#it's mostly hunter and dream. for what it's worth.

[lazuryte]

when your syntax swerves wildly out of control because the little blorbos in your brain cannot decide who gets the words steering wheel

[ghxstwrites]

Angel

Pairing: Idol! Seonghwa x Gn! Reader

Summary: You went to visit your dear boyfriend on tour only to figure out he had stepped a little out of his clothing comfort zone.

WC: 2k

AU: N/A

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warning(s): SMUT! MDNI Swearing, Nipple Play, Nicknames  (pretty boy, baby, Hwa, Angel, My star), Oral (m receiving), Sub! Seonghwa, Dom! Reader

A/N: Thank you to my proofreader, @bunnliix !

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Tag List: @bethelighthalazia @a---shura @potatomountain @kpop---scenarios (send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

Kinktober & Flufftober Masterlist

It had been weeks since Seonghwa had left for tour and even though you guys had talked at every opportunity, you missed him. You missed the warmth he brought to bed with him every night, the way he’d hold you close as you slept. Something you found yourself missing was the soft touches of his hands in places you felt like you needed them most.

“Angel, what's on your mind?” He hummed. You’d zoned out in the middle of a video call with him and he caught you staring.

“There isn’t a thought behind those pretty eyes is there?” he chuckled softly as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Sorry Hwa.. Just, I miss you..” you lull out as you try to avoid his gaze. 

“I miss you too, baby… Only a few more stops and I'm all yours” He smiles softly at you. 

You found yourself attempting to do the impossible, hide from Seonghwa. You had wanted to fly out to surprise him since he’d expressed missing you more than ever. You successfully landed in the states and with a little help from Hongjoong, you were able to score last minute seats, close enough to see him on the stage, but not enough for him to accidentally spot you in the crowd.

You’d stayed mostly out of the loop, on purpose, with tour fancams. You’d missed him too much and as much as you loved seeing him live his wildest dreams and were so incredibly happy to be by his side while he did it, you understood his stage persona. 

You’d stumbled upon a fancam one night while you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone. The fancam was of Seonghwa in a gorgeous purple suit, the jacket was open exposing a beautiful lace shirt and then you saw it - the harness. You sat straight up in bed and studied the outfit, the dance, the… everything, every move, the facial expressions. 

You’d seen Seonghwa without a shirt, you’d seen him dance and you’d seen his face in the most beautiful throes of pleasure, but seeing them combined? You felt almost faint, laying back against the bed you watched the fancam, over, and over, and over until you felt it being burned into your brain, each time you’d pressed your thighs a little harder together seeking some sort of relief or friction. 

You decided to not text Seonghwa, you both were getting adjusted to time zones, and you weren’t sure if he’d gone straight to bed, all that was on your mind was him and the lack of ability to be touched by him. 

You’d made your way to the floor, the concert was due to start any moment now and you fit right in with the Atinys singing their hearts out before the concert even started. The lights went down  and everyone let out their screams as the boys came out. They performed a wonderful show, holding off on the fancams were worth every second because every plot twist was even more shocking.

You took your eyes off the main stage for a moment as the crowd screamed, turning your attention to the center of the extended stage and you saw him. Seonghwa, drenched in sweat, in his infamous purple suit and you were locked in. Your eyes followed his every movement, the hip thrust upwards off the chair had you clenching around nothing, then you saw it. 

He walked around the chair like a hunter cornering his prey and his body glistened, where there was once a lace shirt, was now just that God Forsaken harness. The rest of the show, your eyes followed his every visible move and the way the clothing item hugged his upper torso.

You’d made your way backstage while the members headed to send off, as you made your way into Seonghwa’s dressing room, you sat on the couch awaiting your boyfriend. You stood up, a smirk plastered on your face as you heard the door handle rattle. The door opens revealing an exhausted Seonghwa as he steps into the room he looks up and spots you. 

“Angel…?” he speaks softly

“Surprise baby” you chuckle softly back at him, closing the distance between the two of you. 

As soon as you’re within arms length he reaches out and pulls you into a hug. “Angel, I've missed you so much” he whispers, hugging you tighter. You nestle your face into his neck, the ever faint smell of his cologne and musk lingering causing you to sigh warmly. He pulls back just enough to kiss you softly. 

His kiss grows desperate the longer he has you, his hands moving down to your backside, giving it a firm squeeze, earning a soft moan from you. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your arms snake around his neck  as he pulls you closer, getting lost in the taste of you. 

“Angel…” He breathes out, pulling back from the kiss. “I missed you so much.” He says as he looks in your eyes. 

You smirk softly as you stare back at him. “when were you going to tell me about your stage outfit baby?” you speak softly, pulling back to look at him. 

“Oh? Did you like it?.. the lace was getting bothersome.. decided to stop wearing it,” he chuckles. 

“We both know how sensitive you are Seonghwa.. unless something’s changed?” you lull out as you run your hands down his chest, pausing to lightly pinch his nipple between your thumb and forefinger, eliciting a gasp from him. 

‘Aww… are you still sensitive? I bet that leather rubbing against them made them sore, hm?” You tease as you smirk at your boyfriend as he stares back at you, his eyes starting to cloud with lust. 

“C'mon Hwa… use your words, want me to make it feel better? Or should I continue to tease you, like the slut you seem to enjoy being?” Something in him broke, the only response he could come up with was a pathetic whine, the noise traveling straight to your core. 

“On the couch baby… “ you speak softly as you point toward the leather couch. He spares no time in setting down and pulling you down to sit in his lap.  

“Easy baby,” you muse as you lean in, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Seonghwa's fingers dig into your hips as your lips work against his. Your hands tangle in his long locks, Seonghwa’s hips stuttering up to meet yours drawing a soft moan from you both. “Angel, don't do this..please,’ he begs as he looks up at you with his round boba eyes, cock already straining against his pants. 

“I'm not doing anything…,” you coo at him with a soft smirk, ”Or is that the problem?” he stares back at you with a small pout on his lips 

“T-that one.. need my angel,” he whimpers. 

“Hm.. like this baby?” You rock your hips against him and he leans his head back against the couch as he groans, each movement of your hips he matches.

You take the opportunity to latch yourself onto his neck, sucking on his skin leaving blooming spots of pink and purple as melodies of pleasure fell from his lips, your hands sneaking down to find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath as he writhed beneath you. “Can I take this off you, pretty boy?” you hummed against his skin causing goosebumps to prickle as you slid the shirt off him. He stared up at you with his round eyes, silently pleading. 

“Looks like I was right…” your thumb ghosts over Seonghwa’s nipple, causing him to wince, “Poor baby, must be fighting to keep it together on stage, yeah?” you pinch his nipple again causing a moan to fall from his lips. You climb off his lap, settling yourself between his legs as you meet his gaze. 

The look on Seonghwas face is pitiful, his plump lips in a pout and slightly red from him biting down on them and his eyebrows knitted together as he watches your every move. Wordlessly you lean in taking one of the pink buds in your mouth, rolling your tongue over it. Seonghwa hisses at your movements as he closes his eyes, drooping his head forward. “Angel.. W-what are you doing…” he pleads with you, each time your tongue flicks over the hardened bud it causes his dick to twitch. 

“Wanted to make you feel better,” you murmur as you place soft kisses across his chest, before taking the other nub in your mouth causing him to buck his hips up. Seonghwa reaches out, lacing his fingers through your hair causing you to look up at him through your lashes, his eyes searching yours. Just as he was about to speak, you bite at his nipple softly causing him to moan out. 

“Y/n.. please…If you keep doing that…” before he could finish you roll his other nipple between your fingers causing him to whine. 

“A-Angel… I’m so close…” He whimpers out as you pull back from him, sitting back on your knees as he cries out in protest.

“A-Angel why…” He cried out, “Please.. Please don’t… It hurts so bad.” He sobs out, tears welling in his eyes as he looks at you. The heat in your stomach only grew, this was a side of him you’d not quite seen before and the power it gave you felt like pure bliss. 

“What's the matter, baby?” you coo at him, slowly palming him through his pants, “Do you want me to help?” he frantically nods. 

“Please angel, I’ll do anything… J-just don’t leave me like this.” He pleads with you. 

You move to unbutton his pants, ever so slowly, freeing him and as the cold air hits his throbbing member he winces. The tip is bright red, already leaking. Your eyes clouded over in lust as you lean forward, licking a stripe up his dick finally taking the head in your mouth. 

You sat between his thighs, giving little kitten licks to the head while not moving, occasionally sucking on the sensitive tip as he cried out above you. 

Seonghwa had known about your oral fixation for a while now, he usually would let you suck on his fingers while he fucked you from behind in the dorm to keep you quiet, or you’d suck on his bottom lip when kisses would turn sloppy, but this? 

You broke him from his thought as you started to take more of him in your mouth, earning a hiss from him. You hold onto his thighs for support as you continue to bob up and down his length, setting a quick pace. 

“Fuck, that’s it angel,” He spits as his hands tangle in your hair “you always take me so well.” 

You pause at his tip again, paying attention to swirling your tongue around it, collecting more of the fluid seeping out before bobbing back down. 

You release his member with a soft pop, quickly replacing your mouth with your hand, looking up at him. “You’re doing so good for me, pretty boy… making such pretty noises for me,” you coo at him as you work your hand up and down his length. 

“Angel, so… so close please,” He cries out as he softly massages your scalp. “Don’t stop”

All you could do is smirk at him, lowering yourself back down on his length, speeding up your motions. Seonghwa threw his head back, letting out a guttural moan as his grip on your hair tightened.

“A-Angel, slow down, I-I’m not gonna -” 

His entire body shudders, white ribbons coat the inside of your mouth, flowing down your throat as his release hits him. His grip on your hair loosens as he comes down from his high, as you sit back and look up at him, showing off his release in your mouth, before shutting your mouth again and swallowing it as you maintain eye contact with him, before his head falls back against the couch again.

You stand back up, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his forehead causing him to look up at you with a soft smile. You reach out to cup his face, running your thumb over his cheek as you return his smile, as you move to curl up next to him on the couch. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you soak in the feeling of being next to your love once again.

“I missed you so much, Hwa.”

“I missed you too, Angel.”

[dawn-moths]

"I'm So Dreadful, But I Still Need You"

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 16,300+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3

(As Keigo closes in, you and Dabi dream of foreign lands, of places where you could be free to love each other in peace. But the hunter is relentless, vowing never to stop the chase until he’s claimed you from the wolf’s vile clutches, dead or alive. So the only question that remains is… who will emerge victorious in the end? The hunter or the prey?)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! title taken from “RUINED” by WesGhost, size difference, reader is called “baby, good girl”, yandere Keigo, character death, some smut in the middle but mostly plot, some descriptions of body horror towards the end, reader is choked (and not in a fun way).

*ao3 mirror*

***

Dabi sat at the tavern’s bar counter, a half drunk pint slowly warming in its stein as he abandoned the idea of finishing his drink and instead became mesmerized by you— watching, guarding, protecting you from afar while you basked in the reverie of your fourth face-paced dance of the night.

You kept up with the quick yet precise patterns of the intricate footwork, your skirts bunched in your fists and slightly lifted to allow you more room to jig alongside the crowd of boisterous patrons, some stray men lining the walls shouting hoots and hollers towards the circle of dancers as the fiddle player picked up the tempo, other onlookers clapping in time with the beat to encourage all of those inhabiting the dancefloor to continue until the end of the song. When the final note rang out, the human circle in which you’d found yourself ensnared ceased its motion, everyone turning to face the outside of the ring and clapping with their hands over their heads.

When you turned, you were facing Dabi, seeing him staring at you from the barstool a few feet away. His patches of pale, scarred skin were bathed in a low amber glow from the lanterns hanging overhead, that entrancing cobalt gaze shimmering with mirth. There were no pointed ears perched upon his inky black spikes nor was there a mischievous ebony tail swishing at his heels. Tonight was the new moon, one of the handful of nights clustered together in the month where the notorious wolfman was free to see what life could’ve been like if only he’d been granted a different fate.

And he was smiling. Really, truly smiling. It took your breath away, the way he was looking at you now, like you were the only thing in his entire world worth protecting, like he loved you. 

And maybe he did.

It was just too bad he’d never be able to make himself admit it, that he’d never be able to trust in that kind of careless hope.

As you migrated closer to where he was perched, you were smiling too, big and bright and blinding him with your joy. Your forehead was shining with a thin sheen of sweat and your breathing was a little labored, as expected from how many dances you’d participated in tonight, but you didn’t care how hot or tired you became.

You knew you had to enjoy it while it lasted.

Back in your devout little town, there was only one tavern, mainly where the hunters gathered to relax on their way out into the woods or having just arrived back, a bundle of dead rabbits or ducks, or, one time, an entire deer dragged into the tiny brick building and heaped in a pile of bloody fur and mangled flesh on the floor at the foot of the counter.

Needless to say, whatever your village had to offer, it was nowhere near the freedom and frivolity this place provided, all the laughter and the lighthearted joking and pleasant conversation between men and women alike filling the room with its joyous melody.

Plus, even though the people back home also liked to talk, it was usually of scandals and gossip and suspicious speculation, so if you were ever spotted so much as peering in through one of the latticed windows to see what all the commotion was about, it was likely word would spread, rumors would start, and you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to pass the place at night again.

“You should come do the next one with me,” you suggested to Dabi, hoping to entice him as you took his hand, his own instinctually outstretched towards you once you were within the range of his reach, still staring at you with that love-drunk grin. You even swore you could see a warm blush to his cheeks, only, you knew he wasn’t actually drunk. He’d been too intent on making sure he could stay sharp in order to protect you if anything went sideways. And, while you’d tried to assure him one night couldn’t hurt, promised you’d stay out of trouble, Dabi just wouldn’t hear of it.

“Anything could happen when we’re least expecting it,” he’d reminded you, the worry of the prey sounding odd when coming from the mouth of the predator. “And if he shows up, we gotta be ready.”

But that had been a week ago and you and Dabi had already crossed through three towns, having hidden on the outskirts of the first one, been bold enough to break into an abandoned farm house to escape the cold in the second, and then, by the time you’d reached the third— the one you were currently in— Dabi had shed all of his more obvious wolfish traits. And, though you’d had to beg him to let you explore, to actually enjoy some of what this place had to offer, he’d eventually given in.

“Tonight’s our last night…” he’d told you, hating the way disappointment filled your eyes, all the optimism in your gaze slowly dying out like embers in a hearth. He’d put his hand on your head, given it a gentle pat as you’d started sulking. Then he’d said, a new lightness to his usually dark and heavy tone, “So you better make the most of it.”

You’d looked up at him then like you didn’t actually believe him, yet still somehow hoped it were true. “Really?!” You’d exclaimed, glittering excitement refilling your gaze. “We can really go out? Oh, Dabi!” You’d flung your arms around his waist, buried your face into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and campfire smoke that always seemed to cling to him. “Thank you…” you’d murmured, words muffled by his shirt. “Thank you, Dabi…”

And so you two had tried a taste of what other young people did for fun when they weren’t burdened with a curse or kept cooped up inside a house on the hill. You ate delicious, foreign foods. You laughed with boisterous strangers. You danced until the music stole the breath from your lungs. You allowed yourself to live. Because, the truth was, neither of you really knew how much time you had left. Not with Keigo hot on your trail, knowing full well he’d hunt you to the ends of the earth or die trying.

But there was nowhere Keigo wouldn’t go, no path he wouldn’t follow, no choice he wouldn’t make, if you were somehow found at the end of it.

And so die trying it seemed to be…

***

TWO WEEKS AGO

Dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in an aurora of colors, a collision of amber and silver that gave way to the pale blue and gold of early morning. Among the newborn buds preparing to unfurl from the spindly twigs on the early-spring trees, Keigo sat beside the final dregs of serenity and watched the fledgling finches hopping among the natural debris gathered beneath where their nest lay.

They would be soon to leave their mother’s protection, venturing off into the cold, cruel labyrinth of the surrounding woods. Perhaps some would survive into adulthood. Others would fall into the sharp-taloned clutches of the falcons or the hawks. Only the strong would survive and only the lucky would evade a gruesome end.

The hunter stood from his perch among the open campsite he’d constructed, the small fire he’d made to keep warm for the short night stomped out before morning’s first light. He couldn’t have his mark catching sight of the smoke. Not when he was so close to his main territory. If he scared the wolf away now, he might risk losing you along with him.

Enough stalling, Keigo told himself as he tested the tension of his bow string, two calloused fingers curling around thin sinewy rope and envisioning an invisible arrow finding a new home between two flashes of sapphire. A wolf might not’ve been as fragile or easy to kill as a finch, but, Keigo felt confident, the hawk would still prevail.

Keigo began his stealthy approach towards the cabin, every step more careful than the last. He was intent to locate the wolfman, hopefully through one of the cracked windows, knock an arrow, and finish the job in one precise shot. But then something made him stop short, his next breath catching and sure footing staggering as he felt a rush of ice surge through his veins.

Because there you were, sitting at the villain’s table, unbound and of your own free will it seemed, given the carefree grin spread across your face as you shared breakfast with the beast.

Keigo could’ve been standing between those mammoth pines for six seconds, or six hours. In truth, he didn’t know. Because in that moment time seemed to flow in reverse, everything that had led him here— led you here— flashing through his mind in bright bursts of violent color.

For a while, caught in his stupor, Keigo merely observed, his hands going numb as they clutched his weapons, watching in equal horror and intrigue as the wolf sat across from you at the table, a snarky grin tugging at one corner of his lips before breaking out into a laugh, looking for a moment— dare Keigo even consider it— authentically human. 

You know, so long as you didn’t spend too much time focusing on the ears and the tail.

You were barely clothed, and while Keigo perhaps would’ve been inclined to blush under less dire situations, the emotion that replaced his bashfulness was betrayal and rage.

The loose shirt hanging comfortably from your form no doubt belonged to the monster with which you’d chosen to share a bed with.

But Keigo, despite having all the evidence he needed to convict you of witchcraft or whatever other crime that having such relations with a monster and a murderer would behold, still couldn’t quite bring himself to blame you.

Because you’d been seduced, hadn’t you? You’d been lured into sin, naive little Eve who’d been tempted by the sinister snake.

He could still save you.

All he had to do was not miss.

With trembling hands and shallow breath, Keigo drew back his first shot and aimed for the back of the wolfman’s head. He let out a shuddering exhale, hesitating a mere flicker of a moment, then let the arrow go.

The arrow struck home in the back of Dabi’s chair, the resounding twang of the shot causing his wolf’s ears to perk up at the same moment you sucked in a sharp, startled gasp. Neither of you had seen the arrow fly through the open window and bury itself in the chipped wood so much as you heard it, felt it, the evidence you were under attack only revealed once Dabi turned in his chair to peer around the back of it.

His eyes followed the weapon’s path out through the dew-speckled glass and between the barricade of trees until it found the hunter. Keigo knocked a second arrow, this time looking much more focused and determined than he had before, and prepared to fire again.

Dabi’s eyes widened with dread as he stood abruptly from his chair, backing towards you as he ordered, voice low and dark with severity, “Run.”

You didn’t think. Only acted. Every survival instinct you didn’t know you had flaring to life inside you as you sprinted towards the back door after Dabi, who made sure he had secured your hand before you departed the threshold of the cabin’s false sense of safety. It was only when you were halfway down the porch steps that you realized your clothes, or rather, lack thereof, and attempted to go back, but Dabi’s grip on you was firm. He made it apparent by his strength in pulling you along alone that there was no time for that now, lest you wish to leave the property wearing an arrow through your heart.

By the time you reached the forest’s edge, two more arrows were on your heels, and as you cast a terrified glance over your shoulder, the sight of Keigo growing smaller in your vision, watching with defeat and forlorn as the wolfman whisked you deeper into the lush evergreen, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt.

Because what would your family think once he returned to tell them the news— to tell them that their sweet baby girl was caught so shamelessly uncouth with the very wolfman himself, the successor of your baby brother’s killer?

The hunter called your name, and the way it broke with a type of vengeful promise at the end of his shriek made you want to pull away from this path you’d chosen, something about hearing that level of pain in someone’s voice cracking something inside of you, even if a part of you still knew it was selfishly motivated.

“C’mon!” Dabi urged, continuing to pull you harshly after him, the two of you soon disappearing within the piney labyrinth and leaving the distraught, vindictive hunter before the empty wolf’s den. You realized that the two of you would never be able to return there again, Dabi’s cabin full of little keepsakes, trinkets, and mementos doomed to collect dust, rot, and collapse over time if it wasn’t burned to the ground all together. 

But Dabi didn’t care about the cabin right now. If the hunter so chose to strike a match, then let the cabin catch flame and disintegrate into bitter ash.

All he cared about— all he’d ever care about from that moment on— was protecting you.

***

The winds began to pick up as night fell, the dusk-tinted horizon fissured with the last wisps of pale peach as you and Dabi slunk through the last neighbourhood on the outskirts of the village’s perimeter, the sparse little homes dotting the sloping valley hosting glowing ghosts flickering in the windows, the candles placed on the sills likely to burn for only another hour or so before the residents turned in for the night.

You shivered beneath Dabi’s arm, the precursory chill warning of a long, cold night ahead, one that you and your meager means of clothing would suffer to endure.

“Just a little longer,” Dabi murmured, sympathetic, pulling you in closer to share some more of his abundant body heat. “We just have to wait till they kill the lights. Then I’ll sneak up and steal you something from the clothesline.”

In the dim dark, the breeze made the bedsheets and tunics flutter like lingering spirits. The laundry left out to dry was mostly men’s clothing, though there was one modest brown dress among the damp garments, and though it looked a few sizes too big, you supposed you’d have to find a way to make it work.

You just wished you had some of your sewing supplies with you, even just a simple needle and thread. With that, at least, you might’ve been able to tailor it to better suit your figure. Perhaps you’d be able to procure some along the way, or find another innocent clothesline to skim from, but for now, you just had to find a way to enter into the next town without being too conspicuous.

When the time came, Dabi told you to wait under the veil of shadow that had served as your cover while he skulked closer to the house. You watched him cautiously, stealthily making his way to the clotheslines, trying not to imagine a scenario where the cocking of a shotgun echoed out across the clearing before the heart-stuttering blast of two shots rang out as they tore through the thieving villain and left him twitching and gasping, his blood turning the crisp grass beneath his body black with death.

But Dabi was a professional when it came to swiping things that weren’t his. He’d survived the last decade on such methods. This was nothing new. So, in what felt all at once like too much time and the blink of an eye, Dabi returned with a bundle of brown fabric bunched in his wiry arms.

“It’s still a little wet…” he informed you as he handed it over, allowing you to unfurl the garment and hold it lightly against your form to gauge how much excess fabric you’d have to swim around in.

“That’s ok…” you sighed, draping the dress over your arm. “It’ll be dry by morning if I find a place to hang it…” You then considered him, studied those two pools of sapphire that always seemed to glow through the dark. You wanted to ask him now what? What would happen to the two of you from here?

Seeming to read the uncertainty in your gaze, Dabi let out his own sigh through his nose, pressed his lips into a firm line, then said, “I know…” He placed a soft, apologetic kiss to the top of your head, once again gently tugging you into his side. “I know, but we’ll figure it out…”

When you wrapped your arms around him, allowing Dabi to feel your weight sagging with exhaustion, he returned the gesture, more than willing and capable to carry you the rest of the way if you needed him to.

For a while now, he’d realized— at first to his own horror— that he felt more than just lust for you. He wasn’t sure if he could yet call it love. Love was still more terrifying than anything. But he knew he felt an innate sense to protect you, to cherish you and care for you and make sure you had what you needed to be satisfied.

Whether that lied with or without him, he still was on the fence about, but he was willing to fight like hell to prove to you that he was at least willing to try.

“Let’s find a place to camp for the night,” Dabi suggested, and your sleepy nod against his chest was more than enough confirmation of just how badly you needed to rest after such a long, arduous day. You worried about Keigo tracking you while you slept, but Dabi said he knew a place that not even the hunter would be able to find you. 

“It’s not exactly close…” he disclosed with an apology fringing his tone. “But if we can make it that far, we should be ok for a couple days at least.” He spoke of an old boat house on the edge of the shore, a place where he and his maker used to retreat to back when things in the village started to get a little dicey. He promised to make a plan, assured you you didn’t need to worry, but the moment you stopped moving and you closed your eyes, the rest of his words and your encroaching worries were lost to you.

***

NOW

The time of tavern dances and reckless reveries was bound to come to an end sooner or later, but when just two days after your carefree night of fun and joy Dabi’s signature ears and tail began to show the first signs of his dreadful moonlit monstrosity, it was time to kiss the cheerful twang of the bard’s fiddle and the buzzing warmth of overpoured drinks goodbye.

Going into hiding wasn’t anything new to the wolfman, but for you, it was quickly becoming unbearable. You wanted a bath and some clean clothes. You wanted a warm bed and a hot meal. You weren’t built for the scarcity and savagery of what a life confined to the edges of the wilderness beheld and, pretty soon, even Dabi was beginning to become concerned for how you were faring.

But you’d found an abandoned barn a few miles off from the nearest civilization, which, needless to say, was a much better, safer place to sleep than the open expanse of the woodlands. Discovering the shelter had helped raise your spirits, even if only a little, but there was one thing neither of you could deny much longer, and that was the fact that you needed something to eat.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you promised him after he’d finally given in and agreed to let you take a quick trip into the nearest town. You were planning on, hopefully, swiping some fresh fruit or bread from the edge of a merchant’s kiosk while his back was turned and, while you had no doubt Dabi would’ve been able to pull that kind of brazen mission off without a hitch, he was currently indisposed.

“Don’t worry,” you further attempted to comfort him. “If I see Keigo I’ll turn right back around.”

But, while you wouldn’t admit to it out loud, you both knew that if the hunter really wanted to find you, he would. Dabi wasn’t worried about you seeing him. He was worried about him seeing you first.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” he asked for about the tenth time. “I can just keep an eye on the perimeter, maybe see if I can sniff him out—”

“Dabi,” you cut in, sounding half firm, half contrite. “It’ll be fine, really. I promise I’ll be ok.” He wanted to remind you that you couldn’t promise that. Not really. But you were placing a peck on his cheek and telling him to get some rest while you were gone before he could.

He’d been so close to saying it as he watched you leave the barn’s lopsided embrace, so close to telling you he loved you, but he hadn’t.

Instead, he settled for watching you walk into the distance until your figure became an indistinguishable shadow amidst the trees, wishing he weren’t such a coward.

***

This town was much more intricate and lively than your own. From the outside it had been hard to tell just how hustling and bustling the inside became at the height of the day, the high stone walls that surrounded the place blocking most of your view even from the top of the cliff that served as the outlook at the forest’s edge.

Street vendors called out with booming voices at passersby with promises of fairly priced goods and wares, messenger boys ran to and fro with bundles of parchment clutched in their hands or overflowing from their satchels, busking musicians played and sang in the town square, and there were even ladies of the night already draped over the banisters and leaning in doorways of the many brothels that spotted this foreign civilization.

You had to remind yourself that you were here for a specific purpose and couldn’t afford to find yourself distracted by all the curiosities that shimmered from around every corner and turn. You hoped that if you just pretended to belong here that no one would mark you as an outsider. As a lone woman especially, that could prove particularly disastrous if you happened to find yourself in the wrong part of town. However, just when you were starting to think you’d have to approach another young woman in order to ask for some directions, you stumbled upon the market street.

The cobbled paths stretched on for what seemed like forever, the ever shifting crowd moving along like bees in a hive all with a different intention to their stride. First, before you made a move, you tried to survey your options. A little bit of fruit and bread wouldn’t get you far, not to mention you knew Dabi needed to eat too, but you didn’t see how snagging any more than that from the edge of a distracted vendor’s stand was going to allow you to sneak away unnoticed.

And if you did get caught, you had no idea how severe the consequences might be. It could be as simple as making you return it and exiling you from the vicinity of the city walls or as harsh as tossing you in a prison cell or, what you feared most, the loss of one of your hands, as you’d heard rumors of being the punishment for theft in some far off civilizations that some of the hunters frequented during the herding seasons.

You kept circling, slowly but surely studying each of the merchants until you found one that looked like your best chance. He was an old man, appearing like he was just a few more nods away from falling asleep based on how he sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, eyes struggling to stay open as he kept jolting back awake. His stand was mostly empty so you knew that, if you approached now, his eyes would be on only you.

So you waited for someone else to take interest in his goods.

You were just about to lose hope and move onto your next best bet when finally a mother and her three young, rowdy children stepped up to his stand. The two boys kept trying to chase and hit each other with sticks they were pretending were swords, much to the embarrassment and exhaustion of their mother, while the girl, who appeared to be the youngest, clung tightly to her mother’s skirts until her brothers inevitably began to pull her into their teasing little games too.

The old man forced himself to stay conscious as the woman looked over his fruit— most of which was bruised or close to going bad— and chose some to put into her basket after haggling the price down a little. While she was contemplating, you swept in to complete your mission.

Your heart was beating so fast and so hard you swore anyone standing close enough to you would be able to hear it, but as the smaller of the two brothers began to wail and cry, the mother and the merchant’s head turning towards the sudden noise, you quickly grabbed an apple in each hand, shoved them deep into your oversized dress’s pockets, turned on your heel, and hurried away.

To get as far away from the market street as quickly as possible just in case someone had seen you, you cut down one of the crooked, narrow alleys, hands still shoved into your pockets as if the apples would simply disappear if you let them leave your grasp. By the time the end of the alley was in sight, you felt your heart rate slow just a little. It looked like this path led back to the square, and when the musician’s guitar registered to your ears, you let out a breath of relief.

Just a couple more yards and then you’d practically be homefree.

Just a couple more yards and then—

You gasped as a hand, calloused and firm, grabbed your wrist and wrenched you back. Instantly, instinctively, you tried to pull away, but when you turned to see who’d caught you, you froze, your next breath hitching, eyes widening and limbs beginning to numb with adrenaline and dread.

“Kei—” You began to blurt, but the hunter clapped a hand over your mouth and pushed you back against the wall of the alley, being a little rougher with you than you’d expected. 

“Don’t speak,” he ordered, though his voice was low and somewhat gentle given his gestures. “Just shake your head yes or no…” He paused, clenched his jaw, swiveling his gaze from one end of the alley to the other before asking, “Is he here with you?”

With tears welling in your eyes, you shook your head no. You were too startled and scared to even consider telling a lie.

“Good…” Keigo sighed, easing up a little bit and removing his hand from your face, though still kept your body caged between his and the wall, watching you carefully for any sign that you’d bolt. “I need you to listen to me,” he began, still keeping his voice low, more of that dire urgency seeping back into his tone. “Whatever this is, whatever’s happening between you two, I need you to stop. I need you to come back home with me—”

“Keigo—”

“No,” he growled, frustration swelling before gradually deflating as he recognized the fear in your eyes and that fact that he was currently the cause of it. He took a pause, collected himself, then continued, “No, listen—” He said your name and again something in his voice broke with desperation upon it. “Do you have any idea how distraught your parents are?” he said. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified they are that their only daughter has gone missing?” When you didn’t answer in the space of silence he provided, he made you jump when he snapped, “Do you?”

You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, pairs of them racing down your cheeks and dripping from where they met beneath your chin. Only stuttered, incoherent ramblings could escape your trembling lips.

You could imagine it, how heartbroken your family must be, how each night that passed where you hadn’t returned home was likely a sleepless, torturous one for them. It hurt you to know you were hurting them. But just going back wasn’t so easy now.

You didn’t know if you were ready to accept that you might never be able to go back at all.

You weren’t sure what to say, but it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, because after another frustrated huff, Keigo was pushing off from the wall and allowing you room to escape as he scowled at the ground and muttered, “Just tell me what he gives you that I can’t…”

And you didn’t feel sadness or fear anymore.

You felt anger.

You felt rage.

“You’re— That’s what this is about?” your voice was quiet, but the fury felt through your words didn’t go unnoticed. Keigo flicked his severe gaze to meet yours, his chin still tilted slightly towards the ground. “You’re chasing us down because you’re jealous—?”

“Of course that’s what—” He scoffed, incredulous. “Do you know what would happen if anyone ever found out the truth about all of this? You’d be tried and hanged for witchcraft. The church would drag you to that pyre, tie you down, and everyone that you’d ever known or loved would watch you burn!” He let out another growl of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as he huffed out a short-tempered breath. “Y’know what, no. What this is about is that you’ve been lying to my face for months. You’ve been lying to everyone around you for months. Probably even longer than that!” His expression changed from hurt to one of betrayal, one of disgust. “And all for what? To protect him? To protect some monster?”

“He’s not a monster!” you cut in. “You don’t know anything about him. Or us. You—”

“Then explain it to me!” shouted Keigo, immediately catching his outburst and lowering his voice again so as not to attract any suspicious or nosy townsfolk who might want to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Explain to me why you’re willing to risk everything— to risk your entire life— all for some— some—” He couldn’t find another word that wasn’t akin to monster in some way, so instead he opted to let you fill in the blanks yourself as he gave a defeated shrug.

You exhaled a quick, curt breath through your nose, then began “It’s not…” you paused, searching for the right words. “It just happened that way. I don’t know… I can’t explain it. I never intended to get so… involved. I— He’s changed, Keigo,” you insisted, looking up into his eyes wearing a pleading sincerity. “He’s not the kind of evil, malicious person you or anyone else in town makes him out to be. He can be… kind and gentle and…” You thought of all the times he’d been so tender with you, all the times he’d treated you like you were the only person or thing in this entire world he dared to hold dear. It hadn’t started that way, of course. It had been terrifying. Exhilarating. It had been something you hadn’t known you’d wanted until it was happening.

And then you couldn’t forget him.

You couldn’t stay away.

You saw him in every flash of blue that crossed your vision. You saw him in your dreams. When you gazed out the window of your little cottage home into the vast woods that lay beyond, you could swear you saw his figure shifting from between the trees.

He’d plagued your imagination until you swore you were going mad.

And then he’d returned.

He’d changed.

And maybe you were still far too naive to think you could truly trust him, but you couldn’t help but try.

“Please, Keigo,” you began again, voice trembling at the edges. “Please just… don’t kill him. If you promise to spare him, I’ll…” You knew that, once you spoke the words, you’d never be able to take it back. But, if it meant sparing Dabi, you thought you might be able to live with that. “If you let him go, I’ll marry you…” You hung your head in defeat, as if you’d just offered yourself up for a beheading rather than a betrothal. Then, snapping your gaze back up to meet his, a new fire blazing within your stare, you added, “But you have to swear to me that you won’t try anything. That you’ll be good on your end of the deal.”

“Does that mean,” he asked, a twinge of innocent hope to his voice, “you’ll come back with me?”

Nervously, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You didn’t see how this could end well. Because if you chose to return with Keigo, Dabi was sure to become the hunter in pursuit of you. But if you rejected Keigo and returned to Dabi, the hunter wouldn’t stop until his prey was dead. You just wished Keigo would turn a blind eye, return to town with some story about how he’d tried but he’d lost the trail.

But that would never happen.

Not when both the hunter and the wolf were vying for your hand. One would inevitably result in a marriage you didn’t want, even if that meant you’d have a comfortable life as the prized hunter’s wife, while the other damned you to a life of running and hiding, running and hiding, your existence dictated by the cycles of the moon.

“Just let me see him one last time,” you said, feeling your window of opportunity closing in. “Just let me say goodbye…”

Keigo said your name again, and the way it came out as a condescendingly sympathetic coo made you feel that wave of dread wash over you all over again. So when he said, “You know I can’t let you do that…” you weren’t surprised in the least.

Both of you were still as stone in that alley. For a moment, it seemed like only the whistle of the wind and the distant tolling of the church bell could be heard between you.

Then, everything snapped back into razor sharp focus as Keigo darted forward with both hands outstretched to grab you.

He was going to force you to come back to town and marry him whether you wanted to or not.

But you threw yourself out of the way just in time, the side of your arm scraping against the rough brick wall before you were sprinting out of the alley like a rabbit giving chase.

Keigo was close on your heels, but not for long. You weaved your way in and out of the dense crowds, only a few people casting odd looks your way before continuing on with their business, and slipped down another short alley to discover a different way to exit the confines of the city walls.

You didn’t stop running until you’d reached the woods and beyond, your lungs burning and legs aching as you pushed yourself forward yet another wild, anxious step, constantly glancing behind you and expecting to see Keigo closing in.

Perhaps the hunter was skillfully stalking you, trying to use you as bait to lure him to his real target. But by the time you reached the valley that led to the farmhouse and saw not another soul in sight, you figured that you were probably safe for now.

“Hey—” Dabi began as you rushed back into the barn, but the moment he saw the look on your face and noticed how out of breath you were, he was coming over to your side and placing his hands on your shoulders, feeling just how badly you were shaking. “What happened?”

“I— He—” you stammered, tears beginning to sting in your eyes again as you relived the scenario you’d just barely managed to escape. Anything that came out of your mouth after that was incoherent, frazzled nonsense as your sobbing took over. You hadn’t even realized Dabi had taken you into his arms until your terror had subsided enough for some of the buzzing numbness in your limbs to fade and your breathing went from hyperventilation to stuttered hiccups.

He’d been trying to ask you what happened in between attempting to comfort you, but when nothing seemed to get through he’d resorted to stroking your hair and your back, rocking you gently as you clung to him until you’d seemed to return to yourself. Only then could you attempt to verbalize the horrible realization that, had things gone just a little differently, had you not run fast enough, you might’ve never seen Dabi again.

“Ok,” Dabi said, his voice low and quiet, but resolute. “We can’t stay here for long then. We’ll sleep here tonight…” He ran his fingers over your hair again, smoothing down some of its disheveledness but ultimately not doing much to erase the evidence of the frantic rate at which you’d fled town and went rushing through the woods. “But in the morning we’ve gotta keep moving.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t have anything to say. You could only sag under the weight of the day’s trauma— and all the trauma you’d experienced since fleeing the cabin— and hope that you could trust Dabi to know what was right.

But time was running out.

As much as he was trying to keep the chaos as bay, Dabi knew it was only a matter of time until the hunter caught up with you and the three of your fates were set in stone.

Because whether it was Dabi or Keigo who was left at the end of all of this, your entire world would be forever changed.

***

In truth, he’d let you get away.

Keigo had forced himself to slow his pace and watch as you were folded into the crowd and swallowed behind the teeth of yet another jagged brick alley. He’d stood in the middle of the square, itching to reach for one of his arrows. To knock it. To aim. To take the shot.

To end your suffering before things got so much worse.

Because if he couldn’t have you, why should he let anyone else?

Why should he let a monster lay his claim to you?

You were meant to be his.

He’d seen you first.

He knew, if only he’d had a little more time before you’d encountered the wolfman, that you would’ve been his.

No, if he couldn’t have you, then no one could.

And if he had to be the one to end you, at least he’d know he could make it quick.

He could make it painless.

A beautiful death befitting of a beautiful girl.

And when he took your body, so small and still in his arms, back to your family— When he told them how the ruthless, brutal wolfman had sank his savage teeth into your supple flesh, had stolen your purity, had stolen your life, and by the time Keigo had arrived it had been too late…

He’d still end up as the hero at the end of the day.

He’d become even more revered in your small, pious little town despite not being able to save the life of the pretty girl who lived on the hill.

So, yes, while Keigo had let you go, while he’d lost your trail, he knew that you couldn’t have gone far. He’d find you. There was no doubt about that. But first, he had to prepare something special for when he met you next.

So he walked into the nearest hunting shop and picked out a knife.

***

The hayloft was more comfortable than you’d originally given it credit for on sight. Sure, it still wasn’t a soft, warm bed, but after consecutive nights of sleeping out in the cold, raw wilderness since you and Dabi found yourselves on the run, it was the closest thing you were going to get to some sense of comfort and home.

“Found some blankets in the shed,” Dabi announced after returning from scouring the place for any resources the two of you could use. “They’re a little tattered but should at least keep us warm through the night.”

Suddenly, for what might’ve been the first time in two weeks, you found yourself smiling and, not only that, but giggling as well.

“Dabi…” you began, an edge of sympathy to your otherwise amused tone. “Those are saddle blankets.” When he simply continued to stare at you as if waiting for you to elaborate on why that was an issue, you pushed up from your seat and said, “It’s fine. Either way, that’ll work.” You neglected to mention the fact that you two were lucky to be finding yourselves in such a predicament during the late spring and not the dead of winter, in which case those thin, handmade blankets probably wouldn’t have done much good, but overall just found his lack of knowledge on the subject endearing.

“I’ll keep watch,” Dabi stated once he’d made sure to get you all tucked in and as cozy as currently possible. “Don’t worry about the hunter. If I so much as catch his scent—”

“Dabi…” you began again, much sleepier this time. “Why don’t you just take a moment to relax. If he was on our heels, you’d sense him, wouldn’t you?” It felt like an eternity since the two of you had been able to just relax, to trust in a false sense of security like the cabin had once provided.

“I know, but—”

“Just lay with me,” you cut in, your voice laced with the softness of oncoming sleep. “Just for a couple minutes…”

Glancing over his shoulder at the wide barn doors, ears twitching, tail swishing slightly across the dusty floor, debating whether to indulge you— indulge himself— or do the more responsible thing for once, Dabi ultimately decided that a couple minutes couldn’t hurt.

Even if those couple minutes turned into an hour.

“Hey…” he murmured eventually, rousing you from where you’d very nearly drifted off into dreamland. Your eyes fluttered back open, blinking a few times until he came into focus through the dark. “So… What’s his deal anyway? Why is he so…”

His words trailed off, but you knew what he meant.

“What?” you asked, nuzzling in a little closer to him, trying to bask in as much of his warmth as proximity would allow. “You mean why is Keigo so obsessed with me?”

Dabi didn’t want to phrase it like that but, he admitted, yes, that’s exactly what he meant.

You explained that you’d known Keigo since childhood, or rather, your family had known his— the hunters who’d brought him in after finding him as a baby abandoned in the woods raising him as their own, teaching him to track, to lure, to kill. You said that you’d first met him at the church, that you’d noticed him a few rows ahead of you peering over his shoulder throughout the entire service, his golden eyes always finding yours as if he had something he desperately wanted to tell you, beseeching you with his stare.

“At first,” you recalled, “it sort of freaked me out. Every Sunday he’d be there, a few rows ahead, just glancing at me throughout the entire mass…” Keigo was five years older than you, and back then, it had seemed like much more. As a little girl, you remembered tugging on your mother’s skirts or your father’s shirt sleeve whenever his stare became too oppressive, afraid that the boy had the devil in him and was plotting something against you like the pastors were always telling cautionary tales of during their sermons.

But then, after about half a year of silent, mysterious stares, your parents had introduced you to the renowned Takami family and their prodigy of a son. It was then that you got a taste of Keigo’s more charming side, the easy smiles and polite manners, though something mischievous had always lurked beneath the surface of his laugh.

From then on, your families attended church together, standing in the same pew, breaking bread after service and helping each other out during the harsher seasons, trading your mother’s handmade coats and quilts and father’s extra firewood for the Takami’s rabbit and deer meat.

Keigo had always been enamored with you, had always tried to say and do all the right things.

But deep down, you knew, just like you’d caught a glimpse of during those six months burdened by the amber of his predator’s gaze, that there was something subtly, inexplicably, inherently wrong with him.

“And then he got the idea that he was going to marry me,” you sighed, as if the mere notion was exhausting. “And no matter how many times I tried to avoid him, no matter how many times I tried to brush him off, he just wouldn’t give up…”

Dabi blew out a low whistle, the note laced with sarcasm. Then, jokingly, he said, “So… what? Were you the only girl in your entire village, or…?”

You hummed out a short chuckle, gave Dabi a light nudge, and said, “Sure seems that way…” But then your mood darkened yet again, causing you to add, “But, I dunno… I have a feeling all of this has more to do with you than it does with me…”

The admittance had sort of just slipped out, the thought having been on your mind since your run in with the hunter this past afternoon, your intuition unable to shake the feeling of unease that came along with it.

But before you could ruminate on that unsettling idea for much longer, Dabi pulled you in closer and muttered, “Yeah, well, if he wants to marry me, the guy’s got another thing comin’.”

Now you laughed for real, body shaking with mirth, and you thought of all the ways that Keigo could never, would never, be any match for Dabi when it came to your affections. Because who else could make you laugh like this during such dark, dire times?

If it was a monster’s love that had sunk its teeth into you, then so be it.

You would accept it with open arms, even if that made others view you as a monster just the same.

As your amusement simmered down and your body once again prepared to become heavy with sleep, Dabi remained alert and awake. He knew he should force himself from your tangled embrace and assume his post for watch. And he would.

He just had something he needed to do first.

You were stirred awake yet again as his hands slowly began to wander, the shape of his palm and the press of his fingertips a familiar, welcome thing. And, while you wanted to get some much needed rest, you also wanted whatever he had in store for you as well.

Because how long had it been now since you’d had enough time to partake in these kinds of pleasures?

You were pretty sure you’d lost count.

But, this time, Dabi decided, he was going to be soft with you. If this was the last time he might ever get to have you like this, the last time he’d ever get to have anyone like this, if Keigo succeeded in finally killing the infamous wolfman like he so desperately aspired to, then he wanted you to remember him as gentle, as more than the monster that the myths portrayed him to be.

With the two of your bodies pressed close, limbs loosely entangled as you shifted slightly, as if gently turning in sleep, he nudged his nose against yours, those blazing blues at half-mast as he drank in the sight of you so vulnerable and tender beside him. When your eyes fluttered back open, slowly blinking him back into focus, you leaned forward, lazily chasing after his lips for a kiss. Normally, he would’ve denied you. Would’ve teased you until you were practically begging for any and everything he would give you. But now, tonight, Dabi was content to oblige you.

Like a dying man’s last meal, he was going to savor every kiss, every touch, every inch of your skin until there was nothing left to give. Nothing left to take.

He was going to draw it out.

He was going to make it last so, when the hunter finally came for him, he’d have no regrets if the worst befell him.

Your lips first met with a soft, chaste touch, the ghost of affection reaching out between each other in a silent plea for more. You felt his fingers flex where they gripped your waist, tugging you just that much closer to him, wanting to have you so close he could feel your heartbeat against his skin, so close that your pulse and his own became indistinguishable.

When his tongue gave a gentle suggestion for you to part your lips for him, you obeyed, melting further into the kiss as you hummed out a sated sigh, a breathy moan working its way up your throat. As you relearned the shape of each other’s mouths, rememorized the taste, Dabi’s hands began to wander some more, mapping out the familiar curves of your body as he so liked to do, his fingertips rough but the touch itself gentle, delicate.

You sucked in a small gasp when he groped at your ass, feeling his lips split into a smirk as one of those sultry chuckles escaped him. He couldn’t help but find your reactions to such things amusing yet adorable. It was like you were his helpless little virgin all over again. It made him hard just thinking about it, that first night he’d had you.

He began to strip you of your clothes, the bundle of oversized brown fabric gathered around your waist while he pressed a kiss to your hip, your tummy, then pushed up higher to expose the soft curve of your breasts to him, nipples pebbling as the cool night air brushed up against your skin, then over your head and discarded completely in a pile off to the side, Dabi pulling his own shirt over his head to expose the expanse of his chest, pale and etched deep with scars, just as lovely as you remembered him to be.

With a knee between your legs, he gave one of them a nudge as means of encouragement to open for him, his hands aiding in getting you the rest of the way there when you seemed to suddenly become a little shy.

As his head lowered between your spread legs a shiver wracked through you, a tremor of anticipation at the magic, be it witchcraft or a miracle, that he had a habit of placing upon you with his fingers and tongue. His warm breath fanned over your wet cunt, causing you to whine when you felt just how soaked you’d become, raising a palm to cover your mouth as your face grew hot with the humiliation, muffling your next precursory moan. But that was when Dabi stopped, just inches from tasting you, moments from delivering you the most divine pleasure you’d known, raising his head and appearing above you again, lightly taking your wrist in his grip and tugging it free from your mouth.

“No,” he stated, plain and simple, yet still retaining that err of gentleness that he was becoming more accustomed to displaying around you. “Don’t try to hide it. I want to hear you, understand?” Despite your face growing hotter still, you swallowed down your apprehension and nodded for him. “Good girl,” he praised you, slowly retracing his descent down towards where you were most needy for attention. Then, as if talking only to himself, he muttered, “I wanna hear you when you come for me,” and upon hearing those words you felt your little hole flutter, your belly clenching just at the thought of what you knew it would feel like once he was buried deep inside you, the sensation all too familiar yet, at the same time, always feeling like nothing could’ve prepared you for it beforehand, the ecstasy created by your two bodies becoming one stronger and more potent than any other brand of euphoria the world could offer.

You let out a broken mewl as his long, slick tongue began lightly teasing at your dewy folds, gathering more of your arousal as he made you obscenely drenched with his spit, taking his time to flick the tip of his tongue along your sensitive little bud, making you jolt and writhe, wrestling you still with his arms looped snugly around your thighs. Your melody of moans and whimpers only ever made him desperate to hear them more, engaging in the skillful dance of bringing you right up to that edge but always pulling you back before you tumbled over.

“You’re being mean—” you lightly chided, a feeble quiver to your quiet voice, the teasing soon becoming too much.

But, at this, Dabi only chuckled, placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, stroking the other with the pad of his thumb as he rested his head against it. Gazing up at you with glittering eyes, he cooed, “Promise I’ll make it worth it, baby…” Another kiss, this time closer to your soaked core, caused you to flinch. “Besides…” He began to leave languid kisses up your body, shifting his position to reach your tummy, your chest, your collarbones, your neck. When he was face to face with you again, the sight of your arousal shining on his chin making your stomach clench yet again, he said, “Don’t I always?”

But he didn’t give you time to answer before diving back into his ministrations, his tongue lolling out to lav at your perked nipples, making you moan and arch further into the warmth of his mouth, Dabi lightly tugging at one of the furled buds with his teeth, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hear you give him one of those cute little gasps again, balancing on the precipice of fear.

After he’d coated both of you breasts with his saliva, making nearly as much of a mess of you as you’d made of him, Dabi’s kisses once more made the migration towards your neck, sucking a few dark bruises into that tender flesh, your grip tightening around his biceps as a wave of goosebumps raced across your skin, your breath stuttering at the sensation.

Then he was coaxing your mouth back open for him, taking a moment to hover there, to taste each exhale that leapt from your lungs. The kiss he gave you next was sloppy and open-mouthed, and you could taste the salty tang of yourself on his tongue now, only distracted from the flavor when you felt two of his long, lithe fingers glide through the glistening petals of your pussy before slipping inside of you, pumping in and out, slow and steady, before beginning to scissor you open wider in preparation.

“Hurts—” you hissed when he stretched you a little too far a little too fast, but the feeling of your cunt trying to suck his fingers in deeper, the way your silky walls clenched around them as if in hopes of holding them prisoner, only made him that much more painfully hard. He could already feel himself leaking through his trousers. He was just as needy as you were, only better at hiding it.

“I know, baby…” he cooed, unable to keep some of that saccharine condensation from fringing his raspy tone. “But you’re doing so good for me…” Another kiss placed to your temple as he reached into his waistband and took hold of his cock, feeling it pulse against his palm when the cool night air hit the velvety length of him. He didn’t waste time lining himself up, his other hand stroking gentle lines along your hip. “You’re always so good for me.”

You half expected him to bury himself to the hilt with one harsh thrust, as he sometimes had a habit of doing, but tonight, as he’d already decided, he was going to take his time with you. So, inch by inch, he sunk deeper into your slick heat, sucking in a hiss through clenched teeth when your little nails bit into his back at the sting of the stretch, your delicate skin breaking in fragile fissures as his cock split you in two.

Once he was fully inside, both of your bare chests pressed close, Dabi gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stuffing you full, but before he could move, you made a request of him.

“It hurts a little,” you said, then further clarified, “The hayloft. It hurts my back. Can we…?” But before you’d even finished your question he was carefully propping you up, helping to hold you into a position that allowed you to straddle his lap, the shift making you wince a little as his length nudged against your cervix, but you definitely felt more comfortable now than you had laying back against the rough wooden surface.

Letting out a soft chuckle as he picked pieces of straw from where they stuck in your hair, Dabi asked, “Better?” and you nodded, adjusting your position just a little bit more before you felt like you were in the perfect spot to take him. As he began, he kept a strong palm pressed to the small of your back for support, your little hands gripping his shoulders and becoming tighter the more he fucked into you, urging you to ride him to the best of your ability, and you did all that you could to match his pace. But, as always, eventually he became relentless, hips meeting yours with ruthless stamina, drinking in every cry or yelp or moan you would grant him, soaking up every clench of your cunt around his cock until, finally, he came, his body shuddering as a breathy moan was punched from his chest, filling you to the brim with his sticky warmth. But he wasn’t done with you yet. He wasn’t done until he’d made you come, made you gush all over his cock, coating him in so much of your love and your lust that he swore he’d never be able to clean it all away. 

Rubbing some more of those torturously skillful circles on your swollen little clit, Dabi soon worked you over that sharp edge, feeling your body tremble and tense before your weight sagged against him, your shallow, panting breaths gradually returning to something much more even and controlled.

Normally, he’d take this time after to clean you up, to lay with you as he watched you drift off to sleep, only then daring to fall unconscious himself. But out here, in this unfamiliar and unequipped place, there wasn’t much he could do besides wipe the excess of your shared arousal that drooled in thick globs from your sore little hole with the edge of one of the blankets, murmuring promises of the life he’d create for the two of you once you’d escaped the hunter’s grasp as you feel unconscious. 

He’d build you a house. One with a fireplace and a balcony and a back porch. He’d build you a bed. One with four posts and a canopy and a quilt. You’d have a wardrobe full of the finest clothes money could buy, making a living by selling your handcrafted sundries in the market of the nearest town. Your world would smell like honey and pine. You’d spend your days surrounded by the trees and the songs of the birds. You’d get married in the backyard in a wedding dress you’d made by hand, freshly picked poppies adorning Dabi’s makeshift lapel, trading matching rings carved of oak or birch or stone. He’d make love to you on that bed he’d built, on that quilt you’d sewn, every night leading up to the full moon.

You’d bake bread.

He’d hunt deer.

You’d be safe.

You’d be happy.

You’d be his.

But first, before the house and the honey and the hunting of the deer, there was one thing Dabi knew he had to do in order to make even half of that fantasy possible.

He had to kill Keigo.

He had to pave the way for a world where not a single hunter would follow in pursuit of you.

***

The blade caught the morning’s glow, sunlight on silver a burst of blinding light.

Keigo couldn’t help but admire its pristine shine, the flawless edge of its craftsmanship, the way he could view his reflection in it, the amber of his eyes cutting across the weapon wearing determination but also something sorrowful.

He didn’t want to kill you. Truly, he didn’t. If Keigo got his way, you’d finally see reason once the demon who’d tempted you had been slain. You’d come to your senses. You’d accept his offer to return with him and take his hand in marriage.

You’d choose the path that let you live, left your family pleased, and ensured that Keigo had you all to himself.

He could give you a good life.

He would give you a good life.

All you had to do was let him.

And if not, well…

Keigo had always thought you looked best in the color red.

***

The countryside by the shore was comfortingly desolate, the hills sprawling out in every direction as far as the eye could see until the rolling waves of the ocean crept up to meet them. The breeze tasted of salt and the lingering smoke from the small campfire that had just been stomped out.

The old boat house stood on the border between the sand and the seagrass, the exterior half rotted by the caress of the brine, flecks of once-white paint hanging onto the planks for dear life, the decaying wood turned a pale shade of teal. 

It was so quiet out here, not another soul for miles beyond the seagulls that circled come high noon.

You’d never seen the ocean before, your little village too far inland to ever make the journey, even by horse, so you found much comfort and wonder by simply sitting in the soft sand and staring out at the froths of foam lining the waves far off in the distance, nothing but water meeting sky. It gave you time to think, to really put some things into perspective.

You and Dabi had been on the run for over two weeks now. You’d traveled so far, seen so much, and the further you distanced yourself from home, the less you found yourself wanting to go back.

“We could do it, y’know…” he’d said the first night you’d arrived, the crumbling little structure one of his maker’s old hideouts.  “We could head south to the ports. Sneak onto a boat…” He’d gone from gazing at the stars to gazing at you, those half-lidded blues sparkling as if he’d reached up into the constellations and plucked down two of the stars just for you. “See where it takes us…”

You’d hugged your knees up to your chest, turned your view back to the expanse of black sky above, and tried to contemplate what that would be like.

A new country.

A new life.

No one to chase you, at least, for a little while.

But maybe then you could put down some roots, still away from the center of society, of course, but you could create a life where you wouldn’t have to live day by day, hour by hour.

Though now, as the sun rose on a new dawn, you wondered how many days you had left.

“How long have you been awake?”

You turned as Dabi’s voice registered to you. He was standing on the porch that sagged under the weight of every pace, each step surely the last one it would take to cause the whole thing to crumble as it creaked and groaned beneath his feet. He had a moth-eaten blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, the nights out here so much colder than what the dense forest provided.

Dragging one of your bare feet across the sand, you carved a smooth arc out before you as you sighed. “Maybe an hour,” you responded, your voice just loud enough for him to hear with the couple of meters between you. You were about to approach him but then he was the one closing the gap, coming down to join you on the soft, cool sand.

“I was worried,” he admitted, now standing before you, close enough to reach out and touch. “I thought maybe he’d…” and his words trailed off. But you didn’t need him to finish the thought to understand.

“Sorry…” you whispered, feeling the threat of tears prickling in the back of your nose. “It’s just—”

Dabi pulled you in close to his chest, wrapped you up in the thin blanket along with him, and he murmured into your hair after a shuddering sigh, “It’s fine. It’s just…” He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to say it out loud. How he’d thought the hunter had come and stolen you in the night. But he really should’ve known better.

Had Keigo come around, he would’ve ensured that Dabi never got the chance to wake up ever again.

“Once we get through the next full moon,” Dabi concluded, “we’ll head to the ports.”

And so it was decided.

The next full moon was two days from now— you’d grown accustomed to reading its phases based on the current state of Dabi’s wolfishness alone over these past few weeks— so that didn’t leave much time.

Not for you to decide whether you were truly ready to turn your back on everything you’d ever known and plunge into the uncertainty of what a future with Dabi would hold, or decide this was all too much too fast and return to the damning familiarity of had once been your normal day to day.

You’d tasted freedom.

You were so close to grabbing it with both hands and swallowing it whole.

How could you give that up?

How could you forget all of that in just forty-eight hours?

Though, for Keigo, forty-eight hours was more than enough time to take some drastic measures.

It was also more than enough time for him to catch up.

“The ports…” you repeated, your words sounding far off to your own ears, as if you were hearing them in a dream. It seemed almost impossible to you, this plan that Dabi felt so sure would work. And Dabi, well…

He was just hoping he could convince you to cross the border before you changed your mind.

Once he got you on that boat— currently speculating that stowing away on a cargo ship would be your best bet, even if the journey could take days or maybe even weeks until it reached the next port, Dabi sneaking out at night to maneuver around watch patrols as he sniffed out any food that he could steal— and whisked you away from this place, escaped the hunter who swore he’d pursue the two of you to the ends of the earth…

Only then would he feel like he’d won.

Only then would he let himself believe that he’d be able to have you forever.

“Don’t worry,” he was telling you again, placing a kiss to the crown of your head as he stroked gentle patterns down your back, his palm warm through your clothes, a welcome reprieve from the chilly sea air. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It was the only lie he couldn’t bring himself to stop telling.

He thought that, if he said it enough, it would become true.

You turned in his arms, your back pressed to his chest, so you could once again face the sea.

Those waves both beckoned and terrified you, pulling you in with every frill of foam lapping at the shore, yet pushing you further away with the hiss of its rhythmic ambience.

Once you crossed that water you’d never be able to come back. You’d only have Dabi and the moon and whatever little life the two of you could manage to make for yourselves after that.

And so you asked yourself…

Would that be enough?

“I know…” you told him, your voice so fragile, so small and trembling, when you wanted nothing more than to look him in the eyes, so firm and resolute, and give him that answer with your whole chest. With your whole heart.

You wanted nothing more than to believe that, no matter what stood in your way, as long as you had each other, nothing could break you apart.

Nothing could hurt you.

No one could take you away from him again.

Yet, every time you closed your eyes, you saw it— that flash of tawny and gold. It haunted your nightmares, crept up behind you between every shadow or sudden movement out of the corner of your eye.

You didn’t want Keigo to die. Not really.

But, you were coming to accept, there might be no other way.

It was going to be him or Dabi.

You didn’t need to take the time to figure out which one you most wanted to fall into the arms of once all was said and done.

***

When Keigo could taste the salt in the air, he knew the sea couldn’t be far. He quickened his pace, the sting of the open blisters on his feet and the pain twisting in his stomach after three days without a meal no longer registering to him once the thought that the wolf could’ve already stolen you away across the water struck him.

Or maybe he’d arrive to find your body strewn across the shore, your blood being licked at by the waves.

He thought he’d prefer the latter. At least then he’d have closure.

At least then, he wouldn’t have to do it himself.

And if he was lucky enough to discover the two of you still there, what would he do?

There would be nowhere to hide. He might be able to finish things once and for all, if he was able to knock an arrow and aim for the heart faster than the wolfman could sink his fangs into the hunter’s soft human throat.

He was so close he could feel it in his bones, this insatiable ache for something he couldn’t quite describe. Perhaps it was the thrill of the hunt calling to him, this new, intelligent prey so enticing to a man who’d pursued the same game ever since his father before him had handed the little boy a knife and a bow and taught him how to kill. He’d learned to get into the mind of his targets, able to trace the path of their steps as if they were his own. With the two of you, he’d been kept on his toes, always trying to predict what you’d do or where you’d go next but unable to get three steps ahead like he was used to.

The swish of the waves mingled with the whistle of the breeze, and when Keigo could tell the two apart, he knew he had to keep moving. He would reach the sea tonight. He would face whatever awaited him at that shore.

When the boathouse appeared in the distance, at first Keigo didn’t let himself believe it, figuring that he’d somehow dozed off and was caught in a dream. Or maybe he was delirious from lack of sleep and food and was wandering aimlessly towards some sort of mirage. But the closer he trudged, the bigger that crooked hut became and he knew it was all too real.

He drew his knife, slinking up to the side of the little house and listening for any signs of life. It was silent, so he thought fuck it and tried the front door.

Keigo winced when it opened with a creak, his body going still and he anticipated an attack. But when nothing came, he gathered up the courage to travel further into the house, going room by room, of which there were only four, and expecting to find a pair of glowing blue eyes peering at him around every turn.

But the boathouse was empty, as far as Keigo could tell.

All that was left behind was a tattered shawl and some empty crab husks.

***

The morning before the full moon, you and Dabi headed south. It would be easier to catch a boat if you weren’t running on at the last minute, and this way you could sneak on under the cover of night when there would be less people around. A few towns back, on the way to the shore, Dabi had found himself a long, stiff piece of fabric that could pass as a cloak to hide his wolfishness. The plan was, if anyone asked or seemed suspicious, you would just tell them that you were traveling with a sick relative who was, unfortunately, horribly deformed beneath that cloak, and that you were setting sail in search of a specialist overseas who you hoped could cure him.

By nightfall though, he’d be man no more, and then the cloak would be used to keep you warm as the ocean’s breeze tangled around your limbs. Dabi would curl up around you, keeping watch while you slept, and in the morning, when he looked just as human as you did though still hiding beneath the cloak to maintain your cover story, the two of you could merge with the other passengers and blend into the crowd. Depending on the length of the journey, Dabi would have to sneak off periodically once the moon became full, but somehow, some way, he’d make sure that both of you were delivered safely to a foreign shore.

He’d find a way to start over.

He’d find a way to live and not just survive.

“Look!” you’d called from where you’d ventured up a little ways ahead, the edge of the forest fading from a cliffside. You pointed a finger out at a horizon Dabi couldn’t yet view, though as he marched up the incline to stand by your side, the sight of the town’s edge lined with vessels— passenger liners and freighters and sailboats— finally revealed itself.

“We’re so close!” you beamed, and it was the first time in a long time that Dabi had seen you smile like that, heard the giddy excitement fringing on your words.

He slung an arm around you, gently tugging you against his chest before reaching forward to twine both of his long, thin arms around your waist. “Just a little bit longer…” he murmured, though whether it was more to himself or to you, you weren’t exactly sure. “Just a little bit longer and we’ll be free…”

And so you made plans to camp out on the hem of the forest until dusk. You sat by the cliff, counting the hours until the sun would set, sharing the meager stock of berries and nuts you’d collected as the sky changed from blue to a beigey gold, and when hints of lavender tinged the edges of nature’s great canvas, the two of you stood, staring out at all the little boats bobbing and swaying and beckoning you on board, hands clasped, hope high, and prepared to commence the final and possibly most daring piece of this crooked jigsaw puzzle of a plan.

Too bad you only made it a few paces before the weathered figure of the hunter appeared between the trees in the distance, causing both sides of this long, treacherous game you’d been playing for so long to stop short, the wolf and the hawk sizing each other up.

Then, just before you could squeeze Dabi’s hand, a silent imploration to him, though for what exactly you did not know, without taking his sharp gaze off the hunter he merely said to you, “Head for the port. I won’t be long.”

Before you could protest even half a syllable or a single sound, Dabi took off running, darting towards Keigo faster than you’d ever seen a living creature move.

Keigo drew his knife and gave chase.

And you, however frustrated and terrified, started in a sprint to follow.

***

With every leap and bound through the uneven path, closing in on the hunter but not quite near enough to catch him and take him to the ground, Dabi could feel the pull of the full moon running through his blood like fire and ice colliding in a burst of cruel fireworks.

His senses became sharper, his reflexes quicker, his vengeance and bloodlust flaring molten and deadly between the grooves of his ribcage. It wouldn’t be long until this curse placed upon him took control and his bones twisted into canis lupus.

But, for perhaps the first time since he’d been turned, Dabi longed to become a monster. Because, when he did, there’d be no chance for the hunter to get away. He’d rake his razor-sharp claws down Keigo’s back, drag him to the ground, and sink his teeth in deep, savor the man’s blood as it gushed into his maw and ran in thick rivulets down his throat.

Just a little longer, Dabi told himself, not slowing down a single beat as he forced Keigo back further into the woods. Just a little longer and it’ll all be over.

Only, the hunter wasn’t keen on playing the part of easy prey.

Keigo was guiding Dabi, bringing him deeper into the darkness of the green in hopes of having a chance to spare you.

He’d give you one last chance to accept his offer and return home with him once the wolf was dead.

If you still refused, well…

At least then no one from the town on the coast would hear your screams echo out across the sloshing water.

The moon became brighter still, cutting through twilight’s haze like a window opening into the silvery heavens, and with that illumination came the protruding of fangs, the curvature of claws, the sprouting of thick, black fur down the nape of Dabi’s neck and along the column of his spine. The blueness of his eyes became bluer still, glowing sapphires slashing through the shadows to pierce his target’s back every time the hunter dared to glance behind him, panic striking as the wolfman closed the gap more and more with every step.

You’d lost their trail long ago, rushing frantically through the dark woodlands in hopes of spotting the imprint of a familiar shoe tread or catch a glimpse of Keigo’s tawny hunting jacket from between the rustling pines. Your lungs were starting to ache, every breath of the evening’s cool air sucked down in short, panicked breaths stinging from inside your tightening chest the longer you went without any sign of them.

You were about to give up. To turn around and hope you could find your way back into hiding and pray that Dabi would be the one who came back to find you. 

But then you heard a scream.

Not a scream, exactly.

More like a low, guttural, raspy growl.

Dabi’s tone echoed in sharp, staccato bursts from somewhere off to your left, his voice sounding pained, like he was in the throes of agony.

And so you took off running again, this time faster than you’d previously thought yourself capable of.

Just before the wolfman had been able to take hold of the hunter, an invisible force seized his limbs, an acidic suffering surging through his veins, lacing through the very marrow of his bones as they began to crack and shift inside his frame, the pain splintering through him like white hot electricity as he arched and bent with the torture of the transformation.

By the time you reached him, he had only a few more breaths left of being a man. You’d never seen him during a shift. He’d always gone away, done it somewhere privately, somewhere you couldn’t hear his misery.

And when you looked at him, even just for those few seconds he was caught in the horrible in between, he could see it in your eyes.

The terror.

And you…

You’d be lying if you said you could no longer understand why so many viewed his kind as monsters.

It was only once Dabi’s haunting hisses and moans ceased that you registered Keigo’s own groans of struggle and dread and revulsion filling the air as he panted through clenched teeth, attempting to scramble up from the ground where he’d tripped as he’d been backing away, golden eyes wide with fear of all that was holy and damned and everything in between.

You’d never seen Keigo afraid and, somehow, that in and of itself was terrifying to you.

“Dabi!” you called out to him, something more akin to concern than disgust breaking at the end of his name. He peered over his shoulder to find you running towards him, immediately swiveling to help close the gap, mindful to let you collide with him and not the other way around, as his current size might do some damage if it crashed into your fragile human form. You threw your arms around his neck, buried your face into his fur, the scent of campfire smoke still clinging to him even in this form, and he could feel your whole body shaking, trembling like a fall leaf one breeze from being shorn from the tree’s withered branch.

A short, breathy whine was sighed out through the wolf’s nostrils and you felt his massive weight sag a little further into your desperate embrace. Man or wolf, you just wanted him to be alright. You wanted him to whisk you away from this nightmare and deliver you both safely to one of those boats, the promise of a new life, a new land, awaiting you. 

But, while you two were having your touching little reunion, the hunter wasn’t wasting any time. He knocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring in one swift, deathly precise motion, the sharp tip of the weapon aimed for your beating heart as soon as you parted from your beloved monster. He took one steadying breath, not a single flicker of doubt or apprehensive shudder to be found.

Keigo had no other choice.

You’d forced his hand.

You’d made your choice and now he’d follow through with his.

Dabi saw the hunter turn his aim onto you, and before he even had time to think he was springing into action, vaulting towards the hunter with his teeth bared as the arrow was set free.

The world seemed to slow around him as he dove into harm’s way, a dozen memories flashing through his head all at once, though still seeming to draw out and take their time. He remembered the first time he lay eyes on you, so enticing and vulnerable as you’d waded your way through the fog, the fur of his maker wrapped around your pretty neck, the look of terror you’d worn when he sang your lullaby back to you and you’d spotted the glow of his eyes through the trees.

He remembered how he’d terrorized you, chasing you through the woods, his cruel laughter ringing out and startling the birds from their resting branches. And when he’d caught you, he’d been even more horrible still, earning himself a bite and a cut from the knife you’d carried back then. And when you weren’t afraid anymore, that’s when things had gotten interesting.

That’s when things had changed.

Dabi no longer viewed you as the scared little rabbit, the prey that indulged him in the thrill of the chase.

You could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you wanted to.

And Dabi’s curiosity of what a girl who was as beautiful as she was fierce could be like— could feel like, could taste like— had ultimately won.

And he’d grown attached.

Because you weren’t afraid of him like everyone else was, like everyone else had warned you to be.

You were compassionate and smart and empathetic and kind. You were so many things that he’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve, convinced himself he’d never experience again since damned to live by the cycles of the moon.

You’d given him a reason to live.

And now, for you and only you, he’d be happy for you to be his reason to die.

“No—!” Your shriek cut through the dark as Keigo’s shot buried itself in Dabi’s shoulder, the arrow piercing his rough wolf’s flesh and causing the beast to yelp and stagger. You watched as the blood shone on his matted fur, soaking it to his scarred flesh, and felt like something in the center of your body had been yanked clean out of you, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

But it would take more than one measly arrow to kill the werewolf, and when Dabi turned his gaze back onto the hunter, his lips pulled up in a vicious snarl to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, he glared with every ounce of hate he’d ever felt for anyone or anything in this world. Yet, at the same time, he was relieved. Because he’d much rather it be him than you who had to experience such pain. Besides, Dabi was no stranger to the sensation. It had been a while, yes, but it greeted him like an old friend.

And now, Dabi would relish in introducing Keigo to this bitter acquaintance.

Keigo took aim once more, firing off another arrow that, that time, missed the beast by only a hair, merely grazing along its side as it lunged at the hunter. Keigo threw himself out of the way, his full weight hitting the ground with a thud before frantically rolling away as the wolf snapped its razor-toothed jaw where his neck had been just a moment ago.

You’d fallen to your knees, the cool earth curling its damp tendrils around your bare legs, creeping up and up and up until the chill seemed to seep into your brain, leaving you frozen and helpless to watch everything that was about to unfold, the cruel crescendo of these past weeks— this past year— finally coming to a close.

The blonde was springing back to his feet with another arrow at the ready before Dabi could attempt his next strike, and the following, from what you could see, was a tangle of claw and limb, black and beige caught up in a deadly, face-paced dance.

The tears running down your cheeks had stopped flowing, leaving behind salty, shimmering streaks, your eyes wide with fear and hurt and anticipation.

The hunter was holding his ground, even in such close proximity, but what Dabi didn’t know was that this was all going according to Keigo’s plan.

Just a little closer, the hunter hoped. And, with one more luring motion, he had the wolf within his circle.

Keigo drew the knife, raised it above his head, then plunged all eight inches of the silver blade down into the werewolf’s back.

The sound that Dabi let out wasn’t quite a howl, wasn’t quite a scream, but something caught in between the realms of monster and man. You felt a pain in your chest upon hearing that sound, letting out one last hiccuping sob before your body truly had no more grief left to give. You couldn’t even call out his name, to let him hear it with your broken voice one last time.

The wolf went still, sagging heavier against the blood-soaked earth, and the hunter, satisfied with finally claiming such a victory, hoisted himself up to stand using the blade’s handle as leverage, sinking it just that much further into his prize’s flesh. When he did it, he locked eyes with you, the gold of his stare suddenly a much muddier shade, rusted over with apathy and scorn.

But when Keigo looked over at you, it wasn’t with relief.

It was with contempt.

It was with the tired, heavy realization that this wasn’t over yet.

Starting toward you with a slow stride, boots dragging more and more with every step, Keigo flexed his hands and clenched his jaw, his throat working as he attempted to swallow down the final ounces of sentimentality that he held for you, to let them burn away in the churning acid of his stomach. It wasn’t until he was five paces within your reach that you recognized the danger you were faced with and began to scramble from your awkward sitting position on the ground.

But the moment you even so much as hinted at giving chase, Keigo was on you, pushing you back so that your head hit the ground with a nauseous thud and stars sparkled in your swaying vision, giving no time to recover from the rattling in your brain before he was wrapping his cold, calloused hands around your throat and squeezing hard, causing you to claw at his grip as the oxygen was wrung from you.

You couldn’t hear Keigo speaking over the hammering of your pulse in your own ears, but as your vision began to go black you saw his mouth moving, caught slivers of the murmur of his voice in between your asphyxiation

“Why are you making me do this?” he was asking. “Why couldn’t you have just come home?”

Even as he squeezed harder still, the strength of your struggle fading away more and more by the moment, Keigo’s eyes filled with tears, his chin beginning to tremble as he bit back a sob, drops of his sorrow flecking your face as your eyes rolled back and he watched as the life began to drain out of you.

Once upon a time, you would’ve been the girl he’d married. You would’ve been the mother of his children, the beloved wife he returned home to at the end of every hunt.

He could’ve provided for you, protected you, given you a good life.

But you’d gone and burned it all to ash.

And for what?

All because you’d been tempted by the monster that now lay in a heap among the shadows of the trees.

Keigo wondered how long it would take for your bodies to be found and, when they were, if Dabi’s would be that of a human or a wolf.

He supposed it didn’t matter. His job was done. There was nothing left to do now but return to your village and deliver the grim news to your family.

“I tried…” Keigo wept, his words barely above a whisper. “I loved you.”

It was only half a breath later that the hunter’s grip released from your neck, two bruises in the shape of his hands marring your tender flesh, making you wince as you wheezed and gasped for air, the final shreds of mortality he’d nearly stolen from you breathing you back to life one painful cough at a time.

Once the ringing in your ears subsided, you turned halfway onto your side, looking out at where the hunter was granted but one final scream before the wolf sank its teeth into his jugular with a sickening crunch, tearing ruthlessly at his windpipe with a rapid shake of its head to deliver the killing blow. You pushed up onto your elbows as you saw Dabi open his jaw and let Keigo drop to the dirt, his eyes still open, blood drenching his neck and down his chest, soaking dark into the fabric of his coat, running up the side of his face, staining his curls a vengeful crimson.

It was then that you collapsed, though whether from trauma or shock, you did not know. Dabi was quick to return to your side, walking with a limp on his front left paw from where the knife had yet to be pulled free. He breathed in your scent, sensed your heart still beating, and curled up beside you.

It wouldn’t be until dawn, when the moon faded away back into the pale horizon, that he’d be able to change back. He just hoped that, when he did, you’d both have survived through the night.

***

The sun was just beginning to tinge the sky with all its newborn colors when you woke, your eyes fluttering apprehensively open, the light that flooded your vision making you wince and retreat back into the dim, pinkish darkness the back of your eyelids provided.

Your head throbbed and your neck pulsed with pain, your entire being sore with the aftermath of the night previous. You wondered, for a moment, if it had all been some kind of horribly vivid dream, but when you looked further into the field, your sight adjusting into focus, you saw Keigo’s corpse still lying dormant amidst the grass, his blood congealing and his expression twisted into a sight you had to force yourself to look away from, rigor mortis settling over his once handsome features in a grotesque display of death and decay.

You went to speak, to call out for Dabi, but found you couldn’t make a sound, your voice less than a wheeze and feeling ragged and raw even upon the gentlest whisper. You feared, for a moment, that Dabi hadn’t made it either. That he’d dragged himself off somewhere far away to die. But then you glanced behind you and felt at least that part of your panic settle, finding him asleep and hopefully alive.

He was man once more, having shed all of his wolfish parts by daybreak, though was left naked and vulnerable against the earth, the blood from his wounds showing bright against his pale flesh, new scars likely to form on his shoulder his back, flaking rust still around his mouth and down his neck, all the evidence of Keigo’s attacks and Dabi’s victory staining his skin with gore.

But, as you curled back up beside him, moving closer so your two bodies could touch, wrapping your arms around him in hopes of sharing some of your warmth as he’d done for you so many times before, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, still alive.

You could feel him breathing, feel him occasionally twitch or wince amidst his slumber, you keeping watch over him this time, finally able to feel like you were the one capable of doing the protecting.

An hour or so later, when Dabi finally began to stir, it was with a hiss and a groan, all of last night’s pain resurfacing from its rest as well. The moment he laid eyes on you though, all of his suffering was forgotten, all of his worries chased away.

“Hey…” he cooed, gently threading his fingers through your hair as your eyes filled with tears. “Hey, it’s alright…” he continued to assure you, pulling you in a little closer. “We’re safe now… I’ve got you… We’re safe…”

Despite the pain, you still attempted to speak again, but to no avail. Once Dabi realized this, remembered how he’d almost been too late to pull the hunter off of you, he had you sit up, allowing him to carefully inspect the damage done to your throat.

It would take some time to heal, that was for certain, but he had confidence that you’d end up ok. For now though, he told you not to push yourself, not to speak, that he’d take care of everything and get you what you needed as soon as you boarded one of those boats.

Helping each other to your feet, Dabi instructed you to head up the hill and wait while he procured some clothes. You didn’t protest. You knew it was so you wouldn’t have to watch him strip Keigo’s body of his belongings. Because even if he had tried to kill you, it still wasn’t easy to see the corpse of someone who’d once been so familiar.

It wasn’t long before Dabi returned to meet you, now wearing Keigo’s clothes, the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants a little short on him, but seeing as his garments were destroyed during the shift, he had no other choice. Keigo’s body would be left behind, whether for the vultures to begin scavenging from or some unfortunate hunter to find, that wasn’t the concern of either of you.

You had a boat to catch, after all.

A proper burial would take too long.

So, heading in the direction of the shore, passing through the last remaining town that you’d probably ever see of your home country, Dabi used the last of the coins that he’d found waiting patiently in one of Keigo’s pockets to purchase you both some new clothes and, the real shock of your entire pre-voyage excursion, two third-class tickets onto one of the passenger liners headed east.

You didn’t know what would await you in the next land you set foot on, if things would fare better or worse than the situation you’d just escaped, the family that you’d heartbreakingly left behind. But there was no way to know unless you tried.

All you could hope was, perhaps there, you could start over.

Perhaps, there, you could be free.

***

Hello and thank you so much to everyone for reading (and for being so patient in waiting for the finale). Also, happy halloween! It’s always a bittersweet feeling to wrap up a series, especially one I started so long ago despite it only being three chapters, so I sincerely hope you enjoyed and were satisfied with the way things turned out. Since going back to school I’ve been very busy and not had very much time for writing as I’m used to, but little by little I intend to continue other projects of mine that I’m still in the middle of, so please continue to be patient with me on that. Anyway, I want to say thank you again if you’ve come this far and hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/evening! See you next time, byyyyyyyeee! <3

[sensarna]

This is basically me going insane over a single name drop (spoilers and theories below)

So... Anton

The answer to the identity seems obvious, but I would not be myself, if I wasn't over-analyzing things

So let's do just that

The way the name was said - no explanation, no context - means one of two things: the person in question is either so inconsequential that he is not worth the breath to add the details, or is so familiar, that to add an explanation means going out of character. I'm more inclined to believe it's the latter, mostly because I don't remember a single character without even a little bit of background info added for the flair.

(Also Kitten didn't ask about him before or after D's story, so he is probably familiar with Anton. However, there is also a possibility that after.... everything, Kitten either didn't want to ask out of politeness; had no time to ask before D left with the dogs or missed the name entirely)

So, let's assume that this Anton is fairly familiar then. But who is he and what was he doing there? I believe he is one of three options:

1. He is a completely new character who's probably going to be introduced later. Most likely a hunter who worked closely enough with the family that Kitten either knows him or heard about him before.

2. He is one of the brothers. Again, Kitten either heard about him before or knows him personally.

And finally 3. Seemingly the most obvious answer, since he's the only person without a name - a Brother given to the Fey King as a thrall for 40 years. But I have a problem with this explanation. When Kitten tried to say the Lost Brother's name before, D stopped him. He asked Kitten not to say it out loud, clearly distressed and trying to calm down. So the idea that D would say it himself, with no pause or hiccup, seems to contradict with his previous reaction.

I, personally, think that Anton is one of the brothers - whether lost or still active only time will tell - and is more likely an Expy (exported character). Which means, that Anton - if you use the naming method of "sounding very familiar" - is the Extremely, Earth-Shatteringly, Unreasonably, Fuck-Ass Mad Boi Angron...which makes him an even better candidate for the role of this Lost Brother if you view him becoming a thrall as a twist on Angron's story in Warhammer, where he was enslaved at least twice: first as a gladiator, fighting for the amusement of the rich and powerful, and then when he became a Demon Primarch of Khorne.

So, yeah. Most likely an Expy of Angron. Might be the Brother given to the Fey, since it's the only person without a name, and the story itself has some parallels with the Warhammer Angron lore. But, D's reaction to the Kitten almost saying the name out loud doesn't match with how it was delivered later. May be Lost, may be Active.

That's all for me. I know it's pretty bare bone and doesn't have a satisfying conclusion, but there's not a lot for me to work with for now. I hope that in the future there will be more information about this character and I do hope that Anton is Angron, mostly because I want to see what kind of person he would be in this universe and what his relationship with D is.

P.S.: Not sure where and if I should mention this, but there were some ideas flying around on Reddit and Tumblr about what the other Primarchs might be like in HTP and I went with a more supernatural origin for most of them. I kid you not, when I've learned about Changeling The Dreaming I thought it would be hilarious if Angron was not a Werewolf or a Vampire but a Fae. Especially when I was informed of a thing called Redcap. Angron might not have anything to do with the hunger aspect, but he does have a mean attitude and a penchant for violence. So if Anton/Angron is confirmed to somehow be the 3rd option, then I kinda predicted it.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Schnee AU Concept

To be clear this isn't the only Au/ comic I'll put the model in but it is the one that comes to mind for me most often.

All of team RWBY are born into the previous generation. Weiss along with her brother Whitley secured and manage the SDC. Though in truth Whitley takes care of most of the actual work. Though she was far from dull she did have to admit that Whitley was solely groomed to manage the company while her time was decided between it and her combat training.

Weiss herself still had power and plenty of a say but her Huntress duties took priority... And obligations as a teacher as well, yes. She was a instructor at Beacon. Helping to groom the next generation into respectable Hunters.

Mostly she was pleaded into it by her partner Ruby but still she took her job seriously.

Which was more then she could say for the rest of her team! All three of them off gallivanting across Remnant taking missions. Honestly sometimes they could be such a headache. But she supposed Ozpin had sent them all on those missions...

Regardless she was determined to perform no less admirably this year then any other. And considering that Pyrrha Nikos would be entering this year she believed it would be a very worthwhile year given her skill.

But there was always room for surprises like miss Valkyrie, who was frankly a Yang level ridiculous powerhouse.

Yes, this year would've been a valuable one even if those were the only two of note... But they weren't. No, the third would be...

"Please Go Out With Me!"

Would be Jaune Arc, a paradoxically lacking student and yet one worth her admiration. He was a special case like Blake had been according to Ozpin. A boy who secured counterfeit transcripts to earn a chance to try out Initiation. Though whereas her teams resident Faunus had been a member of the White Fang mister Arc had been a civilian out in one of Remnant's frontier villages. A simple boy with some dreams of heroics and knighthood.

He was actually like her partner Ruby in several ways but with a father who denied his dreams instead of supporting them like Ruby had... That, that was something she could relate to, could sympathize with and it was not all.

He wanted to live up to his family's name, to bring honor to it, to be anything to stop being the one to be protected but to protect others Instead. He was many things, foolish, naïve and certainly stubborn… But he was brave. What else could you call a boy who entered the Emerald Forest prepared to face monsters but courageous.

Jaune Arc had a long way to go, had a tough road ahead of him, if she’d thought catching Ruby up on their studies back in the day was hard this would be a true trial. But, but she wanted him to succeed, she wasn’t the same girl she’d been back in the day, who viewed people so callously, so superficially. She saw how much Jaune wanted this, how willing he was to put his life on the line for complete strangers as he fought the Death Stalker.

Apparently he wasn’t the most studious student but she never had issues, he may have lacked proper knowledge of Dust in her class but he was always quick to learn and put in the effort. Offering to help however he could.

Then he was being bullied, and then he stopped it, she knew how, she saw the recordings, saw Winchester Threaten him with blackmail. Saw her student being used like a lackey and distant from his team… And then she saw him refuse to follow Cardin’s order when it affected someone else. And then witnessed him save said tormentor when his teammates had ran.

Jaune Arc just like her partner embodied what it meant to be a Huntsman, he just needed some help on the way… And then he asked her out.

Flustered, nervous, clearly embarrassed, it was a sight she wasn’t used to, every man and woman who courted her had done so with annoying confidence in their status or family ties, had saw her as a particularly beneficial tool to use or trophy to own or worst of all… A knot on the metaphorical belt.

But Jaune, despite the way he entered Beacon was a rather earnest man, which was why she would do this in the kindest but also most direct way possible. Because she remembered being rejected as well. And wanted him to suffer as little as possible.

"Jaune, I'm your teacher..." He looked sad but accepting.

"R-right... I'm sorry I know it was wrong t-"

"That's why I don't want you going around and telling anyone." She blinked that the words she said it seeming to finally catch up with her brain her... Wait? That wasn't what she was supposed to say! Jaune seemed to be under the same impression as her thoughts as he spoke with a  dumbfounded look on his precious youthful face.

"Really!" Yes Really!? What was she doing accepting his confession, but once more before her conscious could interrupt she parted her lips again.

"Though it isn't against the rules that Beacon upholds it is heavily frowned upon Jaune." Damn her for studying said rules! No! Stop Looking At His Absolutely Beamimg Smile This Instant! Just Because He's A Cute Boy Doesn't Mean We Could Throw Caution To The Wind.

Honestly she couldn't believe she said yes... Moreso that she felt so, so damn giddy about it! Like she was a girl back in her Beacon Days in her first relationship... Okay so technically she was a girl/ woman at Beacon and this was her first relationship but that was beside the point...

She was his teacher and this was... Well, no it wasn't illegal given that Jaune upon passing Initiation was by all legal means a adult under Remnant's Huntsman regulations... But it was still unprofessional! She'd never do anything others could bring into question... Anymore.

Like going out and taking on International criminals, known terrorists cells and preforming vigilante activities while a student.

But all that was besides the point and in the past! She wouldn't play with this boy's heart! She'd do the proper thing and brea-

"Jaune, I hope you understand that I'm not some trollope to be played with I expect you to take this seriously." NO!!! She Did Not Mean That! Shut Up Subconscious!

And oh dear now he was shooting her a very determined, gaze that made her heart skip a beat.

"Of course not! I'm serious about you miss Schnee!" Oh dear he was closing the distance, and being so assertive... Was, was he always so tall...

[normalbrothershow]

drop ur fav fics pretty please?

All wincest (unless stated otherwise) and mostly bottom Sam if its porn, for those who care about it

1. Sam whump favs which are also my favs in general

2. and more ↓

Cuckoos in Glass Houses by ani_coolgirl

Sam Winchester has one brother. One. He doesn’t know what Adam is. (The only not-hunters AU I've ever read. And believe me its worth it. I still think about it after weeks.)

Acid by Goshen

summary too long. just trust me bro

Bulletproof by road_rhythm

Dean knows it can't go on, him and Sam. They're going to get caught and it's fucking them up. Problem is, he can't bring himself to end it, so he thinks up a way to get Sam to end it for him. He's sure it's gonna work. It's bulletproof. (Crazy good characterisation and dynamic, thrilling, hot, angsty AND fun. Amazing prose and inner dialogue, saved like a whole page just of quotes in the bookmarks. Bonus necrophilia dream.)

Incidentally, It Was Christmas by ani_coolgirl

Sam comes out to his brother. Dean handles it about as well as to be expected, and is pretty cool about it--right up until he realizes something rather distressing about himself. That it's Christmastime is purely incidental. (AMAZING characterisation esp re: Deans sexuality and their dialogue. Ani never misses btw, check out all her fics. Idk what else to say except that I was like 😊😊☺️ whole time.)

The Difference That Divides Us by orphan_account

Sam wants to study for his AP exams. Dean wants to hunt a werewolf. Some things happen. Nothing really changes.

-> and it's companion piece in John PoV: His Son's World

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming by Dyed_Red:

"I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this." (John finds out fic but so much more than that.)

coming up roses everywhere by chinablue [samjohn]

Where John wasn't planning to snoop around Sam's laptop, but his boy seems to be hiding something. (Type of Amazing character study that also gets u horny as hell.)

it ain't much I'm asking (if you want the truth) by autumncolour

Sam looks pissed, but Dean has learned that there are several degrees in the Sam Winchester Scale of Annoyance. The look he’s now getting is maybe a three out of ten. And Sam is not physically stopping him from hitching up his shirt a bit more, which Dean is pretty sure Sam would do, if he wasn’t secretly into this and just trying to make a point. (i LOVE their dynamic here.)

this is the point where i give up for now... know there's a lot more but im only like down 3 out of 9 pages of bookmarks

[hungnitan]

Penacony TB 2.2 Impression

A bit story summary, here I am after 2.1 having wild imagination what if Churin become AE temporary members but it change into Boothill and made Danheng traumatized and Black Swan (in the end it's just a dream lol).

Unexpectedly we found Argenti in Penacony and then again making us suprise with sudden battling him ! But wow I think hoyo needs another arc/event story to explain Argenti power scale, just how stonk he is can entered nihility and get out alive...

After finish 2.2 I kinda get the reasons we still not getting any info regarding playable Sunday. Additionaly, it explain the reasons why Robin interview with Owlbert came out weeks faster... Now I wondering why Robin gameplay focused on FuA support

Honorable mention scene :

We have three different answer of "why we sleep ?" question and it's really mirroring their personality. Tired of living version from Churin, tired with reality from Sunday and have a hope of humanity from Trailblazer.

Here we are, Welt having a homesick and mention warriors (valkryie) from his home, btw S rank tier is basically their best groupie (lol)

As we expected, SAM is initial and sounds near gundam (lol) but I didn't expect even Firefly isn't a real name...

Remember a male voicing the story summary at finishing part ? It sounds like a boy (if I delulu it's near Heizou voice so yeah boy lol) so maybe it's him... I kinda want to know his VA~

Edit : in the end, it's Lyney (Hiro Shimono) not Heizou, I'm pretty near I guess 🤣

Jade Churin convo talking about his fate as stonehearts, the conclusion could between cut or promotion. But from my finding about Diamond personality so far, I think he's very leniant to "worth to invest" people. From Churin character story, he sounds so sure Churin gonna make profits later. Even Topaz big failure only get her one rank down because he saw she gonna make contribution in next project (Penacony). If somehow he get a cut too I don't think Churin screentime finish only at Penacony arc~ the reason mostly like if you're a screenwriter there's no way you gonna throw all the times for world building you made so meticilous for one person easily...

Overall not the best but it's pretty good, a big twist made me "HUH !?" once or twice (lol) and good change of pace too after 2.1 with Churin's dark past aside the fact some problem still not finish like what's happens with Penacony stellaron, the main antagonist basically running away and throw all blame to Sunday, Boothill searching for Oswaldo (eh moreless around his past I'm sure) and question from 2.1 that still unanswered in this version, IPC move on Penacony. Well with the epilogue finished like that I'm really sure IPC will make their move in TB next version.

From my personal opinion TB 2.2 isn't that interesting, maybe I read too many speculation before but most of them are right like Ena deep rooted on Penacony, Acheron real name eh is this even hidden lol, old man from Acheron convo means her reasons coming to Penacony (it's predictable after read halfway).

In the end, what's the problem with button Sparkle keep distributing ?

Additionaly we have "another date" with Firefly and she's just dying again this time off screen lol... and she said she's got one more dying later ? hmmm... well yeah she's cute but it's just too absurd, I can't even make any reaction about it, the things I spout after heard she dying again is just "oh she dying again huh...? Oh well she's gonna revive later anyway". Not lowering reader expectation on Firefly but isn't she just too streotype anime tragic cutie girl ? If not because of stellaron hunter + SAM too proper voice I could skip her banner easily. But she should have another chance in next version, let's see if she can turn around all my low expectation on her...

If I gonna be honest she will leave a big impression if she's dying for real at 2.3 plus I heard something like Sunday as stellaron member on future but...let's see~

So yeah I'm more eager with next version TB !

But you know what, with Penacony TB more into nameless and we all know Oswaldo is one of them... can I hope for IPC arc ? To tell the truth, I'm very curious with him and Diamond !

[katyahina]

Some (potentially) useful remarks on Healing Church clothes and weapons

1) Situation with Ludwig's sword(s) might be less simple than we used to think!

(I will be using retranslations document ( x ) by Last Protagonist as usual, to avoid losing some nuances)

So, we know that Ludwig was using the 'normie' silver sword that hunters of his type were using as well - the normal one that you stick in a 'sheath' to make a big one, replicating Holy Moonlight sword's transformed design but not glowing. The simplest variant is, of course, that he found Holy Moonlight sword but since he was so jealous and secretive of it, he was MOSTLY using the 'normal' blade. Perhaps, Holy Moonlight sword was only used on special occasions, or treasured away from most people and "consulted" for advice until later when he went mad. I would not say that this description comes from the fact that untransformed versions of the blades are the same, because... they are not:

And I think it mostly works, and it is worth pointing out that as epic as fanart of Ludwig swinging that turquoise-colored shiny sword is, and as simpler as memes using that sword are to get, but within the story it was not likely to happen consistently! But also:

This bit about description of Guidance rune makes things a bit more strange. If he, say, has been exploring the dungeons and found the sword that later inspired him to mass-produce similar swords, what it is about closing his eyes? Is this really about Ludwig just falling asleep before the sword or something? :')

@val-of-the-north suggested there is a possibility that Ludwig was shown the sword by superior forces - likely by Flora / Moon Presence herself, especially since Ludwig was close associate of Laurence, who was, in turn, beckoning Flora for creation of Hunter's Dream to begin with. For one reason or another, Ludwig could have seen the vision of the sword, that inspired him to create a very similar one under inspiration and become Laurence's knight this way. God- For all we know, Laurence might have planned to ""enlighten"" him!! And then, either himself or the hunters he inspired would go to the Chalice Dungeons and discover the REAL thing on their way. It could even be additional justification for why Executioner type of hunters are roaming the dungeons! Speaking of...

2) It is likely that Ludwig never wore Tomb Prospector set!

We know that Ludwig was THE first hunter of the Healing Church, who were a different type of hunters than Old Hunters of Gehrman's type. But at the same time, description of the Executioners clothes says that they were the very fist prototype for ALL following clothes of the Healing Church hunters, especially having inspired the trademark holy shawl:

So, FIRST was the garb of Executioners, THEN came the garb of Tomb Prospectors, at least as we know it!

(Source for Ludwig's model is Bosses Up Close video by XTrin: ( x ))

Additionally, whereas Tomb Prospector set is bought using the Radiant Sword Hunter Badge, it marks people using this badge as 'descendants' of Ludwig:

So, again; first was Ludwig, in Executioner drip, and then Tomb Prospectors, and their attire, were inspired by him. I... see the only way around it; that Ludwig was wearing Executioner clothes initially, and later wore Tomb Prospector set on his adventures, but when he was back, he also was wearing his normal set.

Interestingly, though, clothes of Executioners keep hinting at Rogeriusz/Logarius, despite him being... well, at the very least, SECOND known Healing Church hunter.

Whatever is the reason of Logarius being met in drastically different clothes, but the statue implied to be him, to which Alfred lays a crown at the end of his mad quest, IS depicted in Executioner clothes. Albeit, with far more robe-like feeling to it than how we see it on Alfred's example. Maybe for a different vibe, maybe Logaius always has been a bit more wizard-like, whichever you think it is!

It is hard to say which one is true, as we are with two variants:

one. Logarius was not the first hunter, but he was the first staff (court wizard?? lol), therefore set the trend of clothes, that Ludwig took upon as a hunter.

two. Ludwig is accursed, he fell from grace and was hated and forgotten as blood-possessed beast; meanwhile, Alfred alone is a good proof that Logarius is still honored and respected! So, perhaps, these clothes came to be associated with Executioners of Logarius instead, since Logarius (undeservingly so) pushed Ludwig from the place of admireable figure! Was it just society's sentiment, or a deliberate political action, hard to tell...

I am more fond of the second variant, and funny enough, this brings me to the next point I want to make:

3) It is likely that Healing Church's saints started wearing crowns thanks to Logarius.

Alright, this one is also slightly lost in translation, since not only the name of the item is different (which can be distracting), but also a sentense is missing in English localization.

Healing Church "sacrificing" someone would imply them giving away something treasured for them, so odds are, they would give away bodies of their saints to them roaming Pthumerians in the dungeons, instead of doing proper burial! The 'they are oddly stimulated by the stench of dead saints' also makes me think of this bit:

(Interview with Miyazaki ( x ))

If this was very special quality of blood what Pthumerian Watchers are after, then sure the saints would be the best; not only as very avid consumers of the holy blood, but also as those 'holding back' on transforming into a beast the most, which would sure make it special.

Additionally, you could use this intention, though it is a bit more vague: when Bloodborne was still a sequel for Demon Souls, Laurence's skull was going to not only look more human, but also have a crown on it:

Yeah, the simpler times when we had demon-like enemies, when Gasc and Mico would say 'Umbasa', all that.

But even cut content aside, the lore as we have it specifies that there were saints who worn crowns (and fancy rings and wrist accessories)! My lucky guess is that after Cainhurst was massacred, the saints of the Healing Church were... to put it in the most blunt way possible, qualified to declare themselves new aristocracy/rulers/whatever. Maybe it was to establish theocracy and their reign as new most influental figures, maybe it was to honor Logarius who started wearing the crown of the murdered King after his crusade, maybe it was both.

...besides, it means there were so many important saint figures in the Healing Church in the timespan from Cainhurst falling to Paleblood Hunter arriving. We seem to meet Emilia/ Amelia at the very end of whatever authority Healing Church still had, with no seen successors, and current Healing Church hunters chief being Cleric Beast on the bridge... Before this point of time, though? It is an aviary for OCs of the size I can't even describe x)

4) There is a reason why Black Church Servants have a more "dangerous" weapon despite 'black' being lower rank to 'white'.

I am talking about these guys, and their annoying Crucifix weapon that activates Frenzy buildup.

It did not quite make it in the final game, presumably because there were only so many ways to make a proper mace-like weapon, but in the concept, Bloodletter was looking a lot like this as well:

I just want to point out that the 'expelling bad blood' aspect is QUITE important here! Bloodletter causes the user to get Frenzy buildup, much like the Crucifix used by Black Church Servants. And the reason it is believed to "help" with the "bad" blood? The fact that Frenzy is connected with the hunt!

I talked about it more in this ( x ) and this ( x ) post, but TLDR; Frenzy spears are literal weapons manifesting from the person's very blood solidfying, Oedon the Great One is inextricably tied with the bloodshed and bullets and the Hunt itself, and blood itself seems to solidfy into those spears bit by bit.

So, they might have ended believing that what deliberately causing Frenzy would do is to unleash whatever it was in person that was getting corrupted - and thus, more subjective to beasthood. Especially, that would work with Black Church, who were "preventive":

4.1) Just like that, White Church Servants correlate with what White Church Doctors do.

The lamp is especially interesting detail, as it is harmless, and only hurts you with the Arcane projectile when you have enough Insight. Meanwhile, Frenzy does hurt stronger the more Insight you have... Truly, in Bloodborne, the Hunt and Eldrich Truth, the Beasts and Kin are simply two sides of the same coin... Just two outcomes in the same corrupt deity's vicious plan.

5) Use or not, but male Church Doctor clothes have weird similarities with 'foreigner clothes'.

It is hard to confirm of deny anything here... Brador has five buttons but Black Church Doctor has four; similarly, the foreigner set our Hunter arrives in has five buttons and White Church Doctor has four. They're the same striped type of a vest though, and they have the same type of buttons, athough Church's is sewn with dark threads but foreigner is with brighter.

It could have been an intentional reference that either was abandoned or is so hard to decipher that we will never get there. We only have subtle hooks towards Paleblood Hunter being not loreless; such as Cainhurst summon we find in the room we woke up at having OUR name written in it, with one of the Cainhurst portraits featuring Golden Pendant adn Church's necklace. I am always lost with the ideas of what might have went down in the past..... or whether 'we' are secretly related to Brador or his land, bwahaha!

6) They ARE, all in all, DOCTORS clothes.

I find it a bit... harder to tell what DO hunters of the Healing Church wear? We find only so many of the NPCs that wear Healing Church Doctor clothes: for black set it is two black hunters in Research Hall (female and male), one guy in Nightmare Frontier and Adella who has no hunting weapons, for white set it is a praying lady in Research Hall and Imposter Iosefka + likely real Iosefka too, that also doesn't hunt. Seven characters, FIVE of which are confirmed to be associated with medicine (...six if being a Blood Nun counts...?); three characters in Research Hall, one is stated to be a doctor, one is a nun, one does Kin experiments that originated from Research Hall.

Would not put the Black Church guy in the Frontier as a drastic contradiction. What I am saying is, they might not even qualify as hunters. Logically, they'd have weapons and get some self-defence skills as they HAVE to kill (people, less so beasts!). Iosefka is never confirmed to fight, Adella uses normie dagger and not even a legit weapon, and four from the remaining five are reclused to the indoors places.

Mostly, I am thinking as I am writing it, as there is an interesting character - Henriett! She is wearing the clothes descending in design from Old Hunters type (not Healing Church type!), yet she has Church weapons (Repeating Pistol and Kirkhammer) and helps to beat Amelia, Ludwig and Laurence. I always felt like she used to be Healing Church's hunter but found something she should not have and detracted... And I presumed she used to wear Black Church clothes (trousers variant to be practical). Buuuuut.

I might actually take this back. Depending on the interpretation, the current hunters of BEASTS, not of PEOPLE that "might" be beasts etc, could either 1) wear Executioner garb like Alfred does 2) wear unique clothes that is yet to be designed, but might be similar to Executioners garb, for example, design mix of doctors' and Executioners, or TOTALLY unique clothing like Gascoigne for example 3) actually wear 'Hunter' set like Henriett and our Paleblood Hunter from promo materials after changing their foreign garb.

On the other hand, Henriett having been one of them paranoids eliminating people falling for beasthood and then snapping out of it could make such a mess of a character's backstory. Not to mention that some Black "doctors" (and occasional White ones) did blend in with Huntsmen mobs, in chaotic mess of no longer being able to tell where is a friend and where is an enemy. No longer caring for those 'showing' signs of beasthood but only those who fully turned. And foreigners, of course! Like, maybe the 'they are not hunters but so-called "doctors" point USED TO be relevant in Old Hunters era, but during the game events it is not relevant ANYMORE, as Yharnam is basically anarchy now.

----------------------------------------------

Alright, I think I compiled what I had to say!

Mostly, I made this post for the reference to myself as an artist and a writer, and for my friends that might find it useful, but I decided to put it here just in case if someone else could find something here! Also, a headcanon: whereas Ludwig's Holy Blade was based of the OG Holy Moonlight Sword, the Kirkhammer instead was based off the hammer the Pthumerian creator of Holy Moonlight Sword used to forge it! It was discovered waaaay down there. Because Loran already met Yharnam's fate once. Maybe, somewhere in Yharnam, there is still the 'original' Hammer. And it glows in red upon tranforming, rather than how the sword glows in turquoise!

[thebestoftragedy]

what are some books you liked and disliked so far this year?

So I read a lot (so far this year: 123 books finished, mostly novels), so I have a lot of books I liked and disliked. Let's call this my almost-mid-year year-in-books review. it's long. sorry (?)

5/5 star type books:

2666 by Roberto Bolaño - technically a reread (I read this for undergrad 10+ years ago). Really really good expansive weird dark book. A 'reading experience'. It's about knowledge and power and misogyny and history and academia and murder and death and what it means to have a legacy, and it's also pretty funny.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë - It's Jane Eyre! Not a reread but I was basically familiar with the plot due to basic cultural osmosis (I haven't seen any adaptations of it unless you count gifs on tumblr dot com). Good and fun. Romantic. All the haters are wrong.

4/5 stars, really good but maybe I had some reservations or it just didn't 'hit' the way I wanted:

Big Swiss by Jen Beagin - funny, weird, blah ending

The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith - good but tbh I like the movie better

Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather - good!

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Philip K. Dick - weird! fun.

Nightmare Alley by William Lindsay Gresham - fast fun gloomy

White Tears by Hari Kunzru - some awkward setup and bad pacing but a killer ending. stealth horror novel

The White Album/Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion - it's joan didion

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers - quiet people leading lives of quiet desperation, etc.

Dungeon Meshi by Ryoko Kui - I read the whole manga series, I loved the first few volumes, hated most of the rest of the series, and then felt neutrally towards the last one or two volumes.

Looking Glass War, A Small Town in Germany, and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré - slowly working through all of his books, so far they're all worth reading but I'm not sure I'd be able to 'rank' any particularly far or below the others

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett - some cringey stuff but a good fun weird sci fi/fantasy murder mystery. it's gonna be a series (maybe just a trilogy?) so I'll read the rest also.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon - killer killer first 60% and then the last 40% was like whatever.

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace - so it took me until page, like, 250 to really get into this, which I can't really forgive. overall I think this is a very good book that mostly justifies its weird formatting/premises/characters, but I would say it does not change my vague impression of the author as someone who fundamentally lacks empathy with women. there are a few chapters of this book (where a 'chapter' can easily be novella-length) that I think are pretty unconscionable. but it's still well done, totally unique, and effective at what it sets out to do. oh also the author gets the DEFCON system wrong and that's a pet peeve of mine. so.

A lot of the Bad books I read were just mediocre romance type novels and not super worth breaking down.

Notably Disappointing/Bad Books, 2/5 stars (where I pretty much hate them or think there's almost nothing worth reading there, but I at least got Something positive out of the experience):

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston - this is a terrible bad stupid book I would have been embarrassed to have written as a 15 year old. but it had a few individual funny scenes/lines so it wasn't totally miserable to read.

The Monster Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson - almost incomprehensible sequel to The Traitor Baru Cormorant, which I liked ok/thought was interesting but underbaked. I'll try the third book, but I'm bailing if it's not immediately interesting to me because this was a total slog.

In Memoriam by Alice Winn - I think this got that second star on the merits of basically one good blowjob joke. going in I thought this was going to be more of a serious literary novel and not what it is, which is basically yaoi for twentysomething women who are really into song of achilles or whatever.

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata - I got absolutely nothing out of this. Sorry Women

Murder Road by Simone St. James - wouldn't have been notable except that I used to enjoy this author a lot (when she wrote historical mysteries) and haven't liked her contemporary/more modern stuff as much, and then this was a new low. dull clumsy boring novel.

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley - this got a huuuuuuuge insane marketing push this year and I think has already been optioned for TV (this will be a recurring theme in this list). utter mess of a novel, combines secxually explicit self-insert RPF, wallowing about Being The Child Of An Immigrant, wallowing about Accidentally Doing Microaggressions Against A Coworker, wallowing in general, bad sci-fi, actually pretty good fish-out-of-water time travel comedy, and just general misery for me, personally, the reader. massive massive disappointment, actively makes me angry it was published. did I mention there's a scene of the narrator, who is very clearly the author, getting eaten out by this guy:

anyway. that happens.

A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck - a few tumblr mutuals loved this, I found the writing style distracting and inapt. it's supposed to be a cerebral type horror, but I couldn't get into it because the aw-shucks narrative voice keeps anything horrifying at a pretty far remove. also you could tell the author Really wanted to show off the Research he did, or like prove to you the reader how smart he is, and I dislike that sort of thing intensely when it's not pulled off well.

The 1 star zone, or: the abyss gazes also:

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas - this is a super-well-known, super-well-loved, often listed as one of the best-of-all-time romance novels, and I just fucking hated every second of it. awful characters, awful plot, I wanted everyone to explode in an iron foundry accident (this happened in a different novel by the author, which also sucked).

Penance by Eliza Clarke - it's a fake true crime novel, very heavily based on a real crime, and it just did not justify its existence in any way. I got Nothing out of it and enjoyed none of it and it had no redeeming qualities for me. moderately offensive for it to exist at all, which I could more or less forgive if it were very good, but it's not.

Disfigured: On Fairytales, Disability, and Making Space by Amanda Leduc - bad tumblr posts pretending to be an academic type exploration of disability in fairytales, except you can tell the author has only read like 2 essays on the subject (because she only every references 2 other writers) and then watched some disney movies (but not even all of them). really lazy, bad-faith, deeply anti-intellectual. I spent my entire time reading this sending angry messages to @ilovemymutedcalico8487 about how wrong it is and how much it sucks.

My Darling Dreadful Thing by Johanna van Veen - I broke my rule and read a book with the word 'sapphic' in the goodreads description. really inept gothic, really clumsy 2014 tumblr SJW stuff wedged into a story that takes place in midcentury the netherlands, just bad.

Margo's Got Money Trouble by Rufi Thorpe whose name I will NOT mistype as Rupi Kaur even though she might as fucking well be - absolute garbage shit idiot trash for garbage shit idiots. actively loathsome and evil book. soon to be adapted as a tv series starring (and I'm refusing to google to double check this, so I could be completely misremembering, but this this does not deserve care or accuracy) elle fanning and nicole kidman. just don't.

congrats on reading. as a reward, you should go read a book that's good.

[gabessquishytum]

Emerging from my crypt to discuss the majesty that is Feral Hob. I'm thinking the Corinthian as a court advisor in this universe, mostly focusing on military campaigns and assassination plots, but like any gentleman he does dabble in philosophy. However, he's tragically bored with it all, all the kindness and gentility just isn't for him, and there's not a school of thought that seems to speak to his soul.

Until Hob arrives. Then he understands the supreme wisdom of biting and licking things to learn about them. He devotes himself to the study of Hob, to developing a new theory on life based on wolves and man combining. It's totally just because he's a gentleman engaged in scholarship, and not because he craves both violence and a taste of the thick, tangled hair growing across Hob's torso. Yet still, he studies it all and prepares to life his life anew, in the manner of Feral Hob.

He announces his commitment to this new ontology by joining Hob in his daily routine of tackling Dream to lick his face and rut across him until they're all covered in each other's scent. At first Hob is hostile to this newcomer in his daily rituals, but soon he comes to recognize a fellow wolf. Corinthian is thrilled to be added to this animalistic pack of true hunters in tune with a sense of nature previously unknown in the royal gardens. However, he had not accounted for the fact that Hob was the Alpha, and he would be giving up his position.

Cori gets the violent, feral life of hunting and blood that he wants, but he spends his nights being corralled into Hob's den (the massive blanket fort at the end of Dream's bed) and being pinned into place like a squirming pup until he agrees to sleep peacefully. The indignity of being clearly treated like a child is almost worth it, when he gets to find out just how little clothing Dream wears when he decides to join Hob for bed.

No emoji anon

Ohhh I love this!!! I love you!!!

Imagine from Hob’s perspective... he's looking at Cori and thinking "this pup could be an excellent hunter and provider but he is far too stiff and serious. I, as alpha, will teach him how to play nicely and to live his best life." So he makes a special effort to show Cori all the important parts of life - how to stalk prey, how to pounce, how to greet one's mate and how to mark one's territory. At first like an good scholar Cori makes copious notes on all Hob’s teachings, but he soon realises that it is far better to just. Do what Hob does. Live life to the full and enjoy it.

Dream is incredibly amused to see his foremost advisor being lovingly bullied by Hob. He thinks the whole experiment is utterly hilarious, and he has no complaints at all about Hob’s new student joining in with the daily routine of scenting, rutting and grooming. Cori is supposed to be writing some kind of treatise on the whole experience... but Dream doubts that he'll ever pick up a pen again. He's too invested, now.

[worstpart]

[ DO I EVEN EXIST? IF YOU TAKE AWAY THE MASKS I WEAR, IS THERE ONLY BLANK SPACE UNDERNEATH? ]

𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 …

⋯⋯⋯ GENERAL DETAILS.

FULL NAME: jaya kasturi. NICKNAME(S): none. AGE: thirty2. DATE OF BIRTH: january 8. PLACE OF BIRTH: chicago, illinois. CURRENT LOCATION: bearhold, washington. GENDER: cis woman. PRONOUNS: she/her. ORIENTATION: bisexual. SPECIES: watcher. OCCUPATION: therapist at bearhold community hospital.

⋯⋯⋯ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

HEIGHT: 5'9. TATTOOS: marigolds on her inner wrist and a beetle on her calf. PIERCINGS: one in each ear and a nostril piercing. CLOTHING STYLE: professional, clean, sophisticated. DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: is almost always seen wearing jhumkas.

⋯⋯⋯ HEALTH.

ALLERGIES: none. SLEEPING HABITS: very well. generally doesn't dream unless she wants to. EATING HABITS: prefers making her own food. doesn't really like cooking for other people though. SOCIABILITY: 7/10. somewhat sociable. easy when it's for her job or to get information when she wants it. DRINKING / SMOKING / DRUGS: yes / yes / no.

⋯⋯⋯ PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: compassionate, insightful, perceptive, pragmatic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: venal, self-serving, manipulative, secretive, deceitful. LIKES: a glass of wine before bed with a bad romance novel, debating (arguing), being nosy. DISLIKES: texting, driving, texting and driving. FEARS: letting herself down. HABITS: spinning a pen between her fingers, 'hmmm's, scribbling in the corner of notebooks. HOBBIES: wine and a bad romance book, karaoke, cooking.

𝟶𝟶𝟸.   𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 / 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂   … 

a much quicker and truncated backstory... has a prodigal older brother who has won every accolade, including the hearts of their parents. is she bitter? maybe. move along. she's an adult she doesn't look to her parents for validation. he gave their parents grandkids and trips back home to india and she gave them news of a failed engagement.

jaya moved to bearhold to live with a friend as she started college when she was 17. lived in bearhold on/off for a bit for a couple years as she was getting her degree at the university of washington, but has lived there since getting her degree.

loves bearhold mostly for the distance it puts between her and her family. she rarely speaks to her parents and has absolutely zero contact with her brother. also loves bearhold for the fact that she's able to dedicate herself to the study/research of the supernatural and mystical.

while jaya provides therapy services to anyone who needs it, she excels at tailoring them to the supernatural or those who have interacted with such.

is she entirely ethical? probably not. who cares she's hot.

'working' with law enforcement in the sense that she lies to them about what they ask about supernatural folk, particularly those who are her patients. prefers taking matters into her own hands or contacting slayers/hunters if she believes there is something worth investigating.

𝟶𝟹. 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚁   … 

had a mentor when she was starting out at the community hospital who was also a watcher. they taught her the foundations of what she knows now and she looks up to them greatly. particularly, they helped her figure out how to manipulate mountain ash. while she certainly doesn't use it at her place of work, she does carry some with her just in case and keeps her bedroom door + windows protected by it.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Chapter 13: Chaab (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Chaab. n. fear.

Chapter Summary: Your rescue from Coruscant goes better than you anticipate, but the squad is still fractured.

Chapter Warnings: self-starvation as a form of resistance; mentions or possibilities of torture; Tarkin is mentioned; canon-typical violence; angst; if I missed any please let me know!

Word Count: 4,171

A/N: ask zero questions about the timeline of this story because i genuinely don't know. this is purely vibes. enjoy!

Read it here on AO3!

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

A guard brings you a meal again. This is the third, maybe fourth one, your only real way to measure time here. You leave it untouched. Partly, you’re unwilling to move from the corner of the duracrete cell, your body warmth having long since leached into the cold, unyielding surface. To move would mean to lose what little comfort you’ve scrabbled out of nothing. Partly, you’re not entirely trustful of the prison system food. 

Mostly, though, you’re trying to figure out if it’s even worth sustaining yourself when you know there’s a very high chance you’re going to be dead soon. 

Crosshair had said your punishment was capital. There are few greater measures of capital than a being’s life in this galaxy, particularly under the Empire. Even if you ate, even if you tried to keep your strength up, how long before they sent in an interrogator droid? How long before your trial? How long before the seemingly endless reserves of power and people overwhelmed your singular attempt at resistance? 

Punching out a sigh, you shift on the uncomfortable stone platform. Your entire right leg has gone numb sitting here. The jumpsuit they forced you into when you arrived is stiff and itchy; every nerve in your body screams for you to scratch, to soothe, to relieve. Ignoring the impulse is becoming a losing battle. 

When the guard returns to collect the food tray, still full, he says nothing, and you don’t, either. Try as you might, you can’t figure out how long you’ve been here. How much time has passed between finding Crosshair on Iridonia and now? Chewing at the inside of your mouth, you taste blood. Karking hells. You spit the blood onto the floor. 

Your world consists of dark-wash gray walls, staticky red electrobarrier, and gleaming white plastoid as guards march past on regular surveillance patrols. You can’t see any of the other cells on this block, even if you crane your head from where you sit. Probably by design. Can’t plot an escape without backup. Gray, red white. 

Jerking awake, heart pounding, you scan the small cell you’ve been confined to. Kriff, you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep. As you look around, trying to determine exactly what woke you, you rub your palms on the coarse fabric of the jumpsuit. Maybe a bad dream.

“616F, 616G, 616H, 616...ah, 616I, here we are,” comes a muffled voice. 

You draw yourself deeper into the corner, eyeing the glowing red barrier. On the other side, you catch a glimpse of white armor and a light gray uniform, and then the barrier flickers before powering down fully. Your eyes narrow, heart jumping into your throat and making it hard to breathe properly. 

Polished shoes clicking on the duracrete steps, an Imperial officer descends into the cell. Uniform pressed and ironed to perfection, rank insignias aligned in neat rows, hair swept back underneath an officer’s cap, a dark-skinned woman faces you, her face twisted into something like disgust, like you’re a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her otherwise impeccable shoe. You breathe through your nose, trying not to betray any emotions on your face. You studied intimidation tactics at the academy; you have an inkling of what this woman is here for. 

The red electrobarrier snaps to life behind the woman as she appraises you with dark, glittering eyes. You meet her gaze, lifting your chin just a hair, wanting so desperately to curl your lip in a sneer.

She mirrors the expression you’re failing to hide. In a clipped Coruscanti accent as polished as the rest of her, she says, “(full name), chain code 06Z25T891, parents unknown. Raised here on Coruscant. Admitted to the Academy under the previous regime, graduated with honors, and assigned as a supply officer to the Outer Rim. How...wasteful.” She clasps her hands behind her back, disgust growing more evident with every word. 

You remain silent. A part of you, the part that wants to claw your way out of this suffocating detention center, hopes. You hope beyond hope that the squad will just forget you, live full lives, safe and hidden. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” the woman asks. “No matter. I believe you’ve said enough, as it is.” 

She produces a holographic puck from her pocket and holds it flat in her palm. In spectral blue light, a recording of you and Arien—your heart clenches—flares to life. 

“—out of here,” your past self says in an undertone. “I don’t like this, Arien. Come with me.”

Swallowing against the lump in your throat, your brain conjures the memory of this conversation as it plays out in real-time. In your memory, Arien is not a translucent being, but flesh and blood, purple eyes shadowed with worry and doubt. 

“It’s not safe,” she says. She places a hand on the shoulder of past-you. “Stick it out until your contract is out, and don’t re-enlist.”

The small, flickering version of you shakes their head. “That’s five years away. I won’t be complicit in this bantha—”

The Imp officer clenches her fist around the holo puck. Your and Arien’s likenesses vanish, leaving an afterimage burned into your retinas. Your eyes find the woman’s again, and you drop the neutral facade. 

“What do you want,” you ask, voice as flat as you can manage. 

With a twitch of an eyebrow, the woman sweeps an arm out as if to encompass the entire cell. “You’re smart; I’m sure you can figure that much out.” 

���Humor me.” 

“I am not in the business of humoring criminals,” she says imperiously, drawing herself to her full height.

You glower up at her through your eyelashes, not deigning to give her the satisfaction of making you move your entire head. “No, it seems you’re in the business of being an insufferable di’kut with an overinflated ego.” 

For a beat, neither you nor she moves. Then her face splits into a wide, beaming smile, one that is so saccharinely false that your blood freezes in your veins. “Admiral Tarkin will be pleased to know that you are in custody, (full name). Consider yourself lucky that you are still, as yet, of use to the Empire.”

The name is unfamiliar to you, but if you’ve caught the attention of an admiral, you can only imagine what kind of hell your life is about to become. The woman turns on her heel.

When her foot touches the bottom step, you shake your head. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.” 

Her smile grows as she slowly faces you once again, but her eyes remain cold, menacing, uncaring. “No,” she says, softly, “you are about to find out exactly with whom it is you are dealing.” 

With a hum, the electrobarrier powers down, letting the Imp out, and immediately flickers back to life behind her. She throws you one last baleful glance before striding out of view, two troopers flanking her. After her footsteps fade, you count to ten. 

And then you sob. Pressing the back of your hand against your mouth, you screw your eyes shut. Your chest tightens. The room tilts off its axis. Heat and ice fuse into your spine, melding you in place, locking your limbs where they’re wrapped around each other. Thoughts spin wildly in your mind. Disjointed. Frantic. Panicked. 

Omega—is she safe? Will she stay that way? Will Hunter forgive you? Will you see Echo again? Are you still going to die? Are they going to interrogate you? Your brain conjures up an image of Tarkin—you’ve never seen him before, but in your mind, the unknown figure takes on a looming, oppressive presence, larger than life. You blink: in the flash of darkness, there’s Hunter, his kind, tired eyes vacant and glossy. There’s Echo, blood leaking out of his mouth. There’s Omega, screaming for you. 

Another sob rips itself from your lungs. You heave, stomach emptying onto the dark flooring.

Time passes strangely here. You’re unable to account for how much of it passes around you, whether the officer visited you seconds, hours, days, eons ago. It could be any of them. It could be none of them. You sit in the corner, eyes unfocused. When you blink, returning to the present moment, you glance around. A new tray of food rests near the barrier. All the same food sits there—mush, a dry biscuit, and a dented cup—just in different order. Or maybe it’s the same. You’re not sure. 

The sight of food makes your stomach twist. Breathing through your nose, you turn away, angling your body so that the tray is out of your periphery. If you’re lucky, you’ll starve to death before this Tarkin person arrives. The realization that you’re willing to die for your squad, even knowing that they may never forgive you, is as natural as the breath you draw into your lungs. Of course you’d die to protect them. They’d do the same. 

Wouldn’t they? 

You’re glad you won’t have to find that out. Eyes sliding shut, a tear glides down your cheek and drops onto the coarse jumpsuit. 

Apparently, you’re not the first prisoner of the Empire to attempt this tactic. You have no way of knowing how long it’s been since the officer came to you, but the dryness of your mouth, the fatigue weighing your head down, the trembling weakness in your hands when you raise them all speak to the toll your self-imposed fast is wreaking on your body. When the electrobarrier power whirs down to nothing, you blink against the bleariness clouding your eyes and raise your head. A soft groan escapes you at the effort. 

In the doorway, another uniformed Imperial hovers, with a trooper and a floating droid behind them. Panic seizes your heart, arresting its beating for a moment, before exhaustion floods through you again and you find you don’t have the energy to be afraid. Have they finally come to interrogate you? 

The Imp tsks as he descends the steps into the cell. Both the trooper and the droid follow; the barrier shimmers back to life. 

“You really are lucky you are needed,” the Imp says. His voice is scratchy, rough, grating. You grimace. “Elsewise, we might actually let you starve to death. As it is, the Admiral has requested you be in good condition for him.” 

The Imp snaps his fingers and the droid bobs in the air toward you. 

“Don’t,” you mumble, eyeing the needles on the droid. Now that it’s this close, you can do nothing but gape at the array of needles, buzzers, prods, and other instruments on its black domed surface. 

“Don’t be silly, now,” the Imp says. At a wave of his hand, the droid hovers closer and jabs a needle into your arm. You flinch, the pain intense—but brief. It is immediately replaced by a familiar cool sense of relief that emanates through your entire body. Bacta. 

Sighing, you relax. Stars, that feels damn near heavenly. When the needle retracts, you don’t even feel it. Nor do you feel the second jab, and your exhausted mind succumbs to the pleasant, airy sensation of the bacta, dragging you into a light slumber. 

When you wake next, you feel stronger, more alert. Rubbing your eyes, you push into a sitting position, groaning at the ache in your muscles. You’ve been here too long. With a glance at your arm, you find a transparent catheter taped below the crease of your elbow. Ah. That explains the reason your hands no longer shake as you hold them up for closer inspection. Karking Imperials.

You’re unsure if something woke you, or if your body finally seems to have rested enough. Standing, you shuffle across the bare floor and scale the steps to peer through the red barrier of your cell. Nothing seems to move beyond it, the lights in the hallway no brighter or dimmer than they usually are. Something is going on out there, though. In the distance, so faint you think it must be a figment of your imagination, blaster fire repeats. Shouts, incomprehensible, echo off the hallway walls. 

Even from this vantage point, you can’t see the entrances of the cells across the hall from yours. The barriers are set too far back into the wall, blocking your view. Even so, something quiets your tongue, stalling the impulse to call out and ask if anyone knows what’s going on. 

You’re glad you stay quiet. A few more long, tense moments pass; the blaster fire and shouting gets louder with each breath, until you catch the sound of footsteps approaching your direction. You scurry back down the duracrete steps and resume your position on the bench. If the footsteps coming this way are Imperial, you don’t want to be caught with your nose in their business. 

A hulking figure sprints past your cell, then seems to skid to a halt, if the clatter of armor is any indication. The figure reappears in the doorframe, walking backwards. Gray armor with white and yellow accents. 

The gasp that escapes you is nearly a squeal. “Wrecker?”

“Nav!” 

You gape, open-mouthed, at the man before you. He pushes his helmet up onto his forehead, his face creased in a massive grin.

“S’good to see ya, Nav! C’mon, we gotta go!” Wrecker raises his blaster and shoots out the door’s control panel. The humming red barrier flickers before winking out of existence for good. He  beckons you, glancing up and down the hallway.

Without a second more of hesitation, you scramble up the stairs. Heart thumping wildly in your chest, the familiar, fuzzy warmth of happiness radiating into your very toes and fingers, you tackle Wrecker in a hug. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, face buried into his chestplate.

He awkwardly pats your back with his free hand. “Well, we—”

“We could ask you the same thing,” comes Tech’s voice from behind Wrecker. 

You step away from Wrecker. Panting, Tech stumbles to a halt, and though his helmet obscures most of his expression, his eyes meet yours briefly behind the yellow tint of his goggles. He inclines his head in greeting. 

“We received a coded transmission that you were at these coordinates,” Tech continues. 

“What?” You frown. “I didn’t— my belongings were taken from me.” 

“So who sent the message?” Wrecker asks, voice hushed. 

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. The answer springs immediately to mind: Crosshair. You can’t make yourself say it aloud, not here, fearing that speaking his name into existence will shatter this reunion. With a sigh, you decide to tell them on the ship, when you’re all safely back in hyperspace. 

Before your silence can become something awkward, another set of footsteps rush up behind you. Your lungs feel like someone’s squeezed all the air out of them and swapped your heart for a rock. Everything seems to slow, your focus drawn in on the skull-like helmet and your warped reflection in the visor. 

“Hunter,” you breathe. 

Wordlessly, he draws you into a crushing embrace. You gasp in surprise. Of all the possibilities you ran through when imagining reuniting, this one never occurred to you, not with the way things were left on Iridonia. The hard plates of his armor digging into your skin, but you don’t care about that. All you care about are his arms around you, the tremble you can feel in his hands where they grasp at your jumpsuit, the breath he exhales that crackles through the vocabulator. Your hands find purchase around his waist. His warmth smothers all of the fear and confusion of the past two weeks. 

“Thank you for coming,” you say, loud enough for the others to hear, but you intend it only for Hunter. 

He tightens his arms around you for a moment before releasing you. You step back, a bit dazed, nose full of the acrid scent of carbon scoring mixed with gunmetal oil and musk. Looking up at him, you hope your gaze meets his behind the visor. He nods once. 

“Tech,” he says, “get us out of here.” 

“Already done,” Tech says. “Our primary route will take us back parallel the way we came in, and I have several backup routes identified should we need them.” 

“Let’s go,” Hunter says. He gently nudges you to follow Tech.

Wrecker plasters himself to the wall to let you and Hunter pass by first before taking up the rear. He taps his helmet and it slides back into place over his face. 

“Omega is at the ship,” Hunter says behind you. His voice is close—closer than he’s ever been to you before. “We’ll be lucky to get back without much resistance.” 

“Hey, at least we haven’t tripped the alarm,” Wrecker says. “Gotta be a record— oh, for kriff’s sake.”

At his words, a klaxon alarm blares to life. You wince, covering your ears as the ascending note pierces through the hallway. “You just had to say something, Wreck.” 

“Sorry,” he says, and he sounds genuinely sheepish. 

Breaking into a jog behind Tech, you refrain from peeking into any of the cells you pass. You doubt you’ll recognize anyone here—but you also fear you’ll recognize all of them for the same hopelessness you wallowed in not that long ago. The same pervasive, heavy dread that weighed on your lungs, slowly crushing them. 

You stumble, jarring out of your reverie. Hunter catches your arm and steadies you. 

“Where’s your gear?” he asks, like he’s just now realizing what you’re wearing. 

“I don’t know,” you say. “I didn’t see where it got taken.” 

“Kriff.” Hunter sighs. “Tech, detour us to—”

“The processing office,” Tech interrupts. “Done.” 

Tech leads you all down a dizzying number of turns, hallways, service tunnels, and yet more turns. It’s not until the processing office is in sight that you encounter resistance. Ducking into an alcove, you cringe as blaster bolts scream past you. Hunter and Wrecker respond in kind, the rings of blue stun blasts expanding as they travel the length of the hall. One of the men at the other end grunts in pain and the telltale sound of plastoid against durasteel echoes around you. 

“I have eyes on the intruders,” says a familiar voice—a clone voice—at the end of the hall. “They’re in Detention Block 68—hrgh.” 

“Nice shot, Tech,” Hunter says. “Nav, we’re clear.” 

Nodding, you peek around the corner of the alcove. Two clone troopers lay sprawled, unconscious, in awkward positions on the floor in front of a square room. Through the transparisteel walls, you catch sight of neat rows of cubbies, most of them empty, but in one of them you spot your faded and worn pack. 

You rush forward, stepping gingerly over the downed troopers. Your pack, blasters, and clothing are all here. On top of your pack rests a single toothpick. Eyes widening, you brush the tiny piece of wood away, then grab your belongings. The familiar, comforting weight of your pack on your back and your DC-17s in both hands settles the spike of adrenaline. Crosshair again. 

“Time to move,” Tech calls.

You glance up; more troopers rush down the hall you just left. “Coming.” 

Behind Tech once more, with Wrecker taking up the tail again, the four of you dash in what feels like an endless circle. You lose count of the turns, the backtracking, the levels you scale down. Only your absolute trust in these men, in Tech, keeps your hands steady as you fire over Tech’s shoulder, his own hands occupied with the detention center schematics on his datapad. 

“The hangar is just ahead,” he says. 

“Thank the stars.” You’re panting, a burning stitch in the side of your neck, but as the hallway doors whisk open, you nearly sob at the sight of the Marauder. 

“Intruders!” The shout echoes around the massive hangar bay, several troopers taking up the call and radioing for reinforcements. 

Putting on a burst of speed despite the way your legs feel like molten lava, you duck under the lip of a stack of crates just as blaster fire screeches toward you. The bolts impact the crates, but you don’t stop moving. The Marauder ramp begins to lower. 

“Go, go go!” Hunter urges. “Wrecker, get on board and get on the guns!” 

Tech, Wrecker, and you practically sprint for the ramp, Hunter providing covering fire behind you. You fire blindly to either side, hoping that at least one stun blast catches a trooper, or at the very least deters them from shooting at you. Tech reaches the ramp first, leaping the few feet off the ground and clambering up the rest of the way. By the time you and Wrecker reach it, the ramp is finally on the ground. Wrecker disappears to the right, but you hesitate. 

“Hunter!” you call. 

“I’m coming,” he says. 

Still a few dozen feet behind, he’s crouched behind a long rectangular supply crate, head ducked low to avoid being shot at. A quick glance shows a number of troops advancing on his position—and another squadron falling into place in the rafters at his back. Under your feet, the ship lurches. 

“No, wait, Hunter!” Your voice cracks. “Now!” 

He follows the line of your outstretched pointer finger. Stumbling, he rushes toward the ship just as the firing line opens, raining blue blaster bolts onto the crate he was just behind. You raise, aim, and fire your DCs without a second thought, nearly every shot connecting with a trooper. One, two, four go down, unconscious, and the rest scatter. 

Twenty feet, ten feet to go—the ship rises several feet into the air. You toss your blasters behind you into the ship. Like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times, Hunter jumps and you catch his forearm, fingers digging into him as his dig into you, and you pull for all you’re worth. The ship pitches to the side; blaster fire narrowly misses the both of you as Hunter’s feet find purchase—

With another jolt to the side, you lose your footing and stumble back into the ship cabin, yanking Hunter with you. You collapse onto the durasteel floor, Hunter landing on top of you. The air whooshes out of your lungs; for a moment, you panic as the cabin grows darker. Only the pneumatic hiss of the ramp sealing calms you, though not by much. Your chest is tight where you imagine your diaphragm is, the muscle not working properly. Dimly, you’re aware of shouts being thrown back and forth over your head, Tech and Wrecker trying to get the squad to safety. 

Hunter removes his helmet; it bounces and rolls across the floor. “Nav?” 

You nod weakly, lungs still refusing to work. Pushing at his chest, you try to get him off of you, to get the extra weight off of your chest. Thankfully, he understands and lifts himself onto his palms, but he doesn’t go farther than that. Worry lines crease his forehead, his gray eyes searching your face, his lips turned down in a frown. 

Finally you heave a lungful of cold, recycled air into your aching lungs. Coughing, you gulp down a few more breaths before you become aware of the relief spreading over Hunter’s face. This close, you could count his eyelashes. Heat blooms in your chest. 

“Hi,” you whisper. 

“Hi,” he says. 

Two feet appear in your periphery, and you crane your head around. Omega’s features are upside down from your perspective, but the puffy, reddened eyes and tear tracks clench your heart. Scooting out from underneath Hunter, you rise to your knees, arms open. 

Omega throws herself into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs coming up around your waist, fully latching onto you. Hunter’s hand steadies you as Omega’s added weight tips you off-balance. The girl sniffles, her hair obscuring your vision, the red dye faded to pink. The ship jolts as it makes the jump to hyperspace. 

“I missed you so much,” she says, her voice thick. She hiccups. “Please don’t leave us ever again.” 

Rubbing her back, you squeeze her tightly. “So long as you all want me here, I’m not going anywhere again, kid.” 

“Promise?” she says. 

“I promise.” 

With a sniffle, she slowly lowers her feet back to the floor. When she pulls back and you look at her face, you offer her a smile. She doesn’t return it. Instead, fresh tears well in her eyes. 

“What’s the matter, bug?” you ask. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re safe.” 

She shakes her head. “E-Echo—”

Your eyes widen. Heart thudding in your ears, you look up at Hunter, the worn, tired light in his eyes only serving to deepen the sudden dread in your veins. Echo can’t be gone. He can’t be—no. You refuse to even entertain that thought. Pushing up to your feet, you take quick stock of the ship, like he’s going to jump out at you, that they’re just playing a joke for your return. But he’s not here.

“Where is Echo?”

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @skellymom

[s0ulsniper]

Requests !!

ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩

For all of my fanfictions all of these I state can be requested.

- one piece (live action characters until I finish the anime)

- spiderverse (literally anyone)

- deathgasm

- metal lords

- Scream (any except for 5&6, will add when I've watched them Ó⁠╭⁠╮⁠Ò)

- The umbrella academy (+cast)

- Marvel (most characters to an extent.)

-Wednesday (+cast, characters mostly only the students.)

-TMNT (please tell me which version)

-Avatar the last Airbender

-Albert aretz (Flamingo)

-Criminal minds (maybe cast also, depends on who.)

-Haikyuu (almost everyone.)

-Guns n roses, Metallica, Megadeth.

-Your boyfriend / girlfriend / crush.

-Death note (almost everyone)

-Moon knight (+Oscar Issac if just saying marvel wasn't enough to so specify) 

-Arcane (almost everyone)

-Hunter x hunter

-Cobra Kai (modern and old.)

-Gotham

Please tell me if there are people you would like but you don't see on the list ! I'm sure I was stupid and forgot a couple, but I'll try to get everyone.

If you would like me to add any more prompts, please comment.

‼️ You do not need to use the prompts to request! But please at least give a brief description of what you want. ‼️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩*ੈ✩‧₊˚*

PROMPTS:

1.) "I will never stop protecting you"

2.) "It's so hard to sit here close to you and not kiss you."

3.) "I can braid your hair for you- I mean only if you want to."

4.) "Dance with me, please?"

5.) "How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?"

6.) "You are worth waiting for. So when you're ready, I'll be here."

7.)"I promised I'd love you forever, and that is a promise I intend to keep."

8.)"If there was anybody meant for me, it's you."

9.) "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

10.) "Did you just tell the person I was gonna go out with that were dating?"

11.) "You got me breakfast?" "Well you said you always forgot to eat before work so I thought I'd make sure you ate something."

12.) "No no– it's alright, come here."

13.) "What? Does that feel good?"

14.) "Nope, I'm not letting you go. It's too early to get out of bed."

15.) "Your hair is so soft…"

16.) "C'mere, you can sit on my lap until I'm done working."

17.) "It's too cold ! Come back !"

18.) "I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention."

19.) "Shh, you're safe. I won't ever let you go."

20.) "Just pretend to be my date."

21.) "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."

22.) "It's not a double date, we're just third and fourth-wheeling."

23.) "Close the door."

24.) "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

25.) "Watch me."

26.) "We could get arrested for this."

27.) "Why are you helping me?"

28.) "I thought you were dead."

29.) "If I could, I would kiss away all your scars."

30.)"Mmm. You're warm."

31.) "I think I might be falling in love with you."

32.) "You're so cute when you're half asleep like this."

33.) "Shh… it was just a bad dream. None of it was real, I'm here with you."

34.) "No, you can't get up! You're my prisoner for today."

35.) "It's not bad to cry, in fact I think that makes the person stronger."

36.) "Touch them, and you're dead."

37.) "Put the knife down, I'm not going to hurt you."

38.)"We're not alone."

39.) "Keep your eyes closed and don't make a sound."

40.) "How many times have I told you already? Sit still !"

41.) "Is that my shirt?"

42.) "Is that a drawing of me?"

43.) "Quick, kiss me!"

44.) "They're not you."

45.) "You look better in my clothes than I do."

46.) "You sure you wanna do this?"

47.) "We can take things slow."

48.) "I'm gonna remember this for a while."

49.) "You're doing so good."

50.) "Do you wanna make out?"

51.) "Teach me how to do it."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩*ੈ✩‧₊˚*

[dalishious]

Running Commentary: The Masked Empire Ch 11 & 12

TL;DR: Briala, Celene, Michel and Felassan find themselves at the Dalish Clan Virnehn's camp. Michel discovers that the clan has summoned Imshael the Choice Spirit, demanding the spirit give them they key to unlock the eluvians. He, Celene, Briala, and Felassan make a deal with Imshael to get this key for themselves.

—————

The morning after getting rescued by the Dalish, the Keeper of Clan Virnehn, Thelhen, is none to happy about Felassan bringing the group here, and is rather rude to Briala, calling her a "stray". He asks if she's at least a mage, but since she isn't, he questions her worth. (Yet another point against the stupid retcon in DA:I saying that the Dalish don't like mages.)

Briala tries to explain that the Keeper has the opportunity to help the elves of Orlais, but is met with a horrible response.

Briala stood up straighter. “The elves of Orlais have suffered, Keeper. If Grand Duke Gaspard comes to power, they will suffer even more. If you help restore Empress Celene, you will save many of your people in the alienages of Orlais.” Thelhen shut his eyes and looked away from her. “Abelas, da’len,” he said quietly, “but I have no people in the alienages of Orlais.” Briala sat quietly then, and listened to the argument while she looked around the camp. The great wagons, the aravels, were arranged in a circle like the buildings of a small town. She could pick out the purpose of some of them. One held bows and a fletcher’s tools; not far from it, Dalish children practiced shooting arrows at stump-targets painted like men. Near another aravel, crates were filled with vegetables, while smoked meat hung nearby, and behind a third wagon, Dalish warriors swung wooden blades at target dummies. Briala tracked their motions and saw that the drills were the same as she had seen a hundred times at Celene’s family estate or in Val Royeaux. They were not her people. The words should have hurt, but Briala felt empty instead. She looked at elven children laughing and playing, elven hunters joking about their skill, elven cooks singing old songs while their apprentices cleaned up the dishes from breakfast. Through the open door of one of the wagons, she could see an old couple sleeping, snoring softly. There were no princesses, no Fade spirits whisking through the aravels to do the laundry, but it was still more than she could have ever dreamed of. None of them ducked their heads or watched with concern for the humans. None of them feared a human walking into their camp to cause trouble. And they let the alienages burn, because the elves in the alienages were not their people.

Naturally, Briala is heartbroken.

Felassan is able to persuade Thelhen to let Briala roam the camp freely, while Michel remains tied up and Celene under guard until she wakes up. (Mihris, First of the clan, is working on healing her).

While Michel is tied up, a Dalish warrior taunts him with threats, but it doesn't work very well, because Michel is too giddy over being called "shemlen". But then, a magic spell falls over everyone nearby, and Michel himself feels drawn to it, while no one stops him. He's led to a trapped spirit that calls himself Imshael.

Imshael explains how there is a network of magical mirrors known as eluvians that allows you to travel through the "in-between place" to reach destinations that would otherwise take days riding in the waking world. (Basically what Morrigan explains in DA:I.) Imshael says that Keeper Thelhen trapped him in a binding circle, demanding the key to awaken the eluvian network, but Imshael offers to make a deal with Michel instead.

Imshael chuckled. “Honest man. Well, mostly. What if I told you that if you found me a mortal and got him to put his bleeding palm to one of these damned stones, I would make the story of Ser Michel de Chevin true?” Michel blinked. “How?” “More effectively than your patron, Comte Brevin, bribing a forger.” Imshael grinned, and his beady eyes glittered among a field of old laugh-lines. “A few spirits whispering in a few dreams. A few documents falsified by men who will never remember doing so. The next time one of Gaspard’s bards goes digging, she finds that Michel de Chevin is exactly who he says he is, and living men will swear by the sadly absent Maker that they remember growing up with you, the noble and honest and entirely human Ser Michel.” “And in return?” “I’d get to leave this damned circle and live inside the man who bled on the stone.” Imshael took a deep, happy breath. “It’s been some time since I got to see the world. I’d like to look around a bit.”

Michel declines this, but gets the idea that Celene could use the eluvian network to win against Gaspard.

Meanwhile, Celene tries to convince Thelhen to help her. It doesn't go very well, lmao...

“Once Gaspard is put down,” she said, “I can ensure that the Dalish gain a new measure of respect in Orlais, and we look forward to learning from your wisdom. We already have elves attending our universities, and it would be an honor to allow your people to visit.” “You do not have the strength to fight this Gaspard,” the ancient hearthmistress said, her cracked voice laced with skepticism, “yet you think to offer us help?” “Power accumulates,” Celene said with confidence, “like a snowball rolling down a hill. I do not need you to fight Gaspard for me. I only need you to use your skills to help me reach Val Royeaux before Gaspard does. Once I do that, Gaspard will have no chance to oppose me, and I will crush hisrebellion and put him to death.” “Leaving you free to break your promises,” the warleader said, “like the humans before you.” The Keeper waved him to silence. “You would have me risk the lives of my clan to help smuggle you past your rival’s soldiers, and in return, you offer what? A chance to visit your buildings?” Celene wanted a drink, but reminding them that she was at their mercy would weaken her place in the discussion. “I don’t know what you want, Keeper. If you have a proposal, I can certainly—” “You destroyed the greatest empire this land has ever seen!” The warleader stepped forward, fist drawn back. “And when our people banded with Andraste to gain freedom from Tevinter, you betrayed us again!” She sat unflinching before his anger, then turned to the Keeper. “This discussion is unlikely to change the past,” she said. “If you have a request, name it.” “You do not understand,” the Keeper said. He gestured again, and the warleader stepped back. “You ask us to speak logically, when our entire history is filled with your people betraying and degrading ours. You took our land, our culture, even our immortality.” “And you do not seem to understand the opportunity that has landed in your lap.” Celene glared at the warleader, then at the Keeper. “This is the time to demand reparations. Do you wish conditions improved for the elves in our cities? Free emigration to the Dalish clans?” Seeing their blank faces, she took a gamble. “Honorary lordship of Halamshiral and the surrounding lands?” She had gambled wrong. She saw that immediately as their shoulders drew back, the tattoos on their faces twisting as they grimaced in revulsion, but she couldn’t tell why.

Celene, of course, can't understand why these Dalish elves don't want things like lordship. But what's more, is she can't seem to understand why they have zero (0) reason to trust anything she offers anyways. As much as I don't like this clan overall, I do adore Thelhen and the wardleader's part in this conversation.

Michel then returns and explains to Celene what he's discovered.

Briala has a moment of reflection, first thinking of her mother and then her meeting Felassan, both of whom encouraged her to be proud of being an elf. She decides to dedicate herself to helping the elves of Orlais, even if no one else will.

Briala then returns to Celene and Michel, who explain their plan to take the eluvian network control for Celene's use. At first, Briala tries to convince them that they could perhaps work with the Dalish, but Celene is able to talk her into fighting against them, with a promise to make life better for the elves of Orlais, and give Briala a title.

“Help me return to Val Royeaux, and I will strike every law that limits your people’s freedom and make you a lady.” Celene smiled. “The Comtess of the Elves.”

What's so wild to me... is Briala actually believes her. Well, at least for now. Ha.

Briala goes to recruit Felassan to help them, and in their conversation, points out to Felassan that she's realized he isn't actually Dalish. He asks her if she wants his help, or answers to what his true nature is--she accepts his help.

Michel escapes, recovers his gear, and then goes on a rampage, killing elf after elf. After he defeats Mihris, she begs for mercy.

Spinning, he slammed his shield against the healer’s staff, and the shot she’d been aiming flared off into the trees, leaving a trail of falling hail in its wake. Michel’s sword came down and knocked the staff from her hands. “Please,” the girl said, stumbling back. “Please, don’t.” “You would have killed me.” Michel raised his blade. She shut her eyes. “You killed the man I love, back in the camp.” “One of the guards?” Michel wondered if it had been the youngest one, the one whose blade he’d taken after he opened the man’s throat. “He would have killed me as well. And you are an apostate. A mage outside the Circle.” The girl opened her eyes. Rain streaked her face. Michel could not tell if she was crying. “I am defenseless, shemlen. Where is your chevalier honor?” “Here,” Michel said, and brought his sword down.

(Mihris ends up surviving the blow, though.)

Michel regroups with Celene, Briala, and Felassan at the spirit trap circle where Imshael waits. Interestingly, he greets Felassan as if they've met before, which Felassan does in turn. Imshael gives them the key when Michel threatens to destroy the runes that are holding Imshael prisoner, idiotically thinking this will hurt the spirit. Then Michel destroys the runes anyway, which actually frees Imshael, because of course it does, you dumb son of a bitch!

Imshael tells them where the nearest eluvian is, then walks off to kill the rest of the Dalish camp.

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken: Star Wars Episode II | November 16, 2008 - 11:30PM | Special

Time for more re-re comedy for gay nerds. Hey--HEY! That wasn’t very nice. Don’t say stuff like that! Okay. I am sorry. I forgive you. Thanks. 

Robot Chicken Star Wars! It’s one of my least favorite things. I ain’t never seen this stuff, and I wish I didn’t decide I had to watch it for a blog that no one reads. I wonder if I will do an exhaustive breakdown of each sketch? Um… HOW ABOUT NO. This shit sucks and just because it’s segmented doesn’t mean I have to be! Segmented, I mean.

Okay, so here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna rank my top three and bottom three sketches. This is going to be very hard, because I don’t like any of them, really. And, because I don’t like any of them, really, I will likely just be picking stuff borderline at random. Also, I skipped over some real short ones for consideration cuz who cares. Here, both lists are worst to best. 

BOTTOM THREE (WORST TO LEAST-WORST) 

Luke's Lack of Perspective. This is the one where Leia scolds Luke for being sad about Obi-wan dying because her whole planet was vaporized. The premise is lame, and also they cast the real Carrie Fisher, who has old lady voice and sounds nothing like her younger self. You can tell they pitched her up a little to try and make up for it. It’s just distracting, and the sketch isn’t even worth recasting.

AT-AT Drag Race. I couldn’t even really make much sense of this one. There’s a weird edit in it that I remember thinking implied that it was a dream? Which it wasn’t, obviously, it just was edited awkwardly and the joke is just “wouldn’t it be funny if guys raced AT-ATs?" and who gives a fuck. I did like the visual of the AT-AT clicking it’s heels, though.

Going Out Like a Punk. This is the one where Uhh. I forgot his name, no really. I almost typed “Cowboy Bebop.” The bounty hunter guy that everyone loves just because he has a cool name that I forget what it even is. Bop-Bop Peranu, I think it is. Anyway, he’s in the Sarlac pit (I remembered that no prob) and talking about how he didn’t go out like a chump. This one seems like it’s aimed squarely at annoying dorks who think they’re clever for making the same observation. I watch television to get away from shitheads like this! Cartoons, mostly, but still! 

[EVERY OTHER SKETCH IS TIED FOR THE MIDDLE]

TOP THREE (WORST TO FIRST)

 Palpatine's Trip. Depicting Palpatine's annoying travels to the Deathstar, paralleling the annoyances of regular Earthly air travel. He gets annoyed by the chair placement in the throne room, and as indignities mount he says, to some one, “here, watch me tempt fate. (mock exasperation) could this day get any worse? (casually) I think I’m safe, because I said that ironically.” The punchline is he gets tossed by Vader, like at the end of Star Wars: The Last Crusade. I just really like the tempting fate/irony joke!

Anakin's Happy Place. Decent premise depicting Anakin slaying children at the end of Episode III. It's the darkest scene in all of Star Wars, and I was fine with what they did with it here. The joke at the end is a little dumb, but it’s fine. It’s Robot Chicken.

Mouse Droid. My favorite, because I could imagine making a fan-edit of the original Star Wars with zero changes except you add the insert shots of the little mouse guy driving the droid. I like when mice drive stuff. That's basically the only reason I liked this.

This has an “extended” version available, but I just watched the version on HBOMax. This is probably worse than the first special, but I don’t want to think about it too long. All of these sketches are dumb as shit and for dorks, which I DEFINITELY am not one of. Go to hell!

EPHEMERA CORNER

Clerks: The Animated Series (November 14, 2008 - 11:00PM)

This could very easily be a whole goddamn thing. It will probably be longer than other EPHEMERA CORNERs, but I’ll still try to be concise. Clerks the Animated Series was an animated spin-off of Clerks, the scrappy, vulgar, independent comedy from Kevin Smith. It’s cult success lead to him inexplicably having a career, including two direct movie sequels to clerks. This cartoon only lasted six episodes, two of which aired on ABC. They came out on DVD shortly after, with a racist audio commentary track for every episode.

I literally taped the Super Bowl because a website reported that the Clerks Cartoon was going to get a commercial during it. I diligently taped the two episodes that did air. ABC decided to air the fourth episode, which was a parody of courtroom dramas (and had a very funny non-sequitur ending allegedly completed by the Korean animators without any input from the American writers). After that they decided to air the second episode, which heavily referenced the first episode. It’s main concept was that it was a clip show, and Dante and Randal spent a significant portion of the episode flashing back only to the first episode, which hadn’t actually aired. 

The show was a fairly typical animated comedy of it’s time. The vulgarity was tamped down in favor of absurdist gags and cultural references. Mostly, it worked. There were some really funny ideas, and the commentary tracks had some really fun tidbits about planned episodes that never happened. Honestly, if I weren’t already privy to the doomed nature of the show, or we lived in the alternate dimension where this was allowed to continue for multiple seasons, I would probably aspire to write for this thing. With a few exceptions, the humor was even more on my wavelength than Kevin Smith’s movies.

Weirdly, I don’t think I ever actually watched this show on Adult Swim. I remembered it as a Comedy Central acquisition. When Adult Swim first aired, I really admired the fact that one could watch Fox’s Sunday Night cartoon line-up, switch to Adult Swim, and then when Adult Swim was over you could switch to Comedy Central and watch reruns of South Park, Duckman, and this. It was a real special time to have cable. Hot damn.

I really do wish this lasted longer. Deserved at least half the success of Family Guy. In my ideal world, this show takes off and Kevin Smith stops making movies. He only revisits the "canon" View Askewinverse in occasional comic book mini-series. You ever read his comics? His writing style comes off better in those, I think.

PLEDGE: The currently-ignored Adult Swim 2022 blog will return on some kind of non-daily schedule. I’ll finish out Baby Blues, and then do this. Happy, KON?? 

MAIL BAG

Time for some mail. Good lord. 

you gotten the adult swim 2021 group dm all riled up about xtacles. are you gonna do anything to fan these flames???

I dropped some bombs Hulk style, and things seem to be under control. You are right, they were out of line and it pissed me off!

dino and scott are excellent as mr burns would say. i forgive anything in their problematic past as long as they become the banner, ta ta for now

Despite the fact that one of them was nice to me once, and the other one made out with my friend (which is arguably also nice), I simply can’t. I like racist stuff, so I’m keeping the Minor Guys or whatever that show was called. Bye!

cahpo

?

so far it seems the only shows you like are space ghost, assy mcgee, and xtacles. i guess venture bros and morel orel made you cry, if that's a good thing. Anyway, just a like observation from this looky loo. Bye!

It is sorta fucked up that a TV show can make people cry. Should be illegal. But, hey, look out for the end of the year when I rerank all the Adult Swim shows. BYE!

and we say bye bye now

Bye bye! 

Bye bye!

Goodbye.

[whumpflash]

Ashes, Ashes 5: To Market

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You need what?”

“A necromancer. Or at the very least someone who works with life magic–”

“Ei, why—?”

“As a precaution! I refuse to risk losing my test subject. Come on, just call your girlfriend or something.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Nyra mindlessly spooned oatmeal into her mouth as she listened to her sisters argue. Girlfriend or not, she wouldn’t mind if Faiza had Mabel over. It was nice to hang out with a woman who wasn’t her relative every now and then, and Mabel was a witch to boot, which made her that much cooler.

Once upon a time, Nyra had dreamed about learning magic. This was, of course, before she’d learned just how difficult it was for a human without Fae blood. Putting aside the fact that a hunter could be called to take out a rogue witch just as easily as a vampire.

“Call her anyway,” Eimaan was saying. “Maybe we can work on the whole ‘not your girlfriend’ angle.”

Faiza shook her head dismissively, but it was easy to see she was flustered. Nyra smiled to herself. A little romance would definitely liven up the daily routine.

“And what are you grinning about?”

So not entirely to herself. She did her best to drop it and not make eye contact.

“Don’t worry about her. Call Mabel. We’ll set up an appointment, and maybe you two can…” Eimaan cleared her throat. “Talk about killing things over a coffee?”

“Right.” Faiza was not amused.

“In the meantime…” She clapped Nyra on the shoulder. “Nyra and I are gonna head to the market.”

“For what?” Faiza asked, as if every new statement from Ei only brought more inconvenience. Being fair to her, they mostly did.

“I am?” Nyra asked.

“We need to have a chat,” Ei said under her breath, then flashed Nyra with an overly cheery grin. “Gotta find some magic weapons to test on the dragon.”

Faiza raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with the ones we have here?”

“I want more options,” Eimaan said. “This is research, Faiz. I need all the data I can gather.”

The older girl shook her head. “Fine. Fine, just don’t take too long. I don’t want Nyra hanging out with the dealers.”

“She’s a hunter now. Gotta get used to it eventually.”

“Ei…”

“Alright, alright. Deal.” She nudged Nyra. “Let’s get going then.”

Nyra had to talk around a spoonful’s worth of oatmeal. “Now?”

“Now.”

Nyra swallowed and stood, taking the not-quite-empty bowl to the sink. Eimaan practically herded her out of the kitchen and towards the front door. She couldn't say she wasn't a little excited; her sisters went to the market all the time and came back with all sorts of interesting things. Protective charms, wooden stakes, silver bullets. It would be neat to see where everything came from.

“So,” Eimaan began once they were in the car, and Nyra knew immediately what their 'chat' would be about.

“Talking to dragon boy, huh?”

“Not that much," Nyra said. Eimaan pulled out of the driveway and headed in the direction of town, not taking her eyes off the road as she spoke.

“He tell you anything?”

“Not… not really. His name is Rhys?”

Ei sighed. “You know he’s trying to manipulate you, right? Make you think he’s a friend?”

“I know,” Nyra said.

“He’s just looking for a way out. You can’t trust him.”

“I know,” Nyra repeated. “I left on my own, remember? I’m not stupid.”

“Hm,” Eimaan said, a ‘fair enough’ in her own way. “Why did you go downstairs in the first place?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you talk to the dragon?”

“It was because of the dragon. I was worried he’d wait until we let our guard down and attack, but…”

“But?”

“But he can’t, can he?”

Eimaan nodded, looking satisfied with Nyra's conclusion. “That’s what I’m thinking. And I don’t know why. So I’m gonna need your help.”

Nyra shot her a confused look. “My help?”

“Let him think he got through to you. Let him think he’s charmed you, that you feel sorry for him.”

Nyra bit her lip. Won’t be that hard to fake, I almost do.

“---And find out why he hasn’t transformed. The real reason. Find out anything you can, really.” For a second, she glanced over at her, a bemused expression on her face. “Should be easy for you. I know you’ve gotta be curious about dragons in general, if you aren’t curious enough about this particular dragon already.”

"It… it would be kinda cool to learn more." And this indirect, talking approach would be good. She could help her family without having to actually hurt anyone.

"That's the spirit." 

The car came to a stop outside a long, low building. From the outside, it looked like a windowless strip mall. Nyra wondered if it would be similar inside; just a handful of individual shops, each with its own specialty. She knew a little about hunting markets, despite never actually having been to one. 

The quality kinda… varied. There were the huge corporate 'markets' that mostly serviced the Guilds, the home dealers that shipped out the more niche goods, and the run-of-the-mill town markets that got most of their profits from selling protective works to civilians.

She'd read about slightly more legally dubious markets too, where hunters would sell products made from the monsters they'd killed—or even the monsters themselves, still alive. Nyra seriously doubted the local one was anything like that, and as she followed her sister inside, she found herself to be correct.

It almost looked like a farmer's market, with tables and stalls lining a long, tiled hallway. Except instead of vegetables, there were weapons. Instead of homemade soaps and candles, there were bottled remedies and protective totems.

Nyra's head swiveled left and right as she tried to take in everything. She would have liked to stop, look at the wares, ask questions, but Eimaan was on a mission. Her sister marched all the way to the end, stopping at an empty booth and standing in front of it, arms folded.

"Ei, what are we—"

She held up a hand. "Sh. McGuire, I know you're there. Drop the act."

A small, spindly man appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and Nyra jumped back in shock.

"Ah-! How… what did you..?"

"Invisibility charm," the man said with a smile.

Nyra looked from him to her sister. "He's a witch?"

"With a capital 'b'," Eimaan muttered, and McGuire scowled at her, quickly turning his attention back to Nyra.

"No no, it's a literal charm." He held up his wrist, the flash of a silvery bracelet catching the light as he moved. A little eye-shaped pendant hung from it. "Three grand and it's yours."

Nyra's eyes widened. A real magic item? One not used strictly for the hunt? "How did you–?"

"We're not here for parlor tricks," Eimaan cut her off.

"You're no fun." He reached under the table, producing a notebook with what looked like a grocery list scrawled across its pages. "What are you after this time?"

Eimaan took the notebook from him, and Nyra hung over her shoulder, trying to read McGuire's scribbled handwriting.

Blessed blade, shielding charm, watching eye… More magic items.

"What are you looking for?" Nyra whispered, but Eimaan shushed her again, taking her own sweet time to scan the page.

"I don't think you have what I'm after," Eimaan said at last, tossing the notebook back to McGuire.

He seemed a little unhappy with her statement. "Maybe if I knew what you wanted–"

"That was your whole inventory, wasn't it?" Ei said. "You don't have it."

"Well if I don't have it, why are you still hanging around my stall?"

"I ask myself that question with every passing moment," Ei replied. "Oh well, I suppose we'll be going. I doubt you'd even be able to get your hands on one."

McGuire sighed, as if resigning himself to the conversation. "I wouldn't know. What with you being so generous with the details."

"Even if I did tell you, I'd be surprised if you knew," her sister said flippantly. "Such a weapon isn't often talked of in polite company."

"So suddenly I'm polite company?" He leaned back against the wall. "I don't suppose it's because such a weapon is too fiery for most?"

"Quite the opposite actually." Eimaan smiled. "Some find it handy for putting out particularly nasty fires."

Nyra looked back and forth between the two. What kind of roundabout deal was happening right now? Couldn't Ei just ask him for it like a normal person?

"Hm. While I certainly don't have the permits to sell such a fantastic hypothetical item…" McGuire let himself trail off. "You may stumble upon one in the back lot for the low price of five thousand dollars—"

"Five grand? You've got to be joking—" Eimaan took a breath, then continued with a forced politeness. "I was under the impression that this hypothetical item was a little cheaper."

McGuire snorted. "Not in this corner of the market, sweetheart." 

Nyra tuned them out as the pair continued to haggle, letting her attention wander to other nearby stalls.

Wolfsbane candles, silver jewelry to ward against vampires, iron tongue piercings for making safer deals with Fae, perfume made from holy water… the creativity of the sellers was honestly impressive. Maybe she could get into the protection business. Learn to craft and design instead of fight and kill.

As the conversation behind her began to wrap up, Nyra's eye was drawn to one of the many market patrons. He didn't seem to fit in with the crowd, dressed in a full suit and not paying much attention to the goods on display, his expression like he'd been taking a leisurely stroll through the park only to be suddenly inconvenienced by a random craft fair in his path.

Maybe he was just a curious civilian. Some businessman who wasn't entirely sold on the legitimacy of the charms and wards.

Eimaan tapped her on the shoulder. 

"Alright, deal's done. Back lot, let's go," the barely -concealed smile on her face told Nyra that she'd come out on the better end of the deal, and a glance back at McGuire's equally poorly concealed scowl confirmed it.

She gave the dealer a little wave. After a moment, he returned it, begrudgingly.

Eimaan made them wait by the car for ten minutes before going to pick up whatever it was she'd just bought. Something about 'plausible deniability'.

When they finally went to recover the item, stored in a plain cardboard box, Nyra couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

"What's so special about this one?" Nyra asked. For all its supposed magic, it looked about as grand as a kitchen knife, albeit a very sharp one.

"It's a Firebreak," said a low voice behind her, and she jumped in surprise, spinning around to see the man in the suit. His disdainful expression was gone, and up close his face seemed pleasant enough, but there was a certain coolness to his eyes that set her on edge.

"I'm surprised you didn't know that. You're a hunter, aren't you?"

Nyra shrugged sheepishly. "I suppose I am. Mr..?"

"Creed," Eimaan said, putting a hand on Nyra's shoulder. "She's still learning."

"Miss Khanh. Your sister, I presume?"

"Nyra," she said, offering her hand in a greeting before Eimaan could stop her. He shook it.

"Consider yourselves acquainted," Eimaan said. "Now, we should be going."

"And where is it that you're going with a Firebreak?" Creed said. "I haven't heard of any demons or djinn in the area."

"It's for research," Nyra offered.

"Really? What kind of research?"

"That's family business," Eimaan replied cooly. "And we'd better get back to it."

"So soon? You—"

"Have a wonderful day," her sister cut him off, steering Nyra back towards the parking lot.

"Who was that?" she asked once they'd made it to the car. "I take it you two aren't hunting buddies?"

"No way," Eimaan said, slipping behind the steering wheel. "Creed's a Guild hunter. Spends most of his time trying to steal our leads."

"I see." It was strange that a Guilded hunter would hang around a local market. They were government sponsored, and thus given access to all kinds of fancy stuff. 

"If you ever meet him again, say absolutely nothing about the dragon. That's a Khanh discovery."

"Obviously," Nyra said.

"And on the topic of not telling people things…"

"Don't tell Faiza I met him?"

"Nah, she can know that." Eimaan grinned. "Just don't tell her about the illegal knife."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

tag list:

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hold-back-on-the-comfort