#like I’d take it if he’s just baby faced but do you think any legion member knows what skin care is?

[dykedvonte]

Isn’t Wolfpiss like over 40? Like ages and time frames are always super vague in fallout but didn’t he help attack Ulysses tribe?

I’m just confused cause I never see yall draw wrinkles on that man he’s always like as smooth as marble and twinkish in like a BL sorta way.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[meher-sumedha]

Nessian Headcanon : T-shirts and Baby

Just a bit contribution from my side for Nessian Week. Also my first time writing Nessian so forgive me. Please. Also I'm very bad at writing titles so again, I ask for your forgiveness. Also I just went with the flow. Again - I'm sorry.

Cassian was injured. Badly. He and Nesta had gone to Illyria for a mission. And they'd encountered some lords and brutes who were definitely angry with Rhys' new policies.

It's not that Cassian couldn't fight them, no, it was not that. It was that he didn't want to fight them with Nesta around. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to his mate.

Nesta was pissed when they called Cassian words like Bastard and Mindless brute. She couldn't be more mad at him for not letting her fight. She growled at all of those fucking bastards, but Cassian maintained his cool. It was like he didn't care about those words.

But she did. She knew Cassian worked his ass off to maintain their legions. She knew he stayed up late just so that they would prevent another war. And all she wanted to do was kill all of these bastards because of their ungratefulness.

But she kept quiet. Knowing how uneasy even Cassian was, for she was pregnant. Rhys had covered her scent so that none of the Illyrians would know and try to harm her, not that they wouldn't right now either.

One guy, one guy had dared to call Nesta a slut. Nesta didn't mind that, she had heard a lot of shit in her life. But apparently Cassian did.

His angered raged, just trying to get out when that piece of shit called Nesta, a slut. So all he could do to prevent himself from doing anything and bringing any more danger to Nesta, he took Nesta in his arms and dropped her off at the house of Wind.

Nesta was taken by surprise when Cassian did that. But then she remembered what that guy had called her. They then arrived at the balcony in the house of wind and just as Nesta started to say something, Cassian left.

Leaving her all alone.

Now it was 3 days later, and Cassian had still not returned. Nesta had informed everyone. Rhysand, Azriel and who else. All of them had searched for Cassian in Illyria, in Velaris, in the entire fucking night court. And still no sign of Cassian.

And then, when Nesta was still in her room, in Cassian's t-shirt. All alone. She never wore his t-shirt, always said it smelled. One day Cassian had just taken off his t-shirt and had thrown it at her head -

She huffed, taking the t-shirt away from her face and throwing it back at him. Cassian simply laughed and said, "What" And had thrown it back at her. Nesta hissed and stopped it with her hands and threw it back at him. "I am not a fucking hanger, the bucket for dirty clothes is in the bathroom. "

Cassian had simply laughed at that before getting under the covers and saying, "What, I thought you girls wore our t-shirts, " Nesta simply rolled her eyes before wearing a new t-shirt of his and getting under his covers. "Uhm no thank you. Why the hell would I want to wear your t-shirt?",

"Maybe to smell it?" And nesta had simply scoffed at that. "You know what, I am not wearing your dirty clothes. But I'll do you a favor, I'll wear your clean t-shirt so that it has my scent. And so that you remember to not flirt with any girl, as you know I would kill you."

Cassian had simply climbed over Nesta and tug a strand of hair behind her ear, he then whispered in his husky voice, "why thank you, your highness. But you should know, I'd never flirt with any girl beside you. And tonight, I think I'm in a mood for some action, and not just flirting. "

And as soon as he said that, he noticed the sudden change in her scent. He smirked against her neck and started kissing it. Slowly going way down. Nesta's body arched upwards, in want of any friction.

And Cassian smirked and whispered, "Calm down love, I promise I'll fuck you so hard tonight, that you'll see stars. " And he had rightfully kept that promise.

That was also the way their baby was concieved.

Suddenly Nesta was thrown out of her trance when she saw Gwyn shaking her. She suddenly got up and followed Gwyn out of their room. And she almost gasped when she saw the sight in front of her.

Gwyn had to literally hold Nesta's hands in place to make sure she didn't actually kill Cassian. Nesta tried to get out of her hold, but knew Gwyn was strong. So she took a long breath, and tried to calm her racing heart, "Where the hell were you" She asked with a deadly calm, and it wasn't a request, it was demand.

Cassian then slowly walked up to her, his arms and legs covered in bandages. He walked with his head held high, and a smirk on his face. He then stood right in front of Nesta, his face an inch away from hers. He grinned and asked, "Miss me Nes?"

And at that moment, Nesta sprang out of Gwyn's hold, and slapped Cassian. It was a hard one, and Cassian's cheeks were red.

As soon as she did that, she gasped and her hand shot to her mouth. She saw Azriel and Gwyn walk out of the room slowly, and she was too shocked by her own actions to even stop them.

But then Cassian simply chuckled, and met her surprised gaze, he then had the audacity to say, "Really Nes? Looks like you've become rusty." And then he saw the anger raging behind Nesta's eyes. Exactly what he'd wanted. He didn't want her to become emotionless.

He wanted some kind of emotion from her, so that she wouldn't go back to her cage. Even if he had to get slapped a million more times, he would do anything to get any emotion from Nesta.

And then Nesta started punching him in his chest. Grunting while saying curses. "How dare you (push) I have been alone since three days (push), Carrying our fucking child, (push)-" And with each word her punches became more violent. Nesta didn't know how to project her emotions, so the only way she did that, was with anger.

She punched him, and didn't even realize she was crying when she backed him into a wall and he stopped her hands, "Nes, Nes, NES" And he forced her crying eyes to look at him. And he saw the hurt that was there.

He saw the girl that was genuinely afraid behind those eyes. Afraid for him. And she stopped. He then smiled sadly, and cleaned her tears with one hand, his other holding her hands.

Nesta then broke down, with a broken voice and endless tears leaving her eyes, "You were gone Cass, you were gone and you-you left me alone. "

She said and Cassian slowly brought her in for a hug, she hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around his waist, tucking her head under his. She cried into his chest, and that broke Cassian's heart. "Please-please don't leave me again."

She said and Cassian made her look at him. "Love, I would never, ever leave you. I would never leave you or our baby girl." He said and Nesta gasped. He then smiled at her, he knew he had just dropped the girl bomb on her. And then they heard Gwyn gasp from behind the door and they both chuckled. "She's a busybody isn't she?" Cassian chuckled and said.

Nesta then laughed, a free laugh and moved away from him gasping. "Oh oh my god. It's- I -we're, we're having a girl." She said, still laughing like she didn't have a care in the world, her hands over her knees. Her eyes filled with happy tears. A sight Cassian would die to see again.

Nesta then stopped laughing and looked at him with such love in her eyes that melted Cassian's heart. "We're having a girl" She said, never leaving his gaze, a smile on her face. "We're having a girl" Cassian said, mirroring her own smile. He then walked up to her, sighed and captured her lips in his own.

The kiss was so soft yet so rushed. They kissed and kissed and Nesta tangled her hand in his hair and Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. At one moment they even heard Gwyn sigh happily from outside the door and Nesta smiled into their kiss.

Nesta then broke the kiss and said, "She really is a busybody." Before resuming the kiss. This time, it was Cassian's turn to smile into the kiss. For he was ready to start their new life, with their baby girl.

A/N : Sorry if you didn't like it. It's my first time writing Nessian.

[ill-skillsgard]

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

[the-fiction-witch]

My Princess, My King

MOVIE THE LAST LEGION AGE UP!! COUPLE ROMULUS X READER RATING SMUT

I stood nervous I couldn't deny, in the dress that had been picked out for me if you could much call it a dress, I had two golden well I suppose you'd call them hoops one around my neck the other and my waist and the pale pink fabric wrapped around the metal to make my dress I was exposed but in this heat I didn't mind it much so long as I was covered where it mattered. I suppose I shall have to get use to this place, the vast tall halls, the beautiful marble floors this place is to be my home now, for as long as I could remember I had been engaged to the boy king here, I accepted it like any good princess would. I followed my father as staff lead him into the room, and there I saw a beautiful woman, a tall strong diplomatic man, and a tall, skinny boy on the throne

"Your grace" my father nodded so I bowed too

"Your grace, a pleasure to have you in our fair city" the man standing said

"It is a most beautiful place, now if I may present my daughter" he says offering his hand so I took it moving forward "the princess y/n y/n, of y/county,"

"A very beautiful girl indeed, then I shall present my son, Romulus Augustus of rome, blood line of the Cesar's" the man said he elbowed the boy in the chair and he stood up

"Yes, uhh it is a pleasure to finally meet with you my princess" he nods coming closer to me I smiled and stepped closer to him too

"I have long awaited meeting you, you are far more handsome then described"

"Thank you, you uhh you are far more beautiful then I could have imagined you to be"

"I am honored to be your bride my king" I smiled "I only hope I shall be good to you"

"I'm sure you will be my princess"

"I have long since passed my blood my king, I shall egarly await my opportunity to further the blood line of the Cesar's"

"I uhhhhhh ummm yes, uhh I'm sure you uhh you will my princess" he nods slightly blushing at what I had said "I uhh I shall see you later" he says giving my hand a kiss before he left to tend to other matters,

I stood a little nervously as he and his father left, so I followed my father out as the staff lead us to our rooms for now, 

"I don't think he likes me"

"He was probably just nervous, You have nothing to fear my darling I'm sure he will like you very much," He says "Give it time, I didn't like your mother all that much when I met her, I thought she was beautiful and I got all tongue-tied to it's normal for boys when they meet there betrothal," He says "Do you like him?"

"He is a good king, I will sever him well" I nodded

"You are such a perfect little princess, But really? do you like him?"

"He is very handsome" I giggled blushing a little...

As soon as I left the room I hid myself away in a little room not sure what it was but it was empty, passing and trying not to go crazy

Oohhh my god... She's beautiful. Why didn't they tell me she was beautiful! Ohh and that body uuuummmm the sculptures will be fighting over who gets to make a statue of her, that face, that hair, those huge boobs! And she already started talking about a baby! So as clearly definitely wants to have sex with me!

"Knock, knock." A voice came from behind the door he opened it and it was my father who came in shutting it again "so? Do you like her?"

"Like her! She's a goddess! Someone could have warned me"

"Of what?"

"That's she was that attractive! I was expecting some little you know rat faced, betrothal not... Not that syren faced, hypnotic bodied princess"

"There was rumor she was beautiful, I did tell you that"

"Yeah but I kinda assumed you said that to make me feel better" I sighed "aren't I you know... Punching above my weight a little with that"

"Of course not your a king, of the whole empire, your a cesar of course your wife will be beautiful and worshipped like a goddess" he says

"I'm not sure I can"

"What?"

"I'm nervous! I kinda hadn't planned for actually liking her? Now I don't know what to do"

"Just do like we talked about"

"The only instructions you gave me father was go with my instincts"

"And?"

"I do not have instincts"

"Romulus, I thought the same first time I saw your mother, trust me you know what to do it'll all come to you in time,"

"My instincts are confused, they won't know what to do with... That sat in my bed chamber"

"Just relax, it's normal to be nervous I was with your mother, just relax and have fun with your beautiful new wife" he says

I couldn't relax after all this stuff, I passed around the palace unsure how to feel or what to do about it all, I decided this wasn't helping me think so I gathered some things and headed down to the springs below the palace. I went down the long stone stairs heading deeper and deeper into the palace, I opened the heavy wooden door going into the small room filled with wooden shelves and hooks, I began stripping off my clothes about to call in the staff but I noticed how warm I already felt, the baths must already be heating up? I arrived at the baths, they seemed like always, empty, the flickering of candle light and the small fire pits around, dark with the lack of windows, the steam from the large pool filled the air, the smell of sweet flowers radiating, the pool took up most of the room with enough space in the tied blue wave Mosaic floor with a few lights across to the door to the cool spring outside, the walls heavy stone to keep in the hot steam, the ceiling painted beautifully with celestial bodies. I stepped over dipping my toe into he water feeling the cost relaxing heat, But as I did I heard a noise.

The water broke moving suddenly, the sounds of someone breaking thought the water, I looked up and my jaw dropped. It was the princess, y/n. My well now wife. She stood on the lowest step at the bottom of the stairs in the other side of the pool, she was... Naked! Her hair flat to her head where she had been submerged, her smooth naked skin with the warm steam surrounding her, the firelight casgading off her skin, her face turned away not looking at me her hands moving to smooth her hair gently, her breasts bounced as she breathed, her ass complete exposed to me with such a perfect curve, any lower still under the water, she let out a gentle moan as she fixed her hair. She turned slightly over her shoulder and smiled as she saw me averting her eyes looking to the water, she put a hand infront of her mouth and giggled a little

"Why hello my king" she smiled moving all her hair over her shoulder letting me see her completely bare back,

"Uuuuuuughhh hello"

"I'm so sorry my king, I only wanted a bath" she blushed

"Ughhhh yes ummm no uh no need to apologise, it's the uhh the hot spring that's uhh what it's for" I nodded quickly using my hands to cover myself up as I was... Naked!

"Did you want me to go?" She asks plaiting and unplaiting her hair as we spoke

"No, uh of course not feel free to uhh use the baths as much as you want" I told her

"Did you want to come in too?"

"I uhhh.... Yes" I nodded "but I ughhhh I'll wait, until your done" I reassured her

But she giggled again "my king, we are husband and wife now. I'd like for you to join me"

"Well I uhh, I will if you would like me to my princess" I nodded nervously stepping down into the warm water I almost moaned feeling my body relax as I moved deeper and deeper until the water reached my neck, but I saw how close I was to her so I moved to the edge sitting myself in the stone seat built around the edge for sitting in the water and relaxing "I suppose we are... Husband and wife now. We should get used to each other"

"Exactly" she smiled "my king? Might I perhaps... Call you by your name?"

"Of course my princess, if uhh if I may use yours?"

"Of course" she giggled moving to sit on the edge in the other side across from me

"Y/n? May I uhh be frank with you?"

"Of course romulus"

"I have uhhhh I have never been.... With a woman before"

"Never?" She asks as she washes her hair

"Never. I uhh I only hope I do not disappoint you"

"You couldn't disappoint me" she smiled "you have nothing to fear, it's a new to me as it is to you"

"You seem... Much more confident in it then I am"

"I'm not sure confident is the word, uuhhh excited" she smiled

"I'm excited to" I told her "I think, you'll make a very good wife. And... A very beautiful wife."

"Thank you romulus, I think you shall make a very good, handsome, sweet husband" she smiled blowing me a kiss

"I just... I don't know anything really and, I guess I'm nervous"

"It's fine to be nervous, I am too, but we'll be alright, take things slow"

"Yeah, slow" I nodded

"Romulus can I ask you something?'

"If course"

"Are you uncomfortable around me?"

"How so?"

"Well... We've been here a while and you don't seen to wanna move your hands?"

"Oohh well I uhh..." I stuttered unsure how to respond

"It's a bath romulus, your going to see me, I'm going to see you, it's alright I am your wife" she giggled "I'll see it at some point" she smiled as she came closer standing again this time she faced me, the only thing to conceal her from my eyes was one hand that gently covered her pussy and her arm that crossed her chest to cover her breasts even if I could still see much of them, I couldn't keep my eyes off her not a single word arriving at my mouth and at that moment I understand what my father had meant I do have instincts, and they knew exactly what I wanted. My hand that I was using to hide myself took a grip of my now hard shaft rubbing and stroking just looking at her, she saw and blushed hard "romulus!" She giggled

"In sorry! I just... I don't know what else to do" I told her

"Well... What if I did this?" She asked moving her hands I saw everything, breasts, legs, waist, hips, pussy everything!

"Uhh... Uuuuhhhhh!" I groaned just looking at her unable to tear my eyes away form that body! I knew how close I was biting in my mouth still unable to stop looking at her but she stopped me moving back into the water and ripping my hand off myself

"Romulus!" She giggled "save something for tonight my king" she giggled wrapping her arms around my neck

"I'm not sure I can last till later" I admit "y/n... Can... Can I touch you?"

"If you'd like, your my husband romulus you can do whatever you want to me"

"Anything... I want to you?"

"Of course, I wife lives to service her husband" she smiled coming closer nuzzling with my neck I put my hands on her back feeling her smooth skin,

"Uuhhh y/n" I groaned my hands going crazy groping, fondling anything she'd let me at I was touching, till he moved back

"I think, it's getting a little hot in here" she smirked as I was gasping for breath desperate for attention

"You think so?"

"I do" she smirked getting up climbing the steps across from me the water dripping off her naked body as she stepped over to the door to outside "you coming romulus?" She giggled running outside,

I smirked and climbed out the bath hurrying after her out the door to the small courtyard, with high walls to another part of the castle, the light of the moon, and stars shining down on us, the grass perfectly trimmed, the stone path perfectly swept, the high rocks creating a waterfall in the corner of the walls that flowed down into a beautiful deep cool pool, it came from a natural spring near by but we had turned it into the outdoor cold pool for the spring she ran around the garden before jumping into the pool, I smirked and jumped in with her and somehow I ended up with my arms around her and hers around me as we sat in the still, quite, cool pool, under the moonlight

"Romulus?"

"Yes y/n?"

"Do you love me?" She whispered

"Honestly no." I told her making her look upset her face looking down at the water but I pulled her chin up "but I like you. Very much, your cute, your fun, your beautiful... We've been betrothed since we where kids, and I only met you today," I explain to her "but I really do like you. And I'm sure very soon I will love you"

"Okay" she smiled hugging me tightly "I like you too" she giggled pulling in my neck a little so I was close to her face I blushed but moved and gently kissed her soft lips...

[bluebellhairpin]

Never Forget, Never Regret (1/?)

Levi Ackerman X Reader (But like, less than normal?)

A/N: Blame that conversation I had with Suz a couple weeks ago for this one. #BEST DECOY CLUB!!! - Nemo

Summary: They’ve always been a duo, riding along the exact same path in the exact same way. But then they aren’t, and (y/n) can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. 

Warnings: Character Death. General AoT themes. Blood. Injuries. 

Listening to: ‘Apple Seed’ - Attack on Titan OST (Bertholdt Transformation Theme) - ‘Old man please remember me.’ 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

Eventually, when someone's faced with something that they're unable to overcome, they have to make a decision. Keep fighting, and overcome the situation. Or get help, find someone who can overcome it. 

These two Scouts managed to do both. 

When they were in the training corps they met someone who they soon came to realized was a lot like the other. And to this day they had yet to meet anyone who didn't think they both were absolutely insane. 

Training s cadets was more a time they'd both spend bonding rather than actually training - even if an obscene amount of training did get done anyway. It was like they both really wanted to be there. They'd blabber on about how each other would kill the titans, how efficient they both could be if they tried the odm gear this way or that. They would keep score when they spared, rewarding whoever 'won' with some of the loser's food at dinner. The most unusual of all the things they did was probably joining the Scouting Legion - without flinching, or a single second thought.

No one would think that was a good choice, not until a boy came years after they both joined. He had the same pure, unrestrained audacity as both of them did - and did he latch on to their examples like a man starved. 

On their first expedition beyond the walls, everyone thought they'd both die. Not because they were inexperienced or lacking skills - they both were some of the top ranking in the whole cadets - however they were also self-destructive. 

When the time came to using the odm gear to avoid the titans during the expedition, they went nothing short of buckwild. 

Their superior was horrified. The other Scouts were shocked into awe. And when they returned within the walls, their superior's superior wanted to 'ground' them both for recklessness. However, like some angel of death, second chances, and blond hair, Erwin Smith came and simply asked for them both to be transferred to his section. Erwin, being new to his higher position in the Scouts, was seen as just gathering people to join his expeditions. 

The two had been outside the walls. Riden. Fought. Lived. Protected. In fact, despite their reckless moves and haphazard techniques, they'd been a great help - only three people came back to be buried, and one didn’t come back at all. 

A new record.

Erwin didn't understand how bad they must've been, facts considered. Not until he saw them in action too. 

Then and there, in a forest filled with titans, he knew. 

They were smiling. Laughing. They both sounded like they were having the time of their lives. He concluded they were absolutely bonkers. But in a flash, he also knew they were going to be useful. 

They went ahead, letting out whoops and cheers, while watching each other's backs, but they drew a lot of the titans to themselves too. They put themselves into a buttload of danger, but the other Scouts, especially the new cadets, were having it much easier. Erwin could see a method to the madness, even if they themselves couldn't, and from then on he decided he'd use it as best he could.

And that's exactly what happened. 

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You hung up your saddle, fixing up the stirrups, and deciding to not clean it today, as much as Levi might nag you about it later. You did do it last week, and again lightly before you left yesterday. 

After today, however, you had a feeling he'd be lenient. 

Despite how Erwin planned, and how the Cadet Armin offered his opinion, the losses counted were not something you, nor your titan-killing counterpart could've stopped. Said counterpart soon appeared at your side. 

By now you could tell when it was her behind you and when it was Hange trying to test your 'connection'. You could tell she was going to say something, just from the way she let out a huff. Turning, you saw she was looking slightly disheveled, which was odd considering how kept she normally looked. 

And for once, you didn't know what to say to make her or yourself feel better. 

"I'll miss them," she said, saving you from having to say anything, "But we've got to keep fighting. For them." 

"Never regret." You said, lifting a fist up to her, and she mirrored you, her fist now touching yours.

"Never forget." She finished. 

"Oi, (y/n), Nerva. Erwin wants the both of you in the dining hall." Levi said, appearing from thin air to startle you both half out of your skins. "Now." he added after a beat.

"Yessir." She drawled, earning a scowl from the short captain. Even though you'd both been here longer than him, he still thought he had more authority than you. Nerva said it was because he was 'so old', but you were pretty sure it was just because of how skilled he was. You worked a lot on luck, and he didn't like leaving things to chance and bets. 

"Sure thing Levi." You said. If one of you were going to be less than pleasant, then it was probably going to be you. It helped that you had a soft spot for him. 

You both watched Levi eye you one more time, before he left. No sooner had he left, then Nerva had a hand on your shoulder.

"'Sure thing Levi'," she started, mocking you in a hushed and too goodie-two-shoed voice, "Also, I love you and want to marry you and have your babies please, Mr. Captain Levi Sir." 

You laid a heavy backhand on her shoulder.

"Shut up!" You scolded, "After everything that happened today, you're doing that?" She smiled sadly, shrugging with a hand on her shoulder.

"Humour makes it easier for me. You know I don't cry, ever, so this is second best." she said, "And you know, well might I add, that if Petra were still here I'd be doing it to her too. The both of you were groupies." 

Your eyes darkened, a ghost of a wicked smirk flashing on your face before you returned to your stoick look.

"I supposed I shouldn't bring up that 'meeting' you had with Miche and Erwin then. Without me." You said, sticking your nose in the air. "You and I both know we always go to meetings together. That one was suspicious."

Nerva sputtered as you took off towards the main building, catching up to your side with a few quick strides. 

"I've sworn that was just a meeting, nothing happened!" 

"Sure sure." 

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They had a plan. 

The Cadet Armin thought he knew who the Female Titan was, and as a group you'd all come up and approve a plan. 

You and Nerva didn't have a lot to do, if you were to compare this mission to normal circumstances. Your main job was to make sure things didn't go too out of hand, and to take civilians out of the way if they couldn't in time. Your unprecedented odm moves would be utilized, just like Erwin normally did, and Nerva was practically vibrating for a chance to catapult and slingshot through narrow streets. 

You hadn't done something like that since the 104th Cadets joined the Garrison and Scouts to help with the second wall breach. 

Standing atop a rooftop each, you and Nerva huddle behind some chimney's. You both share a couple looks, and you knew what she was saying. 

'Something's gonna happen. Something bad.'

And you couldn't help but agree. You don't survive this long in the Scouts without getting an intuition. A sixth sense for when things are going to turn sour. This was one of those times you were right. 

The sky rumbled, shaking the building you were on, and there was a bright flash of light. You slid down the roof but caught yourself, and Nerva surged forward with a stumble. 

"Damn," she swore, hands on her odm handles, "It really was Annie." 

You turned and climbed back up the roof to see what Nerva saw - the same blonde-haired titan that had killed your friends. 

"That's a titan I'd cut to splinters." Nerva muttered.

"She's just a kid," you said, also reaching for your gear, "I bet she doesn't know any different." She clicked her tongue, before pointing around. 

"Let's get moving. I'll tell Erwin, you tell Hange. Collect and corral civilians on the way if you have time. Go, go, go!" 

You both had an intuition that day - that something bad would happen. At the time you didn't know how bad that thing was. But you found out. 

Annie and the Female Titan soon became the least of your problems. 

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Series Taglist: @miss-consulting-timelord​​ (idk if you did want to be tagged or what, but all things considered?) 

Taglist is Open!

[samanthaa-leanne]

I would do a dozen crimes at least for a part 2 on tamaki cheating on reader.

you can find part one here

i loved writing this so much. i love shinsou with all my heart. i’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, but i love it. 

It had been 6 months since you caught your boyfriend cheating on you with your mutual best friend Mirio. You were still shaken up over it. 

After you left your apartment in a hurry you somehow ended up at your best friend Shinsou’s house. Your face was covered in tears as you knocked lightly on his apartment door. Not even 30 seconds later the door opened and you saw his purple eyes meet your own. 

“YN? Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled you in for a hug, leading you into his apartment. “What happened?” 

You shook your head as you buried your face in his chest, his hands running up and down your back to try and calm you down. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, but was only about 20 minutes until your breathing slowed. You pulled back to look at him as he brushed the stray tears from your cheeks. 

He took your hand and led you to the couch, sitting you down before he went to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water. You took slow sips before you told Shinsou what happened. When you finished he was fuming. You had never seen him so mad.

“That’s bullshit yn. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He said as he looked over at you with sad eyes. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Toshi. I don’t have any of my things or a place to stay.” You sighed as you put your face in your hands.

Shinsou pulled you into his arms as you tried to stop the tears from falling. “YN, kitten, look at me please.” He said using his nickname for you knowing it would get your attention immediately.

He wiped a stray tear that fell down your cheek before continuing, “You know your welcome here anytime. We can go tomorrow after he leaves for work to get your stuff.” 

‘You don’t have to do that Toshi. I can go by myself. I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you.” You said as you dipped your head down to avoid eye contact.

He put his finger under your chin lightly pulling your face to meet his. “You are never an inconvenience kitten. I’d do anything for you.” 

You met his gaze and couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. “Thanks Toshi. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’ll never have to find out.” He said with a breathtaking smile that made your heart do flips. 

You ended up sleeping in his bed that night, with him taking the couch, even though you protested that you should take the couch since you were the guest. You went to your old apartment the next day and were relieved when Tamaki wasn’t there. You and Shinsou had your stuff packed within an hour and were currently back at his apartment unpacking. 

“I can’t just take your room Toshi.” You laughed as he started to pack up his things to move into the living room.

“Yes I can.” He retorted with a smirk.

“We could always just share.” You replied, your cheeks heating up at the suggestion. “Or not.” You said quickly dismissing the idea.

“Would you be okay with that?” He asked as his eyes met yours.

“I would.” You answered your cheeks becoming even more red. 

Living with Shinsou was one of the best things that ever happened to you. Not only was he your best friend, but he quickly became something more. You always had feelings for him, even before you started dating Tamaki, but being best friends you thought it would be better to be with someone else. Which you were extremely wrong in that logic. When you started dating Shinsou it was like something opened up inside of you. You were happiest when you were with him. He treated you like a princess. Always making sure you had everything you needed. 

He took you on dates every weekend and brought you flowers every few weeks. He would surprise you with candlelit dinners and relaxing bubble baths after a long day of work. He was everything you ever wanted in a partner. You were in love with him and he was in love with you. He helped you forget all about Tamaki and the trauma that came with it. 

You were currently cooking dinner with Shinsou when your phone rang with an incoming call from an unknown number. You answered and were shocked to heat Tamaki’s voice on the other line. 

“YN? Is that you?” Tamaki asked, his voice breaking. 

“What do you want Tamaki?” You asked not being able to hold back the anger. Shinsou was by your side the minute he heard your ex boyfriends name leave your mouth. He put a comforting hand on your back letting you know he was there if you needed him.

“I miss you. I never should have cheated on you, I know that. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about you.” He cried into the phone. 

Before you could respond there was another voice in the background that you recognized instantly. “Tamaki who are you on the phone with?” Mirio asked.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “I don;t know what you thought you would achieve from calling me, but I don’t want to hear it. You cheated on me. You don’t get to call me after 6 months and say you miss me. It looks like you did an exceptional job moving on, and I just want you to know that I’ve moved on as well. I finally found a man who treats me the way I should be treated and I love him with all my heart. I hope you find what you're looking for Tamaki I really do. Please don’t call me again.” You said as you hung up the call, leaning back into your boyfriend's embrace.

“You love me with your whole heart huh?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You turned around to face him giving him a smile. “My whole heart and soul baby.” 

“I love you too kitten.” He said leaning down to place a sweet kiss to your lips.

You finished up cooking and ended up cuddled on the couch watching a movie as you ate. You snuck a look at your boyfriend and couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach. You were so in love with him and you were so grateful you had him in your life.

taglist: @glitterpuns @mephxles @anastar-legion @livajoh @girl-obsessed-with-things @khemz1312 @send-me-places @jooleuuh @plushs-stuff @todohoeski   @handsoffmyfriends   @yeet-these-hoez   @shinsou-lovin-hours-anon   @starlight-steven   @lordexplosionsextra  @audiorealism @taepoppin @mehnotenoughtime @wasteofspace228 @anastar-legion @kamilkahara @thegalxe @bnhaluver @breaking-ur-kneecaps @Renee1414 @Livajoh @lanceyfancypants @girl-obsessed-with-things @weeb-reading-trash @lilacshouko @konkonbear @stephiecarie @melanie09astrid  @jisnuq @takemetovalhalla @buzzybeebee @pixelarts4 @sk-o-mp @lowermoons @pixelarts4 @sonandodemanana-deactivated2020 @datweirdonextdoor @agent-p-1220 @underthemattressstaring  @hxneybgb @uknown-person989 @thoughtfulpandazine2 @dominikmagnus @your-local-lesbo @krazyotakunerd @user3162732 @shookavengers @miceonmars @who-in-the-hell @carmomo18 @kittyddandnyla

[swanqueeneverafter]

Before All Hell Breaks Loose.

The Underworld. (Surrounded by the Sea of Lost Souls, two men sit at a table opposite each other playing a game.) Hades: (Moving his piece across the board:) "And I believe that's checkmate." Facilier: (Slamming his fist on the table:) "Damn! Let's play again." Hades: (Chuckles:) "When will you learn, Facilier. You can't defeat me." Facilier: "I will find a way, believe me." Hades: "You forget who you're talking to. I know all your tricks. Why I bet I can predict what your next move will be before you've even thought of it." Facilier: "I would not be so sure, Lord Hades." Hades: "Oh have it your way. (Waves his hand and resets the board:) Just remember, Facilier, you cannot cheat death." Facilier: “I’ll bear that in mind.” Evil Queen: (Striding towards them:) “As will I.” (Rising quickly from his high-backed chair, Hades turns to face the Evil Queen as she leads a legion of former Dark Ones into his chamber.) Hades: "Well well, if it isn't the Evil Queen. At last we meet." Evil Queen: "Clearly my reputation proceeds me." Hades: "Oh you have no idea. (Looking beyond her:) And I see you've not come alone. Nimue. Zoso. Dark Ones all. It's my honour to welcome you all to my kingdom." Evil Queen: "And you are?" Hades: (Smiles:) "I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld." Evil Queen: "Charmed." Facilier: (Clears his throat:) "Lord Hades. What about our game?" Hades: "Come now, Facilier, where are your manners? Can't you see I’ve suddenly become quite busy. Besides, you've had enough humiliation for one evening. Leave us. (Facilier stands, picks up his hat from the table and exits the chamber, making sure to steer clear of the Dark Ones:) Now, where were we? Ah yes. Seeing as there are so many of you, perhaps it would be best if I saw you all in small groups. Would you care to take a seat, Your Majesty?"

Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (While Regina talks with Henry and Violet, Emma sits alone at a booth when Zelena approaches.) Emma: (With Zelena glaring at her:) "Do we have a problem?" Zelena: (Scoffs:) "Don't you have something to say to me?" Emma: (Looks down:) "Zelena if there was anyway I could undo what I did then-" Zelena: "Oh save it, Emma. All I want from you is an apology." Emma: (Nods:) "I-I'm sorry, Zelena, I truly am." Zelena: "Thank you." Emma: "If there's ever anything I can do to-" Zelena: "Actually, there is something." (Overhearing the conversation, the Charmings move closer towards them.) Emma: (Stiffly:) "All right." Zelena: (Spares the Charmings a smile then returns her attention to Emma:) "I'm going to find my daughter and bring her home with me. All I need you to do is keep Regina off my back." Emma: "What do you mean?" Zelena: (Rolls her eyes:) "Regina and Robin made me promise that I would only be able to see my baby girl when either of them were present. I want you to convince them that's no longer necessary." Mary Margaret: "Zelena, this isn't the way to build trust. What if-" Emma: (Cutting in:) "I'll do it." Zelena: (Smiles:) "That's all I needed to hear." (With that, Zelena waves her hand and disappears in a cloud of green smoke.) David: "Emma, are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Emma: "I'll handle it." Regina: (Walking over:) "Handle what?" Emma: (Smiles:) "Nothing that can't wait." Regina: (Returning the smile:) "Good. (Taking Emma's hands in her own:) Time to go home." Emma: (Glancing over at their son:) "What about Henry?" Regina: "He's going to stay and talk with Violet for awhile." Emma: "And you're okay with that?" Regina: "I think it's fair they say their goodbyes before they're both grounded." Emma: "Regina-" Regina: "Shh. That's a conversation for another time. For now, I'm taking you home." (Emma sees the earnest look on Regina's face and nods before they're both enveloped in their own cloud of smoke.)  

Mills House. (Reappearing outside on the door step, Regina leans in and gives Emma a soft, chaste kiss before turning and unlocking the front door. Allowing herself to be led inside, Emma's momentary confusion at arriving outside the Mayor’s mansion is replaced with understanding as they make their way silently up the long winding staircase. With each step, Emma feels herself being welcomed back home. Her suspicions are confirmed when upon reaching the bedroom door, Regina places another chaste kiss upon her lips. Moving over to the bed, Regina motions for Emma to take a seat. Slowly, Regina kneels and carefully removes each of Emma's boots, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. When Emma reaches for her, Regina kisses her once more before heading swiftly towards the bathroom. Laying back on the bed, Emma listens as the sound of running water is heard. Before too long, Regina reappears in the doorway and beckons Emma over with a wave of her hand. With the gentlest of touches and the utmost care, Regina proceeds to remove the rest of Emma's clothing before helping her into the bath. Lowering herself into the water, Emma gives Regina a questioning look but Regina merely rolls up her sleeves, kneels beside the tub and begins to wash Emma's hair. Not knowing what else to do, Emma closes her eyes and surrenders to the sensation of being truly cared for and loved, unconditionally. All too soon, the bath is over and Emma finds herself being reverently toweled dry by Regina who still has yet to speak since they entered the Mayor’s mansion. Returning to the bedroom, Emma perches herself on the bed and watches while Regina removes her own clothing. Then, reclined on the bed together, they share soft, delicate kisses before Regina begins to move slowly down Emma's body. Feeling utterly loved and relaxed, Emma absentmindedly asks a question that has clearly been on her mind for awhile.) Emma: "Were you smart in school?" Regina: (Lifts her head from Emma's chest:) "What?" Emma: "Did you even have school in the Enchanted Forest?" Regina: (Confused by this line of questioning:) "I... had a tutor growing up. My father would often sit in during my lessons and watch quietly in the corner." Emma: "Yeah?" Regina: (Nods:) "I remember whenever I would glance back at him he would always give me the most brilliant smile." (Regina shifts her weight to lean on her elbow beside Emma.) Emma: (Smiling:) "What was your best subject?" Regina: "I was good at everything." Emma: (Laughs:) "Of course you were." Regina: "I do remember doing very well at spelling and seeing my father cry tears of joy whenever I managed to spell a difficult word." Emma: "That's nice. I wish I could've met him. What was he like?" Regina: "My father? (Emma nods:) He was the sweetest man I ever met. He was probably too sweet. Humble. Loving. He grew up a prince and so we had land and position, but... he was soft. Just too sensitive and he couldn't really handle my mother." (Regina rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling.) Emma: "And your mom?" Regina: (Smiles:) "Mother was very beautiful. Very motivated and ambitious, often to the detriment of those around her. She was very smart. But cold." Emma: "I didn't get to spend much time with Cora and none of it was what I'd call pleasant. But I could tell she loved you very much, in her own way." Regina: (Nods:) "She did. There are times when I miss them both so much. When I was little and couldn't sleep, I'd always ask my father if I could sleep with him and he never refused." Emma: "I know you haven't been sleeping. (When Regina looks at her:) Henry told me he caught you in the kitchen more than once cooking long past midnight." Regina: (Shakes her head:) "I couldn't sleep. Not when you were out there alone, because of me." Emma: "Regina, I chose to save you and I would do it again, without hesitation." Regina: "I know you would, but that doesn't make it any easier. When the Darkness took you away... it was just like losing my father all over again." Emma: "Hey, you and I just destroyed the Darkness together. You will never lose me, because I'm not going anywhere, you got that?" Regina: (Smiles:) "Loud and clear." Emma: "Good. Now I think we both could use some sleep." Regina: "Mm. Agreed." Emma: (Snuggles in close and kisses her deeply:) "I love you, Regina." Regina: "I love you, Emma." (While Emma settles down beside her, placing a protective hand across her chest, Regina stares at the ceiling for a few moments more lost in thought, before closing her eyes and finally falling asleep.) The Underworld. Hades' Chamber. (Hades and the Evil Queen are seated, discussing how she came to be in his domain.) Evil Queen: "So, with the help of Snow White of all people, Regina injected herself with this serum she purchased from the Dragon and our souls split right down the middle." Hades: "How awful. And she claims to be the hero?" Evil Queen: (Scoffs:) "Let her. If Regina thinks she's seen the last of me, she has another thing coming." Hades: (Smiles:) "Well, that all really depends on what you have to offer me, my dear. I don't just send people back to the land of the living on a whim. After all, what's a God without followers, hm?" Evil Queen: "Believe me, Hades, I am not worth the trouble I would cause if you decided to keep me down here. I neither worship or follow. I lead." Hades: "Yes, I'm a big fan of your work. We're really quite similar when you think about it. You cast a curse to force people to your will, and I am cursed to rule a kingdom whose inhabitants have no choice but to obey me." Evil Queen: "Ah, but every person I cursed still had free will." Hades: "As do the members of my flock. They can choose to fall in line or spend eternity as part of the River of Lost Souls." Evil Queen: (Glancing at the river flowing beside them:) "You drive a hard bargain." Hades: "Coming from the final Dark One, I'll take that as a compliment. Now, enough stalling, what is it you wish to offer me?" Evil Queen: "A gift." (The Queen stands, conjuring Excalibur into her outstretched hands and offering it to Hades. Rising to his feet, Hades takes a cautious step towards the blade.) Hades: "You realise of course that I am already a God. Powerful enough to control anyone within my kingdom with a mere snap of my fingers." Evil Queen: "Maybe so, but if there's one thing I've learned from dealing with men like you... it's that you can never have enough power." Hades: "You would give up the Darkness in exchange for me returning you to life?" Evil Queen: "Oh please, cut the crap. You and I both know I'm not dead. If I were I wouldn’t have been able to conjure Excalibur just now." Hades: "You've known this whole time?" Evil Queen: "I had my suspicions, which you just confirmed. For some reason I am still breathing yet still tethered here by this. (Raises Excalibur once more:) Use your powers to free me and the Darkness is yours.” (Opening his hands to lay palms up, Hades allows the Queen to place Excalibur upon them.) Hades: "You know I could just kill you and have both?" Evil Queen: (Conjures a fireball in her hand:) "You're welcome to try." Hades: (Smiles:) "Perhaps you'll allow me some time to consider your offer?" Evil Queen: "Fine. (Extinguishes the fireball:) Just don't take too long." (With that, the Queen turns and exits Hades' chamber. When she passes along the darkened corridor, Facilier steps out from the shadows, having heard every word.)

Mills House. The Next Morning. (Emma lays on the bed watching Regina get ready for work.) Emma: "I'm not saying I do a full day, just go in for the morning see what's up then bail after lunch." Regina: "No, you’re not going into work today. David's got it covered and you need your rest." Emma: "So do you." Regina: "Actually I've not felt this good in a long, long time. Truly, I feel as though a weight has been lifted." Emma: "Mm. Well I still don't see why you have to go in." Regina: "Because I'm the Mayor and I have to smooth the way for your return. The Dark Swan did a number on a lot of people." Emma: (Waves this off:) "They'll get over it. You cursed them for 30 years and yet you're still Mayor. What the hell am I supposed to do here all day alone?" Regina: "Relax? Catch up on some sleep? (Emma screws up her face:) Some housework?" Emma: (Feigns a yawn:) "Now that you mention it, I am feeling kinda tired." Regina: (Beams:) "Uh huh. (Leans down and kisses her:) I'll be home before you know it." Underworld. Hades' Chamber. (The Lord of the Underworld is now speaking with the first Dark One, Nimue.) Nimue: "You can't seriously be considering the Evil Queen's offer." Hades: "Oh, and why not?" Nimue: "Legend has it that no one has ever escaped Lord Hades' kingdom. You rule with an iron fist. Allowing the Evil Queen to return to the land of the living untethered from the Darkness would set a very dangerous precedent." Hades: "True. But on the other hand it would give me full control of the Darkness, not to mention control of every single Dark One in history." Nimue: "The Darkness does you no good here. Why not use Excalibur to kill the Queen, become the Dark One and return us all to the land of the living?" Hades: "You mean trade one prison for another? Believe it or not, Nimue, becoming the Dark One would be a step down for me. Besides, the Darkness no longer belongs in that world. Regina and her Saviour banished it down here forever along with all of you." Nimue: "Then why untether the Evil Queen at all if there is no hope of harnessing the power of the Darkness?" Hades: "Because the living do not belong in my kingdom. No matter how formidable I may be, I still have limited power over those who live and breathe." Nimue: (Moving closer to him:) "And you believe you wield power over me?" Hades: "Don't test me, Nimue. I'm a reasonable guy but this unrelenting heat can make me absolutely crazy. (Suddenly, blue flames erupt out of the top of Hades' head:) Now I suggest you and your dream team of Dark Ones leave me in peace before I do something you really won't approve of." Abandoned Amusement Park. (Emma opens her eyes and finds herself sitting in her bug, not knowing where she is.) Neal: (Sits up in the back of the bug:) “Hey, Emma.” Emma: (Gasps:) “Neal?” Neal: “Yeah.” Emma: “It's really great to see you. Where are we? Am I dreaming?” Neal: “No. If this were a dream, there'd be, like, talking doughnuts or something weird like that. (Gets out of the car, before getting back into the passenger seat:) Think of this as a long-distance call from an old friend.”

Emma: “It's really you.” Neal: “How's Henry?” Emma: “Great. He... misses his dad. He's growing up.” Neal: “I bet.” Emma: “Where are we? I was asleep at home.” Neal: “You mean the Mayor’s Mansion?” Emma: (Smiles:) “It’s home.” Neal: (Nods:) “I’m glad you found your happiness. That's kind of why I'm here. It’s not over, Emma. The forces you sought to destroy are still out there.” Emma: “You mean the Darkness?” Neal: “And others.” Emma: “Others? What do you mean?” Neal: “I’m not really supposed to say. I’m breaking all kinds of rules just by being here, but trust me on this. Don’t let your guard down just yet.” Emma: “Where are you, Neal? The Underworld?” Neal: (Shakes his head:) “The Underworld's for people with unfinished business, and that isn't me. That's why I'm not there.” Emma: “Then where...” Neal: “Someplace. Someplace where I'm happy. I only came here because I care about you, Emma. Do whatever you can to prepare yourself and the people you care about before it's too late.” Emma: “All right, enough with being cryptic. What is it, what’s coming?” Neal: (Breathes sharply:) “I love you, Emma. I always have, and I always will.” (Kisses her forehead, before getting out of the car and walking away.) Emma: “Neal?” (When Emma reaches for the car door she awakens from her dream.) Mills House. Living Room. (Emma is laying on the couch when she jolts herself awake. She stares up at the ceiling and after a few moments, sits up, looking confused, before standing.)  Mr. & Mrs. Gold’s House.  (Mr. Gold finishes getting dressed, while Belle is still asleep in bed. His phone goes off and it's a text from Emma which reads, "Meet me at your shop, now.")   Mr. Gold’s Shop.   (Emma waits at the counter in Gold's shop, when the door opens and Mr. Gold enters, closing the door behind him.) Mr. Gold: “Now, you see. This isn't the library or Granny's or some bus station, Miss Swan. This is my shop. (He walks towards her and stands behind the counter:) Unless the sign says "open"... you're not invited.”   Emma: “I just had a vision.” Mr. Gold: (Non-plussed:) “Really.” Emma: “From Neal. He warned me that things weren’t over and that I should prepare myself and the people I love for what’s to come.” Mr. Gold: “And what is coming?” Emma: “He wouldn’t say.” Mr. Gold: (Nods:) “Of course not.”

Emma: “You don’t believe me?” Mr. Gold: “Oh I believe you, Miss Swan. Back when I was in my coma, Bae and I had a great many conversations just like yours.” Emma: “You saw him too?” Mr. Gold: “Indeed. It was because of those conversations that I was reminded of the promise I made to Bae after he died. He told me that my family was in trouble and that when the time came, I should do whatever it took to save them.” Emma: “That’s why you were ready to sacrifice yourself in New York?” Mr. Gold: “Yes. I was prepared to do the right thing when Belle arrived to save me once again. I cannot reward my wife’s faith in me by endangering her. So if what Baelfire says is true then I must do right by Belle and take her as far from here as possible.” Emma: “You’re leaving?” Mr. Gold: “Belle has always wanted to travel. The world beyond the town line can be a scary place, but I’d rather take my chances out there than stay here and face what’s yet to come.” (Mr. Gold walks back around the counter, heading for the door when Emma grabs his arm.) Emma: “Gold. You know the Darkness better than anyone, do you really think it can come back?” Mr. Gold: (Sighs:) “All I know, Miss Swan, is Merlin believed that killing the vessel that contained Darkness would destroy it. If that is proved false and the Darkness is about to return... then no one is safe.” The Underworld. (Agitated by her earlier meeting with Hades, Nimue leads the rest of the former Dark Ones along a darkened corridor when they come upon Dr. Facilier, who blocks their path.) Facilier: "A tip of the hat from Dr. Facilier. (Nimue says nothing, merely inclining her head to stare curiously at the man:) Friends, I know I'm a stranger to you all, but it seems to me that we share a common agenda. To see the Darkness return to the land of the living and continue its glorious reign over those lesser mortals. Therefore I propose an alliance. (Facilier produces a talisman from his pocket and holds it out for all to see:) I need your generous assistance in making this stone powerful enough to return me to the land of the living. (Nimue and the others glare at him:) Hahaha, I hear you. Now, what's in it for you? Well... As soon as I dispose of the traitorous Evil Queen, then I'm gonna run this town they call Storybrooke. I'll have the entire populace in the palm of my hand. And you'll have all the wayward souls your dark little hearts desire. (Smiles, noticing that this has piqued the Dark Ones collective interest:) You all love that, don't you? So, we got ourselves a deal? (Several of the hooded figures step forward and allow their souls to be drawn inside the talisman, causing it to glow brightly for a long moment before returning to its inky blackness:) Hahaha! Now we're cooking!”

Storybrooke. Blanchard Apartment. (Regina, Henry, The Charmings and Robin Hood are gathered to hear what Emma has to say.) Mary Margaret: "It's coming back?" Emma: "Maybe." David: "Well it either is or it isn't." Emma: "Neal didn't specify what was coming, only that it was bad." Regina: "Which could mean absolutely anything." Robin Hood: "If it's the Darkness or not, there's only so much preparation that can be made for an unknown enemy." Henry: (To Regina:) "Mom, think. Are there any other people from your past who may want revenge?" Regina: "Not that I can think of, no." David: "To be fair, there must be hundreds to choose from." Emma: (Chiding:) "Dad." David: (Holds up his hands:) "I'm just saying." Mary Margaret: "Regardless of who or what it is, we have to let the town know what's going on." Regina: "And what do you suggest, that I post a notice on the bulletin board? 'Dear people of Storybrooke, while Emma Swan is no longer a threat, please standby for something worse. Details to follow'?" Robin Hood: "Well I for one am not ready to face Zelena again to tell her the bad news. I barely dodged the last fireball she hurled at me." Regina: "Speaking of which, did you really agree to support Zelena?" Emma: (Hesitates:) "Let's stay focused on the problem at hand, all right?" (The room fills with voices while everyone talks over each other, trying to decide what threat could possibly be headed their way next.) The Underworld. (Hades is pacing back and forth considering his options.) Hades: "Seemingly since the beginning of time, I have been cursed to rule over this kingdom. I have played host to the greatest heroes and villains mankind has ever known. For centuries I was given the task of deciding who would go on to spend eternity in the Elysian Fields or remain to suffer forever in Tartarus. And were my efforts recognised in any way? Of course not. (Stops pacing and heads towards the figure trapped in the pillory to whom he's been speaking:) A man can only take so much before he is pushed too far. (Leans down to be eye level with the man:) And so that is why I've redirected my efforts into making sure each and every soul that enters my kingdom suffers just as greatly as I have."

Pan: "You're doing an excellent job, Lord Hades." Hades: (Tilts his head and smiles:) "Thank you. (Stands and resumes his pacing:) However, with the arrival of the Darkness into my domain, it does present me with quite the opportunity. You see, I grow weary of torturing those who are already dead. Like any respectable deity, I long to expand my flock. For far too long I have been shackled by my curse, allowed only too briefly to enter my brother's kingdom and feel fresh air upon my face. To listen to the birdsong and to be in the presence of my heart's truest desire. (Pan raises his head at this, intrigued:) Using the Darkness I shall bring my kingdom to the land of the living, forging a bridge between both realms." Pan: "What then, Lord Hades?"     Hades: (Laughs:) "What then? Oh, my dear Peter. Then the real fun begins." Elsewhere In The Underworld. (The Evil Queen is making her way back to Hades' chamber when she rounds a corner to find Facilier waiting for her.) Evil Queen: (Scoffs:) "And who are you supposed to be?" Facilier: "I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, I am-" Evil Queen: "You were the one eavesdropping outside Hades' chamber. My, your lord won't appreciate that." Facilier: "There's a great deal that Hades and I do not agree on, but we both have an eye for talent." Evil Queen: (Laughs:) "Really. Is that what you are, a talent scout?" Facilier: "In a manner of speaking. Back when I was alive, I was quite the practitioner of dark magic myself. But I was nothing compared to Rumplestiltskin's greatest student." Evil Queen: (Eyes him suspiciously:) "You want something. What is it?" Facilier: "To learn from the best of course. Seeing you walk through those doors in all your magnificence, I could hardly believe my eyes. I never thought I would have the opportunity of meeting someone who's very name strikes fear into the hearts of many through countless realms." Evil Queen: (Rolls her eyes:) "Flattery aside, I'm not the teaching kind." (The Queen continues on her way.) Facilier: (Calling after her:) "And I'm not the kind of man who misses an opportunity." Evil Queen: (Stops walking, allowing Facilier to catch up to her:) "If I were to teach you, what would I-" Facilier: "Get out of it? (Smiles:) Besides an eager student, you would have an ally. Something the Evil Queen is in short supply of these days. (Producing the talisman from his pocket and holding it out:) Here, take this. Carry it with you and I shall be by your side. If you ever tire of me then simply throw it into a body of water and I shall return here to the Underworld." Evil Queen: (Considers:) "Hm. It has been a while since I had my own personal lap dog." Facilier: (Smiling as the Queen takes the talisman:) "Just call me your Shadow Man." Storybrooke. Mills House. (Emma reclines on the bed staring at the ceiling. Her mind racing with possibilities as to what the threat that's coming to Storybrooke could be. Despite this, Emma soon finds her eyelids becoming heavier before they close and she drifts off to sleep.)

Downstairs. (Meanwhile in the living room, Regina is staring into the fireplace when Henry calls out to her.) Henry: “Mom? Why are you sitting down here by yourself?” Regina: (Sighs:) “I’m just... thinking.” Henry: (Sitting beside her:) “About...? (Regina gives him a look:) Mom you know whatever the threat is that we can defeat it, right?” Regina: “What makes you so sure?” Henry: “Because we always have. And because what I choose to believe in is faith... hope that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we will meet them head on, together.” Regina: “You sound so much like your Grandmother.” Henry: “Cora said that?” Regina: “Ha. Ha.” Henry: “Listen, I know right now your feeling like there’s just one thing after another and there’s never a moment’s peace. But what we have here, the three of us, and our family... that’s the stuff that is always worth the struggle.” Regina: (Smiles, tears in her eyes:) “You’re definitely spending too much time with your Grandparents. How did you get to be so smart, huh?” Henry: (Shrugs:) “I figure someone’s gotta be around here.” Regina: “Hey! (Ruffles his hair and pulls him in close for a hug:) I love you so much, Henry.” Henry: “I love you too, Mom. You know we’re gonna be ready for whatever comes our way, right?” Regina: (Nods, her head against his shoulder:) “I hope so.” Storybrooke. Main Street. Night. (The clinking of blades. Emma appears to be battling against an unknown, cloaked assailant. As the fighting intensifies, the visions become shorter and shorter before, suddenly, Emma awakens.) Mayor’s Mansion. Morning. (Breathing heavily, Emma looks wide eyed down at her hand which is now shaking. She turns when the bedroom door opens to see a concerned looking Regina enter the room.) Emma: “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” Regina: “Well, you may be fine, but our town isn’t. Look.” (Regina goes to the window and opens the curtains. Glancing out the window, Emma sees that the sky is now tinged red.) Emma: “What is that?” Regina: “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it isn’t good.”

The End.

[ziracona]

On a scale of one to ten (one is your screwed and ten is your gonna destroy them) how would you do in a fight against the dead by daylight killers. First rules though. 1. No prep for either side (suck it Danny) 2. No guns! Only weapons found around your house. 3. It's to the death one being leaves an that's it. 4. No help from friends or pets. 5. Whether legion is four teens or just one combined is up to you.

Uhh, this depends drastically on if you mean I one v one every one of them, or if I’m trying to fight a mob. Because if it’s me vs all of them, I’d just die. Like I’m sure I’d have decent odds of killing at least one, maybe two, and taking them with me. But I’m not John Wick—I cant 1v23 a bunch of armed people with some degree of experience with their weapons given no prep time, allies, or special weapons to save me. I like basically anyone else die sadly to the mob.

If this is one v one though, bc it’d be hard to get them all to work together anyway, and that’s the only way like anyone stands a chance?

Evan: I give me 50-50 odds. He’s way bigger than me and his weapon has a longer reach than any known, even the swords. I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet though. I feel like I have about a 50% chance of living or dying (I’m getting gravely injured regardless), but if I die, I am taking him with me, 80% chance. I was not always proficient at winning fights, but I was very good at not losing them. I’ve been known for taking a sword to get a kill hit at cons a lot. I give me a 6 at simultaneous KO or victory.

Philip I refuse to kill. Even if he was trying to kill me. I would defend myself though. Much bigger threat than Evan to me because I /don’t/ want to hurt him at all, which puts me at disadvantage and liable to freeze up or make mistakes even trying to deal nonlethal damage, he’s bigger and taller than me so height and weight advantage, and I don’t have long enough weapons to help me overcome that, plus on top of that, he’s a tactical fighter, which is what I am. And I think it’s harder to beat someone at your and their own game than just to beat another style most of the time. I mean skill is skill in any area, but I’d take a really strong tank in a fight rather than a planner any day of the week. I think he’s smart, probably smarter than me under pressure, definitely more experienced, and would kick my ass tactically if his heart was in it. If it wasn’t though, I’d have a chance to catch him off guard. I think Vs Philip I get one chance to use a tricky move, and if I mess that up, I die. If I do it right, maybe I can knock him out. It’s a one shot long shot at disadvantage. I give me a 4 if his heart isn’t in it, 3 if it is.

Hillbilly has a chainsaw and hammer, but those are both unwieldy and slow weapons. I’m faster than him, and I’m willing to get hurt. Also he’s killed a lot, but he’s not a /fighter/, which gives me an edge. Being tactical works really well vs someone whose edge is brute force. And he doesn’t have as massive a height or strength advantage. I also have tricks and home court advantage. So long as I don’t fuck up, I give myself an 8.5.

Sally isn’t that scary. I would try to incapacitate her. I feel I could easily take her as a ghost or a person. I have good ghost fighting supplies, salt, chalk, talismans, knowledge. I’m prepared for this. I think I’m coming in for this one at a solid 10.

Michael Myers would kill me. I mean, he’s got like X-Man semi invincibility, good skills, and I don’t really want to kill him. I’d try to talk him down while defending myself. I’d probably fail, but I’d try. Best case scenario I get him to hesitate, but also I’m being generous and giving me a 12% chance of that. Realistically, best case is I pull out a rug, trip him, and temporarily escape. A fight in an enclosed space, most likely outcome is I try and fail to talk him down, and I die. I feel very sure I cannot take him in a fight unless Ishtar herself blesses me with god like abilities. I’m probably dead. At least it would be quick. I give me a 1.6.

Lisa is tiny and not that strong. I could easily break her little glass bones. I’m taller and stronger than her, and she had worse weapons than me. I would try not to kill her though—just incapacitate. I feel I could do this while sustaining only minor wounds. Not to give you a look beyond weird ghost shit into my personal arsenal, but I definitely have supplies for that. I give me a 10.

Herman is tall and strong but he’s not a fighter. He’s a scientist. I’ve been shocked before, and I know what to expect from him. He’s getting blasted by a power washer at range until his weird face apparatus comes off and he’s down and out. I have more precise weapons than him and can easily neutralize his abilities and turn them against him. Also have rubber to wear. He’s big though, so for that alone I give me a 9.6 in case I mess up.

Anna would destroy me. She’s good at ranged weapons, I am not. I would try to look as young as possible and convince her in my very bad but slowly improving baby Russian to please have mercy on me. We’re back to the Michael scenario where I know I have no chance of normal survival and would have to try and talk my way out. My odds are higher here though. I’m pretty cute and I know a little Russian. I give me a 4. But the 4 is not me winning it’s my odds of surviving through begging for my life. She’d kick my ass in a fight.

Bubba isn’t that good at fighting and has a big and cumbersome, if scary, weapon. I feel I could easily use terrain, weapons, and strategy to my advantage and kill him, unless I’m in a place with no terrain or furniture. In which case it’d be a lot worse for me. If I was not, though, I give me a solid 9.6 at owning that fight. I have a good throwing arm and plenty of stuff that can blind a foe, and a lot of weapons. A lot of weapons.

Freddy. Okay this is hard. I know how to kill him about as well as anyone does? So comparatively my odds are good? But. Also he’s a demon and a bit of a heavyweight in this arena. Sadly. If we’re in-realm rules, I have a /very/ good chance of kicking his ass. Give me a 10 to win, although I might not survive either. Probably would. If he’s like /film/ loadout? I give me more like a 6. It would be a battle, but I have a lot of knowledge and determination. Also I’m taller than him and bigger and could break his arms.

Amanda. Easy fam, that’s a 10. No, 11. Injured recently drugged Eric Matthews almost kicked her ass while toting a smashed foot. She’s like, 5 foot 1 and 30 pounds underweight. It’s not gonna be hard at all.

Kenneth I give me a 10 too. Easy fam. Even if he gets realm rules where he’s not tripping balls on his own drugs, I know what he’s got. I’ve got better weapons, I’m young, fast, strong, and smarter. I hold my breath, and run him through. Quick jabs from a dagger, take him down. Use my agility. He was never a fighter anyway—he used drugs to prey on people who couldn’t fight back. You know what? Give me another 11.

Rin? Uhhhh, I know as much as about anyone how to deal with her, but my odds of succeeding /before/ she killed me are...not great. And if we fought, there’s no way I have the ability to kill an Onryo. I put using my supernatural beings knowledge to hold her back long enough to stop her in the realm of improbably, but potentially doable, and give myself a 2.7. This is not to kill her though. Just to make her stop killing me. I have no way near the power or spiritual knowledge needed to kill something like that.

Legion I’d not really want to kill. They’re all teenagers or baby 20 year olds. I don’t want to wail fatally on kids, even ones who suck. That said, I think I could take them in a fight. If it was four and I got to fight them one at a time, easiest, four in one body back to back is medium, four at once is hard. First two options I could potentially fight to not kill. Third option only choice would be do everything I can to even /maybe/ have a shot. I have less experience stabbing people, but I’m more ready to take pain, and more motivated, so I give myself a 6, 5, and 3.5 to those scenarios respectively. I would be badly wounded regardless.

Adiris I don’t have healthy enough fear of dying of bubonic plague, and that would give me an edge. I think I have a good sword and shield combo to deal with the mace. She’s tall, but I have her beat in strength and stamina as well as agility bc she’s emaciated and dying. I would not want to kill her though. Might try to talk to her in my fucked Akkadian. Try to incapacitate if that failed. I give me a solid 8 if she’s treating this like a 9 to 5 or distracted by me, give me a 4 if she wants me /dead/. Either way, I probably have to run to the CDC and pray I survive scarred after.

Danny is just some sneaky dick with a knife. He doesn’t even know how to get stabbed. Slightly harder than a few other knife fighters bc he wears so much damn leather, but the eyes and mouth of that mask are vulnerable, and I feel sure I can drive a knife into them before sustaining any kind of fatal wound. He doesn’t have much edge on me in any area, I have him well beat in conviction, and I’m smarter than him by quite a bit. I give me a 9.

Uhhh, Demo isn’t that hard, and I love fire. Probably gonna get a little hurt, but I’m not worried about this one. Easy 10.

Kazan is interesting. He has me beat in size and strength, but his weapon is unwieldy and slow. I have quick weapons and am more agile, and I’m ready to fight dirty to save myself. 7 probably. It’s a luck thing. I have the edge, but if he really lands a hit on me even once, it’s all over. So. Not the /best/ of odds. Maybe a 6.8, actually.

You said no guns but I assume Caleb still gets his. He only gets one shot before being vulnerable though, and he’s much older than me. I’m faster and more agile, and stronger. He’s got really good endurance too though so I don’t have the edge there. It’s gonna be kind of a game of chicken to see who blinks. If he misses his one shot, I win. If he gets the shot, he wins. However, I think my odds of baiting the shot and getting my opening are decent. I give me a solid 7 here.

I still don’t even know which Pyramid Head he /is/. Why does any version exist here and want to kill me, can he smell, can I use that, can electricity hurt him, can he use my guilt against me? There are so many unknowns for both of us, I give us both a 5.

Talbot is an easy 10 unless he gets the jump on you. But you said no planning, so no surprise attacks, so I give me a 10. His body is literally falling apart, and all the blight serum in the world can’t save him from me forever. I have a bunch of tools at my disposal, and he’s fast, but he’s not accurate. Edge, me.

Victor and Charlotte. Interesting one here. Don’t want to kill them either, but I would to save myself I guess if I couldn’t stop them. Not scared of Victor. I bite too, and I go for the throat. Charlotte is more of a problem. Finally it’s a tall killer with a short range weapon though, so edge: me, in weapons. I think I have decent odds of beating them, but I would not get out unscathed. Give me a 7.5.

Jo-Woon. Depends wildly. He throws tiny knives that do too little damage. If he takes me seriously as a threat and tries to go for the throat before I can get close, edge: him, and I’m in for a really rough fight even with a shield. If he wants to fuck around with me though, I’ll win. Because I am prepared to suffer immensely to get a kill shot. If he was smart, I’d give the fight a 6, but I feel extremely confident he’d be cocky, so I give me a 9 to survive, a 10 to at worst get a simultaneous K.O.

[curiosity-killed]

betrayal! at the family dinner

in which Sirion is Miette

word count: 4204

Of all the things they’ve faced, the last Sirion expects to be a challenge is introducing Callebero to his parents. He probably should have known better. “You can’t be serious,” he signs. “He’s caused you enough strife over the years,” Malán insists. “He owes you this.” “He—what—strife?!” Sirion manages, repeating ‘strife’ in baffled emphasis.

Mamán frowns and looks to Malán. They’re all seated at the table, lunch forgotten between them. Only Malán is still eating; no doubt she doesn’t want to risk missing any clients at the shop. Mamán’s arms are crossed over her chest, fingers still stained purple from her latest batch of dye. “I’m with your malán,” she says as she turns back to Sirion. “If he thinks he’s good enough for you, he better not be too proud to visit us at home.” Sirion gawks at both of them, hands flat on the table. It’s rare enough for him to be speechless, but this time, he’s at a loss. “He’s the imperator princep!” he finally objects. This seems to do nothing to persuade them in any direction. Both turn matching flat stares his way, the same he always hated when he tried to get out of something as a kid. Now, he doesn’t feel the disappointment of his childhood but instead a baffled hopelessness. He can’t believe they’re serious. It’s a short ride back to the palace, and he spends it trying to come up with some way around this. He could just tell Callebero that both his parents died in a tragic accident. A wild horse escaped its owner and trampled them both in the street. It’s surely happened before. Probably. Any lie would be preferable to the embarrassment of telling Callebero that his parents refuse to come to the palace to meet him. He walks into the legion’s quarters and nearly immediately into Callebero himself. He barely restrains a groan. Callebero’s just swinging over the top rail of the training corral, and he grins as Jemma says something to him. As Sirion approaches, that grin turns to him and softens into a painfully affectionate smile. The dread Sirion had felt melts away in the face of it, and he smiles back reflexively. Callebero says something to Jemma before walking over to meet Sirion halfway. Strands of hair have escaped from his ponytail and cling to his forehead, and he swipes the sweat away with the back of his hand. It leaves the hairs smeared over his skin. “Hey,” he greets, a little breathless, “how are your parents?” The lies flit through his mind in a roll: trampled by a horse, mysteriously out of town for a prolonged period, moving to Soldato on short notice—and he wipes all of them away. There’s no use trying. “Good,” he answers with a smile. “Should you be out here?” Callebero shrugs, the same nonchalance he’s always worn when trying to get out of trouble. Sirion suppresses a reflexive smile even as he tries to keep a serious face. Callebero shouldn’t push himself—not so soon after nearly losing his remaining hand and life with it—but he knows he won’t really scold him. “Just testing my hand out,” Callebero says, flexing his left hand. The scars over his fingers are still bright and new, a fresh pink that’s stark against his skin. Sirion frowns a little at them, but he relents at Callebero’s cheerful grin. It’s hard to be the person to bring that smile down; it’s been too rare recently, outnumbered by the nightmares that wake him, shaking, in the middle of the night. “You have a minute?” Sirion asks. Callebero frowns but nods. “Of course,” he signs. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Sirion answers, rolling his eyes. Callebero smiles, abashed. He always goes straight to concern, a reaction Sirion never would have guessed when they first met. “I’m just headed to the baths,” Callebero explains, “but I can wait.” “No,” Sirion says, shaking his head, “it’s not that important.” Callebero hums and nods in acknowledgment. He eyes Sirion for a moment as they cross back through the garden. A little burl of irrational frustration bubbles up in Sirion’s chest at the way Callebero has to lean a little to catch Sirion’s eye despite being three years younger. It’s familiar after this many years. “Your parents?” Callebero asks. Sirion sighs, giving up. “They’d like to invite you to dinner at our home,” he explains. Callebero snorts. “I’m guessing they phrased it a little differently,” he remarks. Sirion winces. He’s never been a good liar, but he’d thought he could manage this one. He raises his hands to apologize but Callebero shakes his head, smiling a little. “It’s sweet,” he says. “They’re protective of you.” “Too protective,” Sirion retorts. “You’re their baby,” Callebero points out. That earns him a flat stare. Sirion doesn’t need anyone else on his mamán’s side of that debate. He’s twenty-three, not two. Callebero just grins. “I’d be honored to join your family at their convenience,” he says, all diplomacy except for that stupid, cheeky grin. It comes together quickly after that; there aren’t many times when Callebero’s free enough to take dinner out on the edges of the capital, and so there aren’t many choices for Sirion’s parents to pick from. When the day comes, Sirion finds himself in the midst of an unexpected crisis. He’s been nervous all day, a low-level anxiety thrumming under his skin. He knows there isn’t any real reason to be worried, but it’s hard to stop. The people who matter most to him in the world are going to meet tonight—and what if it goes wrong? What if they don’t like each other? It nags at him all day. Even the ones that he knows are irrational still needle at him—whispers like, what if Callebero realizes that he doesn’t really want to be with someone from such common stock? It’s unfair to think it, but the anxiety writhes under his skin. “Is this too much?” Callebero asks. “I don’t want to be overdressed but I also don’t want to be disrespectful…” He says it to the interior of the chest, and Sirion leans back on their shared bed and watches. He’s used to Callebero’s anxiety over different things, but this is the first time he’s seen it over something like clothing. From where he’s sitting, Sirion can see the way his muscles are tensed under his scars, shoulders tight. Sirion frowns, canting his head. “Armor’s not appropriate,” Callebero mutters. He huffs and turns to Sirion. “It’s your family. What’s best?” Sirion shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Something normal.” Callebero stares at him, shoulders dropping and expression edging towards abject despair. He turns back to the chest. It’s that moment that makes Sirion’s nerves disappear. He stands and walks over to wrap his arms around Callebero’s waist, loose enough that Callebero could move out of them. His hair’s still damp from the baths and his skin warm. He sinks back into Sirion’s hold, and Sirion presses a kiss to his neck. It sends a little thrill of delight up his spine, that he can do this now. It’s still so new. “They’ll love you,” he signs. “No matter what you wear. Though you’ll freeze if you wear only this towel.” Callebero snorts and Sirion grins. It’s true, he’s finally realized. No matter the tough front his parents put up, they’re doing it because they love him. By his guess, it’ll take all of two minutes for them to realize Callebero loves him just as much, and after that, they’ll be home free. Sirion nuzzles the back of his neck, loath to let go of Callebero now that his arms are around him. Callebero puts up with it for a few moments before turning over his shoulder to press a quick kiss to Sirion’s lips and gently disengage him. “I should get dressed then,” Callebero says by way of excuse. It doesn’t bother Sirion and he goes back to sitting on the bed contentedly. Callebero has never been the neediest when it comes to physical contact, and recently, he’s struggled between wanting it and being unable to stand it. Sirion is only bothered by it when Callebero himself is; he is happy to simply be together. Fortunately, it seems to have settled Callebero, and he selects an outfit shortly. It’s sleek and simple: black and silver with gold accents at the throat and wrists. Sirion watches with a little smile as Callebero gently tugs the amulet out from his collar, resettling it over his chest. It’s a small thing, and it shouldn’t mean much—but it gives him a little bloom of satisfaction to see. “Alright,” Callebero says, turning to him. “Ready?” “Of course,” Sirion signs, straightening up. He grins and Callebero gives him a shakier smile. They take a carriage most the way, Callebero’s one concession to Hayalen’s security concerns. It only seems to make him more nervous, though; he rubs his left thumb back and forth over the nearest scar on his hand till it’d shine if it were a ring. There’s nothing Sirion can say to assuage Callebero’s anxiety and taking his hand would likely only make him more fidgety, so he lets him be. The carriage pulls to a stop at the end of the street, too wide to squeeze between the buildings here. Once the doors are shut behind them, Sirion reaches out to interlace his fingers with Callebero’s. There’s an immediate shift as Callebero exhales and his shoulders loosen. Sirion gives his hand a little pulse and then starts them down the lane. It’s a quiet street. Most houses are lit only by a candle or two, and many are already fully dark. It’s a working street, one that rises early and sleeps early. Even Sirion’s parents are often abed by this hour. It’s only due to the gravitas of this dinner that they’re still up. Once at the door, Sirion gives Callebero’s hand one more squeeze before releasing it to rap at the door. It swings open a little too quickly, as if his mamán has been waiting on the other side. Only—it’s not Mamán. “Nía?” Sirion demands. His sister smiles, polite but a little stiff. “Good evening and welcome, Your Eminence. Sirion,” she greets with a slight bow. “Callebero is fine,” Callebero says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you—?” “Oh!” Nía startles a little, as if surprised that she forgot to introduce herself. “Abanía, Sirion’s elder sister.” Callebero’s smile is pure diplomacy as Nía leads them inside and begins the introductions. Sirion only barely stifles a groan once inside the common room; this was supposed to be a relaxed dinner with his parents and Callebero, and instead, his entire rabble of siblings is here. Nía looks back at him once, and he flips his hands over, palms spread. It’s faster than signing ‘What in the seven saints is everyone doing here?’ and carries the same message effectively. She jerks her head in a gesture at Callebero, eyebrows up. Sirion scowls. “Mamán?” She shrugs, but she’s grinning. Sirion scowls harder and flips a rude gesture towards her. She signs back, “Love you,” and bites back a laugh at Sirion’s expression. He’s tempted, then and there, to tug Callebero back out the door and to the palace. He’d accepted their parents’ absurd demand, but that hadn’t included dropping Callebero into the mess of their entire family. Preemptive mortification is already heating his cheeks. One of them is going to say something idiotic—something from which there will be no recovery. Worse, they’ll start a political debate and wind up trying to shame Callebero himself. They could have dinner some other time. Saints, Callebero is the imperator princep—Sirion could have him order his parents to the palace and they would have no choice to obey. Certainly that would be better than whatever absurdity is about to take place. But when he looks to Callebero, to pull him out of danger, Sirion finds him oddly content. He wears a small smile that’s more genuine than when he meets with courtiers, and there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. Saints curse me, he thinks. They’re staying. They settle in at the table, on the same flat pillows they’ve used since he was a child. Callebero folds neatly into place at Sirion’s side, pulling his bad knee close with his hand to keep it from sticking out. Sirion’s lips twitch downwards a little. If he sits like that for all of dinner, his knee’s going to half-dead by the time they return to the palace. His siblings haven’t brought any of their children, for which Sirion isn’t sure he’s grateful. They’d offer a distraction, at least, and his siblings are all better behaved when their own children are watching. Now, they have free reign to be absolute heathens. “Welcome to our home, Your Eminence,” Mamán greets. “We are honored to have you.” “The honor is mine,” Callebero answers. “To be among Sirion’s family is a privilege, and moreso to be welcomed into your home.” It’s a good answer. Malán sits up a little, eyeing Callebero with something approaching approval, and Mamán actually gives a real, if miniscule, smile. Sirion turns to his curry and tries to will this dinner to hurry up. The sooner they leave, the fewer opportunities Elarion has to bring up the government’s treatment of farmers beyond the capital region and the fewer chances Lione has to bring up embarrassing stories of their childhood. And yet—somehow, impossibly, it doesn’t happen. His siblings are mostly quiet except for polite conversation. Nía is attentive and polite, and Elarion watches Callebero with wide eyes, as if they can’t quite believe the imperator princep sits among them. Saojin and Avaril set the table as quickly and silently as servants at a grand banquet. They are all disturbingly polite. Their good behavior should be a relief, and yet Sirion feels somehow betrayed. They’re miscreants, the lot of them. He can hardly visit for an hour before Lione is chiding him about the mismanagement of the state grain stores, and Avaril was ready to march up to the palace and slice Valyn’s throat herself when Sirion forfeited his captaincy. Watching them now, it’s as if his entire family has been replaced with perfectly poised and polite actors. He is deeply and nonsensically disgruntled. Partway through, Callebero slants his gaze toward him, that quiet check-in they’ve perfected on the battlefield and in the court, and Sirion leans in just enough that their arms press briefly together in reassurance. Appeased, a small smile curls Callebero’s lips, and he turns his attention fully to the rest of Sirion’s horrible, terrible, no-good family. Looking up, Sirion catches mamán’s gaze resting on them with such gentle warmth that his entire face heats up. He ducks his head, not sure how to respond to that knowing smile. By the end of the night, most of his tension has worn itself out. A thin string of bewilderment still runs between his ribs, but no one has said anything terribly outlandish or challenged Callebero to a duel over his honor, so. All in all, it’s better than he expected. “Sirion,” Malán says, standing, “join me?” He glances at Callebero, but the answering look is content and relaxed enough that he can’t think of an excuse to stay. Unfolding himself from the low table, Sirion follows Malán to the courtyard where the cool storage is tightly closed against the lingering warmth of the day. From one of the shelves against the back of the house, she pulls a basket and drops it into his hands. Lost, Sirion looks down at the basket and then back to where Malán has turned to the cold storage. “Malán?” he signs, drawing one hand free. “He is a polite young man,” she says, setting a swaddled bundle down in the bottom of the basket. Sirion hurries to readjust, pressing it to his chest with his left hand so his right remains free, “and he is clearly besotted with you.” Heat flushes Sirion’s face, leaves him stammering uselessly. His hand twitches around signs he doesn’t quite make, too startled and embarrassed to form words. “He has some work to do to make up for his past failings,” she continues, “but it doesn’t seem he’ll shy from the task.” The basket is now heavy with dense loaves wrapped in wax cloth and at least two whole dried fish. Malán pauses, frowning down at the berry bushes crowded along the low wall. Resisting the urge to groan, Sirion reaches out to tap her shoulder. “Malán,” he signs, “we live in the palace. There’s no shortage of food.” She harrumphs and closes the wooden door of the storage cell, slotting the wooden lock in place. “You miss your mamán’s cooking,” she replies, “and he is far too skinny. If our son runs the imperator princep ragged, what will the neighborhood say? You know Failleron is always looking for a reason to talk.” Briefly giving in, Sirion presses a knuckle into the center of his forehead. He doesn’t bother pointing out that Callebero has always been gangly and lean. He did come back from Capall thinner, after all, and there’s no stopping Malán when she’s decided to fuss. “It could be seen as an offense,” he tries, “implying the Soko house is too poor to afford a proper staff.” Malán arches her eyebrows and reaches out to tweak his ear in a way that makes him flinch and grimace, regretting the little jade studs he’s wearing. “My son lecturing me on propriety,” she scolds, and he dips his gaze apologetically. “I am looking after my son’s partner and welcoming him in our family.” He sighs and lets it go, recognizing defeat. There’s a strange warmth in his chest as they turn back to the house, an unfurling sense of pleasure and relief that he refuses to look at too closely because he’s still a little peeved about the deception. Still, when Malán pauses just shy of the door to smooth his hair back from his forehead where a few tendrils have slid free, he exhales and leans in to the touch. “—and the seeds are still held by the garrison supplier.” Sirion freezes, eyes flying open. Stepping through the door, he finds Elarion leaning forward against the table and Callebero canting his head to the side just-so. From a stranger’s perspective, his expression would seem disinterested, aloof: his brow is furrowed and lips thinned, gaze dropping briefly toward the table. After this many years, though, Sirion recognizes the expression as one of serious thought and attention. He nearly groans. They’d been so close to getting out of this. “The garrison should only be involved in distributing seeds and surplus in times of need,” Callebero says. “Any other restriction is an abuse of their authority.” Elarion tilts his head toward one shoulder, gaze slipping away from Callebero. He notices Sirion in the doorway and has the good grace to at least look a little sheepish. “Thank you for telling me,” Callebero says. “I’ll see that it is included in the ongoing review.” From here, Sirion can see the way Elarion’s eyes widen as his gaze snaps back to Callebero. A sense of smugness unfolds in his chest, as if he is somehow responsible for Callebero’s own personality. Walking fully into the room, he stops beside Callebero and rests his hand on his shoulder. Callebero looks up, gaze snagging briefly on the laden basket, and raises his eyebrows in question. Humming faintly, Callebero draws himself up to his feet with only a slight hitch. The rest of them hurry to stand as well. “Thank you for your hospitality,” Callebero says. “The privilege was ours, Your Emi—Callebero,” mamán says, correcting herself as she bows. “Please, there’s no need for that,” Callebero says, looking vaguely embarrassed. Mamán steals a glance at Sirion first, as if to check, but she straightens and walks them to the door. Behind them, Sirion can see Elarion slump back on his elbows with a bewildered look while Nía shares a look with Avaril and hides a grin poorly. Lione has leaned over to say something to Saojin that makes them grimace and shoot him a look of betrayal. “May the saints watch over you,” Mamán says at the door. She’s perfectly poised, dressed in her very best robes with her hair pinned back neatly with the teak pin Malán gave her years ago. Compared to Callebero’s robes or even Sirion’s, the fabric is simple and the layers few, but her bearing makes it seem insignificant. Mentally, Sirion makes a note to badger Nía into helping him sneak a new set of robes for both their parents before the next holiday; both Mamán and Malán would be mortified if he gifted them outright without an excuse, but it’s not as if he has much use for his wages. They’re quiet as they walk back down the darkened street toward the waiting carriage, each digesting the evening. There’s a slight hitch to Callebero’s gait, a stiffness from keeping his knee bent so sharply for too long. When he’s certain Mamán must have gone inside the house, Sirion squeezes Callebero’s hand and lifts his to sign. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I really didn’t realize they all would be there.” A breath huffs out of Callebero, and he shakes his head with a little grin. “It was nice,” he insists. Sirion narrows his eyes, but he can’t glimpse a hint of insincerity in Callebero’s voice or face. Something wobbles in his chest like a stone perched precariously atop a cairn. “You truly didn’t mind?” he asks after a moment, a little hesitant. Pausing, Callebero turns to him fully and cants his head. In the low light of the street, he is formed mostly in sketches of light: the moon whisking silver down his cheek and catching in his eye, the glow of a lamp in a neighbor’s window golden on the nape of his neck. A small smile curls the corners of his lips, but his eyes are soft as he reaches over to take Sirion’s hand. “It was nice,” he repeats, giving Sirion’s hand a squeeze. “They care about you so much and…” He hesitates, eyelashes flicking toward his cheeks as he looks down and away. That stone settles in Sirion’s chest, and he doesn’t press for more. He knows Callebero’s family is spread thin and far, that the person who should have been closest to him is the one responsible for the pale pink scars across his hand and the darker ones across his cheek and back and severed arm. Letting out a grudging huff, Sirion squeezes Callebero’s hands and draws them back along the road.

“They liked you,” he signs after a moment.

“Mm?” Callebero hums, looking to him with a small smile. Snorting, Sirion hefts the ridiculous basket on his arm. “It’s a sign of love,” he explains dryly, “pressing food on you.”

The smile curves into a grin as Callebero laughs at that. He doesn’t worry at his hand anymore and his shoulders have eased, growing relaxed with fatigue and contentment. It settles Sirion, washes away the last of his stress and worry as they near the carriage. “I’m afraid I’m too poor a cook to reciprocate,” Callebero remarks. Sirion snorts and shakes his head. Around the carriage, a few of the younger neighbors have gathered to ogle the fine horses and talk to the driver. He recognizes a few of them—children of his parents’ neighbors, enough younger than him that he never really got to know them—but they all grow wide-eyed at the sight of Callebero and him walking shoulder-to-shoulder. “If you let Elarion and Lione complain about the government, you’ll have more than made up for it,” Sirion signs as they climb in.

“Ah Elarion had some sincere points,” Callebero replies, stretching his legs out and reaching down to dig his thumb into the side of his knee. “They’re more than welcome to join Jisel and I. Perhaps they’d bring some fresh perspectives.” For a moment, Sirion imagines his idiot brothers crowded into Callebero’s study late at night. They’d both be too scared to say a word, gawking at the fine room and horrified by the way Jisel and Callebero needle and tease each other. He shakes his head and breathes out a laugh at the very thought. The carriage rattles into motion, and Sirion reaches out to take Callebero’s hand. He presses a kiss to the silvering scars across his fingers and looks up at him with a soft smile. “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he signs, and Callebero’s expression turns sweet and open. “Of course,” he says. “I was glad to.” Humming faintly, Sirion tangles their fingers together and leans in so his shoulder presses into Callebero’s. In the morning, he’ll go back to being horrified that his siblings so gleefully conspired against him, but for right now, he settles against Callebero’s steady warmth with drowsy contentment unfurling in his chest. Maybe it isn’t the worst thing to be loved so fiercely.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

In a Parallel Universe

Could it be... fluff? The happy, uplifting tone of this can entirely be credited to Mustafa as a muse. I truly believe the man should be held up as an example of how to be a good human and how to be masculine without it becoming toxic. (The way he is treated by WWE, much like that other paragon of positive masculinity Sami Zayn, is something I can angrily rant about another time.) 

Pairing: Mustafa Ali x reader (platonic)

Word count: 2,659

Content advisory: Racism/ racist language

“Did you ever have a thing for me?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you look back at Mustafa, your best friend, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly. He’s looking at you with those big, ingenuous eyes, as if he’s just asked you if you’ve decided what you want for dinner. In all the time you’ve known each other you’ve never once brought up the subject of romantic interest or physical attraction and yet here he is, just throwing it out there. 

You’re watching your daughters collaborate on a colouring project that might as well be “Guernica” for how seriously they’re taking it. 

The bell-like laughter of his wife and mother-in-law is drifting in from the back patio where they’re taking some much-needed time alone together. 

You’re waiting on your husband Jake, who’s already sent four apologetic texts about how the Saturday he’s been called into work keeps dragging on, promising that he’ll be there as soon as he can, but that he doesn’t expect you to hold up the barbeque just for him. (Even though he knows you will.)

You laugh a little and squint at him, as if what he’s asked is somehow ridiculous. But it’s not ridiculous. Two heterosexual people who’ve been close friends for so long… it would almost be weird if there hadn’t been any sexual tension. Nevertheless, you think of just rolling your eyes and blowing the subject off. It would be easy enough to do. But his unwavering earnestness has always demanded respect and honesty and it’s possible that he knows the answer already. You certainly do. 

“I guess,” you begin, aware that your voice is wavering a little, “early on. I had a bit of a crush.”

Is that the truth? In as much as feeling can be summed up in so few words, yes. It wasn’t like you’d been pining and crying yourself to sleep at night, but sure, you’d felt it. You’d approached him to ask if you could train with him after the two of you had worked a few of the same local shows where the wrestlers outnumbered the audience members. Yes, you’d been beyond impressed with his skills but you’d also noticed how very, very cute he was.

“I mean, everyone did,” you assure him. “All the girls liked you.”

Not all the girls had your confidence or your desire to really break in to the wrestling world, though. So you’d been the one to steel yourself and walk up to him at the gym one night and ask if he’d help you. It was a calculated risk, you figured: he could refuse, he could give it a shot and get bored or irritated and walk away, he could help you become a better wrestler even if he wasn’t interested in more, he could feel your skills were hopeless but also decide you were attractive enough to pursue, or he could want to be both a training partner and something more. Five possible outcomes, three of which worked in your favour. You’d always been clever with numbers and the numbers clearly gave you a better than even chance of a positive result. 

He laughs shyly and looks down at the idea that “all the girls” had found him attractive. It’s not that he’s ever been insecure about his looks and charm, exactly, but he’s never been the sort of arrogant prick who’s assumed everyone must be in love or lust with him. And that’s always been part of his charm; confident enough not to seem needy but humble enough to appreciate the attention. 

Of course, you’ve always been a little surprised that he doesn’t have more of an ego. The luscious mane of black hair, the smile that could power a small city, the toned body that never crossed into that lumpy, bulgy look that too many of your counterparts developed, and most of all those huge, soulful eyes… The man was infuriatingly flawless and even now it’s not like you are immune to the occasional whisper of desire.  

“Shit. I never did anything to hurt you, did I?”

And then there was the personality. Mustafa had always been too great of a guy to be real. He’d been your rock. Whenever things ground you down, he was the one who could build you up again. When you got angry and depressed at the state of the world, he’d commiserate but he’d also be able to give you hope, if only because a world that produced someone as awesome as he was couldn’t be all bad. 

You could honestly say that without him, you’d never have fought your way out of the indies and into the big leagues. That wasn’t just because training with him made you a stronger, better wrestler. It was because the two of you had been able to lean on each other when things were rough. And damn, things had been rough at times. 

When the two of you had graduated from bar shows for disinterred old men drinking watered-down beer and playing slot machines, you’d been beyond excited. The shows you got invited to took place in gymnasiums and legion halls and church basements with actual audiences who had come specifically to watch the wrestling. You knew it wasn’t the big time; you were excited, not stupid. But it was progress and a lot of people you knew hadn’t even made it that far. You’d grounded yourselves by talking about your meager pay and by calculating how much you’d earned per bruise at each show. 

One of the larger, or at least more successful promotions that had booked you had provided an eye-opening experience. The promoter was a corpulent man with a mouth full of lumps that barely counted as teeth and breath to match. He’d called both two of you aside a few hours before your first show to tell you the gimmick that he had in mind for the two of you. It had come as a bit of a surprise because although you were friends, you’d never teamed up in the ring. You’d reveled in being the foul-mouthed heel, while he had, of course, been a natural baby face. (And if you were honest, so few people knew who you were that your characters hadn’t ever mattered.)

“I wanna do a thing with the two of you,” the promoter began, sweat already dampening his forehead and staining the armpits of his cheap shirt. “You two are gonna be like a pair of terrorists. You can fight all the American guys- and girls- and get them over with the crowd. Get the audience riled up.”

The two of you had stared back at him in horror, jaws slack. 

“I’m thinking something like ‘Osama and Elle Qaeda’ for your names.” His brow furrowed as he processed another idea. “Can you come up with some shit to yell in Arabic?”

You remembered thinking that it must be some kind of joke. Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden were products of the Arabian Peninsula. Mustafa’s parents were Pakistani and Indian. Yours were Kurds from southern Turkey. Not one of your parents even spoke Arabic. But more to the point, the two of you were American. You were both born and bred in Chicago. Neither of you had any hint of an accent. Why couldn’t you just be normal? 

The promoter looked at you impatiently. Mustafa recovered his voice enough to stammer through an explanation of your ethnicity, only to be greeted with a look of supreme indifference and boredom. 

“Look,” he said sharply, “it doesn’t matter. You have the look. Around here you’re all sand ni-“

Remembering that night still hurts. The pain has dulled over time because at the moment he’d said it, it felt like you’d been shot in the chest. For a few moments you’d been afraid that you were actually going to vomit. Growing up in a racially mixed area, your features and your family name had been ambiguous enough that people thought that people usually guessed that you were Greek or Italian before they got to Turkish or even broadly Middle Eastern. You’d been proud to declare that you were descended from the little-known but courageous and resilient Kurds. But out here in the wider world, you were an Arab and therefore a terrorist. The Indian subcontinent, birthplace of so many cultures, arts, religions and philosophies, crossroads of empires, might as well have never existed. Mustafa was an Arab and therefore a terrorist. 

Seeing what he perceived as hesitation, the promoter scowled at both of you. “Give it a shot,” he counseled. “It’s the only way people are gonna take you seriously.”  

You and Mustafa smile at each other, as if you’ve both been recalling the painful judgments you’d faced together, as if you’re amazed you survived let alone flourished. You’d pulled each other through. 

“I’d always kind of wondered if you’d ever liked me,” he says shyly. 

Yes, you think, you had. You were a tall, muscular girl. It had made sense that you work with a male training partner. So he’d been happy to work with you and you were thrilled to be able to learn from him. You felt yourself improving every time you practiced together. But your mind had often drifted to how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you in other circumstances. More than once you’d been tempted to close the scant distance between your lips just to see how he’d react. 

“I liked you,” he adds, eyes snapping up to see your reaction. 

You do your best to mask your shock. “You did?”

“Sure. C’mon, look at you.”

Your mouth feels a little dry. The sounds from the patio have faded and even the children have fallen silent. 

“Maybe not right away because I thought you were kind of scary, to be honest,” he chuckles. “But after we’d been hanging around, I don’t know, about a year or so, I really liked you.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea that you were scary. Maybe you’d thought you could be scary to some of the smaller, less experienced women you’d fought. But to someone on your level both skill-wise and vertically? No. 

“I’m serious. I wasn’t desperate or anything but I remember thinking a lot about what might have happened if I’d made a move.”

You wonder about the math in your head. You hadn’t entertained those thoughts about him for all that long. Sure he was hot, but as you’d risen through the ranks together, he’d quickly come to seem like a brother. The idea of the two of you being a couple had started to seem weird. You’d thought about it less the longer you spent together, so it was strange for you to think that as you’d gotten over your initial crush, he’d begun thinking of you in that way.

Your shared reverie is interrupted as his little girl climbs into his lap, sour-faced and frustrated that she’s running out of brown crayons. The work of art that your girls are creating relies heavily on earth tones for the ground, for the tree trunks and bushes, and, you note happily, for the different faces of the people occupying the epic landscape they’ve made. There are all sorts of shades of people and there just aren’t enough brown crayons to build the different tones. 

Your daughter purses her lips in a look of stubborn determination you’ve come to know all too well. She’s grabbed red crayons, orange crayons, yellow crayons, green crayons, whatever she can get her hands on to colour in her people. She’s as upset as her friend that there aren’t enough browns but she would never let on. As ridiculous as it seems, you’re actually a little intimidated by just how headstrong she is. Now that she’s learned the alphabet, she seems like she’s about ready to move out and start kicking ass. 

She casts a quick glance in your direction and you have to hold back a gasp at her fierce, beautiful eyes. Looking at her face, you’re gob smacked by the idea that something that gorgeous came out of you. It’s like looking at the sun. It’s even stranger to think that she could be the product of the wild, all-encompassing lust that you and your husband had- still have- for each other. How could something that seemed so deliciously sinful produce something so perfect?

You glance back at Mustafa, whose attention is now completely absorbed in his daughter’s lecture on the need for more brown crayons. She’s articulate far beyond her years and you hope beyond hope that years of school won’t convince her to hide her intelligence the way girls of your generation did. 

It’s possible that there was a time when your desire for Mustafa and his for you overlapped, that there was an opening when the two of you could have touched lips and fallen into each other as if nothing else in the world existed. The two of you would probably have been a power couple in the industry. Your dazzling combination of skills would have been irresistible. With the way your families have come to love the both of you, it’s likely they would have moved beyond the cultural differences that absolutely do exist, no matter what some ignorant arsehole might have told you when he insisted you were both Arab terrorists. 

And it is most definitely possible that the two of you would be sitting in a living room just like this, embracing as you observed your children colouring or playing video games, or chasing each other around with rubber swords, or, worst of all, trying to emulate what they saw their parents doing on television. And perhaps as you watched, you’d look at each other and touch lips with all the tenderness in your souls and you would be filled to the point of bursting with happiness. 

But then there would be no…

There would be no Jake, the man who made you realize what true, unadulterated love really was. You would never have had someone make you laugh the way that he can, make you laugh so much that your ribs ache for hours. There would never have been the man who taught you how to curse in Irish or how to snowboard. And you would not have your daughter, so filled with her father’s sarcasm and stubbornness. 

For that matter, you would never have had Mustafa’s wife as your friend. When Jake had been hit by a car while riding his bike to work, you would not have had her comforting arms and her voice to pull you through the agonizing days when doctors cautioned you not to be too hopeful about his prognosis. You would never have had that feeling of someone strong enough to hold you up yet tender enough to nurture you through the pain. 

A few hours later, the gang of you are gathered around the picnic-style table in the back yard. Mustafa, his wife, her parents, you, Jake, his brother who’s been run ragged by his job more than any of you, and, of course, your children. You’re all laughing so hard that it’s a legitimate danger that the neighbours will call the police with a noise complaint. You make a clever joke and Jake, impressed by your wit as he always is, presses a light kiss against your neck. You feel the familiar thrill move through you, suddenly thinking that it’s time to wind things down and head home. Just for a second, your eyes connect with Mustafa’s and there is this perfect, still moment when you can see that there could be an alternate universe where the two of you would be together, something that might have been better or worse or neither. But then the moment is passed, and you’re once again back in this universe with the lives that you love.

[ayatosmlktea]

hey❤ can i get a Erwin X wife Reader which he gets angry at her cause he thought she was cheating on him and then she leaves and leaves him alone with an ending which has lots of fluff and sadness?

A/N: I can’t believe I wrote this whole thing not seeing that they were supposed to be married…my bad!! I fixed it

For More Feels 

𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓 ❤️

Erwin was by no means an insecure man. He knew his effect on women and even some men, none of them mattered though; not anymore. Y/N was the only woman who had ever brought him to his knees. He was resigned to spending the rest of his life burning through one fling after the next, too scared of commitment to open up his damaged soul to anyone else. And then she had come along. Y/N had him doing things he had never thought of doing, Erwin had sworn his heart to humanity and yet she had wedged herself in without resistance. Their relationship had snowballed from casual dating to getting engaged and shortly married after within a few months. 

Erwin was sure he would never feel this type of fire with anyone else and had no reservations about proposing. Erwin knew he his time in their world was uncertain but one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to spend the rest of his days with her as his wife. He had been elated when she had tearfully said yes, nothing would compare to the euphoric feeling he had around her. Y/N had expressed as much to him, often telling him that she had never felt the same way about anyone else in her life. Which is why it was such a shock for Erwin when he had heard she’d been sneaking around behind his back with Levi no less!

Now Erwin was not one to pry into Y/N’s business, trusting her enough to come to him with whatever was troubling her but the thought of her betraying that trust snapped something inside of him. He had to see it for himself. His mind was going through all the times she’d blown him off recently, at the time he’d thought nothing of it. 

They were both busy people, him being the commander of the survey corps and she was equally busy with her duties as a squad leader. Reminiscing on it only made him angrier, did she really think he was that blind? All the times he’d been waiting up for her to go to bed only to have her slip in long after she’d thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Care to join me for lunch love?” Erwin asked a little too sweetly that morning. Y/N looked up at him with those adorable e/c eyes, he couldn’t find anything in her expression that was anything but sincere.

“Sorry Erwin, I already promised Levi I’d help him with something today” Biting her bottom lip unconsciously, a tell tale sign she was nervous, she flashes him an apologetic smile before quickly hurrying out of his office. The growing pit of despair in his stomach was getting the best of his nerves.

Erwin needed answers and despite his better judgement he followed her. An unamused snort leaving his nose as he watched the pair enter Levi’s favourite cafe. If they were seeing each other behind his back they could have at least made it less obvious. They’d been seated at a table outside in the far back corner, away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers. 

They were sitting unnervingly close together; Erwin had never thought Levi to be a threat to his relationship but at the sight of him gently stroking her arm any respect he’d had for either of them dissipated. He didn’t need to see anymore, turning on his heels as he quickly storms back the the base.

♡   ♡   ♡

“For the last time Erwin I’m not, nor have I ever cheated on you!” Y/N cries in anguish, she had lost track of how long they’d been at each other’s throats. Neither of them really listening to each other at this point.

“Then would you please mind explaining the compromising position I caught you and Levi in before?” His tone was nothing short of snarky and taunting, Y/N couldn’t believe that her normally calm and collected husband could turn into such a cruel man when drunk.

“I told you!” At this point she was screaming at him. “Levi was helping me plan your surprise party, which NOW obviously isn’t a surprise!” Erwin crossed his arms, utterly unimpressed with her stupid excuses and quite fed up with her lying.

“Seriously? That’s why his hands were all over you?” Erwin was beginning the slur his words together, having drank a lot more than he had thought.

“I hurt my arm during training! I asked him to look at it to make sure it wasn’t serious!” Y/N was so tired of repeating herself and angry at how nothing she was saying was getting through his thick skull. She was on the verge of tears, not that he cared. He took her tears as an omission of guilt.

“We have medics here Y/N or are you really just that much of a slut for Levi?” Erwin’s words were sharp against her ears, cutting into her heart like daggers.

“You know what, if you’re going to be this fucking childish then take your stupid ring back. I thought you trusted me but I guess you’re really just the devil everyone says you are” throwing the delicate ring back at Erwin not bothering to wait and see where it landed she storms out of his office. The sound of the door slamming echoed in his ears, his emotions had gotten the best of him and he’d said things he would never have said had he been sober. The effects of the liquor he’d been drinking for the past several hours were beginning to settle in as slumped back against his chair succumbing to sleep.

The next morning Erwin had been graced with one hell of a hangover, his neck utterly wrecked from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in last night. The dull ache in his limbs a glaring reminder of his age, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes he calls for Y/N. Silence all too loud as his memory pieces back the events of the previous night. 

He’d been stupid to doubt her loyalty to him, the memory of her teary eyes adding to the nausea he already felt. The glint of her diamond engagement ring catches his eye, the weight in his hand so much heavier than it had ever been. He might have been piss drunk but the expression of hurt on her face at being called a slut unjustly made him curl in on himself. He needed to apologize, Erwin was used to keeping his temper in check and Y/N had always been patient with his difficulty at opening up. He’d never yelled at her like that before, he’d never yelled at anyone like that!

“God I’m an idiot” he muttered before going to take a shower, knowing that it would do him no favours to beg for her forgiveness looking like the same mess that had ruined them.

The entire legion knew something had gone down between their commander and his wife, Y/N was putting up a brave front but one look at her face would give away the fact that she’d been crying all night.

“I can’t believe you think that little of me” Levi seethed over breakfast the next morning, his anger well deserved. “I would never do that to you, and neither would she”

“I know” Erwin mumbled, there wasn’t really anything else he could say that Levi didn’t know.

“I’m sorry”

“Tch, I’m not the one you should be apologizing to” Rolling his eyes Levi walked out of the mess hall leaving Erwin to stew in his thoughts. 

♡   ♡   ♡

Y/N was good at avoiding him. Much to his dismay, she refused to look at him or speak to him unless he gave her a direct order. The tension between the two of them was making everyone uncomfortable. Any attempt of Erwin trying to talk to her was quickly shut down, she made herself scarce never staying in one place too long unless absolutely necessary. She was all too adept at playing this game of cat and mouse and Erwin was sure he was beginning to lose his mind without her. Nothing was the same, food didn’t taste as good, he barely slept anymore having gotten used to the feeling of her body next to his. Catching her off-guard outside her office seemed to be his last desperate option at getting her to acknowledge him.

“Y/N please! I want to apologize” Erwin pleaded with her, he was not one to beg- ever but it had been weeks since their fight and it was killing him.

“Apologize for what sir? Insinuating that I was cheating on you multiples times after I repeatedly apologized and explain the situation? Or did you want to apologize for calling me a slut?” Her harsh words made him cringe visibly, the expression she wore was blank the look in her eyes nothing compared to the love that was once there.

“Yes, I was wrong and so stupid! I let my emotions get the best of me and obviously got too drunk. I should have listened to you!” Erwin’s hand reached out to grab hers only to be shut down when she took two steps back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well you didn’t Erwin! You said things you can’t take back” her brows furrow, her lips drawn into a thin line.

“Y/N please give me another chance. I need you. I’m so so sorry” Y/N’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again, the past few weeks had been unbearable.

“I thought I made it clear when I gave you the ring back” she muttered between clenched teeth. Her jaw ached from fighting back the urge to cry not having given into the feeling since their fight. Unable to stand not being able to touch her he grabs her arms in his hands drawing her into his body.

“I’m not a monster Y/N, I know I’ve hurt you and broken your trust but I want to make it up to you. Please baby, I can’t lose you” There weren’t many moments where Erwin expressed his feelings but the sight of his eyes shining with unshed tears began to chip away at her resolve. Y/N couldn’t deny that the bond they shared was unlike anything she had ever experienced before and it had hurt like hell to pretend that there had never been anything between them but her feelings were still undecided on whether or not she wanted to forgive him.

“Fine. I’ll give you one chance, but one more fight like that and we’re done for good.” Sighing deeply she leaned her forehead against his chest relishing how comfortable it felt to be back in his arms. Relief flooded his system, it wasn’t going to be easy but for her he’d do anything.

Masterlist

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Smile For Me, Sweetcheeks ~ Ghostface x Fem!Reader

I've thought of this for a while, and it's gonna be

F U N

---

Y/N opened her eyes groggily, finding herself on the grassy ground - As she lifted her head to scan her surroundings, she realised she was in some strange, dark place that resembled some weird park with tall trees, yet had random small buildings here and there...It almost seemed like a place to play hide and seek, was her first thought.

Next to her, 3 other people were getting up, looking extremely frightened, as they bolted the hell out of that spot, going in different directions.

But Y/N didn't, and instead, she walked around aimlessly, until she spotted someone dressed in all black, with a weird ghost-like mask, peeking from behind an old car, almost timidly, only to see him wave at her.

Grinning at him, thinking she finally met someone friendly around this place, she extended her arm up in the sky, waving excitedly, which made the man make his way to her.

"Hi! I'm Y/N! It's great finally seeing someone nice around here. The 3 other guys just yelled in my face and ran away. How rude, right?!" she sighed, crossing her arms with a pout, before going back to her friendly smile, extending her hand to shake his. "Woaw, those guys are jerks. Call me Ghostface, darling." he said in an amused, yet somehow hoarse voice. "Uhhh, Ghostface, how cool! You must be a horror movie fan, then? So am I! ...Hmm...Actually, do you have any idea how we got here? I think I need some lecithin, my memory is failing me." she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, only for him to chuckle. "Welp, there's 4 survivors and a killer. All you gotta do is either repair 5 generators and find the exit...Or find the hatch and escape. Basically, don't die, I guess. Fun, huh?" the guy explained, putting his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to who knows where. "...What the hell is this, the Hunger Games?" she looked up at him with a weird look on her face. "Haha, that would be fun! Alas, nothing like that. Ah, look at this, a gen! Here I'll show you how to repair it. You have to tinker with these parts, and then merge these together...You get the cables in the respective coloured sockets...Et voila! Haha, look at it! Fireworks! What a reward!" Ghostface clapped and cheered at the fireworks the generator made, laughing at the startled look on the girl's face, as she clearly didn't expect something like that to happen. "Uh...Honestly, this is insane. Can't we just, like...Go home? I don't think I'm up for dying, even if someone paid me to go through with this silly game." she sighed, crouching down to the next generator, awkwardly trying to repair it, but she was much slower and clumsier compared to him, and it even exploded in her face, making her yelp and fall down. "Dude! Not cool! This gen is working against me!" "Shoulda seen the face you made, toots! Haha, so funny! You're very entertaining, girl. Here, lemme help ya out." he said as he got on the other side of the of the gen and helped repaired it. "You're a real pro at this, man. Have you been playing this for long? Did they at least give you a worthy amount of money for the trouble you're going through? I mean, I'm sure you won very often...Or maybe you're like...The tutorial teacher or something? Is that why you look eccentric compared to those lame-os?" she was asking so many question, but boy, was she so off that it amused the killer so much! He now perfectly understood the wolf who dressed as a sheep, it was too much fun! She was so blindingly trusting, he could mess with her, and more, with the survivors at his heart's content! "Yeah, I win quite often, but they don't pay me! The guy is kinda blackmailing us to play his game, but it's fun when you get used to it." he explained, only to have two other survivors go past them - Her and Ghostface waved at them merrily, but they just shrieked and ran the hell away from there. "...Do I look that scary?" she muttered, looking at the man next to her with a confused expression. "Nahhh, you're a cutiepie. Those guys are just jerks." he petted her hair, beginning to walk again, only to find some really nasty, rusty hooks. "U-Uhm...Gh-Ghostface...? What are these for...?" she stuttered, frowning as she clinged on his arm instinctively. "I think you already know, toots. Careful with those, killers LOVE to impale their victims on these things. It's like a sacrifice for the big guy who's keeping us here." he chuckled as he watched the girl tremble like a little lamb seeing the knife approaching her neck. "...Can we go away from here, please? M-Maybe we can look for the...Uhm...Hatch, you called it?" she muttered, pulling him away from there. "Yeah. It's like a trap in the ground that leads to safety. It only appears when there's only 2 gens left. Felt that shockwave? It meant that the Hatch just appeared. Ah, sorry baby-cakes, I gotta run, but I'll see you around before the match ends, okay?" he was grinning under his mask, knowing that he has to kill the other 3 to make sure the Entity doesn't punish

either of them for some annoying reason...And oh, the shock and horror on her face will be fun~. "N-No...! Please don't go! This place is huge and scary, I'll get lost without you! And who knows what would happen if the Killer finds me? I don't wanna end up...Th-There...!" awww, that cute, little, frightened pout on her face, how lovely~! If only she knew... "Don't worry, cutie, is'yo' first game, the Killer ain't gonna mess with ya, I promise. And if he does, Imma make sure he regrets it. I'm sort of a boss here, you see." he put cupped both his gloved hands on her face, pinching them a bit too hard, just to hear her yelp one more time - And clearly, she didn't disappoint, as her eyes even watered a tiny bit. What a cute little lamb... "...If you're sure, then...Okay. I trust you." she muttered, turning away as she started walking away, only for her to look back at him and yell "Make sure you stay safe too, okay?! We have to escape this place together!" He raised his arm and waved dismissively, barely able to keep himself from laughing, as he started running and stalking the annoying survivors who actually thought they'd have such an easy game!

No, no, clearly not with him!

First, he slashed one of the survivors and put him on a hook, then mori'ed another and took a really cool selfie with their bloody face, and the last one he just messed around with, before repeatedly stabbing his back and throwing him in a corner, just where the Hatch was.

Those idiots thought they could escape him.

Think again.

He wasn't that idiot 'Legion', or that lame ass Amanda. Four lame thugs who can't do a simple job properly, or Jigsaw's useless lackey. Keh.

And at least he was fun, unlike Boring Michael! I mean, look at this masterpiece he made, it's a perfect piece of art! He even wrote Y/N's name on the wall in front of the hatch, so she could see and appreciate his work!

A loud noise that resounded through the place made him realise that, as he was having his fun playing with the obsolete Survivors, his cute little Y/N had her fun repairing generators, meaning that the exits could be activated, if he wasn't careful.

He had to find her quick.

Not that it was difficult for the Master of Stalking, especially since she was so clueless that she didn't even crouch to hide, or at least try to hide in lockers.

There she was...! Look at her, watching everything like a frightened meerkat! Aww, how he wanted to boop that cute nose of hers~! Maybe he could even let some blood paint her nose, and make fun of her, calling her Rudolph!

Ahh, Ghostface, you're so funny!

Yeah, Ghostface, I KNOW, right?!

"Yo, Y/N, over here! I found the hatch! Come on!" he waved his arms up in the air, yelling for her, and the look of sparkling glee on her face as soon as she saw him...Wasn't she such an adorable dummy~? "Ghostface, you're okay! I got so worried when I didn't see you in so long! I heard screams, and I thought something happened to you! I got so scared that I ran away and tried to do the last generators...And then a loud noise almost deafened me, and I had no idea what to do." she gesticulated rapidly, making him chuckle in amusement. Of course, he was worried for nothing. She wouldn't realise what she'd have to do, even if it bit her leg. Hmm, actually...~ "Nahhhh, I'm cool, haven't see the killer. Here, take the key, it will unlock the hatch. Less'goooo~!" he put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her casually where the hatch was, making sure she didn't see his work of art yet. "Oh, so this is the Hatch, huh? It looks scary. Are you sure this isn't some ladder that leads straight to hell or something? It looks...Shady." she muttered, looking at the dark abyss down below. "Don't worry, chickadee, ain't that long of a ride down. It's like a bunker filled with survivors, you'll be okay. They'll tell you what to do from then on. If you're scared, take this flashlight. See? You can see the bottom of the ladder. You'll be okay." he chuckled, weaving the flashlight around. "Wait...You're not coming down with me?" she gasped, her eyes carefully searching for the truth in his...Covered face. "I'd go down on you any day, sugar, but maybe next time we get to play around." he laughed crudely watching her frowning, flustering face. "H-Hey, don't be a jerk! I'm just worried about you!" she muttered, looking away, hoping her hair would cover her blushing face. "Hahaha, you're so fun to tease, Y/N. Only one person can go through the hatch. But s'all cool, I just gotta open up the door, since you did a great job with the gens. We'll see each other later, I can promise you that. Can't get rid of me that easily." he sniggered under his mask, waiting in anticipation until the girl realises his true nature. "Mhh...Alright...If you're so sure..." she muttered, shakily stepping down a few steps, only to be stopped by the man who took out a camera. "Wanna take a selfie before we finish this? Y'know, your first game, and a victory nonetheless...Come on, Smile for me, Sweetcheeks~!" he got on his knees, raising his mask a bit, before gluing himself to her body, one of his arms extending with the camera, while with the other he grabbed her face, kissing her cheek, making sure he guides her eyesight to his masterpiece, and as soon as he heard her gasp, he took the photo.

It was worth more than all the money in the world.

"Y-You...? You were the killer...?!" awww, look at her tremble! Her eyes were glistering with tears, and her plump, rosy bottom lip was quivering in betrayal. "You're too cute for this world, Y/N." he harshly put his mask down, before showing the girl the selfie he took as he mori'ed one of the survivors, and waved her goodbye with his knife, as she quickly descended down the ladder, soft whimpers echoing through the place.

"Till we see each other again, sweet cheeks~." the Killer rose to his feet, slamming down the hatch with his boot and wiping the blood from his knife with his latex glove, before laughing loudly at the endearing experience he just had.

If THAT was the reaction she had when seeing his little gift for her, imagine her cute faces when he'd actually go down on her, as he promised~.

[lightningcrown]

I’m bored and waiting for the living room TV to free up so I can play more Dead By Daylight on my XBox, so, I thought I’d share my ideas for possible chapters/killers/survivors/maps, ect. 

Spoilers for their respective franchises ahead!

SallyFace 

If this game were to be incorporated into Dead By Daylight, I think it’d be best to make it more like Bill and Ash, where you only have the survivor with no killer or map. In this case, Sal Fisher would be a great addition to the game. It could easily be worked in that the Entity picked him up after he was executed at the end of Chapter Four, like how the Entity picked up Detective Tapp and Amanda from the Saw franchise after their deaths. The reason I think this could work with just Sal is because, while popular, SallyFace is not nearly as popular as some other franchises and isn’t that well-known a game when you think about it. But Sal is already kinda recognized, as he is the main character and his appearance sticks with you. Like the Funko POPs, it just makes a bit more sense to only have Sal. 

The Boy

I’d love to have Brahms in Dead By Daylight. Hell, he’s already got a title: “The Boy” He’d be a perfect candidate for the Entity’s realm. The Entity seems to love masked killers, and Brahms has racked up a bit of a body count; remember, he used to kill the nannies that failed to follow the rules or tried to leave him. Not to mention the girl he killed as a child. For the Survivor, it would have to obviously be Greta Evans, the main character and protagonist of the first movie. Perhaps, the main motivation for Brahms to listen to the Entity would be the chance to get Greta back for himself. Brahms is a stubborn brat, and would likely throw a tantrum and refuse the Entity’s offers for anything else. He likely wouldn’t be that intimidated by the Entity either. It’s hard to explain, but I just can’t see him actually being afraid, or even acknowledging the Entity’s massive power advantage. Other killers agreed either in a deal, or simply out of fear of the Entity’s power. Brahms would likely take a deal. For the map, the Heelshire estate is an obvious choice. There’s the manor grounds, the manor, and the woods around it.  Also, the manor has several hidden hallways and rooms in the walls, where Brahms lived; so it would be a great map to place in the game and put generators around. 

Thirteen Ghosts

Yeah, I know it’s not the most loved movie, but I enjoyed it, and I think it’d be fun. The killer is a bit tricky in this one, though. Cyrus just wouldn’t work as a killer. Despite being a genius, he’s not really a killer, or at least not one like the Entity would be looking for. He’s completely human, and while that itself isn’t an issue, the fact that he never really does any harm, himself, is. He, at most, beat his nephew with a cane, but he never outright murdered anyone. (Kalina technically counts as a murder, but I doubt the Entity is going to be impressed by him just using his house to kill her) It’s make more sense for one of the ghosts to be the killer the Entity would want. Out of all of them, the ghosts that I think would be considered would either be the Angry Princess, or the Jackal. The problem is that the Angry Princess is completely naked, and I doubt developers would let that fly. Also, with her being all cut up, and carrying a blade, she’d be too much like Rin. That leaves the Jackal as “The Jackal”. From what I see online, he’s the most popular ghost and the most well known from the film; he’d also work really well gameplay wise. He could be like the Nurse or the Spirit, able to go through walls, and his weapon(s) would be his nails; he used them to rip into both Kathy and Arthur. His appearance would be wicked cool in the game, too. The Survivor, I’d like to think would be Dennis Rafkin, the psychic who worked for Cyrus to help capture the 12 ghosts. He was killed by the Juggernaut in the film, but the Entity has taken dead characters before; again, with Tapp and Amanda being examples. His psychic powers could add some interesting perks, like maybe getting flashes where you could maybe see from the killer’s point of view, giving you an idea of where the killer is. The idea isn’t entirely fleshed out, but you get the point; it’d be cool to have a character similar to Cheryl, where supernatural forces aid them. The map would be interesting. Clearly, it’d have to be Cyrus’ mansion. With all the glass walls and writing on them, it’d be a hell of a map to navigate (obviously it would have windows in the walls and pallets to fit with gameplay). Something interesting that could be added is the possibility that they have about 3 different layouts for this map, and it could be a different layout each time, with windows, pallets, and doorways being moved. Basically where a window could be one time you played on the map may not be there the next time you play on that map. I hope that’s not too confusing. It would be interesting to kinda replicate how the walls would move in the movie in order to release the ghosts and guide them. Also, the claustrophobia and confusion would add to fear (at least it was pretty freaky to me in the movie).

Child’s Play

It (2017 Remake)

Jeepers Creepers

Yes, yes, everyone mentions these ones, and I agree. Just go watch Wow Such Gaming’s video series on YouTube which explains why each antagonist should be a killer in the game, it makes more sense than I could describe. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDWmmPRvjEQ&list=PL8Ts2TFQcaDbyJvPuVNNQffIC-jbECXfp

House of 1000 Corpses

Otis B Driftwood and Baby Firefly would both be great to have in the game. For both, it would be cool if it could be like Legion where you could play as either. Their name could be “The Firefly” with both being a part of the Firefly Clan. Though, in all honesty, Otis would likely be the only one taken by the Entity. He’s the most well known Firefly, most popular, and I feel like you can do more with him. This would likely be like Ghost Face or Leatherface’s release, where it’s only a killer with no survivor. His main outfit should be the one towards the end when the Fireflies are performing a ceremony on Halloween, with the long red coat and makeup. His weapon could be just about any knife. The Entity could grant him some power like he did with Danny so Otis would have more of an advantage; Otis would totally do what the Entity tells him to. Not that he would like being ordered around, but he’d be fine with the idea of nonstop killing.

Rule of Rose

Out of all the suggestions I have, this is one that I know for sure would never even be considered. But whatever, I love this game, and these are my suggestions and opinions, so I’ll just be stupid with this idea on my own. Seriously though, this game needs a remaster so badly; I have no doubt that it would be much more popular and praised if released today with newer graphics and a touched up on story line (Not that the storyline isn’t already good, but you understand what I mean). The killer for this one should be Gregory M. Wilson, also known at “The Stray Dog”. After his suicide after committing the massacre at Rose Garden Orphanage, the Entity picks him up and tells him that if he kills like the Entity tells him to, he’ll be reunited with his late son in the end (of course, with no intention of actually doing so), and takes advantage of Gregory’s shattered mental state. The survivor would be the game’s protagonist, Jennifer. After the events of the game (and her childhood, with the game’s point being Jennifer remember and coping with her childhood traumas), Jennifer plans to reopen the Rose Garden Orphanage and actually help children, but she is taken by the Entity before it opens. We’ve got characters from the 70′s, 80′s, and 90′s; and we know the Entity has been abducting people for practically centuries, so it’d be cool to see characters being taken from earlier than the 70′s; with both Jennifer and Gregory being taken from the 30′s-40′s (Jennifer is 19 around this time, so yeah, about the 40′s for her). The map could be none other than the Rose Garden Orphanage, with some elements of the airship from Jennifer’s past connected to it, like in the actual Rule of Rose game.

Well, these are some of my ideas for now; I might add more later, but I wanted to get these ideas put down :)

[blacky-nikki-art]

It was supposed to be another simple picture without content, but …

My awful writing skill under keep reading

The EDZ seemed calm that night. The part they were in was long forgotten by the Fallen, the Red Legion, the Taken and even humans. A small forgotten village in the middle of a forest, ruined like Trostland.

Iberis-3 sat against the wall of the greenhouse. He was silent, just looking somewhere but it didn’t seem like he was watching at anything. Eva knew this too well.

-What’s going on?

-Nothing…

-Don’t lie.

Eva appeared in a pink haze near Warlock’s head. Smaller than a typical ghost, but the rest of her resembled them. She looked at him with her one pink eye.

Iberis looked at her and then returned to watching something between the trees.

-It’s just that feeling … sad and empty again - he was silent for a moment. -You know, it comes and goes as always.

-So I will repeat the question - she flew right in front of his eyes so he could see her. -What’s going on?

This time Iberis-3 lowered his gaze to the ground, to the grass. Eva knew it too. He didn’t like to look anyone in the eye when he was sad. A clear signal that he doesn’t want to talk.

But she didn’t care.

-Bee-Bee?

-I... I feel hopeless. Helpless that nothing makes sense. It doesn’t matter if it’s about ‘saving humanity’ or such mundane matters … Like those dumb plants.

-They aren’t 'dumb’! -Eva was indignant hearing that.

-So why do I feel again that I’m just wasting my time sitting over them!? -He clutched his head.

Eva watched him again. This time Iberis was silent and there was no sign that that would change any time soon.

-Hey, take it easy … -She flew closer to him. -Nobody’s criticizing you. You know … It’s always better than sitting with those old-smelling books and listening to these quirks over the 'philosophical aspects of the Traveler’, right? Admit it. You don’t like it.

-Yes, I don’t like it.

Iberis lowered his hands, one propped up his face. He sat motionless with his eyes closed this time. Eva knew that too. There were emotions in him that he didn’t want to let go of.

-… Why don’t you smoke?

-Maybe another time - Ibeirs said after a long pause.

-You want to come back to the Farm?

-No. I’d rather be alone today … In the sense of being with you as always.

-All right - Eva looked up at the sky, at the moon. - It’s going to be a clear night. Maybe nobody will come …

-There is no one here except the cat.

-Better to be careful at all times, especially in EDZ.

-Like you wanna my dear…

Eva looked at him again. Ibeirs stared at the ground between his feets.

- I’m constantly amazed by our nervous symbiosis. How connected we are. Even when I know what exactly hurts you, when you can’t define it, however … It doesn’t give me access to what you think about, what you feel. As your ghost, I want to be more than 'that resurrection thing’ when you get hit in the head again. I like when you tell me about these different things and your thoughts because then I can understand you. … and not only about these funny or interesting things - she fell silent, but after a long moment she started talking again. -You can tell me about anything. I hope you know about it. I won’t tell anyone, not even gossiping with other ghosts. I swear.

-I know Baby-Lady. I would be completely lost without you. -He finally looked at her, into her pink eye. 

He calmed down, which was exactly what Eva wanted. She was relieved.

-I think we have a sleeping bag somewhere in the greenhouse - Eva peer through the windows inside. -No one has touched anything since the last time we were here.

-... Or possibly that stupid cat poop somewhere - Iberis said, standing up.

-We only have problems with this pet - Eva snorted.

Iberis headed for the door and opened it for Eva to fly inside. The white Exo followed her, closing the greenhouses from the inside.

The night was going to be calmer.

I’m not a writer, okay? I don’t know the nomenclature that is used in English-language books so I use the one I know from the books what I reading in my native language.

Sometimes I have in head super-short stories about nothing and everything. I wanted this time try to do it ‘cuz I would like do it more often in the future. I know I have to upgrade my writting skill but still I have to start somewhere. Right…?

+Sorry for my English. I translated it fast well I know, here is many mistakes

Thx for reading and have a nice day or good night!