#he just wants to study the fauna around his area and shit

[snickeringdragon]

okay i doodled him real quick so i can post him hiii. this is freedom of forests hes a rain world self insert.

[secretsalute]

You know, initially I thought that Campaign 3 of Critical Role was going to tie pretty heavily into Call of the Netherdeep, but now I’m not so sure, based on what we’ve learned of that book so far. From this point on, none of this post is going to make sense and take all my rambling - and truly, that is what I am doing here, Rambling, with a large grain of salt. None of this shit makes sense I’m just spewing my thoughts into one post. Spoilers for Tal’Dorei Reborn, Call of the Netherdeep and all of the Bell’s Hells campaign under the cut.

I DO think elements of from Call of the Netherdeep are going to play into this campaign (rival adventuring group of sorts in the Green Seekers and some factions that were introduced at the Ball), but what we are really going to get, at least at first, is a Feywild campaign.

So much of the campaign so far has had to deal with Fey - Nightmare King, shade creepers, this mysterious purple rock that Imogen is currently snuggled up with. On top of all that, Imogen being Fey-Touched, Milo doing some weird Fey BS to Ashton in order to get him put back together and we’re not even getting into Fearne who is Fey herself and whose family the Nightmare King is familiar with - and not wanting to fuck with.

What I want to know is what the Feywild has to do with Ruidus, which is seems so far to tie into several character’s back stories - Imogen and Chetney are the big ones here, ESPECIALLY Imogen, but I also think Ashton has something to do with it if you want to squint at the animated background of their character portrait, which is red meteors.

Ruidus is red, but Ruidus has ALSO been described as purple, which goes back to the little Fey rock (confirmed Fey by Matt) that Imogen has. I feel like maybe this rock could be Fey-Touched Ruidium? Ruidium is a new type of stone that joins the ranks, alongside Residuum and Brumstone, of weird Exandrian rocks with magical properties. In the book, it’s described as a black oily rock with red streaks in it. Exposure to it leads to corruption that cannot be undone, which, if that’s what Imogen’s stone is (but with a Fey Twist) - our girl is screwed.  If it’s not Ruidium (I think it is, even if it doesn’t match the physical description in the book. The timing of Bell’s Hells getting this rock coincides perfectly with the release of Call of the Netherdeep), then it’s certainly either has to be Residuum or Brumstone that has been exposed to Fey-Magic.

Either way, I feel like there’s a possibility that a deposit of these stones (whether it be Ruidium, Residuum, or Brumestone) is located nearby a portal to the Feywild.

So far, the only portal to the Fey Wild we know about is the one Artagan opened into Tal’Dorei, which is the portal Fearne came through. What if 6 years ago, the Nightmare King had wandered through that portal in Tal’Dorei and attacked Keyleth as a distraction to obtain some of Zephrah’s Residuum as a test run?

Then, not long after that, he opens another portal from Fey Wild into Exandria? Maybe one that happened to open near a Ruidium deposit, which twisted the properties of the stone and which then lead to the fauna of the area becoming crystalized? You know, kinda like the Crystal Fauna the Lumas Twins were looking into in the Heartmoore before they met their demise? What if, a certain Nightmare King happened to just walk through (probably for the umpteenth time) this portal right around the time the twins were preforming their study, since his movements in Marquet are meant to be a secret?

What if, Matt needed Bell’s Hells to have this rock before getting to the Heartmoore? So he sort of re-directs them back to the mines of Jrusar after the group had nixed that idea in favor of going to the Heartmoore first. What if he has the stone match the aesthetic of one very curious purple haired sorcerer played by Laura Bailey who is going to immediately pick up on that Hint because that’s what she does?

And now our purple haired, Fey Touched Sorcerer, with her Red Storm dreams has opened her mind to this Fey Touched corrupted rock named after Exandria’s cursed moon, which reaches it’s zenith in like 2 months of game time.

And as Gurge said, when Ruidus is full, everyone’s in a bad place. If Bell’s Hells happen to find a portal to the Feywild in the Heartmoore, If they are in the Fey Wild and Imogen is still attuned to that cursed rock when Ruidus is full?

Shit’s REALLY gonna hit the fan like we have never seen before. And I can’t wait.

[morgana-ren]

Damn validation hits different when its from your favorite Shigaraki poster.

No but really creepy obsessed Shigaraki can like get it however it he wants it. Just like that act of having blood on your hands from killing someone "accidentally/on purpose" and Shigaraki making you touch him and in turn touching you with the blood of your friends that he spilled to get your attention is like 🥵🥵🥵. The manipulation, the bloodshed, the unhealthy relationship that's gonna result cause like. You jumped at an opportunity to kill babe, in the end you're just like him. Or Shigaraki forcing you to hold the knife or whatever and kill your remaining friend(s). Its hot and romantic if you think about. Just like spilling blood together even if its accidental is AMAZING

I honestly can't write for shit, I just have ideas and run on sentences but I'll take whatever scraps you throw my way❤

Thank you so much! ❤️ 💕 I’m telling you, it’s a fuckin’ awesome idea. Look, on some level, a lot of us were simpin’ for these slashers. Especially when it came to the ones that got a little too close and personal. One going crazy for you and using your weaknesses against you? Holding your friends lives against you and bending you to his whims or else? Top tier.

Mmmmhmmhmhmmhhaaaaahahaaa okay so I tried my hand at a quick one, just him being a total bastard. You know, cause why not. I can technically make it more crazy and romantic as opposed to ‘total psychopath holds me captive’, but this is what ended up coming out atm. I hope it’s alright! He is not nice, because I never write him nice. He’s actually a complete bastard, but you know.

Tomura shoves you through the rocks and fauna that line the camping area and forward toward one of the craft cabins, practically carrying you at this point because your own legs are too weak to hold your own body weight. 

A quick flip of the switch to turn on the ugly, yellowish flickering lights reveals he's got one of your fellow councilors tied up and unconscious with their head lopped over on their shoulder, a little dribble of blood trailing down their temple from where he hit them with the butt of the knife. You're shaking in his grip as he gently guides you in front of the chair, rubbing up and down your arms in a way that is likely meant to be comforting but gives away his already barely concealed excitement.

"You said you'd do whatever I ask, right?"

Dread blooms, threading through your ribcage and squeezing, suffocating your lungs and anchoring your gut to the floor in abject horror. Bile rises up to tickle your esophagus as he presses the hilt of the blade to your palm- still slick with blood and caked with the viscera of your fellow campers- your friends. You tear your face away. You can't look. You can't look.

"I want you to prove it to me."

His hand constricts across your chin in an iron grip and yanks your face back toward them, your tears pooling in the slats of his fingers. He gently curls each of your own fingers around the knife- so gently in contrast to the way he's lodged against your jaw- before releasing you and shoving you forward.

“You’re going to kill them. I even made it easy for you. He’s out cold- no screaming, no struggling, none of the obnoxious stuff I had to deal with. All you gotta do is push the knife in to prove your loyalty to me.”

The dam breaks and you fall to your knees, shaking your head as the knife falls from your hand and clatters to the floor, spinning aimlessly on its axis. Sobs catch in your throat, hiccupping relentlessly through the choked gasps and guttural blubbers. “I-I can’t! I won’t! You can’t make me do this! Please, Tomura-”

He rolls his eyes, plucking the knife from the floor before threading his hands through your hair to the scalp and jerking you back up to your feet and into his arms again. Your teeth clench at the pain, another sob wracking your spine as you almost double back over. “I can make you do anything I want- Don’t forget what this is.” Releasing your hair, he curls an arm around under your tits, holding you upright, his other pushing the knife back into your sweaty palm, hand curling around yours to guide you. “Don’t forget what happens if you don’t do what I ask. I’ll even help you, if you’ll stop your incessant sniveling.” He moves forward, bringing you with him closer to your target, brandishing the knife entwined in your hands. The sharp blade catches on the collar of their pastel camp shirt, moving lower as Tomura calculates out exactly where to move- he won’t drag this out just to hurt you. He might be cruel, but he’s not a monster.

“Right there-” The tip sits point blank, scaling downward below the inner part of the left clavical bone- stopping approximately between the fourth and fifth ribs and angling the knife upward. Hours of volunteering to teach the camp anatomy lesson tells you as much. “We’ll push it in together right there. It’ll be almost instant, I swear-”

“Please- I can’t-” “You can.” He cranes his neck and kisses your hairline, and you recoil as much as you from his affections. “And you will. For me.” A hideous giggle as he kisses at the shell of your ear. “And for yourself.”

His hand moves forward, taking yours along with him, and the tip of the blade dents in the billow of your victim’s shirt. Your hand shakes, fingers trembling, but guided by Tomura’s movements, it nudges in deeper, and you meet the first level of flesh.

“Now just push it in-”

A small patch of blood begins to bloom outward from the point of contact, piercing his skin as Tomura wedges the blade in deeper with a slow, fluid movement. You could swear that as it embeds further into his skin, that his body quivers and tightens-

“C’mon- Almost there. A few more inches and you’ll be done-”

At this point, he’s the only thing anchoring your hand to the handle, more his efforts than your own. He’s definitely taking far more pleasure in this than you; A terrible, carnivorous smile sliced across his face as he claims your faltering fingers beneath his own. He’s made it perfectly clear what’s to become of you if you dare to defy him, but even as the proverbial guillotine looms above your neck, every instinct in your body screams to shove him off, to run, to hide where he can never find you.

But he’s stronger than you- faster too- made sure to impress upon you that he’s smarter as well. He’s made a point of telling you in explicit detail what will become of you if he has to chase you down again, but the impulse is thrumming through your veins side by side with the adrenaline that makes you nauseous. Even if you could fend him off- even if he couldn’t catch you- you could never go home. He’d spent months planning this down to the marrow. Every little detail orchestrated to look like the handiwork of an unhinged and underappreciated camp councilor- you.

There’s so much blood. On him. On you. Dribbling down the front of the unconscious councilor’s shirt and staining the pastel a stark red that blears your black and white pulsating vision. You can feel his heartbeat in the knife, you swear you can-

“Almost there, baby-”

The blade stills as it meets a meaty wall of resistance and you know it’s reached the his heart. Tomura’s body shivers against yours, knife almost fully driven into the thorax now. You try not to think about how much time it must have taken him to study, how much he must have researched avoiding the sternum and the cage of ribs meant to protect the vital muscle if only to force you to bend for him this way.

“You wanna know something fucked up?” He removes his hand from yours, leaving you gripping the hilt for a split second before you yank yourself backwards, sobbing openly as it stays put, stiffly wobbling slightly from the lack of support once you both withdraw. You turn away from the body, smacking into Shigaraki’s chest even as you try to shove him away. He cradles your face, hands crusted with blood tracing the curve of your cheek, smearing your tears across your skin. “He could technically live through this, if I let him. The heart closes punctures on its own if allowed to do so. At least long enough help could get here.” “Please-” You whine, voice cracking and sinuses draining into your throat and clogging your airway in your distress. “Please! We can leave together, we can go wherever you want! Just call him an ambulance and we’ll go. I’ll go with you willingly, we don’t have to-”

“You’ll come with me anyway, you dumb little slut. I don’t think you’re quite grasping what’s happening here.” He seethes behind clenched teeth, fingers twisting in your uniform. “But I guess you have a point. He doesn’t have to die.”

“Please- Please just-” “Convince me then.”

He pushes you down to the floor again, landing on your knees before him. His hand finds the back of your head, grinding your face onto his crotch hard enough you can feel his stiffening cock against the soft of your cheek.

“What? We don’t have time-” “Better hurry then. Tick tock, princess. I didn’t put a whole lot of effort into finding out how long he can survive.”

Nausea curls up in your gut once more but your fingers still find his zipper, shaking and blinking back tears as you unbutton his trousers. You try to ignore the mocking laugher bubbling in his gut as you fish his cock out from the barrier of fabric, hesitating slightly when your fingers close around the velvety skin of his shaft, hot and throbbing to the touch.

“I don’t know what will be a bigger disappointment- if you don’t know what you’re doing or if you do.” He jeers, taking his dick out of your hands only to slap it against the side of your mouth a few times as he yanks his pantline down enough to free himself fully. “I guess we’ll find out. Either way, you’ll catch on to what I like, won’t you? You were always such a quick little learner.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, shoving the head of his cock past your teeth in a way that seems almost too eager- like a virgin would. You don’t know much about Tomura- had never even really spoken to him before these past few days, but if you had to guess, judging by the way he’s already breathing heavy and looking down at you with manic eyes and sweating profusely from the nape, this is probably the first time he’s ever been touched intimately like this.

“C’mon!- Suck me already-”

It’s not a surprise. He’s brash and rude and a total loner and butted heads with everyone else from the start, and now he’s responsible for countless deaths as well. He probably never found time to woo anyone between his plotting and abhorrent personality. At least it plays in your favor to some degree, since chances are he’ll cum sooner rather than later. The thought of having to take him down your throat makes you sick, but if it’ll save your friend...

You stick out your tongue past your lips, allowing him to slide his length down your throat without obstruction, blinking your bleary doe eyes up at him as you kitten lick his cock. He shivers with every lave of your tongue, his musky scent invading your nostrils as you try to repress your gag reflex to allow him deeper.

“Oh, fuck yes-“

He stutters his hips, rolling them against your face until you’re flush with the course and curly white litany of hairs nested at the base of his pelvis. His musky busk clogs your senses and cloys up your sinuses, but you’re determined to please him- this isn’t about you anymore- so you shove down the disgust and focus on pampering his cock as best as you can given the circumstances.

“Shit- you’re such a little slut for me. Look at you go, taking my fat cock like a pro-“

You purse your lips around him, locking an airtight seal around the base of his prick and covering your teeth with your lips. The edges swell your lips with every bob of your head, but his moans clue you into the fact that you must be doing something right, so you ignore the discomfort in favor of taking him further down your throat instead.

His hand finds the crown of your head again, closing around your scalp and forcing his cock down into the depths of your throat as he shoves you deeper until your lips are practically pressed against his navel. Gagging is inevitable, as he’s not exactly small, but you try to remind yourself to breathe through your nose instead- though the hot, heady air near his groin does you no favors.

“Come on, baby, take my dick- fuck, you’re such a good little whore for me- suck my cock- fuck, such a good girl-“

He’s close, he’s so close you can taste it. The slimy consistency of precum coats your mouth and he’s throbbing against your throat- he’s almost ready to cum, just a bit more, just a bit-

The tangy smell of blood and arousal sits heavy in the air and even as you want to cry, you swallow him further, closing your throat around him and massaging him with the silken cavern of your throat, letting him fuck your mouth to his liking. Drool spills from the sides of your mouth, swollen lips puffed around his shaft, and he looks at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Gunna cum- gunna come down your fucking throat- you’ll swallow it all-“ his other hand clumsily slaps against your cheek, massaging your cheekbone with hands still blood-wet. “Take it all, you fucking whore- fuck, so pretty, so pretty, all mine now-“

He throbs and you can feel it, cum spurting from his cock down your throat and into your belly. You almost gag, having to force down the sputters with a red face and weepy, bulging eyes. He doesn’t relent his grip, keeping you stuck on his cock as he moans loud and unabashed enough that it leaves you humiliated even as you know that everyone else in the vicinity too long gone to hear it.

You try to swallow it down, try to stomach it all, but it proves just a bit too much. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he’d been withholding for a while. Tapping his thighs, coughing around his length until he finally has the wherewithal to take the hint, he withdraws from you as you cough up small bits of spittle and cum onto the knees of his jeans and your own mouth. You fall down onto your side, hacking up bits of liquid that clearly went down the wrong pipe as he tucks himself away back in his pants.

He kneels down before you, patting your back in a condescending manner with a sinister, lofty smile. You try desperately to get a word out between convulsions, and it doesn’t help that he’s pulling you to your feet before your vision can clear itself, yanking you up into his arms and over his shoulder with one careless heave.

“You did real good, baby- I can’t wait to fuck that tight little cunt of yours when we get back- You’re so perfect- Fuck that was incredible, everything like I dreamed but better-”

You pound on his back, pointing at your friend. They sit limply, knife still jabbed in their chest. Their skin is a sickly pale color, blood running down and pooling in their lap and absorbing into the fabric of their clothing.

“Call- first- please-”

“Huh?” He looks back at the chair and the body tied down to it, grin faltering slightly. “Oh. They’re gone. Long gone. See?” He turns on his heel, bringing his shoe up to kick at the butt of the knife, lodging it deeper into the corpse with one quick stomp of his shoe. There’s no movement, not even a cry or a whimper or a rattle. “They were already dead. I stabbed them in the back of the neck earlier. It was quick, if that makes you feel better. They didn’t feel a thing-” He pats your ass, giving it a quick smack. “But you sure did, didn’t you?”

You wail and kick and scream, energy renewed as his horrific deception and that sickening feeling in your gut plunging further and further into sick. He only cackles, easily keeping you under control with one hand slung around your waist and his shoulder digging into your gut.

“Good call though. Can’t be leaving the murder weapon behind. Memories of our first kill  together and all.”

He yanks the knife out in one swift movement, body slumping over from the momentum and you see the ghastly wound right at the base of the back of his neck.

He was already dead. He was already dead.

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 14

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 15

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader) Chapter: Bucky makes you breakfast and you have a new dream. Meanwhile, Natasha gets some answers.

Word Count: 3557

A/N: I make up so much shit related to infinity stones in this chapter. I have no excuse other than that idga(nymore)f. The rest is just mushy mush mush! Enjoy!

The last warm rays stretched long golden fingers through the trees. A breathless chill seeped into the air on the claws of shadow that crawled over the cabin earlier and earlier with each passing day. Even the sun hid its face from winter’s harsh touch in this barren place.

Glimmering ice lingered in every shadow: a frosty warning of the coming storm. Even sheltered inside, your nose had grown cold to the touch on that first morning when you woke to the unmistakable crunch of fresh snow.

You’d dreamed of that sound your whole life, if such horrors could be considered dreams. That grinding, biting, crunch of snow and ice under heavy boots had been knit into your bones, burned in your blood. It was the sound of a world too cold and too sharp to yield to the will of any man in it.

As a child it had been the sound of rescue, of paramedics come to haul your small shivering body from the wreckage of your mother’s car. Lately, the sound of otherworldly golden boots wading through snow and blood hunted you across dream and daylight alike.

Hiding from the unwelcome sound, your eyes pinched tighter shut, and you burrowed deeper beneath the heavy Italian wool blanket. Waiting. It smelled of the raw cedar linen chest. Its rough weave scratched against your cheek as you waited for the sound of relief.

In the long hours here in this small quiet cabin, in this wide open and silent wood, every noise – even Bucky’s hushed ones – had become intimately comforting. First, the deadbolt gliding into place with a swish-thunk. Then, the swift zip of his jacket, and finally the heavy one-two of his boots stomping off the mud, or today… the snow.

You’d learned long ago that while sleep was a necessity, it was not the relief for Bucky, that it was for you. True rest came with great difficulty, and when it did finally claim him, he often woke early, shoving away that unknowable darkness in favor of controllable, definable protocol.

Today had been no different. Dry logs clattered in the fire, crumbling their bark on the stone floor of the hearth. The stiff crumple of newspapers came next, then the sharp fwick of a match. While you’d been hiding from the cold and the steady march of time, he’d already checked his snares and trips, scouted the area for unexpected tracks, and returned with a sled full of bright smelling pine for the fire.

You shuffled to the doorway, dragging the scratchy wool blanket over your shoulders and paused at the entry. Sleep might not bear rest for Bucky, but just now, he looked about as peaceful as you’d seen him. Confident in his sweep, warming by the fire he’d just built, muscles a little sore from the work and a little stiff from the chill in the air, he sat on his feet, kneeling before the bright flames.

Relaxed by his ease, by the very nature of his constancy, you watched for a moment. The warm glow brightened the dark brown of his hair, softened the steel blue of his eyes until he let them fall closed and his head fall back on his shoulders with a sigh. He rarely looked so at ease.

The smile crept across your face unbidden. A slow curl of your lips accompanied a contented tilt of your head. When had running for your life become so pleasant?

“Sleeping Beauty wakes,” he teased, smiling to himself, but otherwise unmoving as he soaked up the fire’s warmth.

“Does that make you my fairy godmother?” you tossed back as you stepped into the room, laughing away the heat rising in your cheeks. “You know, swooping me off to the forest to protect me.”

He laughed, turning to watch you arrange the blanket as you sat beside him in front of the fire. “Not how I’m usually cast, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Who would you rather be?”

Again, he laughed, this time shaking his head, with his eyes firmly on his feet.

“Hey, I’ve got something for you,” he changed the subject. Or tried.

“Fauna, did you make me a cake?! It’s not even my birthday!”

“What?” he frowned, clearly the cabin hadn’t been stocked with Disney movies. “No. Not a cake.”

Natasha stood on the sidewalk looking up at the lavish building with a scoff on her lips. Stately carved stone pillars stood in perfect lines, dividing the deep red brick. Row after row of delicately wrought iron balconets guarded lavishly shrouded windows. At the center of the steeply pitched copper roof, green with age and weather, stood the unmistakable round window. It was intricately latticed and appeared as an exact twin to the one she’d just left behind in Nepal.

She checked the paper in her hands one last time, the one the Sorcerer Supreme had given her.

“Flew half way across the world and I could’ve just taken a cab down 6th,” she grumbled, shoving the paper in her pocket before bounding up the stairs.

She froze when she raised a softly closed fist to knock and the cheery fall morning around her melted into a dim, musky hall filled with ancient looking relics, knick-knacks, books and museum-quality furniture. Immediately on edge, she tried to keep her stomach from flipping again.

“You don’t have the stone.” The voice echoed off the richly stained wood cases.

“Seemed unwise until we know why everyone wants it,” she answered coolly, eyeing the man who seemed to float down the wide staircase. He reminded her vaguely of Tony. Dark hair tinged with grey, carefully kept facial hair, a sharp intelligent eye, and an even sharper tongue. “Why you want it.”

“I need to see to the stone-keeper.”

“And I need answers.”

“There’s no time for mincing words, Ms. Romanoff,” he complained, sweeping past her and pointing a sharply angled hand at the door. “You brought a homicidal Asguardian fugitive to my doorstep  who is hunting infinity stones. That stone protects your reality. My job is to protect this realm, and that means the stone. It’s always been safest with The Seers, but if the chain has been broken…”

“The Seers?” Natasha interrupted. “Who are they? What makes them equipped to protect it over your order? Over us?”

Strange sighed. Irritation sagged in the frown of his lips and the roll of his eyes as he reached for a heavy tome. It flew to his waiting hand from a shelf across the room and when he dropped it on the table, thundered open to a page depicting a family tree in minute detail.

Natasha recognized it immediately as a perfect copy of the one she’d seen that day you first crashed into their lives with a story that seemed too crazy to be true. A story of visions and time-bending and stones. And yet, here she stood in the sanctum of a practitioner of the mystic arts, staring at the exact same family tree that had been scribbled into the back of the family album your grandfather had mailed to you. The one that had held the time stone itself.

“They’re a family,” he explained, pointing to the page. He studied Natasha as she worked to school her shock. “An ancient line of sorcerers. Gifted in our arts, they go as far back as we have written record.” He pointed to a name high on the list. “Suresh The Philosopher: authored many of our foundational texts and spells.” He indicated another name. “Mina The Guardian: appointed the first masters of the mystic arts to maintain the sanctums. Nobis The Wise created the Order of Seers. And so on and so on for generations. Decades.”

“She knows none of this,” Natasha breathed, drawing light fingers over the names on the page and recalling that day in Tony’s office. “She had no idea what that album meant. What she could be.”

“Who she is.” Strange corrected. “She must be told. I can’t allow the stone to remain unprotected. I can help, but you have to take me to the stone-keeper. Now. Loki is not the only one in the universe who seeks that power.”

Natasha sighed, finally in concession. “That’s impossible. I don’t know where she is.” And it was true. She had nothing. No stone, no stone-keeper. Just a word with a man who had a phone number.

“Nothing’s impossible.”

His word was curt and final. Before Natasha’s frown could dawn into an argument, he’d spun a gleaming orange rope, sparking and snapping as it opened a hole in the reality of space and they stepped into a conference room in Stark Tower.

“You might want to lock down the next room.” He calmly suggested before nodding through the glass to an empty office.

The sparking gold ring had just begun to fade as Loki stumbled into the vacant office as if out of thin air.

“Maybe you should let me do the cooking,” you grinned, sliding your elbows over the counter.

Bucky spared a quick glance for you from the overflowing pan. Over his shoulder, you could just see the corner of his mouth quirked up and that glint in his eye. It was like a lightning strike, sending a fresh heat zipping through your entire nervous system.

“You haven’t even tried it yet,” he argued.

“What is… it exactly?”

His smirk only grew as he reached for two plates.

“Garbage eggs,” he said with absolutely no further explanation.

Your excitement turned to a scowl while he scooped the concoction onto two plates and slid one to you.

Bucky had a very different definition of cooking than yours. You had argued about it once, early on. Well, argue isn’t the right word. It was playful prodding really and the conversation ended in a shrug when he offered one of those grins. The kind that invariably forced all the sensible words out of your head.

He was far more likely to heat up a can of beans over the stove – still in the can. Or take a fork straight into a rehydrated sleeve of rice and beef goo, made for camping and efficiency. It wasn’t that he didn’t like good cooking, only that he didn’t require it. Not on mission, anyway. He’d been trained by the US Military and then by HYDRA into the perfect soldier. Anything that tasted good was simply a waste of precious energy.

You, on the other hand, were certain your insides had turned to molten imitation cheese weeks ago from all the frozen or rehydrated food.

“You said you were sick of junk food,” he shrugged, strangely unwilling to meet your eye.

“So you made garbage instead?” you teased.

“Yup.” He shoveled a massive bite into into his mouth and grinned. Still, though he smiled, he wouldn’t look up. Instead he stirred the plate around. “It’s eggs and potatoes and whatever is almost ready for the garbage.”

“An empty-the-cupboard breakfast,” you surmised.

“Mhmm. Try it,” he stabbed a piece of potato.

You eyed him warily as you scooped up a bite. As you did,  he finally lifted his eyes. Not his head, though. He looked like a puppy waiting to be kicked. It wasn’t a five-star meal, but you’d take anything over a microwaved gas station breakfast sandwich. This, at least, was fresh-cooked and warm, and damn it all if it wasn’t alright.

“Not bad?” This time, he grinned a little. His brows lifted slightly, waiting and anxious.

It was then you realized he’d done this for you. When you’d complained about all the food-in-a-bag, when he’d denied you the chance at the hospital café and you’d griped, he’d heard. Not only had he heard you, here he sat offering what you asked for, or as best as he could manage given the circumstances.

“’S good,” you beamed up at him, warmed head to toe by this one small, intimate act. “Nice and salty.”

He nodded, pleased and relieved. He glanced back at the pan, still warm on the stove. “You um,” he stumbled, “You were tired of the instant meals, so.”

Your face burned at the memory of complaining about the food at the hospital, at the recollection of Bucky’s hand closed around yours. How comfortable, how easy it had been done, and how something from that instant had shifted. Something you couldn’t – wouldn’t – name. If you gave it a name it had a shape and that shape might not fit in this tiny cabin, on this dangerous assignment. Or worse, it might not fit in the shapeless world after the danger passed, when the boundaries were lifted.

“You know what this needs?” you asked. Taking another grateful bite and smiling wide, you swallowed the garbage eggs with the anxiety. “Hot sauce!”

You could see the wheels turning, as he eyed you, measuring your suggestion.

“It does,” he finally agreed, turning back to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” you laughed, knowing full well there was no hot sauce to be found in the efficient little cabin. Only dehydrated chicken and rice, canned beans and more potatoes.

Without a word, he reached deep into a cupboard and set a can on the counter with a loud clank. He peeled back the lid on a stew of hot chilies.

Your eyes lit up before you dove into the can with a spoon, drizzling the sauce all over your eggs and potatoes. Bucky did the same. When you both reached into the can simultaneously, you jumped back, a laugh on your lips at your own eagerness.

Bucky looked at you with an expression warm and gentle, like leaves falling quietly in golden afternoon sun. It quickly grew into a laugh of his own.

“You’ve uh,” he chuckled. “You’ve got something…” he motioned to your cheek. The brick red sauce had flung from your spoon when you’d withdrawn so quickly and now splattered your face.

Heat rose in your face again; you tried to laugh it off. You swiped at your cheek with the heel of your hand.

“Did I get it?”

Another chuckle as he shook his head. His lips rolled between his teeth for a fraction of a second.

“Now?”

“Here.” He reached a hand across the counter between you. Without even thinking, you leaned forward, pushing up on your toes to close the distance.

It wasn’t until his thumb swept high over your cheek that your heart began to race. As if, with that touch, that brush of skin, the unspoken shift had been not named, but marked. Without meaning to, he’d brought the feeling to life, shoved it into that golden light.

He’d swept the sauce away but lingered close, fingers hovering just barely over the span of your cheek. Frozen, mesmerized by this newness, you waited, drawn tight as a bow. He never broke eye contact, never pulled away. So finally, you leaned into his hand, just a small tilt of your head.

In an instant you were spinning. The copper relic at your neck burst into green radiance. A sharp intake of breath served as the only notice something was not right.

Bucky pulled away and watched as you stumbled back, completely lost to the power of the stone.

Somewhere in the blend of present and future before your eyes, you knew what you must look like. You knew your eyes had glazed over, had become distant and unseeing Your face had fallen slack with the force of the change, fingers dancing over the cool metal of the necklace. You mirrored your grandfather.

Without his control, however. The dreams took hold when they would, and you fell, powerless to their urging.

In the dream Bucky’s hand still lay on your cheek as it had in waking. His touch remained gentle and warm. He smiled at you with an ease you’d never seen before. It settled over you like a glowing fire. Familiarity, comfort, safety.

The coarse scratch of his growing beard made a pleasant swishing sound as it moved over the soft white fabric on his pillow.

“Do you know you smile when you’re dreaming?” he asked, voice rough and quiet. He must have just woken. You loved when his voice sounded this way. It meant he’d slept well, rested, safe and at home beside you.

Your own voice mumbled out an answer, heavy with contentment and sleep. “Only when I dream of you.”  

Your fingers curled around Bucky’s wrist, holding him close while you turned your head slightly to kiss his open palm.

He rolled his eyes, a silent joke, always teasing. But there was a smile there too, the soft content kind that let you know there would be no interruptions today. No missions. No fear. Just this. The cotton sheets ruffled quietly as he shifted closer and pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, then your nose.

“What was I doing?” he asked while the tips of your fingers traced the strong curve of his shoulder. “In the dream.”

“You know how when you’re mad, you clench your jaw?”

“I do not,” he argued.

You laughed and burrowed tightly against his chest, legs tangling as you scooted closer.

“And you sigh.”

He took a breath and paused, holding back the inevitable sigh, before letting out a small chuckle. “Well you got me there.”

“I brought home an elephant, and you were doing the jaw thing,” you traced the line of his jaw. “And then you sighed when I said I wanted to keep it.”

“I’d do a lot more than that if you brought home a 6-ton pet.”

“But I saved it from a circus, so you let me keep it anyway,” you continued.

He hummed, smoothing a hand over your hair and pressing his lips to the top of your head. “That big bleeding heart o’ yours,” he kissed you again. “Always gettin’ us into trouble.”

“No more than your stubborn streak,” you countered, tipping your head to kiss his neck, up, and up to the edge of his chin.

“Who’s stubborn?” He slid strong unrelenting arms around you, pinning your own to your sides. Your entire body locked immobile against his.

“Bucky!” You tried to sound outraged when you were anything but. Your giggles drifted on the breeze beside the gossamer curtains on out the open window. The soft rumble of his happiness tickled and scratched at your ear, it warmed your skin and rippled down to your belly until you stilled again in his arms.

Just as quickly as the dream had fallen upon you, taking hold of all your senses, it lifted. Worried grey eyes roved over you, glancing furtively at the ornament hanging over your chest, its green light dimming slowly.

You sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. That was unusual. Normally when the dreams struck, the force of it overtook you, left you in a heap on the floor. But this time, you hadn’t woken with so much as an ache. Not one bruise.

You noticed Bucky’s hands just then. One curled over your shoulder, the other cradled your head with fingers curling behind your neck. “I’ve got you,” he kept muttering quietly while looking you over again and again, worry pitched in every syllable. He must’ve caught you, guided you to safety, and stayed, watching helplessly as you’d slipped into another time.

“You okay?”

You only nodded, swallowing thickly and dodging his probing gaze.

“What was it?” he pressed. He was anxious and that was unusual. “What did you see?”

“I—Nothing,” you hedged. Your skin had begun to burn at the memory, at the way he was holding you now, so like the dream and yet so unlike. “It was nothing. We’re not in any danger.”

Except you were. You were in very real danger of leaning forward to kiss those almost-familiar lips that had whispered such sweet words in your dream.

“That thing has lit up every time you’ve had one of those dreams,” he urged. His fingers dug into your shoulder. “And every time it does, Loki has been close. Close enough to take it from you. You need to tell me what you saw.”

“It wasn’t Loki,” you managed. “It was you.”

His eyes flashed wide for a moment, before a frown deepened across his dark features. “Me? I did someth--”

“Not like that,” you stumbled. “You wouldn’t have hurt me. It was after, I think. After all of this. I wasn’t worried about Loki, or the stone, or any of this.”

Bucky stared at you, frown as firm as before. He was unsure and critical. Finally, his gaze tore away from you at the sound of a sharp repetitive beep. You watched the color drain from his face before he leapt to his feet, reaching for the pager on the table. The pager he’d bought for Tony Stark to call if anything came up between check-in calls.

He glanced at it, then stared at you for a long moment, trying to work out the puzzle. If you’d withheld anything from him.

Meanwhile, your heart was hammering like ocean waves in your ears. So loud you wondered if he could hear it too. The longer his silence stretched, the more you began to dread what he might say.

“We have to go.”

Part 15 >>

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Favored ones, Part 1. (Joel Miller x Fem!reader)

Description: When you spend every evening with someone who's deeply under your skin, a certain relationship can be developed. So it's crushing for Joel when Y/N suddenly disappears. But there's way more to the relationship that one would've guessed.

A/N: I love me a knife dad, sis.

A/N 2: This is just a chapter that will introduce you to the series and by the time, we will lay into deeper layers; as always, lmao. Also a subtle Far Cry 5 reference. Very subtle, you might not even catch it.

Warnings: Surviving the cordyceps apocalypse, enduring and surviving, an attack of some sort, will explain later.

Word count: 2.6 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme @xxgoldenhour @nemodoren

Also - if you would like to get tagged, don't be shy babe, just tell me.

If you like this story, please, more parts can be found here! :): H E R E

Around December 2038:

What was the worst part of the outbreak?

One would've thought it would be those who were infected by cordyceps. Some would answer that the worst thing which happened was the moment when the government broke completely down and when the society had crumbled to shit. Other people would tell you that the scariest thing for them to overcome was the cruelty of other people, them forming gangs, stealing from others, killing others to survive. Cannibalism, chaos.

But for one man it was the memories that took a hold on him. He was still scared of the nightmares that were crawling through his brain and subconsciousness. It was a dream that was playing in a fucking loop.

He saw his very own child, his little baby girl and angel shining through his darkness, his daughter Sarah being shot over and over and over again. It happened a thousand times till that very day and even if Joel found a way to endure and survive, he was still visiting the past in his mind.

It was over twenty-five years ago and yet he remembered every last detail of that night. Joel never felt such a painful loss in his entire life.

He found new people who he learned to love as the time passed, even if it wasn't exactly easiest to move on, he found new purposes and things he could do, but there was only one Sarah. No-one could replace her.

But to be fair, even if the twenty-five years of surviving took a hold on him, his physique and mental health, his experience was priceless. Nothing could be better than being taught by a professional.

So when he and Ellie settled down in Jackson County five years ago, he earned the people's trust when he decided to help them out with practical training. He was a master smuggler and survivor after all.

Sometimes, he got a bunch of kiddos in a class to teach them how to shoot with bow and gun in self-defense, other times they had a biology class and Joel taught them how to properly hunt an animal and how to cut its throat.

When Joel was in a really good mood, he was playing some old tunes on his guitar to them. But that happened truly rarely. Rather never than often.

As time passed, Joel could say who's in his group only to annoy him because he was such an old asshole and who is there to actually listen to what he was saying.

There were two small boys, twins, around the age of thirteen who loved fauna and flora. There was a sixteen-year-old girl who was willing to take guitar lessons. And then there was a girl, rather a woman, just a few years older than Ellie, who loved to learn how to shoot with a bow.

There was no other person so similar to Ellie, a girl who he practically adopted. That girl, her name was Y/N and she was born in Jackson County, was fiery and witty, quick with her responses and pretty tough cookie on the outside.

Even if Joel would not address the situation properly, the others began to notice - trips to the woods with Joel to hunt, practically everyday personal training from Joel to shoot with a bow. People began to spread the news quickly, it spread like a wildfire. The other day, there were jokes when you slowly approached your study session with the other ones from your town.

"Well if it ain't the miss I will get into your pants, huh?" - Jesse, your longtime friend joked while he prepared a saddle on his horse's back.

"Smelling nice, looking fucking fresh and I'm ready to take a hike." - You looked at your horse, a white one with one big black dot on near its left eye and you gave him a carrot so it could chew something. You called it Sadie and you knew that animal since you were a small kid. - "There was some hot water left yesterday around two a.m.. The best shower of the year."

"Hike on a horse?" - Dina, another of your friends, added and rose her eyebrows as she watched you. - "You still don't have a clue hikes work, do you?"

"Well, nobody said I'm the smartest, but in conclusion, fuck all of you." - You said with your head held high. Typical you - not having some valid arguments, so you cursed them out. - "Thanks for having a conversation with me, I very much appreciate it."

"Oh, snowy morning, three jackasses and some cursing in the air. I feel like I'm home." - The last member of your group joined. Ellie had her denim jacket with wool inside, her hair was in a bun and she looked like she hasn't slept an hour that night.

You whistled and sooner than you could stop yourself, your brain began to make connections and conclusions. Dina wasn't looking exactly fresh as well, so they have been together. Jesse was looking like a panther just ready to strike and kill his prey, so he and Dina had broken up once again.

Holy shit. If your calculations were right, it meant that...

"Don't tell me that you two are fucking." - You shouted with laughter, pointing at both of them. Ellie's eyes widened, Dina panicked and it all happened in the one exact same moment. - "Holy motherfucking shit, guys. I know that you're into licking holes, girls, but this was way sooner than we expected. You talked about it like... Yesterday. Nice. Good job!"

"Y/N, language." - You heard the voice of your mentor who you began to recognize amongst everyone else talking to you silently. It was Joel, looking like a bag of hot trash and smelling like local whiskey. - "We have children here. Alright?"

"I'm sorry. It just took me by a surprise. Not gonna happen again, I swear." - You looked down on your lumberjack shoes and smiled innocently.

It was hard to get under your skin - but Joel was deeply under it. He had grown to your brain over the last few months. It was one of the few adults you listened to willingly.

"Holy moly." - Jesse took advantage of that situation when Joel was out of the range to hear your bickering. - "Look how tamed she is for that old man. Never seen her like that. Wanna get a pat on the back of your head from Ellie's old man for being such a good girl?"

"Keep telling that to yourself, country boy." - You bickered back and hopped into the saddle, smoothing your horse's neckline. - "You never gonna get a single touch on all of this. This is VIP stuff." - You pointed at yourself and made your horse gallop to the gate.

The twins were sitting on one horse, ironically called the Rabbit, there was also a few other kids from the neighborhood. But today was different - while Joel took the other kids to teach them how to survive in the freezing cold temperatures while the trio will be guarding them against any wildlife or infected attack, you will hunt on your own.

The first time Joel had actually let that happen - you were out to near cities to find some things that may come handy in groups on daily, scheduled bases, but to hunt on your own in the toughest winter? Never happened to you before.

"So, just as we agreed?" - You looked down on Joel who's back were turn to you and smiled. You had a winter coat on, so your face with reddened cheeks and nose was barely visible. But even though, Joel came to your horse and caressed its side while looking you in the eyes.

"Yeah, just as we agreed. Stay in the area of the mapped roads and be back on time. No unexpected things today, I beg you." - Joel spoke silently, which made you smile wider.

"How many times we've been into the woods, big guy? I know those places like the back of my hand. I will be okay and I will behave well, I promise." - You winked at him and when nobody was paying attention, the tips of your fingers subtly brushed against his hand. It was just a second, small moment, almost invisible to most of the people around you.

You secretly lived for that - the big secret you held, the anticipation about what will happen when you'll be at home that night tickling every nerve in your body, the danger of anybody finding out. 

But you just looked in front of your horse as Joel stepped further away.

"I would say you behave. Safety first. You see something you can't shoot with a bow or kill with a knife, you run. Won't you be cold out there?" - Joel caught your stare one last time and you laughed a little. You were cold as shit even now, but because of your pride and anticipation, you would not say it out loud.

"Wouldn't you wanna know, old man?" - Then you rose up the sleeve to show him your watch. - "Got my timer set and bow steady, time to go. See you somewhere around Whitetail, Joel."

And with that, you rode out of the city's gates, slowly and steady through the pretty deep snow. And so, it was happening - your first-time real hunting session. Without Ellie, Jesse, Dina, the elders or Joel. Only you and the forest.

---

You could feel that you're one with nature around you. The snow was cracking under your weight as you slowly walked from tree to tree. Your body felt tensed up and the tips of the fingers tapped and brushed the bow and arrow in your hands.

At those moments, the world felt quiet and peaceful. Only the innocent white color was surrounding you, sometimes disrupted with brown or green, those were the trees. A few brackens were moving silently as the snow was falling on it.

You stepped forward again and looked around you, slowly exhaling out. You didn't want the mist out of your lips to cover your surroundings so you learned how to breathe slowly. That was of the things that Joel was teaching you since spring.

There were no misty breaths in March or April, but it definitely occurred in November and December. You needed to be careful with breathing. And shaky, cold fingers - that was when you needed gloves with cut off fingertips, so you could use at least the big portion of your fingers.

Just like that, you caught a glimpse of a rabbit running two to three feet away from you, not minding you at all. You dropped lower on your knees and you felt as the snow slowly froze them down. Your eyes carefully watched the movements of the rabbit.

If you get really lucky, you might even find it's lair. Ah shit, three to six rabbits on your first hunt? That would be a fucking jackpot. And you would prove yourself in Joel's eyes. So you decided to follow that small, furry animal with small steps and subtle movements.

You didn't even make rushed motions with your feet to keep the quietest you were capable of. But the rabbit only seemed to be running around and gathering some old, yellow grass. But then it got into a fast pace, but you knew that nothing is lost.

Just follow its footprints. That was actually the easiest technique when you hunt, Joel repeated countless times.

The following of the rabbit's trail took you almost half an hour before you stood in front of its lair.

Holy motherfucking shit. You actually made it. A lair of rabbits just in front of you. You heard them inside of it, moving and crawling, sniffing and making slow subtle movements. Just as you were taught to do it - stick your hands inside the lair and caught one of these little fuck's ears and drag them out and slice them.

But stand in front of the hole they could escape with. They would be too afraid to come out of it. Just like that, you had four dead rabbits in your hand. You walked with them to Sadie, smiling wickedly. Four fucking rabbits. Who would have thought?

But when you were too occupied with pinning the rabbits into the horse's back, you caught a glimpse of something interesting behind it. You saw a human being, probably a man, walking behind the tree.

"Hey, are you from Jackson County?" - You asked in a sharp voice. If it would've been someone you knew, they wouldn't be creeping up behind your back like that. So you controlled the knife you had behind your belt and furrowed your look in the direction where you saw them for the last time.

There were a lot of trees there, so you could probably catch some glimpses, but nothing was for sure. So you prepared your bow in the case of need. It wasn't Runners or Clickers, they even bother to sneak around. They would've attack immediately. The forest was unusually unsettling and quiet.

"Why don't you just come here and talk to me?" - You asked unsurely again. You played with the bow and looked around. - "Can you stop fucking with me and just come out?"

When you were almost about to snap, you froze when your ears caught another sound coming from behind your back. This was a fucking trap. And you caught the bait perfectly. You were so dumb.

Immediately, you jumped on Sadie's back and made her turn around so you could go back on the road as soon as possible.

But such terrible things can happen in a few seconds. Before you could even breath out, you felt as Sadie's legs lost the balance and as the horse crumbled down. Your legs fell from the saddle and the animal's body fell on yours for a second, but you couldn't breathe nonetheless. Both of you were falling from a hill - and it was a pretty bad fall.

When you laid in the ice-cold snow and tried to catch a breath, you realized your leg hurts too much. It was an immersive pain that made you scream out loud. It was broken.

And the guys who've been hunting you down were just slicing Sadie's throat.

---

"It's late. She should've been here an hour ago." - Jesse said to Deena. They've separated - Joel took he kids back inside and Ellie went to search for you in the area you talked about with Joel. Jesse and Deena stayed at Whitetail to wait if you don't come there.

"Come on. You know her. Maybe she found some good hunting spot?" - Dina said with a smile. Yeah. That was all you. Just to forget about time. There was probably nothing wrong with you. - "I bet she's just fine."

Just as she said that Jesse saw a glimpse of Ellie in the background. She was running as fast as she could and she was clearly scared for her dear life.

"I-I found Sadie, her horse." - Ellie stuttered, looking at both of them.

"Why didn't you bring him back? We could look into her logbook." - Jesse answered and Dina shook her head. - "She only wrote notes to her logbook when she was back in the town. She did write only when she was scheduled to go out. It wouldn't help at all."

"Dead. That horse is dead with an arrow in its knee and sliced throat. I do have any idea where she is." - And with that, they knew that they have to search for you immediately.

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Thirty: Interloper

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Thirty: Interloper

 Note: Thanks for all the amazing feedback, everyone! This has been a super stressful week. I just built my first pc, and I have to take it to Geeksquad today (10/26) to have them test it for a power issue that causes my system to randomly shut down without notice. I’m not scared to death at all! Nope! Hahahahahaha! *Cries*.

 (-~-)

 Light shined through thick cracks in the roof of the cavern as excess moisture dripped from above, colliding with the ground below. The area didn’t look entirely dissimilar to that of the underworld, thick layers of luminescent stone coating multiple surfaces around the conduit, and a similar stone forming the monument itself, albeit without the otherworldly glow. The black sludge remained, but no longer seemed to bubble and boil as it once had. How a cold fluid could seemingly boil was beyond Dante, but then again, the many fascinating facets of the underworld were more his brother’s thing.

 “Think of it as a kind of scab, the tear itself being an open wound that never heals.” Trish said as she watched Dante examine the area immediately around the conduit, the youngest of Sparda’s twin sons clearly trying to comprehend the cult’s goals in this place.” And try not to spend too long in that sludge. I’ve heard that it can have strange effects on those who spend extended amounts of time near it.”

 Dante perked up slightly at her statement, formerly lost in thought. “Do you think that it’s going to affect V? He was soaked in this stuff, and he wasn’t exactly in one piece when we found him.”

 As her face migrated towards her hands, she shrugged, not so much aloof as she was indecisive. “I can’t really say. There are very few conduits, so this fluid is very uncommon. It might be worth bringing some back for Magnolia to study, but I’m not sure she could come up with much. She’s a botanist after all, and this isn’t exactly a plant.”

 He responded with a nod, agreeing with her sentiment. Trish was correct, Magnolia wasn’t that kind of scientist. But perhaps she knew someone that could help them identify the core components of the otherworldly substance. It was best to have some sort of idea what they might be going up against if this stuff had actually made it into his bloodstream. And if all else failed, maybe Nico could give it a look. It was a long-shot, but Nero had told Dante that the young mechanism had managed to cobble together an actual time control device from a shard of Geryon’s horn that V had brought back, so anything was possible. Between the two of them, it seemed that nothing was entirely out of the question when it came to dubious acts of scientific research and even more dubious applications of… magic? Was it magic? How the hell did Magnolia do half of the things that she did.

 Dante was very tempted to ask his older twin how they’d met in the first place.

 I mean, it was rather unlikely that he’d asked her on a date or something once upon a time.

 He had a hard time imagining Vergil taking to a woman at all, but then again he did have two sons. But in all fairness, that wasn’t an activity that required much conversation. It was more of an “actions speak louder than words” sort of affair, except in the instances where those actions caused a large quantity of words. Regardless, Dante was somewhat positive that Vergil and Magnolia had never had that sort of relationship. She was several times out of his league, though he liked to imagine that Vergil would pretend to not be interested in her just for the hell of it. 

 The younger of the two twins wasn’t going to pretend that he knew much of anything about his brother’s love life, especially since he quite literally knew nothing about the mother’s of either of his nephews, but he was willing to believe that Vergil was probably the mutually exclusive sort. Deep down, he had to have feelings for at least one of them. And considering the ease in which Magnolia toyed with the devil slayer in blue, he got the impression that they were comfortable around on another. But there was a large gap between conversation and… well that.

 He didn’t really want to imagine anything having to do with his brother’s love life in that regard at all.

 Dante ran his finger against a deposit of Luminite, silently surprised to see it here again. It had been ages since he’d found any of the demonic mineral anywhere, yet here it was, practically oozing from every available surface, and glowing brightly in the dim cavern. What an unusual sight to behold. “Haven’t seen this stuff since I met you. Seems like a lifetime ago now. Any idea why it might be here?” The blond devil jumped down from the spot she was perched on, no longer content with simply observing. Despite the fact that she’d made short work of the place before Dante had arrived, he’d insisted on taking a look for himself before they departed and returned home. While he possessed the utmost respect and confidence in Trish’s judgment and investigative skills, he also felt that coming all this way only to long use his own eyes to give the area a once over would be a foolish mistake, and the last thing he felt like doing was making more of those. So on the off chance that Trish had actually managed to miss something, Dante decided to take the opportunity to check things out for himself, and this rare but all too familiar form of sedimentary stone was far too strange to pass over.

 “If I was willing to make a guess, I’d say that the influence of the conduit is doing this. Things tend to become more demonic immediately around one of these things, and the presence of naturally occurring Luminite in the human world just means that we're close to a huge deposit of demonic power. Malet island isn't unique in that regard.” She took a moment to look at the stone closer, considering something to herself.” That being said, I still can’t imagine what a cult would need V’s blood and an arcana for. It’s not like this is…”

 She froze suddenly, something occurring to her. Dante gave her a curious look, alarm bells sounding in his head as he considered what she might be thinking.” What is it?”

 She shook her head slowly, seemingly understanding their intentions for the first time. And what occurred to her was disturbing to say the least.” … Why didn’t I see it before? This is very bad.” She said, turning in the direction of the now dilapidated exit.” V is a descendant of Sparda like you and your brother. Your father sealed off the human and demon worlds, which is why nothing can really come through a conduit like this in the first place. But with the help of an Arcana that your father helped create, and V’s blood…”

 Dante stopped dead in his tracks.

 Oh. OH. Oh, shit.

 (-~-)

 The fog was noticeably thicker than it had been, a light rain joining it as it blanketed the area in a chilly haze. After coming to the conclusion that hovering over V like he’d developed the bubonic plague wasn’t going to help matters in the slightest, the Darkslayer had allowed Magnolia to talk him into leaving the room. The two had ventured into Magnolia’s attic, the space housing the majority of her plants. The closure of her shop meant literally nothing to her botanical studies, and as such, she still needed to water the specimens in order to keep them in good condition. Well, that went for the majority of her plants, at least. Some were actually allergic to moisture, an aspect of their biology that she was never going to stop finding inconvenient. How on earth did a plant of any kind, be it from the underworld or not, manage to function without the presence of water? One could only imagine that things worked a little differently down there.

 Vergil browsed the wide selection of academic texts that she kept on the bookcases in her workspace, keen to find something to help keep his mind occupied. He couldn’t make V wake up any faster, and she had been kind enough to allow him to stay as long as he liked until such an opportunity presented itself, but there was only one guest room in the house, and it was occupied. If Vergil couldn’t stretch out and make himself comfortable, then he would have to settle for entertaining himself in other ways.

 “Do you have any books in this house that aren’t incredibly boring?” Vergil asked offhandedly, looking at the books but not really paying attention to them.

 Magnolia shook her head slightly as she pruned one of her plants, her back to him. “Terribly sorry, darling. I thought you liked your books the way you like your personality.”

 Vergil wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or entertained by her witty remarks. She was truly the queen of sarcastic comebacks. In all the years that he’d known her, Vergil had never been able to go toe to toe with her in regards to witty comebacks. Not that he had been trying to in the first place. Being the eldest son of Sparda, Vergil liked to think he was above such things, but depending on who you asked, they might say that that was a load of bullshit and that deep down he did actually possess a sense of humor.

 After coming to the conclusion that simply opting to ignore her statement was probably the best thing he could do from a self preservation standpoint, he grabbed the first reasonably interesting book he could find and firmly planted himself into one of the nearby chairs. Magnolia continued to prune her strange looking plants, clearly focused on her craft. While he knew a passable amount about the flora and fauna that was native to the Underworld, the vast majority of what grew in her indoor greenhouse was totally unfamiliar to him.

 “Dante nearly touched a cluster of Daturademonica while we were down in the underworld a little while ago. It’s a wonder that he’s still alive.” Vergil said casually as he leafed through the pages of one of her botanical encyclopedias. While the vast majority of the plants in the book would be foreign to even the most experienced botanists, they were average everyday specimens to those who were more supernaturally inclined. It couldn’t hurt to outfit himself with more knowledge on the subject. Such information might have been useful to him during his extended stay in the underworld. More than once he’d nearly consumed (or actually consumed) less than edible flora and fauna in an attempt to provide sustenance for himself. Not being poisoned would have been a nice to have in an environment so hellbent on ending his miserable existence.

 Suddenly, Vergil didn’t miss his time in the underworld at all.

 “I take it that what happened to Redgrave City was your doing, then? I thought as much. Either that, or your return was the most unfortunate case of fortuitous timing that I’ve ever seen.” She stepped away from the table she was working at and gave Vergil a serious yet solemn look as if she were mourning the loss of something dear to her.” But regardless, I’m glad that you both made it back safely. I won’t ask or even pretend to understand why you do anything that you do, Vergil. All I can do is try to help when things go awry.”

 Vergil shifted slightly, crossing his legs in relative discomfort as she walked past him and towards the stairs. She sat her tools down and gestured for Vergil to follow her before descending the stairs. He watched her go for a moment before opting to follow her, taking a moment to return the book to its proper place on the shelf where he’d found it. He then started down the stairs after her, catching up rather quickly as she stopped to open the door to the room that V was located in. Much to his surprise, she stopped for a moment and did a noticeable doubletake before practically skipping back into the room, clearly excited about something.

 Curiosity piqued, Vergil ventured into the room and was nearly as surprised as Magnolia was to see that V was no longer asleep. The young summoner in question was now seated with his back against the wall, looking practically as tired as he had when he’d fallen asleep a few days prior. Vergil was curious to know why he seemingly hadn’t improved much in the time he’d spent unconscious, but the fact that he had finally woken up and was no longer bleeding profusely was enough for him. At least for the time being. Vergil knew that the time for answers wasn’t far off, and as such, he was willing to wait just a little bit longer for that time to arrive.

 As the two baffled onlookers made their way into the room, V eyed them quietly. He hadn’t felt as weak as he did in that moment since he’d been resurrected a short while ago. His head was foggy and the temptation to simply go back to sleep was strong, but he knew that doing so wasn’t advisable. If the looks on Vergil and Magnolias faces were anything to go by, he’d been asleep for a while longer than he’d originally intended.

 “I suppose it’s reasonable to guess that I’ve been asleep for sometime now.” Vergil said horsley, taking a moment to clear his throat. It was almost as if his throat and lungs were glued together.” How long have I been unconscious? The last thing I remember was talking to Nero in the bathroom while you were tending to my injuries. After that, there’s nothing.”

 Magnolia nodded. “That makes sense considering the fact that you passed out shortly after. Well, you sort of just collapsed. It’s still unclear what happened exactly.” She gestured towards the room they were in, firmly planting her hand on her hip.” I asked Nero to bring you in here after that. Keep the change of clothes. The ones you had on are definitely not going to do you any good anymore. There isn’t enough bleach in existence to get demonic residue, blood, and dirt out of something like that. It’s a wonder your hair stays so white.”

 For a moment, V wondered if this was what it was like to be scolded by an angry mother. He had no experience with such matters, but hearing her describe how hard it would be to get stains out of his clothing brought to mind the stereotypical ads he so often saw on billboards, magazines, and television ads. It made him wonder for a moment if the kindly woman that stood before him had any immediate family of her own; any children that came to visit from time to time. Perhaps asking her in the future would be a worthwhile use of his free time.

 “I couldn’t tell you. It just sort of stays the way it is.” V said with a quiet shrug, his gaze turning towards the large window his bed was positioned in front of. Although the fog had yet to dissipate, white light pierced the glass and filled the room with much needed light.”  ...I attempted to dye it once when I was younger. The results were… unsatisfactory to say the least. Apparently my hair is somewhat hydrophobic, at least as far as artificial pigment is concerned.” Vergil resisted the urge to shake his head in a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. The idea of altering his hair color had never crossed his mind in the many years that he had been alive, even if that might have caused him significantly less trouble. Apparently the white hair that ran in their family was quite the dead giveaway to any demon that had ever met their father. So just the entire underworld.

 “Why did you attempt to do so in the first place?” Vergil inquired, his back against the wall nearest to the door. At this point, he was genuinely curious. Had V been going through some sort of rebellious faze and decided that he needed to change things up? That was the only reason he could think of off the top of his head. Perhaps it was simply beyond him to understand why his oldest son did most of the things that he did. They had lived different lives and gone down different paths. All he could do now was hope for the best.

 Much to his surprise, V looked somewhat taken aback by the question. The younger white haired man looked away from both of them for a moment, seemingly contemplating something that he found unpleasant. Magnolia glanced at Vergil for a moment, a questioning look on her face. She got the distinct feeling that whatever he was about to say wasn’t good.

 “There were several aspects of who I was when I was growing up that didn’t sit right with the people around me. I had the misfortune of being a relatively low energy child who was both left handed and seemingly cursed with an unusual hair color.” V paused for a moment, repressing some of the memories that that statement had caused to surface.” At one point when I was at the precipice of becoming a teenager… I ran away from the place I was forced to call home. Changing my most noticeable feature seemed like a good idea at the time. Thankfully, the need to do so never arose. I don’t believe they ever bothered looking for me. I get the impression they would have been glad that I was gone. And I’ve never gone back to prove myself wrong.”

 A strange mixture of emotions hit Vergil as he contemplated the concept of experiencing such a fundamental level of rejection. Although Dante drove him crazy at times when they were children, the idea of running away from home had never occurred to him. For V, someone he considered to be quite level headed and wary of his surroundings to do something so extreme… he must have faced an unprecedented amount of adversity.

 In that moment, a look of heartbroken sympathy crossed Magnolia’s face as she tried to grasp the gravity of what V had just said. What terrible things had he experienced in his youth that had led him to such despair? Had she known that V was in such a state, she would have happily helped him without a moment’s notice. It would have been her pleasure to give him somewhere safe to go. This was awful.

 Suddenly as if to break the tension in the room, the front door opened and two sets of footsteps could be heard coming towards them. Before anyone could react, Dante appeared in the doorway with Trish at his side, the two seemingly eager to share something with them. And whatever that something was, everyone present was willing to believe that it wasn’t good.

 “Vergil... we might have a problem.”

 (-~-)

 I Have a headcanon that V is a lefty because of how he does some of the things in the game. Also, the idea that both he and Nero are lefties is really interesting to me due to the odds of something like that happening. As for his childhood… all in good time. Slowly but surely we shall see more of it. The curse of Sparda family childhoods is alive and well! See you all on Friday. This next part is going to be a doozy!

[voidendron]

Deep Blue Sea: Ch 2

Chapter 2: Starting Point Subnautica/JSE Egos Crossover

((  just a tidbit: Chase’s PDA’s voice has been replaced with Sean’s voice! the other survivors each have a different (non-canon or not appearing in this fic) Septic Ego as their own PDA ))

Warnings: Swearing, Minor Head Trauma Characters: Chase Brody POV: Chase Brody

Chase groaned as his eyes fluttered.

Then he coughed.

Then he jolted awake with a start as wide eyes set on the fire overtaking half of the lifepod.

“What?! No, no, no, shit!” He punched at the release for his harness. His frantic tapping was in syn with the headache pounding at his skull.

When the harness released he all but fell out of the chair in a scramble for the fire extinguisher. It was heavier than he remembered.

He continued coughing and wheezing as he put the fire out before throwing the extinguisher to the side and scaling the ladder to throw the top hatch open. Smoke billowed after him as he threw himself down on his back on top of the pod, suppressing a hiss at the bright sunlight.

The pod rocked gently beneath him. All that did was contribute to the nausea he could feel building in his stomach. He forced himself to swallow past it and pressed a hand to the bloody welt in his head. He pushed himself to sit up and squinted down at his PDA as he turned it on. It booted in Emergency Mode, only to immediately go on to tell him he’d suffered minor head trauma.

“Well, no shit,” he muttered.

He fiddled with the device for a bit, cursing and mumbling to himself as he viewed the alarmingly limited data it carried in Emergency Mode. Until he made it back to Alterra to have it reset to its original mode, he didn’t have any of his old files. He couldn’t even check in with his maintenance crew, dammit!

A splash to his right startled him and nearly made him drop his PDA.

When he turned to look, the color drained from his face. He was…he was surrounded by water. No land in sight, while the Aurora’s remains loomed in the distance where it had settled to the ocean floor.

He was stranded. On an alien planet. In the middle of the ocean. With no land in sight.

Chase choked on a sob when it finally hit him.

He couldn’t see any other lifepods. What if—no, no. Don’t think that way. They were small. Maybe they were just…too hard for him to see?

He could see a sand floor beneath his pod. The middle of the ocean, and he was in shallows?

Little…fish, swam about. They didn’t look like any of the fish he’d seen in pictures; with massive eyes that took up a good portion of their bodies, funny shapes. One looked more like a decoration or household appliance than a living creature. Occasionally, one of the eye-fish would jump out of the water. That would explain the splash he heard.

A shake of the head and Chase slide back into the lifepod. Rescue had to be coming, right? It had happened so fast, though… What if the Captain hadn’t had time to send out a distress signal? He knew Keen would have done so in the Captain’s place, if not for the fact that the First Officer was just as stranded as he was. That was, if Keen had even survived landing. Chase racked his brain for what problems Lifepod 19 had. He couldn’t recall, and his PDA was no help in its current setting.

Chase just huffed a sharp breath and sat himself next to the storage compartment. Check your supplies, Brody. Remember the survival training the entire damn crew had to go through.

No air tanks. No swim gear (thank god his work attire was waterproof). He didn’t even have a repair tool, scanner, or Seaglide.

Okay.

We’ll start from scratch, then.

Chase shuffled toward the fabricator as it prepared blueprints, altering the original ingredients as needed to be materials it detected on nearby areas of the planet.

Huh. So that’s how they worked. He’d always wondered how they’d work on alien planets that maybe didn’t have the materials the original item blueprint required. It was just replacing materials with the best substitutes, if not altering the print itself entirely.

A survival situation wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanted to learn that, however.

He’d tried waiting. Three hours had ticked by. Nothing.

He took a shaky breath as he made sure the ingredients showed up on his PDA, as he glanced to the bottom hatch of his pod.

He’d tried fiddling with the radio and damaged wiring where the panel had torn free, but without a repair tool he was out of luck. He could pull off the repairs just fine.

Just…not with his bare hands, unless he wanted to severely burn them or lose a finger or two.

Then, he’d studied the Aurora from atop Pod 5; wondered how anyone still on board could have survived its landing. If they had.

When the shock had faded away, Chase knew it would be a good long while before rescue came. He’d spent one of those three hours trying to calm himself after that realization hit him. They were so far out of Alterra space on this planet. Even when the company realized the ship was down, whether distress signals had gone out or not, it could be weeks—months!—before rescue was able to reach them.

No other option but to start scavenging up supplies he’d need.

He opened the hatch, kicked his feet at the water. Boy, he didn’t like this at all. He slipped on a pair of goggles (they were swimming goggles. Swimming goggles. As in, meant for the ship’s on-board pool and not a lifepod’s inventory. Where was the damn diving helmet? Or oxygen tank, for that matter?) and grimaced as he looked at the ocean just inches beneath him.

Steeling himself and taking in a gulp of air, Chase slid out of the lifepod.

The water stung the gash in his head. He kicked to the surface beside Pod 5 and placed a hand over it with a hiss. An alien planet. And it had a salt water ocean. That would be just wonderful when he needed drinking water.

Diving helmet. He needed one bad. Hey, at least the wound would be disinfected! he thought with a bitter laugh.

“’The Aurora will never go down,’” he parroted with a sneer. “Uncrashable my ass.”

He checked the materials for an oxygen tank and repair tool on his PDA, replaced it at his hip, took another breath of air, and dived.

Laughter to his left—yes, laughter, he wasn’t hearing things—startled him bad enough he swallowed a mouthful of water. He was forced to surface; spluttering and coughing as he treaded water, tried to pinpoint the noise. A large creature with a bulbous tail met his eye. It laughed again and his hair stood on end. There were two others farther away.

Chase backpedaled and the creature turned to swim lazily in the other direction, toward the other two. He’d…give them a wide berth.

Multiple times he’d kick frantically to the surface when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, then go right back under to grab as many supplies as he could before needing air again.

One oxygen tank later (low capacity. Why wasn’t there a blueprint for a high capacity tank?  Fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough) and he found himself glaring at his PDA. “The hell’s a ‘cave sulfur’?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay. Just. Check the nearby caves? There was one not far from his lifepod; if it was cave sulfur, it wouldn’t hurt to at least check there, right?

He fitted the mask back over his nose and mouth (he wanted a helmet. Not the little mask that was auto-constructed with the O2 tank. He needed a dive suit if he wanted the helmet) and cut toward the direction of the cave opening he’d seen.

Looking into it now, it was a lot darker than he would have liked. What if there was something predatory in there?

He gulped at the thought.

No flashlight, and it would be too easy to get disoriented underwater. Hopefully it was just a small cave…

Using just the weak light of his PDA’s screen, in he went.

It didn’t take long for him to discover the exploding fish.

Chase yelped when a round fish exited a flower-like pod and shot straight for him. He didn’t even process what was happening as he bolted back for the cave’s entrance. He’d scrabbled for a handhold in the rocks; ducked at the creature went right past his head. It proceeded to blow up a few meters away, startling one of the big-eyed fish into darting toward then away from Chase.

Okay. Watch for the weird pod thing that hid freaking exploding fish. Good to know.

“It would be best for your health to avoid the planet’s volatile fauna,” his PDA offered helpfully. All he could offer it was a glare. Cheeky bastard.

He resurfaced to let his tank refill, then went right back down to the cave. There had been something left in the pod after the fish left and—Well. It looked like the cave sulfur that the fabricator had very roughly tried to recreate how it thought the stuff would look.

Wonderful. Hopefully nothing else would need it because he did not want to meet any more of those buggers.

Okay, okay. Just get back to your pod and start repairing shit, dude, he thought. At least now he’d be able to send out a distress signal once the fabricator built this little tool. If it was this much of a hassle to scrounge up supplies for a repair tool, he didn’t want to know how hard other stuff would be. Hopefully rescue would come before he had to figure that part out.

A shake of the head and he pushed himself away from the storage compartment just as the fabricator was finishing.

Repair tool. Finally.

He snatched it up and ducked around the ladder to start working on the radio.

He willed its cables to stitch themselves back together while careful to keep his fingers away from the end of the tool; spliced wires that had been split apart. It was a patch job, but all he could do without actual parts for repairing. It would work, at the very least, to send out and pick up distress signals. He wasn’t sure it could handle having a message sent out, though. He’d have to settle for just the signal.

Now, to just try and relax while he waited for—

“Seek fluid intake.”

“Goddammit.”

[ixiethepixiewrites]

All the Magic in the World

Rating: G

Warnings: usuk

Summary: There must be more magic in this world than just fairy tales and myths.

A/N: FOR @thenarcolepticone , HAPPY BIRTH MY DEAR

Of all the kingdoms in the world, Spades was the one with the highest number of successful marriages between the royals. Whether they were lovers before being crowned, fell in love through an arranged marriage, or just became good friends without romance, the royal lineage was filled to the brim with happy, or at least satisfied couples. So when the news came that the crown Prince of Spades would be taking a Queen, all eyes were on who would be selected to take his hand. Prince Alfred had never shown much interest in anyone at all before, be they maidens or even other men. The lad just didn’t want romance, and this had most of the public taking bets with one another on what would happen should a marriage be arranged for him.

Would he fall in love at first sight, like King James the Just and his Queen, Aria of Diamonds? He could possibly just be good friends with his chosen match, much like his grandparents, King Alphonse and Queen Mellani. The third bet among the common folk, and the one that had gained the most popularity, was that Prince Alfred had a secret lover that he would reveal sometime soon, unable to accept being forced to marry another. The scandal! It was the talk of every barmaid and innkeep across the land.

Unfortunately for all their bets, the truth was more dull. Prince Alfred just wasn’t interested, plain and simple. His parents had thrown countless parties among noble and foreign folk alike, introducing him to eligible bachelorettes and bachelors from across the four kingdoms. No one had ever caught his eye, not even once. It was enough to drive his parents up a wall, the way he dismissed all of their picks with hardly a glance. It didn’t help that Alfred was always in the royal library, looking up nonsense about the age of court wizards and asking countless inane questions about why no one had a magic counselor anymore. Every time, his parents would brush off his questions with a simple ‘wizards no longer exist’ excuse.

That explanation just never felt good enough to Alfred.

It wasn’t until he was nearing the deadline that was his 18th birthday, that he stumbled upon an old map tucked away in the binding of a fairy tale book. The map gave detailed instructions on how to find an ancient wizard’s tower within the Spades Kingdom, a place where all supposed magic users in the kingdom got sent before they became a danger to the crown. At least, that was how the fable went anyway. It could be a hoax, but how was he to know unless he went to see for himself?

Under the guise of going out on a hunt, Alfred galloped away, the map tucked in his jacket. It wasn’t hard to lose his royal escorts, and the guards were all too used to his free spirit that most of them shrugged it off and decided to wait in the area. He always came back, after all, and they weren’t currently at war. Confident that he was not being followed, Alfred rode off into the woods, following this map to the letter. He had to try and be fast about this, as his guards were sure to notice he wasn’t coming back by the time the sun began to set. That gave him a solid half a day to get far enough along on this trail that they wouldn’t find him. He hoped.

This map had some cryptic writings as directions, but it wasn’t anything Alfred couldn’t decipher. He had spent a long time scouting out these woods, as well as studying maps of his Kingdom. None of the maps ever mentioned the wizard tower directly, but a lot of the landmarks from this map were definitely familiar to him. As he found the first landmark, a rock shaped like a dragon’s claw, Alfred reflected on what his parents had told him of their plans. His impending marriage was weighing heavily on their minds, as well as his own. It wasn’t his fault that everyone he’d ever been shown was just so... boring! Since falling in love with and marrying a commoner wasn’t as easy as the story books made it out to be, he would likely end up having to settle for someone he would merely tolerate. Apparently, that meant a marriage of power between Spades and Clubs. There was no way in hell he would ever marry someone from that frozen waste.

Alfred had been so engrossed in his thoughts, that he’d nearly missed the second landmark. The old stone obelisk was a war memorial from hundreds of years ago, yet it still stood tall amongst the great oak trees of the Spadien forest. Of course, it was covered in moss and vines, but someone always made sure to come out here and clear the foliage away from the plaque.

‘Unto ..... we mustn’t tread, for fear of unearthing former dread.’

“Huh... it’s missing a word, I wonder who defaced it? Guess when i get back i should have someone come repair it. If anyone knows the words anymore.” Al muttered to himself as he rode on, studying the map closely.

The next landmark he had to keep an eye out for was going to be the old Spade’s palace ruins. Ancient stones of a time long long forgotten, Alfred wasn’t even sure how old they were. None of the books in the library knew either, that’s how old they were. If their own historians and researchers hadn’t found them a few years ago, it would have been almost impossible for Al to even spot them. Apparently they had been absolutely covered in assorted flora and fauna, the only visible section looking almost like the remains of a cottage. Because of how inconspicuous that arrangement of stone was, no scholars had ever even guessed that the remnants of an old palace had been in the area.

The camp ahead told Alfred all he needed to know. It seemed that a lot of scholars remained in the area to continue their studies. There was so much to discover, and one report he’d read mentioned that not even half of the ruins were even uncovered yet. Some speculated that they stretched across much of the forest itself, buried partly underground. It was all so fascinating to Alfred, but his parents never let him come out to see the dig sites. If only he’d been born with the option to become a scholar instead of a Prince.

Slipping past the campsite as quietly as he could, Alfred made sure to refer to his map again. The location of the wizard tower wasn’t far off now. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised of the tower itself was just another section of these palace ruins, the fairytale being used to fluff up the myth about it all. That sounded about right. With a sigh, Al glanced around the woods. Lush greens and vivid blues vanished into darkness in all directions. The trees out here were some of the oldest and most sacred in the kingdom, many of them as tall as the guard towers back in the city. About to turn around and give up on his search, a sparkle among the leaves to the North caught his attention. It could be another camp full of scholars, or maybe some hunters in the forest searching for game to sell the pelts of, or it could be nothing at all and he was just seeing things. None of those thoughts stopped him from pressing on to investigate it.

Before long, Alfred came upon a grove of thick bushes. That was odd, he could have sworn the path looked clear when he was further off, yet suddenly all these prickly bushes blocked the road. Since his horse refused to move forward any longer, Alfred was left with the options to either turn around, or to move forward on foot. Stubborn as he was, Al decided to press on, but not before he steeled himself for the pain of getting a bunch of thorns in his skin.

That pain never came.

As he stepped into the thorn bushes, they didn’t touch him. The plants instead dissolved away, revealing what he had been looking for all along was exactly where the map had said it was. A large tower, almost as tall as the ancient trees surrounding it, stood before him in all of it’s magical glory. Those bushes had been an illusion! A magical illusion! Magic was real and he had finally found where all of the mages in the kingdom had gone!

Aaaand they had also found him. Shit.

While Alfred had been basking in this revelation, a group of people, all with magic wands pointed at him, had managed to encircle the young prince. He was certain that they were all ready to kill him, but an elderly voice froze them all in their tracks.

“Stand down, young ones! Our guest mustn’t be harmed!” An elder wizard, the kind that all the fable and myth books had described, stepped towards Alfred with a hand extended. “A pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

“Wait, you know who I am?” Alfred questioned, surprised that even the secluded old wizards out here knew who he was.

The wizened old man shared a hearty laugh, shaking his head with the fondness of a grandfather watching his grandkids at play. “I’ve known you since you were very small, young man. I have been waiting for you to stumble upon our little safe haven for quite a while now.”

Confused, Alfred allowed the wizard to explain, listening to him intently as he spoke. “I am Bazol, the caretaker of this tower and all its occupants. From those whose parents had abandoned them for fear of their gift, to those who had sought me out of their own accord, just as you have.”

“So you’re saying that you teach some kind of wizard school here..?” Alfred tried to wrap his head around it all. “I mean, this tower is practically a city itself, a miniature kingdom within a kingdom!”

“That was the idea, when we were first banished here many years ago.” Bazil paused to cough. “All magic users would be sent here to protect the kingdom. All four major kingdoms have their own towers, all meant to keep history from repeating itself...”

That had Alfred’s mind reeling. There was no talk of magic in any history books he’d ever read, not even the oldest they had! Of course, even those were only a few hundred years old, since many library texts were apparently lost at some point. Alfred now had doubts on how true that excuse was.

“I can see that you are having trouble believing me. Your father had similar troubles when he sought me out, many years ago.” Bazil chuckled to himself, leading Alfred inside the tower. “Perhaps my own grandson would be willing to enlighten you himself. He pours over those historical texts nearly every day.”

“You have a grandson? Who likes history?” That had Alfred very intrigued indeed.

They moved into a new room, a library of sorts, with books piled high in stacks all over the place. A lot of them looked ancient, though there were a few here and there that seemed to be more recent in their printing. It was almost as if the old texts of the royal library had been moved here! That would certainly explain how they had so many, despite being secluded.

A figure in a black cloak was hunched over a book in the corner, a teacup in one hand. Tousled sandy blond hair stuck up in all directions, as if this guy had just gotten out of bed mere minutes ago. Piercing green eyes soon met with Alfred’s own blue, and he felt frozen in place almost instantly. He’d never seen eyes so beautiful in his life, so alive with knowledge and understanding of things Alfred could only dream of comprehending. They were absolutely beautiful.

Closing his book, the grandson stood and bowed. “Prince Alfred, I presume? My grandfather told me to expect you at some point in the future, though he enjoys being cryptic and not giving exact dates, even if he knows them.”

Holy shit, that voice. Alfred struggled to think of a response, his cheeks tinted a nice pink color as his views on romance made a huge one-eighty. In the end, he only managed to stare dumbly and blurt out, “Holy Jokers, your eyebrows-”

Not much more came out of his mouth after that. It was like an invisible hand was holding his mouth shut. It took mere seconds to realize that this was the work of magic, if the wand pointed at him was any indication. Angry green eyes stared into his very soul. Beautiful.

“What was that about my eyebrows?? They are perfectly normal!” The young wizard huffed out as he crossed his arms. “My name is Arthur, if you even cared to know, and I am the resident expert on all historical texts.”

Alfred really wished that he could speak right now, eager to chat about history with someone who was so interested, just like he was. The magic Arthur had used, however, prevented him from doing much more other than offering an excited nod of his head. The action seemed to please Arthur, who beamed with pride as he began to rattle off facts about the Spadien monarchies from thousands of years ago.

At some point, Arthur’s grandfather had left them alone, and the spell eventually wore off. Not that Alfred gave a damn. He was far too preoccupied watching Arthur’s lips move and taking in all of this information that was new to him. When Arthur began nearing the last few hundred years, however, Alfred noticed some stark differences with what he had learnt in all his own studies.

“The Great War was an awful affair. My grandfather remembers it well enough, as he was just a boy when it happened, but these texts fill in any gaps in his memory with first hand accounts from countless soldiers and frontline wizards-” Arthur paused for dramatic effect, “-until they were all banished! The Royals of the Four Kingdoms, as well as all of their court wizards, decided it would be best if magic was never used for war again. However, an agreement could not be adequately reached, until my grandfather’s mother came up with the idea of these mage towers.”

Alfred leaned forward, listening intently as Arthur continued the tale. “You see, no Kingdom wanted any other to still have mages living amongst the people, for fear that one may plan in secret to magically attack another. So the towers were selected and all known mages were sent into seclusion, able to freely practice magic amongst ourselves without fear or persecution.”

A frown graced those pale pink lips, Arthur running a hand through his own hair. “It has been four generations since mages were free to roam about... many of the younger members of the tower have been scheming. They want to try to take the Kingdom over, and I’m sure they aren’t the only ones thinking this way. If mages went against non-magic users in an all out war, there is no question that Spades would fall into their destructive hands.”

“What can i do to prevent that then?” Alfred finally spoke up, looking determined. “There’s no way I would ever let anything like that happen to my Kingdom, but there has to be a way to resolve this without such conflict.”

Having been listening to them from outside, Bazil stepped into the library to offer his own advice. “I propose an arranged marriage. The Prince of Spades... and the grandson of the Master Wizard.”

Arthur squaked in surprise. “Grandfather! That’s ridiculous!”

The offer had taken Alfred by surprise as well, but he soon caught on. “You’re like a miniature kingdom... this would be a marriage to unite them!”

“You catch on fast, young man. Arthur, would you be willing to marry this boy? To free us all from this tower?” Bazil placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, a gentle smile on his face. “You can say no if you wish.”

Expression unreadable, Arthur seemed to be mulling the offer over in his mind. The anticipation had Alfred on edge. He couldn’t help it as he blurted out, “I-I think you would make a perfect Queen!”

The room fell silent, tension building in the air between the three of them. Arthur had met Alfred’s eyes in surprise, searching his face for any hint of a lie. Face red as the binding of a freshly printed book, Alfred held his breath. He had never thought of himself ever having a romantic partner, but Arthur changed something within him. This was someone he could have endless chats with about the many books they have studied, not to mention he could do magic! If there was ever a chance of Alfred finding love, this was it.

Arthur held out a hand, almost shyly. “I suppose... there are worse things I could do with my life.”

Holy shit stick, he said yes! At least, Alfred thought that was a yes. Probably was. Maybe. Bazil seemed to think it was, which was proof enough for Al! The atmosphere of the room settled, a nervous excitement taking the place of the tension from before.

Bowing low and taking Arthur’s hand to place a kiss upon it, Alfred couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re not half bad yourself, my Queen.”

[confusedunit]

A Faint Divergence - Day 7

12 Days of Ficmas - Day 7 Gen, as always. Semi-angst? Drama Characters: Benrey, Mr. Coolatta.

Xen was a nice place, if Benrey was honest. Certainly one of the nicer places he'd spent his time. Plenty of places to go, flora to see, fauna to encounter. No fighting for his life, no hiding from assaulters, no threat of hostility due to his form and abilities.

Border worlds, he'd discovered, were fucking awesome.

No one asked questions, or at least no one asked questions he didn't want to answer. They just wanted people to be safe, while they visited. Because being a border world, most creatures didn't come by to stay. They came by to stop at the last planet they'd get a chance to for a long while, gather supplies, see the sights, and move on.

That had been Benrey's intention at first, when he'd arrived. But he quickly realized that he didn't really...want to leave. He felt safe there, safe for the first time in a very long time. He could talk to people, there. The vortigaunts would reply to him, even if he didn't understand them at first. But they, like most beings in the universe, understood the meanings of colors, so he had predominantly used his Sweet Voice to communicate.

Eventually, they had taught him how to focus, to be able to hear the unspoken words used by many of the native creatures of Xen. Other creatures that came to visit referred to it as a 'hivemind', but that wasn't quite correct. Benrey felt it was closer to turning on and off a radio, able to tune into the conversations if you wanted to, but easy enough to avoid if you didn't.

And he'd stayed. He'd found a place to call home, finally, and he latched onto it and clung. His abilities recovered, the longer he stayed, the more he attuned himself to the unique energy that Xen produced. The planet welcomed him as one of their own. And in return, he appointed himself a protector.

-

He felt the distressed wail of the Broodmother, too far away to hear it. But it pushed him to stand, floating through the air to check the area. She was distraught, unable to find some of her children. They would not respond to her cries. Something was wrong.

He sent back a few comforting tones, as he looked around. He would find them, he reassured her, or he would find the cause, and take care of it. He flew over a mountain, body transforming to be more humanoid in appearance, clothes that of a sleek spaceship crew. He landed quietly, glancing around the area. His eyebrows raised.

Someone had set up camp there. Some sort of tents had been put up, reaching the top and sides of the cavern entrance. There were also tables outside the tent, with various pieces of equipment scattered across. And...some sort of computer device? It looked really primitive, but hey, maybe he couldn't judge. He didn't even own any tech, anymore.

His eyes narrowed, however, when he saw what looked like some kind of orange and black robot wandering over to the table, one of the Broodmother's children in it's hands. He growled quietly, reaching up to close the space helmet, as he moved closer. The unit opened a small cage, putting the crab within and closing the door.

He lunged across the remaining space, crashing into the unit with a loud crash, knocking it to the ground. He snarled, digging his claws into the less protected pieces of the outer metal plating, and tearing pieces away.

He stared down at his hands, as blood dripped off of them, before looking at the creature below him. It wasn't a robot. It was a creature inside a metal suit. The creature was panicking, shouting words in a language that he didn't quite understand. He was about to climb off, try to communicate in another way, when the door to the tent flew open, and another orange and black suit crashed out, holding a weapon.

He snapped, launching himself at the second creature. They were now a threat. They could not be allowed to stay.

He took out the two creatures within minutes, and he slowly sunk to the ground. A protozoan floated over from around a rock, cooing a tone at him. He held out his claws to the creature, allowing it to investigate the blood as he was lost in thought. Why were creatures, capable of communication, coming to Xen and taking the Broodmother's children?

He blinked slowly as he felt the protozoan bump against his head, and he looked at his claws to see that they were clean. "...thanks." He stood up again, moving into the tent this time. There wasn't anything inside that told him why the creatures were there, at least not that he could tell. All he found that he cared about were a few more cages with the crabs in them. He was able to rescue three of them with his healing beam, but it was too late for two of the others. He let the three out of their cages, directing them to go wait outside, while he gathered the other two. The Broodmother would want them back regardless.

He returned outside, watching the crabs leap and play with the protozoan. It raised his spirits a bit, to see that they hadn't been fully hardened by this experience. They were resilient little things. He let out the last crab, watching them frolic together for a few moments. "hey, uh. you hurry on home. tell her i'll be there soon, just got some...stuff to clean up." The crabs chittered, before heading off together, protozoan slowly drifting after them.

It took a while for him to clean up the area, bodies of the creatures thrown haphazardly in the tent, blood cleaned from the rocks. He didn't know if they were poisonous. Or, toxic? He never could remember which one was which. Regardless, he didn't know what they were, and he wasn't willing to take chances.

He'd also warped the laptop, and one of the mini crystal power stations they'd built, away to his home. Might as well take their shit since they wouldn't need it anymore. Which just left his final task. He gathered the two crabs into his arms again, floating up and away to the Broodmother.

She cried out in sadness when he arrived, but thanked him through the tones for returning her children to her. He promised he would continue to protect. It was his job, after all.

-

The creatures were called 'humans', he discovered through research on the laptop he'd stolen. And while their entertainment was fantastic, even if he didn't understand how he could get their planet's internet from so far away, they would not fuck off and leave the planet alone.

First it had been the Broodmother's children that they had wanted to 'study', apparently they were 'scientists', which meant they needed to 'learn about the natural and unnatural world'. Even though Xen was natural, thank you? Hello? Why were humans so dumb?

Then some of the plants had started to go missing in the tented areas. The ecosystem could manage without them, but who knew what they'd do on a different world? They sure were being stupidly careless.

Then, a few nests of the red beetles had gone missing, reported to him by a vort who had been taking care of them like stray pets. When Benrey had gone to investigate, he'd found out exactly what happened to that set of humans, and he didn't feel a single bit of pity for them. Saved him from having to take care of them again. He collected the remaining beetles, and returned them to their home.

They sped up, after that. A pack of the three legged singing dogs had vanished into thin air. A few of the large fish had gone missing from the pond near the flower tree, one wounded to the point of needing immediate medical help.

And then a vort had gone missing. And enough was enough.

Benrey flew to each research station he had found, and destroyed everything he could find. He broke every object, tore apart every piece of armor, took out every single human. He tossed everything over the edge of a cliff like the garbage it was, everything except a dark helmet he had found in the wreckage he'd left behind. He put it on, calming a bit at the pressure around his head.

That calm was quickly shattered as something warped right next to him, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him back against the cave wall hard enough for the ground to rumble. He choked and sputtered, claws digging into the arm of the creature that held him there, looking up.

The creature looked like a human man, but only just. He was in the shape of a human, certainly, but his strength and posture, let alone his brightly glowing eyes, were a blatant sign that that was not the case.

The eyes of the not-man flashed several colors, and it took Benrey a moment to translate. But when he did, his eyes opened wide. 'What are you doing here.'

Benrey struggled a bit more, before he gestured to his neck. He tried to sing out a note, but nothing came through.

The not-man raised an eyebrow, before releasing his grip slightly.

Benrey's sweet voice poured forth with a series of coughs, jumbled nonsense until he caught his breath again. Then, he sang. 'protecting.'

The not-man grit his teeth, eyes flashing. 'You're killing my charges.'

He growled back. 'and they're killing mine.'

The not-man shook him again. 'The only attacks they've reported have been you. Why.'

'because i protect them. that's what i do.' He flashed his teeth. 'you keep them away from here, and i won't have to kill them anymore.'

A sound of annoyance escaped the not-man. 'You do not know what trouble you cause. I'm trying to protect more than you can ever know. Dozens of scientists, you've killed.'

His sweet voice rang shrill for a moment, as he slipped in control of his anger. 'look, man. i don't care about your shit. i care about this shit. so, figure something out.' He struggled a bit in his grip. 'keep your bullshit 'Black Mesa' humans off of our xen. it's not yours.'

The not-man's eyes burned brighter as he stared at him, before they faded to a light blue smolder. He dropped Benrey to the ground, adjusting his tie. His eyes flashed again. 'Fine. They will not return again.'

'deals' a deal. you keep them from coming here, old benrey won't kill them here. promise.' He pressed a clawed hand over his chest.

The not-man stared at him.

'it's b-e-n-r-e-y. benrey. with two e's.'

The not-man watched him for a moment longer, before he warped away again.

-

The next time Benrey ran into the not-man, he knew his name. Mr. Coolatta was not at all happy to see him wandering around the pocket of Black Mesa, especially not after their last encounter. He held up his hands, before the man could lash out. "hey! uh, don't? don't please?"

Mr. Coolatta snarled, as the world went blue. "What, the hell, are you. Doing. Here."

"uhh, followed someone. needed to protect him."

"Who."

Benrey struggled for a moment, before he sang out a series of colors.

Mr. Coolatta raised an eyebrow. "You've, been..."

"lookin' out for him, yeah. since. no one else was gonna do it. felt bad for him." He rolled his shoulders. "thought humans were supposed to be pack animals and shit."

He anger still simmered below the surface of Mr. Coolatta, it was easy enough to tell. Benrey was used to people being pissed at him, he could read the room.

"tell you what. i know you're not here right now."

He startled. "How-"

He shrugged. "well, you didn't pin me against a wall or throw me to the floor, so i just kinda guessed? but, i'm willing to offer a deal."

"Oh, another one. How, fun."

"look, man. i'm here, you're not. i'll keep an eye out for tommy, make sure he's doing okay, for you. we're like, best buds."

"Good."

Benrey smirked. "accepted the terms before i even told you. that's a good convo. speedrun that shit."

Mr. Coolatta startled. "Wait-"

"easy, man. all you owe me is a favor. sometime in the future. when i need to cash out." He smirked, giving a lazy salute. "anyway, you mind putting me back? tommy and i have lunch plans, sooo..."

Mr. Coolatta glared at him, before he warped away, world fading out of blue.

Benrey yawned, stretching his arms. He didn't mind running a con on the guy. Mr. Coolatta already hated him. And hey.

If he could get a free favor out of doing protection he already was doing, then well, that's just good business.