#maybe he has some assassins running over rooftops alongside him

[sealthatreblogs]

okay i ran out of tags cuz i did not expect to write so much LMAO, but um, it's thought that the whole tiger roar paralyzing people in fear is because they also have a low frequency to it that just jolts you. have you ever been to a concert and the fucking bass rumbles through you? yeah, imagine that, but out of nowhere and without sound, just that feeling. i'm a huge paleontology nerd, so this isn't meant to criticize, i just wanted to add my own little thing that i think you might find interesting :3

LAST THING t rex arms, yes, are very tiny, but they're stupidly strong too, and t rex use them to get up from a lying position and to grab onto their prey!!! there's also different... morphs i'll call them? there's the big chunky t rex that we all know and love, but there's also more gracile t rex, slimmer and built more for speed and agility (still massive though)

Psssst- hey, hey you, kid. Yeah I'm talking to you buddy. Wanna purchase a 't-rex-desmond'? He's got feathers~

I feel like Imma get a bootleg version of t-rex Desmond and get something called ‘Lizard Dismun’ instead. Hahahahaha

Honestly, I’m imagining Desmond as something like this but white with red plummage.

Sneaking is absolutely a no-go for him at this point but, really, why should he go with stealth when he could just rain down death and destruction.

It’s hard for him to not have any collateral damage so he focuses on destroying Templar strongholds.

If we want him to be OP, we should keep him either in 12th century Levant or in Renaissance Italy. The cannons of the American Revolution might be a bit too much for him.

But more importantly…

Nonny…

Think of those little arms…

Think of how annoyed Desmond is that he has little arms!

Think of the first time Desmond tries to grab something but he loses his balance and just falls face first on the ground…

Just imagine him staring ahead where his ancestor is blinking at him, confused to why he fell.

And he’s so embarrassed and so happy his ancestor cannot understand him when he goes, “Fuuuccccckkkk…”

And all his ancestor can hear is a roar.

[dindjarins04]

CHAPTER THREE

I AM NO JEDI MASTERLIST

Still curled up on the small chair in Padme's living area, Anakin paces back and forth. He sighs and stops in the middle of the room while you calmly respond to the onslaught of Qui-Gon's messages.

"It's too quiet,"

"That's a good thing," You reply. "I'd rather not have to deal with blasters," You look and see him looking down at you. "Perhaps if you sat down, you wouldn't be so anxious,"

"Can you at least pay some attention to me rather than your holopad?" He asks with a huff. You roll your eyes and place it down.

"You're such a child,"

"Maybe I just need a distraction,"

"Oh and I'm the perfect fit for your distraction?" You tease as he sits down in the chair opposite you.

"Yes," He says. "So...why do you think we weren't allowed to see each other for 10 years?"

"Well, those 10 years were the most vital part of our training, maybe we were just too busy with training to make friends," You shrug as you stand to pour yourself a glass of water. Anakin stays silent as he thinks of different reasons for the Jedi keeping you separate. "Enough about us...what's your story with Padme?" You cringe at yourself. Smooth, (Y/N), that was real smooth.

"We met on Tatooine, I saved her planet and that's it," You quirk a brow and turn around, leaning against the table you got your water from.

"Really? I thought you two had something more, considering the way you talk to her," You say, sipping your water.

"Heh, jealous?" You choke on the water at the question.

"That's absurd," Anakin chuckles and shakes his head.

"Whatever you say, princess,"

"Quiet, mudscuffer," Then, Obi-Wan strolls in.

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?" He asks as you move back to your holopad to send your last couple of messages to your master.

"Quiet as a tomb. I don't like just waiting here for something to happen to her," Anakin complains as Obi-Wan checks a palm-sized view scanner he has pulled out of his utility belt. It shows a shot of R2 by the door, but no sign of Padme on the bed.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asks.

"She covered that camera. I don't think she liked us watching her," You roll your eyes.

"What is she thinking?"

"Actually, all of this was (Y/N)'s idea," You look to see the men staring at you.

"I programmed R2 to warn us if there's an intruder,"

"It's not an intruder I'm worried about. There are many other ways to kill a Senator,"

"I know, but we also want to catch this assassin. Don't we, master Jedi?" You respond with a smirk.

"You're using her as bait??"

"It was her idea... No harm will come to her,"

"I can sense everything going on in that room. Trust me," Anakin adds on as you finish your last message and put down your holopad.

"It's too risky... and your senses aren't that attuned, young apprentice,"

"And yours are?"

"Possibly," You roll your eyes at the duo.

"You know, I can sense everything too, Qui-Gon has been teaching me well,"

"I do not disagree, I was his padawan as well," Obi-Wan says as he moves to look out of the window.

"The water is empty, I'll get some more, comm me if anything happens," Obi-Wan nods as Anakin walks beside him.

"You look tired," Obi-Wan states as he examines Anakin.

"I don't sleep well, anymore," He responds truthfully.

"Because of your mother?"

"I don't know why I keep dreaming about her now. I haven't seen her since I was little,"

"Dreams pass in time,"

"I'd rather dream of (Y/N). Just being around her again is...intoxicating," He smiles to himself but Obi-Wan gives him a look of disapproval.

"Mind your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you. You and (Y/N) have made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken...and remember she is also a Jedi,"

"I understand Master...but there's just something about her. Being around her again...it brings a forgotten but familiar feeling back," Anakin grins, gently touching his chest.

"Anakin, (Y/N) is already on thin ice with the Jedi Council, please don't try and ruin this for her," Anakin looks up at his master.

"I...I won't," You return with a sigh.

"I couldn't get any water!" You exclaim. "Too many procedures to fill up one jug of water," You sigh placing it down. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Anakin and Obi-Wan share a discreet glance.

"No, it's been very quiet," Obi-Wan answers to Anakin's relief. But then, you all stop and look at each other.

"Is it just me?"

"No, I can sense it too," All three of you run and burst into Padme's room. Two creatures stand on their hind legs as Padme lays deadly still. Anakin springs onto the bed and slices the creatures in half with his lightsaber. You see a droid outside and race after it, crashing through the blinds and window. Okay. Bad idea. You did NOT think that through.

You fly through the glass window and fling yourself at the probe droid, grabbing onto the deadly machine before it can flee. The droid sinks under the weight of you but manages to stay afloat and fly away, with you hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city. The droid sends several protective electrical shocks across its surface, causing you to almost lose your grip. As you dart in and out of the speeder traffic, you disconnect a wire on the back of the droid. Its power shuts off. Shit! You and the droid drop like rocks. You realise the error of your ways and quickly puts the wire back. The droid's systems light up again and it takes off.

Sweat begins to build on your forehead. You did not think this through what so ever and you have no idea where Anakin or Obi-Wan is. The last thing you remember is Padme's deadly still body. Is she dead? That sudden thought sends a pang of regret in your gut. Did you allow your best and only friend to die?

The droid bumps against a wall, hoping to knock you loose. It moves behind a speeder afterburner to scorch you. It takes you wildly between buildings and finally skims across a rooftop and you are forced to lift your legs, tenaciously hanging onto the droid.

"Would you stop?!" You growl as the droid heads for a dirty, beat-up speeder hidden in an alcove of a building about twenty stories up. When the pilot of the speeder, a scruffy looking person who is most likely a bounty hunter, sees the droid approach with you hanging on, she pulls a long rifle out of the speeder and starts to fire at you. Explosions burst all around you. "I have a bad feeling about this," You say.

Finally, the droid suffers a direct hit and blows up and you fall fifty stories until a speeder drops down next to you, and you manage to grab onto the back end of the speeder and haul yourself toward the cockpit. You struggle to climb into the seat and you sigh in relief when seeing Anakin driver and Obi-Wan in the passenger seat.

"That was wacky! I almost lost you in the traffic," Anakin said.

"What took you so long?" You ask as you finally sit correctly in the seat you tumbled into.

"Oh, you know, princess, I couldn't find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit... and with the right speed capabilities...and then you know I had to get a really gonzo colour..."

"Qui-Gon will not be happy about your recklessness," Obi-Wan chimes in.

"Well, I know who to follow now," Anakin zooms upward in hot pursuit of the bounty hunter as she fires out the open window at you with her laser pistol.

"And Anakin, if you'd spend as much time working on your saber skills as you do on your wit, young Padawan, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman," Obi-Wan says, scolding both of you.

"I thought I already did," Anakin replies smugly.

"Only in your mind, my very young apprentice. Careful!! Hey, easy!!" Obi-Wan says as he grips the sides of the speeder as Anakin deftly moves in and out of the oncoming traffic, across lanes, between buildings, and miraculously through a construction site, the bounty hunter still firing at you.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like flying, Master," You watch with a small smile at the way these two communicate. It reminds you of how you and Lumarina shared a lot of jokes and banter just like these two.

"I don't mind flying... but what you're doing is suicide!" You barely miss a commuter train.

"I agree with Obi-Wan on that account," You say as you duck.

"Master, you know I've been flying since before I could walk. I'm very good at this and (Y/N)...just trust me," You roll your eyes as he laughs and Obi-Wan gasps as Anakin makes another narrow turn.

"Just slow down!" The bounty hunter and Anakin race through a line of cross-traffic made up of giant trucks. The speeders bank sideways as they slide around right-angle turns between buildings. The bounty hunter races into a tram tunnel. "Wait! Don't go in there!" Obi-Wan says but Anakin zooms into the tunnel after the hunter. You see a tram coming at you. Anakin brakes, turns around, and race out, barely ahead of the charging commuter transport."You know I don't like it when you do that!" Obi-Wan growls. "We also have another person with us, try not to kill three Jedi!"

"Sorry, Master. Don't worry, this guy's gonna kill himself any minute now!"

"No, you're going to kill us!" You scold, slapping his head. The hunter turns into oncoming traffic, deliberately trying to throw Anakin off. Oncoming speeders swerve, trying to avoid the hunter and three Jedi. The hunter does a quick, tight loop-over and ends up behind all of you. She is now in a much better position to fire at you all with her laser pistol. To avoid being hit by the laser bolts, Anakin slams on the brakes and moves alongside her. She now fires point-blank at Obi-Wan.

"What are you doing? He's gonna blast me!"

"Right, not a good idea," Anakin quickly turns and swerves away. Suddenly, the hunter throws a bunch of explosives in your direction. You stand and use the force to hold them away from your speeder as they explode. Out of a cloud of smoke and ball of flames Anakin tears after the hunter.

"(Y/N), that didn't do much help!" Obi-Wan slaps out the small fire on the dashboard.

"At least we're not dead!" You exclaim, sitting back down. The hunter goes up and down, through cross-traffic. There is a near miss as a speeder almost hits you. The hunter turns down and left between two buildings. Anakin pulls up and to the right

"Where are you going?! He went down there, the other way,"

"This is a shortcut... I think,"

"What do you mean, 'You think?' What kind of shortcut?! He went completely the other way! You've lost him!" You exclaim from behind him.

"Guys, if we keep this chase going, that creep's gonna end up deep-fried personally, I'd very much like to find out who in the hell he is and who he's working for..."

"Oh, so that's why we're going in the wrong direction," Obi-Wan says sarcastically. Anakin turns up a side street, zooming up several small passageways, then stops, hovering about fifty stories up. Obi-Wan folds his arms. "Well, you lost him,"

"I'm deeply sorry, Master,"

"Great job Anakin, he went completely the other way," You groan, unhappy for losing the bounty hunter. Anakin looks around front and back. He spots something. He seems to start counting to himself as he watches something below approach.

"Excuse me for a moment," Anakin then jumps out of the speeder. You and Obi-Wan watch as he jumps on the hunter's speeder about five stories below you. You quickly jump into the driver's seat and follow after them. You deftly gain on the rogue speeder. The two speeders dive through oncoming traffic and then through cross traffic. You then see Anakin drop something and you quickly catch it. You then notice it's his lightsaber. You sigh and hand it to Obi-Wan.

"I'm going to have to admit, this has been the most fun I've had since Naboo," You say as you follow the speeder as it crashes onto the ground.

"Naboo? You mean with Maul?"

"Well, everything leading up to that," You say as you talently spin around oncoming vehicles.

"Spinning is not flying!" Obi-Wan groans. "This is the first time I've ridden with you and your already matching Anakin's recklessness," You chuckle as you land. You grin as you land and wipe the sweat from your head. Obi-Wan looks at you before chuckling. You also laugh as he gets out and helps you out. "I will have to admit, that was something different,"

"Probably something the council will frown upon," You joke before seeing him. "Anakin!"

"She went into that club," Anakin said, pointing to the bright sign.

"Patience," Obi-Wa reminds as he hands Anakin his lightsaber. "Here. Next time try not to lose it,"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin reaches for the lightsaber, but Obi-Wan holds it back. "A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession,"

"Yes, Master," He reaches for his lightsaber again, but Obi-Wan pulls it back.

"He must keep it with him at all times,"

"I know, Master,"

"This weapon is your life!"

"I've heard this lesson before..." You and Anakin say at the same time. Obi-Wan finally holds out his lightsaber and Anakin grabs it.

"But unlike (Y/N), you haven't learned anything, Anakin,"

"I try, Master,"

"However, you should thank (Y/N) for catching it for you," Obi-Wan says before stepping away.

"Thank you...you've lost your lightsaber?" He teases as you follow Obi-Wan.

"Yeah, but I found it," You defend.

"How long did it take you?"

"3 lectures from my master and one full rotation,"

"Really? Where was it?" You look down. "(Y/N)," He says in a sing-song voice.

"It was under my bed," Anakin laughs loudly and you also chuckle as all three of you enter the nightclub.

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 1 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: This will be a collection of conversations set before the events of season 9 in which the reader speaks with Negan while in his cell as they recount events and memories from their time in the Apocalypse as well as stories of his own. 

Word Count: 2417

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Open Season” by Josef Salvat

Note: These are going to be smaller stories that I will be updating randomly. Each fic will be a conversation/situation about Negan in his cell in Alexandria. Some maybe very short, others not. I am still working on the other stories, but I wanted to post this as I work on those as well. Thank you for your kind words about my family, I really appreciate it.

------

“I just don’t know why you’re asking me to do this, Michonne.” 

You stood across from Alexandria’s head of security in her kitchen. Michonne meticulously cleaned her Katana as you spoke, remaining calm the entire time. When she had asked you to meet her today, you never imagined this would be the reason. 

“Gabriel is worried about his state of mind,” Michonne said, “He thinks somebody should be speaking with him on a regular basis.” 

“Isn’t that already Gabriel’s job?” you asked. “He’s always the one who’s down there.” Michonne sighed, sliding the blade back into its sheath.

“He believes that he can no longer get through to him and that they’ve become too familiar with each other,” Michonne said, placing her sword down and bracing her hands against the kitchen counter, “I also think we can benefit from it and I suppose he can as well.” You frowned. 

“You’re asking me to become Negan’s therapist,” you pointed out. “How is any of that beneficial?”

“Whether we like it or not, Negan did run an entire community unchallenged. He may have insight into this world that we don’t and I have started to think that perhaps keeping him so isolated isn’t doing anyone any good,” Michonne explained. “I am asking you because you don’t have a relationship with him. The two of you never interacted during the war and you made sure to stay out of his line of sight for most of it. You’re not a total stranger, but he doesn’t know you like he knows Gabriel, me, or even Aaron.”

“So, basically, you want someone he can’t push around by pushing their buttons,” you concluded and Michonne grimaced. 

“You were also a teacher, (Y/N),” said Michonne, “that is something you two have in common. Maybe that will get him to open up or at least… God, I don’t know what I want the outcome to be, but Rick wanted Negan to be a symbol for how we can grow as a society. I don’t know if he can ever be redeemed, but if he can even a small amount, then it may start with you.” 

“You pulled out your Rick card,” you said with a sigh, “not fair.” Michonne smiled with a shrug. 

“I knew it would come in handy someday,” she said and you finally gave in. 

“Okay, I will be the big bad wolf’s confidant, but if he tries anything or pisses me off to a degree that makes me want to commit murder, that’s on Gabriel,” you said with a wink and Michonne visibly relaxed. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she said, relieved. “I’m going to let you run it the way you want to, but try not to piss him off if you can.” You smiled at her brightly. 

“Oh, you know me, Michonne, something like that is inevitable.”

-----

When you arrived at the cell an hour later, you dismissed the guard who stood out front. 

If you were going to be talking to Negan to gain insight and trust, you didn’t see the need for a chaperone. As the guard left, you pushed open the heavy door and sealed it behind you. 

“Gabe, if you’re here to give me another life lesson, you can save it. I’m not in the mood,” Negan said in the darkness of his cell. You had never been this close to the man before. You had fought against the Saviors of course, but always at an outpost or in a larger fight. Rick had also used your talents with the sniper rifle and kept you up high most of the time. This whole situation was alien to you and while it was unnerving to be so near to a killer, you didn’t let that stop you from stepping out of the shadows. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not Father Gabriel,” you said, dragging a chair from the wall and centering it before the jail cell. Negan, who had been laying on his bed with his back to the door, slowly sat up and turned towards you.

In the cool light of the room, you could see him clearly now. His hair was shorter than the last time you had seen him which was when Rick had dragged him into this cell about five years before. He still had the stubble on his face, but the cocky grin that you had gotten used to seeing through your scope was nowhere to be seen. 

“Have we met?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to get comfortable. 

“Not officially,” you told him. “I’m (Y/N).” Recognition dawned on his face then. 

“Yes,” he said, sitting forward on the edge of his cot, “Little Miss Grimes has mentioned you before.” It wasn’t news to you that he spoke to Judith. Most people knew that she visited Negan often. The only person who probably didn’t know was Michonne. Judith had confided in you that she wasn’t scared of the man and that all she wanted was for him to know he wasn’t some kind of wild animal. You now started to realize that her reasoning was exactly why you were here. “So what can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

“I’ve been sent by the overlords of Alexandria to be your new best friend,” you explained, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Is that right?” he asked, leaning forward. “Gabe get too bored with little ole me?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” you told him, “but I am here as a favor for Michonne so how about we just accept the new normal?” Negan bowed his head slightly. 

“Well then, what exactly do the big shots upstairs want us to do? Compare breakup stories? Organize a block party?” 

“I see you haven’t lost your wit,” you pointed out, leaning back in your chair.  

“We all have our things, (Y/N),” he said, “I am curious, though,” he went on, “where were you when your people were trying to kill all of mine?” 

“Usually on a rooftop,” you explained, “Grimes always had me up high with the guns.” Negan seemed genuinely thrilled by the thought of that. 

“And you never got me in your cross-hairs and took a shot? Damn, that is incredibly terrifying.”

“I was never ordered to,” you told him. “I was more surveillance than an assassin.” 

“Either way, my men never saw you watchin’ me,” he said and it sounded like a compliment. The way Negan was looking at you reminded you of kids staring at a lion in a zoo. Ironic seeing how he was the one in the cage and not you. Every glance was out of curiosity and you thought you noticed a bit of gratitude in his eyes. Perhaps Michonne and Gabriel were right after all. The man just needed someone to talk to.

“Okay, how about this?” you said, after a moment of silence. He waited for you to continue. “You and I are just gonna talk. You can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer and hopefully, you will return the favor when I want to .” Negan raised a single brow. 

“It’s that simple?” he asked.

“Do you want it to be difficult?” you asked. “I think I could add some really brash and annoying terms to the arrangement if you want."

"You are a very strange person," Negan said.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"As you should," Negan said with a cheeky grin. "However, I am curious about one thing. Don't you hate me?" You mulled over his words for a few seconds before shaking your head.

"Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in this world, but has not solved one yet," you quoted easily. Negan's eyes lit up.

"Morrison?"

"Angelou," you corrected.

"Ah," he said. "Wise woman. So what you're saying is that hating me isn't going to solve anything, am I right?"

"Pretty much," you agreed, crossing your arms.

"But I killed your people," he reminded you. Negan was clearly trying to put you off, but you had expected this. 

"And I killed your people," you said. "Do you hate me?" Negan scoffed, leaning back on his hands as he watched you through the bars.

"You're good," he complimented.

"You didn't answer my question," you said. Negan licked his lips before shaking his head.

"No, I don't hate you. Although, I don't even know you so that could change." This time you let out a quick laugh that was pure instinct at this point.

"Fair enough," you conceded.

"Alright, (Y/N), if you are so inclined to answer questions, answer me this: how did you end up with this merry bunch of survivors?" 

"Simple," you said, "I saved Carl Grimes from a Walker." Negan's face dropped at the mention of the late teenager. You knew about the soft spot Negan had for Carl. It wasn't a mystery, hell, Carl wouldn't have lived long after he attacked the Sanctuary if Negan didn't like him.

"You saved him?" Negan asked, pulling you from your memories.

"Yeah, I met Carl and his mom, Lori, shortly after everything happened," you began, "They, alongside other survivors, were camped at a quarry outside of Atlanta. I was on my own, trying to make it to the coast when I came across their campsite. I was wary of people, of course, but I knew I wouldn't make it far on my own. I stayed around the edge of camp for a while, just gettin' a feel for the people when Carl ran off when Lori wasn't looking. He was running around with another kid from the group." You paused, unsure if you should divulge much more, but Negan was staying entirely focused on your story.

"Carl was with Sophia...Carol's late daughter." Slight surprise entered Negan's eyes, but he remained quiet. You went on, "The two of them got turned around and then Carl being Carl, decided to run off alone without Sophia. He was near me when the Walker came out of the trees and grabbed him. I didn't really think at that moment. I just ran for the kid. I shot the Walker in the head and the next thing I know, I had a crossbow pointed at my back."

"Let me guess, Daryl?" Negan figured. 

"Damn right. Son of a bitch thought I was shooting at the kid, but luckily Carl spoke up and explained. They took me back to their camp and Lori insisted I stay so that's what I did."

"And here you are," Negan said, impressed.

"Here I am."

"That kid was pretty damn special," Negan said fondly. "This world really does take the good ones, don't it?"

"I always think that it would have been easier if a person had killed him instead of a Walker, you know? At least then we would have an enemy." 

"What, you don't think the Walkers are the enemy?" 

"They're just a part of the new world," you explained. "Can't really call them an enemy if they didn't intend to be here in the first place."

Negan was quiet again as your words sank in. In fact, you were surprised that he hadn't spoken over you whenever he got the chance. According to the rest of your friends and family, the man loved to hear himself talk. You stored that new observation away for later.

"In your opinion," Negan said slowly, "what kind of person classifies as an enemy, or rather, just evil?"

"I've seen darkness, Negan," you told him. "We all have and it was before we even heard your name. If you're trying to ask me if I think you’re evil, the answer is no, I don't. Most of us here like myself, Daryl, Michonne, we've all seen what happens when someone has lost all trace of humanity. Seen what they do to other human beings and trust me, those are the evil people of this screwed-up world. You haven't lost your humanity, Negan, and I pray you never will."

Negan leaned his forearms onto his knees, rubbing a calloused hand over his bearded face. Something had clicked inside his head, that much was apparent, but you weren't sure what.

Yet.

"Sounds like you've been through hell," Negan whispered.

"And back," you finished. "Multiple times."

"You gonna tell me that story? About the loss of humanity?" His question wasn't overly eager, instead, it was all curiosity and you were starting to think that was the main characteristic of the man who once called himself the "big bad wolf".

"One day," you nodded. "If you'll let me come back again."

"I get to decide?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, no point in coming down here if you won't talk to me. That would be wasting both of our time."

"Then by all means, (Y/N), feel free to drop by," Negan said, spreading his arms wide in a welcome gesture. You rolled your eyes but nodded.

"If it means anything," you said as you stood from your seat and turned towards the door, "Carl once told me that you were the only person he always trusted to tell him the truth, and coming from him, that's a lot."

Negan looked at you for a long moment before bowing his head. "Thanks for that," he said softly. You gave him a small smile, one more out of understanding than anything. Whether people hated him or not, nobody could deny that he cared about Carl Grimes and that the teen's death had affected him as well.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you told him as you pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the sunlight. Negan didn't call you back as you climbed the steps and began walking home.

You watched as Alexandria spun on, unaware of the emotions that ran deep through you at the moment. Gabriel and Michonne had been right, after all, Negan needed to talk to another human being, but perhaps that was exactly what you needed as well and you had a feeling this was just the beginning of an odd relationship. 

TAGS: @thanossexual​

[resbangmod]

Resbang 2019 Promo, the Fifteenth

i'm not a part of your machine

presented by author: soul-of-spades [ffn] [tumblr] [ ao3]

with artist: peregrine [tumblr]

and artist:  blinkfl0yd [tumblr]

Pairings: SoMa

Rating: R

Warnings: homicidal machines, minor character deaths, PTSD, blood/gore, violence, foul language, sexual content (not explicit), sexual assault

Summary: 

For 10 years now, Maka has lived in the shadow of Judgment Day, fighting alongside her father's resistance in the war against machines. She is desperate to prove herself, and when a rescue mission in enemy territory goes awry because of a mistake she made, guilt pushes her down a dangerous path. One paved with blood, homicidal machines (and people), an endearing stranger with no memory, a dopey Labrador, a strange boy with classified intel, and, above all, a choice - trust someone she loves, or destroy a potential threat to her resistance. Terminator Salvation AU.

Please enjoy the story and art previews below the cut!

Excerpt:

"We're not here to fight."

Look at him, pretending to be the voice of reason. The air of maturity surrounding him now doesn't suit him. Blake is a man of bad jokes, questionable style choices, and junk-grabbing howls. He is a wild child to his core. Perhaps Tsubaki - his maybe not, maybe so girlfriend - is really starting to rub off on him.

"Well, you're god awful at playing pacifist," she jabs, hoping to sway him to her favor. "You’re an assassin, right? So, help me destroy this thing before it finds the bunker." 

The com in her ear sparks to life. "Maka, Black Star has a point."

Ah, Tsubaki. Figures she'd take his side, even going as far as using his stupid code name. She likes to shy away from danger and acts as the team's moral compass, mostly. But when push comes to shove, she's dependable in a fight. Tsubaki knows her way around a blade - a katana that used to belong to her brother, she once told Maka when she had a little too much to drink. She's cleaved a terminator's head clean off before. Maka imagines her watching her and Blake from a second or third-floor window. She spotted the drone first.

"I don't know. Maka's right, this drone is wandering into our territory. Destroying it could save us some trouble in the long run."

She could always count on Liz's all-consuming paranoia to back her up in a pinch. Aside from her hot-wired survival instincts, the skittish girl is surprisingly good with a rifle in her hands. Her aim is almost always true. Maka trusts her above anyone else to watch her back from the rooftops. She imagines Liz's crosshairs are trained on either her or the drone right now, watching, waiting for confirmation.

"Your Pops said no firefights. I don't make the rules, and neither do you, pipsqueak." 

She silently curses him and his teenage growth spurt because life was so much easier when she was taller than him, damn it - especially in situations like this when he tries to disarm her with a tacky nickname that never fails to get under her skin. When he used to call her "tiny tits" back in the day, there was hell to pay. 

Suddenly, the answer dawns on her, always within her grasp. Must’ve slipped through the cracks during Blake’s feeble stab at acting “rationally,” if that’s even the right word for it. She could really use the old him, the Blake who took more risks and spat on the rules if they didn’t work for him. Maka hasn’t seen that version of him in a while. 

"You're not running point.”

His mouth drops into a frown. 

"Papa put me in charge of this Op. You listen to me." 

She says this more as a reminder to herself. For all his blabbering about playing it safe, Blake isn’t the one calling the shots. He’s used to being top dog, but not today. Papa handed her the reins to this search and rescue mission this morning. Nothing too risky, just checking on the outskirts for any survivors that slipped past inner-city machines. So really, it is her call. 

"Maka…"

"Hand me your skateboard," she orders. The little wooden death trap with wheels - branded with a blue star, of course - hangs off his backpack, calling to her as an idea starts to come together in her mind. 

"What?"

"Just do it."

"You heard the boss," Liz sing-songs over the com. "Cough it up." 

Blake begrudgingly listens and hands it over. "Don't hurt her."

"Don't worry, I won't break it." That isn't the plan, anyway. 

Maka places the board on the sidewalk and tests her footing on it, careful not to make too much noise. This type of drone is hyper-sensitive to movement more so than sound, but Skynet's machines are always evolving. She takes her pistol out of her gun belt holster - a gift from Papa - and brings it to her chest. She takes a deep breath. 

"What are you doing?" Blake asks, but she ignores him. 

Instead, Maka crouches down and lies on top of the board, stomach first, before flipping on her side. She takes another deep breath. The pistol shakes in her hands before settling, her finger resting on the trigger. This isn't the time to show fear, it's time to be brave. 

"Maka, you need to think before you act," Tsubaki says, the angelic voice of reason. "This is dangerous."

This is war, Maka wants to say back, but it goes unsaid. 

Suddenly, Blake catches on. What a shame that Tsubaki's intuition for bad decision-making didn't rub off on him, too. 

His eyes are wide with panic. "Maka, don't - " 

If you want something done right, do it yourself.

Please look forward to i’m not part of your machine, coming soon to a resbang near you!

[queenofnohr]

Yan Qing Interlude - Death of a Certain Outlaw

Phew, this one was a doozy. Warning: This Interlude hinges on the reader having knowledge of how exactly Doppelganger and Yan Qing are tied to each other as well as knowledge of Water Margin. I try to give context in translator’s notes at the end, but…… yeah.

Only one set of options for now because I was supposed to put this up Saturday, but my internet was blown out for the last 4 days and anywhere with free wifi is quite a ways away. I’ll probably end up adding them this weekend (and for now the corresponding options are bolded)

If text isn’t tagged in brackets or with a character tag, it means it’s unnamed narration. (I also recommend pulling up a video or the Interlude itself cuz there are some cool effects (like the scenery being “glitchy” during narration segments))

Now that I’m done with uni, translation commissions are open for the immediate future!

―Doesn’t everyone have this thought at least once in their lives? That is - am I really myself? Can you say for certain whether or not you’re just a puppet, controlled by someone else? Maybe this world is nothing but a sham, and I am a being that only exists within the mind―

In this world, “yourself” isn’t anything that truly exists. Legends, myths - those certainly do exist.  Now then. ―Just who am I?

[in Shinjuku]

Yan Qing: *pant* *pant* *pant* …… The sky is dull, the water tastes filthy, the stench of blood hangs thick in the air - the atmosphere is altogether the fucking worst. The bleeding won’t stop. I’ve been cornered. ???: How does it feel to die? Yan Qing: Ah― it really is the worst. Laughing, sneering, jeering. And yet, here, in my final moments, doubt rises from the depths of my mind. In the end, all I wanted to know was life as a human being. Just who was I, really? I wonder if the man before me laughs because he knows. Yan Qing: Hey - who am I? ???: ……. ……. You are― I can’t hear him laughing. I quietly close my eyes.

[scene change, rooftop]

> We’ve come to Shinjuku again……

Mash: Communications are stable, Master. Allow me to explain the situation once more. Shinjuku, as a Singularity, has already been corrected. As such, no matter what strange phenomena might occur here, it will have no effect on the Human Order Foundation, however― One Servant Leyshifted to Shinjuku. Known as the Shinjuku Assassin, his True Name is Yan Qing…….

> Does anyone know what happened to Yan Qing? > Is it certain he’s in Shinjuku?

Mash: I have no other information to report other than that he Leyshifted to Shinjuku. Accompanying you as navigators are Cursed Arm Hassan and Geronimo. I look forward to working with the both of you. Geronimo: The pleasure is mine. Cursed Arm: Then, Master, where shall we begin the search? Geronimo: We won’t find him by searching at random. It seems we have no choice but to follow his magical energy…… Mash: Yes, and we have the tracking data from it. The problem is, at a certain point, Yan Qing’s trail effectively disappears. It might be because of increased interference on the part of the monitoring device, or perhaps…… Cursed Arm: Hm. Perhaps he suffered a grievous wound, or even perished. No, excuse me - I spoke without thinking. Please be at ease, Gudako-dono. Yan Qing is a strong person with high mental fortitude. In fact, he’s probably at his best running around this city. Geronimo: I suppose you’re right - this isn’t a serious enough issue to require fortune telling. I, too, will guarantee his survival. Cursed Arm: Then, for the time being, I’ll investigate our surroundings. We shall have a better chance at finding him with our options narrowed down. Geronimo: I suppose we’ll wait until you’ve returned. But taking our Master’s endurance into account, I’d like to finish this within the day. Cursed Arm: Haha, but of course. Well then, I’ll be back shortly.

> Take care > Be careful―

Cursed Arm: I’m grateful for your concern. But worry not. For we Hassans are one with the shadows.

[Cursed Arm leaves]

Geronimo: Then, for the time being―

[Cursed Arm returns]

Cursed Arm: I found him. Geronimo: That was fast.

> So fast!?

[scene change, streets]

Yan Qing: Oh, Miss~! Can I get a meat bun with whatever kind of meat that is? Thanks~.

> It really is Yan Qing…… > What the hell is he doing

Cursed Arm: When I saw him I, too, doubted my eyes. I thought - there must be a limit on how much one can slack off. Yan Qing: Oh, if it isn’t my Master. What’s up?

> Don’t you “What’s up” me!

Yan Qing: ? ……No. That’s right. After all, I just turned up without a word, didn’t I. Ah, sorry. I really am sorry, but― There’s something I must do here. I won’t let anything get in my way. Yan Qing (?): It’s no excuse, but I will not allow myself to be caught!

> This is Doppleganger’s power……!? > He shapeshifted!

Yan Qing (?): That’s right. I’m going all out this time. It’s all over if you catch me here, you see! Geronimo: He’s about to lose it. At this rate― Our best course of action is probably beating him into submission. Let’s go, Master. Mash: Everyone, please prepare for combat!

[battle]

Yan Qing (?): Sorry, but I’m out. See ya! Geronimo: A smokescreen……! Cursed Arm: It seems he stole it from someone while we fought. Mash: W- What should we do? He said he had something to do, but…… Cursed Arm: ……This is certainly unfortunate. Gudako-dono, let’s pursue him. Geronimo: Oi. Cursed Arm, do you know what exactly it is Yan Qing should be doing? Cursed Arm: Indeed, as it has to do with me. Now then, shall we head out? His destination is unknown, but so what? We’ll just have to go over this city with a fine-toothed comb. It’s a routine job for a Hassan such as I.

[2nd arrow]

Wandering, searching for that which must be done. Something that cannot be cleaned away, atoned for, compensated. If something gets in my way, I’ll eliminate it. Because my objective is righteous. Because it is righteous, it is for the sake of being righteous. I will take revenge on him. [scene change] Geronimo: So, basically, it’d be better to go after him, but…… If he’s disguised, finding him would be impossible. Then, what should we do? Cursed Arm: Not impossible - in our previous battle, I secretly marked him. It’s a cursed incense passed down in my organization. We only need to be near him to detect him. Geronimo: Oho, so that was what you were preparing during battle. Then we’ll be counting on you to guide us, Cursed Arm. Cursed Arm: It would be my honor, Master.

> Please guide us!

Cursed Arm: ……Hm. It’s faint, but the scent is in the air. It’s surprising that we’d locate him so soon. He’s this way. I’ll take the lead.

[scene change]

Geronimo: By the way, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from earlier.

> What are you thinking? > About what he “must do”?

Geronimo: Indeed. Why did he want to go back to Shinjuku? And you, Cursed Arm - what is it that you know? Cursed Arm: …………Alright. It isn’t something I should’ve spoken of so easily, but the situation being what it is, I happened to have a slip of the tongue. The truth is, in Chaldea, Yan Qing came to apologize to me.

> Because of the Shinjuku Incident…… > Apologize for what?

Cursed Arm: Indeed, because of what happened during the Shinjuku Incident.

[Chaldea flashback]

Yan Qing: Eyo, Master Cursed Arm. Do you have a minute? Cursed Arm: Go ahead and come in, Yan Qing-dono. What troubles you? Yan Qing: I feel like there’s something I need to apologize to you for. Cursed Arm: Apologize……? I can’t think of anything in particular that would warrant an apology. Yan Qing: But it seems like, because of what I did in Shinjuku, I caused you trouble. Cursed Arm: ……So that’s it. What you did certainly was described in the Shinjuku report. My name appeared in it, so I read it just in case, but…… It isn’t anything you need to apologize for. Living as an intelligence agent, disguising yourself to betray others is inevitable. Yan Qing: Maybe you’re right. After all I don’t particularly feel any way about it. But even if it isn’t in my heart, my body itches for it*. I must make amends with you if I want to move forward. And, if possible― I must return to Shinjuku to accomplish it. Cursed Arm: Accomplish “it”……?

Yan Qing: Yeah, you know that saying - “If you commit a sin, work to atone for even a part of it”? It’s sorta like that. Cursed Arm: ……But isn’t is enough to fight alongside our Master? You don’t have to search for atonement in Shinjuku specifically. Yan Qing: ……Yeah, I guess you’re right. No, you’re exactly right. Man, what was I thinking! Just forget I said anything. Cursed Arm: …………

[end flashback]

Cursed Arm: Altogether, I didn’t think anything of it, so I didn’t press it, but…… Upon entering Shinjuku, I remembered how I felt at that time. Even if I was smiling then, my heart was not. Yan Qing is still probably seeking atonement. Geronimo: Atonement, huh. But what the Shinjuku Assassin did has nothing to do with Yan Qing. It can’t be that way. If it were, as Heroic Spirits, our sins would pile up with each time we’re summoned. Even if we were talking about a hero from the Age of Gods, that’s an unbearable burden to place on anyone. To prevent this, we only retain records themselves, we do not “remember.” Mash: As a Demi-Servant, I have no memories from Galahad…… If I did, I think my mind** would wear down.

> But, Yan Qing……

Cursed Arm: ……That’s enough talk. We’ve caught up with him. The Hornet over there is Yan Qing.

[Hornet enemy type appears]

> Yan Qing!

Yan Qing (?): Gah, you already found me!? Geronimo: Yan Qing. Is what you seek atonement? Or is it perhaps retribution - to be judged for your sins.

[Yan Qing reveals himself]

Yan Qing: ……I’m not searching for anything. It’s something I must do, I’m sorry, Geronimo. I have to do it, or I will no longer be me.

―I have a headache. Proper Heroic Spirits don’t understand the agony grating against my soul. Is simply being killed a punishment in itself? No, I have to die more miserably than that.

> Yan Qing……?

Yan Qing: ……Don’t try to stop me, Master. I beg you…… I’m begging you. I have to die. Cursed Arm: You’re contradicting yourself. And you’ve gotten green, Yan Qing. If it’s a sin so heavy you must be killed for it, in order to bear it, fight― I can’t leave you as you are right now. You’re just a despicable greenhorn who’s lost his head trying to scrub away his regrets. Yan Qing: ……! Cursed Arm: How about you, Master? ……If you’re to accept his atonement, with the way things are now, it would be best to just go back.

> I can’t accept it > Let’s talk it out

Yan Qing: Unfortunately, I don’t have time for this……! ―Damn it, so it’s gotta be like this again.

[he turns back into the masked enemy]

Yan Qing (?): If that’s the way it is, I’ll take you on! Sorry, Master!

[two more appear]

Geronimo: Hmph, he can multiply himself just like a planarian or some seaweed. Mash: I think he just called for reinforcements…… Ahem. Anyway, prepare for battle!

[battle]

Geronimo: It seems he escaped while we were defeating the other Hornets. But…… hm. What do you think, Cursed Arm? Cursed Arm: About what? Geronimo: If the end is just? Cursed Arm: ―Of course. That’s why I came here, after all.

> What do you mean? > Perhaps you’re right……

Cursed Arm: Allow me to explain next time we encounter Yan Qing. He also needs to hear it.

[third arrow]

―It’s not here. It’s not here either. It isn’t anywhere. How strange. It has to be here. That person is still here, I’m sure of it. Ah, my body is crumbling. I can’t maintain my spirit foundation as Yan Qing. The sky is dull, the water tastes filthy, ???: How does it feel to die? When I look back, the Grim Reaper is standing there, waiting eagerly for me.

[black screen]

Yan Qing: What, so you were here after all? Cursed Arm Hassan.

[Cursed arm is in view along with the city]

Yan Qing: That’s right, I have to apologize to you. I killed you, I killed you, after all. No, that’s wrong. I was killed. I was killed by you. ……No, wait. Please wait. My memory- My memories are all jumbled up……! Cursed Arm (?): It’s already over, so it’s best to quietly accept it. ……. ……. We can never atone for our sins. Yan Qing: ……That voice…… No, wait…… Are you me? Cursed Arm (?): I shall answer your question with another. Who are you?

[Cursed Arm turns into Yan Qing]

[scene change]

> Hassan…… > Yan Qing……!?

Yan Qing: Eyo, sorry Master! My plan was to trick him, but it didn’t pan out! Geronimo: Hm. It seems you are the real Yan Qing. However, that one also maintains a Saint Graph comparable to Yan Qing. ……This one is at least able to laugh. Is the Yan Qing over there Doppelganger then? Yan Qing (?): Ah…… A- Ah…… AGHHHHHHHHH!! Yan Qing: Oi, oi, calm down, me! Ah, it’s no use. This is bad, I revealed my true form too soon!

[Doppelganger starts rapidly changing forms]

Mash: This is…… A Servant…… No, Christine……? As well as Hassan, Yan Qing…… It transformed into various other enemies! Yan Qing: Well, whatever, let’s calm him down, Master!

> So we just have to beat him! > Er, meaning……?

Yan Qing: Yup! Well then, me that isn’t me. It’s time you return to the place we can be ourselves. Here, the existence you must atone for doesn’t exist. So― If we don’t finish everything here, neither of us will be able to maintain ourselves!

[battle, then scene starts off with a screen blood splatter] [flashback, rooftop]

Cursed Arm: Guh― Shinjuku Assassin: It’s over, Hassan-i Sabbah. Cursed Arm: ……It’s my loss. Take this head of mine. Shinjuku Assassin: Huh? Why would I do a stupid thing like that? No, I’m going to copy your Saint Graph instead. Cursed Arm: ……! Shinjuku Assassin: After all, sooner or later your little Chaldea friends are gonna come to visit, and I’ll - or should I say you’ll - be there to greet them! Cursed Arm: ―So you stay your hand for the perfect ambush setup. You’re a Heroic Spirit worthy of the name Assassin. Very well. Then as a Servant summoned to this land, let me show you the depths of my will. Shinjuku Assassin: Oh, so you’re taking me on? The Big Shot of the assassin world. It’s an honor to be able to kill each other, Hassan. Cursed Arm: ―Dying without being able to do anything. I thought that would be my role, but it is precisely because I cannot do anything that there is indeed something I can do. Shinjuku Assassin: What……? Cursed Arm: ―Zabaniya! Shinjuku Assassin: Ha, I knew it! You can’t take my heart without any prep! Cursed Arm: You’re right. But this time I don’t need a copy.

[blood splatter]

Shinjuku Assassin: What……!? Cursed Arm: Kuku…… Looks like it was successful. Shinjuku Assassin: Your own heart…… why? Cursed Arm: It should be obvious. I believe Chaldea will save this city…… If that’s the case, then I am merely lending my support as a Servant. Shinjuku Assassin: Huh…… Huh……!? How stupid! All this for a hunch! You’re giving your life for someone you’re not even sure will come!? Cursed Arm: Of course. I was summoned as a stray Servant. As such, my mission was to save this city. No, it wasn’t just that. The will of heaven…… No, it’s better to refer to it as a mission. In any case, it’s only natural to become a martyr to that end. Shinjuku Assassin: ……! Cursed Arm: With my death, your imitation cannot be complete. ……It’s such a small thing for me, and such a large failure for you. To the person who will save this yet unknown city - farewell……!

[Cursed Arm disappears]

Shinjuku Assassin: Damn it……! What the hell! For fuck’s sake! That wasn’t for the sake of your lord. Dying for someone you’ve never even met……!? That’s such a fucking bullshit end……! Damn it, damn it, damn you……!

[scene change, looking at sky, still flashback]

―My Saint Graph grates against itself, crashes together. I was someone who once betrayed my Master at the very end, yet even so I still intended to serve faithfully. So, I understand completely. That Assassin’s devotion isn’t something that just anyone can live up to. How ungainly, how very enviable. Ah, it’s grating. It’s coming apart. Splitting in two. It’s being torn apart……! O, lord, my lord! Why did you rush so foolishly to throw away your life! You were smarter than that! Was it for the sake of some hint of glory? Is that unfathomable devotion in me! ……I don’t understand. At that time, fear pierced the depths of my heart. How could I oppose my lord, who saved my life, which should have been abandoned? I didn’t know what I should have done. Nothing, nothing……. Not even the slightest bit……. I didn’t understand anything at all……***

[scene change, present]

Yan Qing: ……And that’s the reason why. That person is me and yet not me. Doppelganger, an existence that should be a phantom. That’s why I could pursue them pretty easily. After all, I still possess some of Doppelganger. Cursed incense? Sorry, that was a lie. Geronimo: So you separated…… I don’t quite get it. Yan Qing: If I had to say, it’s a copy. Using Doppelganger’s power, Shinjuku Assassin could transform into anything. ……Little by little, I lost sight of who I was, until I was defeated by Master. This is what remained, but it was still connected to the me that was summoned by Chaldea. ……That’s right. We’re tied together. The report that I Leyshifted was probably due to the disorder at that time. He thought he was Yan Qing, and returned to Shinjuku again. And I couldn’t allow him to do the same kinda stuff he was doing before. I’m not the villain who controlled Shinjuku, but a chivalrous outlaw. Look, I’m a person with a strong sense of justice, right?

> If it’s you we’re talking about, you’re definitely an outlaw of justice > You mean a chivalrous outlaw of darkness?

Yan Qing: Wahahahaha. Thanks for playing along, Master! Yan Qing (?): Ah…… Ahhhhh…… I can’t atone……. I can’t redeem myself…… There’s only regret…… Nothing but regrets piled high, and I’m still alive…… I can’t stand it…… Yan Qing: You wanted to die, so you tried to kill. Because if you killed then you would be killed. Am I wrong?

[Doppelganger turns into a skeleton ghost]

Doppelganger: ……I…… I am…… I am****…… Everyone……. No one…… Because I have no self, I am no one, because I possess neither good nor evil intent, I cannot become anything. I can only live in the interval between darkness and whispers, no more than an unsightly phantom…… But…… Even so…… I wanted to- at the very least, atone…… But I don’t want to die either…… I don’t know- what to do…… Yan Qing: Oh, in that case, you should join together with me. I mean, I came to invite you, anyway. Geronimo: Hm, joining with a phantom? Can you even do that? You’ve retained your individuality up until now, but your sense of self may be affected. Yan Qing: It’s fine, it’ll be fine. I am me. Right, Master?

> If it’s Yan Qing, everything will be okay > I’m a bit worried, but……

Yan Qing: Righto! Doppelganger: I- It’s okay……? For me…… to be with you…… truly……? Yan Qing: Yeah, become my strength. And don’t forget the feeling of being driven mad, starved of justice. If this is happening, be a splendid outlaw. Doppelganger: An outlaw…… Someone with honor and compassion, who opposes kings, who can control themselves…… Even I…… Could be that……

[Doppelganger disappears]

Mash: Doppelganger…… Wasn’t exterminated, instead I confirmed it’s integration into Yan Qing. There is no disturbance concerning the numerical value of his Saint Graph. Yan Qing: So you’re saying everything’s fine? Geronimo: However, this is an exceptional situation. It’s probably best to receive counsel from Da Vinci upon our return. Yan Qing: Yep, yep, roger that! Geronimo: …… …… Because it had no ego, it wrought evil upon Shinjuku― Consequently, possessing a personality, Doppelganger has the potential for good…… It could be said that this is a miracle borne of the instability of the Foundation of Humanity. Then, Master. No matter who forgets, I want you to remember. By being witnessed by you, his despair and struggle become immortal. And in doing so, surely it will be his glory. Yan Qing: Yeah. For believing in me until the end, you have my gratitude, Master. Everything I do, is for the sake of my lord― For your sake, Gudako!

[end]

Notes: * The furigana reads “body” but the main text reads “Saint Graph” and the verb is “whisper” which is a major sort of….. clue, I suppose, as to what’s going on ** Japanese has a lot of words for mind/soul/heart/will with some of them used interchangeably. This particular word could mean either mind or spirit. *** Hoooo boy. Okay so the entire narration here is based off what happens in Water Margin. Basically, Li Junyi - Yan Qing’s lord who saved him (and thus earned his loyalty) - was lured into a trap and poisoned. Doppelganger, who’s sense of self is tenuous at best is overwhelmed by Yan Qing’s memory of it because of Cursed Arm’s sacrifice, and loses it. I have no idea if there was angst in the original text, but here Doppelganger/Yan Qing is torn up because he regards his greatest sin as surviving even though his lord (as well as a lot of the other outlaws) died.  **** Here, Doppelganger starts cycling through different ways to say “I” in Japanese (Watashi/Ore/Boku/etc) which is obviously difficult to translate directly into English especially since he doesn’t include any other text in these “personality” shifts. It is a cool thing in the OG text though in a short but effectual way to show Doppelganger’s lack of “self” ***** As always, whenever “outlaw” is mentioned, it’s the chivalrous type that Ya n Qing prides himself on being

[blacknight1230]

Rooftop Chase

Ezio Auditore Imagine

*Takes place during Assassin’s Creed 2* 

Ezio’s POV:

High above the celebrations, I sat on the tiled roof of a house in Firenze (Florence). It was nostalgic to be in my birth place again after my father’s and brothers’ wrongful deaths. But I had to be here, as I was tasked with killing a Templar official, one who was part of my family’s murder. My target was currently throwing a lavish part in the streets. The crowd allowed me easy coverage to sneak up to him and be able to get away without being detected after the deed is done. 

I watched on as a couple of courtesans fluttered around the man. The guards were able to be lured away while one courtesan stayed with the Templar. She led him into the crowd to dance as I quietly made my way to the streets. I effortlessly moved through the crowd and was just about to reach where the dancing couples were, when a woman screamed. I saw my target fall to the floor, blood pooling around him. In the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow moving towards the rooftops. 

I quickly climbed onto the rooftops and sprinted after the shadowed figure. The person lept from roof to roof, gracefully landing on their feet and never stumbling or stopping. “Signor, wait!” I called out. The figure showed no notification that they heard me and continued to run away. Tired of this useless chasing, I took a shortcut. I turned and jumped towards a flower pot, using it to swing onto another rooftop. From there I followed alongside the hooded figure. They eventually stopped when we were both on the rooftop of the Basilica di San Lorenzo. I stopped a few feet short behind the figure, who stood near the edge. There wasn’t a close enough roof to jump to and the height was too big for you to jump to the street below, so the figure was trapped. “There is nowhere to go, amico,” I said. 

The figure finally turned around, showing me the person’s identity. It was the courtesan that danced with the Templar! Her (e/c) eyes were rimmed with eyeshadow, her lips a bright red, and her (h/c) locks piled into an updo hairstyle. She was wearing a (f/c) dress that hung on her shoulders and therefore showed a bit of cleavage. The corset pushing her breasts up and showed the curves of her waist and hips. The full skirt was cut off at her ankles, it having no slits in it but was composed of two layers, the under laying being a light (f/c) color. Bands around her arms had flowing white fabric drape over her arms, the slit through the middle making it easier for her use her hands. All in all, she dressed a little more modest than the other courtesans, who practically showed you their underwear with their short slitted skirts. 

The woman looked at me with cold eyes and pulled out a dagger that was strapped to her thigh. “Get any closer, bastardo, and you’ll lose an eye!” she threatened. I raised my hands up in defense, trying to get through to the donna that I mean no harm. “Easy, signora,” I said. “I won’t hurt you. Lo prometto.” “How do I know you won’t just had me over to the guardie del cazzo?” the courtesan said, pointing her danger at me. “Because I wanted that man dead too. You just beat me to it,” I said, smirking at the signora. She didn’t lower her dagger until she saw the insignia of the Assassin’s Brotherhood on my belt. 

“Assassino,” she said breathlessly. “Sí, how do you know of the Order?” I asked. “My father was an assassino when he was young. Once he met my mother, he left that life. But that didn’t matter to the bastardo that murdered him,” the signora explained. “The Templar,” I said, realizing the reason for her killing my intended target. “The cozzo make up a false crime that my father ‘commited’ and hung his mutilated body in front of the Piazza della Signoria as punishment,” she explained, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. “Mio padre e fratelli were hanged there, too. I joined the Assassin’s Brotherhood to avenge them,” I told the courtesan. Said woman, lowered her guard and sheathed her dagger. “Mia scuse, signor. My name is (y/n) (l/n),” she introduced herself. “Ezio Auditore,” I replied, bowing to her. 

“I say, mia belleza, I’m quite impressed by your skills. It’s as if you were one of my fellow assassini fratelli e sorelli,” I complimented the young woman. “Grazie, Signore Auditore. Mio padre taught me how to everything he knew. He had his suspicions that his life as an assassin would catch up to him, despite no longer being part of that life,” (y/n) said, a faint blush on her cheeks. I felt my heart flutter at the sight, which shocked me. The last time I felt something like this was with Cristina, and when pulling the heartstrings of countless other women in my lifetime, I had never taken my flirting with them seriously. I am a womanizer; I planned on staying that way without my amore Cristina at my side. 

“Say, bella, how would you like it if I were to make a deal with you?” I said, an idea popping into my head. “A deal? What do you have in mind, Signore Auditore.” “I was thinking that maybe you can join the Brotherhood. Your skills can help the Assassins and their fight against the Templar Order,” I told the young woman, hoping she would agree to the terms. “Become an assassina? Oh, why the hell not. Thank you, Signore Auditore, for this opportunity. Now I can do some good with the skills I have,” (y/n) said cheerfully. “Per favore, call me Ezio, bella,” I flirted. 

The two of us were unnoticeably close to each other, to the point that if we moved any closer, we would be chest to chest. I couldn’t help but want to kiss her cherry stained lips and have her in my arms. It might have been her revealing outfit or that the fact that I found her very attractive visually, but I could tell it was something more. I knew she was like no other woman, her skills as an assassin only piece of the puzzle. “Ezio,” (y/n) said softly, gently laying her delicate hands on my armored chest. “Shh, bella, you’ll ruin the moment,” I whispered huskily. I leaned in, (y/n) meeting me halfway, our lips meeting in a gentle and soft kiss. 

I could feel a spark from the kiss, seeming to give me the momentum to add more passion into it. One of my hands came to cup (y/n)’s face, my other one gripping onto her hip. The (h/c) haired girl wrapped her arms my neck, fingers running through my dark locks and causing my white hood to fall back. Our were so close to each other, with my armor clad one practically enveloped the young beautiful woman. I was pretty sure we would have gone even further, if it weren’t for a guard noticing us. 

“What are you doing? Imbecille!” a rooftop guard shouted from several feet away on the Basilica. “Get down, or I'll throw you down!” (y/n) and I quickly broke away, hurryingly climbing down the building before the guard could shoot at us or reach us. Despite the dress, I saw (y/n) effortlessly climb down several stories of the Bascilica, before leaping to the ground and rolling onto her feet, running into an alley way out of the sight of any guards. I followed her, just a step behind her, hearing several guards gather to look for me and the signora. 

As I rounded the corner into the alley way, I was grabbed by the front of my robes and was pulled towards the disguised girl, her lips hastily meeting mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, deepening the kiss, just as a pack of guards ran past us, giving no mind to another couple showing affection away from prying eyes. Once the coast was clear, we separated, sucking in a much needed breath, our eyes locked on each other. (Y/n) was the first to break out into giggles, which I soon broke into, too, because of its contagiousness. 

“Leave it to the guards to ruin the moment,” I chuckled, hands trailing along the bottom of (y/n)’s spine. (y/n) giggled and pecked me on my lips. “Come on, Ezio, I think it’s time to go anyways. Care to show me where you and the other assassinos do their dirty work?” “If you mean the Brotherhood’s headquarters, then yes, I would love to show you, mio amore,” I said, taking her hand in mine, leading us out of the alley way. “You’ll love Monteriggioni and the Villa Auditore. Not only is it the Assassin’s place of operations, but it is the Auditore’s ancestral home,” I told the female assassin. “I look forward to it then, Ezio. Let’s go before the damn guards catch onto us,” (y/n) replied, as we walked arm in arm through the crowd of celebrating citizens. 

I couldn’t help but smirk as she confidently strolled with me towards the city gates, looking so regal and majestic. After Cristin’s death, something withered in me. But this woman has reignited the snuffed out flame that once lit up my heart, I thought to myself as I watched (y/n), in all her natural beauty and glory. Though she will never replace my previous love, I know with her I can move on. And so we went on our merry way, as two assassins towards much brighter future. 

THE END

[dropletsofink]

Iron and Steel

[Part 3]

Summary: The story of Lyria Whitethorn, daughter of Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and King Rowan Whitethorn, and Tristan Havilliard, son of Queen Manon Blackbeak-Crochan and King Dorian Havilliard

A/N: And, after an eternity of procrastinating, I’ve finally updated!! I’ve also managed to draft out the plots of future parts but because of exams I don’t think I can update soon. -_- Sorry!! But, anyways, enjoy!!

-

Although they were close, Tristan and Lyria both had responsibilities they needed to attend to.

In separate kingdoms.

Tristan was well versed in court politics and magic, taught by his father, and trained in discipline of body and mind by Manon.

And, even though Manon and Dorian lived apart, Tristan never felt like they didn’t care for him.

Especially after the incident.

He’d alternate between Adarlan and the Wastes, but resided mainly in Adarlan. After all, he was to rule it one day.

Not that that had always been the case. What had seemed like a lifetime ago- only five years- there’d been another heir to the Adarlanian crown. His older sister.

Astrian.

But those memories were best left undisturbed. Tristan had long learned to lock the darkest parts of his life in the back of his mind; dredging them up left him paralysed.

Dorian had taught Tristan that the best way to know his people was to live alongside them. And so it wasn’t rare for him to dress himself in commoner clothes and mingle amongst them.

And as much as King Dorian II tried to vanquish the cruelties of the Adarlanian underworld, it was still rife in the streets.

Gangs, brothels, opium dens, they still fed off the innocent young who were cast out too soon. He’d learnt that from Lady Lysandra’s story.

She often frequented the brothels, with huge sums of money to buy the girls’ freedom and offer them homes in Caraverre. Tristan was awed by her tale, being cast out simply for having magic, chafing under Madame Clarisse’s ‘tutelage’, shackled to Arobynn Hamel.

Only to end up slitting his throat and fighting her way alongside Queen Aelin.

Tristan tried to follow her example- helping whoever he could and beating the life out of the lowlifes exploiting those weaker than them in dark alleyways.

He was beginning to draw attention to himself from those who he didn’t particularly want it from, which only spurred him to get stronger.

It was during one of these exploits that he found himself in a run-down tavern, seated in the corner with a tankard of cheap ale on the stained table in front of him.

The court may be a haven of whispered rumours, but the best tales came from places like these. And, although tavern brawls were common, some of the things he heard here made it worth it.

Tonight was like any other. Sailors and wretches were hunched over tables, with Tristan keeping a sharp ear out for anything that would interest him. The bartender- Adrian-  flashed him a quick smile before returning to his work. He was an old friend of Lord Ren’s, and welcomed Tristan whenever he frequented.

Picking at his nails with his dagger, Tristan soon grew bored. There was nothing worth hearing today, apart from which noble was engaged to whom, so he drained his ale and got up to leave.

Just then, a hooded figure brushed past Tristan, his fingers glancing against his for a moment.

Leaving a small sheaf of paper in his palm.

The figure raised his head slightly and put a finger to his lips, before taking the seat that Tristan had occupied moments ago, crossing one leg over the other. He saw a flash of grey eyes before the figure flicked his wrist, motioning for Tristan to leave.

What was that?

Tristan sauntered out of the tavern and hid in a gap between it and the adjointed building. His power sparked at his fingers, tendrils of ice forming around his hands. If this person meant trouble, he’d give it to them willingly.

The sheaf of paper was still in his hand, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the street. This could be an ambush, and he’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

“If I wanted to hurt you, young prince, I would have done it already.”

As Tristan whipped his head up, the hooded figure jumped from the shaky scaffolding that barely held the tavern together and landed neatly beside him.

He took no chances. In a heartbeat, the razor-tipped icicles formed out of thin air and hung, suspended mere millimetres away from the figure’s throat. “What do you want?”

“Relax, Tristan. I’m a friend.” He slowly put his arms up in front of him and drew back his hood, revealing a tanned face flecked with thin scars, unruly black hair, and a lazy smile. He looked to be about 30, and the ease which he carried himself with told him to be a thief of sorts. Or at the very least, trained enough to climb buildings.

Tristan, unimpressed, raised an eyebrow but didn’t move the shards away from the man’s throat. And said nothing.

The man simply sighed and rolled his eyes, and fast as an asp, hooked his leg around the back of Tristan’s knees and threw him to the ground. He dodged the ice shards as they were flung towards where he’d been standing moments ago, as he braced a knee on the floor and pinned Tristan’s hands behind his back.

With a sudden shink, Tristan’s iron nails sliced upwards into the man’s skin. He jumped back and swore, giving Tristan enough time to scramble to his feet. He stood with his back to the crack in the wall, and although he could run, he refused to. If this man was intent on harming him, who knows what he could do to others.

“Nice to see that the prince has some bite.” Although there were several deep slices in his palms and wrist, all leaking blood, and despite the fact that he was backed into the alley wall, he seemed completely at ease.

“Well, for someone who calls me his friend, you seem to have a strange way of introducing yourself.”

“Maybe so.” The man took a handful of gauze out of his pocket and leisurely wrapped his wounds. Tristan stalked closer to him, iron nails now fully unsheathed. “But have you read my note yet?”

The note? That sheaf of paper- he must have dropped it, because the man finished wrapping his hands and produced the note from another pocket, and held it out for Tristan to take.

Tristan, without shrinking his iron nails, took the paper from the him. He smirked, grey eyes twinkling with mischief or ill intent. Tristan decided not to analyse.  

“I’m confident that you’ll find the information interesting, for personal reasons. Royals often frequent places like that,” He cocked his head to the side, in the direction of the tavern, “For gossip. And you don’t strike me as the type to care about who marries who.”

“How-”

“I’ve been watching you.”

Tristan edged closer to the man, who didn’t retreat. “I don’t care who you are, but if you’re planning something-”

Smirking, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fear not, Your Highness. I am but a messenger.”

“A messenger who can climb buildings and fight as well as an assassin?”

“I have a complicated past.” He folded his arms. “And a lot of enemies. At least that’s something we have in common.”

Tristan opened his mouth to retort, but the man suddenly leapt and caught the dipping edge of the rusted pipe, swinging himself upwards and somersaulting onto the scaffolding.

With a roguish wink and a salute, he called out. “The name’s Nox, by the way. If you need me again, you’ll know where to find me.”

And with that, he vanished.

Leaving Tristan in the alleyway, nails drawn. And feeling incredibly stupid.

With a huff, he straightened and checked himself. There was a bruise blooming already on his shoulder, so he froze the skin around it.

His iron nails shrank back into his skin, and he unrolled the sheaf of paper. The writing was small and sloped, and the ink had bled as if water had soaked into the paper, despite it being dry.

“Tell the Queen of Terrasen to protect her youngest. Power and sway are much coveted, and those who seek it attack the weakest link in the chains of royalty.”

Wait….

Marion?

She was being targeted? For sway over Terrasen?

For a moment, he wasn’t in the dingy alley next to the tavern. He was back where he was five years ago, watching Astrian’s back from his hiding spot and she snarled at the dark shapes in front of her.

Memories of the incident flashed back to him, unbidden, as Tristan braced his hand on the wall. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his breathing to stay even and the thoughts to vanish. He couldn’t break down here, not when he might be seen.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he pressed his palms into his face, gasps shuddering out of him.

Marion was being targeted. He needed to tell Queen Aelin.

He didn’t stop to think that it might have been a false alarm, or a ruse to weaken Terrasen. Even if that were the case, it wouldn’t do any harm to guard her, just in case.

And if the chances were that Nox had been telling the truth, then there was no way he’d let Marion be hurt like that.

So, he put the note into his pocket and shifted into an owl, swooping across the Adarlanian rooftops and back to the palace.

[douxreviews]

Gotham - ‘Ruin’ Review

Zsasz: "I did not make that building go boom Jim!"

After two sufficient episodes, and one jerry-built episode, 'Ruin' delivers easily the best chapter so far of Season 5's no man's land arc, jam-packing all of Gotham's best qualities on the front lines.

Last week, an unknown assailant bombed Haven, the refuge taken over by the GCPD to protect the civilians still trapped within the city. Gordon has no suspect at the moment, but an act as broad as this means it could really be anybody. And very understandably, Gordon's redundant speeches are not enough this time to quell the survivors' fear and rage. But at long last, Season 5 continues to give me glimpses of a more valiant and sympathetic side to Gordon as he struggles to keep the morale of his fellow officers intact, and works urgently to protect as many individuals as he can in the immediate wake of Haven's bombing.

Though 'Ruin' is still split into two separate subplots like previous episodes, the narrative of 'Ruin' has a more orderly flow to it, simply because Gotham is taking advantage of one of its most prominent gifts - its cast. Rather than having each character more allocated to their individual stories (or even worse a crime, just not having them show up at all), they are all in some way or another either involved in the search for the Haven bomber, or they're involved in the continuing pursuit of Jeremiah Valeska. Characters that have felt neglected lately, such as Nygma, Lucius, Alfred and Jeremiah, now all get at least one opportunity to be dubbed 'scene-stealer' in 'Ruin'.

Because he lost men in the bombing too, Oswald proposes a truce with Gordon so that they may combine resources and bring the bomber to justice. Since the premiere of Season 5, I've felt that Oswald should have started off this year from the get-go working alongside the GCPD. And the reason for that is because Season 4 made it a point to establish that Oswald, by comparison to other rouges, possesses a more sane and logical approach to his criminal activity. Oswald simply needs order and structure to run a prosperous criminal empire. The chaotic antics orchestrated by the Valeska brothers in Season 4 that upset the established order of Gotham's municipal formation goes very much against Oswald's rule of thumb, which was why he was so quick to turn on Jerome too. But since this alliance was likely an inevitably anyway, it's a mere nitpick for me. (That being said, it was a really dumb move for Oswald to give away his and the GCPD's position through a bullhorn when they were pursuing their suspect. Even Tony Stark, the guy who gave his home address out in a video threat to a terrorist, would see that and shake his head in stupefaction.)

Oswald and the GCPD follow up on a tip given by Barbara which leads them to none other than Victor Zsasz. Of all the characters that could flourish in no man's land, I've been especially curious this season to see the shenanigans of the gunslinger Zsasz. Anthony Carrigan's comedic take on Zsasz, reinterpreting the character more as a fusion between Deadpool and the Man with No Name, has made him one of the series' best guest-appearance characters. That being said, after Season 3 and his consistent failures to assassinate Gordon per Carmine Falcone's decree despite talking up a storm about how no one ever sees him coming, I can't say I buy Zsasz's gloating in the precinct when he assures Gordon and Bullock he didn't bomb Haven; Zsasz's reasoning is that if it was him, there'd be no survivors. I'm sure a shopping cart with one bad wheel is more fruitful than Zsasz with a firearm.

Oswald remains vengeful towards Zsasz for selling him out to Sofia Falcone last year and believes that Zsasz's denial means nothing, and that the blatherskite should be executed, a decision that is met with unanimous approval from Haven's survivors in the style of a kangaroo court (one reminiscent of Scarecrow's own hearings from The Dark Knight Rises). I always appreciate these tiny callbacks like Oswald still bitter towards Zsasz, or a desecrated 'Make Gotham Safe Again' campaign poster from Season 3 appearing in the streets, because it keeps each season from feeling disjointed from the others, and given how many writers Gotham has had staffed over the years, that feature comes up time and again. But because one does not simply kill Victor Zsasz, Gordon decides the 'innocent until proven guilty' doctrine still needs to be upheld, and frees Zsasz. Whether it's to repay the favor, or maybe because he realizes Gordon is essential to Gotham's rebuilding, Zsasz chooses afterwards to not kill off Gordon either. Because Zsasz routinely comes and goes throughout the series, this may be the very last we see of him, and so I felt it was a nice way for him and Gordon to part there - both have come quite a ways since the days of Season 1 where Zsasz was always aiming something lethal at Gordon's head.

Meanwhile, Ed Nygma continues meager efforts to understand the nature of his blackouts. For weeks, I had given up wondering if Gotham was going to give us any hints at all about Nygma's arc this season, and instead decided that maybe his story was appropriately meant to be a riddle itself. We finally get some answers to Nygma in 'Ruin' that completely revolutionize the way we'll look at all of Season 5. In his quest to follow up on a clue he had left himself, Nygma is bargained with by Lucius Fox to help him and the GCPD understand the nature of Haven's bombing. Nygma agrees, and before long, the two concur that the assailant used a rocket launcher from the outside to ignite the initial explosion within Haven. We haven't seen Fox and Nygma interact with each other since Season 3's 'How The Riddler Got His Name', and I very much enjoy their energy and possibly even dormant affinity for each other. I suspect that in another timeline where Nygma never went down a path of crime and corruption, he and Fox would have probably worked well alongside each other within the GCPD.

Also contrary to what I thought might have been Nygma's shtick this season, he actually doesn't play up the 'I've-lost-my-marbles' mindset at all this episode, instead returning to the traits of egoism and lacing riddles throughout his speech, a pleasant blend almost between the old Ed and Riddler. Following his and Fox's teamup, Nygma examines the rooftop Haven's bomber must have fired from, and notices an old lady watching him from her apartment across the street. From her, Nygma is horrified to learn that he himself is Haven's bomber (and most likely the one who also fired upon the Wayne Enterprises chopper back in the season premiere). Why Nygma is routinely shifting between alternate consciousnesses we don't know yet, but I would definitely chalk this twist up to one of Gotham's best. If not for Season 5 preparing to introduce Bane, as well as keeping Jeremiah Valeska in the spotlight, I would raise my hopes much higher for the possibility that Riddler in fact is Season 5's main antagonist. It would keep in line with the showrunners' claim that the 'Zero Year' comic inspires much of Season 5, and I personally feel we haven't really seen Riddler yet as a force to be reckoned with, at least not since the end of Season 3.

The other subplot of 'Ruin' is Bruce and Alfred pursuing Selina, simply because Bruce believes if she kills Jeremiah, it may change her for the worse. It's another amusing detail for me that this is where Bruce draws the line in regards to Selina's internal metamorphoses, yet had no problem giving her a plant with atrocious side effects Ivy advertised quite clearly. Though Bruce and Alfred both get past goons working for Jeremiah, in a manner much like how Batman will ambush his foes in the future, they are too late to stop Selina from fatally stabbing Jeremiah. Or so it would seem.

This was the most irking feature of 'Ruin' for me, and it's not even a fault of the episode - it's a fault of the marketing. Early trailers and promos for Season 5 have clearly shown additional footage of Jeremiah that we haven't gotten to yet in this season, so I don't know why Gotham suddenly thinks they can pull the wool over our eyes, and try to convince us Jeremiah is as deceased as a girlfriend of Spider-Man's who took too hard a fall off the George Washington Bridge. Personally, my money is on Clayface actually being the one Selina made quick work of. He's been absent from the series since Season 3 as well, and would also be a welcome character to see return to the final season.

Right now, I'm still skeptical if the series can follow-up with an episode that lives up to the momentum that was 'Ruin', but I don't say that as if it's a difficult thing for Gotham to accomplish. You have an incredibly talented cast and array of characters that you understand in and out Gotham - savor that while you still can, because it's a fortunate feature for any show to have.

Other Thoughts:

• Gordon tackling Zsasz head-on is a pretty amusing visual, but also another quick and snappy showcase of his increasingly appealing valor.

• Will we ever get to hear Jeremiah laugh? We all know Cameron Monaghan is very capable of the deed, it's a talent that needs to be made the most out of. It'd be like a movie casting James Spader for a role that doesn't require him to talk - indefensible!

• 'Ruin' ends with a sudden cliffhanger showing renewed romantic interest between Gordon and Barbara. Not sure why these two suddenly have the hots for each other again, but with the revelation that Barbara will have some major news for Gordon in one of the oncoming episodes, I guess it's fair that the show needed to pave the road to Barbara Gordon/Batgirl somehow. I don't quite think showing a stork deliver her to Gordon's doorstep in a basket is going to cut it for viewers.

Aaron Studer loves spending his time reading, writing and defending the existence of cryptids because they can’t do it themselves.

[muchbadassverywow]

I Can’t Breathe: Arno x reader

So after watching the first two POTC movies and realizing how much my asthma misses me, I try my hand at a oneshot. :) Feedback is appreciated.

Alignment: Platonic flangst.

You love Paris. Truly, you do. The sights, the buildings, the people (a select minority) all have places in your heart, so you were more than happy to hear that it wasn’t the brotherhood’s decision to assign you as Arno’s second for his mission, but the man himself.

“I could’ve sworn you forgot I was alive.” you announce your presence, coming up behind him on the rooftop he told you to meet. His head perks up at your voice, and he comes to hug you with a teasing smile of his own, “Hello to you too, Y/n.”

You hook your arms under his and cling your hands on his shoulders, pressing your face against his chest so he wouldn’t see how fast your smirk disappeared. Arno always has a scent or two lingering on him during missions like these, but this time, you couldn’t smell anything. It was your own way of making a contingency plan by locating where he had been, as well as a way to feel like home, but now you just felt lost. Even so, you didn’t want to worry him, which made you pull back after a moment with a bright smile, “So, what do we got?”

Arno fills you in on his findings, and you mentally scold yourself the whole time for having your attention divided between listening and breathing. More effort than what was probably necessary was put to not making the ragged patterns of your breathing audible, though doubt looms over your head towards your partner’s obliviousness. He could be acting.

“Remember, if any of the guards have suspicious containers on them, that is poisonous gas and you must get out of the area immediately.” he concludes, as your target walks out of an establishment, four guards ‘discreetly’ coming along with him.

You nonchalantly roll your e/c eyes, beginning to freerun across rooftops, “Remind me not to be away from you for too long. You get bossier than I prefer.”

“I’m just watching your back.” he gently defends, following you.

A smug smirk returns to your lips as you glance at him, keeping most of your attention on your target as he and the guards ride a carriage. “I know, and that’s what you’ll still be doing because I’m about to outrun you.” right when you said that, you bolted off, hearing the hooves of the horses on the cobblestone floor and the amused chuckles of your friend from behind.

Maybe being tired is the way to clear your lungs.

Eventually, your freerunning enjoyment came to a halt as the carriage of your target stopped at the dock. Arno and yourself overlook from a roof, before nodding to each other and unsheathing your Hidden Blades. Running with him only affected your breathing for the first few seconds, but then you began to pant again after a while. Alongside Arno, you leap down and assassinate some few guards from the back. One wanderer unfortunately spotted you, though, causing the two of you to use the Phantom Blades and hope that no one noticed his limp, bleeding body. He leads the way, and out of worry, you recheck your surroundings before tailing the target with him.

You scale a wall and effortlessly come up on the other, much darker side, in time to have the frightened man fall on his backside because of your sudden appearance. He looked really intimidated that you just had to take a moment and mentally thank your partner for the path he practically paved for you. With Eagle Vision, you see him in the shadows, nodding at you to make the kill. You stalked over the target until his back hit the wall and his face truly became a reflection of terror. You were just about to raise your Phantom Blade when something at the side of your face hissed, making you lose what composure you could muster as well as the coordination of your body. Vaguely aware that your target has become unconscious, you frantically move away from the poisonous gas, managing to see a distorted red outline when you squinted. You were only able to get yourself back to your feet with Arno’s help, and together, you shot the Templar in the legs.

The gas later disperses, and you absently recall information about a five-second time period of the gas when it leaves its container. You and Arno notice the face of your target, and tore your eyes away just as fast. When that simple motion constrained your breathing even further, you quickly scale up a wall in a panic, ignoring your friend’s calls as you make for the nearest safehouse. 

If Arno failed to get to you on time, would you have accompanied your own target in his death? How did that gas even affect the human body? How long will it take before you change the fact that your need for each other is not equally reciprocated? How close is the moment when Arno won’t be there for you, anyway? Right now, if your footing fails you and you forget how to regain it as you pummel to the ground? Right now, as you jump from rope to rope? Now, if you weren’t able to grab onto the ledge the moment you run out of roof to slide on? Now, when a Templar infiltrated the safe house you just went in and adorned the walls with your blood for him to find? 

 Quiet steps and a call of your name made you jump, unsheathing your sword towards the source; Arno. 

He raises his hands in both reassurance and surprise, watching you sheathe your weapon with slight embarrassment, “Please talk to me.“ 

 But no matter how hard you try, your body protested. You’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that what suspicions Arno must have (if he didn’t have them already) shall now be answered straightforwardly. But you couldn’t do that if you were fighting for every breath, now could you? 

 You lean on a nearby table, hands on the edges of the wood as your back hunches and audible sounds of pain escape your parted lips. As Arno steps closer, you shake your head, upset that your own body would be against having him near, “I-I can’t…” 

 “Where’s the wound? Or is it a cut? Perhaps it’s the poison…!” he began to inspect you for physical proof, a feat you swore you could’ve killed him for were it not for the respiratory handicap. If you die and he ate your cookie stash, you’ll haunt him until he joins you. 

Using what little force you can spare, you hold onto his hand tightly as he examines your arm. You lean on him, vaguely aware of his other hand hovering over your back, “Arno, I can’t…” you wheeze, “I can’t breathe.”

An actual cliffhanger, and could end in angst or fluff, now that I think about it.

[megsironthrone]

New Life

Anonymous asked: (1) Thank you! Jaqen is just a very unusual character to write for and I didn’t want to bother you. So may I request a Jaqenx(fem)reader fic, where they know each other from Harrenhal (she is a high born woman, maybe Tywins daughter or anything) and he saved her once and after some time passed (you know he went to Braavos again and stuff in Westeros happend) the reader leaves Westeros and comes to Braavos to start a new life.(2) But since she is a highborn someone hunts her and accidently pushes her from a rooftop and Jaqen has seen the whole thing and catches her. Reader is surprised to see him again, and since she has a little crush on him, also feels kinda embarassed. Jaqen decides to take care of her, because he also likes her. I leave the ending to you, I would prefer some fluff, but you are free to write whatever you want. I completely trust your writing skills. Also no need to hurry, just take your time.

Here you go, lovely! I hope it’s fluffy enough for you! I do not own Jaqen H’ghar. He belongs to George R.R. Martin.

Warnings: Fluff, I think that’s it.

Pairings: Jaqen H’ghar x fem!reader

Trying to start a new life was never easy, but being the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister made it especially difficult. After your nephew died, all Seven Hells broke loose in King’s Landing and you decided it would be for the best to leave. You grabbed the coin you’d been saving since you left Casterly Rock and left King’s Landing, never to look back. You thought the safest place to go would be Braavos, perhaps find your old friend.

              After sailing for weeks, you finally docked in Braavos and you were eager to stretch your legs and find an inn until you found a permanent place to live. You fought a smile as you surveyed the city. The people seemed friendly enough for the moment, but you doubted that would be the case if they ever found out that you were a Lannister. Love for your family was sparse. You soon found an inn and managed to get a room next to the hatch that lead you to the roof.

              You loved being up high. You always climbed around on the roofs of Casterly Rock, Harrenhal and King’s Landing.  It was exhilarating, but you always had to be careful so your father wouldn’t find out. Here in Braavos, you didn’t have to worry about your father catching you up on the rooftops. As soon as your things were in your room, you climbed up to the rooftop of the inn. You let out a sigh as you took in the night sky of Braavos.

              It wasn’t until you’d been surveying the sky for several minutes that you realized someone was watching you. You turned your head and found one of the men that had been sailing with you. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was one of the knights of King’s Landing. “Did you really believe you could run away, Lady Y/N?” he asked with a sneer. You swallowed thickly. “I am not going back,” you declared before turning and running. You hopped from rooftop to rooftop with practiced ease, unknowing of the person watching from below.

              Jaqen glanced up just in time to see someone hopping between the rooftops of the city. His eagle-like gaze pierced through the dark and he realized it was you, the young higher born woman he met in Harrenhal. He watched as you were pursued by a man much larger than you. Jaqen ran alongside the buildings as the rooftops got smaller and smaller. Near the end of the street, your pursuer finally managed to catch up to you. He went to tackle you, but ended up pushing you from the roof.

              You let out a scream as you fell. You were certain you were about to die, but the bone crushing impact you expected didn’t happen. Instead, you felt something warm wrap around you. You opened your eyes and met the blue ones of Jaqen H'ghar. “Jaqen?” you squeaked. He gave you a small smile which you returned. “A woman should strive to be more careful. This one would hate to see her hurt.”

              You felt yourself blush at his words. Before he left Harrenhal, you’d gotten close to the man and now here he was, holding you close to his chest as if your life depended on it. “T-thank you, Jaqen,” you stuttered out. You normal wouldn’t have stuttered, but being so close to Jaqen made you nervous. He’d captured your heart during your stay at Harrenhal. “Why was a woman running?” his question brought you out of your reverie. “Oh, I was running from a knight. He followed me from King’s Landing after I ran away. He knows where I was staying Jaqen. What am I going to do? If I go back there, he will be waiting for me to take me back to my father.”

              It took you a moment to realize that Jaqen was still holding you. You blushed again and scrambled out of his arms. “A man will care for a woman during her stay in Braavos,” he stated simply causing you to look back up at him. “Thank you, Jaqen.” He smiled again and beckoned you to follow him. “A man will take you to his home and then retrieve a woman’s belongings.” Jaqen lead you through the streets of Braavos to where he lived. You ended up staying there far longer than anticipated.

              Over the course of the time you stayed with Jaqen, the faceless assassin changed. He no longer acted like a Faceless Man. He acted like a normal man and he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. He was passionate yet calming, as well as intelligent and charming.  You were humming to yourself as you mended one of your dresses when Jaqen came in. “Good afternoon, Y/N.” You looked up at the sound of his voice. “Hello, Jaqen,” you greeted with a smile. Whenever Jaqen was with you, he no longer spoke the way a Faceless Man would and it made you feel special.

              “There is something I wish to speak with you about,“ he began, his tone serious. You bit your lip. You were pretty certain you knew what he was going to say. “You want me to leave,” you said sadly. You rose from your seat. “I will collect my belongings and leave immediately,” you continued, although it was breaking your heart to say it. You loved him and there was no denying it. You didn’t want to leave. You went to push past Jaqen, but a hand on your arm stopped you.

              "I do not wish you to leave, Y/N. I wish to leave…with you, if you will have me,“ Jaqen said softly, in case there was someone listening. You stared at him blankly for a moment while you processed what Jaqen had just told you. "You are leaving the Order of the Faceless Men? But Jaqen, this is your home.” Jaqen sighed. “My home is with you, Y/N. We can return to Westeros together,” he said, not one ounce of jest in his voice, his blue eyes gazing worriedly into your (e/c) ones. You nodded once and threw your arms around him. While you weren’t thrilled about returning to Westeros, you knew you could face anything as long as you had Jaqen by your side.

@brewsthespirit-blog @gameofwinters @line-viper @silverwingedfox @littlemisscaptainfandom @etherealpotter

[teecupangel]

The tags of the previous posts:

#okay so about the stealth thing #i understand what you mean #but also #t rex was an ambush predator #they had padding on their feet that cushioned each step #so you wouldn't hear them coming #they'd slowly walk towards you #hidden in the folliage #in the dark #since they have some of the best eyesight of any animal to ever exist#another thing is t rex couldn't roar #they'd make this really deep gutteral growl at a frequency too low for humans to hear #but you'd feel the vibrations #it would shake your bones #and honestly #i think that's fucking terrifying#and better than roars lmao #cuz think about it#a group of templars walking through the city in the dark #while desmond can pinpoint their exact location with his senses #smell and sight #coupled with eagle vision #he knows where everything is#and he slowly walks parallel to them #hiding in the shadows and behind the large structures #and the enemy has no idea #maybe he has some assassins running over rooftops alongside him #and he lets out a low low growl #and the templars freeze in terror #because they feel it

Oooohhh. It would be cool if Desmond as a gracile type of T-Rex then, focusing on speed and agility and compensating for his large frame by using ambush tactics. I kinda like the idea that he stalks and is mostly quiet but certain animals like horses could feel something is off and starts to get a bit ‘unruly’ and spooked but, by the time the Templars realized what that means, it’s too late. They hear Desmond’s roar and are no longer able to move.

Psssst- hey, hey you, kid. Yeah I'm talking to you buddy. Wanna purchase a 't-rex-desmond'? He's got feathers~

I feel like Imma get a bootleg version of t-rex Desmond and get something called ‘Lizard Dismun’ instead. Hahahahaha

Honestly, I’m imagining Desmond as something like this but white with red plummage.

Sneaking is absolutely a no-go for him at this point but, really, why should he go with stealth when he could just rain down death and destruction.

It’s hard for him to not have any collateral damage so he focuses on destroying Templar strongholds.

If we want him to be OP, we should keep him either in 12th century Levant or in Renaissance Italy. The cannons of the American Revolution might be a bit too much for him.

But more importantly…

Nonny…

Think of those little arms…

Think of how annoyed Desmond is that he has little arms!

Think of the first time Desmond tries to grab something but he loses his balance and just falls face first on the ground…

Just imagine him staring ahead where his ancestor is blinking at him, confused to why he fell.

And he’s so embarrassed and so happy his ancestor cannot understand him when he goes, “Fuuuccccckkkk…”

And all his ancestor can hear is a roar.