#lethal weapon fanfic

[prokopetz]

I grant that fandom puts a lot more emphasis on certain tropes than mainstream media ever does, but some of the tropes people are claiming only ever turn up in fanfic are pretty wild. "Oh, you like it when the villain's loved one dies and the villain goes off the deep end? Name one movie where that happens" buddy, that's literally the climax of Lethal Weapon 4. The villain in question is played by fucking Jet Li.

[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Prologue? Pilot? IDK Man I Just Work Here

(part 1.2)

{hey so uhhhh

i have finals coming up and its the last week of classes and im lowkey failing two of mine right now, so unfortunately im going to have to go on hiatus for a bit- even though i literally just started, ugh- while i try to catch up and deal with... all that

that said, ive decided to split the prologue up into three parts instead of two and just go ahead and give you what ive got so far of the rest of it

this and the third (and hopefully final) segment is where we really start setting up/contextualizing the "full house" premise of the fic

link to part 1.1 here}

~~~

So, over the next several weeks, they come up with a plan.

Most of them aren’t exactly happy about the plan, but… oh well.

The parents are determined to move their children- who have proven themselves to be prime targets for the supernatural- out of town, to relocate them somewhere they’ll be well-removed from the apocalypse unfolding in Hawkins. Caught up to speed about the history of Hawkins Lab and Owens’s involvement in everything, they all but order him to help with the arrangements.

And he delivers. Calls are made, blueprints are drawn, and before they know it, a plot of land has been secured two thousand miles away in California for a house to be built on. And it’s going to have to be a pretty big house, considering it’ll be home to six teenagers and a pre-teen.

The kids are dead set on not being separated again; it’s one of their conditions for agreeing to leave. Steve can’t blame them, honestly. After everything they’ve been through together, he doesn’t want to be apart from them either. In fact, he’s been feeling a bit paralyzed by the thought, has had a little trouble breathing since the move was decided.

He’s sort of out of it the next time everyone gathers at the hospital to hash out the details, to be honest, but in his defense, his head isn’t quite what it used to be before all the hits he’s taken in recent years.

But then the ongoing discussion turns to who will look after the kids, and well, that certainly gets his attention.

There’s a military blockade taking shape around the area, keeping the threat contained- but also the citizens. It’s only through Owens’s connections and influence that they’ll be able to sneak the kids out, and just that in itself is going to be risky. As much as they’d like to, they can’t take everyone.

The parents have agreed to join the resistance that’s starting to form, a force of townsfolk who have finally realized what’s really happening and are banding together to find a solution, or at least hold off the Upside Down from taking over for as long as they can. Hopper and Joyce have taken it upon themselves to teach everyone as much as they can about what they’re up against, and a few of the others are helping out with pooling resources and organizing community childcare.

For various reasons, their families won’t be coming along.

“Who’s going to take care of you all?” Sue asks, her question directed more towards the room at large than the kids themselves. “None of you are older than fifteen; I don’t want you out there on your own with no adult supervision.”

Karen starts to say something, probably about how she doesn’t intend to let Nancy stay behind either, that there will definitely be at least one person over fifteen present, but Steve cuts her off in his eagerness. He practically jumps out of his seat, actually, but he’s held in place by his desperate grip on the sheets of the hospital bed he’s still stuck in until he’s done recovering from the demobat bites.

“I’ll do it!”

Once again, all eyes are on him, and they’re broadcasting confusion, surprise- in the case of the parents, that is. The kids mostly look relieved. None of them will say it- the little shits- but he’s pretty sure they were just as worried about leaving him behind as he was about sending them away.

Claudia tilts her head at him in question. “You? What, by yourself?”

Steve figures the faintly bitter disbelief in her voice has less to do with him and more to do with Dustin’s deadbeat dad, so he chooses not to take it to heart. But before he can make a remark about how some men are actually interested in fatherhood- although he’s not entirely sure what his brain even means by that- Karen Wheeler speaks up.

“Not by himself, no. What I was about to say a moment ago was that Nancy is going too. I don’t want my daughter staying here after being involved with all this pretty much since the beginning. But, Steve, even then, you’re hardly adults yourselves- Nancy only just graduated high school last week. I don’t think you two should be left to basically parent seven kids all alone; it’s too much responsibility.”

(While she does have a point, and he’s certainly not opposed to having Nancy out of harm’s way, it’s also important to note that the daughter in question is currently busy giving shooting lessons to a sizable portion of the resistance. Nancy is no stranger to responsibility, but she isn’t exactly the motherly type, either. Regardless, Steve wants both roles for himself- at least on a subconscious level. He’s not quite aware of it yet, his rightful place as both mom and dad to the party, but… he’ll get there. He thinks of himself more as a glorified babysitter, really, but it is a position he takes very seriously nowadays.)

Mistaking Steve's spacey expression for something else, Dustin mutters smugly beside him, “I bet you would looove that.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoots back, “Can it, kid. We’ve been over this. Nance and I are not getting back together.”

Nancy and Jonathan broke up after her graduation, for reasons which Steve has decided are none of his business. In some ways, this made the idea of rekindling their relationship- something his friends insisted he should try to do- more of an actual possibility. And yet, somehow, that in itself helped him realize that he doesn’t really want to get back together. And he knows she feels the same, even if there are some weird lingering feelings on both sides of the issue. They simply aren’t compatible, and that’s okay. It took him a while to get here, but now he’s happy just being her friend.

Thankfully, Robin joins in, interrupting that awkward train of thought and providing the solution to a problem Steve hasn't even considered yet.

“They wouldn’t be alone, Mrs. Wheeler. I can help out, too.”

“You would do that? Move across the country and play house with me and these brats?”

“Of course I would, dingus. Where you go, I go.”

The fondness in their exchange prompts some raised eyebrows from the others, but that’s irrelevant. Steve is just massively thankful that Robin is offering to come along. Having to choose between the kids and his platonic soulmate would have torn him apart just as badly as the bats did.

“And I’d say the same about Will and El,” Jonathan says as he joins the group. “So I hope there’s room for a couple more.” He glances questioningly at Argyle, who came in with him.

Argyle just shrugs. “I’m sticking with you, man.” Apparently, his parents turned him out to fend for himself when he hit eighteen, so he doesn’t have much to go back to, and he’s been content staying with the Byers until the blockade is lifted- or for the long haul, it seems.

Karen nods in Jonathan’s direction. “Good, I’m sure Joyce will feel better knowing you’ll be there.”

So that makes five of us. Considering I’ve wrangled most of these guys on my own plenty of times by now, that should be totally manageable. I guess it will be nice to have some guaranteed backup for once.

It looks like the gang is staying together after all, plus at least one new-ish addition.

But, speaking of "new-ish additions" to the group, there is still a six-foot deep hole in the entire plan, which is the question of what to do with a dead man when all his remaining friends are ditching town.

“What about... Eddie?”

~~~

{well folks theres the second installment of the prologue. as for the rest of it... youll get it when you get it. hopefully ill be able to start updating more regularly once i go back home for the summer. things are just kinda crazy right now hahahahaha <-(the deranged laughter of a person whose ass is not passing all their courses this time and is very seriously considering becoming a college dropout)

oh and yeah so eddies dead i guess. not what i had planned but sometimes the plot just does what it wants. you know how full house basically starts off with dannys wife dying in a car accident (offscreen and prior to the events of the actual show anyway)? and steve is like, very loosely the au's parallel of danny? well you might not have known that actually but i just told you. so. yeah. you get where this is going

also, to my unofficial beta readers and lovely mutuals @moreover-clover and @redley-of-many-noodles: i have seen your comments/messages and i appreciate your input, but ive decided im going to try not to take this project too seriously and just have fun with it rather than worry about how polished it is, so i think this is going to be a no beta project from here on out. thank you for the thoughtful commentary/critiques on part 1.1, and i do hope you continue to enjoy it <3

having said that, if anyone happens to notice glaringly obvious/simple typos that i could easily fix, or if any parts are just genuinely incomprehensible, feel free to point it out/ask for clarification if you want to}

[totaldallystan]

I’m thinking about writing fanfics

Im thinking about writing fanfics so here’s some fandoms I’m willing (and am) going to write for:

Movies:

The Outsiders

Scream (original)

The Lost Boys

The Goonies

Lethal Weapon

Silence of the Lambs

Rocky Horror Picture Show

Ghostbusters

Television shows:

House MD

Sherlock

Ghost Adventures

Legion

Musicians/bands:

Queen

Nirvana

The Cure

Green day

The Sex Pistols

David Bowie

Other:

Sally Face

Sam and Colby (platonic only)

Creepypastas

I’m probably going to update/change my answers at a later date but this is it for now. If y’all have and ideas or AUs y’all wanna see just comment or dm me

love y’all -TY

[disappearinginq]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

I debated giving you more Slow Horses, but thought I should at least find a fandom you're vaguely familiar with - though there's a solid chance that I already shared this with you and my memory is a sieve as of late....but excerpt from Tracker fic where Russell has to rescue Colter (written before season 2)

Colter pressed his forehead against the wall, sighing at the coolness against his heated skin. He could fall asleep right here and now, he was so tired. He let his eyes close, and tried to ignore the rolling nausea that never seemed to leave.

“Colter, talk to me,” Russell barked in his ear.

“Mmm?”

“No, Colt - words. Gimme actually words.”

He wasn’t very good with words. He preferred not to say anything at all. And he didn’t have anything to say right now. He didn’t even want to open his mouth, not with the way his stomach was feeling.

“Colter.”

Hmm. Russell sounded mad.

“’M sorry,” he whispered. It felt important that he should apologize. Like maybe if he didn’t say it now, he never would. He leaned against the wall, swallowing convulsively against the rise of bile in the back of his throat.

“For what?”

“Everything.” Sorry for not answering the dozens of phone calls when Russell first tried reaching out. For blowing him off when they’d finally made plans to meet face to face after twenty years. Sorry for thinking he would murder their father in cold blood. Sorry sorry sorrysorrysorry…

“Hey, don’t worry about it - it’s fine.”

No it wasn’t. Colter could hear the strain in Russell’s voice. He was still upset, and Colter was making it worse.

“I…” he floundered for the right words. But his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, the effort of just holding himself upright and trying to hold onto the phone in his hand pushing his already over taxed limits. “I don’t…” he swallowed again, pushing his head back so he wasn’t leaning on the wall where it’d already warmed from contact with his skin. The nausea rose, but there was nothing left to throw up - the acid burned the back of his already abused throat, and he tried to think of a time he felt even a fraction as miserable as he did now. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the wetness as he pressed the heel of his free hand against his eye. “I don’t feel so good…” The confession was barely more than a whisper, but he knew his brother heard him because Russell sighed, and the tone in his voice shifted.

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.1 (Jinx x Reader)

Notes: honestly this was just going to be a quick smutty fanfic but suddenly it turned into a whole thing. So uh... enjoy my shitty writing maybe? Smut will come in a future chapter :P. Also if you prefer reading on AO3, my name is MisanthropicMoose.

Summary: trying to survive after losing your parents, you start working for Smeech, eventually becoming his right hand. As you work yourself to the bone trying to keep your gang afloat, you help Silco strike a deal with Smeech, and meet his adopted daughter, Jinx. A friendship starts between you. Will it become more? (yes it will)

Tags: Jinx x reader, female reader, slightly older reader, first meeting, SFW, swearing.

Smeech has always been uncooperative. Extremely, stupidly uncooperative. Sure, he was one of the many crime lords in the Undercity, and so some harshness in his dealings was necessary if he was to protect his interests. But most and foremost he was a chem baron, a man of business. And business hinged on compromise.

You have tried to get this across many times. As Smeech’s right hand, you felt it was your responsibility to ensure the safety and flourishing of your group. You weren’t particularly attached to or fond of Smeech or any of his goons, but they found you and gave you shelter when you had nothing. Were nothing. Standing in the rubble of your home fissure, senselessly destroyed by Enforcers as they conducted another raid, allegedly in an attempt to rid the city of gangs, the leader of one of these very gangs offered you a deal you were in no position to refuse.

“Work for me. In exchange, you live.”

That day, you chose to live. Initially you were just another goon, doing Smeech’s dirty work for him. Being a young girl, you often acted as bait. Finding men who owed Smeech money in grimy bars, shooting them flirtatious glances, biting your lip as you let them buy you a drink. After some time of “pleasant”, in their opinion, conversation, during which you let them place their hand on the small of your back which inevitably always started inching lower, you leant in close to their ears, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol emanating from them.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

No one ever refused. A stupid, drunk grin would spread across their stupid, drunk faces and they would follow you out the door, eagerly pushing through the crowd, scared to lose sight of you. Desperate dogs. They followed you into the nearest dark alleyway, and as you turned to them, snaking your hands around their neck and pulling them close, a knife would find its way into the side of their abdomen. Or a bullet would pierce the side of their skull, narrowly missing you. These men often died with their hands on their belt buckles.

Although you didn’t enjoy playing the part of a vixen, you were grateful that over the years you’ve never had to go through with the operation all the way. As much of an asshole as Smeech was, he never pimped you out, not to his victims, not to his goons. Maybe because you broke the arm of the first goon that tried to touch your ass on the very first day you joined Smeech’s gang, he decided that he would get more use out of you as a goon rather than a call girl. That arrangement suited you fine.

Over time, you graduated from bait to hunter. The combination of your harmless appearance and your strength and agility, which you had to develop if you were to survive in the crime scene of the Undercity, made you a lethal weapon. Many evenings at the Last Drop were interrupted by one of the goons tapping you on the shoulder, eliciting an annoyed groan from you. They would just look at you, meek and apologetic.

“Again?”

“Yeah… sorry.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“He asked for you specifically.”

And you would have no choice but to gulp down the last of your drink, toss a couple of coins on the bench and sneak off into the night, grumbling away.

You would barge into his office without knocking. The more Smeech relied on you, the less you entertained the concept of good manners. You felt that it was your right at this point. Smeech would then give you your instructions, and you would storm out, not even trying to hide your frustration. Another ruined night out. All because apparently there wasn’t a single other fucking person in this fucking gang who can get a fucking job done cleanly and quickly.

More time passed, and the situation got even more dire. Smeech would start sending you out to negotiate with those he didn’t feel like killing yet.

“Smeech you have gotten to be fucking kidding. I am spreading myself thin with all of the assassinations you are assigning me as is, now you want me to go to fucking meetings for you?”

But you had no choice. You could run away, realistically speaking. Smeech and his goons have gotten so lazy and incompetent over the time you’ve been with them that they wouldn’t be able to find you if they tried. But what would you do? How would you make a living? No legitimate place would hire you, now that your face was plastered on every third wanted poster, and joining another gang seemed pointless and an unnecessary risk. Smeech was a lazy, selfish asshole, but he was a familiar evil. You knew him, knew what to expect, you could stand your ground with him. Another gang would be unpredictable. And so, you would put on the most presentable clothing you had, commonly consisting of a simple pair of grey trousers and a button down, and went to sit in a stuffy meeting with the other lazy, incompetent, stupid chem barons.  

Without a doubt, you were a better negotiator than Smeech. For the first couple of meetings, you were quiet, observing, collecting intel on everyone in the room, feeling for soft spots. Some were insufferable cowards and would pay any amount to just be left alone. Some had an affliction for alcohol, shimmer, sex. Commodities that could be traded or withheld depending on the situation. You had them figured out early on, for the most part getting to set your own rules without them even realizing.

But there was one you couldn’t crack. A pale man with one side of his face all scarred up, a black abyss of an eye with a flickering orange center replacing his, originally blue, left eye. The crime lord of the Undercity. Silco.

He also sat quietly, mostly listening to the brainless chatter of the others. Taking in and analyzing these blabbering fools in the same way you had. Letting more smoke than words slip past his scarred lips as his good eye focused on someone in particular, whilst the black one seemed to stare at everyone at once. The first time you showed up he stared at you for a while, measuring you up, trying to map out your weaknesses in the same way you tried to map out his. It sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a little nauseous. You haven’t felt genuine fear in a while by that point, and he brought that feeling right back. It sat as an unswallowable lump at the base of your throat as you tried to seem cool and collected.

Every meeting ended the same. Silco would bring his palm down on the table, letting the smack reverberate throughout the room as everyone quieted down. When it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, he would address everyone one by one, announcing his final terms. These were not up for debate. Not until the next meeting, anyway. This was an unspoken rule, which was to be obeyed if you wanted to stay alive to participate in the next meeting.

The first couple of meetings he skipped you in his final address. He didn’t have much to say to you, you haven’t worked up the courage to try to negotiate with him yet. As the gaze of his blue eye inched closer to you, you unconsciously held your breath. And as it skimmed over you without as much as a hitch, you slowly exhaled, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms on the sides of your “nice” trousers.

Until, suddenly, your luck ran out. And, at the end of another meeting, you found yourself staring right into both eyes, black and blue. He said nothing for a moment, and your brain started racing, spinning, screaming, trying to figure out what you did or said that made him mad at you. At the time, that seemed like the only explanation for his newfound interest in you. You fucked up. And now either you will suffer for your sins alone, or he will bring Smeech and others down as well. Will you fight him? Will you claw and beg for your life, or will you go with dignity? Will he allow you even a shred of dignity?

“Can you stay behind for a moment?”

That’s it. That’s it that’s it that’s it he will murder me in this very room leave my corpse as a warning for others oh my G-

“Of course”, you managed to squeak out. In this moment you accepted the fact that you were going to die, most likely a brutal, theatrical death, just like everyone knew Silco liked.

In the meantime, all of the other chem barons shuffled out of the room, some even shooting you an empathetic glance. They would miss you; you made them some pretty good deals, they thought.

You and Silco were alone in the meeting room, sitting opposite one another at the round table, which suddenly felt so big and baren. You watched intently as Silco ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back, before pulling another cigar out of his breast pocket. A guillotine always sat at the table, just for his cigars. As he brought it up to the end of the cigar, he looked up at you again. You were silent, and so was he. The silence was only interrupted by the sound of the cigar end being sliced. You held your breath.

Suddenly, in a move you did not anticipate, he stretched out his arm and brought the cigar closer to you in an offering gesture. You looked at it, then up at him, and the confusing must have been written all over your face. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a barely visible ghost of a smile.

“Care for a smoke?”

As the words registered in your head, you got even more confused. Why was he being nice? Why was he offering you a cigar, one of his nice cigars at that? Was this some kind of weird foreplay before he bashed your skull in?

“No, thank you. I don’t smoke”, you tried to steady your voice. If he wanted to play intimidation games, you were not going to give him the satisfaction of intimidating you. You forced your tense shoulders to drop, your jaw to relax. Be cool, be cool. Accept your fate with dignity.

Silco cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, seemingly amused by your internal battling. His blue eye suddenly glistened in a way that was almost friendly.

“Probably for the better,” he placed the cigar between his teeth and started feeling around his pockets for a lighter, not managing to find one. You always carried one just in case, and as you brought the light close to his face and he leaned in with an appreciative expression on his face, a spark of hope lit up in your heart. Maybe he didn’t want to kill you? Maybe it was something else?

Silco inhaled the smoke deeply, letting it out slowly through his mouth as he leaned back in his high back chair. His blue eye found you again, and the glowing ambers of hope in you got smothered out.

“Jinx went on a prowl to Piltover the other week,” he started. You furrowed your eyebrows. Why was he bringing up Jinx?

You knew of Jinx, everyone did. Silco’s pride and joy, adopted daughter, only weakness. A true wild card. The mere sight of her electric blue hair struck fear into the hearts of the most rugged goons.

You’ve seen her once before, at the Last Drop. She sat at the bar, legs hanging from the bar stool which was way too tall for her, kicking the air, chatting away with a visibly uncomfortable bartender. You remembered your eyes traveling from the crown of her head, down the long blue braids and the nape of her neck, lingering on her exposed back. She was a small girl, a couple of years younger than you. You remember wondering how it was that although she was constantly at the epicenter of explosions and fires, her skin remained so silky and smooth, seemingly unmarred by scars or any kind of blemishes.

“She likes going up there. Always brings back something curious,” Silco’s words interrupted your reminiscence of Jinx, and you brought your attention back to him. What were you doing? Ah, yes, he was going on some monologue before murdering you.

Silco put both elbows on the table and leaned forward a little bit. Your breath hitched.

“She brought a book from there last time. On medicine and such. Said the most curious things. They are saying smoking is bad for you, can you believe?” with that, he inhaled a full chest of cigar smoke, leaned even closer to you and breathed it out into your face. Your vision was clouded by the thick smoke, and you couldn’t help but cough. So, you thought, he decided to disorientate you before striking. Smart.

But as the air cleared, you saw that he didn’t move. He was sitting in the same spot, leaning onto the back of the chair. You started to get annoyed. Why was he toying with you like this? Did he want you to get angry? Was he some freak that liked it when people fought back, and you were being no fun?

Whatever, you thought. Your fate is sealed anyway. Might as well have a chat with the man you have been terrified of your whole life.

“With all due respect,” you started, cocking your head to the side in the same way he had minutes prior, “I reckon, with your line of work, it won’t be smoking that will do you in”.

Silco’s ghost of a smile got slightly wider. The blazing orange flame in the depths of his black eye charred your soul. You wondered if you overstepped.

“Don’t you mean, our line of work?” he asked. There was a tinge of amusement in his voice. He was obviously toying with you.

You relaxed your shoulders more and leaned back onto your own chair.

“It’s not the same for you and me. No one pays me any mind, really. You, however, are a much sought-after prize.”

Silco raised an eyebrow.

“You are selling yourself short. From what I hear, Smeech has been finding you awfully useful. You are practically keeping his whole operation afloat.”

Your neck muscles tensed up again. That’s it. Smeech did something to piss Silco off, and now he is going to kill you. Take away his best weapon. Make him helpless, like a baby bird. Smart.

Before you could answer, Silco continued.

“That is exactly what I wanted to discuss with you, actually,” his blue eye found yours again, “I have been trying to strike up a deal with Smeech. Profitable for both of us, slightly more profitable for me than him, I’ll admit. But still, I think it’s fair. He, however, has not been very… cooperative”.

You blinked. He was talking about… business? He strung you up, made you mentally sign your will, and now he wants to negotiate… deals?

You swallowed thick saliva that collected at the back of your throat. Alright. Business it is then.

“What is the deal?” you asked.

And so, your very first real meeting with Silco began. He wanted Smeech and his goons to provide protection for one of his shimmer transportation routes, which was infamously infested with Firelights. In return, he would pay half in money, half in shimmer. You perfectly understood that he would make a lot if that specific route was secured, and he could pay Smeech a lot more than what he was offering. But he was also offering shimmer. And not just any shimmer; the newest, most potent and at the same time safest strand available. Smeech was too dense to understand the true value of such a product, valuing money over everything. But you knew. It was a good deal. After some hours of ironing out the final details, you and Silco shook on it. As his cold hand grasped yours, you almost weren’t scared anymore. Almost. You knew better than to get too comfortable.

Over the next week you chipped away at Smeech. You knew that you had to work some persuasion magic on him, he wouldn’t agree immediately. But you were patient. You brought it up any chance you could, telling him about the superhuman strength you’ve seen other people obtain through that shimmer. Casually dropping that that strand is incredibly exclusive, not even for sale on the wider market yet, available only to the elites. You worked him thoroughly. Half because you understood the value it would bring to your gang, half because you were terrified at what Silco would do to you if you failed.

But you didn’t have to find out. Smeech caved, and even went to the next meeting to seal the deal with Silco himself. You waited outside. As all the chem barons strolled out of the meeting room, you got more and more nervous. All Smeech had to do was tell Silco yes, but you knew Smeech. He could fuck even that up.

You let out a breath of relief as you saw Smeech and Silco walk out of the room. The man and the yordle shook hands, both looking pleased, each convinced they outsmarted the other. As Smeech passed you, he put a mechanical claw on your shoulder.

“Take the evening off. Promise not to bother you with any jobs.”

You nodded, and watched Smeech stroll away, mechanical legs squeaking. As you turned on your heels to go enjoy your first night off in months, you came face to face with Silco, almost running into him. Before your blood ran cold again, he gave you a small, genuine looking smile.

“Thank you. I owe you a favor.”  

You opened your mouth to offer your share of pleasantries, but suddenly you and Silco both became engulfed in a whirlwind of blue. Blue hair.

“Silco!” a slightly raspy, melodic voice exclaimed. As your eyes came into focus again, you saw a short, slim female figure sporting two long blue braids hanging off Silco’s arm. You watched as a warm smile spread across his face, usually a picture of stoicism. As he reached over to stroke her cheek softly. You felt a sting of long forgotten burn you from the inside; it has been years since you felt the loving touch of a parent.

“What took you so long?” Jinx asked. You studied her face. It was young, with porcelain skin, dark circles under her big blue eyes. Her long bangs swept over to the right of her face. Your eyes traveled down to her dusty rose lips. You couldn’t help but become hypnotized with her, even though you knew what kind of destruction she was capable of. In this moment though, she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. She was just a girl, happy to see her dad. You watched them chat away for a moment, unsure whether you were dismissed or not. Suddenly, Jinx’s eyes landed on you. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, her eyes darkened in an expression which was something between confusion and aggression.

“Who are you?”

Before you could answer, Silco did.

“This is Smeech’s right hand, I told you about her before. Smeech and I just made a very fruitful arrangement, she helped”.

Jinx’s face relaxed, and you could have sworn something resembling excitement ran across it. She took a step towards you, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“I’ve seen you before. You come to the Last Drop a lot,” she said, studying you. She was close now, you could feel heat radiating off her skin, smell the subtle sweetness of her hair. Warmth spread across your cheeks, and you were praying that your face hadn’t gone red. After a few moments Jinx finally stopped examining you and turned to Silco.

“Are you going back now?”

Silco shook his head, taking out another cigar.

“Unfortunately, I have some more matters to attend to.”  

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Jinx groaned, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall of the hallway, kicking it lightly, “I’m super bored. I’ve built all the weapons you asked for and Sevika is no fun today”.

The man only shrugged.

“You’re going to have to entertain yourself today I am afraid,” he puffed out some smoke and started making his way down the hallway, “I will be back by nightfall. Don’t blow Sevika up while I’m gone, please”.

And just like that, he was gone. By now you figured you could probably go and made a few steps in the direction Silco left in. Suddenly you felt a firm, warm grip on your forearm. You turned, meeting Jinx’s ocean eyes. She looked at you with a tinge of nervousness and curiosity in her eyes, the same way one approaches a new, previously undiscovered specimen.

“Before… I heard you got the evening off. Are you going to the Last Drop?” she finally asked, letting go of your arm. As the cool air enveloped your skin, you realized you missed the warmth of her touch.

“Yeah, I was headed there. Just wanted to stop by my place and change,” you said. Jinx’s eyes shifted, and she picked at the nail of her index finger with her thumb.

“Do you reckon I could come with you? I just have absolutely nothing going on.”

You shrugged, a little hurt that she made it so obvious you were her last resort. But then again, you only just met. It made no sense to be upset.

“Yeah, no worries.”

Jinx’s face lit up, and she embraced you with a small squeak, throwing her head back to look up at you. A grin was plastered on her face.

“Good to finally have a girl friend. I guess I have Sevika, but she doesn’t like me very much.” You cocked an eyebrow at her. Friends, huh? A bit fast, but fuck it. You were excited to have a new friend too.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 1

Warning: swear language, mentioned childhood trauma, and you know it's a war college so you should be prepared.

Note: I hope you will enjoy this chapter, I'm currently working on ch 2, there will be more excitment as the story goes on, pls bear with me I have so many ideas for this fanfic ;)

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.

—Article One, Section One

The Dragon Rider’s Codex

„You’re late.” says General Melgren, when I enter his office. He is staring out of the window, and didn’t turn around when he heard me closing the door.

„I apologise, but…” I try to defend myself.

„I dont’t care about your excuses. This is the Conscription Day and you will not fail.” he starts his lecture for the hundreth times.

As if he let me fail. I had been trained for this day since I was born. I am strong, he made sure of that. He doesen’t know the word love since my mother’s death. I never once received a kind word from him. For me he’s a monster, not a father. I hate him.

„Yes, General.” I answer, while I’m tightening my grip on my canvas rucksack.

„Go, and don’t forget what’s your duty. And do not forget that you are a Melgren! Do not bring more shame on this name, that you already had. The Riders Quadrant the only place the suitable to hide your…disfunction.”

What a kind man, I thought. That’s not my fault that I was born this way.

„Yes, General.”

„You’re dismissed.”

With his last word I walk out of the office and I go to wait for Violet in front of her mother’s office. Voices rose from beyond the closed door. They arguing, again.

It’s not a surprise beacuse everybody knows that Violet Sorrengail isn’t meant to be a Rider. She’s small and fragile. The complete opposite of a Rider. Only General Sorrengail is blind to this fact.

Basgiath War College is famous for its cuelty throughout Navarre. Nonetheless thousands of twenty-year-olds waiting to enter their chosen quadrant. I am one of them.

Every Navarrian officer, whether they choose to be schooled as healers, scribes, infantry, or riders is molded within these cruel walls over three years, honed into weapons to secure our mountainous borders from the violent invasion attempts of the kingdom of Poromiel and their gryphon riders. The weak don’t survive here, especially not in the Riders Quadrant. The dragons make sure of that.

I nearly dropped my rucksack when General Sorrengail’s door opened with such a force that’s matching Mira Sorrengail’s temper. She’s Violets older sister by six years.

Mira Sorrengail is the epitome of the perfect Rider. She has short hair to match the standard Rider’s length. She was dressed in black leather and carried her battle worn rucksack in her hand. She was elegant and lethal.

„It seems that General Sorrengail didn’t change her mind about Violet and the Riders Quadrant.” I say when she realises that I was waiting for them.

„No. She’s batshit crazy.” Mira says without a care that the guards might tell her what she said.

„Don’t worry, I’ll be there for her. I can’t guarantee that she will graduate without a scratch, but I will do my best to protect her.” I try to calm Mira.

In this moment the door opened again a whole lot gentler then before. It was Violet.

We practically grew up together, because my father always left me here in Basgiath when he had left to fulfill his duty as one of the most powerful Generals.

Violet was a kind, gentle but sharp tounged woman. She dosen’t fit any of the criteria that makes someone suitable for a life of a Rider.

„Hi Aelin.”

„Hi, Vi. How are you?” I ask her refering to the talk with her mother.

„We don’t have time for a chit chat. Let’s go. We only have an hour before all candidates have to report, and I saw thousands waiting outside the gates when I flew over.” Mira says as she starts walking, leading us down the stone staircase and through the hallways to Violet’s room.

„She’s fucking efficient, I’ll give you that.” Mira mutters

All of Violet’s personal items have been packed into crates that now sit stacked in the corner.

„I was hoping I’d be able to talk her out of it. You were never meant for the Riders Quadrant.” Mira says while emptying Violet’s rucksack to see what she packed that makes it look so heavy.

„So you’ve mentioned. Repeatedly.” Says Violet while she stares at her sister with daggers in her eyes. „And what are you doing? It took me the whole night to choose what I want to bring with me.”

„Sorry Vi, but your pack is almost as heavy as you. It would be impossible to carry it across the Parapet, even for me, and I’m stronger than you.” I wince as she try to catch her books that Mira deemed unnecessary.

„Hey, I want those books. You can’t throw all of them away.” Shouths Violet.

„What’s this for then?” She asks holding up one of the books.

„Obviously killing people. If my memory correct that’s a book about poisonous herbs” I say to at least save one of the books for Violet.

„I’m surprised that you even tried to read a book” Replies Mira not even paying attention to what she says.

„I’m not illiterate Mira. I just have problems with reading and you know that too.” I cringe because I really hate this topic.

„Shit, Aelin I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” Sighs Mira, then looks at Violet to divert the subject.

„Take off those horrible boots, they are a death trap. You’ll slip right off the Parapet with those smooth soles. I have a set of rubber-bottomed rider boots made for you just in case.” States Mira while giving the boots and black leather clothes to her sister. „Now, get changed while I sort out the rest of this mess.”

„And you…” She begins and check my clothes if I too need to change them.

„You’re set.” Mira states in a surprised tone.

„Yeah, you know my father. He never let me embarass him by falling off the Parapet beacuse of something this trivial.” I said as I roll my eyes.

„Than at least he did one thing right in his life.” Mira says harshly while she finish packing into Violet’s rucksack.

„Rider black is supposed to be earned. Someone’s going to say we didn’t earn them.” I hear Violet refer to her clothes and mine, when she emerges from the bathroom in her new attire.

„You’re a Sorrengail. Fuck what they say.” Responds Mira while she laces Violet into a vest-style corset over her shirt.

„Here, this is yours. Put it on too.” Mira say and I get a corset that matches with Violet’s one.

„What is this?” I ask while trying putting it on.

„Something I designed,” she explains „I had it specially made for you two with Teine’s scales sewn in, so be careful with it.”

„Dragon scales?” I jerk my head back to look at her. „How the hell? Teine is huge.”

„I happen to know a rider whose power can make big things very small.” A devious smile plays across her lips.” „And smaller things… much, much bigger.”

„How much bigger?” I ask laughing.

„It’s a secret.” She says while motioning Violet to sit in front of her.

„You’re the worst.” says Violet.

„Oh come on Vi, don’t tell me that you aren’t curious.” I tease her.

„Head forward. You should have cut your hair.” Mira says while she pulls the strainds tight against Violets head and resume weaving. „It’s a liability in sparring and in battle, not to mention being a giant target. No one else has a hair that fades out silver like this, and they’ll already be aiming for you.”

„You know very well the natural pigment seems to gradually abandon it no matter the length.” Says Violet with defiance. „Besides, other than everyone else’s concern for the shade, my hair is the only thing about me that’s perfectly healthy. Cutting it would feel like I’m punishing my body for finally doing something well, and it’s not like I feel the need to hide who I am. Besides it’s not like Aelin will blend into the environment either.”

„So what’s your excuse for not cutting your hair?” Mira asks with raised eyebrows. „Because I know you have one too. You two always come up with something to get out of trouble.”

„I won’t cut it. I can braid it tightly to not distract me in a fight, besides it’s not like I resemble the General. My hair and my eyes come from my mother.” I say while looking into a mirror on one of the walls.

It’s true. I’m nothing like my father. I look just like my mother, as they say. She was a beauty and the only person whom my father loved in his life. Unfortunately that caused her death.

When she was in her last months in the pregnency, she was attacked by a group who wanted to eliminate the General using my mother. But she was a warrior and tried to save us by escaping. That was when someone injured her and left her to die. When they found my mother she was dying. Pregnant with me. The healers tried to save her but they are not gods. They can’t bring back the dead. They were only able to save me. These are the only facts that I know because nobody want to speak about my mother in fear to anger the General.

Between the few minutes that my mother had died and I was saved, happened a lot of things to my body. My hair is supposed to be a natural golden color but has strands of silvery white, just like my eyes. They should be golden but there are tiny circular parts around my iris where the silvery white color appears. The healers said that it was due to lack of oxygen. My father can’t even look at me because I remind him of my mother and my unique coloring is remind him of her brutal death and that he couldn’t save her. I think this is the main reason that he hates me. The other is another consequence of the circumstance of my birth.

When I was old enough that the General brought tutors to start my education, it turned out that my brain suffered some damage too. I was dyslexic. It doesen’t mean that I can’t read, it’s just really-really difficult. As if the words are running away from my eyes, everytime I try to read something. It doesen’t matter if it’s a short or long text. My memory is great enough that I can remember a lot of things after hearing it but not everything. That makes studying a whole lot of harder. The General ordered that we keep it a secret, so outside my father, and the tutors, the Sorrengail children are the only ones who know it. This is the other reason why the General said in his office that I bring shame on the Melgren name.

„Well then there’s nothing that I can say to change either of your mind.” Sighs Mira. „Then listen to me well.” As she starts to summarize years of knowledge into fifteen harried minutes, barely pausing to breathe.

„Be observant. Quiet is fine, but make sure you notice everything and everyone around you to your advantage. You’ve read the Codex?” Mira asks

„A few times.” Violet answers.

„I tried but I don’t remember everything.” I shrug.

„Then Violet will help you memorize it once you begin your classes. Then you should know that the other riders can kill you any time, and the cutthroat cadets will try. Fewer cadets means better odds at Threshing. There are never enough dragons willing to bond, and anyone reckless enough to get themselves killed isn’t worthy of a dragon anyway.”

„Except when sleeping. It’s an executable offense to attack any cadet while sleeping. Article Three-„ cites Violet.

„Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe at night. Sleep in this if you can.” She taps the stomach of my corset. „Both of you.”

„There’s hidden sheaths sewn diagonally along the rib cage in your corset. For your daggers.” Continue Mira.

„I only have four.” Says Violet, then she grabs them from the floor and slide it into the sheaths.

„I have four and a sword.” I say to Mira while pointing at them at my ribs and thighs, the sword is strapped to my back.

„That’s fine. You’ll earn more.” She nods „Wear the armor at all times. Keep your daggers on you at all times.” She points to the sheaths down her thighs.

„Someone’s going to say we didn’t earn them.” Violet says. Clearly she worries too much.

„Come on Vi, remember what Mira said. You’re a Sorrengail. Fuck what they say. We will survive no matter what!” I say trying to calm her down a bit.

„Exactly. You’re both famous Generals daughters. A Sorrengail and a Melgren. You can do what you have to do to survive and never forget that.” Agrees Mira with me. „There’s no such thing as cheating once you climb the turret. There’s only survival and death.” The bell chimes – only thirty minutes left. She swallows. „It’s almost time. Ready?”

„No.” Replies quickly Violet.

„My hands are trembling.” I show them that indeed my hands are visibly shaking.

„Neither was I ready.” A wry smile lifts a corner of Mira’s mouth. „And I’d spent my life trainig for it, just like Aelin.”

„We’re not going to die today.” States Violet and slings the rucksack over her shoulder.

The halls of the central, administrative part of the fortress are eerily quiet as we wind our way down through various staircases, but the noise from outside grows louder the lower we descend. Through the windows, I see thousands of candidates hugging their loved ones and saying their goodbyes ont he grassy fields just beneath the main gate.

From what I’ve witnessed every year, most families hold on to their candidates right up to the very last bell. The four roads leading to the fortress are clogged with horses and wagons, especially where they converge in front of the college, but it’s the empty ones at the edge of the fields that make me nervous.

They’re for the bodies.

Right before we round the last corner that will lead tot he courtyard, Mira stops.

„What is – Oof.” I hear Violet’s muffled voice when Mira yanks her against her chest, hugging her tight in the relative privacy of the corridor.

„Aelin, you too. Come here.” Says Mira as Violet makes room for me, and then extends her arms.

„I love both of you. Remember everything I’ve told you. Don’t become another name on the death roll. Both of your lives are equally important. Do everything you can to stay alive.” Her voice shakes, and I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tight.

„We’ll be alright. I’ll be alright.” I promise.

She nods, her chin bumping against the top of my head. „I know. Let’s go.”

That’s all she says before pulling away and walking into the crowded courtyard just inside the main gate to the fortress. Instructors, commanders, and even General Sorrengail and General Melgren are gathered informally, waiting for the madness outside the walls to become the order within. Out of all the doors in the war college, the main gate is the only one no cadet will enter today, since each quadrant has its own entrance and facilities. Hell, the riders have their own citadel.

„Find Dain Aetos,” Mira tells us as we cross through the courtyard, heading for the open gate.

„Dain?” Asks Violet with a smile. I think she has a huge crush on him, but didn’t admit it yet. I don’t think he’s such a good person as Vi thinks, but I was never that close with him. We always avoided each others company. There’s something in his eyes that’s makes me uneasy.

„I’ve only been out of the quadrant for three years, but from what I hear, he’s doing well, and he’ll keep both of you safe.”

„As if I want to go near him” I say silently

„It doesn’t matter Aelin, just stay alive.” Scolds me Mira

„And you. Don’t smile like that,” she turns to Violet. „He’ll be second-year.” She shakes a finger at her. „Don’t mess around with second-years. If you want to get laid, and you should” – she lifts her brows – „often, considering you never know what the day brings, then screw around in your own year. Nothing is worse than cadets gossiping that you’ve slept your way to safety. This applies to you too Aelin.”

„So I’m free to take any of the first-years I want to bed,” I say with a smirk. „Just not the second- or the third-years.”

„Exactly.” She winks.

„Then we should definitely find the handsome ones. This is our first task Vi.” I joke with her, in hope that she at least smiles because she seems a little greener the longer she looks at the wagons at the road.

„Let’s cross the Parapet first Aelin.” Says Violet

„Sure Vi.” I wink at her.

We cross through the gates, leaving the fortress, and join the organized chaos beyond.

Each of Navarre’s six provinces has sent this year’s share of candidates for military service. Some volunteer. Some are sentenced as punishment. Most are conscripted. The only thing we have in common here at Basgiath is that we passed the entrance exam – both written and an agility test – which means at least we won’t end up as fodder for the infantry on the front line.

The agility test was easy with someone like me who had the „luck” to train under General Melgren’s watchful eyes. But the written exam was a nightmare. I barely passed despite the fact that I practiced for non-stop before it. It’s just the fact that I’m not like the other normal candidates. Give me a weapon and I’ll know how to use it. Bring me an opponent and I will figure out how to win. But I just can’t will my barin to function normally. Which my father likes to remind me all the time.

The atmosphere is tense with anticipation as Mira leads me along the worn cobblestone path toward the southern turret.

The majority of the crowd moves to line up at the base of the northern turret – the entrance to the Infantry Quadrant. Some of the mass heads toward the gate behind us – the Healer Quadrant that consumes the southern end of the college. Then I spot a few taking the central tunnel into the archives below the fortress to join the Scribe Quadrant. Violet wanted to be a scribe for her whole life. But General Sorrengail has other plans.

The entrance to the Riders Quadrant is nothing more than a fortified door at the base of the tower, that we rider candidates will climb.

We join the riders’ line, waiting to sign in, and then I glance up.

High above us, crossing the river-bottomed valley that divides the main college from the even higher, looming citadel of the Riders Quadrant on the southern ridgeline, is the Parapet, the stone bridge that’s about to separate rider candidates from cadets over the next few hours.

„And to think, I’ve been preparing for the scribe’s written exam all these years.” Says Violet in thick sarcastic voice. „I should have been playing on a balance beam.”

„Believe me Vi, I’ve been playing on a balance beam for years but I don’t think that’s the same as the Parapet.” I say laughing. „However I’m a little excited about this.”

Mira ignores us as the line moves forward and candidates disappear through the door. „Don’t let the wind sway your steps.”

Two candidates ahead of us, a woman sobs as her partner rips her away from a young man, the couple breaking from the line, retreating in tears down the hillside toward the crowd of loved ones lining the roads. There are no other parents ahead of us, only a few dozen candidates moving toward the roll-keepers.

„Keep your eyes on the stones ahead of you and don’t look down,” Mira says, the lines of her face tightening. „Arms out for balance. If the pack slips, drop it. Better it falls than you.”

„Maybe I should let them go first,” whispers Violet.

„No,” Mira answers. „The longer you wait on those steps” – she motions toward the tower – „the greater your fear has a chance to grow. Cross the Parapet before the terror owns you.”

„Mira’s right and you know it Vi. We will be alright. I’ll be there with you until we cross this damn thing.” I try to cheer her up. „If you want I’ll be the first, than you can watch and copy me.”

„Thanks, Aelin.” Smiles Violet.

The line moves, and the bell chimes again. It’s eight o’clock.

Sure enough, the crowd of thousands behind us has separated fully into their chosen quadrants, all lined up to sign the roll and begin their service.

„Focus,” Mira snaps, and I whip my head forward. „This might sound harsh, but don’t seek friendships in there. Forge alliances. Both of you.”

There are only two ahead of us now – a woman with a full pack, and a man with the woman crying over him. He’s carrying an even bigger rucksack.

I look around the pair toward the roll-keeping desk, and my eyes widen.

„Is he…?” Whispers Violet.

Mira glances and mutters a curse. „A separatist’s kid? Yep. See that shimmering mark that starts on the top of his wrist? It’s a relic from the rebellion.”

„A dragon did that?” She asks.

I nod. „Yes. General Melgren told me once, that it was his dragon that did it to all of them when he executed their parents. Nothing like punishing the kids to deter more parents from committing treason. Most of the marked kids who carry rebellion relics are from Tyrrendor.”

It always seemed cruel to me. Punishing the children for their parents actions.

In this moment the blood drains from Mira’s face, and she grips the straps of my pack, turning me to face her. „I just remembered.” Her voice drops, and we lean in to hear her better. „Stay the hell away from Xaden Riorson.”

That name…

„That Xaden Riorson,” she confirms, fear lacing her gaze. „He’s a third-year, and he will kill you the second he finds out who you are.” She lifts her gaze to Violet. „Both of you.”

„His father was the Great Betrayer. He led the rebellion,” Violet says quietly. „What is Xaden doing here?”

„All the children of the leaders were conscripted as punishment for their parents’ cirmes,” I murmur. Yep, my father was really a monster.

Mira whispers as we shuffle sideways, moving with the line. „Mom told me they never expected Riorson to make it past the parapet. Then they figured a cadet would kill him, but once his dragon chose him…” She shakes her head. „Well, there’s nothing much that can be done then. He’s risen to the rank of wingleader.”

„That’s bullshit.” Violet seethes.

„He’s sworn allegiance to Navarre, but I don’t think that will stop him where you’re concerned. Once you get across the Parapet – because you will make it across – find Dain. He’ll put you in his squad, and we’ll just hope it’s far from Riorson.” She grips my straps tighter. „Stay. Away. From. Him.” She knew me well enough to feel the need to repeat it. I don’t like this whole rebellion relic thing. This punishment is too curel.

„Roger that.” I say to calm her down.

„Noted.” Nods Violet.

„Next,” a voice calls from behind the wooden tablet hat bears the rolls of the Riders Quadrant. The marked rider I don’t know is seated next to a scribe, whose eyebrows rise over his weathered face. „Violet Sorrengail?”

She nods, and picking up the quill she sing her name on the roll.

„But I thought you were meant for the Scribe Quadrant,” he says softly.

„General Sorrengail chose otherwise,” I answer him.

„Melgren?” He asks.

„Yes, my name is Aelin Melgren.” I say then I sign my name on the next empty line on the roll.

„You look so much like your late mother,” He says while sadness fills his eyes.

„You knew my mom?” I ask amazed.

He turned his head to Violet „Pity. You had so much promise.” So he knew my mother, but won’t say a thing. As usual. But I just want to know what she was like.

„By the gods,” the rider next tot he scribe says. „You’re Mira Sorrengail?” His jaw drops, and I can smell his hero worship from here.

„I am.” She nods. „This is my sister, Violet. And this is Aelin Melgren. They’ll be first-years.”

„If your sister survives the Parapet.” Someone behind me snickers. „Wind just might blow her right off.”

„Shut up, idiot. You have a higher chance falling of the Parapet than her. It seems you don’t have a brain to think with, if you don’t know to not interfere in the adults conversations.” I answer angrily.

„You fought at Strythmore,” the rider behind the desk says with awe. „They gave you the Order of the Talon for taking out the battery behind enemy lines.”

„As I was saying.” Mira puts a hand at our shoulders. „This is my sister, Violet and our friend Aelin Melgren.”

„You know the way.” The scribe nods and points to the open door into the turret. It looks ominously dark in there, and I fight the urge to run away.

„I know the way,” she assures him, leading us past the table so the snickering asshole behind me can sign the roll.

We pause at the doorway and turn toward each other.

„Don’t die, Violet. I’d hate to be an only child. And you too Aelin, I consider you my sister so stay alive.” She grins and walks away, sauntering past the line of gawking candidates as word spreads of exactly who she is and what she’s done.

„Though to live up to that,” the woman ahead of us says from just inside the tower.

„It is,” Violet agrees.

„But at least she’s a good sister.” I say laughing.

My eyes adjust quickly to the dim light coming in through the equidistant windows along the curved staircase.

„Sorrengail, and Melgren as in…?” the woman asks, looking over her shoulder as we begin to climb the hundreds of stairs.

„Yep.” There’s no railing, so I gesture Violet to keep her hand on the stone wall as we rise higher and higher.

„The generals?” the blond guy ahead of us asks.

„The same ones,” I answer, offering him a quick smile.

„Wow. Nice leathers, too.” He smiles back.

„Thanks. They’re courtesy of our family.”

„I wonder how many candidates have fallen off the edge of the steps and died before they even reach the Paraphet,” the woman says, glancing down the center of the staircase as we climb higher.

„Two last year.” Violet replies immediately. „Well, three if you count the girl one of the guys landed on.”

The woman’s brown eyes flare, but she turns back around keeps climbing. „How many steps are there?” she asks.

„Two hundred and fifty,” Violet answers.

„Oh god Vi, I love your brain.” I said laughing, then we climb in silence for another five minutes.

„Not too bad,” she says with a bright smile as we near the top and the line comes to a halt. „I’m Rhiannon Matthias, by the way.”

„Dylan,” the blond guy responds with an enthusiastic wave.

„Violet.” Vi give them a tense smile.

„Aelin.” I say and wink at Vi, ignoring Mira’s earlier suggestion that we avoid friendships and only forge alliances.

„I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this day.” Dylan shifts his pack on his back. „Can you believe we actually get to do this? It’s a dream come true.”

„I can’t fucking wait.” Rhiannon’s smile widens. „I mean, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?”

„Do your parents approve?” Dylan asks. „Because my mom’s been begging me to change my mind for months. I keep telling her that I’ll have better chances for advancement as rider, but she wanted me to enter the Healer Quadrant.”

„Mine always knew I wanted this, so they’ve been pretty supportive. Besides, they have my twin to dote on. Raegan’s already living her dream, married and expecting a baby.” Rhiannon glances back at us.

„What about you? Let me guess. With names like Melgren and Sorrengail, I bet you were the first to volunteer this year.”

„Yes, I wanted to come here since I can remember.” I say with a smile. „I’m really excited about this. I mean do you see the dragons? They magnificent.”

„I hear ya girl.” Says Rihannon as we high five. „What about you Violet?”

„I was more like volun-told.”

„Gotcha.”

„And riders do get way better perks than other officers,” Violet says to Dylan as the line moves upward again. The snickering candidate behind me catches up, sweating and red. Look who isn’t snickering now. „Better pay, more leniency with the uniform policy,” she continues. No one gives a shit what riders wear as long as it’s black. The only rules that apply to riders are the ones in the Codex.

„And the right to call yourself a supreme badass,” Rhiannon adds.

„That too,” I agree. „Pretty sure they issue you an ego with your flight leathers.”

„Plus I’ve heard that riders are allowed to marry sooner than the other quadrants,” Dylan adds.

„True. Right after graduation. If we survie.” Says Violet. „I think it has something to do with wanting to continue bloodlines.”

„Or because we tend to die sooner than the other quadrants,” Rhiannon muses.

„I’m not dying,” Dylan says with way more confidence than I feel –  however I practiced for this for my whole life – as he tugs a necklace from under his tunic to reveal a ring dangling from the chain. „She said it would be bad luck to propose before I left, so we’re waiting until graduation.” He kisses the ring and tucks the chain back under his collar. „The next three years are going to be long ones, but they’ll be worth it.”

„You might make it across the Parapet,” the guy behind us sneers. „This one here is a breeze away from the bottom of the ravine.”

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t learn.

„Shut up and focus on yourself,” Rhiannon snaps, her feet clicking against the stone as we climb.

The top comes into sight, the doorway full of muddled light. Those clouds are going to wreak havoc on us, and we have to be on the other side of the Parapet before they do.

Another step, another tap of Rhiannon’s feet.

„Let me see your boots,” Says Violet quietly, probably hoping that the jerk behind me can’t hear her.

Her brows puckers, and confusion fills her brown eyes, but she shows her the shoes. They’re smooth, just like the ones Violet was wearing earlier. My stomach sinks like a rock. I know what she will do.

The line starts moving again, pausing when we’re only a few feet from the opening. „What size are your feet?” She asks.

„What?” Rhiannon blinks at her.

„Your feet. What size are they?”

„Eight,” she answers, two lines forming between her brows.

„I’m seven,” Vi says quickly. „It will hurt like hell, but I want you to take my left boot. Trade with me.”

„I’m sorry?” She looks at her like she has lost her mind.

„These are rider boots. They’ll grip the stone better. Your toes will be scrunched and generally miserable, but at least you’ll have a shot at not falling off if the rain hits.”

„Oh hell, don’t you dare Violet Sorrengail,” I hiss at her. „Just minutes ago I promised your sister that you will survive this damn Parapet, and now you want to throw away your best chance? Absouletly no.

„I give you my left boot. It’s the same size.” I say to Rihannon.

„What? No, that was my idea.” Whispers Violet.

„I know, but I will do it.” I reply. „Now hurry up, we don’t have time. It’s almost our turn.”

Rhiannon purses her lips in debate for a second, then agrees, and we swap left boots. I barely finish lacing up before the line moves again.

The top of the turret is bare, the crenelations of stone rising and falling along the circular structure at the height of my chest and doing nothing to obscure the view. The ravine and its river below suddenly feel very, very far. Every trial in the quadrant – including this one – is designed to test a cadet’s ability to ride. If someone can’t manage to walk the windy length of the slim stone bridge, then they sure as hell can’t keep their balance and fight on the back of a dragon.

And as for the death rate? I guess every other rider thinks the risk is worth the glory – or has the arrogance to think they won’t fall.

I breath deeply as I walk the edge behind Rhiannon, and in front of Violet, my fingers skimming the stonework as we wind our way toward the parapet.

Three riders wait at the entrance, which is nothing more than a gaping hole in the wall of the turret. One with ripped-off sleeves records names as candidates step out onto the treacherous crossing. Another, who’s shaved all his hair with the exception of a strip down the top center, instructs Dylan as he moves into position, patting his chest like the ring hidden there will bring him luck.

The third turns in my direcion and my heart simply…stops.

He’s tall, with windblown black hair and dark brows. The line of his jaw is strong and covered by warm tawny skin and dark stubble, and when he folds his arms across his torso, the  muscles in his chest and arms ripple, moving in a way that makes me swallow. And his eyes… His eyes are the shade of gold-flecked onyx. The contrast is startling, jawdropping even – everything about him is. His features are so harsh that they look carves, and yet they’re astonishingly perfect, like an artist worked a lifetime sculpting him, and at least a year of that was spent on his mouth.

He’s the most esquisite man I’ve ever seeen.

Even the diagonal scar that bisects his left eyebrow and marks the top corner of his cheek only makes him hotter. Flaming hot. Scorching hot. Gets-you-into-trouble-and-you-like-it level of hot. Suddenly, I know that I won’t take Mira’s advice that not to fuck around outside my year group.

„See you girls on the other side!” Dylan says over his shoulder with an excited grin before stepping onto the parapet, his arms spread wide.

„Ready for the next one, Riorson?” the rider with the ripped sleeves says.

Xaden Riorson?

„You ready for this, Sorrengail? I think Melgren is fine, but you seems a little pale.” Rhiannon says moving forward.

The black-haired rider snaps his gaze to mine, turning fully toward me, then he looks onto Violet. That’s when I see it, the rebellion relic. It start at his bare left wrist, then disappears under his black uniform to appear again at his collar, where it stretches and swirls up his neck, stopping at his jawline.

„Oh shit,” I whisper, and his eyes snapped back to mine, as if he can hear me over the howl of wind that rips at my secured braid.

„Sorrengail? Melgren?” He steps toward us, and I look up… and up.

Good gods, I barely reach his collarbone. He’s massive. He has to be more than four inches over six feet tall.

I nod once, while a I make sure that I stand before Violet. To my movement the shining onyx of his eyes transforms to cold, unadulterated hatred. I can almost taste the loathing wafting off him like a bitter cologne.

„Aelin?” Rhiannon asks, moving forward.

„You’re the Generals daughters.” His voice deep and accusatory.

„You’re Fen Riorson’s son,” Violet counters behind me.

Xaden sucks in a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw flexes once. Twice. „Your mother captured my father, and her father executed him.”

„Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we’re even.”  Oh gods Violet, just shut up please, I beg in my mind.

„Hardly.” His glaring gaze strokes over me like he’s memorizing every detail or looking for any weakness.

I hold his glare, as if winning this staring competition will gain us safe entrance to the quadrant instead of crossing the Parapet behind him. Either way, I’m getting across. I promised to Mira that both of us will be safe on the other side.

His hands clench into fists, and he tenses.

I prepare for the strike, if I have to protect Violet. He might want to throw us off this tower, but I won’t make it easy for him.

„You all right?” Rhiannon asks, her gaze jumping between Xaden and me.

He glances at her. „You’re friends?”

„We met on the stairs,” she says, squaring her shoulders.

He looks down, noting our mismatched boots, and arches a brow. His hands relax. „Interesting.”

Fuck, Violet and her big heart.

„Are you going to kill us?” Asks Violet behind me.

„Shit, Violet just shut up please.” I hiss at Vi. „I don’t think it is a good idea to tempt someone throwing us off, who is bigger and stronger then us. I suppose you just have a death wish with pissing him off.” I facepalmed.

His gaze clashes with mine as the sky opens and rain falls in a deluge, soaking my hair, my leathers, and the stones around us in seconds.

A scream rends the air, and we jerk our attention to the Parapet just in time to see Dylan slip.

Violet gasps behind me.

He catches himself, hooking his arms over the stone bridge as his feet kick beneath him, scrambling for a purchase that isn’t there.

„Pull yourself up, Dylan!” Rhiannon shouts.

„Oh gods!” In the corner of my eyes I see that Violet’s hand flies to cover her mouth. That’s when Dylan loses his grip on the water-slick stone and falls, disappearing from view. The wind and rain steal any sound his body might make in the valley below.

Xaden never takes his eyes from me, watching silently with a look I can’t interpret.

„Why would I waste my energy killing you when the Parapet will do it for me?” A wicked smile curves his lips. „Your turn Melgren.”

Fucking handsome bastard.

[baldurs-simp]

I literally fell in love with your Gortash fanfic and I really need more of this man 😫. Maybe one of him with a Druid Tav with an obsession with plants? You can take any creative freedom with that and do as you will with the that information. I apologize if it’s too vague 🫠 Your writing is amazing!

Thank you, darling! I can never do with too much of this man! Hope you enjoy this!

My Masterlist

It's rare for Lord Enver Gortash to be past the city walls, walking free in the wilderness, away from the hustle and bustle of the urban streets. But he decided to go on a hunt, just for a bit of fun.

He has been tracking prints of what seems to be a wolf, a large one by the look of things. Hearing leaves rustling in the distance beside him, he turns with his crossbow aimed, ready to shoot his prize. But, between the branches of the shrubs, he sees a humanoid figure, clothed in attire that seems to be made from leaves and brown, tanned animal leather. A quaterstaff is fastened to their back, and as he steps closer, he realizes that he is in the presence of a Druid.

You don't hear the man approaching you, too focused on your spell. There's a glow around in the palm of your hands as a flower sprouts from a vine encased in your hands. When you pull your hands away, the flower continues to bloom as well as others sprouting around it.

Gortash watches as you admire your work and he lowers his crossbow as he steps forward again. When he steps on a twig, it snaps under his foot, alerting you to his presence, and making you turn around to face him.

Your eyes fall to the crossbow in his hands and you slowly reach for the quarterstaff on your back. "You're hunting in these woods? Unless it was for a good reason, then you're stupid for wanting to willingly harm a creature of nature," you snap, holding onto your weapon tightly, causing it to glow with magic.

"I am merely here for my own amusement. I am not looking for a fight," he says, adjusting his stance to prepare himself for a fight that could arise.

"Anyone who harms an animal here is looking for a fight with me."

"Any yet, I have done no such thing," he fights back quickly before you can even get another word out.

You narrow your eyes at him, glaring him down as you try to read his body language to find out what he really is doing here in these woods. Holding your hand out, you conjure up vines beneath him, twisting around his ankles and up his legs.

As he tries to fight against the constraints, you make them grow higher, grappling his torso and his arms, and making him drop his crossbow before they reach out and attach to nearby trees. They hold him firmly in place, tightening the more he struggles against them.

"Cypress vines," you say, lowering your hand as you step forward, smiling to yourself as red flowers start blooming from the vines. "Should you find yourself ingesting them, it could prove lethal," you add, smirking at him as you command a vine to grow dangerously close to his mouth. "You name, city dweller."

He groans at the tightening vines on his body, trying to pull his head away from those on his face. "Enver Gortash," he says, hoping that it will grant him his freedom.

You hum, flicking your hand to make the vine on his face disappear. "Gortash. Did you know that these flowers attract hummingbirds? It is a beautiful sight when the sun is out in full. A sight that you could not get anywhere in the city," you say, turning your attention to a flower blooming on his shoulder. "Have you ever seen anything so magnificant?"

Gortash frowns at you, watching you admire the flower as if its vines are close to suffocating him. Still, the admiration and wonder in your eyes is something magnificent to him. He can't pull his eyes away from your face. He's seen many people, many beauties in the city, but none of them can be compared to the natural beauty he sees when he looks at you. It's as if he immediately regrets stepping into the woods to hunt a wolf.

He lets out a strangled gasp as the vines tighten, breaking you from your trance as you look back at him. "Forgive me. I have a passion for all plants. I can get carried away," you say, stepping back to let the vines shrink back to release the man.

"I admire your passion," he speaks, shifting on his feet as he continues to stare at you. "And I find that I am the one who should ask for your forgiveness. For intruding on your... sanctuary," he says, holding his hands out to gesture to the abundance of flora he now notices growing around him.

You nod, smiling at him as you take a step away from him. "Hopefully you will think again before attempting to harm nature," you say, chuckling slightly as he smiles at you, nodding in agreement. "You should return to the city, Enver Gortash."

He doesn't get to say anything else before you transform into an animal and disappearing into the wilderness.

And the form you take is that of the wolf he had been tracking.

[breakfastteatime]

Fanfic Requests 2024 are GO! And the first one is a Survivor fic - "Hold on", for @dancing-entwife!

This does not look good. Stormtroopers pour out of doorways, closing in from all sides, cutting off Cal’s only viable escape unless he sprouts wings and takes to the sky. Who puts a bunker on a cliff edge? The Empire, apparently. This was supposed to be a quick, easy mission for Saw – taking out a tiny, barely patrolled weapons depot supplying the entire sector…

Which means they chose to carry out their mission during a surprise inspection, meaning every single stormtrooper is on duty, quadrupling the number of people currently shooting at Cal. The twins are pinned down outside, Gabs is doing her best to lock the base down to stop anyone else turning up, and Bravo…

“Hold on, Cal!” his voice comes over comms. “I’m working on it! Hold ‘em off a little longer.”

“Holding,” Cal says, deflecting a grenade back into the crowd, grimly satisfied when it blows and flings a batch of troopers into the air. BD whoops.

They’re not out of this yet. Cal’s not entirely sure where Bravo is. The base does have planetary fighters, so there’s a chance he’s looking to steal one. Whatever Bravo’s doing, Cal really needs it to be explosive. Like a very big rocket launcher. Or a stun grenade. Or –

A blaster bolt wings him, catching his jacket. Cal swears. He likes this jacket, a lot, and now it’s ruined. That’s what he gets for losing focus.

“BD, stay down!” Cal redirects blaster fire back to the troopers, taking them down. He’s pinned down in the central courtyard, hopelessly outnumbered. And what was he taught to do in moments like this?

Surrender to the Force.

Cal sinks into its flow, lets it guide his movements. No thought, no hesitation, no fear, only lethal movement.

The Force gives him the barest of warnings (get down) and Cal drops. A fighter goes overhead, dropping an immense payload. The Force pops, and Cal returns to his aching, weary body.

The troopers, however, are down, and the fighter hovers over. The cockpit opens, Bravo waves. “Get up here!” he bellows.

BD whoops. Cal calculates the jump, gathers the Force, and leaps, grabbing the cockpit and swinging himself into the rear seat. Bravo seals them in, and they fly off.

“I got him,” Bravo tells the others. “Get out and regroup and the Mantis.”

While cheers go out, BD offers a stim and the cockpit slowly fills with the stench of burnt sweat and flesh. Cal takes the stim. The jacket is a lost cause. He’ll have to find something else.

“Thanks, Bravo,” Cal says, reaching around to pat him on the shoulder.

“Anytime,” he says. “Although maybe next time let’s not crash a party this big.”

Cal smirks. “And where’s the fun in that?”

[quillthrillswriting]

has anyone ever wondered just how different aang and zuko's first battle would be if aang had been frozen at age 16...?

the following is an excerpt from my draft of ch2 of my new fanfic, "the teenager in the iceberg" on ao3. happy reading!!!

---

Because before she could speak, before Aang could speak, horns blared through the crisp air outside. Horns the entire village knew, horns that prompted screams from children. 

Another Fire Nation raid.

Aang didn’t pause, didn’t let himself hesitate. Katara didn’t blame him. She was sure that if he thought about it for more than a few moments, he’d crumble entirely, and considering the situation they were now in, they couldn’t afford for Aang to sort through everything.

Katara didn’t realise how dire a situation it was until the three of them had reached the gates to the village, and Katara watched as the hull broke through centuries old ice as if it were butter. Sokka ran ahead as the bow of the ship split open in a rush of steam and machinery. Katara felt the blood drain from her face as she saw who stepped out. The Fire Nation prince. The one who had been scarred by his own father. He was here, in her village. Terror began to set in.

Prince Zuko wrinkled his nose at Sokka as though he was nothing more than an inanimate obstacle in his way, and shoved him aside, his soldiers following suit. 

“I have come here for the Avatar. For my honour,” Zuko snarled, his words a sharp, lethal weapon. “I know he’s here. I saw his beacon. He should be an older man? Master of all four elements?” His eyes swept through the crowd, passing right over Aang as his gaze narrowed on Gran and the other village elders. Katara felt Aang tense beside her.

With no warning, Zuko and his soldiers blasted a wave of fire straight for the grandmothers and grandfathers who had huddled together. 

And their fire was met by a gust of wind so powerful that it sucked the very oxygen out of the air, extinguishing their flame before it got anywhere near their targets. 

Zuko whirled around, his voice contorting in anger at the sight of Aang, standing tall and proud with his staff in one hand and a constantly spinning sphere of wind in the other. 

“You?” Zuko spat, seething. “I’ve trained for years to face the Avatar. You’re just a teenager.”

Aang, somewhat caught off guard, leaned back, raising an eyebrow in confusion, a teasing grin on his face once he’d realised that he’d managed to bother the Fire Prince himself. 

“...S- so are you...?"

Zuko straightened, fire flaring in his eyes, his fists tightening as the air around them began to sizzle and steam. “A child. A child managed to outmanoeuvre me. A mere boy was running circles around the entire crew I command for years.”

“No, a teenager. C’mon, give me my credit, I had a whole growth spurt and everything, do I really still look like a child to you?” Aang put on a falsely sincere tone, venom behind his words as he bent his knees and tensed his body into a defensive stance. “You hurt this village, or its people, and you’ll see just how much more than ‘just a teenager’ I am.”

Zuko scoffed, fire again lighting up his palm. “Big talk for a pacifist monk.”

“Sure, as a monk, I won’t start a fight.” Aang grinned. “But I can finish them.”

---

♥ check out the first chapter of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

[kingdomeromega0816]

Here we have The Legendary Star-Spirit Geno and the 3 tpyes of weapons he uses in my Mario/Crossover Fanfic.

Here are the weapons listed below:

Star Gun- Geno is able to use his "Geno Beam" attack from this very powerful gun!

Star Sword- Geno is able to slice lethal blows at the demonic dakumata with this special sword!

Star Arrow- Geno is able to fire arrows that fly faster than Sonic's running speed!

(Geno is not my character, he is the intellectual property of Nintendo and Square Enix).

[pastafiiend]

Arcane Fanfic Glimpse

I turn my head.

A man just walked through the doors of The Last Drop. Despite the chaos of the lights and noise blending together in an overstimulating mess that would usually drown out anyone's entrance—the crowd reacts like they’ve been touched by lightning, some of them shrinking back, others freezing. Even the ones who try to seem indifferent can’t hide the tension in the air, the way they hold their breath.

I’ve never seen him before, but I know who he is immediately.

I’ve only heard whispers about him on the streets, a name spoken in fear and reverence, a boogeymen and an industrialist revolutionary, depending on who’s telling the story. Some say he’s a monster, others call him a visionary. Sevika, however, calls him boss.

Every detail about him is razor-edged, angular, lethal. There is nothing soft or forgiving in his presence. He’s a weapon, honed and shaped in the furnace of the Undercity, and it’s clear in the way he commands space. His posture is impeccable, straight and commanding, as though he’s carved from stone. His hair is slicked back, black as midnight with a few silver strands at his temples. He’s older than I expected—late thirties, maybe early forties.

His face, as sharp as the rest of him, is lined by deep jagged scars on the left side that leads to his eye, and I see where he gets his namesake. There’s no eyelid, just the exposed orange iris, swirling against an endless black. His gaze is piercing, unblinking, and it cuts through the room like a blade. Cold and calculating, it lands on me for the briefest moment—just long enough to assess—before it shifts back to Sevika. A flicker of something passes through his eyes, some subtle calculation, before he tilts his head toward the door. With the smooth, predatory grace of a hunter, he turns and begins to move, his steps purposeful and stiff.

A clear summon.

Sevika’s voice is flat.

"Time’s up." https://archiveofourown.org/works/60622360/chapters/154789606

[snapmite1998]

Chapter 17: Siege of Dathomir

Amidst the chaos and destruction on Dathomir, the Sith brothers—Maul, Savage, and Feral Opress—moved like an unstoppable force, their crimson lightsabers a storm of lethal efficiency. Each slash and thrust was executed with a grim precision, reducing the Republic's brave soldiers and Jedi defenders into grievously outmatched contenders in a battle now tipped towards despair.

Clones fought valiantly with their blasters, and Jedi parried with lightsabers that hummed in protest against the Sith onslaught, but Maul and his brothers were relentless predators. Individually, they struck with the power of an avalanche; together, they were a hurricane that seemed impervious to resistance.

In the midst of the battlefield, Maul advanced upon a fallen clone commander, the commanding officer among the beleaguered troops. His silhouette, lit by the angry embers of the burning Acclamator behind him, cast a towering shadow of menace over the prone figure. The clone reached feebly for his weapon, his training imploring him to continue the fight, but found himself overpowered and immobilized by Maul's oppressive presence. Without hesitation, Maul plunged his ignited lightsaber through the clone's back, the crimson blade erupting through his chest, bringing a swift and final darkness. Savage and Feral continued their grim dance nearby, saber blades flashing in arcs as more soldiers fell to their wrath.

With a casual brutality that reflected the harshness of his being, Maul removed the clone's helmet, letting it fall to the ground beside them before activating the recording device embedded within it. His eyes, alive with a dangerous satisfaction, focused on the lens, knowing the message would reach Republic command. Gazing directly into the helmet's camera, his fierce visage filled the screen with malevolent intent. "Citizens of the Republic," Maul intoned with low, menacing clarity, allowing the words to sink into the cold depths of their doom. "Your siege of Dathomir has resulted in the slaughter of countless clone legions and the greatest the Jedi Order had to offer lie shattered before us."

The camera continued recording as fires blazed behind him, the flickering glimpses of the shattered Republic invasion force and the triumphant forces of Crimson Dawn.

"Tell your Chancellor and tell the Jedi Council," he continued, allowing each phrase to resonate with the implacable certainty of fate unfolding. "The Sith have have triumphed and will continue to do so, with power unrivaled. And soon, your galaxy will feel the wrath of the dark side."

With a flick of his wrist, Maul deactivated the recording, knowing the message would find its way to those who had dared to defy him, a herald of the fears that now gripped the galaxy with perilous consequence.

As the recording ceased, the battlefield continued its descent into chaos, the galaxy hanging on the precipice of change, where darkness sought to drown the light beneath an ever-encroaching shadow.

[mira--image]

Meet Vrek (rottmnt oc)

Vrek's playlist

Mystical ability:

Internal— he can temporarily boost his strength and senses, which is represented physically with a sharper and more feral transformation (same as Gus).

External— none, he does not know any witchcraft.

Vrek works as medic in the Battle Nexus. He's aware of the brutality, and tries to help fighters in need. In Big Mama's Nexus, if you're not a champion, you're fodder, and many are sent out for back-to-back fights that they are less and less likely to overcome. When Vrek fears a fighter is too wounded to survive their next fight, he volunteers to fight in their place.

This can have dangerous long-term consequences, as his success in the arena inspires Big Mama to deliberately put fighters he is close with at risk.

Read more about my ideas for the events at the nexus below the cut 👀

The final member of the main cast appears!

Fun fact, Vrek was actually the first character I designed for this project!

The Battle Nexus is such an interesting place to me. How can such a place be a business? What does yokai culture have to be like for that to be okay? Well, it's the same culture that allows the existence of the perilous Minotaur Maze in a pizza restaurant, so perhaps fighting and death in battle are just part of the norm.

I adore how different fanfics I've read have portrayed the Nexus, from the non-lethal games nights in my favorite fic, @danzinora-switch's Mind Over Matter series, to the brutal bloodbath that is the Nexus in a_platypus' Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis (@mutantninjamidlifecrisis). For my iteration, I imagine that there is a wide variety of events at the Nexus that cover both sides of the spectrum.

Allow me to introduce you to all my Nexus has to offer:

🥊 In addition to the main arena, there are smaller fighting rooms in a bar-like setting with platforms like wrestling rings for brawls. These can be for impulsive fights to test strength, settle a dispute, or cash in bets (organized by Big Mama's people of course). This is a good spot for casual fighting, burn off some steam, or dip your toe in the scene.

⚽️ If you don't want to watch a fight, the Nexus also hosts different yokai sports events, played by both professionals and the general public. You can sign up and pay for a spot in the public group games, which can range from elimination-style fights (either knock-out or steal-the-flag depending on the level of intensity) to group sports like the yokai equivalent of football or gladiator jousting. Paired with a trip to the Mystic Market, this is the usual itinerary for a fun day out among young yokai friends.

🏹 You could attend demonstrations of weapons masteries that don't involve fighting, like target practice or choreographed fighting. This is appealing to older, traditional yokai.

⚔️ But if you do want to see a fight, there are options. Yokai can fight against yokai in similar weight classes with similar skills, or battle against massive monsters. You can opt to see non-lethal fights, or fights where the loser is 'ripped limb from limbitty limb!' There are different kinds of people who participate in these fights: those who are there willingly, and those who are not. This includes glory-seekers, masters in training, desperate people hoping to make money fast, criminals serving their sentence, or people in debt to Big Mama or who have upset her. All these fights are usually scheduled over a few days, and people can buy day passes or tickets to specific fights.

💎 The crown jewels of fights are those fought by the Nexus champions. Their fights are seasonal and expensive, with advertisements, promotional events, opening shows— everything to hype up the battle and get butts in seats. Nexus champions are usually there willingly, having signed a contract and living a life of luxury and fame. A popular champion can stay on top for a decade, earning them a stone statue to immortalize their skills. Less popular champions tend to fall in battle before falling out of the public eye. Big Mama has to keep up the esteem, after all.

This is my last meet-the-character page, next up will be some bonus content for this series as i work on my next drawing for The Apprentice ;D

[manikas-whims]

At His Mercy [Read on AO3]

- a Satoru Gojo x Utahime Iori Fanfic

“You're so weak, Utahime. Can't even survive without my blood.”

“How dare you!? Respect vampires! You Humans are inferior to our kind.”

...

In which Vampire Utahime gets caught by the Hunter Gojo and things happen..

Utahime ran.

One might think that being a three-hundred and thirty-one years old cold-blooded vampire would come with its perks. Give her some kind of advantage and experience when it came to dealing with their enemies.

How false that was!

“No point runnin, Hime~”

Utahime grit her teeth and increased her pace despite the ache in her heels. She was tired and famished. She hadn't had a drop of blood in the last three days. Whilst the man chasing her was speeding right behind her on his motorcycle.

“I'll catch ya~~”

She cringed at the teasing tone. If she were caught, she wouldn't be stabbed with a stake or burnt on a pyre. No. She would suffer a fate far worse. For this hunter– this annoying human being with a puny life span of hundred years– would shackle her to him for life. He had taken an uncanny liking to her and was hellbent on keeping her at his side. Utahime gagged at the mere thought of it and ran faster.

She came to a skidding halt upon a crossroad and instead of taking the quiet, forest path, she ran through the bustling streets of the market, hoping to lose him amongst the throngs of loud and excited buyers and sellers.

How wrong she was!

This man– Satoru Gojo– was the strongest hunter of his time and far more stubborn than the regular humans that she was used to attacking and biting. He had been following her ever since his first day as a qualified hunter.

He let his bike run over food stalls and destroy everything in his way, completely ignorant of the people yelling profanities at him.

“Utahiimeee~~” He crooned over the noisy roar of his motorcycle. “I'm coming for you~”

“Leave me alone you sicko!”

She had killed countless humans yet this one she couldn't ever bear to face. This man confounded her.

She continued running, already way past the market now. But Gojo chased merrily after her, his motorcycle's tires smoother on the grassy lands that led into the woods.

This was getting dangerous. She was a heaving mess of sweat and weary limbs, overwhelmed by the faintest scent of blood. Her thirst for it was heightening due to the pathetic state she was in. And if she didn't escape this man soon enough, then she'd suck his neck dry.

Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe that would finally shut him up.

She blinked in shock and shook her head wildly. To think she even entertained such an impure thought. She wasn't so weak as to let herself give into her natural instincts and jump the first man in sight. Especially if the said man was a weirdo, who by the way was supposed to absolutely abhor thr existence of supernatural beings. Hate her; Not leer at her!

Thud!

So lost she was in her turbulent contemplation that she ended up bumping into a tree bark and falling on her ass. Shit!

The screeching sound of halting tires caught her ears when she had been rubbing her head. Shit! Shit! Shit!

“You okay?”

A hand reached out but she crawled back on her elbows and heels. “Stay away from me you filthy human!”

“Tch. So mean.” Gojo placed a hand over his heart and pouted.

Utahime scanned his form from head to toe, trying to keep her eyes and her mind focused on the array of lethal weapons strapped all over him. Trying to keep her mind settled on anything but the strong, heady scent of his delicious blood. Get up! She told herself. She really needed to get away from him.

Gojo also seemed to have taken note of her desperation, for he grinned down at her shaky breaths and sore legs. “Hmmm?? Can't run anymore?”

She didn't respond, eyes too lost staring at his long, inviting neck.

He chuckled darkly. “You're so weak, Utahime. Can't even survive without my blood.”

“How dare you!? Respect vampires! You Humans are inferior to our kind.”

“What's that? You wanna sink your teeth into my neck?”

She felt disgusted for licking her lips at his suggestion.

Three hundred years.

She had lived three years longer than him. She was far more experienced than him. She could see and feel far more than he could ever begin to fathom. She was his natural predator and he, her prey. She couldn't tolerate any more humiliation from him.

On quivering legs, she stood up. Bad move. He immediately backed her into the bark of the same tree she had bumped into earlier. With a muscly arm leaning against the bark and his crotch pressed into her belly, he looked down at her.

“Now now, ” He used the other hand to wrap her leg around his waist, fingers digging tightly into the softness of her thigh. “I'm merely trying to help.”

“I don't– ahhh...” She couldn't help the moan as she felt something hard rub pleasurably against her core.

He let his head rest in the crook of her neck, lips murmuring against her skin. “Come on, Hime. Bite me. You know you want to.”

She blushed. She had no idea what was going on in his twisted head. It was fascinating that he was far more interested in being intimate with her than actually killing her. But even more fascinating (and disappointing) was her own interest in him. She may have been denying her blatant attraction towards him but at such proximity, it was impossible to not get a taste.

Utahime opened her mouth and drew out her fangs, slowly sinking them into his neck. The first drop of blood was so heavenly she moaned again. It was so unbecoming of her to let herself do this. But she took another gulp and another and another, already feeling her strength returning to her numb limbs.

She kept sucking more and more, relishing his approving groans until he harshly tore away and kissed her instead, his blood smearing both of them's lips.

He pulled away and squeezed her thigh possessively. “See? That wasn't so hard.”

Utahime averted her gaze. This wasn't good at all. For a mere human, he held too much power over her and she couldn't admit that she kinda liked it. Always anticipated their daily encounters. Enjoyed the thrill of being chased by him.

“Now then,” He picked her up into his arms and dropped her onto his motorcycle, immediately sitting behind and starting the engine. “I'll let you have more. Everyday. When..”

His blood was making her delirious, clouding her mind. Now that she had actually tasted it, she realized how much more she craved it. And so she turned her head, practically salivating, and asked, “When?”

He smiled wickedly, seeming far more demonic than she– an actual vampire– could ever be. “When we get back to my place and you let me taste your blood so I can become one of your kind.”

“Wh-What?”

“Then I'll let you suck my neck and my cock. And I'll fuck you for an eternity and more.”

“No wait!!” Utahime retorted despite feeling her knees go weak at his crude choice of words.

“Too late.” He wagged finger and Utahime felt a mixture of desire and dread pool in her belly. “You shouldn't have let me catch you.”

[kranagok0]

The perfect team.... Maybe

Molly and Hilda are practically strong. I mean, Molly can literally stun her opponents. Hilda, for her part, has a sword. Seriously, he still has that sword from the 'Witches' episode in his room.

You have to see the skills and techniques that this strange duo have.

Let's start with the oldest; Hilda

Our blue-haired girl is, as I have calculated thinking about the extensive possibilities there are, about 13 years old. And in just those 13 years of existing in this life and we have seen the things she can do. His vast experience consists of;

+ Swordsmanship (enough to beat another boy his age with weapons experience)

+ Hand-to-hand combat.... I think so. Hilda's fight with that ghost is still something up for discussion for me.

Now your possible abilities. From what I believe, and also what I have seen that the Fandom has created in some fanfics, Hilda may have some abilities that have not been shown to us or that she could have in the future. Such as;

+ Creation of protective amulets. and possibly, from what we saw in Johana's flashbacks as a child [in the part where Astrid faces the spider-toad], creation of attack amulets.

+ The ability to fly. We cannot deny that it could ultimately grow wings at any moment.

+Become a troll. This is something I've noticed that almost everyone gives to Hilda in fanfics, so it stays. Possibly it's some kind of shapeshifter magic or something, I don't know.

+Altered perception of reality. In other words, she tried to fight against many beings that, to be honest, in one move sent her to the other world. Even so, the girl did not cower when there were punches.

Alteration of the mind. We literally saw Astrid seal Johana's memories from her entire childhood. Don't you think that's some kind of fairy magic? This is the possibility With this we have a great variety of techniques, now imagine the possibilities if you combine them to make a combo or a new technique.

Now it's time for the other girl in the group;

Molly Blyndeff. This girl is not far behind, no sir.

+ Dumb. This word is literally Molly's ability summed up, because that word is her ability. This ability allows him to have at his disposal a wide variety of techniques with which he can influence his opponent, from reducing the amount of damage received to disabling the abilities of others. An example of this is when Molly makes a soup ball that Giovanni made disappear, thus demonstrating that her ability can influence that of others.

+Mind control. Or something like that. Molly can stun someone so much that she can make them follow her orders, more or less. With Car Crash it was because he touched it and told him it was a car he wanted to crash, says his team friend. And boy did it work.

+Silence. She can cancel the sound just like Corazon, a One Piece character, did. Not whether in this case you must maintain physical contact with another person if you want that ability to remain with the enemy.

Possible skills;

From what I have seen in Epithet Erased, the concept of the word is the ability that your power will have from said word. We've seen Giovanni make ranged attacks and create cursive potions.

To Randal Murdock the power to imbibe his ability (turn into gold) and continue moving. It was literally a power up that I didn't expect.

Zora Salazar can imbue her power into her bullets and other weapons to have a lethal effect.

Who says Molly couldn't do any of those things? I mean, Molly hasn't tried any of that so she could manage to imbue some gloves or some armor with her power to stun any attack against her physical integrity. Imagine that she could stun the organism of the human body.....

Oh my mother, now that I start to think better about her ability, I'm starting to notice that this girl could dominate an entire district if she wanted to.

It would practically dumb down your entire biological system and could practically give you a critical failure in your organs. THAT GIRL DRESS UP AS A BEAR BECAUSE SHE'S LIKE ONE! They look cute but in reality they are cold and uninspiring creatures.look at those eyes

He is the embodiment of evil.

Okay, I think I got a little off topic, but I got my point across about what these girls can do and their possible powers.

With that I leave this question for you;

Who else do we add? I have someone else in mind, I'm already going crazy with this and I won't stop for a moment. I would like to see your opinions and other relevant comments, so comment. Without fear. That's all for now, see you later.

bye

[catgirlalchemist]

Milisandia - More than Rubies

A playlist for Milisandia in my fanfic "Souls Weighed Down by Gravity."

On Spotify here.

Track List:

Heartlines - Florence + The Machine

But in order to get to the heart of things Sometimes, you have to cut through

2. Hey Brother - Avicii

Oh, if the sky comes fallin' down, for you There's nothin' in this world I wouldn't do

3. Red:birthmark - AiNA THE END

The flower of my dream has already vanished Becoming a red shining star [English translation]

4. Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Echo

'Cause I've got nothing left to lose See me bare my teeth for you

5. If I Were A Weapon - Suzanne Vega

If I were a weapon you said I'd be a gun Lethal at close range, I guess, with silencer and stun

6. The Crooked, the Cradle - The Crane Wives

If mercies abound I'll be safe, I'll be sound And the devil won't know all the love I just couldn't let go

7. Growing Pains - La Roux

And oh, I've made mistakes And yes, I know it's growing pains

8. go to hell. - luhx.

I don't know how much I'll change But I'll be better than I used to be