#how did it flee from my sight during all these years

[space-mermaid-writing]

Prompt: Alpha-dragon Stephen and omega-dragon Tony adopt Peter after the kid's village got burned down by other dragons that weren't part of Stephen and Tony's pack and they're both very protective over him, especially Tony because Stephen and Tony's eggs had gotten stolen years ago from hunters and Tony always had that guilt even though it wasn't his fault. (Tony was at the nest but he was too weak to protect them after having the eggs and Stephen was hunting during that time)

Dragon!Stephen my beloved ♥ (and dragon!Tony as well!) I covered most of the prompt. I couldn't squeeze quite all of it in. But I already have ideas for a second part...

Beta by @harpywritesfic. Thanks again for that, dear!

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | IronStrange Masterlist | Word count: 0.9k

The smell of smoke was so strong, it made Tony snarl when he landed.

He looked around; the once charming village lay now in utter ruins. Buildings that had stood proudly, adorned with vibrant flowers and bustling with inhabitants, were reduced to charred skeletons and piles of rubble. The remnants of joy had been annihilated; a once-welcoming community, now turned to ash, devastated to its very core. What had not been burned had been torn down with force.

That was the work of a dragon.

Tony felt a deep well of anger rising within him, boiling just beneath the surface. And his heart ached for the lives that had been taken; carelessly wasted as if they were nothing more than mere objects. The anger turned into a guttural growl that erupted from deep within his chest, a raw and primal reaction to the sight of ruin before him.

He heard the soft sound of another pair of wings flapping as he felt a familiar presence land right next to him.

It was Stephen, who, having sensed Tony's distress, nudged him affectionately in an attempt to provide solace amidst the chaos surrounding them. His mate knew how much he valued all life and cared for it, and the gentle gesture was a reminder that he was not alone.

“Whoever did this, will pay for it,” Tony blustered. He took this very personally. The village itself was only on the outskirt of their lands. Still, an attack on this village felt like an attack on them.

“We will find them,” Stephen agreed; the face of the blue dragon just as grim as the red one’s.

It was rare these days for dragons to slay without reason. Wisdom and restraint were valued over impulsive violence However, there was nothing rational about this. This stank of blind rage and a senselessness that immediately turned their stomachs with a bitter aftertaste.

Disgusting.

As they walked through the remnants of burned-down houses, the soft crackling of shattered bricks and fractured roof tiles under their claws was a haunting sound. Each crunch resonated like a ghostly reminder of the lives once lived there. Dragon fire spared no one and nothing, and melted even the hardest metal. But maybe some villagers had been able to flee and thus survived.

“Stephen.”

The blue dragon looked at the omega. Tony had his head tilted, listening.

Stephen stopped walking and concentrated on their surroundings instead. Then, he heard it: the muffled sob of a human.

Tony walked towards it, down what used to be a street.

A part of a wall from one of the collapsed houses was still standing amidst the rubble. The sobs were louder over here.

Tony shifted into his human form; brown hair, amber eyes and a hint of red scales at the small dip between his neck and shoulders.

Stephen kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Dragons were much more vulnerable in their human bodies, and they didn’t know what deadly surprises may still lurk around here.

Tony stepped around the brick wall and found a small boy cowered right next to what looked like it had been a cabinet or cupboard once. Now it was barely a few charred wooden boards hanging together by a few nails. The boy had his knees pulled close to his body, and his face buried in his arms, in an attempt to be shield from the world.

Tony approached him slowly.

At the sound of another presence, the boy paused, peeking out from his concealed position. When he saw the unfamiliar man, he tried to get even smaller.

“Hey buddy,” Tony stopped a few feet away and lowered down to appear less threatening. He offered him a guarded smile that radiated warmth and understanding. “You okay there?”

It was a rhetorical question. Of course, the boy was not okay. The dragon saw it in his big, watery eyes.

“I’m Tony. What’s your name?”

The boy bit his lip. “Peter,” he mumbled with a hiccup.

“That’s a nice name. Say, Peter, are you hungry?” Tony tried to coax him out, but the boy merely shrugged, clearly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

In the meantime, Stephen waited patiently, yet still alerted in case that other humans or creatures made an appearance.

Tony's steps on the gravel were familiar to him and Stephen didn’t need to look up to know it was him. But when he turned his head to him, the alpha narrowed his eyes. Tony was carrying a child in his arms.

As he took in the details, Stephen's heart sank for a moment; the boy looked no more than ten years old, his small body delicately nestled against Tony’s chest. A fleeting glance at the child's face showed an exhausted slumber - he had probably been through more than anyone his age should experience.

Still…

“No.” The refusal slipped from Stephen's lips instinctively. “We’re not taking him with us.”

“We cannot leave him here,” Tony said with emphasis.

Unwavering in his resolve, he met Stephen’s gaze with an intensity that left no room for compromise.

Stephen knew that voice of his mate; the omega wouldn’t accept any objections.

He sighed and nodded.

“Get on my back. I will carry both of you home,” he offered.

Stephen would do anything his mate asked him to – even bringing home a human pup.

[periwinklemoonlight]

little sunshine ⋆ boatem knights au

my second short story set in bee @applestruda 's boatem knights au and canon to the plot written by zera @hopepetal !! also make sure to check out bee's bkau gem and etho designs <3 !

cw: decapitation, murder, blood

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

⋆⋆⋆

“-And you’re sure this is the man responsible?” The room was spacious, more than big enough for hundreds to fit in, yet the tension in the air filled it with an undeniably claustrophobic atmosphere. Precious artefacts lined the walls and occupied the floors, meticulously positioned in a perfect pattern to suit the path of a would-be museum goer. Now, however, one was missing. And only the most ancient and irreplaceable of the lot, of course.

“Completely.” An odd chill ran up the spine of the curator as she spoke. It shouldn’t have been possible, she thought, she had barely taken her eyes off of that corner of the room for a second before the amulet had vanished into thin air. All she had caught a glimpse of in the aftermath, she was sure of, was a man with stark white hair and a mask darker than the deepest night sky, fleeing the scene with a swiftness she could only ascribe to a seasoned thief.

She had only ever seen that man once before, yet something in her gut was absolutely sure it was him. A few years back, she had stayed at an inn just out of town on a business trip. Her stay had been all-around pleasant, the owner undoubtedly a delight to talk to, full of cheerful stories and helpful advice for travel. The same couldn't've been said for their companion, however. 

He had brooded in the corner of the inn, shooting her occasional unreadable glances as she conversed with the owner, any emotion beyond ice cold eyes concealed by a mask of blackest night. His back to the wall, practically blending in with the shadows around him, she had nearly cancelled her stay the minute she spotted him. 

The only thing that had convinced her to stay despite her better judgement was the owner’s utmost insistence that that man was nothing to fear, that she’d be completely and utterly safe at the inn. Something in their tone had been so, so earnest, she couldn’t help but be inclined to believe them. They were right, she had been entirely safe after all, yet she never could quite shake the cold chill that permeated her body every time the man passed her by. 

“Then it seems we’ve got a bounty on our hands.” The guard concluded with a severe nod.

“Bounty, you say?” A cheery voice asked from across the room. The curator whipped her head around to watch as polished hooves clicked onto the museum flooring. 

“How did you-?” The curator asked, before cutting herself off to fully take in the person before her. There stood Gemini Tay, adorned in finely crafted emerald silks and lightweight armour, wild red hair expertly contained in a sweeping braid, and absolutely armed to the teeth in various weapons hanging lazily across her waist. It wasn’t a bad look for the most notorious bounty hunter in the land, all things considered.

“Word gets around,” Gem replied with a grin, absentmindedly twirling an intricately carved knife in her hand as she approached. “And I’m always down to lend a helping hand!”

She paused, then eyed the curator’s own ostentatious outfit. “...For a fair price, of course.”

“Of course,” The curator repeated, a keen smile worming its way to her face. 

⋆⋆⋆

If there was one thing she relished in being known for, it was that once she had her target in her sights, Gem wasted no time.

It wasn’t hard to spot him, after all. The description the curator had given her was one of the most interesting she’d gotten in a while. A man known only as “Etho”, with a harsh red scar blinding him in one eye and never once seen without a dark mask obscuring half his face. During her journey, Gem had learned that nobody in the area could quite recall when he’d started working at the inn, or even if he actually worked there at all. In fact, it was a popular local rumour that the man was simply a vagrant that the kind innkeeper had taken pity on during one particularly frigid winter and never thought to kick out afterwards.

Regardless of whatever his backstory might have been, Gem couldn’t really care less. All she really cared to know about him was that he was the only thing standing between her and a ludicrously lavish payout. 

It was only a lucky coincidence that the innkeeper wasn’t in when she arrived. There was her target, standing far too nonchalantly behind the counter and looking as if he was preparing to greet her. She wasn’t about to give him the chance. Instantly she swung at him, hard and fast, looking to get a clean kill. To her astonishment, however, he suddenly disappeared within a blink of an eye, reappearing once more just as fast and now on top of the counter. Gem watched as a dark, smoky substance wafted off him as he jumped down and dissipated as quickly as it appeared. 

When she looked at Etho now, it was as if he were slightly transparent, blurred at the edges. She blinked, and he was whole again, no trace of anything amiss. She growled and swung again with impossible force, heaving as her sword broke the floorboards where it landed. Again, she could have sworn that some dark substance was following him, aiding him in his escape. 

“Hey, hey! I don’t know what I did but, uh, I’m sure we can settle this some other way?” Etho offered as he slid backwards on the wooden floors like they were an ice rink, smoke trailing off him and weaving through the air. 

“No can do sir!” Gem replied as she swung once more, again missing him by a fraction of a centimetre. “You got a hefty bounty on your head, and I intend to take it!”

The fight escalated with Gem’s frustration. She spun herself around and leaped at Etho, sword high in the air and aiming to plunge it deep into his skull. Instead, she hit the inn’s counter, splitting the wood and knocking several small objects astray. Her hooves skidded against the floor as she reeled backwards, and wasted no time forcefully wrenching her sword free. 

Wood chippings now scattered across the floor, Gem paid them no mind in her pursuit. The action seemed to distract Etho somewhat, discontent flashing across his heterochromatic eyes, and she took the opportunity to strike. 

Finally, with a lucky stab, she managed to pin him down against the inn’s wall, plunging her sword into his shoulder with a devastating crack and watching as what must have been blood seeped out from it. He gasped, eyes darting to the wound. A wild grin found its way to Gem’s face.

“You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?” She asked, using the moment to catch her breath before unsheathing a second, smaller sword from around her waist. The sharp blade glinted in the deep, warm light of the inn. The reflection didn’t make it to Etho’s eyes. “Shame I’m gonna have to take you out like all the rest of ‘em. I’ll make it quick, though. You’ve earned it.”

It was odd, she thought briefly. Despite the sword driven straight through him, he didn’t appear to actually really care about it all that much. His breathing was as steady as ever, and he barely moved at all beside a futile effort to scoot away from her intense gaze. His eyes were calm, watching her every move in something almost akin to silent fascination rather than the fear she had grown accustomed to. No matter, though, Gem decided as she made clean work of him, lopping off his head in a single swing. 

It fell to the ground with a solid thunk, rolling slightly before making its stop like any old head should. A tenseness she didn’t know she was holding finally released, and she breathed again. Blood was splattered all over the inn’s floors, and she grit her teeth as she imagined the cut from her paycheck she’d have to give the keeper to get it cleaned. All this for some measly priceless artefact? Still, it was over. 

She picked up his head by the hair, and stepped back in shock as she felt just how cold it was. Instantly, it called to mind the way it felt to grab a fistful of snow with no gloves for the first time, fingertips fully immersed in the unadulterated icy chill. For a brief moment, it reminded her of… home. Gem had never considered herself the squeamish type, especially not with an occupation such as hers, but the realization gripping hold of her in that split second was enough to make her gag.

Her grip on his hair loosened for a second, but she caught herself before the head could drop. On a second examination, she noticed what looked like snowflakes scattered in his white hair and decorating his long eyelashes. It was then she finally heard the faint crackling sound that had been slowly spreading around her. The blood that had been flowing freely from Etho’s body was freezing up, and fast.

Gem could do nothing but watch in horror as the blood on the walls and floor turned to thick ice, cracking and shattering into pieces around her as soon as it solidified. Within no time it had spread to his severed head, and she gasped as the blood that still dripped from his neck froze midair and fell to the floor, fragmenting into dozens of tiny pieces. 

She broke her gaze from the head in her hands just long enough to witness a mountain of ice emerge from what remained of his body’s neck, accompanied by a low hissing noise that made her stomach churn. Gem realized then the shape that it was forming. Fractals of ice packed in and around each other, working in tandem to sculpt out a new head identical to the one in her hands. The only difference being, there was nothing to cover the lower half of his face. If she could even call that half a face.

Once the hissing had stopped, that same dark substance she had seen swirl around him in their fight began to seep out from the wound, covering the newly formed head in a thin black layer and obscuring his features. Her heart dropped as she watched the shadowy liquid be absorbed into the ice, revealing a brand new head on Etho’s shoulders, indistinguishable from the first and complete with a new mask. His eyes fluttered open. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you, now was it?” Etho asked as he turned his head to look over at her, an amused smile painting his voice. Gem screamed.

⋆⋆⋆

Gem had never fainted before. With the amount of blood and guts she spilled with a smile on a daily basis, she hadn’t thought it was even possible for someone like her. Evidently, though, everyone had their limits. 

More confusingly, though, was that she had awoken tucked nice and neatly in a warm bed, with at least a dozen pillows cushioning her head and antlers. With a slight turn of her head, she could see a still-warm cup of cocoa resting on the table next to her and causing a sweet scent to waft through the little room she now found herself in. 

She groaned, sitting herself up in the bed and trailing her hand up her forehead, where she could feel a piece of gauze sticking out. Another glance around her surroundings revealed that her weapons were nowhere to be seen. Gem cursed under her breath. 

Her eyes darted around the room. It was quaint, with wooden walls and flooring and a decorative carpet in the center. Faint light streamed in through a window, accompanied by the warm glow of a candle. Must be early morning, she thought. 

Oddly though, the corner across from her seemed to be completely wrapped in shadow, defying the soft sunlight that should have illuminated it. Gem found herself unable to tear her trembling eyes away as the shadowy corner suddenly warped in her vision, the dark matter collecting and solidifying together as a familiar figure materialized before her. 

Etho drifted nonchalantly towards her, stopping by the table to eye the mug, something almost disappointed flashing in his expression as he noticed it hadn’t been touched. Gem faintly spotted a stitch in the shoulder of his tunic. He turned his attention to her.

“How’re ya’ holding up?" He asked, his tone both concerned and casual at once. “You took a pretty nasty fall back there! Never seen anything like it, it was crazy.” A small laugh punctuated his last sentence.

She blinked, then blinked again, but found herself unable to erase the image of what she had just seen from behind her eyes. It was the kick she needed to jog her memory though, and she leaped backwards away from him, nearly hitting her head on the wall behind her. 

“You… What in void’s name are you!?” She squawked. Etho furrowed his frosted eyebrows quizzically. 

“Well, I was hoping maybe you’d be a little bit more appreciative of the setup you’ve got going on here. I even made you a hot cocoa! Iskall told me you guys love that stuff!” There was something genuine in his voice that made Gem calm somewhat, even if his words only added to her bewilderment. She turned back to look at the mug, and slowly reached a hand out to grab it.

Pulling it close to her chest, she spoke, “You made this? For me? Why? I tried to kill you! I did kill you! At least, I think? I’m… still not entirely sure what happened back there.” She stared down into the mug, feeling a weird sense of shame bubble through her. Having the man she’d killed standing right there in front of her, it felt like talking to a ghost. The bounty hunter wasn’t used to having to think about the aftermath of her career beyond what minor property damage could ensue from a struggle, nevermind like this. Her grip on the handle tightened.

“What, this old thing?” Etho asked with another laugh, pulling up his own severed head from the ground next to Gem’s bed. “I left it here for you, since you seemed to really be after it. Figured it could make a nice souvenir from your stay here, you know?” Etho seemed to pick up from Gem’s appalled expression that she did not, in fact, know. 

“Okay, okay, uh, well, you can take it with you when you leave if you want.” A pause. “This… is what you’re after, right?” Gem could make out tiny frozen droplets still connected to the head’s neck, suspended in time and ice. Momentarily, she considered being alarmed at the notion that she’d been sleeping soundly next to a severed head, or grilling him on why exactly he thought putting said head in her room was a normal thing to do in the slightest. The thumping pain rattling around in her skull made the decision for her.

“Partially,” she replied curtly, evidently still attempting to win her staring contest with the mug. Finally, she broke the one-sided tension, and dared to take a small sip. 

It tasted… cold? No, that wasn't right. The liquid was sweet, if a little watery, and at a comfortably warm temperature. It was more as if the ethos of the mug itself refused to be hot. Like it had reluctantly taken to the liquid, yet refused to be any more than a temporary vessel for its warmth. Or, perhaps even more strangely, as if the liquid itself wasn't quite sure it knew how to be warm. 

Despite Gem’s own lukewarm reaction, Etho lit up. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, his normally chill and steady voice brightening with excitement. An amused look found its way to Gem’s face at the sudden change. 

“It’s nice,” she replied simply. She took another sip, then paused to close her eyes. She swore she could hear a triumphant noise from beside her as she tried to calm her searing nerves. Having the head as proof was good, sure, but the curator had expected — and promised payment for — much more. Gem needed that artefact back. She turned back to face him.

“To be honest, Etho,” She began, “Your head’s not all I’m here for. You don’t just get a bounty on your head for nothing, you know. I’m also here to retrieve that artefact you stole.” 

Etho blinked. “The what?”

Now it was Gem’s turn to furrow her brow. 

“You know. The amulet of the ancient Sun people? The last surviving of its kind? You took it from a museum just a few days ago.” She tilted her head, not even trying to hide her bafflement. Etho squinted at her. He tapped his fingers on the nightstand beside him thoughtfully.

“Ancient amulet… ancient amulet…” He mused. “Oh! Is that what that shiny gold necklace was? It was just lying around on a shelf at that ‘museum’ place Iskall took me to! I don’t know why nobody else thought to take it, to be honest. Here, check it out!” He tugged at something unseen underneath his mask for a minute, before producing the very artefact Gem had been seeking. He handed it to her casually as her shaky hands returned the mug to its nightstand. 

“You’ve been wearing it this whole time!?” She exclaimed, yelping when the item made contact with her skin and reeling backwards at the sudden burst of heat running through her fingertips. 

“Ah, yeah.” He didn’t appear too upset at its departure, though Gem couldn't help but notice his lively attitude had faded somewhat. She brushed her thumb over the deep amber pendant, briefly fascinated by the perpetual heat emanating off of it. 

“It’s neat, right? I’ve never seen a necklace like it. I wasn’t planning on taking it, at first, but I really wanted to figure out why it made my fingers melt like that.”

“You really are something,” Gem muttered. “But, I’m afraid I’ll have to take this back. A job’s a job.”

He gave her a nod. “Yep, yep, fine by me. Is that all you need?”

“Oh, I have one more thing, actually,” Gem replied, tucking the amulet away safely.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want my weapons back.”

⋆⋆⋆

The curator grinned and clasped her hands together as she spotted Gem, a full-looking satchel and small brown bag now decorating her waist alongside her clanking swords and knives. The bounty hunter approached her desk with a matching smile, untying the smaller bag and placing it before the curator.

“I see you’ve returned! Remarkably fast as well. This is?”

“The amulet, back safe and sound without a scratch. Very pretty, might I add. Anyone would be able to see why it’s the prized jewel of your exhibit. And why a rotten thief would want to take it.” Gem placed the satchel next to it.

“And this…?”

“That deplorable thief’s head, just as you asked. I can assure you, he won’t be any more trouble for you now.”

“Excellent. Then, I believe you are deserving of your reward.”

“Yes,” Gem repeated. “Excellent.”

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part III)

Requiem, oh Requiem.

Loose chronological order below~

JET's (mulderscreek, tumblr, freeservers) Snippet Fic

She conceded, "So our track record has been iffy at best during the most recent Decembers. But last year wasn't too bad."

"Yeah, I think the highlight of the month was when I was attacked by zombies."

Pre-Requiem: There is no baby, and no abduction-- only Scully picking up Mulder during the holidays.

XPhileChai's Life is like a new case - you never know what you're gonna get.

She opened her eyes and met his. He saw the change in her eyes go from "calm and happy" to "oh, yeah, I'm in a car on a stakeout".

Pre-Requiem: Mulder rushes Scully to the hospital, where they discover she miscarried one of two babies.

@myownsuperintendent (Ao3)

“Marry Me” (Ao3)

He hadn’t expected her to say that soon, but he knows she means it.  Her practicality makes him smile.

Pre-Requiem: Mulder remembers how they found out about Scully’s pregnancy before he left for Oregon; and decides to seal their partnership with a proposal. 

Fic: “No Secrets” (Ao3)

“You could have died if I hadn’t gone back and looked at your medical records from last year.  If I hadn’t figured out what was happening and how to reverse it.  And you…you weren’t going to tell me?”  Her voice is no longer even now, but she’s not yelling either; it sounds like all the air has gone out of her.

“I didn’t think there was anything we could do about it,” he says, but he realizes how stupid that is even as he’s saying it. 

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned; and Scully not only finds him but also heals his brain disease. 

@alsoablankslate/tabulaxrasa's (LJ, tripod) Things Outside

The sun was setting, and the sky was a wide swath of indigo out the kitchen window. Sometimes it was very beautiful here. Summer here was like springtime in DC, maybe. How you were always conscious of it, of the rightness of the season, the perfect fit of area and temperature and color and the smell of the air.

They couldn't find out about the baby.

Pre-Requiem: Mulder is never abducted-- instead, he and Scully are put under house arrest in the middle of nowhere.

xphilernj’s (Ao3, Two Close for Comfort) Find the Future - Chapter 1

Upon their arrival at Dulles International Airport in D.C., Mulder was fit to be tied and Skinner was ready to clamp the handcuffs on him and throw Mulder in the trunk of his car.

Requiem: Mulder rushes back to Scully’s side.

Erin M. Blair’s The Blessing

He stood in the doorway of her hospital room and walked toward the chair by the bed. Pulling it as close to the bed as possible, he sat gingerly on the chair's edge, then gently held her hand in his.

Requiem: Scully floors Mulder with her pregnancy news.

bellefleur’s "Arms Wide Open"

I look over to see my partner's mother standing a few feet away from me, stock still and drained of color, with her hand covering her mouth. It's takes me a minute, but as I register the fact that her first sight was of me sitting in the hallway with my head in my hands, and then with obvious tear tracks on my face, I begin to comprehend her reaction. She must have immediately thought the worst.

Requiem: Mulder hears the news from Scully; and panics, fleeing the room. Maggie helps him get his head in the game. 

Maidenjedi's Would That I Could Travel Both

She held her breath as his arms wrapped around her, and felt his reluctance to leave her as much as his eagerness to go, to discover, to find the all-encompassing Truth.

Requiem: Among a selection of AUs, Mulder didn't get his answers but did have a happy ending.

dmwones's Anagrams

"We can attempt to stabilize Dana for as long as possible. Give her blood transfusions, and corticosteroids. One to treat the low platelets, the other to help the fetus' lungs mature. But it's not a cure. Her body is under duress and HELLP syndrome is life-threatening. We can maybe buy a few extra days. But you're going to have to make a decision."

Requiem: In one of many AUs, Mulder is never abducted; but Scully and their baby suffer complications from preeclampsia.

Pattie’s Erlenmeyer Injustice

Not a day goes by that I don't think of the implications of this job, and especially this partnership. The knowledge that one or both of us might be killed or permanently injured in the line of duty hides in the backdrop, waiting to be cast and played out, by directors unknown.

Requiem: Mulder chooses to leave with the alien ship.

LuvTheBeez’s (mulderscreek) A Safe Place (MC) and Equanimity (1/2, and 2/2) 

The minutes ticked slowly by. Unable to stand it any longer, Scully reached out a gloved finger to lift Skinner's eyelid. There appeared to be no change - the black clouds of oil were still visible. She looked at the others, concerned that there was still no reaction.

"Maybe we should increase the -"

When Skinner grabbed her wrist, it was with such force that she could feel the bones grinding together, and she waited for the sound they would make as they cracked into pieces. She gasped in pain and surprise - Skinner increasing his death grip on her as his body began to convulse violently.

Frantic, Mulder reached for her, his fingers scratching at her skin as he attempted to pry Skinner's strong hand away from her wrist…. 

Finally, there were other hands there to restrain Skinner, and they were able to loosen his grip long enough for Mulder to pull Scully away from him. The sudden release caused both of them to fall backwards, and they landed in a heap on the floor. 

Post Requiem: Scully rushes to the hospital after Mulder’s return. Unfortunately, he forgets his abduction experiences just as the world plunges into Colonization; and Skinner, Krycek, and Marita-- who had initially joined them on their trek to safety-- are separated from the group in another wave of attack.  

Forte’s (Gossamer) It Came in the Mail 

Scully rushed into the basement office, mind racing.  It was a leap of intuition.  A leap of faith.  A leap of Mulder proportions.  He'd be proud, wouldn't he?

He'd expected it.  He knew she would figure it out.

Post Requiem:  Scully and TLG shift into high gear when she is shipped an envelope of Mulder’s fingerprints. 

prufrockslove/plenilune’s (Ao3, Alt. Gossamer, Geocities,  Colonization HQ)

Alienated

"No – please let him stay. I asked for him. Stephen," came Mulder's tired, raspy voice from the room. "Let's talk quarks."

"Let's not. Let's rest," Scully said, squeezing past Dr. Hawking to get to the hospital bed. Three other men were hovering, pads and pencils ready to take notes if the tape recorder missed anything. Outside, men in black were swarming the hallway like army ants.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned in Las Vegas, staggeringly intelligent with all the answers of the world locked in his head. Naturally, Morris Fletcher and his troop come crashing in for information.

Pascal's Wager

I have no memories of what They did to me and some of my pre-abduction memories are still a little scrambled - not missing, just out of focus. I'm functional, barely, but at night rumors roam free, untouched by regression hypnosis, drugs, or Scully's gentle attempts to reach out to me. This is PTSD, she says, closing my chart and running her palm over my cheek comfortingly. Rest, Mulder. Do your exercises, Mulder. Don't think about your personal price- check chip in your frontal lobe, Mulder.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned after the birth of his daughter, struggling hardcore on the long road to recovery. Is he becoming insane, or enlightened?

Daniela Riedel's (mulderscreek) Never Ever

She wanted to tell him so much. Before he disappeared they never had the chance to talk about their feelings. Sure they had been close. This night in the hotel in Oregon. She wanted so much to tell him that she loved him dearly but couldn't find the courage to do so. Both of them knew about the other's feelings though.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, staring at the hospital ceiling and repeating names over and over.

zulu's

Fight The Past

"I never thought she'd manage it..."

Mulder turned back to him, the spell of his memories broken. "Manage what?"

"Why, to earn your trust, of course. You're not an easy man to get to know, Mr. Mulder. You'd rather get a root canal than admit to an emotion. Or, at least, that is how you were." He nodded to the window. "That's how he is."

Post Requiem: CSM offers Mulder to opportunity to travel back to the Pilot, stop the motel fire, and change history. 

syn‘s (Tumblr) Careless Wishes

Melissa's eyes narrowed.  "You know, you could *ask* before borrowing my stuff.  I mean, I don't rummage through *your* jewelry box do I?  Not that I'd wear any of that WASPy, wispy stuff anyway."

"But Melissa," replied Scully incredulously.  "You were *dead*."

"What difference does that make?" asked Melissa, reaching over and pulling the necklace off over Scully's head with an annoyed yank.  "I mean, someone with a little foresight, with a little respect for my personal property, should have known that I wouldn't want anyone wearing this necklace."

Post Requiem: Scully uses a potion to bring back Melissa, Pendrell, Mr. X, Deep Throat, and even Queequeg back to life… all of whom are incredibly terrible company. 

lesbianreinaa's Simply the Best

“I completely forgot, Mulder I’m sorry.” She exhaled, their silly gag of a tradition had turned into something much more meaningful as the years had passed. October 15th, they had returned from their first case on the road, the only place open being Lenny’s, both agents being famished had set up camp inside, scarfing down their burgers and caffeinated beverages before returning to J. Edgar Hoover for more late nights.

Over the years it had remained a night that they kept, laced with more and more intimacy given the circumstance.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned almost immediately; and Scully joins him in a dance, working up to her news.

Singing_Violin’s Sculleus and Muldeurydice 

Mulder was dying; Mulder might already be dead. She had already grieved for him, but new hope had cruelly been handed to her by a known enemy. However, if he was inside, Mulder needed her.

Post Requiem: CSM picks up Scully, drives her to an imprisoned Mulder, and warns her not to touch him as they escape. 

Cathey Scully‘s Hidden Truths

The last thing she'd expected when she'd heard of Mulder's abduction was to be holding a gun on him.  Mulder.  Her Mulder, standing there in front of her, absolutely soaked to the skin, and she was holding a gun on him.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned to Scully’s apartment. 

Kemystre’s Frisson 

He stepped away from the plane and his knees were shaking.  

Closing his eyes, he pulled in a sharp breath.  The cold February air 

burned within his lungs and he almost smiled.

Fox Mulder was home.  Finally, at last, he was home.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, and runs home, happy. 

Cici’s Somebody's Child 

"But I don't think you're hearing what I'm saying, Mulder. There are men besides me who will stop at nothing to get their hands on this baby and the genetic code that it contains. They will not hesitate to take Agent Scully's life if it means obtaining their goal. But these men don't want to save the world, Mulder. They only want to turn this baby over to the aliens to save their own skin and that of their families."

Post Requiem: Mulder returns, with Krycek’s help, without realizing he’s playing into Krycek’s ulterior motive. 

Spooky2u2’s Only Death Would Stop Me 

The sound of Scully's crying drifted through Mulder's apartment.  The man in the other room moved. If anyone had been watching they most likely would have missed it. It was miniscule, but it was there.  His head tilted ever so slightly to the left as though listening for a sound he wasn't sure he'd heard.  If anyone had been watching they would have seen a dull flicker of life in this man as some part of him that had held to what was left of his soul  pulled him toward that sound.  

Post Requiem: The Alien Bounty Hunter returns a broken, unresponsive Mulder… who breaks out of his trance long enough to ferociously protect Scully, if needed. 

Agent L’s (mulderscreek) 

Out of the Woods 

"Fox."

No one called him Fox. At least no one that he knew anymore. He ignored the gentle voice and drifted back toward oblivion.

"Fox. You must listen to me."

Post Requiem: Melissa talks to Mulder in his hour of need. 

Misinformed

But at least I was able to protect you from this. 

Maybe now that they have me, you'll be safe.

"Safe, Mr. Mulder? No one is safe."

Post Requiem: The Consortium toy with Mulder’s brain module during repeated experiments before brainwashing and dumping him back home. 

No Place Like Home

He hadn't thought about people being worried, searching for him. Was there someone he should call? A friend or relative? His memory remained stubbornly blank when he tried to recall a familiar face or name.

His wallet was on the nightstand and he leafed through it, but couldn't find any names or phone numbers other than his own. The photo of the young girl struck a chord this time, however -- half-remembered laughter, teasing. Childhood. But there was sadness here as well...a deep longing that tugged at something deep within him, filled him with an unaccountable sense of loss.

Post Requiem: Mulder is dumped, amnesic, six months later; and has to use spotty instincts to somehow trek the long way home. 

A Man Walks Into a Bar (mulderscreek) and Pilgrimage (mulderscreek) 

Mulder's knees buckled and he started to sink to the pavement. Instinctively Doggett grabbed for him, to save him from falling. Mulder sagged against him for a moment, then Doggett felt something press against his ribs.

His own gun.

A rookie mistake.

Post Requiem: Doggett finds Mulder. Neither man trusts the other; but, despite a few fundamental differences, Doggett still drives him back to Scully’s apartment.  

Beyond This Experience series (01, 02, 03) 

"Where's Mulder? I expected to see him here."

She was silent for so long that he turned back to her, alarmed. Mulder had been in bad shape, but even Scully, as a doctor, hadn't seemed to think anything was drastically wrong. If Skinner had endangered his life by bringing him back, he'd never forgive himself. 

Scully met his eyes, her own brimming with tears, and bit her lower lip. "I - He's - He left."

Post Requiem: Skinner finds Mulder and brings home home; then goes the extra mile to support him through a PTSD moment and talk him out of his fears. 

Thursday's Child

He didn't expect to find Mulder awake, but he did expect to find Mulder in bed. John came through the door to find both the patient and the IV stand gone. 

He'd been ditched.

Post Requiem: Doggett tries to be a good dude by driving Scully to the hospital when she goes into labor, and intercepting (then aid and abet) Mulder’s unhinged antics to be by her side. 

Scullysfan‘s The Discipline of Blessings 

But she was tired of playing by someone else's rules. Maybe it all came down to that.

Tilting her head back, Scully smiled softly into those sad eyes she knew so well, and then she faced Skinner again. "Mulder and I need to discuss this. Alone."

Post Requiem: Scully’s baby heals her after she is accidentally shot; and, realizing their child will never be safe no matter where they run, she convinces Mulder to stand their ground and not go into hiding after his return. 

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: transmasc Character: Trafalgar Law Vibe: NSFW Yandere AU: Mythical Creature AU Prompt: Sugar Daddy Gift Giver: @remisloves

Summary: Fleeing a restrictive life that didn't allow you to be who you were, you eventually caught the eye of a powerful beast in the forest. This powerful Naga's favorite thing to do is adorn you in nothing but precious metals and jewels.

Content Notes: implications of mind control, yandere, consent is on thin ice but exists, double penetration, two dicks one naga, use of good boy, mentions clit, cunt, and no mentions of chest.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

The jewels were heavy on your skin.

Cold and glittering, they laid against you because you wore nothing else. The light that trickled in was enough to send glints and glimmers against the dark walls.

Cool, large hands with tattooed fingers and soft calluses, move over your skin, shifting the treasures and gems that you wore. The sensation sends a ripple of goose bumps over your flesh, but you don’t shiver anymore. The room itself is warm enough, but the naga that has adorned you so, always runs a little colder than you do.

Of all the delicate and glistening items you wear, there are two heavy golden shackles at your wrists. His fingers move over them, lifting each one carefully while he checks for any raw spots on your skin. His long tail slides under your legs as he helps lift you out of bed.

You wouldn’t consider getting up without him, not anymore. Not knowing how much he enjoyed bringing you to your feet.

And your knees.

“`Did you sleep well, snow drop?” Law questions, the light in his eyes illuminating more tiny glimmers of light from your jewels.

“Yes,” you answer softly, perhaps shyly, feigning an early morning haze just a little.

“You’re due for some proper sunlight,” he muses, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and slipping a forked tongue under the golden collar to lick at your skin. “Some fresh air,” he continues, fingers trailing over your limbs, making the gold and jewels clink softly. “A little exercise.”

Your body shivers at the statement of exercise, and a soft gasp of air escapes your lips. Not enough to be a moan, but enough to show some semblance of agreement toward the idea. He unlocks the cuffs at your wrists, setting them down slowly, his golden eyes on you, waiting for confirmation.

“Yes… please.” You manage, as he scoops you up into arms, cradling you to his chest as he slithers through the cave. A long hand over your eyes covers your sight, as always, and the long trip begins.

You have no idea how intricate the cave may or may not be. Only that the room you stay in has some openings too high up the wall for you to reach. Enough to let in fresh air and enough light for you to see by, but as far as you knew the rest of the cave was too dark for you to see anyway.

You feel the warmth of the sun on your skin before you can see it. He sets you carefully onto your feet, soft moss and grass tickling your toes as you slowly open your eyes, taking in the lush green forest and the bright light of the sun in the small clearing near the cave.

The clearing had been your favorite place for years. You’d come here and read, or practice sword forms where no one could find you - or so you’d thought. During that time you’d caught the eye of the Naga that now held you close.

Law circles around you a couple times before disappearing into the thick tree line. You know better than to try and run, he’s not gone, not far enough away at least, he’s just checking the perimeter and making sure that there’s no one nearby to bother either of you. Naga can cover far more ground than a human, as you’ve long since learned.

When he returns he coils loosely around you, giving you a bed of tail and scales to lay on. The two of you bask in the sunlight for a while. He even dozes off enough to be fully asleep, jerking slightly when you turn over, turning your back toward the sun so you don’t get burned on one side.

Once the sun dips low enough in the sky he stirs and shifts, pulling you to his chest, and coiling around you carefully. The scales tickle your skin, sliding between your thighs and pushing your legs apart. A sweet sound escapes your lips, if nothing else, giving into the beast that’s decided to care for you had more than a few perks.

You ate well, wanted for nothing, and didn’t need to hide in order to read or practice your sword forms. The powerful naga had even supplied you with swords. The only things you weren’t allowed were clothes and the freedom to leave.

The ridges of his scales are slick against your clit and you gasp, causing you to lean into the sensation and thus leaning into him. The steady shift beneath you has your legs trembling in just a few short minutes. He tilts your face up with a single finger at your chin, smiling warmly down at you.

“That’sss my good boy,” he hums, the tip of his tail slipping around your wrists and pulling them behind your back as his hips align with yours.

The sweet kiss sinks into your lips, the tender warmth easing your muscles as the heads of two cocks probe against your entrances. What’s freedom in the face of such a tender embrace? What freedom did you have before, denied your dreams and stuffed into a role that wasn’t for you?

The pressure of both heads push against your body more. There was nothing that felt more satisfying than being stuffed full by him. Nothing else that relieved the ache in your soul. The stretch as he pushes into your ass and cunt at the same time makes you cry out.

His lips devour yours, consuming the decadent cry that escapes you, filling the air instead with the soft jingle of the jewels and metals that adorned you. Your wiggle against him, breath hot against his tongue as he breaks the kiss, licking your lips when you moan softly for him.

“Law,” you murmur, pleasure and comfort already making your mind hazy. He was always so warm like this, so gentle. “M’yours.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his body roiling beneath you, the trembling thrusts shivering down the entire length of his tail. “All mine, my sweet snow drop.” Fingers thread between yours, his tail wrapping around your hands.

You roll your hips, riding him as well as you can in your current position, and he matches your movements, pushing deeper and faster. Soft words of praise falling from his lips.

“Good boy, jussst like that. You don’t have to ask for permission, just cum when you want.” He assures you, free hand holding your face, his finger against your tongue. “Don’t think, don’t worry, I’m here. I’ve got you.” The light of his eyes flickers against your skin, sending glimmers and sparkles off the gemstones against your skin, reflecting back into his gaze.

Back into yours.

What even was freedom?

“You’re mine.”

He never called you the wrong name.

“I’ll give you everything.”

Never the wrong words.

“Just sssink, and enjoy it all.”

Pleasure soaks into your body, and you murmur his name as the soft orgasm saturates every cell of your muscles. He licks the tears from your cheeks, riding you through the pleasure as you tremble softly in his coils.

The haze takes you and you sink into him. You feel his fingers tighten against yours as he cums inside you, the grunt from his lips, the rush of blood in his cheeks, the warmth as you leaned against him, feeling his heartbeat against his chest.

It was a pleasant clearing. Maybe you could ask Law to let you read out here, the next time the weather was nice.

[trashlama]

FUTURE RISE!LEO X READER

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Heyyyy-oooo it's me your guys favorite friendly pervy neighborhood consumer! Back with some more fics!

Yeaahh

Oh yeah I can totally sense your guys' excitement.

So this idea wasn't mine. I was lurking through the ROTTMNT fandom since recently I was too busy being dragged down the Record of Ragnarok fandom pit. It's like Hetalia all over again.

Anyways— I was lurking and came across one of my favorite creators ( @yanteetle ) that got a request for a fic. And like the idea was too good not to write a one-shot for it.

Like there was already a fic for it out there but, I thought I'd try my hand.

I really enjoyed writing this, I'll probably do another part except with the second idea with young Leo being little brother blocked by Casey Jr. cause Casey knows how Leo is with his future relationship with (y/n).

And maybe another one that has a different take on the first idea. But with a ✨ Age Gap✨. Cause man do I love myself a DILF.

Like brah there is no way you can't tell me future Leo isn't a DILF.

Anyways—

Enjoy the fic!

PICTURE NOT MINE! FOUND IT ON PINTEREST AND FELT LIKE IT WAS PERFECT-O

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Rushing water flooded the ancient channels that you were trudging through. The bottoms of your cargo pants were drenched despite being tucked into the openings of your pleather boots. Frigid rosey digits clung to the insides of the pockets to your cobalt colored coat. A shiver shot down your spine. Not from the chill of the down pour above you but rather, the ghost that didn't seem to want to leave you alone. Even now you were quite sure. Somewhere amongst the ruins of New York's sewer system, he was lurking. Never too far behind but, still too close for comfort.

You've been here for two years and five months in a few days according to the calendar that hung in your shared quarters. However you weren't planning on staying for the anniversary.

A brown satchel that hung from your shoulders carried all that you had for the perceived future until you could wrangle up some more scraps of rations from orphaned establishments on the road.

You weren't going back to the base. You refuse.

Onwards you marched. According to the directions Casey had given you it was just a little further until you reached a small opening that you would need to crawl through to get to the connecting manhole that would lead you straight out of the safe haven of the sewers and into the fry-pan of NYC city boundries. The teen even went as far as described an outpost just a couple miles Northwest towards New Jersey. Having scrambliled together a poorly drawn map of the terrain to gift you on your journey.

You and Casey both knew of the dangers there were trying to escape this place. Mutant or not. Though it didn't mean it was going to stop them from at least trying to free you from your gilded cage.

You had thanked the boy who had felt like a kid brother during your encampment at the base. Both shedding a tear for one another as you departed ways. Wishing the other luck as the world slowly continues to crumble around them. Unsure of the others fate.

The flashback helped to revitalize your will, spurring the need to flee as your pace began to pick up. Heart beat and foot falls mirroring another.

You didn't know how much longer you had before he caught up with you....

Speaking of the Devil.

A random splash not too far off sent you rocketing forward. Feet pounded through the stream of water lapping at your ankles. Unrelenting like the hunter that was behind you.

You didn't even want to look back. You feared if you did your knees would buckle at the very sight of his domineering form lunging for you.

Tokyo Drifting the corner, you spun to the left, a skirt of water splashing your legs once again, in further indirect efforts of creating a swimming pool in your boots.

He was fucking with you. You could tell.

If Leo was really being serious he would've captured you in his hold the moment he originally found you. Most likely had woken up due to the lack of your warm presence next to him in the cot you shared.

If you knew the red eared slider, which you felt at this point you did.

You knew he had been on your tail since the minute you left. Stepping foot outside the main body of the base.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"(Y/n)....? Honey...." Leo groaned half awake. It was the middle of the night and his body had suddenly woken him from the bliss of his dreams.

Tired olive hands searched the sheets for your figure...only to find the lack of it.

Dark eyes flew open.

You. Weren't. Here.

Out of the bed he sprung, eyes stabbed through the dark. Only to find the lack of you and your belongings that had been here when the two of you had gone to bed.

His mind flew into chaos at the realization however, unlike his adolescent self he was able to control his panic. He calmed his ragging breath remembering his father's sage advice to not let his feelings get the better of him. That it was unbecoming for a ninja and a leader.

Honestly Leo should've seen it coming.

He wasn't any genuis-boy Donnie by any means but, didn't mean Leo was a fool.

He had saw the signs for a while now.

Eagerly you'd volunteer for any job if it meant being at odd schedules with him. It didn't matter if it was patrol or scavenging, if it got you away from him, even for a little while, you did it.

When approached about it, you simply claimed that you wanted to be useful for The Resistance. Reassuring Leo that your desire for work came from your feelings of being needed rather than the lumbering turtle's overbearing presence being the cause behind your disappearing acts.

Leo being ever so observant would notice how your close comrades and Casey Jr. would also actively participate in these same runs with you.

Everytime.

Tigers gnawed at his stomach lining and baboons pounded in his chest when he thought about what they could be discussing. What they could be doing.

In the beginning you and Leo had been soooo close.

Since teenagers. He had known you even before you knew him.

He had saved you.

Him.

He was seventeen and feeling free. The Krrang hadn't attacked yet, he still had his arm, and Ralph wasn't dead.

You had been just another girl he came upon on a nightly patrol.

Beforehand he and Raph had gotten into another disagreement. Something stupid about him not being a team player and not listening to his comrades.

Whatever. Leo didn't care.

Leo was his own one-man show— he liked to believe. Although when the going got tough, he knew he had his brothers to fall back on. They relied on one another even if they didn't like to admit it all the time. They were children after all.

Squeaky sneakers and labored breaths filled the illuminated basketball court. Within the fenced primiters was a single girl shooting hoops. And not too badly for the self-proclaimed professional's standards if he did say so himself.

She kept herself grounded but, still agile. Launching the basketball from all the points lines, even the ones that have long since been faded by eroding weather and age. (h/l) (h/c) hair pulled back into a high poney tail that whipped around with her movements.

She was like a basketball ballerina dancing a Lebron James Swan Lake. It was ethereal.

Time passed like rain droplets down car windows. Before he knew it the similarly aged female was packing up getting ready to go. Obvious signs being the (2f/c)towel around her neck and the (f/c) sports jacket she threw on over her fitted tank top.

Alas Leo didn't have the right mojo to go pursue her. Nor the right disguise.

For the next few weeks(at least how long he felt it had been emotionally. He wasn't keeping track.) Leo would return to that same basketball court, eager to see the basketball ballerina again.

Sometimes she was there, sometimes not. When she was it typically was late, at least for human standards. And always alone. Leo felt for her but, didn't particularly mind since that meant there was no one to disturb the skilled performance.

The (y/c) haired girl would show up. Shoot some hoops for a while before walking away into the night.

Her (e/c) eyes always looked absent when she shot her baskets. Emotions didn't voice themselves on her neutral complexion. The only real thing that was direct about her was that she was focused with the task at hand. Which was shooting hoops.

Leo wasn't a hundred percent sure what led her to the rundown court almost every night but, he was grateful for the occurrence.

Until one night he wasn't.

Like the last few nights, the red eared slider teen came to the court to spectate his favorite four pointer dancer. Only to find a lack of her usual performance. Instead sat the empty eroding court.

It was two in the morning and his brothers would start wondering where he is soon.(Not that they weren't already curious where their blue bandana brother was going.) A light sprinkle had started to pick up overhead that pushed the olive turtle to call it night.

Standing up from the ledge the turtle was about to leap from his position but, only froze upon hearing laughter. Down below underneath the iridescent fluorescent lamps was you.

The obvious lack of your usual athletic attire suggested you weren't here to play basketball. Instead of a tank top with a pair of shorts; dark jeans hugged your hips complimented by a (2f/c) Lou Jitsu t-shirt and (f/c) sport jacket.

With said jacket you shielded yourself from the drizzle. The lighting made you look like you were glowing, the uncharacteristic smile on your face added to the image.

What broke the breath-taking view was by whom he assumed were your friends. The two of them ran after you into the court with their own grins plastered on their complexions.

The scene of the trio caused the red eared slider's stomach to bumble with jealousy. He wanted to be down there with you. The sound of your guys' conjoined laughter would make together would simply be the best. Leo didn't have a doubt about it.

If only.

For the next two hours the three humans ran through the city streets. Asphalt turned into water slides as they slid and skid. None of them aware of the mutant turtle following them from the rooftops.

By four, the other two humans who he learned names were Jonathan and Melissa(I know so unique) departed for the night.

(Y/n), as he overheard from your comrades, left to go your own way home.

Leo knew he shouldn't continue being out this late by himself. Especially without telling his brothers where. But, Leo couldn't pass up the chance to see where you lived.

By the time you got back to your apartment complex it was pushing five in the morning. Leo could make out from his spot hidden in the fire escape that you were an only child.

Apparent by the lack of anything in the unit. The only things that pointed towards any form of life were the pictures that hung on the plain beige walls.

Inside the cramped dingy apartment you procured yourself some top ramen before sitting on the old futon in the main room to watch some TV. Switching to a channel that played older movies.

Zapped onto the screen was an old Lou Jitsu film. The sight of the movie excited the red eared slider, hopeful thoughts of having similar interests made the monkey in his rib cage pound harder.

Before Leo knew it you were passed out with the remote in hand with the sun peeking out over the Manhattan bay.

Giving one last look towards you before retreating back into the sewers.

The following weeks passed by and Leo grew to like you more. Even if it's from a distance. Always excited when you appear whether it's on the court or in his dreams.

His heart was always so elated when he watched you perform. And the one time he's late of course some dumb delinquents want to mess up his usual date.

Upon arrival he could tell something was wrong right away. Your (f/c) bag sat on alone on the bench left halfway unzipped and abandoned. The ball you brought with you every time you came to the court was flattened and punctured.

Something was very wrong.

"Back off Creeps!"

It was your voice.

Leo not giving a moment's thought to the possibility of being seen by the public eye. Leapt from his perch down to the court.

Hidden off in the alleyway was you and a pair of petty thieves. One a mutant rooster the other just a normal ass-hat both dressed in stereotypical black attire.

"Shadap! If you'd just given us yer stupid wallet and phone from the start then we would've been gone already!" The rooster barked. His beak set in a displeased frown that matched his human accomplice's equally displeased sner.

Both were armed.

The human with a baseball bat, and the rooster with a small pocket knife.

Observing the scene, Leo quickly determined this would be a rather easy take down as long as he did it right.

"Stop the stallin' and give us yer cash!"

The rooster's feathers acting like fingers reached out for you. Instantly the rooster's right wing received a sudden shave.

"WTF!?" The avian mutant screeched using his left wing to clutch his clipped one to his chest.

Quick to defend from the unforeseen attack the human whipped around to swing his bat; .... only to find an empty space.

"What in the name of..."

"Aaghkk!" Straight in the face you had punched the rooster.

Leo swore his chest grew warmer at the action.

While Leo was temporarily distracted by your fists of fury, the ass-hat had swung at the olive-green turtle. Quickly the red eared slider dodged the attack to only return with his own. Easily slicing the bat into small unusable chunks.

Whilst Leo dealt with the ass-hat you fought the retaliating mutant chicken.

It was a somewhat fair fight considering the difference in DNA and physical capabilities.

You would've won too, had you not underestimated how strong a mutant chicken's punches were.

Next thing you knew you were K.O.ed. Your (H/c) head in a tizzy from bouncing your brain around in your cranium.

The blue bandana wearing turtle was not pleased by this.

The rooster gulped at the obvious displeasure emanating off the red eared slider. Not even having a chance to escape Leo swiftly knocked the chicken out before tying him up with his accomplice.

"Oh (Y/n).... I'm sorry I was late for the performance.." Leo apologized under his tired breath. Adoration gleamed in dark pools as he stared down at the object that plauged his dreams for last month.

Even with three digits per hand the sturdy turtle held you against his plastron securely as he returned you to your apartment.

The cold air whipped around the two of you as he sprinted across rooftops of Manhattan.

He was the happiest turtle alive having you in his arms. He never wanted to let you go.

But he did.

And how Leo missed you so dearly for the years that followed.

Not until he was pushing forty did he find you again.

New recruits weren't too much of an uncommon occurrence. However as leader it was his job to familiarize himself with his team to the best of his ability.

And when it came time to welcome in the greenhorns, there you were.

Despite the years that have added on your complexion you were still that beautiful basketball ballerina he found all those years ago.

His heart swelled.

Leo did his best to protect you better this time.

Even if, it meant keeping you here with him against your wishes.

Very quickly it was known amongst The Resistance how much you meant to the Commander.

Within six months he had you transferred under his supervision despite your skills aligning with General April's or even General Donnie's precincts.

It didn't matter.

Leo wanted you. And that was that.

There was no room to argue when it came to the leader's order.

Within the year, you were sharing quarters with the adult red eared slider and in the following months, his cot.

The few freedoms you found away from Leo were doing patrols or hanging with deceased General Cassandra's son.

Even then the interactions were limited.

It's hard to say no when the world around you is dying and you have no other choice in survival.

Which brings us back to the current present.

Racing like a bat out of hell you fleed your pursuer who was hot on your trail.

The basketball bunny runing from the hunter with a shell.

Oh God please! Please let me make this!

It was right in front of you.

Approximately two turns up ahead laid a small tunnel. It was a tight squeeze even for your stature but, if you could crawl far enough into there before Leo reached you. You'd make it.

You threw yourself into the stone wall. The rough texture scraped your palms but you didn't care. You kept running.

"(Y/n) please come back!" Leo hollered.

His voice was not far behind. He had to be literally on your tail.

This would be a miracle if you made this.

"(Y/n) wait! You can't leave!" Anger could be heard in his deep voice. The same tone he used when displeased with your behavior when socializing amongst your fellow comrades.

There it was!

Right there!

Not even thinking about it—

You dove for the small tunnel. Knees instantly bowed to the floor as you began crawling into the opening. The hole was disgusting but, you didn't mind that as you shuffled your body forwards.

" NO! " Leo growled.

A yelp escaped your throat. Clawing hands clasping around your ankle before attempting pull you back. Despite scraping at the edges of the rusted entrance. All it took was a single tug from the adult red eared slider to dragged you out of the small hideaway. Sadness and anger quick to take over his desperate senses.

"Why!? Why did you try to leave me!?" The mutant demanded.

You didn't know what to do. You were frozen. He caught you. You didn't plan for this. You hadn't really thought—

You really had hoped—

"(Y/n)! Answer me!"

"Is everything I do for you and your kind not enough? Why can't I have you?" Leo cried.

His aged but charming features stared you down with so much hurt. He loves you so much. Too much. So why would you go?

"I've always been there for you (Y/n)... my basketball ballerina...don't I...deserve you?" Leo reasoned. His voice displayed the hurt he felt as he reasoned with you.

Well more like manipulated.

"I love you so much.... I just can't lose you again."

Muscular arms pressed you against his plastron. Underneath it you could hear the bird fluttering in his ribs.

Your mind was running a mile a minute, terrified, flustered, unsure what comes next.

" I love you (y/n)...". Was the last thing your brain registered before feeling a pinch to the bundle of nerves in your neck. Falling limp like a ragdoll in the Commander's arms.

Releasing a sigh the tired adult red eared slider held you in the one-sided embrace for just a little longer. Relishing in the warmth from your body that wasn't accompanied by the small trembles from you.

The hug didn't last long before the mutant readjusted his hold on you so that you laid in his arms. Leo didn't mind doing this every once in awhile when the anniversary of your arrival came up. As long as you don't do it again for another year.

He would have to disperse that support group of yours....

Once back in the safe confinements of Resistance HQ; Leo made a B-line to your guys shared room. There he stripped you of your drenched coat and boots before tucking you back into the shared bed. In your spot next to him.

The blue bandana wearing turtle let out a tired yawn as he closed the door before crawling inside the sheets to lay besides you.

Leo was aware he was being selfish but, he just couldn't live without you. Not again. And certainly not in this cruel world that just wants to take away everything he holds dear.

Dark pools stared down at your resting face. His prosthetic hand lovingly caressed the soft skin of your face. Soothing both you and himself in the process.

Slipping away into the land of rest. Even while dreaming the Resistance Commander held on dearly to you.

Not allowing you the same chance to escape his embrace twice.

¶¶ Creator's Notes¶¶

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part please enjoy part 2!

[bluestar22x]

Lost And Found

The Outcast - Part 1: Lost And Found

Summary: You stumble upon a man at death's door.

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 13+ (eventually 18+)

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Fowl language, pov changes

Author’s Note: This one just popped into my head out of nowhere. I have so much writing for other fics that I should be doing instead, but my mind had to make this up. It'll be a short series, but how many parts it will have, I have no idea yet.

xxx

Pero Tovar had never felt colder in his life. Though he was bundled in a winter coat and wearing its hood, the chill had still managed to seep down into his bones and numb every bit of his body. It had not mattered whether the skin was exposed or not. His wool lined boots had done little to prevent his toes from freezing up after the first six hours.

They were probably frostbitten by this point, he thought dimly, but was too far gone to be properly concerned. He had to focus just to stay mounted on his horse as he slumped forward over his thick neck, gloved hands weakly entwined in the stallion's long black mane as he trudged slowly through the deep snow. It had been at least a day since they'd fled the town, still snow continued to fall blindingly fast and the wind continued to howl.

It was all William's fault, Pero thought bitterly. He was the reason why he was going to freeze to death in a snowstorm instead of dying on a battlefield or at least in a cozy bed. If only he'd stolen the black powder so they could retire. If only William hadn't finally abandoned him for some pretty damsel on the coast, tired of living only for profit, the next fight.

They'd parted on good terms, he'd even encouraged him, but fuck that bastard for listening. They were supposed to be a team. Brothers even.

If William had been with him when he entered the nearby town they could've taken them, the group of soldiers who had attacked him upon recognition. He'd fought for their enemy, and him being a hired swordsman did not matter. They'd wanted him dead for having killed friends of theirs. When he'd realized he would be no match for their sheer numbers, he'd been forced to flee the town and head for the mountains. He knew how to traverse such landscapes, but the area was new to him, and with the added lack of visibility during the storm he eventually realized that while he'd escaped the soldiers, he'd simply traded one bad situation for another.

Lost. He was utterly lost. And he had nothing on him to start a fire, not having planned to camp out in the forest at this time of year.

Without a way to start a fire and no shelter in sight, he didn't dare stop moving, knowing that if he did his number would likely be up soon after. As long as he was in the saddle, conscious, he was alive. As long as he was alive, there was hope.

As night approached for a second time real fear started to creep into the back of his mind, the reality of his situation grim. Deep down he sensed that if he did not find shelter quickly, he would not see dawn.

He desperately scanned his surroundings for any place to hide in. A cave, a valley with natural barriers to keep the wind out, an abandoned cottage or barn. Anything at all would've been better than wandering through the storm.

But he could barely see more than a few feet in any direction, and all of what he saw was barren besides the accumulating snow and a few shady things that might've been trees in the distance. Trees that were far too spaced apart to be of any use.

His eyes were getting dangerously heavy, sleep threatening to take him without his consent, but he bared his teeth and shook his head in retaliation.

"You will not die here tonight," he growled to himself with all the determination he could muster up. His teeth clacked together, his body quaked like the ground below did on occasion in the southern lands, but he pressed on.

He lasted what was likely only a couple more hours before he stopped shivering, a bad sign he knew, and then his mind blessedly blanked. He became completely dazed, staring out at nothing, feeling nothing, with no final words to speak. Not that anyone would've heard them anyway. He was at his end, and nobody would know when he took his last breath.

Not even himself.

x

It had always fascinated you, how fast mother nature's mood could change. One minute she raged, the wind ravaged, and the snow fell seemingly endlessly, and the next she found her peace, letting the sun rise and the wind deaden.

There were still flurries that early morning, on and off, and the air was still frigid, but that did not deter you from setting out bareback on Clover, your blood bay mare that had a white head marking shaped similarly to the plant that was her namesake. You'd decided you needed more meat to store away for the long winter ahead, especially with how ferocious this last storm had been. It was only the beginning and your gut told you it would only get worst.

Clover was still quite young, barely an adult, but calm for her age. She moved quietly through the forest near your cottage as you peered between trees and glanced at the ground below for any signs of wildlife, bow in hand.

You had to rely on your sight that day since the deep snow would mute most of the typical sounds wildlife made. At least any tracks you found would be guaranteed fresh, you mused.

For three hours Clover plodded through the woods as you scanned the surrounding area with no luck. You knew there were plenty of wildlife in the area, even in winter, but for whatever reason they were apparently extra wary and well hidden that day. Maybe because the snow was so deep and fresh. You doubted if even the rabbits could move around without sinking into it.

You didn't want to turn back, but you were starting to go numb, and rather than losing a few fingers and toes you decided it best to head home early to warm up by the fire. You'd have other days to hunt, and even if you didn't you could probably survive all winter on the vegetables and berries you'd harvested in the autumn and the leftover meat from your last deer hunt if you were careful about your portions. At least that was what you'd told yourself to ease your mind of anxiety.

You decided to take a short cut home through the meadow that broke up the forest, not far away from the cliff edge of the mountainside you lived on. You wouldn't dare travel through that section when it was snowing, but on a clear day there was no chance Clover would get close enough to the deadly drop to put you both in peril so you went for it.

When you and Clover entered the meadow, you spotted a muscular black horse in the distance, standing in the middle of the area like it was on guard, but you could see no other horses nearby for it to protect.

As you neared him, you realized the horse was tacked up with a saddle and bridle, so he couldn't be a domestic horse gone wild as you'd first assumed.

Where was his rider? You thought with concern. The nearest town was a day's ride away on a good day. Had someone dared to attempt to travel through the mountains during the storm? Or had this horse been running around with tack on for a long time?

Your questions were answered when you got within several yards of him and noticed the body by his feet. You halted Clover, stunned.

He was a man, or had been, you could tell. Though he was half buried in the snow and hooded, you could still see part of his masculine face and the long scar that marked the skin above and below his left eye. He was on his back, eyes shut, cheeks reddened from windburn, and he was as still as the dead, so you assumed he was.

You hopped off Clover's back and approached his mount cautiously, not wanting to startle the horse away. You couldn't afford to feed another horse through the winter, but you could at the very least rid him of his tack and leave him with better survival odds than when you'd found him. A horse as loyal as him, as one who stuck by his rider's side when they fell off, deserved at least a chance.

The stallion snorted and stared at you with concerned dark eyes when you were near enough to touch him, and shivered when you ran a hand over his neck, but did not flee.

"Easy, boy," you whispered, trying to soothe him with your voice and touch. "I'm just here to help."

He stomped his front feet and backed away from you, circling around to nuzzle the back of his rider's head.

Your heart ached for him. You imagined all he wanted was for him to get up, for them to continue their travels together.

"I'm sorry I was too late to save him," you said remorsefully - right before a quiet groan slipped from the man's mouth.

You jumped in surprise, and your eyes widened. Had you just imagined that? No. You could see it then, as you stared at the man, the shallow breath he took before you.

You gasped and fell to your knees. "You're alive! Holy shit. Can you speak?" You shook the man's shoulders, but he did not respond, and it became clear to you then that though he was still breathing, he was not conscious at all of his surroundings.

You chewed on your lip, pondering what to do. He likely would not survive without intervention, and you knew no one else would come along, but you were still hesitant to take action. It's not that you hated men, but rather that you didn't trust them. You weren't sure it was wise to bring him to your cottage to warm him up and treat whatever ailments the cold had given him. But what other choice did you have that you could live with? Besides, he would be in no shape to harm you when he first woke up, if he ever did.

You also didn't like the idea of waking up to a dead stranger on your floor.

"Hell," you grumbled. Despite your apprehension, there was no way you were going to leave this man to die. You had a thing for saving the needy. Your heart too soft for the world's evils. It was largely the reason why you lived alone.

You brushed some snow off the man and threw your coat over his torso. "I'll be right back," you promised him, springing to your feet and climbing back onto Clover, immediately kicking her into a canter, the fastest speed she could manage in the snow, as fluffy as it was.

As soon as you arrived at your cottage you hooked her up to the small sled you owned, a bunch of strong branches tied together that you used to drag dead deer and firewood to the cottage. You figured it should hold up long enough to drag the man back to safety.

It took far longer than you liked to return to him, but luckily he did not seem in a state any worst than he had been before you'd left.

After you arrived came the hard part. You were a strong woman, thicker than most, and fit, biceps better toned than some men you'd seen go to war, but the man was broad shouldered and he was wearing armor and weapons under his winter coat that caused him weigh as much as a prized buck, so it took a good amount of effort to tug his dead weight onto the homemade sled. You managed, but on your way back home with him in tow behind Clover and his stallion trotting alongside you both, you wondered how you were going to get him indoors.

It took time, but inch by inch your were able to pull him into your cottage and lay him down to rest in front of the fireplace in the main living area. You wanted to sit down next to him and catch your breath, but you knew time was of the essence. You started a fire and loaded as much wood as you could fit into the space. You then stripped the man of his armor and all his weapons (two swords and a few knives) before finally ridding him of his wet clothes, leaving him stark naked.

You tried not to think inappropriately about his handsome face, his muscular and lean body, and his endowment as you examined him, searching for any possible damage. You decided in the end that he was lucky. Besides old scars that littered his body and some bruising along his abdomen that you knew couldn't be from exposure, he didn't appear to be too hurt physically. He'd managed to escape severe frostbite by some miracle, though his face was going to be angrily red for a while.

Maybe he had a good shot at surviving after all. Then what would you do? Logically send him away as soon as spring arrived, earlier if the snow in the passage melted. If you didn't have to kill him first. You'd defend yourself if you had to, but you were hoping it wouldn't get to that point. You had managed to avoid killing people all your life, and you didn't want to start. Especially with someone you'd put an effort into saving.

You covered him with fur lined blankets, placed one under his head, and tried to get him to drink water, only managing to wet his lips before you gave up and left to tend to the horses outside. You untacked Clover and the black stallion before sending them into separate pastures, Clover with her mother, Meadow, and the stallion alone. After they were settled in you spread out hay for the horses and carried the tack into the barn where you kept the feed for the horses and the goats you raised for milk. The little mischievous black and white creatures, all ten of them, were housed together in a paddock behind the barn for the winter. You fed them too before returning to check on the man.

He was still unconscious, but actively shivering. Progress. You set out his clothes to dry then watched him as you ate a meal of deer meat and berries, sympathy making your stomach flip. You couldn't imagine how much it would suck coming back from nearly freezing to death. It would be better than being dead, you figured, but you'd still hate it, and he still looked so cold.

Taking pity on him, you stood from the chair at your dining table and slipped under the fur blankets, hugging his side closely. It was awkward, being that close to a naked stranger, but facts were facts. Body heat would help him. Besides, you were clothed, so there really wasn't a reason to think of it too weirdly. Or to have any wild thoughts.

As he warmed up and once more stopped shaking, you relaxed a bit, letting your mind wander off away from your initial thoughts of how strange the situation was to how nice it was not to be alone in your home for once, even though present company couldn't talk back and smelled like his horse - which honestly wasn't so bad. He must have bathed not long before his misadventure, you thought.

Your mind eventually dove into the past. You remembered how you'd shared a bed with your older sister when you were little since your parents were too poor to get you separate ones and then how you'd shared a bed with your childhood sweetheart when you'd both turned sixteen and had slipped away to a local tavern to explore each other's bodies, social rules be damned.

You hadn't shared a house, let alone a bed of any sort, with anyone for any reason since, and that made a shockingly long time. Almost embarrassingly when you thought about the romantic aspect of it, until you remembered why you were so isolated and the shame melted away as quickly as it had sneaked in.

You glanced up at the man's face as he began to mumble in his sleep, words unintelligible, his chapped lips twitching under a well kept mustache. You wanted to touch those fine lips and the short, narrow beard that lined his jaw, but you resisted, instead laying your head against his shoulder.

You didn't notice that you were dozing off until sleep had already won.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[ashuribbon]

Do you have any Abalone headcanons to share? I really love him as well and I wish more people talked about him!!!

I'll admit, it was hard for me to choose whether or not to answer this ask or not! Mainly since, well, a lot of people don't like Abalone Cookie (and if people followed through in A Mermaid's Tale, you can know he's one hell of a bastard stinky man). For me, it's mostly a love-hate relationship with him, since I love how well-written he is as a villain and his design and voice, but I really, REALLY don't condone his actions and just glad he got his karma.

But I know some folks want at least a bit of content of him, since they also spotted my other Abalone pic I made before the update. Soooo, me being me, I can't turn down a fan!

In a nutshell, my depiction of him is he is basically the Scourge Warrior Cats of the sailor Cookies (but he never will be like Scourg-eclair /silly /lh) who ever lived. He isn't like Pirate Cookie where he was born from a powerful god but became evil over the years.

If anything, he was once a sailor who started from nothing but ended up building his legacy from the ground up... at least until there wasn't the day he died.

Before the rise of House Abalone, Abalone Cookie didn't start from much. He was once a sailor who provided some money for his family, having to struggle with finances to provide food and home for his family, similar to what Lord Oyster went through.

His family life was not the best either. With his siblings often teasing him for being the weakest of the bunch, he was often picked on despite his hard efforts to make his family proud. The only source of comfort was his mother, who told him legends and stories of the seas, from Gem Mermaids to the Kraken, and was the one to provide some source of comfort. He lacked a father, so it was his grandfather who had to toughen him up to survive the hardship they were in.

However, all of that changed when the crew ended up with a situation. During a lunar eclipse, the ship was "raided" by some merfolk that appeared from the ocean water (because the merfolk weren't really raiding). He remembered how it was at the time: It was like a storm he's never seen. In an effort to keep all the members of the crew and the captain alive, he took action and fired at the mermaids with one of the harpoons, before hearing a shriek and seeing all the mermaids fleeing the the scene. He didn't capture a mermaid... but instead a golden coral.

By that point, the crew who used to see him as another sailor started to respect him. The hardships slowly subsiding as he began to build a reputation for himself as the brutish sailor to exist... or by the time he got older, the brutish captain of the ship.

However, the corruption only grew after his mother went missing and his grandfather passed away from old age. And unfortunately for his siblings, he disowned them - since they've done nothing but mock him despite his efforts - and made sure they were never seen in his sights again, leaving the Abalone family in House Abalone to be just a family of one.

By that point, as he grew more powerful and became increasingly richer, he decided to pass down his ideology. Those in his crew need to work like hell in order to gain his trust, regardless if strong or weak. If anyone was caught showing disrespect or broke any boundaries, he wasn't afraid to fight them. His grandfather had to toughen him up, so he did the same with his crew. If anything, no one wanted to start a mutiny for they fear his wrath. That was how scared his crew was of him.

He would have everything he ever wanted. A legacy, a powerful empire that was called House Abalone, a reputation that can't be topped, and any of the houses in the republic would rely on him, including House Oyster. House Abalone was basically powerful at the time (at least until the events of A Mermaid's Tale where his greed made it all crashing down).

It's stated in-game that he saw himself in Lord Oyster. He knew what it was like to be seen as the runt, especially since House Oyster was in the same situation as he was in.

I also imagined he had a romantic partner too, but said romantic partner ended up a widow when he died (I might show the OC if people nag me about it).

...By the time he died, he ended up a ghost, corrupted by his own greed and forever bounded to the depths of the ocean, forever haunting the sailors who dare try to take his treasures. Legends say that one can always tell that it's his ghost by his cackling, and the appearance of a brute.

This can pretty much contrast how Pirate Cookie was. Pirate Cookie was the fire, where he loved his crew dearly and was able to at least carve his own path. Abalone Cookie, unfortunately, was the ice as he followed his wrath.

OH and lil' song playlist bonus:

This specific bit from Ren's "Money Game Part II."

King - Florence + The Machine

The Water's Fine - The Family Crest

[reposhillo]

Kirigakure Rebellion Au

Just pretty much a list of headcanons for my Kirigakure Rebellion Au where Zabuza was a part of the resistance movement to remove Yagura, along with Mei and Ao. It pretty much also combines Zabuza and Haku live aus and Let's not give Kakashi a reminder of Rin's death for the hundredth time aus

Its also kinda a road map to get me to somehow connect these all together to make a cohesive fic out of

Also features my extra commentary

Works featuring this au

Bitten kisses

Battered Bones against the Waves

Kirigakure

Zabuza was raised in the slums of Kirigakure, where the poorest of the poor gathered. He lived with his mother (because damn we got all kinds of father figures but moms don't even get name dropped. What, did Sakumo get Kakashi express delivered?)

The slums were often scoured for shinobi recruitment during war times or just times of conflict, mainly used to collect fodder. However a young Zabuza saw becoming a ninja as a way to collect money to get his ailing mother medical help and to help claw their way up from the bottom

Sadly, just shortly after he reached his ninth birthday, his mother succumbed to her illness, leaving Zabuza alone. Heartbroken, and with nothing left to lose, he attends the Kirigakure Academy graduation and slaughters all the graduates

Zabuza becomes a well feared shinobi that rose quickly in ranks over the following years, however like many he grew to resent and question the practices and traditions that Yagura allowed to continue and even made worse (especially the Kekkei Genkai clan killings)

Zabuza became the sturdy backbone of the resistance, following Ao as part of the Sensory division for intel, and Mei, who with her abilities and political sway, was selected to be the candidate to replace Yagura when it came time to deal with him (It took Konoha how many days to find a replacement Hokage after the Third? Considering the Genjutsu that Yagura was under was discovered and dispelled right before the chuunin exams and Mei was selected in place quickly enough to decide not to participate their village in the exams, makes me think that she was always lined up, you know? Like it was planned.)

Unfortunately, there was a mole within Zabuza's ranks, which in turn ratted out his plans the night of his attempted coup. He had only chosen a small group to infiltrate and take out Yagura, as Mei and Ao were to only make their moves after Yagura was dead.

Zabuza, of course, flees that very same night. Only pausing to snatch Haku from where Zabuza had left him (who he had taken under his wing months before the attempted coup) before fleeing Kirigakure. It's thanks to Ao and Mei's hidden efforts that he isn't caught, and he takes on the sole blame for the attempted assassination as to not implicate them.

Zabuza then spends his time training Haku, avoiding Hunter-nin, and resorting to any work he can find that pays well so he can feed and shelter the few followers he has left, on top of circulating money or supplies back home (he has a radio that he contacts Ao on only when he comes into a good chunk of money, supplies, or intel. It's only for him to communicate what he's found, and neither Ao or Mei are meant to respond out of caution)

Land of Waves

Everything pretty much plays out the same EXCEPT

Kakashi is able to catch sight (and scent) of Haku right as he jumps between him and Zabuza to act as a shield. Kakashi only barely manages to redirect his Chidori/Raikiri/Lightning blade to not piercing through Haku's heart but rather tear through his shoulder

The wound is still grievous enough to make Haku lose consciousness while clutching at Kakashi's arm. With the amount of blood coating him and Haku falling limp, Zabuza assumes that Haku has died. For him.

Canon events play out from here, with Zabuza attempting to cleave through Haku's body and Kakashi leaping away with him. Kakashi closes Haku's eyes and continues fighting Zabuza (in the heat of battle and the fact that Kakashi only barely managed to raise his aim, he too assumes the boy is dead)

Gato appears, Naruto's speech, Zabuza's tears but then...shortly after Gato kicked Haku's face.....everyone is shocked to hear Haku faintly groan

This shell shocks Naruto, Kakashi "Wait I didn't murder another dark haired individual who looks strangely like Rin", and of course Zabuza

Gato, surprised to see Haku still alive, sees this as a perfect time for revenge and attempts to use his cane to bash in Haku's skull

Zabuza sprints into action, and Kakashi knowing Naruto would also leap into the fray to save Haku, clones himself to hold Naruto back while he joins Zabuza (they did just stop fighting once Gato pretty much fired Zabuza and turned on him )

With Kakashi in the fray, Zabuza doesn't get as severely injured, allowing him to make it to Gato where of course he decapitates the bastard

Cue the village population and Inari showing up, followed by clone shenanigans, and the fact two deadly ninja are within their midst, Gatos hired thugs flee

Zabuza's favor from Kakashi in this au consists of him helping Zabuza get to Haku's side. Kakashi agrees, and the pair make their way to Haku who is barely breathing, blood pouring from his wound. Kakashi would remark that Haku wouldn't last much longer, and Zabuza agrees.

With their truce and probably some parting words from Naruto, that movement of Zabuza's arm mustered in canon is used to get Haku hooked over his shoulder with the least injured arm. Zabuza says his goodbyes, and then uses what strength and energy he has left to escape the bridge with Haku.

The two weeks spent fixing the bridge and team 7 healing, Zabuza is instead tending to Haku at their hideout. The first week was spent in a toss up of whether Haku would live, but the second is spent with him healing after the worst had passed. The pair would tend to their wounds for probably a month or so, along with Zabuza admitting that Haku wasn't just a tool to him. He does care about Haku, and just wants him to be able to survive on his own should anything befall Zabuza.

Zabuza and Haku's relationship then shifts into a more Teacher/student and pseudo-guardian figure on Zabuza's end.

When Zabuza and Haku decide to take their leave, Zabuza is amused to find his and Haku's 'graves', along with Kubikiribocho embedded at his. He thinks Kakashi has a twisted sense of humor (but also very grateful that his sword wasn't confiscated and them being 'dead' would buy them time from Hunter-nin)

Afterwards

Basically after Yagura was discovered brainwashed and Mei becomes Mizukage, Zabuza and Haku are "captured" and brought back to Kirigakure. Through some string pullings and other underhanded means, Zabuza is punished by being reinstated as a Kirigakure ninja (I know, big punishment right? Maybe she reverts him back to a Genin/Chuunin just to be petty)

[teecupangel]

Altaïr gets reincarnated as an eagle in the modern era after he died and just flies around learning stuff until he saw 16y old Desmond just escaping the farm and gets the feeling that he's important so he sticks with Desmond and just lives with him up until Desmond gets kidnapped. I just want to see a possessive birb! Altaïr screeching at anyone who looks at Desmond wrong

Could be AltDes 👀

(ngl, this turned out to be a bit similar to the AC1 portion of Zero Eclipse and borrowed a bit of Altaïr’s Eagle parts from this ask)

He had no idea why he had been reborn as an eagle but it was fine. He could work with what he had. A new life was a blessing (or perhaps a curse for an old lonely man such as himself) that he does not intend to squander away.

He first tries his luck with Masyaf, knowing it should have already been abandoned by the Brotherhood but still wishing to see how it fared after all these years.

The sight of a large Abstergo building in place of where the castle used to stand gave him a sense of dread that he had an inkling of why yet wished desperately to be wrong about.

His dread was warranted as he found enough evidence that points to Abstergo being a Templar-owned company.

But there were many things about this world that he was unfamiliar with.

Many terms and words…

Devices…

Places…

He had nothing but time and it wasn’t like he could find any Assassin to communicate with right now so, with a heavy heart, Altaïr took flight and flew away from his old home.

It is during his travels to understand the world that he sees him.

Lanky but quick with moves that reminded him of the training he had when he was a child learning the basics.

And he was fleeing from people older than him…

Altaïr was not a stranger to the cruelty of this world. If anything had remained the same no matter how many years have passed, it is that humans did not change at all.

They could be as kind as they could be cruel.

And there was a desperation in the child’s movements that made Altaïr believe it was the latter.

So he let out a cry to catch the boy’s attention and flew above him to guide him out of this forest safely.

The boy only hesitated for a moment before he soon ran after Altaïr and that… did not bode well for the boy.

Any normal human would have probably ignored Altaïr.

The fact this boy did not…

Altaïr feared what life this boy must have had that he would place faith in the cries of a random bird of prey.

With his guidance, they were able to lose the boy’s pursuers and took a break by the river. It was a bad place to take a break in as, if his pursuers even had a little bit of intellect in them, they would realize that they stand a greater chance of catching a boy by following the river that the boy would probably use as his guide.

But the boy needed a break, his face flushed and his breathing too shallow to be normal.

Still, there was a brightness to his expression that clouded the fear his eyes held.

Altaïr knew that the boy has no idea of what to do now but he was still…

Happy.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing thru his body but, right now…

He was happy being away from his pursuers.

“Thanks!”

Altaïr cocked his head to the side, wondering how he should act around this child.

Normal humans tend to ‘freak out’ whenever Altaïr shows even just a higher level of intelligence than normal avians.

But this boy…

He smiled at Altaïr as if it was normal to thank a bird of all things.

“My name’s Desmond.” The boy introduced himself, “Ummm…”

Altaïr stared at him for a moment before he hopped down. He used the many rocks around them to form his name in the alphabet that the people of this country seem to prefer.

“Uuhhh… Alt…” Desmond cocked his head as he pointed at the two dots on top of the ‘i’, “Why’s there another dot in the ‘i’?”

Altaïr wanted to sigh.

Could bird sigh?

Altaïr used his wing to push the rocks aside and redo the entire thing, focusing on sounding out his name instead of trying to spell it.

“A… um… Altaïr?” Desmond read with a tilt of his head. There was still that American accent that makes his name sound strange in his ears but it would do for now. Altaïr nodded and Desmond grinned at him, “Okay, Altaïr. It’s nice to meet you.”

Altaïr was sure normal people wouldn’t greet a bird like this.

It was clear that Desmond…

… Desmond was going to need his help.

Unorganized Notes:

Desmond still travels to New York and Altaïr follows him from above. Altaïr only appears when Desmond’s alone.

He had only planned to stay until he was sure Desmond would be okay but… well… he sorta never left because he realized Desmond was never going to be okay.

They were two lonely people who found solace in each other’s company.

The more Desmond learned of the real world, the more he realized that Altaïr isn’t a normal eagle but he ignores it because he’s afraid that talking about it would make Altaïr go away. “Like… speaking it out loud will erase the magic.”

Altaïr usually stay in Desmond’s apartment or flies around New York whenever Desmond has a shift in Bad Weather. He now knows how to operate the remote and he’s an avid History Channel and Natural Geographic watcher.

Altaïr was way in deep with a documentary about ‘Ancient Aliens’ when Desmond was captured. His Eagle Senses did tingle when Desmond was being abducted but, by the time he found the abduction sight, Desmond was long gone.

Altaïr starts looking for Desmond immediately after but the trail ends in an airport. He could, theoretically, try and find the plane that took Desmond but as an eagle? He’d stick out in a busy airport like this.

Out of ideas and his adrenaline finally crashing, Altaïr fell unconscious on the roof.

That’s when he dreamt of Desmond and… he was in his human form… He calls out to Desmond and Desmond turns to look at him, eyes going wild as he ask, “Altaïr?”

So, in this setup, Altaïr and Desmond dreams of one another while Desmond is captured by Abstergo and Altaïr tells Desmond to find clues of where he was, anything at all. Desmond is pretty sure he’s dreaming of Altaïr because he had been reliving Altaïr’s memories and Altaïr froze at that. He was what?

“Did you… did you find my memory seals? Do the Templars have my memory seals?” “What? What’s a memory seal? I’m reliving your memories thanks to this freaky device they call the Animus.”

Anyway, one night, Desmond tells him that he saw the buildings outside but he couldn’t make out anything. Altaïr tells him to try and remember them and try to describe them, anything at all, and they realized that Desmond could actually project what he saw when he thought of it. Altaïr recognized where Desmond was. “Rome’s Abstergo facility. I’ve seen it before when I checked out Italy.” “Where… have you not been anyway?” “The Artics.” “Of course.”

Anyway, when Altaïr gets there, he sees people acting suspiciously and realized they’re Assassins. He goes to them and tries to get their attention. When they ignored him (well, one of them went “Is that an eagle?!”), he steals one of their phones and stared down at them as he used his talon to type (and he’s really glad Desmond had bought him a second hand phone he could practice on so he could text Desmond, really, Desmond had been too accepting of the weird things Altaïr could do) “im here to save desmond are you assassins”

Okay. He wasn’t great at it but he still think he got the message across and they stared at him with wide eyes which yeah, fair, that’s the normal reaction people should have.

They did sorta agreed to partner with a bird of all things because they were Assassins and weird shit was pretty well this was weird af but they'll work around it anyway. Altaïr’s scouting helped them plan around the traps Abstergo had and it became clear that they were waiting to ambush them. In the end, they get far enough to cause a distraction for Altaïr to just divebomb into the level that Desmond was in after an Assassin shot at the windows to make it easier to break. Desmond recognized Altaïr immediately and his body moved on its own as Altaïr screeched at him before taking flight. All Lucy could do was shout Desmond’s name as he jumps after Altaïr… and performs a Leap of Faith.

Into hastily created ramp the Assassins made for him.

In this scenario, Desmond is taken out of Abstergo by Assassins that he recognized as the other kids from the Farm who had gone against Bill’s orders to not do anything and went ahead to rescue him. (sidenote: if you don’t want to create OCs, you can go down the Old Master route and make these Assassins reincarnations of actual canon characters that have no memories of their past, making them based on Assassins from Masyaf would be fun and a reference to how the Farm was like a distorted less militaristic version of Masyaf but other AC characters that Altaïr and Desmond wouldn’t know, like maybe Arno and the Frye twins? Maybe even Ezio since Desmond doesn’t know him yet would be fun too)

Anyway, after this, Desmond and Altaïr would be part of a sorta-rogue Assassin cell and their next shared dream would have Desmond realize that he had been speaking to his Altaïr and not the Altaïr of the memories he had been reliving. Altaïr just takes the whole “my Altaïr” thing in stride and Desmond wonders why Altaïr is an eagle in the first place.

The endgame would probably Altaïr and Desmond trying to find a way to get Altaïr a human body of his own? Or Altaïr just stays as an eagle anyway and any physically romantic scenes they had would be relegated to their shared dreams.

Altaïr pecks Bill. That’s a given. He might even screech at the other Assassins who helped Desmond escape if they’re unintentionally being inconsiderate of Desmond.

Look, it’s me. If you give me a ‘maybe/could be AltDes’, my brain immediately goes “alrightly then, how we going to make this AltDes, lads” and all my braincells just start popping out like freaking Rabbids with nerf guns of different tropes.

[theknightmarket]

Okay, okay. Hear me out. Damien...during his college days. Long before the events of WKM. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted in life yet, maybe he did but was struggling to keep himself on track. That's where our dear reader/future DA comes in.

- Alexandrite

P. S. I appreciate the love! Hopefully I can start out on that project soon 💜

“What if I just sit here and die?”

In which Damien is plagued by indecision, and the only hope in sight is one confident stranger.   

[This is a two-parter, since this has been in my inbox for a while, and I really wanted to get something out. Here's the second part!]

TW: cursing, self-deprecation

Pages: 16 – Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Mid-life crises were common in the university. So much so that you could expect every fifth lecture to be cancelled due to the professor’s collapsing mindset. Was this worth it? Would it lead to anything more? Or was the crumbling of the bridge catching up to you? These were questions that every member of staff asked themselves when they stepped foot onto the campus in the morning.

Mid-life crises were less common among the actual students. For one, most of them were not halfway through their lives, and, secondly, they had nothing to worry about. Half of them would have tracked down future employers, a quarter just waiting to get in on daddy’s company, and the final group filling out the few details on an army enrolment form. Really, crises weren’t only uncommon, they were near impossible to find, like tracking down a fish that didn’t know how to swim yet. Either they were rooted out at the very beginning of the year, or they learned to battle the tides – the only other option was drowning under assignments and expectations. 

And that was what made it so much worse for those select students. Their rarity left them completely alone in the educational world, fleeing from commitments as fast as they could make them. Another reason why they were hard to find was simply because they never left their rooms. They’d wake up, go to class, and then return to their homes while everyone else was out living life with the security of a life after this. It was horror to watch out the window, and torture to hear all of the pushing and nagging from the few friends they might have had. 

Damien was in this unusual group of students, and William was the friend. Go figure, they were in Damien’s dorm room, the man himself staring out the blue-stained glass at a distant football game, while Will tinkered with the knick-knacks on his shelf. If there was one detail that Damien did not fit into, it was that his friend was not pushing and nagging him. Instead, he seemed more interested in the random assortment of objects scattered around his room. 

Placing down a broken slingshot, Will sighed, “I don’t know why you’re so high-strung about this.” 

Damien could do nothing more than sigh; he wondered that too, more times than he could count on two hands. It was an unfortunate routine he had trapped himself in, one that left him in this very position after each and every lecture. He just… he found it hard to understand what everyone else found simple. The professor would say some mumbo-jumbo, a phrase he was sure the guy made up on the spot, and his classmates would nod along, like doing laps in a kiddy-pool. Meanwhile, he was left up a creak without a paddle. Eventually, it would get to be too much, and he’d flop down face first into his pillow and hope to wake up when he could get it. 

The only thing that he actually woke up to was William pounding on his door. He opened it, Will barged in, he asked what was wrong and, not long after, they were in this scenario. The third one this week, if Damien was counting correctly, but he couldn’t be sure that he was able to, at this point. 

“It’s only my entire future and wellbeing,” he replied, barely able to get the words out without straying into the fog of his thoughts. 

Will’s only response was a simple, “Exactly,” – and one that had him falling into the creaky chair beside him, still in view of the field but supported, as if thinking about this dilemma was taking a physical toll on him. 

“What if I just sit here and die?” he muttered. Really, it looked like a better option than worrying all the time. 

“Then you will be sorely missed.” 

William plucked a stack of cards from one of the shelves across the wall and flicked through it like a picture book. A few times they and their friends had gotten together for game nights, but Damien had only won once, and that was when half the group was drunk off their heads and the others too busy stopping them from hurting themselves to notice his crumbling poker-face. After that, he was the designated underdog in poker nights. 

So, gambling his way into fortune was out of the question. 

“It’s better than suffering here.”

The bed to his left dipped down as Will practically threw himself on top of it. The cards exploded out of his hands and across the sheets, as if he were spreading seeds throughout a garden. He was lucky that nothing fell on the floor, or Damien might have opened that window and thrown himself out of it. A bit of an overdramatic reaction, but what else was he supposed to do? There was only so much he could take, and anymore trouble was liable to push him over the edge, be it spilt cards, extra projects or students coming down the hall just slightly too loudly. 

Will didn’t seem bothered by it, though; he blew his moustache away from his mouth and started to collect the cards again. “Then you drop out,” he answered lackadaisically, “or you stay in, who cares? It’ll get you to stop worrying, at least.”

From his spot by the window, he watched as the university football team emptied onto the field. He didn’t know any of them personally, but, from where he was sitting, it looked like an easy life. Throw a ball, then get tackled for it - laugh along with your peers without a care in the world, except for who had the thing next. If only his days were that simple.

“I have to get this degree.” 

“Says who?”

“Every possible employer.”

Technically, this degree was a bit of a stretch. Most of the law offices just wanted any Bachelor’s, but Damien had already switched twice at the start of the year, experiences that had made him too scared to set foot near that block of offices again. He had landed on a Bachelor of Public Affairs and Policy Management, which was a mouthful, for one reason and one reason only. 

It was the one that his dart hit when he chucked it at the board. 

Finally having all the suits in one hand, Will huffed, “Ah, what do they know anyway? When I was your age, you only had to walk in with a smile and can-do attitude to get a job.”

Damien blinked. “You’re younger than me.” Not to mention that the only career that was possible in was, go figure, the military. Sometimes he questioned if his friend would be able to get any other profession, but there was no other choice than being a raging, gun-wielding madman willing to die for a badge.

“What I’m saying is,” Will shifted to sit up straighter on the mattress, “this degree should not decide your future, but you’re letting it.”

“No, I’m not,” Damien sighed back.

“Are, too!”

The image of William staring at him with a pointed figure, a bloodhound that had caught his unfortunate scent, was getting on his nerves the second it appeared. He wasn’t letting the degree decide anything, because he could barely make a decision, as is. If it were to make the choice for him, the better it would be for everyone. For him. 

Damien looked back to the football game.

“Either you get a grip on the situation, or you don’t.”

They seemed to be having fun.

“There are so many other jobs out there that you’re suited to.”

Sure, some of them were hurt, but the comradery seemed worth it.

“If you want to be stuffed in an office all day, you could be an accountant- ah, no, you’re terrible at math… Damien, are you hearing me?”

Maybe he should join the football team.

“Damien?”

God, no, he’d hate that. 

“Damien!”

He whipped his head to face Will, ready to give him a piece of his mind, but stopped short of letting it all out. He was only trying to help, he reasoned to himself, even if his ‘help’ was anything but at the moment. 

So, instead, he let his shoulders drop and eyes cast to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand, Will.”

He didn’t have the same reservations about snapping. “Like hell I wouldn’t!” William yelled, “I’ve listened to you go on and on about this course, I should think I know what you’re going through by now.” 

Now, Damien’s parents were always very hesitant to visit him, or get in touch with him in any other way – ever since he had moved out for university, they had preoccupied themselves with finding Celine a husband. He was empathetic, of course, but there was a larger part of him that was relieved for their attention being off of him. In this moment, however, he realized just how relieved he should have been. The hands on his side, the near scowl, the suspenders. Will looked like the poster boy for disappointed fathers, and Damien was not a fan of this role reversal. 

He shook his head and leaned forwards, lacing his hands over his mouth, “I’m the one talking, and I barely know what I’m going through.”

“Look,” Will pat his shoulder, “the worst thing you could do it drop out entirely, so why not stick with it, eh?”

“But what if it’s all a waste of time?”

“Then it’ll be a waste of time. Hell, you could always come join me in the military.”

This forced a laugh out of Damien, something he was thankful for, but confused at his sudden joke. Hadn’t he just been chewing him out? He chocked it up to wanting to change the mood. “Very funny, Will.” 

He didn’t laugh. 

“Are you serious?”

That’s when his cold façade wilted, and he pounced forward to grip his friend’s upper arms. That old smile was back, and a large grin paraded onto his mouth. There was practically the sparkle of a thousand stars in his eyes as he spoke with such enthusiasm that Damien would have thought he was recounting a moment of heroism. 

“Oh, think about it! We’d go into battle together, whip out our gats, and get shot in the chests by the enemy—” a wistful sigh escaped him, “—can’t you just imagine it?”

With a chuckle more nervous than before, Damien removed his friend’s hands and placed them back on Will’s hips. It was a weird movement that he was surprised he let happen, but the man was more focused on Damien’s words of, “I think I would prefer something… less life-threatening?”

A pout. “You’re no fun.” After he moved to return the playing cards to the shelf, giving Damien time to breath in his personal space again, he bounced back to the bed. “And a career in law isn’t life-threatening?” he partially joked. 

“Not any more than a battlefield.”

A deadpan look overcame Will, a slow blink, and then he counted on his fingers while replying, “Political violence, riots, assassinations…” 

Damien threw his head back with a groan, some of his hair coming askew.

“Ah. Sorry, friend.”

He really knew how to cheer a guy up, huh? Why he even called on him anymore was beyond him, but who else was free to listen to his lamentations. He was becoming a broken record, though he wasn’t happy with it, and he had all but exhausted the rest of his options. Mark gave up after his first crisis, and Celine told him the cut and dry without a second opinion, leaving William the only one to actually hear him out, even if his advice was less than good. After him, the only thing left was talking to the wall. 

Not that he needed to resort to that, because, seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Damien squinted at his friend, suspicious of some ambush he’d orchestrated, but he looked just as surprised to hear the sound as he was. So, while he watched, Will moved to swing the wood open. 

“Ah, Celine!”

God, no. 

“Is Damien in there?”

Why did she decide that now was the best time to check up on him? His inner complaints didn’t matter; at Will’s chipper reply of, “Yep,” she shouldered past him and glared down at her brother, even more disappointed than Will had been. 

Celine had always been an oddball, and he could say that, because he had spent the first sixteen years of his life tied to her hip. Whenever their parents told her to do something, she would ask why, and when they answered, she would ask why again. To the point, she was curious and determined, a combination that the locals thought discouraging for a woman. Of course, she didn’t care. The snide comments rolled off her like water on a duck’s back, and she went about her days doing whatever she wanted to. Even now, she had invested her life into the dark arts, one of the hobbies that separated her from the rest of her family, but Damien never saw reason to stop her. He was worried for her, granted, but that was only because of certain… events that proved it was a dangerous practice. He was just glad to have her in his life. 

Although, at that moment, he regretted sticking so close to her. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded the second she stopped within two inches of him, a glower clear on her face. 

“Wallowing.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.” 

Surmising the last half hour in two sentences put things into perspective, but that just made him fall deeper into the pit with how much time he had wasted. 

Celine, expression as blank as a mannequin’s, answered bluntly, “You’re going into the law sector.” 

Damien could do naught but sigh. That much was easy to get, it was just the next months that were going to be tough. “I know, but…” he trailed off, trying his best to avoid her scornful eyes.

“Not ‘but’. You’re going to do it, and that’s final.”

“How do I get through the year?”

Celine looked at him like he was dumb. “You do the work, take the exams, get the degree.”

“You say that like it’s simple.” 

He hadn’t realized that the ‘you really are stupid’ look on her face could intensify, but, apparently, it could. “It is.” 

Damien hated it when she looked down on him – literally and figuratively, and, this time, the combination of the two exchanged his sorrow for something else. The way she spoke boiled his blood, she hadn’t even gone to university, and there she was, talking to him with sure-fire confidence that was going to get her into trouble! Damien loved his sister, he really did, but there was only so much advice and simplification that he could handle. Will, who was standing idly in the corner with a notebook in one hand, had loaded him with the bags, while Celine added the last straw that broke his back. 

“You know what?” he huffed, shooting to stand up straight. His eyeline met Celine’s, passed by to glare at William, and then returned to his sister. If they really wanted to give out unnecessary opinions, they could commentate that football game. “Out.”

“Damien,” she spoke, simple but stern, but he wasn’t having it. 

“Not ‘Damien’—” he pushed at her shoulders and guided her towards the door again, Will standing to attention beside her, “—leave my dorm room. Go on, out you go.”

Halfway through the doorway, Celine called over her shoulder, “You’re going to have to decide sooner or later.”

“Oh, I thought you’d decided for me.”

“Dam—”

She was cut off by Damien yelling, “Goodbye!” and slamming the door behind the two of them. He felt slightly bad when one of his photos collapsed onto the floor from the shaking of the wall, but he himself was shaking too much to care. To ensure he wouldn’t be bothered again, he dragged the wooden chair away from the window and lodged it underneath the door handle, falling onto it within the next second. 

His group of friends were pushy, stressful and beyond annoying in the best of occasions – but they were his friends, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He just… wanted some time to talk through his knot of thoughts without comments or advice or anyone trying to convince him to do anything else. Yes, he realized that he had no clue what he was doing, but he didn’t need anyone coming in, uphauling his life and telling him what to do with it. He only wanted to be okay. 

That got incredibly harder to do when yet another hit against the door caught his attention. All of his thoughts of peace and calm smashed out the window like frantic doves, while Damien himself all but chucked the chair back where it came from. Not even a second into his break, and someone had to interrupt him! He swore that if it were Celine and William again, he would break something. 

“I told you—oh.”

Except it wasn’t them. In fact, it wasn’t anyone he had spoken to before in his life. 

You were practically a stranger to him. 

That was a regrettable fact, due in no small part to you having shared a class for the last year and a half. Despite Damien not speaking up in class a lot, there was the odd moment that he would hear you answering a question or posing a problem to the leading professor. They always had the ability to make him more secure in the knowledge that you asked about, but it didn’t help when you understood something completely. Hell, sometimes he’d be on the brink of walking up to you and getting the answer from you directly but chickening out at the last second was a fond habit of his. To conclude, he knew nothing of you and you nothing of him. So, that begged the question: why were you standing outside his door, fist still raised in the air and a shocked look in your eye?

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.” 

You visibly swallowed. Had he made a bad impression already? What was he saying, of course, he had. 

“I’m, uh, I’m new- well, new to the campus, I mean,” you laughed lightly to stave off some of the awkwardness that permeated the space between you both, “I’ve been here a while, and I just wanted to introduce myself to the people around my dorm.” You sent a glance over his shoulder and, presumably, spotted the toppled chair. “Sorry if I disturbed you?”

Damien rushed to answer, “No, no, not at all. I just had some visitors.” He could feel the heat radiating off his face, no less sure that it was doused in a fire-hydrant red. 

Nodding slowly, a smile crept over your mouth. “Okay, well, I’m just down the hall in 53. I’ll be seeing you around?”

Damien, too, nodded, but with double the speed and triple the nervousness. He was terrible at socialising, and the icing on the cake was when he, barely conscious of his body, outstretched one hand. Etiquette training from his parents really paid off, huh? He’d made a fool of himself in the first minute of meeting someone, probably even less if you’d heard his yelling. Maybe this was a sign that he should switch university entirely, get away from this horrid introduction with one of the only people willing to be friendly with him. And, great, he must be flailing in the interaction because even his hand is blushing now!

Or going insane, if him forgetting that hands don’t blush was anything to go by; in reality, you were just shaking it back. 

Your hand was… warm. That was the first thing he noticed, the second being the style of your handshake – it was firm and definite, but not mean-spirited. Analysing it might have been weird, but it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from spiralling or squeezing too hard. 

The pressure left quickly, though, and while your mouth moved to say a formal goodbye, Damien didn’t hear a word of it. He was too focused on the possibility of someone to talk to who wasn’t a childhood friend. It both excited him and had him biting back panic. 

As calmly as he could, he closed the door after you’d moved down the hallway. God forbid you or anyone else see him such a mess. He made it a half-step in front of his bed before he collapsed dramatically overtop it. He would have to tread lightly in lectures now, even more than he had before, and that was not something he was looking forward to. 

That following morning, when he shuffled out of the floor of students and into the classroom, Damien was prepared. His plan was set in stone; to get to his desk, set out his books, avoid any and all eye contact with you or anyone associated with you until the class was over, and then leave, possibly to never return, but that was par for the course. He had just about completed the first part of his plan when you arrived, followed swiftly by a couple of your friends. 

Damien dared not look up from the wood as you situated yourself, in your usual seat and ready to get started. He appreciated your enthusiasm, but it didn’t stop at the requirements of electoral candidates. No, unfortunately for him and his steadily cracking stone, it extended to your social skills. 

Once your eyes caught his, you didn’t miss a beat in stalling your conversation with a friend to shoot him a smile and wave. Damien could feel his heart in his throat even after you had looked away. That spark in your eye – it was so mesmerizing, like a firefly that he wanted to put in a jar for safe-keeping. It was a weird feeling to suddenly want to learn about something, be engaged in the present, just because you were. It almost made him laugh; it took you two seconds to do what all of the guidance counsellors on the campus couldn’t do in two years. You really were something, huh? 

While Damien was busy flipping his brain on, you were barely awake. To be honest, you hadn’t slept well the night before, and a class as early as this one was bound to make you none the better. Upon stepping foot through the room’s door, you had been ready to call it quits right then and there – but who did you see but that guy, the one with the dark, combed back hair and alarmingly striking eyes, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you. Damien, if you remembered correctly from the first day on the course. Back then, you had sat at the back, and watched as everyone told the professor their name, his reactions, their reactions to those reactions, and so on, and so forth. It was an exercise in futility because you almost immediately forgot everything you had paid attention to. Or you thought you had, completely and utterly blown from your mind. 

But then there was Damien. Now, you hadn’t said a word to him in the time you’d been in a class together and you hadn’t even known he lived on campus until yesterday. It was a turn of fate that the room George Jacobs had vacated was down the hall from him, and that he was the only one still there to answer the door. 

Everyone else had been down watching that football game, cheering on their selected team. However, you had no sentimental attachments to anything yet, you didn’t care which team won or lost or got injured or called out unfairly by the referee. You were more concerned with the people who would be around you for the next couple months, though your worry went uncomforted because every door that you rapped upon was empty. Either that, or they heard you coming and vowed not to open up. 

You made your way down the hall, shined shoes reflecting the lights of torches on the wall. Even though it was only just getting into autumn, the nights were getting darker, and the days were getting shorter, and you were wondering if investing in fluffy jackets was the right thing to do. As you waltzed across the clean rug, you let your eyes wander. The decorations weren’t half bad; a bunch of old but pretty paintings spread across the walls, and plant pots lining certain doorways. A golden fire extinguisher hung worryingly used at the end, but before you could get to it, you stopped. 

From out one of the rooms, 61 or 62 from your point of view, two people exited. Exited was a general term, really, because they looked to be more shoved out than leaving on their own accord. They exchanged a few words before the darker haired one grabbed the other’s hand and dragged them down the corridor opposite you. Neither spared you a glance before they were out into the stairwell, but that was fine by you, because you were more focused on the door slamming closed after them. 

Anyone else might have been put off by such a clear sign of aggression, but you were far from anyone else. This, to you, only showed that someone was home, and that was someone you were going to introduce yourself to. Besides, you had come out here to see who you were going to live near, and a nameless student with at least two friends and anger issues was a hell of a way to start. 

So, with more of a bounce in your step than before, you jogged up to the door. It loomed in front of you, the peephole practically staring daggers into your soul, until you raised a fist and knocked a rhythm against the wood. Barely a second had gone by before a crash slipped around the hinges and the door whirled open. 

“I told you—oh.”

Your eyebrows jumped halfway up your forehead, registering a slightly familiar face and a completely unfamiliar reaction. It was unexpected and had you pressing your backfoot into the ground in surprise. You’d noticed Damien once or twice in the back of the class, the guy who was always present and presumably ready at the start of the lecture. Thinking back on it, you don’t think you’ve seen that classroom empty. He’d never taken a sick day or been late, and that left you with a somewhat skewed impression of him, not that you knew it was sorely incorrect. 

But all in all, you’d thought that the silent, collected bystander in the class would be the last one to burst out with such a tone. You were left subtly speechless while he looked on in apparent disbelief. 

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.”

And the conversation continued – if you could call it that – in relative awkwardness. You tried to be nice, introduce yourself as your family had taught you to, but you couldn’t help but think that something was… off about the interaction. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was you, or maybe it was just dumb luck that Damien didn’t look like he wanted to talk then. The interaction was quick and efficient, the worst combination for a good chat to be, in your opinion. It left you wondering if you should apologise and start again, maybe during work hours when you weren’t intruding on his personal time. 

While the whole moment was lacklustre, there was one take away that had you looking forward to the next day; Damien had shaken your hand, not something you had expected, but it gave you some information, all the same. A handshake was indicative of someone’s personality, and this time, you were very interested in the results. First of all, Damien had initiated it, so the leading theory was that he was confident when in his own space, when he had the most control. Second was something that contradicted it, though, since his barely-there pressure hinted that he was not sure in his social skills but that he still had them. Likely engrained in him from an early age – like singing a song, but not understanding the lyrics. Finally, and this was your thought as you began to walk back to your room, you were the one to let go. You weren’t a shrink, not by any means, however, you thought yourself good at reading people. It seemed that Damien’s impulse to shake your hand might have started from tradition but continued with the physical touch of your hand. That look in his eye was far-away, the pupils locked onto your handshake, and a faint scattering of red along his cheekbones. People in the university often desired closeness, and you had a feeling Damien was no different. You almost apologized when you let go. 

To conclude, Damien, confident in his area, well-taught but timid, impersonally romantic, and, although it was something you didn’t catch from his handshake, handsome to boot. To say you were intrigued would be an understatement. 

And that was exactly why you found yourself checking the clock and walking up to Damien’s desk. You had to manoeuvre around a lot of other tables, giving him plenty of time to notice you, but he was still staring distantly at his notebook when you came to a stop next to him. 

You cleared your throat. “Hey, there.”

The second that the first syllable made its way out of your mouth, he looked up in surprise, like you’d just told him the president had died. His expression was almost horrified, which wasn’t the way that you wanted to start this interaction, but you could adapt. 

To ground yourself, you leaned back on the desk behind you. The wooden legs creaked and bent under your weight, though they stayed upright while you collected your thoughts. You didn’t want to scare him, far from it, you just wanted to get to know him a little. You weren’t the best at making friends, most of the people you spend time with being the people from down your street when you were a child, so this was a new, but welcome, challenge. 

But first things first, you had to make sure he wasn’t going to run away at the first sign of you being anything but what was expected. 

“I’m sorry if I came off weird last night,” you started, edging your bets with a small chuckle. 

Damien’s eyes darted around your face, looking for something of which you had no clue, but it wasn’t long before they landed back on his notebook. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t… you’re fine.”

“Thanks, I’m, uh, not normally like that, I guess it was just weird being in a new place without any family.” 

“Well, that’s not always a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with this new information. It was a comment you hadn’t expected from him, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with those people coming out of his dorm room. After all, thinking back on it, that first one had the same dark shade of hair as the man before you did. It wouldn’t hurt to take a chance.

“Were the people last night your family?”

This encounter was going swimmingly, since he, apparently, hadn’t expected that from you either. This was a lesson in not judging a book by its cover, huh? 

It took him a second to realise that he was still in a conversation, but Damien’s answer came a moment after. “One of them, yes. My sister, Celine, my twin, actually.” 

“Oh, is she at the university, too?”

“No, no, she isn’t a fan of mass educational environments. Will isn’t either, but that’s what make them a pair.”

“Will?” 

By this time, a fuzzy feeling was rising in your chest, the same kind that you’d get when you clutched a hot water bottle close to you on a cold night. This was a conversation – you were having an actual conversation with someone you’d just formally met! You would have pat yourself on the back had you not been in public, but you noted it down for future reference when you were alone again. 

“Yes, he’s my friend. I’ve known him for years, ever since he accidentally shot a slingshot through my bedroom window.”

That drew a laugh from you, one that surprised the both of you as it came out. Etiquette be damned, that was funny, so you let your true feelings show. 

Your sudden chuckling brought forth Damien’s own few mimics, only interrupted by you shifting your arm to gesture towards your own group of friends. 

“That one’s James,” you commented, ‘that one’ being a blond, more on the shorter side, guy, heavy-set with an ironed shirt that he was nearly bursting out of. You moved your hand to the left, now pointing at a laughing woman, who had an arm wrapped around another boy’s shoulders. You supplied, “Kate and Michael,” before nodding at the last person sitting around the conglomeration of desks, “and Edward.” 

“They seem, uh, nice.”

It hadn’t been a joke, and yet you laughed anyway. You stopped yourself before it attracted any more attention than you had already garnered, and muttered, “Yeah, they sure seem it.” 

“I mean it,” Damien replied, grasping for his pen in the wake of a steadily rising blush. 

“I know you do,” you replied, humour clear in your voice, “but just you wait until you meet them.” 

Meet them? Damien’s redness shot out of him like a bullet as his eyebrows furrowed. You wanted him to meet your friends, or did you mean in general? He weighed the options and found that he’d rather you introduced him, not even considering the fact that you would be introducing him. 

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” you rushed to say when you noticed he looked almost conflicted.

“Oh, no, I do want to!” The words fled from him before he was aware that he was thinking them. It was only when he you smiled a bright, contagious smile, that he started to fiddle with the cap of his pen once more.

“Great!” You might’ve been embarrassed to admit that your heart beat slightly faster, your hands started to sweat, and the urge to scream tapped at the back of your throat. “We’ll get it set up, then, shall we? I was thinking maybe tomorrow at 12, or, if you’re busy, we—” 

“Can everyone take their seats?”

Your head snapped up on your shoulders, spine straightening, and your attention directed to the suddenly full classroom. Or, rather, not suddenly; you’d been too enthralled by getting Damien to talk to your friends that the students filing into the room flew under your radar – not even the person who normally sat in the seat you were occupying cared enough to ask you to move. They, notably, had set themself up where you normally would sit. 

The one time the class was actually full, and it was the time you were definitely going to embarrass yourself for it. 

Ignoring the brightening of your face and choking down an awkward laugh, you met the eyes of the professor at the front. He had this very specific look that you never thought you’d see directed at yourself, but there was a time for everything. It was almost smouldering to look at, and you weren’t sure if it was your face burning from your blush or from his glare.

“Oh, sir, I’m not—” you rushed to explain. 

The glare worsened. You swallowed. 

“Everyone, take your seats.”

You shuffled into the wooden chair of the desk you had been sitting on, confident in only one thing; that you’d made a fool of yourself. The impulse to slam your head through the table was strong, but you fought it if only to avoid further attention. Sheepishly, you cast a smile towards Damien, who offered back a smaller, but still genuine, grin of sympathy.

You could do this. Totally. Why wouldn’t you be able to? It was just sitting next to a potential new friend who had seen you mess up thrice now. 

What could go wrong?

 

[‘Hey, Alexandrite :D

Woah, two two-parters in a week?? Seriously though, apologies for the wait, exams have been kicking my ass. Also, this is a two-parter mainly because I think I just really like writing Damien’s dynamics with his friends. I’ll definitely be getting the second part out after exams all finish, though, so I hope it’ll be worth the wait]

[tarnishedxknight]

FFXII Week ~ Day 5 Prompt: "If I could protect but one person from war's horror, then I would bear any shame."

{out of dalmasca} Disclaimer: This post may include canon-divergent interpretations of canon characters, info about OCs featured on this blog, and AUs that may not align with the canon plot/characters of FFXII and/or may contain triggering material.

- - - - - - - - - -

I love this quote. It's one of the best in the game, and part of a larger quote and conversation that is honestly my favorite in the entire game. I'll talk about when and why it was said and what it means in the greater context of the plot and the character's background!

This is one of my favorite quotes from Basch, spoken to Ashelia at the Phon Coast as she's discussing the idea of Dalmasca being a protectorate of the Archadian Empire. She feels it's the only way to void a continuing war, but it's shameful for her, because her pride can't abide giving into Archadia. The above quote was part of a larger one in a conversation during which Basch was attempting to help Ashelia take advantage of wisdom he'd gained from making his own terrible mistake years ago. He'd learned the hard way what choosing one's own pride over the good of one's people, or in his case his family, could mean for a person.

Although it was a decision made while he was only a boy of sixteen, choosing to flee to Dalmasca instead of staying with his twin brother and mother was a grave mistake, and in many ways, it has shaped the person Basch became. He recognized the pride and arrogance that caused him to make that decision, and that he lost sight of what was truly important. He realizes that he chose his own pride over family, instead of setting aside his own feelings to do what was right.

Years later, he's teaching Ashelia to do the opposite, to set aside her pride and do what is right for the greater good instead. First, on the Leviathan, when they were reunited after two years:

Ashe: "I will not play puppet to Vayne!" Basch: "King Raminas entrusted me with a task. Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: The Dusk Shard. It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it." Ashe: "Wait. You took my father's life! Why spare mine now? You would have me live in shame!" Basch: "If that is your duty, yes." Ashe: *is shocked*

And then again later at the Phon Coast:

Basch: "An alliance between Dalmasca and the Empire?" Ashe: "Reason tells me 'tis the only course. We must avoid a wasting war with the Empire at all cost. Yet I fear I could not bear the shame. Had I but the strength." Basch: "A shame perhaps for me and for you, but for Dalmasca it is hope." Ashe: *becoming frustrated* "And you can just accept this, can you?" Basch: "After Vayne's ruse, I had abandoned hope for honor. Yet never did I forget my knightly vows. If I could protect but one person from war's horror, then I would bear any shame. I would bear it proudly. I could not defend my home. What is shame to me?" Ashe: "My people hate the Empire. They will not accept this." Basch: "There is hope."

So not only does he regret what he did as a youth, but he's learned from it, he will never make the same mistake himself again, and he's trying to teach Ashe to not make it either. Mmm... all that sweet, sweet character development, heh.

Now, I love the greater context of why he said that line and how it was included in everything else he said, but if we just take that one line and analyze it, it has it's own meaning for Basch. Yes, he was trying to teach Ashelia to set aside her pride in favor of finding a solution that furthered the greater good, but beyond that, he's saying something incredibly selfless with that one line.

Basch has seen up close what war is like. He saw his homeland destroyed and almost everyone he knew killed. He'd been fighting for Dalmasca in solidarity with Nabradia for years before he was framed for killing his king and saw his second homeland occupied by the same Empire that destroyed the first. He's seen death, suffering, destruction, grief, plague, starvation, etc., all results of war. And as the events of the game progressed, he saw his longtime friend, Vossler, betray him and Ashe, and he watched Ashe begin to descend into anger and pride, pushing her towards revenge. All of this was enough for Basch to say that war is full of horror... and he wouldn't wish that horror on anyone...

...to such a degree, in fact, that he is stating that he'd be willing to bear any shame... any shame... to protect even one person from war's horror. Just think about that for a second, I mean... there are a lot of ways to shame a person, heh. Basch would proudly bear any of them to protect one person from war's horror. That's... Gosh, he's just such a good guy. That's real honor right there. It's empathy, selflessness, and bravery too. It's an amazing quote from a man who has lived through a lot, seen and done a lot, made his own mistakes, learned from them, and has been trying to give back to society every since. For the simple reason... that he cares.

[fllagellant]

Okay yeah on a car ride this means ; Time 2 talk about Waaseyaa

So . I’ m still figuring out exactly why he chose to stop around New Hanover during the events Of the game . But he is there ! If he could flee far enough south then no one from Canada would bother following him that far away . + being so far could give him time to run again If they chose to track him . His bounty is high but he is also One Guy , so his endeavours are rather small-scale compared to gang work . High for one dude, but modest when compared to well established outlaws

He’ s also Young so like . He’ s only been around here for like 24 years . He’ s only been doing this stealing cattle and livestock thing for a couple of years let him catch up !!! But . He does want to leave that in Canada so that it can blow over . If he starts anything else then That could become an Issue

The thing about Waaseyaa is that they Know being a lone wanderer is . Not the best safety wise ? They do not ( at the earlier chapters at least ) trust anyone Nor themself enough to run with anyone else . Hired or not . BUT . But . This does not stop them from saying they Do run with a gang . The reasons for this are A) So they have a threat of protection . You can’ t do anything to me without the risk of angering someone far Bigger than you . Who will Kill you . And B) So they have a scapegoat . If they anger someone , and then namedrop a gang in the area … well . Better to have the two of them at each other so He can slip away

That is how he met Charles btw . Dude who is far too casual like “ umm I run with Dutch Van der Linde … you heard of him ? “ and Charles physically going ? because he does not Know that guy . He does NOT run with the Van der Lindes what the hell is he doing . #meetcute

But aside from all that , I should actually talk about how he would be introduced to the main story in my Mind . Okok . So . Bounties . Even if he isn’ t doing crimes Yet in New Hanover that doesn’ t mean people don’ t realize he is there . Like . Holy shit is that Colt Black the cattle thief ?? Why is he Here . So people are kinda waiting for him to dabble in something Illegal . Cue a bounty coming out for his head for a cattle rustling gone Bad

Enter Arthur Morgan . The price is good + the last sighting is easy to get to and that Colt doesn’ t seem worried about … hiding ? So it feels too good to be true but Why Not ! Spoiler ; it Was

Imagine u get to a place to over look the camp . It’ s tucked away by a little alcove by the river . And the mark is just chilling . His Longhorn - because why should he have a traditional horse mount - is playing in the water , and it seems so Simple . Until u see a rather Familiar Appaloosa trot through the water and it’ s like …. Okay …. Then you watch the bounty look over his shoulder and talk to someone and it’ s like …….. Okaay ? …… then the other person steps into view and it’ s Charles Smith and it’ s like OKAY ?!

Yeah the thing that stops Arthur from just hogtying him is the fact Charles is with him … ? And they’ re just drinking coffee like . So Charles isn’ t here for the bounty . So Arthur relents like what the fuck is happening here . Charles voice this is Not what it looks like Arthur voice Oh it better be what this looks like

After actually talking , turns out Waaseyaa ( Arthur doesn’ t learn that name for a While btw it’ s a matter of truth for Waaseyaa to let someone know and use their name ) could not have committed that crime , and that this was some sort of shitty copy cat . Charles also confirms that there was no chance that Waaseyaa was the man who did the crime . He does promise Arthur to bring him the guy who Actually did the crime , in exchange for not gossiping about him in the area and also … maybe not talking about what he stumbled across okay ?

One main mission later , Waaseyaa does bring Arthur the bounty and is like Heyyy here’ s my end of the deeal lol . This is the start of Arthur playing wingman for both Waaseyaa and Charles btw . Dude who is third wheeling as a profession now . He’ s so good a covering for them for a while . Also Waaseyaa opens up as helping with more Difficult bounties + he can approach Arthur like a random encounter and offer to pay off His bounties and will mention paying other minor bounties the gang picks up ( only for a handful of people tho if he doesn’ t like you he is not paying Anything )

[curseoftheundeadraven]

Demons and Dandelions

Part 1? (sfw)

Summary: Cedar, a young witch living secluded in a forest which she protects, had been attempting to rebuild her life after a tumultuous two years. Yet, the chaos would continue as a demon, having escaped from his master, found his way into her woods.

(I accidentally made it longer than I had planned oops)

It was a familiar sight, me rummaging through the forest, especially during this time of year. But this time was unusual, as the sun had long set and the moon hung high in the night sky. I tended to forage during the day, but this was an exception. Sleep had been eluding me, as it did on occasion. I felt restless, a tense uneasiness surrounding me that had my stomach in knots. Once I finally accepted that no amount of meditation would be the answer to my problem, I reluctantly left the comfort of my bed. There was a specific mix of tea that often helped soothe me during nights like this, but as luck would have it I had ran out of fresh dandelions. I could use dried dandelion of course but for odd reason I felt as though I had to go out. With my shoulders slumped I fought through my weariness, donned a robe and cloak to keep me warm, and headed into the brisk chill of night.  Even through my drowsiness I knew precisely where I was bound to find dandelions, they flourished in my forest at this time of year. I walked near thoughtlessly – until my cloak caught on something causing me to slightly jerk back. I turned and to my surprise a fox held my cloak between its teeth. I knelt down towards him, reaching to see if he simply wished for me to pet him, but he shrunk.  He began to chatter quietly. 

“There is a strange creature nearby,” the fox warned. In this forest, I had many animals that aided me with my magic, and this fox was one of them. I tilted my head to the side. 

"What kind of strange?" I asked, curious and the slightest bit concerned.

“Hmm…bigger than you, much bigger. It has horns, – unlike that of a deer. Not human, not animal. It has a large mouth with sharp teeth, and it’s..."

"Alright, alright–" I interjected, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"–bleeding," the fox continued, undeterred. "It's bleeding, running, and hiding." The words twisted my stomach into a tight knot, a mix of concern and determination. The thought of something larger than me, wounded and fleeing, sent a shiver down my spine. Yet, in my forest, everything became my responsibility, even creatures that were neither human nor animal. I clenched my fist, feeling the weight of my duty pressing heavily on my shoulders.

"Oleander, come," I beckoned silently.

In an instant, my familiar emerged from my cottage, soaring towards my side. Among all the creatures that aided me, none held a deeper connection to me than Oleander. Perched on my shoulder, he took the form of a large black crow.

"There is a stranger here and they appear to be hiding from something," I whispered. "I need you to find out who or what that it is." Without hesitation, Oleander took flight, disappearing into the foliage to pursue whatever had entered my forest. I swiftly returned to my cottage, gathering a satchel filled with healing salves and potions, along with my spell book. My mind raced as I considered how else to prepare, which was difficult given that I had not the slightest clue of what I needed to prepare for…but if that unknown creature aimed to remain unseen, perhaps I should do the same.

Not long after I had finished casting a stealth spell I heard my familiar in my ear, or rather, in my head.

“Found something, look”. I took a breath before muttering the incantation, my eyes rolling back into my head. Everything went dark for a moment as I connected with him. Through Oleander’s eyes I witnessed the pursuit as he swiftly navigated through the night sky. Two colossal black hellhounds, their backs ablaze with purple fire, were charging through the forest, relentlessly hunting their prey. Which I assumed was that ‘strange creature’ – that was likely also a demon of some kind. The hounds were constantly stopping to smell and search in an attempt to find their target. 

My sight returned to my own eyes and I hurried down to my library, knowing it had to hold the answers I required. My mentor's expertise in dealing with demons was well-known, partially thanks to her penchant for creating substances that enticed them. It was clear that demons shared humanity's affinity for vices, if not indulged in them more. Luckily, her meticulous organization made finding the necessary book a swift task. Amongst the details on lesser demonic creatures, I discovered a page on hellhounds. It revealed that of the three most notable demon Lords or Ladies that utilized hellhounds, Issa'ri hunted humans for their transgressions, Zaga'tyl used hellhounds as warnings to her enemies, and Mea'not, depicted amidst a purple fire, was the master of demonic servants. Those who broke the Lords' laws or fell for his schemes became his pawns, lent to sorcerers, witches, and mages. Disobedience led to the merciless wrath of his hounds, and indescribable torture once returned. As the knot in my stomach tightened, I abruptly closed the book, a sense that I was about to make quite the foolish decision.

Heart pounding, I hurried across the basement and knelt, placing my hand on a specific stone brick. Recalling the incantation, the surrounding stones glowed and vanished, revealing a hidden compartment. Despite the foul scent, I kept these items, unsure of what else to do with them, as I was not keen on continuing my mentors business with demons. Three types of jars awaited me, their names etched into memory. Remembering their immense value but unsure of the specifics, I carefully wrapped three in a towel, more for my own safety than their preservation. Hopefully that would prove to be enough. The remaining two jars would serve as insurance for my sudden dive into dealing with demons.

Oleander, find the demon those hounds are after and then return to me.

As I ventured through the forest, tracing the path the fox had taken, I tried to recall my mentor's teachings about these beings. All I could remember was her warning:

If you show them that you are in any way weaker than them, they may devour you in an instant. No matter how flimsy your courage, act as though you are as solid as an oak tree. 

Her words did little to settle my growing unease. The sound of wings beating against the wind reached my ears, causing a lump to form in my throat.

“He has collapsed, this way” 

I followed my familiar with careful speed. We came to a small clearing where an old tree had been felled by a storm many moons ago.

“He hides there, on the other side”

I took in the deepest breath my lungs could bear before I carefully maneuvered around the tree. As I weaved through the vegetation on the outskirts of the clearing and climbed over its roots, I laid eyes upon him and froze—a demon unlike any I had encountered. Lanky and gaunt, his skin a mix of snow white and inky black, with the black extending from his limbs and forming freckle-like dots. His horns, four eyes, tongue, and even the inside of his mouth were all black. Struggling to breathe, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and one of his four arms bore a gruesome, gaping wound that oozed a dark red, far darker than human blood. As I attempted to inch closer, his nostrils flared, and I realized that my stealth spell had failed to account for scent. Yet, my spells rarely needed to counter the unique abilities possessed by demons. Raising his head, he scanned the surroundings, and a low rumble reverberated in the air.

"Run, human, or I will tear the flesh from your bones," he seethed in a twisted, gnarled voice, clearly attempting to instill terror. However, I remained unfazed. My gaze fixated on his wounds, and as I drew nearer, I noticed more. He hissed once again, and with caution, I emerged from the shadows, hands raised.

"We both know you couldn't even stand if you tried," I calmly stated. Anger contorted his face. He unhinged his jaw, nearly stretching his mouth from ear to ear. Undeterred and unafraid, my confidence wavered only when Oleander's piercing caw sliced through the air.

 I heard the pounding of paws on the dirt, my heart racing. The look on the demon's face revealed a deep-seated terror, beyond my comprehension. This, for some reason, added to my resolve. As the hounds approached, I positioned myself in front of the demon, drawing out my spell book. The hellhounds slowed their advance upon seeing me, growling and baring their teeth.

"Move, mortal, or meet a gruesome end," hissed one of the hounds, stalking forward.

"Stay back," I commanded, my voice unexpectedly resolute. I believe my ability to comprehend them took them by surprise for the briefest moment. But they continued to inch closer.

"I said - move," it roared, accompanied by a howl from the other. In that moment, I decided that if I were to die, I would face it without fear. And in that moment, I felt a renewed connection to my mentor. 

"No," I refused, tracing symbols in preparation within my spell book. Time seemed to slow as the first hound lunged at me. With a sharp exhale, I thrust my hand forward, unleashing a powerful gust of wind that knocked them back, sending the lunging hound crashing to the ground. They quickly rose, and the second hound spoke.

"You have no idea what you're doing," it rumbled. "That one belongs to Mea'not. He has escaped, and-"

"I will have him," I interjected adamantly, shocking the creatures into momentary silence before they erupted into shrill laughter. 

"With what, forest witch? Flowers?" one mocked, igniting a rage within me that surpassed anything I had felt before. Head held high, I took a step forward.

"What I possess in my purse is worth more than both your lives. Your master would surely skin you for it. So, I will make a pact with him. This demon will be mine," I boomed, though the words felt vile as they escaped my lips. I wished there were a less cruel way to accomplish my goal. The hounds glanced at each other before howling in unison, and smoke began to materialize nearby. The scent of sulfur hit me, causing a slight recoil, and I would be lying if I said it had nothing to do with my fear of facing Mea'not.

Fortunately, I did not. Emerging from the pillar of smoke was a small, at least by demon standards, demonic woman. Adorned in lavish attire, her skin possessed a deep blue hue speckled with gold, resembling lapis lazuli. A 'Sien, the only demonic lineage I was familiar with. She wore an expression of sheer boredom and regarded me with annoyance.

"My master does not appreciate having his time wasted," she drawled.

"Then I will make this quick – Marcia Nightshade, have you heard of her? Or rather, what she used to peddle?" I inquired, crossing my arms. I knew the answer, as that name was familiar to nearly every 'Sien and the other lower lines of demon nobility. Suddenly, the boredom disappeared from her face. She looked at me with skeptical interest. 

"I am her successor, and I hold some of her product in this bag," I stated, placing it on the ground and unwrapping the towel to reveal the jars. Her reaction confirmed it was more than sufficient. She smiled, though it failed to reach her eyes.

"This will afford you a demon far superior to him," she began.

"It's either him or nothing," I asserted, suddenly feeling empowered. Mockingly, she laughed and extended her hand, which I shook, sensing my energy being absorbed by hers before she released her grip. She gestured for me to look at him, and I obliged. His expression remained unreadable. The woman snapped her fingers, and a chain appeared around his neck.

"Must he wear that?" I asked, suddenly aware of how out of my element I was. She laughed again.

"Feel free to remove it, but know that it's the only thing preventing him from ripping your face off. Though, it won't do much more than that. You'll have to keep him in line yourself," she replied before turning to him. "And if you dare to flee again, know that we'll find you. And next time, there won't be a foolish little witch to save you." With a final disdainful gaze, she spat on the ground. Then, in an instantaneous moment, it felt as though an eternity had ended.

After the hellhounds were gone, dizziness overwhelmed me, draining my strength. I attempted to ground myself, focusing on my breathing, but a groan of pain brought me back into the present. Rushing to the demon's side, I retrieved supplies from my bag to tend to his injuries. As I reached to clean a wound, he gripped my wrist tightly.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

"I'm trying to clean the area so I can patch you up," I explained.

"No," he tightened his grip to make his point, "why did you make this pact?"

Sheepishly, I replied, "They were going to torture you, were they not? How could I stand by without helping? Let me tend to your wounds and then I will reverse the pact or find a way to release you..."

He lunged forward, his face close to mine.

"You are an idiot, a pathetic fool," he hissed. "I’m surprised you are competent enough to hold a spellbook. There is no releasing me. Once you let me go or perish, I will return to them. You're useless, as is this."

My heart sunk as I tried to maintain composure. I pulled my hand away from his grasp and resumed cleaning his wounds

"Are all demons such assholes?" I murmured.

He growled in response.

I stirred as the sun peeked through my curtains, and I attempted to shield my eyes from its light – immediately realizing I could not move them. I silently begged to the gods that this was not another bout of sleep paralysis. 

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes to find four unblinking, black eyes staring back into mine. The demon, who had refused to speak to me after last night's insulting encounter, hovered menacingly above me. His two arms held onto my wrists, while a scowl spread across his face, inching closer to mine.

"Tell me what this is," he demanded, his voice laced with attempted authority. I furrowed my brow. 

"What do you mean?" I asked, only serving to further agitate him. One of his two free hands grabbed my face, but his actions failed to elicit the desired effect.

"Is this his doing? Why would a witch as benign as yourself do such a thing if not at his request? If he is behind this, trying to trick me into a sense of calm only to break it away from me it will not work!" he barked, his frustration evident. 

“I-I have not a single clue as to what you are talking about!”

“Then what is this? What do you want?” He demanded. It was a valid question, one to which I had no immediate answer. The surprise of the situation left my mind scrambling to form coherent thoughts.

"This is rude, and I want you to let go of me. I told you before, I only wanted to help," I asserted while struggling against his grip. Feeling the sharpness of his claws against my skin, I seized the opportunity. Pushing my wrists forcefully against his claws, his hand jerked back. The collar that hung around his neck proved effective. With my hands now free, I traced sigils in the air, causing the ivy vines that adorned my room's walls to spring to life, entangling the demon's form. Taking advantage of the distraction, I slipped out from underneath him. Fortunately, he didn't resist the encroaching vines, his eyes tracking my every move as I stood.

Drawing in a deep breath, I exhaled slowly, regaining some semblance of composure. I reached for my robe, as I typically slept in minimal attire. My body tensed, but I refused to let his theatrics sway me. Once I felt more composed, I raised my gaze to meet his piercing stare, releasing him from the ensnaring vines. He remained motionless, his gaze locked on mine.

"I can't fathom what you've been through, and I don't blame you for not trusting me. If you're trying to force me to reveal some hidden darkness within me, I hope you'll eventually realize that I am not what you assume. And if this is what it takes to earn your trust, then so be it— I will play this little game of yours," I concluded, my voice steady. He pulled back, tilting his head to the side, emitting a low, ominous chuckle.

"Alright, let’s play," he agreed, his tone sending a knot twisting in the pit of my stomach. He attempted to rise to his full height, but his horns met the ceiling, prompting a hiss of frustration. He intentionally began to change his form to fit within my human-sized dwelling, though he still loomed imposingly over me – no doubt it was purposeful. His appearance shifted into a more human-adjacent form, featuring long black hair and a smaller mouth, yet his sharp, demonic features remained—claws, horns, and menacing black teeth.

Living on my own, secluded in woods could be a lonely existence, despite occasional visitors. Especially given it was still new, this being my second year of living in this cottage and caring for the forest by myself. As a result, I often found myself feeling terribly isolated. While I had entertained the idea of having someone stay with me, I had always imagined it would be a mortal, someone from my own realm. I certainly hadn't expected a large, furious demon to be glaring at me from the corner of my kitchen as I attempted to prepare breakfast. He stood there, observing my every move, as I walked over to my small dining table and placed two plates of food. I hoped a decadent breakfast might help soften him up even just the slightest bit. He approached with a stalking gait, sniffing the air before scowling.

"Before you label me an idiot, allow me to state that I am fully aware that demons do not require food for survival. I am also aware that they do sometimes eat food purely for pleasure," I explained, meeting his cynical glare. He retreated back to the corner, and I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

"You're welcome to join me at the table, and we can discuss this situation like adults," I suggested, attempting to temper my frustration. He growled, a low rumble emanating from his corner. After a moment, however, he reluctantly made his way to the table and took a seat across from me. Clearing my throat, I forced a strained smile.

"My name is Cedar. What is yours?" I inquired. He scoffed after a prolonged pause.

"I have no name. They refer to us as Se'iva," he stated, lifting a pancake slightly off his plate, sniffing it, and placing it back down. He dipped his claw into a small puddle of syrup, recoiling slightly at the sticky texture. I did my best to suppress a chuckle and I failed miserably, earning a sneer from him. As if he desired to prove he was in fact not afraid of it, he licked the syrup off his finger with his long, formidable tongue. I inhaled sharply.

"Well, do you remember your previous name?" I asked genuinely, although it seemed to have offended him.

"Don't be dull. Of course, I do. My name was Ashir'ezel," he replied. The name felt foreign as it rolled off his tongue, as if centuries had passed since it was last spoken.

"Ashir'ezel," I repeated. He pulled back slightly, suggesting that indeed, it had been centuries. "I'm not familiar with that lineage. What do the Ezel typically do?" I inquired. Ignoring my question, he picked up a pancake, elevated it above his head, and proceeded to devour it whole, unhinging his jaw in the process. Though not particularly large, I regarded him with a perplexed gaze. "Are you trying to frighten me or show off?" I asked, observing the syrup dripping down his face. I sighed and attempted to offer him a napkin, which he stared at as if it were an insult before opting to lick the syrup away himself. Silence enveloped us as I continued to eat while he made an even greater mess. Lost in contemplation, I finished my breakfast, only to realize that my newfound "friend" had vanished.

"Ashir?" I called out, my voice echoing through the room. All that greeted me was a faint rumbling. With a sigh I began to look around. Then, in an instant, darkness enveloped my vision, suffocating my senses. I felt my heart pounding in my chest but I was determined not to succumb to any tricks. With a deep breath, I gathered my resolve and slowly rose to my feet, ready to confront whatever horrors awaited me.

As abruptly as the darkness had descended, my vision returned, revealing Ashir's contorted face mere inches from mine. A bone-chilling screech tore through the air, sending shivers down my spine. Time seemed to stand still as my heart nearly stopped. But, fueled by pure adrenaline, my instincts took over, overriding rational thought. Without a second's hesitation, my fist collided with the side of Ashir's face, a strike that sent him reeling backwards, likely more so from shock than pain, as I was nearly half his size. 

As the impact reverberated through the room, Ashir's twisted visage dissolved, and he returned to his previous form. My eyes widened in shock and remorse. "Gods, I am so sorry," I stammered, guilt washing over me. "I didn't intend to... Are you alright?"

He stared at me intensely, his expression showing more confusion than anger. I continued to babble incoherently, desperate to make amends. "I'm sorry, let me get..." But before I could finish my sentence, I turned around, only to find that Ashir had vanished into thin air. 

I saw no more of him that day, well, not directly. I’d see movement in the corner of the room or feel his hands briefly as he shoved me or grabbed me, though he was always gone when I turned. This continued on to the next day, and the days after that. 

Each day, I woke up with unease, and had to remind myself to embrace empathy and understanding. Ashir's torment would take various forms. Some days, objects would be moved or sent flying, and he would physically jolt or trip me, of course, without being able to cause harm. He often tried to scare me in tandem, shoving me into walls and screeching, making sure to restrain my arms lest we repeat the past. Phantom sensations and mysterious noises also plague me. When all of those methods failed to affect me, he would turn towards cruelty. His constant mockery cuts deep, but I persist in choosing kindness. And thankfully, none of his meddling had found its way into my dreams. Which didn’t surprise me all much as previously, long before Ashir arrived, I had covered my room in every kind of dream protection and nightmare prevention magic I could. So at the very least, I was able to face the day mostly well rested. And over time, I found ways to combat his actions. When objects would shatter, I would smile and say they can be replaced. I'd cast spells of deafness on myself to counter the repetitive, maddening sounds he would create. I’d feign ignorance when he'd grab me, as though he must need something or is confused which amusingly bewilders him. I respond to verbal berating with kind words about myself and even about him at times. I try to do nice things, like creating a larger bed for him. He had been sleeping – well I wasn’t  entirely sure if he slept in the way that humans do, but he had been staying in my guest bedroom, and the bed was even smaller than mine so I couldn’t imagine it being anything but trouble for him.

“I made you a bigger bed, I assumed it was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep in that small one,” I beamed as I rocked back and forth on my heels slightly, “do you like it?” I asked him. His new bed practically swallowed over half of the room. He reached out and tested its softness before pulling back and crossing his arms. 

“It’s just a bed, why would I care about such a thing?”

“Oh,” I feigned sadness, “alright, I’ll get rid of it”

“Well - it would be an idiotic waste of time and energy now, may as well leave it” he huffed. 

I’m not sure when I noticed he was finally beginning to soften, as it came in subtle, gradual ways. His insults softened and his torment became more benign as time went on. Once, he knocked a glass over that ended up slicing my hand particularly deep, and within an instant he was in front of me, pulling my hand towards him and examining it. He let go the second I winced in pain. 

“How did that...how do we fix it?” He asked, eyes jumping between mine and my injury. A smile began to grow on my face as I carefully applied pressure to the wound. 

“We?” I quipped and he snarled, walking away. 

He began to grow more curious as well, it seemed that his watchful gaze went from sly and conniving to perplexed or intrigued. Sometimes he would even ask questions, and on very rare occasions he would answer mine. Of course, the second I pointed out his curiosity I was insulted or mocked, but it was still progress. We even occasionally had something that almost resembled full conversations. 

“Your mentor, she worked with demons?”

“Well yes, but she worked with a great many kinds of beings”

“And you do not?” He asked. I cleared my throat. 

“No, not yet. I’m still…figuring it all out” I said without meeting his eyes. Things grew quiet for a moment.

“Did she…?” He trailed off and I gave the slightest nod before I retreated into myself. Silence took over, a common occurrence with us, but this time it felt different, more tense. For once, he was the one to break the silence. 

“The Ezel,” he began slowly and I perked up immediately, “are soul collectors” he stated. I was stunned at the sudden openness but feared he would shut down if I showed too much excitement.

“Like reapers?” I asked and he shook his head. 

“The purpose depends on your master, some are souls that are owed to other demons…” he explained until it was his turn to trail off. 

“And the others?”

“Are used for their energetic properties or simply to amuse the demon in control” he stated grimly. He didn’t remove his eyes from the food, which he was not eating, merely poking at it as silence returned. I didn’t want to push him any further than that. And I didn't need to, his desire to open up to me after I had done so with him said enough.

There were times that it seemed he had gone back to his original ways, some days he was kinder than others, but to me it didn’t matter much. Each small sign of growth was enough to keep myself steadfast in my methods. But as we made progress it seemed that my turmoil was not over, even though it would have nothing to do with Ashir. At first, I started to fall asleep later and wake up earlier, becoming restless, but I did my best to ignore it. Even though I had a sinking feeling of what truly was going on. And eventually I could no longer deny it. 

I was lying in my bed late into the night after the third, maybe fourth time I had been hurtled back into consciousness by a night terror that I could not shake off. I suddenly felt heavy, as if I were sinking downwards. I pulled my knees into my chest and began to embrace the tears that I had been desperately holding back. It had been so long without issue, I thought I was finally free from it all just to be dragged back into the depths of my sorrow. I could still hear my mentor's voice, see her face - or at least the distorted versions my dreams liked to show me. It all replayed over and over in my mind until -

Tears streamed down my face, my emotions spiraling into a breakdown. I curled up on my side, as though it would bring me some sense of solace. Lost in my despair, I registered the subtle dip of the bed and braced myself for Ashir's usual biting remarks or attempts to startle me. Surprisingly, he remained silent.

Curiosity eventually got the best of me, and I lifted my head to find him perched at the foot of my bed, his presence resembling that of a gargoyle. Normally, I would have found it amusing, but in that moment, my sorrow overshadowed any humor. When our gazes met, he broke the silence.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air. His tone was neither kind nor harsh, but blunt enough to throw me off balance. 

"H-huh?" I managed to stammer, caught off guard by his unexpected inquiry.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone still blunt and uncaring, yet somehow softer than I anticipated.

"What does it look like? I'm crying," I replied, my voice wavering, before dropping my head and shutting my eyes.

"Why?" he persisted, speaking in a flat tone.

"Why?" I repeated, my voice weak, "As if I'd tell you. You'd only use it against me," I said, my bitterness seeping through my voice. A heavy silence hung in the air, and I hoped it signaled his departure.

"Can... you stop?" he suddenly asked, his words surprising me. I raised my head, staring at him with a mix of confusion and growing upset. "...it annoys me," he added, as if it should have been obvious. His words only intensified my distress, and my tears continued to flow.

"C-clearly not!" I snapped, pulling myself upright and retreating to the safety of my headboard, my knees pressed tightly against my chest. I buried my face, my shoulders trembling with each sob.

"Why not?" He questioned, his tone oddly genuine. Frustration surged within me.

"Because I'm upset! Because I can't sleep! B-because every time I close my eyes, I relive the worst n-night of, muh, my—" My words dissolved into sobs, and a wave of relief and washed over me as Ashir's weight lifted from the bed.

That relief immediately faded as I felt his arms wrap around me, picking me up as though it was nothing. Too confused to offer any resistance I allowed him to carry me to the living room.  He settled me onto the couch, and then quietly retreated back into the hallway.

I slumped over, not having the energy to return to my room. I attempted to relax, but every time I closed my eyes, the vivid memories flooded back as if they had transpired just yesterday. At least I managed to cry quietly, hoping it would keep Ashir at bay. However, the sound of my kettle whistling startled me, and I started to fear my sanity was slipping away. Yet, in truth, I was too tired to care. And then I heard Ashir's heavy footsteps.

"Here," he mumbled, holding a cup of tea that appeared minuscule in his hands. Sniffling, I regarded him with as much confusion and suspicion I could in this state. He scoffed and placed the cup on the coffee table. I eyed it cautiously. He turned and settled on the floor a few feet away from me, his elongated limbs looking somewhat odd, watching me expectantly. With care, I reached for the cup and sniffed it, earning another scoff. It carried the scent of lavender, valerian, and dandelions.

"How did you know what to use?" I inquired.

"Watching you," he responded.

"Ah," I muttered, realizing the answer should have been obvious. I took a sip, confirming that it was the mix I typically brewed when sleep eluded me. He had added honey as well, though perhaps a bit too much. Embracing silence, I continued to sip the tea. Although I still trembled and my breathing remained unsteady, Ashir had succeeded in halting my tears, albeit mostly due to shock and confusion. Nevertheless, I was no longer crying.

"Why did you do this?" I asked after a while, hoping my suspicion was correct.

"To make you stop crying," he replied. I arched an eyebrow, "-I told you, it annoys me." He continued.

"You can teleport quite easily, can you not? Why not just do that?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he hissed, vanishing before my eyes.

Following that night, the problem persisted. I began waking up in tears or shouting during sleep more frequently. The amount of rest I managed to obtain dwindled, and I was fortunate to even get four hours in a night. Sometimes, I would lie in bed, too frightened to slip back into slumber, silently attempting to divert my attention to other matters. The aged wooden floor in my bedroom often betrayed his presence, emitting faint creaks that I wouldn't have noticed if I weren't so on edge. Over time, I grew more adept at sensing his proximity. It felt like stepping into the shade after basking in the sun, it almost chilled me. I couldn't fathom why he hadn't used my nightmares and distress to torment me, and ironically, I became somewhat paranoid, wondering if it was all an elaborate façade. I could  imagine how terrifying such a prospect would be and I gained a bit more empathy as a result. Regardless of whether his actions were genuine, on any night when I shed even a few minutes' worth of tears, a grumbling Ashir would present me with a cup of tea.

The lack of sleep began to wear on me. Everything hit a fever pitch when summer began to turn to fall. Ashir had nearly stopped his meddling and instead opted to lurk and watch, occasionally jeering at me or grabbing my arm or the back of my shirt. Honestly, I was too tired to really think about it especially as in my sleep deprived state I started to create chaos for myself, knocking over jars or mixing the wrong herb and ruining tinctures. Once such an occurrence as I kneeled on the ground collecting the petals I had spilled I heard an unexpected sound, a musical bird call that caused me to freeze as I immediately recognized the tune. When the bird called for me again I knew there was no use stalling and I rose. A medium sized bird had landed on one of my windows. She was a shimmering gold and carried a strong magical aura. When I hesitated she called again. 

“Ki’ara, be patient with me, please” I asked as I approached, dusting off my hands. She had dropped a scroll with a blue and gold wax seal that I had seen many times before. Oleander came in through a nearby window and began to chatter with Ki’ara as I grabbed the scroll. Though it was nothing but paper, ink, and wax it felt heavy, as if it were pulling me downwards. 

“Thank you Ki’ara, send Miera my regard” I mumbled as I struggled to ground myself in reality. I don’t know when she left, I had their conversation tuned out almost immediately. My mind felt like it was drifting away from reality, until abruptly, the scroll was ripped out of my grasp. I didn't make an effort to hold onto it, but I was jolted back into consciousness, and the landing was far from pleasant. Ashir, with his eyes wide and chest heaving rapidly, stood before me. His other hands were clenched so tightly into fists that they trembled. 

“Ashir pl-“ I began, but he cut me off. 

“I knew it-“ he interjected harshly. I felt my stomach drop as I heard his voice and the anger held within it. 

“Gods just let me exp-“ I begged, trying to regain control of the situation. 

“I knew it, I knew this couldn’t be. So what is it? Is it finally time to spring your trap?” He asked as he crushed the letter in his fist. 

“No,” I said sternly before taking a shaky breath, “It’s- I, it’s nothing! Nothing that concerns you, anyway. Just-“

In one swift movement, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and yanked me forward. He grew so close I could feel his breath and hear his chest rumbling. 

“I can feel the demonic magic radiating from this scroll…who else could it be? Tell me, what was the price?” he hissed quietly, voice full of venom. 

“There isn-“ I attempted to speak before he continued on. 

“What is it in for you? How much did it cost for you to muddy your hands and do the work of a cretin like him? Unless, you have always been corrupt and twisted…” he paused and looked away for a moment, “was this all just an act? Was your kindness secretly just a knife you were readying to stab in my back? I was right, you are pathetic” seethed. My throat felt tight, constricted as I tried to hold on to my composure amidst his onslaught of harsh words. 

“It’s not about you-“ I protested, but it was no used, he finally erupted. 

"LIAR!" he roared, his face a mere two inches from mine. His fears and emotions surged like a volcano, red-hot anger ready to consume everything in its path. My own emotions began to take the form of distant whispers of an approaching tempest, rapidly overtaking the horizon. I felt fear, sorrow, and red-hot anger all wash over me at once. I felt my eyes watering, my ears ringing, but I grit my teeth and tried to steel myself.

"Fine," I began in a cold voice, a single tear slipping down my cheek. "Read the letter. In fact, keep it," my voice grew sharper, mirroring the storm brewing inside my mind. It swelled, threatening to consume me. I tried to stop there, I did but it all just came rushing out, "I hope this brings you satisfaction, you’ve finally pushed me to my breaking point because I... I no longer care. Not about the letter, and certainly not about you." I felt everything swirling up inside of my mind and I couldn’t make sense of it. Exhaustion, anger, hurt. I couldn’t tell them apart, all I knew was that I couldn’t take anymore of it, “Let that letter serve as a reminder that you are a paranoid, hard headed, heartless asshole!” My words crackled like thunder, and the tempest was unleashed.

In a burst of anger, I grabbed his wrist, my gaze piercing him like daggers. Fortunately, he relented and released his grip. Unable to contain my tears any longer, I pivoted and rushed out of the front door, storm clouds following close behind. 

I only got about 20 steps away before the words I had said hit me. I hesitated briefly before forcing myself to continue on. Tears blurred my vision as I walked. The first fallen leaves of autumn crunched beneath my feet, and the birds fell quiet as I passed, something that had only happened a couple times. Despite my familiarity with the forest, I simply marched forward, not caring about my destination. I quickened my pace and didn’t rest until the tears had stopped.

I arrived at one of the many brooks that ran through the area and decided to take a break. The sky was painting itself in hues of pink and orange as the run began its rest behind the horizon. A bittersweet chuckle escaped my lips as I realized I had arrived at a grand oak tree with robust branches. Running my hand along its bark, I gazed upward, attempting to glimpse through the foliage. I gently wiped my cheeks and took a deep breath, uncertain whether it would bring solace or further turmoil, but I began to climb nonetheless. My destination remained obscured, yet the memory of what path to take was etched in my mind. Eventually, I caught sight of the wooden planks composing the floor, guiding me toward the door. The rope ladder, once the gateway to my cherished treehouse, had long since worn away, and I had never bothered to replace it, then and even now I didn’t need it. Surprisingly, it had held up the test of time and hardly looked any worse for wear. A faint smile grew on my face as I reminisced about its former glory during my childhood, now realizing it was quite small and humble. Nonetheless, it still accommodated me decently enough, I only had to crouch slightly to stand upright. Before long, as the nostalgia faded. I sprawled out on the floor, my mind continuing its downpour.

I didn't sleep well, although it was the most restful night I had experienced in quite some time. Instead of planning to sleep in my old treehouse, I decided to tidy it up a bit. I worked late into the night, and at some point during or after my efforts, exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted off. Nightmares plagued my sleep as always, but I roused only once. The creaking of tree branches outside caught my attention, yet the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft patter of raindrops convinced me that it was merely the wind. I awoke before dawn, lying there in quiet contemplation, thinking about all that had happened. 

I had said terrible things, thing I did not mean and wish I could take back. But Ashir, I could still see the hate and sorrow in his eyes, and feared there may be no overcoming this. My gut formed a knot when I considered what the letter contain precisely. I anticipated Miera’Sien was attempting to provide solace, as she had the year before. After what had occurred I could understand her being concerned for me. But, I didn’t think I needed her, I thought after two years my grief must have somehow lessened but that seemingly was not in the cards. The scroll itself was large, unsurprisingly, as Miera had an unending reservoir of things to say, all of which came in her descriptive, nearly dramatic prose. So it is likely Ashir would finally have some grasp of why nightmares plague me so. I couldn’t begin to decide how I felt about that. 

And of course, there was the matter of explaining why exactly Lady Miera’Sien was sending me letters regarding the death of my mentor, which I wasn’t sure he would believe. 

I tried to push all of that away and focus on what to do. And there wasn’t much else to do besides apologize but I didn’t know how he would feel about me when I returned, - to be fair I hardly had the faintest idea what he had felt about me before all of this. 

As the sun just barely began to rise I made my way back through the now very muddy terrain, which took me a bit by surprise as I hadn’t realized it had rained so heavily. When I reached the door I took time to ground myself before opening it cautiously. 

“Ashir?”

My call earned no response. . 

“Oleander?” I ask and thankfully I heard his caw clear as day, “where is Ashir?” I ask as I closed the door behind me and began to take off my muddy shoes

“I haven’t seen him”. He said, flying into the room and perching. I let out a sigh. After setting aside my shoes I looked to the kitchen where the ordeal had happened and saw the letter lying on the counter. As I walked closer I observed that it was somewhat crumpled and more importantly — it had been opened. I tried to shake it off, deciding I should take care of my current state before reading it. And besides, I still had a mess to clean up. As I walked around the island of my kitchen I saw that all of the small petals I had accidentally scattered across the ground were gone and I found them in their original basket. 

The day stretched on slowly, my body and mind still exhausted. Though Ashir was nowhere to be found I refrained from attempting to find him. If he did not want to be in my presence, I could understand. I myself have mixed feelings about being in his. Once the sun had set, I felt uneasy as he was typically most active at these hours. I continued to repress my anxiety and try to proceed as normal. Of course, I slept terribly. I would wake up over and over again in a short burst of time, my mind never able to delve into restful sleep. Into the very early morning however, I finally succeeded and slept as well as I could. As I put on my robe and begin to head towards the kitchen I call out to Ashir. I was only met with silence. Upon entering the kitchen however I spied something odd. A basket sat on the counter and it would not be far-fetched to think I had simply forgotten to put it away in my current state. As I moved to pick it up however I realized it had been filled with fresh dandelions, still lightly shimmering from the morning dew. 

“Ashir?” I called out again, even though I knew I would get no response. 

These gifts continued randomly appearing for several days, first dandelions, then mushrooms, and so on. But I never got a single glance of Ashir. Though the small gestures were kind, I found myself missing his presence during difficult nights. 

Nearly two weeks later, I nestled myself into the plush pillows of my couch and pulled my blanket tighter around me. My eyes were red and puffy as this was the third time that night I had been awoken. Nothing was helping so I resigned to simply making myself comfortable and trying to find any semblance of calm. The first time I was startled awake by the loud and sudden cracking of thunder accompanied by the sounds of raindrops pounding against the roof of my cottage. As I lay on the couch it continued on, loud enough that even the wind joined the chorus, howling in between cracks of thunder. Each time, I did not jump as the thunder scared me not. At least not now. I began to focus on the sounds of incoming rain until — I heard the sound of ceramic meeting wood, my head snapping up immediately. And there he stood, head bowed and hands pulled close to himself. A cup of tea sat on the small table in front of me. Mere seconds after I processed who was standing before me - just as our eyes met, tears began to roll down my face, blurring my vision, as I began to quietly sob. Startled, he instinctively retreated, but I reached out and took hold of his hand, silently begging him to stay.

Slowly, cautiously, he inched closer, eventually settling beside me on the couch. His towering presence made me feel impossibly small. I never let go of his hand. For some time all that echoed off the wall of my cottage was the soft sound of my cries and the distant roaring of the storm. 

“I’m sorry,” he said so quietly I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear it. I adamantly shook my head

“No, no. The blame is mine, I could have, I-I shouldn’t have-“ I began before I was interrupted by his hand on my chin. He turned my head and studied my face before shaking his head.

“It’s a wonder you cannot see why I would think someone such as you, as kind and forgiving as you, can simply not exist,” he said quietly before removing his hand from my face and turning away. I carefully wiped some of my tears away as I felt heat rising to my cheeks. The sound of rain and my constant sniffling filled the room. He never let go of my hand, but for a while, he was as still as a statue. “You should have tossed me aside the second you got a chance,” he began, his voice displaying a weakness I did not know it could have, “you had suffered enough, I am sure…” he trailed off and I shook my head again. 

“That doesn’t matter-“

“It does,” he retorted, his voice a bit louder, “if I hadn’t been here you wouldn’t be plagued with all of these-“ he started before it was my turn to interject. 

“No. It has nothing to do with you…” I said before trailing off momentarily, “It has happened before –“ my voice cracked as I felt emotions stirring up inside of me once again, “…I’m just not strong enough” I sputtered as tears returned. 

“Don’t be so dull,” he whispered as with hesitant tenderness, he reached out, wrapping one hand around my back, another lifting my legs as he pulled me into his embrace. He held me delicately so that I could easily push him away or escape had I desired to, which is something he seemed to be anticipating. Instead, the second I was in his embrace, I clung to his shirt, my tears soaking into the fabric as continued to cry. His form remained rigid, each movement stiff and cautious. It was evident that he was unaccustomed to such displays of affection, yet he tried earnestly to offer solace. As I attempted to calm myself, I faintly discerned the steady beating of his heart. It was a deep, low pounding that held little resemblance to a human’s. Its slow, resounding cadence became my anchor, helping to ease my distress. He remained silent, gently rubbing my back and tracing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. We spoke no more, we simply basked in the sounds of the ongoing storm. As the tears gradually subsided and my sobs waned I did my best to take measured, deep breaths. With each exhale, the tension in my body seems to lessen, my shoulders sinking slightly as my muscles relaxed. A sense of fatigue lingered, both in my body and my mind, as everything began to take its toll. My eyelids grew heavy, and eventually, I allowed myself to drift off into slumber. 

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

Apologies for the delay, life keeps getting in the way of editing haha. Thank you for your patience! ❤️

A quick thing to note, I did my best to research what Pelargir might look like in the Second Age, and there doesn’t seem to be too much published about it during this time period (unless I just missed it). So if you’re reading this after Season 2 of TROP comes out and the descriptions here don’t match the visuals in the show, then that is why! 😊

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

Links to Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, and Twenty-Five!

Chapter Twenty-Six

The speed with which you rode was unlike anything you'd experienced up until this point. It seemed that the few days rest your horse had received had done wonders. He galloped so quickly and so gracefully that it seemed almost implausible, like he was fuelled by a power that could not be quantified. Somehow your steed understood the importance of the task at hand. It wouldn't be much longer now at all before Pelargir was reached.

The sight you had seen in your sleep kept replaying over and over in your mind. Your soul was stricken with it. Galadriel had never appeared to you while you dreamt, and you were so confused as to how you should feel about her presence now. There were however two things you were sure of, that it was indeed a warning, and that Halbrand had not planted it. You remembered what he had told you about your mother and the unknown power her spirit seemed to possess. How she had tried to save you from Sauron. You wondered now if she knew of Halbrand's path to redemption and the reasons why you cannot leave him. This suddenly made you question your certainty. Was her warning a message to run from Galadriel? Or was there something else to her silent gesture? Was she trying to warn you not to go south? A sharp pain emanated from your stomach as you remembered the feeling of the she-elf's weapon inside you. This was enough to convince you that your instincts to flee were right.

There was also something else about Galadriel in this vision that filled you with unshakeable confusion. It seems a desire for her had been brewing within, unbeknownst to your conscious thought. Casting your mind back to how taken you were with her upon your first meeting, this revelation wasn't exactly shocking. However you did not expect any feelings for her to ever manifest. You loved Halbrand, you craved his touch. You only ever wanted his body twined with your own. And yet...

Within hours of leaving the inn and your companions behind, the horizon changed, giving way to a view that seemed to cleanse your heart in relief: Pelargir. You had finally arrived. Giving Halbrand a loving squeeze, you couldn't help but call out, "We made it!" Your love laughed happily at you, unable to contain his joy either it seemed. After all this time, the tragedy, the struggle, you had both reached your sanctuary. It would be here where the beginning of something great would take place. Your chance to truly start anew, to fulfil your destiny, and remain bathed in the light. However, the time for rejoicing might have come too soon, for your arrival couldn't help but be a test, a moment of truth. Were you too late? Did words travel faster than the hooves of your horse?

As you reached the city limits, Halbrand slowed the pace of your steed to a walk, not desiring to draw too many eyes. He let one of his hands come to rest over your own, fingers interlocking. This place was just as you remembered it, it had not changed in the years since your last fateful stay. It was not as resplendent as Eregion or as spectacular as Armenelos, though in it's own humble way it was mighty. There were many examples of Númenor's exemplary architecture, just on a smaller scale, the buildings a mixture of stone and wood, some streets were paved, and some were of dirt. The further into the citadel you moved, the Anduin river showed itself, reminding you of when last you sailed up it, and just how much had changed in the weeks since.

"We must find Bronwyn," announced Halbrand, "Surely there is a great hall of some kind she might be housed in. Given her status amongst the Southlanders." You thought on his words a moment, and decided you disagreed. "No. We must find the healing house. I have no doubt that is where Bronwyn will be. Although, I cannot remember where it is." Halbrand wasted no time, immediately grabbing the attention of a pair of men who were sat on the side of the road, one of whom was smoking a pipe. "Excuse me, sirs. May we ask the location of your healers?" The two men stared up at you both on the horse, their mouths slowly becoming agape. One of them spoke, unable to contain the shock and excitement in his voice. "K-king Halbrand? I cannot believe it! We all thought you dead!"

It seems you had been fortunate enough to stumble upon two Southlanders. And the fortune did not stop there. Not only was it clear that Halbrand's people did not know the truth of his identity, nor about the foul deeds you had both committed, but in fact they had received no word of anything at all. Halbrand looked at you from over his shoulder, grinning, his eyes filled with hope. "I am very glad to prove to you otherwise." he said, gazing back down at his subjects.

  "Why do you need a healer though? Are you alright, my lord?" spoke up the man with the pipe, smoke billowing from his mouth. "We only seek a meeting with Bronwyn, and my lady here believes that is where we will find her." "Right you are, my lady, right you are! She's there more than her own home, she is. Please, let us take you." "Thank you." you acknowledged, pleased with yourself, before dismounting your horse, the two of you thankful for the stretching of legs. Your escorts lead the way, with you following close behind. Halbrand held with one hand the reins of the horse, and your hand with the other. The further along you walked, the more people began to recognise their king. It seems many of the surviving Southlanders had settled in Pelargir, and soon a crowd began to follow you along the path to the healing house. You could hear many of them explaining passionately to the clueless residents exactly who you both were, and exclaiming things like  "He's alive!" "Our king has returned!" "And with our queen too!" and "Now we have a chance!"

  Now we have a chance.

After a few minutes, you reached your destination with what felt like the entire city behind you. Halbrand fastened the horse next to a row of others, all different shades of brown in colour, giving him a quick pat before you both followed your guides inside. The crowd did not want to miss this moment, with as many of them as possible filing into the building behind you. The elation in the air was palpable and contagious, you could not wipe the smile off your face. The two men sprinted off ahead as fast as they could given they were not so young, beds of the ill lining their path, calling furiously for Bronwyn as they did so. You turned to Halbrand then, wishing to take in the look on his face, to grasp how he was feeling. He was not grinning now as you were, but you could see a glimmer of happiness in his eyes. You believed he was attempting to portray a sense of regality, perhaps waiting until after meeting with Bronwyn to let himself feel it all more authentically. You gave his hand a squeeze, causing his eyes to lock with your own. Then stopping you both in your tracks, he placed a lingering and loving kiss on your lips, which caused a few of the people around you to rejoice.

The air of the healing house was soon filled with chatter, though the loud footsteps of the men as they ran back to you could be heard over the tumult. Breaking through the crowd, and out of breath they announced, "King Halbrand... may we present to you... our lady Bronwyn." Barely a second later, she came into view, the crowd parting for her as she drew closer. Bronwyn stood before you both now, a stunned look etched across her face, quickly followed by her beloved Arondir. "I am lost for words." she spoke, breaking into a smile, a laugh of disbelief overcoming her. "It is wonderful to see you well, Lord Halbrand, and you too my lady." She and the elf bowed their heads, and you returned the gesture in kind. "I am pleased to see the healing powers of my race at work." stated Arondir, offering his arm in greeting to Halbrand, which he received without hesitation. 

"As am I. Lady Bronwyn, how many of our people live?" "Our numbers are not many, but the citizens here have welcomed us better than expected. We are one people now." "That's wonderful to hear." you spoke, beaming at her. "All we need now is our king and queen." Hearing Bronwyn speak these words filled you with such a sense of purpose, of belonging, a certainty of the path you and Halbrand had taken being the correct one. You and your love exchanged knowing glances, smiling. Just then, another familiar face appeared. It was the young boy from the Númenórean camp, the one you had seen with Galadriel's sword, who had lead the chant amongst the survivors. "We must have a coronation!" he exclaimed. Bronwyn wrapped a loving arm around him, smiling warmly. She carried the same spark in her eyes as the boy, which meant they could only be mother and son. "You're absolutely right, Theo. We must make it official. A celebration for the start of a new era for our people."

The rapturous cheering that broke out amongst the crowd signified it was what your people wanted, what they wished for. Halbrand turned you to face him, taking both your hands within his own. Staring deeply into your eyes, a small smile crept onto his visage as a realisation seemed to dawn on him. "No... not a coronation. A wedding." You smiled so broadly your cheeks began to ache. Halbrand continued, "I want you to be more than just my queen. I want you to be my wife. And I want all of our people to bear witness... and know just how much I love you." The happiness overflowed from within you, into the tears that were spilling forth from your eyes. "How do you feel about th-" You refused to let Halbrand finish his question, crashing your lips into his, not caring at all about how many pairs of eyes were upon you. He was the only one you truly saw. He was your world. Everything else was inconsequential. Words could not adequately express this, only the feeling of your lips against his.

The cheering grew instantly in volume at your action, everyone screaming and clapping, the joy that rushed through all of you was a magic all its own, a power all its own. And as you passionately kissed the love of your life, for the first time ever you felt invincible. It felt just as Halbrand had said, "...once my people are behind me, there will be nothing we cannot do." When the kiss finally ended, your love took you in his arms in the sweetest of embraces. The roar of the room started to subside, but not enough to prevent Bronwyn from having to yell above the commotion. "It's settled then! A wedding it will be for our King and Queen!" More cries echoed out upon her words. You couldn't believe this was happening. You had approached Pelargir expecting the worst of scenarios, with even part of you feeling you deserved the retribution you were certainly owed. But this... this was the furthest thing from your mind. It was almost too good to be true.

And if that wasn't enough, following what happened next, you had to check if you were awake or dreaming. You could hear two men shouting your name in the distance, a distance that shrank as their calls grew louder. The voices were familiar but you were convinced you were imagining them. No... surely not, you thought, I have lost what remains of my mind. It wasn't until they came into view that you started to believe in what you were hearing, what you were now seeing. Your two older brothers had pushed their way through the crowd, which had now started to disperse, and were standing before you, the biggest of grins on both their faces. "Azrahin! Târikun!" you screamed, jumping straight into their arms instantly. The three of you hugged each other so tightly, you were afraid that if you let go they might vanish from sight.

  Breathing in their scents, your head was suddenly swimming with thoughts of home. Closing your eyes, it was almost as if you were back there, a child again, completely clueless to the darkness around you, and ahead. The image of your father appeared, and the bliss you had been feeling started to fade. You knew that he had died, but could you tell them? Could you tell them that it was by the hand of the being stood barely three feet away? The being you were now to marry?

You didn't wish to lie to them, but you decided it best approached one truth at a time. Plus knowing Azrahin, he'd figure it out sooner rather than later. Releasing them, you took a step back, unable to conceal the grave expression etched on your face. "I... I know... about father. I am sorry I was not there." Târikun bowed his head, the grief still somewhat fresh. "It's alright. We found him not long after we discovered you had left Númenor... in fact that was the reason we..." His voice trailed off, but he needed not finish his thought. "But how do you know?"

You sighed, your heart heavy. "When the time is right, I will explain everything." Remembering Halbrand, and feeling his eyes on the back of your head, you smiled at your kin as you held your hand out for your love to take. As he joined you at your side, you lived a moment you thought you would never experience. "Brothers, this is Halbrand. My king and now my soon to be husband." you spoke, your voice brimming with pride as the gentlemen clasped hands politely. "Halbrand, these are my two older brothers, Azrahin and Târikun." "This is an honour." spoke your love humbly. "No the honour is truly ours!" admitted Azrahin. "We had begun to lose all hope that our sister would ever find a husband!" "Oi!" you chastised him, landing a playful tap on his arm. "It is true, you know." chimed in Târikun, turning to your love. "Lord Halbrand, we owe you a great debt." His words caused Azrahin to snicker loudly. "You men should be thankful your wives are not here." you said, glaring at them. Halbrand chuckled, amused at the sight before him. "Speaking of people who are not here... where is our baby brother? And why are the two of you here?" you questioned them, desperate to change the subject before your cheeks reddened any further.

"Well, speaking of our wives, Zimra is looking after that rascal. We thought it best he should stay at home, given what is unfolding in the lands not too far from here." spoke Azrahin. "We came to Middle-earth upon the burial of father. We came to find you." His words threatened your tears to appear once more, but instead you let go of Halbrand's hand, falling back into the arms of your family. You had convinced yourself that your brothers had chosen to stay away from you, but perhaps it was father that they had chosen to be parted from. Though the three of you had certainly drifted in recent years, now you felt incredible relief as the knowledge of their concern for you sunk in your mind. They cared for you after all.

"I don't know about you, little sister, but I am starving!" announced Târikun, the embrace ending. "We're staying at the old inn we used to as kids. And their food is still as tasty as ever. Come join us!" You genuinely hesitated a moment. They were housed in the same building where your mother had experienced her last slumber, her last dreams. You weren't sure if you would be able to go back there, confused as to why your brothers thought nothing of it, seeing only the childhood nostalgia of a journey long ago. Looking at Halbrand, you sighed. "Shall we go?"

Brownyn interjected then. "Actually, I was wondering if I might have a word with Lord Halbrand regarding the ceremonies. The sooner they commence, the better." "Why do you say that?" you asked, puzzled. Arondir breathed in deeply, his expression grim. "Orcs have been sighted not too far from Pelargir's borders. We need to be ready for a fight." "Perhaps we should wait, my love, just in case?" you suggested, taking Halbrand's hand again, giving it a squeeze. Your king however was resolute, his mind unphased by the potential for catastrophe. "No, it has to be now. While we have the chance. We cannot let any threat stand in our way. I will not have it."

You disagreed with him a little, but decided not to show it, because as much as the people should be prepared in case of an attack, he wasn't exactly wrong. We shouldn't not live just because we might die. We must love in the face of fear, and thrive in spite of it. Nodding, you gave Halbrand a small smile, which he returned. "Go and be with your family. I'll find you later." "Don't be too long." you urged him, letting your lips meet his. Then the two of you turned to face the people needing your attention, and you parted ways, hands breaking contact at the last possible second.

Tagging; @starlady66 @denzit @restless-tides @heronamedhawks @coraleethroughthelookingglass @hikarielizabethbloom @vaguelyvibin @pursuitseternal @michon-ne @gil-galadhwen 

[centuryberry]

@peachshadows / @terrible-leviathan MK bumps into a familiar face and spirals.

Or: Little Dawn's Angst Tag finally has its time to shine.

“Prince MK! May I take some of your time? I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine!”

MK mentally sighed when he heard his name being called out. It wasn’t the first time an official approached him like this. The Celestial Bureaucracy learned quickly that MK was far more attentive and considerate compared to Wukong, so they usually came to him whenever he was alone. It was tedious, but MK at least heard them out for the first five minutes before making up some excuse to wiggle his way out of it. Peng’s lessons really did help when it came to these situations. 

With a polite smile, MK turned to acknowledge the official whose name he didn’t remember only to freeze when he caught sight of the person standing beside the official.

No.

This wasn’t real, MK told himself, it couldn’t be.

She’s dead. MK and his friends defeated her years ago. She was just a bad nightmare that haunted MK’s dreams during his lowest moments. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t real.

But here the Lady Bone Demon stood. She wasn’t in the form of a little girl anymore, but MK recognized the feel of her chilling magic and the curve of her smile. She stood in the Celestial Court as if she belonged there. No one batted an eye at her presence, leaving MK all alone in his terror at the being in front of him. 

“Your Highness, I present to you my friend and advisor, the Ivory Lady. She has been a dutiful mentor and advisor to many rulers and I hope that she can provide the same guidance to you.”

The sound of the official’s words were muffled, as if MK’s head was completely submerged in water. He stared in mute horror as LBD began to speak to him. 

“Your Highness,” the Lady Bone Demon demurred with a bow. “I hope that I can be of help when it comes to the welfare of the three realms.” Then, she paused. “…Your highness? Are you well?”

MK felt sick. He wanted it all to be a horrible nightmare. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to call for help. But he couldn’t do any of that, not here where the rules of the world were so, so different. 

Instead, MK mumbled out an excuse about not feeling good before turning and fleeing like a coward. He fled…but not to Wukong or Macaque. They wouldn’t understand. Even if MK tried to explain it - and he had tried, many times - neither would accept that he came from another world. So how would they understand MK’s terror towards the Lady Bone Demon? Would they even take him seriously?

He couldn’t risk that. So, instead, he fled to the Mortal Realm to a certain noodle restaurant. 

MK made sure to transform into his human form before he entered the shop from the back. The kitchen was busy and bustling, but none of the staff didn’t even blink at his entrance. To them, he was the newly-hired delivery boy, Qi Xiaotian. He was mostly invisible here, which suited him just fine. 

He weaved through the kitchen until he found the person he was looking for: Tang. 

At the sight of him, Tang brightened and came over. “M - I mean, Xiaotian! Welcome back! Do you have any new scrolls you want me to look over? I think we’re getting close to finding a way to send you back!” When he got a closer look at MK’s face, his smile turned into a look of concern. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

MK struggled to speak. Why was it so hard to speak?

Tang didn’t share MK’s frustration in his inability to speak. Instead, he took him by the arm and led him over to the food storage room. He was patient and he didn’t push MK to talk. Instead, the scholar rambled about the discoveries he made with the scrolls MK brought over the last time he came around. 

It was a great risk Tang was taking - reading texts that were only for demon and celestial eyes and trying to help MK and A-Dan back to their worlds. But after the scholar heard the truth of MK’s situation, he was determined to do what he could to get them back where they belonged. 

“They all must be so scared for you two. It’s only right to bring you both back to your family safely,” Tang had said with compassion brimming in his eyes as he patted MK’s head. 

MK remembered the relief he felt. That quickly turned into guilt when this world’s Pigsy loudly protested, bringing up the many ways Tang’s life could be put in danger. Of course, the soft-hearted pig demon was easily convinced to join in helping MK with the cajoling of his human. Still, even as Pigsy became one of MK’s greatest supporters, the guilt remained. 

Even now, as MK trembled in the food storage room, he was guilty for coming here with all of his troubles and burdens that they didn’t deserve. 

“MK, do you want to go see Sandy?” Tang asked gently. “If you feel more comfortable talking to him, Pigsy can set aside some time and take you to his boat. I know you and A-Dan adore playing with the cats.”

At the mention of Sandy, MK miserably shook his head. It was bad enough that he dragged Pigsy and Tang into this mess. It would be worse if he selfishly dragged this world’s Sandy into all of this just because he needed an impromptu therapy session. 

“…MK, are you cold? You haven’t stopped shivering.”

He was shivering? He didn’t even notice.

“I’m going to get Pigsy,” MK heard Tang decide when he continued to shiver in silence. “He’ll know what to do. Just sit tight there, okay? Everything will be alright.”

But how many things would have to go wrong before everything becomes “alright?” How many people would have to get hurt because MK couldn’t do his job right? 

So wrapped up in his guilt and self-deprecation, MK didn’t notice that his shadow started to warp and writhe under his feet. It wasn’t until his shadow knocked over a basket full of vegetables that MK became aware of what was going on under his feet. He jumped up with a frightened yelp. The shadows responded to his fear and became more agitated. 

“Wait - shadows? Are these shadows…mine? Ah man, this really isn’t the time to get a new monkey magic skill.” He poked at the mass of shadows at his feet. “Um, stop? Turn off! Shadow powers deactivate!”

It didn’t help. The shadows only got worse.

“Kid?” He heard this world’s Pigsy ask as he came into the storage room, “Tang told me that you’re having a problem - what the heck is that?!”

MK batted the shadows down with his hands and tail. “I’m sorry, Pigsy! I don’t know what’s happening!” He grimaced. “It was a mistake coming here. I only made things worse. Again. Tell Tang I’m sorry for bothering him. I’m going to handle this on my own.”

The shadows seemed to latch onto MK’s desire to leave. Their movements abruptly stopped, making MK stumble mid-batting and fall onto his face.

Well. He would’ve fallen onto his face if the floor didn’t give way the moment he made contact with the floor. He fell through his shadows and continued to fall.

“Kid, wait-!”

Pigsy’s concerned cry was abruptly cut off after MK fell completely through the shadow portal. With a scream, he fell face-first onto the ground.

“Great,” he groaned as he rubbed his stinging face. “Just great.”

After righting himself, MK dusted himself off and looked around. The familiar scent of his surroundings made him blink in surprise. Flower Fruit Mountain? Why did his shadows decide to bring him here of all places? He looked around and realized he was at the top of one of the mountains. It wasn’t a place he’s ever been to before - in this world and his own. 

Mountain rocks and a few fruit trees surrounded the area he was in like a protective embrace.  At the center of it all, near where he fell, was an outcrop of rocks cradling a single rock. 

“What is this place?” MK wondered aloud, wandering closer to the rock. He felt drawn to it for some reason. He reached out and picked it up. It felt warm in his hand, probably because of the sun shining overhead. “…Why does it all feel so familiar?”

No, the better question was…why was he here? MK wanted to go to a safe place that was familiar but also away from Pigsy’s, so why did they lead him here? Was it a mistake?

So immersed in his thoughts, MK didn’t notice his hold on the stone slipping from his hand until it fell onto the ground with a crack. For some reason, MK was suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread and alarm at the sound. He immediately knelt down and picked up the rock, overshadowing it for a brief moment before bringing it back up into the light. With a wince, he saw that it had split into three pieces. 

MK gingerly placed the stone back to its original place. The shadows at his feet finally calmed down, settling back into a normal shadow. 

MK tried not to linger on the feeling that he just did something that would bite him in the tail later - like his hair, like the skeleton key. He failed.

“Stupid,” he hissed at himself. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid shadow powers. Stupid hands. Stupid head. I can’t do anything right!”

MK hated how the Lady Bone Demon still had this effect on him years after her death. The mere memory of her messed with MK’s head. It stung to admit it, but he and his friends had won by chance and luck. If all the pieces hadn’t fell the way they did, LBD would have won, and wasn’t that a scary thought?

LBD was here, and unlike the last time, MK was alone. None of his friends and family were here. All MK had was A-Dan -

Oh. Oh no.

“A-Dan,” MK realized with horror, “she’s still up there.” Where she is.

MK traveled back up to the Celestial Realm in record time. He rushed through the palace halls, using his gold vision to look for A-Dan, desperately calling for her. To his mounting terror, he couldn’t find her - or the Lady Bone Demon. 

MK nearly snarled when someone grabbed his arm. No, not nearly, he did.

“MK? Whoa, buddy! It’s just me!”

MK’s growling cut off abruptly when he heard Macaque’s voice. His frustrated anger shifted into distress, which the other monkey quickly picked up on. 

“MK? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me that all that talk about you getting sick was true.” MK felt Macaque’s hand press against his forehead. “Hm, no fever. Do you feel dizzy? Did you eat anything strange?”

“A-Dan. Where is A-Dan?” MK asked, fear clogging up his throat. She wasn’t with Macaque.

“I just left her with your Baba. You know how she loves to sit on his lap during his meetings.” Macaque frowned. “MK, what is this about?”

“Is…is the Lady Bone Demon - I mean, the Ivory Lady still here?” MK asked shakily. His shadow started to act agitated again. It’s something that Macaque’s sharp eyes didn’t miss. “You need to keep her away from A-Dan. You need to keep her away from all of us. She’s dangerous. It’s hard to tell you why, but please, please believe me!”

Macaque looked MK in the eye. “I believe you, MK. It’s going to be alright.”

MK didn’t quite relax, but a part of him felt relieved at the unquestioning faith and protective rage simmering in Macaque’s eyes. He nodded slowly. 

“Okay.” He breathed shakily. “Okay.”

Satisfied, Macaque pulled MK into a hug. Within a blink, they were both suddenly transported to…Lao Tzu’s workshop?!

“I’ll go fetch your Baba and your little sister.” MK felt Macaque place a kiss on his temple and brush back his hair comfortingly. “Sit tight and focus on calming down so your shadows can settle. I’ll teach you how to control them properly later.”

Easier said than done. The moment Macaque left, MK’s anxiety returned full-throttle. No matter how hard he tried to steady his breathing, his shadows whipped around him. No matter how many times MK hissed for them to stop, they banged against the tables and shattered papers. 

“Seems like you have a problem there, bud. Wanna talk about it?”

MK froze at the sound of his own voice. Even his shadows stilled. Slowly, he turned and looked to his right. At first, he didn’t see anyone, then he caught sight of the Trigram Furnace. His reflection stared back at him with amusement.

“You? I mean - me?!”

“Hey. Long time no see. It’s been quite a bit since your last break-in, hasn’t it?” His reflection asked almost affectionately. “You’ve come a long way from the Monkie Kid who caused havoc left and right. You were pretty reckless back then!” Abruptly, his reflection shifted a little in its appearance. MK jumped when he saw a pair of red eyes stare back at him. “You were just like Monkey King before he went on his journey. Hey, did you know? He had a pretty nasty temper and he couldn’t control his strength, like, at all.”

“Yeah, I know,” MK said dryly, thinking back at this world’s Wukong. “Are the red eyes really necessary?”

His reflection grinned unrepentantly. “Sure it is! The Monkey King got these eyes after cooking for days in this furnace after getting captured by Heaven. And even after that, he challenged Buddha! He’s a walking cautionary tale, that one.”

“But Monkey King isn’t like that anymore,” MK argued, feeling defensive over his mentor. “He grew a lot - he’s still growing a lot.”

“Really? Then why are you so afraid of him?”

“…What?”

“No, that’s not right. You’re not quite afraid of him per se, but you are afraid of something about this image. Is it because it’s so similar to the Wukong you’re with right now? Are you afraid of him? No. That’s not right either. Then…are you afraid of becoming like him?”

Much to his reflection’s glee, MK twitched. 

“That’s right! You’re afraid of your actions hurting everyone, aren’t you? You’re afraid of messing things up again…just like the Lady Bone Demon.”

“…you’re right.” MK slumped. “It’s always my fault. All I’m good at is starting messes and doing a bad job fixing them. I’m just worthless, no-good MK.”

“It’s good to consider how your actions influence everything around you, but isn’t that a bit too much?” MK blinked and startled when the reflection changed and shifted in front of him. The red eyes were gone, replaced by a familiar golden circlet on the reflection’s brow. 

“You’re punishing yourself a bit too hard, bud. Give yourself some grace. You’re all alone without your mentors and friends. On top of that, you’re taking care of A-Dan all by yourself and you’re doing great. That has to count for something, right?”

MK hugged himself and looked away. “But it’d be better if I found a way back home. It’d be better if none of this happened in the first place. Everything was fine and normal. Why couldn’t it stay like that forever?”

“Normal? Ha! You can’t really believe that, MK. We’ve never really been normal even before getting that staff.”

“Whaaaa? Psh, you’re hilarious, other me! I was just a normal delivery boy! Still am!” MK laughed at the very idea of that. “Nothing special about me!”

“Are you still telling yourself that? C’mon!” MK jumped when his reflection raised his voice in frustration. “I mean, I know willful denial became our thing ever since the Lady Bone Demon, but this is ridiculous. Don’t you think it’s a little strange that we took to Monkey King’s powers? And now we have Macaque’s shadow powers. Isn’t it weird? And not to mention that connection we felt with that stone egg on that mountain -

“La la la la la! I’m not listening!” MK shouted immaturely, slapping his hands over his ears. 

“Seriously?! Denial again? It might work for you right now, but it’s all going to explode onto your face eventually if you don’t face it on your own terms soon.” His reflection sighed. “Whatever. It’s your own choice. But don’t keep your struggles to yourself when it happens. Wukong did the same thing too and remember where that got him?”

MK’s heart went cold with his reflection’s eyes flashed a familiar blue, no longer wearing the circlet. He could almost hear her whispers crawling into his ear like centipedes. He shuddered.

“Yeah, possessed by the Lady Bone Demon. I know.” He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “Can you stop doing that? Please?”

“…Fine.” Much to MK’s relief, his reflection shifted back to normal. “I know that LBD is a sore point for us, but we can’t have her in our head forever.”

“Any other words of wisdom?” MK asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, actually. I know how to get us back home.”

“Wait, what?!” MK perked up, awe and hope overtaking his entire face. “Why didn’t you say that before?! This will fix everything!”

“Not everything,” his reflection muttered to himself. MK chose not to acknowledge the quip. He was too excited to let anything bring down his mood. After all this time, MK finally had a way back to his world. “As for how to get back home, you’re going to have to use this furnace to -

“Shut up. MK isn’t going anywhere.”

A fist slammed onto the surface of the furnace, shattering it. MK stared disbelievingly as it fell into pieces right in front of his eyes. Wukong crushed the remnants of the furnace under his feet for good measure.

“No.” MK fell onto his knees. He felt his eyes water as he felt his hope get shattered and crushed in front of his very eyes. “No.”

“MK.” He felt himself being held. It was Macaque. He could feel A-Dan there also, clinging onto him and chirping with concern. MK didn’t have the energy to assure her, too overcome with grief and despair to do much of anything. “Shh. MK, it’s all right, cub. The problem was taken care of. You and A-Dan are safe. Shh. Shh.”

“But we aren’t safe,” MK whimpered. “Not here. Not with the way things are. We don’t belong here. We need to go back. Please let us go back. We aren’t even your kids. You have to know that by now.”

MK heard Macaque’s breath stutter. “I don’t care if you aren’t from our time or our world. You and A-Dan are ours, blood or not. We love you. And I don’t care if we have to go against the natural laws of the Three Realms, but we’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

MK struggled in Macaque’s grip. He fought, he yelled, and then, after he realized all of his efforts were in vain, he went limp in the other’s hold and bawled uncontrollably. All the while, Macaque held him and continued to shush and croon into his ear as if he were a distraught child.

“I wanna go home,” MK wailed into Macaque’s shoulder as the other refused to let him go. “I-I-I just wa-wanna go home!” “You are home, MK.” MK felt Wukong at his back. The Monkey King engulfed all three of them in a tight hug. “And we’re never going to let you go.”

[shads-shipposts]

I'm hyperfixating like crazy

Have another scene from Anachronism, which takes place during the escape from the ship! Prior to this, Sakharine tried to turn Shadow against Allan via some manipulation and hit a trigger of hers. Or, mine I guess. Shadow is literally me after all, thrown into the events of the movie. I’ll post the full scene at some point, but here’s a section of the scene. (CW: Fears of abandonment/being a burden/annoying)

As a result, Shadow develops quite the hatred for Sakharine and Allan tries to play damage control during a few spots in the story. He does care, that’s not an act, but his method of care isn’t always sweet and tender. He’s a rough fella, and sometimes being tough is how he shows his care.

Nevertheless, he’s supportive of Shadow and is getting quite tired of Sakharine too.

For any readers coming from my Adventures!AU series, I'm adding in a sprinkling of foreshadowing (heh) that Shadow does have some pretty vengeful tendencies even before they met the Bad Batchers. Allan definitely does not help with his roulette wheel of a moral compass.

On with the show!

———————————————

“Hold your fire!” Allan’s yell rang above the commotion, and once the order was relayed the gunfire halted. He slowly started down the stairs, eyes locked on mine. "Kid... don't do somethin' rash. I know you're impulsive, but think." He gestured at the dangling lifeboat. "Is goin' with them what you really want?"

I held the gaze, wrestling with what I should do.

Did I stay or did I flee? Jump ship and join the protagonists of this movie? Stay and grow closer with characters I yearned to meet for only three years shy of a decade?

My eyes swept around at the surrounding crew, all also waiting for my decision.

Desperation showed on their rain-streaked faces, but I was at a loss whether it was for me to stay or for catching the two men behind me.

My eyes returned to Allan.

His eyes were not on Tintin. Not on Haddock.

They were on me.

Even if… most of the men wanted me gone…

At least I know one that didn’t.

I turned to Tintin. “Bagghar. Get the scrolls.”

His eyes widened. “Shadow, don’t!”

Ignoring him, I aimed Allan’s gun at the jammed pulley and pulled the trigger.

Tintin screamed my name as he fell, and I watched until they were swept out of sight by the ship’s wake.

I expected yelling from behind me. Hell, I even half expected to be either grabbed or kicked off. I was so close to the rail, it’d be easy.

It’d be so easy.

Footsteps, familiar now, approaching from behind.

I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for the punishment for helping the pair escape. Even if I said it was needed, even if I explained how their escape would ensure the crew got the other scrolls, I still braced for retaliation.

Allan’s hand slipped around mine, tugging the gun from my fingers.

I waited for the edge of the muzzle to touch the back of my head. Waited for the click of the trigger.

But, instead, I felt the pistol slide back into the holster at my hip.

A now familiar hand rested on my shoulder, pulling me back from the edge of the deck and turning me to face the First Mate. Brown eyes met mine, a faint smile on his face. He gave me a quick, hard pat on the shoulder before squeezing tightly.

Not enough to hurt, but enough to reassure me. To convince me I hadn’t made a mistake.

His words drove the point home, however.

“Made the right choice, kid.”

The quip came naturally. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m too obsessed with ships to leave.”

Words spoke in a dismissive tone, but with a hesitant smile tempering their severity.

Allan returned the expression with a sly grin of his own. “Breakin’ my heart.”

“What is the meaning of this?!” a voice screeched, and I saw Sakharine emerge from the wheelhouse. The moment Sakharine laid eyes on me, he stormed down the stairs with fury twisting his features. “Insolent, mutinous wench!”

Fury rose fast, like a volatile plume of magma.

He was the reason for my turmoil. For my pain. Without him, I wouldn’t have to constantly hear those damning words. Wouldn’t constantly find myself doubting the intentions of everyone around me.

Wouldn’t fear myself an annoying burden to people I wanted so desperately to be around.

He caused this.

This was all his fault!

This pain was due to him!

Even when Allan praised me, even if it was genuine, I’d never be able to truly believe him. I could pretend to, oh could I pretend, but there would always be that kernel of doubt. A small cut that threatened to fester and spread like a cancerous infection to every part of my mind.

All because of Sakharine!

As he came at me with his cane I took the chance to repay him for dooming me to doubt, and for all those pokes and prods he gave me and the others.

After all, well… it was just self defense.

Stepping in hard, I blocked his arm with both of mine then drove an elbow into his side. His pained shout mutated into a scream when I grabbed his wrist, yanked it forward, and swung my arm up into the underside of his.

A sickening yet satisfying crunch accompanied the action as his shoulder tore loose from his socket. But I wasn’t done. Before he fell, I struck hard to his wrist and felt dark satisfaction as it too cracked.

Whether or not I broke it I was unsure, but given his age and overall skinny build plus the anger surging through me and lending me strength, I was at least 80% sure.

I forced him away with a side thrust kick, sending him to the slippery deck where I stood over him.

Allan’s gun aimed right between his eyes.

Never aim somewhere you don't intend to shoot.

I don't.

I could see the sailors surrounding us, guns still drawn. But not a single man had them aimed at me, and I’d be a liar if I said the high from that didn’t feel so, so good.

“Call me a wench again, and you’ll learn the hard way how those famed lady pirates dealt with sexist pricks in their time,” I spat, legs braced firm against the rolling of the ship as I held my chin high in defiance. “Since you've got such a hard-on for the Golden Age of Piracy.”

Allan stood frozen behind me, hand still extended from where it was going to push me behind him to defend me from the elder man. He recovered his wits quickly, stepping forward and carefully pushing the gun away from Sakharine. When I let him, he stepped between us and pulled it from my grasp. I expected him to keep it, but yet again he just slipped it back into the holster at my hip.

“What are you doing?!” Sakharine snapped, voice shrill with pain as he cradled his wounded arm and wrist. “Shoot her!”

“And lose our meal ticket? Don’t think so,” Allan growled.

“You-“

“Said it yourself, boss,” the first mate said, the pleasant smile on his face not reaching his eyes. “Me and my crew are loyal to the prize. Shadow here knows the ending of this. Knows where to find the treasure.” Allan’s vanishing smile and his next words sent a chill down my spine, threat clear as day. “Be careful not to upset the status quo any further.“