elise's cry cut off, or the sickening crunch of bones shattered even before melting, but he at least didn't have to see it, and maybe he could be around the corner and out of the kobold's-

The next thing Saverin saw was a set of small, but very hungry-looking draconic jaws opened unreasonably wide right in front of his face. He grunted, more from discomfort than pain, as his arms and legs were forced to immediately curl up against him; it even took a couple seconds to realize that he couldn't see anything, and that he'd gone from a cool, slightly damp cave system to a hot, humid, and wet…

Kobold stomach.

Saverin tried to reach for his sword, but it had been either knocked away or was trapped against him where he couldn't reach. Fear gripped him in the deadly, acrid chamber as he realized his hands had already started to tingle, and he desperately hoped it was just a lack of circulation, rather than the kobold doing… well, he didn't want to think about it. To make matters worse, the deadly lizard let out a short laugh over his doom. "Ha! Using your own allies as bait to sneak by? Devious, but my mistress's boons are stronger. Will you finally agree to just leave? I'm running out of lessons to give, not that I mind."

"We aren't here to kill her!" Garren's voice was muffled just as Viera's and Elise's voices had been, but this time Saverin was on the other side of things. "She has twenty-three overdue library books and we're asking for them back! Ideally with the fine, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

The kobold is worryingly quiet for a few seconds; Saverin couldn't decide if he wanted this ordeal to hurry up or never reach its inevitable conclusion. Eventually, though, he spoke up, "why didn't the other three say anything?"

"After the giant rats, the slimes, and the gnolls, even I didn't expect you to actually speak."

"Oh. That's… I'm not sorry - those two tried to kill me - but I wish it hadn't happened."

Saverin struggled around, pressing out from within his fleshy prison. "Hey! You can let me out now!"

More silence, save for the disquieting gurgle of his captor's guts shifting around. "Uhh… surely this can be done with just one person? And I'll just… keep him until you get back, just in case you secretly plan to try to kill my mistress! It'll be twice as hard with only one person!"

Even through the kobold's belly and scales, Saverin heard Garren's sigh. "KOBOLD," they said, with a severity to their voice. The rest of their words was in Draconic, so the trapped swordsman could only hope the cleric knew what they were doing.

"Y- of course, O Dragon," the kobold said, in a much shakier voice than before. And then, he moved.

Saverin had to squint his eyes against the instant re-existince of light. He coughed and sputtered, getting the stale and sharp air out from his lungs and the kobold drool and stomach juices from his mouth. Shakily, he stood and shambled over to his dropped sword, immediately sheathing it just in case the kobold thought it a good excuse. And speaking of the kobold, the swordsman turned to see him kneeling on the floor before Garren. Saverin did his best to shake off his wet clothes and armor, then turned to the cleric, himself. "Uh… thanks, Garren. I'm pretty sure you just saved my life."

Garren awkwardly rubbed their neck. "Don't mention it, please. I panicked. I should've talked him out of it, rather than…" they trailed off, then gestured to the deferent kobold. "Anyway, are you well enough to continue? We can rest here, if you need time."

Saverin shook his head. "I can go. The sooner I get a proper bath and a proper bed, the better." Rolling his shoulders, he continued on through the doorway, and Garren followed soon after.

"When you return, may I eat him again?" the kobold called out to them, "I'll let him go, I swear!"

Saverin heard Garren's footsteps stop, and turned to see them thinking for longer than he'd like, settling on "only by his permission, and ending by the earlier of his or my request."

"Thank you, O Dragon! Good luck on your quest!"

As they walked down the final stretch to the dragon's chambers, Saverin shot the cleric a glare, to which they meekly shrugged. "I… don't like telling them outright no. So you get to. Sorry." A sudden weight came to their scaly features, and they let out a deep sigh. "When next we rest, I will perform rites in memoriam of Elise and Viera."

Saverin grumbled. "This would never have happened if the damned dragon - no offense - just read her stupid mail."

[jennyandvastraflint]

Xena Reactions S3Ep4. Aka WOAH THAT'S A LOT OF TRAUMA FOR MY POOR GABRIELLE Part 1 😭

Ffs why is Ares here AGAIN

OH who is THIS

Discord?? She kinda 👀 (gosh her outfit)

Ares you are so mfing UGLY I hate your stupid beard

Call him out, Discord 😍

GABRIELLEEEE

Hehe she's doing philosophy

Gosh Xena is silly silly

HER SLAPPING GABRIELLE TO STOP HER

BRITANNIA

CAESAR. FUCK.

Oh that did something to her. Poked that trauma, hu

Damn her listing stuff

"You know her?"

Why is there a dude with only one god again

"And to destroy Caesar" EPIC MUSIC. OHOHOHHH. She's gonna go REVENGE

"Xena doesn't hate Romans. Just Caesar."

Damn, Xena actually telling Gabrielle stuff? 😂

"The gods I know are trouble enough"

Sdbfhhdhdd HE MATERIALISED AROUND THE SWORD

Jesus Ares, fuck YOOOUUU

oh I hate this Ares whispering in her ear. I'd genuinely rather have Joxer here compared to Ares... Like if I had to choose. Preferably I want neither.

Is this Gabrielle's boyfriend of the week 😑

GABRIELLE BELIEVES IN LOVE TO XENA THO

I love Gabrielle teaching sb what Xena taught her

GABRIELLE GENTLY ASKING WHAT'S UP ❤️

I love them talking 😊

They really said Damn we got a ship now, let's put like four episodes on a boat!

How's the view from up there

Ohhh, is she sending morse code

"Yes, sir. They're headed north" ehdhdhd

A chariot again. Damn makes me nostalgic for Callisto

OH A HOT WOMAN

Damn Xena and that woman definitely fucked in the past. They have divorced sapphics energy

I dearly love that you actually see something in these night scenes. As opposed to new shows

GABRIELLE NOOOOOOO!!!!

I love women btw.

"Because your hatred for him won't allow you to be elsewhere" Oh she read her like a scroll of parchment

AHHHHH XENA LIKE "No that's impossible"

Oh shit she's about to murder someone bc her gf isn't here (*cough* Xena and Vastra are so alike-)

oh fuck yea...

And her ex kneeew

"Nooo." ough

Stop manhandling Gabrielle my babygirl

Pls she's so FEISTY😍😊

YUCK. CAESAR

Hi Karlchen.

OH. GABRIELLE IS TRYING TO SELL HERSELF SHORT SO SHE CAN'T BE USED TO BLACKMAIL XENA

Shit r they gonna threaten to crucify Gabrielle

Ohhh, is Xena gonna infiltrate

EW. STRAIGHT AGENDA (I knooow it's just a cover but still)

Eepy Gabrielle

Uh oh. I hate how smart Caesar is...

NOOOOOOOOO THEY PUT GABRIELLE UP

NO. NOPEEEE NOT THE BROKEN LEGS That's so fucked up

Xena's gonna save her

HA. She knew they were gonna bring them there.

Haha, Caesar's dumbstruck face

GABRIELLE CAN YOU MAKE BIGGER HEART EYES AT XENA

"Timing. We've got to work on timing."

HER CATCHING GABRIELLE 😍

She split his spear!!!

AHAHA FUCKING LOSER GOT HURT.

Rip his banner!!!

Oh, now his massive ego is scratched

NOT GABRIELLE APOLOGISING FOR BEING CAPTURED 😭😭😭

Awww, poor thems

Oh fuck they're taking the temple

Their shield formation and Xena just jumps them... 😂

Mmmmm... Not sure I like that. I'm calling the temple is a trap honestly... This went too smoothly

Oh Xena is enjoying this TOO much

And of course Ares is back.......

Ares stop shouting.

"Trust me, Xena!" "Based on what?" YES

Uhhhh why does this have the vibe of sacrificial virgin.....

Is their one god Chaos

Innocent blood? OH FUCK Gabrielle's blood innocence isn't it

NOOOOO, GABRIELLE

Mmmmmmh...

O_O GABRIELLE STABBED HER. SHE JUST KILLED FOR THE FIRST TIME

This is gonna let the god come out

WTFFFFFFF

I hate this guy

GABRIELLE MY POOR GIRL 😭😭😭

SHE'S SCREAMING, SOMEONE GO HUG HER. XENA!!!! YOUR GF IS IN DANGER

Oh she is enjoying that revenge on Xena bit too much

"That's where Gabrielle is" HUAGGHH

SHE HUGS HER. SHE HOLDS HER AWWWW

"No, Gabrielle, you couldn't"

"Accidentally!!!" "No, I stabbed her"

POOR GABRIELLE!!! SHE'S HIDING BEHIND XENA. PROTECTIVE XENA.

"What have you done to her, you BASTARD!?" She's big mad

Oh fuck. They wanna welcome that god and there's a battle about to begin outside

GABRIELLE!!!! FIRE. MY POOR BABY

Xena is so frightened for her gf

She's hovering over flames

Damn what a thin stone wall

HOLD ON GABRIELLE

Xena was scratched :(

BOOB KNIFE!!!

Xena is so sexy honestly

"Great at WHAT?" OH SHE'S THROWING HIM IN AND SAVING HER WIFEY

"I got you, I got you" Aaaaaaah

THEY'RE SO CLOSE. XENA IS SO PROTECTIVE OF HER

Kaboom

OUGH THEY'RE SO

"It hurts inside" OUGH sobbing. Gabrielle got me sobbing

Damn those are some CGI'd ruins

Also they really just abandoned the supposed A plot of the battle. That was SO smart tho. Like, from a story perspective. It was brilliantly executed.

[tigerbears]

THANK YOU SM FOR THE TRANS UTDR VIDEO ESP THE SEAM MENTION BC IM SEAMS NUMBER ONE FIGHTER FOR MISGENDERING THEYRE MY FAVE DR CHARACTER I always feel like that one meme of the knight shielding the princess whenever I correct ppl on their pronouns and get to show off the clip of Mr Fox himself saying it lol, also speaking of tysm for pointing out the issue of him not addressing things— bc man I love the guy but sir Please start actually saying stuff bc this fanbase is too illiterate for you to just smile and wave when it comes to the characters identities,,, esp due to it being such a huge topic of discourse, buuuuut I also don’t blame him for the being overwhelmed part, like I said I agree with like every point you made you were so eloquent through out the whole video thank you sm just aaaaugh punches wall and jumps up and down <3

Completely off topic but I wanna rant abt something for a moment (hence why I’m now sending this w anon and not my blog) but the video reminded me of something that happened to my friend in which she made a post on her UTDR related ask blog which was really simple just a “hey don’t misgender Kris/frisk/chara on my blog” and that was basically it. That was the post. BUT. She had vaguely mentioned the glitchtale and Xtale aus in the tags just bc those came to mind first as big fandom things that misgendered the kids, and SPECIFICALLY she wrote she didn’t know as much abt xtale though and that it was just as I said from the top of her head. And wouldn’t you know! The creator of xtale saw the post and took it to fucking HEART. Like made this whole personal long ass rant in a rb over this simple “hey don’t be transphobic on my own personal blog” post. And then, and I’m not joking, EVERY SINGLE comment, tag, RB, you name it, was ALL harassing her or siding w Xtales creator, the only people defending her were her mutuals, and this was a small blog to boot— this wasn’t some big huge blog going after xtale specifically— it was a small blog making a post aimed at the follower circle just offhandedly mentioning it IN THE TAGS. so this explosion just took a massive toll on her and us. Thus any time I see that au or the creator i just get the most sour feeling like Man I Hate They’re Still So Popular Despite That Shit :(((( so the fact a similar situation happened (at least based on what you described in the vid) just made me remember that was all, just like a feeling of “wow we really haven’t changed at all in like two years have we. :/“

sorry I rambled for so long lol I just got reminded of that situation and wanted an excuse to get it off my chest, again as I said I absolutely loved the video and all the points made and I love the inclusion of swatch as someone who was there for the whole they/them to he/him event :3 and again as I said as a huge seam fan ty for including them bc they’re always overlooked in the NB conversation and I just love any mention of them lol,, my favorite elderly wizard kitty plush <33333

Glad people are enjoying the pronouns essay! I worked really hard with it and I'm glad to see it's at least correcting the narrative.

Though with the X-Tale thing, that's something I'll have to look in to and fact check because I prefer not to spread rumors without evidence. (Not saying it didn't happen; just with the whole "Legends of Localization" misinformation fiasco this fandom has a habit of making s--t up, and thus I want evidence, and while I appropriate your support a little annoyed that it has some X-Tale drama attached that I'm probably to tired to factcheck. Sucks if it's true though; Apologies for any snappiness I just woke up to the success of the pronouns essay and I'm about to go look at all the YT comments.)

I don't like drama and there's a reason the pronouns essay avoided throwing any stones directly at those "guilty."

[fionajames]

HIIIIII may I request some… angst… please? 😭 the unimaginable was too gooooood!!!!

hey guys this is angst as requested. the lyrics in this are from the song 'See You Again' by Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth. i recommend listening to it as u read.

This song actually means a lot to me and I cried a tear whilst listening to it writing this. I first heard it several months before my Grandad's death. Since then, I've lost a lot of loved ones, this song means a lot to me.

T/W: Death, Order 66.

It’s been a long day without you, my friend

Ahsoka stood, glossy-eyed at the helmets bearing her markings, buried in the dust. She thought of Jesse, who was always her friend. Until the last moment, when he’d turned on her. 

She’d felt it in the Force, Anakin’s death - she presumed. 

She’d reached out into the Force instinctively feeling for Obi-Wan, only to reconnect the strands with the dozens of other Jedi, all in pain and betrayal. She hadn’t been able to reach her old Grandmaster, retracting herself from the Force the minute she felt the pain. Ahsoka threw up a mental shield around herself, a desperate bubble of protection.

Rex stood next to her as they moved back to the ship, climbing in silently and setting course for a nearby planet. She watched the blue fly by, her heart panging as she saw a glimpse of his eyes, his lightsaber. 

Rushing off to the Chancellor’s aid, that was the last she’d seen of him.

That was the last she’d ever see of him.

And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again

Obi-Wan wrapped his robe around himself tighter, a tear sliding down his cheek as Beru sent him a last, sad smile before disappearing into her home with Luke in her arms and Owen at her side.

Obi-Wan turned away, walking slowly off into the distance. When he’d walked away from Anakin’s burning body, he’d reached tentatively out into the Force, in search of his former Grandpadawan. He’d been met with a wall of nothingness, the same kind of nothingness you felt when someone was dead.

He’d lost both his brother, sister and best friend in one day.

He thought miserably of the shell of a man he called his brother he’d left behind.

The guilt was eating at him like a starved beast.

He clambered down into a canyon of sand and stone, ignoring the scrapes on his hands and the tears rolling down his face. 

Jedi weren’t supposed to feel attachment, and he knew it, but now the Jedi were gone, so who was stopping him?

We’ve come a long way from where we began

Ahsoka thought back to her first meeting with Anakin and Obi-Wan. The arrogant version of Anakin she’d first met had turned more playful than rude in a matter of days.

She thought of the pain she’d first experienced, the tiring nature, the fear.

Jedi weren’t supposed to feel fear, but Ahsoka was no longer a Jedi.

She was never destined to be, she now realised.

She was destined to watch the fall of the Jedi, but not to be one that fell. 

The Order was gone, and that was unnatural to Ahsoka.

She thought back to the days of roaming the hallways of the Temple, both of her brothers at her side. She’d never thought of the fall of the Order. She’d wondered about them perhaps losing the war, but never a fall. Anakin and Obi-Wan were powerful, sometimes she’d feared for the deaths, but never the both of them.

She now realised that was why it hurt so much, she hadn’t expected the fall, much less the death of her brothers.

Oh, I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again

Obi-Wan thought of the last mission they’d done together, him and Anakin. His head throbbed from the mere thought of being knocked unconscious by Dooku. He thought of the way they’d fought together, brothers side by side.

He thought of Onderon, the last mission all three of them had done. He remembered the abrupt fear on Ahsoka’s face when she’d heard they were leaving. Obi-Wan knew she was ready, but she didn’t believe that.

He thought of the days they spent together, brothers and sister, on the battlefield, on Coruscant, on different planets post-battle. 

The days of cheer, joy, happiness, something he missed so much. 

Never had he ever thought, during one of these times, about how much he would miss them.

He wondered if Ahsoka’s death had been painless, he hoped it had. He thought of how she would have felt the same feeling of utter betrayal he’d held when Cody had shot him. He thought of Rex, and how he would feel after killing his sister.

When I see you again

Ahsoka sat down on the bed. Her and Rex had arrived hours before on the planet, and rented a small house. She collapsed, her head in her hands as tears slipped between her fingers. 

Obi-Wan slumped to the floor in the cave he was sheltering in, face buried in his arms. Tears rolled down his cheeks and onto the floor, creating small puddles in the dust and sand.

Ahsoka reached out into the Force with her last speck of hope. She reached for Anakin, then Obi-Wan, then Plo. All she felt was the same pain and nothingness.

Obi-Wan reached out for Ahsoka, in hopes of discovering a flicker of life. All he felt was the same nothingness and pain he’d felt when Anakin’s life had slipped away.

They sat in silence, only interrupted by the occasional sob.

Anakin reached out, for Obi-Wan and then Ahsoka. He felt a flicker of subtle life of Obi-Wan, and then the cold nothingness of Ahsoka. 

Three people, broken to pieces, unaware of each other.

Three people, against the universe.

Three people, separated.

'We'll be alright, as long as we stay together.'

hope you enjoyed, please send requests, im desperate!!!

take care of urself <3

taglist: @techs-goggles9902, @transmascanakin, @skellymom

[pinkprincess717-blog1]

I’m Here - Ch. 4 Preview

(Amicia x Lucas) A Plague Tale

Note: Hey guys! Just an update, I haven’t given up on my Lumicia fanfic! I’m working on it!😉 I hope you enjoy this preview for the upcoming chapter! 🥺🩷

Preview:

“It’s beautiful here…” Lucas mused, voice lightly reverberating throughout the church. Lightly, he fingered an abandoned manuscript which had been left open halfway on a pew. He skimmed through the text as he flicked through the pages.

In a moment of blissful silence, Lucas acknowledged the overwhelming enveloping sensation of complete tranquillity within the atmosphere, contradictory to the chaos they’d once endured. He didn’t quite know how to describe it… No, he did not share Amicia’s religious views, but he was certain there was no logical explanation, no book in a library that could provide answers to his burning questions. Instead, Lucas was surrounded with the presence of many angels, who protectively embraced their large feathered wings around the duo, shielding them from any further harm from the harshness of the world. They had been through enough already. The idea seemed so intangible and yet…. so real to Lucas.

Lucas instinctively glanced up from the manuscript, the agile yet delicate clicking of Amicia’s leather boots echoed, gliding effortlessly as she danced across the church like a fairy. She appeared to be looting all the substances she could find, a habit the duo had both come to learn during the time of the plague in order to survive. Lucas admired the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, which held multiple dimly lit candles. Arched alcoves shaped the building on both sides of the church. At each alcove, there were torches lit with fire that crackled and created a warmth and a cosy atmosphere.

The church appeared to be in its most pure and authentic state, untouched by the rats. Finally, it seemed the pair had found a safe place for rest and to worship although temporary. There was no sign or trace of a massacre or evidence of the existence of the plague within the vicinity, and no hordes of rats invading the centre of it. There was no great lingering stench of blood, guts or rotting corpses or piercingly high squeaks from the thousands of rats as they’d unfortunately had to endure.

Lucas could have allowed himself to slip into a state of denial… to pretend the existence of the plague had all been but a nightmare or a dark fantasy. But the stricken grief that plagued Amicia’s face, the scars and the deep frown lines which had recently appeared on her features aged her… a girl so young. The rawness reminded Lucas all too well of their reality. He couldn’t imagine he looked so fresh faced himself, he had practically bled open wounds. However, nothing, nothing compared to the void absence of a little boy by Amicia’s side and familiar tiny delicate palms gripping onto her own as they adventures together. Instantly, the heartstrings holding Lucas’s heart severed. For a moment, he imagined Hugo’s small form besides Amicia, but the image withered away as soon as it came.

Although the church was void of other visitors, evident signs surrounded the building of how they’d recently passed by. Duplicated copies of manuscripts and books were scattered and abandoned among pews, presumably from old churches from before the plague. Amongst the manuscripts were useful alchemical properties which would no doubt come in use for the pair.

“Lucas?” Amicia called.

Lucas cocked his head and gulped at what he saw, although his vision was a little blurry from the distance: Amicia looked like an angel, positioned gracefully on the platform of the altar at the end of the room. Her entire body seemed to glow with the bright sun peaking through the stained glass windows which were decorated with colourful drawings. Behind Amicia on the wall was a large stone statue of Mother Mary whose head was bowed and hands together in prayer.

“Lucas, are you coming?” Amicia called again, pulling Lucas out of his trance. He wildly shook his head as though attempting to rouse himself from a dream.

“Y-yes. Coming! Sorry!” Lucas stuttered, cheeks burning. Clumsily, he stumbled down the aisle, nearly tripping over his own feet to reach her. The distance seemed to grow longer and longer with each step…

[vanillaarts]

Oh yeah I do a lot of writing too btw

An awkward robbery

TW: For profanity

(Bonnie, Domino, and River all belong to Maë910do)

“How long are we gonna wait here..?” River asked.

“Until at least someone passes through. After that we leave.” Bonnie said.

“Fine… oh! Here’s a guy now!” They heard the footsteps on the gravel path and readied their weapons. Then the three illagers popped out of the bush in front of the hero.

“Give us your emeralds!” Bonnie aimed a crossbow at her. “Now.”

Quinn looked up at the three of them, unimpressed.

“Clearly you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” She said. She didn’t seem scared, even startled, by them, which annoyed them.

“We weren’t looking for anyone. Now, give us what you got!” Domino said threateningly, coming up to her and looming over her.

Quinn casually handed him a tiny coin bag. He opened it and pulled out two small iron pieces and one gold one.

No emeralds.

The illagers didn’t say anything, and Quinn didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t have any money, guys. Well, not at least the stuff you want. So…” Quinn held out her hand, expecting the three coins back.

River instead grabbed her wrist.

“Well, if you can’t give us any… why don’t you find us some?”

Now, finally, the hero looked worried.

After about half an hour they brought the tied-up hero to cave.

“I’m not working for you guys!” Quinn yelled at them.

“Oh my god can you shut up?!?!” Bonnie yelled at Quinn. The rage was not uncalled for. Quinn had been talking nonstop at them for the past fifteen minutes.

They threw her in and covered the opening with another large rock. There was a space above the large stone, but there was no way she would get over such a smooth stone.

“Fuck you…” she said in human english.

“What was that?” River called, laughing through the area above the stone.

“Fuck you!!!” She yelled in illager, being fluent in both.

“Why not take out that anger with a pickaxe and get us some diamonds?!” The three laughed and left her there.

Quinn sighed and sat by the wall.

She had no idea what to do. All she had was a lantern and the pickaxe by the wall. They took basically all of her stuff. Her food, herbs for Hex, potions, and her battlestaff.

She was pissed about that.

She thought for a while, and started eliminating all options.

1. She couldn’t go through where she came in, it was blocked off with the stone

2. There was no way she would work like that for some illagers who robbed her

Basically the only option was to go further into the cave and see if there was another way out.

So, she took the two items and went on her way.

Every time there was an intersection she would go into the higher cave, hoping it would lead to a way out.

Usually, when the illagers stuck someone in a cave like that, the victim would have been frightened enough by them to do what they wanted. While yes, Quinn was worried, she refused to do something as taking as mining for someone else.

She had been walking for who knows how long and taken down who knows how many mobs when she found something that gave her much hope.

Sunlight.

As Quinn jumped into the light she shielded her eyes to find herself at the bottom of a small ravine. From where she was, she knew she could get out, so she left the lamp and pickaxe there and started to jump up onto the ridges and climb.

After a long while and a few tumbles and falls, Quinn reached the top, tired.

She decided to leave her stuff behind. She was completely exhausted and had no weapon, having left the pickaxe behind. Trying to fight three illagers like that she knew was a horrible idea and would only get her stuck again.

Quinn started walking towards the village. Despite having crawled out of a ravine, she knew the general direction to go in.

Quinn walked back to the village, tired and hungry, grumbling to herself about the predicament she was just in.

The three sat by the fire.

“Wanna check on that hero? Maybe sitting there she got something done.” Bonnie said.

“Fine…” Domino got up and they moved the stone out of the way for him. He walked in.

“How much do you guys bet she did nothing?” He asked the other two as he entered.

The first thing he noticed was that the items they laid out for the hero were gone.

For a moment he realized he may have lost the bet.

Domino kept walking. After a long while of calling and searching he found the axe and lantern outside the ravine. The torn vines and fallen stones told Domino what happened.

She escaped.

He started to think they might have underestimated the short hero.

He walked back the other two.

“So…” River didn’t see anything in Dominos hands.

“She escaped.” Domino casually said, sitting down.

“What?!” Bonnie said, surprised. “That bitch. If I find her…” She growled, standing up.

“Yeah. I don’t recommend going looking for her. She could have been gone hours ago and you’ll never find her.” Domino said.

Bonnie grumbled but sat back down.

Domino snapped the hero’s purple staff in half and threw it into the fire for fuel. They stayed for the night.

No one really won, and they all knew it.

Quinn lost all of her stuff, but the illagers got nothing useful (to them) out of it, either.