#piercing through armor and the like. some people used it for hunting just for fun basically which meant that eventually they added the wigg | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandalorewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

Cis-Female Reader Insert/ Din Djarin

Gif by @themandaloriandaily

Thank u to @cptnbvcks, @whenimaunicorn, and of course @no-droids for the inspiration and your superior writing skills, whenever i was stuck on a portion i would reread all of u guy’s works and feel inspired again

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Breath Play, Deep Throating, Masturbation, Pining, Depictions Of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 11k AO3 LINK

Summary: AU where Din Djarin stays with the mercenary group owned by Ranzar Malk. Takes place a few years before Din is contracted for Grogu's bounty. You're a merc trying to make a name for yourself in the group when circumstances end up having you run away with Din. You become his hunting partner in order to support yourself but you cant help falling in love with him, even as trained killers chase you across the galaxy.

FULL FIC:

As a mercenary, you wouldn’t consider yourself an overly sensitive person.

Maker knows you wouldn’t have lasted a week in the job if you couldn’t handle your emotions. Although you don’t consider yourself entirely void of empathy, having a sense of detachment is useful when your waking hours are spent committing crimes throughout the galaxy.

So why the fuck are you so jealous right now?

The obscene moans and harsh slapping that echoes throughout the hangar shouldn’t inspire a larger reaction than disgust as you dutifully continue to repair the blaster marks on one of the rogue-class starfighters. Luckily, it seems that most of your immediate associates have ran off into the deeper areas of the bay to toll your last mission.

Excluding three members, you guess.

Thank the fucking Maker Migs isn’t here You think bitterly, willing the sparks to fly higher and machine rumble louder as you carefully manipulate your buffing laser on the metal surface. His snarky attitude certainly wouldn’t lessen your misery as you try to drown out the sounds of sex. Raunchy words hiss, bouncing off the metal walls, before finding your feet and slithering up your limbs with a foulness that chokes you. Controlling the hot spinning laser seems to stoke your inner seething more than it distracts you.

“Mando! Stars, keep-fuck- keep doing that,” you hear Xi’an echoing. Fucking Xi’an. She knows what she’s doing to you. The cruel Twi’lek is far too observant to not know that she is practically comm-station broadcasting her sexual exploits to the entire crew, and with that sheer volume, might as well the entire galaxy. You truly wouldn’t care about her sex life if it wasn’t blatantly obvious that Xi’an was doing this to mock you. You know this is meant for your ears only, a repeat of every other time you’ve found yourself stuck with this chore.

Even if she wasn’t directly rubbing the fact that she was fucking the Mandalorian in your face, you don’t doubt that she would find a way to taunt your nonexistent sex life just for the fun of it. Another salacious moan echoes in the bay causing you to cringe and slightly jerk the repair tool in frustration.

Fuck, why did it have to be Mando? Aren’t there enough people on this kriffing space station to warm her bed? And how is he being so quiet right now? After a second you remember that’s a stupid question, considering he is probably the quietest person you’ve ever met.

His reservation serves to intimidate your targets, all the while unintentionally stoking that warmth in your belly when you are near him. His all-encompassing presence when he enters a room strikes fear in the hearts of the opposition, meanwhile, you are secretly pressing your thighs together in desire, enjoying the spectacle?.

You’ve found yourself reveling in the few jobs where Ran’s strategy has you in a decoy-role, weaponizing your feminine charm to lull your target into a false sense of power. The muscle composing of Burg and Mando make quick work of those men once they're thoroughly wrapped up in your wiles. Despite being placed together for jobs on several occasions you’ve never actually had a real conversation with him.

You’re too scared to talk to him, a near-silent man covered head to toe in Beskar, but you make money killing people and robbing gangs every week. It would be funnier if that purple freak wasn’t so vile. You don’t even know how to casually approach him.. Nice job killing those guys while I manipulated them into trying to fuck me! I’m pretty good with a gun, too. Maker, it’s so ridiculous that you don’t even bother with trying to figure it out. Other fantasies are easier to picture, such as the thought of him strolling across the room to slot himself in-between your spread legs, directing that intensity into your willing, aching body.

This infuriating crush is why you suppose that your envy wouldn’t be as biting if you caught some sort of noise from the man during these displays of exhibitionism. It would give you something to repeat in your mind while you stow away in the late hours of the night seeking your own release. You guess the inability to hear him is proof of how far Xi’an is pushing her volume. It’s all just to piss you off.

“Uhg, how miserable..” You mutter to yourself, allowing a little moment of self-indulgent angst. Typically, you wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow like a petulant teen seeing as you’re a literal fucking criminal.

I’m supposed to be a hardass, dammit you think, spirits low as repairs wrap up far too swiftly. You swear you’ll buff right through every layer in the ship if you keep procrastinating on finishing your job and wandering into the tucked away fresher for a shower. Wandering past….them.

Wherever they are choosing to fuck can’t be that far considering the slap of skin on skin is already fucking loud enough. The sounds seem to be emanating from a vent not too high up the wall, you deduce it connects to one of the bunk rooms not too far from the landing pad you’re working next to. It really is fucking loud with all these metal surfaces to echo off of. Making your way to your small bunk might cause you to go deaf and if the last thing you ever hear is Xi’an wailing as she rubs in the fact that you aren’t fucking Mando, well, you might just take this spinning laser to your head. Unfortunately, at this point, the exterior of the gunship couldn’t possibly get more pristine.

Sighing in defeat, you push up from your crouching position on the metal floor and start to assemble your tools for clean-up while the sounds of Twi’lek pleasure predictably pick up in volume.

“Fuck, fuck-Ah I’m close, I-I’m going to-“ A literal howl pierces the air as your gut twists with discomfort. Fuck, this is so awkward... and like, weird? Does he consent to this? Does he like that we can hear it? Maker.. Pushing that thought out of your mind you start to jog to your goal of the darkened hall that leads to the station fresher, still so wrapped up in jealousy that you almost miss the rough modulated growl accompanying the scream.

O-oh.

Oh shit. Was that Mando….Moaning?

The swirling jealousy is suddenly overtaken by a- stars- painful heat, so debilitating that you stumble and almost double over with an intensity that shoots through your groin. Okay well, now you feel like an actual pervert. This display of eroticism was engineered by Xi’an to make you uncomfortable, not so painfully turned on that it’s dizzying. You vaguely register a growing slickness between your legs as you hurry along the cold hallway, desperate to drench yourself in icy water and pretend to forget the sound of Mando moaning.

Shit, Maker, was he cumming? Was that what he sounds like when-- no stopstopnope. Don’t think about that. Your inner monologue is running amuck as you desperately try to block it out. This feels kinda gross, as if you’re a greasy peeping tom spying on Mando’s private endeavors even though this whole situation was shoved in your face to make you ache in countless, longing ways.

That deep growl repeats in your mind as you hum nonsensically under your breath, tapping your skull as if you can knock the sound out of your consciousness despite being well aware that you will go to your fucking grave with every detail. The top of your inner thighs is so embarrassingly slick that you have to resist waddling along the corridor to the showers. Just as you are about to round the first corner, one of the side bunker doors slides halfway opens with a whoosh. The smirking Twi’lek saunters out like the loth-cat who got the cream.

I suppose she did get the cream... Your split-second of sour mirth is further spoiled as Xi’an slides the rest of the door open revealing the gleam of silver beskar and red steel as the ever still Mandalorian adjusting his…thigh armor. You spy a large vent at the junction between wall and ceiling, confirming your earlier suspicions that she chose this location on purpose. Quickly glancing between Mando and Xi’an, your face uncontrollably floods with fire when her giggles pierce the air. You register his helmet tilting toward you right as Xi’an’s tongue slowly extends to liiiick her fingers, any curiosity at his gesture burning away in revulsion.

What does she get out of making everyone uncomfortable? You think to yourself, wanting to squirm away from the obscenity but resolving to hold your ground.

“Xi’an,” You greet the two shortly, hands linked behind your back. “Mando.” He nods.

“Sorry,” Xi’an offers in a voice devoid of guilt. “Were we being too loud? I would never want to distract you from your… projects.” Her taunting smile curls so widely that it is almost disturbing. “What would the team do without our junior mechanic!”

Her cackle rings through the suddenly freezing hall as you spin on your heel and try to not look like you’re fleeing. Red is tinting the edges of your vision from her insult while tears threaten to flood your eyes out of embarrassment.

You need to get to that shower quickly.

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

As the tepid shower rains down on your flushed body, you childishly wonder if you should run away. Or rather, if you could run away considering you technically don’t own any of the ships currently residing in the hangar bay. Although you technically have free reign to pilot most of the spaceships available, that freedom entirely applies to transportation between merc assignments . The thought of running away from your current acquaintances on a stolen ship is not appealing. In fact, the only crew member owning a personal vessel happens to be Mando, his Razer Crest gunship was often subject to your mechanic skills.

Mando, who always offered a genuine “Thank you.” after you’d spend hours touching up the vessel’s damage procured from the rare missions he lent its flight to. Mando, the person who you are presently trying to not think about while naked and still trembling with emotion.

Your sillier fantasies would sometimes involve stealing away in his gunship, hand pressed over his chest and leg thrown across his lower body like a romance novel while he skillfully pilots the ship away. Kriff, you felt like a soft girl whenever you run this scenario through your mind, so cliché and campy that you cringe at yourself. Thus, this particular dive into your consciousness was reserved for special moments such as lying in bed after a strenuous job, or after long days spent working through that junkyard of hangar bay trying to strong-arm your way into earning worth in the company. Private moments where you are finally comfortable letting your guard down to drift aimlessly throughout maladaptive daydreams.

Not so soft fantasies exist in your mind as well. Once again that modulated groan springs to the forefront of your mind causing your clit to throb softly. The conflicting feelings of embarrassment, rage, and painful arousal serves to create an energizing cocktail that goes straight to your pussy.

‘Fuck it,” You whisper breathily to yourself, “Nows as good a time as ever..” your fingers are trailing down your stomach as you say the words out loud. You adjust the water to be slightly warmer and sigh as the comfortable heat compliments your tickling fingers. If only you could replace your hands with the significantly larger leather-clad ones of a certain bounty hunter. The thought spikes your arousal as you lightly brush against your mound, choosing to tease yourself as images flash through your mind. The armor-clad Mandalorian gripping the back of your neck to you press facedown on the floor of his ship and take his cock. Or your legs spread wide across his hips, crushing your pussy on his groin while he’s seated in the pilot seat of his ship.

Your fingers dip slightly into your slick hole then drag up to your clit causing you to bite your free palm and hold back a moan. Eyelids heavy, you give in to the fantasies and begin to earnestly rub at your clit.

“Mmf Maker, f-fuck..”, you whine into your hand at the thought of him breaking your pussy open. You just know he fucks hard -- it’s a given that the crazy Twi’lek would be one for rougher sexual affairs. Someone who spends nearly every moment of life feeling nothing but the weight of fabric and beskar on their skin must be so fucking touch starved. You bet the opportunities he’s had to feel a tight cunt wrapped around his length would completely overwhelm his restraint. Muffled moans begin to fill the fresher as your fingers speed up between your legs, head hanging forward into the metal wall and water dripping off your brows.

Your eyes flutter shut as you pull your hand from your lips to tug at your hardened nipple, other hand still between your legs, imagining a dark visor being trained on your soaking wet, writhing body. The image sends a shooting pleasure up your spine as you spin around and press your back to the wall. Imagining his dark form watching you from the other side of the gathering steam, you open your thighs and spread your labia apart, sighing at the wet sound it makes. “Like what you see, hunter..?” you whisper into the empty room wishing he would find you in this shower.

Removing your fingers from your nipple you reach down to your crotch and greedily fill yourself with two fingers, pumping in and out as your other hand works at your swollen clit. The volume of your now unmuffled pleasure is likely overheard by anyone on this section of the station, but you can't find it in yourself to give a shit. If Xi’an can screech out her orgasms at any given opportunity to fuck with you then let them hear.

Let him hear.

Your imagination runs rampant at the notion that he could hunt down your gasps and take care of you himself, causing you to gasp louder. S-shit people can hear you, you just won't say his name out loud, it's fine, it's f-fine- The thought of him discovering you here is so hot that it's blinding, and suddenly your orgasm is rushing up to crush you entirely.

Your lower half is locked tight then suddenly your knees buckle and you’re cumming hard. Your choked gasps cutting through the steamy shower like blaster fire as you peak higher, uncontrollably calling out for the Mandalorian while white-hot pleasure wrings you dry. Let him hear you crying for him as you gush around your fingers, convulsing in bliss.

In the shuddering aftershocks, you don’t hear the uncharacteristically loud padding of leather boots retreating away from the fresher door.

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

You’re good at your job. You wouldn’t be doing it if you truly couldn’t handle the ordeal of being a mercenary. The whole point of the job is to take care of the dirty work, so those far disconnected wouldn’t have to dwell on their choices too hard. You’re used to not asking questions, motivated by credits and reputation alone. But in moments like these, a job going this awry… well, you just feel like pure shit. This hit was way too easy and far too filthy even for your career mostly consisting of professional filth. It was so glaringly obvious that even if your associate’s numbers were sliced in half, you would still sweep the ground with your winnings.

And what meager earnings they are.

The crew’s assignment this round was to hit a casino shipment just outside the outer rim planet of Cantonica. Due to the Razer Crest’s ability to fly under the radar of both Imperial and New republic records, Ran rudely allotted that Mando should allow his ship’s use for crew transport. You’re surprised he agreed at all, but perhaps the prospect of gain motivated him. His motivations are rarely clear to you. You’re guessing the price of a wealthy city’s supply sounded frankly too tempting for everyone involved; Ran was practically salivating over the drawing board for this particular errand. One would imagine a hull stacked to the top with credits and the finest luxuries for Canto Blight’s flashy tourists. It is Catonica’s main attraction after all.

But once the team’s resident crime droid, Zero, breached the cargo ship's record, the whole team is informed that the cargo-freighter ship only contains “organics”.

Slaves.

In the end, Migs remarked that there may still be something of worth to obtain from this job, and thus the plan morphed into an robbery on the surface once the cargo landed at its isolated dock. You reluctantly agreed to continue while Mando shortly nodded, both of you last to assent on this change in direction.

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

Some hours later you’re crouching in a derelict warehouse while the lessening blaster fire showers spark like fireworks across your corneas. The fighting between your crew and the dockyard guards has almost died down at this point and you take the moment to catch your breath behind a large stack of cargo boxes.

“Holy stars,” you gasp out, head falling between your knees as a wave of guilt consumes you momentarily. This job fucking blows. It’s so much easier robbing Imps and gangs because they are inherently bad fucking people. Robbing a group of slaves is the lowest point you think you have ever hit in your life. This is so wrong, this is so so wrong, they don’t even have ownership of their own lives and here your crew of fucking mercenaries swoops in with a vengeance over being cheated out of something that we didn’t own in the first place.

The last straw was when you witnessed a young bedraggled woman fearfully tossing the Twi’lek sibling, Qin, a small wooden necklace, the last possession from her life before slavery. You ended up turning tail and running deeper into the dock while Qin needlessly hissed at her just to enjoy her terror. You’re sure he’ll just toss the thing after the job is over.

“I never would’ve agreed to this…” You breathe out shakily to the empty air, hollowness swallowing your ability to compartmentalize your humanity from the nature of this work. You are still fighting the impulse to give in to that deep pit of sorrow when a large shadow makes you start and grip your blaster before relaxing in recognition at the chrome gleam.

“Oh, hey, Mando,” Smiling tightly in his presence as he approaches silently, his helmet tilted down at your crouched form. His gaze makes you straighten up quickly, realizing that you probably shouldn’t look so stricken in front of your crime associate. Gotta look tough, can’t let people think you’re too soft for this work. Man, didn’t he help start the company? That thought motivates you further to stand up and face him head-on.

“Not what we expected huh? Certainly no Canto luxury here..” you quietly murmur to his cheek groove.

If you looked directly where his eyes might be he would likely catch the sparkle of moisture threatening to pool at your bottom lashes.

“No,” he breathes shortly through the modulator. “Not this.” Something in his voice inspires the bravery to glance at his T-shaped visor. Compared to his usual tone of speech he almost sounds …stricken right now. Distraught by this display of debauchery your crewmates have shown the slaves and few people manning the dock. It's not noticeable unless you’ve been around him enough to read him on some level but deep down you know he feels the same way. You try to recall him taking part in the violent takeover and realize he was barely present for the ordeal. Aside from the initial violence that broke out during landing he hardly did anything and was noticeably absent once the slaves were targeted. In the back of your mind, you pray that he won't be reprimanded for the lack of effort. The thought is ridiculous but you’re scared anyway.

Stars, this is all too much, your head is swirling with grief and stress as your heart rate picks up and suddenly you are so desperate for humanity, for empathy that you lose your filter and-

“Couldn’t stomach it either?” You blurt out to him, desperately hoping he understands and will not judge your deep sorrow for the enslaved people affected by this brutal takedown. Your mind catches up in panic half a second later when Mando doesn’t immediately respond. Did you just seek sensitivity from the Mandalorian? Fuck. Wait. That sounded like an insult too. Fuck um-

“Ah, um I-I mean. I just mean I don’t remember you firing on anyone helpless and I um- I didn’t either, I didn’t fire my blaster at all to be honest I-Fuck- I hid. They’re just slaves not Imps, Mando. The guards were taken out in seconds and-” You hiccup and stutter as tears gather at the edges of your eyes and begin to fall. You feel so overwhelmed with anxiety and guilt that all of a sudden you forgot about his open show of emotion.

Pull it together, don't do this in front of the Mandalorian. He is the very picture of a stoic, hardened mercenary and now you’re kriffing crying in front of him? It briefly registers that this is the first time you’ve ever spoken one on one with him, the both of you were almost always alone or with members of Ran’s party during time off. You internally curse your existence for thinking you could tearfully word vomit in front of a fucking bounty hunter and get comforted by him. Your knowledge of Mandalorians is limited, despite knowing one, yet you think the point of his whole creed about giving up your identity and giving yourself to war. Why the fuck did you cry in front of a damn Manodlorian? You’re just starting to unfreeze from your panic-stricken muscles to dab at your cheeks when a gloved hand swiftly brushes just below your eye to catch a tear.

‘This wouldn’t have happened if that Droid could do his job,” You glance up at him in shock at his biting tone juxtaposed with the gentle gesture, but he’s already turning away, voice rotating with his visor. “The worst is over now that the shooting stopped. Let’s round up the others.”

He pauses with his back turned and you take that moment to compose yourself. You’ve only shed a few tears so your eyes can’t be that red.

“O-okay.. .” You reply, trying to inject your usual backbone into the tone of your response before moving to follow him around the piled boxes and regroup. Staring into your warped reflection in the back of his helmet you try to find the words to thank him but they get lost in the ghosts of today.

Your mind is still swirling but the clouds of despair have mostly cleared away. You know you don’t have time to dwell on your short interaction yet your mind is fully absorbed in his every move, both present and past. Coming from anyone else his reaction would seem shitty and dismissive but coming from Mando... well, you're honestly shocked. Those two sentences were fairly long for someone usually so silent. And what about his reaction to the way this job has gone? Him brushing away your tears?

You are gazing down at your feet deep in thought when you suddenly bonk into the back of Mandos broad back, wacking your forehead on the base of his helmet.

“Oww.” You groan lightly, rubbing your forehead and stepping to the right of his body, “Why’d you stop so sudde-'' It is then when you notice the muffled whimpering coming from the clearing in front of the both of you. A crimson pool of blood laps at the Mandalorian’s boots, its kiss staining the leather a deep black.

Now you are truly sickened, bile rising in your throat as a ragged gasp leaves your mouth.

“Why…? How can you..”

“Xi’an!”

Your choked whisper leaves your lips at the same moment the Mandalorian fucking barks the Twi’leks name.

A crumpled form adjacent to her body is the source of the whimpering and bloodshed, their contorted limbs looking less than human as muscles strain against metal binders. Xi’an’s triangular blades are dripping in her grip as she spins on her toes like a dancer and flounces childishly in the direction of your frozen form. Tearing your gaze away from the shell of a human you meet her eyes with open hostility. She stops several yards away from you.

‘Aha! So good to see you two. Isn’t this job sooo disappointing?” She calls out to the two of you casually. When no one responds her body deflates as she twists her knee inward and clutches one arm peevishly. Performative. “What? No hello? I could’ve died today!” She cackles at the notion.

Mando is a statue at your side. You can feel the rage radiate in waves off his body like a heater and you wonder what's going to happen if Xi’an pushes this further. Your heightened stress from moments before is vibrating throughout your nervous system, compelling you to step forward and speak up.

“Xi’an… this-this is completely unnecessary. The only thing required to complete our hit was taking out guards! What the fuc- and they were clearly incapacitated by you before you decided to take your blade to their skin!” Okay, that came out a little shakier than intended, but it feels like a disservice to hide your revulsion for her actions with the victim lying right there. “You could’ve just hit em’ in the skull with a blaster shot if you needed them out of your way!”

“Guards? Oh, I already took them out. This-” Xi’an punctuates the word a kick into the person’s stomach causing them to groan weakly, “Well, this is just an Organic as Zero would put it.” Organic? Fucking- You jump slightly and glance to your left when the Mandorlorian makes a shocked exclamation at her words. Maker, you’re so sickened you forgot he was with you.

“You mean a Slave? From the shipment?” He hisses the question through his teeth. You can’t see his face but you can hear the tension in his jaw, his body still a ridged form at your side. Xi’an pokes her tongue out and runs it lightly over the pointed edge of her teeth while she considers her response. She seems to be measuring her response to Mando with a little more care than she bothered with while speaking to you. You’re guessing that she cares far more about his perception of her than your personal attitude regarding the Twi’lek. Wouldn’t want to piss off her fuck buddy.

“Answer me!” He snaps when her response takes a millisecond too long. Your purple associate sighs, exasperated now.

“Yes a slave,” she hisses, drawing out the word in contempt, “Really I’m doing him a favor. From the looks of him, he was picked up on Tatooine. I doubt he even had a family to mourn him back on that shitty dustball of a planet-” Her eyes suddenly bulge as she clamps her mouth shut, gaze fixed on the armored man betraying a twinkle of... fear?

Slowly, you turn to him. The pit in your stomach is somehow weighing heavier than ever when you take in his body language. If you thought he was emanating white-hot rage before Xi’an’s response then you don’t even have words for how he holds himself now. You take a half step back in trepidation as the air around you seems to warp around the Mandalorian’s gravitational pull.

“A foundling?” His tone is unexpectedly quiet for someone who is manipulating the very atmosphere of this desert planet. Time seems to freeze. Shadows are ebbing at the edge of your vision and your head feels like it is going to pop in the pressure. You want to do something, anything, to relieve the pressing wall closing in on the three of you, to somehow end this interaction so that you can crawl in on yourself and bury the ghosts in the back of your mind. Fuck, your mouth is so dry, heart palpitating with a painful squeeze. Shit, fuck, what do you do? What did he mean by that question and why is Xi’an freaking out? You’re still fixated on the gleam of his helmet, rushing to find appropriate words when-

A flash of red explodes in your peripheral-vision, sparks seeming to fly 20 feet in the air. The words die in your throat in shock.

Did he? Did he shoot her? You barely saw him move yet as your mind races to catch up on this turn of events, you realize his blaster is drawn low on his hip, while the rest of him hasn't shifted an inch. The pressure cooker disappears in a sweeping wave of silence.

You swallow and turn awkwardly back to Xi’an. Oh.

He shot the slave.

Xi’an is just as stiff as you, her arms slightly raised as if she instinctively tried to ward off the blaster fire before realizing its trajectory. You are still processing his actions when a gloved hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you swiftly as he runs from the scene, tossing a flash bomb behind the both of you.

Without question, you run with him.

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

“Hey!” Within minutes your chest is burning from keeping up with Mando’s relentless pace. You’re fit from your job but he's twice as big as you and probably more than twice as fast. You get the feeling that he's moving slower than usual so you aren’t left behind. Struggling to control your breathing, you attempt to make sense of the jumbled thoughts by wheezing out, “M-Mando what are we doing?”

“Running.”

“Okay, fucking obviously!”

“To the Crest.” He clarifies just as shortly. Okay. Okay, once you reach his ship maybe you’ll get more answers. Right now, both of your priorities align with getting the fuck away from Xi’an before her vision returns and she comes after the both of you. But you can’t yet push some of the recent events to the side.

“You shot him.” You mean to phrase it like a question but it comes out more accusatory than intended with how breathless you are. “The slave you shot-“

“I ended his suffering.”

Oh. That makes sense, even if it makes your chest contract in duress you recognize his killing the slave came from a place of empathy. What exactly did he say right before drawing his blaster, something about… foundlings? You don’t know the term exactly but contextually you can guess it means orphan or alone. Fuck, this is so bad. Just what are you going to tell everyone? He may not have directed his shot at the Twi’lek but he temporarily blinded her. That still counts as an attack on a member of the team. Your chest is burning unbearably now so you slap at Mando’s vambrance to signal your need for a break. He drags you gasping around a corner into the shadowy edge of the warehouse.

“Listen, hey, look at me.” His large hand reaches out to gently grip the side of your face, warm against your skin and smelling sharply of blaster residue. Looking into his visor you realize your cheeks are damp again as hysterical hiccups threaten to make themselves known. “We are going to run. You don’t have to come with me of course but I unintentionally put you in the position of being complicit by attacking Xi’an. That-that wasn’t the plan… but I was leaving the company anyway”

His chest suddenly deflates as he rids it of air.

You realize you were holding your breath at the same time as him as you gasp out, before rubbing at your cheeks and asking dumbly, “Y-you were… leaving the company? Is Ran pissed?”

Stupid question. Of course, he’d be pissed at losing the one Mandalorian in the group. Mandos' presence gave him cred.

“Ran doesn’t know.”

“Ran doesn’t… what? When was this happening then?”

Mando’s visor turns away from your gaze and looks off into the middle distance. His gloved hand on your face is still gripping gently to lock you in place. “Today. That’s the only reason why I agreed to let him use the Crest for this job.”

He shakes his helmet slightly and turns back to your face, the metal covering his face becoming your main focal point while the room spins. You can't see his features, and never would, yet you feel as if you are looking directly into his eyes. Your body has impeccable timing when you feel your cheeks heat blushing.

However, your senses return in an instant when a familiar piercing howl echoes off the walls. The glove drops and he is gripping your shoulders,

“Can you run again?”

Adrenaline springs your limbs into action as you spin around, catching his wrist and pulling, roles reversed as you lead him in the direction of his ship.

Dust is billowing from below whenever your feet meet the ground. The steps sound like thunder in your ears as paranoia begins to worm its way into the forefront of your senses, every corner, every shadow, every blindspot could be hiding one of your former partners. Xi’an is an excellent assassin; time and time again her main skill has proven to be stealth, targets dropping dead expectedly. The Crest isn’t very far thankfully. It sits right on the back of the targeted freighter since Zero requires physical contact to hack the other ship systems for paths. Oooohh shit you forgot about the droid-

“Mando, Zero’s in there.” You puff out shortly in between breaths.

“Fuck that droid. I’ll take care of him, just back me up.” You both slide around a corner as he responds, bringing the two ships into your field of view. You are facing the rear end of the larger vessel, thankfully leaving the coast clear as far as you can tell. Mando’s helmet scans the area then nods, indicating the go-ahead with his fingers before running ahead of you. You follow him, casting fervent glances behind you for any signs of life. You reach the ship a millisecond after he does, his vambrance held high to lower the rear ramp. As the ramp begins to lower he grips your shoulders and spins you around dizzily.

“Stay right outside here. The second I enter the crest I’m dropping the Droid. I’ll call you once it’s safe.” You gulp quickly and nod in assent right before he leaps into the opening of the ship.

Seconds pass.

Your nerves are plucking way more than they normally would.. You never particularly liked Zero, but the sudden turn of taking out your ex-allies is making you high strung and nervous. Zero’s voice cuts through the silence, making you jump.

“Mandolarian, you are back early. Were the prospects plentiful despite being Organics?”

“No.” You twitch when a shot echoes in the hull followed by the clash of metal on metal.

The Mandalorian sharply calls your name springing you into action. You enter the ship immediately spying Zero’s body under the cockpit ladder, blaster wound still smoking with red-hot metal ringing the edges. Your eyes linger a little on the droid’s body, slightly leery at the death of someone who was your backup only hours ago, then you sigh and duck to get a handle on under his shoulders, dragging him to toss out the open entryway.

Grunting with effort you direct your voice at the cockpit, “Tossing the droid! Take off when read- Shit.”

One of the droid's hip joints gets stuck on a portion of the hull wall, preventing you from moving his corpse. Something wizzes above you at the exact moment you duck down to adjust the body, right where the back of your head was a second ago. One of Xi’an’s triangle blades ricochets off the wall and slides across the floor, stopping right under your nose. Oh f-

“Fuck! Fly, fly, she's here Mando!” You lurch to the floor as the thrusters kick in, twisting your head to try and get eyes on the clearing. Through the rapidly closing ramp, you see a flash of purple skin, but before you have time to react the Crest door snaps shut. Heart thudding at what feels like a million beats per second, you try to get your bearings on the floor. Twisting sideways you suddenly find yourself face to face with Zero’s corpse, revulsion whipping through you like lightning as you scramble backward on your hands and feet.

You can’t do this right now.

The last thing you want is to seem weak and needy in front of the man who just selflessly saved your life, for reasons still unknown, but you can’t do this right now. A creature of habit, you fold your neck between your legs, the same reaction you had to the violence on Cantonica. A minute, you just need a minute, a minute and then this horrible drone will go away, and you can deal with this, you’re a fucking mercenary… the blackness swarming at the edges of your sight overtakes you all at once and you slide limply to the floor.

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

You aren’t sure how much time has passed once you rouse. At your request, Mando tosses Zero's body before kicking into hyperdrive right about 120,000 feet in the air. You stare at its flight path until the speck disappears in the taupe shithole that is Cantonica. Feeling shaky as your adrenaline finally dips, you decide that the Crest could do with a once over before the long journey.

After performing a quick analysis on the Crests systems it’s determined that the two of you are lucky this hunk of metal can fly. Hyperdrive operating at 67% capacity, weak communication signal if it even works half the time, plus more damage than you can currently process. If there weren’t five million different stressors weighing on you, your mechanic brain would probably explode at the current state of Mando’s ship. He probably should’ve taken it to you, or anyone else handy with tools if he wanted it to be in proper form for departure, but it makes sense that he didn’t want to draw too much attention. Hopefully, his pilot skills will compensate for the Crest’s sorry state.

To be fair, the whole blow-up-your-coworker-and-run-for-your-life aspect didn’t seem to be in Mando’s original plan.

“So… where are we going?” You’re on the floor in the cockpit, back facing the passenger chair while the Mandalorian is seated pilot. After crawling under the console for a while you couldn’t bother to lift your aching muscles on the chair, resigning to scoot on your butt over to the closest object that could support you. As a result, you end up craning your neck to look up at him, his back straight in the chair.

“My original plan was to head to Nevarro to take on a few quarries. I’m still with the guild and Karga doesn’t give a shit whether I’m running with Ran or going in alone.” You bite your lip anxiously. Oh yeah, you kinda forgot your presence threw wrench in his plan. He notices and tilts the helmet sideways at you, “You’re not in the way. I’m not concerned about you joining me, someone of your skillset is helpful to have around. I’ll introduce you to Karga so you can get on your feet.”

The compliment lifts your spirits enough to make you playful, poking at his boot with your toe, “Gee, glad I’m useful enough to keep around. All I have is my blaster and the clothes on my back, so if you drop me, I’d be pretty fucked.”

You giggle quietly but you know it’s the truth. All of your possessions are back on the space station, but you didn’t own too many personal artifacts, aside from some clothes and weapons. The only thing of use would’ve been your credits. You worry again at the realization, dipping your head before continuing to speak,

“Shit Mando, I don’t have any money on me. It was all back in my bunk, I don’t know how I’ll help pay for things around here unless Karga decides I can take on a quarry right away. Even then I’ll have to bring it back before I ever have a lick to my name.”

“You can make it back. I’ll split the profit from jobs that you assist me on. Cut depends on how useful you are and once you prove yourself, Karga will give you the decent pucks.” He swivels the chair and faces you, knees slightly spread as he leans forward in the chair, “Deal?”

You swallow and nod your head, mind blanking at how your head is level with the bend in his hips. You don’t think he's trying to come across as suggestive but the effect, intentional or not, invites a flutter of desire in your tummy. The Mandalorian leans back on his leather backing and sighs, the sound gentle despite the modulator warping his natural tone,

“You aren’t in my way. I swear it. If I had more time before leaving I would’ve asked you to join me anyway, you're good with your hands and always had more… compassion? Than anyone else in the company. I admire that quality.” That makes you straighten back up to meet his visor. He sounds nearly shy.

“O-oh…” You never even thought he noticed you aside from when you touched up the Razor Crest. The compliment sends warmth throughout your body, as languid as sex pollen in the near feverish effect. You don’t know how to respond at all, you’re feeling disjointed, like you may reveal too much if you don't change the subject soon. You wish you could be snappier but you’re exhausted. Maybe try for a joke?

“I g-guess you value girls good with their hands, huh. H-haha?”

Silence. Hm.

That was the absolute worst thing you could’ve come up with.

It didn’t meet even a single one of your simple ass goals, which entail the following:

Thank him.

Change the subject.

Not reveal how much his words make you want him to rail you.

Wow, what the fuck- kill me. He hasn’t moved an inch, much less reacted to your shitty joke. The positioning of your bodies that you found so hot ten seconds prior is now a place you’d try anything to escape from. It’s almost comical how his height advantage serves to emphasize the disappointment in the small room. He hasn’t responded so you’re guessing he won’t bother to try. Heavy silence suffocates you to the point of desperation, you need to fill it with something right now or you swear you’ll die.

“I-I jus-t mean like- Well you had certain- ah- habits, you’d adhere to in your free time. Li-like um, I mean you didn’t hide much. Kinda obvious if you- listen, uh, I didn’t mean t-to say that I-I was joking around-”

“Get to the point.”

“I-” Your tummy fills with heat at his command. “Umm..” You wipe your hands on your thighs and glance down from his voice. The hours of on and off adrenaline must be majorly messing with your head. It’s kinda weird that you want him this badly after everything that went down today. Wasn’t your most recent concern something about avoiding death at the hands of a bitch you hate most in the galaxy? To be honest you can’t recall.

The proximity of his groin is suddenly at the forefront of your mind. Again.

He slowly tilts his helmet to look at you, arms bending to settle in a relaxed position on the armrests. You are extremely aware of how you’re blatantly staring at him but your mind is slow to come up with a valid response, blankness written in the reflection on his visor. His position on the chair is mountainous, looming over your body in a way that boxes you in between the passenger seat and the Crest console. You feel like a prey animal... In a sexy way? Maybe?

Although, when he leans back into his seat, helmet still trained on your face, you are unsure if you’re actually pissing him off or not.

“Say what you mean.”

Okay, the sexy is mixing a little with anxiety.

“Ah- Um well, I just mean like. It’s not like you hid it from me- everyone else too. In the company. Ran’s company? ‘Cause, I- We… always overheard you and Xi’a- Her…” Fuck, your mouth is so dry that last part came out like a squeak. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again um, I kinda thought you were doing it on purpose. With Xi’an. Making me hear when you’d...fuck her.” Cheeks blazing, you duck your head back down, which doesn’t help at all since you’re just face to face with his crotch once more.

“You say ‘always’...” Mando’s inflection is lost somewhere between statement and question, his tone confusing enough that you end up lifting your head from its bowed position below him.

“Y-yes?”

“As in this was a common position you found yourself in? Did you overhear me multiple times?” Now he poses not one but two questions for you, neither of which you feel brave enough to answer steadily. You can’t deflect further at this point so you answer him with a sigh.

“No, I only heard you once. Xi’an always wanted me to hear her though. It was gross.” Mortified, you gather your legs under your body to stand up from the floor. You think the hyperdrive issue is fixed well enough to hold until Nevarro. When your hand reaches for the edge of the armrest to pull yourself up it is abruptly enveloped in warm leather. Half crouched, your arm jerks back a little in surprise at his touch.

“I wasn’t asking about myself specifically. And I wouldn’t force you to participate in her games, had I known.”

Maker strike my ass down. Can humans die from embarrassment? You wish it were possible if it got you out of this conversation. He’s correct, he didn’t specify whether you had heard his moaning. If you weren’t nursing these stupid feelings for Mando you never would’ve given away the fact that you memorized every tantalizing second of what you overheard. Not only is this embarrassing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a sicko who wanted to eavesdrop in the first place. The clarification about his awareness of Xi'an's timing is comforting but not enough to erase what you already admitted to him. You somehow feel sweaty and bone-dry at the same time, a flush spreading over your face.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I heard you too.”

You both speak at the same second, and a beat passes before either of you process what the other said. He- what? What is he talking about? Are we having two totally different conversations right now? When did you ever fuck someone on that space station anyway… unless he means… in the fresher…

This time he is the one who breaks the silence, “You’re sorry for… overhearing me?”

“Y-yes, I really, really, don’t want you to think I’m a creep or anything. Anything I heard was involuntary, I swear. Xi’an w-wanted to make me… Um…” You trail off shyly, sitting down again. His hand is still over yours.

“Get to the point.” His voice is filled with heat now, so low and compelling that you’d tell him anything just to keep it that way. You whisper your response, lifting your eyes to his dark visor wishing you could meet his gaze.

“She wanted to make me jealous. Over you.”

“Mm… You wanted me instead?”

“Maker, yes.”

The climate between you and the Mandalorian made a 180. Nerves dissolving like honey in tea, all at once being taken over by a hum of sexual tension while his fingers caress a warm pattern over your knuckles. Exhilaration builds within you, though in the back of your mind you are calculating the possible motives behind his advance.

You know sometimes, after a particularly rough day, people are compelled to relieve their pent-up stress through intimacy. There’s a reason why the market of sex work thrives under wartime, terror existing constantly in a fighter’s life must be paired with the softer, inner-most comforts of knowing another living being, or they’d go mad with sorrow. Brothels made a lot of money during the last stages of the Empire’s rule from both Imps, Rebels, and neutral parties alike.

It’s not out of the ordinary for you to seek each other out right now, yet can’t help but dream that this might mean more.

The Mandalorian’s hand currently encasing yours flips your wrist to trace the lines of your palm. Sighing you tilt your head to the side, a curtain of hair cascading across your features. His free hand reaches out to brush the strands away before he gently grips your jaw, hand large enough to press his thumb on the front of your chin while his fingers wrap lightly under your ear.

“I heard you too, pretty girl. You called out for me in the fresher… just what were you doing in there? Describe it- please.” He speaks with such allure that you break under his voice, pressing your cheek to his palm.

“I-I thought of you watching me while I touched my pussy. I was so wet thinking about how I want you to feel me after being under all your armor, Stars, even the wind can’t touch you Mando. I thought about how you must crave the feeling of something so soft… can I show you how soft I am?” Your free hand raises to rest gently on his knee, fingertips hesitating at the edge of his thigh piece. He is still fully suited for battle, explosives strapped to one boot and rifle across his shoulders.

You wish so badly to help him unwind, you would never disrespect him by trying to remove his armor, but you want to help him move past the experience that was Cantonica. Mando continues to stare at you for several tense seconds before melting into your touch.

“H-helmet stays on.” He breathes out shakily, a slight tremor running through his legs as your fingers lightly explore the fabric under the edge of the piece of metal. “But the rest… the rest can come off.”

He’s already moving to undo the magnetic connectors holding his cuirass in place so you scramble to follow his movements. The rust-colored armor on his body has complex enough attachments that you don’t really know where to begin. Your hands clamber around, mostly following his deft movements. Slowly a man of flesh and blood is revealed, and as his impenetrable exterior melts away you find the true shape of him.

The armor serves to add a few inches of bulk on his features, enhanced proportions making out a dramatic silhouette designed to be spotted from miles away. Without it his body is still so powerful, built hard as stone and broad, hard angles melding enticingly with a hidden softness. Not hidden- you realize -it compliments him completely. The pieces fall away and you’re left with the unexplored bareness of him. He is human and warm, evidence of this betrayed in rare moments where his hands travel lightly up your arms while you work at his pauldrons, brushing through your hair here and there before finally returning to your jaw to hover in front of your lips.

“Off.” He instructs shortly, brushing the seam of his thumb over your bottom lip. Your mouth falls open to explore him with your tongue, tasting salt, blaster residue, and a hint of the heat he holds in his body. Satisfied, you bite down gently on the glove ridge, watching as he pulls off the leather encasing his hand and drinking in the sight of golden skin as it is revealed to you inch by inch. All you’ve seen of him is one bare hand and somehow it is the sexiest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Flames lick your body, spreading from your white-hot core, energy gathering with such impassioned motions that at any second now it will burst from your skin, a reaction so immense that you could birth another galaxy.

You want to taste his skin too.

“Fuck baby-” You take his middle finger down to the knuckle, emboldened by his slurred reaction, noises startling to babble out of the bounty hunter as his stoicism falls apart under your tongue. Humming around the digit, you start to bob your head gently, eyes locked on his impassive visor while filthy, filtered noises drift through the beskar. It’s like there is no barrier at all between you, the air thrumming with a longing so great that you feel one with the man crumbling before you. If you're not careful you will fall with him.

“Mando, Plea-se,” You stutter around him, voice shaking more than intended. “I want to f-feel more of you, let me touch you, please-” You squawk, mouth empty when he suddenly rips off the other glove, tossing it behind him before reaching down his torso to pull the hem of his trousers south. You gulp in trepidation, unable to tear your eyes away as enticing dark hair displays itself, leading to the base of his cock. He pauses, but you’re so caught up in discovering him that you don’t notice the tonal shift.

“Before I show you this-” dark words enunciated by palming his cock through the fabric, “I need to know where to put it.”

What kind of question is that? You’re honestly bewildered, mind blank before you realize that the options are overwhelming. In his own way, he is asking you to verbalize consent, which is very much appreciated. You want him in your pussy, to work his way deep in your body and in turn, discover just how human you are... yet… You feel oddly unprepared. It’s not that you don't think you can take him, in fact you can't recall ever being this wet in your life. It’s just… after today… you want to help him unwind but you’re still not fully there. You still want to please him, but you’re not ready to let him know you that way, not until you come back to yourself.

So in that case…

“I want you in my mouth, hunter.”

Mando growls then grabs your wrist, guiding it over the edge of fabric and onto his throbbing length. He shudders while you process the feeling of him. He is thick, the width of his cock so wide that your middle finger and thumb are straining to meet each other. You release him from his pants then try to pull at the hem to wiggle them down his thighs. He obliges and lifts his hips so that you can reveal more delicious olive skin, but he makes no move to assist you with his hands. You get the feeling that he is drinking in your efforts to touch him, the sensation of your jerky movements giving away how much you want him.

You kiss and nibble at every possible moment, one hand drifting lightly over the length of him, twirling at the base dusted with short, dark hairs, cupping his balls then moving back up, your mouth traveling to meet your fingers. Hissing, his hand flashes up to meet the back of your head, fingers tangling in strands to tug tightly on your scalp. With a light moan, you tongue along the side of him, teasing hot air more than actually licking him.

“Look at me- fuck - pretty thing, s-so fucking willing for me, I want to see you take my cock as far as you can, s-show me how much you can handle-” He pulls harder at your hair, dragging you roughly enough to control your neck, back up from where you were sucking at his hip to the head of his dick. “Are you going to show me yourself before or after I gag you on it?”

Fuck, you never realized how tantalizing submitting to another person could be, not until that came out of his mouth, rough enough to clip through the modulator. You elect to show him what you can handle. Leaning forward to meet the swollen tip, you part your plush lips and kiss at the drop of precum gathered there, before relaxing your jaw to take him halfway. He groans and nearly doubles over at the sudden sensation, holding you there for a second before you draw back up to spread your saliva more thoroughly. Lips rewet, you sink back down on him, gliding smoothly as you pull his cock deep within your mouth, drinking in his breathy groans.

“Maker, yes … that’s it, fuck-” You attempt to sink even further down on the Mandalorian’s impressive length, but stop short a few inches from his base, blunt head pressing in your throat. “-so good, s-so good for me baby, you look perfect like this.”

He’s so far back inside you that you can’t access your vocal cords to produce any noise at all, otherwise you’d be whining at his praise. Your hands are free to assist you at any time, you could circumvent his daunting length if you wanted help. But you want to impress him. Besides, your palms are warm on his torso, traveling under his shirt to feel the ropes of muscle there. You don’t want to remove them.

You surface to the tip, taking a deep breath in preparation before ducking to take him as deep as you can manage. He watches you, entranced at the sight of a face so lovingly strained to please him. Your gag reflex spasms but you will it away, determined to fully engulf his cock at least once even if you find you’re unable to handle more. The noises rising from your throat are brutal and raw as you choke around him, his helmet blurring when tears fill your eyes. You bob a little then almost give up when the urge to retreat floods your senses but then he starts talking again- so filthy that you can’t stop yet.

“You’re trying so fucking hard, fuck, I love seeing you wrapped around my cock, Maker, you feel so fucking good, I can’t imagine how your little pussy must feel, you’re so warm, so, fu-fuck, tight…” The stream of filth serves as your motivation to bob for as long as possible on his length, throat stretched obscenely around him. You realize hazily that there are tears streaming from your eyes, but the urge to pull off is lost in dizziness as the oxygen in your lungs depletes. You keep going and going, your high at its peak as you recognize that your body is starting to fade in black. You should pull off and breathe, one quick breath is all you need, but the way he’s filling you is more addicting than the purest Spice. He notices when you start to slump into his lap and pulls you up gasping for air.

Nearly fainting never felt so good.

“Shit, are you alright?” You nod and rest your cheek on his thigh, face turned on its side to meet his visor as he spins little circles in your vision. A soothing hand brushes against your cheekbone, tracing a gentle pattern on its height. “You were doing so good for me baby. No need to hurt yourself.” Mando’s voice is still breathless, offering you tenderness through a cloud of stimuli.

“I’m okay- I’m… I just need to catch m-my breath.” You’re still heaving unevenly but you want him so bad, you want him to finish for you, your wants translating into weak pawing at his dick trying to give him more sensation. He catches your wrist with an airy laugh and guides your uncoordinated movements to better stroke him. The sound fills you with light.

“Pretty thing, I know you want me. Try to not die on my dick before I’ve had the chance to feel your cunt.” His hand leaves yours on his length and reaches over your ass to cup the apex of your thighs through your pants. You jerk up and almost crack the crown of your head open on the chin of his beskar but his other palm is pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over in his lap. A garbled noise tears from you when his index and ring finger spread on either side of your outer lips, allowing his middle finger space to travel up and down your seam, so wet that you can feel the slickness gathering through two layers of fabric onto the tip of his finger.

“Ah, Fuck! Mando, I-I- wait please, please, wait-” He draws his hand up away from your wet center, reaching your asscheek before you yelp and snatch his forearm to stop him from retreating farther. “I s-still wanna, I wanna make you come. You first, before-before me.”

“Baby, you’re… fuck okay. Can I still touch you?” Mando caresses your hip at the fold where it meets your thigh.

“Later, let me d-do this, please.” He allows you to lift his arm from your spine and rest it on the crown of your head as you move forward and try to meet his cock again. Pulling his thighs to the edge of the chair, you settle back on your knees and stroking him one-handed while he hums low in his throat. You wrap your lips around the swollen head, sucking and swirling your tongue before taking him deeper, this time using a palm to stroke the last few inches instead of opening your throat. Starting up a rhythm of bopping and stroking his velvety length that pulls incredible noises out of the Mandalorian, each one going straight to your swollen clit.

Coming up for air you start to jerk him off faster with your slick hand, meeting the T of his visor with your heated gaze, hoping that you are finding his eyes. He must enjoy the sight of you jerking him off because his moans start to tighten, hips thrusting into your palm.

“K-keep fucking doing that, good girl, fuck I-I’m close, where-where do you want it, baby?” You respond by settling low near his thighs, putting his cock above you with your tongue sticking out, wetting the tip while your wrist moves faster. Somehow he’s harder than ever and-

Mando curses through his teeth as his cock convulses, warm spurts of cum painting your tongue, cheeks, and nose bridge, rivers of him flowing down your chin and dribbling on the swell of your chest. He grips the back of your head tight enough to hurt, then rips one hand down to stroke himself, smearing the mess across your features.

The fingers on your scalp loosen then graciously begin rubbing at the base of your neck to soothe the soreness on your head. One of your eyelids is sealed shut due to a rope of his cum crossing from nose to eyebrow, the other eye unfocused, hazy with pleasure as you listen to him come down from his peak. A low noise rises from your throat as he massages your scalp, feeling tingly all over as blood flows back to the area.

“T-Thank you… that was great, I-“ he breaks off when you start to gather his cum off your skin, licking it off your fingers while studying his visor through your lashes. “Hey, let me…”

He surprises you by wiping at your face with his cape, still hanging off the arm of the pilot chair from when you detached it. You giggle, “Is there a way to wash that on here? I can’t even tell if that hole in the wall includes a shower.”

“There’s enough to work with.”

You laugh louder at that, “That’s encouraging. I hope there’s ‘enough to work with’ so that I don’t meet Karga covered in cum.” Pausing to consider your current position, you add, “Actually, that might help my case.”

Face wiped mostly clean, you're able to open both eyes now, taking in his posture. A jolt shoots through you when you realize he’s holding himself differently for some reason, he looks almost predatory but maybe that’s just the effect of Beskar’s harsh angles... Nope, he’s leaning forward now, caging you in again.

“You want to look sexy for Karga?” Gulping, you try to figure out the best response but he continues before your slow-ass mind can catch up, “You’re right, that might help you get better pucks. But I don’t know if I want my hunting partner to be introduced that way. I still need to return the favor…”

He lifts your body with ease, pulling you sideways onto his lap. Mando’s warm hand slides along the bend in your knee, slow and sensual on your body. He caresses you aimlessly, relaxed in the afterglow of cumming so hard. You’re still tightly wound, energy balled in your body as his movements serve to wind you up even more. But he’s not moving any faster so you relax into his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin.

Time blurs with your senses. His touch pulls you to a place right out of your daydreams, where everything is draped in velveteen and silk. You’ve honestly forgotten his original goal in the first place, and as his arm begins to drag on its path, it seems like he has too. The stroking on your arm has lowered your arousal to a simmer, leaving you content to stay laying across his lap, the glow of hyperspace streaking over your bodies. All at once, you realize he’s no longer moving over your body, his chest rising and falling deeply against your shoulder.

He’s asleep. Surprise registers sleepily somewhere in your exhausted mind, the realization behind layers of warm fuzz. Didn’t even think he slept.

There’s a full day of travel until you reach Nevarro. Snuggling closer into the warm crook of his neck to resolve to live in this dream for as long as possible. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader insert #mando x reader #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #smut #smut fic #mandalorian smut fanfic #the mandalorian x you #mando x you

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thelesbianlegacy-swtor · 4 years ago

Text

OC list of the MMO LESBIAN

SarapAlexandria Duvel <3 Vette

Sith Warrior

Human, brown short hair, 1,78, D cups, she likes dressin on armor that is bulkier than a tank or in a tank top and leggings. Dark eyes and light skin

Lesbian. LOVES toys in bed

Headcannons

Has a personal Dreagnough that she uses as a colliseum. She has taken into training new sith in combat. More than her apprentices they are more of gladiators for her to fight.

Kinda crazy. Likes to bounce around and do Tons of damage. She is feroucios about defending the Empire and believes that the republic is doomed. Has archived the impossible more than a dozen times so no plan is to crazy or stupid for her. Gratefully, her wife knows what is too stupid or too crazy and so she fixes those plans so her big sith girl can go fight monsters and other people.

Married Vette. Only she can make her laught so much that she forgets she is angry. The tiny girl is so adorable and so cute and jsut so horny for Alexandria that the two of them spend 3 months on a horny induced honeymoon. Even now after the war with zakuul they keep having more honeymoons whenever they get the chance.

She wasnt all that hurt by Quinns betratal. Like, hey man fatman told you to kill me so no biggie- But from now on you are my bitch and i will bully you over all this k?

Jaesa kinda bugs her. She is Dark side but not SO crazy but still she is kinda...tiny. Alexandria likes to challenge her to crazy stuff and she always gets on trouble with her, but Jaesa is so young and sometimes weak that

Pierce is her best freind. A total madman when it comes to battle, a blootthirsty man that will not doubt in choosing violence but also super trusthworthy and she knows he will stop her from getting killed in stupid ways

For her Broonmark is her fluffy monster! Just point release and watch blood by spilled. She makes him shower after every bottle and use proucts on his hair cause she likes how soft he gets.

She remains a free agent causing chaos everywhere. She is not quick to kill always tho. If she got a good fight with someone she will usually let them live so they can fight again.

She is the most sexually proactive girl around. She will get every pair of cute or hot tiddies on a bed along side Vette. She is a bit dom and doesnt like playing sub, but she will play passive.

Master of Shien and Juyo, she likes to go crazy with a lightsaber and destroying the place but doesnt really like dual wielding

Seraphine <3 Temple

Sith Agent. New code name: Specter

Cyborg, mostly internal components on her eye, brain and bones. 1,96M, Long hair, usually red but she likes dying it. C cups, She wishses to get more tits but she has to be stealthy. She likes using loose clothes with lots of cleavege. She isnt a fan of bras.

Lesbian Switch. Likes bondage and public stuff. She can and will play any part on roleplay. From the scared virgin to the cruel dominatrix

Headcannons

A master of hidding on plain sight. Seraphine is the kind of woman who blends everywhere. She likes attention from the spotlight just to let it go 5 minutes later. She has the talent of being so likeable that any girl that gets close to her on bed, never gets mad with her for leaving or just going for another girl. She also has a perfect memory and will remember how you like to be touch, how much you moan or what kind of cnadies you like when you are on your days. She is as soft as she is Ruthless. She has never regret killing anyone for more than an hour. Unless she kils someone she has slept with she will pull the triger no matter what. This includes civilians, wounded and allies. After Chapter 3 she left the identity of Cypher 9 and became a shadow agent for the Empire. Her new code name: Specter.

After the War with Zakuul she was left on charge ofthe Alliance by Darth Nox. Both the Ex Imperial Wrath and the Supreme Huntress stayed behind with her.

She doesnt like Kaliyo. No. She is no fun. She likes to hurt and doesnt look after girls. She was particulary angry at her at the start because she would try to get on the way of her time with other girls. So Seraphine got Kaliyo a cute chasity belt and allowed her to focus on chaos outside the bedroom. That way they both can get what they want. Chaos and attention.

Vector is her special little guy. Confident. Trusthworthy. But really fun to mess up with. Seraphine tells him to do weird stuff just to get a laught at weird situation. She also helps him send money for Killik Joiners. She likes that he is simple

Lokin is a weird guy for Seraphine.He could do a lot of stuff with the ragkghoul virus but she likes that he is quiet and calm. She likes trying tea with him

Ensign Temple is the only girl that has kept Seraphine attention span for more than 1 night. She likes her a lot because she cant read her as well as other people and so she makes her angry just to learn more about her. She forgot how it felt to get to know someone through time and so she likes to keep her around. She also likes Temple is super organized and loyal

Seraphine can never choose fast between either a big rifle or a tiny blade under her dress. She likes how chaos erupts after a person gets shots down but she also likes to be close when her target takes their last breath

FUCK SCORPIO UwU

Arthemys Delos <3 Mako

Huntress

Built like a tank, She likes lifting Mako to train her big guns. She is a cyborg with lots of internal components and a cybernetic leg (left) She isnt the tallest girl, she is 169 (nice) but she has the biggest tiddies. She carries two E cups that she loves to put on Mako’s face. She has black short hair

Lesbian

Total top but wont say no to being topped every know and then

Headcannons

Money,gambling, explosions and pretty girls, Arthemis cares for little more than that. As long as she can fire guns, gamble money and have a bed with a pretty girl on it she will do an job. She loves hunting animals and will almost never reject a bounty. What she wont do, is just say yes to any quest or mission. She can get money as easy as she can waste it and so throwin credits at her doesnt work. Only if the work isnt something she dislikes or too easy or boring she will do it. She has a few internal implants after playing with grenades when she was young.

Mako is hers. Hers alone. She wont let her go beyon her sight and will actually get restless for being away from her too long. Arthemis is possesive which Mako kinda likes.

The two of them likes being on top of eachother as much as possible but a extra pair of hands or tiddies make them both pretty happy. Most of the time, is actually Mako who gets the girl.

Gault is jsut too fun not to keep around. Arthemis wouldnt call him his best friend becuase she suspects the guys can be bought but he is fun either way. She like getting a lot of money with him and then wasting it all or just not taking the pay,just to mess up with him.

Torian is fun. Sometimes. He is a mandalorian and she likes fighting strong people. But Torian is a bit more serious that she would like. She doesnt like people dying because then she cant fight them again and so she doesnt like some decisions of the mandalorian. But at the end of the day the trust that the two share is one of a brotherhood.

Blizz. God Damm Blizz. When Arthemis got Mako on her bed and then into her family she thought she coulnt be happier. She was wrong. The little jawa makes everything better. As chaotic as her and even weirder than Gault, Arthemis just cant stop keeping the jawa around

YOU READ MY COMMENT ABOUT SCORPIO? WELL THAT X2

Selendis likes using two big guns to shot down her enemies. She doesnt really enjoy going around in huge armor so she keeps herself kinda light. But her armor is still a bit big. Why you ask? Cause she loves the feeling of having not only a flamethrower but also grenades, missiles, hooks and electric weapons all stuffed in her body.

Selendis <3 Lana and Senya

Sith Inquisitor

Sith girl with piercing orange eus and long amazing black hair. She is 182 and as sith that focus on range combat, she took the luxury of enhancing her breasts to a nice DD cups. She doesnt like jewelry but she has a few tattoos.

Sorcerer

Lesbian. The one to dom them all.

No amount of girls is too much when it comes to Selendys

A proud, stylish and master manipulator Selendis believes that the empire can be improved but even in its current state is better than the republic. She is patient and ruthless and wont stop until the galaxy is back on order. She left the alliance and took overthe sith empire after letting Acina step down. Seriously, no killing her just “Try and stop me from getting the throne”

Khem Val is her personal monster. A warrior of another time which she swears wont ever be forgotten. She has taken into redacting whatever information the dashade gives her. She has task him ith protecting everyone she deems worthy of her interest

Andronikos is a fun and interesting man. He is a pirate with experience and a code. Hard things to find. Selendis enjoys him being slipery and smartass. She also enjoys the acces to the underworld the man provides. Over all she likes that the betrayed man has once more put his trust on someone. She wont abuse it but she prides herself of it

Ashara. The little puppy. She has learn about the dark side and the sith and yet she keeps herself on a reaching point from the jedi order. Still she has a point of view that is useful and welcome. She has teached her everything useful that she could learnt.

Talos. Oh Talos. A men of science and interest. Selendis has swear to protect the smart man just so he can see for once history being made instead of being discovered. Most of the time she has free, she will spent researching stuff with Talos and discussing history

Xalek. Selendis attack dog. A simple desire of the young Kaleesh allowed Selendis to craft a magnificent Student. Xalek belived that she was a god. And so Selendis tasked Xalek to forget about being a kaleesh god, and instead become a sith god. Strength, power, and victory.

Lana Beniko. From the first time Selendis met Lana she was intrigue. A sith that kept her rage and hate deep withing her, so she could serve the empire better. Selendis wasted no time in seducing the sith and keeping her under her control. But soon Selendis lost control and ended up loving her. Lana became her source of power. She would burn the galaxy for her. She also fancid her cute ass and the way she lost control.

Senya Tirall. Selendis doesnt do well with betrayal. And so after defeating Arcann, she was left quite angry when Senya saved him. So, after the war with Zakuul, Selendis threw Senya into a prison and slowly made her crumble. Telling her that both Arcann and Vaylin were death, Offering herself as the only ally, and then leaving her alone. Selendis broke Senya and put her back together in a way that she would enjoy. Despite being more of a pet than a lover, Selendis does love her in her wn special way, and wont let her be hurt.

REPUBLIC OCS

Cassandra (Cassie) Jedi Knight <3 kIRA She tiny! She is 165, amber eyes,C cups she likes to hide on a sport bra and to fight, she has a few scars over her back and shoulder (horny origin) She specialies on Djem So but likes using two lightsbaers instead of one Lesbian Total Bottom girl. Tsundere (will be all agressive but you pet her once and she will melt on your arms)

T7-01 The crimemaster, Teseven will always be there to push Cassie towards any female individual just so Cassie can stop winning about not having a girlfriend. Each time it works, but Cassie ends up lossing the contact or getting pulled out from plannet by the council

Kira. Or like Cassie likes to call her, babe! Cassie was sweap of her feat by how chaotic her padawan was an how incredible persistent she was on taking baths together, giving eachother massages and just being close. Cassie lasted 2.6 seconds the first time she gave her a kiss and fron that day on, she is either fighting or on her girlfriend’s arms. Kira likes to tease Cassie and on nights she makes sure to give her all of her love

Doc. The best partner. Doc is always there for Cassie, wherever she is doing good or bad. Or doing ilegal or legal stuff. He knows Cassie will jump towards danger and he will be there to help her make the galaxy a better place Rusk. There are few things that Rusk hates more than the empire and one of them is how Cassie jumps on top of his back because she is to tiny to get food by herself. Even then, he will die for his little sister becuase he knows she will defeat the empire some day

Scourge. The big old sith might have forgotten what means love, pain or feelings, but he respects Cassie. He knows that despite her size the little jedi is more than capable of busting whatever walls appear on her way, even if it means tapping on the dark side.

Bella Jedi consular <3 NADIA

She is a curvy girl. D cps on a tallish girl, 178, with a dump track ass. She is thick and she is SHY about it. She likes baggy clothes so her body doesnt show too much. She feels that healing people with her skills is the best call for her but she also agrees that sometimes throwin a massive bould to minnies is good

Qyzen. Qyzen and Bella are good frends. Mostly, because Qyzen will gladly shoot anyone who calls Bella on her fat ass, and Bella will drop a boulder on anyone who calls him green skin or lizard. The two of them are the type of people who fixate on stuff and they enjoy their hobbies

Tharan. To be honest. Bella didnt think it thorugh when she got Tharan to come with. She was doing it mosly out of pity and because she needed some help. But mostly she just liked Holiday and would be more interested on keeping her rather than him.

Zenith. Oh dear Zenith. Bella enjoys Zenith attiude. There is little more than that. She isnt as extremist as he is, but she knows that he will do everything on his power to defeat the empire and protect the inocent

Iresso. Oh Ireso is fun. Bella likes to bully him in little wyas. Sometimes she will just pick something ilegal to do to get on his nerves. Thats alls. Well he is all good and good for fights but Bella likes how correct he is and that she can make him mad

Nadia: Her love. Her mistress. Her everything. Everyone has thirsted for her body, and so Bella usually isnt ready to believe most words of love and affection, but Nadia persisted for months, being almost addicted to her body. And so one day Bella let her padawan into her bedroom and cried over her love. Nadia is the type of girl who will devote her heart and soul to her love. She CANT keep her hands off Bella’s body tho, which makes it hard for her to keep clean underwear around

NEW OCS FROM THE NOT PC OCS GAME.

PRESENTING. THE ARTIST

Sarah Novadust

The lead singer and dancer of the Imperial Idol group “Royal Novas”

A tallish girl (175cm) a bit petite looking but upclose you notice she has a good pair of thighs and some nice ass. She has GOLDEN hair. Not blonde. Golden. She keeps it on a long ponytail that reaches all the way back to her ass. She is a human girl of 22 years old with Purple eyes due to some alien grandparents

She leads the Royal Nova an Idol Group originated on the Empire. The group is formed by her, 3 back up singers, 5 back up dancers, 2 guitars, piano, drums, violin, and 1 trumpet. The 15 girls are all REAL close to Sarah.. More on that later

Sarah was born on Sarapin. She worked on being an artist since she was young, but when she was around 15 she was blacklisted from most musical firms on the republic over a incident with a manager that wanted to taste her body. Sarah left to spent some times with friends back on Balmorra when the empire attacked. FOr a couple of years she layed low working on some cantinas singing to earn a living. It was there when some sith lady saw her and brought her to Kaas City. Sarah would keep singing for more and more excentic public until she had the favour of enough people that she could stay safe and solo. Then after saving up for some time, she went and convinved a few sith lords and sith officers to put some credits on for a full on idol group. She invited friends and scouted for talent all over the galaxy

As an artist, Sarah likes mixing her young excitement with imperial overconfidense. She knows that playing it safe wont work and so she makes every song and perfomance into a way to improve herself more and more. With a big group of girls to help her she has managed to perform or even Dark council members and Senators from the republic.

As a young woman, Sarah attracts a lot of people. She isnt the most strong willed person, nor she is particulary aggresive. That is excaclty the reason why each and every member of the Royal Novas is madly in love with her. Each girl looks over their leader as a little kitten to be protected. Of course, Sarah doesnt mind the attention and as long everyone plays nice, she will open her heart to the entire group. With 22 years old, a massive fallowing, more credits that she can count and a polyamourous relationship with 14 girls, Sarah's life is just the best

#swtor #swtor oc #star wars oc #starwars oc #Star Wars The Old Republic #star wars: the old republic

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #125: Tawara Touta

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the inexhaustible ball of sunshine and rice that is Tawara Touta! Kill giant centipede, make as much rice as anyone would ever want, and look good doing it!

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: It’s a good thing he was given that sword, otherwise he’d be a one-armed bandit.

Race and Background

No surprises here, Touta’s a Variant Human, giving him +1 Constitution and Charisma, the Sharpshooter feat for more accurate long range attacks and stupid amounts of arrow damage, and proficiency in History, because he’s a part of it.

What is surprising is the fact that in irl history he was a kuge, basically a japanese aristocrat in the imperial court. This makes him a Courtier, giving him proficiency in Insight and Persuasion. Don’t worry, we can pick up the more outdoorsy skills we need pretty easily later.

Ability Scores

Make sure your Charisma is as high as it can be- you’re the life of the party, and not just because you brought the entire buffet. After that is Dexterity, because you’ve got a bow and you know how to use it. You’re a pretty hearty guy, so grab some Constitution next. If you’re going to carry infinite rice around with you, you’d better have a good appetite. Cooking generally falls under Survival, which is a Wisdom skill, so you should brush up on that as well as you can. Finally, your Strength isn’t amazing, but we’re dumping Intelligence. Honestly you’re pretty beefy, I wish strength had more of a use for archer builds, but here we are.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: We’ll have to head over to a casting class for infinite rice in a second, but starting off in fighter nets you more health, as well as proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves for some help concentrating. You also get proficiency in two fighter skills, like Animal Handling and Survival for better hunting and cooking. A man can’t live on rice alone, after all.

You also get the Archery fighting style for more accurate attacks and a Second Wind for snack breaks on a bonus action once per short rest. It’s never a bad time to collect yourself!

2. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge once per short rest, giving you a second action in a single turn. Unlike a sorcerer’s quickened spell, you can use both actions to cast leveled spells, which can come in handy next level.

3. Sorcerer 1: It pains me that we can’t give you a draconic bloodline, but we need to be a Divine Soul for the extra magic. Divine Soul sorcerers can use Charisma to cast Spells from both sorcerer and cleric spell lists thanks to your Divine Magic. This also gives you Cure Wounds as a freebie.

You’re also Favored by the Gods, meaning you can add 2d4 to a failed save or attack roll once per short rest.

For spells: You can now hear the words of Guidance left for you by your master. You can also replace your normal arrow with a Fire Bolt, use Mending to repair any tears in your bag of rice holding, and Catapult to make your enemies regret making fun of it. You also get True Strike for the hell of it, and Mage Armor. You’re clearly not wearing any platemail, and I bet you like living.

4. Sorcerer 2: You are now a Font of Magic, giving you a number of sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level that you can spend to refill spell slots. You can also turn slots into points, and there will be other stuff you can spend points on later. You regain all your points on a long rest.

Sorcery points are just a game abstraction, but you know what isn’t? Your ability to cast Protection from Evil and Good. When you cast this, it becomes harder for fiends and the like to hit you. That’s pretty damn useful when you’re fighting something larger than a mountain.

5. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers can spend their hard-earned sorcery points on Metamagic, options to alter your magic to suit your mood. Empowered Spell eats up one point to re-roll some damage dice, and Distant Spell eats one point to double a spell’s range (or turn its range to 30′ if it’s a touch range spell).

You also get a spell that can use both of these features to great effect, Scorching Ray! This creates three fiery arrows that launch at up to as many targets.

6. Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Spell Sniper, doubling your range with spells that make attack rolls. Using this with your Distant Spell means your Scorching Rays can actually compete with your regular arrows. I mean it’s a match for all intents and purposes, anyway. How many times are you going to have to hit a shot over 500 feet away? Your ranged spell attacks also ignore cover and you get one more cantrip for the hell of it. Eldritch Blast is nice, go for that one.

You also get Light because honestly setting an arrow on fire to use as a torch isn’t that far out their anyway, and Aid. We won’t get actual food for another level, but you’ve got the mechanics down.

7. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers get Magical Guidance, allowing you to re-roll a failed ability check for a sorcery point. You also get your first third level spell, Create Food and Water, giving you enough food and water on cast to sustain up to 15 people or 5 horses for a day. Sadly, you have to make it on the ground; no beaning enemies with flying rice allowed.

8. Sorcerer 6: Your second and final goodie from your divine soul is Empowered Healing. Whenever a spell targeting someone within 5 feet of you heals them, you can spend a sorcery point to re-roll any number of healing dice, once per turn. Now your rice is just a bit tastier.

You can also combine your fake fire arrows with real arrows, to create Flame Arrows! All the damage type of Scorching Ray, all the range of an arrow, but significantly costlier and less powerful! It’s honestly not amazing, but it’s flavorful.

9. Fighter 3: Speaking of not good ways to flavor our arrows, we still haven’t gotten our fighter subclass yet, huh? Let’s fix that. As an Arcane Archer, you’re privy to some Arcane Archer Lore, netting you the Druidcraft cantrip and proficiency with Nature. You also get Arcane Shots, ways to alter your arrows magically that you can use twice per short rest and once per turn.

You can use a Banishing Arrow to launch your target into another dimension for a round if it fails a charisma save (with a DC of eight plus your proficiency plus your intelligence modifier). It’s not permanent, but it’ll give demons a taste of what’s coming.

You can also use a Piercing Arrow to make an area of effect attack that pierces through cover, forcing a dexterity save on creatures and dealing extra piercing damage. I feel like your quarry’s large enough to count multiple times when taking damage from this, but that’s up to the dm.

10. Fighter 4: So far we’re actually better with our fake magic arrows than real ones. Fix that and use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity.

11. Fighter 5: Fifth level fighters get an Extra Attack each attack action. Now you attack twice per turn, or four times with your action surge.

12. Sorcerer 7: Bouncing back to sorcerer for fourth level spells, like Banishment. Remember that not permanent bad effect you got from Arcane Archer? Here’s a better version. Target a creature, force a charisma save, send it to another world if it fails. If your targeting something from another plane like, say, a centipede the size of a state, it might stay there permanently if you can hold concentration the full minute.

13. Sorcerer 8: Another ASI! Bump up your Dexterity again. You also learn Magic Circle. If you’re hunting down a demon that can fit in a 10′ radius, you can use this to trap them inside the circle. Otherwise, you can do the opposite- make the circle impossible for the demon to get into.

14. Sorcerer 9: Ninth level sorcerers get fifth level spells, like Holy Weapon. Cast it on your bow for a free flashlight and extra radiant damage on attacks. If you get surrounded, you can use your bonus action to end the spell early, detonating the weapon, dealing even more radiant damage to all creatures you choose within 30 feet, and blinding them if they fail a constitution save.

15. Fighter 6: One big problem we have so far is that we have plenty of spells we want to cast, but we also have a big bow in the way. Use this ASI to fix that with the War Caster feat. Now you have advantage on concentration saves, can cast somatic spells with full hands, and you can use your attack of opportunity to cast cantrips instead.

16. Fighter 7: Seventh level arcane archers get another Arcane Shot. The Seeking Arrow forces a dexterity save instead of making an attack roll, deals extra force damage, and you learn the target’s location. Good for some sneakier fiends.

Speaking of, you also get Magic Arrows, meaning you don’t have to waste a spell slot on fire arrows just to hit demons now, because your normal arrows count as magical damage for overcoming resistances. You also get a Curving Shot- even if you miss one of your attacks, you can use your bonus action to send the arrow at another creature instead.

17. Fighter 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells.

18. Sorcerer 10: Your spells are now Seeking, allowing you to spend 2 sorcery points to re-roll a spell attack roll. You can also Spare the Dying because your rice is just that good, and you can Dispel Evil and Good. It’s like Protection from Evil and Good, but you can end it early to cast Banishment.

19. Sorcerer 11: Now that you have sixth level spells, we can get what we really wanted this entire time- Heroes’ Feast! An hour long banquet that can feed up to 13 creatures, healing all disease and poison, giving the eaters immunity to poison and being frightened, giving advantage to all wisdom saves, as well as 2d10 extra hit points, all for the next 24 hours.

20. Sorcerer 12: The build’s pretty much over, but use your capstone ASI for more Dexterity. Better arrows, better ac, it’s all good.

Pros:

You’ve got range for days. You’ve got six hundred feet with your arrows, and almost five hundred with your main damage spell. If you know someone’s coming, they’ll be a pincushion before most people can see a dot on the horizon.

Even if arcane archers aren’t flashy, a maxed out dexterity plus sharpshooter and the archery fighting style means you’ve got consistent damage available.

You can banish a fiend from 60 feet away, you can slap radiant damage on your arrows, and you’ve got more than enough protection from evil. You’re pretty set when it comes to fighting fiends.

Cons:

All of your arcane archer saves are based on your intelligence, which was our dump stat. Woops.

All that range doesn’t mean much if you can’t see to use it, and you don’t have darkvision. Setting everything on fire will help eventually, but that’s not a universal solution.

You have a lot of range, but very little mobility. If a bruiser manages to get too close, you don’t have any escape options to get away.

#Fate Grand Order #D&D 5e #Tawara Touta #FGO #Fate and Phantasms #Fighter #Sorcerer

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agoracactus · 4 years ago

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Pt4.5 - the village of Blatta

this is a short (hopefully) story happened before you met Jaskier.

cuz i forgot to write this segment. and cuz im too busy to finish my long chapters in a week, and didnt wanna keep ppl waiting, if theres ppl waiting (hopefully lmao)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 1931

Warnings: lack of proofread, language, blood, death

Summary: im giving up on this part completely, names and summary, my two nemesis

You sat at the edge of the bed, staring at your feet, having a silent debation inside your head.

“You’re up?” Geralt pushed open the door, saw you sitting at the bed, “Good, it’s getting late, we should keep moving.” “Oh, ok.” you nodded, stood up to grab your bag.

You came across this nice little village last night, and everyone was surprisingly friendly and welcoming. People invited you to their house and share food with you. Some even offered you their beds so you can have a good rest. To be honest the hospitality scared you a little, you were used to people being mean for you’re traveling with a witcher.

Walking out of this shabby wooden house, the sun was warm and bright. Couple of folks greeted you with a smile. The village looked busy, people were walking around preparing for something looked like an event, excitement floating in the air. You returned the greetings, feeling flattered.

“Oh! You are leaving?” a woman was holding a basket full of dead chicken under her arm, blood seeped through the woven basket and dripped to the ground. “What a pity! The festival is around the corner, you should stay! We love having guests! There’s going to be a feast!” You sneaked a glance towards Geralt, he seemed to have no interest at all in this feast, “Thank you for the kind offer, but we need to go now.” you tried to be as polite as you can. Not every day you get to meet someone who’s nice to you.

“Hey, um, maybe we should consider staying for a few more days?” you suggested, watching Geralt handed out an apple to Roach. “No, we need to head south, that’s what the contract said.” “Yeahhh but, it’s a feast! Feast means food!” you tried to persuade him, “We could use some free food! People here are nice- How many times did you actually receive a warm welcoming from others?” “You can stay all you want, I have a job to do.” he gave you a stern look.

You bit your lower lip, looked back over your shoulder at the small village.

“You know what, maybe I should.” you finally made your decision, “I’m staying.” Geralt stopped to look at you, didn’t understand what you were up to this time. “I’ve been thinking about this for, quite a while now... Now that we came across a lovely place, people here are friendly and welcoming... Maybe it’s time that we part ways.”

He didn’t reply.

You couldn’t tell how he felt about this.

“Don’t get me wrong, I really like traveling with you... It was fun, the adventures... And you were nice to me... But I feel like you’d rather travel alone- I mean, I get it, I’m just a weak-ass human girl, who is better stay behind when you hunt instead of getting in your way... And sometimes I get you- us- into trouble-” you realized you started babbling, so you stopped to take a breath in. “What I’m trying to say is, you are such a nice person that you probably don’t even notice that I’m just taking advantage of you... And I don’t want that. So I’m breaking this little group up. For our best interests.”

“Very well.” he untied Roach’s rein. “...That’s it?” you frowned, “You’re not gonna say something?” “I said ‘very well’.” “...” you rolled your eyes behind his back, “...Well, I guess that’s it then?” “Mmm.” Geralt hopped onto Roach. “It was nice meeting you, witcher.” “You too.” he nodded his head. “Take care, ok?” “Farewell, y/n.”

“Have some soup sir, it shall warm you up.” the merchant handed the witcher a wooden bowl. The witcher thanked him. Everything was quiet except for the slight crackling from the fire.

“Where are you from?” “Sodden, sir.” “You’re going north?” “Kovir, got some business to do there.” “Still got a long way then? There’s a small village on the way to replenish if you follow along this way.” “Small village? The village of Blatta? No sir! No one should ever go anywhere near that place, especially during this time of the year.” “Why?” “Those who travel frequently on this path all know the village of Blatta. It’s the village of worshipers of the Dark Lord. They hold a grand festival in name of their vicious god every year around this season, using the blood of their livestock to attract monsters, making sacrifices of children and young women and any outsiders who happened to come across their way and call that a ‘cleanse’- Where are you going sir? It’s not safe to travel in these woods at night- Sir!”

He was late when he arrived at the village.

There was no light in any of the houses, all the doors and shutters were closed. The pungent smell of blood was drowning him. Several dark shadows were squatting around, he could hear the sound of munching, slurping and the nasty noise coming from their throat. He took out a small tube, uncork it with his teeth, drank it all up and jumped off of Roach. He took a few steps forward with the momentum, took out his sword and carefully approached.

The faint light from the moon was not a problem to his witcher eyes, he slowly walked closer to the necrophages, formed a sign with his fingers. Flame bursted out from his hand. The monsters screamed and ran away into the woods.

The witcher looked down. All the bodies had their wrists and ankles tied up, dried animal blood mixed with their own congealed in their hair. It seemed like the villagers poured the blood of their livestock onto these poor lives and left them here to be devoured by the necrophages.

To his relief, he didn’t see anyone resembling your feature.

He heard something inside the house. He turned and saw pairs of eyes peeking through the crack of the shutters. The witcher felt anger quietly rising within him. He held tight to his sword, picked up his pace to follow the trace of the monsters into the forest.

You were hurt, you couldn't tell where exactly you were hurt due to the burning sensation spreading across your torso. But you didn’t dare to slow down.

You tripped against a rock and fell hard to the ground. The pistol in your hand almost misfired with your finger held tight against it. You tried to get up, but your limbs were weak from the pain.

All you could hear was your heartbeat and heavy panting.

You thought you lost them. The monsters. But you couldn’t lose the sight of the screaming children. You shook your head to get rid of the image before it brought up more traumatizing memory, and struggled to get up.

You knew you were lost in this forest, every direction looked the same, and the dim light of the crescent moon was not helping. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, felt the moisture there which you couldn’t tell if its sweat or blood. You took a few deep breaths to steady your heart and picked a random direction, quietly walked towards that way, praying to whoever’s out there this is not the way back to that horrific village.

The witcher was panting heavily. Standing in the middle of a pit which was full of the bodies of the creatures he just slew, on a bed of human bones and pieces of cloths. The stench of rotten flesh and the necrophage was piercing through his nose to his brain, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes glancing around frantically around the once-monster-nest.

There was a snap of the twig behind him, sounded like thunder in this deadly silent woods. He turned around sharply, wielding his sword, ready to strike out.

You were at the edge of the pit, eyes wide, face pale as a sheet. He saw cuts above your eyebrow and on your arms and legs, and smelled dirt mixed with blood and sweat.

“Oh my god...” you said under your breath, staring at him. He realized what he looked like now, under the influence of his potion. He instinctively turned his face away.

“Geralt...” you jumped down the pit, ran to him with effort, and threw your arms around him. Geralt stiffened. “Are you hurt?” you quickly released him, pulled back to look at his face, then gave a quick scan down his body--- but you couldn’t tell with the limited moonlight, so your eyes shot right back at his face, “Geralt?” “...No.” he stared right back at you, and didn’t see what he was expecting in your eyes.

“...I’m so glad I found you...” you hugged him again. He now realized you were trembling. He put his hand on your back, “You’re safe now.” You nodded against his leather armor, didn’t care it smelled like shit.

You released him once more, “Let’s get out of this hell hole shall we?” trying to make a joke, but failed with your now shaking, choked voice. He nodded, sheathing his sword, “Maybe next time find a better village?” You let out a nervous laugh, took his forearm to climbed out of the pit.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you

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words-in-the-wind · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2 - The One in which Techno and Phil bond over murder

Word Count: 2,735

Previous: Chapter 1

The forest was peaceful, for the moment at least. No harmful beasts had crossed Phil’s path in at least a week, and he was growing steadily more suspicious. Typically he’d find a gathering of gnolls, a group of goblins, a cult of kobolds, something. And yet, his journey through this particular forest was completely calm. Kristen floated next to him, seemingly relaxed, but her eyes were ever watchful. The spirits of Phil’s lantern were bolstered by the quiet, darting in and out to play amongst the leaves and bushes. Suddenly. Sharply. A high pitched scream rent through the air, the sound of sheer terror startling the birds into the air. Phil’s eyes went wide and he darted through the underbrush, strangely graceful despite his large stature and wingspan. Crashing through the last bit of bush, he swings the lantern staff just in time to block the downward slash of a badly damaged sword, swung by a hooded figure, in a dark purple robe that just barely brushed the dirt. The person on the ground, a older human, in his late 70s, Phil would guess, backed away slowly, and Phil stepped forwards to face the cultist properly. So, this was probably why the forest was peaceful of beasts. Some cult had yoinked it for their own needs. Phil planted the lantern bearing staff upright in the ground, shifted his weight lower, and drew a long hunting knife from his belt, readying for combat. The figure attempted a slice with the sword, but Phil slid to the side easily before lunging forward and catching the figure by the throat. The sword dropped from their hand in shock and he pressed the advantage to take the figure to the ground. “Where’s the rest of your little cult, hmm?” He was practically on top of the cultist now, knife to their throat. “Just-just a little ways in. Please don’t kill me!”

“If you’re helpful, I’ll consider letting you go.” “I’m! I’m just one of the townsfolk! They kidnapped me, forced me to help them with their rituals and stuff!” The figure on the ground begins to tremble and he reluctantly lets them up. The cultist brushes off the robes and lowers the hood, revealing a young man, only 20 years old or so. “Jamie?” The old man on the ground croaks out, a hand reaching up. “Huh? Oh! I’m so sorry Mr. O’Clancy, they told me to find you specifically.” “I wouldn’t be surprised, they’re a bunch of knowledge-hoarders, if I’m not mistaken.” The man gestures at the robes that Jamie is wearing?” “Really now? Would you happen to know a bit about this cult?” “I’ve read about it. Its the Cult of Hemora, a demon lord of knowledge. The lord craves it, and grants boons to those who gift him with books or other forms of it. That’s his symbol, there.” The man points to three eyes embroidered on the robe, each making up one side of a triangle. “Thank you, I’ll be going to clear them out. You’ll be fine then, you two?” “Yes, yes. And thank you for going to take care of them. People’ve been going missing for a few weeks now.” Jamie leads the old man off, towards what Phil presumes to be the town. “I sure hope you don’t plan on going in there alone.” Kristen appears again once they’re safely out of earshot, settling back down next to Phil. “Who’m I supposed to call then?” Kristen gave him a side eyed deadpan, she was good at those. “Techno?” Phil groaned, realizing that yes, as usual, his wife was right. “Fine.” He drew out the last bit of the word in frustration, looking around in his pockets for a bit of paper and pen. He finds one. And the ink is a gem like emerald, like the real one Techno had given him before they’d parted again. One of his children -his spirits- darted up eagerly. He chuckled, “You were always fond of Techno, weren’t you.” And gives the paper, now folded into the shape of a swan, to the spirit. It settles in nicely, like they do most of the time, and the swan comes to life, floating away over the treetops. Phil decides to camp nearby, to keep an eye on the cave system the cultists had repurposed and to wait for the response.

-x-

TechnoBlade is, as usual, coated in the blood of his enemies at the moment when the bird-spirit arrives. He waves it off at first, believing it to be just a regular bird or something that had gotten brave. Phil Phil needs help Go to Phil The chorus in his head take a break from the constant chanting of blood, to bring his attention back to the bird. Techno grumbles, but retreats off the battlefield to let the small bit of paper perch on his hand, unfolding it smoothly. The blood covering him slowly disappears, apparently into thin air, as the constant crowd of previous contractors to his patron suck it away, taking power from the life-force within. “So Phil needs help, huh? Guess I know where I’m going now.” Without hesitation, he allows the spirit that had brought the message to perch in his crown, giving it a message to send back, through that weird link they all had with Phil’s spirit wife. “I’ll be there in a few days. Probably.” He goes off to find the general of whatever army he’s been commissioned to fight in this time, handing over a portion of the gold he’d been paid, and leaves. It doesn’t take him long to travel to the location Phil had specified in his letter, being a living map after all. He doesn’t listen to the voices that gently mock the thought Four days after the spirit arrived to Techno, he finds Phil, with his little shelter in the woods. “Techno! It’s good to see you again mate.” Phil’s voice shows the other man is clearly overjoyed to see him, an unfamiliar feeling for Techno. “Phil. Hallo.” “C’mon in. Its not much, but its shelter, I guess.” Phil gestures to the small lean-to that Techno’s just now noticing.  He grunts, ducking into the space. The natural curve of the rock it’s against allows a nice smoke-hole, keeping the air inside the shelter clean. “So, what’s the plan?” “Well, apparently what’s down there is some cult to a knowledge hoarding demon lord called Hemora. So we go down there, fuck shit up, and come out victorious.” Techno cracked a grin, “Just like old times?” “Exactly. We’ll go down in the morning.” “Sounds good to me.” Techno nodded, he’d worked with less before.

-x-

The next morning, some god had decided to pour the entire ocean onto their heads, or so it appeared. Phil grumbled as he peered outside the shelter, the rain pelting down outside. “Fuckin’ hell it’s really coming down out there.” He eyed the raindrops, knowing that it was going to soak him to the bone. Techno grunted from where he was sat, sharpening the edge of a backup knife. “Yea, it doesn’t look fun out there.” “We gotta go though, shouldn’t leave the cultists there for long, who knows what shit they could get up to.” “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.” Techno levers himself up, one hand gripping his trident. The entrance of the mineshaft was a few hundred meters away, which felt like far longer in the pouring rain. The moment Techno and Phil ducked under the shelter of the mine, Phil flicked his wrist, casting prestidigitation to dry them off. “Thanks.” Techno still shook himself slightly, out of habit more than anything else. “No problem.” The mine was quite dark, but it took only a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Techno took point, making sure to check for and disarm any traps along the way. There was one, a basic rope across the floor, which would send a log tumbling down at their heads. The rope was stepped over, undisturbed. Voices came from up ahead, distinctly human in nature, although the words were too quiet to make out. Techno lowers himself into a crouch, creeping along the walls until he was just next to the chamber. Phil followed him, wings tucked tight to his back. Techno held up four fingers and signaling that there were four people in the room, guarding another entrance. Phil plants his lantern at the entrance, not wanting the smaller spirits to get hurt in the fray. He nods and as one, the two enter the room, weapons at the ready. Techno is a whirl of motion as his trident slams into one of the left side guards, piercing through the thin leather armor under the cultist robes easily. The man dies with a gurgle, throat pierced by one of the prongs. The other three attempt to shout, but Phil is there with a Zone of Silence, prepared beforehand. The men can scream however loudly they like, but no sound exits the glimmering dome. Phil draws his sword, leaping forward to cut at the cultists on the right. The moment that the blood-red gem on Techno’s starts to glow, it shimmers and shifts into a short sword, much more suited to closer combat. In this time, the second of Phil’s cultists attempt to cast a spell, but is silenced by his sword before it can leave his hand. It’s over within moments, the advantage of surprise their ally. The two look at each other wordlessly, before going through the pockets of their foes. Coin and other trinkets are found, and tucked away into pouches to look at later. They dump the bodies in a corner, covering them with a tarp quickly. It wouldn’t keep someone from finding them for long, but it does hide them from a quick inspection of the room. Phil retrieves his lantern and they continue through the tunnels, which slope downward gently, until they come across a much larger cavern, hollowed out through clear use of magic. The walls are too smooth to be done by human hands, and the place is a perfect dome, the top obscured in shadow. Torches line the walls, casting the entire dome in flickering firelight, and in the center stands someone who appears to be the leader of the cult, dressed in black robes lined in golden thread, the hood pulled up over his head. “Tonight, dearest chosen, we summon the God himself!” Techno’s eyes widened, they had to interfere, and fast. Hemora wasn’t a generous god, not without plentiful sacrifice. The voices in his head rise to a crescendo, wanting a show grand enough to honor the Blood God. And a show the voices would get. He glances at Phil and sees the same steely determination in his eyes. This wouldn’t be an easy fight, not for a long shot, but his weapon’s almost good for another shift and the voices were on his side. Phil steps out first, sniping the leader down with an arrow to the shoulder, before stabbing the lantern deep into the earth and casting Pyrotechnics on the lantern nearest to the cultists. It explodes in a blast of flame, searing bright for a moment in time. The cultists scream, startled at the sudden flash of bright light, and at the sight of their leader fallen onto the altar. Techno sprung forward, stabbing one of the cultists before his blade flashes and changes, lengthening into a bastard sword quickly. His other hand lashes out, catching another with a blast of eldritch energy, sending the figure to the ground in a heap, he doesn’t get up. Phil draws his bow again, an arrow appearing on the string as soon as its drawn back. He stays to the back of the cavern, picking off cultists with quick shots instead of engaging in closer combat. When the cultists finally regather themselves, they attempt to launch a counter attack, focusing on the intimidating red-skinned figure in their midst. Spells shoot toward Techno, but a golden shield springs into a place, and Techno offers up a quick thanks to the voices for the help. They chime back cheerfully, and the fight continues. He loses track of time, the only thing he’s keeping track of is the blood spilled on dirt floor, turning it into mud, and the blood that coats his body, sucked up by the spirits almost as fast as he can spill it. In his haze, he doesn’t even realize the last of the cult has fallen until he’s stood in the middle of a field of bodies, breathing heavily. The leader is still alive, leaning against the altar for support. “Fool!” The man’s reedy voice pierces through the chamber and Techno’s head whips up, red eyes gleaming. “You Fool! The blood you’ve spilled here today gives rise to the all-knowing. Hemora, I beseech you!” The dagger in the leader’s hand comes down, piercing into an eye like gem sitting on the alter like butter. The gem splits straight down the middle with a loud crack and A wave of what can only be described as sheer power rolled over them. Techno grit his teeth, plunging the sword into the dirt in an attempt to stay grounded. The voices quieted, and roared right back when the wave passed, louder than they’d ever been. Suddenly, they went completely silent, as a sickly greenish light shone from the altar. “Who summoned me?” An oily voice emitted from the light, and a figure emerged. Although it was humanoid, it looked fuzzy around the edges, like it didn’t quite fit in the skin. All the hair on the back of Techno’s neck rose, and he was far more alert than before. Techno wasn’t sure what to make of this god or demon or whatever it was, but he’d never heard the voices go silent of their own volition, and that was worrying. “Fuck.” He heard Phil mutter from where the Aarakocra was pressed against the wall, as if the ranger could disappear through sheer will. Fully black eyes fixed themselves on the half-orc’s form, as the most prominent figure in the room. “What have we here, hmm?” The god, Hemora, clearly, saunters forward, and Techno freezes as two fingers are placed under his chin. He’s not too magically inclined, knowing only what his patron imparts, but even he could sense the sheer magic running through the god. The god’s physical form is shorter than Techno’s, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. “How intriguing. I can tell, you are just full of esoteric knowledge, aren’t you.” The god drawls, tracing a thumb down Techno’s jaw. He bit down on a sarcastic reply, instead starting to think very very hard. Heeeh Anyone listening? Help? He prays, still frozen in place. “Cat got your tongue?” The god hums, a low threatening note that promises nothing good. A low rumble sounds through the chamber and a familiar heat rises behind Techno. He watches as Hemora’s eyes widen, feels the god let go of his chin. Techno shakes himself, just a little, and backs off to watch the confrontation play out. He doesn’t have a death wish, and standing between two gods is not great for his health. He pulls at Phil, gesturing for them both to leave before the two get into an actual fight. The escape couldn’t really be described as stealthy, but given how the air in the cavern was somehow getting hot and cold at the same time, how everything felt strangely heavy, and how a pool of dread was slowly growing behind Techno’s ribs, they were completely undetected. The moment they cleared the mine entrance, a loud crack sounded from inside, and the entrance to the place collapsed. “Well I’m glad we weren’t in there when that came down.” Phil glanced back at the pile of dirt, rock and lumber, before setting off in a direction, “C’mon Techno, we’ve got a town to inform that the cultists are gone.” Techno allowed himself a moment to try and communicate with the voices again, prodding at where that bond normally was active. At his disturbance, the voices roared back in full force, expressing concern and shock at the events. He held back a chuckle, and patted them metaphorically on the head, everything was fine.

Next: Chapter 3

#dream smp #technoblade #philza #dnd au chapter 2 #fanfiction #mcyt #dsmp

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spacesuitsforemergency · 4 years ago

Text

The Rise Of Iron Maiden

Chapter 4: Failure to Launch

Word Count: 2.9k

Originally Requested by: @amateurwriterbigdreamer

Previous Chapter: We’re in the Endgame Now

Next Chapter: The Return Of Iron Maiden

A/N: this chapters kinda slow, but I gotta fill the plot. Next chapters gonna be pretty Tye heavy (mostly from his POV)

“Wrah!” Nebula stood up, putting her hands in a fighting stance.

“You don't need to do that. Because uh... you're just holding position.” Tony mimicked a football goalpost with his hands as she flicked a paper football towards him. “Oh yeah, that was close.”

“I would like to try again.”

You and Tye watched from the front of the ship, both of you previously watching the stars. Both of you are silent, neither of you wanting to talk. You were still too shaken up from the events of nearly last month. Nebula had attempted to fly you back to Earth, but the Milano broke down and now you were floating in space, hopeless.

“Fair game. Good sport. Have fun?” Your dad asked Nebula.

“It was...fun.” She nodded slowly.

“Tye, Y/N, wanna play?” Tony looked over to the two kids.

“I’m good.” Tye mumbled.

“Hey, come on.” Your dad urged. “It’s fun. Right, Nebula?”

“It is fun.” She nodded, face deadpanned. Tye sighed, but eventually joined them.

“Y/N?” Your dad offered.

“Um...I’m tired, I’m gonna go sleep for a little bit.” You give him a small smile as if to say you were okay, before retreating to the back of the ship towards the bedrooms.

You lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You think about everyone at home, and the frustration of not knowing who was still alive. Were Eduardo, Jaime, Peter, Quill, Drax, Mantis and Doctor Strange still alive? Or did they die? Would they ever come back? Could you bring them back?

Usually Eduardo was there to tell you you were overthinking and to calm you down, but he was gone. He turned to dust in your hands, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You hated it when you couldn’t control something, much like your father. If you couldn’t protect the ones you loved, you felt useless. You felt guilty, believing it was your fault that Eduardo, Jaime and Peter were gone. You were even guilty about the Guardians of the Galaxy, even though you barely knew them.

You looked over at your pile of armor on the floor. You dragged yourself out of bed, sitting against it. You clicked a button on your helmet, and waited for it to light up.

“This thing on?” You ask nobody in particular, then let it scan you. “Alright. Hey mom. Uh...sorry for not listening to dad. Again. I should be down on Earth, I’m sorry I’m worrying you. Dad makes you do that enough already.” You chuckle softly. “Um...it’s day 22, just floating in space. The blue meanie tried to fly us back. You’d like her, she’s very practical. It’s only her, me, dad, and Tye left. He doesn’t talk much-well, not that he did before. He’s pretty broken over Jaime. Peters gone too, poor kid. Aunt Mays gonna kill him. Um...I lost Eduardo. He just...turned into dust. I couldn’t do anything about it...I really miss him, mom. I won’t miss him much longer though, in fact, I might see him in the next...48 hours of oxygen. It won’t last long with four people on here though. I didn’t think I’d die like this, it’s so pathetic.” You scoff and shake your head. “I thought I’d die saving people. I want to die saving people, that’s how I’ve always wanted to go but...nope. I’m gonna die because this piece of junk broke down in the middle of the universe. So uh...I’m gonna go play some paper football with the two grumps and dad. I’m really sorry, mom. All you do is put up with our shit, and tell us when to stop. I should’ve listened this time.” You go to turn it off, quickly saying, “I love you.”

You fall back against the bed, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. The low oxygen levels are already effecting you, which meant your dad and friend were both feeling them too. You wanted to go join them, but you couldn’t move your whole body enough to do so. You lied there, staring at your Iron Maiden suit. The suit you used to save people, but you couldn’t even save yourself. You failed Eduardo. Jaime. Peter. Quill. Drax. Mantis. Doctor Strange. And who knows who else.

You feel yourself being lifted off the ground, and you look up to see Nebula. She was mostly machine, so the lack of oxygen wasn’t effecting her as bad as you. She carried you over to a couch that she had dragged into the control room, facing the window. Your dad was sitting in the middle, Tye beside him. Nebula sat you on his other side, then left.

Tony gathered enough strength to lift his arms, resting them around the two kids’ shoulders and pulling them closer to him. He wanted to comfort them, but he couldn’t speak. You all stared out at the stars, awaiting your deaths.

•

A bright light pierced your brain, making you cringe as you wake up. You open your eyes and blink until they adjust. You see a woman outside of the ship, looking in. You weakly shake your dads leg, trying to alert him. His hand rests atop of yours to tell you he’s okay, as he slowly sits up a little.

“Who’s that?” Tye mumbles, half asleep.

“Not sure, kid.” Tony replied. You pass out again, not able to hold consciousness. You wake up again when someone shakes you awake, opening your eyes to see your dads best friend, Rhodey.

“Y/N? Hey, think you can stand?” He asked softly. You nod, and he helps you to your feet you lean on him as he walks you down the ramp to outside.

“Is mom...?” You breathe out, still blinking away black spots in your vision.

“Y/N! Tony!” You hear her yell from somewhere, before Rhodey can even open his mouth. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Your mom practically crashed into you, holding you tightly to her. You fall into her, not having the strength to stand any longer. Your dad walks by himself over to his two girls, hugging them tightly. Back in space, he truly thought those would be his last moment, so he was eternally grateful that he got to live long enough to hold them both again.

Tye watched the scene from where Natasha was helping him stand, feeling alone. His mother was in a different dimension than him, and Tye felt like she probably didn’t even miss him.

“Nat?” He breathed out.

“What’s up?” She asked, looking down at the exhausted boy.

“You have food that isn’t freeze dried and in a silver bag, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, come on.” She chuckled, helping him walk towards the Compound.

“Don’t you two ever do that again.” Pepper began to cry.

“No promises.” Tony kissed each of his girls on top of the head, as Steve approached you guys. “Couldn’t stop him, Cap.”

“Neither could I.” Steve nodded.

“I lost the kids. Peter. Jaime. Eduardo.” Tony shook his head, guilt washing over him once again.

“Tony, we all lost.”

You’re brought into the compound, each immediately given an IV and some food. You and Tye eat like animals, not having any rations for the past couple of days. You watch a holographic screen listing the heroes that disappeared in the Decimation; Wanda Maximoff, Nick Fury, Jaime Reyes, Bucky Barnes, Peter Quill, Scott Lang, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, T’Challa, Eduardo Dorado Jr...

“It’s been 23 days since Thanos came to Earth.” Rhodey announced.

“World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working are trying to take a census. And it looks like he did... he did exactly what he said he was gonna do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent, of all living creatures.” Natasha paced slowly in front of the holographs.

“Where is he?” You ask timidly, still nervous about him.

“We don't know. He just opened a portal and walked through.” Bruce Banner said slowly, trying to not scare the kids even more than they already were.

“What's wrong with him?” Tony asked, motioning to Thor, who was staring into space.

“Oh, he's pissed. He thinks he failed. Which of course he did, but you know there's a lot of that's going around, ain't there?” A talking raccoon spoke up from behind you.

“Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.” Your dad pointed at him.

“You’re with him, kid? Really?” The raccoon looked at Tye.

“You know a talking raccoon?” You asked Tye, staring at the raccoon.

“He’s not a-.”

“I’m not a raccoon!” It snapped at you. “Why do you humies keep saying that?”

“We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep Space scans, and satellites, and we got nothing. Tony, Y/N, Tye, you fought him.” Steve interrupted.

“Who told you that? I didn't fight him.” Tony scoffed. “No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the store. Nearly killed my daughter, and Tye. One hit away from it, in fact. That's what happened. There was no fight.”

“Okay.”

“He was unbeatable.” Tye shook his head, and you agreed.

“Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?” Captain America asked.

“Pfft! I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision. I didn't wanna believe it. Thought I was dreaming.” Tony said.

“Dad, calm down.”

“Tony, I’m gonna need you to focus.”

“And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It's too late buddy. Sorry. You know what I need?” Your dad stood up, slapping things off a table. Everyone winced from the sudden noise. “I need to shave. And I believe I remember telling all youse-“

Tony lunges at Steve, but Rhodey stepped between them and held your dad back.

“Alive and otherwise what we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not-that's what we needed!” Tony yelled at Steve.

“Well, that didn't work out, did it?” Steve kept his composure, only angering your father even more.

“I said, "we'd lose". You said, "We'll do that together too." And guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren't there. But that's what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We're the Avengers, we're the Avengers. Not the Prevengers.”

“Dad! Stop!” You shout at him, your head spinning.

“You know what, honey? The adults are talking, alright?” Your dad said, with a little more venom than he intended.

“Mr. Stark you made your point just-“ Tye started.

“Nah, nah. Here's my point. You know what?” Tony turned back to glare at Captain America.

“Tony, you’re sick.” Rhodey insisted, trying to get him to sit back down.

“I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust. Liar.” Tony slowly walked up to Steve, getting right in his face. You all tensed when Tony ripped his arc reactor out of his chest, smacking it into Steve’s hand. “Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on. You hide.”

“Dad!” You shout when he suddenly falls to the ground.

“Tony!” Steve reached down to help his old friend up.

“I’m fine. I...” Your dad trails off, falling unconsciously to the floor. You try to get up, but Natasha pushes you back down by your shoulders.

“Get him to a room. Call Pepper.” Natasha ordered the men, before turning back to you two. “He’ll be fine, Y/N. Just needs to rest. So do you.”

“Not tired.” You shook your head stubbornly.

“Nebula, Rocket, think you can handle watching them for a moment?” She asked the two aliens, sitting on the wall behind you.

“Yes.” Nebula nodded.

“Sure.” The raccoon, or, Rocket shrugged.

Natasha gave you a reassuring smile before turning to help the other bring your father to a room.

“Sorry about your friend, kid.” Rocket hopped down and rounded the couch you and Tye were on to face him.

“Yeah. Sorry about the others.” Tye nodded, expression not changing at all. Your eyes drifted back to the screen, watching more and more names and pictures appear onscreen.

“Where are you going?” You hear Natasha ask someone.

“To kill Thanos.” The lady that flew you home stated simply as they emerged from the hallway.

“Hey, you know, we usually work as a team here, and between you and I, morale's a little fragile.” Nat mumbled.

“We realize up there is more your territory, but this is our fight too.” Steve nodded.

“You even know where he is?” Rhodey joined them.

“I know people who might.” The lady said, blank faced.

“Don't bother. I can tell you where Thanos is. Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. And when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him. I'd ask "where would we go once his plan was complete?". His answer was always the same: "To the Garden." Nebula stood up, walking over to them.

“That's cute, Thanos has a retirement plan.” Rhodey joked, earning small smiles from you and Tye. He smiled back, glad to bring the two kids joy, even for a moment.

“So where is he?” Steve asked, and the adults walked over to a round table. You and Tye joined them, regaining enough strength to stand. You still leaned on Rhodey, which he happily let you do.

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power surge of ridiculously cosmic proportions. No one's ever seen anything like it... Until two days ago.” Rocket showed a hologram of a planet, with a shockwave visibly traversing the surface. “On this planet.”

“Thanos is there.” Nebula added.

“He used the Stones again.” Natasha muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey. We'd be going in short-handed, you know.” Bruce piped up.

“Look, he's still got the stones, so...” Rhodey said.

“So let's get him... Use them to bring everyone back.” The lady told you.

“Just like that?” Tye raises an eyebrow in disapproval.

“Just like like.” Steve nodded.

“Even if there's a small chance that we can undo this... I mean we owe it to everyone who's not in this room to try.” Natasha tried to convince everyone. You looked down, feeling the guilt from letting your friends die in the pit of your stomach.

“If we do this, how do we know it's gonna end any differently than it did before?” Bruce asked.

“Because before, you didn't have me.” The lady crossed her arms.

“Hey, new girl, everyone here is about that superhero life. And if you don't mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?” Rhodey put a hand on his hip, making sure to balance so you wouldn’t fall.

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe. And unfortunately, they didn't have you guys.” The lady narrowed her eyes at Rhodey.

Thor walked out of the shadows, towards the lady. They stand in front of each other as if challenging the other. Thor holds out his hand, and Stormbreaker flies into his hand. Then they both grin at each other.

“I like this one.” Thor said.

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch.” You growl.

“Like hell you’re going!” Natasha laughed.

“No way, kids.” Steve shook his head. “Adults only on this one.”

“Would you quit treating us like children?” You glare at them.

“We probably got more punches in on Thanos than all of you combined.” Tye said venomously.

“First of all, not possible.” Natasha said. “Second of all, you are not coming. Tony and Pepper would go into cardiac arrest if you came along.”

You and Tye exchange looks, looking to the floor in compliance.

“Look, we know you’re hurting. But going at him all malnourished and seeking revenge is not the way to do it.” Rhodey told you guys.

“You’ll stay here with Tony and Pepper, okay?” Natasha asked. “Rest. Let us take care of this.”

“...okay.” You sigh.

“Thank you.” She pulled both of you into a hug. You melted into it, Tye tensed up.

You hugged each of the remaining Avengers, even Thor let you hug him, though he didn’t hug back. You and Tye stood and watched at they boarded the now fixed Milano, then watched them take off. You stood there for a little bit after, staring at the dark sky.

“Tye?” You whisper after a long stretch of silence.

“Yeah?”

“You think they can do it?” You ask

Tye hesitates. You’re scared, he’s scared, and both of you just want even a glimpse of hope. He debates what to tell you, what he truly thought or what he knew you wanted to hear.

“...no.”

You nod slowly, agreeing with him. A single tear falls down your face, dropping onto the paved pathway.

“I miss them, too.” Tye took a shaky breath, fighting his own tear ducts. He never cried, let alone in front of anyone.

“I’m sorry you lost Jaime.” You turn to him. “I know how much he meant to you. Eduardo too.”

“I’m sorry you lost Peter. You guys are as close as Jaime and I are. And I’m sorry you lost Eduardo, too.” Tye quickly blinked away tears.

“Can you believe they’re all gone?” You ask.

“No.” He shook his head. “I wish it could just be a month ago. When we were on that one mission.”

“The one where Jaime and Peter accidentally broke into Scott Lang’s house?” You giggle.

“How do you accidentally break in?” Tye laughed, shaking his head. “They’re truly idiots.”

“But they’re our idiots.” You nod, smiling sadly at the sky.

#the rise of iron maiden #eduardo dorado jr x stark! reader #tye longshadow #natasha romanoff #james rhodes #tony stark #bruce banner #thor odinson #carol danvers #rocket raccoon #nebula #avengers endgame #marvel #jaime reyes #spiderman #peter parker

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ramsayboltonsmuse · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine Ramsay Bolton and The Joker (Heath Ledger) fighting over you....PART 3

Summary: I’m bringing Ledger!Joker to Westeros! My two favorite villains in a smutty little multi-part imagine that ends in them fighting over The Reader.

You are Cersei Lannister’s oldest daughter and have been betrothed to Ramsay Bolton, a match devised by your grandfather Tywin Lannister to secure the alliance between The Boltons (who are now The Wardens of the North) and the Capital.

What happens when you throw in a chance encounter with J in the woods? Lots of violence, angst, fluff and smut that’s what!

Links to other parts: Part 1, Part 2

Ao3 link

“C’mere.” J’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck, jerking your head forward. He was staring into your eyes, which you knew must be displaying a convoluted mixture of fear, resolve and excitement.

You tried to read the expression in his eyes, but to no avail. Whereas Ramsay’s eyes so delightfully displayed the sadistic malice, carnal hunger and mirth that went along with most of his games, J’s eyes were utter blackness that gave no tell of what he might be thinking. His gaze was dark and primal, not unlike that of a lion.

J’s thumb kneaded your vulnerable neck in small circles, and you were left feeling that he really was a lion. As the quiet tension-laden stillness made the air heavy, it seemed like he was debating whether or not he would attack his prey. Attack you.

The feeling of his large hand wrapping around your neck sent shivers down your spine as you realized how very easy it would be for him to snap your neck. But much as the thought terrified you, the gentle yet steady pressure of his thumb circling around and around your skin sent a little ball of warmth spinning through you. You tried to push the feeling away.

His thoughts seemingly coming to some kind to some sort of conclusion, though you hadn’t the faintest idea what that conclusion was, J’s hand moved to grip your arm and roughly pull you to your feet as if you weighed no more than a rag doll.

“Let’s, uh, go for a walk bunny.”

“N-Now?” Your voice came out shaky again. “I-It’s still dark out.”

J rolled his eyes at you. “Early morning’s the best time for hunting sweetheart-t. Didn’t your, uh, Lord Flay teach you that? I heard he’s a hunter too.” When you shook your head in response, J continued, pressing his body closer to yours as you leaned back against the wall, his face now only inches from yours.

“Oh that’s right-t. He only hunts women in the woods. He sets it all up-ah. Now where’s the fun in that?” He let out a loud cackle right in your face causing you to jump. He was close enough now that you could see every bump, curl and detail in his scars. J sees you looking at them.

“What happened bunny? You look scared. Is it the scars?” J’s hand that’s still on your arm grips tighter, while his other hand circles your neck once again, this time his thumb pressing into your jaw.

“You wanna know how I got them? I’ll tell you.” His thumb moves to sweep over your mouth, pressing the bottom lip down. “You see, I had a wife, beautiful, like you.” J looks at you hungrily as your heart rate quickens.

“She’s friendly with the villagers, with the uh, other men-ah. She says it’s nice to be friendly-ah, that I shouldn’t worry so much-ah. She says I oughta smile more.” J slides his thumb along your bottom lip to the right corner of your mouth, tugging it up into a sideways grin. You shiver as he continues.

“One day, she goes out alone for a walk in the woods-ah. Some of the, uh, men follow her. They rape her, and cut up her face. She comes home and can’t look at herself anymore-ah. I just want to see her smile again. So I do this,” J releases your neck to gesture to his scars “with a razor.”

You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, and your eyes soften. J must see this, and you think you see him smirk when he sees your reaction. That leaves you questioning the factual nature of the story.

“Now I see the funny side.” J goes on, now a much more noticeable grin spreading across his face. “Now I’m always smiling!”

Your eyes harden. He seems to be reading the display of emotions across your face and just grins wider.

“Now then bunny, let’s go for a walk-ah.” He says as he grabs your arm hard enough to leave a bruise and pulls you out of the door.

The air outside is laden with that early Northern morning chill and you shiver, your light blue dress from yesterday clearly not cutting it for the current weather.

It’s still dark outside but you are beginning to see the dull blue light of daybreak spread across the sky from the east. You can make out the trees around you, and J in front of you, but not much else. You look back for the hut, but it’s already disappeared into the darkness.

You squint at the ground, trying to look for rocks and branches as you hurry your feet along to keep up with the speed J is pulling you along. He’s just too fast though, and a large rock comes out of nowhere causing you to trip and swear as you fall forward.

J braces you easily before you hit the ground and chuckles.

“That doesn’t sound like the, uh, proper language for a princess, doll.”

“Fuck you.” You say in spite of yourself, and J laughs again. “I think I broke my toe.” J laughs even harder at that, before grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Don’t you worry princess, I’ll carry you.” You struggle as he picks up his fast pace again.

“J, put me down!”

J laughs lightheartedly and gives your ass a light smack. You sharply inhale and blush in the darkness.

“Can’t do that dollface. We need to move fast so we don’t miss the, uh, action.”

You pout and let your head and shoulders slump. There is clearly no use in trying to fight him, and as embarrassing as this situation is, you prefer it to being knocked out because you resisted.

From your position on J’s shoulder, you can see the sun rising behind you and the cool blue light breaking over the forest. As a breeze blows your hair forward and into your face, you smell something delicious and almost instantly pangs of hunger overtake your stomach. There must be a fire somewhere nearby.

You cry out as J drops you to the ground.

“Zip it sweetheart. Don’t want to lose the, uh, element of surprise-ah.” J whispers. You look through the small pocket of trees in front of you to see you are only about twenty feet away from a small fire with four men huddled around it, one of them turning something over the fire. The delicious smell of meat invades your senses.

A clear master at knot-tying, J produces rope from one of the deep pockets of his long coat and quickly devises a binding that ties you standing up to the tree behind you. As the sun further lights up J and your surroundings, you are reminded again how strange his attire is.

The long coat he is wearing is an incredibly rich, bright purple, and the light leather armor beneath it purple and green. You can’t stop combing over it with your eyes. As he finishes tying you up, he leans back, regarding his handiwork.

“It’s, uh, not polite to stare.” You quickly shift your eyes away, but J grabs your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. “Like my style, bunny?” He says, brandishing the word. “Well, it’s incomplete-ah. But we’re about to solve that problem right now.” Your quizzical look only makes him smile. “Watch and see-ah.”

J turns and almost prances through the trees to where the men sit around the fire, his hands in his pockets as he saunters over.

“Good morning gentlemen!” J’s voice rings out.

The four men turn as they see J approaching, one of them quickly shifting to his feet and drawing his sword. He looks like the ringleader.

“Hey, I know who that is. Jared, get your sword out. Jared! That’s --”

J cuts him off as he’s standing right behind the man pointed out as Jared, a tall broad shouldered dirty looking man with a hideous jagged scar going from his right temple all the way diagonally across his face. Jared unsheathes his blade, grimacing, as he makes to turn around and face J.

“Want to see a magic trick?”

You don’t know how long it goes on. The stabbing and bone breaking and laughing. He never seems to stop laughing. Ramsay hadn’t had you watch him torture his victims, he only displayed their battered corpses on the wall, so this was the first time you were actually watching people die. And die horrifically.

J looked so incredibly, disturbingly happy as he decorated each man’s body with gashes and punctures and bruises. He made it last as long as possible, relishing in how they begged for mercy and pleaded with everything they had to offer - their money, their secrets, their wives, their children...before he finished them off, howling as he did.

You felt nauseous to the pit of your stomach. You had tried closing your eyes during the worst of it, but you couldn't block out the screams, the terrible screams.

When it was silent, you opened your eyes to see the scene in front of you unfold.

J, kneeling in front of the fire pit, grabbed a handful of now-cool coals and used his fingers to paint large dark, messy circles around his eyes. As he stood from the fire, you noticed that his shoulder was bleeding from where one of the men’s blades had apparently managed to pierce him.

Reaching into the wound with a maniac laugh that made you cold to the bone, he coated his fingers in the sticky substance before smearing it across his mouth and up his scars, painting his face in a cheshire grin.

He shook his head and emitted a loud, resounding and utterly dark laugh before his eyes found purchase on you. He strode over to you with a speed that was nothing short of terrifying.

He was upon you in seconds, the smell of a fire and blood wafting off of him as one large hand encircled your neck and the other grabbed your sharp hip bone through your dress, holding you in place. His face pressed close to yours, his lips only inches away as he spoke.

“Enjoy the show-ah?” His voice was deep and dark. You start shaking, your eyes lighting up with fear as you wonder what he’s going to do to you now that all the others are dead.

“I asked you a question, bunny.” He growls when you don’t answer right away.

You nod your head quickly, but he runs his thumb along your bottom lip and pulls it down, much rougher than he did earlier, before popping his thumb into your mouth to open it.

“Use your words.”

“I-I liked the show.” You stutter out. J smiles.

“Any, uh, favorite scenes? Because I thought the highlight was slicing up poor Jared, but I’m starting to change my mind-ah.” J runs the hand on your hip up your side and you feel your skin break out in goosebumps. His hand stops at your breast where he flicks your nipple, poking through your dress and hard from the cold.

You fidget when he does that, trying to push away the warm sensation gathering in your core when he does. J smirks and glances at your legs, which have pulled together.

“Looks as though you might agree. Let’s, uh, take a look, sweetheart-t.”

You can’t stop it this time, as the tingling sensation spreads through you making you squirm and rub your legs together. You push out of your mind the awful fear of what Ramsay would do if he saw you like this.

You can’t control it anymore, you can’t lie to yourself, part of you wants him to take you. Even after watching what he did to those men. You want him.

His hand dips beneath your dress and runs up your thigh, reaching the line of your panties. His finger lands on the wet fabric, running a featherlight circle around your clit. You can’t stop it before it happens, and a tiny moan escapes your lips.

J stops moving his finger and raises an eyebrow knowingly.

“Just as I thought-t. You’re soaking wet, bunny.” Your face turns into a pout and you squeeze your legs tighter together around his hand, desperate for friction. J laughs. “How long have you wanted me to touch you [Y/N], hmm? How long have you been a little slut for me?”

He graces you with another circle of his finger before grabbing the line of your panties only to release them, snapping them back against your skin. You struggle against your bindings.

“Don’t, uh, worry doll. I’ll give you what you need-ah.” J leans in, the frightening black around his eyes and his bloody mouth sending adrenaline shooting through your veins and telling you to run run run.

But you can’t run, and even if you could, you don’t think you would now. J’s lips ghost your neck, before landing a quick sharp bite to your exposed skin and causing you to let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a mewl.

J’s mouth is at your ear now, whispering to you, his breath warm against your skin.

“I have to warn you though, bunny, I like to break things.” The words have an effect you can’t believe, causing your body to heat up and your voice to come out in a hushed pant.

“I want you to break me J.” As he nips and kisses your neck, you feel him smile against your skin and sigh. It’s a sound that resigns you to your fate.

That’s when you hear the hounds.

#Heath Ledger Joker #ledger!joker #ledger!joker fanfic #ledger!joker imagine #ledger!joker/reader #ledger!joker fanfiction #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker x you #game of thrones fanfiction #ledger!joker smut #game of thrones smut #ramsay bolton smut #ramsay bolton fanfiction #ramsay bolton fanfic #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton/reader #ramsay bolton/you #ramsay bolton x you

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bread-elf · 4 years ago

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Where is Jiroki now?

The wind bellowed across the snowy landscape and spurred it along the decaying corpses, frozen by now as remains of Scourge and Cultists lay in heaps. But new cultists always reappeared, and the dead always rise again with having no King to yield control. Leadership of the world gathered in Icecrown often, some having gone beyond the hole in the sky to places no mortals are meant to walk, on the hunt after the Banshee. Rumors often spread of strange lands in the beyond, how there is so much more than any thought possible, but Jiroki always had the personality of a skeptic. But such thoughts steered clear from her mind as she lined her sights, releasing her docked arrow and watching as it penetrates the skull of a ghoul. Quick as can be she pulled out the next one as more came at her, but she had nothing to fear as a large green figure rushed ahead of her. A large staff in hand, bearing a mask fitting for any well practiced Witch Doctor, the troll pummeled a wave of the oncoming corpses with a single blow. They fell in a heap, but more still were on route, and the ones before the Revantusk troll were beginning to piece themselves together again.

Coming from his left an Orc huntress joins him, dual wielding double bladed axes dripping with ichor, wearing her own skull mask more fearsome than the undead she faced, she aids her comrade in the slaughter of the Scourge, giving off an eerie shrill of a laugh every now and then. Jiroki had never dealt with those of the Laughing Skull clan before, but she grew appreciative that she wasn’t the one facing those blades right now. “Where the hell are they?!” Jiroki sneers out loud to herself as she glances around the blurry snowscape. She had sent some of her mercenaries to infiltrate a burrow where members of the Cult of the Damned lurked, and she started to think she should have gone with them with much time started to tick by. But as if on cue she not only hears but feels a distortment in reality near her, turning in alarm, and out pops a Ren’dorei male she had sent with the others. “Ow, my hip!” Ianasrial, also known as Ian, had bleeding gashes along his torso and arms, but favored his hip as he held a hand on it and nearly buckled at the knees, but he remains standing as he uses his free arm to give a mock salute towards his Shield Mother while nearly doubled over. “We got it, boss! The others are routing back!” “It’s about time.” Jiroki looks back towards the Scourge. Now she was starting to see that they were becoming less organized, not stitching together fast enough as they became feral in their ways. Still very much a big problem, but they can be culled and pushed back now. The Laughing Skull Orc had managed to push herself through the Scourge and descend further, getting too far away for Jiroki’s comfort, and the troll was starting to back track. “Rii’mah be havin’ a spree, I’ll fish for her latah.” Zim’bowa the Witch Doctor speaks, his voice piercing through the wind. “We should meet wit’ de others.” “Yea some of them are battered. But hey, it’s getting easier facing the Scourge each time!” Ian cracks a joke, but earns a glare from Jiroki. “Don’t joke about things like that.” “This is, what, third, fourth time I’m facing the Scourge now? I think I get a fucking pass for making jokes.” Jiroki could hear the lace of void amplifying in Ian’s voice; despite her prude nature, she didn’t need to question Ian’s distaste for the Scourge in the slightest. Without anyone even realizing it Rii’mah had made her return, blood and gore splattered all over her. The stench of death clung to the Orc, making Jiroki’s nose wrinkle, but she didn’t dare show distaste for it around the crazed one. Her head tilted side to side, cracking each way as she let out a breath of satisfaction, blood lust sated for the time being. “Let’s rendezvous with the others and head back, we still have a lot of work to do.” Jiroki is the first to turn and head back to one of the Argent outposts she and her Greyshields were assisting with, and the others followed. ~~~~~~~~ Jiroki carefully cleaned her armor and weapons inside her tent, mindful of the stain of the Scourge and not wanting to accidentally inflict their foul magic on herself. With her stood Drax’ara, doing the same with his own daggers, having gone with the other team that infiltrated and sought the Cultists. They shared the silence, just grateful for one another’s presence in these times. “How are the kids?” Drake ends up asking, the male Kaldorei sitting in a chair as he cleans his weapons, setting the cleaned ones down on a table beside him. “They’re fine, they’re with my sister in Shattrath. Did you want to see them soon?” Jiroki had chosen to stay standing in front of the table, her bow already cleaned but now addressing individual arrows she had retrieved, needing all that can be spared. “Yea, I do. When we have a bit more hands out here though, I don’t want to jeopardize anything.” Setting down his final dagger he stretched his legs forward, wiping his hands down on a cloth and then stretching his arms above his head. “I’m still waiting to hear back from my brothers.” “Hm.” Jiroki tried to keep her focus on her weapons, but her mind raced with current events, and she tried to remind herself to breathe. “Aztook should be back soon, he left to get something from the Black Temple. Once he’s back, you should go see them, before anything else happens.” As if yet again on cue there’s movement from the entrance of her tent. Jiroki half expected to be Aztook her mate in question, but coincidentally enough it was another Demon Hunter. Her half brother, Alldreas, pulled aside the tent flap to peer his sightless gaze in. “Jiroki, we need to talk.” Alldreas had always been prone to pestering Jiroki for fun when they initially first met and even when she had learned they were partially blood related, but that started happening less since Teldrassil burned. So now when he insisted they speak, she knew it was for something. As she turned and left her things there Drake remained in his seat, reaching over to claim one of her arrows to clean for her, and she stepped out into the chill. “What is it?” Jiroki peers up at the taller elf. “Your former enemy Zest and I have encountered some ‘unique’ individuals that you should meet.” Alldreas wore a blindfold that covered his eye, but the blazing fire of fel could be seen through them. “But they’re over in Stormwind, so you need to make haste.” “What? Why should I meet them?” Though Zest now partnered with the Greyshields, he was renown for siding with a Warlock during the Legion invasion who tried to eliminate all the Greyshields, now only running with them out of fear and so that Jiroki could keep an eye on them. “Why are you with Zest anyway? You know not to trust anything he says.” “I don’t trust him, but I implore you to go see these people, for I have seen them myself. They speak of the Shadowlands, and are looking to meet adventurers such as our ilk. This may be a way for us to get more involved and help.” There’s a flare in the fire in his eyes, as if expressing his inner emotions. “Wait, the Shadowlands? But…” Alldreas danced around the subject instead of describing these individuals bluntly. Jiroki grinds her teeth, but she lets out a sigh. “Fine, I needed to head to Stormwind soon anyway, I’ll see them while I’m there. But you’re coming with me.” ~~~~~~~~ Once in Stormwind Alldreas right away led his half-sister to where they had to go, walking to the more deserted and shady parts of Stormwind. Jiroki already started to get uneasy with where they were going, but she trusted Alldreas enough that he would not lead or astray. Or would in the least be the first to catch wind of trouble and alert her. Down an alley they walked until Alldreas stopped dead in his tracks, Jiroki nearly bumping into him as a result. She looks around, seeing no one and nothing out of the ordinary in sight, and she stands beside him to take a look at his face. All he did was just stare ahead. “What is it?” Jiroki asked, a brow raised high. “Is your demon struggling again?” “No, she is cooperating.” Alldreas speaks in return, still staring ahead. “They see us. They will make themselves known when ready.” The hairs on the back of Jiroki’s neck start to stand at that, glancing around now. They were both being watched, assumingly by these people Alldreas wanted her to meet, yet she still had no idea who or what they are. But that doesn’t take long to answer as a figure starts to come from the shadows. “Ah, it is you again.” A rich, exotic, otherworldly, and deep voice speaks towards the demon hunter. “I am impressed you found us so easily; perhaps we need a new approach to this city. Is this the one you had spoken of?” At first Jiroki thought she was looking at an Ethereal, but this was no ordinary one if that. A humanoid figure of clothing and armor with a blue flame flickering behind a floating face guard, taller and much more regal attire compared to the Ethereals that wore mostly wrappings to display their forms. But something stirred in the pit of her stomach, something that told her this thing wasn’t meant to be here, and it caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. “This is my half-sister, and the leader of the mercenaries I run with. She would be the one to speak with about the work you have.” Alldreas redirected the conversation to Jiroki, and the being gave a bow from the waist. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma’dam. I am called Te’ani; I had heard some wondrous praise of your group of adventurers from your fascinating brother here. I am very much interested in procuring some items from your realm, and he reassured me that you and I could form a business relationship with one another.” Jiroki shot a quick glare towards Alldreas, the two already have spoken more with one another than she had been told, and she looks back to the strange being. “What is it that you have offer in payment? We’re very busy as is.” Her words didn’t seem to face Te’ani, though she couldn’t tell much from him anyway. “My partner and I are still learning the ways of your world’s currency and market value, but we have an assortment of items from where we’re from that should interest you. That, and we have means to guide you to even different realms where you can assist the heroes of your realm.” “What do you mean?” “I come from the Shadowlands. There is much, much, much, to do over there, many souls to be rescued, many planes of existence suffering from the drought that need aid. I know well enough that there is a notorious figure your world wants dead treading the Maw, and they have the upper hand as the Maw’s forces grow stronger. With the terms I discussed with your brother; if you help me procure items from this realm, I can assist with having a stable way for you and yours to go too and fro in the Shadowlands. But I am more than happy to discuss further details with you, since it seems he did not share anything with you.” Jiroki could almost hear the sass coming from the being if that was what it was, and Jiroki looked up to Alldreas once again to see the twitch of a smirk forming at his lips. She nearly growled, but kept herself quiet as she couldn’t deny the curiosity growing inside of her. “I think I’d like to discuss this more with you as well.” Jiroki tried to ease herself into this conversation with this strange being from the land of the dead, but her head already spun with ideas and possibilities, already deep down knowing she had made a decision for herself anyhow. This is a business opportunity she will not refuse.

#stories

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jacensolodjo · 4 years ago

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Warning for gore, torture.

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

Shane had gotten so busy again when it came to the war, that her personal vendetta against a single Cerberus operative had fallen to the wayside. She was sure that many people close to her would be happy to hear she hadn’t had a one track mind about Banes. Some things had to go before her need for revenge. Last time she had let everything else stay on the back burner to go after a single person, a scientist that had almost met his end at the hands of Toombs and decided that because he was ‘free’ that meant he was free from her own revenge, too many people had suffered. She had almost been too late to save Grunt, in fact.

So, when she got a message from Miranda letting her know of a possible lead to Banes’ location, Shane had nearly found herself on the receiving end of a Phantom blade. With a reinvigorated shout, she used her omni-tool to form a blade that sliced clean through the Phantom’s throat. As the Phantom collapsed, bleeding out of the carotid and jugular, Shane pulled up the message. Knowing it was dangerous enough for Miranda to be doing the chasing of leads, Shane read through the message quickly before shooting off a brief ‘thanks for risking your life for this’.

She was sending a quick message to Jack with the information when a Nemesis bolt slammed into her shield, staggering her slightly. She rolled her eyes at herself before training her Mattock on the sniper and taking it out in two perfect shots to the head-- one to bring down its shield and one to fling through its skull and out the other end.

Message finally sent, Shane set off to finish the rest of her mission. Waiting for Jack to answer didn’t mean she couldn’t kill some Cerberus fucks on her own.

The Commander was on her way back to the Normandy when she got the message from Jack that simply read “Fuck yes”.

It took a few hours for Shane to get back to the Normandy, and then another couple hours after that for the Normandy to dock on the Citadel. It was there Jack lived with her students (not sharing a place though, instead Jack used the apartment Anderson had "living willed" to Shane, after a bit of convincing from Shane that they should "live together" if Jack wasn't willing to stay on the Normandy).

Shane found Jack at the Armax Arena with her students gathered. They had just finished a training session and Jack appeared to be informing them she would be gone.

"Until I get back, and who fu--reaking knows when that will be, Rodriguez and Prangley are in charge. Prangley, stop smirking. You're just the most experienced next to Rodriguez," Jack was explaining.

"Commander on deck!" Rodriguez called out, half joking. The rest of the kids went along with the joke, straightening to attention. Jack rolled her eyes before turning to look at Shane.

"You're a great distraction, good thing we were done," Jack said, obviously joking as well.

"I do what I can. You ready?" Shane replied, smirking slightly.

"Hell yeah. Let's get to it!" Jack said with a nod.

Shane looked at the students gathered, all of them wearing duplicates of the dark red hoodie Shane sometimes wore in place of her N7 one. These red hoodies proclaimed the wearer to be part of the Grissom Academy Psychotic Biotic Training on the Move “program” on the front, and a plea to "if found return to Jack" on the back of the hoodies. Jack's of course read "I'm Jack" on the back, instead.

The vanguard was struck for a moment by how young these kids actually were. They were barely into puberty, most of them. But Shane also realized that both she and Jack had been even younger than them when their biotics had been coaxed to the surface with violence and pain. A ghost of a pained, guilty look crossed Shane’s face, fast enough that even Jack doubted she had actually seen it. A moment later Shane was smiling in that wolfish way she always got when the hunt was on.

“Let’s get to it,” she agreed. She looked at the kids again before turning and striding off, Jack following barely half a step behind.

One thing that often happened when Shane went on missions with just Jack was that she forwent the fully customized N7 armor that she had slowly cobbled together after leaving Earth. Instead, Shane was barely in more than fatigues, with only strategic placement of armor plating for various weak points such as the torso. She felt it complemented the fact that Jack went into battle in barely more clothes than she was in when they first met, back when Shane was reluctantly flying Cerberus colors.

They used to bicker about how Jack really should wear armor, any armor. But eventually Shane had realized she wasn’t going to convince Jack to wear armor, so if you can’t beat them join them. And anyways, Shane’s biotics were more than enough protection as it was and she was better able to use them outside of armor. Especially when she needed to use her Vanguard class abilities.

Like a pair of alpha wolves, the biotic duo disembarked from the shuttle onto the planet that looked like it hadn’t seen any living creatures in centuries. Both biotics had a kind of bloodthirsty gleam in their eyes as they followed the coordinates on Shane’s omni-tool. The Normandy was on the edge of the system, so as not to alert anyone who might be nearby to protect Banes. Next to that, Shane had been the one to pilot the shuttle, unable to bring herself to have Steve do it. He deserved some time off and besides he didn’t need to get involved in her personal vendetta.

It took little time for them to find the compound, a building made of steel with no windows to speak of. It had at least two floors above ground, and who knew how many underground.

As they entered the compound they were both hit with the same thought: “This entire place reeks of Cerberus.” At least they knew they were definitely on the right track. Together they wandered through the eerily empty hallways, similar to the compound where Jack had been forced to become Subject Zero.

Deeper and deeper they went, and Shane was quite sure they were actually underground now.

“Look who has decided to willingly enter my lair. Commander Shepard and her pet biotic, Subject Zero,” a voice suddenly spoke from all around them. They both knew it came from multiple speakers placed throughout the hallway but it still made them freeze in place.

Shane’s biotics flared to life instantly, blue whisking around her limbs and her teeth grinding together in anger. The true surprise was having Jack instantly at her side, placing a hand surprisingly gentle on Shane’s cheek.

“Hey. Not now. Don’t let him win before things even start,” Jack said, looking Shane directly in the eye. It was rare for Jack to be the voice of reason and because of that alone it caused Shane to release the activation of her biotic amp, letting them disappear with a crackle. She let out a sigh.

“Right, we don’t even know if he’s here,” Shane admitted. She was still angry but she had learned as a child to tuck it away for later. So she did.

“You’re so close to your prize, right? Come on down, Commander. I’ll put the kettle on,” Banes said, laughter burbling up seconds later. Shane growled low but did her best to let his taunts roll off her like rain off a duck’s back.

“Don’t you fucking worry, we’ll be there soon enough, fucker!” Jack spat before continuing to walk down the hallway. Shane followed suit, struggling to keep a handle on her anger and thus her biotics.

“I have to admit, I thought I’d see you here much sooner. I guess something has changed since that fun adventure with Kahoku’s men,” Banes continued, and it was unclear if he could actually hear the two biotics speaking or not.

Shane clenched her jaw again but kept her focus on the next few steps, and the steps after that, then around a corner. Deeper and deeper, further and further. He would get his soon.

The Commander checked her omni-tool and noted that it estimated they were about half a mile underground by that point. Shaking her head, Shane turned another corner to be faced with a closed door that was also clearly locked and encrypted. The biotic pair stopped short, glaring at their newest impediment.

“Whaddya think, can we rip it off its hinges, so to speak?” Shane asked, glancing at her lover.

“Maybe if we work together. But he might just be expecting that,” Jack said, shrugging.

“Oh so you have been learning to anticipate,” Shane said teasingly. Jack lightly punched the other woman’s shoulder with a muttered “shut up”.

After a few moments of just staring at the door, Shane walked closer and activated her omni-tool. Jack stood where she had stopped, keeping an eye on the way they had come just in case it was an ambush.

“Kasumi sent me a cracker a while back, never really had to use it, though. Give me a sec, gotta remember how to actually use it,” Shane said, chuckling internally.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry it up, will ya?” Jack said with a scoff and an eye roll.

Shane typed through the commands that Kasumi had taught her but frowned halfway through as the door gave her a giant red X after submitting the command to decrypt so she could then get to the unlock part.

“The fuck?” she muttered under her breath, trying the keystrokes again. She received another giant red X for her trouble and then a very loud klaxon began. It was enough to make her clap her hands over her ears (which had already been sensitive before Project Lazarus and had only become even more so after).

“Ohh, I’m afraid you didn’t pass the test, Commander,” Banes’ voice came through, able to be heard even over top the klaxon.

“Shane--” Jack’s voice managed to pierce through the klaxon as well, but sounded oddly distorted.

Shane spun around and her eyes widened as she saw Jack suspended in mid air as if she was floating from her biotics. But she knew it was actually a force field holding Jack in place.

“Let her go!” Shane snarled, biotics roaring to life.

“Subject Zero was never meant to be released to begin with. I’m just fixing the fuckup of my colleagues,” Banes said. The klaxon died away.

“In case you fucking forgot, I’m here to get your head on a pike. All you’re doing is making sure I don’t make it happen too fast,” Shane said, voice suddenly turning deadly calm. She looked around the hallway before catching sight of the twin apparatuses in the upper corners, clearly creating the field keeping Jack suspended. Smiling inwardly, Shane aimed her biotics at both at the same time. The metal crumpled easily under pressure from her biotics. The field flickered then disappeared and Jack landed far more gracefully than Shane would have.

“What? No! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” Banes shouted in outrage.

“Ohh, sorry, Banes, we’re not playing by your rule book. Now open the fucking door!” Shane said, sneering at what had to be a camera angled above the door.

“I am not that easy to catch, Commander. You want in, you figure it out,” Banes said.

Shane quietly aimed her pistol at the camera and fired twice. The shattered remains clattered to the floor like rain.

“What was that about anticipating?” Jack asked, unable to not get the dig in.

“Oh, shush,” Shane said, shaking her head. “You’re fine, aren’t you?”

“Let’s just figure out how to get in there, alright? This place is making my skin crawl enough as it is,” Jack said insistently. Shane had to admit she too did not feel at all comfortable in the compound, and not just because it was shockingly empty.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to be able to get anywhere using more delicate, scalpel means, it simply meant she’d have to go ripping through things like a chainsaw. Or a tornado. Or simply a very pissed off biotic.

“Well, let’s go with our first option, then. Rip the damn thing off,” Shane said. Her anger had been stoking the fires of her biotic control for some time. Though she would always admit Jack was the strongest human biotic, Shane was no slouch in that department either. Together, with the way their biotics interacted, they had found precious little could stand up to their might.

And so, their biotics flickered to life. As they directed the independent tendrils towards the door, the usual sight of the slightly differently colored biotics twining ‘together’ and becoming brighter appeared. Despite how long biotics had been in the human population, nobody could say why exactly the biotics had different colors. The usual question of whether it denoted strength or gender had been dismissed. But it didn’t matter, so long as they worked as intended.

With a resounding thump, the stream of biotics crashed into the door. With a simple thought, the stream flattened into a square shape and seeped into the little cracks of the rim of the door. Sufficiently covered in the biotic energy, both women yanked their hands back in unison. The door dimpled but did not get completely wrenched out of the jambs like expected.

Glaring at the door, they scarcely turned their heads to look at one another, instinctively knowing exactly how to proceed from here.

As one, like two outraged Amazons, Shane and Jack screamed as they put all of their power into their goal of removing the door from its hinges. In seconds, spiderwebs of cracks sprawled across the door. A loud shrieking sound of twisting, ripping metal joined their chorus of screams and the pulse of the activated biotics. With a roar of triumph, they again moved as one to yank their biotic streams backward and thus ripped the door finally out of its place. They directed the door to fly over their heads and land behind them with a heavy screeching thud, then-- still almost eerily coordinated-- stalked forward. Both were breathing heavily from the strain but neither was willing to stop for even a moment to get their wind back. And if they had bothered to fully get a look at the removed door, or even felt it safe to look at the gap in the wall for more than a second to be sure of no trip wires, they would have noticed it was as thick as the two of them put together. The galaxy would have been hard pressed to find a singular biotic user who could do what they had done. And that was because they were so much stronger together than doing things separately or even delayed by more than a couple seconds.

“You! Ruined! Everything!’ Banes screamed, eyes wild as he watched the biotic women stomping towards him. He held a pistol in one hand and his omni-tool was activated in the other. It was enough to make Shane stop for a moment before quickly returning to being directly at Jack’s side.

“You and your entire organization are the ones to blame for this. If you hadn’t done what you did to either of us, well... we would be in very different places wouldn’t we?” Shane said. A growl rumbled in her throat as she saw him raise his gun. In the time it took to blink, her body had gone blue and she closed the distance shockingly fast. When he finally realized what had happened, one of her hands was clutching his wrist of the hand holding the gun while her other hand was wrapped around his throat. He gagged but could do nothing except twitch like a dying cockroach as she lifted him up solely by his neck and pure muscle strength. There was no need to use biotics to lift a man of his size. He was barely bulkier than Cortez or Joker. Certainly he was worth only half of Vega.

“Yeah, yeah! You have-- guh-- us to thank for all of this!” Banes choked out, punching the hand holding him up over and over but it was all in vain. She couldn’t feel any of the blows in the midst of her biotic and rage fueled act of revenge.

Jack stood nearby, upper lip curled in her trademark sneer. She knew Shane needed to do this part alone. Just like Jack had needed to hit the trigger on the bomb alone. It wasn’t a lack of wanting the help, merely that some things must be done alone.

“Yes, where the fuck are my manners? Thank you. Thank you for releasing the rest of my biotic potential. Thank you for siccing Thresher Maws on me not once but twice. For no good fucking reason! Thank you for helping the legend of Commander Shepard become that much more grand. Thank you for not leaving well enough alone and bringing me back to fucking life. And thank you, for being epic fucking morons about this entire Reaper invasion. The only true way to save humanity is destroying the Reapers, not trying to be buddies with them. But you... you aren’t going to live to see me do the job I was brought back to really do,” Shane said, voice growing louder then softer then louder again as she spoke.

Biotics flickered around her then enveloped Banes as well. With a deep snarl, she flung him at a nearby wall. He collided with it with a resounding crack and crumpled. But he rolled over almost instantly and clambered back to his feet. When he did, there she was in half a blink of an eye and biotics whipping around her form as evidence of how she got there. This time she grabbed him by the front of his overly expensive shirt and stormed forward until she was pinning him up against a wall. He yelled out in pain, feeling his shoulders creaking as they were pressed into the solid metal and her fingers digging into him hard enough he could feel his skin break apart.

“You and Leng and the Illusive Man... all of you pretend to be far more noble and powerful than you really are. But you’re nothing but little frightened pussies! I met the Reapers head on while you all stood back and decided control was the way to go. Well, look how fucking well things turned on when you tried to control me, to control Jack. Yes, Jack. Her name. The thing you tried so hard to erase by calling her Subject Zero. By calling her essentially nothing despite your goals.”

“I had nothing to do with the project on Teltin! Cerberus had nothing to do with it!”

“You lying fucker! Don’t pretend Cerberus didn’t bankroll that whole fucking thing!” Jack suddenly blurted, rage coloring every syllable. She speed walked forward but stopped short when Shane turned her head to lock eyes with the younger biotic. Shane’s own eyes were close to purple from the mix of cybernetic red and biotic blue. And the glow was bright. The look on her face was one that demanded Jack stay out of things. Jack had only seen that look before, when Shane had declined having Jack go with her when she went to track down the scientist who had nearly been murdered by Toombs.

Blood was starting to appear on the man’s shirt from where Shane’s biotically strengthened fingers had pulverized the skin. But she didn’t care. She was nowhere close to done. She released her hold on his front only so she could rip the shirt off of him. Casting a quick glance around she noted a solid metal desk nearby. A fancy one, holding a nice terminal and everything. With a sweep of her hand, a biotic field flung everything off of the desk. Then, with a grunt she flung the man up and onto the desk, face up. He yelled in pain again. The marks on his chest continued to bleed for a few moments but then clotted.

After another quick glance, she used her biotics to yank a couple of lamps nearby. With further help from her biotics, she twisted the metal rods until she had him ‘tied’ to the table. One half loop kept his legs locked together and held firm against the desk. The other half loop took care of his arms.

“Jack... I need you to sweep the compound,” Shane said, voice taking on an odd quality Jack had never heard before.

“...What? Shane, you know this place is empty!” Jack said, a tinge of confusion in her voice.

“Just do it! ...Please,” Shane��s voice again changed to one of soft pleading.

“Nothing you do to that guy will make me think differently of you, Shane,” Jack said, finally realizing what the older biotic was trying to do.

“Heh, what’s the matter? Afraid to show you’re just a wild animal?” Banes laughed. He was rewarded with a swift punch to the temple, knocking him senseless but not unconscious.

“I’ve killed a lot of people in my time. You know that, Shane.”

“I know. But you shouldn’t be forced to see what I’m gonna do to ‘im. For everything.”

“I’m not being forced. I knew what you were likely to do when we caught him. Just... don’t drag it out too much. We got better shit to do than rip this guy to shreds in pieces parts.”

Perhaps luckily for both of them, Shane had no interest in prolonging the torture. Nor did he need to suffer as much as the ones personally involved in Akuze had needed to suffer. Regardless...

Shane activated her omni-tool and used it to toggle music that came on loud and heavy. She then removed the real metal K-Bar knife she kept in a sheath on her thigh. Sure, she could’ve used an omni-blade but Traynor was right about needing to have the tactile sensation of a physical item in your grasp.

“Do you know... what it’s like to be burned by thresher maw acid?” Shane asked, tracing the tip of the knife from the man’s jawline down his throat and along his sternum. He shuddered but not violently enough to make any difference.

During Project Lazarus, the burn marks from the Kahoku mission had been ‘fixed’ by Miranda. But that didn’t mean the scar from the memory was no longer in Shane’s mind. She still had one of the burn marks from the Akuze incident, though. When Shane asked her question, Jack’s eyes had immediately gone to the part of Shane’s back where the acid had landed when the Alliance Marine had been running for her life back to the transport. Jack had first noticed it when they had had sex the first time. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask about it, if only because talking about her scars with people wasn’t her favorite thing to do so she figured the same was true of Shane. It had only been later, when Shane had woken up from a nightmare, that Jack had gotten the story of the burn scars. Shane had another one on the back of her dominant hand, part of it healed from Project Lazarus.

Biotics rippled down Shane’s arm and enveloped the knife. Using a technique she had been working on for a decade, the blade of the knife began to glow red hot.

“Y-you can’t do this! It’s against everyth--” Banes began saying, eyes widening. He stopped speaking to instead scream, a high pitched squeal really, as Shane pressed the flat of the blade against the man’s collar bone. The smell of burning flesh flooded the immediate area. Neither Shane nor Jack reacted to scent or scream. With a twitch, Shane flipped the blade to instead press the point into the flesh and stagger around the man’s chest. Angry red streaks appeared and the man kept screaming.

“You see... it burns.. and it keeps on burning... nothing puts the burn out. It’s like the strength of a thousand ghost peppers but on your skin. Not even the burn creams we got out there helps,” Shane explained, raising her voice to be heard over his shrieks.

Any other person on the Normandy would be horrified. Shane was breaking so many Alliance regulations it was dizzying. It was not the first ‘mission’ that would never even be written down by Shane. The only witness would be Jack, and Jack would never say a word. Not when it came to Cerberus assholes getting theirs.

“I... got burned and kept burning for days. And that is nothing to what I did to your colleague. The man responsible for Akuze, remember him? Remember how I actually kept him from being murdered by the only other survivor? He would’ve stayed alive if he hadn’t tried to flee. He was safer in an Alliance prison!” Shane snarled, pressing the knife in deep against the man’s hand in a mimic of the partially gone burn scar on her own hand. His scream coincided with a giant crash of sound that faded as the man began to sob.

The rock music changed to a song full of deep, long thrums. Which then turned into short ones. Before eventually a giant splash of sound then a crescendo. As the music changed, so did Shane’s position. She moved around until she was situated next to the man’s hip.

“We weren’t responsible--” Banes tried to say again. Shane snarled wide, showing teeth that for a moment looked far too sharp. And made it clear exactly why she had morphed into the Wolf of the Alliance rather than the junkyard ganger dog of Earth. Then, she slammed the knife all the way into the hilt into the man’s thigh. Another echo of one of Shane’s injuries at the ‘hands’ of thresher maws. The only difference being Cerberus had actually not been involved in that one. The only one dealing with thresher maws that had not been related to Cerberus (curing the Genophage on Tuchanka notwithstanding).

The music softened, almost dissonantly so. Banes was panting and sobbing, and it was clear he was not the badass he thought himself to be. He was even starting to have snot dribbling from his nose. Blood dripped to the floor, forming multiple puddles.

“You know, if you had used the pronoun ‘I’ instead, I might have been inclined to believe it. You weren’t responsible for Akuze but... You were responsible for Kahoku’s men. Your colleagues were damn sure responsible for Akuze. You see, for a scientist you Cerberus lot are really fucking stupid! Your colleague, knowing I was there to take his fucking ass out of the gene pool, was still backing shit up on his own personal omni-tool. I know you know that I essentially stopped his heart with a shock baton which also fried his omni-tool. But he didn’t delete everything on the terminals. He had proof. Proof he kept for years! And probably opened the files every once in a while to gloat about how before Commander Shepard became the Commander Shepard ohhh he proved she can bleed like all the rest.”

Shane glanced over at Jack, who was watching in silence. It felt completely opposite to Jack’s usual demeanor. She was almost starting to regret bringing the younger biotic. She didn’t need to see this.

Taking in a breath, Shane looked back at her prey. She then removed the knife only to shift her point of entry to the side of his leg. With a little biotic help, she jammed it into his leg just below his knee. Even Jack heard the crack as the bone shattered. This seemed to be too much for Banes to handle and he passed out cold. Shane growled low to herself, shaking her head. She wasn’t done just yet. Not yet.

Shane locked eyes with Jack, who stayed quiet. The Commander then found a medkit nearby hanging on the wall. The box itself was rusted slightly but everything inside was fine. She hadn’t bothered bringing her own medigel with her, knowing these facilities had plenty of it. Even if it was abandoned or supposedly abandoned.

The music changed once more, this time with a soaring crescendo that gave way to a drumbeat. Shane applied the medigel, only enough to bring him back around to consciousness. He yelled in pain as soon as his brain defogged.

What Shane had brought with her had been a vial of acid. It wasn’t thresher acid, but it was just as good. She had found it among Mordin’s effects he had left behind in the med bay and Chakwas had nearly had a heart attack seeing Shane messing with it.

Smiling, Shane wagged the vial a little in front of the man’s nose. He seemed to recognize it and his eyes widened.

“You won’t get away with this, Shepard! Wait until the galaxy knows what the Hero of the Citadel does--”

Shane punched his throat, making him gag and cough unable to keep talking.

“Your colleague said the same shit, you know? What, you two brothers or something? It doesn’t matter. It does not matter. Because, see, I was part of the Reds back on Earth. Yeah, big surprise to you, right? I took care of that part of my history too, back on the Citadel when I was making waves after Eden Prime. I took care of your colleague. I’m taking care of you. Leng will get his, and so will the Illusive Man. And not a single fucking person will care when all is said and done because they know exactly what Cerberus has been doing. And ironically, what I’m doing to you is not at all close to what you fucks have been doing to fellow humans. What I’m doing is not close to what you Cerberus assholes have done to me, or Jack, or anyone.”

“Shane--” Jack said, stepping forward.

“What?” Shane snapped then took in a breath. “What, Jack?”

The music was barely audible now, a soft whispering thing.

“The asshole here sent out a distress signal. Don’t know when exactly. But Joker says EDI picked up a few ships coming into the system, bearing Cerberus markings. We don’t have a lot of time if we want to get out of here without a fight.”

“What, you don’t want a fight today?” Shane asked, raising a brow.

“You fucking know I always want one, but...” Jack said, before reaching out and grabbing Shane by the wrist. Shane looked at Banes for a moment before letting Jack lead her over to a corner nearby.

“Listen, I’m not that Chambers bitch or anything but I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to fight a battle. We can fight some more Cerberus assholes any other day. But you need to finish with this fucker and then we need to leave,” Jack said, in a rough whisper.

Ironically, Shane knew shit was serious when Jack was being the voice of reason... for the second time that day. The music changed to an almost triumphant score, a symphonic metal tune.

“Yeah, alright. I’m almost done anyways,” Shane said, sighing. She kissed Jack’s forehead gently and lightly brushed her thumb across a cheekbone made to look sharper than it was through Jack’s usual use of makeup (in direct contrast to Shane’s general idea of going without as much as possible). Jack nodded then turned her attention back to her omni-tool where a map of the system displayed the Normandy along with the Cerberus ships making their way to the planet.

Shane walked back over to Banes, who had turned even paler than he’d been when they first arrived. Smirking, Shane engaged her omni-tool just as the music began to swell again. The omni-blade composed itself from spare bits then she used it to slice open part of the man’s shirt. She ripped the rest of it open all the way after accounting for the ‘restraints’.

“C-commander, surely we can come t-to some agreement?” Banes stammered, wheezing softly through what had to be a broken nose and a swollen throat. Shane had to admire his refusal to admit that he was dead meat on a slab.

“The only agreement available is that you shut the fuck up and let me finish the damn job,” Shane snarled.

“Please, please-- that isn’t necessary! It isn’t--” Banes stopped talking to instead give an inhuman and unholy screech of pain as Shane tipped the vial over and allowed some of the acid to splatter on the man’s chest. Some of it landed on the restraint. It ate through both skin and metal at an almost alarming pace. And Banes just... kept... screaming. Even when the acid ate through the layer of fat and muscle to go after the bones. When it did, Shane noticed the beginnings of Reaper tech. Her eyes narrowed. She dumped the rest of the acid into the already rather large hole in the man’s torso. Only when the acid met internal organs did the screaming stop. And coincidentally, the song ended on a single cymbal crash after a steady rhythm of drums.

Shane took one of the grenades off her hip. She activated it with a simple squeeze then dropped it right into the hole the acid had made. She looked at Jack and nodded when Jack looked back. The pair exited the office, clearing the doorway as the grenade went off and made sure the body had been turned into mince meat and nigh unrecognizable save for a biological scan.

As they turned a corner, Shane activated her omni-tool. The music turned off. Shane looked at Jack and laughed softly.

“Let’s head back and prep for the next Cerberus hunt,” she said.

Jack chuckled despite herself then nodded.

“Sounds good to me, Hero of the Citadel,” she remarked teasingly. Shane sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I hate it when people call me that,” she muttered. Her words only caused Jack to laugh, which echoed throughout the corridors and followed them out of the compound.

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

“You know, I am glad for Cerberus doing one thing,” Jack said, quietly, when they finally returned to the Captain’s Cabin on the Normandy.

“What’s that?” Shane asked, puzzled.

“Bringing you back to life. Having us meet. I know we don’t really talk about it much. But... with all the shit happening you deserve to know.”

Shane was quiet a while before smiling. She tugged Jack into her arms and kissed her, deeply yet with a gentleness that was rare. She held the smaller woman close when the kiss broke.

“Yeah... you’re right. That is one thing I am grateful for. Meeting you. Being with you through it all. I know you hate it when things get mushy but, I’m not sure where I’d be without you,” Shane said, lightly resting her forehead on Jack’s.

Jack chuckled, in that way that almost sounded like purring.

“Who knew Commander Shepard had a soft and gooey side?” she teased.

“Oh shut up, asshole.”

“Bitch!”

Shane snorted before kissing the woman again and dragging her over to the bed. It was time to celebrate a job well done.

#femshack #Subject Zero #femshep #shane shepard #commander shepard #my writing #Jackie #otp: biotic bitches #Текст #i finally finished this beast of a fic lmaooo #torture cw #gore cw

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last-wish · 4 years ago

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Feainnewedd: Chapter 5

Summary: Ciri meets the witchers and starts her training at Kaer Morhen, Geralt struggles with his new role and unexpected troubles demand outside help.

Pairing: Geralt x Yennefer

Word Count: 3,7k

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! This chapter took me longer than I thought, with the change of setting in the fic and all the stuff happening in the world. I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think! Cross posted to AO3. Special thanks to @mclintocks for her invaluable help.

“Ciri, stop right there!”

The girl brought her horse to a halt some fifty yards ahead of Geralt. “You’re such an old man!” She laughed. “Why do you hate fun?”

“I am an old man,” he said as he caught up with her. “But wait until you see Vesemir.”

Ciri spotted a half-smile on the witcher’s face as he overtook her.

“Well, if he raised you, he must be even more boring than you.”

Geralt chuckled. “When I ride into a new town, kids not much younger than you stare at me with their mouths open. The very bravest among them even dare ask me about my exciting life hunting monsters.”

“I have seen through you already. You’re just a boring old man hiding beneath that armor.”

“You’re really hurting my pride, Ciri. Don’t you have any mercy?”

“Not when you don’t even let me run a little. Come on, I’m hungry! Can’t we go faster to the next town?”

Ciri put on her saddest face—to little effect on the white-haired witcher.

“You have dried meat in your pouch.”

“But it’s awful! We’ve been eating this shit for weeks.”

“Language. You don’t want Vesemir hear you say that. And yeah, this meat gets tiring pretty quickly. But we can’t stop at every tavern and risk someone recognizing us. Or someone remembering us when certain people come later asking for a certain rebellious, ashen-haired, green-eyed princess. Maybe it wouldn’t be so obvious if we had cut your hair short.”

Ciri stabbed him with an unambiguous look.

“But I see that’s still not an option,” the witcher added quickly. “Anyway, don’t worry too much, the next town is the last one before Kaer Morhen. Then it’s a couple more days and—”

A rider appeared out of a gully that descended from the nearby hills. He hastened his horse in their direction, looking nervously towards the hilltops.

“Good morning,” Geralt said.

The man stopped before them.

“Another one of you? Are you coming to help?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a man-eater around here. I just guided one of your kind to the place where it attacked yesterday.”

“What, who—”

“I’m not staying here!” The man hurried his horse. “Go up the gully and you’ll find him. Or what’s left of him!”

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed as he dismounted Roach.

Ciri noticed then a shadow on the ground. At first, she thought it was just a cloud. But as it grew steadily, moving towards the rider, she felt something was off.

“Geralt…”

She raised her head and stared in disbelief. A beast that looked like it had jumped out of a tapestry crossed the sky, piercing the cold morning air with a horrifying shriek. Folding its monstrous, bat-like wings, the creature dived towards the rider, quickly closing the distance despite the man’s desperate efforts.

“Ciri, hold Roach!” Geralt said as he unsheathed his silver sword.

Ahead of them, rider and horse fell to the ground. The animal neighed when the monster plunged its claws deep into its belly. The man wheezed as the fangs pierced his throat mercilessly. The man-eater stood on top of them, raising its bloodied head with an almost royal look. The impression quickly vanished when Ciri noticed its hideous face crowned by two long horns. It was then that the girl saw a figure nimbly descending from the hillside, sword in hand.

Before it could get close, the monster lashed with its long scorpion tail in a semi-circle. Ciri looked at the man’s face as he stopped, wielding his sword before him. A long, ugly scar crossed half of his face. The beast must have been fixated on the man, too, since it did not notice Geralt approaching it from behind. With a quick pirouette, the witcher slashed its left wing. The man-eater roared and writhed. Instead of trying to dodge the tail coming at him, Geralt crossed his wrists, stopping the sting amidst an explosion of sparks and blood.

It must be one of his witcher tricks, Ciri thought as the two men circled around the beast, its wounded wing preventing it from taking off again. Suddenly, as if they were reading each other’s thoughts, the two men attacked at the same time. But the monster was still very much alive, fending off the men with a lash of its tail, a dodge and a counterattack.

From her vantage point, Ciri watched the fight with fascination. The girl had seen skilled warriors dueling in tournaments back in Cintra but this was completely different. Instead of the slow movements of plate-armored knights wielding heavy maces, the nimble jumps, spins and dodges of the two seamlessly coordinated men resembled more of a court dance. The man-eater started moving more slowly as the dark blood spilling from its left wing formed puddles on the ground. Noticing this, Geralt and the scarred man got closer to the beast.

The end of the fight was quick. In the blink of an eye, the scarred man bisected the monster’s tail and Geralt sliced off one of its legs. The other man then jumped on top of the beast and buried his sword up to the hilt, instantly killing the monster.

The man with the scar landed on the ground and sheathed his sword into the scabbard strapped to his back. The witchers wrapped their arms around each other in a quick, tight embrace.

“Still sharp, Wolf.”

“It’s either sharp or dead, Eskel.”

“As Vesemir always says. Are you going to winter in Kaer Morhen too?”

“Yes”—Geralt looked at Ciri—“We are.”

“You’re bringing a boy? It’s been a long time.”

“Not a boy,” Geralt said while Ciri approached them, pulling back her hood. “This is Ciri.”

“Oh. Forgive me, Ciri. Geralt, are you sure Kaer Morhen is the right place for her?”

“As long as your food is better than the dried shit we’ve been eating,” Ciri answered for him, “I’ll put up with you.”

***

“Again!”

Ciri wiped the sweat off her forehead with her wrist and looked at her feet, one in front of the other, standing on a narrow beam four feet off the ground. She held the wooden sword in front of her, keeping perfect balance.

“Now!”

The girl took two quick steps and swung the sword with all her might against the target—a leather sack roughly shaped as a person.

“Way too high. We’re aiming for the carotid artery. You remember where it is, right?”

“I’m not stupid, Coën.”

The young witcher smiled at her from below, his yellow-green eyes glinting playfully against his bronze skin. Both outsiders—Coën came from the School of the Griffin in Poviss—they had connected with each other from the start. Besides, Eskel was too calm for the energetic girl, Vesemir could be too protective and Lambert… Well, Lambert was insufferable.

“That’s what I thought,” Coën said. “Again, come on.”

Ciri returned to the starting position. She glanced from the corner of her eyes at the opposite side of Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. Geralt had said he would be sharpening swords but every time the girl looked at him, he was staring into the distance through a wide gap in the ruined wall. The girl focused back on the target and attacked.

“No, no, this time you got too close. Shorter steps. If you get that close to a good swordsman, they’ll hack you to pieces before you swing.”

“Ugh.”

“Come on, you were begging all day for sword practice.”

“Because you have me all day practicing stances!”

“What’s so bad about it? It’s just like learning to dance. Didn’t they teach you in court?”

“Oh, they did,” Ciri scowled at him. “And I hated it.”

“Don’t look at me like that with a sword in your hand,” laughed Coën as he approached her. “Hold the sword in front of you. See, your grip is wrong. You have to hold it… like this. Try again.”

Ciri got into position, took a deep breath and tried again.

“Better!” Coën patted her shin. “Your steps were fine, the strike was alright. But you have to swing faster or your enemy will parry easily. Again!”

The girl took a moment. She re-tightened her ponytail, stretched her arms and looked at the leather sack. There was a wrinkle in its surface that seemed familiar, almost like a frown staring at her above a pair of sharp cheekbones. She saw a dark helmet, crowned by two feathered wings. Cold sweat trickled down her back. But Ciri tightened the grip on her sword and fire burnt through her.

“Great! You did it perfectly! You have to show that to Geralt. Hey, are you alright? Ciri!”

Ciri felt the sword leaving her hand. She looked at it, slowly falling towards the ground. But the ground was further and further, and the sword became so small it disappeared from her sight. A sudden gust of cold wind stung her face and darkness surrounded her. Somehow, the girl knew she was standing on the same spot of the witchers’ keep. She then saw lights at the other side of the courtyard where Geralt had been sitting just a moment ago—only this time the wall was no longer in ruins. The air grew warmer and she was relieved to hear distant voices. But as the voices grew nearer, she recognized something unpleasant among them.

The torches were close. The stench of smoke, sweat and blood inundated the courtyard. An endless tide of people marched towards her. Ciri saw their eyes and shivered. They all glimmered with hate. Hate and bloodlust.

“Good men of Kaedwen!”

She noticed the clubs, the axes, the pitchforks. Stained with blood.

“You have done the hardest part. You must finish the job now!”

She heard sobs beside her. A group of kids. Some cowering in fear, some standing defiantly with short swords in their hands.

“To exterminate the pack one must kill every wolf, even the pups!”

Only two wounded witchers stood between the mob and the boys.

“You want to end this plague of mutants and freaks?”

A roar answered. Geralt and Coën looked back at her.

“Then have no mercy.”

***

The old man was sitting at an austere table. Surrounded by piles of books and parchments, he pored over the pages of a leather-bound volume. With each page he turned, a small cloud of dust took off, barely illuminated by a dying candle. The man was so focused on the book he barely heard the light steps approaching.

“Across the Veil,” said the voice behind him. “By Sebille Tilly, if I’m not mistaken.”

“One of the most influential books on the arts of revelations, prophecies and dreams, or so they say. Although poor Sebille’s prose wasn’t the lightest, I was just about to go from theory to practice on this dreams chapter. How is she, Geralt?”

“She just woke up. Fine, just a bit agitated. The vision she had…”

“What?”

“You know she called out to Coën and me. What she described, Vesemir… It must be the Fall of Kaer Morhen.”

A tense silence followed, finally interrupted by a sigh from Vesemir.

“And you both were in the vision, I suppose.”

“Ciri saw us at the courtyard, trying to protect a group of kids from the mob.”

“That happened almost a century ago, how would you…? I was one of the first to arrive here after the Fall. We saw the bodies, what remained of them. And I’ll never forget it, there was a group of students there, lying on the courtyard. I don’t know a damned thing about these visions of the past and the future, I’m just a fencing instructor. But I can’t help but feel this is bigger than Kaer Morhen, bigger than us.”

“I know. And she should be here by now. If she can’t help her… I don’t know what to do. I didn’t even believe in destiny before finding her, what am I supposed to do with this? I don’t care about the meaning of the visions, I just want her to be safe. And I know enough about mediums and Sources to realize someone must teach her to control her power before she hurts herself or someone else.”

Vesemir stood up and put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder.

“You said you trust her. She’s helped you before. She’ll help us now.”

Geralt squeezed Vesemir’s hand and nodded. “When I was hurt in Sodden, I don’t know if it was a fever dream but… I saw my mother. Visenna. She didn’t answer my questions but the look in her eyes was enough. Her silences were enough. She abandoned me because her life wasn’t fit for a child. She must have tried, I know that, but in the end it wasn’t enough. Look at us, what are we supposed to do with her? You took me, you trained and raised me, and I’m grateful for that. I would be dead otherwise. But I don’t want this for her. The danger, the hate, the loneliness of the Path.”

“Geralt. When I took you in, the School of the Wolf was in shatters. We were a ragtag collection of the few witchers lucky enough to be running errands far from here when the Fall happened. I had been on the Path, sure, but most of my life was here. I’d have never imagined I’d have to raise you, Eskel and Lambert. I did my best. But you… You shared the table with kings. You took impossible choices and bore the consequences. You saved a cursed princess and you protected the oppressed. You have friends among the elves, the dwarves, the dryads and the sorceresses. You are so much more ready for this than I ever was. And most important of all, you saved this girl. Destiny has brought you together for a reason. And I see how you look at her. You’re not Visenna, Geralt. You’re not me. And you’re not alone.”

“I just… Every night I close my eyes and I see Yen. I wish she were here. Because Ciri and I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for her. And I don’t even know if she’s alive… I must do this for Ciri—but also for her. Thank you, Vesemir. For everything.”

***

A few weeks passed since the incident in the courtyard. Ciri continued to train without experiencing more trances but her nights were becoming more and more restless. She usually woke up agitated in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. Strangely, she didn’t remember anything about her dreams after the incident, which did not make it any easier for her. And the lack of sleep was starting to affect her during the day.

“Ciri! Are you listening to me?”

“What?”

Geralt sighed. “Another bad night?”

Ciri yawned and nodded.

”Those damned nightmares,” Geralt said. “And this book is not helping. Too much dry theory. Let’s see… Do you see that shield over there, leaning on the wall? Well, this is the first Sign every witcher learns—Aard.”

Ciri saw the witcher’s fingers twisting and forming a strange gesture in front of him. An instant later, flames roared in a nearby hearth, an empty sack flew to the other side of the room and the shield fell with a heavy thud.

“Oh,” she gasped. “It’s like the trick you did with the manticore.”

“That was Heliotrop. Useful against a sudden attack. But it’s more advanced. Let’s focus on Aard, it’s the easiest Sign. You only need two things to do it. First of all, the gesture. Open your right hand. This finger… here. Bend this one… like that. And now extend these. Good. You can practice the full gesture now.”

“Aha! Not too hard. But why is it not working?”

“The second thing you need is concentration. You have to focus on what you want to achieve.”

“Alright. I want to knock that basket off that chair.”

“Good. You have to see in your mind how you’re going to do it. Close your eyes. Can you see it?”

“Mhm.”

“Then do the Sign.”

Ciri opened her eyes, arranged her hand forming the Sign of Aard and stretched the arm forward. But nothing happened. She tried again, with the same result. And again.

“It’s alright, Ciri. Sometimes it’s hard at the beginning. Remember, close your eyes. Focus. And… Don’t worry, I’ll do it again for you. Remember, you have to picture yourself doing it. Like this!”

The basket flew across the room.

“That’s what I’m doing! And I didn’t even moved it a bit. There’s no point, I’m blocked. I can’t do a simple Sign, I can’t control my visions and I can’t even sleep. It’s only getting worse. And I don’t see why this Sign is worth the effort, you only made an empty basket fly for a few yards and the people pursuing us are a bit heavier than that.”

“Hey, I know this is frustrating. But we’ll get through this, you’ll see. And Aard is very useful, I was just showing you how to do it. Besides, Signs can be intensified in some ways.”

“How?”

“Witchers have potions. Certain preparations can improve reflexes, build up stamina or accelerate healing processes. And strengthen the Signs too. But don’t get any ideas, a witcher potion would kill you on the spot. Only those who pass the Trial of the Grasses can bear the toxins and you know that’s not an option.”

“Then what’s the point of learning it?”

“There are other ways of intensifying Signs and magic in general. What you did that night in Cintra when you screamed… When you are pushed to your limits, your body and mind react differently.”

“So this will only be useful when I’m about to die?”

“Well, you can also provoke those reactions. In the end, what you need are heightened emotions. That stuff is not written in witcher books, I learned it from Yennefer. And I can tell you, it works.”

“Oh. Mmm. But how do you—”

The girl stopped when she saw the strange expression in Geralt’s face. The witcher cleared his throat. For an awkwardly long time.

“Anyways,” he continued. “We’ll get to that when you learn the Signs.”

The witcher was interrupted by hurried steps coming from the corridor. A smug face framed by rebellious red curls appeared from the doorway.

“Hey, you two! We have a visitor and I think you both know her. Come with me.”

Geralt and Ciri followed Lambert through the corridors of the eastern wing, making their way to the entrance hall of the old keep.

“Geralt, I knew you were fond of a certain sorceress. But I thought her hair was black. So tell me, does she enchant her hair when she gets bored or is this a different one?”

“Lambert.” Geralt looked at him with a stone face. “Stop.”

The witchers and the girl crossed the last doorway and arrived at the entrance hall. They almost bumped into Coën, coming from the stable laden with saddlebags. Behind him, among a sea of chestnut locks, a familiar face was nodding and smiling at something Eskel was saying.

“Welcome to Kaer Morhen, Triss,” Geralt said.

“Greetings, Geralt. You keep this castle of yours well hidden, I almost froze to death finding my way here.” She grabbed a wooden mug Vesemir brought to her and drank. “Now that’s better. Fiona! Glad to see you again, you look different. Come here, let me see you.”

“Fiona?” Lambert laughed. “I think you got the wrong girl, this here is Ciri.”

Triss looked at Lambert with a raised brow. Then at Geralt. She left the mug in Ciri’s hands and crossed her arms.

“We couldn’t take risks.” Geralt said. “There will be time to explain everything, but yes—her real name is Ciri.”

“You witchers are always full of surprises. Well, I have news for you too, Geralt.”

The sorceress noticed his suddenly blanching face and hesitated. Ciri saw him clenching his fists.

“Say it,” the witcher demanded.

“Yennefer is alive. We found her in Tor Lara, she portalled there from Sodden Hill somehow.”

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The expression on his face was something Ciri had never seen before. She saw relief, regret and hope. Her throat dried up all of a sudden and she drank from the mug. For a moment, she did not even notice the strange taste. Not until Triss looked at her with her mouth open.

“Ciri, that’s not for—”

The girl felt a freezing wind stinging her face and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was floating close to the high ceiling of the hall. She saw Geralt, Triss, Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert below. Coën came back to the hall in that moment too. She saw the fear in their eyes. And she heard a metallic, unpleasant voice. It took a moment for her to realize her lips were moving and the voice came from within her.

“Verily I say unto you, the era of the Wolf’s Blizzard is nigh! The sword and the ax will flood the earth with hate and discord for it will be the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt! Beware, you two, who will fall in this struggle as your kind fell here before. Two teeth will kill the Griffin! Three teeth will slay the Wolf! Past and future converge now, the serpent sinks its fangs in its own tail. The world will end amid the frost and begin anew from the seed of Hen Ichaer. Watered with the Elder and the Altered Blood, the seed will not sprout but burst into flame! Watch for the signs! You will know it is time when the rivers run red with the Blood of Elves.”

#the witcher netflix #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #eskel #witcher coen #vesemir #lambert #fanfiction

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 5 years ago

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Things get darker right before they get brighter in the end, something three plucky teens are about to learn. Sometimes you just want that darkness to have never had a reason to come for you in the first place. One has to be careful what they wish for, of course.

Welcome to the end, friends

Danny was on the ground, unmoving.

The ghost left with a cheerful wave, saying, “Tata!” Like he hadn’t just ruined their lives worse than the first time Tucker had heard Danny’s screams at their loudest. Like it was simply a wonderful day and they had engaged in the most wonderful of conversations, not a fight that ended with one of them-

Danny was in Tucker’s arms, unmoving and pale.

Tucker was trying everything he could think of, removing most of Tucker’s tops and trying to perform every life-saving action he knew off, pressing against his chest, trying to breathe more breath into his lungs, keeping pressure on the bleeding and burnt wound when he saw it.

Danny was in Tucker’s arms, unmoving, pale, and bleeding.

Tucker knew everything was blurry because tears were clouding his vision. He knew he was crying. He knew he was shaking with the force of his sobs and for once in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to give half a damn about that because Danny-

Danny was in Tucker’s arms, unmoving, pale, bleeding, and his heart wasn’t beating no matter how long Tucker listened for it.

Sam was doing something, pulling out Danny’s weapons, and Tucker wanted to scream at her that she’d done enough with Fenton weapons already. He wanted to scream and rage at her for what she had done so far with Fenton Tech. He wanted to go to the Fentons and rip them all a new one for making what they made.

Because Danny was dead in Tucker’s arms, and screaming and crying were the only things he could do about it.

But he didn’t scream at Sam, he just watched as she pulled out one of Danny’s paintbrushes and dipped it in the ectoplasm of the cartridge in one of his guns. She started drawing on Danny’s face, his arms, his chest, and then pulled out another cartridge of charged ectoplasm in another gun and poured it in Danny’s mouth, tilted his head so that he would swallow. “Chant with me. Chant with me Tucker, we have to fix this!”

Tucker didn’t know any Hebrew, decided he’d learn both because Sam was his friend and because apparently, she could do things that could save their lives with it. Tucker didn’t need to know what he was saying to say it, and he did say it, over and over again for the next 10 minutes, until the drawings on Danny’s body lit up like fire and every ray of light rushed toward him and everything went dark. Tucker could hear the song of the universe dimming in his ears and knew nearly for a fact that Danny was sucking the ectoplasmic energy into him along with every other flavor of power within blocks of him. Tucker would let the sun itself go black just to hear Danny’s laugh again.

The darkness faded, Danny’s body was outlined in light, the markings were gone, and Danny groaned. His chest rose and dropped, his heart was beating, color was coming back to his skin, he was as warm as he’d been since the accident. Danny was alive in Tucker’s arms, and Tucker wanted to cry even harder than he already had. Instead, the put Danny’s binder back on him, Sam grabbed his shirt and jacket, and Tucker carried Danny out to their hoverboards. They flew to Sam’s house, Tucker staying as high and close to the sun as he could to let Danny soak in all the light he needed. When they got to Sam’s house, Tucker didn’t let Danny go until he was being set on a love seat on Sam’s balcony.

There were, of course, jokes to be made about the way Danny curled up in the fleeting October sunlight and how his fluffball curls and height combined with this to make him much like a kitten. Jokes about him being a cross between Superman and the Martian Manhunter could’ve also been made. Danny was a white-haired anime boy, that could be remarked upon with laughs aplenty. Tucker made no such jokes.

Tucker put to use the information he’d gathered at his last LARPing session at furrycon after a shank attempt by a guy who’d wandered into the park where he’d been LARPing at that took their cosplay a bit too seriously. That being that leather was wonderful armor, silk blocked stabs fantastically when a blade slid through said leather, and that one should always wear cotton under silk anything because sweating to death after a fight near to death wasn’t fun. He’d smacked a crazy guy upside the head and gotten a useful lesson out of that. Tucker’s older cousin could supply the leather, Sam could order fine silk jackets and pants for all of them, Danny had cotton shirts already, and Sidney offered to use intangibility to fuse the two together. Tucker commented that the leather would look fitting on Sam since she was more of a punk anyway. She called him a furry, he called her a weeb, and they both explained the concepts to Sydney.

That was all fine and dandy against most blunt force, stabbing and slashing that even a ghost could probably do, but against ghosts and their intangibility, there were few places to go. Sam had her magick book but Tucker didn’t want to touch on anything supernatural for a while and unless she could prove that her wards were working, he wouldn’t exactly trust Danny’s life with them. Convincing Jack Fenton that he needed some easily worn and hidden accessory to prevent possession was almost sadly easy, the only condition being that Tucker had to wear one of those horrible looking hazmat suits. Tucker let it hang in his closet, as he had no intention of matching Jack Fenton’s fashion sense.

One might feel that Tucerk and his friends were being a bit excessive in their measures to keep Danny padded up against the world, but such an individual hadn’t seen their best friend since age 1 die in front of them by the same person’s hand twice so that particular person could kindly go shove their opinion where the sun don’t shine in Tucker’s very polite opinion.

Danny himself was groggy for most of his recovery time and had clearly caught on that they were being extra protective of him. While Sam was introducing Sidney to anime and videogames and Tucker was showing him the best comics and music, Danny always had whoever wasn’t with the others within arm’s reach. He was jumpy when it came to his ghost sense telling him that Sidney was there, had his hood up whenever they were outside, and even though they’d been near forcing Agatha’s cooking down his throat at every meal they could, Danny had yet to Go Ghost. Sam brought up the idea of taking down the shapeshifter and Danny balked at the topic, bringing up the frogs, the latest anime that she had shown Sidney or really anything else when she did this. Tucker was more than fine with this since no ghost mode meant no seeking out danger which meant that the only fights they were dealing with included Dash, Kwan and Dale making fun of them for being a furry, a weeb and a Fenton. Seeing Sam put her martial arts to use when Dash tried to stuff Danny in a locker was worth the detention he got for tripping Dale as he rushed in to help. He spent it with Sam anyway so that was fine. If wanting Danny safer than Amity was selfish then Tucker was as far from selfless as possible.

“Hey, Danny,” Tucker said while he worked on finishing up the Spector Deflector that Dr. Fenton had started for him in Danny’s workshop. “There’s a swap meet coming up in Harrison Park this Saturday. Wanna come with? I’m gonna get a set of dice if I can and see if I can show Sidney DnD. Maybe we all can play even.” He grinned. “We can get you a new bowling ball so you can destroy Sam in bowling.”

“Bro, you’ll be wrecked with her,’ Danny challenged from where he drew in his art book instead of doing his homework. Tucker was procrastinating by making ghost hunting tech, he couldn’t blame Danny. “That sounds cool.”

“Awesome.” Tucker set down his tools and pulled up his safety goggles. “Can you come over and poke this? Very lightly and just a little in case I’m as done as I think I am.” Danny obliged and there was a loud SNAP accompanied by a yelp and Tucker patted Danny’s shoulder. “Looks like I’m done with the internals. Now all I gotta do is adjust it so that it can ignore your ectosignature, and Sidney’s and Agatha’s, and it’ll really be done.”

“Done for your armor idea, right?” Danny scoffed, slugging Tucker in the shoulder while he looked for the blueprint he’d downloaded of the part that’d track ectosignatures in the Fenton Finder. “Sidney told me about it while we were watching Star Wars. Or should I call it his guard duty shift? Cause I know what you guys are doing and while I appreciate your concern over my safety, I’m the one with powers here.”

“20 hours straight of unconsciousness and tears say that superpowers don’t mean you don’t need protection against people with the same superpowers.” Tucker huffed. “If we’d been wearing some armor like we’re making then that fish thing probably wouldn’t have been able to bite through me like it did. Silk and piercing ya know.” He bumped shoulders with Danny when he went quiet and forced his lips up into a smile. “And besides, your parents have literally no fashion sense. A leather jacket lined with silk? Leather pants, probably with studs in it since Sam is involved? Dude, that’s cool as fuck looking. You’ll be the best-dressed ghost out there.” Danny laughed and shook his head. Tucker got to work setting up the design for the Fenton Fabricator™ to make for the Spector Deflector. He also considered asking for a cut of the royalties when the belt inevitably became a Fenton Brand item, since he’d finished it. “You think putting on clothes in ghost form will invert their colors like your suit?”

“Fuck you, Tuck, now I have to find out.” Danny huffed and Tucker snickered. For a moment everything was quiet, and then arms were wrapping around his middle. “Thanks, Tuck. For everything.” Tucker looped an arm around Danny and smushed him against his side.

“That’s what bros are for, man.” The room was a comfortable quiet after that. The Fabricator and the generator were humming softly at the edge of Tucker’s once again human limited hearing, the only other sound was their breathing and - Tucker could swear - their heartbeats. The air was charged with something more than ectoplasm and electricity and Tucker wasn’t sure if Danny knew that as well, but he knew that he could hardly know anything else right then. So naturally, Tucker lowered his hand at Danny’s side and started tickling him. Danny squeaked, squealed out some giggles, and phased out of his grip when wriggling didn’t work.

“You dick! Get over here!”

Danny appreciated the effort Sam, Tucker and Sidney were putting in for him, he really honestly did. Sidney still went to his therapy session with Jazz which Danny could tell were helping him by how bright his aura had gotten, and between him and Jazz at school there were at least a few bright auras to go around, but with how things were going, Danny felt at least a bit suffocated.

Half the auras at school - both student and teacher - were dim enough that Danny almost couldn’t see them. Dash and company had been especially vicious as of late, calling them every name under the sun and getting into actual fights with him, Tucker and Sam. Between the three of them they managed well enough - being dragged to martial arts lessons with Sam and fighting eldritch abominations from the afterlife did things for your confidence in facing up to bullies - but it hadn’t ever been this bad before. And while Tucker and Sam both were clearly brighter than everyone else emotionally, they were skirting around things in the most unsubtle way imaginable and Danny wondered how they kept anything hidden. Sam tried to get him into ghost form to see how fast he could fly, Tucker changed the topic from anything ghostly to something nerdy and Sidney seemed to stare at him as much as he did the movies they were watching. Sure, Sidney was keeping his eyes on the screen but Danny knew ghosts could see more than just with their eyes and the feeling of being constantly watched was getting more than unnerving.

Saturday was a breath of fresh air. Sam was maybe coming down with something and Sidney was off exploring the city on his own, so it was just Danny and Tucker buying the stuff they’d come for and laughing their heads off at their dumb jokes. It was sunny, the crowd was bright with positivity abound, and he was having fun with his best friend in the world. It was nice.

Of course, a ghost attack ruined it.

Cotton candy erupted and flooded the place, and Danny slid under a table while the crowds stampeded away, yanking Tucker under as well. He reached inside, past the void of darkness into the soft and splintered light at his center. It exploded out to the surface and in a flash of silver glass, shimmering shadows wove his hazmat suit around him and unraveled gravity’s hold on his body. He shuddered, glitching out of reality - or what he was so very hopeful and sure was reality anyway - and gave Tucker a smile. “Wish me luck.” He slid down into the ground and forward, rising out of a mound of cotton candy as big as himself. There was a woman with long black hair, dark green skin, and blue scarce clothing floating over the sweets and stretching her arms. “I understand a sweet tooth and all that, but this is a bit dangerously Much.” Danny held out a hand with a smile when a sneer was turned his way. “I’m Danny Phantom, hopefully nice to meet you.”

“ I am Desiree,” she said in some accented blend of every language that Danny knew. It was headache-inducing and he definitely didn’t like it. “ This confection explosion was hardly my intention boy, I am cursed to use my power to grant the wishes of all those who make them. ”

“What, like a jinni? If I find and rub your lamp and say ‘I wish I had a dick’ do you complete my tra-”

“ So you have wished it, so shall it be. ” Her hands went up, green smoke curled around him, through him, within him, caressed that inner light and warmth that was his human body, and Danny shuddered in the wake of power well beyond his ability to fully process. Before the smoke even cleared, Danny could hear Desiree speaking through gritted teeth. “ Yes, boy I am a Jinni. One of your kind cursed me, both to be trapped in that infernal bottle, but also to use my power for all who catch my ear. ”

Danny was reeling when the smoke cleared, giving himself a mental review of what he could feel on himself and gawked when he realized what had happened. “Um. Wow.” Desiree was clearly unimpressed. “Uh, well, I know a way I can he-” a ball of ectoplasma, charged up with energy, raced into Desiree’s gut and knocked her back and Danny really wished that people would stop interrupting him.

“Stay away from him, damn it! Can’t we have one nice day?” Tucker readied another shot and Danny waved his arms to tell him not to. “I wish I had stopped you from going into that stupid fucking portal! Then we wouldn’t be in this mess!” crud.

“ So you have wished it, so shall it be. ” FUCK . Green mist filled Danny’s vision, and everything went dark.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Bertrand #Tucker Foley #Sam Manson #Sidney Poindexter #Desiree #fanfiction #fanPhiction #Phanfiction #fanfic #Phanfic #fanPhic #Phanphic #PhanPhiction #Monstrous Chosen Spellslingers #Mundane to Monstrous Ghosts #Monstrous Mundane Magick #Rexy Writes

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crqstalite · 5 years ago

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SHADOW OF THE SITH, CH. 3

TRI'AMA_RISHI.

"If I hear one more person refer to me as a Howling Tempest gang leader, I will not hesitate to stab them through." Tri'ama deadpans, just loud enough so that anyone nearby could hear. Pierce stifles a chuckle as some of the pirates look away quickly from her gold tinged glare. The blonde sith was already tired of the pirate infested planet, and being considered one was infuriating. Being feared wasn't horrible, but if she was going to be feared, she was going to be feared for her status as a Sith lord, not some wayward gang leader.

Rishi was...interesting. Whatever vision she'd got to send her here was about to be shoved to the very back corners of her mind and she'd just wait to see what occurred because of it. After two years of being driven up the walls by the incompetent dark council (moreso by Darth Nox, but she digressed), she was ready to give up and hunt down the blonde Sith to get on with this Revanite business. She'd surprisingly had more fun then than wallowing in memories, alcohol and dealing with less than intelligent political leaders. The smell of salty water was settling into her bones and the near constant chatter of squatters and criminals alike nearly made her force choke one of those damned monkey lizards if their owners weren't holding onto them.

Damn those infuriating laughs of the tiny bastards.

The new armor helped with the heat of the planet itself though. The heavy armor that she typically donned on adventures proved to be too much within even an hour of being on planet, and she'd immediatly switched it out for a hooded half shirt, sleeveless, with a thinner pair of armored pants and clunky but breathable boots. Anyone one this planet with half a brain would steer clear of her anyways, so her midriff would be fine.

Had it been three years ago, she was sure she probably would've gotten at least a wolf whistle from Pierce, but the man had been surprisingly silent on her new look. Protective, even. Her haircut would have to wait until much later, as the blonde strands were beginning to inch down the nape of her neck and stick there. Tied back with a silk band, she'd had to lower her hood once she'd found some inch of shade and remove her respirator just to relieve herself of the pent up heat in her body. Zykken's information to find whoever did have said information on her was going to take a lot more than just her willpower to get done. She'd sent it to Vette to look it over, then extending it to Pierce, but the three of them couldn't make heads or tails of the intel. Her mind kept wandering to the person who was supposed to be good at these things, good with the insane amount of aurebesh that needed to be decoded, and it was hard to keep those thoughts at bay. The datapad, well, that was another story entirely.

And the Red Hulls. Some cannibalistic gang that apparently had also recently arrived on Rishi. Only days prior before she had landed, something about them had flared up and they were the literal talk of the small town. Some were beginning to gossip that the two new gangs would eventually fight each other, and at this point, she wouldn't exactly stand down if it meant they'd accept she wasn't a gang leader. Hell, those in the cantina when she killed Gorro still didn't believe her, even after she'd killed him by throwing him against and a wall and then progressing to snap his neck with just a twist of her fingers. People here were either stupid, or blind. Or both, if she was being honest. Gutter trash didn't always have brain cells rattling around in those skulls of theirs.

Guzzling down another unidentifiable drink (assured at force choking range that it wouldn't kill her and-please let me down-replenshing electrolytes and hydrating-yes please let me down ), she swiped at her forehead to keep the sweat from dripping into her eyes again. Looking over, she jabbed an elbow at her companion, "Aren't you dying in that pack of armor, Pierce?"

He didn't immediatly answer (a bad sign, Vette had been rather unresponsive while they were on Tatooine and though she'd reassured her, the blue twi'lek had passed out a half an hour later. The same with...him), and she forced a bottle of the blue liquid into his hands, "I'll be fine, m'lord." He finally responded after chugging down the contents and looking visibly relieved. Most would assume she was ruthless and vile with everyone, but even the literal hulk of muscle had carved out a place in her heart. She'd rather not have him collapse on her because of heat exhaustion.

"We can always head back to the Fury. It's been a long day, and there's no reason to force ourselves to stay out here when there's nothing to be found." She admits, the sun beginning to set over the shanty town as she disposes of the bottle and stands from her perch on the barrel. "Whatever's out here can be hunted down tomorrow if it truly is that much of an issue."

He chuckles darkly, "You were the one who forced us out here. Sure it'll cool down once the bloody sun is out of the way," he pauses, most likely because she's reclipped her respirator on and raises an eyebrow, "that's if you want to, m'lord."

She rolls her eyes at the formality. At one point, she saw it as a sign of power, having people respect her and be so absolutely fearful they always added her title, but there wasn't really a need for someone like Pierce to continue grovelling at her feet in such a manner. Well, maybe not grovelling (he pressed her buttons as often as Vette did, but those two were the only in the galaxy allowed to do so), but something closer to begrudging respect that she didn't enjoy. It was just, too close to the things he used to say. "If that's how you want to do it, then we'll stay out tonight, Ash."

The corners of his mouth quirk up into a bit of smile, one of the few times she's ever referred to him by even an inkling of his first name. They continue walking along for a bit, one hand always on one of her sabers before she can hear a crier droid clanking around the boardwalk. Stopping Pierce abruptly, she can just barely make out the droid's buzzing speech, "The Red Hulls have issued a challenge to the Howling Tempest gang! In an alleyway tonight, you may even find the two duking it out over Raider's Cove! Who will come out on top and really rule the Cove?"

"You were challenged?" He asks and she gives him a half shrug before turning to him, clearly even unsure of what he was talking about, and then her eyes were looking skywards at a building before smirking at the lieutenant. He sighs, "Leg up, eh?"

He does so, crouching down so she can climb over him to find a handhold to climb up the building, much like the small beats that stole every shiny thing they came across. Among the dizzying array of streets they could get lost in, it'd be easier just to scout the streets and find a general area of where the thing was clankering around. It was harder than expected, but easier than it had been once on Dromound Kaas when she'd attempted to scale a building to find a newly-appointed lord who thought it smart to disrespect Vette. Holding a hand over her eyes, she dangled precariously off the building with one hand and scouted the cove. While none stood out immediatly to her, something glinted harshly against the sun, and she had found her target. "Three klicks north, we can catch up if we hurry."

"Three? How can you hear that bloody thing then?" Pierce questions gruffly, just barely catching her as she slides down the building, air knocked out of him. "Sure there isn't one closer trying to blast our ears off?"

"There are so many alleys in this damn town, I'd rather go get the one I saw and pray it's still there." She says, nodding towards her sleek silver speeder bike. He climbs on first, and then her behind him as he revvs the engine.

He chuckles, throwing a look over his shoulder as she hooked one leg over the seat, "You gonna hold on this time?"

"If I must." She says, rolling her eyes. She wonders if he can tell how comfortable she's gotten around the soldier, willing to put her arms around his waist and lean into him. This, this isn't love. She knows that, though the struggling had only gotten worse after he had left. He was willing to let her sleep with him, but never pushed her any further than necessary. Let her cry, let her even take advantage of him at one point in some drunken fit she's forced out of her mind. She wasn't quick to say it didn't mean anything, it did, it meant she trusted him enough not to throw him out the air lock, but did admit she didn't have feelings for him. A small part of his mind had always been closed off to her, but at that moment she couldn't sense any repressed part of him. No regret, no sadness. Just...raw relief. Relieved because this meant she was regaining sense and was becoming herself again.

Not defined by someone.

Not defined by a hyphenated last name.

Just, her.

It left them much closer than they once had been, and less likely for him to get thrown through a bulkhead at every scathing remark he made. And every Watcher like position she made him take in retaliation. If the man hated one thing, it was being stuck on the ship and watching the action from above. To imagine the things that would've transpired if she'd given her heart to the lieutenant instead of the captain, how things probably still would've ended badly, just much more violent.

A thought for another night.

NAJI_RISHI.

"I didn't ever challenge anyone to gang war..." Naji mused, pulling her robes tighter around herself, as if that would help hide her in shadows of the dark town more than the force stealth would. Nadia shifted at her side, growing bored with the hiding technique. "If I didn't, who did?"

"I'm not sure, master. I don't think there's a signal force signature out here that would give them away either." Nadia remarks. It's a tad spooky speaking to a literal shadow, considering she couldn't even see her, or see her facial expressions. The darkness of Raider's Cove wasn't helping either, and it was a tad difficult to even know where anyone was. A dark furred Cathar had managed to sneak up behind her on the way to the alley way, and he was lucky he was just out of pole saber range. "You're really still keeping up this pirate thing though? It'd be easier to just abandon it all together."

"At this moment, we don't have anything to go on. It is easier to simply wait for the Howling Tempest's to show up and we can question them." Naji whispers, standing from her sitting position. It was still hot, but thankfully much cooler than it had been days before when they'd landed. She and Nadia had to hide in the cantinas to keep them from passing out. Jedi robes were, unsurprisingly, heavy and didn't leave much room for air. The two, keeping from garnering any unwanted attention, ended up in overcoats and looser tan clothing. Hiding the sabers had been harder, but the darkness of any room compared to the sun outside was enough to hide them. They ran into less questions than expected, other than the occasional 'so who are you running from?' from the occasional spacer.

"Be careful, please?" Felix had asked her once she was halfway off the Polaris, still a tad frustrated that he wouldn't take her with him to Rishi. Well, he acted as if he were unaffected, but he was pouting on the inside. "Dunno what I'd do if you died when I was away."

"I won't die, Felix. But if it makes you feel better, I promise to be careful." She says, rubbing the back of his hands with her thumbs. Calloused, roughened by years of war. But something about his eyes softened her insides to jelly. Dark, chocolate brown skin in comparison to her own sun-kissed pale hues, hazel orbs in comparison to her own azul irises. They were different, force blind, force sensitive, but she enjoyed their differences, and to think she'd let a pirate take her away from her soldier. "I love you." She whispers, pressing a kiss to his lips before Nadia appears at the top of the stairs.

"I love you too, Naj." Nadia passes by him, and he ruffles her white mop of hair, "Same goes for you Nadia. Be careful."

"Alright, alright." She says, trying to brush his hand away from her hair. While Nadia wouldn't say it, and still had a place in her heart for the memory of her father, she and Felix had a hard time not regarding the girl as their daughter. "Whatever you say, Felix." Nadia deadpans.

She nearly laughs herself, as dad was just on the tip of her tongue as Felix waved a final goodbye to the two women.

Still spooked her that someone had framed her as the leader of a cannibalistic gang even before she'd arrived. Sent a shiver down her core just listening to the rumors that quickly spread about her. Eating people? She wasn't anywhere near a picky eater, but the wide berth that had been given by most of the pirates and terrified looks behind their stoic appearances made her rethink going vegan.

Whoever really did go around eating people, she'd hunt down another day.

She heard the engine of speeder getting louder and louder, then abruptly stopping in front of the alley that she and Nadia had been hiding in. Pressing what she thought was the girl flatter against the wall, she was able to catch a larger man, decked out in black armor, making his way into the alley, rifle drawn. Others, the drunk night crowd she'd learned over the last few days, were slower to move away than the mostly sober ones who darted into shops or ran further into the alleys.

The woman who trailed after him, a woman on a mission with a lightsaber drawn and a red kyber crystal igniting it, made her blood run cold. No, no it couldn't be. It had to be some other Sith who just happened to be on Rishi at the same time as her. But one wavering gaze to where she and Nadia were hiding in plain sight, was enough to confirm that the Wrath had less than benevolent intentions of being here.

She pretended not to see her. Reaching out in the force, Naji could only feel a wall. Something between the force and her emotions, something she couldn't reach through. But it was ill-timed, because while attempting to do so, she had taken her mind off the Wrath long enough for the woman to pick up the roof of a stall and hurl it towards their current position.

Nadia just barely yanked her out of the way as the wooden roof crashed against the side of a building, and for a moment her ears were ringing as wood rained down on her and her padawan. "If you challenged me, show your face!" The Sith called out, all too close to where she and Nadia had just escaped near death. "I know you're here."

Hide your thoughts, hide your thoughts, she tried to reassure herself. The other girl couldn't see her, but reaching out to her in the force, they were quick regain their footing. Chunks of the roof came again, but Nadia forced up a barrier just in time, and Naji was quick to wrestle with the chunks from the Wrath. No longer invisible to the Sith and her companion, shots were fired off by the soldier as Naji managed to multi-task a bit and force a basket from a stand in his direction. With the Sith distracted, the chunks were in her control and she threw them back in their direction.

The two were quick, she'd admit. Too fast. Too soon, the Wrath had retaken the situation, and the soldier ducked out of the way, firing off a couple shots before his companion threw a chunk at the shield. Nadia was beginning to struggle, and as much as she tried to keep the woman distracted, she was beginning to fixate on the girl, growing closer and closer to the two before Naji could do anything. The wood was beginning to pound on their little safety bubble, and the gold light it was giving off was beginning to waver as Nadia's willpower did as well.

They had both gotten rusty over the last few years of being off the front lines. Now, they were paying for it.

"You wanted a challenge?" The wrath nearly purrs, before throwing one large panel of something from behind her. "Have one!"

Nadia ducks out of the way, rolling on her side as Naji puts up her own force shield, before something most literally pierces her shoulder, and she crumples in pain. Blood is beginning to gush from the wound, and her hand comes away sticky as she tries to figure what's happened. Eyes trained to the ground as she readjusts herself to be on her knees, her eyes trail upwards to the scantily dressed Sith Lord, and a quick reach with the force finds the rifle toting man now behind her that she hadn't seen before.

She's about to say something scathing before a fruit of some sort gets thrown -more like force thrown- at the Sith, and it clocks her in the head, a grunt escaping her as she can almost feel Nadia's giddy thoughts. Something she hadn't taught the girl, but it nearly made her laugh as anger flashed through the woman's eyes.

She raises one arm, and her heart stops when she hears struggling from her padawan, from her Nadia. Coughs, ragged breaths, as she holds her shoulder, hissing through her teeth from the pain. "Let her go!" Naji coughs out, red staining her pale fingertips.

The Wrath quirks an eyebrow, before Naji hears a slam and sees the woman throw her arm out to the side. Nadia hits the wall with a sickening snap, and Naji is about to have string of explatives leave her mouth before she hears more footsteps coming from the opposite direction. "That is enough!" With an Imperial accent.

Just barely turning her head, she can see green and black clad figure along with a red flash before she manages to stand herself. First, she rushes to Nadia, who groans first as her blue eyes crack open. Nothing seems to be immediatly broken, which fills her with undeniable anger. Fury, nearly, at the Wrath for hurting the girl.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There will be chaos if she hurts Nadia again, she thinks to herself.

"This wasn't the most conventional way to get them here, but I didn't think it'd lead to a fight!" Theron's voice, raspier than when they'd first met, but turning from Nadia's rising form, it's most definitely the SIS agent and his Sith companion. Her outfit had changed, but her blonde hair was still present. "Maybe you should've rethought this whole Sith and Jedi thing, Lana."

"I believed that the Barsen'thor would calm the situation first, though it seems the Wrath didn't give her the chance." Lana rubs her temples before turning to her, "Naji, it's been a while."

"It has." She grimaces, as the Wrath doesn't make eye contact with her. "You couldn't have sent a holo?"

"Discreet methods, I apologize for not making our intentions clear." Lana turns back to the Wrath, "You attacked the Barsen'thor?"

"In my defense, I was challenged by the leader of the Red Hulls at these coordinates. I didn't recognize them, fought them because of it. I wanted answers for why I was here and why someone pretended I was a gang leader." She responds, crossing her arms as her soldier reholsters his rifle. "You would have answers for me, wouldn't you?"

"We had to lure you here under false pretenses, but Lana thought it'd be smart to bring you both. Something about Revan being too dangerous to deal with, especially with only one of you, that we needed both." Theron responds, "This...wasn't supposed to happen."

"We're not the most predictable people either, Shan. That excited to see me?" And there it was, the same old Wrath with her flirtatous nature. That, hadn't changed even though her companion had. The burly man didn't seem to react at all, possibly they were weren't involved as she'd previously assumed.

"I..look, Naji will she be alright?" Theron asks, as Lana continues conversing with the Wrath. He hisses through his teeth once he gets a good look at her. "Will you be okay?"

"Nothing some kolto and meditation can't fix, Theron." She shakes her head and allows herself to smile, "It's good to see you too."

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #109: Emiya (Assassin)

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re continuing our trek through Fate Zero with the assassin class Edgemiya, with the ability to alter his own time and everyone’s luck. Despite all his cool powers, he’s still pretty depressed. Oh well, it’s probably nothing a few more builds won’t fix.

Check out Emiya’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. I am large- I contain multitudes.” -Walt Whitman

Race and Background

Emiya made a deal with the spirit of humanity to protect the human race, which is exactly why he’d make a great Hobgoblin... I’m kidding, he’s a Variant Human, for +1 Dexterity and Charisma, Arcana proficiency (or whatever else a rocket launcher would fall under idk), and the Crossbow Expert feat, allowing you to ignore loading crossbows, fire well with enemies in melee range, and dual wield hand crossbows. You can control the flow of time, you should be able to fire more than once a round.

You’ve fought in plenty of wars, but it’s hard to call a professional assassin anything but a Criminal. This gives you Deception and Stealth proficiencies.

Ability Scores

This is a pretty mono-ability build- make your Charisma as high as possible. You’re a pretty scary guy, and you shoot good. That’s charisma. Somehow. After that is Dexterity- you’re really stealthy, and really, really fast. Your Intelligence isn’t half bad. You can use plenty of fancy modern weapons, and you can hunt down mages to use them on. Constitution doesn’t have to be that high, you don’t need health if you just don’t get hit. Your Strength isn’t great, but it’s enough to get the job done. We’re dumping Wisdom, though-your entire characterization is about how much you regret making that deal with Alaya. You’re not bad at noticing things though, we’ll just have to patch that up with skills.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: You have a particular set of skills, and rogues start off with the most, so let’s spend a little time here for now. First level rogues get proficiency with Dexterity and Intelligence saving throws, as well as four rogue skills- Acrobatics to enhance your mobility, Intimidation for that no-nonsense attitude of yours, and Perception and Investigation to hunt down and destroy your enemies.

You also get Expertise, doubling your proficiency bonus for Stealth and Intimidation. Presence Concealment A+ is some good stuff.

You can also add a Sneak Attack bonus to damage done by attacks with advantage or directed at creatures who are occupied with other creatures. Right now, it’s just 1d6. You also learn Thieves’ Cant. It’s a language.

2. Warlock 1: Alaya’s kind of a lot of things to a lot of people, but Hexblades work best for us so a Hexblade it shall be here. As a hex warlock, you learn how to place a Hexblade’s Curse on a creature. It lasts one minute, or until one of you two dies, and you can use it once per short rest. While cursed, you can add your proficiency to damage against the target, all attacks made crit on 19s as well as 20s, and you gain hp when the cursed creature dies.

You also become a Hex Warrior, giving you proficiency with medium armor and martial weapons. You can also use charisma as your attack modifier for one weapon per long rest, as long as it isn’t two-handed. Right now, that means you’re using hand crossbows.

One last benefit of being a warlock is Pact Magic, spells you can cast using Charisma. Grab Eldritch Blast for more shooting and True Strike for more careful shots, Expeditious Retreat for some extra speed, and Cause Fear to drain the luck of one poor sap for up to a minute, rendering them unable to move closer and giving them disadvantage on attacks while you’re in sight for the duration. Sure, making yourself luckier would technically be more directly in line with canon, but it’s a “six in one hand, half a dozen in another” sort of situation.

3. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, extra ways to customize the Selling Your Soul Experience! You get two right now, but we’re saving one for The Obvious next level. Grab Thief of Five Fates for yet another way to ruin someone’s day. You can cast Bane once per long rest by using a warlock spell slot. This reduces all the saves and attack rolls of three creatures who failed their charisma saves by 1d4 for up to a minute. The DC on those saves, by the by, is 8 plus your proficiency bonus plus your charisma modifier. You can also cast Hex now, in case your enemies weren’t unlucky enough. This makes your attacks deal extra necrotic damage, they get disadvantage on ability checks with one ability, and you can move the effect to another creature if the first drops to 0 hp, which is nice considering it lasts an hour.

4. Warlock 3: Pact of the Blade time! This level lets you summon a magical pact weapon as an action. This weapon always has the benefits of being a Hex Warrior, and thanks to Improved Pact Weapon it can also be a ranged weapon. Specifically, it has to be a Light Crossbow now, because weapon requirements in D&D are obtuse and terrifying.

On a lighter note, you get second level spells now! You can speed up enough to create a Mirror Image of yourself, creating three copies of yourself on the same square you’re standing. If you’d take a hit, there’s a 75% chance a copy will get hit instead and get destroyed, leaving you with only two, and so on.

5. Warlock 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for better... everything, really.

You can also cast Minor Illusion to leave afterimages further away from yourself, and Blur, which gives creatures attacking you disadvantage.

6. Rogue 2: Back in your other class, you learn how to make Cunning Actions, speeding up your Dash, Disengage, and Hide actions so they can fit in a bonus action instead.

7. Rogue 3: It’s no surprise that you’re an Assassin. I mean, it’s your class, but it’s also your subclass. As an Assassin, you can Assassinate enemies that are surprised and/or slower than you are. You have advantage on creatures who haven’t taken a turn yet, and hits against surprised creatures are instant criticals. Speaking of advantage, you can use your Steady Aim as a bonus action to give your next attack advantage, at the cost of losing al your movement for the turn. Despite this, you’ll have plenty of ways to move in a pinch if you really have to.

Also, your sneak attack goes up to 2d6.

8. Fighter 1: Yes, it’s another 3-class build. Don’t worry though, this one’s just a splash. As a fighter, you get a fighting style- Archery will make your shots even more accurate than they were before. You can also use your Second Wind as a bonus action for a bit of healing. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding time for a breather, after all.

9. Fighter 2: Second level fighters can use an Action Surge once per short rest to add an extra action to a turn. Save up for a burst of gunfire, or cast Mirror Image and Blur at the same time to become almost invincible have fun with it!

10. Warlock 5: Speaking of doubling up on things, at fifth level warlocks get another Invocation. Thirsting Blade lets you attack twice per action. You can also move fast enough to Blink out of existence. On the end of each turn for a minute, you have a 50% chance to enter the ethereal plane until the start of your next turn.

11. Rogue 4: Use your next ASI to grab the Piercer feat, for +1 Dexterity, the ability to re-roll one die of piercing damage per turn, and an extra critical hit die when you shoot somebody. If you don’t plan on wearing medium armor, this will also increase your AC.

12. Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues gain an Uncanny Dodge, spending your reaction to halve the damage of a single attack. I’d think you wouldn’t get hit by this point, but nat 20s happen to everyone eventually. Also, your sneak attack is 3d6 now.

13. Rogue 6: Use your second round of Expertise to double down on Perception and Investigation. You’re a professional, you’ve got to get results.

14. Rogue 7: Seventh level rogues get Evasion, making you fast enough to outrun fireballs. If an effect makes you roll a dexterity save to halve damage, a failure makes you take half damage now, and a success completely negates it. Your sneak attack reaches its final form at 4d6.

15. Warlock 6: Sixth level hexlocks can make an Accursed Specter once per long rest out of humanoids you kill. They stick around until your next long rest. This is very not in character for you, but free help is free help.

To help with all that killing, you can also cast Spirit Shroud, adding extra damage to short-range combat, preventing healing, and slowing down nearby enemies.

16. Warlock 7: You can now burn spell slots to power gunshots thanks to Eldritch Smite, which adds a lot of force damage to a weapon attack. To help maneuver around the battlefield, you can also cast Dimension Door for a quick burst of speed.

17. Warlock 8: Use your last ASI to maximize your Charisma for stronger spells and weapons. You can also cast Shadow of Moil for that dramatic shadowy look you get at higher ascensions. It also works as yet another reason people really shouldn’t hit you.

18. Warlock 9: Ninth level warlocks max out their spell slots at fifth level, allowing you to cast Far Step for a longer speed-up session. While the spell lasts (it’s concentration, up to a minute) you can use your bonus action to teleport 60′. You also get the invocation Trickster’s Escape, which lets you cast Freedom of Movement for free once per long rest. While active, your latent timewarping prevents you from being slowed down by magical effects or difficult terrain. (At least that’s what it looks like from the outside. They don’t need to know you secretly spent two turns getting through those hedges.)

19. Warlock 10: Our final gift from Alaya is the Armor of Hexes. If you’re going to get hit by a hexcursed creature’s attack, you can use your reaction for a 50/50 chance of ignoring the attack completely.

You can also cast the cantrip Friends this level. You’re scary, this’ll make you scarier for a bit.

20. Warlock 11: Having sixth level spells on short rests would be busted, so instead of growing your spell slots warlocks get a Mystic Arcanum. This lets you cast one sixth level spell once per long rest, like those plebeians with spellbooks. Your spell is the Circle of Death, letting you go full on Reaper on a pretty large area, dealing 8d6 necrotic damage to every creature that fails a constitution save in a 60′ radius sphere. It’s not dexterity, purely because there’s that many bullets flying around.

Pros:

You are very, very good at critical hits. With a doubled chance of critical damage and guaranteed crits on surprised creatures, you’ll be rolling a lot of dice pretty often. Especially since you can take advantage of critical hits easily thanks to your smites and sneak attacks.

While you can dish out damage easily, you’re also great at avoiding damage entirely, with plenty of spells that make you harder to hit, teleportation to get out of tricky spots, and multiple ways to dodge attacks even if they’re critical hits. Your mobility also makes it a lot harder to escape from you.

Maxed out charisma, the archery fighting style, and free advantage from Steady Aim means even after the fight starts you can still deal consistent damage over long periods of time. Your shots are going to land more often than not, and they land pretty hard.

Cons:

While you can deal damage over time, your kit is definitely geared more towards short bursts, because most of your skills are on a strict cooldown, with one or two uses per short rest. This is especially true of your spell slots. Warlocks eat up spells fast, especially if you’re using them for offense and defense.

Your low wisdom means you’re going to be fooled by illusions and charmed pretty easily. As a precaution, it might be best to use up your burst damage skills as soon as possible. You really don’t want to have to turn 9d8 + 4d6 + 12 damage on your party members.

Your HP isn’t that high, barely scraping above 100 at higher levels. While you have a lot of ways to make that last a lot longer than you’d think, there’s always the chance your DM’s getting sick of you surviving everything and will just throw someone with Power Word Kill your way.

#Fate Grand Order #D&D 5e #Emiya Assassin #FGO #Fate and Phantasms

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deaky-disco-queen · 5 years ago

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Who You’re Gonna Call? - Breaky Week Day 7

A/N: My final piece for Breaky Week! It’s for the prompt Someone Dies (None of the Boys dies, don’t worry, it’s really fluffy) and I Kind of barely skimmed the prompt but I really wanted to write this so here it is. Also there is a Tiny reference to some gore and murder and a suicide Happening so if that’s triggering for you please be careful or just don’t read it. It’s really minor but just to make sure.

Can also be read on AO3.

+++

“Guess what I bought!”

John sat on Brian’s desk, kicking his legs against his chair, grinning in the way that made his eyes crinkle up and showed off his tooth gap. Brian tried very hard not to be endeared by it but failed.

“What did you buy?” He asked.

“A spirit box!”

He showed him some weird device that looked like some kind of radio or walkie-talkie of some kind. Brian blinked several times, trying to make sense out of what John had said and what he was seeing.

“A what?” He then asked.

“A spirit box! It’s really cool! You can talk to ghosts by scanning through radio stations and they can use the radio waves to string sentences together. In a way.”

Brian groaned in annoyance and buried his face in his hands. John laughed and boxed him in the shoulder playfully, obviously enjoying his pain. He almost regretted saying yes when John had asked him to join his weird ghost hunting show as a co-host but he knew it was John’s passion project and he was his friend first and foremost and he didn’t want him to fail at his job just because Brian didn’t want to risk being awkward around his crush. Also, he didn’t want to imagine how this would have turned out if head asked Roger to be his co-host.

It didn’t stop him from wondering why he even liked John, though.

Nobody frustrated him quite like John. It wasn’t just the fact that he kept arguing with Brian that ghosts were real- they weren’t- or that they seemed to disagree on many other things that were so trivial it shouldn’t matter. Except when it came to John, they did and most of the time, they could be found squabbling about one thing or another. John was also very fond of playing tricks and little pranks on him. It was never anything mean so Brian never got mad at him. It just didn’t made any sense why Brian fell for him of all people.

“Deaky…” He said, already feeling a headache coming. “You’re not really believing that, are you?”

John shot him a look that told him he did, in fact, believe it and Brian groaned.

“Alright, sure, I’ll humor you. How does it work?”

“I’ll show you at the location today. Finish up whatever you have to do and meet me at your car.”

John grinned and jumped off the desk and patted his shoulder when he passed him and Brian sighed and rubbed his temples before he went back to work.

+++

“Oh, that looks like a haunted castle right there!”

John laughed and spread his arms out as he grinned widely at Brian. Brian was frowning up at the castle. If he had to pick a location for making a horror movie it would probably this one. It was old, with ivy growing over the walls and the towers, the windows were dark and it loomed over them on top of a hill.

“I hate it already.” Brian said.

He shot the camera John was holding a quick look before adjusting his gear and double-checking the battery stand on his own gear. It would be a long night and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

“Do you have your sleeping bag?” He asked John.

John gently kicked a bag on the ground in front of him and Brian nodded happily, crossing that from his mental To-Do-List.

“I can’t wait to meet some ghosts!”

Brian rolled his eyes on him but followed John towards the castle. It was even more creepy inside than outside. It was dirty- unsurprisingly, nobody lived here and the owners probably wanted to play up the whole ‘haunted’ look- and dark with weird portraits, old armors and typical medieval style decor around. And lots of spider webs.

“This is-” They both started at the same time.

“-gross as fuck.” Brian finished, wrinkling his nose.

“-fantastic!” John said, grinning wildly.

They exchanged a quick glance, before breaking into giggles. They made sure to get some good footage of the unsettling hallways until they came to a big ballroom of some kind.

“Hello, ghosts!” John yelled, cheering when it echoed through the room.

Brian shook his head at him but filmed it anyway, keeping the camera on his face to capture the childish delight on his face.

“So tell me why we are here, then.”

John’s face lit up visibly and Brian smiled despite thinking this whole thing was kind of stupid. He was cute when he got excited. And if it meant he had to listen to a ghost story and John’s rambling for a while, then so be it. Brian sat down on the windowsill and waited until John had set up their tripod. Their legs brushed together when he sat down next to him.

“Alright! Welcome to another episode of Unsolved! Today we are here in the Thrawcliff Castle where some extremely fucked up shit happened and we will try and get some ghosts to tell us more about it!”

He smiled at Brian before he went off about the history of the castle. Apparently, some 500-ish years ago the son of a rich family that owned the castle started hearing voices and developed violent tendencies that ended with him murdering his three siblings and his parents, only to commit suicide afterwards. It was a unsettling and sad story but once John got to the part where he talked about people feeling presences and apparitions, weird happenstances and whatnot, Brian felt the need to roll his eyes.

He let John talk, not feeling like he had anything but skepticism to add and while that was the whole reason he was here in the first place, he didn’t want to dampen John’s fun just yet. Not that he would, John seemed to not give a shit whether Brian was a fan of a location or not, still excited and determined to find a ghost. Or proof of a ghost.

“This is going to be fun!”

“Well, at least you can see the stars very well tonight.” Brian added, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Stars and ghosts, we’re in for an amazing night!”

“No ghosts, just stars, Deaky.”

John grinned at him, knocking their shoulders together, not even bothered by his lacking enthusiasm. He was probably used to it already, they have been doing this for a while now, after all.

“Why not both? They are not mutually exclusive.”

“Ghosts don’t exists, stars do.”

“How do you know?”

Brian groaned loudly.

+++

They decided to test John’s spirit box thing on top of the tallest tower.

It was a horrible loud, piercing noise and Brian physically flinched back when he heard it for the first time and it didn’t get better with time. Brian hated it. He didn’t think he could hate it any more than being in a unsettling place in the dark and sleeping there but he was proven wrong. John loved to do that and he managed it again.

“It switches through radio channels so ghosts can string words together to talk to us.” John explained to him.

Brian only barely resisted the urge to cover his ears.

“Let’s go and ask the ghosts some questions, why don’t we?”

It was stupid. John was just talking to static with no answers- the unintelligible stuff- didn’t count because it wasn’t words- but he was ecstatic about the whole thing and kept asking questions. Brian had no idea how he did not get frustrated by getting nothing concrete in return over and over again.

“Isn’t that amazing?” John asked.

“Amazingly annoying.”

John rolled his eyes at him.

“Come on, let’s do solo investigations!”

+++

The thing was, Brian didn’t believe in ghosts. He was a man of science and ghosts just didn’t seem like a plausible thing to him. Aliens, sure, space was just too big for them to be the only intelligent life form out there but ghosts? He couldn’t believe in it no matter how many different theories John proposed to him. None of the evidence convinced him enough to believe in it.

But Brian was still very afraid. Not because of ghosts, because that was stupid, but because there were so many other things to be afraid of. Ghosts may not scare him but potential injuries while being far away from medical help, getting an infection from the filthy surroundings and meeting some random serial killer sure did. The last one wasn’t really as likely as the others but he was still afraid of somebody lurking in the shadows of wherever they were, just waiting to get a chance to rob him or whatever. People were way scarier than ghosts.

So he hated the solo investigations because it was scary to be alone in a dark hallway in a creepy castle.

“God, fuck, okay. This is still stupid but here we go: Hello, ghosts.”

He walked down the hallway, his flashlight shaking slightly.

Their fans found it hilarious that the skeptic of all people tended to get the most scared. Brian liked to think it was because he had common sense. John would happily invite a demon to possess him if it let him prove their existence. And Brian could respect that dedication. He just wished it wasn’t ghosts and demons and all of these kinds of things John was so obsessed with. It would save him so much trouble.

“Damn you, John.”

He slowly made his way down the stairs into the dungeon- because of course all the gory things happened in the dungeon and many gory and downright disgusting things had happened here if John had been telling the truth- and he started to question his life choices again.

“If there is anyone in here with me, please speak up.”

Of course there was only silence and Brian sighed.

“Please don’t make me use the stupid box. Just talk to me so we can call it a day.”

There was still no answer and Brian sighed again, louder this time, and set down the spirit box and turned it on, flinching at the ugly sound it made. He tried to get some ghosts to talk to him but- unsurprisingly- got no response and left the dungeon as soon as John called him to tell him his ten minutes were up.

“How was it? You scared? Met a ghost? Or a serial killer? Maybe a weirdo in a trenchcoat?”

“Stop making fun of it and get us a ghost, I want to leave.”

John laughed and made his way downstairs while Brian set up their sleeping bags in the ballroom. He could hear John yelling at the ghosts- air-, demanding them to show themselves and talk to him. He was mercilessly taunting him and Brian could never understand how John could believe in them and yet be so incredible fearless. He read all these stories about them doing terrible things and causing violence and stuff and yet he didn’t seem to be scared at all. Or his way of dealing with being scared was cursing ghosts out.

After a while, it grew quiet and Brian knew John had finished his private investigation and waited for him to come back.

“Find anything?” Brian asked.

“Oh, I got some really interesting answers! I’ll show you later. Are you ready to go to sleep?”

+++

Brian could never sleep at locations and today wasn’t an exception. It was cold and uncomfortable and he was still afraid someone with bad intentions was going to show up. He just lay in the dark, turned away from John to see the door to the room which probably didn’t help his paranoia much.

“Can’t sleep?” John asked quietly.

“You know I can’t.”

He could hear John shift behind him and then he was kicked in the back until he turned around to face him. John’s face was barely visible in the darkness but he could make out his silhouette faintly.

“Nothing is going to happen to us. No bad people will come for us. No one but us and the ghosts here. And since you don’t believe in those, you’re good.”

“I know that.” Brian whispered. “It’s called an irrational fear for a reason.”

John chuckled softly and Brian hit him blindly in the chest, grinning satisfied when he let out a low groan.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from any ghosts and serial killers. I promise.”

It didn’t really calm Brian in any way but it was a nice sentiment. He didn’t have to tell John that- he knew that- and so he didn’t and just let the silence between them drag on.

“Oh for fucks sake, c’mere.”

“What?”

Before getting an answer, John unzipped his sleeping bag and reached for him, pulling Brian close. John was way stronger than he looked.

“Let’s zip us together.”

Brian tried to argue but it was a weak attempt and he held the flashlight so John could make their two sleeping bags in on big one. Then, he forced him to lie down facing away from the door, his head resting on John’s arm and their legs tangled together. His nose was almost touching his shoulder and Brian felt himself blush.

This wasn’t what normal friends did, was it? Though, normal friends wouldn’t go ghost hunting together either so was he really in any position to judge? John might not be the most touchy-feely guy but they had been friends for years now and he didn’t mind Roger or Freddie being all over him.

“Are you comfortable?”

Brian nodded despite it being a bit of a lie. He didn’t know where he was supposed to put his hands so they were just awkwardly laying between them. John didn’t seem to have this kind of problem, easily wrapping his arm around Brian’s waist.

“Good, then sleep. I’ll fight any evil people trying to get to us.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Brian said.

“No, just in love with you.”

Brian’s breath got caught in his chest. John’s bravery floored him over and over again. Of course he had no issues just confessing his love like this, as if it was nothing, as if he had nothing to fear, nothing to lose. Sometimes he wished he had even half of this bravery. But even now, he could not say anything even though he really wanted to.

“It’s okay, Bri, you can confess your crush tomorrow. Maybe over brunch?”

“Brunch sounds nice.” Brian choked out.

John hummed satisfied and pressed a short kiss into Brian’s hair.

“Great, looking forward to it.”

#breaky #BreakyWeek2k19

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