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sinceileftyoublog · 6 months ago

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Emily Barker Interview: Zooming In & Zooming Out

Photo by Luke David Kellett

BY JORDAN MAINZER

It's easy, and perhaps accurate, to call Fragile as Humans (Everyone Sang/Kartel Music Group) Emily Barker's most personal album to date. It was written in both hemispheres of the world, following Barker as she moved from her home in England to her native Australia. Its songs ooze a sense of specificity, inspired by brief moments of reflection and nostalgia as well as longer-term struggle and grief. Independent of whether the songs are true stories, though, they all tug at a phrase Barker said to me over Zoom back in March: "collective vulnerability." It's right there in the album's title and pervasive in its songs. Whether Barker's playing solo with minimal arrangements, encouraged by album producer Luke Potashnick, or backed by an expert band of Tim Harries (electric and double bass/piano/string arrangements), Tom Visser (drums) and Richard Causon (keys), she's all the while marveling at the weight of life.

Whether you're the type of person who looks at total strangers and makes up stories about them or sits there dying to know the real story of their lives, Fragile as Humans is the record for you, ever-curious. No, I don't mention that because one of its many highlights, the warm "Wild to be Sharing This Moment", was inspired by a similar people-watching experience Barker had. Throughout the album, she paints a picture of characters--previous versions of herself ("Call it a Day"), a boy with a Chicago Bulls hat pointed as far upward as Michael Jordan's outstretched silhouetted arm ("Fragile as Humans"), a dying Sir David Attenborough ( "Acisoma".)--all representative of universal truths. Life, like people, is fragile. Things end, including life itself. Difficulty can make you stronger. "The good times are all very well, but we don't survive that way," Barker opines on "Call it a Day", a song whose instrumental journey backs up her claim, as noisy strings and eerily discordant vocals give way to easy, strummed guitars. It's one of many moments on Fragile as Humans where Barker wears wisdom well.

As it turned out, though, Barker would need to heed her own advice. "Feathered Thing", whose title is inspired by Emily Dickinson's "'Hope' is the thing with feathers", broadly details a trying time for Barker and her partner as they tried to have a child. After many failed IVF cycles and losses, they decided not to try for kids anymore or even adopt. Barker eventually got pregnant after that decision but had a miscarriage. Intersecting moods of hope and despair sprout via the song's contrasting textures, Barker's voice, bass drones, and Reichian strings rubbing elbows with pounding piano and thumping drums. Best, the song provides a backdrop for Fragile as Humans' greatest moment of empathy, the aforementioned "Wild to be Sharing This Moment". Barker was waiting for a train and found herself imagining the lives of everyone around her, placing each person simultaneously within the story of their own lives and among global conflict. She tosses off some pearls of wisdom, like, "How can we study the wounds of our history and still send our children to war?" Most importantly, though, the song, with its built-up snare drums, buoyant acoustic guitar, sharp piano, and expansive steel guitar, uses both a microscope and a bird's eye view to consider the other, a plea for stepping back and observing in a world of shouting. After all, with everything so fragile, yelling and screaming can fracture.

Read my conversation with Barker below, edited for length and clarity, as she called in from Austin where she was performing at SXSW. We talked about the cycle of life, the power of being in spaces once occupied by geniuses, her very contemporary influences, and, yes, the Bulls.

Since I Left You: On Fragile as Humans, some of the songs are solo and more intimate-sounding, and some have a full band. Meanwhile, it's definitely a "personal" album, but it delves into a variety of topics from your life. How do you go about sequencing and creating a whole record that balances everything?

Emily Barker: Whenever I start writing, I work quite cyclically in terms of being creative. Right now, having made a record, I'll think of myself as more of a collector than a songwriter for a while. I just write notes and save them for later and sing and play guitar and piano into my phone. I'm not so keen on sitting down and doing the hard work of piecing it all together. When I first started doing the hard work and piecing things together for this album, I tried to start writing without thinking about it as an album. I would write about what I was currently exploring, whether actively trying to learn about something in particular or exploring a personal situation and putting it into song. I often find that if I [write] without the intention of trying to write towards a theme, I'll find that five songs later I accidentally have been writing about something that feels connected. A theme or themes will start to emerge, and then I'll start writing to that [theme] or through the lens of that [theme]. I often write 25 songs for an album and whittle it down with a producer towards the 10 or 12 it will be.

SILY: What was the first song you wrote for Fragile as Humans?

EB: "Acisoma", the last song on the album. I really wanted to break some of my patterns, which are quite easy to fall into when you've been writing for such a long time. In terms of chord progressions or melodies, I wanted to try to snap myself out of those modes. I wrote a lot of this album on the piano, which I had done a bit of, but most [of my previous] songs were written on guitar. The great thing about piano is it allows you to chromatically move and sound better than on a guitar. It sounds more angular. There's something quite fluid about piano. I wrote on a postcard, which I had stuck to the wall in my writing room, [the word] "experiment." So "Acisoma" was the first song I wrote after [reminding myself to experiment], and it ended up being on the album, which was a big sort of experimentation. I started moving my hands around on the piano and didn't know what chords I was playing, but I tried to get that out of my head. It sounds really simple. I learned on something that felt good and experimented with my voice a bit. I wanted to use my voice as an instrument in a way I hadn't done before. On that song in particular, I was inspired by Aldous Harding and how she uses her voice in certain songs. It sounds like a woodwind instrument. It's quite affected in moments. I'm definitely not as extreme [as that,] but it was on my mind.

SILY: Does the title of that song refer to a type of insect?

EB: It's a dragonfly. I was watching a nature documentary, and [Sir] David Attenborough was narrating it. It's quite a big, heavy thing, but the album circles the theme of death, and I was thinking about life cycles and this particular dragonfly called Attenborough's pintail from Madagascar. It was named in honor of him for all of the work he's done. It only lives for a few days but has this whole arc to its life cycle, this whole journey. I was thinking about time and life and death and Attenborough himself, having watched him so closely his entire life and [him] having such a deep understanding of life cycles. He's 94 [editor's note: Attenborough is now 97] and thinking about perhaps whether he...has a different view of death than a lot of us due to his study of the animal kingdom. Western society tends to push [death] to the side, and we don't accept it. We do everything to distract ourselves from the fact that we will all die. [laughs]

SILY: When you recorded the song, you were told that another singer who sings a lot about life and death, Nick Cave, at one point sang into the same microphone. Learning that actually informed your delivery. Has that ever happened to you before, where another artist you admire has been in the same spot you are right then and there and it affects you like that?

EB: I am so glad that Luke [Potashnick,] the producer, told me that. We recorded it in England in this old stone building, and it was quite overcast that day. There was something very intimate and introverted about it, so knowing Nick Cave had sung into that microphone gave me a little bit of confidence and a certain mood, as well, to deliver the message of the song.

SILY: The story reminds me of the Portlandia "These are the original keys used on Pet Sounds" sketch.

EB: [laughs]

SILY: But I feel like I would feel that weirdly cosmic connection, too!

EB: Definitely. I love that series as well. I want to rewatch it. It's so great.

SILY: "Call It A Day" refers to another big change for you that contextualizes this record. You moved back to Australia after two decades living in the UK. Does that song instrumentally mirror your journey living in the UK? It starts out eerily discordant and ends much warmer.

EB: That's interesting. I was living in Stroud for 13 years. At that point, I knew I was going to be leaving and felt this nostalgia already creeping in a bit, and a bit bitter about the state of affairs in the UK politically, just coming out of the pandemic and Brexit. [The song's] sort of got this British or folk element to it. Joni-esque, I suppose with the chords and strumming pattern. When we got into production, we wanted to speak to all of the other songs in terms of the sound palette. I think that's what you're saying with the softing it out.

SILY: At first, the strings are a little noisy, and your vocals are affected.

EB: Yeah, quite affected, and then it gets smoother as it moves through the song. That's a production thing, mostly, with Luke. I love what we did with that one.

SILY: On "Wild to Be Sharing This Moment", you're looking at strangers around you and wondering what their lives are like but also considering the state of the world. Is songwriting for you a way to process that mix of marveling at the world's wonders while having the capacity to be shocked at the gloom of it?

EB: Totally. It's that zooming in and zooming out thing. That song was me having an overwhelming sudden realization--it's not the first time I felt it--but when you're in a public space, and you're essentially people-watching, and you see all these strangers around you. Often, in the city, people can be introverted in their own little worlds, reading a book or listening to a music or podcast or sleeping on public transport. You have this realization that everybody has their whole lives, everything they're dealing with and have inherited from parents and grandparents, where they're from, and what their morning's been like in the lead-up to them being where they are. I felt overwhelmed by how vulnerable everybody is; that's on the zoomed-in level. Zooming out, on a mass scale, thinking about wars in different regions and all those people who are experiencing [them,] they all have their own personal worlds and lives as well. [I was thinking about] our collective vulnerability as human beings and the state of the world and feeling like it's very easy to be divided now along the lines of social media and algorithmic manipulation. We need to be able to listen to each other more and understand the life and point of view each person brings to the table. That's not necessarily saying we all should agree, but to at least listen and get some context for why people think what they think. The song is a reminder of that every time I perform it. There's been a good response to it; people feel the same thing. It's a call to compassion.

SILY: A lot of artists ended up dropping out of SXSW, playing the non-official showcases only. Gruff Rhys wrote a post that included the sentiment, "I'm choosing to not participate, but a lot of artists are still participating because they'll go into crippling debt if they don't play these shows." It was a thoughtful, good reminder of what you're talking about.

EB: That's great. I found out the day I landed [about people pulling out] and was like, "Oh, shit." It sounds like he put it well. It seems a bit narrow-minded to assume that somebody who chooses to do their official showcase is in support of the war in Palestine. It's really hard to navigate, isn't it? We could have a whole different conversation about that.

I was listening to Sarah Wilson's podcast the other day, and she was in conversation with Maggie Jackson about her new book Uncertain. It talks about us as humans sitting in uncertainty for a moment. So much is so complex--not just life in general, not just in Palestine--but taking a moment before responding or reposting, making sure you read the article, not feeling like you have to respond to something immediately or via social media at all. There are so many ways we can respond to crises. It's a very important conversation, taking action in other ways and direct ways where we can have influence. I do think social media is an important tool, but it's not the only tool.

SILY: One of the ways to take action is to share your own perspective and stories. It seems like the most honest thing to do.

EB: It can take a moment to find your truth because it's so loud out there.

SILY: You share your perspectives and stories quite a bit on Fragile as Humans. The lead single, "Feathered Thing", is specifically about something pretty difficult in your life. Have you played that song live?

EB: I have.

SILY: Do you explain the song's context when playing it?

EB: What I tend to say live is, "This song tries to balance hope and grief, and the imagery in it is inspired by Emily Dickinson's poem ''Hope' is the thing with feathers', and there's more to it as well." I don't delve into the personal grief. The song's open enough that people can bring their own narrative to it, I suppose. It's felt good to perform it. I have talked about what the song's about in some other interviews, so I feel comfortable to do that if you want to. I think it's something universal. We all have loss in our lives. It's unavoidable. It's important to sit in that grief or discomfort to give them the respect they deserve, in a way.

SILY: You mentioned "Wild To Be Sharing This Moment" was inspired instrumentally by some contemporary artists you admire, and you've already named Aldous Harding as an influence. When I heard the banjo on "Small We Start", I couldn't help but think that the folksier country music en vogue in independent music today is something you've been doing for a while. Is that something you've noticed, and if so, what are your feelings about that trend?

EB: I think it's great. There are so many artists like Phoebe Bridgers who are classic songwriters in so many ways. I love that about her songwriting. It feels like it's come back around a bit. When I first started doing music, it wasn't long after O Brother, where art thou? came out, and Lucinda Williams' Car Wheels on a Gravel Road was taking off, as well as Gillian Welch's Time (The Revelator). That sort of music never went away, but I think people like Phoebe Bridgers bringing it into the mainstream is pretty awesome...bands like Big Thief, too. I'm in awe of [Adrianne Lenker's] solo stuff and the band's stuff. The songs stand on their own before anything is added to them. To me, that's what sets it apart. You don't need production at all. You could hear it on piano or guitar and it would be there in its fullness.

SILY: You refined these songs opening for Mary Chapin Carpenter, right?

EB: In the summer of 2022, I had met Luke Potashnick, the producer, and we started doing some pre-production, and going through everything put the songs under a microscope. I loved that; it was the first time I had done that with a producer. He comes from a songwriting background, so I really trusted his feedback. It was just minor tweaks here and there, like, "What do you think about this line?" Often, it would be the line that wasn't a placeholder but one I hadn't cracked that worked just "well enough." It was amazing that we had a similar view on stuff. When I went on tour with Mary with all these notes, in hotel rooms or on the bus, I was tweaking these songs and performing them live. I often find that when you perform them in front of an audience and hear yourself singing these lyrics or playing certain chord progressions, you can really be more objective about it. That was great to do before heading into the studio because I felt fit for many live takes having been on the road almost every night.

SILY: Did you take anything specifically from being on tour with Mary and watching her play?

EB: All the time. I've done six [tours with her] in the US and UK. I love how she connects with her audiences. She's such an introvert as a person but such a brilliant performer. I love how softly she speaks to people. You don't have to be larger than life. People are on the edge of their seat leaning in, instead of thinking, "Woah, this is a lot!" People listen. Her songs are so moving. I also think she's someone who has had a long career who has her hits from back in the day, but her passion is with her newer material. It's so profound what she writes about now and how she writes about it. I'm constantly inspired by her. She's a really dear friend after all the tours we've done together.

SILY: On the title track, you sing about falling for someone "with a Bulls cap turned to the sky." Are you referring to the Chicago Bulls?

EB: Yes. This was the 90's--Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman era. I was this huge NBA Basketball fan, even though I was from this tiny country town in the southwest of Australia. My brothers and I would buy the cards and play basketball before and after school. There was this one kid who I just adored--he was so lovely--he was a Maori kid from New Zealand who was great at basketball who always wore a Bulls cap to the side.

SILY: A lot of the dynasty team just came back here for an anniversary celebration, including Australia's own Luc Longley.

EB: Wow!

SILY: From what I understand, he's involved in marine conservation. And these days, he looks a lot like a 7-foot-tall Jeff Tweedy.

EB: That's hard to imagine. I'll have to look him up.

SILY: Can you tell me about the cover art for Fragile as Humans?

EB: For the first time, I was able to work with a creative agency, Headjam, based in New South Wales in Australia. I had a meeting with them--8 people, graphic designers, photographers, videographers--and they had my mini blurb about each song and the record. They asked me so many questions about the album, what films I love, what books I read, what art I enjoy, to get an idea of my personal aesthetic, I suppose. The album cover comes from [a line on] the song "The Quiet Ways", "budding branch on fallen tree," and it's partly inspired by [the line on] "Feathered Thing", "I went to the burnt-out woods / A tourist with some damaged goods." In Australia, just like many other parts of the world, we deal with fire. It's that balance of hope and grief where a piece of wood has been burned but there's green growing from it. It was amazing to work with this team of professionals and not have to come up with ideas. They came back with this beautiful package, a video treatment for "Wild to Be Sharing", and the graphics and photography of the album. It feels like a strong continuation of the narrative. It feels really cohesive. I love what they've come up with.

SILY: How many of these songs have you played live?

EB: I have played most of them live. I haven't played "Acisoma", but the other ones I think I have. I'm doing solo gigs at the moment here, so I'll just play 3 of them. A couple more if there's a piano.

SILY: Do you have a favorite of them to play?

EB: I love doing "Wild to Be Sharing This Moment", especially in a crowd that's there with you, where I can get them to sing the "ooh"s and "aah"s. It's a reinforcement of us being together in that very moment.

SILY: Are you the type of songwriter who's always writing? Is there anything next for you?

EB: I'm in that collector phase, a couple of verses here and there for things. I like to just play and not put pressure on myself to finish anything. Start things and keep them for later down the road. I've finished a couple of things, some collaborative songs I did for other people.

SILY: Is there anything you've been listening to, watching, or reading lately that's caught your attention?

EB: Sarah Wilson's podcast Wild. She interviews the greatest minds on the issues that are most of our moment. It's so inspiring how she holds complexities. She's quite brave speaking how a lot of us feel but haven't articulated yet. I love her point of view. I also subscribe to her Substack. She's my everything at the moment.

I went to a great bookshop in Austin the other day called Alienated Majesty. I got a few poetry books. I love poetry, and whenever I'm in the States or the UK, I focus on getting poets from the place I'm in. I got Larry Levis' Winter Stars.

SILY: Are you coming to Chicago?

EB: I will be. I'm not sure when. I'm coming back to the US at the end of May. When the record comes out, I'll be in the UK doing record stores, and I'll come over here and do lots of in-stores, too. That's still being put together.

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a-jynx · 3 years ago

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Expensive Taste; P2

Excerpt; Happiness comes at a price, and it could be something you're not willing to pay...

Warning; Cursing, mentions of dreamlands/derealization, gore, blood, and sword fights mentioned, minor character death, childhood trauma,

Pairing; Quackity x reader [ female pronouns ]

[ Male vers. / GN vers. ]

a/n; uhhh, omg?? You guys are insane! I'm honestly shocked by how well Expensive Taste did! I'm so happy you all loved it so much, and I hope this part gets as much love and hype!

~~~~

“You’re a fucking joke, Sap,” Y/N spat, shoving Sapnap back as he stumbled backward. Quackity and Punz stood behind, watching as she walked closer, with a glare already set on her face. “Are you somehow surprised that I’m not some obedient dog?! Scared that the bitch is fighting back?” The spine-chilling smile made Sapnap take a step back before snarling towards his younger sister.

“I miss my real sister - the girl who’d never hurt anyone, wouldn’t fight back against someone trying to protect her,”

“I do not need your fucking protection, you fucking pathetic excuse of a brother!” Y/N’s voice bounced around them as the once thumping music came to a slow halt, causing everyone’s attention to shift towards the small group. The casino floor became swallowed with thick silence, as Quackity glanced towards Punz who took a step in front of her.

“That’s enough, everyone is to leave.” His voice amplified as everyone stood still, no one daring to move until he grit his teeth. “I said MOVE IT.” All jumped and began moving towards the entrance as he followed behind a small group of people, glancing over his shoulder to Quackity, who gave him a quick nod.

“Why don’t we just calm down-”

“Quackity shut the-”

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence, Sapnap.” Y/N stepped in front of her fiance, snarling at her brother who frowned. “This is between us, so focus your anger towards me.”

“Trust me, all my pent anger will be directed towards you, Sparkler.” He snickered as she narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a straight line.

“Don’t call me that. You lost the privilege to call me that.” She growled, hatred and venom evident in her voice. A gentle hand tugged on her wrist, making her turn towards Quackity as he shot her a soft look before smiling, causing her frown to turn into a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere more private..?” The scarred man spoke easily as Sap scoffed, crossing his hands over his chest as Y/N snapped her attention back to her brother.

“Remember..? We have nothing to discuss, Quackity. This is between my sister and I.” The Blazeborn hissed as small waves of smoke lifted from his fingertips and curled up lips. She narrowed her eyes before taking a step away from Quackity, whose touch chased after her warmth.

“Don’t you dare go Blaze in here, Sapnap. Don’t start something you cannot finish.” She murmured, keeping her voice low but promising of a threat.

“You and I, now,” he snags her arm, tugging her towards the private back rooms as Quackity stood there, worrying, as he watched his ex take his Amor behind a closed door.

~~~~

She stumbled on her heels as Sapnap shoved her through the doorway, grumbling as she caught herself on the small stage.

“Are you fucking serious-” her voice trailed as she listened to the lock flip as Sap locked the door behind them, standing between Y/N and the door with a quivering smile. Her eyes grew wide as she took a step back, her heels dragging across the blacked-out carpet.

“Sap? Sapnap, what the hell are you doing-”

“It’s all your fault, you fucking whore.” He hissed, his eyes glowing the burning red and orange as he drew his Netherite sword. “You’re the reason I lost him, but I can gain him back… Easily.” He took a stride towards her, swinging the sword down as she stumbled backward, quickly kicking off her crystal heels as she moved around the small stage; blocking Sapnap from her.

“Are you fucking insane?!” She gulped, sneaking around the stage as Sap crept around the other side, snarling as he dragged the sword behind, tearing up the carpet with each step.

“Call me love-struck,” he spat, suddenly jumping across the smaller stage as her eyes grew wide, tumbling back and knocking into the floor as she caught the sword; a scream breaking through her lips as blood slowly leaked from the edge cutting into her palms. “Or love-sick, whichever you prefer.” He snickered, pressing his body weight into the sword as his own palm angled, pressing into the hilt and edge with a crazed look breaking through his Blaze-colored eyes. His dark hair sprouting into flames as she grits her teeth, releasing another scream as she pushes her arms up and into the sword, knocking Sap off and away as she sits up, heaving.

“You.. You fucking bitch!” Sapnap suddenly growled, causing her to glance up, her chest rising and falling steadily before a soft gasp left her lips. Sap sat with his side turned into the bottom of the black stone stage, clutching his face. Blood dribbled down from his palm, the steady stream giving a small glimpse into the true damage. His head snapped up, a large slice had broken through the skin of his cheek from his mouth.

Her eyes watered at the sight of her brother, fear suddenly prickling along the back of her neck as he moved to press his back against the stage while she began to shake.. The room began to feel warm - no hot.. No boil - boiling. It felt as if the air around her had begun to melt her skin off as the room around her slowly shifted. Bright lava began to ooze from between the ceiling tiles and to break and crack through the carpeted floor as she scrambled to her feet, spinning until the room had shifted into her last home… The sweltering and deathful Nether.

“Sap! Sappy, come back up here!” A gentle voice echoed over the tormenting pops of lava, Y/N’s eyes towards the voices before carefully moving towards them. Peeking over the netherrack, she swallowed a gasp as she recognized herself as a child, and a dark raven-haired boy swimming in the lava below.

“No way, Sparkler! This feels amazing, why don’t you,” he called in a sing-song tone. “Come down here?” The smirk was evident in his voice as Y/N frowned, suddenly feeling anxious as she watched the small girl lean closer to the edge.

“Sappy, you know I can’t swim like you! This is cheating anyway!” The young girl called down to him. The young version of Sapnap scoffed before climbing out of the large lava lake and climbing up the small netherrack hill towards young Y/N.

“Oh, shut it! It’s not cheating when you can easily just come in and get me,”

“I can’t! I’d.. I’d-” her voice trailed as the young boy scoffed, shaking his head free of the sticking lava bits.

“I’d - I’d - I’d - You’d what, Sparkler? You’d be fine!” He laughed as she gutted out her bottom lip, hugging herself despite the sweltering heat surrounding the young siblings.

“Can we please just do something else? I’m tired of playing tag anyway…” She muttered, playing with the burnt edge of her t-shirt, as little Sapnap nodded, moving towards where he had placed his t-shirt and clothes. His little Diamond sword glittering from the falling lava as he picked it up, admiring himself in the blades’ reflection.

“Yeah, why don’t we try your training some more? I know you went easy on that Techno kid..” Sapnap lightly spat as Y/N frowned, tugging out her own diamond sword. Tracing her finger along the edge, meeting her own eyes in the mirroring image. Furrowing her brows as she stared into the reflection, noticing a sudden… Glow to her eyes.

Suddenly, her sword is knocked from her loose grip, nicking her fingertips as it clatters to the cracked floor. Snapping her head up, she growled towards her brother whilst he smirked, holding his blades’ point towards her chest.

“One point for me, sis..” He cackled as she scoffed, scooping up the sword as he took a step back readying himself again.

“Not fair, I-”

“All’s fair in war, Sparkler,” Sapnap spoke matter-of-factly, tilting his sword to the side while shooting her a wicked smile.

“This isn’t war, Sappy..” She rolled her eyes as he huffed, launching himself at her. She stepped back, stumbling over a crack before raising her own blade. The sharp metals met together and yelled as Sapnap continued his attack, bashing down on the opposing blade with a sneer. Y/N caught his blade and turned her own away from her body, hooking his and forcing it off of her. She watched as he stumbled back from the sudden force, shock evident on his face as she turned and rushed away as icy fear shot through her veins at his loud huff of annoyance.

“This seems a little,” she paused, spinning towards the left and catching his sword easily. “Excessive, Sap!” She called over the continuous screech of the metals meeting each other; sparks flying as she continued to back away. Y/N kept walking until she glanced back to see the edge of the netherrack hill, the lava lake below them popping and bubbling as she grew wide-eyed.

“Sapnap! Sap, stop the edge-” she suddenly cried out before she felt his sword slice down her arm, effectively cutting through her t-shirt sleeve and her skin in angry backlash, the bright crimson flying out as the blade clashed onto the netherrack. Her own sword clatters to the ground, her tired body following as she grasps her injured arm, choking sobs and gasps leaving her as she cradles herself.

Sapnap stood over her shaking body, his grip loosening on the hilt before allowing the sword to clatter by his feet while watching his sister wither. He swallows thickly before stepping towards her, only to stop as she tries to scoot away, despite the edge threatening the promise of falling into the lava below.

“Sap? Y/N/N?” A voice called out as footsteps approached the sibling pair. Sapnap looked towards the area it had come from and he felt dread and fear shoot through his veins as one of their father’s rounded the corner - his bright blue hoodie and jeans standing out from the harsh red tones. “Sap, what happ- Y/n! Baby, what the hell happened?!” He rushed towards the siblings, skidding across the rough floor as he scooped up Y/N’s small, sniffling body as one of his hands dragged her hand away from the wound.

“What happened?” Skeppy hissed as Sapnap gulped, his palms began to sweat as he opened his mouth, eyes watering.

“I… I didn’t mean,” his voice fell as Skeppy huffed, the look of disappointment already spreading across his father’s face. Silent tears dripped down Sapnap’s burning face as Skeppy stood, lifting Y/N’s shuttering body and holding her close to his chest before reaching one with one hand towards Sapnap, tugging him close as they left the swords behind… One blade still covered with blood while the other laid, threatening to tumble off the edge.. Who knew that the swords would soon represent the siblings soon enough..

~~~~

“Y/n?! Y/N!? Mi Amor?!” Quackity’s voice broke through the darkness, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open as Quackity’s thumb brushed over the tears that streaked down her reddening cheek. She suddenly gasped, shooting up from the floor as her fiance dove back, avoiding her sudden action. She curls in on herself, looking wildly around the room before noticing the door open and Sapnap gone.

“Where’s - Where’d he-” Y/N shook, her nails digging themselves into the meat of her calf as Quackity moved forward quickly, grabbing her wrist and gently tugging her hands from their tight grips on her.

“Gone. He’s gone and he’s never allowed back here, especially not after pulling that shit,” he hissed, pressing his forehead against her own. The feel of his hair, beanie, and grip on her wrists helped her slowly calm down, despite the pounding of her heart.

“He’ll never hurt you again, not while I’m here.” He whispered against her hairline before pressing his lips against her warm skin. Y/N allowed her eyes to flutter shut once more, leaning into the gentle yet grounding touch.

“He.. What the fuck happened?” She murmured, just above a whisper as Quackity sighed, gently dropping her wrists and standing, offering his hand to her as she shakingly stood with him.

“I.. I don’t even know,” Big Qs voice trailed as he reached up, rubbing his eyes with his free hand before gently guiding Y/N out of the room. “I was talking to Punz about how weird he’s been acting, and then we heard you scream.. But, we couldn’t get into the room and we didn’t know what was happening, but hearing you scream and just the shouts and threats made my blood boil,”

“Q, my dream, I’m okay now.. Sure, a little banged up and bloody,” she lightly chuckled, leaning into his side while showing the irritated and dried-up cuts on her palms; he frowned. “But, I’m alive and that’s thanks to you.” She mumbled, pressing her lips against his, grinning into the kiss as one of his arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her close as someone cleared their throats from behind them. Tilting her head, she shot a grin to Punz as he mirrored the smile.

“What no thanks to the guy who dragged your psychotic brother out?” He huffed, yet the teasing tone gave its way. Y/N chuckled before stepping away from Quackity and towards Punz, gripping his chin and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“That better, ya big baby?” She teased, a smile crossing both of their faces as Q chuckled, moving to her side as they moved towards the office. A smile still present on her face, however the feeling of dread and anxiety washed over her shoulders as she leaned further into Quackity’s side - him easily accepting it.

Something in her heart and mind told her this wasn’t going to be the last time blood was spilled on this country's land..

~~~~

Sapnap stumbled as Punz shoved him forward, his knees and palms colliding with gravel. He spun on his knees, blood streaking down his chin and throat, staining his white tee.

“You made a mistake coming here expecting anything but blood to be spilled.” Punz spat, wiping his hand across his dark jeans, the crimson streaking across it. Sap coughed out a laugh, blood and spit splattering onto the sand.

“That’s my sister! That’s my blood and he stole her-”

“She came here looking for him, Sapnap. She chose to live here, to stay here, to leave your ass behind. Respect that before something happens that no one can fix.” Punz hissed, his arms crossing over his chest as they held each other’s gaze. The bloody man scoffed, slowly sitting back on his calves as Punz took a step back, keeping their gaze locked.

“I’ll come back, it doesn’t matter what happens, I’ll still come back,” the raven-haired man slowly moved to stand, causing Punz to frown before his attention dragged up, spotting a colorful hoodie climbing up the tall, sandy hill.

“Karl. You’re a little late,” Punz frowned before nodding towards the brunette’s fiance. “Next time, don’t let him leave the house.. Especially with ill intentions.” He clicked his tongue as Karl moved closer, standing next to Sapnap, a frown evident on his face. He only nods towards Punz, who returns the gesture before turning on his heel and leaving the couple.

Karl knelt down next to Sap, carefully helping him stand. He flinched at the large gash, gently touching the dried blood with trembling fingers. Closing his eyes and biting his lip, Karl pressed his forehead to Sap’s, feeling the sticky sweat and if he focused hard enough, he could almost feel his pounding pulse.

“Why are you such a meathead?” He mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to Sap’s cheek before leaning back, swallowing thickly with a sigh. “Leave them be, Sap.. They have their happiness, we have ours - let them have this.” His voice shaking as Sapnap froze, his body growing rigid as Karl tightened his hold on him. He could feel the heat slowly rising from Sapnap’s body, making him huff as he gave a squeeze.

“Let them live in their happiness and let us live in our own happiness- it’s what we deserve after everything,” he mumbled into Sap’s neck, the heat causing Karl to sweat and burn red. He shook from the pain rippling through his hoodie and jeans as Sapnap scoffed, his eyes watering.

“I’m done,” he whispered, making Karl lean back slowly to look him in the eyes, seeing the slow tears streak from the corner of his darkening eyes. “I’m done being a second thought - second place. Why does she get everything? Why does everything get handed to her while I have to claw and.. And fight, and bite to try and survive..?” Sapnap’s voice quivered as the smoke slowly dissipated, leaving him slumped against Karl’s frame.

“You don’t have to fight them… We have our country - our kingdom - where we’ll be safe, and no more second place, yeah? We’ll have each other, we’ll… We��ll have everything we need.” Karl stuttered, sliding his hands up and cradling Sap’s face with a hesitant tap on his left side, avoiding the gnarled gash. “We’ll make it..”

“I don’t want to just make it,” Sap hissed, resting his hand on top of the smaller male’s hand with a sigh. Tightening his grip, trying to clench his jaw only to wince in pain as Karl stepped closer, pressing his chest against his. Blinking, he revealed his vibrant orange eyes, smirking, “I want her to pay..”

~~~~

Night fell over the lively country, the neon signs buzzing and the streets were bustling with life, cool air blowing past, knocking strands of hair free as Y/N pressed herself against the railing. Quackity and her had left the casino, escaping to the Space Needle with both their thoughts battling against one another. She sighed, eyes flickering all over their country, able to see the night allow it to breathe its true beauty.

A hand grazed her lower back, causing her to slightly jump before sighing and relaxing into the touch as Quackity came into view. Shedding his blazer, situating it on top of her shoulders with a gentle peck.

“Enjoying the view?” He grinned as she hummed, leaning into his side as he placed an arm around her shoulders, rubbing his thumb across the soft material of his jacket. Big Q side-eyed her, still seeing the dazed and lost look in her eyes before he sighed, turning her towards him. “Are you still worried about Sapnap?”

She couldn’t help but scoff, “I know I acted big and not afraid, but… I know Sapnap. He’s going to do whatever he sets his mind to, so who knows what the hell is going to happen.” She sighed, reaching up and rubbing her eyes, relieving the itch from her glittery make-up.

“Mi Vida.. I know him too, remember? I was engaged to him,” Quackity chuckled, reaching up and brushing his thumb over her cheek. “And who cares what the hell happens? As long as I have you and our country safe, I could care less about what happens.” He smiled, leaning in and pressing their lips tightly together. Y/N couldn’t help but smile into the embrace, brushing her nose against his before reaching up and caressing his cheek, her thumb rubbing across the ridged scar.

“You’re crazy, Quackity,” she shook her head with a small smile as Quackity nodded, reaching into his slacks’ back pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the box, her brows knitting together.

“I may be crazy, but I’m so lucky to have you. You saved me.” He mumbled, opening the box and revealing the golden band with a glittering Sapphire shimmered as he picked it up, offering it as Y/N nodded slowly. Pressing another kiss to her lips as she melted into it. His thumb brushing over her hip, hugging her closer as if to mold his body around her - to protect her.

“And you saved me, Mi Caballero,” she muttered against his lips before leaning back, seeing the dreamy look on his face.

“Come on, we need to meet everyone downstairs for a meeting. We need to discuss what protocols will be needed to ensure that Las Nevadas continues to stand.” A wide grin split across his face as he backed away, his hand still holding hers tightly before pressing small butterfly kisses across her now decorated knuckle before retreating back into the needle.

Y/N watched with a glowing smile, her grip tightening around the jacket whilst tugging it closer to her; turning back towards the lively city, she sighed. Quackity would do anything for her, and she would do anything for him. And that’s the scary part. They would give anything and everything up for the other to live carefreely.. And yet their happiness lived with one another, now there was a threat to their paradise.

Straightening her back, turning on her heel, and moving back inside, her face hardening as she moved swiftly towards the stairs. Dropping her hands from clutching the sides of her boyfriend’s jacket, the clicking of her heels against the polished quartz caused a smirk to grace her lips. Stopping a few steps above the floor, her eyes met Quackity and Punz, who held smiles. Punz moved towards her, offering a hand as she nodded, smirking still as Quackity met her halfway. “What’re we waiting for, boys? An invitation?”

~~~~

Her skin began to turn a grey color - rotting, withered almost - while vibrant blue washed over her eyes, and erupted in flames from her fingertips. Sapnap stumbled back, a scream escaping his lips before he slapped a hand over his mouth; fear rushed through his veins as he felt his own skin begin to heat up, feeling threatened.

“Sap.. Sapnap, I don’t know what’s happening-”

“Stay back and… And just stay there! Wait till Dad or Papa gets back!” He huffed, gulping as he watched her move her fingers, adjusting to the strength of the flames. A giggle left her lips as he furrowed his brows, why did hers look so different? Frowning at the flames, he stood and moved towards her, his orange flames mixing with hers as he lightly giggled as the flames danced it almost felt like light tickles.

“This is so cool! I’m just like you, Sappy!” Y/N broke into a huge smile as he lightly chuckled before giving a small nod.

“Yeah, you are, Sparkler… This is so weird, why are yours-”

“Sap, Y/N! We need help with, oh my muffin,” Bad went silent as Sapnap and Y/N turned towards their father, their little eyes growing wide as he dropped the groceries. He quickly moved towards them, gently taking Y/N’s hand into his as she quickly dropped the flames, feeling embarrassment crawl up her neck.

“Y/N/N, muffin-cake, what was that? When did this start?” Bad asked, carefully as she chewed on her bottom lip before allowing the flames to erupt again from her fingers.

“I… I don’t know. I’ve been able to do it for a little bit, but I never needed to.. Are you upset?” She mumbled the last part as Bad chuckled, wrapping his arms around the small girl with a sigh.

“Of course not, honey! I’m just surprised that you’ve developed something like Sappy!” Bad pressed a soft kiss to her hairline as Sap watched, jumping when a hand landed on his shoulder turning to meet Skeppy, who was grinning up a storm.

“Looks like we have a Blazeborn AND Soul eater.”

“A… what?” Sap and Y/N spoke together, causing their fathers’ to laugh.

“A Soul eater, someone who is able to walk across soul sand faster, control souls from the flames, and if threatened - like how Sap gets to summon lava? You’d be able to take over someone’s soul to deter them from hurting you.” Skeppy explained as the two siblings nodded, blinking as they looked at one another.

“That’s so cool!” Y/N exclaimed as they chuckled, nodding along as Sap frowned. He was the cool one before… He was the one who had powers from the Nether, and now she got those too?

Everything began to melt around him, causing him to jump and dodge the large drops of his old childhood house. Sand burst up through the floorboards as he jumped, dodging the floor exploding up, knocking him backward, and causing his back to collide with the sand. Scrambling to his feet, he huffed as he saw a figure standing before him, licking his lips and squinting he noticed the stature… Y/N.

“Y/N? Hey, what the hell is-” his voice trailed as he watched a ball of blue flame hurdle towards him. Throwing himself off to the side, feeling the extreme heat fly over him as his arms covered his head. Sitting on his calves, he turned to see part of an oak forest erupted into intense, crackling blue flames.

“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!” Sapnap screamed towards his sister, standing onto his feet and seeing her body facing him, a blue flame still flickering in her palm. She stood as if she had an injury, favoring her right side. Narrowing his eyes, he summoned his own orange flames with a snarl. “You know this isn’t a fair fight, Y/N!” He shouted towards her, carefully moving through the sand towards her with creased lips. Keeping his flamed hand out ahead of him, in case of her firing another flame ball.

He stopped in front of her, her focus straight ahead yet he flinched at seeing the bright whites of her eyes as he moved around to her left, glaring. Dried blood flaked off of the side of her neck and stained her t-shirt, while crimson still dripped down from her fingertips, a gradually growing puddle made him frown.

“Sparkler..? What the hell happened-” he spoke, only to get cut off as it felt as if someone had stabbed a sword through his chest. Feeling his throat slowly close as his heart began to work double-time to try and get more oxygen flowing. The flames on his fingertips died quickly as he coughed and gagged, his eyes rolling back as he dropped to his knees, clawing at his throat to try and relieve any of the force before falling face forward, blacking out.

~~~~

Karl gasped, sitting up as he awoke, clawing at his own throat, feeling his heart pound against his chest like thundering hooves. Turning over, he sighed at the sight of Sapnap asleep next to him, flopping back down into the covers, Karl flicked his tongue over his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the tears to streak down his cheeks.

The worst part about being a time traveler is the stories that get spoiled for you.. Especially those who you care about. Dragging one of his shaking hands over his face, he sighed gently as he turned onto his side, curling into Sap’s back finding comfort in the warmth radiating off his skin. Wrapping his arms around Sapnap’s middle, he pressed his nose between his shoulder blades, squeezing his eyes shut as images of Sapnap’s body laid before him - blood and sand coating him.

“Sap..? Sapnap, wake up,” Karl squeezed his sides and arms, causing him to hum and roll over, cradling the brunette close to his chest.

“What Kar,” his voice slurred with sleep, causing a spike of guilt to pierce Karl’s heart as he buried himself into the raven-haired man’s chest, fighting back tears.

“I love you. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you, please just leave them alone.. Please, I can’t handle losing you,” he mumbled into his fiance’s chest, clinging to him while Sapnap’s thumb dug circles into Karl’s shoulder, attempting to bring the brunette comfort even while sluggish with sleep. Sapnap could only hum, his mind still plagued with deep sleep before pressing his lips to Karl’s crown, snuggling further into the mop of curls below his chin.

“It’ll be fine, Karl.. Get some sleep.” The raven-haired man sighed, holding his lover closer at the feeling of Karl digging his blunt nails into Sap’s side and back.

Both of their minds are plagued with thoughts of either killing someone they love or watching someone they love die - both know blood will be spilled and their happiness is slowly becoming what could lead to their insanity…

~~~~

a/n; taglist wise stuff, I don't think I'll continue putting one unless asked, as so many people are liking and Tumblr does give a tagging limit! So if you're worried about missing something, please turn on my notifications! <3 I will also be working on the Male and GN versions of this for a few days, as this is a longer part, and I will also be working on Part 3!

Tags: @aphroditeandvenus-blog, @paintingportrait, @sourdoughnoodles, @mult1xtr1nna, @trashpiegon, @trixyvixen, @sxturn-0, @thescoutsb13tch, @banghaydencoven, @707xn, @supernaturalboi, @basementfloorfeelings, @june-x-boi, @aloookay,@dreamzluvrr, @theforestcryptid926, @fantasticpurseturtleknight, @cheesysin, @kxrmitty, @socially-blue, @excuijme, @lonley-nightmare, @kittenachu, @alleyesonmendes, @itsoakaa, @saifukus, @alec-lost-bee, @nattsaa, @dayanavmb, @boiciph3r, @leenthepanda, @0a-little-bit-of-everything0, @howdycharlie, @joinotfound, @coreys-riffin, @fa1ryclouds, @honeyimluctus, @tittylover6000, @noctis-yeye, @kiritokunuwu, @novelist2, @sn3k-was-here, @traumatizedladybug, @weepinghollywoodatsupernatural,

Until tomorrow, I hope you have a beautiful day! ~ J

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years ago

Text

You’re Not A Villain

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again,” Villain’s voice bounced off every wall, making it impossible to know where exactly he was.

Hero swallowed, daring a step further into what she often referred to in her own mind as ‘my lure to Hell.’ “You say that every time.”

The voice seemed to dash to the right, even as Villain emerged from a hole in the cave straight across from Hero. “Because it’s true every time.” This wasn’t the first week the hero had been making these little visits.

Why would Hero return to such a dingy place? One where a man appeared as a beast- a heathen sent from only the universe knew where- to her. Villain was burdened with cruel appearances, being seen- always- as the worst possible image the viewer could imagine. Hero always saw a demon-ish looking creature in Villain; it made him want to ask her what the story behind such hideous monsters was. Him asking her would probably only freak her out more, though.

“So, why are you here again? This is the second time just this week. And I won’t even mention how many times last week.” Villain lifted his hand, attempting to rake it through his hair. He met a pair of horns half-way through the task. Grunting, and dropping his hands uselessly to his sides, he continued. “You should be running for your life at a random sighting of me. Instead, you deliberately walk yourself into my dome of isolation. It’s hard to run away in a cave, you know?”

“I know,” Hero squeaked, “but I- I…”

She did this every time- strutted in like she was made purely of confidence. Hero posed with it as she entered the largest ‘room’ of the cave, but her posture always fell when Villain’s voice echoed around her, when she realized she would be trapped with her greatest nightmares.

Why, Villain had to question again. Why does she keep coming back? He was a horror, a creature which caused the most deeply rooted trembles and speediest beating hearts. There were enough times that he made his visitors pass out from fear. It took some getting used to- frightening people to their near deaths.

Villain was a man once- and he was one now…just not to everyone else.

When Villain was alone in his cave, he was the greatest version of himself- gloriously human. One with curly locks and straight teeth from those braces he wore back in junior high. One with the heaviest pocketed dimples and freckles on his nose. One who was average in height, but strong from all the lonely workouts. He was regular, normal, average…but it was better than anything he could ever wish for when his reality now was so…so cursed.

Hero flinched, undoubtedly seeing something new sprout from Villain as her nightmarish imagination ran untamed. The last time she visited the cave, Villain felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Wings. It had been leathery bat wings- like something from Hell. Villain would have liked to fly with those wings had they not disappeared as soon as Hero turned her back on him.

Now, however, Villain was presented with something different. “My horns are on fire?” he guessed, as his head had become warm, to which Hero confirmed with a fast nod. “Lovely. You might like to make me fire-proof in that mind of yours, then, yeah?”

“I don’t- I don’t know if I can.”

Heaving a sigh, Villain took a seat on a large rock on the ground- could it be considered a boulder if he were tall enough to sit on it without having to climb? “You’re afraid it would make me invincible? Afraid I’d attack you without pause?”

“No.”

But she was. Villain knew Hero was or else she would have cooperated the moment he asked.

“Give me lead feet if you’re that afraid. My scalp is burning.”

“You’re hard- hard to talk to,” Hero said. At least she was able to get a grip on herself enough that Villain’s head slowly began to cool off.

“And yet you keep returning.”

“Because I’m a hero.”

“I suppose that makes me a villain.”

Her response was to take the teeniest step forward. Villain could see her foot shaking even as it just barely left the ground.

He was the cause of that tremble, and many others.

He couldn’t help it, though, and that’s what killed him. Villain didn’t want to be like this. If he had any choice in the matter, he’d be as average as anyone- below average even- if only it meant being loved, cherished, and- and cared for. This…this demonic presence that he lived as around others…it was painful- not just physically, but mentally as well.

“You’re not a villain,” Hero said, inching forward another frightened step.

Villain sat nearly perched on his rock-boulder, watching with an inclined chin and squinted eyes. What was Hero doing? “If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be so scared, nor would anyone else be. I’m a monster.” His voice wasn’t broken- as much as he felt that trait on the inside. Villain trained himself long ago to remain numb on the outside, to encase himself in a shell that screamed ‘self-preserved.’

Hero said, “I’m showing you that you’re not a villain.”

She was getting closer. Oh. Oh, Villain didn’t like this. No one ever got this close to him- even if it were in as slow steps as Hero was taking now. This wasn’t- this- “What are you doing?” The numb Villain worked so hard to achieve was crumbling to pieces the closer Hero got. Was he…was he shaking? “Step back, Hero. This isn’t a game. I could- I could hurt you. You should run and you know it. You want to run. I’m- I’m scary and I’m a monster.”

“Who told you that?” Why was Hero’s voice gaining more courage whereas Villain’s might as well have been a holey rag in the rain above someone’s head?

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

“Who told you that you were a monster, Villain?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No, she shouldn’t be this close. I’m a monster. I’m a monster.

“Who?” Hero pressed again, and this time…she laid a hand on Villain’s shoulder- on Villain’s bare shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Hero told the man beneath her hand, “You’re no monster to me, Villain. You don’t have to be a monster to anyone.”

Ever-so-slowly, Villain’s eyes blinked open. The first thing he saw was the veiny arm extending out from Hero. She was still nervous, but…but- “You’re touching me.” His voice was an exasperated and disbelieving whisper. “You’re touching me,” Villain said again- this time with an astonished chuckle. “They said this would never happen. Said I’d be alone and starving- craving what I can never have.” His eyes met Hero’s. “Do I…do I still have horns?”

The question of ‘Who-dunnit’ no longer mattered. “No, Villain. The horns are gone.”

What happened in the next moment likely shocked them both, though Hero’s might have been in more fright than surprise…Villain pulled his saviour close, nose tucked into her neck, tears flowing freely down his cheek and onto Hero’s back.

See, Hero was still afraid- and she always would be. But the fear was worth it to make Villain human, to make him see that he wasn’t a monster, for it isn’t the skin of the man which makes him a beast, but the absence of morality. It is only when moral judgement is vacant that Man can be considered Animal.

******

Part two here

#NOT A PROMPT #request fill #this one has been in the ask box for a hot minute and I was so happy to finally sit down and write it!!#Wrote it at like 2am but apparently my hotspot doesn't work anymore so...you guys get to see it now #You're Not A Villain #Those last two sentences are some of my favourites that I've written.#For it isn't the skin of a man which makes him a beast...but the absence of morality.#It is only when moral judgement is vacant that Man can be considered Animal.#Look at me going all Mark Twain on you folks.#anyways. tags.#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #ish?#demon x angel #angel x demon #again- ish?#hero x villain story #hero x villain snippet #hero x villain drabble #curse #cursed villain #that was actually a preexisting tag- nice. To be fair- it was probably me who used that tag before...shrugs...#I'm pretty proud of this one guys. It turned out really well for being written at 2am.#Since that one nonny asked...#1261 words #This is the typical length of snippets but I've been having to write on Tumblr- which doesn't have a word count.#In other words- I suck at estimating haha

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7spaceace7 · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets (A Donatello x Reader)

This is incredibly self-indulgent and was really just a fic for me to obsess over tesla coils, but my girlfriend convinced me to post it- so here it is! It got kind of long too, but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3236

Reader is given feminine terms in this one

Mild cursing (thank you Raph)

Absolute fluff attack, the sweetness will rot your teeth

Singing was your greatest passion. From a young age, you had been roped into music, the emotions it could represent with just a few notes and some relatable lyrics. It was happiness, it was sadness, it was anger and excitement, and it was everything you couldn’t express well enough with just words. Being a writer, sometimes that would get frustrating, but music helped you overcome the most challenging spots in a new piece or story. This is why you would constantly have earbuds in as you sang along to every song you’d memorized on your Spotify shuffle.

And Donnie noticed this. Every time you would enter the turtles’ lair, he would see you unplug and pack-up your headphones. Hell, he was even able to detect your singing from the sounds of the sewer tunnels echoing with every step you took closer. He’d hear you talk about the music or soundtracks of your favorite games and movies, analyzing what every slight twinge or reprise would allude to. And he loved every part of it. He loved getting to see those moments where music was all you could focus on. Your heart rate rose exponentially in anticipation and excitement. Your eyes would screw shut while you broke into a grin. Your hands would mimic motions to the beat as you played on invisible drums, or strummed a nonexistent guitar.

It was adorable to him, to say the least. But he never told you so. He never said a word, in case this might scare you off for coming across as “creepy” or weird. He knew most people probably didn’t pay this close attention to little things like that, but then again, he also knew that most people weren’t madly in love with you.

Which Donatello was.

He couldn’t tell you, because once he started rambling about you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. And if he didn’t stop, then he’d run the 89.07% chance risk of telling you how he’d been in love with you since the day they met you. That was way too high for him to be comfortable. No, he couldn’t tell you, no matter how badly he wanted you to know.

“Okay, so what if you just show ‘er you’re interested instead?” Raph asked, half paying attention to his brother’s predicament, half pounding the punching bag before him into the ground. Leo was in the dojo meditating, and Mikey was playing video games in the living room, which left the two middle brothers to their own devices. For Donnie, this was literally. His three-fingered hands fiddled with his latest electrical circuit. It was bound for sending the right amount of voltage into his inventions without needing four power strips and a generator all on their own. Unfortunately, he was too distracted to actually delve into its components, and settled for breaking and piecing it back together again.

“Show her? How would I do that?” Donnie’s voice trembled at the thought.

“I dunno, you’re the genius here,” Raph huffed, “There’s gotta be somethin’ in this place that you think she’d find cool. She loves music, right?”

“Yeah, like a lot, she even-”

“Rhetorical question, Don, heard the rant plenty,” His brother cut him off. Pausing his violent onslaught of the dummy, he turned to face him. “You’re nervous ‘cause you ain’t ever done somethin’ for a pretty girl before, I get it. So do somethin’ you know you’re good at. That’ll take the nerves off, your plan works, and then I won’ have to listen to you babbling about whatever new fuckin’ thing she did today. Win win.”

The younger turtle paused. “That was...actually pretty sound advice, thank you, Raph.”

“Anytime,” Raph nodded, a smug smile tugging at his lips from being able to help. Problem was, now he was invested. He’d listened to his brother’s rants and rambles and failed plans of possibly confessing for weeks now, what was gonna happen once he finally did it? Raph plopped onto one of Donnie’s bean bag chairs. He didn’t bother to pick up the training dummy. “So what ya gonna do, smart guy?”

Donnie blinked a few times, glasses twitching on his nose as he pushed them up. He didn’t know it, but you coined this his “brainstorming face”. He fiddled with the circuits once again.

“Uh...I’m not sure,” His tongue went dry. A million ideas fly through his brain each minute, and this decides to be the time that he can’t think of a single one good enough. Figures. “I could build her something? Maybe a new stereo, or upgrade the one she has.”

Raph made a noise of disapproval. “You can do better, any old fix-it guy could do that.”

“Fair. Maybe I could- ow!”

A short buzz of the air cut him off as his fiddling paid off. To the world’s great irony, a light bulb several inches away lit up.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I…” Donnie trailed off. The purple-clad turtle’s eyes widened as he registered what happened. “I’m better than good, I just had an epiphany!”

“Epipha-what?”

“An epiphany, sudden realization, an idea!” Donnie flicked his goggles back down, enhancing his vision with the magnifier on it. Wires were tugged in and out, and a transmitter was displaced. With a snort of triumph, he raised it to the air for his brother to see. “This is the answer!”

“A tiny board thing. Just what she’s always wanted,” Raph rolled his eyes, but Donnie was prepared for this.

“Not just a tiny board, a tiny board with this!-” With great haste, Donnie was next to Raph, holding the board out properly. “My side-side project, this little thing, look at the coil here, this is it! This is a tesla coil, capable of transmitting thousands and thousands of volts of energy surging through the air, powering anything within its radius, which is perfect and exactly why I needed to reconfigure it to power my lab and this one new machine I’m working on, but that’s not why this is the perfect idea!”

“Wow, please continue, professor, I’m dyin’ to know.”

“Glad you asked! Watch this!” One aux cord, T-Phone connection, and light-dimming later, the lab went dark in anticipation. And suddenly, with the press of a play button on Donnie’s shuffle, music started to fill the air. But it wasn’t coming from his phone. It was coming from the coils, surging and creating not only electric energy that was visible to the human eye as it sparked, but music. Sound. The beats and notes of the song playing sprouted out in the form of electricity.

Raph’s green eyes became transfixed on the sparks flying out. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right!” Came the squeals of utter nerding out, “This is only a tabletop version of an SGTC circuit, my own type of it anyway based on Tesla’s original designs, but if I reworked it, made it bigger, made it lifelike and maybe four or five of them, I could create the most advanced musical performance this city has ever seen!”

“I’m gonna pretend I know everything you just said because clearly this is your nerd thing,” Raph started, utterly confused. Even still, a reassuring smile framed his features. “But this looks pretty damn cool. This right here? Exactly what ‘m sayin’, Don. This is you.”

“Do you think she’ll like it...?” Donnie asked in a hopeful voice. He wasn’t just asking about the invention.

“Course she will.”

~x~

A couple weeks had passed since that fateful conversation with Raph. He’d been in and out of the lab since then, but between patrols and the mandatory bathroom breaks, there was hardly a time he wasn’t working on his great new project. You weren’t even allowed to go into the lab, per his request, for all his time there.

However, he always made sure to make at least one movie whenever you’d come hang out at the lair from work.

Finally, one Friday night, the set up was complete. Pride swelled in Donnie’s chest as he looked at his creation: six symmetrically placed tesla coils sprung up from the ground and walls all around his lab space. The coilings wrapped around metal frames, spiraling into a beautiful arrangement of engineering, if he did say so himself. Mikey said it looked like the lasers out of a DC comic, which was also not a bad thing to be. He just hoped that you would like it. All of it was for you, of course, but over the weeks that he’d been preparing it, he found more beauty in the music of tesla coils than he ever had appreciated before.

Donnie thought he might thank you for that, if he could get his nerves around it.

God, he was so nervous. Anxiety rushed through his body like the electric pulses he was perfecting. They were already done, but it was all he could do to distract himself while waiting for you to arrive. Maybe the frequencies weren’t in the right key. What if they sounded better this way? Or maybe the firing power wasn’t enough? Trajectory looked alright, maybe it just-

“Donnie?”

“Gh! Y/N, hey!” Stammered the surprised terrapin after knocking his head against the top of a coil. His goggles were on the setting of night-vision, but that didn’t account for night-spatial-awareness, it seemed.

“I got your text to come,” You tried to smile at him, but the dark laboratory proved to make that difficult. “How come it’s so dark in here?”

“Uh, well, that’s p-part of the surprise! Eheh. Gimme just a second-”

You waited patiently outside of his lab, vision still applicable, but grew concerned the more strange noises and clangs you heard coming from inside. This was definitely a whole new level of “Donnie Surprises” just by how nervous he seemed about it.

You yelped when his hand grabbed your arm and dragged you back inside the darkness.

“Okay, uh,” He started, before clapping his hands together for the lights to switch back on, “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Your gaze spun all around the lab. After adjusting to the light, you could clearly see giant mechanism after mechanism placed strategically around in a dome-like setup. Coils that protruded like round-edged spikes circled you both, and in the center was a metal cage.

“Oh my god…” You almost whispered. A large grin broke out onto your face as you stared in quiet marvel at the scene. His plan was working, and Donnie lit up with an outstretched arm in presentation.

“These bad boys are called tesla coils-”

“Tesla coils!” You squealed in imperfect unison to what you assumed was the start of an explanation. “You made tesla coils, Donnie, holy shit!”

“You’ve heard of them?!” Donnie exclaimed, eyes widening behind his glasses.

“YES!” Your hands began to wave around excitedly, “Oh my god I used to be OBSESSED with these things! I heard about when I was a kid from that old movie, oh what was it, it was like the apprentice’s-”

“Sorcerer’s Apprentice!”

“THAT! Yes!”

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!”

“Me neither! All I remember is that Hiccup’s voice actor totally nerded out and programmed his giant tesla coils to play music for the girl he wanted to impress, and it was the coolest thing because these giant machines were playing music, music out of nothing but sparks of electricity at different frequencies, which to be honest probably would have caused more of an energy problem than the movie suggested because goddamn do they take up a lot of power, but I was like six and didn’t care!” You laughed in an energetic burst of word association, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Donnie could have kissed you then and there for that alone.

A grin crept onto his lips as he watched you ramble on about the movie, leaving all anxious thoughts to fall from his mind. For once, someone actually understood one of his passions. Better than that, she was explaining the process to him of all people! Sure, she was intuitive enough to know he didn’t need it, he literally had just built them after all. This was just out of pure excitement. Someone in his life was talking about science and technology like they were the most fascinating things on the planet, just as the purple-masked turtle believed it was. Well, second only to the ecstatic girl in front of him.

“-And so, I randomly remembered it again not that long ago, so I looked it up and found so many videos on YouTube about it. I kid you not, I listened to tesla coils and tesla coils alone for a solid week.”

You breathed heavily, a little winded after such an intense info-dump. God, he always loved when you got excited about something.

“This is kind of surreal,” Donnie chuckled a bit, pushing up his glasses when they tumbled down his nose, “I had no idea you’d get what these were, much less have known so much about them.” Donnie’s eyes widened at his own panicked-fueled blabbering. “N-Not that I think you’re stupid! I just-- I mean it’s not-- common? It’s more of-”

“A niche interest, yeah. No worries,” You finished for him, signaling his stuttered words hadn’t fallen on offended ears. Donnie quietly sighed in relief. Time ticked by in seconds, but even that was much too fast for this martial artist to grasp. If he could have constructed a device to pause the fabrics of time, he would have long ago, simply to relish the moments with you that meant everything to him. It wasn’t your fault your eyes captivated him more than any element he’s worked with.

“So,” You began eagerly, startling him out of his thoughts, “Are we gonna listen to some zappy poles go brrr or what?”

Donnie snorted at your juvenile word choice. “Yeah, totally. Now, ah,” He walked over toward the large cage in the center, stepped inside, then poked his head out with a dorky grin. A large, green hand stood outstretched towards you. “I think you’d better step inside my cage.”

“If you keep quoting the damn movie like this, I am going to explode from excitement, and it will be your fault!” It was a wonder how you hadn’t caught onto his plan yet, honestly. You made no sense of hesitation before grabbing his offered hand (even though your hands were small enough that they hardly matched his palm’s size), and clambered into the cage in front of him. This was a great excuse for you to be close to him without it being weird. And now, with your back brushing up against his plastron, the butterflies in his chest told him it was totally a good call.

Donatello would take this secret to his grave, however.

“Put your hands on the rail here, yep just like that,” Donnie nodded after your hands found the safeguard rail. A couple buttons tapped into a laptop later, he settled his own hands next to yours. “Let the magic begin.”

Magic would have been the understatement of the year. A coil in front of you quickly shot out its first spark. Familiar music breached the sound barrier to your ears. The one behind you both caught it instantly. Spark after spark sent back and forth between the coils, soaring through the lab like the most incredible game of electric catch.

“Whoa!” You laughed when the sparks would bounce off the cage itself, pressing closer to the turtle behind you (much to his surprise every time). Your shining e/c eyes never left the electric bolts shooting out. “This is insane!”

“Heh, glad you like it!” Donnie watched you closely that entire time, more entranced by your excitement and wonderstruck self than anything he’d created. He could power up the tesla coils anytime of day, but this was a special moment he’d never be able to recreate in a controlled environment. This was no experiment, this was real and it was happening right now.

The only thing left to do was tell you how he felt.

“Y/N, I have to tell you something,” He began, stepping away to give you a bit of space. His heart rate was increasing by the second. The way you turned to look at him wasn’t helping, either.

“What is it?” You spoke softly, somehow able to be heard over the music. Donnie could hardly meet your eyes, so he took your hands in his instead.

“I...I don’t know how to say this exactly,” He started, “I’ve been trying to do it for months, going over every possible conjuncture of words, something that would be heartfelt and honest, poetic even? But the truth is, words aren’t my thing, th-they never have been. I’m a science guy, I take things apart and put them back together again, I figure out what makes them work, I see life as a million tiny parts to analyze.”

He paused his quickened speech to take a breath. Your hands squeezed his larger ones as an offer to continue.

“And so, I’m...bad at feelings. I see it all as chemicals and components used by the brain to create action and reaction. But now I’m not so sure if that’s all they are, and really the only thing I am sure about is that it’s because of you that I’m questioning everything I ever thought I knew. Maybe, maybe life is more than atoms and chemicals, and instead it’s about..moments. Moments like this. Moments that...that I..that I really want to keep forever and play over and over again.”

“Donnie…” You spoke. This time he squeezed your hands.

“I know I’m rambling and I should really get to the point, so what I’m trying to say is,” He took another breath, steady this time. His gaze met yours again. “I want to live these moments with you every day. You’re special to me. You’re part of our family, but this is more than that, this feeling is-”

“Love.” You finished for him. Both of your eyes widened as you realized the other felt how you each did.

Donatello nodded slowly, hesitant to be so certain, but knowing it was true. There were no more words to be exchanged after that, only actions, only movements so soft and gentle that the large terrapin was certain he’d break if they could fit in his hands. Your hands left his and instead reached up to grab the long ends of his mask, and tugged gently for him to reach you. He leaned down without a thought. A three-fingered hand found your waist this time.

You kissed. Soft, human lips connected to his slightly chapped reptilian ones. The turtle had waited for this moment since he realized the attraction he felt towards you was not just powerful chemical reactions, but true feelings. It wasn’t biology, it was chance and fate and one-in-a-million all at once. As the sparks continued to (literally) fly, Donnie let his eyes close. This was the present. He was here, he was holding a great new adventure in his hands, and there was a brilliant future just around the corner.

The song may have finished, but this is what would last forever.

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2014 #tesla coils #tmnt raphael #donnie and raph are good bros #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2016 #donatello #raphael #donnie #raph #donnie x reader #fanfics

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gloamingdawn · 3 years ago

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Chapter 2

Prologue

Chapter 1

Lyn realized in an instant how much she stuck out against the black and gray rock; it had meant a lot to her that Eyir had turned the original dark armor that she’d been made by the other women in Skold Ashil, a joke about her ‘black sheep’ nature among them, golden. But now it seemed a disadvantage.

A subtle shift in the air to her right drew her attention as an almost imperceptible hum filled the space nearby. Ve’nari’s projection flickered into life and didn’t even wait a beat, “How fortuitous! You just happened to be transferred to a location in which I have a certain... interest. Place the aural sequencers I gave you and I will attempt to establish a functional signal. Such a perilous location will require the utmost discretion. You will want to use your ethereal cloak to avoid being seen.”

Right. The cloak and the sequencers. She felt the keyhole eye of the Broker’s face fixated on her as she pulled the item out of the equipment pouch on her bag and slung it back around her shoulders, hoping that it worked. With luck, placing the sequencers would help her scout the place out and find living Val’kyr — if any remained. Having an idea of how to get around the winding paths would help out the mercenary group later if they were ever sent there at any rate.

Lyn found a few stable handholds in the rocks she’d materialized on and wound her way down the small cliff-side, careful to keep an eye on the Maldraxxi patrols that wandered past her on the road. None of them paid a single lick of attention to her and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding as her boots touched the ground with the quiet rattle of metal on stone.

Slipping past potential threats unknown made the chore pass by with surprising swiftness; Each of the sequencers was placed in what felt like the correct spot before Lyn slipped off again, doing her best to stay conveniently hidden from view. It was the fourth and final drop that literally struck gold.

A trail of brilliant feathers littered the ground, heading toward what looked like the edge of the place. Southeast, if she had to slap an Azerothian direction on it. The projection of Ve’nari crackled into the space next to her again, the Broker’s lilting voice cutting in. Whatever it was she said, Lyn hadn’t heard. She had to save whoever was left here, if anyone. That was her task, not whatever this stranded, inter-dimensional trader wanted. She took off again, following the fallen feathers down a winding path as quick as she could.

It was hard to miss the glowing, golden Sunborne Val’kyr suspended above the ground like a bird in a cage, just past the dais littered with the corpses of their sisters and her — Helya — presiding over whatever ceremony. They’d all had names, a purpose in death, and now they’d been snuffed out for eternity. Not this one, not if she could help it.

Lyn wound her way past supplicant Mawsworn Val’kyr and Vyraz’ chosen; As she stepped in behind the cage, trying to get cover before dropping the cloak, the Sunborne’s visor tipped in her direction and a bright smile — perhaps the first she’d worn in this place — dawned across the trapped woman, “My heart rejoices to see a noble face in this realm of nightmare!”

There was palpable hope in the trapped Val’kyr’s voice, and Lyn couldn’t help but smile back, “Eyir sent me to free you and whoever else remained… Who keeps the keys, Danica?” They had never met, but Lyn knew her name. It sifted up through her memory as if she’d always known; but why wouldn’t she? They were sisters, connected by death and their great Lady’s design.

Danica pressed down toward the bottom of the cage, bringing herself closer to her would-be rescuer to keep her from having to speak too loudly, “You are the Alvilda... Keeper Odyn must be warned of this foul betrayal! The Mawsworn called Kjellrun holds the seal that can free me. You can find her gloating in the nearby hall.”

Lyn glanced back over her shoulder toward the arched metal passage that led down into the dark below before looking back to her sister with a sharp nod, summoning her spear to her hand with purpose, “I’ll be back before she takes you, I promise.” She turned and ran, traversing the stairs two at a time. The ethereal cloak’s magic allowed her to skirt past the guards as unseen as before.

Kjellrun stood at the back of the room, surrounded by the bodies of other dead Val’kyr. If she could get behind the towering, twisted facsimile of the Maw’s dark version this would be over quickly. The Light would still answer her call here, she could feel it warm in her chest — waiting. As soon as she got into a favorable position she lunged forward, ramming the spear directly through the center of the Mawsworn’s chest armor with a blaze of golden magic.

Helya’s Val’kyr clamped a gauntleted hand down on the spear’s blade and turned her head to glance back at the now visible paladin, the hollow eyes of the mask locking with Lyn’s own. The weapon disappeared before her adversary could snap the shaft, sent away with another pass of magic before Lyn summoned it back into her hand again to focus a gout of holy flame in a sweeping arc from the tip in a frantic frenzy. These were dead creatures, and a slight miscalculation could be covered up by dumping retribution and fury into every strike.

It wasn’t a subtle light show, and she heard the panicked shouts of the Maldraxxi posted as guards further up the corridor. Kjellrun swiped at Lyn, raking the sharpened black metal fingertips of her gauntlet across the smaller woman’s face and spattering blood across the wall and floor. She’d feel it later — for now, she had an opening and Lyn pressed it. There wasn’t time to fuck around.

Lyn threw her body weight behind ramming her weapon up and into the skeletal visor with a howl of challenge, pitching Kjellrun’s head back. The dark Val’kyr twitched and shuddered, clawing at the spear with futility before dying again, abruptly. Lyn grabbed the seal hanging around her neck and pulled, severing the chain and pulling the taller creature further onto her spear for good measure.

The guards' footfalls were getting closer still, she could hear them over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears and the throbbing across her forehead, nose and cheek. She had to go. Lyn snatched the ethereal cloak up off the ground where it had fallen off her shoulders in the scuffle and threw it back on hastily, the magic immediately taking hold. Vyraz’s men didn’t even notice her as she ducked past them, their realization of failure echoing off the walls as she ran.

As soon as she was within reach of Danica’s cage she tossed the seal up onto the floor, and her sister’s spectral hand closed around it with triumph. The metal groaned and shifted, the door opening as the seal made contact with the magical lock. As soon as the Sunborne Val’kyr was free she unfurled her wings, stretching them out for what must’ve been the first time in a while. Lyn let the cloak slide down to the dusty ground, there was no point for subtly anymore, and if they were going to make a stand it might as well be—

“I mourn the loss of my sisters and desire nothing more than to avenge them. Yet I know that I am no match for the witch's magics or her army of Mawsworn. We must let wisdom guide us and fly from here. Though I am weak from my captivity, I have the strength to leave this place if you fly with me. Let us go, sister,” Danica kept her voice hushed as she cut off Lyn's train of thought, but she was right.

Not that Lyn thought she could fly, but stranger things had happened. Helya turned her gaze on them both with one of her harsh cackles, another dark Mawsworn taking point in the sky as the body of a spent Sunborne fell to the ground. Lyn grit her teeth and dug deep, activating Ashildir’s gift as Danica’s hand clamped around her arm.

The transition was always odd back on Azeroth, but here it was worse. As golden wings sprouted from her back and the token visor appeared in place on her own spectral Val’kyr form, she could see them all — hundreds of thousands of flickering souls, scattered across the Maw. Trapped, bound to this hellish plane where so many of them weren’t meant to be. If she had breath in this body, she knew it would’ve hitched in her chest at the horror of it all, but all Lyn felt was a terrible sorrow.

Danica pulled her up with a sharp tug, and it shook her out of her thoughts long enough to remember that they had to go. Helya snarled a message at them both and cast the scroll toward them with a magic that flickered an unsettling blue-black. Poison to deliver to Odyn. The first of them, the cursed sea witch, Lyn felt sorrow for her, too.

“Skyja! See them out.”

It wasn’t to be a friendly escort. Danica’s wings start to beat and Lyn focused. She’d never used her own wings in this form before, it had always been a measure to stave off death just a little longer, but wasn’t that what this was, too?

As the Mawsworn dove toward them, she and her sister flew out and away — the pair of them supporting each other as they tore through the Maw, into the In Between, and then toward Skyhold.

#chapter 2 of ??#long post #my writing #the chronicle of eyir's chosen #9.1 spoilers #playing fast and loose with established quests #stories #set quest progression? still don't know her

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 years ago

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TLDR: the present sucks, I can’t wait until we get to the future.

[I make a lot of posts by starting with one idea and just following my train of thought wherever it takes me. If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you may have noticed I tend to rant and meander and make posts with no real point other than for me to say what I want to say (just look through my “rant” tag), and this one is no different. I have just been seeing a lot of political posts today, and I needed to vent. I don’t know, it’s a fruitless endeavor, I’m just some rando shouting his opinions into a canyon and hoping I hear an echo, but it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something, so by God I’m gonna a keep doing it]

Is anyone else actively waiting for The Revolution™?

Like, I’m operating under the assumption that “shit’s gon go down” in the near future. 2020 was but a taste, a glimpse of the horrors to come. I guarantee you something much, much, MUCH worse will happen in 2024.

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for the final straw to break the camel’s back. The country is a glass of grape juice balanced precariously on the edge of a counter right above new white carpet; it’s going to fall, it’s just a matter of when.

I don’t WANT war. I don’t WANT unrest. A lot of people will die in the conflict, I cannot condone it, but I often feel as though we’re otherwise helpless. Staying the course won’t change anything, but last years’ protests demonstrably worked; a lot of the calls for change were just talk, as politicians haven’t committed anywhere near as much as they promised to, but the protestors managed to ensure #45 remained a one-termer. Protests give people agency, they let them have an active role, it gave them some power or at least a feeling of power.

Nothing short of revolution will effect substantive change in this country; politicians aren’t just going to suddenly agree to stop making things worse and start making them better. They will only concede when the personal pressure is too great for them to continue. Change only happens when they let it happen; we can’t change anything unless they’re on board, and the only way to get them on board is to make it impossible for them to be off board. Southern conservatives opposed the 1964 Civil Rights Act, but LBJ strong-armed them into passing it anyway. He put pressure on them, and they relented, not because they had a change of heart and wanted to do right, but because they knew doing wrong would be personally detrimental.

We need to make things expensive for the cops and capitalists and conservatives. We need to make them want to stop investing time and money into opposition. We need to break their spirit, crush their morale. It’s a war of attrition, and we need to push them and push them and push them until they’ve had enough and finally sue for peace.

I’m a 24 year old white kid preaching about La Resistance™, I am the embodiment of entitlement. Who am I to talk? Who am I to ask other people to fight when I’m not willing to do so myself? I don’t think of myself as unwilling, I think that given the opportunity I’d be able to fight, but that’s just it, I’m making excuses not to fight in the moment! I keep insisting that I can’t do anything right now, that maybe I’ll be able to do something later, which proves I’m a hypocrite! If I actually cared, I wouldn’t be posting about it to an echo chamber of a couple dozen users I’ve never met on tumbler dot com. If I actually cared, I’d be radicalized by now. I’d be part of a movement, I’d have used my privilege to put my money where my mouth is (I don’t have A LOT of privilege, but I have enough, more than most people, that I could be using it for good)

I feel like posting about this in a public forum is counterproductive. All it does is paint a target on my back for the NSA or FBI or CIA to monitor my movements. If I really cared, I’d go underground and join an actual group, but the problem is that left-wingers don’t really HAVE any groups! Antifa isn’t an organization, it’s an ideology! There are no left-wing militia groups, no splinter cells, no Resistance! Only right wingers do that sort of shit, and they do it with impunity because the feds will never look into them until it’s too late, whereas the feds will nip any left-wing movement in the bud before it sprouts.

I want to be part of something greater than myself, but I’m a coward. I am disillusioned, but there’s no constructive outlet for me. The last thing I want to do is get recruited by some death cult, as happens to a lot of white men my age. I don’t want the message of this post to be that there should be left-wing versions of all the right-wing terrorist groups we ser, I’m not saying I would want to join a liberal version of the proud boys or whoever else (they don’t exist, and I wouldn’t join even if they did), what I’m saying is I want agency in my life. I want to believe I can be in charge of my own destiny, without living in fear of federal and state and local government hurting people. I’m relatively safe, I’m a cis-het white male, I’m not gonna be targeted by extremist groups, I’m not gonna be assassinated by cops for driving with my hands at 9 and 12 instead of 10 and 2. I’m not afraid for my future, I afraid for the future of others with less privilege than me.

I really don’t want to come across as sounding like a libertarian. Like, I don’t fear the concept of government, I fear THIS government specifically. I don’t fear taxes, the exact opposite, I would increase the marginal tax rates to their pre-Reagan levels, I would raise corporate taxes and then put heavy sanctions on any of them that tried to leave the country to avoid paying them, I’d gladly pay more from my own minimum wage paycheck if it meant other people could have the resources they need. I find myself in the green quadrant, but I am by no means a libertarian by the American definition (fuck the Libertarian party, they’re just secular Republicans)

Most American politicians are in the upper right blue quadrant. Yes, even the Democrats. Even so-called Democratic Socialists like Sanders and Warren are closer to the center than actual left-wingers in any other country. There are still communist parties in Europe, but they will NEVER be anti-capitalist parties in the United States. The best we can hope for from our leaders is to keep them from going up or right. If third-party candidates were viable, I’d be a Green, but they’re not, so I’m begrudgingly a Democrat (derogatory).

I just want people to prosper. I don’t want anyone to suffer, I don’t want people to get hurt, I want people to be safe. That shouldn’t be too much to ask, but over the last 250 years we’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to get to where we are today, and this is nowhere NEAR a good place to be.

For the right, the best society was 50 years ago. For the left, the best society is 50 years from now.

There is no end to history, we’ll never reach some cosmic finish line and be like “we did it, we’re done, we won and everything will be good forever,” no, we will always need to keep fighting to drag ourselves further and further towards progress. I find the carrot-on-a-stick to be a very comforting analogy; sure, we’ll never reach it, but we’ll always be moving forward. The carrot isn’t the goal, the destination is the goal. We need to understand that whatever we’re striving for now will look primitive and backwards in ten or twenty years time, so we need to constantly look towards the future instead. Everything changes with time, and we need to get ahead of it, we need to be ready for it, we need to accept and embrace it. If we pick a goal and reach it, we need new goals, we can’t just celebrate victory in the moment and pretend like we’re done. We kept fighting after 1776, and 1865, and 1964, and 2020; there will always be greater milestones to achieve.

#long rant #long post #long #tldr #tl:dr #too long didn’t read #rant #politics #political

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mamashitty · 4 years ago

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Mama, why don’t I have magic?

Here’s a little first chapter of a fic that is sitting unfinished in my docs. I have vague ideas of where I want to take it. I love the world that this fic takes place in, because it’s a version of the world a novel of mine lives in. And I needed to shove Eric and Jack and the rest of the OMGCP characters into it.

Unfortunately, I’ve never gotten it much past this first chapter. I like it, though. I really like this first chapter so I’ve decided to share it and maybe one day, I’ll finally write the rest of it.

“Mama, why don’t I have magic?” Eric asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. He was unsure his Mama had even heard him as she continued to chop vegetables on the counter. Vegetables that Eric had seen her coax lovingly from little seedlings. Her love and magic poured from her hands into the soil, and then eventually into the seeds themselves as they took root and then sprouted.

She could do the same with herbs and fruits too. Probably entire trees and forests if she wanted, but his Mama was always content with her gardens and cooking from those gardens in her warm kitchen. And Eric, he liked to spend time with his Mama because her magic was soft in a way his Daddy’s was not. Her magic was quiet and he could feel the love. Daddy’s was…. well, it could be loud and scary.

“Not everyone has magic, sweetie.”

Eric waited for his Mama to say more, something in him needing her say more, but she did not. She shooed him away from the hot, hot stove and tossed the chopped vegetables into the pot. Eric watched as his Mama flitted about in the kitchen, looking over her shoulder to make sure he was not getting into any trouble. But Eric was too busy watching her, his fingers itching to help, but Mama said he was too young to chop with that big knife and she always worried so when he was too close to the heat. He watched, and he wondered why it felt like his heart was breaking.

His Mama had said not everyone had magic, but did that make him okay for not having any?

---

It was late.

Eric knew that he should be sleeping, that Mama and Daddy would be mad if he was still awake. They would be even madder if they knew where he was going as he crept through the quiet house. He could hear the noises of the party happening out in the backyard. His Mama and Daddy celebrating with the rest of the adults in the neighborhood. It was the anniversary of the end of the war, a war that Eric had never really lived through. He had been a baby when it ended, and any memories of it he had were more stories his Mama or MooMaw told in the kitchen when he was supposed to be busy working on whatever task they had set him to. But he always had one ear ready to hear what they said. Daddy never spoke of the war, even though he had fought in it.

Eric crept, not knowing why he was sneaking so quietly when he knew no one was in the house. He opened the closet door and found the pole he knew would hook into the trapdoor in the ceiling. He was short for a ten-year-old, and the pole was heavy too, but he managed to hook it into the loop of the door, and yank the ladder down. It was louder than he had liked, and he paused before he made the climb, listening as hard as he could with his ears for the sound of angry parental footsteps, but he heard none. He climbed the ladder into the attic, and then picking his way carefully, too scared to use a flashlight and possibly draw attention to himself, he made his way towards the window. He stumbled over attic debris once or twice. Old things his Mama wanted to keep, but always seemed to forget about once they moved up into the dusty old attic. He opened the window and there was no screen. He could squeeze his body out and sit on the roof to watch the celebrations.

He could have watched it from his bedroom window, but his Mama would probably have seen him. Besides, it was nice being outside in the cool night air. Summer was fading into fall. He had to be careful as he sat on the roof, hoping his Mama did not look above his bedroom window any. He brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them as he watched the adults below, their voices too muffled for him to hear what was being said. Some people were louder than others, but even the loud ones, he could not make out what they were saying.

Then his Daddy and his Daddy’s Boys. The ones who called him Coach. The ones who were a little older than Eric but had magic in their veins like his parents, the ones his Daddy was training up, stepped into the center of the yard. Eric watched with bated breath as his Daddy thrust his hands out towards the sky, and fire shot out of his palms. Fire that then arced into a beautiful display of loops and circles. Some boys threw their own hands into the air, some had fire magic like Daddy but others had different types that were considered war magic. It was loud, and the fire looked beautiful as it mingled with lightning magic from some, and he thought he saw shots of ice magic too. Somehow nothing burned. His Daddy was in complete control.

And the boys he trained didn't burn or scorch anything either.

Eric watched until the display was done. His cheeks wet with tears he had been unaware he was shedding.

---

“Bitty.”

“Lardo.”

The two friends stared at each other for a few minutes. It was Eric’s twentieth birthday and Lardo was getting him high on the roof of his childhood home. Mama and Coach were out of the house. Mama being needed in the hospital with her herbs and knowledge of potions. Her knowledge of what foods to make for the healers who would need to replenish their energies. Coach was down at the fields with his new crop of young Warmages, men and women alike, that he trained in the art of bending their magic to inflict the most damage on the enemy. An enemy who at the moment, did not exist but might in the future again, and it was important to train them up right.

Bitty was not bitter about it. Not really.

He also was not one to smoke much. He was higher than he had ever been. He noticed Lardo holding the joint out to him, and it dawned on him that that was probably why she had said his name earlier. He reached for the joint and took a pull. His lungs were full of smoke and then he coughed. A slow grin flitting across Lardo’s face as she watched him. Bitty stuck his tongue out at his friend.

His best friend.

Lardo and her family had moved into the neighborhood five years ago, and Bitty had instantly liked her. She was quiet and smart and so talented with art. He could watch her paint for hours or sculpt or do anything with her hands, and it was mesmerizing. She was the one who had given him the nickname Bitty. She had come to the neighborhood with her own already, Lardo. Larissa, she said, was what her parents called her.

She was also the first person with magic that Bitty had not felt envious of—or maybe he had at first—but the envy had left him once he realized how much she hated the powers she had. She could manipulate peoples’ dreams and she did not like it. What right did she have in crowding into peoples’ minds like that? She swore off her magic and pretended like it did not exist, despite the pressure from all around her, to use it for something.

“Let’s go, Bits. Get that pie you made yourself and we’ll go visit the boys.” Lardo said, as she finished the joint that Bitty had forgotten he had handed back after his coughing fit. She led the way to the window. It was a little trickier these days for the two of them to squeeze through it, but they managed. He shut the attic door and hid the pole back in the closet before he looped his arm through Lardo’s and down into the kitchen he went for the pie he had baked specially for himself and his friends. Then it was off to see the boys they went.

#omgcp #eric bittle #larissa lardo duan #omgcp fic #unfinished fic #mama shitty writes #mama shitty fics

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

Text

whose brow is laid in thorn (chapter five)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Sorry this took so long! Online teaching is...well...

Huge thanks to my wonderful friends/betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who are so endlessly supportive and wonderful.

Please reblog! Please leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Caleb watches his prince flounder through this war he didn't start and, as things go from bad to worse, he realises the only way he can truly help him.

TW: I feel like the mentions of violence increase in this chapter. I mean, Lorenzo's here now. so. you know.

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The forests were as silent as they had been the last time Caleb went through them. A fierce wind was whistling out on the moors and there was even some snow on the air just beyond their close knit embrace but, under the thick canopy, it was as if it didn’t exist. It was as if the world didn’t exist. The bitter air and slate grey clouds, it had all been swallowed by the leaves and the bark.

Caleb remembered how they’d swallowed his sobs the same way, the last time he had passed through here.

He stroked his horse’s neck as he rose further up in the saddle to look ahead through the trees. Though he hated leading Mollymauk’s side, his prince had insisted he be part of the scouts, saying he had the best eyes in the company. And anything Caleb could do to help right now, he would not leave it undone. They couldn’t afford to.

It was peaceful, at least. He had lost the hour in the silence, it was all just darkness and quiet and the beat of his own heart in his lungs. Even his horse’s hooves made no noise in the soft forest floor, carpeted in moss and pine needles. He would never have even known an entire company of armed warriors shared these trees with him. He could have been the only person on the planet.

Which meant no threats in sight as well, nothing his eyes or ears could pick up even in the stillness. Caleb cast a searching spell forward just to be sure but the only sparks of life were the nests in the boughs up above and a family of foxes curled up in their den. No hidden enemies to speak of. Not a hidden archer in the leaves or a sword wielding scout behind a trunk.

Which, inexplicably, didn’t sit well with Caleb.

He frowned and passed a hand over his horse’s neck again, to comfort the animal and, partly, to comfort himself. Unease had settled heavily in the bottom of his stomach on the very first day they’d ridden out from Asarius, a weight that had only grown as this campaign went on.

They’d all flashed so prettily in the sun that day, as the light had caught and turned to red silk pennants on the tips of their spears, Mollymauk in a suit of plate enamelled in purple and looking more a god than a prince, though a god that stopped to wink at maidens and accept flowers from their hands, who ruffled the hair of children who ran alongside their column, who passed jokes back and forth with common tradesmen. It had been more like a fair than a force riding out to war, Molly had known his role and he’d played it well. Caleb must have looked like a sour spirit, haunting his left shoulder all in black, but something had just felt so wrong that day and it felt no better now, a week on.

He sighed, his breath misting in the damp air. No one but a Volstruker would be morose at not meeting a single enemy yet.

Maybe it was just being here that put the tension in his stomach. This was the path they’d taken back into the empire ten years ago, after his...his disgrace. The word didn’t come to him as easily as it one had, the shame wasn’t so quick to rise. It was an old misery he felt, the memory of the loss and despair, how it had opened a pit inside his younger self to think he’d never see Mollymauk ever again. He ached for that young wizard, in pain and confused and so scared, chained in the back of a cart and bouncing painfully along to a fate he didn’t want to imagine waiting for him in Rexxantrum, crying to a love that couldn’t hear him and trees that paid no mind.

He deserved it, a voice that sounded like a whip crack hissed in the back of his mind, curling Caleb’s lip, he deserved that awful fate.

But the voice was distant, like it wasn’t coming from inside him but behind him. Caleb swallowed down a faint taste of bile and answered it vaguely it certainly was an awful fate. That would satisfy it for now.

He was getting better at it. Feeding the thoughts that had been placed inside him to fester and grow, giving them just enough and no more, aware of the distance between them and his own. It was a difficult game, one that could hurt him very easily, one he had to play with steady hands and cautious nature. Two things that Volstruker training had, fortunately, gifted him with.

Caleb took a deep lungful of the air and thought of that boy again, weeping softly and steadily in the back of that cart, unable to stop no matter how many blows his tears earned him. Unwilling to stop.

I’m getting better at it, he promised the boy.

Caleb patted his horse’s neck and turned back towards the column. He’d seen enough.

The tents had sprouted up like strange canvas mushrooms under the shelter of the trees. Good, flat ground was scarce so they were more scattered than Caleb would have liked, clusters of them growing together rather than as one cohesive unit. Too much space for any intruder to thread through and reach the heart of the camp.

But the tents were already coming down as he rode hard back through the outer ring of defences, the company waking up to begin another day of marching. Perhaps there would be better ground up ahead. Perhaps they would finally break through the trees.

And what would be waiting for them when they did?

No one called out to Caleb as he dismounted by the hastily strung up horse paddock, no one offered a greeting or asked about his ranging. Soldiers merely talked around him, laughing and joking and grumbling to each other as they woke up and rubbed the sleep from their eyes, acting if he wasn’t there. Caleb didn’t mind, he was used to it and there was no real malice in their disengagement. Something about his black uniform of office and the rumours that clung to it turned idle conversation away, it was the whole point of wearing it. That was the whole point of being Volstruker.

“Rest now, Frumpkin,” he murmured softly to his horse, patting their neck, “I need to go make my report but I’ll come back and see you get a good rub down before we have to set off.”

“Gods, you’re not still calling the poor animal that name, are you?”

Caleb turned to see Beau leaning against one of the posts hastily driven into the forest floor, smirking at him. She was dressed in a cold weather version of her usual monk robes, more parts reinforced with leather for better protection. No one was taking any risks on this campaign but it was still strange to see the old friends he’d last known as children dressed for war.

He was glad they hadn’t had to grow up as quickly as he did, that they could still be considered too young for this.

“Why would I call him anything else?” Caleb answered smoothly, “It’s his name.”

“One of the finest horses I’ve seen come out of the palace’s stables and you saddle him with a name like Frumpkin. It’s an insult.”

The corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched into a smile that he dampened. He didn’t need to smile around Beau, he never had. She’d always taken him as he was and was the first of them all to slip back into doing so after he’d come back. While the others were still unsure how to fit him back into the place the old Caleb had occupied in their lives, Beau was cursing him and scowling at him and punishing him in the training yard like she always had done. Perhaps it was easier when what you had wasn’t the conventional idea of being friendly.

Whatever the reason, Caleb was grateful for it.

“Thank you for keeping him for me all these years,” he said quietly, putting a gentle hand on the horse’s flank.

“Stubborn beast wouldn’t take anyone but you,” Beau shrugged, “Like rider, like horse, it’s the same as ever.”

Caleb grunted, “Where’s the prince?”

“In the command tent,” Beau rolled her eyes as she said it and for good reason. The idea of the Mollymauk they all knew in charge of armed soldiers was absurd, however good the act he’d been putting on for everyone else was, “Anything to see out there?”

“Nothing,” Caleb said, “Nothing but the wildlife whose homes we’re trampling through.”

“I’m starting to think the Jagenoths keep their brains in their damn swords,” Beau frowned, “Did they seriously send out an invading army but didn’t think to put at least some force on the borders?”

“The Jagenoths don’t,” Caleb said, voice flat and serious, “And they wouldn’t.”

“So we’re missing something,” Beau followed the thread of his thoughts easily and liked it no more than he had.

“We are. And we will not be ready for it when it comes.”

With that grim assessment, he began walking through the croppings of tents, making for the one at the centre with the royal standard looking rather forlorn outside it’s entrance, no wind to lift it. Caleb did not want to scare his friends and doubt his prince but his strategic mind was in despair at everything he saw around him. They were nearly as short on weaponry as they were the hands to wield them, food as the mouths to eat it, the bulk of the royal army’s resources having gone with the king to meet the main Jagenoth force.

Or, as it appeared at the moment, the only Jagenoth force. Caleb would have loved to believe that.

He’d wanted to be back before his prince woke up but he’d not been sleeping well and was already up and at his desk when Caleb ducked under the flap. When Molly saw him standing there framed in predawn light, the frustration and helplessness in his red rimmed eyes eased into relief. He knew he didn’t need to pretend in front of Caleb.

“It’s good to see you back,” he exhaled, “Any news?”

“Nothing,” Caleb put his hands behind his back, standing tall and drawn, “The forest ahead is clear, no sign of any enemy out postings or even anything to suggest a large group of armed soldiers are approaching from the border. No smoke, no hoofprints, not so much as a flattened fern.”

Molly frowned, setting down his quill, “The border? How far did you ride out, Caleb?”

“Three hours out, your majesty.”

Molly groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Gods, Caleb, that's so far. If you’d gotten into trouble, no one would have seen your signal, you’d have been on your own!”

“If I had the enemy would be down as many as they’d seen fit to set against me,” Caleb said evenly, “And we would know more about what they are planning than we do know.”

Molly didn’t seem to think that justified the risk, still frowning down at the map in front of him, eyes tracing the path Caleb must have taken on his scouting run.

“Just...don’t do it again. Please. I know we’ve not run into any trouble yet but if the first time we did was you getting hurt or...just don’t, please.”

Caleb felt a stab of guilt, not the sort that came from disappointing a liege he was sworn to or disobeying an order, the deeper sort that came from causing a friend to worry.

“I’m sorry. It just frustrates me, still knowing so little about what they’re planning. We should have at least met border patrols by now, if the Jagenoths are half of what they’re rumoured to be. If Lorenzo truly is at their head.”

Molly grimaced, standing and moving to where his armour waited on the stand by the cot he slept on. He always waited until the very last moment to put it on while simultaneously knowing he couldn’t let any of their soldiers see him without it. Before long the captains of the night guard would be coming to give him reports and he’d run out of time to move freely and breathe comfortably.

If they saw him without the gilded plate and the glittering swords, they might remember that they were being led by their scandal sodden rake of a prince. That act had kept Mollymauk going after Caleb had been taken from him, it had been all he’d had through his darkest moments. And now it had to be packed away like a winter coat in spring, now its absence was all that kept this company together.

He was doing his best to hide it from their friends but the nakedness Molly felt without it, the vulnerability, was painted across his face when it was just the two of them.

“Perhaps their bloodlust has made them stupid. Perhaps this isn’t an invasion at all, just a tithe taking. Perhaps all Lorenzo wants to see is my father’s head on a bloody pike.”

Caleb winced internally at the defeat in his voice, “Your highness…”

“Caleb, I just…” Molly shook his head, the frantic, panicked edge fading from his voice, “I’m under no illusions about what will happen when we finally do encounter enemy forces. Let me have every moment until then. And...gods, please don’t let it be you in their way.”

Caleb exhaled, finally bowing his head, “As you wish.”

There was a long moment as Molly held his lobstered gauntlets in his hands, staring down at them like he was holding hands with a stranger. He was clearly rolling something around in his mouth, words he wanted to say but couldn’t. Caleb merely waited, patient.

“Has it been getting better?” his prince eventually murmured, pitching his voice lower as if Caleb’s intrusive thoughts were a physical presence with malicious ears, “The avoidance strategies, have they been helpful? I did worry coming through here again might be difficult for you.”

Caleb softened, managing a smile even as he still had to answer carefully, “I have found the last few days more comfortable than I expected.”

And he wasn’t lying. Feeling pity for the boy he’d been, as painful as it was to remember that hurt, it was so much better than hating him. It was such a delicate business but having Mollymauk quietly cheering for him, listening to him as he tried to work out what sentences were acceptable and what would make his old wounds throb with remembered pain, holding him when he slipped and stepping back when the intrusive thoughts roared too loud to allow Caleb any comfort.

In some ways, the close proximity of the camp, so much more intimate than that castle with its stone memories, was a blessing. Not many ways, but some.

“I’m pleased, Caleb,” Molly turned away from the armour and smiled back at him, expecting nothing, just genuine in his relief, “Help me into this damnable oven of an outfit?”

“Of course,” Caleb stepped forward gladly. If any part of him were to wonder why he took so much comfort and delight in being close to Mollymauk, he would answer it smoothly and confidently. He was Volstuker, why would he not hasten to armour his prince and be certain that he was as closely protected as possible?

Why would his heart not quicken as he slide a shirt of fine mail over Molly’s head, so carefully and deftly making sure it didn’t catch on his horns, as he sank down on one knee to carefully lace each fitted plate into place, working from the ground up until they were nose to nose?

Molly cleared his throat as they realised neither had spoken for some time, that silence had settled in now the sounds of metal scraping on metal had silenced. He fixed a playful smile onto his face, “Now, go tend that horse of yours. If you went that far before the sun’s even in the sky, you must have ridden poor Frumpkin hard. After everything that poor boy does for you, keeping his head high with a name like that.”

Caleb chuckled, a brighter sound than any he’d made all morning, “The name suits him, as I’ve told you all plenty of times…”

Molly nudged him gently towards the tent door, grinning, “It’s very you, I’ll give you that. I’ll see you when we ride out.”

Caleb gave him a quick bow in answer, striding back out into the gathering dawn. His stomach felt lighter than it had since he woke.

The days crept by with a maddening slowness as they skirted along the border of the kingdom. It was the same flat, barren landscape with it’s cropped dark grass and those black mountains in the distance cutting a ragged edge on the grey sky. It was impossible to tell what thin, pebbled soil was theirs and what was the Empire’s, the bleak sameness of the landscape doing little to honour the people who’d shed blood to forge it centuries ago.

Caleb wondered why all his training had neglected to mention that war was an awful lot of tedious plodding forward.

They poured over maps, they talked in the command tent long into the small hours of what would have been the morning if any of them had any concept of time anymore, debating in endless circles what the Jagenoths were planning, how the king was faring, what to do next. Molly would listen, unafraid to look exhausted and worn down in front of his friends, and eventually bring his hand down on the table for silence and give them the same, flat answer. They would do exactly as they were instructed. They would push on until they either met his father’s forces flush with victory or discovered their corpses mouldering in the dirt.

Birds would take wing, messages would be ferried along by magic, the same report would fly every day. And every day there would be no answer.

Caleb could tell Mollymauk felt abandoned. But he also knew it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to his prince.

Not that it made watching him go through this any easier. In fact, it was more of a sting, as Caleb would sit by Molly’s cot and stroke his heaving shoulders as he twitched and moaned through more nightmares. That he was having to go through this at the king’s command, after everything he’d done to him. That there was so little Caleb could do.

That same sense of frustration and helplessness drove him on that night, scouting again. He moved quickly over the short bursts of open ground, keeping low to Frumpkin’s neck and trusting his magic, his horse’s dark coat and his uniform to keep him cloaked in the shadows. When in the smatterings of trees, he walked him slow and steady, knowing the damage a hoof or boot crunching down on a stick at just the wrong angle could do. Moving like that, he very quickly lost sight of the company behind him, lost their slow creeping mass and the lights of the outer torches over a rise in the landscape.

Before too long, it was him, the wind and what stars could be glimpsed through the clouds. The whole plain seemed to open out, something inside him itching at the thought of the answers that could lie out there beyond the next rise of shadow. All he would need was a glimpse, one raiding party, one enemy torch in the distance, one footprint in the grass to tell him who had passed this way and when.

Caleb felt a tug in his chest and remembered his promise to Mollymauk. He’d reached the outer limit of what could reasonably be expected of him as a scout, more than halfway through the time his ride was supposed to take. If he went any further, he would be coming back after dawn and it would be impossible to hide the fact that he’d disobeyed. If he really pushed it, he would have to camp out here or risk Frumpkin coming up lame.

But then he would think of the exhaustion in Mollymauk’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he turned to his armour and faced another day of wearing this personality that didn’t fit him. He would think of his prince, his friend, crying hoarsely into his pillow and not hearing Caleb as he tried to comfort him, sounding for all the world like a lost child unable to understand why his father had left him behind.

Caleb took a long slow breath of cold night air and pressed his heels into Frumpkin’s side, urging him forward. Just a little further, he would return just shy of dawn. After all, his only promise to Molly, technically, was that his blood wouldn’t be the first spilled. And if his training was worth anything, it wouldn’t be.

More bursts of frantic speed across the hills bracketed by near silent creeping through copses of trees. Caleb poured all of his energy into his senses, hearing everything from a mouse skittering down by Frumpkin’s hooves to an owl’s call from high above his head, seeing every shift in the texture of the darkness around him, even smelling deeply to try and pick out the sour scent of unwashed solider from the bite of night air. If he was going to disappoint Mollymauk, he would at least be as careful as possible.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, he lost himself in the glut of information flooding through him and the regular rhythm of his ride. It was tasks like this that brought him the most peace, when he could fully give himself over to his magic, float along through repetition and the hard drag of air in his lungs, when he could feel purposeful while disengaging entirely from the tangled magpie’s nest that was his brain. Times like this, Caleb could remember why he’d always had this ravenous hunger for magic, why he’d loved it so much.

He remembered why he’d fallen prey to Ikithon so easily.

But right now, it was his and no one else's. He was pushing forward to save his home, to help his prince.

The border with the Empire was the clean kind, the neatly cut kind formed by politics rather than geography. With the land changing so little, the only reason Caleb realised how far he’d actually gone was when the sky shifted from black to the hazy grey of dawn.

Guilt stabbed through him at the sight, the only thing in hours that had jolted him out of his razor sharp focus. He brought Frumpkin to a halt in the middle of a collection of trees that couldn’t even be called a wood, only now realising how his poor horse was breathing hard underneath him. He patted his neck, pulled an apple from one of his many pockets and murmured softly, knowing that Mollymauk and his friends wouldn’t be so easy to forgive him. They must be worried sick about him, he was meant to be back at camp hours ago and it would be half a day yet before they knew he was okay.

He couldn’t hear the whip crack, not quite, but his scars prickled with a heat the cold morning couldn’t possibly hold and there was a sharp echo reverberating between his ears.

Cursing himself for a fool, Caleb slid from the saddle, pulling the aches and strains he felt closer rather than pushing them away and knowing he deserved to feel every one. He pulled his water skin out from the saddle bags, letting it trickle out in a steady stream so Frumpkin could drink first, their breaths misting in the clammy dawn.

“I am a pig headed idiot, Frumpkin,” he sighed, pushing fingers through his horse’s mane, “All this effort and I don’t even have anything to show for it. I was just so certain…”

Just as he was about to rest his forehead against Frumpkin’s nose and let himself have a moment of self pity before getting back into the saddle, he felt something shift on the very edges of his magic. It was like seeing a shadow flicker in the corner of your eye, a second’s movement that threw everything off balance but was so hard to catch.

But there was very little faster than Caleb. He’d been through Volstruker training twice.

He left Frumpkin to crop at the carpet of leaves underneath them, moving forward on foot. All doubt, all emotion of any kind was locked down tight as he broke through the tree line and slunk forward in the direction of that single vibrating thread. It led him forward, over to the next ridge, though the closer he got the more some instinct pressed him down further into the shadows until he was crawling on his belly to peer into the bowl of the hills.

And when he saw what was cradled there, hidden down where it would be hidden from any view but the one Caleb now had, made him glad he’d hidden. What he saw was an army.

Not a raiding party. Not a band of cutthroats sent to harry the border towns. Not a company like theirs. He saw a full, broiling Jagenoth army. He saw racks of arms ready to slice the air in two, along with whatever stood in their way. He saw mercenaries with smiles as dangerous as the swords at their hips. He saw slavers, spearmen, archers, crossbowmen, rank upon rank of soldiers who fought at their masters command. He saw twice, three times, four times their own numbers and, in the middle of all of them, a standard that was rarely seen outside of Shady Creek Run but, when it was, brought blood and terror.

And, out at the edge, where no eyes but his own would see it, he saw a collection of black clad figures sparring against each other with blows that even from here looked brutal, the weapons they trained with had real edges on them. The smell of magic that came off them was thick and smoky like gunpowder, though heavily masked. Masked to everyone but those whose own skin reeked of it.

They were Volstruker.

Caleb felt no surprise, he was sunk too deeply into battle mode for that. He simply inhaled slowly and steadily, very deliberately not looking for any familiarity in the way they moved and struck out. Another moment to make sure he’d catalogued absolutely everything that lay before him while feeling absolutely nothing, then he slipped back down the hillside. Back to Frumpkin, kicking himself into the saddle and riding out without another moment’s pause.

He had to get back to his prince, his friends. He had to tell them their doom lay less than a day’s ride away.

Mollymauk’s hair ached deep at the roots by the time he heard those hoofbeats, the ones he knew immediately belonged to Caleb.

He hadn’t allowed the camp to break, insisting they stay exactly where Caleb would know to find them, refusing them even an inch until he was back and safe. Later, he would realise that his fit of pique had earned them all another day to live.

But not that moment. That moment had been nothing but relief as he’d pushed past Yasha and burst out of the command tent, seeing a lathered, wrung out Frumpkin drawing to a halt right in the centre of camp. An equally exhausted Caleb slid from the saddle, thin shoulders heaving and wiping spit from his cheek. He came down so heavy that Beau had to jump forward and catch him, barely keeping him on his feet.

Molly couldn’t even muster any anger, it was just joy to have him whole and back in the fold of his protection. He ran up and took him from Beau, gripping his shoulders tight, and grinning like a fool.

“Thank all the gods, Caleb! You must have ridden halfway across the kingdom, look at you! Come in, we need to get you something warm to eat, I-”

His mildly frantic relief died as soon as he saw Caleb’s eyes. Even as the rest of him was exhausted and ragged, his eyes were alert and hard like chips of ice.

“Molly,” his voice was low so it wouldn’t carry amongst the tents, to the many eyes that were on them, warily curious as to why the prince’s Volstruker had been gone all night, “We need to talk.”

Once inside the tent, Caleb wouldn’t so much as look at the broth Caduceus was determined he drank, standing stiffly in the centre with his hands wrapped around the bowl. Molly searched him up and down for any signs of injury but the only thing that was troubling him was clearly the weight he carried behind his eyes.

“Your father will ride out to the north and find nothing. The Jagenoth army is here, every man of them not a day's ride from where we sit. Lorenzo’s standard flew outside of the largest tent, though I didn’t see him personally. Their numbers outstrip ours by far and they are better outfitted, by what I could see in the torchlight. I’d estimate just below ten thousand warriors, a third of them mounted, another third with some kind of long range weapon. And…”

He seemed to steel himself, something like shame creeping into his eyes, “They have Volstruker. Five of them by my count.”

His words drew soft curses, widened eyes, stiffened shoulders as the shock rippled outwards. But Mollymauk turned inside himself and found nothing, only a bleak kind of amusement. It seems your pet monsters have gotten loose, Father. I hope it tastes bitter.

Caleb bulled on before any of them could ask him how he was feeling about that, “We have no hope of defeating them in battle and we are too close to skirt them. Our only hope is to turn now and ride hard back to the capital or even try and make it to the King’s army. Even then, we will still be short of numbers and exhausted but it is all we have.”

“We can’t lead them back to the city,” Caduceus shook his head, usually placid face tight with anxiety, “It is practically undefended and full of innocents.”

“Without that option, we have nowhere to run even if we do manage to get clear,” Yasha’s voice was tense, “And if they catch us in a full retreat…”

“It would be a bloodbath,” Beau finished shortly, her arms folded so tight it was like she was embracing herself and trying to give some comfort.

“A bloodbath from the rear or a bloodbath from the front,” Fjord snorted, tapping his foot as he always did when he was stressed, “Those are our choices, then?”

“Is there any way to get a message to the king?” Yasha’s brow furrowed as she thought, unused to being trapped in situations she couldn’t maneuver herself out of either with her mind or her greatsword, “Surely he’ll have noticed by now that he’s riding to meet an enemy that isn’t there?”

“His Volstruker will have some kind of magical manipulation to bait him on,” Caleb’s voice was still flat, even when he spoke of people who were supposed to be his, “An illusion or a mirage of some sort, torches in the distance, flattened land to suggest they are withdrawing perhaps . And you can be sure any messages we send out will be noticed from this close, as powerful as they are. Even if we could, there would be no time for his forces to reach us.”

“Then why didn’t they notice you?” Beau countered tightly, “If you got that close? If these are your people, isn’t there some secret way you know that can take them down?”

“I know the same tricks they do,” an edge of emotion entered his words now, a tension that threatened to snap, “I know the same magics. But I am only one against five, weaker than they are into the bargain, less firm in my faith. I am not enough.”

“That’ll do.”

Molly spoke for the first time, voice calm and commanding the way he’d been practising since he was a child. He rose from his camp chair, drawing every eye to him, trying to stand tall enough to shoulder their fears and doubts.

“I’ve made my decision. We are going to ride out and we are going to meet this army.”

“My prince, there is no way-” Yasha started to say but Molly shook his head.

“We’re not going to give battle, not at first. I’m going to do the one damn thing I’ve ever been good at with this job. I’m going to call for parley and I’m going to talk to Lorenzo. Whatever rotten deal my father made that has gotten us into this mess, maybe there’s something I can offer the Jagenoths that will make it right again. Gold or wardship or...or a marriage contract with some Dwendalian countess, I don’t know…”

He daren’t look up at Caleb in the beat of cold, heavy silence that followed those words.

“But there will be a price and that price may not necessarily be blood.”

There was a collective intake of breath, whether it was admiration or despair Molly daren’t ask.

“And...if Lorenzo isn’t the type to be bartered with, your highness?” Yasha asked evenly, letting the ‘which you know he isn’t’ go unsaid but lie underneath her words.

Molly hardened his eyes and gripped the swords at his sides, “Then we take as many as we can down to hell with us. Every Jagenoth that falls will be one less to threaten our city walls. Caleb?”

“Yes?” his friend sounded so much further away than the tent would allow.

“If it comes to that, your job is to kill Lorenzo. Not to take out the other Volstruker, not to protect me. If we must fight, he does not walk off that battlefield alive, understand?”

He wasn’t used to ordering Caleb around, the words felt sour on his tongue as did the silence that followed. It was only a moment, barely a heartbeat, but from a man that had been trained to obey it was an eternity that very clearly showed his upset.

But finally, his Volstruker murmured, “I understand, my prince.”

“Thank you,” Molly let his sincere gratitude show in his voice and that crack let the emotion start to bleed in, let his shoulders start to tremble, “All of you...you’re all my dearest friends and you’ve done so much for me. If any of you want to turn back now and leave this company, you go with my blessing. Asking you to die for me...I refuse to do it.”

Beau was the first to answer, giving a derisive snort and coming up to nudge him sharply with an elbow, “We’re not dying for you, idiot. That murderous asshole is standing in our home thinking we’ll just roll over and give it to him. Seeing the look on his face when Caleb spills his guts? That’s worth dying for.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,” Yasha gave Beau a fond roll of her shadow ringed eyes, “But the sentiment is the same. This will be something we finish together.”

“However it ends,” Fjord nodded firmly, loosening his blade in its scabbard.

“And you are rather convincing when you want to be, Mollymauk” Caduceus chuckled, “Perhaps it will come to peace after all. Stranger things have happened...like us all standing here facing impossible odds with smiles on our faces.”

That broke the lingering tension, making them all giggle helplessly like they were children again, facing their first time sneaking out of their bedrooms after dark. Like this was the start of some grand adventure rather than the end of one. Molly felt such a rush of warmth in his chest as he met Caleb through teary eyes and saw him chucking too, for a moment there was nowhere else he’d rather be than in this cold, filthy tent facing death.

“Well then,” he eventually sighed, jaw aching from grinning so hard, “Let’s put this silver tongue of mine to the test.”

Mollymauk tried so hard not to appear afraid. He really tried.

For once he was glad of his ridiculous horned helmet and the way it shielded his expression from the soldiers around him.

The Jagenoth army came into view over a rise in the landscape, a neat, black row of ants in the distance marching towards them in perfect step, banners snapping in the wind and sun catching on the deadly points of their weapons. They came in perfect synchrony, row after row of them, one two, one two, one two, devouring the distance between the two forces.

And they just kept coming.

Yasha and Fjord held the enormous black banners high, where they couldn’t possibly be missed, but as those soldiers came on and on and on, as Molly’s tongue dried to a desiccated fruit rind in his mouth, he couldn’t suppress the certainty that this lot of trained killers would just ignore their request and plow right through them, trampling them into the dirt without even a pause.

But finally, at the last possible moment, the Jagenoths halted. There was a thin strip of land still between them, less than a league separating him and his friends, the soldiers who followed in devotedly, from death. The silence that fell was broken with the snorting of horses and the restless clank of people shifting nervously in suits of armour but it still weighed heavily.

After a moment, Caleb spoke softly at his side, eyes filmy with magic, “He’s beckoning you.”

Mollymauk didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Well then,” his voice cracked on the very first word and he had to hastily clear his throat and start again, come on you fool, you’ve been an actor more than half your life, you won’t flub your lines now, “Well then. Yasha, Caleb, Fjord, with me. Beau and Caduceus, hold the army. If you see anything done that breaches the terms of parley, attack.”

With that, he urged his horse on, never daring to look back and see if his friends would actually follow him. When they did, of course, he’d hate himself for doubting them.

The fact that only one rider broke from the mass like a droplet of black oil, ploughing forward to meet them, showed exactly what Lorenzo thought of the threat they posed to him. As the formless shape of hulking iron resolved itself into a vaguely humanoid silhouette, Molly took a meagre scrap of comfort from the fact that he was at least in his human form. When he was coming for their blood, he would look much different.

They stopped their horses a few metres from each other and walked the rest of the way, Molly flanked by his friends, Lorenzo needing nothing but his bristling carapace of sooty metal, swathed in hooks and cruel leather straps, and the glaive stowed at his back. The closer that got, the more Molly realised how his pretty, glistening armour with all its jewels and shine made him look like what a foolish boy would dream a prince wore to battle. He was a tawdry illustration from a fairytale. Lorenzo was an experienced killer.

“Well, well, well…” Lorenzo spoke first while he was still loping up, hailing them as if they were friends, his voice a low pitched drawl in an approximation of a nobleman’s polite tones that showed how he’d risen from dirt to lead his army on the backs of slaves, “It’s awful decent of you to come offer yourself on a silver platter. Saves us the trouble of carving those pathetic excuses for soldiers I see behind you into meat.”

Molly swallowed hard and drew himself up, acting as if he hadn’t heard the insults, “Lorenzo. I assume you speak for the Jagenoths?”

“I’m killing for the Jagenoths, boy,” Lorenzo removed his warhelm so they could see his lazy grin, the anticipation in his eyes, “But aye, I speak with their voice in this matter.”

“Then I offer this to you,” Molly kept his firmly on, “Whatever wrongs my father has done to you, whatever snags there have been in your business dealings, surely all out war is not the best way to seek repayment?”

“Depends on what you’re repaying,” Lorenzo sneered, “And I bet you don’t know half the mess your daddy’s gotten himself into. Allow me to educate you instead, gold don’t pay some debts, boy. Sometimes blood’s the only way to tip the scales back.”

“Then you and your kingdom are fools,” Molly replied, letting some contempt creep into his voice as the insults rubbed some already frayed nerves raw, “Out there in Shady Creek Run, you have no resources of your own. Your crops file nine harvests out of ten, there's no metals of any use in those mountains of yours, no lumber, no gems. Hence why you trade in flesh, a commodity most kingdoms turn their noses up at. Think of what I’m offering you. Money, trade, the chance to rise as a kingdom by marrying its crown prince to whoever you choose. I’m offering you the chance to actually see your people grow, rather than scraping out a living in the swamp and selling their children to you when they can’t make their rent.”

There was a moment’s pause after he finished before Lorenzo burst out laughing, showing rows of plaque chewed teeth as he guffawed.

“By all the gods, boy, haven’t they trained you up nice, eh? Got you all dressed up and taught you the right words to say, just like a pretty little parrot. Convinced you that you were a prince.”

Molly felt Caleb shift beside him, magic crackling in the air. He shot him a desperate glance, pleading with him from behind the metal slits in his helm. They absolutely could not afford to be the ones to break the peace here.

He swallowed hard and tried to put some more measure in his voice, “Perhaps if you brought my offer to your lords and let them decide whether they would rather see profit or-”

“You don’t understand, do you, boy?” Lorenzo was still chuckling like this was the funniest thing he’d seen all day, “What my good lords of Jagenoth want isn’t profit or trade or to see some pretty tattooed whore of a prince in their daughter’s bed. What they want is to see your father suffer. What they want is your head.”

That struck Molly somewhere just below his chest, “Mine?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo nodded idly, eyes creeping up the length of Molly’s body like he was deciding where to make the cut, “Your daddy stiffed them once too many times so they’ve decided his son and heir will be their price. However unimpressive that son may be.”

Molly hated the fear that chilled his bones at those words, that strangled the words in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Why’d you think we went to all that trouble to fool your daddy, get him to ride out on a wild goose chase after our shades and set you off on some busywork? It were never him we wanted. We wanted you, just as you are now with a handful of farmhands at your back and a pretty piece of glass for a sword. And didn’t it all work out so nice?”

Molly’s mouth twisted, “I see Ikithon has been giving you more than just Volstruker.”

Lorenzo spread his mailed hands and gave a wry smile, “You’re the losing side, boy. Got to expect the smarter rats to jump ship.”

“So…” Molly shook himself, forcing the words up, “If I let you take me, do whatever you want with me, that will be the end of it? My people go free?”

He’d expected the sharp, poorly concealed hisses of rage and dismay from his friends, the hands flying to weapons. He was ready with a raised palm, willing them to hold themselves, praying their loyalty outstripped their love for him.

“How very noble of you,” Lorenzo cooed in a mocking tone, before his voice turned to iron again, “And maybe that was the plan my lords gave me. But now I’m here...now I see that rabble you call an army...now I have your capital city just a few days ride from here...maybe now I want more? Maybe now I’ve got me a thirst.”

Molly felt sickness roil in his stomach, “You’d go against direct orders? You’d start a war that would cost you hundreds of soldiers without their permission?”

“Do you think they’ll give a flying fuck about permissions when I hand them the crown of Dosal still red with your family’s blood?”

“Dawn,” Molly croaked, “Give me until then and I’m yours. To kill or to carry back to Shady Creek Run, whatever you wish. On your word that that will be the end of it.”

Lorenzo smiled, a thick and nasty smile, his hand flexing, arm raising, “Do I look the patient type to you, boy?”

Molly saw how it all would happen. The barest second and that glaithe would be free, the blade would come swinging with it’s sharp whistle, no time to dodge, no time to free his own scimitars, all his hours of training meaning less than nothing as that razor edge bit into his neck and severed his head neat as snipping off a stray thread.

He saw it all. But it didn’t happen.

“What in the fuck-” Lorenzo grunted, his arm stilled in the air, muscles tight as iron chord but unable to move.

Beside Molly, Caleb had his hand out and his eyes were hard, the smell of magic rising off him like steam, “Drop your arm. Turn and walk back to your own. This parley is done, you have your terms.”

“You godsdamned pup-'' Lorenzo spat, eyes full of hatred as they fixed on the source of the magic holding him back. His face reddened and the smell of his own magic began to rise.

“Lorenzo!” Mollymauk raised his voice, the sickness turning to panic as he realised that the glaive was now fixing to whistle out at Caleb instead of him, that if it did battle would erupt and so many would die, “This is a parely for gods’ sake. We’re under a peace banner. You’ll get to kill me in less than a day, let it be enough.”

“Molly!” Caleb groaned, pained, his magic starting to slip in his distress and letting Lorenzo’s arm move an inch more.

“No,” he snapped, voice firm and tone hard, “Both of you, stand down. Lorenzo, you want it to get back to your lords that you can’t even keep to terms of parley? How long do you think they’ll keep feeding an oathbreaker?”

Lorenzo’s lip curled but at the very last second it became a sneer rather than a roar of rage. He relaxed his muscles and Caleb dropped his spell.

“I ain’t no oathbreaker, boy, but pay mind to which oaths I made and which I didn’t. Dawn it is then, you come out weaponless and alone before the light touches the base of that hill there. And be warned. You know my trade. You see my ink. You know that I can make you pay hard for every second you’ve made me wait.”

“And that will be the end of this?” Molly pressed, feeling strangely little for someone who had just signed away his life.

At that Lorenzo only smiled and let his eyes roll over to Caleb, poorly concealed hatred crackling in his gaze. It was clear that this wasn’t a man accustomed to being bested, even in the smallest ways. Caleb had dared to stay his hand and now Molly suspected he’d slipped down one place on the list of people Lorenzo wanted to kill tomorrow.

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

At that he turned and strolled lazily back to his horse, never once giving them so much as a glance.

It was odd, to feel so alone in the midst of other people.To feel like the only person in the world when your friends were at your elbow.

They’d fallen back a little ways to set up a camp as best they could in the windswept plain. There was a hush about the company now, a dismay like they were all reeling from what just happened. Seeing the hope on Caduceus’ face fade, seeing the bitter anger flare in Beau’s eyes as she realised what had happened, it was all too much. Not waiting for permission, Caleb had rode Frumpkin past them, unable to bear it.

And now he stood alone at the paddock, running a brush over and over across his horse’s black coat even after it did nothing, just needing to do something. His duty pulled him towards the command tent, towards Mollymauk, but the thought turned his stomach. How was he supposed to watch his prince, his friend, retreat further and further into himself, dull his eyes and shut himself down as he waited for death? How was he supposed to stand by and watch it happen and know he could do nothing at all?

So instead he hid. He was ashamed at himself for it but at this point it was like pouring a flagon of water into the sea.

He replayed the parley over in his mind, turning it over to look at it from different angles, even when it’s sharp edges cut into him. He saw everything he could have done differently, all the ways he could have turned the tide. He could have snapped Lorenzo’s arm, found the strength from somewhere. He could have slipped into his mind, changed his words, made him take it back. He could have cut him down where he stood.

And it would change nothing, you fool.

Hopelessness crashed over his head like a tide again and it was all Caleb could do to keep his feet under the weight of the myriad ways he’d failed and everything it would cost.

Still wallowing in self pity instead of doing something useful I see.

At first Caleb thought it was just his own mind berating him as it often did. But then it sunk it, a moment too late, that the voice was so much clearer and sharper than it usually was. And it wasn’t his own.

An overpowering sense of revulsion filled him as his mind was invaded, enough that he couldn’t fight back. He’d felt it before but the sensation of someone else seizing control of your brain was so awful, so gut wrenchingly wrong in every way, that having it done brought him to his knees every time. Helpless, alone, no one around to see his distress, all Caleb could do was bend double and retch into the grass while his master slipped into his mind as easily as sliding on a well worn pair of boots.

I would have hoped to find you stronger, Bren. This is the Volstruker’s element and yet you are here whining instead of glorying in it.

Caleb could only moan thinly in response, mouth full of bile. His master only used his old name when no one else could hear them, they were supposed to shed them, burn them away, when they joined the order. But each of them knew that the master kept them carefully catalogued, ready to be used to hurt them as effectively as any torture device.

Well, at least you now have a chance to please me and show me you remember who you are...and who your master is.

“I don’t...please…” Caleb whispered, tears running from his cheeks to soak into the ground below.

Silence, Bren. Listen. It appears our relationship with Babenon Dosal has reached the end of its life. You are to defect, immediately, and present yourself to Lorenzo of the Jagenoths. He will find a use for even such as you.

Caleb’s brain could hardly take in what was being said to him, every inch of him shaking like electric currents were running under his skin, “No...no, the prince is my-”

The prince is what I say he is to you. And now he is nothing. I appreciate that you can, at least, summon some loyalty to your former position but I am hereby changing your directive. You serve Lorenzo now. Leave immediately. Do not let me down, Bren. You know the cost.

The revulsion fled as quickly as it had come on and Caleb was left to slump on the ground, tremors still running through him, stomach still painfully contracting as his body tried to remember what it was like to master itself.

It was a long time before he could rise, before there was enough strength in his limbs to hold him. His mind was a flurry of whip cracks, his back burned as if the wounds were minutes old rather than years, his fingers itched to tear his shirt away and find some relief in the night air.

You know the cost.

It was only an echo but upon hearing it, Caleb’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to hold still, he dredged up every scrap of training he could remember, filling his nose with the smell of smoke and burned wood to remind himself who he was and what he was.

Just once, he turned back and looked at the command tent, glowing with warmth at the centre of the camp just a few meters away from where he stood.

“Molly,” he rasped, voice raw and pained, “I’m so sorry.”

He knew his prince couldn’t hear him and saying it out loud brought him no comfort.

Caleb left Frumpkin tied where he was.

It would be easier to approach the Jagenoth camp on foot.

Molly paid little attention to the hours in between hearing Lorenzo’s last words and ending up back in his command tent, slumped down onto his cot while his friends sat around him, too stunned by dismay and grief to even argue much. All he could think of was that smile Lorenzo had worn as he’d turned away, what the cost of that smile could be.

I’m going to die, he thought vaguely, trying it on for size, trying to get his brain to accept the fact. He found he could muster little in response to it.

“We cannot let this happen!” Beau raged for the third time in the last half hour. And just like the other times, no one had anything to say to her.

“It’s our one chance,” Molly found himself saying, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice, “If he can have me, he might leave the rest of you alone. He might leave our people alone.”

“Might,” Yasha repeated, her voice bleak and hard like ice.

“Yes, might,” Molly sighed, “Might is better than nothing.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Beau snapped, tight and tense as a drawn bow as she paced back and forth, “You’re just going to walk up to them like a lamb offering itself up to be slaughtered?”

“It’s the only thing I can do,” Molly leaned back against the canvas, eyes closing though all he saw behind them was that smile again and the image of his father’s crown covered in his mother and sister’s blood, “I can’t fight him. I can’t lead you all to some insane one in a million victory. I can’t talk to him. But I can let him have me and then...then maybe…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to muster the energy to even find the words. Beau’s anger ebbed, showing the fear beneath.

“I’m a terrible prince,” he eventually murmured, eyes opening to not even meet their eyes, voice low and thin as a candle nearly out, “I can’t lead people, I can’t sway people or save them, I can’t ease their hunger or soothe their worries. I thought...I thought maybe I had enough base cunning and enough patter to act like a prince but...that’s all it's ever been. An act. A role I never even wanted. And now...well it’s all caught up with me, hasn’t it? The best hope I have is to die with some dignity and hope it's enough to save all of you.”

“Molly…” Yasha groaned, her voice a soft, sad whisper but it couldn’t reach him.

“An hour before dawn, all of you are going to retreat,” he continued, “Before that even, if you can manage it. I’m putting the lives of the company in your hands, save as many as you can.”

“Molly!” she was exasperated now, her usual calm completely fractured.

“This isn’t a debate anymore,” he shook his head, making himself stand though it was like moving a puppet with half its strings cut, “Just do as I ask. Let me try and accomplish something good with my death. And...if you ever get the chance, if the gods allow it, drink to my name.”

They had no answer to that. It was something of a relief.

“I’ll say my farewells in the morning,” he waved them out limply, “Just send in Caleb and…”

Finally, something pierced through the fog. Frowning, he lifted his head.

“Where is Caleb?”

“After the parley he, uh…” Fjord shrugged helplessly, “He was upset. I think he went to stable Frumpkin, you know how he does.”

“That...that was some time ago,” Caduceus put in slowly, “Hours.”

“I’ll go get him,” Beau shrugged, “Whatever…” She disappeared through the flap, still stomping, shoulders tense and face flushed. Yasha looked after her with soft, sad eyes but didn’t follow, she knew her well enough.

Molly expected the fog to close up around his head again but it didn’t. Something ran around under his skin, a sensation that something was wrong. Which was laughable, seeing as he was about to be killed as soon as the sun came up and possibly all of his friends alongside him at the whim of a madman.

Still, it was there and it irritated him just enough to keep him alert and frowning as more time than should have passed by.

And it was enough that he wasn’t surprised when Beau walked through the tent again, all of her anger replaced by complete and utter shock.

“A messenger,” she said, voice hoarse like the words surprised her even as they left her lips, “A messenger from the Jagenoths, she had the insignia and everything. She gave me this, said it was for your eyes only and just...left.”

This was a piece of paper, folded and sealed with a clumsy black seal like a smear of soot. The design was a crude hook shape. As Molly took it the feeling got worse until it was buzzing like an insect trapped in his skull. It was enough that he hesitated before breaking the seal but their eyes were on him, wary and hesitant and needing to see their prince be brave.

The writing was done in a hurry, the ink splotchy and smudged. Molly had one of those moments where complete insanity threatened to take the place of dread as he imagined Lorenzo’s huge oni fingers trying and failing to hold a quill but it died quickly.

When he read the words, there was no more fog and no more distance. Everything was real and close and far too much, pushing the air out of his lungs and constricting his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

Boy, I accept your challenge. Single combat it is, me against the little pup who thought he could snap at me and not pay for it. If I lose, my army turns heel and goes home empty handed. If I win, I kill you and we consider the debt repaid. I was so looking forward to slaughtering every last one of you but your pup made a good point. I get to hold faith with the Jagenoths while my steel gets to see true battle. I’ve never tried a Volstruker before but I’m looking forward to tasting the tears of grief on your face as I push my blade through your heart.

Lorenzo.

“Molly? Molly, what does it say? Hey, it’s okay, just breathe…”

Yasha had taken his arm but Molly barely noticed, he only looked up and found Caleb’s eyes there to accept his own. Of course he’d slipped in while they’d been distracted, of course he chose now to return. At least he had the grace to look ashamed.

“Caleb...” Molly rasped, tears running down his cheeks and dripping from his jaw to strike the letter, obscuring the words as if that would mean they’d never been.

The man he loved could only meet his eyes and smile sadly.

“Oh gods, Caleb, what have you done?”

#widomauk #critical role #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #royal au #tw violence #yasha #beau #fjord #caduceus #lorenzo #cr fic #please reblog and comment!#feed your local fic writer!

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hitchell-mope · 3 years ago

Text

ZM part three word posters. Core ten

Ben. His hair’s completely purple and tumbled over his shoulders, just like his father’s did in the cartoon. Buffalo horns are sprouting from the top of his head. Post beast facial hair is intact. He’s grinning widely showing off his beast fangs. A huge pair of royal blue dragon wings are sirens out behind his back. He’s in his motor cross outfit. Except his jackets gone, he’s barefoot, his trousers are in tatters around the knees showing off purple leg hair and the sleeves of his top are ripped off showing his magically enhanced arms with purple arm hair and dark green scales on them. He’s holding on to his dragon eye sceptre with his left hand so you can see his engagement ring clearly. Above his head are the words “The Hybrid King”

Mal. Her purple hair is streaked with electric blue and scooped back with the rest of it tumbling over his shoulders. She has horns on her head just like her mother’s except hers are dark purple instead of black. There’s a small satisfied smile on her face. Her dragon wings are spread out behind her. She’s got the Aurora inspired wedding dress on. It look just like the famous dress from the cartoon except the white collars missing, there are sleeve loops going over her middle fingers and the skirts are made of interwoven purple, black and green swan feathers. She has an obsidian circlet on her head around her horns with a small emerald hanging down on her forehead. She’s levitating her dragon eye sceptre in front of her with the backs of hands visible to the audience with her engagement ring clearly visible. The ember is floating above the dragon eye jewel. Above her head are the words “The Immortal Queen”

Jay. His skin is completely gold and so are his eyes. His hair is loose and wild over his shoulders. He’s got his motor cross outfit on except the jackets gone, showing off his arms. He’s glowering at the camera and standing behind Carlos as if to say “you go near him and you’ll have to deal with me”. His hands are balled into fists in a fighting stance and glowing with golden magic. He’s floating about three or four inches off the ground on a cloud of golden smoke. Above his head are the words “The Genie Bodyguard”

Carlos. He’s in the traditional Spider-Man pose. His hair is a mass of curls reaching just past his shoulders with rams horns growing out the side of his head. The left side of his hair is black. The right side is white. He’s got large black and white mottled bat wings sprouting from back. He has a long prehensile devils tail training f on the floor behind him. He’s got his motor cross outfit on with the sleeves torn off. His nails have grown out into wickedly sharp talons with the left hand talons imbedded in the floor. Same with his bare feet. His right hand is splayed out behind him. Above his head are the words “The Demon Prince”

Evie. Her blue hair is streak with soot black highlights. The front of her hair is done up in the braids she had in the canon verse rotten to the core number. The rest of it is fastened into a ponytail. She’s got her motor cross outfit on except there’s a lot more dark blue in it and a lot less red. She’s holding onto Doug’s left arm with both her arms and she’s laying her head on his shoulder. Her eyes are closed. Like she’s concentrating just on Doug. Above her head are the words “The Helpful Sister”

Doug. His hair is double up in a folded down man bun with a couple of strands framing his face. He’s got his glasses on but the right lens is cracked in the middle. He’s got a stoic expression on his face. He’s wearing a new version of his isle outfit from part two. No beanie. And the sleeves are halfway down his biceps this time instead of stopping at his shoulders. Here’s gripping Excalibur in a similar way to the posters from “the legend of the sword”. Above his head are the words “Excalibur’s New Owner”

Gil. His hair is loose and free over his shoulders. He’s got a small, sad smile on his face. He has his right arm wrapped around Lonnie’s shoulders. He’s got a bright sunny yellowish motor cross outfit on that shows off his arms. He’s holding a small seashell in his left hand. Above his head are the words “The Good Brother”

Lonnie. Her hair is done up the same was as her isle hair in canon verse descendants 2. She’s got a yellow and burnt orange motor cross outfit on complete with full sleeves and full fingered gloves. She’s got her left arm around Gil’s waist and her head on his shoulder. Her expression almost matches Gil’s except she seems satisfied instead of sad. Above her head are the words “The Reliable Friend”

Jane. Her hair is in a messy ponytail. She’s got her own vk outfit on. It’s periwinkle blue with blush pink accents complete with gloves and elbow pads. She’s aiming the water bazooka at the camera. She’s got a determined expression on her face. She’s pissed off and she’s not hiding it. Above her head are the words “The Birthday Girl”

Dizzy. Her hair’s done up how it usually is except the decorations are gone leaving only the dyed pink and green streaks. She’s got her very own vk outfit on. Dark forest green with pink accents. She’s holding her scissors rather carelessly by the handles and not by the blade. Above her head are the words “The Queen’s Niece”

They’re positioned like so: bal are in the middle. Next to Ben on his left are devie and jaylos. Next to Mal on her right are Gilonnie, Jane and Dizzy. Below bal are the words “The Core Ten”

#disney descendants #mal bertha #ben florian #bal #jay son of jafar #carlos de vil #jaylos #evie grimhilde #doug son of dopey #devie #gil legume #li lonnie #gilonnie #jane daughter of fairy godmother #dizzy tremaine #zendaya!mal

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alexboehm55144 · 4 years ago

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Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 34 - Black Ship

Living quarters on the Typhoon were of good quality, and there were cabins for mammals of all sizes. Each cabin had a bathroom and a comfy bed that was built into one of the walls. They also had a closet and plenty of room for furniture if the occupant wanted it. The walls were metal, and the entire cabin had a modern look. There was also a window to the outside world for the enjoyment of the occupant. During battle, armored panels would slide over the window.

Captain Boehm awoke in his quarters on the Typhoon, stretching and trying to stay awake. The room was dark, only illuminated by a bit of light from the outside peaking past the blinds.

He wanted to just stay in bed. Maybe watch some videos or something on his tablet. But, there was work to be done. He grabbed his phone and tapped the texting app, finding the message between him and Toothdee.

"I'm awake. What's our status?" He texted.

Toothdee decided to call back instead of texting back, the phone's screen showing a picture of her, while the device rang loudly.

The captain cursed under his breath, getting out of bed and walking into the bathroom in his room.

"What is it?" He said, answering the phone.

"Well, first of all, good morning." Toothdee said, "secondly, we lost the energy signature of your counterpart's plane last night. We can only track it for so long, and it's difficult considering his plane has a stealth coating of paint on it."

"So, we've lost him entirely?"

"Not quite. We can still search the general area where we last detected the plane. Also, we have a report from a scouting element. Our counterpart's version of the Typhoon was spotted in the same area. I think we might be getting close."

"Brilliant! Let's keep on them. We might be able to find our counterpart's HQ. What about you, Toothdee? You should probably get some rest."

"I'm fine. I took over from Kion a few hours ago. Besides, I have iced tea."

"Oh, did the flying training pay off?"

"Well, it's a lot easier to fly through the open sky than battle around rocks and structures, using them as cover."

"True. Ok, I'll come up and meet you shortly."

The call ended, and the captain sighed, exiting the bathroom and walking back to his bed.

"Sorry about that." He said to the blue-furred wolf laying on the bed, rubbing her eyes.

"Well... I should probably get up anyways..." JayJay said.

"Another day, another battle. But it's nice to relax every once in a while." The captain said, sitting on the bed and pulling on some socks.

"Yeah... especially with someone else," JayJay said, nibbling on her companion's ear.

"Ow!?" Alex said, pulling away from her.

"Oh, sorry! That's a wolf thing."

"Well... Just be gentle."

The wolf went back to work, following her instincts while the captain scrolled through his tablet, preparing for the day ahead. Eventually, much to JayJays disappointment, Alex got up and gathered his things, getting ready to leave.

"Who's.... still left out there?" The wolf said, getting on all fours and stretching her arms out, yawning at the same time.

"Well, there's your counterpart, Toothdee's counterpart, and my counterpart."

"Oh, listen, be careful when going after your counterpart, ok." The wolf stood up and walked over to the human, taking his hands in her paws. "Eris told me that you crashed while battling your counterpart."

"Yeah, it was tough. I mean, just a human, treading water against a jet."

The wolf's ears were pinned back on her head, indicating she was upset.

"But I'm fine. Shame about my jet, though."

"You are more important than some fancy plane Alex."

"I know, I know."

"Be more careful, so you can live to fight another day."

There was a pause, the captain thinking about what to say next.

"For me?" The wolf said.

"*sigh* alright, for you."

The pair shared a short kiss and embrace before going their separate ways for the day. There was still a war to be won.

000

The captain entered the bridge, gazing out at the light blue sea and tall volcanic mountains visible outside the Typhoon. The mountains were covered in rich green forests, and clouds dotted the sky. Toothdee was piloting the ship from the captain's chair. Meanwhile, Jack was also present, standing in the corner and listening to something on his phone. However, he was aware enough to nod at Alex as he entered.

"Morning!"

"Morning Alex," Toothdee said, sitting up in the captain's chair. "We should be nearing the area where our counterpart's ship was spotted."

"Well, we should probably put everyone on high alert."

"I know. I'm just letting everyone get up, get ready, and get going. But everyone's assignments and positions have already been set up and are ready to be sent out if or when the time comes."

"You are always prepared."

"Hang on, picking up something."

Toothdee looked at the radar screen to spot an unknown contact somewhere behind a mountain up ahead. She guided the ship towards the signature, rounding the mountain the heroes on the bridge saw it.

"The black typhoon..." Toothdee said, watching the massive vessel hover in the air in front of them. The ship was slightly larger than Heroes' blue Typhoon, and its hull way black in color, while its counterpart was gray with some blue highlights. Large wings used to help the airship in flight jutted out from the hull, and the vessel's surface was blistered with weapon emplacements.

"Toothdee, battle stations!" The captain ordered.

"Already on it." She said, pressing a button, automatically sending everyone's assignments to them. Everyone on the ship instantly and knew where they had to go and what they had to do.

Jack and Alex raced to gunner seats, sitting down and bringing the weapons online.

A few moments later, Laval and Eris entered the bridge, getting to their gunner positions.

"Well, this is quite a way to start the day," Laval said, sitting down.

"Enemy ship is hailing us," Toothdee said before a video from the Black Typhoon appeared on the bridge's main screen, which normally showed the outside world.

Toothdees counterpart appeared on screen, also sitting in the pilot's seat of her vessel.

"I did not expect that today I would get to destroy my adversaries and their warship." Toothdee's counterpart said. "Today is off to a good start."

"It's you who will be going down today," Toothdee said.

"Your ship is inferior by the looks of it."

"It's more than capable of killing you!"

"We shall see..."

The video disconnected, and the battle began.

Both typhoons fired, opening salvos of missiles and rockets. Members of Heroes operating the bridges of the blue Typhoon, while Chinese troops managed the weapons of the Black Typhoon. Shots from both vessels hit the other, dealing damage to both ships.

"Hull is holding," Eris reported.

The ships moved closer to each other and began to circle and square off. The pair of ships avoiding enemy shots while hitting their own. Two airships battling in the sky, surrounded by volcanic mountains and forests sprouting from the rich soil.

Toothdee used the blue Typhoon's smaller size and better maneuverability to evade incoming fire from the hostile vessel. However, this also meant that when the Blue Typhoon was hit, it did more damage than when the Heroes vessel struck the Chinese ship.

The blue Typhoon pulled in close, allowing its gunners to engage at close range, dealing heavy damage to the hostile airship. But due to the closer range, the black Typhoon got off some good shots on the Typhoon. As the blue Typhoon pulled away, the enemy airship launched a barrage of missiles that struck the American airship.

The Heroes vessel shook as shells and missiles hit it, and suddenly, lights, computer screens, and control systems went down.

Red emergency lights came on while the massive video screen used to view the outside world flickered for a moment. Laval spoke on the loss of camera feed to the weapon he was controlling.

"Uh? Where'd my canon go?"

"Mine's gone as well." Captain Boehm said. "The electrical systems must have been damaged."

"Find out where!" Toothdee said, trying to maintain control of the vessel despite the power issues. She turned her vehicle away from the hostile airship. The Typhoon used the volcanic mountains nearby as cover, breaking the line of sight with the enemy. However, the dark ship maintained pursuit, firing whenever it had a chance.

Meanwhile, Eris had switched control away from a weapon's emplacement, choosing instead to activate one of the Typhoon's defensive systems. Smoke generators all over the ship turned on and created a large cloud around the vessel, obscuring it from the view of the Black Typhoon.

Alex looked through a display of the ship's systems and saw that a critical junction box had sustained damage.

"Junction box 2-C, port side!"

"Get Skye on it!" Jack said, "she's an engineer after all."

The captain quickly contacted the fox on his radio.

"Skye! We need you!"

"What is it? What's wrong with the lights?"

"A junction box has been damaged. We need you to fix it. And quick! Look for junction box 2-C. It's marked as such. 2nd deck, port side."

"Massive airships aren't really my thing...." Skye said. "But I'll see what I can do. I'm gonna need my tools. They're in my room."

"I'll tell Kion to get them," Alex said.

"Ok, I'll get it done."

Skye started racing through the ship, getting on all fours to go faster. After being contacted by captain Boehm, Kion headed to Jack and Skye's room. The lion entered, quickly spotting a small red toolbox near the door, before grabbing it and sprinting towards the compartment he had been directed towards.

Meanwhile, toothdee turned and moved the Typhoon as fast as she could, narrowly avoiding hostile shells. The black Typhoon fired another barrage of missiles.

"Deploying flares!" Eris said, pressing a button and causing flares to release from canisters on the Typhoon. The heat-seeking missiles hit the flares, while the Typhoon continued onwards unscathed by the missile barrage.

Skye reached compartment 2C and opened it up, finding wires and electronics smoking and sparking. Kion showed up with a toolbox, crouching down to her height and putting the box between them.

The fox blew on the burnt electronics and went to work, rewiring electrical circuits and occasionally telling Kion to get her a tool.

"Wire cutters."

The lion reached into the tool bag and found the tool, quickly placing it into the agent's waiting paw.

"Voltmeter."

The lion obliged as the lights in the area went out for a brief moment while Skye messed with the wiring.

"Rag."

The lion handed Skye a rag, and the fox wiped the sweat off her forehead with it.

She fiddled with the electrical systems a bit more, and then, the weapons returned to full fictionality. On the airship bridge, the main lights returned, and computer screens came back on.

"Oh yeah, we're back," Jack said, the camera view of his weapon returning.

Toothdee spun the Typhoon around, ultimately catching the pursuing enemy ship off guard. With the element of surprise, the Heroes vessel fired everything it had. Missiles, cannons, machine guns, ordnance of all types hit the Black Typhoon.

The Chinese airship sustained massive damage, hull sections cracking and burning scars appearing all over the vessel. The black Typhoon attempted to flee, turning around a mountain and into a large valley. However, the blue Typhoon maintained chase. Toothdee pressed her firing controls, and cannon shells cut through the air, hitting the rear engines on the Chinese vessel.

Smoke poured from the black Typhoon, the dark ship looking like its very superstructure was evaporating into whips of jet black smoke. The Chinese vessel couldn't maintain altitude, crashed into the forest below, and created a massive sound of scraping metal on rock.

Trees, rocks, and dirt were thrown up in the air as the black Typhoon skid across the ground. Wild birds took to the sky in fear as the airship came to a stop on a mountainside. The beast was slain. Smoke and fire poured from the black Typhoon, and most of its weapons had been destroyed. All that was left was the crew, scrambling around inside, Dark Toothdee yelling orders to try and formulate a course of action. Chinese troops rushed to and fro, repairing damage and attempting to get systems back online.

All the while, the Blue Typhoon hovered in the sky above its fallen adversary, almost lording over its kill. The smaller and allegedly inferior ship had bested its enemy, leaving the latter nothing but broken metal.

"We did it," Toothdee said, finally relaxing slightly, no longer in imminent danger from their counterpart's ship.

"Take it from another pilot, Toothdee, that was some great flying," Eris said.

"Some of their weapons are still online. They could still return fire," Jack noted.

"Hail them," captain Boehm said, "let's see what they have to say now."

A communications link to the hostile ship came up on the screen yet again. This time the video showed that Toothdee's counterpart looked worse for wear. Smoke and sparks came from areas off-screen, and the counterpart's face was covered in cuts and bruises.

"Well, well... Who's inferior now." The captain said. "It would be wise for you to surrender."

"Never!" Toothdee's counterpart said. "I'll tear your ship from the sky! You will have to kill me!"

"You got it. Open fire! All batteries!"

"With pleasure, sir," Laval said, pressing down on the fire buttons on his controls.

Missiles and shells blasted for the Typhoon's weapon systems, the ship engaging with extreme prejudice. Smoke from the weapons filled the air as explosions wracked the black Typhoon.

Toothdee pressed down on her fire controls, but only half-heartedly. Even as she pressed the button to launch a devastating barrage of missiles, her will to do so wavered. Was this the best course of action? Why couldn't they make a ground assault and capture her counterpart? They would be able to gain valuable intelligence. These thoughts ran through her mind, even as the barrage of missiles streaked towards the Black Typhoon's bridge.

On the enemy bridge, alarms blared, and red lights flashed as the ship sustained catastrophic structural failure. Indicators displaying critical damage blinked wildly as Dark Toothdee closed her eyes. She did not want to see her own failure, even as the black Typhoon broke apart around her.

The vessel detonated. Fire ripping through its dark black hull, propelling debris into the air, with the wreckage raining down in the surrounding area. All that was left of a once-powerful and devastating airship was a burnt and ravaged hunk of steel, awash with flame.

"Well, that's that then," Eris said

"Another one down," Laval said.

"I'll send a team to the wreckage," Jack said, calling up some ZIA agents who were in the vicinity.

"Eris was right, Toothdee." Alex said, "you are one hell of a pilot."

"Thanks." She responded. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that they could have done more. She was partly glad that her evil counterpart was dead, but she felt they could have captured her dark double instead. Either way, another counterpart had been killed. Only 2 remained.

000

"What have you found?" Toothdee asked. She and Alex watching Jack, Haida, & Retsuko sort through reports.

"Well, the ZIA agents sent to the wreckage found some Chinese military documents," Retsuko said, eyes darting between 2 pieces of paper as she cross-referenced information.

"I the ZIA's best translation teams are working on it," Jack said. "They've already translated a bunch of helpful information."

The rabbit pulled up a report that was marked as highly classified. "But there's also a report that seems to be from the counterparts. it mentions something called 'operation match strike.'"

“Matchstrike?” Alex said.

"Yeah, it mentions operations at a set of islands in the South China Sea and talks about running communications misinformation and then launching a small strike force. That's about it. It doesn't tell the full story."

"Island in the South China Sea?" Toothdee said, "isn't that where this war started?"

"Yes, it is. There does seem to be information here about the start of this conflict. Maybe if we can get intelligence from the islands themselves, we could learn more."

"Back to where it all began...."

"Want me to start drawing up plans for an infiltration or assault operation," Alex asked.

"Do that, but first, we need to finish repairs and rearmament."

"Skye is helping to work on that," Jack said. "I'm glad we were able to make it back to a US island."

"Yep, we sustained some heavy damage, but at least we're still in one piece."

"And soon..." captain Boehm said. "The full might of this warship, Heroes, and the US, will be bearing down on China and our counterparts."

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lordbord · 4 years ago

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*cross posted on Wattpad*

First story

*This is a alternate version of the main show*

We all know how this story goes, Midoriya is born quirkless, gets bullied by his childhood friend for 10 years. He saves Bakugou from suffocating in slime after All might stepped on his dream, All Might changes his mind, offers his quirk and then trains Midoriya for the entrance exam, he gets in and then his story begins.

In the main story, Most of Izukus life was spent being picked on and bullied by peers and so called friends, with no one not even his own mother believing in his dream.

What if that were to change?

What if someone did believe in him?

What if at one point he gained a brother who helped him through thick and thin?

This is that story. A story of two brothers related in all but blood going on a journey to become hero's together. Watch as the bond they have moves mountains and see how far they go for one another in the events of their life.

Watch as they become the symbol of hope: Deku

and the symbol of change: Black Light

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

Heroic duo

Chapter 1

Childhood beginnings

"Not all men are created equal." that was the sad truth of the world I learned at the age of four.

One day the world had changed, after a baby started to glow brightly it was the first recorded citing of a superpower, soon enough more and more people have ended up developing these gifts and 200 years later, superpowers became the norm. 80% of the population had developed superpowers called quirks and with them a new profession, Hero's. like all kids my age I wanted nothing more than to be a hero unfortunately....

"Sorry kid it isn't going to happen."

"Im sorry Izuku!!"

"Didn't you hear, he's..."

Quirkless, I became one of the 20% who don't develop a quirk. The door to my dream was locked before I could even open it, as for my friend Katsuki Bakugou, who I call Kacchan...

"You really are useless, deku." A ash blond said to a downed green haired boy with pops coming out of his hands.

He became my number one tormentor, I should have told mom but after dad left us she has been working hard for the both of us to live a comfortable life, not to mention that Mitsuki Bakugou is Kacchan mother and her best friend since college.

So I didn't say anything as to not burden her more than I already do and for two years I will have endured beatings, bruises, cuts and burns from my former friend.

I thought that was how my life was going to be, just a useless deku with a too big dream.

Then that day happened.

It was the afternoon in Musutafu, Japan and school just got out, at a nearby park five children were near a sand pit, three kids were standing just outside the pit with an ash blond standing in front of the trio while a green haired boy with green eyes had his arms in front of him, standing in-front of a brunette girl with brown eyes who is on the floor rubbing a bruised cheek from the hit she took from the blond.

"Stop it Kacchan! Can't you see she hurt!" Said the green eyed boy trying to protect the girl.

"She thinks she can be a hero like me with a weak quirk like that!! She had it coming, Deku!" The ash blond now known as Kacchan says, while the girl starts to tear up a bit from the rude boys words.

The green haired boy now known as Deku gets angry at his old friend, he doesn't know why and probably never will but he instinctively responds back to the blonds cruel words.

"Who cares if her quirk is weak right now! If she trains hard it can be a great quirk, and m-maybe she'll be a b-better hero than y-you!!"

There were four reactions that took place from that statement.

One being from the girl who looked up in astonishment and a bit of gratitude.

The two lackeys of the ash blond who can't believe that useless Deku yelled at Bakugou.

Deku himself, who just realized what he just said is slowly losing the confidence before his outburst,

And Bakugou himself who had veins sprouting around his face slowly, hair covering his eyes and shaking in quickly building fury.

Knowing whats about to come from the volatile blond, Deku backs up a bit to the girl and kneels on a knee, while picking up some sand discreetly

"Listen, go get some h-help while I distract him I'll be fine but he might focus back on you if your still here." Deku says with what ever confidence he has left.

The girl was about to protest but then saw the look in his emerald eyes and reluctantly agreed.

Deku smiled a little knowing she didn't want to leave him alone so attempts to reassure her.

"D-Don't worry I-I'll be f-fine" while giving wide shaky smile before turning back around to the sounds of popping.

"Why?" Barely above a whisper from the blond

"Why?" louder this time with explosions popping starting to pop from his hands faster and faster.

"WHY DOES A USELESS DEKU LIKE YOU THINK YOUR BETTER THAN ME!?!?" He yells before charging at the green and brown eyed children.

"RUN!!" Deku yells just before throwing the sand into Kacchans face, blinding him temporarily and catching his ire, while the girl gets up and runs fast trying to look for her parents to gets some help.

Meanwhile the two lackeys grab either arm of the greeny to hold him down for their boss, waiting until he clears the sand from his eyes.

Once Kacchan cleans the sand and can see, his pupils dilate as they zero in on deku and charge at him again and with uncontrolledly rage, he hits him with an explosion right in the chest above the heart, blasting Deku out of the lackeys hold and onto his back, with a new hole in his shirt. The blast could be heard all over the park.

While fading out of consciousness, footsteps can be heard running towards him all he can think about was that he successfully got the girl away from harm.

(??? Pov)

A minute earlier....

"How did I fall for such a obvious scam" I say to myself while walking past a park, just a couple of minutes ago I was talking with a guy who was asking for directions for a specific store, he was unbelievable vague and this distracted me long enough for his buddy to rob me with his quirk and get away. as I walk by the gate to the park a girl crashes into me, knocking both of us over, I was a knocked on my back while I can only assume the girl was as well from the soft "ow" that I heard

"Im so so sorry!" she apologizes loudly while offering to help me up.

"It's fine, why are you in such a rush?" I grunt out as I accept the help up.

She was about to say before we heard a loud "BOOM" coming from the park, we here this and she then freezes on the spot, before bolting to the sounds origins. I was both concerned and confused about what just happened so I ran after hoping to gain an answer.

I was not prepared for what I saw next.

I saw a green haired boy my age on the ground with smoke coming of his chest, the girl is freaking out above him trying to see what she can do before turning to the right to see a angry blond with a grin shouting at the unconscious boy before walking over menacingly with smoke coming from his hands.

Acting quick I pull on the shadow from a nearby bench and made a circular shield before sliding in between the two people, blocking the EXPLOSION?!? EXCUSE ME WHAT?!? The angry blond seemed surprised seeing that he didn't hit the two behind me. I stand to my full height, as I am a little taller and put away the shield.

"Now I don't know what happened and personally I don't care but can you please leave them alone or do I have to use force?" For added effect I absorbed some shadows, then made it into a giant broadsword with an eire purple glow, with one of my eyes having a purple glow, I then hung the sword over my shoulder, while glaring at the three in front of me.

Needless to say it worked, the two behind the blond with smug expressions prior to me showing up are now turning heel and running away, the blond however clicks his teeth dissatisfied with the outcome before walking away.

After getting rid of my sword I turn around and see the girl with tears in her eyes about to rip a piece of her shirt for the green boy.

"Hey, you don't need to do that I got some spare clothes in my bag." She stops what shes doing and proceeds to help me tear a T-shirt from my bag. After wrapping the guy up, she floats the green haired boy and brought him to the bench where we lay him down, there was a bit of a silence before she spoke up finally.

"He was hurt cause of me" she said just above a whisper, I let her continue since she seemed to need to get it out of her system.

"I was punched by that blond guy from before, he p-pushed me down and started saying things, how I wouldn't be a hero with my quirk, then he showed up" she was starting to tear up again.

"He got in front of him, he defended me and helped me run away so I can get help." She says the tears coming faster now her voice starting to shake.

"If I knew that blond guy would have done this I would have stayed, I wouldn't have let him got him hurt because of me and n-now h-he's.." she was openly crying now I didn't know what to do so I just went up to her and gave a hug, she froze at first but then just let everything out, after a bit she calmed down and pulled away, looking back at the boy who helped her

"Its not your fault, you know" I spoke up finally. She turned to look at me and I took that as a sign to continue.

"Look I don't know either of you but from how you reacted to finding him hurt in the first place I can honestly says that this was not something you could have known, if anyone is to blame its the blond guy's fault, for doing this in the first place." I finish talking hoping that she will take my words to heart, from the slight nod of her head I can only assume she understood.

"My name is Ochako Uraraka, by the way thanks for helping us." She says with a small smile.

"Well its nice to meet you Uraraka my name is-" I was interrupted by a small groan, turning back we see the green boy starting to wake up.

(3rd person POV)

As Midoriya wakes up, he slowly gets his senses back, which left him groaning when he started feeling pain again and as he opens his eyes he is first see brown eyes blinking down at him.

'Kacchan's eyes aren't brown' he thinks to himself. He then tries to sit up only to wince in pain before lying back down as Midoriya looks at his surroundings he realizes he's not only on a park bench but also has two people in front of him, one the short brown hair and eyed girl that he defended from before and another one being a boy he has never seen before. He was a bit taller than Midoriya , with a bit of a round face and a dark skin tone with hair split down the middle with white on the right and black on the left, the most noticeable part were his eyes which seem to be purple on one side and light blue on the other with a bit of bags underneath. Midoriya being the intelligent human being he breaks the silence in the most eloquent way possible.

"Uhhh.... Hi."

The next thing Midoriya know Uraraka hugs him, now if this was a un-injured Midoriya he would have froze from his brain not processing physical affection from people other than his mother. Sadly, this Midoriya is injured and as such he winces from pain on contact which causes Uraraka to pull back and start apologizing while flailing her arms, with Midoriya saying its alright. After that comedic scene Midoriya decides to ask the million dollar questions.

"Uh.. sooo, who are you guys and what happened after I passed out?" izuku asks too confused by his situation to care about his anxiety.

"My name is Ochako Uraraka and this is.."

Midoriya look over to the boy as he starts talking.

"My name is Felix Richmond, she kinda crashed into me while running out the park, we then heard a big boom and she ran inside, I followed her a bit after, I took care of the blond guy and then we ripped one of my shirts and wrapped it around your burn, we moved you to the bench and we were just waiting for you to wake up." He finishes explaining.

"We were worried after you got knocked out but you woke up so at least we know you'll be okay." Uraraka says her tone going from worried to happy mid-sentence.

"Also thanks for saving me from that blond guy..." she pauses realizing she doesn't know his name.

"Oh I-I'm M-Midoriya Izuku" he says a bit shakily.

"Well it's nice to meet you both, but I feel like we should get going since it almost evening" Richmond says while pointing at the sky.

'Oh no mom/my parents are gonna kill me' went through both Midoriya's and Uraraka's mind as they internally panicked.

"Uraraka why don't you get home, I can help Midoriya here get home, since I doubted you can move all that well." Richmond says first addressing Uraraka before switching his attention to Midoriya who is startled by the offer, he was going to reject...

"Before you say anything I don't have to worry about my p-parent so you either agree and I piggy back you to your home or I princess carry you, if you don't agree." Richmond says with the last part stated with a smirk.

Midoriya, who would definitely be a strawberry if he was princess carried, nodded in defeat, saying their goodbyes to Uraraka and a promise to meet up again at a later date the two boy head onwards to Midoriya's place, it was silent till Richmond asked a question.

"So why did you do it?” Richmond asked.

"Why, what?" Asked Izuku confused by the question.

"Why did you protect her, from what she told me, you were nowhere near involved in the one sided fight so why did you help?" Richmond says.

Midoriya thinks about it before speaking again "I don't know, I guess my legs moved on there own, one second I was looking at her being pushed the next thing I knew I'm standing up to Kacchan and his friends." Midoriya finishes upset now realizing his old friend is the one who scared him.

"Kacchan?!" Richmond asked surprised such a cute name was given to someone so aggressive.

"T-thats the nickname I gave him, I couldn't pronounce his name when we were younger so I called him that, his name is Katsuki Bakugou, we are- were friends but that was before he got his quirk." Midoriya finishes once again lamenting the lose of his old friend.

Richmond in a attempt to lighten the mood jokes. "And let me guess he's a mean dandelion jealous of your quirk?" Richmond says hoping it worked.

It didn't.

"I actually don't have a quirk." Midoriya says in a soft whisper, if he wasn't on Richmonds back he probably wouldn't have been heard, but Richmond hearing Midoriya regrets the joke instantly, and says something that shocks Midoriya.

"And whats wrong with being quirkless?" Richmond ask.

Midoriya who was still a bit upset answered "Since I'm quirkless, I can't become a hero." Tears starting to well up.

"You saved Uraraka today, so I think you already are a hero." Richmond answer backs.

"Do you really think I can be a hero?" Midoriya asks, hoping beyond hope he gets the answer he was waiting for.

"Definitely." Richmond says, unknowingly opening the floodgates that are Midoriya's tear ducts.

Midoriya was overwhelmed by emotion and could only feel gratitude to the split haired person for giving him some form of hope.

After calming down they finally arrived at Midoriya's house knocking on the door, upon opening it the worried mother see a peculiar site of a child holding her baby on their back with a bag worn on the front of their body.

After some explaining of what happened, Why it happened, who caused it, and some waterfalls from both Midoriya's 'is this genetic?' Richmond thinks before the conversation switches to him.

"Thank you for helping him." The Elder Midoriya says while giving a hug to Felix who flinches slightly before relaxing again.

"It's no problem Miss Midoriya." Richmond reply's awkwardly patting the back of the women.

"You can just call me Inko." She says as she pulls herself back from the hug.

"But I can't help but ask, don't you need to go back to your home, it's getting rather late." She asks the innocent question.

Richmond's freezing doesn't go unnoticed by the Midoriya's, as he looked down at his hands he starts to remember everything he escaped from, the beatings, yells, him begging for it to stop, the crash.

"I-I d-don't h-have a-a ho-me." Richmond says still looking down, tears start going down his face.

Inko shocked by the once smiling teen froze for a moment, in that moment only Midoriya moves to start hugging the boy.

Richmond caught of guard by the hug flinches a bit but quickly returns it letting the tears flow, finally dropping his guard and relaxing slightly, he was still on edge but the Midoriya’s were very....... calming to the split haired teen.

"You can stay with us if you want." Midoriya says after a while. Surprised by his words, Richmond looks at Izuku before directing his gaze to Inko, who just smiles softly and nods to the unasked question.

Allowing himself a small smile Felix looks back to Izuku and says "I guess that makes us brothers now." He says before getting two hugs on either side of him, laughing at how his life changed in a minute.

No one knew that the two boys would grow up to become something greater than themselves.

But where's the fun in that right?

#bnha #fanfic #my fic #wattpad #bnha oc #not entirely focused on OC #everyone gets attention #Izuocha #oc likes puns

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qhostqizmo · 4 years ago

Text

A Well Earned Break

Amon couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been to a pub as dynamic and energetic as this place. Every bench and seat in the building was occupied from one end to another. A few women even boldly took it upon themselves to sit at the edge of bar’s counter. Row after row of table tucked from corner to corner, wall to wall, were covered in dishes and empty tankards; leaving attendants and maidens to hustle swiftly in and fetch them for cleaning. It was messy, it was loud, and it smelled like sweat, liquor, and strong perfume.

Beneath his boots, peanut shells crunched. A few surface-spots stuck to his heels, causing them to peel up from the floor with a sticky squeak. A young woman caught his wandering eye as he stood uncomfortably off the side. She slanted him a smile; her ruby-red lips puckering into a kiss she blew his way with a wink. He quickly adverted his eyes upon spotted the jade beaded bracelet on her wrist. Many individuals throughout the tavern appeared to be wearing the same piece of jewelry, and the symbolize didn’t go without his notice. Different places did different things: sometimes earrings, or neckties, or bracelets, or tattoos; but he recognized a pattern such as that in a venue such as this. It he wanted a ‘good time’, at least he knew where to look.

Face and Penimra already found laps to occupy instead of stools. Even wearing masks, both appeared to be in the same state of bliss: hooded eyes, heads tilted to lean forward with intent, curious hands exploring the surface of the gentleman’s chests they sat on. Their company’s wrists each had the same glistening beaded bracelet as the lady who had previously been giving him a lingering gaze.

He grimaced and looked to his side where Sulhadur stood. The red Dragonborn wasn’t that hard to pick apart. Young; almost innocent, Sul kept his own eyes fixated on the floor and quickly turned away from any approaching curious individuals. If he’d been human, he’d probably have a face as crimson as his the scales on his body were.

Pitying the poor lad, Amon placed a hand upon his shoulder. The sprouting Paladin turned his snout quizzically towards him.

“We don’t have to stay here, Sul. You and I can go, if you’re not comfortable.”

They swallowed nervously. “Maybe-” he choked, turning to shake his head at a Tiefling who begun sauntering over. She had a lovely figure; no bracelet, and a sullen expression to be so quickly shot down.

Amon snorted back laughter. Tall, youthful, and clearly in good physical health; Sul had caught a lot of eyes rather quickly. They were fresh faces to this region, and a great many intrigued local gazes were trying to size them up for a snack. Sul however seemed more content to be a solitary fish rather than school in the haze of breeding swarms. The ex-nobleman wasn’t sure if he was simply naive, shy, indifferent to the art of sensuality; or all of the above.

“Let’s move around the room,” he offered, “Face and Lord Korvis appear to have this area covered.”

“Good idea.”

Exhaling with relief, Sul trailed at his side as they roamed through the tightly people-packed spaces of the room. A couple of men they passed were being torn apart from a drunken brawl, and there were was an intense beginning of an orgy between a handful of individuals at another table they passed. Some girls giggled; shamefully young for the crowd of old men they were giving their attention to, but the fellow’s looked well-off in their wealth, and women were wearing the jade wristlet as many others. They hit the proverbial jackpot.

Squeezing around a chatty group, Sulhadur’s shoulder collided with Amon’s. He looked up to say something, seeing the eagerness in the Dragonborn’s expression as he looked off. Training his eyes in the same direction, he looked upon a group of individuals who managed to lay claim to a rickety table. The various races were all snarling and chuckling, a board game in front of them Amon recognized as seeing a few times: jump chess.

“I haven’t gotten to play in ages,” the Dragonborn whisper-shouted, his gaze glittering.

Amon winced internally, dreading the idea of pacing around alone. That was his selfishness talking though…

He indicated with a wave towards the group. “Go, introduce yourself. See if they’ll let you in their next game.”

“Why don’t you join me?”

“Jump chess isn’t a particular favorite of mine; besides, I’d probably end up somehow swindled out of coin. You should enjoy yourself now though, like everyone else. Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you should go look for Pri’cha and the ladies?” Sul offered, something mischievous in his tone. He tilted his maw down; eyes wide and teeth bared in what should have been a grin, but appeared more like a menacing and sadistic smirk. He turned tail; quite literally whacking the tip against the ex-nobleman’s shin, and parted his way through the crowd to the table.

Taking a moment to rub his leg, Amon glimpsed around the room. An older halfling man; probably around his age, wearing jade licked his lips as their gazes jumped to each other. Finding the others sounded like a safer option than standing awkwardly around, alone.

He shuffled his way into the throng; going in the opposite direction of the flirtatious individual. A foot stepped on the edge of his cloak, snagging him backwards as he grumbled and cursed. A half-slurred apology with whisky-scented breath acknowledged him as a shoulder jammed into his ribs. This place was miserably busy; how on Earth did anyone enjoy this sort of atmosphere? And was that the smell of urine coming from the corner of the room? Revolting.

Sure enough, a young lady came whisking by him, trying to balance a full bucket of water and not slash too much of it as another followed with a bristly old mop. The duo cursed and spat at some of their pedestrians, swatting a few towards the door for their behavior. They were about to have their hands full.

Amon sucked in his chest, pulled up his cloak, and slid along the wall to avoid a few drunken fellows to scout along the other side of the pub. His eyes boggled for a moment, spotting Ravamora of all people arm-wrestling a line of folks. A small stash of coin had stacked up in her favor; bets it looked like, and people were howling and hooting as the young elf finally managed to slam down a beefy half-orc’s arm. They growled, shoved back their chair, and immediately the next contestant was taking their place.

Always after a bit of cash, that one. He wondered if she was still somehow cheating to earn it like she had tried on him all those years ago. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Nister Anon!”

Now that was a recognizable voice. Amon strained to listen for its speaker, peering around others knees.

Pri’cha poked a man, squeaking a polite request for them to move. They did, to the ex-nobleman’s surprise. Sometimes he forgot how startling it could be to see a large, sentient bug-like individual in Etheron. When someone such as Pri aimed for your attention, if it wasn’t their wholesome politeness that got you, it was the sheer wondrous oddity of their presence.

“Hello Pri’cha,” he greeted warmly, “having any fun?”

The golden Thri-Kreen’s antenna wriggled. “I an learning a lot about this location’s culture,” they admitted a bit nervously, mandibles twitching. “I do not see Sul, Face, and Pen nith you anynore, nister Anon.”

The ex-nobleman smiled sheepishly, swallowing. “They all found their niche things to do, Pri. What are you doing by yourself? Where is Essie, and Adela?”

“I have been trying to find a barkeep to get drinks! Niss Essie and niss Adela are over there, if you’re looking for them?”

“Do you wish for me to go with you?”

“No thank you, I have enough arms to carry the drinks. I’ve been making friends along the way too, krr.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you have Pri.”

“Would you like ne to get you anything?”

“I’m fine, but thank you.”

“Of course. If you’d excuse me-”

“The bar’s that way actually, Pri’cha!” He piped up, pointing far to the left.

The little cleric bounced happily at his aid. “Thank you, nister Anon!”

Chuckling merrily, Amon followed the general direction Pri’cha had pointed to. The bodies of strangers began to thin out and disperse; giving room to more and more space. He began to wonder why, until a few people began to sway around him. Instead of shouting, he could make out a noise he hadn’t paid more attention to or picked up a lot until now: music.

It had a wild swing to it; almost a festival sort of jig. The instruments collided and crashed; they coordinated and collected into a collage. It was certainly an entertaining tune that even he found his foot tapping to as he pushed through the group. Some were stomping their feet and clapping their hands, forming a wall around the band.

Amon poked his head around an elf to see what everyone was staring at.

His jaw dropped wide open.

It wasn’t a sophisticated choreography performed before the orchestra; not like the kind he was often used to, but he’d seen versions of it before. It was wild; a routine not learned, but following the improvisation of the beat. The symphony of the song swelled, and arms raised; feet spinning, hands interweaving and crossing in some foreign move he didn’t know, but immediately was transfixed by, like magic.

He was immersed in how Essätha moved; her rhythm striking with different unexpected cords to create a painting. He blinked as Adela hopped to the forefront; intruding on his vision. He blinked a few times, capable of finding his breath and smiling to himself. The pink Tiefling twirled and spun; gemstones and precious metals flashing in the light of the room radiantly. The noise they gave off almost seemed to add to the music, although was mostly drown out by the cheering and sound of the instruments themselves.

The duo was graceful as they spun towards each other; greeting palm to palm. They ladies grinned; feet gliding around in a circle and drumming against the floor like the beat of the drums. Amon felt a creeping heat in his cheeks as his eyes soaked in Essie’s movements; the sensual twist of her hips as she curled her body away from Adela’s and then back in to bump her hip against hers, laughing.

Her laugh stole the air from his lungs in a pitiful wheeze.

The Yuan-Ti woman swayed and hopped, pivoting and dancing away from some of the more eager individuals of the crowd trying to leap in on the two sorceress’ frolic. She laughed, grabbing Adela’s arm and spinning around and around again as someone reached for the pink Tiefling, dragging her safely away from a boisterous young man eagerly trying to leap in.

Essie was elegant and poised as she moved from heel to toe, drawing the eyes naturally along the flow of her body where the light and shadows broke as she turned the opposite direction. Her movements were not simply dancing, it was an adventure’s storytelling in motion. A chasse turned into a journey to new lands, and her playful heel-turns fleeting from playful outreached hands were both a tease and a sense of character. It said: I am my own first.

Prancing around each other; sweat on their brows, the two women panted for air as they stopped, facing each other, to swing their hips and drop lower; raising back up to the whooping approval of the crowd. Amon joined a few of the bystandards in clapping. Gods knew dropping that low on bent-knees was probably agony; he’d probably end up on his ass trying anything similar.

Adela swung to the left, and Essätha the right. As they turned, Essie’s shining eyes met his.

Amon felt his heart stutter as his breath stilled. He swore for two heartbeats, he stopped hearing the music altogether as her gaze rounded, and her mouth hung open.

Waving an arm, Essie tip-toed around Adela to bounce his way. “M’lord!”

The color quickly spread over his features. Should he feel guilty and shameful caught staring? There was certainly enough people watching. His throat tightened, and his hands felt clammy and sweaty as he fidgeted stiffly.

“Sorry if my uh, watching ruined your dance.”

“Nonsense, we were trying to encourage Pri to join earlier too but they weren’t interested; something about not knowing the dance?” She laughed weakly, trying to catch her breath. “I tried explaining it’s not really something you learn, you just feel it, but I’m not sure they got it.”

Amon smiled stupidly, his heartbeat galloping. He could feel something just watching her. There was emotion in her movements; passion; joy, happiness, beauty. She made dancing seem raw and intense and damn sensual. He hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away.

It was simple. It was spontaneous. It didn’t make sense; it didn’t necessarily have an order, or a reason, or a professional’s years of study. But when she moved, she was breathtaking.

“You should join us,” Essie encouraged, grabbing at his sweaty palm. She raised her eyebrows suggestively, grinning at him. “You could show off some of your noble moves for me.”

The tightness in his throat increased. The ex-nobleman cough-wheezed, feeling heat and tension gripping his body in a rigid line. Was she teasing him, or flirting with him? Or both?

“I um- I’m okay,” he fumbled, nerves on edge and sweat beading up beneath his clothes. Pelor it was hot in this building. Stuffy. Humid. His skin was growing terribly flush, and he was beginning to feel an uncomfortable amount of sweat between his legs. If his thighs chafed, he was not going to be happy.

She pouted out her lower lip, tugging gently on his arm. “Please?”

How was he supposed to say no to that? His heart ached, even knowing she was messing with him.

“I-” he took a step forward helplessly, “what do I do?”

“You know, just- grind your hips a bit.”

“What?”

A different, more complicated heat and stiffness began to form between his legs. Even worse, the way he moved, the more it rubbed against his inner leg; stuck unpleasantly in place. Hidden, but annoying; and the friction was not helping.

Adela eyed him as Essie encouraged him into the middle of the crowd. She looked him up and down like he was a hair in her drink.

Amon deflated more. So much for confidence.

Giggling warmly, Essätha grabbed for Adela’s hand. The Tiefling instantly brightened a bit, and whirled around with her dance partner with a laugh of her own.

If he could blush and deeper, he’d probably look a lot like Sul; or maybe even darker. He shimmied in a fixed position, uneasy and fearful of his erection becoming noticeable. A couple of individuals in the surrounding semi-circle whispered and outright laughed at him. This was borderline mortifying.

Still…

With the fingers of one of her hands still clasped with Adela’s, Essie reached out for his hand, offering him a dazzling smile.

Yet again he was awestruck; automatically reaching for her hand without thinking. He wanted her touch. He wanted her hand, and the promise of salvation that came with it. Take me with you.

Her dance moves were simple and delightful; lacking a little of the complexity and alluring quality as before. She pulled all three of them into a sort of child-like merry-go-round before bumping her hip to each of theirs; making him grunt and swallow the frog in his throat. She twirled Adela around like she was a princess, and tossed his arm back and forth like they were talking an afternoon walk.

As he waved his arms awkwardly and jumped from leg to leg; certainly the worst excuse for a sober dancer this tavern had ever seen, Essie released his hand, and once again Adela and her began to form their integral duet. He watched more than moved, and then moved even less as they used him as a center-point to spin around. Not the best view from any angle, but gods he wished this was a private session for two instead of room filled with dozens of drunk, loud, rambunctious strangers and the rest of his companions.

Essätha shifted closer; her waist rocking from side to side dramatically, her body dancing to the beat. Amon felt her hip hit his; and she didn’t move as the heated grating of her clothes rubbed against his. He could smell the lavender on her skin; the sweat, the shampoo in her hair. She was close, and warm, and bright and golden and flush…

He began to pray; his lips twitching as his nostrils flared, trying to control his breathing. She made everything intimate and sexy and he was so gods-damn thirsty-

“Niss!! Niss Adela, niss Essätha! I have brought back drinks!”

Perfect timing.

Some of the mass groaned as the cleric presented themself proudly, holding up a tray filled with four mugs.

“I got you a nater too, nister Anon. I thought you night nant a refreshnent.”

Not exactly the sort of thirst he had, but bless that Thri-Kreen and their good life.

“Thank you, Pri,” he grunted, inching forward. Each shuffling movement caused his hard-on to brush against his inner thigh. He pulled his cloak around his frame, hoping to hide the inevitable tenting that was going to start forming.

“Your nating naneuvers were nost superb,” they encouraged, holding up the tray.

“Thank you, Pri,” Adela echoed in a sing-song voice, raising her volume over the ongoing song.

Amon bent a bit to grab for his drink. Essätha, not paying attention as she began to string out a ‘thank you-’ bonked her noggin against his as they huddled close to the cleric.

“Ouch-!”

“Fuck- I’m sorry-”

“You’re fine, it was my fault,” Essie mumbled, tenderly rubbing at her head. She smiled into his gaze warmly.

His brain fritzed out.

He watched as her gaze shot past his face to his trousers. At the slanted viewpoint they were at, she was nearly face-level with them, and his cloak had fallen aside…

The color in her face instantly deepened as she looked away, snatching for her drink.

If she hadn’t been so quick to advert her gaze, he could have convinced himself she saw nothing. As it was, he shakily picked up his water; slopping some onto the floor, and rearranged his clothing, hoping it was mostly an inconspicuous gesture. Fuck he d give anything to fling himself into the void for just a few minutes right now to scream.

“We should go find the boys,” Essätha bluntly announced, clutching her drink close after chugging most of it in a few gulps. “Make sure everyone’s okay.”

Adela eyed her quizzically. “If you’re sure?”

She nodded. “We should see about getting a meal- right Pri?”

“Oh-? Yes, dinner would be nice.”

A curt nod. “Good.”

Offering a gesture, she invited Pri’cha and Adela to take the lead; pushing through a disappointed looking crowd of onlookers. Amon downed his entire glass of water, sweating bullets.

Turning to look up at him, their gazes locked. The heat in his lungs was almost unbearable.

She offered out her hand to him wordlessly. A shy, nervous smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You comin’?”

He couldn’t resist taking her hand, mutely nodding. Her golden butterscotch eyes were more addictive than the treat they represented.

Her fingers curled; finding the spaces between his. She guided him forward; parting the crowd like a deity’s chosen vessel to speak through. More importantly, assisting him; leading him. To where, he didn’t know, but he was willing to go anywhere, as long as she would be there, too.

#qhost story #OTP: Essamon #Essatha Meduza #Amon Illiad #Softly written #ft: Noisy Bastards

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a-jynx · 3 years ago

Text

Expensive Taste; P2 [Male Vers.]

Excerpt; Happiness comes at a price, and it could be something you're not willing to pay...

Warnings; Cursing, mentions of dreamlands/derealization, gore, blood, and sword fights mentioned, minor character death, childhood trauma,

Pairings; Quackity x reader [Male pronouns]

[ Female vers. / GN vers. ]

a/n; once again thank you guys for all the love, and i hope the next part gives you all the chills! [Part 3 post date; to be decided]

~~~~

“You’re a fucking joke, Sap,” Y/N spat, shoving Sapnap back as he stumbled backward. Quackity and Punz stood behind, watching as he walked closer, with a glare already set on his face. “Are you somehow surprised that I’m not some obedient dog?! Scared that the bitch is fighting back?” The spine-chilling smile made Sapnap take a step back before snarling towards his younger brother.

“I miss my real brother - the boy who’d never hurt anyone, wouldn’t fight back against someone trying to protect him,”

“Why don’t we just calm down-”

“Quackity shut the-”

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence, Sapnap.” Y/N stepped in front of his fiance, snarling at her brother who frowned. “This is between us, so focus your anger towards me.”

“Trust me, all my pent anger will be directed towards you, Sparkler.” He snickered as he narrowed his eyes, lips pressing into a straight line.

“Don’t call me that. You lost the privilege to call me that.” He growled, hatred and venom evident in his voice. A gentle hand tugged on his wrist, making him turn towards Quackity as he shot him a soft look before smiling, causing his frown to turn into a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere more private..?” The scarred man spoke easily as Sap scoffed, crossing his hands over his chest as Y/N snapped his attention back to his brother.

“Remember..? We have nothing to discuss, Quackity. This is between my brother and I.” The Blazeborn hissed as small waves of smoke lifted from his fingertips and curled up lips. He narrowed his eyes before taking a step away from Quackity, whose touch chased after his warmth.

“Don’t you dare go Blaze in here, Sapnap. Don’t start something you cannot finish.” He murmured, keeping his voice low but promising of a threat.

“You and I, now,” he snags his arm, tugging him towards the private back rooms as Quackity stood there, worrying, as he watched his ex take his Amor behind a closed door.

~~~~

He stumbled on his heels as Sapnap shoved him through the doorway, grumbling as he caught himself on the small stage.

“Are you fucking serious-” his voice trailed as he listened to the lock flip as Sap locked the door behind them, standing between Y/N and the door with a quivering smile. His eyes grew wide as he took a step back, his heels dragging across the blacked-out carpet.

“Sap? Sapnap, what the hell are you doing-”

“It’s all your fault, you fucking whore.” He hissed, his eyes glowing the burning red and orange as he drew his Netherite sword. “You’re the reason I lost him, but I can gain him back… Easily.” He took a stride towards him, swinging the sword down as he stumbled backward, quickly kicking off his crystal heels as he moved around the small stage; blocking Sapnap from him.

“Are you fucking insane?!” He gulped, sneaking around the stage as Sap crept around the other side, snarling as he dragged the sword behind, tearing up the carpet with each step.

“Call me love-struck,” he spat, suddenly jumping across the smaller stage as his eyes grew wide, tumbling back and knocking into the floor as she caught the sword; a scream breaking through his lips as blood slowly leaked from the edge cutting into his palms. “Or love-sick, whichever you prefer.” He snickered, pressing his body weight into the sword as his own palm angled, pressing into the hilt and edge with a crazed look breaking through his Blaze-colored eyes. His dark hair sprouting into flames as he grits his teeth, releasing another scream as she pushes her arms up and into the sword, knocking Sap off and away as he sits up his chest heaving.

“You.. You fucking bitch!” Sapnap suddenly growled, causing him to glance up, his chest rising and falling steadily before a soft gasp left his lips. Sap sat with his side turned into the bottom of the black stone stage, clutching his face. Blood dribbled down from his palm, the steady stream giving a small glimpse into the true damage. His head snapped up, a large slice had broken through the skin of his cheek from his mouth.

His eyes watered at the sight of her brother, fear suddenly prickling along the back of his neck as he moved to press his back against the stage while he began to shake.. The room began to feel warm - no hot.. No boil - boiling. It felt as if the air around him had begun to melt his skin off as the room around him slowly shifted. Bright lava began to ooze from between the ceiling tiles and to break and crack through the carpeted floor as she scrambled to his feet, spinning until the room had shifted into his last home… The sweltering and deathful Nether.

“Sap! Sappy, come back up here!” A gentle voice echoed over the tormenting pops of lava, Y/N’s eyes towards the voices before carefully moving towards them. Peeking over the netherrack, he swallowed a gasp as he recognized himself as a child, and a dark raven-haired boy swimming in the lava below.

“Sappy, you know I can’t swim like you! This is cheating anyway!” The young boy called down to him. The young version of Sapnap scoffed before climbing out of the large lava lake and climbing up the small netherrack hill towards young Y/N.

“Oh, shut it! It’s not cheating when you can easily just come in and get me,”

“I can’t! I’d.. I’d-” his voice trailed as the young boy scoffed, shaking his head free of the sticking lava bits.

“I’d - I’d - I’d - You’d what, Sparkler? You’d be fine!” He laughed as he gutted out his bottom lip, hugging himself despite the sweltering heat surrounding the young siblings.

“Can we please just do something else? I’m tired of playing tag anyway…” He muttered, playing with the burnt edge of his t-shirt, as little Sapnap nodded, moving towards where he had placed his t-shirt and clothes. His little Diamond sword glittering from the falling lava as he picked it up, admiring himself in the blades’ reflection.

“Yeah, why don’t we try your training some more? I know you went easy on that Techno kid..” Sapnap lightly spat as Y/N frowned, tugging out his own diamond sword. Tracing his finger along the edge, meeting his own eyes in the mirroring image. Furrowing his brows as he stared into the reflection, noticing a sudden… Glow to his eyes.

Suddenly, his sword is knocked from his loose grip, nicking his fingertips as it clatters to the cracked floor. Snapping his head up, he growled towards his brother whilst he smirked, holding his blades’ point towards his chest.

“One point for me, bro..” He sang as he scoffed, scooping up the sword as he took a step back readying himself again.

“Not fair, I-”

“All’s fair in war, Sparkler,” Sapnap spoke matter-of-factly, tilting his sword to the side while shooting her a wicked smile.

“This isn’t war, Sappy..” He rolled his eyes as he huffed, launching himself at him. He stepped back, stumbling over a crack before raising his own blade. The sharp metals met together and yelled as Sapnap continued his attack, bashing down on the opposing blade with a sneer. Y/N caught his blade and turned his own away from his body, hooking his and forcing it off of him. He watched as he stumbled back from the sudden force, shock evident on his face as he turned and rushed away as icy fear shot through his veins at his loud huff of annoyance.

“This seems a little,” he paused, spinning towards the left and catching his sword easily. “Excessive, Sap!” He called over the continuous screech of the metals meeting each other; sparks flying as he continued to back away. Y/N kept walking until he glanced back to see the edge of the netherrack hill, the lava lake below them popping and bubbling as he grew wide-eyed.

“Sapnap! Sap, stop the edge-” he suddenly cried out before he felt his sword slice down his arm, effectively cutting through his t-shirt sleeve and his skin in angry backlash, the bright crimson flying out as the blade clashed onto the netherrack. His own sword clatters to the ground, his tired body following as he grasps his injured arm, choking sobs and gasps leaving him as he cradles himself.

Sapnap stood over his shaking body, his grip loosening on the hilt before allowing the sword to clatter by his feet while watching his brother wither. He swallows thickly before stepping towards him, only to stop as he tries to scoot away, despite the edge threatening the promise of falling into the lava below.

“Sap? Y/N/N?” A voice called out as footsteps approached the sibling pair. Sapnap looked towards the area it had come from and he felt dread and fear shoot through his veins as one of their fathers rounded the corner - his bright blue hoodie and jeans standing out from the harsh red tones. “Sap, what happ- Y/n! Baby, what the hell happened?!” He rushed towards the siblings, skidding across the rough floor as he scooped up Y/N’s small, sniffling body as one of his hands dragged his hand away from the wound.

“What happened?” Skeppy hissed as Sapnap gulped, his palms began to sweat as he opened his mouth, eyes watering.

“I… I didn’t mean,” his voice fell as Skeppy huffed, the look of disappointment already spreading across his father’s face. Silent tears dripped down Sapnap’s burning face as Skeppy stood, lifting Y/N’s shuttering body and holding him close to his chest before reaching one with one hand towards Sapnap, tugging him close as they left the swords behind… One blade still covered with blood while the other laid, threatening to tumble off the edge.. Who knew that the swords would soon represent the siblings soon enough..

~~~~

“Y/n?! Y/N!? Mi Amor?!” Quackity’s voice broke through the darkness, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open as Quackity’s thumb brushed over the tears that streaked down his reddening cheek. He suddenly gasped, shooting up from the floor as his fiance dove back, avoiding his sudden action. He curls in on himself, looking wildly around the room before noticing the door open and Sapnap gone.

“Where’s - Where’d he-” Y/N shook, his nails digging themselves into the meat of his calf as Quackity moved forward quickly, grabbing his wrist and gently tugging his hands from their tight grips on him.

“Gone. He’s gone and he’s never allowed back here, especially not after pulling that shit,” he hissed, pressing his forehead against his own. The feel of his hair, beanie, and grip on his wrists helped him slowly calm down, despite the pounding of his heart.

“He’ll never hurt you again, not while I’m here.” He whispered against his hairline before pressing his lips against his warm skin. Y/N allowed his eyes to flutter shut once more, leaning into the gentle yet grounding touch.

“He.. What the fuck happened?” He murmured, just above a whisper as Quackity sighed, gently dropping his wrists and standing, offering his hand to him as he shakingly stood with him.

“Q, my dream, I’m okay now.. Sure, a little banged up and bloody,” he lightly chuckled, leaning into Quackity’s side while showing the irritated and dried-up cuts on his palms; he frowned. “But, I’m alive and that’s thanks to you.” He mumbled, pressing his lips against his, grinning into the kiss as one of his arms wrapped around his waist, keeping him close as someone cleared their throats from behind them. Tilting his head, he shot a grin to Punz as he mirrored the smile.

“That better, ya big baby?” He teased, a smile crossing both of their faces as Q chuckled, moving to his side as they moved towards the office. A smile still present on his face, however the feeling of dread and anxiety washed over his shoulders as he leaned further into Quackity’s side - him easily accepting it.

Something in his heart and mind told him this wasn’t going to be the last time blood was spilled on this country..

~~~~

Sapnap stumbled as Punz shoved him forward, his knees and palms colliding with gravel. He spun on his knees, blood streaking down his chin and throat, staining his white tee.

“You made a mistake coming here expecting anything but blood to be spilled.” Punz spat, wiping his hand across his dark jeans, the crimson streaking across them. Sap coughed out a laugh, blood and spit splattering onto the sand.

“That’s my brother! That’s my blood and he stole him-”

“He came here looking for him, Sapnap. He chose to live here, to stay here, to leave your ass behind. Respect that before something happens that no one can fix.” Punz hissed, his arms crossing over his chest as they held each other’s gaze. The bloody man scoffed, slowly sitting back on his calves as Punz took a step back, keeping their gaze locked.

“I’m done,” he whispered, making Karl lean back slowly to look him in the eyes, seeing the slow tears streak from the corner of his darkening eyes. “I’m done being a second thought - second place. Why does he get everything? Why does everything get handed to him while I have to claw and.. And fight, and bite to try and survive..?” Sapnap’s voice quivered as the smoke slowly dissipated, leaving him slumped against Karl’s frame.

“You don’t have to fight them… We have our country - our kingdom - where we’ll be safe, and no more second place, yeah? We’ll have each other, we’ll… We’ll have everything we need.” Karl stuttered, sliding his hands up and cradling Sap’s face with a hesitant tap on his left side, avoiding the gnarled gash. “We’ll make it..”

~~~~

Night fell over the lively country, the neon signs buzzing and the streets were bustling with life, cool air blowing past, knocking strands of hair free as Y/N pressed himself against the railing. Quackity and he had left the casino, escaping to the Space Needle with both their thoughts battling against one another. He sighed, eyes flickering all over their country, able to see the night allow it to breathe its true beauty.

A hand grazed his lower back, causing him to slightly jump before sighing and relaxing into the touch as Quackity came into view. Shedding his blazer, situating it on top of his shoulders with a gentle peck.

“Enjoying the view?” He grinned as he hummed, leaning into his side as he placed an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his thumb across the soft material of his jacket. Big Q side-eyed him, still seeing the dazed and lost look in his eyes before he sighed, turning Y/N towards him. “Are you still worried about Sapnap?”

He couldn’t help but scoff, “I know I acted big and not afraid, but… I know Sapnap. He’s going to do whatever he sets his mind to, so who knows what the hell is going to happen.” He sighed, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, relieving the itch from his glittery make-up.

“Mi Vida.. I know him too, remember? I was engaged to him,” Quackity chuckled, reaching up and brushing his thumb over his cheek. “And who cares what the hell happens? As long as I have you and our country safe, I could care less about what happens.” He smiled, leaning in and pressing their lips tightly together. Y/N couldn’t help but smile into the embrace, brushing his nose against Q’s before reaching up and caressing his cheek, his thumb rubbing across the ridged scar.

“You’re crazy, Quackity,” he shook his head with a small smile as Quackity nodded, reaching into his slacks’ back pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the box, her brows knitting together.

“I may be crazy, but I’m so lucky to have you. You saved me.” He mumbled, opening the box and revealing the golden band with a glittering Sapphire shimmered as he picked it up, offering it as Y/N nodded slowly. Pressing another kiss to his lips as he melted into it. His thumb brushing over his hip, hugging him closer as if to mold his body around him - to protect him.

“And you saved me, Mi Caballero,” he muttered against his lips before leaning back, seeing the dreamy look on his face.

“Come on, we need to meet everyone downstairs for a meeting. We need to discuss what protocols will be needed to ensure that Las Nevadas continues to stand.” A wide grin split across his face as he backed away, his hand still holding Y/N’s tightly before pressing small butterfly kisses across his now decorated knuckle before retreating back into the needle.

Y/N watched with a glowing smile, his grip tightening around the jacket whilst tugging it closer to him; turning back towards the lively city, he sighed. Quackity would do anything for him, and he would do anything for him. And that’s the scary part. They would give anything and everything up for the other to live carefreely.. And yet their happiness lived with one another, now there was a threat to their paradise.

Straightening his back, turning on his heel, and moving back inside, his face hardening as he moved swiftly towards the stairs. Dropping his hands from clutching the sides of his boyfriend’s jacket, the clicking of his heels against the polished quartz caused a smirk to grace his lips. Stopping a few steps above the floor, his eyes met Quackity and Punz, who held smiles. Punz moved towards him, offering a hand as he nodded, smirking still as Quackity met him halfway. “What’re we waiting for, boys? An invitation?”

~~~~

His skin began to turn a grey color - rotting, withered almost - while vibrant blue washed over his eyes, and erupted in flames from his fingertips. Sapnap stumbled back, a scream escaping his lips before he slapped a hand over his mouth; fear rushed through his veins as he felt his own skin begin to heat up, feeling threatened.

“Sap.. Sapnap, I don’t know what’s happening-”

“Stay back and… And just stay there! Wait till Dad or Papa gets back!” He huffed, gulping as he watched him move his fingers, adjusting to the strength of the flames. A giggle left his lips as he furrowed his brows, why did his look so different? Frowning at the flames, he stood and moved towards him, his orange flames mixing with his as he lightly giggled as the flames danced; it almost felt like light tickles.

“This is so cool! I’m just like you, Sappy!” Y/N broke into a huge smile as he lightly chuckled before giving a small nod.

“Yeah, you are, Sparkler… This is so weird, why are yours-”

“Sap, Y/N! We need help with, oh my muffin,” Bad went silent as Sapnap and Y/N turned towards their father, their little eyes growing wide as he dropped the groceries. He quickly moved towards them, gently taking Y/N’s hand into his as he quickly dropped the flames, feeling embarrassment crawl up his neck.

“Y/N/N, muffin-cake, what was that? When did this start?” Bad asked, carefully as he chewed on his bottom lip before allowing the flames to erupt again from his fingers.

“I… I don’t know. I’ve been able to do it for a little bit, but I never needed to.. Are you upset?” He mumbled the last part as Bad chuckled, wrapping his arms around the small boy with a sigh.

“Of course not, honey! I’m just surprised that you’ve developed something like Sappy!” Bad pressed a soft kiss to his hairline as Sap watched, jumping when a hand landed on his shoulder turning to meet Skeppy, who was grinning up a storm.

“Looks like we have a Blazeborn AND Soul eater.”

“A… what?” Sap and Y/N spoke together, causing their fathers’ to laugh.

“That’s so cool!” Y/N exclaimed as they chuckled, nodding along as Sap frowned. He was the cool one before… He was the one who had powers from the Nether, and now he got those too?

Everything began to melt around him, causing him to jump and dodge the large drops of his old childhood house. Sand burst up through the floorboards as he jumped, dodging the floor exploding up, knocking him backward and causing his back to collide with the sand. Scrambling to his feet, he huffed as he saw a figure standing before him, licking his lips and squinting he noticed the stature… Y/N.

“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!” Sapnap screamed towards his brother, standing onto his feet and seeing his body facing him, a blue flame still flickering in his palm. Y/N stood as if he had an injury, favoring his right side. Narrowing his eyes, he summoned his own orange flames with a snarl. “You know this isn’t a fair fight, Y/N!” He shouted towards him, carefully moving through the sand towards him with creased lips. Keeping his flamed hand out ahead of him, in case of him firing another flame ball.

He stopped in front of him, his focus straight ahead yet he flinched at seeing the bright whites of his eyes as he moved around to his left, glaring. Dried blood flaked off of the side of Y/N’s neck and stained his t-shirt, while crimson still dripped down from his fingertips, a gradually growing puddle made him frown.

~~~~

Karl gasped, sitting up as he woke, clawing at his own throat, feeling his heart pound against his chest like thundering hooves. Turning over, he sighed at the sight of Sapnap asleep next to him, flopping back down into the covers, Karl flicked his tongue over his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the tears to streak down his cheeks.

The worst part about being a time traveler are the stories that get spoiled for you.. Especially those who you care about. Dragging one of his shaking hands over his face, he sighed gently as he turned onto his side, curling into Sap’s back finding comfort in the warmth radiating off his skin. Wrapping his arms around Sapnap’s middle, he pressed his nose between his shoulder blades, squeezing his eyes shut as images of Sapnap’s body laid before him - blood and sand coating him.

“Sap..? Sapnap, wake up,” Karl squeezed his sides and arms, causing him to hum and roll over, cradling the brunette close to his chest.

“What Kar,” his voice slurred with sleep, causing a spike of guilt to pierce Karl’s heart as he buried himself into the raven-haired man’s chest, fighting back tears.

“I love you. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you, please just leave them alone.. Please, I can’t handle losing you,” he mumbled into his fiancé's chest, clinging to him while Sapnap’s thumb dug circles into Karl’s shoulder, attempting to bring the brunette comfort even while sluggish with sleep. Sapnap could only hum, his mind still plagued with deep sleep before pressing his lips to Karl’s crown, snuggling further into the mop of curls below his chin.

“It’ll be fine, Karl.. Get some sleep.” The raven-haired man sighed, holding his lover closer at the feeling of Karl digging his blunt nails into Sap’s side and back.

~~~~

a/n; :0 yall- i cant the love is so weird??? but i appreciate it so much especially with so much happening irl right now! i hope part 3 lives up to the hype part 1 & 2 received, and what something you guys wanna see??? i have some more short imagine and headcannons for the dream team coming <3

#Quackity #quackity dsmp #quackity imagine #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x male reader #quackity x y/n #quackity dream smp #dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp quackity #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt quackity #sapnap x karl #sapnap #karl jacobs #karl jacobs x sapnap

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