#right in front of her undead army

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever. 

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool. 

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges. 

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in. 

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router. 

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message. 

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis. 

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely. 

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath. 

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once. 

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does. 

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time. 

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach. 

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering. 

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are. 

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied. 

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.” 

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door. 

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this. 

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting. 

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one. 

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps. 

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside. 

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out. 

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.” 

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts. 

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask. 

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house. 

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally. 

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town. 

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds. 

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning. 

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall.  He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin. 

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks. 

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest. 

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex. 

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims. 

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee. 

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside. 

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him. 

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side. 

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist: 

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[in1-nutshell]

Hi! I’m happy to see your requests are open again and I hope you’re doing well!

Could you do a request of tfp Ophelia taking dark energon? Like a little what if scenario before Soundwave took her to the autobots. I got the idea from when Lithia took the synthetic energon and wondered how Ophelia would be if she took the dark energon and how everyone would react.

I hope you can get to this when you can and make sure to take care of yourself and take breaks if you’re too exhausted!

Poor, poor Ophelia...

She needs all the hugs.

Hope you enjoy!

Ophelia gets Dark Energon

SFW, Platonic, Familial, ANGST, Cybertronain reader

TFP

This takes place the day Megatron comes back to the Nemesis after the failed attempt at raising the small army of the undead.

It was time to start thinking of the future after Optimus’s termination.

The future of the Decepticon’s.

The warlord had the perfect idea how to ensure the prosperous future of the army.

Ophelia walking nervously into the storage room.

Ophelia: “Megatron? You called?”

Megatron stood in front of one of the bigger windows of the ship. The Dark energon glowing in one of the farther corners of the room. Megatron turns around with one servo behind his back.

Megatron: “Ophelia, my dear, come closer.” Ophelia looks a bit stunned by this sudden soft tone.

Hesitantly, she walks over to him. Megatron feels slightly hurt and irritated seeing her nervously walking to his side. He kneels placing a servo on her shoulder. She freezes a bit at the gesture. He was hugging her?

Megatron: “My sparkling, my darling sparkling, you are going to be the greatest Decepticon this army has ever seen.”

He pulls her into his arms. Ophelia is stunned but nestles her chin on his shoulder smiling weakly. She couldn’t remember when was the last time the two had shared a moment like this.

Maybe it was time he finally realized his mistakes, his wrong doings, his--

SHING!

Megatron plunged the large shard of dark energon into her back struts.

Ophelia gasped: “Megatron…?” Megatron: “The Greatest Decepticon this army will ever know.”

Ophelia opens her mouth trying to scream from the pain, but all that comes out are little cries. She tries to get out of his grip, but he simply held her tighter and pushing the shard deeper. Tears begin to spill from her optics. Ophelia croaking: “F-father… why?”

She goes limp in his arms. Megatron lets go and puts the limp frame on the floor. He stands up and walks to the door. There is a moment of hesitation, but the warlord brushes it off and walks out the door.

It takes a few hours before anyone finds out what happened to Ophelia.

The minicon was quiet throughout the rest of the day.

There was a dead look in her optics.

Barely acknowledging anyone on the ship, not even a smile or wave for Steve.

This set off many alarms in the minds of the Decepticons on the Nemesis.

It was Soundwave who found out about what Megatron had done.

He was furious at what his leader had done.

He goes to Knockout and Breakdown for any information on how to extract the Dark energon from her frame.

They did eventually get a way to drain the energon, but by that time much had changed with the minicon.

It felt like another Megatron was onboard.

Except this Megatron was quiet and always lurking in the shadows.

Not even Starscream wanted to be in the same room as her.

A permenat look of disappointment was plsted on her face.

Megatron seemed to be the only proud mech on the Nemesis.

He was especially pleased seeing how she would stand right back up after deep slashes and harsh kicks.

Energon spraying the walls of the room, none of the fighters backing down.

Megatron didn’t know the fury that lied underneath her servos.

Soundwave didn’t know the detailed plans in her mind.

The crew didn’t know she was simply biding her time.

Ophelia would be The Greatest Decepticon the universe would ever know.

It would start with the end of Megatron.

[odditycircus-2002]

Important question but how would Shang have reacted if medusa reader had died between Mkx or something, like not long after many of the other characters were turned into Revannts, she got taken out as well despite her best efforts, and got resurrected by Quan Chi. How would he react when he comes back in mk11 to his wife’s death and turned into a undead servant.

Short answer: Astonishment at the fact Quan-chi managed to get his hooks into her. Shortly follows by a cold fury he barely manages to contain. Given who is allies are and the fact he’s got beef with EVERYONE, he’s not going to show the full extent your death and enslavement has on him. Granted, Medusa!Reader doesn’t exactly make it easy.

Long answer below:

Fujinn groans as he blinks against the low torchlight. The first thing he notices is the feeling of cold metal wrapped around his wrists, and just a glance up confirms what he suspected to be true. He's chained to the ceiling with both his arms in the air. The demigod's chains rattle as he looks to his left and right to find Night Wolf and Shang Tsung chained by their hands with their backs against pillars decorated with skulls.

"Night Wolf! Shang Tsung!"

Fujinn's calls finally rouse the Matokka and Sorcerer from their stupor. Both men take a quick moment to observe their surroundings, which look to be made in a gothic style, with bones decorating every surface as far as they can see. Night Wolf is the first to speak.

"Where are we?"

They already had a good idea where they were, given that the last thing they recalled was attempting to sneak past the Netherealm armies, only to be captured by Lui Kang's Revenant. That and Shinnok's decapitated head directly in front of them, where its been placed on a wheel that crackled with red lightning. Just as Shang Tsung was about to answer, a familiar voice beat him to it.

"Why, you're in Lord Shinnok's Bone Temple."

Shang Tsung feels his heart skip a beat at that voice. While it's raspier than he remembered with a dual undertone, leaving a faint echo to your words, he's known it for so many eons that he'd recognize it anywhere. Yet, as he tried to turn his head to the side to catch even a glimpse of your figure, you were already gone. Instead, he's met with former Empress Sindel's Revenant.

"Sindel, you look well. Death becomes you."

He comments with his usual poise and smug expression, barely faltering when Sindel scratches his cheek.

"Always the charmer, Shang Tsung. I will enjoy feeding Lord Shinnok your soul."

Your voice could then be heard again; this time, the Sorcerer can get a good look at you.

"Can we not have ssssome fun with them first? I'm sure our Lord has been dying for some entertainment."

You stood in front of the pillar Night Wolf was chained to with a veil that covered the upper half of your face with a familiar, serene, and sinister grin he fondly remembers. However, you had undergone many changes after his death. Like the rest of the Revenants, your once vibrant and lively form had become an ashen grey, with your snakes becoming black as coal with glowing yellow eyes. While he couldn't see your eyes, as usual, he could make out a faint glow from behind the mask; no doubt, your gaze had become filled with fire with barely a trace of you left. You had a thick orange line covering the entire neck like that of a choker, yet Shang Tsung already knows that's the injury that killed you after Sindel chopped your head off.

Sindel scowls at you. "This would not be because you wish to keep the Sorcerer for yourself, would it?"

You reply with a clear, patronizing tone while waving your taloned hands in front of you. Sindel and Night Wolf scowl deeply at you. The latter's expression shifts into one of disgust as you lean close to him, your nest of snakes snapping their jaws just a hair's width from his skin.

"Oh no no, Sssindel. Fujinn and Night Wolf, the man who killed you, most certainly deserve to suffer. I am simply reminding you to enjoy yourself while doing so, to entertain our Lord. However, if I may make a suggestion,"

In the blink of an eye, you stood before Shang Tsung to gently caress his face, careful with your talons, unlike Sindel.

”Wouldn’t he make a better Revenant than a snack for our Lord? Surely, it could never hurt to ensure our victory for the New Era by recruiting more minions.”

The Sorcerer's gaze narrows in a mixture of cold fury and dejection. How could Quan-chi, that second-rate Sorcerer, have the gull to claim his wife as a minion? How could you, a conniving sorceress who's always stood by his side for centuries, be brought so low? He should've been wiser as to listen to your suspicions of Quan-chi.

Yet, it's a relief to know that even in your sorry new form, your love hasn't wavered. Even if said love includes you briefly scuffling with Night Wolf's Revenant on his behalf, only so you could drag him to what remained of Shinnok to make him "better and stronger" once you see the damage the Revenant did to his face.

"I am sure Lord Shinnok will resurrect you once I convince him of your worth. I did not forget our vows, my love. Not even death will part us forever; soon, we will never be apart."

Fortunately, Fujinn interfered before you could carry out your plan, by sending an arrow in your direction which you easily dodge. You hiss at the demi-god as you move your entire body in front of Shang Tsung to block him from view.

"HE. ISsssSss. MINE!"

You then pounce at Fujinn who held out his crossbow in front of him to jam between your jaws, preventing you from sinking your fangs into his flesh.

Despite the flashes of pain that pulsated from his face, it still touched Shang Tsung to know that you still remained so steadfast in your devotion to him, as much as you could under Shinnok's control anyway. There's no use in stewing in his anger and astonishment for now. He will succeed in resurrecting both you and Sindel, then claiming Kronika's crown for himself with you by his side as his muse while rebuilding fate and destiny in his image.

A/N: I hope this answered your question well enough😅Don't forget to comment, like, and reblog!

[theluckywizard]

A Sense of Duty

This is a self-contained fic of a tense conversation between Commander Cullen and warrior Garrett Hawke. It pairs with Chapter 65: The Return of my long fic In the Shattering of Things, but I've written in the context so anyone could enjoy a good Hawke v. Cullen throwdown in the Inquisition era.

Summary: As commander of the Inquisition forces, Cullen needs to have a chat about tactics and protocol with his old acquaintance, famed warrior Garrett Hawke after spurious reports come in from Crestwood. The mountain of history between them and the salacious rumors about Hawke and Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan make this conversation more intense than he expected.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

“I’m sure by now you’re familiar with the Inquisitor’s background,” he begins.

Hawke nods, clutching a hand over his shaggy, unkempt hair to keep the gusts from claiming it.

“I’ll start by saying that she has my full support. But it can’t be understated how inexperienced she is in combat situations.”

“I’m well aware, Cullen,” says Hawke, reaching for his given name for the first time in several years.

Cullen snorts softly before continuing. “I know you’re a talented warrior. I know you fought in the King’s Army. Your accomplishments are well-known. But the Inquisitor—”

“Rose. You can say her name,” answers Hawke, the interruption cutting Cullen so deeply that he feels sure that Hawke must be aware of what had passed between him and her. He continues before the chafe of the words ignites his resentment into anger.

“The Inquisitor needs steady combat guidance. Not stunts and wild improvisation.”

“You, Ser, lack imagination,” says Hawke, stopping to look at him. 

“So I’ve been told,” he says drily, not taking the bait. He continues walking. “I don’t suppose I could impress upon you the importance of her staying alive.”

“This is about Caer Bronach, isn’t it? What were we going to do? Sit with our thumbs up our arses waiting for your troops to arrive?”

“This is not the place for unorthodox tactics. The Inquisition must be above reproach.”

“Above reproach while the pyres burn brightly with Inquisition bodies?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that using the undead as fodder spared Inquisition bodies from serving as the same. Surely you’ve been there before. Front line meat to absorb the initial onslaught. I’ve been there. Staring down a darkspawn horde flanked by the barely trained, quaking in their mail and soiling themselves. I’ve seen your army. You don’t have the men to spare right now.”

“You understand what I’m trying to say here,” says Cullen, tempering his exasperation. 

“I can appreciate that a man in your position would rather her not attempt to raid keeps using corpses. Even I can appreciate the publicity challenges that presents. But don’t pretend that by the book is safer or most effective every time. How many times were your hands tied by rules when you could have saved lives? I was the person the Templars hired when they couldn’t act.”

“Exactly. Your capers have their uses, Hawke, but involving the public face of this organization will have consequences,” says Cullen. He moves in for the meat of his grievance, bracing himself for a fight. “And it’s not just about that. You know it’s not. The Inquisitor was injured.”

Read the rest here!

DAFF Tag List

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @mogwaei | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie | @delicatefade

[nocteacakes]

Lucy Gray makes a deal with a demon

// snowbaird, demon!Coryo AU, 630 words

*(inspiration from addie larue, 'my demon', and the lovely @allbridgesburn and @/deadslowburn on twt; prompt 'I swear to you' from @/snowbairdprompt on twt)

-- -- --

"Don't make deals after dark — and never make deals with demons." Her mother and father had warned her countless times as a child, but Lucy Gray was desperate.

Scraps of old stories and fragments of folktales were all she had to go on, but she was determined to succeed. The alternative — there was no other alternative. The Covey would die. She hurried deeper into the twilight woods.

A broken bell, a crow’s feather, a sooty candle stub — placed in the hallow of a rotting tree. She knelt gingerly in front of the hole, spreading out her skirts. She had never been much for praying; she chose to believe in things that she could change. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage like a shawl around her and began to sing.

Her mother had always said that Lucy Gray could sing the dead from their graves. She didn’t want an army of undead right now. Just one single demon.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be making deals with devils.”

She broke off singing and whirled around. The voice — low and enticing — had come from somewhere behind her. It was too dark to see anything.

“Come out where I can see you.” She didn’t come to make deals with ghosts.

A slim, impossibly tall person materialised from nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive-looking black suit with a beautiful white rose in the breast pocket. In the darkness, his tousled golden hair fell over his eyes like shimmering stardust.

His eyes. The demon’s eyes shone crystal blue like the lake in high summer. She felt an overwhelming urge to dive in. However, unlike the lake, she didn’t know what lay beneath the surface. She quickly stood up, dusting off her skirt.

He bowed mockingly. “One all-powerful demon at your service. My name’s Snow.” He smiled at her, his perfect teeth glinting.

Lucy Gray didn’t waste time. “I need help. I think the mayor of the town is trying to kill me and my family.” She spoke with a confidence she did not feel. “My name’s Lucy Gray,” she added as an afterthought.

Snow’s smile turned devious. “A murder plot, you say? Sounds delicious. And what would you like me to do for you? Unfortunately, as much as I’d love to, I can’t just kill the mayor; I do have some restrictions on my abilities.”

Lucy Gray’s eyes went wide. “No, oh gosh no, I don’t need him dead. I just need…” She faltered. What did she want exactly?

He stepped closer, and at this distance he towered over Lucy Gray even more than before. “Be sure you make it worth it.” He leaned down and she felt his breath brush across her forehead, an cold, icy tendril like his name. “After all, I haven’t tasted a soul in a very long time.” A finger reached out and brushed the shell of her ear.

Lucy Gray jerked back. “How do I know you won’t go back on your word, or just take my soul after a certain amount of time?” The enormity and ridiculousness of what she had just done hit her in the chest. She had summoned a demon — a demon who would have her soul when he was done with her.

His eyes darkened to the deep blue of the lake during a winter night. “I swear to you, so long as our contract is active, I will always fulfill the terms to the best of my ability. I collect upon completion, never before.” There was no jesting in his tone.

What choice did she have? None. There were no other paths open to her.

“Then, I accept your terms.”

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1088

CW: gore.

Bones clinked against metal armor as the army of skeletons, and rotting undead traveled across the land. Their master stood at the front, riding atop a massive beast.

The Lich and his servants have arrived.

Human soldiers spilled from the city gates, spreading out across the grassy field. They gripped their swords, and shields in tight grips, preparing for battle.

The living and the dead faced each other once more.

The Lich sighed even though his form held no lungs. One of his hands moved to his skeletal face, sharp fingers gently caressing the old golden ribbon tied through his right eye socket.

Perhaps... this would be enough souls to bring her back.

[thelifetimechannel]

Happy holidays! [S] Checkmate timing test

These timings match up with Tensei's "Of Gods and Witches":

Before the battle we see WV greeting AR and being super excited. AR is kinda baffled but gratified. We see their former memories in the clouds, maybe WV points to them?

Jane, Nanna, and Kanaya target bigger undead monsters. Casey's undead consort army shows up when they are almost overwhelmed. Rose and Roxy both slap their foreheads in comic dismay.

Karkat, Terezi, and the carapaces are ground troops against regular underlings.

Remaining Alpha kids are air support against flighted underlings.

Hal is hanging out taking messages from everyone directing battle traffic.

The preloader shows the Battlefield, surrounded by those weird checkboard vine things. It should be just crowded and dark enough to imply a serious sense of foreboding. Upon the flash loading, the Battlefield spins and zooms as the music starts.

SCREEN 1: 00:00-00:05 Pan up across a wide shot of the kids in various battle positions on the battlefield. Aerial combantants (Terezi, Hal, Davesprite, and the Alpha kids sans Jane and plus Calliope. Kat note: Davesprite’s on the lilypad. Matches last convo, and also, he’s a beta too :P) are around the scene. Karkat and WV stand on top of a hill, WV holding a waving red flag. The Beta kids are standing on a lilypad in center screen.

SCREEN 2: 00:05-00:09 On the chord, pan down across the kids on the lilypad, all in battle ready poses with weapons out

SCREEN 3: 00:09-00:15 On the chord, the opposite side of the hill we just saw WV and Karkat on. Pan to the right hand side. They stand on top of the hill. Scrolling by at differing speeds to the background hill are Jane (holding her fork made from the White King’s scepter), Kanaya, and Nanna. WV’s army of carapacians is gathered around them.

Screen 4: 00:15-00:19 On the chord, worm’s eye view of The Alpha kids and Calliope in the sky.

Screen 5: 00:19-00:21 A view of the underling army approaching: think the carapacian armies in flashes such as WV: Rise Up, where the hills are all separate layers that do a lot of panning. A mix of undead Alpha session underlings mingle with the Beta session’s horde of monsters.

Screen 6: 00:21-00:23 A bird’s eye view down onto the Beta’s lilypad.

Screen 7: 00:23-00:26 Third drumbeat Jane raises the scepter to begin the Reckoning. A red filter descends over the sky and contrasting green defense portals appear on the final drumbeat before the flute. A few streaks of meteors can be seen. The Reckoning has begun.

Screen 8: 00:26-00:28 As little synthesizer pretending to be a flute plays a first solemn note, the red filter descends further, the Betas look up to Jack fly overhead. They pan up, Jack moves down.

Screen 9: 00:28-00:32 On the second synthesized flute note, Jack lands on the platform.

Screen 10: :32-:34 The Betas and the ground pan down, Jack pans up. PM lands either in front or behind them

Screen 11: :34-:37 The background turns chaotic and red as Jack’s health vial appears. It’s already huge, as befitting of a final boss. It fills with vitality gel, but when it reaches the end, it laps itself and starts filling again in a different color.

Screen 12: :37-:41 Cut to a wide shot of the lillypad hovering over the battlefield. Clouds flit by, meteors fall, a crowd of underlings is trampling their way from right to left across the screen. STRIFE ROUND _ _ _ pops up at the bottom and numbers start spinning, eventually settling on ??? so that you don't know whether John had to reset to get this outcome or how many times.

:41 Slamming back to the lilypad, where John has his first engagement w Jack. This is done in a style of sprite similar to Rose’s fight with Jack pre-Cascade. They lock sword to hammer.

:45 Planetside, the Mayor raises his hand and Karkat raises his sickle and yells something. The carapace army advances against a horde of mixed underlings.

00:48 A general group of carapaces rushing forward.

00:50 Carpacean and underling footsoldiers meet. Remember: Carapaces on the left, underlings on the right!

00:52 Kanaya and Jane face off against a bunch of undead. Kanaya with her chainsaw, Jane with lifey powers glowing around her hands.

00:56 Transition by having John’s hammer and Jack’s sword meet on screen, and with a flash, we cut back to them.

00:56-00:58: With a series of blows in time with the guitar notes, John moves Jack rightwards across the screen.

00:58 John takes off Jack’s hat, but gets knocked back.

1:00 John jumps into metaphorical shadows of the background and Rose slides in, needles at the ready.

1:03-1:09: Rose takes off a tentacle. It would be amusing to try and have some kind of callback to her previous fight with Jack here.

1:10 Dirk, Roxy, Jake airborne. vs flighted underlings. This would be a good moment for a fraymotif: Jake gets the idea to use it, and either performs his and Dirk’s Caccia Amore (a buff whereby they swap glowy power auras and cleave through a group of underlings no problem) or his and Roxy’s Shot in the Dark (trapping a group of underlings in a black voidy version of Jake’s hope bubble and ricocheting bullets inside until they’re all grist).

1:26 Show planetside combat. Cool moments for people:

Karkat drags a few airborne underlings down with Blood powers for his army to trample.

Terezi does some sort of mindy thing perhaps to direct Jane and Kanaya

-The second of Jake’s two fraymotif ideas. Because you know, he’s the only one who was actually seen buying his, and Act 5 is pretty goddamn clear Fraymotifs are purchased from consorts.

-General note: While the kids can be doing good, the underlings have to be putting up a fair fight, with the tide of battle turning to the underlings’ favor once Jack uses the Miles. Otherwise the Crisis Point looks like it comes out of nowhere for no good reason.

JACK PLATFORM

1:40 Dave + Davesprite versus Jack. Davesprite takes off a wing and Dave gets his sword. Jack tries to bludgeon Dave with his massive healthbar…

1:50: Jack getting his health bar lopped in half by Dave. (NOTE: Dave does not participate in direct offensive attacks, only defense)

1:58: Jack summons the Red Miles, which destabilizes the lilypad, throws all the betas off balance, and punches holes in the lilypad. Terezi's jetpack is hit and she crashlands.

~2:05~ Crisis point

2:12 dirk gets decapitated like a dumbass.

2:13 rxn shot: Roxy is like why tf did u do that

2:15 Kanaya and Jane chainsaw their way out of an Underling Jane revive-killed a little too late, leaving them trapped in its ribcage. They’re pinned as soon as they emerge. Don’t worry, I’ll be making the gore sooty and ashy because Gill has done enough gore-things.

2:17 Karkat's army is cornered by a bunch of tough looking underlings. Looking up at the sky, meteors are hurtling towards the surface.

2:21 General pan of the carnage, ppl looking desperate

2:27 JACK PLATFORM On the Crescendo: Dave raises a hand and a bunch of Skaian defense portals glow red. Zoom into one to picture of Earth with the time ticker showing time passing.

2:30 On the crescendo: GB!Jade pops through the portal with the meteor and nabs the planet, then leaves the way she came. THEN the meteors shoot through, passing harmlessly through empty space.

2:34 Use as transition to Jade’s attack (keep the meteor but change the background), grabbing meteors and blasting them through/around Jack

2:40 PM and Jack dueling, but PM getting knocked back

2:42-2:50: A montage of tired and pinned kids (Jane reviving Dirk goes here):

2:50: Jade and PM look @ each other and nod.

2:50 As the drums kick up, PM charges the screen, providing transition for Jade’s retreats into the sky.

2:52 Jade hovers. A fraymotif circle appears beneath her while the former-Becs are seen on the lillypad below.

2:53 Cut to below her: The Spacey thing can be seen in the sky, but something comes over the hills in dramatic fashion. Cheers love, cavalry’s here The hills and the army rise until they’re in frame, Casey at the helm.

2:57 is the reveal shot with the low strings.

3:01 As the drums swell, Casey orders them to charge. They go for the underlings’ flank, a wide shot showing skeletons mobbing underlings.

3:03 A reaction shot of the two armies meeting.

3:05 Roxy and Rose slap their foreheads in a show of comic dismay, but Rose looks down in surprise to see a fraymotif circle under her feet.

3:08 In time with the Savior chords, the boys also notice the fraymotifs circles under them.

3:11: The camera cuts back to a wide shot of the battlefield to display the name of the 4-person motif: Unite Synchronize. No, shush, I know what I’m doing.

3:12 Jade gets some big ol’ insta-runes lighting up behind her.

3:13 PM and Jack fly awhile before PM suddenly takes off into the open void. Jack is confused, looking around for her. He looks up.

3:19 Activating lock-on fraymotif thing, comprised of the Light and Time circles. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.

3:22 Rose and Dave, with their insta-runes.

3:23 John nyooms in front of Jade and activates his own insta-runes. I definitely know what I’m doing, stop looking at me like that.

3:26: Space + Breath instarunes light up and spin in a way that can only mean FRIKKIN LASER BEAMS.

3:28: Zoom out, through the various flavors of instarunes, out to Jack who’s in the dead bulls-eye of all of them.

3:30 He tries to evade, but Light + Time mean there’s a dead lock-on on him.

3:32: Well clear of the blast, all four kids do a gesture that sets off the beam.

3:34 MAXIMUM BULLSHIT ACHIEVED: THE GIANT LASERBEAM OF FRIENDSHIP

We see it go off from a few angles in time with the beat and get Jack caught in the crossfire at 3:38 , taking off another tentacle and wing.

3:40: After getting laserblasted, Jack stumbles back, weakened, only to look up and see

3:42: HEY THERE, PM. She flies at him, just above the beam, sword ready and the camera zooming in each successive chord.

3:46 On the second to last chord, Jack raises his one arm and broken sword in defense: on the last chord, there’s a shot of them in the frame together, rush at one another-

3:50 Everything goes white; SHE STRIKES and fades in on her in the aftermath of a sword stroke, having taken Jack’s hand.

3:53: Everything sloooows down and Jack slowly falls to the ground away from his detached hand.

3:57 A shot of the battlefield with all the enemies dissolving as Jack falls.

04:03 On the low piano key, pulses and the battlefield goes from a torn red hellscape to normal. As the flash ends, it fades to a final screen before the replay button appears: a battlefield scene with the lillypad in the foreground transitions to the victory platform, where a green house stands. No, I don’t care if Hussie’s was red: It’s the Beta kids’ fight, the Beta kids’ regent, the Beta kids’ Battlefield, the Beta kids’ frog, and the Beta kids’ STORY - it’s the Beta kids’ green house on that goddamn victory platform.

FLASH ENDS

[shimmerbeasts]

"Maybe if you do, they'll get scared and run away, sparing us from all the fight to the top." Maybe it wasnt the right time for jests, but Jaheira couldn't help herself. She hoped the warrior didn't take it as a personal attack, although she pretty much doubts the githyanki had a good sense of humour. "Throw me at them," she said simply, dropping to all fours. Her body contorted and snapped as a golden light enveloped her, transforming her into a black panther.

Lae'zel stared at Jaheira for a couple of seconds with a strange expression on her face. The Githyanki tried to figure out whether or not the leader of the harpers was serious with that suggestion - it would be an uncommon battle strategy indeed - or if she was joking. Even though Lae'zel was considered particularly humorous among her kin, she still struggled a lot with understanding Faerun denizen's humour. More than one situation at camp had escalated because Lae'zel had not read the tone of a conversation properly. Though she liked to believe, she was getting better at them.

"That would be a counterproductive idea to our plan!", Lae'zel called to the harper, "They'd just alert other ... Oh! That was a joke." Her ears twitched in annoyance at her stupidity. Golden eyes watched in fascination as the druid shapeshifted into a black panther in front of her. Ever since she had been in the Emerald Grove, the idea that people could transform into animals was no longer a completely new concept to her.

The fight in the corridor up to the first floor had somehow been derailed into about three smaller fights. Gale had just rescued Astarion with a thunder wave, shoving three undead soldiers away from the rogue, who had been cornered. Karlach and Wyll stood outside of a massive Hunger of Hardar and were raining hell down upon the Dark Justiciars trapped within. Shadowheart stood somewhere behind Lae'zel and Jaheira, aiding the remaining harpers with Guidance to make sure their arrows had more luck striking their targets.

The army of the undead, now mortal king on an unjust throne was vast and thinning them all out was hard work. Lae'zel reached underneath the black panther's belly and grabbed Jaheira by her sides. Much like Karlach, she was among the strongest members of their little gang of misfits, which allowed her to hoist the large predatory cat off the ground. The Githyanki grunted under her breath as she shifted around to get a better line of sight.

The people, she and Jaheira had complained about were a group of mages, standing on the high ground of the staircase. Lae'zel stuck her tongue out, grunting as she tried to pinpoint what spot to throw Jaheira towards. If she swung with all her might, she should get the panther to the edge of the staircase.

"If you fall prone, it's on you, Jaheira!"

With these words, Lae'zel shouted loudly and threw the black panther with all her might. The massive cat sailed through the air, a monstrosity of muscles, sickle-like claws and dagger-like fangs. As Jaheira landed on the other side of the staircase, the mages gasped in shock and immediately turned to face the new threat.

Lae'zel looked over at Wyll. His clawed hands were smoking from the array of Eldritch Blasts, he had been firing. Sweat gathered on his forehead as he maintained concentration on the Hunger of Hardar. Noticing her gaze, the warlock shouted: "Go, help her! We have this covered here!"

Wind swirled around her legs in a cocoon as Lae'zel used her inherent ability to leap greater distances as a Githyanki to cover the same area, which she had just thrown Jaheira over. Landing on the other side, Lae'zel raised her Githyanki short sword and the Knife of the Undermountain King.

"Htak'a!", she shouted.

@harpershigh cont. from here.

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Crumbling Down

Previous

"They seemed nice enough, but I was ready to go. We just got here, but, damn, it was time to go. When I told them about DC, a wink and a nod from the head asshole in charge, and it was right back to our regularly scheduled shitstorm." The redhead, Abraham told the five new members of the train cart.

Rick had ordered the group to make weapons out of anything they could get their hands on, as members of the party caught each other up during their separation.

Natalia bent down, grabbing the Swiss army knife that was tucked into her boot, covered by her sock, then reached into her pocket, grabbing out the handful of darts from the country club, handing them out to her friends.

"Sweetheart, now's not really the time for a game of darts." Abraham said.

"They have a point, dumbass." Rosita, his girlfriend said, touching the tip of the dart with the pad of her thumb.

Natalia passed one to Daryl, who gave her a look.

"Told you I had stuff on me, too bad they didn't think to frisk Michonne and I." She gave him a small smile.

"Before they put you in here, you didn't see Tyreese?" Sasha asked them.

"No." Michonne told her.

"Good."

"What about Beth?" Maggie asked.

Natalia swallowed hard, before answering.

"We got out together, me, her and Daryl." She started. "We got split up by a herd."

"Black car with a white cross painted on it. Drove off with her." Daryl continued. "We tried to follow it. We tried."

"But she's alive?"

"She's alive." Natalia confirmed. "She's a survivor, a stubborn one."

The group continued to work in silence, using shoelaces, belts and necklaces to make weapons, as well as the darts Natalia gave them, each person having one in their grasp.

Daryl stood watch, keeping an eye out through the gaps as people outside talked and shouted to one another.

"What are you doing?" A man called out to someone.

"Everybody shut up. Shut up!"

"Alright. Got four of them pricks coming our way." Daryl announced.

"Y'all know what to do." Rick said. "Go for their eyes first. Then their throats." They gathered by the door, getting ready.

That's when Natalia noticed something, staring at the ceiling.

"Put your backs to the walls on either side of the car now." A man shouted at them.

"We should get back." She said.

"Huh?"

"Look." She pointed at the top of the train cart, just as someone began walking on it.

The latch was pulled open, shining sunlight down on them, showing off the red in Abrahams hair.

A flash bomb was thrown at their feet.

"Told you!"

"Move!" Abraham shouted, everybody ran to the corners, Natalia brought up the sweatshirt, covering her mouth and nose.

The can exploded, filling the cart in a dark cloud of smoke.

The door slid open, people marched in.

Someone had grabbed Natalia, she wriggled out of the persons grasp, but someone else, Daryl, had pulled her back, throwing a punch at the guy, but soon enough, he was thrown outside by another person.

Once the smoke was cleared, they could see who was missing; Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Bob.

"Fuck!" Natalia kicked the side of the train cart.

The sound of an explosion went off outside.

Natalia stared at where she kicked, stepping back.

Gunshots sounded outside, as well as the familiar snarl of their undead friends.

Abraham began punching the cart.

"What the hell is going on?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Someone hit them." Michonne said.

"Maybe our people got free." Sasha guessed.

"Excuse me." Eugene barged past Sasha and Tara, bending down to the floor in front of the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosita asked him.

I might be able to use this shell to compromise the door. From the sounds of things, there may not be anybody left to open it."

"Eugene, I'm sorry but shut up." Tara told him.

Carl walked over from the back, Natalia put an arm over his shoulder.

"My dad's gonna be back." He told the other people. "They all are."

"They are." Maggie agreed.

"Our biggest concern right now, is making sure we're able to protect ourselves when we get out, the explosions and gunshots are gonna gather walkers from miles away to right here." Natalia said.

Walkers had started gathering around the train cart, as Eugene continued trying to pry the door open, the rest made sure their weapons were useful.

"What's the cure, Eugene?" Sasha asked.

Abraham had told the five the mission of DC when they introduced themselves, Natalia thought it was a load of bullshit, no way a man as important as Eugene was in Houston of all places when the world fell apart, rumours had been spreading for a while before the day.

"It's classified." He responded.

"We don't know what's gonna happen." Michonne brought up.

"You leave him be." Abraham told her.

"We need to keep working."

"Yeah, but it's time to hear it." Sasha continued. "'Cause we don't know what's coming next."

"What's next is we get out of this." Tara said.

"Even if I told you all, even if I provided step-by-step instructions complete with illustrations and a well-composed FAQ and I went red-ring, the cure would still die with me."

"I'm not gonna let that happen." Abraham told him.

"The best case scenario, we step out into a hell storm of bullets, fire and walkers. I'm not fleet of foot. I sure as hell can't take a dead one down with sharp buttons and hella confidence."

"Yeah, but we can and we will." Michonne said.

"I've had less and survived, it's not hard." Natalia said.

"You don't owe us anything, not yet." Sasha stood up. "But we just want to hear it."

"You don't have to." Rosita spoke up.

Eugene stood up, facing the group.

"I was part of a 10-person team at the human genome project to weaponize diseases to fight weaponized diseases. Pathogenic microorganisms with pathogenic microorganisms. Fire with fire. Interdepartmental drinks were had, relationships made, information shared. I am keenly aware of all the details behind fail-safe delivery systems to kill every living person on this planet. I believe with a little tweaking on the terminals in DC, we can flip the script. Take out every last dead one of them. Fire with fire. All things being equal, it does sound pretty badass."

"Or a load of shit." Natalia coughed into her fist, hiding her face in Carls shoulder as he snorted.

"so let's get back to work." Maggie smiled at him.

The door banged, then opened, Rick appeared, holding a gun.

"Come on! Fight to the fence!" He commanded before firing shots and jumping down.

"Do not leave his side!" Abraham demanded.

"Lets go, get to your dad." Natalia told Carl, leading him out.

A walker headed for Natalia, she stabbed her Swiss army knife into its throat, her hand caking in blood as she pushed it up, pulling it back out and letting it fall to the ground, she felt a hand grab her shoulder, she looked over, a metal pole being shoved through the skull of the walker that had grabbed her.

She turned her head, finding Daryl behind her, passing over a long sharp knife, she nodded at him before running forward.

The group fought their way through the walkers.

Natalia watched how a walker headed for Eugene, and how he cowered away instead of taking it down, letting Sasha shoot its brains out.

Rosita was the first person to reach the fence, killing the walker that was on the other side.

"Up and over!"

Rick continued to shoot at walkers as well as Terminus members as the rest climbed over the fence.

"Let's go! Move!" The redhead shouted, helping and pushing everyone over.

They walked through the woods, Daryl tracking their way back to the bag Rick had hidden.

"The hell are we still around here for?" Abraham asked.

"Guns, some supplies." Rick said, digging up the dirt. "Go along the fences. Use the rifles. Take out the rest of 'em."

"What?" Bob asked, stepping towards him.

"They don't get to live." Rick replied.

"Rick, we got out, it's over."

"Yeah, until they come for us, I've seen this film before." Natalia said, bending down to grab her belt, securing it onto her, as well as her guns.

"It's not over till they're all dead." Rick agreed.

"The hell it isn't. That place is on fire." Rosita argued. "Full of walkers."

"I'm not dicking around with this crap." Abraham joined in. "We just made it out."

"The fences are down." Maggie told Rick. "They'll run or die."

Someone slowly walked up behind Rick, holding Daryl's crossbow, Natalia noticed her.

"Carol?" She gasped.

Daryl turned around, his eyes shooting wide as he took in the woman.

He ran to her, hugging her tightly as she hugged him back, he picked her up as she laughed.

The others heading towards her.

Natalia was next to hug her, when Daryl finally stepped away.

"What happened?" Carol asked, her finger softly grazing the woman's cut and bruised face.

"Ran into some bad guys, took care of them." She answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"Did you do that?" Rick stepped towards Carol when Natalia let her go and moved back.

She smiled, nodding slightly.

Rick hugged her tightly.

"You have to come with me." She told him when he pulled away.

The group followed the woman through the woods.

A dogs barking caught Natalia's attention.

"Sully?!"

All of a sudden, a Border Collie was running at her, knocking the woman flat on her back as she pet her dog, crying as she laughed, him licking at her sore face excitedly.

Daryl bent down, petting the dog, picking up the rabbit that he dropped on the floor when he lunged at the woman, his distraction towards Sully gave Natalia a chance to sit up in the dirt.

"You're okay, you're alive, you're alive." She sniffled, as the pair continued to shower the dog in pets and scratches.

"Hey." Daryl gently nudged her, looking ahead.

Tyreese was holding Judith outside a wooden cabin, Rick, Carl and Sasha ran to them, hugging their loved ones.

"Everyone's okay, we're all okay." She looked up at the redneck, smiling wide as tears rolled down her cheeks, happy tears.

He'd never seen her so emotional and soft... he'd seen her angry plenty of times, but it was very rare when she was sappy like this, even at the not-funeral they had outside the morgue, she wasn't like this.

He soaked it up, she was still mad at him, after what they had just gone through, and being reunited with her beloved dog, her walls crumbled down in a moment of weakness, she was safe to go back to resenting him, he knew he deserved it, didn't mean he had to like it.

She kissed Sully's head multiple times as he licked at Daryl, who was still holding the teddy he had picked up from the Big Spot.

"What happened?" Carol asked Tyreese.

"There were a bunch of walkers out here and he got his hands around Judith's neck."

Natalia looked up, taking out a knife as she looked at the cabin, Daryl moved with her.

Carol was the closest, but Tyreese stopped him.

"No, he's dead." Tyreese explained. "I... I had to. So I did. I could."

"Too right, none of those fuckers deserve to live." Natalia spat.

She then walked towards Carl, Michonne and Judith, smiling at the baby as she pet her head, Sully circled his owners legs.

"Hey, pretty girl." She cooed, as Judith made noises in response.

"I don't know If the fire's still burning." Rick said, looking at the big dark cloud coming from Terminus.

"It is." Carol confirmed.

"Yeah. We need to go." He decided.

"Yeah, but where?" Daryl asked him.

"Somewhere far away from there."

They made their way back to the train tracks, walking along it.

Michonne and Natalia walked side by side, behind Judith and Carl, Daryl and Carol were behind the women.

"You found him." Michonne tapped her hand.

"Yeah." She smiled at her friend, patting Sully's head, his tail wagged with his rabbit in his mouth.

They then headed into the woods, on the other side.

The group had been walking until the smoke turned white.

Finally taking a break to get something to eat, and so that some people could rest, going again when the sun rose once more.

The Georgia sun beat down on them as they walked.

Natalia took off her sweatshirt, tying it around her waist, but making sure her weapons were easy to grab.

carol came up beside her, Daryl hot on her trail.

She touched Natalia's shoulder, who was quick to flinch, ducking away before realising who it was.

"Sorry, hey." She smiled at the woman.

"You okay?" Carol asked, noticing her weird behaviour.

"Fine, why?" She asked.

"Your back, you got quite the graze on it."

Natalia looked over her shoulder, not being able to see it, but still tried.

Half of Natalia's back was bloody and grazed, from being thrown on the harsh road, she hadn't even noticed.

"Yeah, it's not bad though, looks worse than how it is." She shrugged, taking down her hair from the braid, letting it cover her back.

"You get that from those bad guys too? Looks painful."

"It's fine, really, don't worry about it." She tried to keep her cool, quickly escaping from the conversation, and weaving through the people, ignoring how the pair continued to watch her with heavy stares, she knew that if Carol wanted to know, Daryl would probably explain what happened, Natalia just couldn't.

She ended back up with Michonne.

They had walked some more.

A female walker struggled towards them.

"I got it." Michonne called, walking towards it.

She reached behind her, before making a realisation as she grinned, raising her gun and whacking the walker onto the floor, stepping on its back and hitting it in the head with the gun.

"Missing it?" Natalia asked as another one appeared. "Dibs." she claimed, walking past Michonne.

She tripped the walker onto its back, stomping on it's head and letting its skull pop, brain matter and blood splattered everywhere.

The others had walked ahead as they watched the pair, but Rosita and Abraham strayed back.

"Keep forgetting it's not there." Michonne replied when they started walking with the group, again.

"Gone, but never forgotten." Natalia put her hands together, raising them above her head as she closed her eyes.

When night fell, they set up camp, starting a fire.

"Where'd you get the dog?" Eugene asked her, staring at Sully, who sat by her side.

"Classified." She repeated his words.

"Whys he called Sully?" Tara asked her. "Like the monster?"

"Exactly." She fed the dog some of her food.

When the new day started, the group continued their walk.

The sound of someone approaching caught their attention, everyone raised their guns.

Daryl stepped out, a rope full of Squirrels was in his hand.

"We surrender." He said to the amount of guns pointed at him.

Sully jogged over, sniffing the dead animals, walking by his side.

Rick whistled after talking to Daryl.

"Keep close." He told the group.

"Ready to keep some concrete under your feet?" Abraham asked him.

"I think it's time." Rick replied.

"That is sweet music to my ears, Officer. Take the next road we come to, try to get back to going north till we find a vehicle. Good?"

"Good."

As they were walking through the woods, Sully began sniffing around, walking off the trail.

"What is it, boy?" Daryl asked.

"Help!" A mans voice shouted. "Help! Anybody help!"

Sully ran for it.

"Sully!" Natalia chased after him.

"Nat! Natalia, Wait!" Rick hissed, but she was already gone.

The man continued to scream as Carl followed, the others went after.

Sully barked as he reached his destination.

Natalia watched as half a dozen of walkers tried to reach a man on top of a rock.

Sullys barking caught their attention, turning away from the man and heading for the dog and Woman.

Natalia took out her knife, taking out the first walker that headed for her.

Carl shot another one, as Natalia delt with the next, soon everyone followed, Michonne smashed the end of her gun into a walker, crushing its head against the rock.

Carol stabbed the last one through the eye.

They looked up at the man quivering on top of the rock.

"We're clear. Keep watch." Rick instructed. "Hey, don't run off like that." He told Natalia.

"Wasn't given a choice." She shrugged.

"Come on down." He turned to the man.

The man slid off the large rock, still shaking as he looked at all the people.

"You okay?"

The man held up a finger, before emptying his stomach.

The group stared at him, unimpressed.

"Sorry." He whispered. "Yes. Thank you. I'm Gabriel."

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick asked him.

Gabriel laughed at his question.

"Do I look like I would have any weapons?"

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like." Abraham answered.

"I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need."

"Sure didn't look like it." Daryl mused.

"I called for help. It came."

"It came cause your screaming caught my dogs attention." Natalia said, wrapping her hand around her dogs collar, keeping him still.

He looked around, not knowing what to say.

"Do you have... have any food?" He then asked. "Whatever I- I had left, it just hit the ground."

"We've got some Pecans." Carl offered him.

"Thank you." He took them, smiling at the boy.

Judith began cooing in Tyreese's arms.

"That's a beautiful child." He looked at her.

Rick continued to stare at the man, not bothering to reply.

"Do you have a camp?" He then asked.

"No. Do you?" Rick asked him.

"I have a church."

"Hold your hands above your head."

He did as told, Rick frisked him.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

"Not any, actually."

Natalia couldn't take this man seriously, they had been in this shit for well over a year, how was he still alive?

"Turn around." Rick spun him. "How many people have you killed?"

"None." He responded, as if the question was a joke.

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence." Gabriel replied.

"What have you done?" Rick whispered, seeing right through the man. "We've all done something."

"I'm a sinner. I sin almost everyday. But those sins, I confess to God, not strangers."

"You said you had a church." Michonne reminded.

He led the way through the woods, the group followed.

"Hey, earlier, were you watching us?" Rick asked.

"I keep to myself. Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead, don't you think?"

"No, people are worse." Rick answered.

"Well, I wasn't watching you. I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it started. That was the furthest I've gone before today. Or maybe I'm lying." He then said. "Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels."

Natalia pulled out her gun, taking it off safety as she aimed it at him, waiting for the signal.

Rick put a hand on the top of her gun, telling her to lower it as the man laughed, slowing down when he realised no one else laughed.

"Members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humour leaves much to be desired." He tried to save himself.

"Yeah, it does." Daryl agreed.

Gabriel turned around, walking into a branch, he lifted it up after getting hit in the face with leaves, ducking under and continuing to lead the group to the church.

They eventually reached their destination, a white church was surrounded by trees, just like he had said.

"Hold up." Rick said, as Gabriel walked towards the door, taking keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. "Can we take a look around first?" He walked towards the father. "We just want to hold onto our squirrels." He put his hand out expectantly for the keys.

Gabriel placed them in his palm, offering a small smile that Rick nor the rest of the group returned.

Rick, Daryl, Natalia, Michonne, Glenn and Carol walked into the church, their weapons all raised as they waited for a signal of danger.

The pews were empty, Michonne and Glenn checked the Sunday school room as well as the bathrooms, finding them empty as well.

"If Jesus died for our sins, then what the fuck is this shit?" Natalia rolled her eyes at the statue of Christ on the cross.

Rick whistled to the small group, signalling that it looked safe enough, they walked outside to report the investigation to the others.

"I spent months here without stepping out the front door." Gabriel told Rick, when he passed back the keys. "If you found someone inside, well, it would have been surprising."

"Thanks for this." Carl smiled at the father.

"We found a short bus out back." Abraham revealed to Rick. "It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he don't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport. You understand what's at stake here, right?"

"Yes, I do." Rick replied, running his hand along Judith's hair.

"Now that we can take a breath..." Michonne started.

"We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down." Abraham cut her off, still staring at Rick.

"We need supplies no matter what we do next." Michonne told him.

"We have nothing, you understand that right?" Natalia asked the redhead. "We're not doing anything until we get basic needs."

"That's right." Rick agreed with the two women. "Water, food, ammunition."

"Short bus ain't going nowhere." Daryl added as they headed into the church. "Bring you back some baked beans."

"How'd you survive here for so long?" Rick asked Gabriel as everyone got comfortable. "Where did your supplies come from?"

"Luck." He answered.

"Not God?" Natalia remarked.

"Our annual canned food drive." He continued, side eyeing the woman before turning back to Rick. "Things fell apart right after we finished it. It was just me." He looked to his shoes.

"Come here, Judith" Carl whispered to the baby, taking her off their father.

"The food lasted a long time. And then I started scavenging. I've cleaned out every place nearby." Gabriel said. "Except for one."

"What kept you from it?" Rick asked.

"It's overrun."

"How many."

"A dozen or so, maybe more."

Natalia let out a scoff, leaning off of the pew. "Draw me a map?"

"We can handle a dozen." Rick clarified, making sure Natalia knew she wasn't going on her own.

"Bob and I will go with you, Tyreese should stay here, help keep Judith safe." Sasha volunteered.

"That'll be okay?" Rick asked the man, who nodded, smiling.

"Sure." Tyreese answered. "You ever need me to watch her, need anything for her, I'm right here."

"I'm grateful for it." Rick told him. "And everything else."

"You wanna watch Sully for me?" Natalia asked Carl, leaning over the pew he was sitting on, Judith in his arms.

"You even gotta ask?" He replied, smiling at the woman.

Natalia took off the sheriffs hat, kissing him on the top of his head, scruffing his hair up, before kissing Judith's head.

"I'll draw you that map." Gabriel answered Natalia's earlier question.

"You don't need to, you're coming with us."

"I'm not gonna be of any help. You saw me. I'm no good around those things."

"You're gonna learn how, today." Natalia shrugged.

Gabriel led Bob, Rick, Sasha, Natalia and Michonne into the town.

"Hey." Bob approached Rick, walking with him. "When you said they don't get to live, you weren't wrong. We push ourselves and let things go. Then we let some more go and some more. And pretty soon, there's things we can't get back. Things we can't hold onto, even if we tried. Washington's gonna happen, Rick."

"I haven't decided if we're going yet." Rick admitted.

"No, that's cool. But you've seen Abraham in action. He's gonna get there and Eugene's gonna cure all of this. And you're gonna find yourself in a place where it's like how it used to be. And if you've let too much go along the way, that's not gonna work. 'Cause you're gonna be back in the real world."

"This is the real world, Bob."

"Naw. This is a nightmare, and nightmares end. I'm sorry, I'm calling it. Washington's gonna happen. You're gonna say yes. Already too much momentum. You can't fight City Hall. Maybe that's just one of those parts of not letting go."

"How do we know this guy isn't just lying?" Natalia asked.

"You think so?" Bob asked.

"Sounds made up to me." She shrugged. "Too good to be true."

"It wouldn't kill you to have a lil hope." He smiled at her.

She was reminded of Beth, by that sentence.

"That's exactly what'll it do." She muttered, feeling slightly more bitter.

They had arrived at an white building.

"This was the food bank." Gabriel told them, as Natalia read Food Bank, written on a sign on the building. "It served the whole county. All the cans at my church were gonna end up here."

Rick had led the way into the foodbank and thrift store, throwing the door open with his gun eye level, aimed at potential walkers.

Nothing was walking around inside, the place seemed to be empty, until they walked further, the floor had fallen through, leaving a large hole, that must be where they were.

Rick halted, signalling to the others to wait as splashing could be heard from down below.

He walked closer, whilst they stood at the entrance waiting for instruction.

Rick waved his finger in the air, as he peered down at the walkers snarling in the water.

Natalia was the first to move, silently and slowly, Michonne on her tail, than Sasha, Bob, finally Gabriel.

The smell was putrid, burning Natalia's eyes as she watched them roam around, their skin was grey and bloated, and saggy.

"If a sewer could puke, this is what it'd smell like." Bob commented.

Michonne looked up at the ceiling, spotting the missing tiles and holes.

"Waters been coming down that hole for a while now." She said. "Slimed this place up good."

"At least it's already fallen." Natalia mused, being reminded of the incident at the big spot.

"We can use the shelves to block them." Sasha suggested.

"Yeah, that's it, Sasha." Rick agreed. "There's our way, down those shelves."

Natalia grimaced as she prepared herself to drop into the sewer puke, walker slime, water.

"Hey." Rick looked towards Gabriel, who was stood further back. "I said you're coming with us."

Once they were down, Rick and Michonne used the shelves to push against the walkers that headed for them.

"Go! Go!" He shouted as Bob and Sasha grabbed the other one, pushing them together so they could pop them through the barrier. "Here they come. You take right. I see three here."

As they took out the walkers, Gabriel got spooked, pushing Natalia into the shelf as he fought to get away.

"What the hell is he doing?" She groaned, taking out the walker that just attempted to take a bite out of her arm when she caught herself.

He swam towards the steps, jumping on them, causing the old rotting wood to collapse as he wailed and splashed around.

He managed to pull himself up, holding onto the wall.

"We have to get Gabriel." Rick said, moving towards the father, watching him carefully.

"What happened?" Bob asked.

"I don't know."

"He almost just killed me, completely freaked the fuck out." Natalia answered bitterly.

"All right, we'll push down the shelves on the ones in front of us. We'll fight through and I'll grab him." Rick instructed, as they pushed against the metal. They did as he said, the walkers being pushed below as they climbed through, keeping an eye out in case the walkers jumped up from the water.

Michonne stabbed a walker in the neck, it's skin was inflated, following down onto his chest, she struggled as he continued to come at her.

Natalia reached out, plunging her knife into the top of his head, helping her friend as Michonne threw its dead body into the water.

They seemed to take out all of them, Rick dealing with the last one, an elderly woman, wearing glasses, her hair was still tied back, she had been heading for Gabriel, but Rick intervened, grabbing her and smashing her face into the metal pole, breaking the structure, her skin falling off and into the water.

Bob headed towards the boxes full off food.

"Yeah." He grinned. "I know which way it's gonna break." As he reached for the green box, a hand came out of the water, getting a hold of the man and pulling him under.

"Bob!" Sasha screamed, going over to help as he came back up, a walker in his hold, trying to fight for a piece of him, most of it's skin was gone, he looked like a walking skeleton.

Bob pushed it onto a metal pole whilst Sasha used the metal box to smash against it's head, finally putting it down.

"You okay, Bob, you okay?" She whispered, making sure he was alright.

"I'm fine now." He told her.

"Then let's get this shit and get the hell out of here." Natalia told the group, flicking a piece of rotting walker skin off of her chest.

They had used trolleys to carry the Boxes and bags full off food back to the church, Natalia had snagged a long over-sized brown jacket, wearing it over her wet clothes, as they made their way back.

"I'm sorry." Gabriel apologised to Rick, as he wiped sweat off his brow. "I- I panicked. I told you I..."

"You knew her when she was alive?" Rick asked him.

Gabriel didn't answer, instead looking down as they continued to walk.

"Yeah, I get it. You only tell your sins to God. But you nearly kill one of my people again, He won't help you." Rick told him, looking over his shoulder at Natalia, who was talking to Michonne, before he pushed forward, walking away from Gabriel.

"Do you miss the sword?" Rick asked Michonne, him, her and Natalia walked at the front, pushing the biggest trolly through the tree's, whilst Gabriel and Bob struggled with the second one, Sasha stayed armed, keeping her eye out for walkers.

"Wasn't really mine in the first place." Michonne revealed. "Found it. In the very beginning."

"How'd you get so good?"

"It was just me and them out here, all day, every day, a good long time. I don't know what that was, but it wasn't a life. Not like today. Stumbling around in three feet of slime, for some peas and carrots, that's living."

"I will throw up on you, stop reminding me." Natalia shivered, breathing through her mouth.

Next

[tobiasdrake]

Deeper into the Catacombs.

...should I?

I think the blue background indicates this is a deathpit. But I won't really know it's a deathpit if I don't die in it, will I? Hmm.... Choices....

Hey, it's that asshole! Uh... Mermofqwizard or something like that. They're memorable because their names are bullshit, but they would usually show up around Roro's stuff.

So I feel confident this Necromancer is probably her. We're on the right track. We just need to make sure she can properly hear us.

There we go. Alright, let's try again. HEY BES--

She didn't even let me finish that time. Am I not saying it right? She seems mad for some reason.

The Scriptures say she's the embodiment of pure evil, so she might just be kind of a jerk. Maybe this is how she welcomes all of her friends.

Her book collection's pretty extensive, though. I've seen way more bookshelves than coffins in these catacombs. Maybe this is her private library, or something.

Given the number of books she has on display here, she must be tremendously well-read.

Do you know if she's mad at me for some reason?

*notepad* Do not stand in front of things that look dangerous. Check. Though, counterpoint, I do like hearing what my buddy Quarble has to say. He's pretty witty, even if it is at my expense every time.

...hold up, he?

...

Ohhhhhhhhh. That's why he hasn't been receptive to the Bestie codephrase. That makes so much more sense now. The real Roro would never pass up a chance to hang out with a follower of her dear friend Luana.

Wow, I must look like a complete lunatic to him. I guess it's true what they say. Assume and make an ass out of u. Not me, just u.

Have you considered putting this army of the undead towards civil service? Doesn't have to be out of the goodness of your heart; You could totally charge money for it. Not like the undead care about getting paid wages.

I'm just saying, taking over the world or whatever is a whole lot of responsibility. Capitalism pays far better, and it's no less sinister!

You guys know I can hear you, right? It's a huge, empty room. The echo is unbelievable.

Oh my goddess, he's adorable. Heeeeeey buddy, do you want a Kit Kat-- Oh, no, wait. You're evil.

Um. Nestle crunch bar? Made from real human despair.

Oh sweet, you know me. That should help smooth things over and--

Gotta be honest, I have no real stake in this conflict. You picked a fight with me. So. Y'know. If you want to be best friends for life, I could use some more pals. Otherwise, I'm just... gonna go....

If it helps, I think your staff looks really cool. And your skull face is working for you; You just need a stature to match.

Alright, see you around. Look me up if you ever want to hang out. I am desperately lonely.

Have fun soul-searching and I hope you find your way to being a happier you tomorrow than you were today.

[silversiren1101]

To Our Children

[A little drabble between Regill and Jesyll, since I got the father-daughter bonding bug]

Jesyll listens intently as her father reads aloud the words on the page before them, nestled close to his chest where she sits on his lap, wrapped tight in a blanket. She has to listen hard; unlike the books Mama picks for story time, the ones Papa picks have no pictures. She can read some words on the page, but there's just too many for her to take in at once. She doesn't mind, though. The pictures form in her thoughts instead as she listens hard as she can, sometimes having to close her eyes to do so.

The trick is not falling asleep—which she has a feeling story time is supposed to be for. Lucky for her, Papa's stories keep her much too interested for that, and they continue in her dreams even after he does settle her into her bed afterward.

He doesn't use different voices like mama does, but she doesn't mind that either. Storytime with Mama is fun and makes them both laugh, and she likes to look at the pictures and ignore whatever the words say to try and tell her own stories, which Mama really likes. With Papa, though, she learns so many new words, and the stories make her think in a way the picture books don't. She need only tap his hand and ask what something means, which usually makes him smile a little bit as he explains. Bigger, stranger words are broken into many more smaller ones, but she understands them much better that way. When she reacts to parts of the story, he stops and asks her questions about what she thinks, and she likes that, too. It makes her feel like she's an adult, being listened to.

She likes both types of story-time. Asking her to pick her favorite would be like asking to pick between Mama and Papa themselves: impossible. She loves them both in different ways, just as they love her differently, too.

Tonight, Papa continues to read stories of a place called Lastwall, which doesn't exist anymore. He'd told her that it was why he was reading her stories from there, that it was important to know about it so that it wouldn't be forgotten. It disappeared only a few years ago—before she was born, but not long before that—so she doesn't understand how people could forget a whole place like that, but she doesn't fixate on that. She likes these stories. They make her sad but also hopeful, and make her want to run outside and pick up her sword (stick) and swing it around like the heroes on the pages and in her thoughts. She knows they're a lot like her parents and the rest of the knights in their castle, though they wear shiny silver armor instead of black; more like auntie Seelah. They fight to keep people safe, the ones like her that can't pick up a sword—only for so long as she stays little. She'll be like them too, when she can, with armor that covers her tail like Mama's does and a real sword of her own... or maybe a type of hammer like Mama and Papa.

For now, though, she listens hard as Papa reads to her. Her tail peeks out from the blanket to wrap around his arm, ready to squeeze if she has any questions. Like Mama's, the chill in the air makes her scales turn warm, unlike her skin which is just achy in the cold. Even in front of the fireplace like they are now, on the floor leaned against her bed, she'd been shivering—their castle was old and 'drafty', as Mama had called it—and so Papa bundled her up tight for story time tonight.

This one is about the orcs that fought the knights in Lastwall; about how they sided with the evil skeleton king and his undead armies. She listens hard, scenes of the battles playing out in her head painting a very clear picture until they reach the end of the chapter and then Papa tells her that things are very different today. She blinks questioningly, suddenly having no understanding at all of who had been right and wrong, as the book had made it obvious even to her little head. She knows he wouldn't lie to her though. He doesn't lie about things like this, even if the truth makes her sad or isn't easy to understand.

"But... they fought the good knights for a long, long time... and now they don't want to? Are they good now too?", she asks, looking up at him from where she's drawn up even closer to him as her eyes have gotten heavy. A yawn is stifled in his shirt after the question leaves her mouth.

Papa rumbles in that deep way that tickles her ear when she's leaned up against him like this. It's a noise she's come to understand is something like 'yes and no at the same time' when she asks questions like this—one that means he's going to ask her questions, too.

"It's easier to say they are no longer the enemy they once were. There is a lot of talking still to do between them and everyone else, to see if they will be 'good'", he answers, confirming her initial expectations. Yes and no.

She chews on her lips, little fangs biting into the oft-tenderized flesh. His answer only makes her have more questions. They normally do, and his silence after tells her he's waiting for them.

"They hurt a lot of the good guys though, didn't they? For the Whispery Ty...Ty..."—Tyrant, her father supplies—"Tyrant. They did for a long time... How can talking make things okay?"

How many times has she done something wrong only to be told that saying 'I'm sorry' is just the start of an apology? Mama and Papa both have taught her that you have to actually try and fix things, if you can. Just talking sounds like it won't fix anything.

"Hrm", he rumbles again. The approval in it makes her feel happy, like she's done something good. She always likes giving answers he likes too, even as much as both he and Mama say to speak what she thinks and likes most during moments like this. To her, it's best when she does both at once.

"You are right, Jess. They did fight for the Tyrant, but it's because it was for such a long time, and so long ago, that 'talking' may indeed make things right. It is not the same orcs now as it was hundreds of years ago, during the days of the Shining Crusade and Arnisant."

She nods in recognition of those names. The story of Arnisant has been her favorite from Lastwall thus far.

"Generations have come and gone since then, and these orcs have not fought for the Whispering Tyrant like their grandparents did. To treat them as if they had, it would be as if... my father's father had wronged someone, but you were held at fault, and made to make things right."

Her golden eyes go wide at that. Something stirs in her, bigger than her little body can quite contend with. Her tail tip rattles from where it's hanging wrapped around his arm, the little feathers at the tip rustling. She sits up a little straighter.

"But, that's not fair! I didn't do it!"

Papa nods, his own eyes—pale, pale yellow, long having lost the gold she has now way before her time—staying evenly narrowed as they hold hers. Something in them watches Jess in that way like he's expecting something, searching in a way. It's the look they get when he's asking her questions about the stories, about what she thinks about what's happening, on what's right and wrong or just is.

"No, you didn't, but I want you to think about something. What if he—my father's father—had raised his child with the way of thinking, or taught them rules, that caused that fighting or hurting during his time? Then, my father taught me the same, and I then taught it to you? It wouldn't be a 'bad' thing to you, now would it? It would be a good way of life in your mind, so, would you go against it all? Would you live completely differently than our family in this scenario has done for so long?"

She frowns. It's hard for her to think about, but what it does sound like to her is a trap. Was Papa really asking her if she would break the rules he taught her? If she would do the opposite of what she knew was good? On purpose? She does sometimes, but she wants to be good. It's just hard. She thinks then on what else he said: but what if doing what he and Mama said wasn't actually 'good', then? That doesn't make sense to her! They wouldn't do that! It hurts her head. She makes a little noise, a half-whine-half-grunt, as she thinks hard as she can, wanting to get it right.

That noise itself seems to be the answer.

"It's a difficult question, isn't it? The orcs of Belkzan today aren't the same ones that fought against The Shining Crusade, but they were raised by the ones that did. They were taught to live in the same way that led their parents and grandparents to fight, but they themselves have not fought in the same way, for the Whispering Tyrant."

Jess thinks she understands, but it's late and she's sleepy and her head is too heavy for this. Papa is looking at her like he expects another question though, and she doesn't want to disappoint. There's still more he wants her to know and learn from this.

"...Do you think they will be good? Will the talking help them?"

Papa's chin raises a little at her question. He looks pleased, and she's happy to see it, even tired and filled with too many jumbled, confused thoughts as she is.

"The talking won't, no. They must decide for themselves if they wish to change. The talking will only prove that they have."

She stifles yet another yawn. These questions have only made her realize how tired she is. It doesn't slip her notice though—"Papa, you didn't answer my question..."

He looks taken aback for a moment, before softening into a slight smile. He makes that airy, breathy noise where she or Mama would have laughed instead.

"I suppose I didn't." He shifts, letting go of the book to gently run his hand through the feathers behind one of her ears, which makes her giggle, albeit sleepily. "Now, do I think they will be different? I hope so; they would prove valuable allies now that Lastwall has fallen. And, given that some of their people already have, I do think there is a chance."

She perks up at that. It's not often that Papa is hopeful in this way. He answers most questions with the opposite, and sometimes it makes him and Mama get into a talk with really big words and ideas Jess can't keep up with... though she gets the sense they like talking in that way. It makes even Papa's eyes brighter.

"...But what if they don't?" Still, she has to ask. Only, a real yawn this time interrupts the tail end of her question. It's full and wide enough for her top fangs to catch on the outside of her lips as she closes her mouth.

Papa only shakes his head in response, though a little of his soft smiles touches his eyes.

"A question for next time, it seems. It's much better suited for more awake little girls."

Jess thinks to protest, but as Papa closes the book, something happens that pushes all that to the side. His left hand, having been holding the book open stiff for so long now, twitches. He makes short, pained grunt and shakes it, as if trying to knock loose whatever pained it, before squeezing it open and shut a few times.

A little needle pierces her chest, carrying with it a thread of pain of its own. She disentangles herself from the blanket and places one of her hands in his pained one just as he opens it again, finding it cold. It's not from the pure whiteness of his fingers, either (which she knows is not a good thing), but from the chill in the air even the fireplace can't quite beat. A little whine escapes from her closed lips as she looks up at him, not quite sure what to say or do, just a child upset to see their parent hurt.

The feeling of her hand in his makes him pause, before his fingers close slowly over her entire hand, so very gentle. His other crosses over her front, bringing his arm around to pull her into a full-body hug from above and behind as she feels his chin rest on the top of her head. All down her back, she feels him sigh a great and mighty sigh.

"I am fine, Jesyll. The cold does not agree with this scar, as you know."

She does know. How often has she run her little fingers up and down his hand and arm, tracing it from palm to shoulder because it was there and a thing to do? She's watched Mama take care of it when the cold comes, rubbing medicine into it so it doesn't hurt him anymore. She expects she'll smell it on him tomorrow, if it's hurting him tonight.

Papa has lots of scars. She's asked about the ones on his back, which made him and Mama look at each other before answering her.

'From the training I did to become strong. Strong enough to protect you and everyone else.'

"...Does getting strong always hurt?", she suddenly asks.

Papa goes stiff around her at the question before he relaxes into another hug. Shorter. Reassuring.

"Not always, though this scar is not from that. No, this one is from protecting your mother."

The answer strikes her. Mama? Needing protection?

"But Mama is stronger than you!", she gasps. "Why did she need to be protected?"

It gets a real chuckle from him this time, but Jesyll doesn't feel like laughing. The topic is much too worrying for her.

"She is stronger, but not always. For those times she isn't, I will do anything to keep her safe, just as I will you."

She whines at that. She knows scars are from moments of pain, far more than the little scrapes and cuts she gets from running around and playing. The thought of him getting even more of them because of her makes tears prickle at the corners of her tired eyes.

"...I don't want you getting hurt, Papa..."

He hums. The feel of it all around her makes her feel as warm and safe as protected as he'd said he would. Her little hand is squeezed in his."

"You don't have much choice in the matter, wyrmling. That's what good parents do, just as their good little children go to bed at a reasonable hour."

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Seduction - Nightmare/Blue

Media: UTMV/UTAU

Genres: High School AU, Human AU, Teenage AU, DND, Characters play DND, Pining, Mutual Pining, Almost Kiss, Story Within a Story, Family Dynamics

Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream, Ink, Cross, & Error

Character Human Names (in the same order as above): Nikora 'Niko' Nomura, Briar Cárdenas, Donovan Daniels, Isidoro Bonheur, Cain Ximenez, & Emmanuel Balcom

Pairings: Nightmare/Blue, Implied Error/Cross

CW/TW - Implied Neglect

Word Count - 3684

Read it on ao3 instead!

Our heroes were expecting an army. Hordes upon hordes of undead knights and creatures known only to the darkest depths of the Shadowfell should've been lined upon the walls and borders of the village. An army should've been defending the castle. The king.

And yet, nothing.

The entire kingdom was quiet. The only sound was the sound of the party's feet against the cobblestone ground. Villagers glanced out their windows and doors, watching them with bated breath.

There were a few open shops that the party could stop in if need be, but most places were closed indefinitely.

The heroes didn't need to stop. Not this time. They were ready. Their entire adventure they had been preparing for this battle since the start.

As they made their way through the village, the centerpiece of the kingdom slowly showed itself.

The Mareridt Castle.

A large, skyscraper-esque castle sat in the center of the village. It had towers that could touch the clouds, and dark gothic architecture with details that could only be made by hand.

The Mareridt castle was always visible on their adventure, able to be seen from miles away. It was like it was watching them, waiting for their arrival.

It loomed over them, a sense of doom and dread filling the party's senses. When they reached the front gates, they opened all on their own. They would be going to their deaths of their own accord. They would die knowing they could've turned back at any point.

There was a duty to be done, though, and the party entered the castle.

Blue, the half-orc Druid went in first, his staff, the Deathshaper, in his hands. He could feel the amount of death and decay here, there would be no shortage of bones for him to use. Although, the world was stifling, the darkness and shadows clawed at his heart. Connecting to the earth to use his Druid abilities would be difficult.

Error, a human sorcerer, stayed on Blue's left. Her hand gripped on her dagger, Lolth's Kiss; she hoped she wouldn't be in close enough combat to use it. Her crossbow felt heavy on her back, and yet, her magic felt stronger than ever. Her shadow magic felt all consuming, threatening to snuff her out if she allowed it.

The party's barbarian, Cross, flanked Blue and Error. His tiefling tail flicked back and forth, his eyes scanning the area. His glowing greatsword was strapped to his back, it had a name, once, but it had been forgotten to time. His body tensed, everything about the castle was making him uneasy. Being back was terrifying.

At the back was Dream and Ink, the party's rogue and bard.

Dream unsheathed her twin scimitars, which she had oh-so lovingly named Pleasure and Pain, her fingers tensing and relaxing as he walked. She hadn't seen much in her time, being a Kalashtar, but the Mareridt castle was something else. The spirits here were tormented and in constant agony. Whatever was causing their pain had to be destroyed.

Ink's rapier was tucked neatly into the sheath on their hip, their hands flitting up and down their flute. This was probably the worst idea the party had ever come up with. Being a changeling, Ink would've preferred a stealthy approach, but noooo, instead they had to waltz right on in.

And that was the party. The five of them walked through Mareridt castle, seeing...nothing. No guards, no servants. Not a single person was there. The castle was entirely empty. Eerie.

The group soon made it to the throne room, and there he was. The king. The one who was to blame for all of the troubles across the land. The one who had sent his closest guards to stop them on their journey. The one at the head of it all.

King Nightmare. Ruler of the Mareridt castle.

Nightmare was lounging against his throne, made of a dark marble. His legs spread wide and the side of his face resting against his knuckles.

Power radiated from him, his teal eyes looking down at the group. He's a drow with hard skin and long, jet black hair. And, by the gods, was he gorgeous.

He pushed himself up from the throne, hips swaying as he took a few steps forward. His cape billowed behind him, his heels clicking against the stairs as he approached. His lips twisted into a cruel, saccharine smile; eyes looking down at the party like a wolf looks at a deer.

Then, he-

"I flirt with him."

Wait, what?

Nikora looked over the DM screen at the group of his boys at his table in utter shock. He had been in the zone, setting up his friends for the final battle against the BBEG of the campaign.

"Come again?"

"I flirt. With him." Briar, sitting on Nikora's left, leaned in closer and tapped his pointer finger on the table as he spoke.

Laughter erupted from across the table as Nikora continued to stare in disbelief.

"You know, I had expected this behavior from our resident bard," Nikora said, gesturing at Isodoro who only grinned at him. "Or, fuck, even Don would pull this shit!"

A glance was enough to send him into a fit of laughter. Emmanuel face palmed, being squished in between the cackling Donovan and Isodoro. Cain put a hand to his mouth, trying to suppress his laughter.

"But you, Briar?" Nikora said, "You? It's an unwanted surprise."

"Can I flirt with him?"

In all four years of playing dnd and being dungeon master, Nikora should've expected this. Flirting with the BBEG or powerful creatures wasn't unheard of, but from Briar? Sweet, kind, not-openly-horny, Briar?

Even now, his blue eyes were full of adoration and excitement. This wasn't out of malice, just a genuine want to flirt with Nightmare.

"...Fffffffine." Nikora hissed out, gritting his teeth together. He couldn't say no to Briar's cute face.

"Roll," Nikora glanced at his screen, "Charisma."

For a moment, he was going to make it at disadvantage, but decided against it. Briar's half-orc would need all the help he could get, considering Blue got a minus one on every charisma check. Besides, Nightmare didn't hate the party, at least not Blue.

Briar took in a deep breath, grabbing his d20, slowly rolling it in his palm. The table held its breath, if this was successful, it'd be one of the funniest things to happen during the campaign, plus they'd get a powerful warlock as an ally.

"Wait, B, don't roll yet." Isodoro held up his hand and glanced at Nikora. "I want to cast bardic inspiration first."

"Go ahead."

"Oh! Can I cast guidance on myself?"

"No."

"Aw man."

"But first, Iso, how does Ink cast bardic inspiration in this moment?"

There's a pause as Isodoro thinks for a moment, snapping his fingers and leaning against the table.

"Well, Ink's probably been playing tunes this whole time, it's who they are. They...probably paused for a second when the party saw Nightmare. But when Blue goes to approach Nightmare, they'll play a short measure or two of Blue's favorite song."

"Perfect. Briar, add a d6 to your roll."

With a nod, Briar scanned the dice by his character sheet before grabbing his d6. Once more, he inhaled deeply, and begun to shake the two dice in his hand. After a moment, he tossed the dice down on the small dice mat in front of him.

The dice clicked together as they landed before separating. All five boys were on the edge of their seats: Cain leaned into Briar's side, the other three leaning across the table to see what the dice said.

Nikora could only hope it wasn't a natural 20.

"That's a..." Brair paused, scanning the dice, "17 on the d20, aaaand a 5 on the d6!"

"So a twenty two." Nikora hummed. He glanced down at his board with Nightmare's information on it. "Go ahead."

"What? Did I pass the DC?"

"I haven't decided yet. I want you to tell me how Blue flirts with him. Words and everything."

The look on Briar's face told Nikora that he wasn't expecting to have to actually flirt.

"I make Don actually flirt with every NPC he wants to flirt with too. It's only fair."

"No no, I know! I'm thinking, give me a second."

"Sure."

And a second was all he really needed. Briar took a deep breath and sat his hands on the table.

"Nightmare's throne has steps up to it right? Is he a few steps up still?"

"Uhh," Nikora paused, looking up at his board to check the interior map of the throne room, "yeah."

"Okay so, Blue is going to sheath the Deathshaper onto his back, and he's going to approach Nightmare." Briar said as he pushed the half-orc figurine closer to the drow figure.

"Blue doesn't move his eyes from Nightmare, completely and utterly enamored by him. He's wide-eyed, in awe. He's never seen someone radiating with such...power and control.

"He fidgets with his breastplate before taking another step forward, until they're about...a foot apart."

Nikora made a mental note of that, they were a third of a meter way from each other.

"Quickly, Blue grasps Nightmare's hands with his own, holding them to his chest. He inhales sharply, before speaking. He looks up into Nightmare's eyes with the most earnest, genuine expression he could possibly have."

It took Briar a moment to get into his 'Blue voice,' but he got there eventually.

"You're beautiful."

So Nikora would have to roll first, an insight check, and then an intelligence saving throw. He preferred to use the dice when it came to this sort of thing. Sure, he knew how his characters and creations would respond in theory, but he liked to keep himself on his toes.

In a different campaign hosted by Emmanuel, Nightmare played a drow woman (what? He loved drow!) who ended up falling head over heels for a Lich Queen by using that strategy.

But that was another story for another time.

The insight check would be used to see how exactly Nightmare would view this flirting. Rolling low would be best here, as rolling high would show Nightmare that Blue was, in fact, being genuine.

Behind the board, Nikora's dice clattered, and Briar held his breath. When the DM rolls without a saying a word, it causes panic throughout the table.

And that's an eighteen.

Plus two for Nightmare's wisdom stat and...

Great.

Nikora didn't really have a DC set in his mind, but an eighteen was high enough to let Nightmare know that Blue wasn't lying. Twenty was more than enough.

Now, for the intelligence throw...

Before the campaign even started, Nightmare's stats had been predetermined. Since he was the big bad end character, Nikora could really do whatever he wanted with his stats and be okay.

Every stat was at a sixteen, meaning Nightmare would get a plus three on each dice roll. With the exception of wisdom and constitution, which were both at fourteen, which gave a plus two instead.

Once more Nikora wasn't sure how high he needed to roll here, but he was willing to roll and see what would happen.

The d20 clattered against the table and Nikora slammed his head in his hands.

That was a three.

Plus the three for intelligence made the saving throw a six.

Lady Luck was not on his side today.

A six wasn't high enough to do much of anything. Like, ever.

"So."

"...So?"

What was he supposed to do now?

The big bad he's spent so much time setting up just fell for a half-orc!

"Nightmare..." Nikora took in a deep breath. He'll roll with it. It's what he always did. There was that backup plan just in case something happened...

"Nightmare's eyes widen slightly, his gaze quickly scanning up and down Blue's body, borderline undressing him with his gaze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, his fangs peeking through.

"After freeing his hands from Blue's grasp, he holds Blue's chin gently, making him look downward. His thumb runs over Blue's lip, a satisfactory hum coming from him.

"'You're awfully handsome, you know.' Nightmare says, 'Stay right here for me, hm? Give me a moment to wipe your friends off of the face of Toril, and then I'll see what I'll do with you.'"

"Jesus," Briar nearly choked on the air he was breathing, his cheeks completely flushed.

"Can I have Dream throw a knife at Nightmare while he's distracted?"

"WHAT?! Donovan if you kill my drow husband I swear to god-!"

Nikora put a finger against Briar's lips before nodding.

"Roll a stealth check first."

Donovan's d20 rolled against the table and, upon seeing the number given, the table burst into a collection of laughter.

"That's," Donovan held his head in his hands, "That's a natural one..."

"Haha!" Nikora clasped his hands together, cackling evilly behind the board. "So, Dream attempts to throw a dagger at Nightmare, but she ends up stumbling, an action that echoes throughout the throne room. The knife only grazes Nightmare's coat, slamming into the bottom of the stone throne."

"Oh thank god."

"Shi- Wait, wh- Briar! Whose side are you on?!"

Briar playfully stuck his tongue out at Donovan, who flipped him off with similar lightheartedness.

"Nightmare turns around," Nikora said, clearing his throat to get the table's attention. "A flash of anger goes through his teal eyes, a cruel smirk growing upon his face as he takes a step forward toward the rest of the party."

"Damnit Don!" Cain slammed his hands into his face, "If we have to fight this guy, we're fucking dead."

"Ohh, fuck you asshole, I didn't see Cross try anything!"

"That's because Cross knows how powerful Nightmare is! We're in deep shit!"

"He hasn't attacked yet though guys." Isodoro cut in, stopping the two before it turned into a full-fledged argument, "I roll advantage on persuasion checks thanks to my flute. If it comes down to it, I could try to talk him out of it?"

Cain sat back in his seat, nodding, dropping it. Donovan did the same, brown eyes glancing back at Nikora.

"...Can I continue dungeon master-ing please?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's chill." Nikora shifted in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment, getting into character.

"'Well well well,' Nightmare says, eyeing up each party member before landing into Cross. 'Looks like my little hellion has come home. We both knew you'd be crawling back before long. The world doesn't tolerate monsters like you, Cross.'"

Nikora takes a breath. The party is engaged, he has his notes and character motivations all planned out. He's ready. They're all ready.

Cross stiffened at the words, his body tending. The horrors he committed under Nightmare's rule...unforgivable.

But someone did forgive him. Error, despite her distaste for touch, took a step towards Cross, squeezing his hand.

"You're a fool if you think your little friends will end me. They'll die, and it will be your fault, Cross." Nightmare's piercing eyes bore through the party. "Like lambs to the slaughter."

Panic surged through Blue as he watched Nightmare slowly approach his friends like a panther, stalking, ready to pounce. He stepped forward, attempting to stop the warlock.

With a flick of Nightmare's wrist, a blast of eldritch magic shooting out at Blue. It knocked him back into the throne, taking the wind out of him. It was, in Nightmare's own way, keeping him away from the danger, even if it hurt.

"Wait, wait." Ink stepped forward, hands sweating and eyes flitting around. Gods, they hated this. They had so many plan ideas, so many unused schemes because the group had decided to rush in! They could make this work though. They had no choice. "I think you're confused. Uh. Sire."

"Am I?" A scoff left Nightmare as he shook his head. "Bold words from a changeling."

"Rest assured, your highness, I know who I am." Ink flipped their platinum blonde hair to the side, pure white eyes boring into Nightmare's face. "And I know what I'm here to do, and that is, in fact, not to kill you."

Nightmare raised an eyebrow, stopping on the steps to his throne.

"The...The magic cursing my village," Error stepped forward, dropping Cross' hand, much to his dismay. She glanced towards Ink, who only nodded in encouragement. "It's yours. Or, more accurately, your patron's. If you could just undo the shit that you did, we'll get out of your hair, and we'll stop beating your men half to death."

"A magic user like yourself should know a warlock's curse is not so easily broken. For it's not a curse of my making."

"Then," Blue sputtered as he stood up, holding onto his side from the eldritch blast strike. "Then take us to your patron! To the Underdark, the Shadowfell, wherever it resides. Don't...Don't make us fight you. Please."

To Blue, he was too beautiful to die.

"Awh." Nightmare cooed, running the back of his fingers across Blue's jaw. "You're adorable. But, I don't think that's your decision."

Cross and Nightmare locked eyes, "It should be his. Make your choice, my hellion. Fight me, or die by my patron."

Silence echoed in the room, Cross' heart slamming in his chest.

"...I don't want to fight you, either." He mumbled, "I want to, um, work with you. Again."

There was a pause. The gears in Nightmare's mind turned, debating if he should even humor the party. Was it even worth it letting them take the issue to his patron? Ohhh, she wouldn't be happy with that.

...That's exactly what Nightmare's been wanting, though. To finally get back at that she-devil was something that kept him up at night. Fantasizing about finally taking over and having power to himself.

"Deal."

A sigh of relief went through the party, Dream sheathing her weapons, but still eyeing Nightmare with suspicion. She didn't trust him, even if Blue did.

"Yes!" Blue cheered softly, grasping Nightmare's hand and bringing it up to his chest. "We have experience dealing with nasty patrons; wherever she is, we'll find here."

"There won't be any searching necessary, my dear. For she is right here in this castle." A slow cackle left Nightmare. "My patron...is my little sister."

"NIIIKORRRAAAAA!!"

Oh for the love of-!

"Whaaaaaaat?!" Nikora pushed his chair away from the table as he glanced up at the basement staircase. Standing at the top was his older sister, Mona, arms cross and hip popped to the side. That wench.

"Parents are here to pick your friends nerd. Times up."

Nikora glanced at the clock on the wall before realizing the three hours had already passed.

"Jeez. Okay, uh, same time next week?"

"Sounds good." Donovan nodded as the other started packing up their stuff, chatting about various events in the campaign. Mona disappeared from the staircase, avoiding the traffic that was teenage boys.

"...Nikora?"

"Huh-? Oh, hey." Nikora turned to the side. Briar had stayed behind. He hasn't even noticed. "What's up?"

Briar fidgeted with his messenger bag, not meeting Nikora's gaze. "I was just wondering if you needed help, um, cleaning up?"

"Nah, I've got it. Thanks though." He closed the dm screen, placing it face-down on the table. "C'mon."

"Okay!"

The two walked up the stairs, following closely behind the others. Nikora leaned against the column on the porch, waving goodbye to each of his friends as their parents cars' pulled into the street.

Per usual, Donovan's stepmom was first to come, the black sports car not even bothering to pull into the driveway.

Isodoro went home with Cain and his dad, and Emmanuel's sister was soon to follow.

"And then there was one."

The playfulness of the comment was soon lost, the silence filling the air as Briar and Nikora waited. After who knows how long, the two sat on the stairs of the front porch, Briair's bag leaning against the wall.

"...You don't think your brother forgot again, do you?"

"I don't know." Briar mumbled, putting his face into his knees. "I told him. I even put it on the calendar and the fridge! He shouldn't've forgotten..."

"Well...if he doesn't show, you could always stay overnight if you want."

Briar's eyes lit up, "Really??"

"Well, sure, yeah. It's not a school day tomorrow and if we're quiet, Mona won't care."

"I would love that, i-if you'd let me."

"You're my friend, of course I would." Nikora gently smacked Briar on his shoulder.

At that moment, the rickety orange truck pulled up to Nikora's house. Briar's brother was smoking a cigarette as he parked along the road. He waved, smiling slightly.

"Aw. I kinda wish he forgot about me now."

"Don't say that, oh my god. We can hang out another time."

"Yeah..." Briar stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He turned towards Nikora, smiling. "Thanks for indulging me today. You didn't have to but...you did. And I appreciate that."

Nikora shrugged, "It's no big deal. You have good taste, drow are always hot, so-"

And he's cut off. Briar's lips, surprisingly soft, connect with his cheek. For a split second, he thought it was some sort of Spaniard custom he was unfamiliar with, before realizing that it was something else completely.

Flushed cheeks. Aloof expression. Averted eyes.

"Bye!"

Before Nikora could say anything, Briar rushed off, getting into his brother's truck before they drive away. He doesn't move, watching as the truck drives off. He slowly put his hand against his cheek, his own cheeks beginning to blush.

Briar kissed him.

On the cheek, sure, but it was still a kiss!

Did Briar like him? Like, like-like him?

Nikora put a hand to his chest, his heart thumping vigorously in his chest.

Did he like-like Briar???

Had he fallen for his seduction as Nightmare had?

With a sigh, he leaned against the column on the porch. That wouldn't be too bad.

"Get back in her before you catch a cold, gay boy."

"Mona!"

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Duty

Part 2

The man (demon) walks in silently, black and red robes flowing behind him, moved by the smokey wisps of resentment that follow him like shadows. The whole room (cave) becomes suffocated with it, with him, despite its tall ceiling and large walls. He doesn't look towards his guest, choosing to lounge on his throne instead, the black pillows cushioning hard stone. To his right, the Ghost General awaits, unmoving and expressionless, dead. Undead. Both a curse and a miracle, a living corpse with a consciousness.

To his left, a beautiful woman scowls at nothing in particular, her resemblance to the Ghost General uncanny. It is undeniable who the woman is - the legendary Wen Qing.

Lan Wangji swallows hard, fixates his eyes onto the dark floor, studying misplaced stones. He almost thinks he sees blood stains. He does. The implication sends shivers down his spine, and suddenly he misses Bichen's comforting presence at his hip, or the weight of his guqin - but he was stripped of them, of the privilege of being able to defend himself, the moment he was order to dress in his finest clothing and jewelry and fulfill a duty he has never believed would befall him.

Now, he's no longer Hanguang-Jun, the Second Jade of Lan, unparalleled in his skills and cultivation, a beacon of righteousness always ready to provide to those in need. Instead, he's only Lan Wangji, a glorified sacrificial lamb, the cultivation world's tribute towards the fearsome demon king of the Burial Mounds, the Yiling Patriarch.

Lan Wangji had heard much about him. How he was cruel, evil, bloodthirsty. How the Sunshot Campaign of long ago had been a success only because the Yiling Patriarch had joined in the alliance and his proclivity for death couldn't be defeated not even by the likes of Wen Ruohan and his ruthless army. How those who marched in the Burial Mounds to kill him had been tortured until they cried themselves to death and turned into his undead playthings.

How clans and sects and villages sent him men and women to appease his anger and coax him into helping them tame creatures that nobody else could. How none of those people were ever heard from again.

Staring into the blood stains on the floor, Lan Wangji wonders when he will become one of those stories himself. After all, he was made to swear on his life and his word not to fight for his life if the Yiling Patriarch wished to kill him.

The Yiling Patriarch sighs loudly, his long, demonic tail curling around one of his legs. "So, what's your name?"

Lan Wangji barely finds it in himself to speak. "Lan Zhan. Lan Wangji."

"It's rude not to look at the person you're talking to, Lan Zhan."

So, he does. He is surprised to see that, upon closer inspection, the Yiling Patriarch looks quite... human. His complexion is pale, white almost, his eyes are red, long, dark hair frames his features and falls down his front and back - he looks... beautiful. He is.

The Yiling Patriarch smiles, satisfied, his tail swishing once, slowly. "At least they got my tastes right this time. I've always liked the quiet ones, it's fun to get them to scream."

Lan Wangji keeps a steely expression, though he wonders if what he's feeling is fear or... something else, something new entirely.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. Lan Wangji can only wonder why. The Yiling Patriarch speaks once more.

"Why did they send you?"

"There is a beast. Nobody has been able to defeat it and free the villages of its terror, and many cultivators have lost their lives trying to fight it."

"So I'm your last resort. Again."

Lan Wangji nods, expectant for an answer.

"For how they ostracize and demean us," Wen Qing speaks, loud, domineering and angry, "they sure are brave to ask for our help so often! How audacious!"

Lan Wangji knows of no other instance that the Yiling Laozu has been requested aid since the Sunshot Campaign, but he dares not contradict the woman. He has a purpose to fulfill, and he must not anger those able to fulfill it.

"No need to get angry, Wen Qing." The Yiling Patriarch intervened, with a bit of urgency in his voice.

"Then what do you suggest?! We do their dirty work with a smile like they haven't been plotting against us for the past several hundreds of years?! Ridiculous!"

The Yiling Patriarch sighs again, leans his chin against his palm, thoughtful. He sees the disappointed look on Lan Zhan's face - he's not relieved that he might get away and go back home. Instead, he seems... upset.

"I understand that the cultivation world has been unfair to you." He begins. "But the people that the beast has killed have mostly been peasants. Innocent people. They play no part in how you have been treated by the sects."

He takes a deep breath, fixes the two with a determined gaze. "Despite the gossip and the ill words, I have heard of your kindness towards the people. I know that you are fair and do not stand for injustice against the innocent and defenseless. I have come to ask help on their behalf, not my sect's."

There is a glint in the Yiling Patriarch's eyes as he listens to Lan Zhan. None of the other tributes have ever been so brave and so insistent in upholding their cause. Most cried and begged to be set free.

"You're different." The Yiling Patriarch says, his tone light, excited almost. "They really did send me someone I'd like this time."

The praise almost made Lan Wangji blush. Almost. He cannot feel flattered by the words of a demon.

"Whilst Wen Qing is right about everything she said, and I would be very much entitled to let you all rot, I will fulfill your request and kill the beast. I do care for the safety of the innocent, just as you said, more than I want the sects to pay for their sins."

Lan Wangji bows. "Thank you."

"And as for you..."

The Yiling Patriarch stands up, walks towards Lan Wangji and comes impossibly close to him, towering over his body, a finger coming to trace over his lips.

"...I will make very good use of you."

Lan Wangji is again overcome by contradicting sensations, a mix of paralysing fear and boiling arousal settling in his gut. Up close, the Yiling Patriarch's shining eyes and the beauty of his features are intoxicating. He tries not to let his eyes wander to the demon king's lips. "I will serve you however you wish."

The Yiling Patriarch chuckles, the sound rich, deep, terrifying, exciting. "Mark your words."

[red-ropes-of-avalon]

They Can Live In My New World Or Die In Their Old One- Chapter 3: People Will Whisper

Summary: You are known among the kingdom as The Mad Queen, a ruthless woman with a large military. Seeking to take your rightful throne, nobody who has ever seen you has returned before, all thought to presumably be dead. Your strength is unequal. Ser Leon Kennedy is a knight sent by King Graham to ask for a temporary truce. Hordes of monsters and the undead rising, the kingdom couldn't fight two wars. But how does one reason with a Mad Queen?

When the morning sun rays began to shine, Leon was up first, hurrying to the stables, after the night’s display of the queen’s justice. Leon was eager to leave as fast as he could. Sleeping on it, he recognized it wasn’t unreasonable, but it was unethical. Entering the stables, one of the horses was already gone. He privately assumed it was just a messenger, off delivering news from the previous night to other parts of your army. He saddled up his horse, preparing it for the ride to meet up with the rest of the expedition team. 

By the time Luis was up, the sun had fully risen, and servants had begun bustling around. Breakfast was laid out for the castle’s residents. The Queen’s Guard laughed with the servant girls as they ate, even Setanta was there laughing. The only one missing was the Queen herself. “Where is her majesty?” Leon asked Luis as the man picked at his food. 

“She’s out. We got a large number of sick that came from the North the day after I arrived. The False King, he didn’t take care of them, let them die and infections run rampant in the refugee camps. She goes there every day alone, washes them herself by hand, gives them medicine. She has those dragons of hers burn trees down, uses the ashes to help in cleansing them. And if any of them die, she buries them herself.” 

Leon fell into silence, hurriedly eating. How can a queen be so cruel one night, and the next morning, go and take care of the sick all by herself? He pushed his plate back and stood up, Setanata quirked a brow at her. “Setanta pass my regards to the Queen, I thank her for her gracious stay and for lending her aid in this journey.” Leon then turned from the table and began his leave for the stables once more. Luis quickly followed after the blonde, picking up his speed to catch up. Luis was fast to saddle up his horse there, a gorgeous chocolate brown mare. “You travel light I see,” Leon quipped. The man didn’t wear the armor of knights, nor did he carry any obvious weapon. 

“Si my friend, a scorpion is only as deadly as the hidden poison they pack.” He mounted the horse in one swift motion and rode out of the stable. Leon just shook his head before mounting the white stallion he rode and joining the man outside. Luis rode in front as they passed through the Mad Queen’s kingdom. People waved to the two and Luis merrily greeted them. The shadow of one of the dragons passed overhead, drawing amazed awes from the public and Luis. Arriving at the gates, the guards saw Luis off with a vast kindness and even treated Leon kindly. Leon took the lead heading away from the capital and off along the kingdom road towards the North. The two conversed as they rode for hours, the team already far surpassing the expected position, due to the extra night staying with the Queen. “Y’know Sancho, the people there have already taken you in. They don’t like the king’s men typically. But you’re different. Maybe it’s the courage to stand before her and her dragons and challenge her.” 

“How did you know about that?”

“Well she told me in her letter, I wouldn’t agree to work with a Knight of that King otherwise. Besides me, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of her girls heard and spread it around. Everyone there loves her a lot, the last to actually challenge her was Setanta. And now he’s her loyal Wolf.” Luis had a shit-eating grin, and Leon just stubbornly rode forward.

“I��m loyal to my King. That thing last night- that isn’t justice. That’s a public execution.” Luis stilled, briefly, before snapping back into action. “Enough of this, it’s a long ride, and speaking on opinions of a woman that may or may never actually achieve the throne. Right now, we are facing a threat outside of the mortal world.” Luis grew silent, and the two pressed on. The camp wasn’t much further just an hour or two of riding, but things were tense now. You were unexplainable, the way you could never leave his mind. You were like the fire you commanded, wild and unpredictable- you could be brutal and destructive, but you could also be kind and help purify. You were an unexplainable variable in his mind.

Smoke was billowing from further down signaling the camp’s location. Leon and Luis approached slowly, and sure enough, the camp was there. Chris was nestled near the tree line, ready to defend the little camp. Piers and Ethan sat around the fire, Ethan cooking food for the little group, meat skewered and roasting over the open flames. That only left Ada missing, though she might just be in a tent. Leon dismounted his horse, holding the reigns and leading him over to the camp, Luis approached apprehensively behind him still on the back of the mare. Piers looked to Leon before getting up to shake his hand. “Glad to see you arrived Ser Leon, there’s a large storm ahead so we can’t progress any further today. Ethan’s making a late lunch, early dinner from some animals we hunted. Who exactly did that mad woman give us for this journey?” Luis ground his teeth as he dismounted. Piers took the reigns of Leon’s horse and stretched his hand out for Luis’ reigns.

“This is Luis Serra also called ‘El Escorpion’ and his Queen asked him to aid us. He’s from the Southern Isles. He’s not just a skilled fighter but a competent doctor,” Leon was quick to speak instead. Before the conversation had soured on the road he had learned about Luis time as something of a doctor in the Isles. Luis reluctantly handed the reigns over to Piers. Luis joined Ethan, the quieter man by the fire. Ethan offered a polite wave before returning his attention to the food cooking. 

“I know what it’s like to be the outsider, don’t worry. I’m not even a knight, just a really durable idiot who got roped into the King’s army.” Ethan offered quietly. It made Luis feel a little more relaxed, but it also served as a reminder- he was the only one who wasn’t sent by the False King. He had complete faith in his queen if they did all turn against him, she’d answer with righteous fury and flames. She had been the one to gift him the title of El Escorpion, she saved his home, and she loved her people dearly. Leon was looking at the small camp. Piers had taken the horse to a river, allowing them to drink freely. 

“Good to see you again Leon,” Ada’s voice graced his ears. Her hand dragged along the knight's shoulder from behind. A gentle touch to entice him, but all it did was send him into thoughts of the Queen. Was your touch gentle and delicate with unblemished hands so many rulers who never worked a day had? Or were there rough and hardened like the scales of your dragons from clinging to their scales as you flew, and from tending to the people yourself? Ada’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’m glad we’ll be together again, the Council is paying me well to help you. Most of all, I’m so happy you escaped that mad evil woman’s castle in one piece. This would be such a bore if you weren’t involved.”

Ada had always had hot and cold feelings for Leon. One moment she could deeply crave the knight and another she could want to be on the other side of the country. But in this journey, she wanted him, being the only woman with a group of men, she could have any of them she wanted really. She wielded her femininity as a weapon, a predatory woman, not just in a sexual nature, but also one of the deadliest women the capital knew. She almost resented the Mad Queen for taking her former spot as the most dangerous woman known to the capital. 

Ada’s words though never really hit Leon, he heard them, yes but it made his gears grind. He couldn’t stand the on-and-off nature of her affections. His thoughts once again flicked back to you. You were similar but of a different nature. You flicked between cruelty and kindness, from an outsider’s perspective. You were cruel in your deliverance of justice, and cold to outsiders. But tender to those who you were fond of, and beloved deeply by your people. You weren’t feared because you killed innocents, you were feared for breaking the cycle, for opposing the common thought. Ada was nothing compared to the bewitching nature you held, and it sent a shudder down Leon’s spine. While Ada was a master of many weapons and whispers, they would never stand to the Queen who stood before the flames on that night, the queen who commands two large dragons. Realizing the Queen, held a grip on his heart though, even for just a moment sent a panic into his bones. He was the King’s Knight, he wanted the good of the kingdom, and he couldn’t feel any semblance of love for the “Mad” Queen who loved her people and served to usurp his King. He never thought he’d live to see the day though that Ada had become boring, she simply couldn’t hold a candle to the intrigue you raised in him.

[lolitastories]

BLACK AND BLOOD

Y/N L/N is the daughter of the Great Khal Drogo although she was raised by the king of the unknown lands. After finding out he died she travels and finds the one who caused his death. Along this adventure she meets the mother of dragons. Jon Snow. Night walkers. We will see if she really has the Dothraki blood flowing through her veins.

Chapter 11:

“I have to go” Pulling back from Jon I start missing the warmth he radiates. “The sun is close” I look over to the horizon and know soon enough that although it's dark, I can imagine how it looked in the morning, praying to see that again. I look back to Jon and try to take as much of him in. “You hold on tight to that dragon”

“Yes Princess” The only thing holding onto him were my hands. When I removed them I walked towards him pulling him closer as my hands touched his cheeks. Atleast one last kiss. It was a simple one. A simple goodbye. A simple see you soon. A simple stay safe. A simple, don’t do anything stupid because I will be fighting to stay here with you. A simple, I love you. I pulled away, turned around and kept on walking. Love was always the thing that held me together. To be honest I never cared about dying. Never cared about leaving anyone behind. Yes I have people I loved who I would be crushed to see suffer because I am no longer here but at the end of the day they would be fine. Yet I get this overwhelming feeling now, that no matter what happens, I have to stay alive. I can’t not be afraid of death. I need to see what the future holds for me, I have to know. Once I reach the gates I mount my horse and wait for the Dothraki to take their stance behind me.

“Move forward” I yell in Dothraki. The horde rides out in between the unsullied to form themselves up infront of them.

“Lady Y/N” I look down and see a young girl there.

“Am no Lady” I say, mounting off my horse.

“My apologies, Princess” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Just Y/N. What can I do for you Lady Mormont?” She is a strong girl. I shake my head from going deep into a hole thinking about how she got to be a lady in this war.

“My cousin is out there” Jorah. “I-” She shakes her head. Her hands fall to the side as she tries to get her words out.

“I will stand with him, fight alongside him, '' Lady Mormont nods. I give her a smile before mounting on my horse and riding out to find Greyworm. My horse stops as it stands beside Arya. “If anything goes wrong, you are to go behind the gate” I look at both Arya and Greyworm. He nods knowing it was an order towards him to keep Arya safe. “Lead them Arya. Lead them well. They have their orders. Those catapults and trenches are yours to use” She nods. With a final glance I continue on riding. I see a figure coming closer on a horse. The rider's cloak falls back from their face and it's the redhead woman, Mellisandra. I keep on riding until I reach Jorah.

“You brought company” I looked confused as he pointed something behind me. I look back and see Ghost marching up to stand in the middle of us.

“Only because I threatened to make a fur coat of him” His low growl was heard and I only smiled. “Are you ready?” I look down again and see him focus on the darkness.

“I guess that everyone” Jorah jokes. He pulls out his sword as I do mine. My attention moves to the swishing sounds and growls above us. Daenerys and Jon are surveying the area. Their shadows can be seen thanks to the moon shining through the clouds above. I look down and give the signal. The soldiers start yelling and the Dothraki start wailing. I spur my horse forwad knowing the Dothraki was right behind me. The flaming swords allow us to see a bit of the onslaught as the Dothraki pull far away from the rest of the forces. Above us the stone from the catapults are seen behind the throne. The fire helps us with view as we come upon the dead.

The flaming stones crash to the ground in front of us. The snarls of the undead army precede them. We see the ferocious undead emerging from the darkness, massive in size and in numbers. The fire starts to quit and no matter how many we stick our swords in, the double amount shows up. Our forces are getting thinner and thinner by the minute. I look around to see Jorah struggling.

“Everyone! Back!” I yell in Dothraki. I rush to Jorah off my horse. Pushing the undead back and stabbing it. “We are getting mudered!” I yell. Jorah gets on his horse and rides off. I start running back and alongside me I see Ghost. The sound around me was made of horse whinnies in the darkness followed by the footsteps of retreating Dothraki on foot. We catch up to the unsullied and watch the Dothraki come in. Greyworm’s face twists in anger. I go to say something but Arya beats me to it. Greyworm nods to her command as he places on his helmet.The wind blows stronger. A soft pattern becomes a rumble of running feet as the undead army starts to boil forth the darkness, running at full tilt. Once visible, they come in like a tidal wave.

“Take your stance!” Greyworm shouts. The Unsullied take their braced battle stance, spears pointed forward. I stand back and watch the army of wights crash over them, shrieking and snarling. They stab and slice the Unsullied as they barrel through. I ran up to renforce. I watch as soldiers run from their stance towards the wall. The undead crash into their cadre at full speed and the battle begins. One after the other comes rushing towards us. A blow to the head, another to their spin and the rest wherever my sword catches them.

“Arya gets back into the gate!”Just then, the dragons above shoot forth a wall of flame as they dive past, disintegrating the undead. The dragons continue to do this until a white smoke of winter covers them. Fuck!. I rush towards Arya and pull her back, phishing her towards the gates. “Get back in the castle!” With a straight glance she nods. I am not pushing her away from the war. A war can’t be fought if the leader is dead. After a couple of minutes the archers above the wall start helping. I keep on fighting until the wind is knocked out of me. My sword is the only thing keeping me alive as one undead stays above me. With all my strength I pushed him back but not quick enough to see another coming towards me. I turn over and see Ghost taking care of him as I jab my sword into another. “I might be rethinking the fur coat”

“Fall back! Fall back! Tormund screams. The northman follows the command to retreat.

“Protect the retreat!” I yell in Valaryian. The northman makes it to the gate and the doors open. The undead continue to fight with an unhinged rage.

“Stand your ground!” Greyworm’s voice can be heard. Other than the grunts of the unsullied in the front line you can hear the northman behind us taking their stance. Spears pointed forward as we stood as the undead continued to swarm into us with great force.

“Retreat!” I hear a voice overboard in Valaryian. I can make it out to be Arya. Another soldier from afar yells to retreat. The Unsullied begin to fall back. “Light the trenches!” We watch as the last line of the Unsullied is being crossed. The undead making slow but constant progress against us. I look up seeing Davos wave a torch around.

“Light the trench!” A worried soldier screams out. I look over to Greyworm who continues to pant as he watches the ferocious undead army battle against the last man in the line.

“She can’t see the light, the snow is too strong” I scream over to Greyworm “Light the trenches!” The archers on the wall start shooting flaming torches at the palisade in the trenches. I watch as each arrow burns out each time it reaches its target, some don’t even make it as the harsh winds blow them out. The northenman try to light it with torches but it no use. I walk towards the gate and send out a line of Unsullied to take a stance. The weather gets worse by the second and our exhaustion will soon take over us. The sound of the Unsullied making a passageway catches my attention. Melisandre walks up giving me a quick glance before reaching the trenches. She lifts up her hand and starts chanting in Valaryian.

“Lord of Light, cast your light upon us. Lord of Light, defend us. For the night is dark and full of terrors!” Nothing. The winds keep blowing harder and the undead twice as strong forward. “Lord of Light, cast your light upon us! Lord of Light, defend us! For the night is dark and full of terrors!” Flaming arrows streak down from the ramparts into the darkness beyond the trench. The growls of the undead creep out of the darkness. I run up to help the Unsullied protect her. “Lord of Light, cast your light upon us! Lord of Light, defend us! For the night is dark and full of terrors!” Her chant became louder and in a second the trenches spark into flames. We take a step back watching as the fire consumes the attacking ghoul and those behind it. The trench erupts into a blinding wall of flame, stopping the swarm of undead attackers. They shriek in surprise and pain. For now, Winterfell is protected from the charge. I don’t know how long it has been but I wish it had lasted longer. The undead stood motionless now. One steps calmly forward into the trench falling face first.Then another joins him, and another still. They pile on top of one another at a quickening pace.

“Guard the walls”I pull back, continuing watching as the undead sacrifice themselves, one by one.Other groups of undead tumble into the trench, building other pathways with their bodies. They fall like dominoes until they have spanned the trench. “Man the walls”I scream out a warning again.The first wave of undead forge across the corpse bridge. We move forward to attack. Northernman from inside the walls march out to help with the alarming growing number of undead now crossing the trenches.

“Get behind the wall!” I didn’t turn around until I was running in the same direction as the person pulling me. I look up seeing nothernmen fighting up high in the wall.

“Where is Arya?” Tormund looks around, not being able to find her eithier. I didn’t wait for an answer. I ran along the wall trying to find her and help as much as possible. One after another undead, I come to a corner to see the man they call the Hound. Jon told me about him, and how he helped or tried to help Arya. “Get up! I need you to find Arya!”I stand in alert infront of him making sure the undead doesn’t get to me.

“He's a coward! Afraid of a little fire!” Beric screams over

“Fuck off! We can't beat them. Don't you see that, you stupid whore? We're fighting Death! They can't beat Death” I turn over and see more pileing up into the courtyard.

“Why don’t you tell her that?!” His eyes turn to what I am seeing. Arya rolling down to the ground fighting the undead with such force.

“I found her for you! Now you only have to keep her alive”There is a grunt from his direction but he gets up and makes his way towards her and Beric. I turn over, slashing an undead with my sword. My vision clears off the distance to see Daenerys in the middle of the field. I make my way through the undead but stop in my tracks seeing Jon running into Winterfell. His eyes fell on me and we shared a sigh of relief. He wanted to say something but I shook my head. “Go” I whisper, grasping his hand really quickly before making my way towards Daenerys. Just in time I pulled her away. Drogon flies up shaking the undead who start to mount him. They now turn their direction towards us and charge.

“Let's go!” Jorah takes hold of Daenerys as we try to make our way to safer ground.HE leads her through the burning wreckage of the battlefield outside the walls of Winterfell as I follow close behind. I slash two more until we come to a halt. The undead surrounding us from all sides. I hear a grunt to my side and stab the undead who stabbed Jorah in the side.

“We need to keep going!” I tell them. I look around but there is no end to this. We just have to continue fighting. Jorah takes his stance again. I turn and rage towards the ones coming forward. A slash in my arm causes my sword to fall. I trip over and grab another one on the ground and stab it on the undeads back before turning and slashing another.

“NO!’ Daenerys cries as a sword penetrates Jorahs heart. She takes a sword and stabs the undead in return. I rush over but fall as an undead grabs my ankle. I cut his wrist and gathered myself up. Daenerys cradles Jorah but I have to time to look any longer. I take another sword in my hand and protect them. I gained a slash in my right arm again, one in my shoulder and another in the other arm.

“Y/N!” I turned early enough to slash the undead behind me but not quick enough that blocked him from creating a line across my stomach. The pain became unbearable. My vision was cloudy. Far away I could see the horizon again as the sun kissed the sky. As the undead went down, so did I.

[tameila]

Do you have a royalty AU for pikelan???

I apologize for the delay! I see Pikelan, as a couple and individually, being rather antithetical to the role and circumstance of royalty. So, I needed some time to rotate a couple ideas around in my head until I found one that felt right and, even so, it's more royalty-adjacent. Still, I hope that you enjoy! also, this idea was inspired, in part, by The Cry of The Icemark. no formal knowledge of it needed. i was just heavily influenced by a scene from it for this idea so wanted to give credit where credit is due.

After an inexplicable haze befalls the royal family of Whitestone and much of their royal guard, locking them in a magic stasis, Ser Pike Trickfoot – saved from the spell by her touch from the divine – must defend her home and friends from the approach of the Briarwoods and their undead army.

At her side is the traveling singer, Scanlan Shorthalt.

In better times, the two were better acquainted as drinking buddies. Despite being a noble knight by occupation, Pike is a simple, country girl at heart. There is only so much pomp and circumstance and royal idiosyncrasies that she can stomach before she must take a night off to mingle with the people. Scanlan made frequent stops to Whitestone. (Even more so after he first spotted Pike). And it only took a couple shows and a few drinks before the two found themselves engaged in a reoccurring game of flirtatious chicken. Neither of them ever caving.

Now, with the kingdom in disarray, Scanlan arrives with news of the approaching darkness and an offer of his help. An offer that Pike initially refuses – not wanting a civilian to put themselves into danger, no matter how charming they may be – until Scanlan reveals that he is no simple singer but a purveyor of the lost arcane arts, a true bard, in the flesh!

Together, the two travel to seek allies and guidance – appealing to the druids, the roving giants, and even the dead.

It is with the druids’ help that they receive a book of the ancient arcane. Within it may be a spell to undo the curse upon the kingdom but, first, it must be translated from the long dead language in which it was first written.

As Pike rallies their gathered troops, Scanlan sets to work.

Meanwhile, the approaching darkness creeps ever closer.

The night before it crests upon the kingdom, Scanlan – wild-eyed and sleep deprived – bursts into the war room where Pike (tired-eyed and sleep deprived) is and announces that he has uncovered the spell. To celebrate, the two descend into the city. In the tavern, despite the eve of war, the hodgepodge troops drink and revel and sing. Scanlan and Pike join them. Their familiar game quick on their heels. They spend the night, dancing on tables, hands grasping hands and shoulders and waists, body seeking body, spinning, laughing until they fall asleep under a table, so tangled in each other that it just made sense to stay that way.

In the morning, they untangle. Hands and gazes linger, just a moment, long enough to swap hushed reassurances, before they move grimly to their tasks.

Scanlan locks himself in the throne room with the cursed royal family, spell book in hand, and begins the recitation.

Pike dons her armor and rides to the front lines. Following in her wake are the giant Grog, Keyleth of the druids, and the ghastly Vax.

At dawn, darkness descends.

Deep in the castle, Scanlan sets his jaw and tries to block out the noises of war. Pike left a troop to guard him should the worst come to pass and the enemy breaches the city walls. He knows that Pike would die before she let that happen, and that knowledge sits like a clawed thing in his gut, digging its talons ever deeper, as the fighting seems to grow closer and closer.

Pike’s in trouble, the thought hits him, sudden and fierce.

His focus wavers. The spells only needs another hour more, but what does it matter if Pike’s not here in the end?

Scanlan throws down the book and runs for it.

Outside, a storm rages unlike any that Whitestone has ever seen. Rain lashes at Scanlan’s skin as he races to the city wall and climbs the tallest tower on the battlements.

There, despite the rain in his eyes and the chaos of the battlefield, Scanlan’s gaze focuses on Pike amongst the fray. She is badly wounded, a heaviness to her steps, but she fights on as relentless and fierce as the storm. She would never go down without a fight, but Scanlan refuses to let her go down at all. As lightning strikes in the distance, lighting the battlefield and followed by a stone-shaking crack of thunder, Scanlan remembers another spell from that book. It’s dangerous. Stupid. Reckless. Certain death for him, that’s for sure, but –

Pike slips in the mud, barely shielded from an incoming attack by Grog, and Scanlan moves without another thought. Using himself as a conductor, Scanlan calls down lightning. He holds his concentration long enough, even as his skin smokes and boils from the inside out, to sweep the spell through the enemy’s front line. Then, it all goes black.

The enemy retreats, the storm subsides, and the first sight of sunlight through the clouds finds Pike on the battlements with Scanlan’s ruined, charred body in her arms.

In the aftermath, the druids secret Scanlan away deep underground to recover. It was only by a spark of the divine that he survived, but it will take old magic, far older than even the arcane that he wields, to heal his body.

Pike rarely leaves his side.

It takes nearly a month before he finally wakes. Laid bare across a stone table, only a sheet thrown across his lap to protect his dignity (though Scanlan will joke later that the effort was appreciated but fundamentally pointless), his conscious sharpness on Pike’s tearful face. His immediate response is to comfort her, to raise a shaky hand and wipe away her tears. Pike, just as immediate, bundles him up in her arms and squeezes him so tight that the surrounding druids all wince and make halted attempts to stop her.

Scanlan apologizes for leaving his post that day. He just – He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He’ll return to the spell as soon as he can, if they haven’t already found someone else.

Pike calls him stupid and impulsive and – Doesn’t he know? His spell worked. The royal family and the other afflicted were freed and waiting for them at the resolution of the battle. The crown wants to offer him a knighthood or title and a piece of land, as soon as he recovers, of course. Scanlan laughs. He didn’t do it for the accolades. Well, a little appreciation might be nice, maybe a fancy title to whip out at parties…but, nah, as long as he still gets to see her, he’s happy.

Scanlan realizes then that he’s naked. Well, except for that sheet that’s shifted greatly since Pike jumped into his arms. He cracks a joke about how he didn’t expect that this would be how Pike saw him naked for the first time.

Pike laughs – “Me neither!” – and kisses him.

Going forward, Pike returns to her position at the palace. While the King and Queen insist upon her receiving her due accolades and decorations, Pike is happiest when the festivities and celebrations subside, and life settles once more. Scanlan got his recognition – a title and a modest appointment at the castle where he can continue his arcane studies – but most nights still find him at the tavern, singing and dancing with his dear Pike.