#there was a cave and i knew we had to descend into it to get to this beautiful camping site on the other side

[latenightsimping]

You ever have a dream that's so symbolic you wonder if your brain is like "JUST FUCKING LISTEN ALREADY YOU FANNY"

[yanderecrazysie]

A Dragon's Hoard Part 1 (Yandere! Malleus)

Title: A Dragon’s Hoard (Part 1)

Pairings: Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Reader

AU: My Fantasy AU

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Notes: Malleus's story was voted for first! (BY A LOT) So here you go!

Part 2: here

Mt. Diasomnia’s peak pierced the night sky, cutting the full moon in half. As intimidating as the impossibly tall mountain was, it symbolized hope for you. There were plenty of caves to hide in and a surrounding forest for hunting.

If any place would hide you from King Riddle’s court, it would be this mountain. After all the rules you had broken, the king of the fae would surely clip your wings permanently if you were found. You were a hunted woman so the sooner you disappeared the better.

You spread your transparent wings and took flight. The wind was strong tonight, lifting you higher and higher. The freedom of flying was intoxicating and, for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget the weight of your circumstances.

But then the memory of King Riddle’s cold stare cut through your mind, as sharp as a blade. “Rulebreaker”, he had called you in such a cold voice. You might as well be a traitor to your kind.

The mountain loomed over you as you scanned it for any sign of shelter. A sudden gust of wind caught you and threw you off course for a moment. You gasped as you realized it wasn’t the elevation making the air unpredictable, but magic.

Your wings faltered- you knew this feeling. This was ancient magic, the same used in the time of The Great Ones. Something powerful was stirring inside this mountain. Still, there was no turning back. This was your only hope.

You spotted a wide, dark mouth of a cave yawning above a set of cliffs. You folded your wings and descended towards it. As soon as you set foot inside, a series of chills ran down your spine. It was cold and the air was strangely still. You could hear the sound of dripping water and took that as a good sign.

A faint green glow, barely visible at first, pulsed from the darkness deep within the cave. Something’s here… But anything was better than the fae court finding you, so you pressed on despite the fear rising slowly within you.

You stopped walking suddenly, your heart stopping altogether. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, two glowing, emerald eyes locked on you, piercing through the darkness and causing an otherworldly glow.

“You trespass upon my mountain,” the figure’s deep voice rumbled like thunder.

He stepped into full view and you gasped. He was much taller than you, draped in dark robes, with black horns that rose from his head like a crown.

A dragon in humanoid form!

You couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything, couldn’t breathe. 

A knowing smile curled on his lips, “What have we here? A little fae, wandering into my domain?”

You opened your mouth to speak- to apologize maybe- but no words came out. He began to close the distance between you.

“Tell me,” he said as he drew close, “What brings a rulebreaker to my mountain?”

You flinched like you’d been slapped, “How did you-”

“I know many things,” he hummed.

You stumbled backwards, trying to get away from his approaching form, your wings twitching as if you were about to take flight. But for some reason, you couldn’t move.

He raised a hand and a ribbon of green magic slithered towards you, curling around your wrist like a snake. “You don’t need to be afraid. I will not harm you. On the contrary…” his voice was like silk, “I offer you my protection.”

“Protection?” Stunned, you stopped trying to back away.

“Yes,” he stepped closer until you were forced to look up, “In exchange for something small.”

“What is it?” you asked, voice trembling.

“Companionship.”

You tilted your head in confusion, staring at the mysterious man. Companionship? Is he serious?

“You are hunted, are you not?” he asked, “King Riddle’s court will find you eventually. Unless, of course, you accept my offer.”

You hesitated, looking down at your hand, which was encircled with green magic, “What is this for, then?”

“Proof of our agreement,” he replied, “If you agree, I will mark your wrist with the symbol of a promise.”

“I…” This mysterious stranger had ancient magic, perhaps the only thing that would keep you from being taken in to King Riddle and losing your wings. If companionship was all you had to offer… “I agree.”

There was a sudden pain on the back of your hand and you cried out in pain. The green magic tendril retracted and a strange green symbol was left glowing faintly on the back of your hand. It reminded you faintly of a dragon.

“It is done,” he said simply, “You are now under my protection. None shall harm you.”

“And what does this companionship… entail?” you asked.

A faint smile tugged on his lips, “It is simple- you stay with me, here on Mt. Diasomnia. You speak with me on a daily basis and you do not leave without my consent.”

Your wings fluttered instinctively at the last part, but you nodded. It was a fair trade- if anything, you were getting the better end of the deal.

“You may call me Malleus,” he said, inclining his head, “I am the Dragon Prince.”

“I’m…” Giving your name to someone with such powerful magic was dangerous, but you couldn’t hide it forever, “(Y/n).”

“A fine name,” Malleus said. He gestured deeper in the cave, “Come. I will show you to your quarters. You must be tired from your flight.”

You hesitated, glancing back toward the cave’s entrance. It was almost as dark as the inside of the cave. What was waiting for you, if you were to change your mind? Endless rules? The promise of clipped wings?

With a deep breath, you turned away and followed Malleus deeper into the cave. Somehow, the cave grew warmer the deeper you went. Green crystals jutted out of the walls, casting magical light over the two of you and vibrating your wings with energy.

“This is my sanctuary,” Malleus told you, “Few have set foot here. Consider it an honor.”

The cave opened into a massive chamber with stone walls lined with shelves. Ancient artifacts gleamed under the green light, most of which you’d never seen before. But what was truly amazing was the hoard. Piles of golden coins and gemstones reached towards the ceiling. Silver cups and golden crowns and all sorts of treasure littered the area around a huge, golden throne.

A smaller alcove off to the side held a simple white bed. “That will be your space,” Malleus said, “You will find it comfortable.”

“Thanks…” you said softly. You looked back at the gold towers and watched them shimmer in the green light.

“All dragons have a hoard, little one,” Malleus said. Something about the way he said it made you shiver. His tone softened as he continued, “Sleep now, I won’t keep you from your rest. We will speak more in the morning.”

You hesitated for a long moment, watching him return to his throne, before finally retreating to the alcove. The bed was indeed comfy and, overwhelmed by the day’s events, you fell asleep quickly.

Even with the pain on the back of your hand.

[deepspacenova]

𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄

2000 words | missing scene. dragon sylus. light-hearted. sort of fluff.

Beyond Cloudfall [Deleted Scene]: In which we experience the trials and tribulations of a frustrated dragon and a snobby mountain cat and how, exactly, that cat came to find the Sorceress of Ivory City.

Note: Dragon!Sylus lives to keep his chokehold on me another day! Haven’t been able to get this out of my head since (like MC) I realized Sylus went on a whole ass adventure to make her feel better with a cat. Full of self-indulgence and an out-of-his-depth Sylus. Hope you enjoy xx

The Dragon stood at the mouth of his cavernous home, gazing out at the rain-soaked city below with a stoic frown. The glowing embers of its citizens’ hearths twinkled in the distance, mocking him with their warmth. The scenery was almost peaceful—a true testament to how unbothered Tarus City was by the Legion’s mindless warpath. He didn’t know whether it was admirable or just another example of mortal stupidity. 

Behind him, a disturbing silence clung to the rocky walls of the cave. The scent of the sorceress — which seemed to have nestled itself inconveniently into every crevice of his supernatural senses — marked her location atop a stone platform. 

Though she toggled between the top of the cave she’d almost hurled herself over the other day — the sharp feeling in his gut from the incident, most likely irritation, had only just dissipated — and the platform, her silhouette remained the same. Knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring into space. He shifted uncomfortably, obsidian horns lightly scraping against the cave’s jagged overhang. 

She wasn’t crying, he knew. She never cried, though he almost wished she would. That would’ve made it easier for him to write her behavior off as nothing more than some human hysterics.

Instead, she exuded a quiet, crushing sorrow that weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit. She’d been like this for days.

Despite the world’s insistence of his monstrosity, of his evil nature, the dragon didn’t innately enjoy her despair. In fact, she was weighing down the elation he should’ve been feeling over his long-awaited freedom. Shackle-less, far from the abyss, pillaging nearby towns. This should be a happy occasion for him, by the gods, and she was ruining it.

He’d already tried tributes. In his experience, mortals liked trinkets. The greed in their eyes when they gazed upon gold and jewels almost always overtook any other emotion. He grimaced as he recalled yet another way she defied those expectations the past few days, picturing those empty eyes glazing over further at the sight of his offerings.

The dragon sighed. He loathed how her sadness clawed at him, a grating reminder of the humanity he’d long since tried to bury. But she treated him... differently. This fragile, stubborn human. 

Not as a man. Not even as a monster or a dragon. When she spit her version of fire at him, she looked at him as though he were something else entirely. Harmless, unremarkable, and, well, a nuisance. 

It infuriated him, and yet he’d never been regarded with such… normalcy.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws clicking softly against his scales. He needed to do something. Her melancholy was suffocating.

He unfurled his wings, the membrane stretching taut against the sharp gusts of wind that coiled around the mountain peak. With a powerful leap, he launched himself from the ledge, the force kicking up loose pebbles that scattered down the mountainside. The air whipped past him as he angled his descent toward the copse of trees clinging to the slope below. 

The treetops swayed gently beneath his shadow as he descended and folded his wings tightly against his back. He strolled the area as his irritation bled into a sense of purpose.

“What does a human even want?” he muttered to himself. 

As if in answer, a faint yowl drifted up from the distance. The dragon froze, senses on alert. Peering down the incline of the small forest, he spotted a small, shadowy figure weaving through the underbrush. A scruffy little thing, it had lowered onto its haunches, tail flicking as it hunted for something amidst the tall bushes.

A mountain cat. 

He snorted at the absurdity of the creature’s arrogance. The cat was lean and scrappy, its fur sticking out in untamed tufts. It was prowling around with single-minded determination, oblivious to the real predator watching it from above. 

“A creature as insufferably small and contrary as she is,” he scoffed. Then again… 

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Perhaps this... thing would do.

The thought of those despondent eyes brightening even slightly steeled his resolve. 

Without another word, the dragon unfurled his wings and took flight, gliding effortlessly through the trees, just high enough to keep his approach silent. The soft crunch of underbrush and a flicker of the cat’s ears were the only signs of his arrival.

He stood motionless as the creature turned its curious yellow eyes toward him, fighting offense when it flicked its attention back to its prey, completely unbothered. 

“Right,” the dragon said, crossing his arms. “You’ll come with me willingly, or I’ll drag you by your tail. Either way, your new destiny is to be a gift.”

Abandoning its prey, the cat sat up at the sound of his voice. Finally, some self-preservation in the face of his intimidating presence. 

”So? What’ll it be, little beast?”

The cat blinked at him and then licked its paw, clearly unimpressed. The dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t mistake this for a negotiation, now.” He crouched low, his tail coiling behind him. “I am Stayrus the Fiend. My name alone strikes fear into the hearts of—”

The cat darted away before he could finish, slipping into the underbrush with a small chirp. Growling in indignation, the dragon lurched forward, His wings folded against his back as he pursued, claws tearing through leaves and brambles in his path as the chase began.

It became quite apparent, however, that his dragon-like physique was more well-suited for widespread destruction rather than stealth. His horns snagged on low-hanging branches, his claws caught on roots, and his tail kept dragging in the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in his wake. 

The infernal creature, meanwhile, moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly through gaps and crevices too small for him to navigate. Without his reptilian vision, the dragon was sure he’d have lost it by now.

“Cursed vermin,” he hissed, pausing to disentangle his tail from a thorny bush. “Do you even know who I am? I could scorch this entire hillside with a single breath.”

Though the mountain cat didn’t answer, it did take refuge atop a precariously balanced boulder near the cliffside, its gold eyes glowing mockingly in the moonlight. The dragon glared at it, debating the merits of simply incinerating the creature and presenting her with a pile of ash instead. But no, that wouldn’t do. 

She wouldn’t smile at ash.

The ground beneath him was nowhere near strong enough to hold him for long so he shifted his weight and stepped forward carefully, determined to capture his prey. Just as he was close enough to extend his grasp, the cat sensed him and leapt to the next perch, then the next, its movements fluid and maddeningly graceful until it reached the edge of the cliff, paces away from plummeting toward its sad little death. 

The dragon growled low in his throat.

“You test my patience, creature,” he snarled, lunging for it. His claws grazed its tail, but the cat slipped free, landing neatly on a patch of grass in the opposite direction. 

It meowed at him — a taunt, he was certain of it — before darting off again.

The moon continued to rise over Tarus City as the hours passed and midnight arrived. The once-pristine hillside now bore visible scars of an angry dragon’s pursuit of a wily mountain cat: gouged soil, uprooted foliage, cracked branches, and a few unfortunate scorch marks where the dragon’s temper had flared. The cat, however, remained unscathed, not one patch of fur out of place.

He was reclined against a tree trunk to catch his breath, glaring at the smug feline — who was currently lying on its side, tail swishing calmly every few seconds — as he tried his hardest to hold together what remained of his composure. 

And his dignity. 

“Alright, enough games,” he rumbled, getting to his feet. 

The dragon closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his footfalls as unrestrained as his frayed patience. To his astonishment, the cat did not flee. Instead, it sat up, blinked lazily at him, and began grooming itself, utterly unperturbed by the massive dragon towering above it. 

“You’re mine,” he declared authoritatively as he reached for it, his moonlit shadow engulfing the small animal.

When his claws were inches from its fur, he hesitated, frowning as the cat glanced up and met the dragon’s gaze with an expression that could only be described as disdainful. 

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said flatly. “Have you been… playing?”

The feline exposed its teeth with a yawn.  

The dragon huffed, a stream of smoke trailing from his exhale. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you bite me, I swear—”

In one swift motion, he scooped the cat up, lifted it into the air, and nestled it into his arms. It only tensed for a moment before it settled, its tiny body warm against his chest. The dragon blinked, uncertain what to make of the sudden compliance and the contented rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate its body.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cradling it awkwardly as he spread his wings. “Do not get used to this.”

The flight back to the cave was uneventful, though Sylus was acutely aware of the cat’s claws kneading his scales. It was a strange sensation, almost pleasant — though he’d be taking that confession to his grave.

When he landed, he paused at the cave entrance, staring into the dimly lit yet lavish interior where she still sat, her silhouette framed by the distant city. He frowned, his grip on the cat tightening slightly.

He couldn’t let her know it was from him. That would ruin everything.

Carefully, he placed the cat on the ground and gave it a gentle nudge toward the cave. 

The cat hesitated, glancing back at him as if to say, you coming?

“Go, you vexing creature,” the dragon said, his voice low. “She’ll like you better than I do, that I can promise.”

The cat seemed to consider this, then accept it, padding cautiously into the cave. Every few seconds it would stop to sniff a treasure or rub the side of its face on a damned goblet, like it was purposefully pulling at the last strand of patience left in the dragon’s body.

Careful to stay hidden, he watched from the shadows as it approached her at last, its tail flicking curiously. 

She didn’t notice until it brushed against her leg with a trilling chirp, causing her to blink down at her unexpected visitor.

“Where did you come from?” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing its fur. The cat made that contented rumbling noise again, leaning into her touch.

And then — finally — a faint smile graced her lips. It was a small thing, fragile, and gone almost as fast as it appeared. But it was enough to melt a block of tension from his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

As she started to sigh and coo over the smug bastard — who was acting as if it had scaled the mountainside to reach her on its own four paws — the dragon backed away, retreating to his usual perch deeper in the cave. 

He couldn’t say he’d be willing to go through the hours he had spent chasing that infuriating creature again. The frustration and humiliation. The near-incineration of half this mountain. 

But seeing that ray of joy banish the stormy dimness from her gaze for a fleeting moment? Well, suddenly the grave indignities he’d suffered that night didn’t smart so badly.

Let her think it was fate, or luck, or some divine gift. Let her smile. That was all that mattered.

He settled in to watch her from afar.

“You’re welcome, my nemesis.”

[captn-trex]

brightest in the dark

Crosshair x F!Reader

word count: 9.2k

description: when you get caught up in an inescapable cave-in, crosshair finds that some things are easier to confess when it feels like the end of the road

warnings/tags: angst for sure but not all the way through, crosshair is an angsty boy in a lot of ways, forced proximity, frenemies (?) to lovers — reader and cross have a strained relationship because of the aforementioned angstiness of the boy, perceived unrequited love, injury detail, blood & needles, jealous (and a bit insecure) crosshair, implied there might be something between hunter & reader (spoiler: there isn't), grumpy/sunshine kinda, reader is a medic (how original), reader is described as being a similar size to crosshair, some suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw

a/n: I will make every clone yearn if it’s the last thing I do. sue me. also If anyone knows where I took the title from we can be best friends forever btw. and shoutout to @lonewolflupe for the ‘sky rodeo’ <3

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

“Have you got your water bottle?”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, kicking off the side of the Marauder as you descended the ship’s stairs with an irritating pep in your step.

“Mm” he confirmed, taking a toothpick from his belt, already pre-empting a grinding jaw.

“Medkit?” you asked, stopping just next to him to secure the top of your knapsack.

Crosshair didn’t reply, he just gave you a sidelong glance of irritation, toothpick clenched between his teeth. You looked over to him, most likely upon realising he wasn’t going to answer, and deflated slightly at his expression.

“Crosshair, have you got your medkit?” you asked more pointedly, an edge of exasperation that made the edges of his lips quirk up marginally.

“Yes, I have” he mumbled out, turning away from you and catching Hunter’s glare as he walked in his direction.

Crosshair had to fight the urge to roll his eyes again, he already knew what he was going to say.

“She’s only trying to help” Hunter scolded him, “if I hear that you've given her a hard time—”

“Alright, I get it” Crosshair snapped, his gaze as sharp as his tongue.

Hunter gave him an unimpressed look, eyebrows raised and a sigh escaping his lips, “alright, try not to take too long, report back as soon as you've got a visual”

Crosshair didn't try to suppress his eye roll this time, “this isn’t my first sky rodeo, Hunter”

“I know, but—”

“You ready, Cross?”

Crosshair's head twinged to the side slightly as his eyes fluttered closed, his jaw grinding and teeth clamped together at the nickname. He'd pretend it was because he hated it, as he always did.

He didn't reply, instead stalking away from the two of you and off in the direction of your mission objective. He could hear the way your feet scurried to catch up with his long strides and huffed, gripping his helmet tightly at his side. He felt your eyes on him, running them over his armour, and it took everything within him to keep from meeting your gaze.

“How did you sleep last night?” you asked, making his jaw tick noticeably.

He knew you had recognised his poor sleeping habits of late, but he wasn't really in the mood to speak about it, especially as it had something to do with the fact that you'd started sleeping in Hunter's bunk. He wasn't sure why, but that was somehow even more torturous than knowing.

“Fine” he replied coldly, keeping his eyes ahead as the two of you followed the trail that lead down into the valley below.

You sighed, “Cross…”

“Don't call me that” he grumbled, no real bite behind the demand, “and I said fine, so drop it”

He saw your shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, disappointed in himself once again.

Truth be told, Crosshair was painfully enamoured by you. Smitten was a more appropriate description really. He certainly felt as if he had been smited by some cruel deity who deemed that his life was worth being made difficult. He bore it like an open wound that he tried to ignore, a mess that wasn't given the proper amount of care and attention, and bled into the way he treated you.

You’d always been too kind to Crosshair, far kinder than he deserved. As much as it was your job as a medic, you always took care of him in the same way as the others, even though they always treated you with a level of respect that he didn't. He wished everyday that he could take it all back, go back to the beginning and start over, let you know how much he appreciated you and your efforts, how his feelings had grown for you to the point where his chest ached every time your smile was directed at someone who wasn't him.

It made little sense, he knew that. He acted as if he didn't care whether you lived or died, but it was the fact that you didn't seem to care that made him continue to act that way. So he couldn't take it back after all, and maybe he wouldn't want to anyway, because how else could he get close to you? He knew that made little sense too, but very few things were clear to him when it came to you.

In any case, he'd go on suffering in silence, a suffering of his own making that he cursed himself everyday for.

You did have a friendship, of sorts. He wouldn't call it that, and would certainly never admit it, but you were insistent in trying to get him talking. The way it would play out often went along the lines of him teasing you, making fun of you, to see how far he could push you as a juvenile way of coping with the magnitude of his affections. It was the closest thing to affection he would allow himself. You often rebutted his teasing remarks with ones of your own, and as much as he appreciated you matching his attitude, he mostly wished that you wouldn't allow him to get away with it, that you would give him a reason to show how he truly felt about you.

Safe to say the opportunity hadn't arisen, and he wasn't crossing his fingers either.

This mission's objective was simple; go and scout ahead, and comm the others when it was safe for them to move out. Since your joining the group eight months ago, Crosshair had often been lumbered with you in situations such as this. As the sniper, he wasn't made for nor enjoyed close combat fighting, and as the medic with little combat training, it suited you to hang back until you were needed.

Thankfully, the terrain that you were traversing this time was straightforward, a narrow valley that brought you right up to a ridge that overlooked a separatist outpost. Although the area was simple to cut across, it only made the silence that stretched between you even more tense, with no buffer to distract either of you.

You kicked up dust into the air with the way you were dragging your feet, and Crosshair was half of the mind to replace his backpack with you just so he wouldn't have to hear the grating noise. Holding a datapad in hand, you tapped the screen, tracking the direction that the two of you were heading in.

“Two more klicks” you mumbled, cutting through the tension with all the effectiveness of a butter knife.

Crosshair grunted in reply, casting his eyes across the top of the valley as the two of you descended to the very bottom. His hand shot out, slamming against your abdomen and stopping you in your place.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice low as you saw the way his gaze skimmed the top of the valley.

Crosshair slowly reached back and took his firepuncher from his backpack, “we're being watched”

The moment the first blaster bolt flew, Crosshair grabbed your waist and pushed you behind him, bringing his blaster into position and picking off the sniper droids he could see. Each bolt found its mark, piercing the droids between their eyes.

“Find us some cover” he ordered as he shoved his helmet over his head, looking for incoming droids. He turned back the way you had come, blaster raised as he walked backwards. It was silent for a moment, the only thing he could hear being the gentle padding of your feet against the ground behind him.

“Crosshair, in here” he heard you call from not far away, and he gave one last look around the edge of the valley before turning and making his way towards your voice.

There was a small cavern at the base of the cliff, a hideaway cut from the rock, and it looked to have been used for shelter before. A small pile of logs indicated a fire, with stones outlining a pit of ashes, only just visible with the way the afternoon light shone in through the opening of the cave.

Crosshair squared himself with the wall of the cave to look outside, his back pressed against it as he followed the line of the cliff through his scope. He felt your presence next to him, your chin knocking against his spaulder as you peered over his shoulder. Your breath wafted over the sliver of skin between the top of his blacks and his helmet, and his breath hitched as the heat of it made his skin prickle.

“Stay” he muttered, stepping forwards to put some distance between you, and to make sure that it was safe to move again. He stepped out into the valley once more, his rifle raised and ready should he meet more adversaries.

It was eerily quiet, the whistling of the wind the most audible sound, carrying no others on it. Crosshair stalked around the base of the valley, making sure that no other droids were in the vicinity, and called for you to join him when he was sure.

“One moment” you muttered, “I think there's a stone in my boot”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, lifting his weapon to look through the scope and make extra sure that it was safe. He wandered around as he waited, his own boots softly crumbling the dirt beneath them, then came to a stop next to you after a few moments, watching as you buckled up your boot again.

You looked up at him and a small smile crossed your lips, but almost instantly dropped, as if you'd done something wrong, “let's go”

Crosshair felt his heart fall from his chest at the subtle action. The fact that you wouldn't even allow yourself to smile at him left a gaping hole through the middle of him, and he felt completely and utterly ashamed. He knew it was his own fault, he'd blame himself even if it wasn't, but he wasn't prepared for how the simple motion would bring his mettle to its knees.

As he was caught up in staring at you with an inscrutible expression, one that didn't give away even one ounce of the anguish he felt, a blast flew straight past him, and narrowly missed your arm. He pushed you back inside the cave on instinct, and whipped around to deal with the incoming attack, but upon seeing the increased amount of firepower now gunning for the two of you, he quickly followed you inside, picking off the droids towards the front of the formation as he walked backwards.

As the droids continued firing down at you, a blast lodged itself in the ledge above the opening to the cave. When the rocks there crumbled away, they seemed to focus all their fire above you. Crosshair didn't think about the immediate implications of it, he just kept knocking down what droids he could, but when you called out his name and grabbed his arm to pull him backwards, he understood.

The rocks came down almost in slow motion, but quick enough that the pair of you couldn't have made it out in time. Crosshair fell backwards as you tugged on his arm, stumbling and trying to find his footing before he was taken to the ground. In the scramble to get away, a rock snagged his shoulder, just between his cuirass and spaulder, and he released a deep grunt as it brought him to his knees with the impact.

For a moment it was quiet again, only the heavy sound of breathing being heard in the darkness of the cave. Crosshair kept his head down, trying to keep his breath even and cut out the pain from his wound, though it was quickly becoming apparent to him that his shoulder was not in any sort of good condition. He could feel blood tricking down his side, soaking through his blacks, and he felt himself becoming feint, his mind fuzzy and unfocused.

A light flicked on, shining directly at him, and he groaned again, the hand of his uninjured arm lifting to cover his eyes.

“Crosshair” your voice was a hoarse whisper, as if it had got caught in your throat, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

He slumped forwards slightly, his back hunching as he dug his knees further into the ground to distract from the pain.

“I know” he said quietly, not even having looked at the damage yet. He was far too concentrated on trying to ignore it.

The light flicked off with the click of a button, and he heard you shuffling around, your knapsack hitting the ground with a thud that told him you were moving quickly, your actions rushed. Soon after, a warmer light started growing, and Crosshair realised you had taken out a lamp, and were now dragging it over to him with a medkit in hand.

He looked up, the softer light not invading his vision in such a piercing way, and he could now see the worry in your eyes. His gut twisted, the uncomfortable feeling of guilt spreading through his body and only making his wound ache more. You knelt in front of him, ripping off his helmet before your hand gripped his spaulder and pulled it aside to get a proper look at the injury. The both of you sucked a breath through your teeth, Crosshair in pain and you no doubt because of how bad the damage was.

You got to work quickly, silently, and unclipped the top half of his armour to get better access. Crosshair was glad that you weren't talking, he was already embarassed enough, feeling infantile, crumpled to his knees and completely weak in front of you. He was powerless to do anything else, his head pounding and vision hazy as blood gushed from his wound.

“Hold this here” you said firmly, pushing a cloth into the wound and bringing him back to the present harshly, another pained noise leaving him.

He followed your instruction without much thought, and when he took the fabric from you to hold in place, he felt the way your hand was shaking. His eyes snapped up to yours, and the distress he saw written into your expression was enough to shock him back into full consciousness.

Crosshair watched your movements carefully, his keen eyes noticing every twitch and shiver as you fumbled with the syringe. He wanted to comfort you in any way he could, but truthfully, he didn't know how. It wasn't something he'd ever sought to do, and now faced with the challenge, he didn't know what would be the right thing to say.

“It's just a scratch” he mumbled, a small chuckle passing his lips in an attempt to at least alleviate some of the tension.

“A scratch?” you huffed, your voice disbelieving as you shot him a unimpressed look, “this isn't funny, Crosshair”

“Hey—”

“If I hadn't pulled you away you'd still be there. You'd be de—”

Crosshair called your name sternly, and you stopped your fiddling with the syringe to look up at him, “it's going to be fine, do you hear me?”

His voice was grave, and while he knew it wasn't necessarily a comforting tone, it was the best thing he could muster up with the panic steadily growing within him. Your eyes flicked between his, your shoulders relaxing slightly after a few seconds.

“Okay” you breathed out deeply, pressing your hand over his to hold the cloth tighter to the wound, “look to your right”

Crosshair could feel his pulse throbbing all over his body, the blood rushing through him and towards his wound, towards the hand that covered his and brought about such a reaction. Your skin was warm through the fabric of his glove, and he'd been so distracted by the touch that he barely registered when you had administered the pain relief injection into his neck.

You took your hand from his as you placed down the syringe, and then found the hem of his blacks, your fingers skimming along the edge, “I need to take this off, is that okay?”

“It's fine” Crosshair replied, taking the cloth away from his wound to allow you to continue.

You nodded once, and ran your palms across the skin of his abdomen as you peeled the body glove from him. Crosshair couldn't help the way his body shivered, the way his jaw clenched at the feel of your hands on his skin. His eyes locked with yours as you pulled the top up, warm knuckles brushing over him, and he let out a shuddering breath, trying to relax his mind. He groaned in pain, eyes screwing shut when he lifted his arm to help you take the shirt from his injured shoulder.

“I know, I know” you spoke soothingly, your voice measured and calm as you discarded the shirt, “I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologise” Crosshair hissed out, the pressure to his wound returning as you grabbed his hand once more and brought the cloth to his shoulder.

“Alright, here's what's going to happen now” you started, your hand still covering his as you held his attention, “I'm going to take this away and clean the wound first. It's going to hurt a lot, but it'll be over before you know it. Then I'm going to need to stitch it up”

“It's that bad huh?” Crosshair huffed a laugh, still not keen to look down at the wound, but he heard how strained his voice sounded in saying it.

“It's going to be fine” you assured him, and your fingers closed around his, gripping his hand tightly, “it'll only take a few minutes, and then it's just a matter of putting a bacta patch over it”

He breathed out deeply, his skin alight where yours was touching it, trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Alright, do it” he spoke, forcing his eyes away.

You gave his hand one last squeeze as you brought it away, and despite how it made his heart flutter, it wasn't enough to fight the stinging pain of the antiseptic spray.

As you cleaned out the gash, wiping away drying blood and dirt, you responded to Crosshairs groans and whimpers of pain with comforting words, telling him that it was almost over, and as much as he appreciated it, he only felt more embarrassed. In the lull between cleaning and stitches, he tried to take steadying breaths, but the antiseptic was still stinging at the open wound.

“Are you ready?” you asked quietly, and his eyes found yours again at the softness of your voice.

You held the curved needle in your hand, ready for whenever he said the word, and between his deep breaths and pounding head, he couldn't help but just sit and admire you for a moment too long.

“Do you want something to hold on to?”

“What?” he frowned.

“To grip, for the pain? or… something to bite down on?” you suggested.

“No, no” he dismissed, shaking his head.

“Okay, I'm going to start now” you informed him, and he nodded quickly.

As soon as the needle pierced his skin, Crosshair's hands shot out and gripped the fabric of your shirt, bunching it at your waist with the way his fingers tightened, his bones almost creaking beneath the pressure.

“Fuck” he breathed out, trying hard to keep himself in check, to distract himself by focusing on the rhythm of your breath.

“I know” you said gently, “you're doing well, just a couple more”

His head fell forwards, resting his forehead against your temple as you worked, and he instead found that he was losing himself in your presence. He could feel your breath against his cheek, steady and warm, where his was harsh and shallow. You continued to send comforting words his way, your sharp actions a direct contrast to your tone and sentiments. He focused on the sound on your voice, the scent of your hair, the soft fabric of your tunic between his fingers, and soon they began to loosen.

“There, all done” you pulled away from him as you put down the needle and peeled off the back of a bacta patch, and Crosshair had to catch himself from falling forward.

You placed the patch over the affected area, lightly running your fingers over the edges to press it into his skin, and he immediately felt the solution beginning to cool the flaming agony that stemmed from the gash. A breath left him, and he sat back on his heels more as his head tipped back in relief.

“Better?” you asked.

“Better” he replied, then looked down at you to see your worried expression taken over by something more unreadable.

You chuckled slightly as you tidied up the medkit, “don't worry, I'm not expecting a th—”

“Thank you" he spoke before you could finish, voice firm enough that your eyes snapped back up to his.

You cocked your head a little as you looked over his features, “well… you're welcome then”

Placing the medkit back in your knapsack, you produced a dark piece of fabric, handing it over to him. He looked at the black material clasped in your hand and realised you were offering him your spare blacks.

“That wont fit me” he nodded his head to the item of clothing, an unimpressed furrow in his brow.

He watched on as you frowned in return, then trailed your eyes down his chest and abdomen, no doubt sizing him up.

“We look about the same size”

Crosshair scoffed, “are you calling me skinny?”

“Are you calling me skinny?” you replied amusedly, one of your eyebrows raising in tandem with your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “whatever, hand them over”

He held out his hand, looking away from your irritatingly enraptured gaze, and you dropped the top into his hand. He threaded his arms through the top and the sleeves, going to pull it over his head until his shoulder cried out in protest, and another pained grunt escaped him. He tried again, but was met by the same results.

“Here, let me help y—”

“Don't touch me” he replied on instinct, his tone venomous in a way that made his insides coil tightly together with guilt. He could see the hurt in your eyes, a flicker of sadness that only made that nasty feeling inside of him pull taut.

Truthfully, he couldn't stand to have you touch him. If he hadn't been so woozy previously, he may have shrugged off your help with his wound as he usually did, telling you he could sort it himself. Now that he was in his right mind, there was no way he would let you anywhere near him. He didn't trust himself around you. He didn't think he could have you touch him and not do everything in his power to keep it that way.

Though, observing the hurt in your eyes, in the slight downturn of your lips, he felt he couldn't deny you anything in that moment. After a long silence, he sighed. “I'm sorry”

Without so much as a single word, your hands found the fabric of the top, and you gently pulled it over his head. Crosshair knew he didn't have to say anything, because as much as he wished you didn't, you knew him well, and could read him far more than he was comfortable with.

He kept his eyes trained on yours. So much of your emotions were given away by your eyes, and he felt that you didn't try very hard to hide them, not like he did. He admired you for that. You were so openly giving and sought connection with everyone, even him. Your eyes caught his as you pulled the top down over his chest.

A small smirk wound it's way onto your face, “don't worry, I won't tell the others you needed help dressing like a little boy”

Crosshair huffed, trying to disguise what was really a laugh as an unimpressed scoff.

“I'm going to try and contact them” you muttered, moving away from him to pull out your comm. “Hunter? Are you there?” you were met by static, nothing coming through the line.

You tried again a few more times, calling for Hunter to reply, and every time you said his name it was like a punch to the gut. The last time was so desperate, so soft and bordering on loving that Crosshair almost clamped his hands over his ears. He couldn't stand it.

He didn't want to feel resentful towards Hunter, he only had himself to blame for leaving the space for something to blossom between the two of you, and it didn't surprise him in the least. You were both generous in a similar way, looking out for others before yourself, and it made sense that you had gravitated towards each other.

He tried to push it from his mind, vaguely aware that you were sending a recorded message about what had happened. He was more focused on the intense need he had to escape this situation. He couldn't be trapped in here with you, it would be the end of him, he was sure.

You began trying to shift some rocks from the base of the mound they had fallen into, but it only caused a slide from the ones on top of it. You yelped as you sprang back, and a thin crack appeared, running along the ceiling of the cave. Crosshair just huffed and pushed himself off of the ground, going to continue on in your stead.

“I'm not sure that's—”

The same thing happened, the crack deepening and small rocks falling from the ceiling. Crosshair paid it no mind, but you insisted that he stopped, pleading with him when it only got worse, more rocks shifting unsteadily and falling down around you. Really, it was hurting him a lot, his shoulder calling out for him to stop much like you, but the prospect of being stuck in here struck him as far more painful.

You had always given back what Crosshair gave out for the most part, but with the tone of your voice, he could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were quickly losing your sense of humour, and you finally snapped.

“You know what Crosshair, I'm kriffing sick of you! If you want to go and get yourself killed, be my guest, I won't stop you”

Crosshair stopped what he was doing, turning to face you, “you don't mean that”

His tone was partly joking, partly serious, as he didn't know which end of the scale you were on at that point.

“I mean every word” you spat at him, far more angry than you'd ever been, and you grabbed the lamp, dragging it behind you as you walked away.

He watched you slide down the far wall of the cave, your arms wrapping around your knees as you brought them into your chest in a huff. For a moment Crosshair didn't know what to do, but he figured he wasn't going anywhere if you weren't onside, so he trudged over you slowly, not approaching quickly for how he didn't know what kind of reaction to expect.

“Go away” you muttered, your eyes staring ahead of you, hardened with a resolve to not engage with him.

“No” he replied petulantly.

“I'm not dealing with your shitty attitude right now” you gritted through your teeth, still not looking at him.

It seemed that his mistreatment of you had finally caught up to him, and made you snap, and Crosshair was almost scared of the uncharted territory that you were now in.

“Just get up and help me shift these rocks” he knocked his foot on yours, urging you to abide, but you didn’t move.

You were silent, and realised then that it looked as if you were shaking subtly, but it was hard to tell in the low light. He was worried about you, but he knew there wasn't anything he could say or do that would help. He crouched next to you with a small sigh.

“What's the matter with you?”

“The matter? Crosshair we're stuck in here!” you finally looked up at him, a scrunch in your nose that he couldn't help but find adorable, and he found himself wishing you would have snapped at him before.

“What? Are you scared?” he asked, his usual teasing tone making an appearance.

“Yes! I'm scared, alright?” you hissed, and he could see a flicker of fear in your stormy eyes, “I don't know why you aren't”

“I don't get scared” he replied quickly, a knee-jerk response.

You laughed humourlessly, rolling your eyes, “right, of course. I should've thought of that”

Crosshair could see he wasn't getting anywhere, so he took a seat next to you, his back to the wall, one knee bent to rest his forearm on.

“I can't believe I'm going to die trapped in here with you” you grumbled out.

A pang of hurt cut deep in Crosshair's chest, but he forced a dry chuckle past his lips, an instinctual reaction to deflect the pain. You didn't seem so amused.

“Hey” he said softly, and you turned your head to look over to him, “we're not going to die”

His voice was as soothing as he'd allow himself, and he hoped that it could bring you even a little reassurance. You seemed almost taken aback, your mouth hanging open a little as your eyebrows raised. You blinked at him, and then settled back into a frown.

“I'm not stupid Cross, there's no way to know whether we're going to get out of this or not” you spoke softly.

The nickname made his chest seize up, but he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall of the cave, “you're right”

He wasn't going to lie to you, you didn't need that, and it wouldn't fix anything about the predicament you found yourselves in.

For a little while, you sat in silence, save for a steady drip of water on the opposite side of the cave that Crosshair had failed to notice previously. Now, it was all he could focus on. It was a particularly grating noise, something irritatingly steadfast and unyielding about it, just existing in the same space as you, but doing a much better job at consistency than him. It felt like it was taunting him, mocking him, calling him a coward. Maybe he was already going crazy, but either way, he felt compelled to speak up, if only to try and drown it out.

“I'm sorry” he said quietly, almost a whisper.

You sighed deeply, deflating, “it's not your fault”

Crosshair shook his head though you didn't see it, “I mean, that you're stuck here with me. I know that you'd prefer if it was Hunter instead”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, one that he only saw for a split second before he had to turn away. He couldn't bring himself to look at you for whatever you were about to say.

“That's not exactly true” you said in a measured tone.

His gazed snapped up to you, and you were giving him one of those looks where you were trying to figure him out. He hated when you did that, you were so good at it after all. He sometimes felt that you could see right through him and into his very soul, but he sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, he couldn't think of anything more horrifying.

“I didn't mean what I said before” you murmured, turning your body towards him with a small smile, “you're a great end of the universe buddy really”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “so you don't actually want me to die?”

“Of course I don't” your face softened with your tone, and he couldn’t believe that such a tender look could be directed at him, he could only think that he didn’t deserve it, “you just drive me up the wall sometimes”

His lips quirked into a small smirk on instinct, and then it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“No one enjoys winding me up as much as you” you muttered, drawing your knees back to your chest as a shudder wracked your body.

Crosshair cast his eyes over you at the action, realising that your medics robes were not as warm as the blacks you had packed for situations exactly like this. He thought that maybe if he was a better man he'd give the top back to you. That's what Hunter would do. Instead, he looked across the cave, to where the previous dwellers had made a makeshift fire. There wasn't much wood, but it would be better than nothing.

“You have a lighter in there?” he asked, motioning his hand towards your knapsack.

“Uh… yeah” you replied.

Crosshair pushed himself from the ground, only a small grunt leaving his lips as the bacta had already began healing his wound. He grabbed the bag and crouched down by the pile of wood, rifling through it to find the lighter which was rattling around at the bottom.

As he arranged the remaining pieces of wood into his preferred shape, you stood and walked over to retake your seat in front of the soon-to-be fire. He got it going quickly enough, lighting one of the smaller pieces and placing it into the structure he had built, but it was weak at best. It wasn't going to keep for more than a few hours with the resources available, and Crosshair was already worrying about what would happen then.

He looked over to where the opening of the cave had been. In the dim light he could see the crack that had appeared in the ceiling, and he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot upon observing how much worse it was already. He blew a long breath out, making the fire ahead of him flicker slightly more, before it settled into its previous dance. Crosshair couldn't hear the dripping anymore, not above the crackle of the fire, and it was a strange relief. Thank the maker for small mercies, he thought, inwardly scoffing at the sarcastic thought.

“Why haven't you been sleeping?”

The question caught him off guard, so buried deep in his own thoughts that he had almost jumped when you spoke up.

“I don't want to talk about it” he mumbled in reply.

You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the assertion, but he could tell something lingered in your mind at the way you watched the flames before you both.

“You've been in my dreams the past few nights” you said absentmindedly, eyes almost glazed over as you stared into the fire, little regard for how it made Crosshair’s heart skip several beats. Your eyes flicked up and met his, and he lifted an eyebrow, not sure how else to react. You chuckled slightly before you continued, “they weren't great dreams, really. Nightmares, maybe”

Crosshair could feel his insides constrict at the idea of him featuring in your nightmares, his heart beating faster as he willed himself not to react in any way.

“Go on”

He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, “well, it always starts with me being chased by a fire-breathing lizard… creature”

Crosshair couldn’t help the way the edges of his lips lifted a little, and he brought his hand up to scratch at his stubble to try and hide it.

“I can see you laughing at me” you scoffed, “it was scary at the time”

“I'm sure” Crosshair replied, still fighting a smirk.

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes, uncrossing you legs to stretch them out ahead of you so you faced the far wall of the cave.

Crosshair’s curiosity quickly got the better of him, “what was I doing there?”

You looked back over to him before turning your face back down to your feet where you gently kicked your heel into the ground, “it's… silly, really. Far fetched”

He frowned, “I'm listening”

You huffed, and he could see your cheeks darken as you deliberated over your next words, “you were protecting me. You had a durasteel sword and you were trying to slay the creature”

Crosshair’s eyebrows raised, but quickly shot back down at your earlier insinuation, “why's that so far fetched?”

You tilted your head to look at him, your own frown creasing your brow, “I don't know, it's not something you'd do in real life”

A pang of hurt sent a sharp pain through his chest. He could feel it, like a real, physical thing, a knife piercing through his heart. You truly believed that he didn't care for you in any way shape or form, and as much as he knew he had no right to feel slighted by it, it cut deep within him.

“Nice to know you think so little of me” he grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and tucking his chin behind them as he stared into the fire.

He could see your eyes go wide even as he refused to look at you, “I don't think little of you! I— I think you're… great, just—”

“Just what?” he snapped, eyes darting back up to yours.

“I don't know, I don't see you doing that for me”

Crosshair's frown only got deeper, and he forced himself to look away and into the fire again. All of the hurt and jealousy within him, every negative emotion he had brought upon himself by not being honest with you bubbled up to the surface, and he failed to keep it to himself.

“I feel like I've upset you” you said softly, but he just grunted in reply, “what is it?”

“You really think I wouldn't protect you?”

He knew that this was a path he didn't want to go down, one he wouldn't dare tread if both your lives didn't hang in the balance, but they did. He felt vulnerable, more vulnerable than he ever had or wanted to, and severely misjudged. Something about it made indignance rise up his throat and mingle with his words.

You paused, but spoke you mind after a moment, “not at the expense of yourself, no”

He grunted again, “well you're wrong”

“Why?”

“why?” he scoffed, shuffling his feet ucomfortably, “I'm not heartless, you know”

“I didn't say you were” you rebutted, and he finally looked up at you when you paused. You watched him carefully, “you would… put yourself in harm's way, for me?”

“Of course”

The shock was evident on your face, your mouth hanging open a little as you stared back at him, eyes wide and unblinking, and he knew instantly that he'd said too much, and that you didn't feel the same way for him. The worst part was, he understood. He knew that he'd given no reason for you to care for him in any real way past doing your duties as a medic, and any kindness you had offered him had been purely from the goodness of your heart, with no ulterior motives in consideration. All the same, it was frustrating. He was frustrated at himself.

His gaze dropped to the fire once more, and it felt as if it were stinging his eyes, but he soon realised that the sensation was actually brought forth by the tears that had collected in his waterline. He blinked them away, knowing that he couldn't, shouldn't cry, even if he had just come to the realisation that you would never see him the way he saw you, never admire him like that, never adore him like he wanted you to. It made him feel like a cadet again, surrounded by people who were supposed to be his brothers, but only feeling like something was wrong with him, that he was unwanted and unlovable for a reason that would forever elude him.

It was his fault. All his fault. He knew it, he’d always known it, and he'd have to live with it for as long as he knew you. It didn't make it any better to know it, it only made it worse. He wished he could blame it on you, make it easier for himself, displace all the blame and take this crushing weight from his shoulders, but he wouldn't wish this weight upon anyone else, much less you.

He didnt dare look up at you again, especially as you hadn't said anything. If the ground opened up and swallowed him whole in that moment he wouldn't have cared, or probably noticed.

“Do you think the others will be looking for us by now?” you asked softly after a little while.

“Doesn't matter, they won't find us” he grumbled back.

You huffed, “that's not very reassuring”

“Reassurance does nothing”

“Maybe not to you”

“No, not to me”

“Right” he could tell you had rolled your eyes, “you don't get scared, how could I forget”

“I am scared, just not for myself” He snapped, his tone sharp as he glared at you. He was feeling annoyed now, and not in the mood for joking in the slightest.

“What do you mean?”

He scoffed, his tone not matching his sentiment, “I'm scared for you. I don't want anything to happen to you”

You watched him from across the fire, tilting your head, and he had to look away.

“Why aren't you scared for yourself?” you asked.

Crosshair was reluctant to say, but you had no teasing in your tone, and admitting to the truth felt easier knowing that he might not make it out of this cave. He decided that he'd find a way to say what he wanted in as few words as possible.

“Because… if I die, I don't have to live without you”

Your eyes widened slowly, and he watched your mind work around the meaning of the words, the gears turning behind your eyes. He could feel the embarrassment clawing at his throat, begging him to stop speaking forever more. He didn't know why he would have said that, beyond it being true. You didn't need to know, it wouldn't help you, and it certainly didn't help him.

Then, you did something that he didn't expect at all. You rose from your place on the opposite side of the fire slowly, as if not to scare him, not that it worked. His eyes followed you as you made your way around, and retook your seat in the spot right next to him, so close that if he shifted his arm he’d be touching you. Then you put your head on his shoulder, looking into the fire.

“I'm scared for you too” You said quietly.

Crosshair didn’t know what was going on. His heart was beating out of his chest, only just managing to keep a hold of the rhythm of his breath as he watched you from so close. You had never been affectionate with him like this, and he was too plagued by confused thoughts spilling into his brain that he couldn’t fully enjoy it — enjoy the fact that you were in this proximity to him willingly.

“You're too careless with your life, you treat it like it doesn't matter. I don't like it” you spoke up again.

He didn’t know what to say.

“How should I treat it?” he asked quietly, his voice low.

“Like it's precious”

Crosshair took soft breath in automatically, taken aback by the simple admission, by how easily you had said it. He could only find it within himself to deflect the comment,

“It isn't precious, clones are expendable”

You raised your head from his shoulder to give him a stern look, “I know you don't believe that”

He shrugged. He could feel his cheeks scorching and he hated it more than anything. He hoped that the low light would save him from you noticing how your touch made him act. Peering into your eyes as you did to him, searching, your frown softened.

“Your life means a lot to me" you confessed in a whisper. Crosshair’s heart was trying to escape him now, and even more so when your face returned to being serious, “and I wouldn’t want you to risk it for me”

Crosshair matched your frown, drawing his brows together as the dots, the pieces of what you’d said, starting connecting.

“Do you think that's why I would protect you? Because I don't value my own life?” he asked, an irritate edge that made you draw back from him marginally.

“Yeah? I mean, why else…?”

He could have laughed, but instead he shook his head, “that’s not it”

He knew what he wanted to say really, but his mind fought to come up with something else, struggling to find the words to express every unsaid thing in a way that didn’t make him want to curl up in a ball and never speak again.

“It’s— I…” he trailed off, uncertain, “I value your life… more than anyone else’s”

Your eyes widened, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the corners of your lips lifted almost imperceptibly, “what do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes and looked away, “must I explain?”

“I'd like you to” you sounded small, and he looked back over to see that your eyes were wide, shining with hope. It filled him with such an uncommonly warm feeling that he couldn't possibly deny you an answer now.

“I…” he's flicked his eyes across your features, landing on your lips before finding your eyes again and sending you a somewhat pained look, “I can't— I don't know how to—”

You took his hand, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles and leaving goosebumps in your wake, “take your time”

Crosshair sighed, suddenly struck by how poor of an idea this was. He couldn’t help but dwell on the simple fact that you were far too good for him. He didn’t deserve someone like you, and he knew it. You were took kind, too patient, too far superior in emotional maturity and every other thing besides shooting a blaster for that matter. He didn’t believe that perfect people existed, but if there was anyone who reached the closest to those heights, it would be you.

“I… the way I treat you, it's not… right. and it's not a reflection of how I truly feel” he admitted.

You hummed, nodding as you focused your gaze on his palm, drawing shapes with your first finger, “and how do you feel?”

Crosshair was thankful that you weren’t looking at him, and knowing you, it was probably intentional. You knew what he was like, who he really was, and it was as startling as it was comforting. “I feel… a lot. You make me feel a lot”

You smiled, your thumbs tracing over his, “a lot of what?”

An exasperation began creeping on his mind. He knew you understood, you were smart, but you just wanted him to be the one to admit it. He could respect that, however hard he was finding it; you were finally not accepting his half-arsed attempt at affection.

“Happiness” he said finally, “you make me… happy”

Your eyes finally raised to his, giving him a curious look, he felt the need to continue.

“I know that I don't act like it, and I know that I certainly don't make you feel that way, and that you're interested in Hunter, so I'm under no impression that—”

“What?” your head tilted to the side, your expression portraying all of your confusion, “I'm not interested in Hunter”

“Oh” Crosshair sat completely still, just staring at you. He was sure he looked as confused as you did in that moment, but his heart still leapt in his chest all the same, “but… you were sleeping with him…?”

“He was just… I don't know” you sighed, wrapping his hand with yours, “when I had nightmares as a kid it used to help if I slept beside someone else. He noticed I wasn't sleeping well and offered some… comfort, I suppose”

Crosshair nodded, looking away and into the fire anyway, because he knew that Hunter would always be your first choice, and not him, even if it wasn’t in the way he had originally thought.

“But it didn't really help anyway” you said, “I suppose maybe I was sleeping next to the… wrong person?”

When he glanced back to you, there was something more reserved about your demeanour. You were never usually shy, sometimes quiet, but this was something that he hadn’t seen from you before.

“You're right, by the way” you noted, and he raised an eyebrow, “you haven't always made me feel very happy”

He offered a pitiful look, “I'm sorry”

“I know you are, and I don't forgive you for all of it, but I know you, and I know that you don't really mean it. And— well, the reality is…” you rambled out, finally pausing for a breath, or to muster your courage, “you also make me feel alive”

Crosshair’s brows shot up.

The entire atmosphere around the two of you changed, the air between you charged with unspoken words, energy waiting, begging to dissipate. Your free hand reached for his face, and you ran your thumb along the lines of his tattoo that followed his cheekbone. His eyes closed momentarily, a shaky breath leaving his slightly parted lips, and he gave into the moment, focusing on the feel of your fingers caressing his face.

Allowing himself to revel in your touch, appreciate it rather than trying to avoid it, he was ready to crumble into nothing. He could have, and he would have died a happy man, his last moment being in the embrace of your calming presence. Your hand found its place on his jaw, and he opened his eyes once more. He copied you, his hand reaching for your face and taking it tentatively within his grasp. Your skin was soft, ever so soft, and his thumb slid across your cheek with ease.

He felt so vulnerable in that moment, but he just didn’t care anymore. He felt safe with you, and for once he didn’t want to act like a wounded child about his feelings for you. He wanted to show you how strongly he truly felt, the beginnings of making up for the way he had treated you in the past.

Without another second to spare, he tugged on the hand that still clutched his, pulling you towards him, and his lips met yours with an ardency that surprised even him. His arms wrapped around you as he kissed you deeply, holding your body tightly to his, unwilling to let you slip away from him. He was stealing the very air from your lungs, giving you everything he had to offer, and you were taking everything in kind. You were trying your best to keep up, mostly succeeding, but eventually you had to break the kiss, almost gasping for air.

Your breath was heavy against his lips as he kept you in close proximity, and when your eyes met his, a small chuckle left you, bordering on a giggle. He pulled you flush against him, so you rested in his lap, and your face lit up even more. Crosshair felt like he was walking on air, and when you kissed him again, leaning all of your weight into it, he couldn’t help but smile against your lips. The kiss grew more heated gradually, and before he knew it, you were tugging at the blacks you had given him.

He shook his head, pulling away before you could get the wrong impression, “not here”

“Why not?” you frowned playfully, your hands slipping beneath the top and brushing against his skin.

Crosshair growled quietly as you attached your lips to his neck, making his next sentence hard to get out, “because I have more respect for you than to take you on the dirty floor of a cave”

You chuckled against his skin, pulling back to give him a genuine smile, but then it faltered, and he watched a thousand emotions flick across your face in the space of a second. He gripped you tighter, about to ask what was wrong, but you beat him to it with your answer.

“What if this is the only time we have?”

Crosshair knew you meant more than something as fleeting as a shared intimacy, and with the look on your face, he immediacy began to understand why people lied to others in the name of sparing their feelings.

He pushed his forehead into yours gently, “the others will find us”

Your lips turned down in a dubious expression, “but how are they going to get us out?”

For that, he didn’t have an answer. He brought a hand to your face, taking your jaw and hoping his actions brought some comfort, “I don’t know, but I’m not letting you die in here”

“Even you don’t have that power” you huffed.

Even you. The words hung in Crosshair’s mind, front and centre, meaning a lot more to him than you probably realised. It seemed that you were saying, even him, someone who could do almost anything, couldn’t do this. He realised then that you must think a lot more of him than he ever knew, and his heart almost seized up in his chest.

He let a small grin wind it’s way onto his face, “sure I do”

You gave him a lopsided grin, rolling your eyes as you buried your face in his neck, “yeah, yeah. Whatever you say”

As it promised to be, getting out was difficult. The others eventually came for you and Crosshair, by which point he had almost accepted that this was it, that he’d shared his final moments with you. That wasn’t enough anymore, it wasn’t a sufficient amount of time spent with you, and when he heard Hunter call for him, his need to get out was stoked. Tech had found that the rock on the other side of the cavern held a cave system, Wrecker had set a number of charges with a limited blast radius, and they pulled the two of you out from the other side.

But all of it was inconsequential, unimportant in the face of what had happened while you were still trapped. Even more so now that Crosshair held your body tightly to his, his arm wrapped around your waist as the fresh scent of your soap invaded his senses and no doubt began clinging to his bedsheets. He hadn’t let the others ask why he was suddenly being so clingy to you, but something about their smirks and knowing looks told him that he had only been fooling himself in not telling you how he felt.

You laid on his chest, careful not to rest against his wound, which you had treated properly upon returning to the ship. You had insisted it was the first thing you did, before anything else, and he wasn’t going to argue with you then, not when you frowned at him in a way that made his chest tighten. The trade off was that he got to join you in the shower afterwards. It hadn’t taken too much convincing.

Now with you in his arms, your light breath fanning his bare chest, he knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. He’d spent too long trying to push you away, but now that he had you, you weren’t going anywhere, he’d make sure of it.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @burningnerdchild @orangez3st @clones-cyare

[talesfromberk]

First flight

Okie dokie *cracks knuckles* lets get into the first one. Warnings: Slight angst but ends with fluff. Word count: 1.2K

It happened within a blink of an eye, your village was being raided. It had been at odds with a rival clan for almost a century, but this has now reached boiling point. The tension had finally snapped and you weren't anywhere near prepared for the assault that you faced, a war in to a magnitude your village could not fight.

Your dad saved you when you had a very close encounter with someone. He prepared for the worst of the worst if a situation like this arises, so he ushered you down to a cave near a port, a secret passage to which you saw a boat in sight. He shushed you when you tried to question him and urged you onto it.

"Go, go and don't look back. Do you understand ?? I will send for you when we are safe..."

"Dad come on..." You tried to get him onto the boat but it was too late, He pushed you out to sea, the boat beginning to sail.

"DAD !!!"

He watched you go, his expression grim and remorseful. "I'm sorry... I love you my child" He whispered as he watched you go, you watched helplessly as he was then surrounded.

Tears rushed down your face as you could only watch as your village... your home... went up in flames, all the memories gone. Your family, your life, everything you knew. Now out here with no supplies, in this rickety old boat, nowhere to go.

But you didn't have time to mourn as a storm was now approaching, the choppy cold water slashed against both sides of the boat, It grew fierce, making it impossible to steer. You did your best to try and sail out of it, but the rope burned your hands when the winds were against you. Soon a massive tidal wave came crashing through, knocking you offboard. The waves stole you from the boat, taking you under and washing you through the frigid frothy water, washing you away in a completely different direction. The waves then made you slam against a rock, hitting you in the back of the head hard knocking you unconcious.

The waves continued to carry you beyond the storm, eventually sloshing your body up along the shoreline, and pushing you into the sand. The sun rising and shining across your features, You frowned and hissed in pain, that was going to leave a bruise. You slowly rose from the sand and saw your ship in tethers, there was no salvaging it, and it didn't look like you were climbing very far. But then you heard a mighty roar from above, you grew scared and grabbed a plank of wood nearby for self-defence, running into the woods to hide. "Dragon..."

But this dragon was anything but. The dragon's name was Toothless, he was a night fury, the last of its kind. The person who was riding him was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III, son of chief Stoick the Vast on the Isle of Berk.

The two were out for their normal flying session, enjoying the cool breeze when they spotted wreckage below, so they decided to fly over the island to be sure, Toothless scanned the surrounding area, he started to pick up on a scent, looking back at Hiccup and making a small noise.

Hiccup looked down and nodded. "Take 'er down bud, We'll check on our guest... Maybe they need help ??" If there was anyone. He gently patted Toothless' side and the two then descended onto the sandy beach.

"Whoever was on this must've gotten caught up in something..." He rubbed his chin as he tried to maybe figure out where it came from. Soon toothless then picked up that same scent again, this time it was much stronger, so he rushed into the woods to try and find the source. "Wait up bud !!"

You hid yourself deep into a nearby burrow, ready to defend yourself, you gripped onto the plank tight as you began to hear footsteps, one lighter and one heavier. Toothless then sniffed you out effortlessly, tracking your scent through the woods and right to the burrow. Hiccup slowly looked around and called out. "Hello ??"

You then saw toothless' snout and backed up, holding the plank in front of you. "Get away !!"

Toothless then growled lowly, his pupils sharpening when he saw the plank before Hiccup put his hand in front of him. "Easy... easy bud. We don't want to hurt you" He turned to you "We're here to help"

"You one of them... *clan name* ??"

He frowned softly. "No, Berkian. We saw the ruined ship and figured we'd look for survivors. Toothless here sniffed you out"

You looked over at Toothless who softened his look, but you gripped onto the plank tight, they could see you starting to shake.

"He's friendly... He's friendly..." He reassured you.

You closed your eyes as you took a shaky breath, dropping the plank. Toothless raised his ears, and then relaxed more, shifting his stance.

Hiccup smiled a little. "What's your name ??"

"Y/n..."

"Hiccup, Or Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, But... just Hiccup. Nice to meet you. And this here, is Toothless" He properly introduced you properly.

You slowly moved out of the burrow, Hiccup then saw an injury on your stomach, His eyes widening slightly. "You're injured, I need to get you help"

"I'm fi... Ow..." You felt a sharp sting and held your wound.

"Ok, we're not actually far from my home, you seemed to have washed ashore on the back of the island, Come on I'll help you" He helped you up, the trio beginning the journey.

They made it back to berk, Hiccup making sure you were away from prying eyes before ushering you inside his home, sitting you down. "Thanks..."

He smiled a little "No problem, Let's get this fixed up" He then looked around for first aid supplies and you sat there and watched on. Toothless sat close to you as a form of comfort. You then heard loud thumps before the door opened to reveal the biggest man you have ever seen in your life.

"My boy !! Where have you..." He then saw you.

"Heh... daaaad. Hey, your back"

"Who is this ??" He went over to him, you could hear them whispering as Hiccup began to explain.

"Toothless and I found them stranded on the back of the island... Their injured"

"Where are they from ??"

"I didn't get to that... I was going to ask when I noticed the wound, They mentioned *clan name* though" He shifted slightly.

Stoick remembers that name. "They could be from *Island name* they have been at war for almost a century" He softened his look and then turned to you, walking up carefully so he didn't look intimidating, sitting down next to you, his gaze intense despite trying not to be intimidating, he usually does that without realising.

"Do you remember how you were injured ??" He softly asked you.

"I... was on a boat..." You began to explain. "Sailing away from my island... we were getting raided..." The memories came back as you felt tears wash down your cheeks. "My dad... saved me"

He nodded. "Hiccup did right to bring you here... I'm so sorry... War isn't easy on anyone" He looked at hiccup briefly, to his prosthetic leg, then back to you. You felt a couple of little licks on your hand, Toothless cooed softly, nudging your hand gently.

"How would you like to stay here for a bit. I understand It's not home, but it's the least we can do to help you" Stoick offered. That made you smile softly. "Thank you"

Whatever berk will bring, you would be ready for the challenge.

[googleitlol]

Sooooooooo @rovobeam and I have been cooking up this lmk au we've been calling the False Hero AU. It spawned from the question of what would have happened if Macaque never died during his fight with Wukong. What if he had won and sealed Wukong away under his own mountain?

The answer: Wukong never gets to be happy :D

There's a few things we've talked about, ocs we have for the au, and so I thought I'd share a lil smth I wrote.

Rain soaked the ground and the crackles of thunder accompanied lightning that briefly illuminated the gorgeous mountainside. Without the storm’s vicious light, it’s beauty was cast in the shadow of night. It mattered not, even in the darkness, the ochre-furred simian knew where to go.

Sun Wukong breathed heavily as he marched up the trail to his home. He pulled at wisteria and moss that had buried itself into his head and stubbornly refused to unroot itself. Some of his own hair came out in the process, but he could care less at the moment. He could only remember one other time he had felt this restless concoction of energy and exhaustion.

He’d nearly given up hope that he would ever get out from under that painful burden. He’d gotten so used to the weight of his own mountain that when it suddenly lifted, he could hardly believe it. He had to destroy part of the mountain to free himself, sure, but the structure of the prison built into his own home didn’t concern him when it came to his freedom. Now, all he cared about was making it past the waterfall, seeing his people again– gods, how he missed the comforts of his home. The warmth of a fire, someplace to stay dry and out of the elements that clung to his hair and dripped to the muddy ground, the softness of a blanket that could comfort much more than the stone that encased his body, he had almost forgotten what they felt like. Once he was back in the security of his home beyond the waterfall, he could regain his strength and take care of the one who locked him away in the first place.

That traitor deserved more than what he did to his eye. The thought that Macaque would put him in the same prison the celestial realm did– he can feel his anger seething under his skin over the notion. It was lucky that his old friend-turned-enemy slipped up, why else would he be free now? Nevertheless, he’d finish what he started.

The world needs to know the Monkey King was back.

Wukong huffs slightly as he hikes up Flower Fruit Mountain, his tunnel vision fading as he noticed a small monkey further up the path. The sight of another made his face light up, how long had it been since he’d seen one of his subjects? Not an unseen bird mocking him with its song, nor a centipede crawling over his face– it was one of his own.

There’s more pep in his stride as he approaches the young monkey. He didn’t recognize her as one of his older monkeys he’d saved from mortality, but perhaps she was a young descendant. “Hey there, bud. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of you…”

The young monkey jumped once she saw him, and before he could get any closer, she was running up the closest tree to hide amongst the leaves. “…guys?” Wukong frowned, put off by her reaction. He wasn’t used to having his people run from him, but then again, he hadn’t recognized her. Maybe she didn’t recognize her king, it has been many years after all.

Unfortunately, the king’s confusion only grew the more of his subjects he came across. The further he pushed up the mountain, the more it happened. He had no clue what was wrong. Sure, he smells right now, he hadn’t had the opportunity to take a proper bath in forever! He can’t stink that bad, right? Actually, it felt better to believe it was his hygiene, why else would they all be avoiding him like this. Unless another demon king had decided to claim his land, or hunters were terrorizing his monkeys again, wouldn’t they all be overjoyed to see their king after so long?

When Wukong finally made it to Water-Curtain Cave, he expected to find it not all that different than when he’d left it, but that would be wishful thinking. Instead, what he found shook the sage to his core. If his immortalities didn’t keep his heart from giving out, it certainly would have as he studied the murals that defaced his home. They show himself and his friends– twisted versions of their adventures and events that hadn’t been there before when he last visited the cave.

His heart sunk as he stumbled further into the cave, leaving behind a trail of the water that had soaked him to the bone. The murals continued on the walls, his friends disappearing one by one until he became all that was left– they never finished the pilgrimage without him, they failed. He failed them.

Hot tears pricked his eyes, grief threatening to swallow Wukong whole. Not one of them made it. His brothers, his master… they were all gone. He couldn’t protect them. All that stood, with their blood on his hands, was a reflection of himself.

It made no sense! How could this have happened?! He’d been sealed away, why would he be in these murals with them? They couldn’t be real, it was all lies! What made them worse was how he was depicted in each one, each interpretation of him more demonic than the last. Some even showed himself in his monstrous three-headed form, destroying settlements and uprooting villages. Several questions drowned one another out in his mind, but one stayed afloat among the raging storm of confusion and heartache. What happened?!

Wukong pushed further into the cave, determined to find a semblance of an answer. Instead, he was only confronted with more questions by the house he finds where his stone palace once resided. The rain from the storm came down through the large opening above and tapped against the roof of the strange home. It looked nothing like the smaller houses of commoners who gathered in those human villages, but it wasn’t as large or elaborate as the palaces and grand estates of the wealthy he’d seen during his journey. Who the hell could have made this? Who could have settled here while he was gone?! The entrance was still protected, allowing only his monkeys and their king passage into his home.

Now with the possibility of another being inside, the sage approached the home with caution. He walked past the large stone that held bittersweet memories of himself and the person he thought he could trust, and entered the house without any trouble.

Inside the home was even more confusing than its exterior. Its decor appeared foreign to Sun Wukong, his years under his rocky home doing no favours in regards of understanding this new era of life. He had no clue what the reflective black screen on the wall to his left was, nor why so many cushioned seats and chairs were turned towards it. The small paintings behind glass that sat on the walls and various furniture in the halls were remarkably detailed, he’d never seen anything like them! It was as though the painter had trapped the very souls of their subjects on paper. The one room that he had any hint of recognition for was what looked to be a possible dojo. A rack of weapons lined one of its walls, strange mats laid on its centre with dummies sitting by another wall.

What took Wukong’s attention the most were the strangers in those paintings. He took note of a young man wearing a bandana, a woman with green in her hair often accompanying him. Some of the paintings portray them in what appears to be a kitchen with a chef that bore a painful resemblance to Zhu Bajie. In one picture, he saw the chef shouting at another that looked strikingly similar to his master. Another painting put these people on the seaside with another familiar face, one that looked too much like Wukong’s youngest brother, Sha Wujing.

The kid in the bandana appeared to be in most of the paintings Wukong saw, some showed him with another young man with white hair and purple eyes in what looked to be a strange indoor market. There were other paintings with a short curly haired woman wearing a brown jacket. With them was a young boy that bears resemblance to her, though he wore a shirt that matched the man with the bandana. They both wear a symbol on their shirt of a monkey with a wide smile, a scar adorning its right eye.

The longer he observed each of the paintings, the more his confusion and anger grew. Of all the people on those walls, only one made it clear who this house belonged to. The white-furred simian that locked him away appeared in a handful of the paintings, smiling and apparently playful with many of the strangers depicted with him. Seeing him laugh with these people made Wukong’s stomach twist painfully. Everything he saw, it all felt wrong, none of this was right!

“Welcome home, Bud.”

Wukong’s head snapped to the voice, down the end of the hallway he stood in. Making his way down the rest of the hallway led him to its owner, his jailor. In the middle of a gathering area, in a cushioned chair he sat on like a throne with his staff leaning against it, Macaque faced him with a lazy smirk. His elbow propped himself up against the chair’s armrest, his head resting in his hand with one leg crossed over the other. He no longer kept his fur dark, but his extra ears remained hidden. Despite that, the warrior didn’t bother hiding what Wukong had done to his eye. “You gave my subjects quite the scare with the mess you made when you broke out.”

“Your subjects?!” The sage hissed, barely able to hold back his anger. The sheer gall, did he have a death wish?! Those were his people!

Macaque didn’t seem all that phased by his hostility, and uncrossed his leg to stand, picking up his staff as he did. “Of course. This is my mountain, after all.”

“Like hell it is!” Wukong growled, his fist clenching as Macaque moved to circle him slowly.

“Look around for yourself.” He hummed, gesturing to the home he built over what once belonged to Wukong. He narrowed his eyes at the sage’s circlet as he spoke, a grin showing his canines. “You may be wearing your… crown… but Flower Fruit Mountain has been doing quite well for itself with its new Monkey King.”

That sent him over the edge. Red clouding over his vision, Wukong lunged at the demon he once shared his home with. Macaque was ready for the attack, blocking the sage’s fist with his staff. “Hohoho! A couple hundred years under another mountain didn’t calm you down at all, did it?” He laughed, pushing his attacker back before charging after him to strike.

The two sent each other flying with every collision, their strikes so swift no human eye would be able to process them. Between transformations of hawks and snakes, claws and jaws, they sent each other flying through walls and grappling on the ground before taking off into the sky through the opening above the cave.

Amidst the rainfall and strikes of lightning, Macaque pinned Sun Wukong against the muddy ground with his staff, the simian hissing a whisper through gritted teeth. “You should have stayed buried under the mountain.”

Wukong glared at the warrior, shouting out in a rage before kicking him off and jumping back to his feet. They continued to clash, their clones colliding with one another and vanishing before Wukong was able to throw Macaque to the ground. The light-furred simian looked up to see his other half hurtling down towards him and tried falling into a shadow-portal, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Sun Wukong grabbed him just before he could get away, lifting him into the air by his throat. His nails dug into his skin, allowing no room for breath. “To think I thought of sparing you then.” He snarled, his teeth fully bared and his glare burning hotter than the sun itself. “I should take your other eye–!”

Macaque’s eyes widened as Wukong raised his fist, but before he could land the hit, something cold and metallic swung into the sage’s side. He dropped the simian in surprise, the blow sending him flying. Wukong hit the ground with a thud, his ribs cried out in pain as he laid there, stunned. He let out a shout in pain once he managed to sit up, and when he managed to see whoever had come to Macaque’s aid, he froze.

“Are you okay, Monkey King?” It was the young man from the paintings, the one with the bandana. Wukong’s eyes went wide as he heard him, the kid reaching down to help the traitor up. A pit opened up in his stomach hearing someone call him that, it wasn’t Macaque's name– it was his!

The pit in his stomach grew wider as he saw that the kid wielded a staff– not just any, but his own. There were spikes encircling the ends now like Macaque’s own staff, but Wukong could recognize his own weapon. He’d wielded it in more battles he could count– it was unmistakably his own! How did this kid have the power to lift it? Who was he?!

Macaque coughed as the boy helped him rise to his feet, and he reached up to massage his throat before giving him a warm smile. “I’m alright, kid.” He reassured him before looking back to Wukong, the warmth his eyes held for the young man vanishing the second Wukong fell under his gaze.

The kid followed his line of sight before stepping forward. He shot Wukong an angered glare before readying his own staff against him. “Stay back!”

Wukong could hardly believe the sight before him. “What? No, no– this isn’t what it looks like, I’m not the bad guy here!”

“I know exactly who you are, Corrupt Sage.” He hissed, the name sending a pang through Wukong’s chest, his heart shattering. Gods, this was all wrong!

From behind the kid, he could see Macaque watching, the smug bastard stared him down with a grin. Thunder crackled through the sky as Wukong glared at his once sworn brother, his fist clenched so hard, his nails threatened to break skin. Outrage boiled in his veins, but there was nothing he could do with it. Even with his adrenaline racing, he felt beyond tired. Even if he could finish Macaque off in his current state, his little friend would get in the way and Wukong had no clue how powerful the kid really was. If he could lift his staff, he must be strong enough to pose a challenge.

Taking on the both of them could result in Wukong getting sealed away again, and he couldn’t depend on whatever dumb luck he had to free him from his rocky prison a second time. With a frustrated shout, the sage turned on his heel and leapt into the sky.

Everything had all become so wrong. Macaque had his story so twisted and mangled– is this how the world saw him? Those murals, the hate in that man’s eyes, even the fear on the faces of his monkey subjects! It made his skin crawl. How could the world forget who he really was? He had to fix this. Wukong refused to live in a world where nobody knew who Macaque really was, who he really was!

That monster took everything. His home, his people, his legacy– but Wukong was going to get it back.

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 7: The Lost Boys x Reader (Poly) (Apple Cider)

And with that the first week of Fictober is over with! I hope you've all enjoyed the first 7 fics of this wonderful month and I hope you all stick around to enjoy the rest <3

Notes: Minors DNI, This one still isn't smut but do stay tuned for later in Fictober (wink wink). No pronouns or descriptions of reader used. This is a poly relationship fic so if you aren't into it this isn't the fic for you. (Not my gif but i loved it too much not to use) I used a lot of creative liberties in this so if it doesn't seem 100 percent canon that's why.

Fic specific notes: Star doesn't exist in this neither does Laddie.

Rays of the light from the moon were peaking through the clouds as the coolness of the nighttime descended on Santa Clara. You had been awake for a couple hours and knew once the night came the boys would be ready to proceed with what you had promised them a year ago on the dot.

A year ago to the day was when David first brought it up.

"Become one of us" He rasped at you one night after a night out at the boardwalk.

At first you hadn't thought you heard him correctly, One of them? There was no way he meant a vampire? could he? Marko butted in before you could ask him.

"Yeah c'mon babe, You've been with us almost two years now we want you to be with us forever" You glanced at Paul and Dwayne and they both smirked and nodded.

You told the four that night that you wanted nothing more then to be one of them and be with them forever, but you needed time to process what that would mean for you. You promised them if they waited a full year you would drink the blood and become theirs forever. The past year had flown by and in reality felt like you had only had a week to process.

One by one you could hear the boys wake deeper into the cave and one by one in that order they emerged into the main room where you rested behind the sheer curtains that surrounded the bed.

Marko, Dwayne and Paul as usual entered first but as on any other day they stalled back waiting for David. David entered the main room a few minutes later fully dressed in his normal gloves and trench coat and approached your bed slowly and casually. He used a gloved hand to pull one of the curtains away from the bed and leaned over you with his other hand at the side of your face on the bed.

"Darling, I think you know what time it is" You opened your eyes to look up at one of the men you had promised yourself too a year ago but had been with for 3.

"Doesn't max have to be here?" you asked, you knew the answer was no but you still wanted to stall for as long as possible. David fixed you with an unamused look.

"Of course not doll, But you knew the answer to that, C'mon let's get you up and ready we have all night but we'd like to go to the boardwalk at some point" David said grabbing your hand and helping you sit up.

You noticed the other 3 had disappeared off somewhere probably to get a few things in order for you after you drink the blood. You placed your feet on the side of the bed and stood up pulling the shawl you were sleeping in tighter around you as the chill of Santa Clara night hit you like a truck.

"You're nervous" David stated, You turned to look at him and he chuckled a bit.

"The nerves are rolling off you like waves" He continued "Though I'm not sure why, You aren't second guessing this are you?" He asked you incredulously, You swiftly shook your head.

"Of course not David, that isn't it at all" He still stood next to the bed staring at you, you sighed.

"It's just, I don't know. What if the blood doesn't take or something, what if it goes wrong and makes me sick or something. I want to be with you guys forever but I'm so scared David" His face soften and he brought a gloved hand to your chin to bring your eyes to his.

"My love Max explained to you the worst things that can happen, Even if the blood doesn't take at first me and the boys are prepared for any situation. Even if something goes wrong we aren't going to let you get hurt, you just have to trust us darling" You sniffled with unshed tears in your eyes. David had a soft side but it was rare that he showed it.

Dwayne entered the room and fixed you with a worried look before turning to David.

"Everything is ready if you are David, Is everything ok?" Dwayne asked. You nodded and smiled at him.

"I'm fine hun. Just got a little nervous" You said wrapping your arms around Dwayne's middle, he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Well I guess that settles it then Dwayne, tell Marko and Paul that we're ready" Paul turned to leave and you grabbed his hand into yours and followed, David coming behind the two of you into the section of the cave where David's makeshift throne sat.

Marko and Paul had matching grins upon seeing you and you knew they were just as excited and anxious as Dwayne and David were even if Dwayne and David were better at their poker faces then the younger two vampires.

David stepped away from the group to walk up to the throne and grab the bottle that held the blood. Marko and Paul came up and wrapped their arms around you seemingly keeping you in place in case. Marko leaned over to your ear while David got the blood ready.

"Once you start drinking don't stop until David tells you, you might faint or pass out but me and Paul got you. If you do you'll wake up in an hour or two and we'll all take care of you till your fully turned" You nodded at him and gave him a small smile to try and show you weren't nervous.

David stepped forward and held out the encrusted wine bottle to you.

"Here Darling, Let's get this show on the road" He uncorked the bottle and handed it to you.

"Like Marko said, Don't stop drinking until I tell you too ok?" You nodded bringing the bottle up to your lips and with a final nod from David you took mouth full of the blood.

The metallic taste was sharp as the cold liquid made it's way over your tongue and down your throat as you swallowed the first mouth full of blood. Without any indication from David you took another drink followed by another. After the fourth mouth full you were feeling lightheaded.

"That's good enough" David said gripping the bottle and gently taking it from your hand. You let him take the bottle as you stumbled lightly. Your head was swimming in a way you had never experienced before, your vision was blurry.

Marko and Paul tried their best to steady you as you stumbled back and forth between the two of them like a ping pong ball.

"Get to the bed Marko" You heard David command before your world went black.

================================================

Two hours and some change later you awoke again. You were having the most weirdest vivid dreams before you woke up in a cold sweat sitting straight up in bed.

You immediately noticed all four of your boys sitting in chairs placed in different areas around your bed. You gather the blankets around yourself to try and fight off both the cold night and the shivers in your own body as your boys start to gather around you.

Paul reached you first and moved the hair from your eyes to place a hand on your forehead before looking to David.

"No fever" He said, David nodded.

"Good, I want us to check every hour or so to make sure" He said to all the boys. Dwayne leaned down and put his hands on your cheeks.

"How are you feeling?" He asked

"I'm ok, Just really cold and my stomach feels gross" You said, Dwayne nodded.

"That's normal angel, You're gonna have to deal with it till it breaks unfortunately" You nodded but inwardly groaned.

"By tomorrow night your probably going to feel some pain in your jaw area accompanied by more cold sweats and possible stomach aches, that's how you know it's time for you to feed" David stated, you looked up at him.

"We don't want you out there hunting yet till your better and we can teach you, so you'll stay here tomorrow night while we bring you food" Marko said from beside him.

"A fledgling" Dwayne said.

"A what?" He laughed at your confusion.

"That's what you are dear, A baby bat"

"Our little baby bat!' Paul exclaimed laughing out loud, you joined him.

Once you were able to conquer the mountain of fear and nerves the other side was much easier to deal with. Sure it didn't feel the greatest but if it meant spending eternity with your boys then it was a sacrifice you were willing to take ever since they had found you all those years ago they had shown you nothing but a level of love and protection you had never experienced before and you wouldn't know what to do if you didn't have that anymore.

You stretched your arms above your head and craned your back into a stretch while yawning.

"When do I get to learn how to fly?" You asked them at once, they all laughed before David answered.

"All in due time my love, All in due time"

[wormconsumer]

Based off a post I saw with the idea that Robert Smirke had fourteen friends, each falling too/representing a different entity, with Smirke himself being the Extinction.

To get the obvious ones out of the way: Jonah Magnus as the Eye, Mordechai Lukas as the Lonely, Maxwell Rayner as the Dark, and George Gilbert Scott as the Buried; these ones are all canon. Not directly canon but a pretty reasonable assumption is Simon Fairchild as the Vast; we know Simon had Maxwell Rayner help him with his Awful Deep ritual in 1853, which was only a few years before Smirke died, and Smirke hung out with Rayner a ton, so it makes sense for Simon to be part of the group (though by a different name; he only started going by “Simon Fairchild” in the 1930s). Another fairly reasonable assumption, in my opinion, is John Franklin for the Hunt. Franklin is canonically a Hunt avatar in The Magnus Archives, his real-life timeline overlaps with Smirke and the rest, and Rayner was canonically interested in his expedition, which was probably because he wanted to use Franklin’s knowledge of arctic exploration for his ritual, but could also imply they knew each other, and therefore, Smirke’s gang.

For the Corruption, my first thought was John Amherst, but he only became an avatar during the Second Boer War, which was about half a century after Smirke’s time. Instead, John Snow is a better fit. He was an English physician who lived during the same time as Smirke, and he had something going on; his descendant Neil Thompson has a syringe that belonged to Snow that had Corruption properties, so Snow fits. For the Slaughter, we could go with Charles Fleming. We know he was in China from at least the beginning of the First Opium War in 1839, and Smirke and Jonah and the rest were up and active on their supernatural studies since at least the 1810s, so it’s theoretical Fleming could have hung out with them, even though he didn’t become touched by the Slaughter until he went to China. Maybe he came back later, though he was in China at least until 1862. Alternatively, William Hall, the actual captain of the Nemesis, could be an option, his lifetime overlaps pretty well with Smirke’s, though there is no evidence he interacted with the Slaughter besides his interactions with Fleming and the Nemesis. Still, he was probably a bit more high-society that Fleming, so I kind of prefer him. Finally, for the more reasonable ones, we have Joey Grimaldi for the Stranger. Grimaldi’s timeline overlaps with Smirke’s, and we know he was affected by the Stranger even before he was turned into Nikola Orsinov. The reason I’m choosing Grimaldi instead of Gregor Orsinov or Nikolai Denikin is that we know for sure he was in England while Smirke was, unlike the other two.

Now for the more out-there guesses. For the Flesh, there are a few options. One is Eustace Wick, the Lutheran priest-turned-cannibal, who did live at the same time as Smirke, but he became an avatar in 1832, died in 1845, and has no evidence that he’d even been to England, considering he’s American. The other options would be Benjamin Carlisle, Benjamin’s unnamed wife, or possibly some other relative or descendant of theirs. I find this one the more likely choice, because Jonathan Sims specifically wonders how Benjamin Carlisle’s wife was able to give her statement to the Magnus Institute, considering she starved to death in a cave on the Oregon Trail in 1845, as well as the fact that an apparent descendant of her, Toby Carlisle, is living in England by the 21st Century and has enough of a connection with the Flesh to be pretty severely affected by the failure of the Last Feast ritual. The unnamed Mrs. Carlisle being the Flesh representative does mean she presumably gave in and cannibalized her husband, and the timeline only gives her about a decade to have hung out with the rest before Smirke’s death, but I think that fits, considering what Smirke said about just coming up with theories about the Flesh in his statement.

The Spiral has similarly not a lot to go on. I would just say the Distortion, seeing as it’s an immortal manifestation of the Spiral itself. We know that Ivo Lenshik’s father was tormented by the Distortion in a human form, and apparently Lenshik’s great-uncle did too, implying that the Distortion did assume a humanoid form sometimes, before it was forced to by the failure of the Great Twisting ritual. Plus, Jonah Magnus clearly knows who the Distortion is, which yes, he could have learned at literally any point from the past two hundred years, but seeing as we’ve got nothing else, I’ll choose to believe. For the Web, the only older avatars of the Web we’re aware of would be the historical owners of the house at Hill Top Road. We don’t know who owned it during Smirke’s time; the closest we have are the unnamed blackmailer who died during the English Civil War in the mid-1600s, and Walter Fielding, who died in 1923. Walter’s son and grandson both owned the house for about thirty years before dying, so with the same amount of time applied, Walter couldn’t be our Web avatar. Honestly, the answer might just have to be “whichever Web avatar was owning the house at Hill Top Road during the first half of the 19th Century.”

For the Desolation, we have even less. Diego Molina founded the Cult of the Lightless Flame at some point prior to World War II, but we have no idea when, and it couldn’t have been that long, considering what Eugene Vanderstock says about the immortality of Desolation avatars having some kind of limit. The same is true of the End. The only known End avatar who was alive during Smirke’s time was Nathaniel Thorp, who was a Death at the time, and didn’t become human again until 1970. It’s unlikely that Deaths got breaks to socialize.

So, in summary, we know for sure about:

* Jonah Magnus — The Eye

* Mordechai Lukas — The Lonely

* Maxwell Rayner — The Dark

* George Gilbert Scott — The Buried

We can make some reasonable assumptions about:

* Simon Fairchild — The Vast

* John Franklin — The Hunt

We can make educated guesses about:

* John Snow — The Corruption

* William Hall — The Slaughter

* Joey Grimaldi — The Stranger

We can make complete guesses about:

* Mrs. Carlisle — The Flesh

* The Distortion — The Spiral

* Owner of the house at Hill Top Road — The Web

And we have nothing for:

* The Desolation

* The End

If anyone has ideas or things I missed, let me know.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 29 - Weapon

@jegulus-microfic March 29 Word count 926

Previous part First part

They stayed in the pool for a while, relaxing, washing the stresses of the last few weeks away. They had destroyed the Horcruxes, and now all that was left was the man himself. 

“Don’t you think that was all a little too easy?” Lily said to the group. “Shouldn’t there have been more of a fight from the Horcruxes or a swarm of Death Eaters descending on us?” The rest of the group began to look worried and spun their heads to peer into the gloomy forest. Barty, though, seemed cool as can be. 

“Na,” He grinned, head lolling back onto the bank as his eyes slid shut. “The reason they weren’t properly protected and were relatively easy to find is because old Mouldy Voldy is an—”

“Arrogant bastard!” They all chanted together in a dull monotone, cutting him off. 

“Exactly!” Barty snickered. “He assumes he is the most intelligent wizard of his age. He didn’t think anyone would figure out that he’d made the Horcruxes, so he didn’t bother putting any effort into concealing them. He gave the cup and the diary to Bella and Lucy, thinking their fear of him would make them put them in Gringotts, but forgot to factor in their need to show off. He’s completely underestimated everyone below him. The only wizard he thinks of as a peer is Dumbledore, and Dumbledore isn’t searching for Horcruxes, so why would anyone else? And I bet the only reason the Locket was harder to get than the rest was because he’s only just made it before he hid it in the cave where muggles might have walked into. Plus, with the amount of times, he’s fractured his soul and the amount of physical change his body had gone through because of it, I doubt he even felt them being destroyed.” He opened his eyes when the others didn’t say anything. “What?” He questioned. 

“Barty, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so many sensible words in one go, ever,” Regulus said incredulously. 

“I think he’s right, though,” Evan said, glancing around to see what the others thought. 

“Weirdly, it does actually make sense.” Remus agreed. 

When they’d had enough, they exited the pool, dried, dressed, and left the forest. 

“You did amazing, you know,” James told Regulus as they walked through the undergrowth. “I’m so proud of you.” James took Regulus’s hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. Regulus felt lighter than he had since before he’d left Hogwarts. They might actually be able to finish this and survive. 

They cast disillusionment charms on themselves just as they reached the edge of the forest and felt the change in the air as they walked through the anti-apparition wards. 

Hogsmeade looked exactly the same as usual. Perhaps Barty was right. Maybe no one knew what they’d managed to do. Then, a familiar figure appeared, walking away from Honeydukes with a bulging bag.

Someone pushed past Regulus and ran forward. 

“Who was that?” He asked urgently, unable to see who wasn’t beside him anymore. 

“Sirius!” Remus croaked. Together, they moved forward in the direction Peter had headed. Regulus spotted the plump man turning a corner and totally disappearing. 

“Sirius!” He hissed as he closed the gap. “Sirius!”

“I’ve got him!” Sirius’s voice came out of thin air. 

“Can you apparate with him?” He asked hurriedly. Sirius didn’t say anything. “Sirius, I can’t see if you nodded your head.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, sorry. But yes, I can apparate us both.”

“Good, get him back to Evan’s. We’ll deal with him later. Remus and I need to get back to Grimmauld.” He turned in the direction he guessed everyone else was standing. “Evan, have you got somewhere secure you can keep him that’s secure?”

“Yes, fathers got a cell in the basement.” Evans's bodiless voice answered. 

“Okay, everyone else, go back to Rosier House. Remus and I will meet you there when we can get away. James, you’ve got your mirror, don’t you?”

“Yes,” James said, his voice closer than Regulus had expected. 

“Right, let’s go.” He spun, and he was one street over to Grimmauld Place. He removed the disillusionment charm and apparated again outside number 12 at the same time that Remus did. 

“Ah, Son, you’re home!” Orion greeted them as they walked through the door. “Your Mother’s in the drawing room awaiting your return.” Reluctantly, Regulus followed his father up to where his mother waited.

“Regulus,” Walburga greeted. “I assume you’re lead was fruitful?” He’d practised what to say in case she asked, so the words came easily. 

“Yes, Maman. Unfortunately, he slipped through our fingers like the slippery creature he is. I did manage to knick him with Bella’s blade, but he was gone before I could do any real damage.” Walburga held out her hand. It took Regulus a second to realise what she wanted. Carefully, he pulled the weapon from his robes and handed it over. 

“Did you clean this blade?” She asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, Maman.” She waved her wand over it and muttered a spell that Regulus couldn’t quite hear. A blood-red ghostly figure which resembled Sirius rose from the tip of the dagger. Walburga ended the spell and handed it back. 

“The Dark Lord will not be pleased by your failure.” She said, dismissing him. 

“We will try again in the morning. We will not fail the Dark Lord.” He bowed before leaving the room. He smirked as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. They’d definitely find Sirius again tomorrow.       

Next part

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

Trying my hand at some writing! This is a very new world I have, called the Heartlands, featuring a human kingdom of the same name in a world of monsters. (In Hiding actually takes place nowhere near the kingdom, but far up north.) This is a character prologue for someone you'll see more of later! Details and designs might change down the line. Enjoy :)

CHARACTER PROLOGUE: ASYR // IN HIDING

Asyr wishes on a comet to meet a human.

3k words, unwilling pred and unwilling prey, dragon vore, a lot of anxiety, angst, some good times that are quickly ruined, soft, safe, nonfatal vore only, blood mention

I wish to be a human.

Atop the cliffside overlooking the endless crater below lies a man. More accurately, a creature that looks like a man rests with fingers dug into the grass and soil below. A curious object stays cupped within his other hand, a light glow emanating from within his fingers. Stars glitter overhead, and what looks like a passing meteor shoots across the moonlit sky before burning, invariably, to dust.

No, no, that’s asking too much…I, uh…wish just to talk to a human. Face-to-face. Before mom gets them, at least. 

That happened all too often. A passing soul would venture into the cave systems below in search of glittering gems or relics of ancient civilizations, and they would never come out. If the traps didn’t get them, the dragons would.

My kin.

Asyr’s legs - currently dangling over the edge of the cliff - started swinging in place. It was the best way he could get that “tail waggle” energy out in this form without a tail. Pretending to be a human was just so fun! And dangerous. If Mom were to see-

His train of thought was interrupted as something felt very, very wrong. Anxious energy shot through his veins. What is it? Is something there? My hand- He opened his palm, perplexed, revealing the rock shard he had been holding. The glow had faded completely, leaving the stone with a dull blue hue. Wha…?

"Kid! Psst! Get away from the edge!"

Asyr scrambled. He nearly flung himself off the cliff, finding that these human fingernails were not nearly as good at hoisting himself up as his claws. But he managed to get himself away from the edge in a panic, his breathing erratic. A pale, human face watched him from behind a tree a good few yards away.

The human scrunched up his nose. “What are ya doing out here? If one of those creatures sees ya, you’ll…uh-” he stopped. He stepped out from the tree, revealing his full form: tall, medium build, with tangled brown hair and an unshaven face. He had a small pack on his back and a knife sheathed on his belt. In a swift motion, the man produced a crossbow from his pack and aimed it at Asyr.

“What…are ya?”

At this moment, Asyr was on his back, recovering from the scare. The human looked upside-down to him. He turned to be on his stomach, dirt mixing with his otherwise well-kept golden hair.

“Ah….Aghah…I’m…” The fledgling weighed his options. Dragons are methodical, nigh immortal creatures who can spend weeks, if not years pondering the best course of action for a certain event. Asyr didn’t have that kind of time, so he chose the option that he thought was less likely to get him killed. 

This choice would eventually be proven wrong.

“I’m…I’m a human,” he wheezed. “Same as you!”

“Mmm, ya don’t look like any human I’ve ever seen. Black eyes ‘n all. And are those horns?” The crossbow was still trained on his face.

“Native! I’m….native. One of the, er, descendants… of the humans who lived here. Doubt you’ve ever seen one of us; we live…underground…?” 

The human pondered. “So,” a gleam entered his eye, “yer saying ya know the area?” 

Asyr shuddered. He knew where this was going. He could say no. But this was a real human! When would he have this chance again? “Like the back of my talo…-hands.”

“Cool.” The human lowered the crossbow and retrieved a small object from his pocket. He walked over to Asyr, who was still lying in the dirt. The man grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to a standing position.

“I’m Jay,” he beamed. “And,” he placed a coin of solid gold into Asyr’s trembling hand, “how about ya lead me down there?”

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

His chest felt like bursting as they descended into the pit. Typically, Asyr would just fly down, but for obvious reasons, he had to take the perilous, spiraling ramp that ran around the edge of the hole. At many points, the pair came across entrances to tunnels unknown to the fledgling, which he would simply shoo off, saying their prize was further below. The journey was awkwardly silent - Asyr had spent years daydreaming about talking to a human, and now that the chance had come, no words came out. His throat felt remarkably dry.

Instead of talking, he looked at the items that had creased his hands from holding onto them so tightly: the gold coin from Jay, and the dull, sharp rock from earlier.

“Whas’ that.”

Once again, he almost jumped in his skin. “AAh, ah, it’s…a lucky charm, I guess? It’s a piece of a comet from long ago.” Maybe I can get some information from him. “What do you know about this area, Jay?”

“Mm. Full o’ treasure, it is. Now crawling with dragons. What happened before doesn’t interest me,” he chuckled.

A sad look overtook the fledgling’s face. “W-well, you might be interested in this: it’s said that a comet struck this land a long time ago, imbuing the area with magic. Even the humans who moved in here could wield it using tools and tomes.” His eyes sparkled. “They’re long gone now, but it’s said that if you can find one of the pieces of the comet and make a wish on it, it’ll come true.” He was too embarrassed to admit how many times he had sat atop that cliff, doing this very thing.

Jay looked at the shard in the boy’s hand. “So thas’ one of the magic comet pieces, is it?”

“Well…It’s useless to me now. I think the magic’s gone if there was any-”

“Yoink.” Jay snatched the piece too quickly for Asyr to react. “Magic rocks, eh? Thanks for the tip. Could make a fortune on suckers,” he snickered.

A sparkle grew in Asyr’s eyes, his imaginary tail threatening to wag. Maybe humans have hoards, just like me.

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

Finally, the pair reached a familiar tunnel to Asyr. Home. Charred remains of some former creature lie at the entrance. Mom’s warning to intruders. Oh Gods, MOM. The weight of exactly what he was doing hit him like a boulder, and Asyr struggled to breathe, his body rebelling against him.

“Are -  Are you quite sure this is a good idea?” Asyr wheezed. “I know the dragon who lives here. She - it’s dangerous. Like, really dangerous. ‘No-one-has-made-it-out-alive’ dangerous.”

Jay stiffened. “Kid, ya gotta learn a bit about treasure hunting. Dangerous izza whole point. ‘Nothing in the world is worth doing ‘less it means effort and pain and difficulty’, ‘kay? S’what we chase to feel alive.”

He steadied himself on Jay’s words. Humans believe they can do anything. He thought about the night after night that he trembled at the idea of hunting, hiding from his mother. If only I had that confidence.

“C’mon kid, let’s get a move on - while the beastie still sleeps.” Jay pat Asyr on the back, and they headed in, the dark finally swallowing them whole.

These tunnels may have originally been built by humans, but the dragons expanded when they moved in. Now they were massive, easily 30 feet tall by 30 feet wide. The ambiance felt…lonely.

This should be easy. I know the way…don’t I? As the pair ventured further in, the fledgling couldn’t help but feel a rising panic setting in. These human eyes couldn’t see in the dark like he normally could, and Jake’s paltry torch only disoriented him further. The smells were all weird, and he felt so small. A few steps as a dragon could be a few dozen for a human. Rounding a corner, the two came across a corridor lined with stone tiles. Strange holes lie between many of the tiles. 

Panic set in for Asyr. “I…I have no idea where we are. I’ve n-never seen this before.”

Jay once again patted the boy on the back. “Not to worry; ya’ve done well to lead us down here. This is a basic spike trap!” he grinned. “See the tiles that look more worn than the others? That's the path we should follow. I’ll show you.” 

“Wha-wait!” Asyr whisper-yelled as the man skipped across the stones with ease. To his surprise, Jay wasn’t skewered.

“Yer turn, kid.”

I could turn into a dragon right now and fly across. Or I could leave and never look back. But…Asyr looked at Jay’s face, a smirk lining it. He believes in me. Just pretend I’m human. I’m human…And he leaped.

Asyr ran across the tiles with an unbalanced, awkward gait. Human bodies were quite hard to control, after all. Unfortunately, this started setting off spikes mere inches from his body, causing him to barely hold in a scream. In slow motion, Jay’s smile fully turned into a grimace, expecting his partner in crime to turn into a kebab. He was pleasantly surprised(and immediately annoyed) when Asyr bounded over the last tile and scampered straight into him, knocking the two of them over.

“GAH - KID,” the human exclaimed, ready to shove the anxious mess of a person off of him. He stopped when he felt tears plop onto his shirt. “...Ya okay, kid?”

“I-I’m alive,” the fledgling sniffled, a smile spread across his face. “Th-that was the scariest th-thing I’ve ever done. Second scariest,” he rasped. 

Jay patted his head. “Here, les’ get up.” Asyr removed himself from the human, and the both of them stood back up, dust clinging to their outfits. “Not bad for your…presumably…first trap ever. (How in the world are you still alive down here) Ya know, how about…when we get the treasure, I give ya a share…like 10% for your help. And ya know that gold coin I gave ya?” Asyr nodded.

“Les’ go out after this. Get a nice meal together. Ya can use that to pay.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and Asyr hugged the roguish human. It was the first hug that the fledgling had ever experienced. Warmth flooded through the cold-blooded creature, turning his cheeks a rosy pink. My first friend.

Jay groaned. “‘Kay, kid, c’mon. We got through one trap.”

Asyr tentatively let go, laughing. Joy couldn’t help but overflow from his face. “And we’ll get through a dozen more!” They started their path forward. Jay rolled his eyes as Asyr continued, “With you, I think we can beat any-”

The net underneath them, currently hidden between the tiles, sprung upwards. In a split second, Jay and Asyr were dangling 30 feet above the ground.

“-traps.”

Jay’s demeanor began to change. “Ha, ah, um, didn’t see that one coming. L-luckily, I have a knife just for moments like this.” he unsheathed the knife from his waist and began to cut at the large net holding them in place.

Asyr felt panic rise in him for what felt like the hundredth time on this mission. But look, Jay knows what he’s doing. He’s a seasoned adventurer. It can’t get any worse.

And then, an alarm started blaring. A bell, ringing and ringing and ringing. The fledgling’s eyes went wide. He had only heard this bell a few times before when some poor soul had come for Mom’s hoard. She would always come back with blood around her mouth.

“J-JAY, can you get us o-ouT OF HERE-” Asyr said, terrified.

“It’s a huge fall! I-I’m not sure we’d even make it!” Jay stammered in response.

“PLEASE,” Asyr sobbed, reaching to wrestle the knife from his hands.

But it was too late for them to escape, even if they could survive the fall. A low growwwwllll echoed through the corridor, a huff of smoke accompanying it. Asyr tried to back up as far as he could, but the net made the situation impossible to get away from. He couldn’t even transform back into a dragon without potentially strangling himself in the net, or crushing Jay. He could only watch in terror as Ervyr, the Firebreather - his mother - leisurely crept into view.

Ervyr had a terrifying air about her. She’s one of the only Lung Dragons to still exist, and even rarer, one of the few of her kind to have been consumed by greed. She’s jet-black in appearance, with fangs larger than a human head. Her hoard is legendary and encompasses much of the Northern Crater. To try to pillage even a speck of gold from it is a monumentally foolish decision.

“Two humans,” she rumbled, “after my hoard.” She stepped on the spike trap, the spikes piercing upwards into her skin. It didn’t make a dent. “How would you like to die? Boiled? Charred?” Continuous smoke exited her nostrils. She reached out towards the net, easily slicing the top of it with a single claw, a paw underneath to catch her prey. Now, Jay and Asyr were “free”...in the hands of a dragon that wanted to kill them, of course.

“M-Mama,” Asyr croaked. There is no way to get out of this. There is no way to get out of this. We’re going to die.

“Oh look,” she puffed out a breath of smoke. “This one’s calling for their mama. Does the other one have anything to say?”

Jay was petrified. He looked like the wind had been completely knocked out of him. Still, he tried to respond. “‘S the kid. H-he brought me here; he knows about the hoard - G-gods above, kill ‘im, not m-me. I’ll tell me friends n-not to ever come ‘ere, ma’am.”

Ervyr grinned, picking up Asyr by the shirt and holding him above her mouth. Asyr squirmed, barely even registering Jay’s betrayal. “I loooooove humans. So deceptive. And so tasty, too. Looks like your time is up, kid~” she opened her jaws, her massive forked tongue lolling out. 

“Mama!! Mama!! MAMA!!!” Asyr wailed, snapping out of the shock of the situation. In an instant, he was back in his dragon form, resembling a much smaller and less fearsome Ervyr. He squirmed out of his mother’s grasp, floating in place.

She blinked with all three of her inner eyelids, Jay still cupped in her hand. Silence filled the corridor. Asyr dared not move, speak, or touch her. She had never caught him in any other form before, and a pit of dread lay in his throat thinking about what she thought of him gallivanting around as a lowly human. She had taught him to believe dragons were superior to all others. 

“Asyr.” she breathed, smoke exiting her nostrils. “What a great teachable moment you have thrust yourself into.” She uncupped Jay, who was currently stabbing at her paw with his knife. It did absolutely nothing. She grasped the knife between two claws before throwing it to the side. “You see, I will forget your little…transgression just now, under one condition.” Her claws sliced off Jay’s pack, and it unceremoniously fell on the floor.

“You eat this one.”

Asyr tensed, a shaky breath escaping him. “Mama, please-”

“YOU EAT THIS ONE,” she ROARED, the cavern walls shaking from the tremor. Smoke billowed from her mouth. The only other noise was Jay babbling to himself, praying to any god that might hear him. 

“Yes, Mama.”

“First lesson: humans carry weapons. I took care of it for you. How loving am I,” she spat, flinging the human at Asyr. The fledgling wasn’t nearly as big as her, so the human smacked him in the maw, pain shooting through his face. He managed to catch the human by the shoulders, holding on as Jay squirmed. 

“E-eat me and I’ll punch and kick and end ya, beastie,” Jay jabbered. 

“Now,” she sat back, still floating in the air. “Go ahead. Your first human. How exciting.”

Asyr trembled. He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. This was the first human he had ever talked to, his wish upon a comet shard. No matter how Jay acted, Asyr could not find it in himself to hate him more than he hated himself. I will not kill him. I REFUSE. And yet, that refusal would mean Jay would get eaten by his mom. There is no way to get out of this. There is no way to get out of this.

And yet…

He looked down at the sniveling human, just big enough to fully fit into his maw. I could eat him in one go, and then release him outside as soon as I could. Trepidation filled his body once more. He had never done anything like this before - would he choke? He didn’t exactly have a choice. I will keep you safe.

He tentatively opened his mouth, gingerly pushing the human inside. Jay squirmed further, kicking and screaming until his arm caught on one of Asyr’s fangs, slicing into him. Jay gasped and held his arm to his chest. The dragon winced. No! Don’t squirm! He wished he could tell him as blood slid down his gullet. He shivered, hating every gulp as he forced the human further and further within him.

“Euuuaugh.” Asyr exhaled, his last gllp audible as the human slipped into him. It was awful. Whatever enjoyment could be had in this process was overshadowed by the massive stress of this entire ordeal. 

“Whole and alive?~” his mother laughed. “Perhaps you’ll be able to leave the nest earlier than I thought.” She turned away, looking back at the young dragon. “I’m off to find my dinner. You’ve given me quite the appetite.” With that, she turned a corner and disappeared.

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

Vomiting out Jay was as uncomfortable an experience as eating him in the first place, Asyr found. And yet, he persisted, spitting Jay out on the same hill in which they first met. Once he was fully out of him, Asyr transformed back into his human form, wiping the saliva and stomach juices from his lips. In the distance, the sun was beginning to rise.

“Jay!! JAY!! I didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh gods, please don’t tell me my stomach hurt you. I can’t,” he sniffed, “I can’t bear any more heartbreak.”

Jay scrambled backward, protecting his arm and rising groggily, falling back onto the ground. 

“Yer SICK. Yer a FREAK!” he yelled, furiously wiping slime off his face.

“I HAD to,” he quivered. “B..But look! We’re both safe now.” He reached into his pocket, producing the gold coin he was gifted before. “We can go…out…somewhere…” he trailed off as the human sprinted away from view. The fledgling’s lower lip quivered. Heat bloomed in his face.

No one likes a dragon.

No one likes….me.

(Thanks for reading, errrrr it'll get better for Asyr soon enough...yeah...)

[channoticedmeuwu]

💭 txt's choi line as . . . EVER AFTER HIGH CHARACTERS ! ☆ ♡ ༶⁠ 

p — CHOI LINE × FEM!READER | g — fluff, suggestive, eah!au + soobin has princess charming!reader | w — yeonjun's is suggestive, a lot of destiny&fate talk, eah terms used

a/n — I couldn't get choi line and them as eah descendents out of my mind so lo and behold, I caved. never forgiving them for cancelling this show + posting cuz it's my bday we gon party like it's my bday

♡ DON'T FORGET TO READ TAEKAI'S VERSION !!

YEONJUN, SON OF SLEEPING BEAUTY

rosy pink lips and a piercing gaze, choi yeonjun was the definition of the rose his mother was destined to represent. from his harsh grip on your waist to the soft, peppery kisses he'd leave on your neck when you'd sneak into his room after night curfew, choi yeonjun was casting a spell upon you. your heavy eyelids threatening to shut as he had his legs thrown over you while he spooned you, whispering “how pretty you are” and how lucky he is to have you. sharp yet maintained nails combing your scalp as he ran his fingers through your hair, the sensation sending pulses down to your toes.

choi yeonjun would fall asleep in a class, only to be woken up by a smack on his wrist and the threat of "DETENTION!". he'd have his fun with the gawking looks of everyone as he'd walk by, a pink mist of flowery drowsiness settling through the halls, making everyone's stomachs feeling like they'd just digested thorns.

but with you, oh, he was on his knees. puffy red lips and eyes bright n’ shiny when you'd kiss him, his lips leaving different shades of roses on your skin, like he was a rose himself— the color of his petals bleeding into the cracks of your skin. he'd find himself hiding between the alleyways behind the son of cinderella's shoe shop, your fingers tracing the wrinkles his smile would make near his eyes as he gazed at you like you were a happily ever after he was promised.

and he knew that even if his destiny didn't allow it, he'd prick his finger a thousand times only to be awoken by the drowning feeling of your lips on his own.

SOOBIN, SON OF SNOW WHITE

when choi soobin's mirror answered your name instead of his after he questioned, “who's the fairest of them all?” things got a bit messy. who even were you, making your way to ruin his happily ever after? rolling his eyes and shutting his locker, he'd come face to face with you, wearing a charming, a prince charming, smile and tilting your head at him. now, children of the prince (or now, king) charming weren't exactly his type, but god, who on earth gave you the right to charm him with that pearly, enchantingly cursed smile? even if you technically belonged in his destiny, you weren't supposed to rob off his title of being the fairest of them all, anyway.

but as he stared from across the classroom, he started to understand why tones of red and blue were such an eye-catching match. from the way you'd glow in the silvery moonlight with your blue, he'd watch from his window, gold in his candlelight, as you'd practice lifting the weight of a sword passed through generations of your family. he'd mumble to his pet animals, telling them how embarrassing it was for a son of snow white to fall for the princess charming before he could even choke on that fucking apple, before his roommate would tell him to shut up!

and when he finally buried his ego into the glass coffin he was destined to lie in, poisoned and cursed for eternity, he faced you—heart throbbing in his chest and silky black hair flowing in the wind as he took your hands. it was unsettling, how he went against his destiny at that moment just to find you and give you an untraditionally abrupt kiss on the lips, even if no one was poisoned.

but, his true love's kiss promised, it sure woke him from a slumber he didn't know he was already in, reality seeping into his eyes like a curse finally being lifted. and his chest heaved, breathless, staring at you like you were the apple of his eye—the true fairest of them all.

BEOMGYU, SON OF THE BEAUTY & THE BEAST

choi beomgyu was like streaks of gold sunlight peering onto a flowing river. with his sharp teeth and hair destined to flow perfectly in the wind, he would sprinkle his charm into any situation to win whatever he wanted. being the son of the beauty and the beast, he got the best of both worlds, athletically charming and annoyingly witty. and if you do say for yourself, unfairly attractive.

it was not irregular for choi beomgyu to intrude wherever and whenever he wanted to—a charming wink to a group of girls and they'd be squealing over him, or guys lifting him into the air when he'd score the winning goal for the bookball game, he had it all. and beomgyu wasn't really much to you, either.

except, when he'd sit with you in the enchanted forest, book in hand and pencil between his teeth, confused glances and nervous smiles as you tried to teach him the course for home evilnomics to impress a crush he had on a rebel. choi beomgyu didn't faze you— his smile cast no spell upon your senses; his beauty was meant to just be savoured by the eyes. his voice like honey didn't sooth your soul like it did to everyone else, and beomgyu was starting to realize that the more time he spent with you, the more he was drawn closer to you.

the genuinity in your smile set his cheeks rosy pink, the way your fingers would graze over his ever so slightly to show him how to cast a spell, the way you bit your lips and stared at him sheepishly when you didn't know the answer to a question he asked— you were finding ways to make him experience aspects of romance he's never witnessed first hand. and he'd find himself looking for you on the bleachers after scoring the winning goal for yet another bookball game. and he wouldn't shoot a wink to a group of girls who'd coo his name until he'd see you nearby. and he'd startle you from behind when you'd look for books in your locker, leaning nearby to shut the space between you two and watch your focussed eyes, a rosy tint in his line of vision.

you had the school's pride and joy wrapped around your finger, following you around like he were underneath a trance, head on your shoulder or arm around you as you roamed around town together. and you knew the rhythm of his heartbeat would change when you'd get especially close to him, finger on his chin as you'd smirk up at him. and you'd see the way his eyes would dart around your face, his light brown locks cast in front his eyes, glittering gold as his fingers would sneak up your blouse to feel the skin on your waist grow warmer at his touch.

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[blinddreams24]

Communication/Language

A Mermay Prompt

Masterlist

Prev / Next

“Hey, y/n!” Killer greeted.

You gave him a halfhearted nod and returned back to your food. It was weird only eating fish and sea weed. Not that it was bothering you.

Killer leaned over your shoulder to nip at the fish in your hands. You swatted him away without a sound and Killer backed up. “…You okay, suckerfish.”

You nodded and smiled at him. No. No you weren’t okay. But it was fine. It had only been a week since you’d moved in. And you still couldn’t speak properly. But it was fine. You’d figure it out.

“Killer.” Nightmare called from the crevasse.

Killer shot away with a singsongy, “Yes, Boss~?” and disappeared into the trench.

You sighed through your nose. You were jealous. Yes, jealous. Killer was always talking and singing all the time, and the others did too, but you couldn’t even sing a siren song yet. All you could do was chirp and whistle.

A few minutes later, Killer swung by to tease you again on his way out. That was another thing. The boys could leave the trench for one reason or another, sometimes the Boss would send them on missions you weren’t allowed to know about, but you couldn’t leave unless absolutely necessary. No one let you go anywhere, especially by yourself. Even now, Dust was watching you from his cave, ready to stop you if you tried to leave.

“Y/n.” Called Nightmare.

You shivered and looked over at Dust, who shooed you with a hand. You gently set the half-eaten fish down and cautiously swam into the trench. You hadn’t been to see Nightmare by yourself before and you were terrified.

“I’m not going to bite you. Calm yourself.”

Right. Negativity. You took a few deep breaths as you descended to the floor of the trench, stopping when you were level with his eyes.

He smiled kindly at you. “It has come to my attention that you have not been using your voice, refraining from speaking even in casual conversation.”

You sank a few feet in embarrassment. He wasn’t wrong.

“If you do not practice, you will not develop a voice or a call. Do you know what that means, y/n?”

You shook your head.

“It means you will never become independent. If you cannot use your voice, you will die if you get separated from your pod. Either from starvation or because a larger predator attacked you. Your voice is very important. So I’ve decided to teach you.”

What.

You looked up at the kraken in confusion. He was going to help you? He wasn’t upset that you’d failed to even try?

“As I understand it, you have made quite the impression on my pod. Usually after I’ve rested, Horror would be all over me. He has only come to me twice without being called. The others are sharing food with him too. Cross and especially Killer haven’t shared their meals in decades. And Dust, though you hadn’t met him before, has been visible almost constantly since you arrived, sitting in the edge of his den instead of the very back.” Nightmare encouraged softly. “You have fixed multiple problems, that I have spent years trying to fix, within a few weeks. I wish to thank you. So I am offering my help in your speech therapy. Do you accept?”

You nodded furiously. You’d given up trying to speak to the others. If he could fix your voice, you wouldn’t say no to that. Do you know how hard it is to communicate with someone when you can’t use your voice and don’t know sign language? It’s stupid difficult.

Nightmare grinned. “Good. Now, let’s start shall we?”

Nod nod nod.

Killer swam over you and poked your head. “Hey, suckerfish~!”

“Hhhhey.” You managed back around your food. ‘H’s were hard.

Killer flipped out and spun back around to face you. “What? Y/n, what? What did you say?” He was excited.

You took a moment to swallow. “Hhhey.” You grinned.

A sharp whistle pierced the water and Dust flinched away as Killer cheered you on. “You did it! I knew you could, suckerfish!” He hugged you, shoving you to the side.

You chirped angrily at being manhandled until he stopped. “Mmm- Mmmmnnn- Nnnniiigh…d…mmmmaaaare…hhhhep mmmme.” Scratch that. ‘N’s were harder.

“Wait. Boss helped you?” You nodded and Killer looked even more confused. “Huh. He doesn’t normally do that. Whatever. What have you learned?”

“Sssssssssounnnnndsssss.” You struggled. “Nnnnnnothhhhhhh- thhhhh- iinnnnnng b-big.” ‘Th’s sucked too. You actually gave up on that sound. “Jussssst worrrrdssssss.”

“Liiiiike? C’mon, suckerfish! Give me details!”

You frowned at him. “Toooooo mmmmmuch.”

“Too much what?”

“Too much overstimulation, Killer. Leave them alone.” Dust growled, speaking for you where you could not. You didn’t know how he knew what you meant but you appreciated it.

“When did you become the y/n expert?” Killer snapped. “You’ve barely met them!”

Dust, not caring for Killer’s fit turned to address you. “Was I correct?” You nodded. “I rest my case, Killer. Talk their ear off for all I care but don’t force them to talk when it’s already hard enough.”

Killer struck his tongue out at Dust who ignored him in favor of lying down in the entrance of his den. Without someone to mess with, Killer turned on you and started getting in your space. He tried to grab your food and you slapped his hands away.

“Get yyyyyourrr ownnnnn.” You snarked, pushing him away from your fish.

“Aw, c’mon!” He twisted away from your hand and tried to come back for your food again.

Being trained to deal with sharks, you decided to try something on him. Killer darted forward and you dropped your food to grab him with both hands. You flipped him with his tail upright and he stopped moving, stunned. You happily dug back into your food. Get rotated.

“What did you do??” Dust exclaimed, staring wide eyed at a frozen Killer who couldn’t even speak like that. “He’s quiet! What did you do to him?”

You smiled at Dust and continued eating without answering.

Dust looked excited and worried at the same time. “…Can you do that to all of us?”

You almost choked on your food as you laughed. Dust looked more and more concerned as you didn’t answer.

[calicocatsarecute]

I'm not sure if you'll see this, but I have a headcannon for you I thought you would like! So we all know Douma is a mischievous little rat right? Well, I bet he can fake-cry super easily and just completely uses it to his advantage, pretending to take real offense to a comment of say... Akaza. At one point Akaza makes one of his usual threats or insults and Douma starts full on BAWLING. I think Akaza would get kinda concerned only for Douma to just whip around and launch a full on tickle attack, both cackling.

Honestly….YESYESYES! You had me at Douma being a rat, I love it! Ofc I have to make this adorable scenario into a fic! Hope you enjoy!

__________________________________________

It was a “meeting day” for the uppermoons. Like usual, Akaza was the first one there. He was alright with that fact for the most part. He likes his personal space sometimes.

Then, he heard the strum of Nakime’s biwa. That biwa meant that another demon was summoned.

Akaza was hoping that it was one of the weaker uppermoons. They didn’t bother him that much, which he liked. But, a hand on his shoulder meant someone else was here.

“Akaza! I’m so glad to see you! Are you doing well?” Douma bombarded the smaller demon with statements and questions.

“I was doing better when you weren’t here.” Akaza answered the question that was previously asked.

“Aww cmon, don’t be that way Akaza! I’m just trying to be friendly.” Douma stated as he put his arm around the smaller’s shoulders.

Akaza immediately pushed away the arm. Glaring daggers into Douma’s eyes.

“We’re not friends, so stop acting like we are.” Akaza stated coldly.

“I know you don’t mean that Akaza! So cmon, show me a smi-”

“I do mean it. That’s means buzz off, and leave me ALONE!” Akaza cut Douma’s off, scowling at the end.

Douma was actually taken aback with Akaza’s words. He knew deep down the smaller demon was actually sweet, when he needs to be, so he knew just how to fix this.

Being the “great actor” he is, Douma turned his back to Akaza, put his face in his hands, and just started crying.

Now it was Akaza’s turn to be taken aback.

Did he really hurt someone that badly? Did he actually go too far this time? The smaller’s mind was racing with guilt, it felt like he was actually going to cry.

He turned to the “crying” demon and….

“Hey Douma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-WAH! Akaza yelped,half way through his apology, as Douma tackled him to the ground.

Douma skittered his fingers up and down his friend’s ribs.

Akaza was giggling uncontrollably, kicking slightly as the spaces in between were tickled.

“Douma! Thihihis ihihis sohoho meheheahahan!”

“You were being mean to me first though~” Douma teased, now going over to gently scribble a little’s stomach.

“EHEHEHEHE!” NOHOHOHO, DOHOHON’T DOHOHOHO THAHAHAT!” Akaza squealed before completely caving in.

Douma smiled at the demon. Akaza was squirming side to side, and a blush was plastered across his face and ears.

“Do you want to, oh I don’t know, apologize maybe?” Douma teasingly asked, pausing his attack.

“Y-you’re a r-rat.” Akaza panted.

And with that, Douma descended his attack on the smaller’s stripes.

“WAHAHAIHIHIT WAHAHAIHIHIT! IMSORRYIMSORRY IHIHI’M SOHAHARRY!”

“Are you really though? You were being very mean earlier~”

“YEHEHEHES! IHIHI’M SOHOHORRY! PLEHEHEHEAHAHAHASE JUHUHUST STOHOHOHOP!”

And with that, the tickling stopped.

“Y-you actually scared me Douma!” Akaza scowled, still trying to catch his breath.

“Actually?” Douma questioned.

Akaza nodded. “I thought I actually hurt you.”

Douma chuckled, ruffling the smaller’s hair.

“I’m sorry too then Akaza.

__________________________________________

Sorry if this feels a little rushed. But anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Have an amazing day y’all!<3

[butterfrogmantis]

I asked discord to vote on drawing something fluffy or fucked up and 2 people chose fucked up so here we are

Grave-robbing and frankensmurf shenanigans//

Ironically this was originally gonna be a bit of a cute TNBC thing w/ Jack and Sally parody except whilst I was looking for refs I found the Sally's origins video (great vid, defo watch) and my brain went 'OH! I can make my original idea worse now' /lh Oh and then I rewatched 'Igor' and if you've seen that movie then yes.

I acknowledge the grim inevitability that Archie, as with all Smurfs, is only mortal after all. The bittersweet irony of becoming the dead friend to the living skeleton. But I simply refuse to address it. Apart from this, that is. I try not to think so hard into the future. So perhaps this is an AU. Or not 😈

*As the Smurfs had gotten older, they'd inevitably begun to succumb to old age or unfortunate circumstances. Archaeologist wasn't an exception. Skelly had begged Death for it not to be so. Pleaded, even. But alas the kindly diety had reminded him that they are the ultimate equal, and cannot postpone their own inevitability. Buckle up Skelly, welcome to the endless cycle of immortality = infinite loss. Death is sorry but they can't make exceptions outside of necromancers meddling with their powers.

Years went on, turning to centuries, then some. Skelly indeed lived through the aforementioned cycle of loss over and over, it was becoming too much. At least in his cave where he'd spent a few thousand years, just him and his thoughts he hadn't LOST anything. Even following the descendants of Palaeontologist was becoming disheartening the more the generations separated from the original brothers that had been his friends. And Skelly, in spite of all the new friends he'd made and lost over the years, couldn't shake the memories of the time he'd been truly happiest, and he felt bitter towards the world for it, and eventually it boiled into an idea.

Skelly's no idiot. He knew that meddling with true necromancy would solve nothing - his own creator had vanished from existance just to create him and that would defeat the purpose of his goal. So that's not what he set out to do. You see as time had gone on, so had technology. Skelly didn't NEED to perfectly necromance in order to achieve his goal, he had some … interesting information about theoretical modern science up his sleeves. What he needed wasn't another suicidal necromancer, but rather a shovel, a bunch of 'borrowed' parts to sustain a body and lots and lots of electricity. So goes the theory.

Finding Archie wasn't the hard part - Skelly himself had kept that grave maintained for years after the others had crumbled and withered. Digging it up felt wrong but. It would be worth it. How ironic it was to dig up the bones of a man who'd dedicated his life to the study of them - but that wouldn't sustain without necromancy - only powerful sorcery could reanimate bones themselves. He does need to try and get Archie's mind back without his brain though, so a little magic-science combo MAY require a little magic on the bones themselves.

So in order to get back Archie's er, functionality he just had to er, borrow some stuff from the more recently departed (so Archie may very well be made out of the skin of some of the original smurfs descendants but don't worry he's not wearing the skin of any canon characters ohohoho isn't this fun I'm so normal /lh)

And with his preparations complete, adjustments made and a big storm, Skelly successfully elevated himself into the realms of Victor Frankenstein.

Death won't be happy about this, but right now Skelly doesn't care. Archie's … well. Not exactly sure if he's RIGHT but he's here; welcome to eternity.

Hey remember when I first started drawing them and was like 'the dyanmic is a friendly rivalry where Skelly is annoyed about being carbon dated hoho and now it's 'he's grave robbing and committing Death defying science just bcuz'

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 2

>>Tie-breaker winner: HOBBIT

>> April decides to take the dirt path.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

April points to her right. “Let’s take the path. Maybe it’ll take us back to the main road?” 

Donatello hums as he brings a hand up to his chin. “Potentially, though it could lead us into trouble with your attempted kidnappers. Are you sure?”

April pauses, considering the potential problem he raised, then shrugs. “I don’t want either of us breakin’ a leg tryin’ to go off-road. Besides–” she knocks his chest with the back of her hand “–I’m confident you’ll protect me.” 

She thinks she sees the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks, partially hidden by the purple mask he’s wearing on his face. But she blinks and it’s gone.

Did April imagine it?

The softshell clears his throat. “Well, let’s get moving. We’re losing precious daylight.”

Together they set out on the rough dirt path. Donatello leads the way down the inclined path, his footsteps light on the dirt and gravel below him. April follows behind him, though her steps sound much heavier, the gravel crunching under her heel as she kicks up dust. The shoes she stole from the boxes in the cave are too big for her, but there’s no way she’s wearing her high heels.

Besides, they weren’t in her favorite color anyway. 

They’re quiet as they descend down the mountain. Almost too quiet. April opens and closes her mouth multiple times, trying to find some topic to talk about. But… she’s not sure what to talk to him about. She wants to ask him about what happened earlier. Did she embarrass him? Does he not like being touched? But she feels too awkward to broach the question.

She’s also not sure if it’s the best time to ask him about his inventions. His brows furrowed and his lips are straight, and she doesn’t want to distract him from doing his duty of protecting her.

So April decides to just keep her mouth shut and observe the scenery as they walk through the forest.

They’re making good progress, with April humming quietly to herself while Donatello’s completely silent except for the soft clinking of his armor. At least an hour passes before Donatello suddenly stops in his tracks, and she almost runs into his shoulder.

“Did you hear that?”

April regains her balance and looks around. “Um, no?”

They stand completely still, Donatello holding his bō in a defensive position as his eyes darting around. He suddenly jerks his head forward, looking down the winding path. April extends her head forward, eyes squinting and ears straining to identify whatever has Donatello’s attention. 

“Someone’s coming!” He whispers urgently. “Quick! Off the road. We need to hide.”

Before April can object, she’s being pulled off the path. Her guard’s hustling into the forest and away from the path, fallen leaves getting kicked up into the air. He skids to a stop right before a five-foot drop, the edge surrounded by twisting roots of nearby trees and large boulders. 

He drops down and turns to her, offering her his hand. “Princess, take my hand! Hurry! I don’t want us to be spotted.” 

April furrows her brow. “Why are you hiding? If it’s those ninja dudes you can take them.”

Donatello shakes his head. “I don’t know if it’s them, or how many of them there could be. I cannot risk them injuring or recapturing you. Please! Just take my hand!”

She grumbles but reluctantly takes his hand, letting him help her hide. It doesn’t escape her as she joins him that his hands are so much bigger than hers—her hand is practically engulfed by his, and she can’t help but blush. He guides her to sit down, and she squeaks as he pulls her close to his chest so they’re both out of view of the path. 

For a few seconds all April can focus on is just how strong he is. Well, she knew he had to be strong and capable, as he had no problem saving her earlier. But to feel his gentle but firm grip around her sent a warm flush across her cheeks and chest. If it weren’t for the armor, she bets should would be able to feel his muscles underneath his clothes.

… why is she thinking about this?

April doesn’t have time to ponder over her thoughts as the thunderous noise of what sounds like a whole platoon of people catches her attention. While she can’t see them, she guesses that they’re running up up the path.

Donatello pulls her closer. 

“Hurry up!” A loud commanding voice barks. “The princess might be still in our old base!”

The thunderous footfall continues as they travel up the path, away from their hiding spot and toward the cave. However, as the group gets farther and farther away, it becomes apparent that there are some stragglers.

“Dude, I ain’t meant for running,” one of the stragglers gasps, “Why do they need all of us to find the princess again?”

“I dunno, man,” another whines, “All I know is I need a break.”

The two keep grumbling and whining while Donatello and April remain hidden. However, it quickly becomes apparent that the two stragglers are not moving. They can’t stay here forever or they will be discovered.

April… >> Points forward and suggests they sneak away, deeper into the forest.

[sombersummerskies]

A Sage's Regret: Prologue

Prologue

Word Count: 5405

CW: Injury

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

'How deep does this go?'

The echo of footsteps bounces off the tunnel walls, reverberating in your ears. Your eyes warily take in all the details, your sole light source being the torch that Zelda holds in her hands. The fire casts shadows that dance along the rock, the dim lighting playing tricks on your eyes. You keep checking over your shoulders, feeling as if you're being watched.

As the pair of you descend further down the stairs there's a wispy mist on the ground that wraps around your feet. Every step you take pushes the red substance away from you, but it seems that the deeper you walk into the cave, the more of this mist awaits you.

"This strange gloom keeps getting thicker..." Zelda takes note, glancing at you over her shoulder, "we've been descending for a while now... these tunnels are deeper than I thought. What could be down here?"

After what feels like an eternity of walking down rubble and stairs you find yourselves in a slightly more open area. It's a cave, deep below the castle, and naturally formed rather than man-made as the tunnels have. You notice some luminous rock embedded deep in the stone, casting a faint blue glow- though the princess' torch easily overpowers this. There's a shallow pond as well, though you know better than to trust water that's sat for too long.

"I never imagined this was all deep beneath Hyrule Castle..." the princess mumbles as you walk, her eyes curiously examining the cave, "you know, when I was a child, I asked my father if there was anything below the castle. He told me there was, though seeing it for ourselves or even discussing the matter was forbidden. No one in our family knew anything more than that."

"Huh," you reply, raising a brow, "your father said that?"

You mull over this as you continue to walk through the cave, quickly finding yourself at another old stone staircase. The deceased king was not someone Zelda spoke of often, and you remembered very well the tumultuous relationship she had with her father before the Calamity. You had never liked the man, detesting the way he had treated his daughter. This investigation must have been somewhat staggering to have her bringing up old memories of him.

"I can recall what my father said, even now. 'No one must ever venture beneath the castle- not even one of us.' He said this warning had been passed down through my family for as long as anyone could remember," she continues as you march down a new tunnel, "however, we need to continue to explore this underground area, forbidden or not. The source of the gloom is down here somewhere."

Though you would hate to admit it, there was a tinge of fear in the back of your mind when you attempted to imagine what this source may be. Ever since leaving Lookout Landing, you had been theorizing on what could be causing all of these problems. It was your hope that it was mere remnants of Calamity Ganon, and nothing more, but something within you whispered that this wasn't the case. Anxiety had been gnawing at you for this entire expedition, eating away at you the further you descended.

"The gloom that has been causing people to fall ill... here it seems almost misty and not concentrated enough to harm us," the princess examines as she gazes down, "we'll keep going. With it coming up from beneath Hyrule Castle... we do not know what waits below, so we need to be ready for anything. But I know I'll be okay with you, _____."

You give her a smile. It was nice to know that her confidence in you never wavered, even if you yourself were beginning to have doubts. After what had happened with Prince Sidon and his engagement, Zelda has been nothing but supportive of you. You were incredibly grateful for it.

"Let's go solve this mystery."

The cave narrows once more as you step into what seems to be another man-made corridor. You'd be lying if you said you weren't beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic down here. You couldn't even begin to imagine how deep beneath the surface you both were. You weren't even sure what time of day it was, or how many hours you had already spent investigating.

A sudden ringing pulls you out of your thoughts.

Zelda calls out your name and you stop in your tracks. "The Master Sword," she gasps, "it must be sensing something!"

You reach behind and grasp its hilt, slowly unsheating your sword. The blade glows, casting a pure light onto the narrow walls. If the sword is reacting like this, something must be wrong.

"I knew we had reason for concern. Ever since the end of the Calamity, the castle has fallen into neglect. But I never could have imagined anything like these tunnels were hiding here. We must be careful as we move deeper," the princess instructs.

You nod and continue to walk. The further you go the more stale the air becomes. It makes you wonder how long it's been since a Hylian last walked these halls. Centuries? Millennia? With how old Hyrule was, you couldn't be too sure of the answer.

As if things couldn't become odder, you soon find yourself in another corridor- though this one has carved architecture and statues. Most are toppled over and have crumpled into rubble, but a few stand somewhat intact.

"Spooky," you mumble, taking in the details that can be seen with torchlight.

Zelda quickly walks past you and crouches before one of the fallen pillars. As she holds the torch close to it you're just barely able to make out faded runic text and inscriptions. Though, you wouldn't have the faintest clue of what it might say.

"These are ruins from an ancient civilization..." the princess whispers, mostly to herself, as she examines it, "wait... something is written here. This looks like writing from the Zonai!"

You tilt your head, "Zonai, hmm? I think once we solve the gloom problem we could have Tauro come and translate for us. Last I spoke to him he said he'd unlocked some more of the Zonai alphabet."

As you speak Zelda seems to quickly become distracted by another carving in the room, quickly dashing over to it. You can't help but find her curiosity charming as you follow behind her.

"Oh! Look at this... these carvings... I'm sure they're Zonai in origin! I've seen designs like this in my studies," she explains as she unhooks the Purah Pad from her belt, "it's said they possessed godlike powers and had a prosperous civilization in the sky. Many history books tell us about the Zonai, but none gives us the full picture. Much is still unknown about them. Ah- but I'm sure you've heard the same from Tauro, haven't you?"

With the Purah Pad, she takes a photograph of the statue. It appears to be some kind of animal, though the geometric style of carving makes it hard to discern exactly what the beast is. Your best guess would be that it was a dragon, based on the ruins you had explored in the Faron Region in the past.

At the end of the hall are more statues, though these are taller and more humanoid than the rest. They tower over you, depicting some kind of long-limbed race dressed in robes. The feature that stood out the most to you was their long, folded ears- while Hylians like yourself had long, pointed ears, these were on a whole other level of peculiarity. Zelda takes a photo of these as well.

"Do you think this is what the Zonai looked like?" Zelda asks as she puts the tablet away, "they seem so different than us, and such large ears... how did ruins from a civilization in the sky end up here beneath the castle?"

She seems to silently ruminate on this question for a moment. You find yourself wandering the same thing, and yet, you have seen the Zonai ruins in Faron before. But all written records of the Zonai described them as a race that thrived on mythic islands in the sky. How could their remnants have ended up on the land, or even beneath the land, in Hyrule?

As your thoughts wander the princess begins to walk once more, "it looks like the path ahead goes even deeper. Let's continue."

You pass through a room with even more statues of the Zonai. The figures stand tall, and with the ominous lighting cast by the torch, you can't help but feel somewhat intimidated by them. You could only imagine what they must have looked like in real life all those years ago.

When you pass through a new doorway you're stunned by the size of the chamber you enter. Before you get a chance to properly explore there's a sudden flapping of wings on your right side. A trio of Keese flutter about but when they spot yourself and Zelda they fly into a panic. Before any of them can cause damage they're quickly disposed of by a few quick swings of the Master Sword.

'What are Keese doing all the way down here? There's nothing for them to live off of... unless...'

"You're not hurt are you?" Zelda asks as she runs over.

You reassure her with a grin, "I'm fine, just a couple of Keese."

Once she's examined you and deemed you free of injury she nods with a smile. Then she turns her attention to the rest of the chamber you both stand in and she gasps softly. Large relief sculptures decorate the walls, each depicting some sort of scene.

"Look at these murals," she murmurs, slowly walking toward the wall. The light of the torch brings out the details of the figures. "The written histories of the royal family include stories of a great war fought long ago. It was a conflict between allied tribes and someone only ever referred to as the Demon King."

The title of 'Demon King' on its own sent a subtle shiver down your spine. You couldn't imagine what atrocious acts one would have to commit to be given such a name.

"Is it possible? Do these murals depict the same legend?" Zelda asks, dashing to the end of the wall where the illustrated history begins.

The first of the sculptures depicts a figure much like the sculptures you'd seen before, tall and long-eared. The figure appears to be floating in the sky, surrounded by mysterious objects. Beneath them, smaller figures stand with their arms linked together. "This is similar to the statues we saw earlier- a Zonai. And these figures below look like Hylians," the princess explains, "this depiction certainly suggests that the Zonai descended from the heavens."

The next sculpture shows the Zonai figure joining hands with what appears to be a Hylian woman. Those same mysterious objects float above the pair, only two this time, however. "It is said that my ancestors, the first of Hyrules royal family, were born from a union with gods who had descended from the heavens," Zelda continues, "these murals tell a similar story, and if they are accurate, then the gods mentioned were the Zonai... they must have forged a relationship with the Hylians of that time, working together to establish the kingdom of Hyrule!"

The third mural fills you with a sense of dread. It shows an imposing, long-haired figure and the Hylian woman from the previous sculpture. The new figure is removing one of the objects from the woman and a red aura envelops the two. "This figure... he seems to be stealing something of incredible power from the young kingdom," Zelda assesses, "this all aligns with what I've read during my studies."

The princess runs to the next mural, even more excited to decipher them, "and then this- it shows the Demon King! And a fierce battle against him!" The sculpture depicts the same long-haired figure from before, though now he seems empowered. That same red aura seems to emanate from him, and on his side of the battlefield are hoards of monsters, some you recognize such as Bokoblins, and others that are foreign to you. Armed Hylian figures attempt to fight against this evil army, though it seems many would fall in battle.

"If the creature depicted here really does represent the Demon King, then... incredible! This mural must be the great war recorded in the royal histories! This is the Imprisoning War and the vents that led up to it!" the princess recites excitedly, turning to you with a large grin, "this is a huge discovery!"

Her passion is contagious and you can't help but chuckle as she fumbles for the Purah Pad on her belt. You grasp onto the torch, allowing her to grab the tablet with both hands to take more photos for documentation. "Slow down there," you smile, "this is still an investigation, not a trip for historical research."

"I know, I know- still, you must admit that this is quite invigorating," she retorts, lifting up the tablet.

As she takes the pictures her attention is drawn to the rest of the wall. There appear to be more murals, though the rest are covered up by rubble and debris. Perhaps they could someday be uncovered, but it would require careful excavation. You wouldn't want to risk damaging the sculptures by just throwing a bomb and seeing what would happen.

"It seems as though the rest of the murals are obscured," Zelda notes, taking the torch back from you, "I wonder, just what is this place? Maybe we'll find more answers farther ahead. Let's keep moving deeper."

She gestures to another doorway at the end of the chamber. You can't help but notice the gloom grow noticeably thicker now, forming in clouds on the floor rather than thin wisps of mist. Though Zelda's pure joy and passion for the history of the kingdom had distracted you momentarily, that anxiety quickly returned. All of your instincts were screaming at you not to continue further.

But you pressed on, nonetheless.

The next stairwell you find yourselves in is even narrower than the last, the walls feeling as if they push in on you. As you march forward the gloom at your feet wafts through the air in waves. The air has changed from stale to musty, likely from all of the years of moisture being trapped so far down below. Zelda walks behind you, the light of her torch being the only thing that allows you to peer down the steep decline.

"This gloom keeps getting thicker," the princess says as you continue to descend the steps, "I... don't like the look of this. But we must find our answers."

It takes everything within you not to turn tail and run. To grab Zelda's arm and drag her out with you. To plead with her not to continue. The Master Sword on your back hums, as if it's giving you a warning, as if trying to send you a message. You swear you can hear whispering in the air, like a symphony of minuscule voices. Whatever is lurking here should not be disturbed.

Yet you continue downward.

The tunnel seems to grow narrower and narrower, the amount of rubble and debris at your feet increasing the further down the stairs you go. Your chest feels tight as if the stone around you has begun to choke you. Finally, finally, you reach the bottom of the steps and find yourselves in a large open space once more.

But the sight you see shocks you.

An inconceivably large cavern is hidden beneath the castle. In the center is a rocky platform. And... something... or someone is laid in the middle of it. A bright swirl of colors rises from the center, a mix of blues and greens that seem to be attempting to fend off the red gloom. The gloom appears to be the strongest here, a thick ebbing cloud of it rolling off of the rock and stone.

"What the hell..." you gasp, eyes wide as you look around.

"What is this place?" Zelda asked, standing beside you at the edge of the cliff. She seems to hesitate before turning to look at you, "let's continue... but we must be extremely careful."

You nod your head despite all of your instincts telling you to run, "okay, let's go."

As a pair, you approach the rocky platform, curious to examine what lies in its center. "What is that?" the princess asks, cautiously approaching it. You stay close behind her, eyes quickly darting around the large chamber.

You only grow further confused when you see the center of the room. A mummified corpse lay suspended in midair, his skin grey and taught and stretched dry across his body. He appears to have been dressed in jewelry and adornments, although time has caused the gold to fade, but you assume he must have been someone of importance.

If the corpse wasn't odd enough, the detached arm was even stranger. A glowing arm grasps onto the chest of the mummy, holding it up in the air. The swirling runes and lights above it stem from the arm itself. Though you don't recognize its power, whatever it is appears to have been strong.

'How long has this been down here,' you wonder, wary to approach the mummy when you realize how thick the gloom has become.

Just as you get closer there's a cracking noise and you flinch. The arm which had been gripped the corpse topples over, falling to the ground with a thud. Something bounces off of it- a gem, one which looks a bit like the objects that had been portrayed in the murals. It skids across the rocky floor before landing near Zelda's feet.

Before you can say anything she leans down and cautiously picks up the stone. It emits light in her hand, which slowly begins to grow brighter and brighter. It's almost bright enough to distract you from the sudden thump you hear-

The thump of a heartbeat.

You watch in horror as the mummified corpse begins to writhe and twitch, joints and muscles popping and twisting as he stretches his torso and arms. You gasp, repulsed by the sight and sounds. Just as you attempt to reach forward and grab the princess' arm, the mummy suddenly slumps back, lifeless.

Your racing heart begins to calm down, but the peace doesn't last long. The corpse's neck and jaw twist and suddenly the aged face is staring you down, mouth agape. His eyes suddenly fill with color, glowing red pupils glaring back at you. You notice that on his forehead he has a stone similar to the one the princess holds in her hand.

Before either of you can move, gloom bursts out in the form of tendrils- one of which immediately targets Zelda. With a grunt you dash forward, using one arm to grab your sword and the other to push the princess behind you protectively. Just in time, you manage to parry the attack, pushing back the dark energy with your blade.

You successfully protect Zelda, however, you're helpless as the gloom shoots toward you. It covers the blade of the Master Sword before crawling up your arm, soaking through your tunic and clinging to your skin. The entire right side of your body sings in pain and you hiss, feeling as if your skin has caught fire. Desperately you attempt to pull your arm back, but it feels as if all of your strength is being sapped from you as the gloom encroaches further upon your body.

On its own, the gloom seems to dissipate and you stare down at your arm in shock. It's as if the skin has been burnt to a crisp, blackened as singed at the edges of the wound. You consider yourself lucky that adrenaline is pumping through your veins, otherwise, you'd be feeling the full brunt of the pain right now.

The gloom seems to have stained the blade of your sword as well, red remnants sticking to the metal and the hilt. The tendril moves to strike once more and you react. Despite how terribly it hurts you swing your injured arm, attempting to parry once more.

There's a shrill shattering sound and you watch in disbelief as the blade shatters on impact, shards flying in all directions.

Your breathing grows ragged as your eyes dart to the ground. You stare at the broken pieces of the blade before flicking your gaze back to the hilt of your sword. All that remains is a damaged sheet of metal, barely the length of a dagger.

The Master Sword. Your birthright, your destiny, the physical manifestation of your duty. The goddesses had chosen you to be the sword bearer, to protect the people of Hyrule. It was a sacred weapon cured with pure, light energy, bestowed upon you by the Deku Tree.

And it was broken. Your destiny was broken.

You do not have time to mourn, that will have to wait. You hear the princess call out your name as the corpse, this wretch before you, begins to move and speak of his own accord.

"Was that the sword that seals the darkness? A blade that shatters so easily against my power cannot save you from me," he says, voice hoarse from all the years he seems to have been trapped down below. His body once again creaks and groans as he forces his torso upright, bright red eyes still staring you down.

"Zelda..." he hisses out, and you hear the princess gasp before he continues, "you, who carries that fragile sword are _____. Rauru placed his faith in you, and that was all you could do?"

'Rauru?' you think, still gripping onto your injured right arm. The adrenaline has slowly begun to fade, and with how much strength the gloom seemed to sap from you, it's becoming difficult to stand on your own two legs.

"How do you... know our names?" Zelda asks nervously.

Rather than respond, this mysterious figure leans back. He puts his palms together and creates a large, swirling mass of dark energy. Your eyes widen, fearful he's planning another attack. You have no weapon to even attempt to block once more, so instead you put your body between him and the princess. Should he attack, you'll be the one to take the blow.

But he doesn't. Instead, he pushes his arms upward. A pillar of gloom and mist is propelled, the force pressing against the ceiling of the cavern. You watch in shock as this man, this seemingly ancient corpse, uses an unfathomable amount of strength to push all of the rock upward.

You can't even begin to comprehend how this is possible, there must be hundreds- potentially thousands of tons of rock above you. How could he possibly be moving it all?

However, you don't have the time to ponder these questions. The stone flooring of the platform you stand on begins to shift and shake dangerously. You barely manage to keep your footing as you watch the rock beneath the mummy crumble, falling down into the abyss below. The figure falls along with it, being consumed by the darkness of the chasm.

You crumble to your knees, chest tight with anxiety. Your vision has grown spotty, the burning pain on your right side overpowering all of your other senses. The princess calls out to you- but it's a scream from her lips that grabs your attention

You're unable to react in time. The ground has continued to break apart, this time forcing a rift between the two of you. Zelda screams as she falls back, eyes wide as she looks up at you with desperation. It takes every remaining shred of willpower within you to lunge forward, reaching out with your injured arm.

You both fall off the side, but the distance between you is too great. Your injuries are too grievous. Your body is too weak.

It's as if time slows to a halt. You reach your arm out further, ignoring the symphony of agony this causes you. You feel your fingers barely graze her hand-

But you don't catch her.

She continues to fall into the inky black darkness below. You call out her name, screaming, tearing your throat apart as you watch her fall farther and farther. A golden glow envelops her and within the blink of an eye... she's gone.

You begin to hyperventilate, the stale air, dust, and debris filling your lungs painfully. Your eyes sting as the tears well forward. But your whole body is jolted to a stop when something grabs your left arm, catching you in mid-air.

When you look up you realize it's the disembodied arm from before. It glows a gentle-blue green as it wraps its hand around your wrist, lifting you with ease. Your brow furrows as you look up in confusion.

You're too exhausted to question what's happening. The pain is too overwhelming. All of your adrenaline has been used up as your eyes roll back and fatigue washes over you.

Everything fades to black.

...

Prince Sidon paces back and forth, a nervous expression etched onto his features. He walks along the length of the throne room, and on his back is the Lightscale Trident which his father had recently gifted to him. Though Dorephan would not say it, Sidon knew that this was a peace offering after the prince had been forced to go through with the royal engagement.

An engagement that was now completely thrown off course.

It had been days since the Upheaval, days since mysterious rocks and debris had begun to fall from the sky. While the palace of Zora's Domain had been spared, the roads, waterways, and highlands surrounding it were not so lucky.

Sidon's now-fiance, Lady Yona, had arrived on the first day of the disaster, along with two of her ladies-in-waiting named Khira and Chroma.

It was a diplomatic disaster in the making. The prince couldn't even begin to imagine the wrath they would have to endure from King Sola if he learned that his precious daughter was suddenly embroiled in a kingdom-wide catastrophe. Everyone within the domain was doing their part to ensure Yona was made comfortable.

For her part, Lady Yona seemed to be quite calm in spite of the circumstances. Ever cheerful and collected, even in such a terrible state of events she seemed to know the right words to say to help the prince keep his cool.

"Sidon, please do sit down," she gently pleads with him, "the survey team will return soon, I'm sure of it."

King Dorephan had instructed a team to survey the land and judge the damage that had been caused by the fallen debris. They had yet to return, causing everyone within the palace to suspect the damage was worse than they feared.

"It is not that," the prince sighs, turning to face her, "well, I suppose it is a part of my concerns. I also worry about the other parts of Hyrule. There has been no response to the correspondence we sent to Lookout Landing."

Yona smiles at him, softly patting his arm, "you're worried about the Hylian knight, are you not?"

Sidon's eyes widen slightly. The topic of his- the Hylian who had accompanied him for so long had become a taboo topic within the palace. Once Lady Yona had arrived in the domain it seemed as if all of the elder Zora, save for Muzu, seemed to want to ignore any mention of the Champion.

"... perhaps," he responds, his voice a whisper, "oh, I cannot lie. Yes, I am gravely concerned about her safety. With no word from the landing and no letter in response from Princess Zelda, it causes one's mind to wonder."

She looks up at him with concern, "I understand. Is there anything that can be done to soothe your nerves?"

The prince opens his mouth to respond but quickly shuts it. He knows what the answer to this question is. The only thing that would help to calm him would be to see you, to see you safe and healthy and happy.

Rather selfishly, he knew what would soothe him would be to hold you in his arms once more. To lovingly whisper your name, to call you his love, to kiss you sweetly. But he had forsaken his right to do so.

Sidon is quickly pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps. At the entrance to the throne room, a group of Zora come running in, led by Captain Bazz. The dark grey Zora quickly locks eyes with the prince, a grim expression on his face.

"Well?" Sidon asks, quickly walking toward them, "what news do you have?"

Bazz hesitates momentarily before gesturing for a soldier behind him to hand something forward. Sidon quickly recognizes it as a newspaper. The captain unfolds the stack of papers, eyes skimming the page before he speaks again.

"It's..." Bazz starts, voice somber, "about Zelda and _____..."

The prince feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of your name. "Go on," he urges, "what has happened to them?"

It's as if the room is silent enough to hear a pin drop. No one moves, no one even seems to want to breathe. The silence is only broken when the captain reads off of the front page.

"Princess Zelda and Hylian Champion: Missing," Bazz reads aloud, "soldiers in Lookout Landing report that shortly before the Upheaval, the princess and her knight had ventured beneath Hyrule Castle. They have not been seen since and as such have been reported as... missing."

Sidon staggers backward, a shuddering gasp escaping his lips. The whole room has their eyes trained on him, looks of concern and worry. The prince feels Lady Yona gently place a hand on his back to support him.

She speaks his name, but there's nothing more than a shrill ringing in his ears as he attempts to process this information. You are missing. You, who he gave his heart to, promised so much of himself to. You, who had once looked up at him with eyes full of adoration.

You were gone.

"Sidon?" someone asks, the words finally getting through to him.

"... I have to go," he utters, pushing through the crowd and quickly bounding down the staircase. Several people call out to him but he ignores each and every one. He marches down the steps and into the plaza, where he's swiftly stopped in his tracks by his own father.

"Son-" King Dorephan says, looking down at him, "what is the meaning of this."

"Father, I must go," he pleads, "I need to find her, please do not stop me-"

The prince is acutely aware of the attention he's drawn. The eyes of guards, councilmen, and citizens alike are all staring at him.

The king falters, swayed by the desperation on his son's face, "Sidon- I understand, but you are needed here."

Sidon shakes his head, "I need to do this, I-"

Suddenly, the sky seems to darken. The prince halts in his tracks, going silent as he tilts his head up. To his horror, streams of an unknown substance begin to pour down from the mysterious islands in the sky. The citizens of the domain begin to panic as muddy sludge begins to infect the streams, large globules of it landing on the land with resounding thuds.

A monstrous roar rings out and the prince watches as the guards, along with his father, begin to arm themselves. His face is forlorn as he takes in a deep breath, grasping the Lightscale Trident in his hands He locks eyes with Yona, who looks down at him from the railing above.

"My lady, please, find shelter!" he calls out to her.

She shakes her head in response, "no, I will do all I can to help this domain. Let me aid you, Prince Sidon!"

As the prince watches disaster unfold around him, a deep sadness settles in his heart. He is bound to his duty, to his people, to his role.

He cannot leave Zora's Domain. He cannot look for you.

~~~ <> ~~~

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