#maul looks so good with extra piercings

[gradible]

the truth - team 2 gold round

For a moment, there is peace. A humbling quiet falls over the ragtag group of heroes, and they are given the rare opportunity for personal reflection. In the vastness of a black void, what else is there to do? Perhaps they are being shown a small comfort to make their upcoming struggle worse, or perhaps it simply takes the universe a second or two to generate the next dream for them. Whatever the case may be, Sirius looks at his allies from the safety of his mask. All of them stand with him in this strange plane, the aura of their lances now emanating from their entire bodies. He is merely a traveler: homebound and unwilling to anchor himself to the academy’s personnel. But this group, despite its general lack of conversation, has shown character through action.

That’s the kind of language he can get used to.

The scene changes again, this time filling their void with a thick fog before they’re allowed the gift of light. They stand in a square shaped arena, its floor a red-and-blue checkerboard with some kind of strange emblem decorating its center. Metal pillars sprawl up and away from their box, trailing into the infinite expanse of fog until they can no longer be seen. Stairs and ladders, too, seem to lead into this unending yellow abyss, but what they’re connected to is anyone’s guess. 

Sirius’ first instinct is to touch his face, and doing so reveals that his mask has manifested as a pair of tinted shades this time. They let him see through the fog, if only just what’s in front of him. They’ll be good enough for close-quarters combat.

For lack of a shining Harmony Lance, he has been gifted something extra special: the divine Gradivus. Holding it in his hands almost makes him feel like he’s hallucinating, but its grip is indeed the one he’d familiarized himself with long ago. “We meet again, old friend,” he whispers, just low enough that the others can barely hear it. With this lance, he is all but invincible. 

His steed, too, has been returned to him, though now it sports a pair of wings. If it is anything like the sturdy mares of Grust or the swift mounts of Rigel, he should have no trouble maneuvering himself this fight.

But to fight, one requires a foe. And at first glance, one does not present itself. Rather than creating a sense of security in the knight, it breeds unease, for there is always a great beast to battle in these dreams, and the lack of one only means it could be hiding. 

...

“...In the fog!” He’s spotted the enemy, and this time it appears as a lion wreathed in shadow. Its movements blend in well with the heavy cloud blotting the air around them, but squinting closer reveals four stalking paws circling round its prey. Sirius takes to the skies, quick to deliver the first, revealing blow,

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 11, hit! -7 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 8/15 HP

His thrust is strong and true, piercing through cloud and darkness to strike the enemy in the heart. But as he pulls Gravidus’ shining point from the warped body it stabbed, the umbra coalesces around him and assault him in the same way he did it; a Shadow Gravidus is formed from the beast’s midsection to harm him back,

Reflect activates! -7 HP; Sirius 5/12 HP

Shadow Self 1: Chosen uses Mauling Strike! Roll 1d20 = 19, crit! -4 HP; Sirius 1/12 HP

Sirius is inflicted with -2 def for one round!

The stygian point of his spear’s counterpart also strikes strong and true, forcing the Grustian to reel back and gasp. Blood spills onto his saddle, and before he can grab hold of it to steady himself on his mount, the monster follows up, enlarging one of its claws to bat both pegasus and rider.

Each fall to the colored floor with a loud thud, their bodies hanging on by a thread. Sirius winces as he remounts, and looks again to the battlefield. He knows his allies have not caught up or seen the shadow yet, knows they may fall victim to its trick if they are not warned. And the beast moves closer, and though it has no eyes, Sirius can tell it intends to take him down before its secret is spilled. So he turns away from them, not daring to utter another word. With the holy lance in his hands, only he has the power to end this fight before it even begins.

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 23, crit! -24 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 0/15 HP

Reflect activates! -24 HP; Sirius 0/15 HP

“May this battle be your last!” And again, he charges straight into the action. There is a wordless agreement sown between him and his mount, that should they miss, or should his heavy spear not pierce the enemy far enough or spill all of its black blood, they would surely die on retaliation. And they’re both okay with that. A death as a proud knight beats a life lived in solitude; if they can give their allies the upper hand with their sacrifice, then so be it.

The lion’s head is cleaved from its body when Sirius puts all of his power into his last slash. His eyes go wide, sure that they’ve done it and earned themselves survival, but again he is stuck. Tendrils emerge from the decapitated shadow and assault his torso, bringing him once more to his knees.

Only this time, he has been robbed of the strength to stand.

The world he had only just been introduced to starts to go black. He knows it is not the enemy covering his eyes. Consciousness is fading--a sensation he’s already met with before. Perhaps it is fate that he would end his dream like this. But he would not change if it he could. He watches as the enemy melts into a puddle of black, and they fall together. “Tatiana...” he whispers, and “Nyna...” and then, everything is void again. It’s cold, almost like the sea. He’s been swept from this battle by a force beyond human comprehension, his cobbled form made into a mere pebble to be washed by the tide. But surely they’ve won... Right?

Wrong.

The puddle stands again, this time a crude reconstruction of Sirius’ body. It sports wings--the same wings his mount had--and uses them to ascend to the center of the arena. “I am a shadow... The true self,” it says in a harrowing version of the knight’s voice, “...What a shame. As long as I have Gradivus, I will not fall... You are out of luck; give it up.”

To round out its introduction, it immediately starts charging an attack. It holds its vile imitation of Sirius’ lance in front of its body, and its wings begin to fold in on themselves. Then it glows, a thrum of black almost like a heartbeat. A dark power starts to build up at its core... Ready to be unleashed!

UP NEXT: @diadic @estians @lualamina

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

Actual Skel Anatomy Brainrot

So my posts about magical membranes, vertebrae, teeth and traits was the end of it... right?

Haha LSD you dumb fuck, this is your new hyperfixation for the week.

Kind of long, I did this for fun and I'm not really up-to-date on what everyone's collective hivemind of an opinion is on Skel headcanons, so if I repeat something someone's already said, just be cool that you're hearing the same viewpoint twice:

Yeah

A Skel's body is naturally more resistant to most anti-depressants and pills, which aids them in being one of the least likely monster types to die from illness, but makes them more vulnerable if they do happen to catch a cold. If the virus can get past the immunity system, your Skel is in for a hell of a ride.

It takes longer for a Skel to get drunk or high, when they do it effects their magic. Randomly melting into half-assed attacks (for example; Error would have the problem of constantly pouring sting out his eyes. Someone like Papyrus would unintentionally bluify someone/thing around himself.) which are always harmless.

Magic on medication or stimulant loses its strength and deals less than half the damage it's supposed to, although prescription meds aren't as stat draining as what was listed above.

Becomes harder to control in some cases, if your Skel has a more violent nature their magic might react extremely to aspirin or melatonin. That's the body trying to get rid of the unfamiliar chemicals, and goes about it the same way the personality type of the host does.

Skel's breathe to absorb oxygen, like everyone does, the oxygen is used to put more power for attacks and energy reserves. They can run faster, react quicker, and talk louder. They don't suffer from any side effects without air, and could happily exist in a vacuum. They also use breathing for their vocal cords.

Fun fact: a Skel's bite force is 235PSI, the same as a pitbull's, and can lock their jaws to the same ability when biting into something. Its a leftover trait from a much more primal age, like with humans still having wisdom teeth. (but yk, pitbull-esc strength is way cooler.) So Skels don't have many reasons to bite or maul.

Their teeth keep growing throughout their lives, sometimes if unchecked can result in overgrowth that makes it hard to eat or communicate, similar to 'overgrown beaks' in birds. Normally their teeth are worn down by the common habit of chewing or losing them. Skel's have three sets of teeth, their infant pair, adulters, and backup set.

Other Skel bone facts: there are different types of vertebrae, named after the expands it runs down. But intercross commonly.

Cervical-Thoracic, Thoracic-Lumbar, Cervical-Lumbar, to name a few variations

The two types of vertebrae builds are straight-edge and curved, curved is more likely for Cervical and Thoracic, while straight-edge is typically found further down the spine.

Tailbones! A Skel's tail doesn't get much longer than 6-8 inches, and tucks between the legs most of the time to act as extra membrane protection. It doesn't have the same flexibility of a dog or cat's, so they can't express emotion through it, nor does a tail have enough strength to act as a limb.

When the membrane is broken it'll bleed a thick red liquid, no matter the magic color. Happens frequently, sometimes the bones meant to protect the membrane end up piercing it on accident.

The membrane relies on the soul to repair itself if it gets damaged, if you don't have a soul, you're more likely to severe internal bleeding and gag reflex. Vomiting liquid magic also happens if one tries to absorb magic that isn't theirs, the body treats it like a virus.

Ngl it feels really good to find a cool creature to jump on and explore. Ik some of my bullshit would look strange in canon, but really, I just wanted to have fun and reimagine these characters and their body types. uhhhh ight I think that's it

[realcube]

their team reacts to seeing them with hickeys/back scratches 💫

characters: kageyama, akaashi & kita

tw// fem! reader, sexual references, swearing, blood 

kita tw// mentions of daddy kink, punishment, overstimulation - MINORS DNI 

KITA’S IS AGED UP!!

thank you anon for the request 💗

Tobio Kageyama

he was on tanaka’s team for game amongst karasuno and he watched his senpai take off his shirt and wave it around after they scored another point

but instead of putting the shirt back on, he kept it off bc he was too lazy to go get it since he threw it to the other side of the gym

then noya took his shirt off too bc he was sweating buckets 

but kageyama wasn’t really sure why they had their shirts off so he felt the need to ask

‘why aren’t you putting your shirt back on?’

noya was just kinda like ‘who are you, my mom?’ but tanaka gave him a straight answer which was ‘it helps with ✨ aerodynamics✨’

kageyama isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed so he doesn’t even know what aerodynamics are

but then he watched tanaka make a killer spike and he was sold 

shirt = off

aerodynamics = thriving (?)

sets = awesome

back scratches = exposed 😳

hotel = trivago 

tsukishima was the first one to notice ofc as he was positioned right behind kageyama 

he didn’t say anything tho bc yamaguchi was on the opposite team so he just had to snicker to himself

hinata was like ‘what’s so funny, stinkyshima?!’ bc he automatically assumed that tsukishima was laughing at him lol

but then he followed tsukki’s gaze and leaned back to look at kageyama’s back too

‘yeesh, man. you should probably put some aloe vera on that or something, it could get infected.’

AIUWRAFHBE ok ok hinata isn’t completely oblivious to the connotations of back scratches but he’d never think in a million years that kageyama would get laid so he kinda subconsciously ruled that possibilty out-

kageyama quirked a brow, ‘what?’

‘your back! it’s all mangled.’ 

then noya and tanaka ran over and fkn BURST OUT LAUGHING 

at this point, all of kageyama’s team was surrounding him while the other team waited patiently for them to serve

but after a while, it was clear that they weren’t gonna do that so suga - who was on the opposing team - strolled over to see what they were all laughing about

and when he saw it- bitch- he went red 

a cool mom so he probably made a suggestive remark as he walks away

it eventually got to the point where everyone in the gym was crowded around kageyama and for ease, i’ll categorize their reactions:

laughing their ass off  ➵ tsukishima, tanaka, nishinoya, coach ukai & yamaguchi

concerned and confused  ➵ yachi, takeda, hinata & narita 

a blushing mess  ➵ asahi, kinoshita & sugawara

unfazed 😐  ➵ kiyoko & daichi 

LIVID  ➵ kageyama

‘WHY DO YOU ALL CARE SO MUCH ABOUT MY BACK?!’

kageyama could literally break his neck and walk into practise with a neck brace and no one would bat an eye but now that he has scratches on his back, suddenly everyone is so concerned about his wellbeing? where with this energy that time he said that hinata gave him a concussion?

to be fair, he didn’t have a concussion- also, he forgot the word so he told suga that hinata gave him a ‘conclusion’

daichi agreed, trying to usher everyone back to their spot on the court, ‘yeah, it’s no big deal, guys. let’s get back to practise.’

everyone slowly made their way back to where they were previously but since tanaka and noya were still on kageyama’s team, they continued to pry 

tanaka flung his arm around kageyama’s shoulders, ‘so how’d you get those scratches, big boy?’ 

an ungodly laugh left noya’s mouth

kageyama shrugged, ‘(y/n), i think.’

the whole gym room went silent before erupting in choruses of laughter once again

‘WELL YOU AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND NEED TO CALM DOWN THEN!’ tanaka wheezed

kageyama was truly the idiot that didn’t understand the implications of the back scratches - so you can imagine that he was frustrated when everyone started laughing again

‘what’s so funny?’ but then, he recalled the events which he was pretty certain were the reason for the marks on his back......it was pretty funny

you insisted on giving kageyama a back massage after a long day of practise so he took his shirt off and let you go for it 

for the record, he really loved it :)) he was just so happy sitting there between your thighs as you sat on the couch and rubbed his back, loosening all the knots he didn’t even know he had

but then he got a lil’ inch on his back and was like ‘can you get that for me?’ since your hands were already on his shoulders/back

ofc you said yes and started lightly scratching the spot he desired, but being extra careful bc you just got you nails done in the stiletto shape and the last thing you wanted to do was puncture his back lol

‘harder..’ kageyama muttered so low that you almost didn’t hear him

you obliged, pressing a bit harder 

‘harder.’ he insisted once more

again, you served by digging your nails in a bit deeper

‘harder.’

‘no, kags. i’ll literally pierce your skin if i press any harde--’ 

‘harder!’ he barked (for a joke) and you jumped from fright, instinctively pushing in more and increasing the pace of your hand

at this point, you were rigorously clawing at his back, on the verge of drawing blood which you could tell by his skin’s newfound crimson pigment 

kageyama took it upon himself to lean backwards onto your nails to force you to go rougher as you had yet to ease his itch 

then you let out a high-pitched scream so naturally, kageyama jerked away then peered over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t like..died

‘what?!’ he asked, eyes filled with worry

‘blood!’ you yelled, pointing at his back before sprinting to the kitchen to get a tissue 

kageyama’s gaze followed you until you were out of sight, then he lightly touched his back around the parts you were scratching and once he pulled his hand away, he noticed the blood which was now on his fingers

‘oh.’

the concerning part was that he didn’t even feel it tbh 🤔

anyway tanaka and noya probably coo ‘oooh~ lovebirds~’ when you come pick him up from practise

Keiji Akaashi

bokuto heard some ppl whispering about akaashi & (y/n) in the changing room so he turned around to take a look at his friend then he noticed the scratch marks on his poor friends’ back

‘AKAASHI!! DID YOU GET MAULED BY A BEAR?!?!’ he screamed, grabbing the attention of everyone in the changing room and those who weren’t whispering about akaashi before, were definitely doing so now

akaashi smiled softly and shook his head, hastily throwing on his shirt and buttoning it up as he spoke, ‘no, bokuto-san.’

bokuto quirked a brow, wondering what could’ve possibly happened before his jaw dropped to the ground

‘is it ‘cause i patted your back a bit hard earlier?!?!?’

akaashi didn’t even bother to question how bokuto could think that a slap on the spine could lead to scratch marks and instead just replied normally, ‘no.’

bokuto was stumped once again- why else would his buddy have marks on his back? and why was (y/n) such a prominent name floating around in this changing room? doesn’t everyone know that she is taken by bokuto’s best-bro akaashi?

....

WAIT

bokuto’s jaw hung open once again as his soul left his body through an overdramatic gasp, before leaning in and whispering in akaashi’s ear, ‘wait- don’t tell me- you and (y/n)-’

akaashi’s cheeks tinted red slightly so he turned his head away while he pulled on his blazer, ‘no.’

bokuto let out a light sigh of relief, gently patting his pal’s back, ‘ah, good. but then, where did those marks come from?’

before akaashi even got the opportunity to open his mouth to respond, komi and konoha passed the pair, konoha patting akaashi’s shoulder and komi shot him a toothy grin accompanied by a thumbs-up, ‘get some, akaashi.’

then they walked off, konoha mubbling something about his chances with (y/n) being ruined 

this left both bokuto and akaashi extremely confused

once all traces of komi and konoha were gone, akaashi proceeded to explain himself

‘backne is a horrible thing.’ he murmured, grabbing his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder before strolling out the changing room. ‘i’ll wait for you outside.’

and bokuto just stood there like (。_。) ‘what’s backne?’

Shinsuke Kita

atsumu had invited the whole squad back to inarizaki for one last game before coach kurosu’s retirement 

after ages of arrangement, the whole team were able to make an appearance at the game - whether that be for 10 minutes or the whole thing

kita was able to stay for the whole thing

he was currently warming-up while chatting with aran before he was approached by atsumu, who was as lively as ever

‘mister rice farmer! it’s good to see you again!’ he sung, tossing his arm around kita’s shoulder and patting it in a friendly manner, ‘how’s life been treating ya?’

kita and atsumu somehow managed to make small-talk as if they hadn’t been apart for the last 6 years

‘me and my girlfriend have only been together for 6 months but i think i’m ready to settle down.’ atsumu mused, tapping his elbow before realising that he had been talking about himself for a while, ‘but anyway, i see that you and (y/n) are still going strong. haven’t y’all been together since the first year of highschool? that’s impressive! when are you gonna wife her up?’ 

kita perked up upon hearing that, ‘uh, yes. but how do you know that?’

atsumu couldn’t help but smirk, casually running a hand through his hair before motioning to the hickey on kita’s neck which was on semi-display, ‘right there, bud.’

kita looked down but unfortunately, his neck didn’t bend enough to see what atsumu was referring to 

‘also,’ atsumu chuckled, slightly embarrassed about what he was going to admit ‘i saw the pic of her you put on your facebook.’

‘ah, okay.’ that one kita could understand

atsumu was about to open this mouth to say something but then the shrieking noise of the coach kurosu’s whistle rang through the gym room, indicating the start of the match

the game went surprisingly smooth tbh 

minimal fights :o

but kita did get teased quite a lot smh 

anyway, after everything was all said and done and everyone started to filter out the gym, kita rushed to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror and see what atsumu was referring to on his neck

once he took a look at himself, he frowned

just as he thought, a hickey - that’s embarrassing

it was clear you made an effort to place hickeys in areas that would be hidden though as the bruise was barely peeking out from under the collar of his jersey, atsumu just has a rather keen eye 

however, that wasn’t going to stop kita from pounding you dry when he gets home - as a punishment ofc 

kita was about to leave but he couldn’t help but stay and stare at himself in the mirror for a bit longer, recalling last night as he wondered at what point you bit those onto his neck

was it during the 2nd round? or the foreplay? or perhaps the 4th round? wait- no- definitely during aftercare cuddles!..or actually, maybe the 1st round?

in all honesty, he couldn’t remember 

to him the whole night was a blur of pounding into you relentlessly, overstimulation, pleads for mercy, tears, passionate kisses and praise

with a sprinkle of daddy kink but let’s not talk about that

oh, and not to forget the way you’d call out his name just as you were about to reach your orgasm 

or your sweet, lewd whines that echoed through the room when he thrashes against your sensitive spot 

and don’t get him started on the cute little nicknames you have for him that squeal out through moans, like ‘daddy’, ‘master’, ‘sir’ etc 

kita snapped out of his fantasies, letting out a sigh and about to exit the bathroom- until he noticed himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye

he was hard

smh smh smh 

now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place

(literally 🤠)

he could either potentially embarrass himself or cause an accident by walking to his car and driving home with a throbbing boner

or he could call you to help him jerk off in a bathroom stall

so he took a seat in one of the stalls - for the sake of the ppl he might run over if he did otherwise  

he rung you up and thankfully, you picked up and you weren’t feeling bratty enough to deny him the help he needed so badly

although it wasn’t a very pleasurable experience since he was constantly on hyper-alert just in case the janitor walked in, at least he got a lot of nostalgia from it :))

[goodlucktkachuk]

Frantic -- Matthew Tkachuk (Pt.4)

a/n: finally here with part 4!! it’s been a busy few days but I hope you guys enjoy! i think ths story has two or three parts left in it.

Part One   Part Two   Part Three

“Y/N hurry up! We’re gonna be late!” Emily screamed across the apartment as you were frantically throwing whatever clean clothes you could find into your open suitcase. It was creeping up to 8am and you guys were supposed to leave at 7:45 for your 10am flight. You weren’t completely unprepared, you had packed a few jerseys and a less than innocent red set to live underneath them but the past few days had been so busy you forgot to pack the rest.

The team was back on the road but this time to the west coast. Fortunately, you and Emily had just started your reading weeks so it only made sense you finally got to join the boys on at least part of their trip. Emily had never gotten to see Alberta before so it was the perfect opportunity to do some exploring. You were meeting the boys in Calgary for their day off and the Flames game then when they were off to Edmonton the two of you were off to explore. Mitch offered all the time to fly you guys wherever they were but you never wanted to impose. He was pleasantly surprised when you finally asked him for two plane tickets.

Barging into your room extremely pissed off, a look of horror crossed your roommate's face as she watched you scramble. She sighed loudly as she grabbed your hips and placed you in a chair in the corner of your room. She made quick work of your messy packing skills and threw in an extra hoodie and jeans in addition to socks which you had forgotten about entirely. You went to thank her but she pressed her finger to your lips, shushing you.

“The Ubers waiting lets, go.” If looks could kill you would’ve been a goner twenty minutes ago.

The drive to the airport was quiet. Emily had her head in her phone texting Nick while you stared at the city flashing past you. The past few weeks had been crazy. School was in full swing and was taking most of your energy. Spending ten hours a day in the studio left you little time to see anyone let alone keep up with what was going on outside of your bubble. You felt bad because you hadn’t been giving Matt as much attention lately. The two of you called and facetimed when you could but it didn’t feel like enough. He knew you were busy and was more than supportive but the guilt still pang in your chest and the thought of him losing interest ran wild through your mind. This trip couldn't have came at a better time, you figured surprising him was the best way to make up for the distance between you two lately.

Emily, still mad at your last minute lifestyle, kept to herself for the wait in the airport and most of the flight but she started to gush the closer you two got to your destination. You were so used to traveling growing up that it was sweet getting to see someone get so excited.

After collecting your bags it was a short drive back to the hotel. As you guys approached the entrance you noticed a group of girls probably about 15 or 16 in Leafs jerseys. When you walked past they got quiet and you could hear the whispers.

“Oh my god is that Mitch’s sister?” “That's definitely Nick's girlfriend!” “Ugh! This isn’t fair! She’s not even pretty enough for him!”

You reached and squeezed Emily’s hand as you kept walking. Just like the guys, you knew better then to respond to people because in the long run it hurts their career and relationships. It was nothing she hadn’t heard from others or hadn’t seen on social media but you knew it still hurt her just a little.

Dropping your bags with a thud, you hurled yourself at the nearest bed and let out a massive sigh of relief as you let the softness envelop your body. Emily’s laughter filled the room as she placed her bags down next to your and sat on the edge of your bed. You let out a small grunt as she shook your leg, trying to get you to sit up.

“Mini!” her voice was more stern then usually. “Come on, we didn’t come all this way for you to lay in bed. Let's do something!”

“But bed.” You pouted into the sheets.

She aggressively grabbed your arm, pulled you up and headed for the door. You wanted to protest but you knew it wasn’t worth it. It was a cold day so you both agreed that shopping was the best way to fill your time before you had to go meet the boys for dinner.

Matthew checked his phone a lot more these days. He was never really one to care if people had answered him or to be obsessed with social media but since you entered his life he was constantly looking. At first Johnny and Noah were really digging into him but they soon realized how important this girl was to Matt. She was known as the Rat Queen through the locker room because Tkachuk refused to reveal her identity but wanted to gush about how talented she was. Noah was the only one who knew who you were.

He supported Matt but he reminded his friend on multiple occasions that he has to be careful. Between tight inner circles and the looming presence of fans and press. You could never be too careful.

It was killing Matt just a little bit that he hadn’t seen you in so long but he knew you needed to be in Toronto. He dragged Noah with him CrossIron Mills to help pick out things to send to you in a care package. He had gotten the idea from his brothers girlfriend because she had sent Brady one while they were home for the summer in St. Louis. Back in his apartment he had a box with a few snacks and some of his old T-shirts and sweaters. All sprayed with his cologne.

He was on the hunt today for something special but he wasn’t quite sure what that was. The two boys had wandered into a record store and were just mindlessly looking to see if anything would catch their eye.

You were still empty handed after a few hours of walking around and you were ready to call it quits but Emily pulled you into Sunshine Records for one last stop. You parted ways and you made your way to the back of the store. Once again not paying attention to where you were going you smacked into someones back.

“I am so sor-” You looked up and were met with the same piercing blue eyes from a few weeks ago but this time he looked a lot happier to be crashed into. Picking you up, he spun you around and placed a soft kiss on your lips. Fireworks exploded in your stomach but before you could react it was over.

“What are you doing here?!” He exclaimed as he set you down, keeping his arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’m looking for the new Niall Horan vinyl babe.” You giggled.

“Not in the store Y/N! Why are you HERE?” He lets go of you and starts waving in hand in every direction, “In Calgary!”

“Ohh right. I was going to surprise you at your game tomorrow.”

“Well as much as that’s sweet I’m glad you ruined the surprise.” He pulled you in for another sweet kiss, making you melt even further. You both heard a cough and turned to see Emily and Noah standing a few feet away. The two of you pulled away and returned to your respective best friend. Noah extended his hand to you and the grip of his handshake is firm but welcoming.

“So you’re the famous Y/N that Chucky never stops talking about.” That comment earned Noah a swift smack to the back of the head from Matt.

You laughed slightly as you responded, “That's me. I hope it's all good things Chucky.” You sent him a teasing glance while you spoke.

“Oh trust me he is, you really got him wrapped around your finger. There was this one time-” Noah was forcefully cut off by Matt.

“Ah Ah Ah, that’s enough! I am so sorry to cut this story short but we have a team dinner to get ready for.” He started pushing Noah towards the exit as you and Emily followed.

“Calm down buddy.” His phone went off in his hand and said “It was lovely to meet you guys.” before rushing away to answer. Emily stepped away at the same time for the same reason leaving you and Matt alone.

He pulled you into another hug and he smiled as he felt you relax completely into his arms. He looked down at you and marveled at your face before he spoke.

“So if you’re coming to my game does that mean your finally gonna finally wear my jersey babe?”

“Awh sorry love, accidentally brought my Talbot jersey. Maybe next time.” A smirk covering your face. He frowned at you.

“You’re a monster.” Joking tone in his voice.

You pushed up on your toes and planted another kiss on his lips.

“Yeah but I’m your monster.”

“Yes, yes you are.”  you both stared aimlessly into eachothers eyes. Your moment was cut short by Emily’s return.

“Hey Y/n… That was my mom, I have to head home after the game tomorrow. There’s some family stuff I have to be there for. I’m really sorry.”

You pulled away from Matt and gave her a hug, tracing small circles on her spine to calm her down.

“It’s okay. Do you want me to come back with you?”

“No, no it’s okay, Nicks gonna come with me.” Her eyes were full of disappointment.

“Okay hun. Tonight we’ll reschedule all our hotels and come back out in May. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good but what are you going to do the rest of the week then?”

Piping up from behind them, Matt enthusiastically said “Come stay with me.”

“That’s very sweet of you Matts but I don’t wanna impose and how would I explain that to Mitch?” You knew Mitch would understand if you told him about you and Matt but you weren’t ready to take that step yet. Especially becuase you guys weren’t anything offical yet.

“We play Ottawa later this week so the family’s coming down to see it. Just tell him you're staying in town to see Taryn.” You thought about it for a minute because he had a good point. You hadn’t seen Taryn in about two years plus it technically wouldn’t be lying to Mitch.

“Fine.”

“Yay!”  Matthew mauled you with a quick hug and kissed your forehead. He gave you a quick goodbye and headed off to find his teammate. You and Emily finished shopping and headed back to the hotel to get ready for your night. 

Even though the mall was pretty empty there's always someone around to see things. You guess someone saw you and Matt together today and tweeted about seeing the two of you. Adding insult to injury, Matt liked the tweet sending twitter into a tailspin of rumours. He really was a pest on and off the ice.

[kyberphilosopher]

Tᴡᴏ Fɪɴɢᴇʀs

Word Count: 2056

Requested: yes. not my best work, but i think i’m satisfied with the result. i’d like to do more things like this. 

violence. graphic description of loss of limb. 

“The universe is made of five elements, and each of the five fingers is represented by one of these elements. The thumb represents the fire, as well as universal consciousness. The index finger represents air and individual consciousness. The middle finger represents akasha, or connection. The ring finger represents earth, and the little finger the element of water.

When these five elements are not in balance, we can experience disease in the body.”

.✫*ﾟ���ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Anakin gasps as he hits the ground. The blow knocks all the wind from his lungs, leaving him heaving and choking for air. The soreness creeps into his muscles suddenly and without warning. 

His left palm slams against the matted floor below him, tapping out. The slap rings out, but Anakin almost feels like you didn’t hear it. He hits the floor a second time, slightly softer with his urgency. 

“I’m out,” Anakin gasps. “I’m out!” 

“I know,” you say smugly. You stand tall above him as proof of who’s won this fight. It was just sparring, but that didn’t make the man feel any better. You weren’t necessarily more powerful than him, or a better Jedi. But you were more flexible and swift in combat, which made you a more challenging opponent with hand to hand sessions. 

Your hand drops down to the man, an offering to help him up. After raising his head just enough to observe it, he rolls his eyes. His left hand reaches up to clasp your own. For extra support, his right, metal one comes up as well. You grip both tightly, using your knees to bring him up. 

“You’re lucky we aren’t fighting for real,” you say as you heave the man up. 

Anakin gives a single, humorous huff. “You’d never fight me. We both know it.”

Then you looked into his eyes. A small, calm and loving smile formed on your lips, taking in the shape of his face. Bright blue orbs, slightly arched brows with a slit from his scar. Smooth skin, chapped and pink lips. He was the chosen one, the one who walked the sky. The most beautiful, important person in your life. Your colleague, your friend... your family. Your love. The one you would follow anywhere. 

“I guess you’re right,” you say simply, admiration glued to your eyes. “I would never fight you.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Now it was your turn for your body to feel sore. 

It stemmed from your chest, at your most important organ. Your heart was buzzing between not beating at all and beating all too fast and hard. Your lungs were begging for a real breath of air, and try as you might to deliver it, it was difficult. Every intake of oxygen was agony, no matter how long ago you saw it as a blessing. Everything inside of you was falling apart, crumbling and crippling and hacking itself into millions of pieces. It hurt. 

You were leading your troops into battle over Saleucami. There was a few cruisers for support, firing at the opposes forces Separatist ships. Multicolored lasers everywhere, you and your men zipping about in your fighters. 

Flying was always fun for you. Anakin and yourself used to race in your off time, laughing when Obi-Wan fell behind. Anakin won too many times to count, you a close second. But this time flying wasn’t fun. Something went wrong. 

“I’m glad I have you,” you said over the coms, following your commander’s acts. Some daft droids were on your tail, being very persistent about following you before he shot them down. “You’re the best, Izzy,” you promised him. And normally, he would’ve said something back. But this time, all you heard was a quiet breath. 

Commander Izzy shot you out of the sky, taking out one of your engines. You clambered forward, bracing your head as you spiraled out of control. The smoke was filling your chamber fast, your fingers jamming in between panels and oozing with blood. The Clone shot at your fighter again for good measure. A few seconds later, you crashed through a ray shielded Separatist hanger and skidded across the ground. 

Order Sixty-Six had taken something from everyone. It took Cody from Obi-Wan. It took Padme’s will. Ahsoka was left with nothing but a shattered state of mind, and Rex not far behind her. Maul no longer had a sense of direction. The Jedi lost their troops, and their lives. The troops lost their family. The only Jedi who gained anything from the Order was Master Windu, who had earned the pleasure of being right in his final moments. But you had lost more than just one thing, or one person. 

The first thing you lost was two fingers. 

Your left pointer and middle were trapped in between a slot of two metal sheets. You could feel the wires under them. No matter how much they wiggled, they wouldn’t come free. They were burning, straining, losing blood and fast. The deep ruby color was coming down in thick streams as you grit your teeth, holding it at the wrist as you pulled and growled. 

The burning ceased with a pop. You didn’t have the time to scream or shout or bind the wound. Your memory was rather blurred, but you managed to roll out of your fighter just before it exploded into millions of pieces. Then you laid on the floor for a while, heaving as you clutched your left palm close to your chest and your veins froze over. The blood was pumping out of you in rivers and splotches and staining everything. The pain was immobilizing, but there was more to it. 

All you could think about was Anakin. You didn’t know why. His name just continued to drum over in your mind like a vibration. You could hear distant screams of friends and younglings. You could hear your own, future screams of agony. You could feel Obi-Wan’s tears drop down in heavy drips.  You could even smell the birth of a child, followed by another loss. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Then, Order Sixty-Six took your loved ones. That’s why you are where you are now. 

The planets heat was licking your face furiously. Bubbles of lava exploded into bolts in the distance. You hadn’t believed it when you’d seen the giant, obsidian fortress looming into the sky, but now you were forced to. You hadn’t believed it when you’d heard Obi-Wan say the words, but now you were forced to. You hadn’t believed it when you felt it deep in your soul, when you had seen it all through his eyes. Now you were forced to. 

And it felt awful. 

It hurt like hell. It hurt worse than tearing your fingers apart. It hurt worse than the time you were speared through your shoulder. It hurt worse than losing Izzy. It hurt worse than watching Ahsoka walk away. It hurt worse than anything in the galaxy. It was more than just physical pain too- it was emotional, mental. Rooted deep down inside of you and gluing itself to your bloody tendons. But it was real. It was alive and clear as a Tatooine dawn. That was the worst part. 

“You turned her against me!” Anakin had yelled. His chest was raising with heavy breaths of rage, eyes flitting between Obi-Wan and yourself. Your own lungs felt like they were collapsing in time with his. 

Obi-Wan stood strong. “You have done that yourself,” he promised. Had air always been this difficult to not choke on?

“You will not take her from me!” Anakin seethed. His hair was glowing in the fiery light. Eyes were piercing and daring and troubling all the same, melted like a sickness. A Sith sickness. They met yours, and you know he feels vengeful and disappointed in you all the same. He’s wrong for it, but it stings nonetheless. 

“You came here to kill me!” he accuses. 

You give out a painful breath, trying not to let your eyes fill with tears. “I came here to save you!” you roared back over the lava. “To talk some sense into you!”

“You’re the one who needs some sense talked into you!” Anakin retorted angrily. His right hand drops to his saber at his side. This time it hurts your bones. “You’re traitors! The both of you are traitors!”

“Anakin do you hear yourself?!” Obi-Wan yelled. Anakin didn’t tear his eyes from yours. 

“Join me, or fight me.”

Was Anakin even Anakin anymore? Blinded by hatred and revenge and everything he’d sworn to destroy, he would kill you if he had to. He would kill everything you had once shared. Stories, truths, jokes, stares that lasted longer than they should’ve. He was going to let it die, and you with it. Maybe he even wanted to finish it himself. 

“I said I wouldn’t fight you,” you told him. “And I meant it.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You never saw Anakin again. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin... Obi-Wan and Darth Vader slipped away from you in battle. They disappeared down a bridge and hallway, their blue beams clashing against each other over and over again. It was more than hard to watch. You were ashamed of yourself for not being able to fight him like Obi-Wan had, for lacking the strength or courage to do so. But Anakin was everything to you. You couldn’t find it within yourself to harm him, especially not after the promise you’d made to him so long ago. 

You took Padme back to the ship. Then you sat and waited, knowing someone was not coming back. Whether it was Anakin or Obi-Wan, you couldn’t say. But you could feel everything you chest fluttering. Every lightsaber swing from him, every beat of his heart. You could feel it like it was your own. 

And when he fell down into the fires of Mustafar, your whole body went aflame as well. Burn marks appeared like drawings on your skin, scarring you forever. 

Anakin didn’t come back. Anakin wouldn’t come back until years and years later, after even Obi-Wan’s death. If you lived to see it, he wouldn’t know. Once he became the metal man, his bond was separated from you. Anything you two might’ve had was gone, melting down in the lava as he had. 

The only time he’d see anything of yours again was about a month later, when a droid had brought him two skinny, long fingers as proof of your death. 

You’d begged him not to go down the path that he had chosen. He could remember your voice ringing in his mind with all the memories, dividing the man even further. But what was done was done. Darth Vader couldn’t have brought back the lives he’d taken. He couldn’t have asked Padme to forgive him, or Obi-Wan to help him. And he couldn’t ask you to kill him, because you’d made a vow to never strike him down out of pure love. 

You’d loved him more than anyone, and that’s how he knew. Padme had left him, and he struck her down. Obi-Wan had challenged him, and he dueled him out. But when Anakin had killed everyone, and left everything behind, you had stayed strong in your promise. Even when his actions had costed you part of your hand, you were true. 

That’s what broke his heart the most. 

At nights, when all in the galaxy is quiet and asleep except for Lord Vader himself, he opens up his hologram. Some nights he sees Padme. Some nights he sees Ahsoka. Most nights, he sees Obi-Wan. But then there’s nights where he forces himself to look at your face again, admit to you what he’s done. If you’re dead, he doesn’t know it. He just knows he can’t feel you anymore. 

He doesn’t know that you share his burns. He doesn’t know that you live in exile with only eight fingers. But he misses you. And when he returns to where he belongs, when Anakin returns to the light, he’ll tell you he’s sorry. He’ll tap out, one last time. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @imagines-im-obsessed-about​ @chokemeanakin​ @anakinswhore​ @haztory​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​ i think that’s everyone this time.

[tigerkirby215]

5e Poppy, the Keeper of the Hammer build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Joshua “HUGEnFAST” Brian Smith and Jason Chan. Made for Riot Games.)

Uh so basically I played Poppy for the first time like last month. And I really enjoyed her. So here’s a Poppy build I’m writing a month in advance. I know Doran’s & Dragons have done a Poppy build but again our views differ slightly and while I think their build is good (and I got some inspiration from it) I’d like to put my own spin on the build too!

By the way check out their Kayn build! To this day my Kayn build is still one of my favorite builds (I just really like Horizon Walker ngl lol) and their build takes it in a similar yet unique direction.

GOALS

Shieldy~ - Poppy may just be a yordle with a hammer but she’s also got a shield to chuck at people.

You; sit - We’ll need stuns and slows to hold the line against legions of foes.

No getting through me - We’ll need to be able to hold the line and annoy any and every champion with a dash.

RACE

Poppy is a yordle which means holy shit I get to use something other than Variant Human. We’ll be going with a Stout Halfling for Poppy to give her some sturdiness as well as some yordle magic. You’d normally get a +2 to Dexterity but thanks to Tasha’s we can put that +2 into Strength instead. You also get +1 to Constitution thanks to your subrace, as well as Stout Resilience for advantage against poisons and resistance to poison damage.

As a Halfling you are Brave for advantage against being frightened, and have Halfling Nimbleness to move through the spaces of creatures that are one size larger than you (which considering that you’re Small is most creatures.) But of course the main appeal of Halflings is their Lucky trait, letting you reroll Natural 1s as the light of both Demacia and Bandle City guides you.

ABILITY SCORES

15; STRENGTH - You swing a hammer that’s about the same size as your body which the strongest men (and women) in Demacia can’t lift.

14; CHARISMA - Poppy is a cute little bean. So cute in fact that not even Vayne will shoot her; and Vayne shoots everyone! (Daily reminder that Vayne sucks and Vayne mains suck #FuckVayne)

13; CONSTITUTION - Poppy is a tank and along with the +1 from our race this will give us a nice health buffer.

12; DEXTERITY - Poppy isn’t the most mobile in-game but she still needs to be able to quickly bodycheck people into walls.

10; WISDOM - Poppy is a little daft and far too humble for her own good, still searching for the legendary hero to wield the mighty hammer.

8; INTELLIGENCE - The hammer which she still doesn’t realize can only be swung by the legendary hero, despite the fact that she swings the hammer around constantly.

BACKGROUND

Officially Poppy wanders around Demacia searching for the one true hero. But unofficially she was trained by captain Orlon as a Demacian Soldier. Thing is neither of the skills really fit Poppy (well Intimidation doesn’t, and we’ll be getting Athletics from other sources) so take Persuasion and Survival to get folk to try out your hammer, or to survive long nights alone on the roads of Demacia. You can keep the Land Vehicles and Gaming Set proficiencies though! (Though Smith’s Tools might also fit if you want to be Blacksmith Poppy.)

Of course your Military Rank will still help. Demacian soldiers recognize your heroic deeds (c’mon guys really it was nothing) and are willing to lend you some military supplies if needed, or let you wander around their camps looking for someone who can pick up your hammer.

(Artwork by Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - FIGHTER 1

Starting off as a Fighter to be a simple, practical yordle. Fighters get two skills from the Fighter list: take Insight and Perception to search far and wide for that legendary hero.

You get a Fighting Style at level 1, and I am actually going to suggest Superior Technique from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. This will give you a d6 Combat Superiority die to use on a single chosen maneuver from the Battlemaster subclass. Anyways take Quick Toss to chuck your Iron Ambassador as a Bonus Action.

My recommendation for Poppy’s “shield” would be to ask your DM if you can get a Javelin that does bludgeoning damage, since the Javelin can be thrown slightly further than the other weapons. If they say no a Light Hammer works fine for bludgeoning damage, though you’re going to have to deal with the fact that Light Hammers cost 2 gold for some godawful reason. Or you could just accept that Javelins are going to do piercing damage because damage types really don’t matter much in 5e.

Also as far as your choice of weapons Poppy technically wields her hammer in both hands but as a Halfling you can’t use Heavy weapons effectively. (I’d consider Orion’s Hammer more of a Maul than anything.) Since you’re forced to use regular weapons anyways you may as well wield a Warhammer in one hand for a d8 of damage and a shield in the other for +2 AC. If you really want to bring the hurt feel free to actually chuck your shield at the enemy and then swing that Versatile weapon with a d10 hit die instead!

And finally for some lane sustain Second Wind will let you sip from your refillable potion to heal for a d10 plus your Fighter level.

LEVEL 2 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge, letting them give 110% so you can make sure to get Orion’s hammer into the right hands. Basically you can take another action and bonk your foes twice!

LEVEL 3 - FIGHTER 3

3rd level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype and if you want to smack people into walls then Battlemaster is for you! (Which yeah: that’s why we took Superior Technique for more maneuver die!) Anyways Battlemasters are Students of War and while I’d love to honor the legendary hero Tulok the Barbrarian by talking Calligrapher’s Tools Poppy does have her Blacksmith skin so Smith’s Tools make more sense. If you didn’t get them from your background anyways.

But of course the main feature of the Battlemaster is their Combat Superiority: you have four five (yay Fighting Style!) Combat Superiority die to use on a variety of Maneuvers. You have Quick Toss still of course but you now get three more options. For stuns and slows of any sort Trip Attack will let you knock people over. If you want to knock people into walls first (or more realistically off a cliff) then Pushing Attack will let you bodycheck them with your small yordle body to send them a full 15 feet back! And if you want to set up for your teammates to be heroes then Distracting Strike will keep eyes locked on you so your allies can hit the enemy with advantage. 

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement. We’re going to fix our Strength as well as a lot of other things thanks to the Squat Nimbleness feat. Along with the +1 to Strength your walking speed increases by 5 feet (Poppy may be immobile but that’s no reason not to move 30 feet), you get proficiency in Athletics (see told you we would!) and you have advantage to escape grapples.

LEVEL 5 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack, so you can hit them with both the left and right side of the hammer! And if they’re still up? Action Surge to hit them two more times! "Well, that wasn't the hero."

LEVEL 6 - FIGHTER 6

Ability Score increases are nice. Feats are nicer; take the Sentinel feat to stop foes from running away with your Steadfast Presence. Put simply: enemies can’t dash move away (even if they Disengage) as your opportunity attack will reduce their movement to 0. And if they hit one of your friends you can whack them right back!

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 1

Hope you didn’t think the character that can swing a magic hammer so hard you’re sent to the opposite side of the map wouldn’t have magic! First level Paladins get Divine Sense to help search for legendary Celestial heroes or evil Fiends and Undead, who are probably being fought by heroes! You also get Lay on Hands for some refill pot healing that you can share with your friends.

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins get to choose their Fighting Style. To armor up we’ll be going for good ol’ Defense for +1 to AC.

Why nothing for our weapon? - Depending on your choice of Poppy you’re either going to be running your hammer two-handed or swing it with one hand. In either case either the Great Weapon Fighting or Dueling fighting style would help. But since I designed this build with the intent of you swapping between stances and the fact that Great Weapon Fighting kinda sucks as a fighting style I didn’t want to take a Fighting Style that would restrict how you use your hammer. Put simply Superior Technique does far more for us as a Fighter, and Defense is universally useful while the other Fighting Styles are somewhat situational.

With explanations out of the way you also get Spellcasting. You can prepare a number of spells equal to half your Paladin level (rounded down; IE you can prepare a new spell every 2 levels) plus your Charisma modifier.

Compelled Duel will be another way to keep enemies in your Steadfast Presence.

Shield of Faith will serve as, well, your shield. Pop it on top of a shield to really stack up that AC!

Thunderous Smite will serve as another way to bring the hammer down on your foes, knocking them back and knocking them prone.

Of course you could just ignore all that in favor of Divine Smite, letting you bring down the hammer to do 2d8 Radiant damage, plus an additional 1d8 Radiant per spell slot above 1st level. If the enemy is an Undead or Fiend, the might of Demacia will let you do an additional d8 of damage!

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 3

Third level Paladins get to choose their Sacred Oath: to be the tank that your team needs go for the Oath of Redemption as you seek to redeem yourself to your friend’s last wishes. Redemption Paladins get the Sanctuary spell to keep an ally safe from being dove onto, and Sleep. "I could really go for a nap."

The main feature of a Paladin Oath is their Channel Divinity of which you have two: your first one Emissary of Peace will let you put on your kindest smile for +5 to Persuasion checks for 10 minutes. Alternatively if a friend is hit you can hit that foe right back with Rebuke the Violent! You use your reaction to force a Wisdom save on the enemy who hit your ally or smack them with Radiant damage equal to the damage they dealt! And if they succeed? Well they still take half damage! This ability has no damage cap so you can smite a dragon with your hammer after it breathes fire on your allies! Just remember that this doesn’t work on yourself, so be sure to put others ahead of yourself... but maybe still stand in the frontline...

You also get Divine Health, because no legendary hero is going to want to talk to you if you have the sniffles!

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get an Ability Score Improvement that we’re going to ignore in favor of yet another Feat! The Charger feet will let you Dash and knock someone into a wall, doing extra damage with your hammer and knocking an enemy back.

You can also prepare another spell but we’re going to wait for...

(Artwork by Shuohan Zhou. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins get an Extra Attack... which you already have. Well you’re no legendary four-attacks-per-turn hero after all; just a yordle with a hammer.

You do get second level smites spells though! Redemption Paladins get Calm Emotions to... calm emotions, and Hold Person to keep an enemy stunned for your allies to fight! You can also prepare the good ol’ Aid spell to make both you and your allies tankier, as your Steadfast Presence bolsters everyone in the party.

LEVEL 12 - PALADIN 6

6th level Paladins are Stubborn to a Fault, getting Aura of Protection for some passive magic resistance. You and allies within 10 feet of you get to boost their saving throws by an amount equal to your Charisma modifier. Unfortunately that Charisma modifier is only a +2 at the moment but it still helps!

You can also prepare another spell at this level: Warding Bond was added to the Paladin spell list thanks to Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, and it will let you make a Knight’s Vow to keep your allies safe.

LEVEL 13 - PALADIN 7

7th level Redemption Paladins get Aura of the Guardian. If an ally within 10 feet takes damage you can use your reaction to take the damage for them instead. You don’t take any of the additional effects and this damage can’t be reduced in any ways. Honestly if locked in a melee it might be a better idea to just use Sentinel instead, but if an ally gets shot by an arrow you can stand in front of them to take the shot for them... You might have to jump a bit if they’re tall though.

LEVEL 14 - PALADIN 8

Hey look at that an Ability Score Improvement! We’re not going to be taking feats and will actually just increase our Strength by 2 to finally swing that hammer full-force!

You can also prepare your final spell at this level at least until you get more Charisma, so grab Lesser Restoration to Cleanse in a pinch. Is Lesser Restoration a little underwhelming by total level 14? No! Because paralysis will always be a danger. "Not like this!"

(Artwork by Rudy Siswanto. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 15 - FIGHTER 7

Back over to good ol’ Fighterland. 7th level Battlemasters can tell if someone’s hero material thanks to Know Your Enemy. If you spend a minute studying someone you can learn a variety of features about them, such as if they can lift your hammer. (Spoiler: they can’t.)

7th level of Fighter also means some more Maneuvers and this time we’ll be going into Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything for some of the new maneuvers from that book. Brace will let you opportunity attack when an enemy comes up to you, basically. (Might be good to hold onto your reaction for Sentinel or other things however.) And while it might be a bit late to try for grapples Grappling Strike will let you use your Athletics proficiency and high Strength score to grab some people! Even if your ability to grab people is limited because of your size who knows? Your DM might let you ride on them if they try to run away from you! I’d allow it to make grappling more viable for small creatures.

LEVEL 16 - FIGHTER 8

8th level Fighters get more Ability Score Improvements and with our Strength maxed out let’s finally put some points in Charisma. This will give you more Paladin spells don’t forget, so go back to your Paladin spell list and prepare a new one!

LEVEL 17 - FIGHTER 9

Level 9 Fighters are also Stubborn to a Fault, with Indomitable letting them reroll a failed saving throw once per Long Rest. With Aura of Protection you’ve honestly got a good chance on just about any save with perhaps the exception of Intelligence.

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Battlemasters see their Improved Combat Superiority die increase to a d10 for more some more damage as you swing that hammer around!

You also get more Maneuvers whenever you get new Battlemaster features: to keep enemies focusing the tank instead of your allies grab Goading Attack, because Menacing Attack doesn’t fit Poppy. If you’re swinging at an enemy with high AC however Precision Strike will make sure the hammer ends up somewhere squishy.

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 11

11th level Fighters truly learn how to swing their hammer with a third Extra Attack, or six if you Action Surge! "The hammer does most of the work, I just swing it."

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 12

12th level Fighters get our final Ability Score Improvement, and I’ll leave it up to you: more Charisma means stronger Paladin features, but the Tough feat will give you a 40 HP boost at the end of the build.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Careful, this packs a wallop - Smites and Maneuvers on three hammer swings means that you can really bring the smack.

If you're waiting for me to give up, you might be here awhile - Wow who would’ve guessed the character build to be tanky would be tanky? High AC (21 with basic Plate and a Shield, 23 with Shield of Faith) and good health, even without too heavy of an investment in Constitution.

Who knew there were so many heroes? - You’re also a very good team player, holding the line and sacrificing yourself for your allies.

CONS

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, uh... hammer! - Dump stats are never fun. Low INT hurts even with Aura of Protection.

That's okay; I'm playing the long game - Feats are fun and all but so are good stats. I’m just saying Charger is a nice feat but so is a good Aura of Protection.

I sure do a lot of walking - All your abilities run on limited resources, and while thankfully the vast majority of them come back on a Short Rest your limited spell slots only come back after a proper sleep. You’ve gotta spend your mana effectively so you don’t caught without a hammer.

But for a simple gall with a not-so-simple hammer you can do everything you need to find that hero. Keep it polished and make sure nothing gets dented until you find the light that Demacia needs to wield your friend’s final gift! Just make sure you avoid any fields with lollipops; they have eyes I tell you...

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

When tensions break too often- a dark side au story

So I got my ideas back for some angst and some tension in this au, and I just couldnt resist writing it. Plus its a good way to warm me back up into doing things for this au.

This is also a bit of a deeper dive into the dynamics of darkside! Virgil and the other dark sides and how they all bounce and thrive off each other, as well a some backstory and peeks at the full effects of Deceit leaving( jealousy is with the dark sides but is only mentioned, he currently doesnt make much of an appearance in this one in particular, he gets his own angst later)

This was fun to write, not gonna lie. Its been awhile an this is gonna be long so buckle up with me

I also got alot of inspiration to finally write this out(and revise parts of it) due in part to @aimasup ‘s recent comics and writings about their kid sides(which I love, like alot alot and I hope they dont mind me getting super inspired by it!)

ships: Past prinxiety, past anxciet, implied intruxiety, implied intrulogical, implied intruloxiety, implied one sided remus x wrath, implied past demus, implied current roceit

Im putting a trigger warning here for cussing, fighting(verbal and physical), descriptions of panic attacks and emotional breakdowns, violence, gross and inappropriate language, some body horror descriptions, as well as implied unsympathetic sides(all sides are morally grey but the perspective is biased towards the dark sides as its seen from Wrath’s view- keep that in mind)

Things are about to get angsty my friends but i promise it ends happy(for once in this au)

I hope you guys enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~

Wrath Sanders had a lot more patience then almost everyone gave him credit for. Most considered him the biggest hothead there was, going off at the first irritation. But, the truth was he was eerily patient...Sure he may simmer and seethe and hold onto things in unhealthy grudges, but he never lost his cool as often as some would want you to believe.

Wrath Sanders kept his cool during many things, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had sat back through many things, biting his tongue to hold back the venom and yelling and grinding his teeth together in anger and forced himself to sit through many many things that happened around him out of respect- out of a deep fucking respect- for Virgil’s Fear’s Anxiety’s authority. Instead, he watched shit go down over and over again and held himself back from reacting towards the problem, focusing his energy on the recovery. 

But, the most recent event was his last fucking straw.

It had happened seemingly out of nowhere, Wrath had been slumped down on their shitty lumpy couch boredly watching some dumb movie. It was getting later in the night, around 10 maybe 11 and he had one of Remus’s crappy beers partially drank in his hand. He was just getting up to change the movie or turn it off all together when the whole house seemed to shift violently, the walls seeming to tremble. There was a moment of confusion before he heard it.

“ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

His whole body jolted to its feet unsteadily as the sound of Anxiety’s pain wreaked scream filled the house to an almost deafening volume as it distorted and deepened. His body moved before his mind, lurching over the couch and running for the source of the scream as another one wailed out even louder than the first, the sound muffling the breaking bottle and violently shaking the walls with their reverb. He heard other sounds too underneath, glass shattering heavy objects banging and wood splintering, wallpaper shredding. A third screech rang out, cutting itself in half with echoing high pitched sobs. 

He hadnt been the first to make it to his room.

Wrath watched as he turned the corner in time to see Remus destroy Anxiety’s door with his morning star, a wild and desperately freaked out look to his glowing eyes as wood splintered and gave out under the weapon, some sending cuts into his cheeks. The creative side was then out of sight in a flash, forcing his way into the room yelling as to be heard over the screams.

Remembering the pain, the fear the absolute panic in Remus’s normally confident voice sent a deeper chill down his spine than the screams had.

“ Virgy??!! Fuck fuck fuck fUCK!! Virgy no no! Its me dammit!! Fuck FUCK FUCK!! No no NO! Virgy virgy virgy storm cloud creepy cryptid no no nnonononono look at me no no look at me cmon honey look at me not those at me. me me me me..” His voice continued, shaky and softening as the screams faded into heart wrenching sobs and high pitched hyperventilating gasps. Remus continued to speak, morning star thudding against carpet and a softer thud sounding.

“ Hey hey hey hey hey hey...hey hey hey I got you I got you I’m here im still here....i’m always here for ya honey...I got you now I got you see? Yeah yeah thats me....just focus on me....cmon cmon stormy cant pass out on me now...follow my breathing lets breathe together...in...out...in out...now....tell me five things you can see....cmon honey you got this just look up im here right here...” 

The sight through the broken door haunted him, made his chest throb hard and bile burn his throat. 

The bedroom before him was completely trashed. It was as if something feral and destructive had ripped it from its very foundation. Every piece of furniture, big or small, was broken and smashed apart, the anxious side’s bed and couch ripped into multiple pieces. Every shelf  or flat surface had faced an even worse fate, thrown around and shattered into various pieces that had been strewn around the room along with glass fragments from anything unfortunate enough to have been made of glass. Papers and books were severed and torn apart viciously, and the wallpaper was slashed in huge wide cute, some of the slashes cutting deep into the wall underneath. And in the middle of the disaster was Remus and Anxiety. Long, protruding limb like dark shapes sprouted from the purple side’s back, twitching and trembling with adrenaline along with his heaving, hunched over shaking form. Remus was there in front of him, knelt down to the balled up figure and slowly but surely coaxing him up enough to pull him into his arms and rock him back and forth as he kept speaking to him. It took Wrath a few seconds of his vision adjusting to the room’s darkness to realize Remus had more cuts on him, and why.

Strings.

Millions of purple tinted, tautly pulled strings, like a tightly woven and intricate sickening spider web filled the room from top to bottom as if trying to shield the two in its depths. He could see parts of them hanging limp, likely from Remus forcing his way through to the other. He watched in a horrified shock as Anxiety’s body lurched and jerked with his piercing sobs, hand harshly digging into his scalp through his hood and shadowy claws threatening to rip said hood open. He could see many of the strings connected directly to various parts of his body and to the eight extra things on his back and it made him shudder. The room radiated a sort of fear and panic that was infectious, suffocating even. But he refused to leave the doorway and abandon the two there, in that too dense darkness. 

He watched Remus manage to gather up the shorter side into his chest and rock him more, practically curling into a ball over him. He was still talking, his voice softening to the point he couldnt make it out anymore from the door. But he could see his expression. God his expression mightve been what pushed him past his bullshit accepting limit.

Remus’s face was grim, any traces of his grins and normal attitude gone. His eyes were glowing in a dark, dangerously violent fury but the way they stayed trained on Anxiety kept them, for the time being at least, soft and remorseful. There was so much pain there in that focused gaze, pain regret sorrow a disturbing amount of fear and understanding. His mouth moved with words not meant for Wrath to hear, soft gentle coos and reassurances too intimate to be heard by anyone else but the one trembling harshly in his strong arms. Brows furrowed and it made Wrath feel even colder to realize his hands, hands that were holding the other up and petting his hair through that black hood and rubbing between the spidery appendages, were trembling. 

Remus was trembling.

After awhile the strings seem to fade away into nothing, those shadowy limbs following them scarily slow. Once that happened and the worst of the darkeness seemed to dissipate was when Wrath dared to take a few stiff steps into the room, debris crunching too loudly under his boots. He saw Remus stiffen and his eyes flicker up like a cornered, ready to attack animal before relaxing, glow never leaving.

“ W...wh..r...R-remus...” 

“ Des...Dessy brat...h-hey spitfire do me a solid and go open my door ok? Dont worry itll lead to my bedroom...just...go open it for me...will you...?” Wrath’s voice failed him after that and he nodded, backing out of that suffocation and away into the brighter lit hall rushing from the room to push open the dark stained door further down. He turned around to go back, to try to help somehow...anyway he could, when he watched Remus instead picking his way out of the mess and into the hall, their leader cradled in his arms limply like a small sleeping child. Not a sound came from either of them as he stalked through the hall and into his room, a single nod dismissing Wrath before the door swung shut in front of him...

That was where he was drawing a line. Enough had been enough.

Wrath had sat back through many things, too many fucking things than he should have. He held back his doubts when Virgil and Roman had first started seeing each other when they were younger and dumber, had held himself and barely held Remus back from mauling the so called “good” creativity when things had gone awry and he had broken Virgil’s heart and left him in bitter, resentful pieces for them to pick up and help mend back together. He held back every time Thomas had, intentionally or unintentionally, slighted and undermined their jobs as a part of him, of their importance, of Virgil’s and Remus’s importance to him. He had sat back through the aftermath of ever fight with the “light” sides and with thomas, through every dismissal and banishment and arguement and accusation. He had helped and been there through countless sleepless nights and previous breakdowns and panic attacks between all four three of them, and he had been here, had been forced not to retaliate as per Virgil’s simple request.

“ Dont Des....dont go after them...Im forbidding it got it? Dont do it. it isnt going to be worth it...please...” 

It had always been the please, soft and defeated that made him obey. Not the angry snaps and lashing out, not the cruel words and push and shove they all did for so long, but the plea in that word...the vulnerability it revealed. 

He had sat through Deceit’s slow distancing from the rest of them...and his eventually leaving them for the light sides and the ensuing pain and breakdown that his leaving left behind.

It had splintered them, had struck both Virgil and Remus harder and more painfully than either side would verbally admit. Wrath had been forced to do nothing but helplessly watch it break them and break himself too, and try to clean up the aftermath best he could.

But this breakdown, seeing the side that had always stubbornly refused to buckle or back down reduced to a screaming sobbing wreck on the floor, seeing the other side he had always seen be nothing but strong and indifferent to everything thrown with a grin shaking in fear and softly pleading was too much.

He had stayed down, seething, resentment festering for years. too many years without an outlet.

He remembered the hand that had been held out to him all those years ago. Remembered coming along a little bit before Deceit ever did...and looking up from where he was angrily crying on the floor to see two figures before him. One was shorter, with two sets of brightly glowing purple and green eyes and a big black hoodie that was too big for him and messy hair that fell into his face. Behind him was someone much taller, with wild hair and a single streak of white in it, eyes feral and gleeful i a way that made him tense and made him mad through his tears. He was dressed extravagantly, like a prince or even a king grinning unnaturally wide. But his focus narrowed on the purple one, whose dark claw tipped hand stretched out in front of him in an offering. When Anger had put his head back in his knees to cry more he felt an arm drape over him. His head snapped up and he saw the princely one next to him with a softer expression, hand rubbing his back a little.

“ Hey....hey its ok Anger. Whatcha crying for? You did your job! Pretty damn well too! You were amazing the way you had Thomas screaming at that bully!” A clawed hand smacked him making him yelp and he looked in front of him to see Fear knelt in front of him with a look of understanding, a bitter smile on his face.

“ He’s right you know? You were only doing your job...you didnt realize how out of hand things would spiral and thats ok. How they reacted isnt your fault...” 

They offered him a place to go, a place to thrive. Screw the others that refused to understand and stay with them. And Fear led them both deeper down the halls by the hand, making sure he didnt get lost

He was done standing down.

Someone needed to pay. 

~ ~ ~

If he was honest, Wrath wasnt sure how long he sat outside the intrusive side’s shut door, sitting slumped against the opposing wall in a thick, deafening silence. It mustve been long enough for him to drift into an uneasy, restless sleep. His dreams filled up with memories of younger years, of pranks and scuffles and violent roughhousing the three of them got up to being on their own, of Remus making meals and running around frantic to keep both Anger and Fear from accidentally killing themselves or each other on something. Of Deceit hazily joining their trio, hesitant and quiet but able to snap back just as viciously and able to rough house back just as good as the rest of them after awhile. Of days filled with shrieks, squeals, bickering and shrilly laughter, of restless nights where they all broke into Remus’s room and dog piled on his bed to sleep. Of slowly growing up and watching Virgil come out of his quiet observance and transition from Fear to Anxiety and taking charge as a leader among them, of Remus stepping back and letting him with full confidence as his right hand and partner in crime in most cases. Of seeing Deceit come out of his terrified shell and blossom into a belovedly bitchy and...supposedly self assured side...of Virgil’s echoing screams that seem to reverberate through his very core...

He jolted awake at the sound of a door creaking, and sluggishly lifted his head to see a pair of familiar scuffled riding boots, laces fraying if you looked close enough. He lifted his gaze higher and soon locked onto tired green eyes that were dark and dull from exhaustion. Lifeless was a term he could describe those eyes with and that fact made him briefly queasy and cold. He looked tired, so very tired, and older. He was older than them both....but right now he looked much older than he was...There was a silence between them for a few moments that allowed Wrath to rouse himself up a little more.

“ Dessy....for all thats unholy...what’re you still doin out here dumbass? Did you stay there all night?” 

‘Dessy’...‘ Des’ the nickname eased some of his shot nerves. Ever since they were kids they had joked that his name shouldve been “ Despair” instead of “ Daniel Williams” because of his very present pessimism and negative outlook. And soon it became so much more fitting that his nickname became “ Des” short for despair...or in Remus’s case “ Dessy” as he oh so enjoyed calling him. The annoying nickname was familiar though, and it helped him relax enough to speak. His voice was rough and awkwardly quiet in the small hallway, as if he’d been the one screaming. 

“ I....wanted to make sure he’d be ok...” He trailed off, voice faltering with a clear shake. It sounded pathetic and weak to him. 

But maybe, just this once pathetic and weak wasnt a bad thing. Because at the sound of his voice, and his dumb reason, Wrath saw some life flicker back into the older side’s eyes, some of their glow returning. Remus let out a tired, exasperated sigh and gave him a small sad smile, his expression softened into something sorrowful yet fond. That fondness, that softness sent warm tingling butterflies fluttering through his chest like it always did despite the grim circumstances. Remus let out a strained chuckle and shook his head, pulling his door shut with a quiet click.

“ He’s asleep now ya little Tasmanian devil...let him rest and we’ll check on him in a bit...now cmon, lets go make some breakfast and watch some movies or something....lets go up up.” With a grunt Des allowed himself to be heaved up by the armpits to his feet and didnt protest Remus wrapping an arm around him and guiding him down to the living room. He didnt want to see that pained exhaustion on his face...he needed to do something

and had a problem he was finally going to get rid of. 

“ No Des you cant.” 

There was that feeling as familiar to him as breathing bubbling in his chest, that hot smoldering feeling of anger or irritation igniting. It flushed out the cold he had been feeling in an unpleasant way but he ignored that part, pressing his palms flat on the table with a bit of force as he narrowed his orange eyes at the one across from him. He felt something like acid stinging his mouth and begging to be spilled free but he did as he usually did and grit his teeth to hold the worst of it at bay. Pushing it down. Holding back again.

“ Not again Remus. I refuse to just fucking sit back and do nothing again. They need to be taught a lesson! This is all their fault- all his fault--”

“ Even if it is so fucking what?! You blindly lashing out at them is only going to make things worse I can promise you that--”

“ Like hell it will!! They act like they can just walk all over us and treat us like fucking trash and cause things like last night and you think im lashing out blindly when--”

“ --When youre temper is as violent as a fucking feral mongoose--” “ Dont call me a fucking mongoose beetlejuice reject!!” “ Oh shut up and sit back down you twerp!!” 

They went back and forth across the table, both their tempers and volumes raising as they fought. That bubbling feeling was twisting into a boiling, growing burning that began filling his chest and core. Why was Remus not agreeing with him for fucks sake--

His vision started tinging red.

“ Look brat you think I fucking like this?! You think im not pissed the fuck off?! Because I am! I’m beyond pissed off about this!! About the fact I know exact who and what caused Virgy’s breakdown and about the fact it happened at all!! I fucking get it!! But even I know you shouldnt just storm in there to take off trying to take off their fucking heads when youre too upset! Youre not thinking clearly enough for that kind of confrontation dammit im trying to protect you in this too!!” Remus’s words were loud, ruthless, and hard hitting. There were angry and forceful and made sense.

Plenty of sense. 

And somehow that made him even angrier.

“ Oh? Ooooh! I get it, I fucking get it! Now that youve been sweetening up fucking logic youre suddenly the first to fucking defend them hurting our fucking best friend--”

“--oh for fucks sake bitch Logan has nothing to fucking do with this!! Im not fucking defending them either!! I swear to god im just trying to--” “ --to what huh?! Keep on his good side so you can get in his fucking pants?! Or so you can fucking push it aside and laugh about it later like one of them?!--” “ Goddammit you fucking stubborn brat you dont know what youre even talking about--” “ I dont know what im talking about?! I DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT?!?!” His voice rose much louder, his own trembling distortion coming out and getting spat at the side who had helped fucking raise him like venom.

“ I dont know what im talking about?!!  You mean like how I NEVER seem to know what the fuck im talking about?! Like how Virgil  never knows what hes talking about or how you never seem to know what youre fucking talking about when your talking to them?! God now youre even starting to sound like those pretentious bastards!! Dont know what im talking about?! What part do I not know what im talking about Intrusive Thoughts?! huh??!!” His breath was coming out in ragged, squeaking pants as his eyes began to burn “Which fucking part do I not fucking know?! The part where ive had to sit back and bottle up my rage at being pushed aside and degraded and judged and dismissed or having to sit back for fucking years and watch you and virgil get hurt and hurt and ignored and dismissed and talked down and insulted and broken and having to swallow my protests of it?! Or of knowing last night fucking happened because Deceit decided to fully live up to his fucking name and abandoned us for those bastards and left us alone without a second thought and got away with it?! Or the fucking fact youre too busy trying to bone down logic to even fucking care--!!” 

Smack!

It came so fast he hadnt had time to prepare for it before his head was snapped to the side and pain exploding in his face, on the cheek near the jaw in particular as he staggered to the ground a good foot and his eyes eerily slow dragged themselves from looking at the kitchen cabinets to Remus, who still had his fist outstretched near where it had collided with his face, his chest heaving almost like his own was, eyes wild and just as angry before a flash of realization went through them.

“ ....Des....fuck...i...you...” Nothing too coherent came babbling out Remus’s mouth, he was still way too hoped up on anger fueled adrenaline. His fist was starting to tremble and Wrath watched his pupils dilate a few times in his attempt to calm down.

And then there was something like an explosion as that burning feeling warped into a raging fire and Wrath let out a infuriated, inhuman shriek and lunged for Remus with a full intent to rip out his stupid fucking throat as his rage consumed him.

The two fighting sides went crashing into the living room loudly nearly knocking over the couch in their wake, both of them screaming and Wrath inhumanly screeching in an almost reptilian manner as he clawed and punched wherever he could reach. Remus wasnt just lying down and taking it either, yelling in loud angry spats of soon unraveling nonsense as he fought back mercilessly, throwing the other into walls, into furniture, throwing punches and kicks of his own. But nothing seemed to slow the orange side down and he struck back with slowly growing claws and fangs and something sharp growing out of his hair, angry tears burning his eyes and his voice too warbled and distorted to even be understood anymore, both their forms twitching and subtly shifting and glowing as they tried to rip each other to shreds, things fluid dripping and twisting lashing out from Remus’s back. Remus was stronger, he always had been, but Wrath had a seemingly endless stream of fury and adrenaline that kept him getting back up and charging in for more, the room being wrecked between them. Maybe things would have gone too far if it hadnt been brought to a hard, screeching halt.

By the time they could both blink they were ripped away from each other, both now uselessly struggling as they were entangled in roughly restraining strings that glowed a eye straining, furious purple color and seemed to tighten and wrap around them more the more they fought and struggled for freedom. Their indecipherable words and incoherent screams where just as ruthlessly cut short as strings wrapped warningly around their throats, not tight enough to actually choke or hurt them, but firm enough to be very present and felt, their voices being quite literally silenced the moment it touched looped once and touched the spot over their vocal cords. There was a horrifically tense silence as their mouths moved in spat insults and screams that never made a sound.

“......that....that is enough out of both of you.”  

Virgil’s voice cut through the room like a cleaver, the tone dead, cold, and just as pissed off as they were. At first they couldnt see him, manic eyes darting around until Wrath saw the Duke’s eyes trained on top of the stairs near the hallway, pupils down to small pinpricks. When he glared over in that direction he fully understood and felt all that anger draining and quickly turning into a queasy, cold dread that made him want to cower.

That radiation of fury, or bone chilling fear and a kind of suffocating anxiety that made it hard to breathe and a panic that made them both feel like they were perpetually falling and simultaneously drowning swept over the living room like a flood, the corners and ceilings slowly developing intricate pulsing webs or strings that seem to absorb the rooms light as Virgil stepped, no, half crawled down the stairs and into view. Both sets of eyes were visibly, the whites dyed a void like inky black where his brightly burning purple and green irises cut into them coldly. Something sharp and gleaming poked from his scowl and revealed themselves as fangs as his snarl curled his lips. His hood was up hiding most of his pale skin but couldnt hide the flecks and scatterings of void like, inky and purple spots dusting parts of his slowly purple tinging skin. His hands, snapping out from his sleeves to grip the stair railing were fully blotched in that void, fingers curling into razor sharp claws that strings hung stickily too. The eight dark appendages, opaque and gangly half carried him down faster than usual, the ends digging into the carpet as if for stability. A shrill hiss whistled through Anxiety’s teeth and the panic inducing feeling of being stared at at being excruciatingly examined came from every corner, growing worse and worse as he stalked closer with silent movements. 

“ What....the actual fuck are you two doing.” The words with sharp edged and cold, tone flat and tired. They both just stared helplessly, unable to move or speak and both beginning to mindlessly panic. Virgil blinked and a gust of air like an exhale swepted through the room and....left no traces of those fearful horrified feelings in its wake. Both of their feet thudded mutedly against the carpeted floor as the strings released them and retreated back into nothing, disappearing from all around them as if they had never been there to begin with...the room never dimmer than it had started in the morning light and the three of them stood there in silence. Any hints of inhumanity were gone from Anxiety’s form, leaving his two still glowing eyes losing their luster and leaving dull annoyance behind, no fangs, no extra limbs, no claws, no void dotting his skin. When he spoke he took a slow breath, as if unable to breathe just like them.

“....I...I mean it you two...what. the actual fuck did you two wake me up with.” Even his voice had returned to normal, if not for a bit shaky and hoarse from last nights screaming. Wrath saw his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was tinged with blotchy pink and was puffy from crying and something clenched in his chest, thudding hard. He looked at Remus, who was panting from lack of breath, eyes dull and exhausted and pain filled again, injuries from their fight blaring from the blood decorating his body and clothes.

He had done that....he’d lost control again...

“ Im dont want to repeat myself a third fucking time. What the fuck did you--” 

“ I...This is my fault I started it...” Both of them looked at him, gazes drilling into him. But he let his head drop as shame took over, choking him a little. This was his family and they were already hurting and look what he’d done-

“Oh piss off Dessperato. It aint only your fault I fucked up too. Look virgy we were both tired and coming off that dumb worry adrenaline shit and we started arguing...and we got waaaaaay too heated and decided to beat the living shit out of each other...sorry we woke you you were suppose to sleep later.” Virgil let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, pulling off his hood and shaking out his messy bedhead. 

“ Is that all that happened? Im not deaf and the doors arent sound blockers...” “ Then why are you asking.” Virgil and Remus as a bit of a stare off before finally, for the first time that morning all the life slowly returned to his eyes and he gave a toothy, blood streaked grin and started to laugh. The other two looked at him like he had fully lost it. Then Virgil’s lips twitched up and Des rolled his eyes and failed to stop the grin spreading across his face or the chuckles that he managed to choke out. Within a few minutes all three of them were laughing on the messy living room floor  half sprawled over each other and Jealously bemusedly deciding they werent capable of making breakfast and making it for them all instead. Des watched half delerious from his exhaustion as Remus cackled and kicked his leg, just to laugh more when he kicked back.

“ I swear to god no more violence out of you two or I swear I’ll...” Remus let out a snort and gripped the other’s chin between his fingers sensually tugging their faces closer with a smug grin

“ You’ll what Hot Topic? Lock me in the closet again? Or send me reeling with nightmares and hallucinations~ Oh please virgy baby I dare you too~” His tone was light and suggestive, quirking his eyebrows up teasingly for added effect. Virgil snorted and and grinned back leaning close as well.

“ Oh dont start teeempting me with those sweet talkins about hallucinations dr. Hideous~ I might just take you up on that...” Then he flicked his nose and shove him away, both of them laughing. Des was about to try to give them the time to themselves when Remus yanked him between them waggling his finger disapprovingly, making him whack the other’s shoulder with a affectionate “ fuck RIGHT off” and for awhile, in that growing morning light, things felt ok. 

It had taken alot of talking, and another arguement almost breaking out between himself and virgil to convince him to back down from confronting the light sides violently. Virgil brought a surprising amount of identical points to remus, while also reminding him that reacting to violently will only make them ignore and dismiss him further. Des was very reluctant, and stubborn, but ultimately he trusted Virgil’s and Remus’s judgement. He trusted Virgil’s reasoning and that he was looking out for him- protecting him. So when he asked him, softly, to refrain from trying to handle it on my own and let him deal with it Des had agreed, obeying his request.

And then a real tipping point pushed him back over the edge.

It was a few weeks later. He remembered distinctly because the mindscape was abuzz with excitement, even the dark sides were effected by Thomas’s unbridled joy. But Virgil had said he was getting a bad feeling...and headed off to the main part of the mindscape that morning. Things were quiet after, calm even. At some point him and Remus had started playing cards, though Remus was blatantly cheating and they were bickering.

Things were fine...things were calm...

Then Virgil crashing into the living room breathing harshly and in the midst of a bad panic attack. 

They both jumped up and Remus caught the other in his arms, trying to calm him down and figure out what happened. It took a long time and for awhile they only got bits and pieces out

Thomas

A callback, a big important one he and Roman were thrilled for

Patton, something with both Patton and Deceit

Neither of them agreeing but both of them fighting Virgil

some kind of important friend event on the same day

they had argued, they had fought, there had been yelling by the climax of it

Him and Roman went at each others throat despite the fact he had been trying to help roman’s cause

Deceit fought him alot too, trying to cut him off at every chance in a form of fear response, out of defense

Him and patton argued and fought badly for the first time since Thomas’s last breakup

He thought logan would try to see his side and be a neutral party

Logan was getting tug of warred into agreeing to arguments to push him out

They kept trying to shut him down and dismiss him, they stopped listening fairly

Virgil had to pull out a form shift in front of thomas

He had to use his influences and fear to get them to stop talking over him and twisting his words

it only made things worse, and arguments harsher

They rejected him and his attempts to help more

He started having a panic attack mid argument

He thought logan and patton tried to help but they were getting drowned out by Roman and Dee

There was so much yelling, things that should never be said got thrown

They told Virgil he never does anything but make Thomas worse

Thomas finally nearly screamed for them all to stop and half asked half pleaded for Virgil to just leave until everyone calmed down

He lashed out and hit someone, he wasnt even sure who before he fled, not hearing them yell after him. It mightve been patton, or thomas, or maybe logan

And then his panic attack got worse and neither of them could get another understandable word from him. 

In the end Remus eventually got him called down, after a good couple hours of trying, and it took everything in Wrath not to scream and destroy the room.

All Virgil did was try to help, and look what their....their bullshit left him. He was beyond seething at this point, he was fuming he was downright practically breathing fire and shaking from the effort to keep himself still. Remus gave him a cautious warning look, as if he was sizing up one of his many monsters in the imagination and debating if it would kill him or not and Virgil lifted his head to choke out for him to stand down, and to not do anything. Wrath had nodded silently and waited, watching Remus help him upstairs to his room to grab his headphones, and hopefully calm down more. Once they were out of sight he made a decision. He knew the consequences of it, knew theyd both be furious and Virgil would make hell for him for it. But none of that mattered to him

For the first time in many many years...he disobeyed Anxiety’s direct request.

It took a few days to find an opening, but once he saw one he took it, rising up in the big main living room, unknowingly in the middle of a video brainstorm.

Wrath always seemed to appear near the couch, between Roman and Thomas. Just seeing them made his blood boil more than it had been.

It was easy to say he scared the shit out of most of them by just appearing, his entire presence sucking the air from the room and making it hot and tense, a cracked dam waiting to break. Itd been months since he’d seen them face to face, and for a moment his senses got overwhelmed by everything.

But he let that fuel his anger further and he growled for them to fess up. Which one had said it. Roman had of course jumped to the defensive of his friends and that was all Wrath needed.

He lost it, pointing and yelling and accusing Roman. Blaming him for it. Roman didnt back down and fought back, and the fight only seemed to worsen. The others tried to interject, and maybe if Wrath’s vision hadnt been blood red from his fury he wouldve seen they were trying to diffuse the situation and calm things down, talk things out. But he ignored that, whipping around and lashing out at them too

“ Wrath you need to step back and take a deep breath! Youre getting irrational!”

“ Wrath kiddo please we dont have to yell and scream about this Logan’s right lets all take a deep breath ok?”

“ Like hell! Im not going to just let him force his way in here and yell and scream and pretend its ok and we can talk!”

“ Roman please!” “ro stop getting angry back is just making all of it worse the others are right we need to be calm or we’ll never get through to him.”

That voice. Silken and soaked with caution. He whirled around on Deceit and snarled pinning him to the wall without thinking.

“ This is all your fucking fault! Youre the reason they keeping hurting and virgil has breakdowns that put him out of commission for days!! Youre part of the reason Remus locks himself away beating himself up. they trusted you!! We all trusted you and you decided to fuck us over and throw us out like trash!! Was it worth it?!?! Was being here worth breaking the people you grew up with you and loved you?! Well?!” There was yelling around them, and he thought briefly he heard Remus’s and Virgil’s voices behind him as well. But now all that anger, that pushed down bitterness and resentment finally had a target and he couldnt focus on anything else. He didnt even heard Deceits struggling answer as he tried to claw him off, his different eyes wide and his mouth moving in words that werent registering.

“ -youre right ok?! Fuck youre not right at all--fuck fuck I get it youre angry and I fucked up with this, this isnt my fault and I havent been trying to figure out ways to fix it! I totally havent been beating myself up for what happened a few days ago with virgil and I dont regret it ok--” THe words blended together in his head, there were hands on his shoulders ripping him away the the freaked out snake and shoving him into the couch. He snarled but froze when he realized He was staring at the very formal business end of Remus’s morning star, inched from his nose and Remus standing over him with a dark look over his face...dark and upset The red faded from his vision and he blinked rapidly, eyes burning again and jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching it or from yelling he honestly couldnt even tell anymore. From behind Remus stood both Logan and Virgil, side by side speaking in rapid low voices he couldnt decipher. Behind them he caught of glimpse of Roman and Patton both kneeling on the floor, fretting over a still freaked out Deceit as Jealously offered to help him up. Wrath was struggling to breathe, his body twitching and shaky from the quickly fading adrenaline. Soon he was left feeling cold and sick of himself, staring at Remus with just as wide and wild eyes. 

“ Easy....easy spitfire....youre...just breathe for me ok?” He couldnt even nod, he couldnt move. He vageuely noticed Virgil and Logan both looking at him before the morning star was gone and Logan was in front of him, hands palm up in a non-threatening manner. 

“ Wrath can you hear me? Good...just listen to my voice...I need you to name me five things you can see.” He blinked rapidly and barely heard Remus’s and Virgil’s murmurs of reassurance. Or maybe Virgil’s was more quiet talking, as he was standing at Patton’ side  like the normally bubbly side’s shadow. 

“u...uuh....y..youre tie...r-remus’s outfit....the stairs...the others...and the Roman’s s-sword...” Logan gave a nod, slowly kneeling in front of him with a calm, leveled expression that helped him focus more.

“ Good, now four things you can touch. Take your time Wrath.” He flexed his fingers, more of a twitch really as his breathing began to even out slowly. “ Um...My jacket...the couch...my jeans...uh...t..the carpet?” He nodded again through his faltered stammering as the deepness faded.

“ Three things you can hear?” He blinked again and listened for a moment.

“ .....your voice...Remus’s voice...the others...” “ Two things you can smell, remember take your time.” “ Bacon...from breakfast...and someones cologne..” A small smile came to his face as he adjusted his glasses in slow noticeable motions.

“ Just just 1 thing you can taste.” He managed to smack his lips once and his face screwed up at the taste lingering in his mouth.

“ ....acidic bile...” Both their brows furrowed a little but when Logan looked over his shoulder Remus shrugged at the silent question.

“Probably needs to puke Dr. Maywhoo.” Logan sighed at the nickname and turned back to him, holding up his hands a little.

“ Now, Wrath Id life for you to unclench your jaw, roll and relax your shoulders, loosen your posture if you can, uncurl your fingers and exhale please.” He blinked and slowly did as instructed, not realizing until then that he was wound up like a jack in the box. His jaw ached as he unclenched it and his shoulders slumped heavily as he relaxed, fingers sore from apparently being curled into firsts for so long, small red lines in his palms from his nails. He felt calmer, drained and upset, but calm. 

“ Logan, Remus.” He looked past them to see virgil standing up tall, if not awkwardly, besides Roman and watching them with a hard to read look.

“ I...think sitting down and calmly talking...is now long overdue.” 

~~~~~

Hours later Wrath Des found himself on the mindscapes main couch tiredly nestled besides a dozed off Jealousy Jacob and a cheerfully talking Patton. They had spent hours haphazardly strewn around the very room, just...talking and discussing and airing years worth of grievences. It wasnt easy, and things were no where near fixed or completely repaired. But, there were many small positive steps taken in that direction...and things were lighter and better as they stood at a better understanding of each other. Things werent perfect, and in the back of his mind he could list everything that could fuck up and send them back spiraling. Yet he didnt want to ruin what...whatever it was happening as dinner was cooked. Logan, Remus, and Virgil all sat together on the other side of the couch chatting among themselves and with Patton as they tried to decide on a movie and played candyland. In the kitchen he could hear Roman and Deceit cooking and giggling with each other, trying to outdo each other with some dumb food based pick up lines. But they sounded happy, so many it wasnt that dumb...Des watched them play candyland, staying relatively quiet aside from answering questions and jabs sent his way. It was comfortable and relaxed, and Des couldnt help but yawn. Without noticing , he ended up resting his head on Patton’s clearly unoccupied and underutilized shoulder as his eyes drooped shut. He felt Patton jump a little before slowly relaxing, and he didnt even need to open his eyes to flip Remus off as he let out an overly exaggerated coo at the motion letting himself relax. Patton smelled good he decided. Like fabric softener and baked goods and some kind of spice...Des also decided that the blurry sight of the trio next to them, with Remus’s legs draped across Logan and Virgil’s laps and one hand playing with Virgils messy hair as he sat on Logan’s right and Virgil contently and fully relaxed into Logan’s left side, head resting in the crook of his neck and his hand laced with the logical side’s unused hand as they played was also good. The sound of Jacobs soft snores was soothing and the joyful flirty voices in the kitchen blended into it well when combined with Pattons soft humming. If this was how things would be more often....he’d learn to add a little more patience to his supply of the stuff....

And maybe for once he didnt have to be negative, with no more tension for now to be broken.

The end.

 Ok holy shit its finally finished!! This was over 7k goddamn words of emotion and holy shit was it a rollercoaster to write

THis is what happened when I wake up before 5 in the morning after not being able to sleep much...I apparently bust out 15 whole pages worth of words

Now....to go do my chores real quick and go pass the fuck out for an hour or two of sleep

I hope you guys liked it!!!

taglist

@phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @leesacrakon @amazable01 @strawberryjellystuff @heyhelloitsk @jemthebookworm @max-is-tired @seriously-a-dragon @sar-kasstic @soupspam @riarities @yalltookmyurlideas @unsocialchapeau @hyperions-stallion @aqua-mazing @pancakewithamace @dee-ree-vee @sensibleghost @ro-roowo @baby-duck-boy @wack-ismygender

[wthtorke]

Honorbound -Oneshot- (Commission)

Life was lonely, as he intended it to be. A worn, wandering warrior with the weight of his battle scars exhausting his soul, stopping from village to village, living from the very soil that his horse trotted on. Little were the things he still had possession of. His horse, his sword, and the very scrape that was left of his honor, each battle and happening seemly chipping away at it, as it did to his will to go on. 

Word got to him in one of the villages that several honored warriors came to an abrupt end in a clearing. Their bloody robes and sometimes sword shards were the only proof that they were defeated by someone. The families grieved and every time, a new warrior would stand up to the challenge, arming up and setting to the very same clearing, only to be found days later by barking dogs and gasping children. 

At first, he wasn’t impressed. Cocky warriors died every day, thinking themselves to be great and undefeatable only to stare in horror as the blade that sealed their fate came down upon them. But something was different this time. No one knew who was behind all the murders. It couldn’t be the foreigners with their guns and powders, there were no holes in the bodies they found, what they found was much worse.

The bodies were often missing the head and the spine and when the head and spine were not taken, the sword was gone, a complete disgrace. Taking a fallen warrior’s sword was asking to be cursed for life.

So he decided to ask around, not like he had anything better to do other than to wait for his death. Coming across a child that swore to see a red demon on a tree close to the clearing. ‘Big’, ‘Ugly’, and ‘With fangs pointing out of its mouth’. Now, he figured most demons probably looked like that, but it was the ‘it mimicked me’ that reminded him of a very old tale, a summer horror story, one his very grandmother told him every time he refused to come inside for the night, saying that old demons would snatch him and carry him off into the darkness, disappearing forever.

It sounded dumb. Stupid, even. To go after the very same place where at least five other warriors had perished. He once had judged himself to be a good warrior, quick moves, fast-thinking, and deadly strikes. Now his shame made him heavy on his feet, the regrets in his chest making it hard to breathe sometimes. He only drew his sword to tend to it, to make sure it was in pristine condition, ironically. 

He thought about turning his back and keeping going with his pointless journey. To once again just leave it behind him. He was no better than any of the warriors that fought and died.

But fate was against him, it seemed. 

On his way out, from up a tree, a glint caught his eye. But it was no ordinary glint.

The light seemed to catch up on whatever magic that demon used, trying to reveal to the world that pure evil was walking on its very ground, unnoticed.

But not by him. 

The child had not lied. The demon was massive from what he could tell from the shifting form. It's eyes flashing a yellow glow before it vanished completely from sight, either jumping to another tree or just disappearing. No shifting, no sound, nothing.

It was taunting. Of course, to kill and to lure yet another imbecile to its trap, sounded every bit like a demon.

Making a decision, he asked the families just where exactly was the clearing.

-

Five tokens of his kills hung on the wall of his ship. Three skulls with their spines perfectly attached to them and two swords. 

At first, his clan didn't really understand his objective here. The will to learn and to adapt going far deeper than just hunting different races of humans. 

Out of every race on this wretched planet, he respected these more. He watched as they taught their children to be honored. To fight with respect and bravery. To know when you're defeated and when to strike. 

Things they had taught them themselves once.

While most motherships hovered above hot countries in the south. Two distinct clans took home in the Orient. Both clans despised each other greatly, going as far as to keep away from one another in order not to harm the still learning human population. His clan chose the islands known to humans as 'Wa', which would later become 'Nippon'. 

It had been centuries, of course. The humans had forgotten them just as they had forgotten the filthy beings that first generated them, who cowered in their home planet. When the clans decided to abandon Earth at once, so did the two clans. Leaving everything behind, only coming back rarely to hunt, forming the only negative memory of being demons to beings some of them actually came to love.

He'd heard everything about humans, he knew other races and even had trophies of some of them. Hunts so boring and forgettable that sometimes he caught himself checking just from where that skull was from. It was ridiculous.

But not here. He was having the time of his life here. And he might be having even more fun soon, it seemed. 

He knew human badbloods existed and were total scum. Waking trash.

But what he did not really see coming was a bad blood that….Wasn't really a bad blood.

He'd been observing when the warrior had come, his horse tiredly walking into the village. He looked out of place. His clothes were old, but not unkept like his beard. Humans had a different kind of 'beard' than yautjas had, and with the time, he could tell the difference between a cared for beard and one that was just a rat's nest on someone's face. 

Disgusting. 

So he did not belong there, or anywhere, it seemed. He carried a sword that he could also tell was in good form. Good. Another match, perhaps.

While badbloods were to be taken out quickly from life, he found himself weirdly curious about this one. He had the same instance and breathing of clan leaders. Tired, exhausted from years of making decisions but still carrying on nonetheless. It was puzzling. Humans did not live that long to live this type of experience. But that one apparently did.

You could say he was angry when after hearing about all the murders and happenings, the human just walked off with his slightly rested horse.

But it wouldn't do. No.

Despite being well over a youngblood's age, he sure acted like he was one. Taunting his prey from up a tree, daring him to come forth and challenge him. 

You could also say he was more than satisfied when it worked. The human walking right back to the widowed women to ask where the battles had supposedly happened.

He practiced harder that night, his blade extra sharp, wielded with much more precision and care than the first time he touched it. His style bettered with each battle, his adaptation proving to be, yet again, perfect. 

Words could not describe would eager he was for his next battle.

-

You may have fought before, many times even. But surely never with a Demon. He had not.

Unsheathing his blade felt bittersweet. Wielding it felt rusty, almost. But the tingling in his fingertips was still there, the rush of the blood in his veins as he breathed in and out, remembering every move, every technique, every battle he had both won and lost.

Sharp as your blade maybe, it won't fight for itself, your mind must be just as sharp and deadly as your weapon, he came to learn. Raw potential was nothing without guidance.

Closing his eyes, the wind hustled the trees around him, going into the general direction where he was told the clearing was. Almost luring him there, to his death, like it had done to the others before him. He was no different, no better. And yet, he'd face the challenge. Fight for people he didn't know, against something that wasn't natural, not from this world.

At dawn, he left his horse in the village, striding into the dense forest, armed with his sword and nothing else.

1400

He walked for what felt like forever, feeling his back burning under someone's gaze. The hairs of his neck stood on end, every instinct in his body told him to leave while he still could, foolish. He had doomed himself the minute he decided to ask about the funerals, the minute he decided to rest at that village. There was no escape. Only forth, only future, whatever might it hold for him.

Reaching the clearing, he knew he was in the belly of the beast when he saw the remnants of the past battles that took place there. The dried blood in the grass, the blade shards here and there along with some bushes cut the way only a speeding katana would slice into. The trees had similar cuts to their barks, scratches that looked like a dragon had nested in this area for years.

His mouth closed again when he heard the growling coming from everywhere and nowhere at all, his hand instantly going to the hilt of his sword, searching the trees as the clicking sound circled him from the shadows, teasing him, trying to instill fear into his heart and soul. He could see past it.

It wasn't long until a loud thud snapped his attention to his front, a few feet ahead, he watched as the Demon decided to show itself. It's skin slowly materializing itself into view as it switched from the astral plane into the mortal one to fight him. 

It was surprisingly as the child described. Big, red and ugly. It's jaws spreading to reveal sets of sharp tusks as it roared, the birds that hid from them flying off in desperation.

Studying it, his eyes fell to something unexpected. A blade that might have looked like his, only it was corrupted by the creature's evilness, twisted into dangerous ridges, made to maul and bleed instead of clean slicing and striking.

Disgraceful.

He scowled, not holding back his disgust at the sight, the Demon snarling right back to him before lifting his blade and getting into battle stance as he did the same.

Long seconds passed as his breathing fell into place with the rhythm he would set when fighting, staring into the creature's eyes, piercing yellow like the fires of the underworld that it would try to drag him into.

But it wouldn't work.

Taking a sharp breath, he lunged forward, his sword aimed at the beast's arm as he went. Said beast roared again, meeting him halfway through the blow, swords locking as he felt the impact of the greater body coming at him, his right foot digging into the dirt with sheer force to keep his balance. 

So close to it, he noticed it wore a necklace made of fabric, braided into loops around its thick neck. He frowned as he pushed back with all he had, the demon grunting as it forced back into him.

Realization downed him when he caught it looking at his sword sheath, the braided cords that tied it to his belt. Eyes snapping back to its necklace, he recognized the pattern in them, the different colored loops belonging to different victims.

Trophies. It collected trophies.

The scream that ripped from his throat was out before he could stop it, forcing the creature to back off as he all but swung his weight on it, their blades sliding free from one another as he lunged again, grunting his effort as he managed to block the Demon's counterattack, missing his eye by an inch, he panted as he felt his arms begin to burn from the sheer force the beast pressed him down with, its muscles bulging as it snarled at him, tusks dangerously close to his face.

He grunted as he turned, sweeping low as the creature's blade whizzed past his head, his own blade finding its calf and slicing it open, bright, green blood painting the grass under them and a perfect line on his sword.

He took the opportunity to jump back and gain space as the Demon roared its pain, eyes set on him as it lunged blindly in rage at him. 

His sore arms not resisting the impact on time, he felt the searing cut as his right shoulder almost gave out under the pain, his face scrunching up as he couldn't afford to close his eyes in pain.

He looked up to see the creature's almost smug expression as it retracted its blade, piercing it forward again, aiming for his chest, for his heart.

He sucked in a gasp as he forced his legs to give out under him, dropping his body to the ground like a rag doll, the blade sinking into the ground dangerously next to his eye. 

The Demon's eyes widened as he tensed to pluck the blade from the ground, the warrior already moving again, his blade slicing the beast into its right side, under its first rib, green blood once again oozing out of it as it struggled to keep its balance, it’s free clawed hand coming to clutch its side while still trying to fight him with the other. 

Still, in the rush, the warrior rolled to the side, feet turning as his legs worked to get him up straight again, robes dirty with green strands from both grass and green blood, his own shoulder tainted red with his own clotting blood. His breathing was heavy as he got in stance again, shoulder squaring, wincing as he felt the wound ripping open again, even more blood coming out of it. But it was either his shoulder or his life and between them, he chose life.

Before the creature could process swinging at him again, he lunged. Face scrunched up in anger, fists firm around the sword's handle as he dived into the beast, blade cutting it through the chest downwards to its belly, the hard spikes it had there being cut off like wood chips out of tree bark.

His blade moving down and out, he spun again, stepping back to have the creature in full view as it finally lost its balance and kneeled, its legs giving out as the green blood soiled more and more of the ground under it.

He could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the ringing in his head crisp and clear as he struggled to control his breathing, eyes never leaving the demon. 

Precious seconds passed before the creature tried getting up again, to no avail. Its arms and legs shook as it tried using its sword as support to get up.

He steadied his hands again and took a step closer to it, not sure of what to do. End it? Spare it? Could demons be spared? Could demons die?

He jerked back slightly as the demon roared at him, clearly angry for being outmatched. He frowned, taking another step forward as the creature bent over again, the thick dreads falling over as it stared at the ground, he pointed the blade at the beast, opening his mouth to speak to it, not really knowing if it understood him or not when its left hand whipped up and gripped his chest, claws sinking in on his robes and all but tearing the skin of his chest apart, leaving hot bloody trails behind as the claws closed in on his robes. He yelled as he was pulled forward, his foot straining against the ground as he refused to buckle. 

Staring into the flaming eyes of the beast, he would not become another string on its necklace. 

The warrior growled as he brought the hilt of the sword up, connecting it to the creature's face three times as its grip loosened on his robes, bringing his knee up the Demons jaws, making its head snap back up, eyes disoriented briefly as it shook its head, looking up to find the warrior already on his feet, his blade ready to sink into his head anytime.

"You have lost." The warrior said, voice firm and unwavering as if his chest wasn't almost ripped open and the gashing wound on his shoulder didn't exist. "Take your leave of this village or perish by my hand." He finished, tone as sharp as the feel of his weapon. 

The demon cackled, taking a few more breaths, wheezy and wobbly as it got up, stumbling slightly as it clutched its right side, blood oozing through its fingers. 

The warrior wasn't sure if it had understood him as it reached for something in the back of its belt, pulling a dagger that was an otherworldly shape. He braced himself for a final attack when the thing laughed again, holding the dagger out in its open hand. 

'..ta'Ke iT', it said, voice raspy and breathy. 

The warrior narrowed his eyes, thinking it to be another trick from the demon, deceiving and dirty. He didn't move, still in battle stance as the beast roared, clearly regretting it as its grip tightened on its side briefly, hand coming up again as it frowned harder.

'Ta'ke', it hissed and the warrior stepped forward, hand cautiously coming to meet the demons own, grabbing the dagger from it, inspecting it quickly, sword still pointed at the creature.

'De' feat' It croaked, its blade retracting as it did. Pointing next to the trees behind him, 'Go', it said, 'Su'mm er, re' turn', it growled, pointing at the warriors head, 'Ta'ke'. 

The warrior merely huffed, "I'll be waiting, now vanish, Demon." He snarled. The Demon chuckling before turning on its heel and walking into the forest, its skin shifting into the forest's skin once again. .

“I’ll be waiting”, he repeated, sheathing his sword.

-

This Oneshot was commissioned and the buyer kindly allowed me to post it! Just an example of the kind of work I can do ;) Hope yall like it!

https://ko-fi.com/wthtorke My ko-fi in case anyones feeling generous and wants to help a broke college student lmao

[bonesaldente]

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

ca·​lig·​i·​nous

adjective Dark, dim, or misty.

summary: You are a contract killer. After one particular job for somebody who you think is a Sith lord, you unwillingly get caught up in his quest to rid the galaxy of the Jedi and establish total domination for the Sith. The more time you two spend with each other, however, the closer you get. Complications ensue - can you fight them while giving in to passion?

*set before the events of the Phantom Menace

warnings: violence, eventually smut (one scene that can be skipped)

(you can also read this on ao3 here)

Chapter 1: The Hitwoman

ca·lig·i·nous

adjective

Dark, dim, or misty.

------

You hold your breath. A good 20 feet before you stands the target, an insectoid from Geonosis, its wing adorned back turned to you. You are far out in the forest, nobody close enough to witness the crime that is about to happen.

Rule number 1: No witnesses

The creature now bends down to pick another mushroom - they have been in high demand recently because of their freshly discovered effects on the brain, and the insectoid is just one of many spice traders who are trying to profit off it. It’s the reason you have been hired, you think.

Rule number 2: No questions about the motive

Slowly, careful as to not rustle any leaves, you lift your dagger. One quick slit through the throat and it will be over, as the rules demand. You are about to jump forward and finish the job, when a bird behind you decides to break the silence and cry as if it were being murdered itself. 

The Geonosian spins around and immediately spots you as you lunge forward to try and keep your advantage, but it’s too late. He jumps aside and you just barely miss him, cursing under your breath as he starts running away. 

You run after him, slowing your steps as you realize which way he is going. Subtly grinning to yourself, you put the dagger back into its holster, taking out the machete that’s on your back. 

He is running towards the river. The insectoid, from the planet that’s basically a desert, is unknowingly running towards the only source of water in a 100 miles radius. 

You pick up the speed again, not wanting to lose sight of it. The sound of water flowing is already in your ears and you can see the target again, still running towards the water. Running so fast you could almost think it knew how to…

...swim.

You very nearly cry out in anger as you watch it jump into the water without hesitation, breaking into a full sprint to catch up to it. Geonosians can’t swim, right? Their bodies aren’t made for activities like this, unless… 

Your jaw clenches as the realization hits you. There is exactly one subspecies of Geonosians that knows how to swim, and it makes up less than 5 percent of their population, a detail that the client certainly mentioned, but Magnus chose to deem irrelevant for you. 

Rule number 3: No unfinished jobs

You sigh as you jump into the water as well, letting it pull you into its cold, all-encompassing embrace. Diving, you can see the target that’s been underwater for well over thirty seconds, indicating it -unlike you- has some kind of device that supplies it with oxygen. You start swimming towards it, all the while holding your breath and trying to calm your quick heart rate to increase the time you get before you need to come back up. The Geonosian is too focused on swimming away to realize that you are following it and getting closer with every second. You reach out with one hand, so close to grabbing the little device in its mouth, when it suddenly turns its body to face you and punches you in the face, the water slowing down your movements too much for you to block it. You see stars, both from the impact and the fact you are slowly running out of oxygen, but nevertheless you face it again and try to move its attention away from protecting its face and on the little blade you pull out with your left hand. You try to get a slice at its guts, and as it grabs your wrist in defense, you reach out with your right arm again and manage to rip the device from its mouth, immediately moving to get back to the land. 

Air streams into your lungs as you break through the water surface, a gasp leaving your lips while you pull yourself on land on the root of a tree that has grown half into the river. You don't wait, but position yourself on one knee and take out your blaster, watching the rippling surface attentively.

It will have to reveal itself from the security of the tainted water soon, now that its breath is running out. It can only be a matter of seconds…

There. Bubbles appear on the water surface, and a few seconds later, that weird, bony head follows. 

You take the shot and it goes straight through its skull, blue blood mixing with the brownish water around it.

At last you allow your body to relax somewhat, flopping down on the forest ground and leaning your back against the trunk of a tree.

“I better get paid extra for this,” you mumble as you unlock the beeping comlink on your wrist. It must be Magnus, wondering why it’s taking you so long to check in.

“Yes?” You answer the call annoyedly, still angered that he forgot to tell you something so crucial.

“You need to come to Felicia’s. Right now”

“Can’t this wait? I only got done just now and I-”

“No. Meet me right away. This is important.” He hangs up before you can retaliate.

You pull your drenched hair in frustration with one hand while bringing down the pointy tip of your dagger on an unsuspecting bug crawling over the leaves beside you. A string of curses leaves your mouth before you pull yourself up again and head back through the forest to where your speeder is hidden.

 The ride to Felicia’s is shorter than one might think. The shady cantina is located just at the edge of the city, easily accessible from most places, but far enough away from where the action happens to be relatively empty most of the time - which is why the Concinnity chooses to do its business there quite often. Seeing as you are a guild of contract killers, you do need to switch locations frequently, but occasionally you still come back there. And today appears to be one of those occasions.

While you jump off your speeder, you wonder why Magnus would want you to come here. Usually, he meets with the client ahead of time and just assigns one of you to do the job at your headquarters, providing you with the information necessary (or not, apparently). It is rare that you even get to meet the client, which is more than fine with you. You value your privacy, and it’s not like the type of people who hire the likes of you make for the most pleasant company.

The wind and constant heat of Kessel did little to dry you off: You are still soaking wet, your hair clings to your face, and with every step you take, water drips on the ground.

Fuming with anger at Magnus for withholding important information and not even giving you time to dry off at your apartment, you push the door to the cantina open, squinting to make out the figures spread out across the dark room, the only fleck of color the reddish wood that makes up the floor. You hardly even notice anymore how the cantina folk tenses up and quickly looks away from you once they see your attire; it is a known fact that around these parts, people who wear more than two blasters are not to be messed with, because they are most likely professionals. It takes you a moment, but then you spot Magnus sitting at a table in a corner, a cloaked figure accompanying him. Your anger boils up again when you see his face. Sometimes he seems to forget whom he is ordering around like a dog. You are a trained killer, yet he treats you like his employee, somebody who runs errands for him - an inconvenience at times, nothing more. 

Maybe he could use a reminder of how easy it would be to dispose of him. Hell, he didn’t even notice you entered the building, it is a miracle he is still alive in this field of work.

He definitely needs a reminder.

You move just a little bit closer and pull out one of the short throwing knives that you keep hidden on your backside, strapped to the inside of your belt. You study the roughly 4-inch weapon in your hand before adjusting your grip on it and aiming. Right at this moment he is dangling a chain from his fingers in front of his hooded partner. It’s the Concinnity badge, a proof of your reliability, a promise to integrity. 

You calculate the strength and throw the knife. 

It bores into the wooden wall behind them with deadly precision, pierced through the leather band of the chain that he had hanging from his fingers seconds ago. Even from your distanced position you can hear his yelp, which is satisfying but still doesn’t quite still the anger in you. 

Both heads whip around to face the attacker, but when Magnus recognizes you, the look of fear turns to sheepishness. Your jaw clenches and you stride towards them. 

“There you are!” He claps his hands together in his usual, eccentric demeanor.

“You!” You press out. “You said the target was Geonosian. You didn’t mention it was that type from the north!”

He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not following. What kind is that?”

“The kind that swims!” you spit out. There is a puddle forming where you are standing, and your wet gear, which is already heavy as it is, feels about ten times heavier now that it’s wet. You are pretty sure all of the detonators on your belt are completely busted, and only the maker knows how many gadgets you have lost in the river water. But most of all, you hate, hate, Magnus more than anything at this very moment, dry and comfortable, a pouch with credits set in front of him.

“That is unfortunate.” He merely says, while attempting to pull the knife out of the wall. “Take a seat.”

You grab a chair and position it at the table. Magnus hands you your knife, which you promptly sink into the table as a last outlet of your fury.

“This is your next client. My lord, this is her, she is our best… asset,” he grins conspiratorially. You give him an irritated side-glance.

Then, for the first time, you actually face the client. His hood hides most of his face, but you can see red skin and black marks that cover at least the lower half of his face. He moves his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

“The target is Galenos Tallav,” Magnus continues. Your breath catches in your throat, a spark inside you ignited again. How dare he - “and the time is pressing. You need to finish this job in a week, the sooner you can do it, the better.”

You stare at him, silently cursing him in every language you know. That bastard wants to test you and your loyalty, he is mocking you with this obvious-

“Now, I know what you think,” he lowers his voice, “but I only chose you for this assignment, because the time is so pressing, and I know you can do it in the time frame. Also, the pay well compensates for it, trust me.” 

You look at him darkly, the name of the target still reverberating through your head and bringing up sore memories. Memories he knows of.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” He looks overjoyed, way too eager to accept this task. This client, the man with the hood, truly must be paying very well.

“Let’s get to the details, then. You are of course in charge, but I suggest you try sneaking in disguised as a slave, you know how many-” You interrupt him with a curse in our native language, which you assume the client does not speak, judging by the fact we have been speaking Basic up until this point.

With the characteristic hissing of your own language you remind him that he made sure many years ago you would never, ever be able to be disguised as a slave. Back then, when he decided to punish you by having all these marks etched into your skin- skin you would have to show as a slave.

How could he forget all the cruelties you had to endure under his watch so easily?

He shrugs, yet another infuriating habit of his, and raises his hands defensively. Switching back to Basic, he says, “A different plan, then. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He gets up from the chair, grabbing the pouch on the table while leaving. “I have business to attend to”. He turns his back to you, about to head out, when he spins around again. “That is, if you’ve finished the job?”

What a stupid question. “Of course I finished the job!” you snap. “But that wasn’t thanks to you and your unreliable distribution of information. We’ll talk later.” You try to make the last part sound threatening, but he is not impressed. That’s what happens when your boss has basically raised you since you were a toddler.

 Once he is completely out of earshot, you abruptly turn to face the man in front of you, taking in his appearance properly now. He is wearing many layers of clothing, which, considering Kessel’s hot climate, clearly makes him an outsider. You can see the beginning of a wide belt, but it’s not a utility belt like the one you are wearing. The only thing clasped to it is… A silver handle?

You narrow your eyes, staring where you presume his eyes are.

“What are you?” It’s hard to tell whether he is taken aback by the bold question. You suppose there are other reasons why you typically have minimal client contact. “The Jedi are not welcome here, you know,” you say, slowly moving your eyes back to where you spotted what you are sure is a lightsaber.

“I am no Jedi.” His voice is surprisingly soothing, but his face is scrunched up into a snarl. You wonder how else he would have acquired a lightsaber, but remember that the Concinnity possesses one too - locked up in the weapon chamber and not cleared for taking on missions, but they have one. It was taken from a Jedi in a fight by one of their own a few years back; you remember getting to try it out before it was confiscated.

You don’t push the matter any further and lean back in a more relaxed manner: his reaction to being called a Jedi is all you needed to hear.

“Are you going to require any kind of proof when the job is done? A finger, toe, hair, ear,...?”

“Your memory of the deed will be sufficient.” You nod slowly, ignoring how weirdly he phrased his answer.

“Do you mind any additional deaths in the name of the mission, such as guards and or witnesses?” You rattle down the standard procedure for setting the frame for missions.

“No. Do what you must.” 

“Good.” This makes it much easier, no pesky requirements in the name of a clean conscience.

“How fast can you do it?” He asks, his tone pressing.

You ponder for a moment.

“Considering I will most likely only get one shot at this, I want to tail him for a day or two, assess his security situation, both guards and housing, then I will need at least one more day to prepare, if not two. It all depends on what I can find while shadowing him. So, figure four days, if all goes well.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Reaching inside his cloak, he pulls out a little device, equipped with only one button. 

“Press this when it is done, and I will meet you outside this cantina.” 

You hold the small machine between your fingers briefly before putting it in a pocket inside your jacket.

He gets up from the table, giving you a small nod as he leaves. You remain seated for another minute, then take your leave as well. You have a mission to prepare for.

____

next chapter

[sithsdoinshit]

Who's the hottest Sith? (Mustafar jokes aside)

THE “HOTTEST SITH” SCALE ACCORDING TO ME, AN EXPERT WHO IS NOT BIASED AT ALL.

LEAST TO MOST.

**Also, language might get suggestive. Nothing explicit, not at all, but still. Be forewarned.**

Sidious - (PSA: Ian McDiarmid is a cute and kind man who is FAR from ugly) christ almighty every time I see pulpacrime I WANT DIE. he’s not even that hideous, he’s just... s h e e v

**HUGE GAP IN ATTRACTIVENESS---EVERYONE ELSE IS HOT ON SOME LEVEL BEYOND HERE**

Nihilus - My special boy is cute and mysterious and spooky. He’s got a mask, which is +100 points. Looks very cuddle-able. Wrap me in your cloak and take my life force, baby.

Kylo - 1000 points for being a Big Boi. Kylo is a cutie patootie, just not as much as the others on this list. Nice baritone voice, luscious dark hair, lowkey thicc.. Yeah. Yeah, he’s hot. :}

Asajj - Alright alright fuckos, don’t get your panties in a twist. OBVIOUSLY Asajj is beautiful and a queen but I’m personally a ho for bigger people, you know? Though those hips still don’t lie...Extra hot with her short/half-shaved hair a la Dark Disciple.

Dooku - A DISTINGUISHED gentleman with an exquisite taste in clothes. Beautiful beard (mmm) with the voice of an angel (MMMMM).. I bet he smells good, too. Sexy Grandpa supreme.

Grievous - Mother. Fucking. Hands. I lay awake at night in a cold sweat thinking of what he could do to me with them hands. He’s huge, has multiple limbs and a voice that I could die for. People who don’t think he is hot are cowards who don’t deserve him.

Lana - Not many people are aware of this absolute GODDESS, and I am saddened. Her voice is like goddamn silk, her facial features are absolute perfection, and--no sarcasm, man--has a nice personality. When she acts all shy and flustered at your advances, MY HEART GOES DOKI DOKI. HEART EYES.

Inquisitor - LAWD. The fuckers at Lucasfilm got me again. Tall as hell with piercing eyes and thE TEETH... god Pau’ans are so graceful and hot I wish we had more of them. I have needs, yo. Quizzy is a goddamn classy son of a bitch and I am WEAK.

Maul - Oh, sweaty. We’ve all been nutting over this hot potato since he first appeared in 1999, and we ain’t never stopping. I’m always a slut for this fucking tomato.

Vader - It’s Darth Vader. The hell you need an explanation for?? Of course he’s top tier. Who would even question??

Savage - Do you?? Even know this blog?? The FUCK you think I was going to say?? Savage Motherfucking Himbo Opress is the E P I T O M E of hotness. Tall as fuck. Thicc as fuck (EVEN THICKER ON THIS GARBAGE BLOG). Voice deep as fuck. Strong jawline and profile. I can’t even begin to describe how READY my body is for this Lorj Zabrak Boi. If you think Savage isn’t attractive, you are WRONG

[smut-goblin]

Pocket Healer (m!orc x f!goblin nsfw)

Meeri kicked the dirt with the toes of her boots. The sun was almost gone, red taint making wood and stone buildings of Crossing Point look ablaze.

Another day, another blow.

She was here every morning, before dawn, alongside other hopefuls, looking for comrades in arms to form raiding parties and bounty hunting. 

Meeri has never seen so many different races in one place - orcs, trolls, fellow goblins, even a few elves and creatures she had no names for. The other day she almost got stepped on by a minotaur!

Yet all of them seemed to be coming and going, finding their groups and striking out in search of fortune and adventure. By now Meeri felt like a permanent fixture, almost like the buildings themselves. 

No one was keen to take a novice healer with them when there were so many others with a bigger and better experience. Guess people were picky when their lives were on the line, but how was she supposed to earn battle experience if she wasn't invited to any warband?

With a sigh, Meeri made her way to the inn to check the notice board. She could whip up healing potions and kits for people to take with them and if there was an order placed at least she’d get the coin to keep a roof over her head.

In her naive dreams before coming here she'd assumed she'd have a majestic war mount by now, putting her on par with better adventurers.

Smacking into something brought her back to reality. She rubbed her nose to see what wall had suddenly sprung in her way, only to be greeted by a massive bronze thigh and a very generous bulge next to it.

-”Oooh, I wouldn't mind riding YOU into battle” - her mouth blabbed before her brain could kick it shut. Crap.

Suddenly she found herself under a judging glare of steel grey eyes. Well, one eye, the other was milky white and blind, the massive jagged scar and her two smaller sisters running across the orc face explained it. 

Meeri had to crane her neck uncomfortably to see his face, but under that gaze, she decided trying her best to hide behind her staff and hoping she won't be noticed would be the best.

-”Hey, shortstack!” - Meeri looked up just for something warm and fleshy to land on her face. Great, she just got cockslapped, the height of comedy. -”Show you can handle it and I might let you”.

Oh? Oooooh!

Her brain finally reacted. Well, if the big fella wants to play, she was more than game. She had a lot of pent up frustration to work out!

She grabbed him by the cock, sure way he’d follow, and turned towards the back alley. Strong arms hoisted her up, tossing her over the orc's shoulder with a stinging slap on her ass.

-”Too old for fucking in an alley, girl. Makes my back hurt something awful”. - he quipped happily, making his way into the inn, shaft bobbing at half-mast.

Meeri did her best to hide her face in the white mane of her unexpected hookup, face burning rade from all the cheering and hooting around them. It looked like the old orc was well-known and liked by the patrons as they addressed him by name, Maul, along with their lewd well-wishing.

Well, that's one way to get recognition among her peers.

Meeri stopped hiding and waved cheerfully at her audience as Maul bounded up the stairs.

His room looked more permanent than just temporary quarters with trophies and weapons adorning the walls. Mementoes, books, scrolls… this was a home.

-”Well, what now, little girl?” - he dropped her on the wide sturdy bed, gentle but enough to make her bounce. She hissed indignantly at him, getting to her feet, and straightening her clothes.

Meeri glared daggers at Maul who grinned, crow feet standing out as he did. She finally had a good look at him, bed giving her a better vantage point. He was older than she first assumed, seasoned and toughened, even if he had some gut, Meeri could tell there were muscles underneath. His arms and legs still looked like massive tree trunks, roped with muscles and marked by countless scars.

His square jaw bore proud tusks, adorned with rings of gold.

-”What’s the problem, lost your fire?” - Maul teased but then his hand cupped her chin, thumb running over it far more gently than she expected. -”You don't have to do this. Just stay here tonight, you can sleep on the window nook and leave in the morning. I won't say a word”.

Meeri was taken aback by his words. He must have noticed the way she scanned his looks and must have come to the wrong conclusion.

-”I was just wondering if you're really up for it, old-timer. Don't want you dying on me or anything…” - she quipped, cocking her hip.

-”Oh, so it's like that, you bratty wench?” - he moved far faster than anyone his age or size should and Meeri once more found herself manhandled as her clothes landed on the ground. -”Maybe I should teach you some humility”.

Meeri knew she should be outraged at this treatment, yet a curious and excited part of her was thrilled. This was something new, undiscovered and she wanted to see it play out. After months of trying to keep everything together and the toll it had taken on her, having someone else take the reins was both a relief and more intoxicating than the finest whisky.

She let herself be undressed and hauled onto the window niche, the space made into a lounging spot with pillows and furs strewn about it. The goblin expected to be shoved into them face first, but Maul stood her straight, facing the window, the glow from the fireplace and candles in the room illuminating her naked form for anyone who happened to look up at the inn's windows.

Meeri gasped, feeling ashamed and extremely aroused, the two emotions fighting in her. Her mind snapped back to the orc behind her as rough hands with calluses from weapon use started running up and down her body.

A younger man would have grabbed her tits or stick his fingers in her cunt, but Maul was past the whelp's need to rut everything that moved. His hands explored, teased, almost where she wanted them but always stopping and moving away.

She growled, thrusting her ass back at him, his cock rock hard now, letting it rest between her ass cheeks as she teased it, rubbing along its heated length. Mother's mercy! He was so much bigger than she expected.

-”Looks like you have no shame, brat” - Maul whispered in her ear. -”Any of those good folk down there can see you as you are now - needy and begging for it”.

-”Unsatisfied and left hanging you mean?” - two could play this game and she was going to give as good as she got. 

She rolled her hips, catching Maul's shaft between her thighs, closing around it, slowly gliding on it with dance-like movements, letting her juices cover it well. When she was finally satisfied Meeri fell back on the orc, using him for balance as she wiggled along with her rhythm, looking for the best way to rub herself on him.

-”Fuck…” - Maul swore, grabbing her breasts, rolling the nipples and tugging at them. -”How does a tiny thing like you get such ass and tits?” - he bit the tip of Meeri's ear with the last word, making her shudder and gasp.

-”I drink a lot of milk” 

-”Oh, I can see you are good at milking” - Maul laughed, thrusting to make his point.

-”Feel free to enjoy it, old man. And don't worry” - Meeri let her healing flow to her hands, the power making the air around them shimmer and skin buzz. -”I can always bring you back up” - with an evil grin she wrapped her hands around Maul's cock, one on the precum smeared head, other close to her pussy, making an extra tunnel for him to fuck.

His reaction was immediate - hands grabbing her waist, his hips snapping fast and hard as he used Meeri's body to fuck himself. 

Once more that amazing feeling of being at someone's mercy, reduced to a thing of want and pleasure hit her and she mewled pitifully, matching his every thrust with her own. 

Maul came with a furious grunt, Meeri could feel every twitch and spasm as he shot rope after rope on the poor pillows and window. 

As soon as he was done Meeri once more found herself lifted up, the orc letting her legs rest on his massive shoulders, tusks resting perfectly on her inner thighs as Maul sealed his lips around her slit and sucked greedily.

She was grateful for his giant hands holding her in place, providing solid support when her body started shaking, legs trembling uncontrollably. Meeri was already achy and needy from the previous treatment - this now was just torture. 

The goblin grabbed Maul's hair, her heels digging into his shoulder blades, giving her perfect leverage to rub herself against his face, his tongue never stopping its ministrations, the spike piercing bumping and dragging on that sweet spot inside. Oh, he was good! 

Oddly, Meeri found the iron ring piercing his flat nose even better. Countless small ridges teasing her clit. Her whole body felt wound up and tense, like before a battle, pressure building, ready to spring into action.

One right grind was all it took, a flooding rush of relief washing over her, setting her entire body tingle, making her hold on to Maul for her dear life.

She felt boneless and woozy and so, so content.

Meeri was snapped back to reality as Maul's hands yanked her off him.

-”Enough, you damn brat!” - despite his words, he was laughing breathlessly. -”Trying to suffocate me?”

The goblin only smiled dreamily, entire body relaxed and heavy, eyelids drooping.

Maul sighed and carried her over to the bed, tucking Meeri in.

-”So much for showing me up, eh…” - he muttered before joining her.

[rebelcourtesan]

My D&D Build for Wolf

Tough, strong, and no nonsense, Wolf has survived in post-apocalyptic world on her own since she was a young age.  Raised by wolves, she knows how to fight fiercely like one with her trusty weapon she lovingly calls Stalky.  For a time, Wolf was the main fighter of the group until Kipo comes into her own as part Mute.  

 Long Post Below

***Stats***

Dexterity: Highest stat.  After watching Wolf in action, I’m going to say that her dexterity is her number one stat as she avoids getting hit long enough to deliver a devastating blow.  Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to increase her Strength which leads us to . . .

Strength:  Second Highest.  Wolf is pretty strong for her size, but will break skulls with Stalky.  

Wisdom: Third Highest.  Wolf is street wise or apocalyptic wise to the dangers of the surface world.  She can see danger coming and knows how to avoid or deal with it one way or another.      

Constitution:  Fourth Highest.  This girl has survived for a long time despite the odds against and also, she handles a still poison scorpion stinger so she must have develop some resistance to it. 

Charisma:  Fifth Highest.  Low because Wolf doesn’t easily open up to others though she does warm up to Kipo eventually.  

Intelligence:  Dump Stat.  Wolf has trouble understanding the purposes of modern items of the pre-apocalyptic world. 

For her race we’re going with Variant Human.  Put her two ability score points into Dexterity and Strength. 

For the Feat: Choose Alert since Wolf is always on the lookout for danger.  Wolf cannot be surprised unless she’s unconscious and she gets +5 to her initiative roll.  Also, hidden enemies cannot get advantage on attack rolls on her.  

For Skill: Choose Acrobatics.  Wolf is pretty nimble.

We’re going start off in Fighter for this build.

***Fighter Level 1***

For skills choose Survival as Wolf has had to take care of herself in the wilderness and post-apocalypse cities.  And choose Perception as Wolf is always on the look out for danger and notices things the group fails to see.

Weapon:  This took some thought and since Wolf mostly uses Stalky as a bludgeoning weapon so use the states for a Maul, or you can use a Pike for piercing damage.  You can talk to you DM about  giving you the option to use piercing with a sleep poison that the target would need to make a saving throw against.  

Fighting Style:  The best one for Wolf would be Great Weapon Fighting.  When Wolf fights with a two handed weapon (Stalky), she can reroll any 1 or 2 on the damage die and take the second result.  

Wolf also gets Second Wind which will let Wolf to heal herself for 1d10 + Fighter level per short or long rest.              

***Fighter Level 2***

Wolf gets Action Surge which will allow her to take another action on top of her action and bonus action.  Can be done once after a short or long rest.

***Fighter Level 3***

For Martial Archetype, we’re going with Monster Hunter (UA).  Wolf has grown up fighting mutes for most of her life.  Which gives her Superiority Dice.  

She gets 4 1d8 dice that she can use to make her attacks deal more damage and gives her an edge to determine potential dangerous situations.  She regains all the dice back after a short or long rest.

She can spend a dice to add a 1d8 to:

Precision Attack: For an weapon attack, she can add a 1d8 to an attack roll before or after she rolls it, 

Sharpened Attack. When she lands a hit with a weapon attack, she can add a 1d8 to the damage.  If the attacks forces the target to make a Constitution saving throw to maintain concentration on a spell or ability saving throw, it must roll at disadvantage.  

Sharpened Senses: When Wolf rolls Perception to find a creature or hidden object or Insight to determine if someone is lying, she can add a 1d8 to the roll.  Can be added after the roll, but must be applied before determining if the check succeeded or not.  

Superior Willpower: Wolf can add a 1d8 to a Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma saving through.  Like when she saw through Tad Mulholland’s illusion.  

She also gets two additional skills for proficiency bonus.  Select Nature and Insight.        

On top of all of this, she can use two spells.  As a Ritual, she can cast Detect Magic to see magical auras and after a short or long rest, she can cast Protection from Good or Evil.  I know she never casts spells in the show, but these are useful additions if the need should arise.  

***Fighter Level 4***

Ability Score Improvement:  Usually, I would be telling you to max out her main Ability Scores, but in this case I’m going to recommend a Feat instead.

Great Weapon Master:  Whenever she scores a critical hit with a melee weapon or reduces a creature to 0 hit points from an attack, she can use her bonus action to perform another melee weapon attack! 

Also, she can take a -5 to her attack roll to deal additional +10 points of damage!

Wolf is fast, dealing multiple attacks to overwhelm her enemies.  Anyone you can take an additional attack works for her.

***Fighter Level 5***

Extra Attack:  Wolf can now perform 2 attacks when she takes the attack action!  Even better when coupled with Great Weapon Master feat.

***Fighter Level 6***

Ability Score Improvement: Okay, this time start maxing out Dexterity.

***Fighter Level 7***  

Monster Slayer: Wolf can spend two Superiority Dice instead of just one.

***Fighter Level 8***  

Ability Score Improvement: This time max Dexterity.  If it’s already maxed out, put the points into Strength.

***Fighter Level 9***

Indomitable: Once per long rest, Wolf can reroll a failed save, but must take the second roll.  It’ll help in seeing through false fantasies and illusions brought on by water mutes.

***Fighter Level 10***

With Improved Combat Superiority Wolf’s superiority dice are now 1d10s allowing her to hit more often and deal more damage.  Not to mention overcoming any mind manipulation.

Now we’re going to dip into Ranger (UA).  I considered going full Fighter, but Wolf has been surviving on her own for years which means finding her own food and mapping out territories.  Not to mention she fights mutes on a daily basis.  

***Ranger Level 1***

For Wolf’s Favored Enemy since there’s no mutes int the game (unless you DM is coming up with a special homebrewed setting) select monstrosities.  Wolf gets a +2 to damage on weapon attacks on favored enemy.  Also she gets advantage on Survival checks to track or recall information about them.  Wolf knew where the Mod Frogs were and how to negotiate with them.  She also new about Newton Wolves and other mutes.  

Also, she’s a Natural Explorer - she can ignore difficult terrain, advantage on initiative rolls, on her first turn in combat, she has advantage on attack rolls against enemies who haven’t acted yet.

She also function as the group’s guide.  The party isn’t slowed by difficult terrain and cannot be lost except by magical means.  Also, Wolf gains twice as much food when she forages.  When she’s tracking creatures, she can determine thier group number, size, and how long ago they had pass through the area.

***Fighter Level 11***  

Extra Attack (x2):  Wolf not gets two extra attacks.  Meaning she can take THREE attacks per attack action.  Potentially four with Great Weapon Master, if she crits or reduces a creature to 0 hit points and uses her bonus action to attack.  Not to mention if she uses an Action Surge to attack, that’s five attacks in one turn!

***Fighter Level 12***

Ability Score Improvement:  If Dexterity is maxed out, put points into Strength. 

***Fighter Level 13***

Wolf now has two uses of Indomitable per long rest.

***Fighter Level 14***

Ability Score Improvement: Max out Strength.  If it’s already maxed out by now put the extra points into Wisdom or round out your odd number ability scores.

***Fighter Level 15***

Relentless: Wolf is a tough fighter.  When she starts combat with no Superiority Dice, she automatically regains one! 

***Fighter Level 16***

Ability Score Improvement:  Max out Strength and/or round out odd number ability scores. 

***Fighter Level 17***

Wolf is not to be underestimated.  She now gets two Action Surges per short and long rest and three Indomitable rerolls per long rest.  

***Fighter Level 18***

Improved Combat Superiority: Wolf’s Superiority Dice are now 1d12s.  She’s more efficient in serious battles and a force to be reckoned with.

***Fighter Level 19***

Ability Score Improvement:  Dexterity and Strength should be maxed out by now.  If all the other points are rounded out, put these last two points into Wisdom.

There you have it.  Wolf from Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts.  

With a high Dexterity, she’s fast and hard to hit in combat while able to deliver several blows per round.  With Superiority Dice to help out in a pinch, she’s scrappy and tough enough to deal the final blow.  Also, she’s resistant against mutes with mind control powers.  With the level in Ranger, she can lead the group to safety while navigating dangerous territory.

The only downside would be that her Hit Points might be a little low, but if she’s hard to hit, then she shouldn’t take damage that often.  However, having a healer to back her up in combat wouldn’t hurt or give her a certain partner or Best Friend.

Next up is Kipo herself!

[bountybossier]

Falling Down That Hill | Nic & Orion

This chatzy brought to you by Kate Bush.

With: @3starsquinn

Nicodemus wasn’t drunk in public. That was illegal. But he was buzzed and as long as he avoided anyone and everything, it would be fine. Besides, with what he was hunting, it helped to be a little tipsy. The bloodsuckers loved their alcohol and he could feel eyes on him. His senses were shifting and rolling over each other enough that it was hard to achieve true drunkenness. Made it better to hunt. The hunter hummed to himself as he walked purposefully under every tree line he could come across, keeping close enough to town yet not close enough that he might get interrupted as he did his work. He took a long sip of his drink and tipped his head back to sigh a whiskey-heavy breath. A rustle came overhead and he smiled some. There it was. The creature was looking at him through the thick branches overhead and he pretended not to notice as he closed his eyes, gave it his back, and yawned with a large, exaggerated stretch. A crack and then the fwoosh of wings. Weight hit him and he went down, gloved hands first.

Orion figured that it was time to head back home. He had been at the Scribe Headquarters for multiple nights now, feigning excuses to his parents and sister about last minute exams that he needed to study for. He could only hold them off for so long. Still, to get some work done he had snuck one of the older scribe books into his backpack to take back with him. It would at least give him something to do that night. The book had been incredibly old, and had at some point suffered some water damage, leaving some of the pages illegible as well as a little moldy and musty smelling. He would need to look at new backpacks because he feared that the book would leave his whole bag smelling off. As he made his way through the forest, his hearing picked up on some kind of commotion. Orion followed the noise, trying to put to use the super hearing that he tried so hard to avoid. He ran through the woods towards the noise, finally coming across a man being attacked by a creature. Orion was familiar with the species… a subspecies of vampire. He remembered reading about them in a slayer’s journal, pictures of the beast he had killed attached. They loved alcohol, leading Orion to believe that the victim must have been drinking prior to wandering out into the woods. For a long while, Orion stood helplessly, staring at the scene, knowing that he needed to do something before it was too late. But how did he help against a creature like that. “Hey!” Orion yelled out, but the creature ignored him. Wait. Orion hurriedly swung his book bag over and dug into, pulling out the book and opening it up to wave it around. These creatures hated foul smells. Orion couldn’t be sure how strong the smell had to be, but he could hope that the musty smell of moldy paper was enough to at least throw it off it’s game.

So far, it was going well. The kuzlac was having a hell of a time getting through the neck of his jacket, but the smell of whiskey was so strong in Nicodemus’s blood that the creature didn’t want to give up the hunt now that it had already given itself away. The hunter started to push himself up, grunting against the extra weight on his back. Over the screeching and snorting sounds of the bat, he heard steps rushing toward. Well that wasn’t planned, but fine, he could work with it. His eyes slid to the right and caught sight of what looked like some kid, simply standing there and watching. At least he hadn’t pulled a fucking phone out and started recording the “drunk” man getting mauled by an overgrown alcoholic bat. Nicodemus couldn’t tell. Maybe there was some concern there. The kid yelled out and the bat was thoroughly uninterested, completely locked on the hunter that started to get up onto his knees. Whatever the kid had pulled out of his bag had the kuzlac gagging overhead and Nic immediately, albeit unhappily, prepared to get retched on. The smell hit the hunter well, thankfully less than it hit the kuzlac. He glanced over. What in the Harry Potter fuck was that? A book? Whatever it was, the creature hated it immensely and loosened its claws from his thick jacket to start rubbing at its nose. From what it looked like, the kid was helping him. It gave the hunter time to roll away, closer to the newcomer. The bat didn’t take off, instead fixing its eyes on the two. Not enough of a shit smell, it seemed. “Kid, I don’t think it likes your library book,” he muttered as he looked over. “Do...Do y’now what that is?”

Of course, Orion had considered all possibilities as he had judged whether to pull out the book or not. The best case scenario was that the smell was too much for the creature to take and the Kuzlac would scurry back off into the woods. But clearly the best case scenario was not going to happen. At least the man had been able to push the creature off of him and get back onto his feet. But the Kuzlac stood and sized the two up. Orion knew that he would be mostly safe, he wasn’t inebriated enough for the monster to consider him a dinner option. He couldn’t say the same for the other man. “Um I- it” Orion began stammering through his sentence, unsure of how to reply to the man. Orion knew what the creature was, but should he be disclosing his knowledge of the supernatural to some random man in the woods? “I uh, don’t think that it likes bad smells.” He tried, hoping that would be explanation enough, at least for the time being. “We should get out of here before that thing comes back after you- I mean uh, us.”

Nicodemus hoped the skeptical squint he gave the kid would be attributed to his state of “inebriation”. If he was interpreting right, picking up what the kid was trying to not put down, they both seemed to know what it was. And didn’t exactly want the other to know. What a mess, but goddamn if it wasn’t intriguing. “Hell, he tried to kill me,” he grunted, irritated. He wanted to see what would happen. The kuzlac was an ugly, miserable-looking creature and the hunter looked at it as such. He grabbed for something in his jacket with a gloved hand, a large but not entirely flashy knife, and reared up on the creature. “Can’t just leave that alone.” He dove for the creature and accidentally on purpose dropped the knife halfway between the kid and the kuzlac. With the other hand, he reached for a thin stake he had tucked into his jacket, careful to grab it from the blunt end. He didn’t go for the heart when he stabbed at. Not this one. It was needed alive. And the carach paralytic agent he slathered onto the stake earlier would help. The wood pierced skin and punctured the meat of the creature’s left shoulder joint, right into the gristle and cartilage. The hunter grinned as the kuzlac’s mouth opened wide at the smell of alcoholic blood so close. It wouldn’t be a weeknight if he wasn’t wrestling with something. “Where’d that damn knife go?”

The man did not seem very keen on the idea of running, much to Orion’s dismay. “Technically he tried to bite you.” Orion mumbled, mostly to himself out of nervousness. Kuzlac’s did not always murder their victims, though it wasn’t uncommon. A lot of times they just wanted a taste of liquored up blood. Orion cringed when the man tackled the beast. And held it down. Clearly this man was a hunter. Which instantly made Orion’s body stiffen and go on guard. Then the man was calling for the knife. The knife that Orion could very clearly see on the ground, directly between himself and the man pinning the vampire down. Orion was shaking by now, taking one step forward while weighing his options. The creature was trying to murder the man. Was it outside of morality to kill a rabid creature anymore than it was to put down a rabid dog? This vampire was not like others, there were no more humanly qualities. No critical thinking or soul. But it was still a living, breathing creature. “I don’t think we should kill it. We should just go.” Orion suggested, still inching towards the knife. Slowly, he bent down and picked it up, gripping it tightly in his hands as he stared at the hunter. Suddenly, the kuzlac snapped at the hunter, and Orion jumped, practically tossing the knife over to the hunter. He quickly backed away from the two, not looking behind him to see where he was going and losing his footing. As it turned out, there was a hill behind him. And Orion fell backwards onto his back and began rolling down it.

With a fistful of bat creature in his hand, it probably wasn’t the time for Nicodemus to discuss technicalities. The kid was shaking like a leaf, not at all unlike the way the musty book pages were shaking earlier. Shit. Was he one of those “kill nothing, love everything” people? Shit, that was worse than a cop showing up. Cops had rules that could be talked out of, but morals? He didn’t want anything to do with that. The drunken idiot schtick he was pulling slid off his back and he shook his head. “Well, good thing you don’t have to.” It was a gruff mumble, muffled underneath the kuzlac’s screeching as he snatched the blade and made three quick stabs. First the tendons in the legs, then the other shoulder joint where he left the knife buried. The kuzlac started to go slack against him as the paralytic agent from the stake kicked in. The hunter sighed and straightened up, rubbing his forehead against his jacket. As he pulled his arm away, the kid went ass over head and thumped his way down a hill. The night fell strangely quiet. “Thanks, k--Jesus Christ.” The kuzlac screech dwindled into a whine and it stared up at him, not unlike a pissed off cat. The kid was probably alright. He pulled a length of rope from under his jacket and set to tying the kuzlac up to haul it over his shoulder. Once he was done, he stood at the top of the hill and looked down. “...you good?” The hunter started the descent down the hill with a sigh, thankful for the grip in his boots to keep from slipping. “Still alive, kid?” He raised his shoulder to rock the kuzlac that gave a low whine. “This little shit still is.”

Orion fell harder than he was expecting to. His back hit the ground first, a sudden rush of pain shooting through his body. Then he kept tumbling. He would hit the ground and bounce, only to smack against it again just as painful each time. His shoulder smacked against a rock, and at the bottom of the hill Orion finally kept to a stop when he smacked his face against something cold and solid. “Ow.” Orion whined, holding his eyes closed for far longer than he should have. Once he opened his eyes, he would have to face the reality of what had just happened. Maybe if he laid here, he would pass out or something and he’d wake up alone. His entire body ached, every limb and muscle a victim of the fall. His shoulder throbbed from under him and his chest screamed in agony. He was pretty sure he had broken a rib in the fall, but maybe he was just being dramatic. When he finally opened his eyes, he could see a large tree root, probably what he had smacked his face against. His head stung, a mixture of pain and a headache coming on. Though Hunter healing wasn’t as fast as any supernatural creatures, it was faster than human’s. In a couple of hours, Orion would probably feel fine. A couple of days and any light bruising or cuts would be gone. But he was pretty sure he could feel the swelling around his eye. How ironic that he would be going home to explain a black eye to his parents. There was a drowned out noise coming from behind Orion, and he eventually focused in on it enough to realize it was the hunter. “I’m alive.” Orion groaned, tried yelling, but it came out more hoarse than anything. If his theories were correct, the man wouldn’t have any problem hearing him anyways. “Did you say it’s alive?” Orion asked curiously, using his arms to try to push himself back up to his feet.

“Good,” Nicodemus grunted out as he blinked down at the younger man. He squinted and looked at him thoughtfully. It wasn’t anyone’s first instinct to shake a book at a giant fucking bat creature. Not unless they knew just how sensitive kuzlac noses were. Now he was curious as to how the kid knew that important tidbit. Maybe it was in that old book of his. The kid looked like he had tumbled through all the layers of hell and then some, which considering White Crest, wasn’t too far off. Without grace, he tossed the kuzlac to the ground in order to help the other guy stand up. The creature let out an annoyed squeak as it laid there helplessly. “Yeah, it’s alive and pretty pissed off about it by the looks of it. Ain’t you?” Nicodemus glanced at the bat and the bat narrowed its eyes as best it could under the influence of the carach agent. As soon as the kid was righted, he stepped back to look at him. Considering where they were and how they got there, the hunter didn’t see any point to beating around the bush. “Got a question,” he said as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Looked like you knew a bit about them not likin’ smells. How’d that knowledge come about?” For the time being, the kuzlac could remain on the ground, trying to fidget as best it could. A hand went to his hip, idly resting on the knife kept there. “Not too many people aware of that last I checked. Willingly at least.”

The man helped Orion to his feet, and Orion absentmindedly tried to wipe some of the dirt and leaves from his clothes as he tried to connect the dots from tonight. His head hurt, a sudden and throbbing pain courtesy of the tree root Orion had made friends with on his trip down. He gently poked at his eye, immediately jerking his hand away at the stinging pain. He was definitely going to have a black eye. Lucky for him, those never lasted more than a couple of days or two. The hunter healing wouldn’t fix everything, the scars and bruises were enough evidence of that. But less serious injuries like this typically healed up quick enough. “You didn’t kill him.” Orion stated, not questioning it but more as an acknowledgement of the tied up, but still living creature on the ground next to them. He finally realized that he hadn’t asked a question and decided to finish his sentence, “Why?” Hearing the cries from the creature as it laid helplessly on the ground, bound and unmoving, Orion couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He needed to get out of there. Before things got any worse. But then the hunter was asking him questions. “I uh.. know enough about the supernatural.” Orion tended to avoid using the word hunter. Even if he had been born into a hunter family and had the strength of one didn’t mean that he couldn’t shun the duty. He refused to call himself by the title. But he assumed the man would want more than just that to go on, so Orion had to give him something. “I know people who are like you. They’re uh… hunters.” Even saying the word left a bitter taste in Orion’s mouth. And now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Orion was very conscious of the fact that he was alone in the middle of the woods with a hunter, a man that looked like he could very easily tear Orion in half if he decided. “I’m uh.. sorry. For getting in the way.”

The hit the kid took to the head would have put a lesser being out and yet there he was, looking mighty concerned for the creature at Nicodemus’s disposal. That was interesting. He reached into the inside of his coat and grabbed a small bottle of water before he tossed it over. “Nope, I didn’t,” he answered as he sucked on a sharp canine. The hunter didn’t look at the kuzlac, eyes trained solely on the younger man. He watched his shoulders, wondered if he might make a move to free the creature. The notion that he might be one of those bleeding hearts occured to Nic and already, he wanted to groan. He avoided those for a reason. Something or other about not wanting to get bled on. His jaw worked as he thought. “Catch and release purposes, kid.” It was close enough to the truth without burrowing under the muck and grime. Catch and release into whatever hell the client had prepared for the kuzlac. The hunter figured it was for purposes of weaning someone off of alcoholism or maybe to throw it into some fighting pit. He didn’t know. Knowing what they did or didn’t do with his captures made the whole of it easier. Gave him only one piece of the puzzle to think about while the rest could go jumbled and forgotten in the swamp shadows. “Knowin’ about it ain’t the same as experiencin’ it, is it?” His tone lacked any anger or frustration. Instead it was a quiet, monotone line of questioning. It shifted when the kid mentioned hunters. Not too happily, either, it seemed. The bleeding heart theory he had was getting closer to fruition. He rattled out a dry laugh. “Yeah? They family or somethin’ else?” The leather of his gloves stretched and squeaked as he stretched his fingers out. He could have just grabbed the kuzlac and hauled it back up the hill. Certainly could have. But he didn’t. At the apology, he snorted. “Think the hill was more of a danger than the kuzlac was,” he said, concealing a slim smile. “Not good at dealin’ with shit like this, are you?”

What the heck did catch and release mean? Orion was confused. The man hadn’t immediately killed the creature, which Orion had to admit was a plus. At least he thought it was, but again, Orion was mostly just confused. “Uh yeah. I’ll say.” Orion could recite entire texts on werewolves, but that didn’t mean anything the moment he was slack jawed and motionless as a werewolf barreled towards him. The same with the kuzlac, the moment he saw one in person he completely froze. Because he didn’t know what to do. Orion wished he could answer the man with something else. Sure, the Quinn family was family by blood, but it was barely the one he wanted to claim. “A bit of both I guess.” Orion admitted on instinct before realizing that he had just poured way too much on a complete stranger. Worse, a stranger that may or may not show up at the Silver Bullet and meet his family someday. It was hard to be the perfect family if Orion kept blabbing his guts to every person he ran into at night. “I mean they’re family. Obviously. A whole hunter legacy.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. But he welcomed the change of subject to talk about the biggest menace of the night, the hill that had caused the headache lingering behind Orion’s temples. “Yeah, well. The species isn’t known to be incredibly aggressive. They care more about the alcohol than the person. A lot of stories I’ve read don’t even end in the victim’s death.” That didn’t necessarily make the blood sucking better… but not dying was better than dying right? “I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff. I guess that’s pretty obvious. You seem to know what you’re doing though.” Orion hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but it came out even more judgmental than he had intended it too.

Legacy. Nicodemus’s jaw set in stone and under his layers of clothes, he went rigid. The fingers of his right hand started moving first, a slow tap that progressively got faster until he finally clenched his fist to stop it. “Lemme guess, that family of yours put that legacy on you soon as you could walk?” His brow rose up sharp as soon as he looked at the kid again. He knew that he had it from as early as he could remember and before that, well, the situation was likely the same. Legacy. That fucking word. “You know that none of that means a goddamn thing, right? Blood. It don’t mean shit.” The kid didn’t ask for him to go on a tangent, but the very concept of legacy struck a nerve, if not the deepest one. Nico needed to pull it back. He shook his head, sighed a puff of air into the cold like cigarette smoke. Talking about the kuzlac was a welcome enough distraction. It pulled him away from the age-old fury in his head and he grunted. “Makin’ it sound like a failed marriage there, kid.” Tactless humor. That was a distraction in itself too. “Some people might be thin bloods around here. Killin’ intent or not, it can happen.” The way the kid looked at him, spoke to him, it wouldn’t do well to mention that if the kuzlac killed anyone or not, it wouldn’t matter to him. His arms folded across his chest. “I do. Got a legacy of my own that I was so kindly bestowed when I was a youngin’. Knowin’ what I’m doin’ has kept me alive long as I’ve been.” A rusty laugh came out of him. “Knowin’ what you’re doin’ might help you with hills an’ other shit.”

Clearly this man related to Orion. The man pinpointed exactly how his family had treated Orion as a child. The man sounded like he knew it a bit too well, and he didn’t sound happy about it either. Though, it was worth noting that the man was still out here, tying up vampires. So whether or not he gave in or agreed to his family’s teachings eventually lead him here, a road that Orion hoped that he didn’t follow as well. “I uh… well clearly you can see that their training didn’t do much for me.” Orion quipped. Orion had learned a lot from his parents and sister, for better or worse, about self defense and specifically homicidal offense. But his goal was to never have to use it against anyone or anything. “I appreciate it though. It’s nice to hear for once that family isn’t everything.” It was all he heard back at home. Nothing was more important than family. What a load of crap. “I- sorry I just… don’t handle violence very well.” Or anger. Or blood. Or danger. Or… most things, admittedly. Orion was a big ball of anxiety wrapped up in a skinny, five-eight package. “I prefer to know what I’m doing from a distance… like away from the danger or away from hills. I’m much more the… man behind the computer type? That actiony shows always have?” Though Orion wasn’t sure that he wanted to be involved in any type of murder or violence through there either. “Oh- I’m Orion… by the way. Or Rio. Whichever you prefer.”

His teeth pressed so tight that Nicodemus thought he might spit blood soon. The kid's statement brought him out of it and he blinked, pulling himself back to the conversation and away from his backwater home. The hunter rubbed at his jaw and chuckled. "No amount of trainin' will do shit for you if you want no part of it." And therein lied the issue. He enjoyed his training. Outside of the stale decay and rot of his old house, bleeding and sweating and aching was better than staring at the peeling wallpaper in the furthest corner in the house. It was an escape in itself. He sucked at his teeth and shrugged. He hadn't expected where he was that evening, bottom of the hill, talking to a young hunter that wanted nothing to do with hunting. He glanced back up the hill. They'd both have to walk back up it. "If I were you, don't buy what they're sellin'. Family is everythin' until you don't keep in line. Then you see how much family really matters." His tone shifted, the earlier humor wrung out of it. The kid, Rio, had looked pathetic earlier, a thought that he felt minority guilty to have passed over. Handed a torch he didn't want. "I gathered as much," he said with a raised brow. "Ain't the best thing to get used to, but…" A job's gotta get done went unsaid. He reached down to grab the kuzlac and heave it back over his shoulder. "Alright computer man. Rio. Tell you what." With the creature over his shoulder, he fully faced Orion. A heavy sigh expelled into the night before he straightened up. "You need help with somethin' that a fuckin' computer can't help you with, let me know. Now that I got your name and your story, I'd be pissed if you got killed by somethin' you should know better 'bout." A slim, faded smile came and went. A quick moon phase as his expression neutralized. "Name's Nicodemus. Nic, Nico. Sometimes Asher. Any of 'em and I'll answer, you got that?"

It was interesting; this man seemed so passionate about Orion avoiding hunting and not listening to his family for someone that had clearly been trained a hunter himself. And from the looks of it, had kept it up over the years if the boozed up blood thirsty vampire tied on the ground was any indication. He was right, in more ways than he probably knew. Orion had already learned what it was like to disappoint his family and suffer the consequences. But he had long concluded that he was incapable of becoming the man they wanted him to be either. So the Quinn family had fallen on something of a compromise. Orion showed up to the trainings, got his ass kicked by his sister and kept the truth about their family to himself. In return, his parents pretended like he didn’t exist. For what it was worth, this was a better outcome than Orion had expected. The man seemed to have an understanding of what that may be like, which was almost enough to make Orion want to spill his guts to him. He could only imagine how freeing it would be to have someone to talk to about it. Someone that wasn’t delusional like his sister. “Luckily, my sister is the golden child. Not me. She gets all of the focus.” And Orion wouldn’t have it any other way. “Oh uh… yeah. Deal.” Orion agreed to the proposition, though he couldn’t be sure what use he could have for a hunter. He didn’t intent to want anything dead in the near future. But despite Orion’s initial apprehension, the man had been pretty pleasant, and he hadn’t killed the creature that now rested on his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly sure what the plan was, but he figured it was better to not ask. “And if you ever need someone with an unhealthy amount of knowledge about useless facts, let me know.” He laughed nervously, trying for a joke. He didn’t plan on getting killed by anything anytime soon, but he wasn’t exactly in charge of that stuff. “That’s a lot of options… uh…” It shouldn’t have taken this long for him to decide on a name. He glanced around the woods nervously to try to settle his nerves and force himself into a decision. “Nic? Got it. It’s nice to meet you. I mean kinda. Despite the blood sucking and me falling down a hill.”

Nicodemus knew physical pain. Knew the bite of a knife, the punch of a bullet, the snap of jaws. That pain he knew. But the emotional and mental kind, the kind that didn't leave battered flesh to look at in a mirror…That was more unknown to him. Yet looking at Orion, he could sense it. The young hunter looked aged. Fuck, had he looked like that at his age? Too young to feel that old. Probably. He hadn't bothered to look at himself or after himself for his first few years alone. And the young man across from him still had a whole fucking family, yet he still looked like that. It was easier to recognize the wounds in others than it was for himself, he realized. Was it analyzing a weakness or was it understanding? His brow furrowed. "She drank the Flavor-Aid, huh? People always say Kool-Aid but it was goddamn Flavor-Aid," he said, voice devolving to an angry mumble before he cleared his throat. He huffed through his nose. "Guess I got useless facts of my own there, Rio. Might help my ass at trivia night." Orion was a jumbled mess of nerves and Nic gave him a curious glance. What was his home like? Made up to be a soldier too? Maybe he still had a chance before it was too late to change a fist to an outstretched hand. And why did Nic care? Changing Rio's outcome wouldn't change his. The hunter's head ached. It was supposed to be easy. "Could be worse. Could've had to choose between this guy or carryin' you to a hospital." He shrugged his shoulders much to the kuzlac's discomfort. The carach poison would wear off soon and he didn't have much less of it. "Gotta go do the...releasin' part of catch and release." He started to grin before he continued. "Need some help gettin' back up that hill here, Kate Bush?"

Orion began laughing, maybe more from nerves than anything else. Nic had seemed to know Orion’s situation. Was Nic agreeing with Orion? Siding with him by claiming that his sister had drank the kool-aid? Or was he baiting him? Who could say if Nic wasn’t a friend of his parents from the Silver Bullet? Just looking for him to slip up? No, that was just paranoia. This man had been too passionate. This guy… misguided as he may be, seemed to be a good person who seemed to care about Orion’s issue despite barely knowing him. “Right. Yeah. Well glad that I’m uh okay then I guess.” He sighed, scratching at his arms nervously. “But I mean… uh you would have chosen to take me to the hospital… right?” He questioned, laughing to mask the fact that it was lowkey a serious question. Afraid of hearing the answer, Orion began the hike back up the hill. “Ha ha. Very funny. I’m fine.” Orion assured, and then immediately tripped over a root and almost fell on his face again. Luckily for his sanity, he stabilized himself and stayed on both feet. “And I don’t know who Kate Bush is.”

For a poorly timed dramatic effect, the hunter said nothing in response to Orion’s question. Let the silence settle over the two of them before he snorted, face impassive. “Yeah, sure...Sure, I would’ve.” Nicodemus started up behind him, a pace or two behind as an active measure to keep the kid from eating complete shit again. He braced for impact, grip tight on the kuzlac that whined in annoyance and began to shift just slightly. Christ. The kid might actually manage to die on that hill if he so willed it. Guess he really didn’t give a shit at all about what his parents tried to force on him. The older hunter’s brows pinched together. Why had he gone off on such a tangent about legacy? Had he really just been sitting on that, keeping it warm with his anger until it cracked open and spilled out like a Cajun Pandora’s box of grievances? He stepped in time with Orion. “I’ll tell ya about her one day. The great hunter herself, Kate Bush...”

[sauceyafterdark]

YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS, PLEASE, I NEED SOME FOZZER X MARVUS IN MY LIFE, maybe some headcanons for how you think they first met or something along those lines,,,, please,,,, I need the communistclown ;0;

BABY I GOT YOU!!! I’m so down. This one has less explicit themes than what one would typically expect out of this blog, but I’m writing it anyway because why the fuck not. So strap in my lovelies for some of that good CommunistClown.

---

It all starts when Marvus gets curious. His concerts always have such a high body count, but where do they all go? I mean, they all get disposed of in a mass grave, but where specifically do they all end up? So, one day he follows the corpse collection drone and ends up at the Happy Absence Pit Park.

Obviously he’s a little intrigued by the singular guy seemingly burying thousands of bodies of dead trolls. He’s dedicated, Marvus gives him that. But the part that really gets this juggalo is just how… efficient he is. 

Like, seriously, damn can this little red guy move. Hefting up dirt and tossing in limp gray husks one right after another. The way his large arms flex just slightly when he pierces the earth or when he carries an exanimate bronzeblood to the ever growing deluge of cadavers… Oh yeah, Marvus can watch this all day.

Fozzer, on the other hand, is less impressed initially. He doesn’t really mix with the music of the masses. He prefers anthems of the working class; things with a nice defined pace to work along with. Even if he did listen to Marvus’ music, however, he still wouldn’t be a fan. The highblood cult is just another institution set up by the Fuschia Devil to enforce the status quo. Don’t be lulled in by their sugary, fizzy words, comrade! 

Fozzer just brushes off the clown, wanting to play off his labor as a duty he performs for the system. Utter hogwash, but that’s what highbloods of the system love hearing. Except, to Fozzer’s surprise, Marvus isn’t buying any of it.

“lmao, if ur gunna go bust my bulge wit a big pile of hoofbeast shit, at least try to sound convincing”

That is definitely not what he was expecting. Fozzer is more than a little shocked. The rustblood doesn’t quite know how to respond at first, opting instead to look Marvus over. He gives the troll a second look over, and, well… Marvus is a pretty handsome guy. Even if he is a high ranking man in a system that abuses the underclass.

Okay so maybe the broad and pillowy chest is also drawing his gaze, but the man may as well not have a top half to his shirt with how much of his chest seems to want to spill out. 

Fozzer then decides to give a more honest response: “Personally_I_think_the_cult_of_the_highbloods_is_just_another_means_of_shitting_on_working_class_comrades.”

Marvus agrees. He agrees very much. Fozzer and him get to talking, with the rust a bit more hesitant to open up at first. Eventually though, the two are swapping notes on Trizza’s eventual inheritance of the system, how she will keep the status quo and effectually make everything worse, and more importantly how clowns may just be the most oppressed comrades of all. 

Of course, they also notice other things about each other. 

Marvus notices the way Fozzer’s teeth make him give slight whistles on his S’s, or how his words seem punctuated with a certain amount of depth and conviction. He notices, of course, more about those amazing arms, but also sneaks a few peaks of the soft muscles under those overalls. He notes Fozzer is a little chubby in the stomach area, but contrastingly very built in his upper body and his legs. That juxtaposition makes Marvus think that maybe he should let more working class rustbloods to the front row. He wouldn’t mind getting mauled by drippingly horny fans if they looked as good as the little dialectical materialist. 

Fozzer notices the way the clown’s smirk lifts every time they border on finishing each other’s sentences. Obviously, Fozzer would never entertain the idea of filling a quadrant of any kind with somebody he has yet to vet for the revolution, but my goodness if he doesn’t want to speed up that vetting process once he sees the graceful movements of the juggalo’s hips as he balances his weight on that disgustingly opulent cane. The way Marv’s fingers grip the purple glass at the top, always powerful but still elegant in their way… It makes Fozzer want to see what other ways those fingers can move, preferably with this clown on a leash and with his sheathe plugged. Entirely to prevent any extra funny business, he notes in his mind. 

The two eventually have to part. Fozzer is dirty, sweaty, and in desperate need of a shower in his small mausoleum home, while Marvus is more concerned with getting home and keeping out of the sun that rises dangerously close over the horizon. 

They agree to meet again though. Back at the park. Just so Fozzer can have some company to work. 

“besides its not like i gotta be working @ my stage or studio or w/e. i can hang here with u”

A few visits is all it takes for Fozzer to invite the clown to his shack. And, Marvus being Marvus, it takes literally moments before that aforementioned collar is brought out.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 16)

Azula is lethargic with painkillers, the drone of the overhead lights and constant blipping of the heart monitor are sources of agitation. Had her mind not been dulled by the medication she might still be quivering at the assessment she had been given some hours prior. 

Koh had severed several nerves, apparently, her speech abilities are nothing short of a freakish miracle--or so they say. She refuses to call it a miracle, more so, stubbornness. It has been significantly harder to pronounce things with clarity, having the full use of only one side of her face. The nightmare is mostly of the cosmetic nature, but that does little to console her. 

She holds a packet and reads it over for the sixth time since getting it. A nerve graft. She has heard the term graft as it is used in the cosmetic surgery sense. Skin and bone can be borrowed from somewhere healthy, somewhere that can afford to spare some tissue, and placed in the desired area. Apparently the same can be done with nerves.  

Six months, and that is the best case scenario, is the predicted time frame for her to begin seeing the results of the surgery. But it can take up to a year. 

And in the case of the donor nerve it can take several years to regain feeling. 

The packet details that they will borrow a nerve from a place that has less value. They mentioned two places to borrow from, the leg and the arm. After mentioning the track team the medical team declared that they will likely they will extract the nerve from her upper and inner left arm. It will scar over and leave portions of her elbow and forearm numb. 

But at least speaking won’t be a tedious process. At least she’ll be able to move her face. At least, after another several years, sensation can return to her arm.

Her eyes tear up. She had anticipated the possibility of a appearance-related disaster, but this…

No one had told her that she could lose feeling in her face. She imagines that Dr. Guhira would have discussed the risk factors. 

Azula’s breath hitches. The tears she had been holding back come forward.

Ozai doesn’t scold her for it this time. He sits across the room, heavy in his silence and stern of face. 

He doesn’t demand that she does her school work, but she refuses to fall behind and she needs something to take her mind away from things that are out of her hands. Hospital visits will be semi-regular for the first few months so she ought to get used to doing classwork while confined to a hospital bed. Her father is already working to pay some of her professors extra to tutor her via video chat. 

From the sound of it, physical therapy appointments will be every Monday and Wednesday, after hospital clearance, leaving her room for only astronomy.  

Azula fidgets her fingers for several minutes before mustering up the energy to start on Kyoshi’s newest reading assignment. The woman and many of her other teachers have offered adjusted, easier assignments to cater to her predicament. 

Pride had her refusing the offers, which apparently still stand. 

“Mrs. Kyoshi is willing to teach you through video chats, if you need help on any of the lessons. I also found you a personal tutor who will teach you right here in your hospital room.” Ozai informs. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“I have the best doctors lined up for you, they’ve been operating on cases like yours for decades.” 

He wouldn’t have had to pay for the most prestigious doctors if he had done the same with his plastic surgeons. She almost asks him if she’s supposed to be proud of his generosity. She holds her tongue in equal parts because she doesn’t want him to pull said funds and because she doesn’t want to speak with him at all. 

“They’re success rate is nearly eighty percent. Almost all of their patients make a full or almost full recovery.” Ozai elaborates.  

“Yeah…” 

.oOo. 

The morning of her surgery, a semi-cloudy Saturday, she has a small cluster of guests. Technically only two or three people are supposed to be in the room at once, but the Kasai family name has some influence. For it, her mother lingers at the side of her bed and Zuko at the foot. Ozai remains across the room with Mai and Chan. She has dubbed this row of chairs as the row of shame. They can sit their for as long as they want but that doesn’t mean she will address them at all. 

TyLee had taken the fourth seat in that row. But TyLee has this way of softening Azula. The girl pulls out a panda plushie and stuffs it under Azula’s arm with a bright smile, but not before holding it up to her face. A face painted with a puppy dog pout as she mutters an apology. 

Azula sighs and accepts the gift with a muttered, “don’t be, I yelled at you.” 

Perhaps if her situation wasn’t so dreary, she’d feel elated to have TyLee hugging her and grinning at her again. She steals a look at Chan and Mai, maybe she is being hard on them. But then again they haven’t been particularly friendly either. 

Mai stands, “I’m wasting my time aren’t I?” She slips her hands into her pockets. “I can be helping my mom watch Tom-Tom…”

“You’re not wasting your time.” Azula mumbles. For her low effort, the statement is unclear. So she repeats herself. 

“You haven’t said one word to me or Chan since we got here.” 

“It’s hard to talk.” That much is true enough. She hasn’t really spoken to Zuzu or her mother either. In fact, she is fairly certain that TyLee is the first person she has vocally responded to all day.

Mai sighs, “right. But you can at least acknowledge us.”

“Acknowledged.” 

She feels Ursa’s thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Somehow the dragon pendant around her neck seems more apparent. 

“You’re still angry aren’t you?” Chan asks. 

“At you?” Azula asks. “Pissed.”  Yet she doesn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. She can’t say that she wants him to. 

“Azula!” Ursa 

Katara shows up a little later, Sokka tagging along. Azula half expects Ozai to make a fuss about the elections. To try one of his trademark intimidation tactics but he remains quiet on the other end of the room, opting to glare crossly instead. 

“Sorry to hear about all of this.” Katara sets a small vase of flowers onto Azula’s night stand.”Moon lilies.” 

But Azula is more interested in the black pot holding them. It seems to be a hand painted piece. In neon green is a cartoony alien surrounded by bright yellow stars and a white and red rocketship. Dotted lines loop and swirl in an equally cartoony indication of movement. Towards the other side is a UFO and a cluster of comets. “Sokka helped me paint it.” 

“So that’s why I can’t tell what that is.”

“It’s an astronaut!” Sokka declares. 

“I suppose that it can pass for an astronaut that got mauled by one of those aliens.”

“Is she always this friendly?” Sokka asks.

“That’s just how she talks to people.” Chan shrugs. “You get used to it after awhile.”

Azula runs her fingers over the petals and reaches for her drink. 

“It doesn’t hurt as much, does it?” Katara asks.

Azula points to the bottle of painkillers. “I’m sure it does, I just can’t feel it.” It does help that they have since drained the seroma. With most of the swelling aside, she can see fully out of her left eye again.

She heaves herself upright and reaches for her phone. Zuko hands it to her.

“I’m glad that you’re okay.” Chan says.

“I’m not okay.” Her eyes seem to dim.

“But you will be!” TyLee gives her a light squeeze. “It’s like when we were kids and you fell out of that tree. You got right back up again.” 

“TyLee.” Her voice hitches. “I’m not getting right back up this time.”  She swallows, bunching the bedsheets up in her palms.

“I can’t see you staying down for good.” Zuko shrugs. 

She stares at her lap. “This didn’t have to happen. I could have said no.” And she supposes that, that is the heart of what tears her up. “I could have just gotten the nose and chin job and quit while I was ahead…” She pauses. “I thought that it would fix things.” 

It is a wonder that Katara and Chan haven’t hit her with a classic, ‘I told you so.’

 “I did this to myself.”  

“You had some good help.” Ursa fixes Ozai with with a sharp and piercing glare. The sort that could cut diamonds. Her father’s face remains impassive under it. 

“A lot of help.” Chan mumbles. 

Azula puts her head back against the pillows. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is…it’s done.” 

Ursa’s hand tightens around hers. At least she isn’t alone. She takes in the cluster of people around her. There are more people present than she thought there would be. She checks her phone to find well wishes from Suki, Toph, and Ruon. And a small, ‘get well soon’ from Aang on her social media page. 

From Yue, she finds a, ‘your face isn’t too fucked up, right?’ Azula thinks that this might be her way of displaying concern. But she isn’t sure. She searches for a message from Jet and finds none. 

She looks up from her phone to see the head doctor step into the room, “the operation room has been prepped.” The woman says. “Please wrap up your discussion so we can begin the operation.” 

Azula bites her lip, ignoring the small twinge of pain. She takes a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to visit me.” She isn’t sure who she is addressing, she supposes that it is just general gratitude. “Especially you, asshole.” Another stern look from Ursa. “I know that you’re still mad…” 

Chan rubs the back of his head. “I don’t really think that it matters anymore. It was kind of a dumb argument.” 

She wouldn’t say that it was. Within it there had been some valid points of discussion, but she doesn’t have time to get into that. “We can talk about it some other time.”  

He nods. 

Ursa pulls Azula into another hug, brushing a hand over her hair. 

“Good luck, Azula.” Mai speaks. 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” 

 One by one, the room grows vacant until only her father remains. And then he is shooed away. She takes a deep breath. She supposes that it will be hard to make her situation much worse. At least this time, she has some real doctors.

[redeadepression]

Young!Arthur|Kid!John Fic Request: Change

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Hosea Matthews 

Warnings: None | Words: 5423

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A warm breeze whistled through camp as the morning sun peaked over the mountains in the distance. Leaves rustling and birds singing creating a quiet ambience for the summer morning.

Hosea yawned, a noise closer to a sigh as he rested his face in his palm. His right hand scribbling away at the paper in front of him as he gazed upon it with tired eyes.

“I will not do that John.” He said firmly, the hand holding his head coming around to rub at his eyes irritably.

“Why not?” The boy complained, shoulders slumping as he stared at the table in front of him.

“You’re too young, I will not give you the permission.” Hosea replied, not looking up from his work.

John grumbled in protest.

“Dutch let’s me.” He griped, a finger slowly running along the grain of the wood. Hosea looked up at him doubtfully, tilting his head in question.

“I know for a fact he does not.” He refuted. “I won’t let you manipulate me young man so stop while you’re ahead.” He retorted, pen pausing momentarily.

John frowned, looking over at the older man in confusion. Far be it from him to try and manipulate anyone. He didn’t have Hosea’s quick whit or Dutch’s charismatic tongue.

“I weren’t tryin’ to manipulate anyone. I just really want to go and I know you’re my best shot.” He said softly, feeling deflated.

Hosea sighed, placing his pen down and taking a moment to study the teen. John had been bugging him for weeks to allow him to go out on his own. But at the tender age of 14, Hosea knew better than to grant him permission to come and go. He was a hot head with less common sense than he had social skill. He would more than likely get himself killed for speaking his mind. That was if he made it to town before getting distracted, riding off the trail, being bucked off his horse and mauled by a wild animal.

Dutch and some of the older boys had been gone for quite a while, pulling off a long haul heist they had been slowly setting up for months. Hosea optimistically expected them back any day, if they hadn’t gotten themselves arrested or killed.

Arthur was away visiting his long distance girlfriend Mary. He had been spending a lot of time away from the camp lately. Being an adult, Hosea and Dutch didn’t see fit to stop him. As long as he always came back and still did his fair share to provide for the camp they paid him no mind.

John however disliked the situation very much. To everyone else’s dismay. Being the youngest of the group, he was bored out of his mind without anyone to talk to besides Hosea and Susan. They were fine enough for substitute parents, but they weren’t the kind of friends John needed at his age.

Arthur was still several years older than John. But the kid looked up to him as a big brother rather than a person of authority. He missed Arthur’s presence largely, although he refused to admit it.

“That’s called manipulation.” Hosea stated matter-of-factly, a sly smile quirking his lips. “You’re not as dumb as you act John Marston.” He chuckled. “Besides, if I’m your best shot then you don’t got much of a chance I’m afraid.” The sniggered, making John frown.

“Why can’t I go out?” The younger lamented, showing his age with the tone he used for his complaint. “I can ride just as good as Arthur.” He paused. “And I’m a better shot!” He added for good measure.

“Arthur is an adult. You are a child.” Hosea answered blatantly, watching as the younger struggled to conceal his anger at the statement. Loosing his cool over such a factual statement would surely not help his cause.

Hosea raised his brows and nodded in a way that told John the conversation was over. He grumbled to himself, folding his arms over his chest.

“Now go on, go find something useful to do. Away with you.” Hosea said, waving his hand at the youngster and ignoring the huff he was afforded as John slipped down off the chair he had occupied and walked off towards the edge of camp.

Hosea watched him go with a sad smile. He was generally a good kid, but he had been terrorising the camp of late. Pestering the adults to give him permission to do things he was not ready for and making a mess of things when he was rejected. Some days he outright refused to do his chores until Susan threatened him with her belt. Others he woke up extra early and finished all of his chores before lunch in the hopes someone would take him to do something fun in the afternoon.

Unfortunately with majority of the adults out and about there was triple the workload for the rest of them. No one had time to take John for shooting practice, hunting or even in to town. He was bored and felt dejected which turned him in to an unruly pest.

Hosea sat back in his chair, resting his hands on his thighs as he watched John go. He supposed maybe, he could take him fishing. If only to keep him quiet for one afternoon.

~~

The midday sun cast a shadow over the large tree in the middle of camp. Making it hard for Hosea to see his news paper in the darkness. He rubbed at his eyes, straight up denial preventing him from admitting it may be time to invest in some glasses.

John had left him alone for the better part of the day since their talk and he was starting to feel bad about the way he handled it. He had said it himself, John was a child. He didn’t have the emotional control he had come to expect from Arthur and he felt he may have been too harsh on him. Expecting too much of him for his age.

He set his paper down, making to stand before the soft sound of hooves approaching caught his attention. He looked up in surprise, a grin pulling at his lips, straightening wrinkles as he took in the glorious sight of Arthur’s return.

He  jumped up a little too quickly, a hand coming to his back as it twinged in protest. He continued on, ignoring the ache and making a bee line for the younger man. He was talking before he had even dismounted his horse.

”Arthur thank God.” He sighed in relief as he reached the younger man. A hand came out to clap his shoulder as he slipped down from his saddle. “Welcome back son.” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

“What’s up with you old man?” Arthur asked, amusement in his tone. It had been a long time since he had been greeted so eagerly. Hosea paused a moment, taking a second to take in the younger man’s appearance. He was quite dressed up, new jeans and fancy vest. He supposed it was to impress that woman he had been running around with.

He pushed onwards. There would be time to question that later.

“John is driving me crazy. Take him fishing will you?” Hosea asked, more of an order than a question. Arthur balked, looking at the older man in disbelief.

“Seriously? I just got back. I ain’t takin’ that brat fishin’. He can entertain himself.” He argued. Hosea eyed him knowingly, a warning just below the surface as he spoke again.

“I need him out of here Arthur. He’s tearing the place apart. He’s bored out of his mind!”

“Then you take him fishin’.” Arthur laughed, turning to start unloading his horse and being stopped by a firm grip on his arm.

“Listen to me boy. You’ll do as I say and you’ll do it now. He don’t want to go fishing with an old biddy like me, he wants you.” Hosea said firmly, eyes piercing Arthurs as he spoke.

The blonde paused, considering the older man’s words thoughtfully.

“Me?” He asked sceptically.

“Yes you.” Hosea repeated, irritation leaking in to his usually calm tone. “He misses you Arthur. You’ve been gone for weeks and he’s had no one to talk to except myself and Susan. I can’t take it anymore.” He complained, hoping to high hell John wasn’t within earshot. He loved the boy dearly, but he had been pushed to his limits of late. The last thing he needed was John running off because he thought he wasn’t wanted. But that was exactly why Hosea needed a break from him. He was seconds from loosing his temper with the boy and knowing John, it wouldn’t go down well. It had taken a long time for the Gang to gain his trust. It had taken ever longer for them to help him feel wanted and safe. Hosea losing his cool could potentially undo all that work.

“You can’t take it anymore?” Arthur repeated dubiously, his eyes subconsciously scanning the scenery behind Hosea for John’s small frame.

Hosea exhaled in exasperation, pulling Arthur closer to him and leaning their heads together as he whispered.

“Look you know I love that boy Arthur but he’s been pestering me for weeks to let him ride out on his own and we both know he’s not ready.” Arthur nodded in agreement, staying silent and waiting for Hosea to continue. “I’m not asking you to take him out for a week but for the love of all things holy just take him fishing for one afternoon. Distract him for me so I can get some peace. Then you can do as you please.” He finished, standing straight and nodding as Arthur rolled his eyes, nodding back in reluctant agreement. “Good man.” The elder said softly, petting him on the back before turning to head for his tent. Perhaps he was getting old. He needed a lie down.

Arthur watched him go, sighing inwardly as he resigned himself to an afternoon of babysitting.

~~

After Arthur finished unloading his horse he returned to his tent and changed in to an outfit more appropriate for a fishing trip. He emptied his pack and made his way over to the working women. Charming them in to doing his washing for him. It was already their job, but he usually didn’t make them do it. He felt it wasn’t fair to make them touch his long johns and if he was honest he really didn’t want them touching them anyway. But he needed them clean again by the next day and he had been strong armed in to leaving camp for the afternoon.

Susan gave him a sly smile as he thanked her for her service, retreating to look for John and inform him of their plans.

It took him longer than he anticipated to find the boy. He was sitting cross legged on the very outskirts of camp. He held a knife in one hand and a misshapen chunk of wood in the other. He was absentmindedly whittling it, not really paying attention to his strokes, Arthur could tell.

“You oughta’ pay attention to what yer’ doin’ with that knife kid.” He said as he approached, startling John out of his thoughts.

“Arthur.” John replied in shock. He hadn’t been expecting the older man home any time soon and had missed him ride in. He looked down at the wood in his hand, it didn’t really resemble anything although he had been trying for a duck.

“What you doin’ out here?” Arthur asked, gesturing around him as John gazed up at him in awe.

“Oh…” John paused, looking back down at his knife and setting it down along with his carving as he spoke. “I kinda got the feelin’ Hosea is annoyed at me.” He said softly, keeping his head down. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone so I came out here when I finished my chores.” He explained.

So the boy did have some sense of self-deprecation. Arthur pondered as he put his hands on his hips.

“Nah that old man’s just tired, don’t pay him no mind.” He retorted, trying to make the kid feel better as it was clear he was feeling rejected.

“I guess.” John replied, not looking up. “So what do you want?” He asked, sensing the coming question. Arthur didn’t have the patience to act coy, he got straight to the point.

“I’m goin’ fishin’.” He stated bluntly. “You wanna come?” He asked, wording it in a way that made it seem like the trip wasn’t entirely for John’s benefit.

“Why?” John asked, playing with his hands as the older man scoffed.

“Because I…” Arthur trailed off, not sure why he was pushing it if John didn’t want to go. He could get away with not doing it if it was the kid’s idea. “Look forget it if you ain’t interested.” He said with a shrug.  

John’s head shot up fast, catching Arthur off guard as he started pulling himself to his feet.

“No! I am interested!” He said a little too quickly, stumbling in his haste. Arthur caught him, a frown furrowing his brow as his hand wrapped almost completely around his brother’s small arm.

“You been eatin’ boy?” He asked softly as John straightened his shirt.

“Yeah!” John answered defensively. Arthur was always on his case about how small he was. But he ate almost triple the amount he looked like he should be able to fit. He was naturally thin and very self-conscious about it. Especially when he compared himself to someone like Arthur.

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your bloomers in a twist.” Arthur teased, secretly taking pleasure in the boy’s irritation. He grinned, ruffling the kid’s hair to mask his concern. John had agreed a little too readily when Arthur had threatened to cancel the activity. He wasn’t usually too keen on showing his excitement to spend time with the older man, even if it was obvious to everyone else.

He hated to admit he was worried now. John wasn’t the type to outwardly show how he felt even if it was eating him alive. But twice in the span of a few minutes Arthur had found himself able to read the kid like an open book.

“Well go get yer things, come on.” He said hastily, pushing John in the direction of his tent and heading back to his horse to wait.

John didn’t take long to get ready. He was back by Arthur’s side in a little under 5 minutes and they were saddled up and out of the camp by 10.

They rode for a long while. Arthur’s regretting his agreement with Hosea as it turned out his ears were not ready for the assault of a child that had had no one exciting to talk to for an extended period of time. He would have been grateful for the conversation, were it able to be called conversation. A conversation has a certain back and forth. This was just John talking with Arthur unable to get a word in.

As Arthur directed them down a dusty path that lead to a large lake, he saw fit to interrupt the boy. Explaining they were almost there and he could finish his story once they’d set up. John looked a tad disappointed at the idea but stopped talking all the same and finally Arthur found himself some quiet. He was starting to understand what Hosea was talking about and he had only been in charge of the kid for an hour or so.

They set up near the water, using their combined strength to pull a fallen log close to the shoreline so they had a seat to rest on while they baited their hooks. John already knew how to fish, Hosea had taught him a while back. But he listened intently to Arthur’s explanations on why they were using a certain type of bait and what exactly they should expect to catch due to the time of afternoon, weather that day and type of waterway.

Once their hooks were in the water Arthur reluctantly encouraged John to continue his story from earlier. The sparkle in his brother’s eyes was worth the 40 minute tale filled with multiple unintelligible tangents.

Arthur found himself smiling, looking fondly on the kid as he talked with his hands, his fishing rod abandoned in his excitement as he rushed to tell his story, tripping over his words and forgetting minor details he then had to go back and fill in.

There was a short silence as John finished speaking, Arthur caught in his affectionate thoughts and John waiting on him for a response.

The younger boy frowned, looking down towards his feet and returning his hands to his fishing rod as Arthur snapped out of his stupor.

“Sorry.” John said softly, hands tightening on the rod. “I didn’t mean to be annoyin’.”

Arthur raised a brow, opening his mouth to speak but unsure what exactly to say. He hadn’t been listening to the story at all. But it wasn’t for lack of caring what John had to say.

The silence dragged on as Arthur struggled to find the words he needed to say to reassure the boy. John stared out at the water with sad eyes, cheeks tinged pink as he became overly aware of himself.

“Nah, I’m sorry.” Arthur said softly, placing a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezing consolingly. “I was lost in my thoughts but that don’t mean I don’t care.” He assured. “I was actually thinkin’ how nice it was to be out here with ya.” He explained, making John look over at him in surprise.

“Really?” He asked sceptically.

“Yeah course.” After replied with a chuckle. “Been a long time since we did anythin’ just the two of us.” He smiled, giving John’s shoulder a slap and returning his hand to his fishing pole.

“Yeah.” John said simply, looking back at the water. “Been a long time since you been back at camp.” He said under his breath, making Arthur turn to look at him with a frown.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, annoyance in his tone.

“Nothin’.” John shrugged, his own scowl directed at the water.

“You got somethin’ to say Marston?” Arthur asked, confused by the boy’s sudden change in attitude.

“It’s just that…” John began, stopping himself short as he thought better of it.

“What?” Arthur urged.

“Nothin’.” John repeated, mouth a thin line as he tried to keep his thoughts to himself.

“John?” Arthur asked again, encouraging him to get it out in the open. John huffed, setting his pole down beside him and crossing his arms.

“It’s just ever since you met that Mary girl you barely been around.” He said indignantly, clearly trying to pretend he didn’t care when it was extremely obvious that he cared a lot.

“You jealous of me bein’ with Mary?” Arthur laughed heartily. “Wait…” He paused. “You jealous of me or… jealous of Mary?” He asked warily. “Because if you got somethin’ you wanna talk about I…”

“No!” John cut him off angrily. “It ain’t like that!” He shouted. “And anyway like I’d be jealous of Mary. She can kiss your nasty ass all she wants but I ain’t want any part of that.” He said defensively. Making Arthur laugh at his phrasing. Shaking his head at the kid.

“Well then what’s the issue?” He asked, an air of mirth to his tone.

“No issue. Forget it.” John said simply, trying his hardest to bow out of the conversation. “Just fish.” He said softly after a couple of moments of silence.

Arthur nodded in agreement, staying quiet as the other picked up his fishing rod and reeled it in to check the bait.

They fished in relative silence for another couple of hours, each just enjoying the other’s company until it was time to pack up. John secretly didn’t want to go back but after the turn their conversation took earlier, he felt it was best to not protest lest Arthur think he was having unnatural thoughts about him.

He took his time packing up his things, catching the attention of the older man who had praised how quickly had had gotten the exact same belongings together before they left. Arthur furrowed his brow, deciding to let it go as ultimately, asking John if he was okay wouldn’t achieve much other than making the kid feel awkward if he wasn’t. Arthur wasn’t equipped to handle his teenage angst even if he had been in John’s shoes a few years earlier.

They rode back to camp faster than they had when they had left. The setting sun threatening to shroud them in darkness and the thought of making camp had Arthur on edge as he had planned to ride out again in the morning. He would rather sleep in his own bed than having to get up super early to finish the journey before he could leave again.

John wasn’t nearly as talkative on the journey home. Arthur figured he had finally talked himself out of stories. Hosea would be thrilled.

As they approached the hidden pathway that lead to their secluded tents John finally decided to speak. Arthur was taken aback by the question he hadn’t been expecting.

“Do you think… maybe I could sleep in your tent tonight?” He asked, not looking up to meet the other’s eyes. “I mean… Nothin’ weird or whatever… Just stops Mrs Grimshaw wakin’ me early for chores.” He explained weakly. “She don’t like wakin’ you.” He said half-heartedly.

Arthur considered the request as the campsite came in to view. The gentle pat of their horse’s hooves filling the dead silence as John waited for his answer.

“Yeah. Course.” Arthur answered after what seemed like an eternity. “But yer bringin’ yer own bedroll.” He said quickly, making John sneer at him.

“Like I’d wanna share a bed with you.” He snapped, making the other man laugh.

“No.. no.. course not.” Arthur teased as the kid turned crimson. “Get yer things and take them to my tent when we get back so I don’t have to herd ya around when I want to get to sleep.” He said softly, much kinder than his previous remarks. John nodded, knowing without checking that Arthur was watching him.

John hitched Old Boy close to his own tent and jumped off him hurriedly as he went to collect his things. Arthur watched him go with a sad smile. It had been a long while since John had asked to share his tent. At least a year from his memory. It was a common occurrence after the boy joined the gang. Nightmares of the life he lived before them plagued John and he would often ask to share Arthur’s tent as a result. He had never refused him, even when he really, really wanted to. He saw himself in the kid. Slyly asking Hosea if it was okay to share his tent almost a decade earlier.

He understood and he never wanted John to have to feel the way Arthur himself knew he felt back when he first joined. So he agreed, although somewhat reluctantly, every time he was asked.

“How was it?” Hosea asked, ripping Arthur from his thoughts as he came up beside Bo and gave the horse a good solid pet on his rump.

“Good.” Arthur answered, sliding down from the saddle and landing with a small thud in front of his mentor. “He let off a lot of steam I think so should be more manageable for ya when I’m gone.” He shrugged.

“And when will that be exactly?” Hosea asked concerned, hands finding their way to his hips.

“Tomorra’.” Arthur answered nonchalantly. “I got business up near Huckleberry.” He explained, making to exit the conversation and being stopped by a hand on his arm.

“You mean to tell me you’re only back for one night?” Hosea asked incredulously. Arthur nodded, not understanding the issue. “Well I can’t run this place by myself Arthur!” Hosea shouted. “I’m old. I need the help of the younger generation and God knows Dutch and the others won’t be back any time soon no matter how much I choose to hope otherwise.” He carped.

“You are gettin’ old if yer openly admittin’ it.” Arthur sniggered, meeting the other man’s glare. “Okay, okay.” He cooed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t be gone long. I promise.” He chuckled.

“You better not be.” Hosea clapped back. “You may have taken that boy out to let off some steam but he’ll be full of energy again tomorrow and I just can not deal with it right now Arthur. I swear if he pesters me one more time about going out on his own I might just have to agree.” He warned. Arthur tilted his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips.

“You wouldn’t do that.” He dared.

“Oh I would you watch me.” Hosea ventured, humour in his tone. “Anyway… You calm him down in a way I’ve not seen. It’s been hard without you here.”

Arthur scoffed in reply, rolling his eyes at the thought.

“He’s a sensitive boy Arthur.” Hosea continued. “He looks up to you and you’re taking that for granted.” Arthur laughed at that. A little too heartily for Hosea’s liking. “He misses you Arthur I’m telling you.” Hosea countered, annoyance on his tongue.

“He’s just a teenager Hosea he ain’t pinin’ after me he’s just bein’ a shithead for the sake of it.”

“Don’t you talk to me about shitty teenager’s Arthur, I’ve dealt with my fair share of them, yourself included.” Arthur rolled his eyes, turning to leave for the second time. “This is different. The boy is acting out because things have changed.”

“Sure he is…” Arthur grumbled, not really in the mood to get in to an argument. Hosea worried too much about a lot of things.

“Just…” Hosea paused, running a hand over his face. He was tired in every sense of the word. “Just come back soon.” He said finally, giving up on getting through to him.

Arthur nodded, still not believing a word the older man said but not wanting to push the issue. Hosea could believe what he liked. He knew John and the younger boy was just naturally bad-tempered and going through puberty.

“I’ll try.” Arthur said sardonically, leaving his Father figure where he stood and retreating to his tent.

~~

It was early when Arthur awoke the next day. He could tell the sun had only just risen by the positions of the shadows on the outside of his tent. He was glad he hadn’t overslept, he had promised Mary he would be back at the ranch by lunch.

Standing slowly and taking heed of his tired muscles he stretched languidly. Looking over to John who had spent a good portion of the night talking his ear off before finally falling asleep and allowing Arthur to do the same.

Arthur decided not to wake him. He had griped about being woken early by Grimshaw for chores so he was sure the kid would appreciate the sleep in. She wouldn’t come looking for him in Arthur’s tent.

He left the tent quietly, taking his pack with him and making his way to where the clean washing had been hung to dry. He pulled down his belongings, stuffing them in to his bag without folding them. He kept the outfit he planned to wear separate. Moving to hide behind a caravan he dressed himself in his best black ranch pants, white dress shirt and good quality red vest. Once dressed he slung his gambler’s jacket over his shoulder and headed for his horse.

Frankie had been treated to a brush overnight, her saddle sitting on the hitching post she was tied to. Arthur sighed inwardly. He appreciated the effort from his fellow gang member. But he took great care in making sure she was well taken care of on his own accord. He hadn’t planned for the added time needed to resaddle her as he had only brushed her before he left Mary’s the day before.

Placing his pack on the ground he began getting her things together and saddling up. He didn’t look up from his work as he heard footsteps behind him, figuring it was Hosea coming over to say goodbye.

“Arthur…” John’s voice caught him by surprise. He turned to look at the young boy wearing only his union suit. Long hair a tangled mess.

“John.” He greeted, returning to his work. “I was lettin’ ya have that sleep in ya wanted.” He explained, watching out of the corner of his eye as the boy walked to stand next to him, stroking Frankie’s nose gently.

“Are you goin’ out?” John asked, voice quiet as he ran his hands through the horse’s silver mane.

“No I’m just saddling up for fun.” Arthur answered sarcastically, earning himself a glare.

“I… I thought maybe you’d be stayin’ round for a while…” John said softly, looking away, unable to meet the older man’s eyes.

“Nah, Mary has some wealthy folk comin’ to look at her Father’s property this afternoon and she asked me to be there in case things go sour.” Arthur replied casually, completely missing John’s disappointment as he continued to load up his horse.

John hummed in response, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as he struggled with what he wanted to say verses what was socially acceptable.

“It’s just that I…” He paused, looking Arthur over as he continued to work. He looked down, unable to finish his sentence. “Nevermind…” He finished, turning to leave and finally without trying, catching the older man’s attention.

Arthur paused his work, turning to the younger and studying him a moment before reaching out to tap lightly on his retreating shoulder.

“What?” He asked, hands on hips as John turned to face him once more.

“I guess I… I don’t know, I kinda miss you.” John said quickly, face flushing at the words. Arthur raised a brow, clear surprise on his rugged face as he considered the young man before him.

John stared down at his hands, wringing them together if only for something to do as he tried to will the awkwardness away.

Arthur huffed and John stole a glance, feeling anger rise in him as he realised Arthur was laughing. A shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face.

“Miss me huh?” He laughed, everything about the way he spoke screaming self-esteem boost. John’s face fell, shoulders slumping as he realised his gut was right and this was a mistake.

“Forget it.” He said defensively, making to turn but being held in place by one of Arthur’s strong hands.

“John…” He said softly, voice kind and tone apologetic. “I’m only teasin’ ya.” He explained. “I appreciate it. I do.” He said honestly as the younger boy eyed him suspiciously. So the old man had been right after all. John missed him and him specifically. Arthur found himself feeling bad. He really must be bored out of his mind without him if he was willing to risk endless mocking to let Arthur know how he felt.

“Yeah… Well… Don’t mean nothin’ anyway.” John said sullenly, shrugging Arthur’s hand off his shoulder. “You still ain’t stayin’.”

“No… I’m not.” Arthur said, catching the hurt in the teen’s eye at the harsh way he worded his reply. “But… maybe I can come back in a day or two and stay around a while.” He said softly, watching as John’s face lit up and then went dark all within a matter of seconds.

“You ain’t bringin’ what’s her name with you right?” He asked, resentfully.

“Mary.” Arthur corrected him. “And no. I’ll come back alone.” He assured, giving John’s shoulder a squeeze and mounting up on his horse. John passed him the last bag from his pile and Arthur sat it in front of him. He tipped his hat at the younger man, flicking the reins and encouraging Frankie in to a trot.

“See ya John.” He said kindly, turning his horse and heading for the exit path to camp. John watched him go, feeling weird about what he had just done. He felt he was getting too old to need his big brother around. But he was eternally grateful that he was still willing to be there for him.

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I hope you like it anon! Sorry it took so long!